Chapter 14
A month passed and it was time for Amy to go home. Pearl felt a little better now as Cynthia was sleeping through the night. Everyone was thinking of Christmas. When the news came through that Monty had triumphed in the desert, the nation rejoiced. Bells of victory pealed the length and breadth of the country. Pearl wondered where Jim was now that the battle of El Alamein was over. Ricky had said it would be a deciding factor in the desert war and the newspapers seemed to agree with him.
It was a dull and drizzly Saturday when Amy left. ‘We’ll walk to the bus stop with you.’ Pearl and Ruby had their coats on and the baby had just been fed. Thanks to her mum, Pearl had got into routine, as Sally too had advised.
‘I’ll miss you all, especially my little Cynth.’ Amy, dressed in her headscarf and mac, with her travelling bag in hand, bent to kiss her granddaughter’s head. ‘I wish your mum would bring you to live in the country.’
‘Don’t know about that, Mum,’ Pearl shrugged. ‘Jim plans to go back to the council when the war’s over.’
‘What about you, Ruby?’ Amy looked hopeful. ‘From what you saw of Abingley, you seemed to like it.’
‘Yes, I did.’ Ruby glanced at Pearl. ‘We shall have to see.’
Amy smiled. ‘Will you visit us at Christmas?’
‘Depends,’ Ruby grinned, ‘on our men.’
‘Yes, course. I keep forgetting that you’ve both got responsibilities now. You still feel like my little chicks.’ Amy sighed softly. ‘Well, come on, girls, I mustn’t be late for the bus. I’ve got to get home and see what chaos your father has caused.’
The rain had stopped by the time they got there. The hood of the pram and the apron was wet, but Cynthia slept soundly inside. It was a tearful farewell as Amy waved through the bus window.
‘I’ll miss her,’ said Pearl as they watched the bus turn into West Ferry Road.
‘Me too,’ nodded Ruby as they turned the pram back along the pavement. ‘Would you ever think of moving?’
‘Not if Jim gets his old job back.’
‘As an engineer he’d get a good job in Abingley.’
‘I know, but his mum’s here too.’
Ruby giggled. ‘All the more reason to move.’
Pearl hadn’t visited Mrs Nesbitt yet. She’d enjoyed the company of her mum and each day had flown past. What would the reception be like when she called? Would the sight of Cynth mellow Jim’s mother?
‘Anyway, I like the Smoke, and Jim does too.’
‘You haven’t seen Abingley yet.’
‘No, that’s true.’ They walked in thoughtful silence, until Pearl asked, ‘If Ricky agreed, would you move there?’
Ruby frowned. ‘I haven’t seen enough of the place to know. I only spent a night there and an hour looking at Dad’s allotment. But apparently there’s a market and shops, and although I don’t fancy going to church, Mum said she’s made some good friends.’
‘You sound tempted.’
‘I wouldn’t be if Mum and Dad still lived round the corner.’
On impulse Pearl turned the pram. ‘I know, let’s walk past Roper’s Way and see if they’re doing it up.’
But when they arrived they saw that number twenty-four was still standing, but only just.
‘Oh, Pearl, how awful. There’s just the walls of our house, and look at the Sampsons’. There’s hardly anything left.’
‘They’ve just let them crumble away,’ sighed Pearl, rocking the pram back and forth. ‘I’m only grateful Dad can’t see it. He did so much to that house.’
‘The tiles have gone from the roof. I thought the wardens were supposed to stop thieves.’ Ruby looked up and down the street, but they were the only people there.
‘They can’t watch all the time.’
‘S’pose not.’
‘I can’t see them coming to mend it.’
‘Most of the other houses are boarded up too.’
Ruby sighed. ‘Well, there goes our hope that Mum and Dad could come back.’
‘Yes, looks like it.’ So much had changed since the outbreak of war, Pearl acknowledged sadly. But when she really thought about it, the war was only a marker in time. Before Cynthia, the biggest questions in her life had been how to keep up with the fashion and what kind of hairstyle to wear. But having babies changed everything. It was easy to blame the war, especially the Germans, for spoiling everything. It was a national pastime. She had done it herself many times. But history was full of wars and people went on having them regardless. You just got on with your life and did the best you could. Now she had a child to think of. War or no war, Cynth was her priority, and without Jim, it was up to her to be both mum and dad.
‘You’re very quiet,’ said Ruby as they turned away.
‘I was thinking, we can’t blame the war for everything.’
‘Our house would still be standing if there wasn’t one.’
‘Yes, but it’s given Mum and Dad a fresh start.’
‘What about us?’ Ruby said resentfully. ‘It was our home too.’
‘Yes, but we don’t need it any more. I’ve got a home of my own and you have all your dreams. It’s no use having regrets. We shouldn’t look back, but go forward.’
‘That’s too deep for me.’
‘I’ve just had a baby. I’m allowed to think deep.’
They laughed together and Ruby cast a quick look over her shoulder. ‘Bye, old house.’
‘Tell you what, let’s go to the market and cheer ourselves up,’ Pearl said suddenly, and Ruby nodded.
‘That’s a good idea. Mum left five pounds in the kitty.’
‘And paid for all that coal.’
‘And bought all the groceries.’
‘It was like having Father Christmas early,’ laughed Pearl, linking her arm through Ruby’s.
‘We’d better save it for a rainy day.’
The two girls looked at each other and smiled. They both knew that by the end of the day, that five pounds would be well and truly broken into.
Christmas was three weeks away and still a letter hadn’t arrived from Jim. There hadn’t been many raids, but rumours were circulating about spies. It was said a new invasion plan had been hatched by the Germans.
At Pearl’s flat, the wet and foggy weather had caused the stairs to become slippery and the mould was back in the kitchen. ‘I’ll pop up and see what I can do,’ promised Fitz although he never found time. He was always busy in the shop or storeroom.
Then just before Christmas, a buff-coloured envelope dropped on the mat, addressed in Jim’s larger and familiar handwriting. Pearl opened it with trembling fingers.
My darling Pearly-girl,
I don’t know when you’ll get this, or even if the censor will allow it, but we’ve won El Alamein! I can’t begin to tell you what the feeling is like. But sod the censor, I’m going to try. It all started just before dawn when the moon was full and blinding, like a whopping great cheese hanging in the sky. There was silence at first, as though we were waiting to hear our own breath. And then all hell let loose. Wave after wave of our artillery attacked on two fronts. Bloody brave blokes, real heroes. Then it was our turn, the Engineers, clearing the minefields and making roads for our tanks to pass through. Funny to think the battered old Churchills were the very same ones I’d once seen rolling off the assembly line at Luton, bright as new pins. Anyway, by first light, we’d taken hold. Half of the enemy was Eyeties, poor buggers. See, it’s a fact that Jerry despises them and chucks them right at the front like sitting ducks.
As for us, we was a mixture of British, Aussies, New Zealanders, Indians, Frenchies and Greeks. But, by God, we fought as one. Then there was the Americans, God love ’em, with their Shermans and self-propelled guns. So all together we hit the Afrika Korps and knocked ’em for six. We took Alamein from right under their noses.
Pearl put the letter down. Her imagination had come alive with Jim’s powerful description. Her heart was beating so fast she had to catch h
er breath. He’d called the others heroes, yet he’d been there, in the minefields, for goodness’ sake! For some time she just sat there, allowing the conflicting emotions to fill her: pride, fear, wonder, heartache and above all relief. Her husband and Cynthia’s father, Jim Nesbitt, her hero of heroes, had come safely through a terrible battle.
It was some minutes before she read on. She wanted to savour every word. It was the first time the censor had allowed any real information to be distributed. She guessed that El Alamein was a long-awaited triumph and the Ministry of Information was eager to spread the good news. Jim ended with a flourish.
So Pearly-girl, we’ve cracked it. Can’t say I wished you’d been here. But you and the baby was in my mind all the time. My lucky mascots. How are you both? I’d like to say I’ll be home for Christmas, but it’s doubtful. Our time will come, I promise. One day we’ll all be together again. Believe that, sweetheart, won’t you? And PS. What are we going to call our girl?
Pearl put down the letter for the second time. It was a bitter disappointment, although she told herself she was lucky to have her man alive. He had spent the whole letter telling her what it had been like and in a very proud way. But why couldn’t he be with her and Cynthia? He didn’t even know her name.
She got up and went to the bedroom where Cynthia was lying awake, gurgling softly to herself. Lifting her into her arms, she kissed her soapy-smelling forehead. ‘Daddy sends his love and says he’ll see us soon. Your daddy is a hero and one day I’ll tell you all about what he did. And you’ll be as proud of him as I am.’
Cynthia gurgled contentedly. Pearl walked to the window to part the curtains. She wanted to see all the familiar landmarks: the rooftops and chimneys and houses, the shop below and the cobbles leading down to the corner. Jim’s words had taken her to another world and it was nowhere as safe as this one.
But instead of a clear morning with a sky full of scudding clouds, an eerie mist spread along the gutters. It slithered over the windowsills and spread its tentacles across the glass.
‘Look! It’s a London fog, Cynthia!’ She turned the baby towards the murky yellowness. ‘We’ve got a real pea-souper whilst your dad is somewhere in the desert where there probably ain’t even a nice cold glass of water to drink. But when he comes home . . . when he comes home . . . we’ll have a bottle of beer in the larder and one of them Woolton pies in the oven, like your gran showed us how to make. It might not be Christmas, but one day, when he walks up them stairs, it’s going to be the happiest day of our lives. Remember that, sweetheart. We’ve got so much to look forward to. Nothing is going to stop us from being together again.’
Pearl smiled. She was going to keep telling herself and Cynthia that Jim would walk in the door one day. His blue eyes would be shining and he’d make them laugh as he always did.
He would come home to them one day. He would!
Part Two
Chapter 15
February 1944
‘Yer can’t go pushing her around in that old tub, missus, she’s bigger than the blooming pram!’
Pearl grinned up at the rag-and-bone man. Under his well-worn cloth cap Percy Flint smiled at her with big brown teeth. Cynthia wriggled excitedly when she saw the towering brown horse that pulled the cart. Pearl unclipped the reins attached to the side of the pram and lifted Cynthia out. She was a big girl for her age but, all the same, her red coat was two sizes too big. Pearl had learned the best way to dress her fast-growing daughter was to buy everything in larger sizes and sew back the cuffs and turn up hems. Even Cynthia’s hand-knitted woollen hat was a size too large, but it pulled down over her sandy-blonde curls and kept them in place. Luckily the sun was shining this morning. Despite the early frost, the day had a warm glow.
Pearl knew Percy was right. Cynthia had outgrown the pram, with its wobbly wheel. On their monthly trips to Villa Road to see Mrs Nesbitt, it weighed heavier and heavier. Not that Mrs Nesbitt was eager to see them. Babies needed all the attention and didn’t sit still or mind their manners. Still, it would be nice to have one of those new pushchairs to zip Cynthia around in.
Pearl lifted Cynthia into her arms to stroke the horse’s mane. Cynthia, who loved all animals, threaded her fingers through the dirty brown mane.
‘I got something on the cart might suit you.’ Percy Flint dropped the reins and disappeared. He returned with a strange-looking article. ‘What about this, then?’
‘What is it?’
‘It’s a chair to push ’er in. Might be a bit old, but look at that lovely workmanship. Bone ’andle and a leather seat. Someone had it made special for a kid, someone with a few bob.’
‘It looks more like one of them Bath chairs.’
‘Not on your nelly. Take a good gander, missus. See, the wheels ain’t bloomin’ great big ones and they’re all in good nick.’
‘Where did it come from?’ Pearl asked suspiciously.
‘From a big house up Poplar. Seeing as I know yer, you can have first refusal.’
The old man took Cynthia in his arms and gave her a carrot. ‘Come on, ducks, let old Barney ’ave a nibble while your mum has a gander.’
Pearl examined the chair and, to her surprise, it wheeled very well. ‘I must admit it pushes better than the big one.’
‘See, yer problem is solved,’ the rag-and-bone dealer said over his shoulder. ‘There’s even a place to put yer stuff.’
Pearl noted the leather bag attached to the back. It was certainly an unusual piece.
‘Let’s put ’er in and give it a try.’ He lowered Cynthia on the seat and pushed it back and forth. ‘See, she likes it.’
Pearl pulled her collar round her ears as she considered the chair. She didn’t have any money to spend as she’d just paid the rent. And although Cynthia seemed to like it, it was not what Pearl had had in mind.
‘Tell yer what I’ll do – you’re a good customer, I’ll do yer a swap.’
‘What for?’
‘The big pram, of course.’
Pearl guessed that Percy already had a customer lined up. But what use was it to her if Cynthia was too big to ride in it? ‘I don’t know . . .’ she hesitated.
‘This won’t ’ang about, gel.’
The chair was tempting. Perhaps she could disguise its ugliness with a blanket?
‘I don’t want any wheels going wonky like this one did,’ Pearl warned him.
‘Good as new, these are. Some posh kid’s been sat in there. No stinky drawers ’ave graced that leather, no, sir.’
‘All right then, I’ll take it.’
‘You won’t be sorry, love.’
‘I hope not.’ Pearl watched him lift the big pram on his cart. With a wave and wink, he departed and Pearl started off home. She couldn’t make up her mind if she liked the pushchair or not, but Cynthia seemed to like it. She could rest her feet on the footrest and look around.
Gwen and Fitz came out of the shop when they saw her. ‘What have you got there?’
‘It’s a pushchair.’
‘We can see that.’
‘It’s off Percy Flint’s cart.’ She was embarrassed as she helped Cynthia out and took off the blanket.
‘What happened to the other one?’
‘We did a swap.’
Gwen grinned. ‘I hope that old scoundrel paid you to take it?’
Pearl blushed. ‘It don’t look much but it pushes well.’
‘It ain’t that bad,’ said Fitz. ‘And it won’t take up no room.’
‘Your sister came home a minute or two ago.’ Gwen lowered her voice as she leaned close. ‘I give her a tin of sardines and a small piece of cheese. It was no more than the size of me thumb, but I wouldn’t let no one else have it. She looked a bit upset to me.’
‘Upset?’
‘Yes, you’d better run up and see.’
When Pearl and Cynthia walked in, Ruby rushed towards them. ‘Pearl, I’ve got a letter!’
Pearl’s heart sank. It always did when there was news from Ric
ky. Pearl had hoped the novelty of being engaged had worn off for Ruby, but being parted from him had made Ruby’s heart grow fonder.
‘Ricky’s home!’ Ruby gabbled, shaking the piece of paper. ‘This is from the matron of a hospital. She’s writing for Ricky as he can’t write himself Ruby pushed the letter into Pearl’s hands. ‘See, it’s somewhere called Brawton Manor in Surrey and used for wounded officers.’
Pearl read the first few lines. The writing was neat and precise, written on white paper with a printed address.
‘Is he wounded then?’ Pearl asked hoarsely.
‘She says his hands are bandaged, that’s why she’s writing for him. And she’s given a telephone number. Told me to ring on Sunday morning when she’s on duty.’
Pearl tried to think what this meant. But fear was freezing her thoughts. ‘Will you phone?’ she asked hesitantly.
‘Yes, course. I wish Gwen and Fitz had one. I’ll have to go to the box by the park.’ Ruby clutched the letter to her. ‘She doesn’t say he’s bad. She would, wouldn’t she, if it was something serious?’
Pearl could only nod. What did this mean? Was Ricky seriously wounded? She knew Ruby was worried. What was going through her mind? The same things, probably, that would be going through hers if Jim was injured.
‘I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight,’ Ruby said unhappily. ‘I wish she’d written what was wrong with him.’
‘Try not to get upset.’ But Pearl knew Ruby wouldn’t rest until she found out the extent of Ricky’s injuries.
When Pearl climbed out of bed the next morning, it was cloudy and grey. Had Ruby managed any sleep? Looking from the window, she saw a few people making their way to church. She liked to see everyone in their Sunday best clothes. She felt a twinge of guilt when she thought how she hadn’t found time to have Cynthia baptized. Perhaps she would have it done when Cynthia was older. Her mind flew to Ricky. Why couldn’t he use his hands? Were they his only injuries? Maybe they were serious and that was why the matron hadn’t said more. Would Ruby still want to be engaged?
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