Chocolate Girls

by Annie Murray

  ‘Come along, dear. Perk up. We’ve known really, haven’t we? We’ll go in and have a nice cup of tea by the fire together. Let’s not be miserable.’

  Somehow as soon as the doctor had confirmed to them all how sick Frances really was, she quickly became more so. Edie was full of worries.

  ‘It’s not that I mind looking after her,’ she confided to Ruby as they ate their lunchtime bowl of soup together one day. ‘I’d do anything for her. It’s just – I’m frightened – I don’t know if I can do it properly.’

  ‘Well, you can’t – not on your own,’ Ruby said. The colour had come back into her cheeks a little bit since she’d come home, and though she was still very plump she looked better in herself. Now she was back at Cad-bury’s she had flung herself into the Bournville Dramatic Society with some of her old pals. ‘What about when you’re at work?’

  ‘I know.’ Edie chewed the end of her thumb, frowning with worry. ‘Mrs Jones next door said she’ll help out, but she can’t be there all day . . .’

  ‘Well, when the time comes, she’ll need to go into hospital.’

  ‘She says she doesn’t mind,’ Edie said. ‘Only I’d feel I was letting her down if I didn’t look after her.’

  All that spring was taken up with Frances’s illness. Edie found it heartbreaking to watch. She could eat less and less and her rounded, comforting figure was vanishing, the weight melting from her bones. She was very calm, very patient, but by the middle of March she was already sinking fast. Death was beginning to inscribe itself in every line of her pinched face. How long did she have left? Edie had received a letter from Janet saying that she was trying to make arrangements to come as soon as possible. But how long would she be? They had heard nothing since, and Edie began to wonder whether she would make it in time.

  Throughout that period, Edie knew that while she had loved Anatoli before, now she felt even more deeply for him because she knew she how much she could count on him. Weekend after weekend he made the journey up from London, and instead of travelling back on a Saturday night he stayed over and helped, making no demands of his own.

  ‘This isn’t very nice for you,’ Edie said one day, when he’d come up to stay, week after week. ‘’Specially when you’ve already been through it with your wife.’

  ‘So I know what it’s like,’ he said, putting his hands on her shoulders. ‘Look – all I want is to be with you. We don’t have to be always out enjoying ourselves or living life like a party! It’s enough just to be together.’

  ‘I do love you,’ she wrapped her arms round him. ‘You’re so kind to me.’

  ‘And you are kind to a lonely old man,’ he said with a self-mocking smile.

  He was happiest when he was close to her. When she passed him he would touch her, stroke her arm or lay a hand on her shoulder. He’d been especially protective since he discovered the scar on her arm and asked her about it. As she told him some of the details of her childhood he could barely believe it at first. He was completely horrified. Edie had never seen him so angry. He was an enormous comfort to her as her old friend was fading before her eyes.

  Once Frances was settled for the night, when he was staying over, they sat cuddled together, talking, reading, kissing. That weekend, in the middle of March, they sat in the back room, in the glow of the fire. Their cold teacups were on the table and they had not wanted to switch the light on. Edie sat, warm and contented, leaning against Anatoli’s solid body, his arm round her waist. Every so often he caressed her with his other hand, her hair, cheek, breast. Then she heard him clear his throat.

  ‘Edith?’ Even in that one word she could detect a longing.

  ‘Umm?’ She was staring into the fire, and he leaned closer and kissed her neck. Solemnly, he said, ‘I must ask you something.’

  ‘Must you?’ she teased, twisting round to face him. Her hair fell forward, light and soft on his face as she kissed him.

  ‘I would like you to be my wife.’

  She could not speak for a moment. She loved him so much, felt so safe and cared for by him, she could scarcely believe something so good could be offered to her.

  ‘Have I made a mistake?’ he said, carefully.

  Edie swallowed. ‘Oh no! I want to marry you – of course I do! You just took me by surprise, that’s all.’

  ‘You are saying yes?’

  She moved her face closer to his in the firelight.

  ‘Yes, Anatoli. I love you very much. Of course I want to marry you. When I can . . .’ She rolled her eyes upwards.

  ‘I know. Once you are alone. She is very sick, poor Frances. Of course, I understand that. There is no hurry. We are talking about sharing our lives, not catching a train. Although—’ His hands gently caressed her breasts, over her soft wool jumper. ‘Heaven knows, I find it so hard to have to wait for you.’

  His touch sent longing burning through her.

  ‘Stop—’ She held his hands, moving them away. ‘That’s too nice. You’ll have to stop!’

  She knew what it cost him to pull himself away from her as they kissed goodnight, because she felt the same. Lying in her bed, restless, unable to sleep, all she could think of was Anatoli in the small room at the back of the house. Was he thinking of her? Lying awake as she was, full of longing?

  Time passed, slowly. The clock on the landing seemed to tick louder than ever as she lay awake, able to think of nothing but wanting him.

  This is so ridiculous, she thought. Frances’s wasted body lay in the room next to her. Death would soon take her. All she and Anatoli could feel was a great urge for life, for love. What was wrong with that? They’d both been married before, after all. She thought she heard him give a cough from along the passage. Was he still awake?

  She slipped out of bed into the cold and, clenching her teeth, opened the squeaky bedroom door. She knew Frances was unlikely to hear – she took a sedative now, to make sure she slept – yet she still tip-toed as quietly as she could. She stopped at Anatoli’s door. Should she knock? She decided not, and turned the handle.

  She heard rather than saw him sit up as she came in.

  ‘Edith? Is that you?’

  Without replying, she went to the window and boldly drew back the curtain. The moon was up, shedding cool white light. She could feel Anatoli watching her, leaning up on one elbow and she enjoyed the sensation, knowing how much he wanted her. Standing in the pool of light she reached for the hem of her nightdress and lifted it over her head.

  ‘Oh—’ His voice came softly to her. ‘My beautiful girl.’

  She went to sit beside him on the bed and he stroked her bare back, looking up into her eyes. ‘Edith – you’re so lovely. You’re a miracle to me.’

  She leaned down to kiss him and as she did so he cupped his hand round one of her pendent breasts, the feel of it making him close his eyes, sighing with pleasure. Edie felt as if every nerve of her body was alert to him, desiring him, his caresses seeming to reach through every part of her.

  ‘Let’s not wait,’ she whispered to him urgently. ‘I want to be with you now . . . always.’

  For a moment he managed to hold back. ‘Are you sure, Edith?’

  She pulled back the covers and lay beside him, pulling him close. ‘Very, very sure.’

  She woke early the next morning, cramped in the narrow bed beside Anatoli. The curtain was still open and the objects in the room, the chair, the heavy dark cupboard and dressing table, were lit by a filtered, unearthly light. Easing herself out of bed she found that outside everything was wrapped in thick fog. Anatoli was still asleep, and she smiled down at the sight of his face, the dark brows pulled slightly into a frown as he slept. For a second she touched his stubbly cheek, then crept out on to the landing. Peeping in at Frances, she saw she was still asleep. She made tea and brought it up to the bedroom, turned on the little bar fire in the room and climbed back into bed. It felt very cosy with the fog outside.

  Anatoli stirred, stretched, opened his eyes. Seeing her, he immedi
ately smiled, and Edie was moved by the delight she saw in his expression.

  ‘Hello,’ he whispered. ‘You’re still here.’

  ‘Yes. Still here.’

  They nestled into each other. Gently he lifted her arm, his lips gently exploring the scalded tissue of her scar.

  ‘Poor little one,’ he murmured, as if kissing it better.

  There was a worry nagging at her mind. ‘Anatoli – we . . .’ This was awkward. It was much easier to make love than to talk about it! ‘Last night – I mean . . . We didn’t . . . take any precautions.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry.’ His warm hand caressed her face his eyes troubled. ‘It was very stupid of me. I wasn’t expecting it to happen and you were too much for me! You do not want a child – at all, with me?’

  ‘Oh goodness, I don’t know!’ Things had moved so fast suddenly. ‘I’m getting on a bit to start all that now, aren’t I? In a way, yes, I’d love to have a child with you. Our own child. Of course I would. But not yet! And you have your son and daughter already . . .’

  ‘That is true – but you know, to have a child is the heart of a marriage. It is the natural thing for a woman to have a child. It’s a proper family, isn’t it? You are not so very old! You’re still quite a young woman.’

  Edie leaned up on her elbow. She was filled with excitement. ‘Would you like to have a baby – really?’

  He stroked his hand along her body and she felt herself responding to his caresses. ‘The most beautiful sight in the world is a woman with her child. It would make me so happy to give you this.’

  ‘Oh Anatoli—’ Her arms clasped him, drawing him close as they began to make love again. ‘Let’s not delay getting married. What are we waiting for? Let’s do it as soon as we can!’

  The fog didn’t lift until almost midday, and they spent a cosy morning inside. Frances was having a reasonably good day. She had not been to the Friends’ Meeting House for some time, though many of them had been to visit her. This morning she was not up to it either, but she was cheerful, and said she would come downstairs. She got dressed, though all her clothes hung on her now, putting on plenty of layers to keep warm and sitting wrapped in shawls and rugs. Anatoli kept her company, and they did crosswords and read together while Edie prepared the dinner. When she came through to the back to lay the table she found both of them laughing, and smiled with surprise.

  ‘What’s tickling you two?’ She put the cutlery down on the table.

  Frances held up a copy of the Bournville Works Magazine which came from the factory. As well as news of all the clubs and societies attached to Cadbury’s, there was a wide variety of articles on everything from cocoa production in Ghana or the Cameroons to foreign travel or news of the new block that was under construction.

  ‘Listen to this,’ Frances chuckled. It wrung Edie’s heart to hear her. Even her voice sounded thinner.

  ‘Someone is fuming with disapproval about The Archers!’ Anatoli said, satirically.

  ‘This is a letter received by one of the scriptwriters,’ Frances said. ‘Dear Sir, I always listen to The Archers. I am a Christian, a God-fearing man, and I shall not fail to mention you in my prayers, in the earnest hope that, following Grace Archer’s death, something dreadful will happen to you and yours. Yours sincerely – et cetera!’

  They were laughing over this when they heard a rattle and someone called, ‘Cooee!’ through the letterbox.

  ‘Surely that’s . . .!’ Edie ran to open the door. Oh please let it be . . .

  A taxi was just pulling away outside, and standing beside a large suitcase was Janet, holding, one in each arm, two bonny babies, with very dark skin and large, inquisitive eyes.

  ‘Oh, my word!’ Edie shrieked, her cry echoing back through the house. ‘At last! Look at you all! Aren’t they beautiful! Oh, come here! ’ She tried to fling her arms round all three of them.

  ‘Oh, Edie,’ Janet laughed. ‘We’ve made it! It’s so wonderful to see you. Look – my arms are going to come out of their sockets. Take one of the girls, will you? This is Naomi.’

  Cautiously, Edie took the smaller of the two children, the child’s soft, plump arms dark and strange to her. Anatoli had come out to find out what the commotion was about and chuckled with surprise, seeing the two women, each with a baby in their arms. Edie introduced them happily.

  ‘These two’re staring at us as if we come from another planet!’ Edie laughed at the babies’ boggled-looking expressions.

  ‘Well, you do, to them,’ Janet laughed, smiling her thanks to Anatoli, who picked up her case. ‘They’re used to most people being black – even we’re more tanned than you. They must think you’re very strange!’ Janet looked thinner, lean and brown and there was a glow to her face, of happiness as well as from the sun.

  ‘Look who’s here!’ Edie led them through the house, and Frances gave a weak cry of joy at the sight of the little crowd in front of her. ‘Oh my dear, finally!’

  Janet kissed her and sat Ruth down on the floor.

  ‘Why ever didn’t you let us know you were coming?’ Edie asked.

  Janet seemed surprised. ‘But I did. I’ve written twice. I mean I know I’m late – there were the inevitable delays. I thought I’d be here yesterday.’

  ‘We haven’t heard a thing – not for a good six weeks,’ Edie told her.

  ‘Where’s Martin? Is he with you?’ Frances asked, as if expecting him to walk in. She had been so mesmerized by the babies she had almost forgotten him to begin with.

  ‘He’s coming in a fortnight,’ Janet said. ‘And we can both stay until the end of June. Or longer, if necessary,’ she added. There was a silence as the implications of her words sunk in. Edie could see that she was doing her best to hide her shock at the hollow-eyed state of her mother. It was obvious it could not be long before she became very ill indeed.

  ‘Oh Jan – I’m so happy to see you!’ Edie flung her arms round her friend all over again. ‘And your little girls – they’re absolutely beautiful!’

  Fifty-Two

  The weeks which followed were a bittersweet time. For the next fortnight, after Janet had arrived, she and Edie wallowed in being able to spend hours together, looking after the twins, whom Edie immediately fell head over heels in love with, and endlessly talking, making up for the years they’d been apart. Janet did look different, leaner, definitely older (‘The sun ages you terribly!’ she told Edie). She wore her hair long and fastened rather carelessly in a bun at the back, though with the usual wild wisps escaping at the front. But once they had spent some time together Edie found that Janet hadn’t really changed very much at all. They settled straight back into their old friendship, completely easy in each other’s company.

  Janet was obviously much happier than she had been when she left. Having the twins to look after had made all the difference, she said. And Edie told her more about Anatoli and how happy he’d made her.

  ‘You don’t need to tell me!’ Janet laughed. ‘Anyone can see you’re in love. And he seems so sweet, and very quaint somehow.’

  ‘Yes – he is. And kind. And you should hear him play the violin!’

  Janet had plenty of time to spend alone with Frances and look after her while Edie was at work, and it was a huge relief to Edie that there was someone in the house. At the weekends they often wheeled the girls out in an old twin pram, borrowed from a lady down the road. Some people, seeing them with two black babies, looked away, embarrassed, not sure what to make of it. Occasionally women – often mothers of twins themselves – made a fuss of them, asking all the twin questions people always asked. Yes, they were both girls, yes, one was bigger than the other, wasn’t she? To their amusement, not one of the people who stopped and talked commented on their colour, as if their blackness was invisible and it was perfectly normal for a white woman to give birth to black twins. Edie wondered if Janet would find the situation upsetting, but she shrugged it off.

  ‘We’ll soon be back home,’ she said, ‘and everyone th
ere knows how I come to be bringing them up!’

  Edie felt a little desolate at the way she spoke so comfortably of the Congo as ‘home’.

  With Janet back, she felt free to go and visit Anatoli in London, and they spent a couple of wonderful weekends. Edie fell in love with the London parks now the spring was coming. They were very passionate together, but Edie told Anatoli that though she was looking forward to conceiving his child she didn’t want to be a pregnant bride.

  ‘I didn’t catch that first time,’ she told him. ‘But I’d like us to take precautions – ’til we’re married.’

  It was not long before they were planning to marry as soon as they could. With Janet home and Frances so ill, it seemed wrong to put it off.

  ‘I’d like us to marry before Frances . . . isn’t here any more.’ They were strolling through Regent’s Park on a cool, but bright and sunny afternoon, watching the ducks and geese. Edie’s arm was linked through Anatoli’s.

  ‘My dear, I am happy to marry you as soon as you like – you know that,’ he said.

  All Edie’s uncertainties came pouring out. Of course she’d have to leave Birmingham and move into his house, wouldn’t she? Leave behind her friends and her job. Of course she liked London, and she’d do anything so long as they could build a life together. But still . . .

  ‘Oh – wait now!’ Anatoli stopped, steering her round to face him and putting his hands on her shoulders. ‘Look – don’t take things for granted! I don’t expect you to want to move into the house I shared with Margot! That would be very unfitting. I am not even especially attached to London. How about I sell my house and buy a place in Birmingham? Umm?’

  Edie looked at him in amazement. ‘But . . . What about your job?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’ll get another one. I’m a good pharmacist!’

  ‘And . . .’ She struggled to think of other objections to his generosity. ‘What about your children?’

  He laughed. ‘What about them? One is in York, one in Canada – what possible difference does it make to them if I live in Wimbledon or Birmingham?’