Moonlight and Ashes

by Rosie Goodwin

  ‘Any hot water in the tap?’ he asked roughly.

  ‘There should be, I’ve had the fire roarin’ up the chimney as much as I dare,’ Maggie said.

  Soon all four of them were traipsing back and forwards from the sink with hot water in kettles, saucepans and anything else that would hold water. It was a Friday-night ritual that they were all used to, and soon the bath was steaming in front of the fire.

  ‘You two pop upstairs an’ read your books while yer dad has his bath,’ Maggie told the twins, and obediently they turned and made their way up the steep narrow staircase.

  At the top they hurried along to their room and slipped inside. Sinking onto her bed, Lizzie lifted her Enid Blyton book as Danny approached the one sashcord window that the room boasted.

  ‘Don’t let any light show,’ Lizzie warned him fearfully. Recently, their mother had gone out and bought blackout material that she’d stitched to the back of every single pair of curtains in the house, and the little girl knew that it would be more than their life was worth if they let any light spill out onto the pavement. Only last week, Danny had stood gazing down into the street below, forgetting to close the curtains properly, which had resulted in a visit and a stern reprimand from Mr Hutton, the ARP warden. When he had gone, their father had threatened the boy with his belt, should he ever do such a thing again.

  ‘I ain’t totally thick, yer know,’ Danny sniffed indignantly, and instantly contrite, Lizzie threw down her book and crossed to stand beside him.

  ‘Why does it matter so much if a bit of light does show?’ she enquired.

  ‘It’s ’cos if there’s any planes wi’ bombs in ’em flyin’ over Coventry an’ they see a light, they could drop ’em on us,’ her brother explained.

  Lizzie shuddered. The twins could only hope that this war would soon be over, as their mam had promised, so that their lives could get back to normal. Many of their friends had already been sent away, and their class was almost empty. Just the thought of leaving their mother struck terror into their young hearts, but thankfully up to now Maggie had stood up to their father and refused to let them go, saying that she wanted the family to be together for Christmas.

  It was almost half an hour later when they heard the back door slam, and then their mother’s voice floated up the stairs to them. ‘Come on, you two. It’s time for your baths.’

  Danny sighed. He hated bath nights, but all the same he slid off the bed and followed his sister downstairs. Their mother’s face was flushed from her many journeys to and from the sink with kettles of hot water but she smiled at them as they tumbled back into the room.

  ‘Right - you first, Lizzie. Then I can be putting your rags in while Danny has his.’

  Lizzie groaned inwardly. Every bath night, once she was washed, her mother would sit and painstakingly twist strips of rag into her wet hair, which would ensure she got up the next morning looking like Shirley Temple. She hated it, but loved her mam too much to tell her so. At eight, she considered she was too old for ringlets - especially when Susan Warren at school made fun of her.

  In no time at all she was immersed in the hot water and she sat quietly while her mam rubbed a mix of camomile powder and warm water into her hair, then tipped jug after jug of warm water over her head until she was sure she was clean. The girl rubbed herself dry with a big towel whilst Danny underwent the same procedure. Then she sat patiently as the rags were twisted into her wet hair, ouching occasionally as the wooden hairbrush caught on a knot.

  An hour later, as Maggie was just emptying the last of the bathwater down the deep stone sink, a knock came on the back door and both children grinned. That would be their Uncle David. He always popped in on a Friday night, and he usually came bearing treats tucked down deep in his pockets.

  Hopping off his seat, Danny flew to the door and flung it open. ‘Hello, Uncle David.’

  A tall man who was the double of their father stepped into the room and ruffled his nephew’s hair as he flashed a wink at Lizzie. ‘Hello, young man. Been good this week, have you?’ His chocolate-brown eyes twinkled.

  ‘I’ve been very good,’ Danny hastened to tell him as their uncle took his coat off and draped it over the back of a chair.

  ‘Good. I might find something nice for you then. But first I’ll get this bath outside for your mam, eh?’

  As he lifted the tin bath effortlessly, Maggie bustled away to put the kettle on. Soon they were all seated at the table sipping mugs of steaming cocoa and helping themselves from the biscuit barrel, and not for the first time, Danny felt a pang of regret that his uncle wasn’t his father. David and Sam were twins, just like him and Lizzie, and to look at they were almost identical, except that his uncle had a dimple in his left cheek whilst his father had a dimple in his right. There, any similarity between the two men ended, for Uncle David was kind and funny, whilst his father was fed up and angry for most of the time.

  Lizzie was thinking much the same thing as their uncle delved into his coat pocket and produced two bars of Fry’s Five Boys chocolate as if by magic.

  ‘Now don’t go getting it all over your clean nightclothes, else you’ll get me into bother with your mam,’ he warned.

  ‘Ta, Uncle David,’ they chorused, and in seconds they’d ripped the wrappers off and were eating the chocolate as if they’d never tasted it before.

  Maggie smiled indulgently, but just then Lucy let out a lusty wail and she rose from the table. ‘No peace for the wicked,’ she sighed. ‘I reckon this one is overdue for her bottle.’

  ‘I’ll warm it up for you,’ David offered as the baby’s cries grew louder. They stopped immediately Maggie inserted the rubber teat between her rosebud lips, and they all sighed with relief. Lucy might only be small but she could certainly make her presence known. She drained the bottle in seconds, then lay placidly as Maggie removed her nappy, dropped it into the enamel bucket to soak and then fastened the safety pins into her clean one.

  ‘There, little lady. That’s better, isn’t it?’ Maggie said, her face alight with love. Lucy gurgled contentedly, and not for the first time a wave of envy swept through David. How could his brother have so much while he had nothing? If Maggie and the children had been his, then they would have had to crowbar him away from them, yet Sam escaped to the pub every chance he got. He supposed his love for Maggie had started the very first time he’d clapped eyes on her, but it was too late for regrets now. She had made her choice when she married Sam and there was nothing he could do about it.

  Without being smug, David knew that there were plenty of women who would be more than willing to become his partner, but none of them ever quite measured up to Maggie in his eyes.

  Seeing him become morose, Maggie’s eyes creased with concern. ‘Is something wrong, David?’ she asked anxiously.

  Aware of the children’s eyes on him he forced a smile to his face. ‘No, no, course not. Though there is something I need to tell you when the children have gone to bed. Nothing for any of you to worry about though,’ he added hastily to his nephew and niece.

  ‘Right, well, speaking of bed, I think it’s about time you two skipped off and got tucked in, don’t you?’

  ‘Aw, Mam. Can’t we have just another half hour?’ Danny beseeched.

  Normally, Maggie would have relented, but tonight for some reason a sense of foreboding had settled around her like a cloud. Now that she came to think about it, David hadn’t quite been his normal cheery self since the minute he set foot through the door, and she had an awful feeling that she wasn’t going to like what he was going to tell her.

  ‘No, you cannot,’ she retorted in a manner that brooked no argument. ‘Now come on, the pair of you, else you’ll have bags under your eyes in the morning.’

  Reluctantly, the twins slid off their seats, offered their cheeks for a goodnight kiss and then trooped away up the stairs. The second Maggie heard their bedroom door close behind them she turned to David. ‘All right then - what is it you have to tell me that’s so
important?’

  ‘Never mind about that for now. How did you do that?’ He stabbed his finger towards a bruise that was just fading on her cheek.

  Maggie flushed and covered it self-consciously with her hand. ‘Oh, I er . . . I bumped it on the cupboard door the other day. I must be getting clumsy in my old age.’

  Ignoring her light tone, he said, ‘He’s been at his tricks again, hasn’t he, the lousy bastard.’

  ‘Of course he hasn’t. I told you - I bumped it on the door, and you shouldn’t talk about your brother that way.’

  ‘Huh! Just because he’s my brother doesn’t mean I have to like him. Sometimes I can hardly believe we ever lay in the same womb together.’

  Finding no answer, Maggie lowered her eyes and began to play with the fringe on the chenille tablecloth. Eventually she said, ‘So - are you going to tell me what’s going on or what then?’

  The anger seemed to leave him in a flash and now it was his turn to be sheepish. ‘Well, the thing is, I’ve er . . . I’ve decided to join up.’

  ‘You’ve what?’ Panic gripped her. ‘But you can’t!’

  ‘Why can’t I? Would you really care?’

  Maggie stared into the depths of the fire, her heart fluttering with shock. There was so much she wanted to say, but she and David had missed their chance many years ago, and now it was too late. Perhaps it would be better if he did leave, for being so near him and seeing him so often was almost painful.

  ‘I’m just worried that you might get hurt, that’s all,’ she muttered, and her heart was breaking as she saw the hope in his eyes die.

  ‘If everyone thought like that, no one would go. Anyway, if things carry on the way they are, no one will have a choice. The Germans have already invaded Poland and I reckon it won’t be long before they start on us.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said dully, and they lapsed into silence as she tried to imagine her life without him.

  Chapter Two

  November 1939

  From their place at the kitchen table the twins sat watching their father. He was standing in front of the mirror above the mantelpiece smoothing Brylcreem onto his jet-black hair. When he was ready, he stepped towards the door. ‘Best behaviour for your mother then, else it’ll be a taste o’ me belt fer you pair when I get back in,’ he warned, then without so much as another word he opened the back door and stepped outside. The fire flickered and spat in the draught, and then he was gone. Maggie hurried to place the black-out curtain back over the door.

  ‘Wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t snow tonight,’ she commented.

  ‘Cor, that would be smashin’,’ Danny said, excited. ‘We could go sledgin’ in the park, Lizzie.’

  His sister was just about to reply when a tap came on the back door and seconds later, Mrs Massey, their neighbour, popped her head round it.

  ‘Is it all clear?’ she asked.

  Maggie grinned. ‘If you mean, has Sam gone to the pub yet, yes he has.’

  ‘Good.’ Mrs Massey barged into the room slamming the door behind her against the increasingly bitter night. Waving a bottle of stout in the air, she announced, ‘My Fred treated me afore he went out an’ I thought you might like to share a sup wi’ me. I’ve got half a dozen Woodbines an’ all so we’re all set fer a good Friday night, by the looks of it.’ Peering at Lucy, who was by now fast asleep in her crib again, she settled herself into the fireside chair.

  Danny and Lizzie exchanged an amused glance. They thought the Masseys were a very funny couple. Mrs Massey was huge, with chins that wobbled when she laughed and a backside that she had to squeeze into a chair, whilst Mr Massey was a tiny little man, stick-thin, who only reached up to his wife’s shoulder. Even so, they seemed happy and had produced five children. The two oldest girls were married, the oldest boy had just joined up, and the two younger children, Carol and Tony, had recently been evacuated.

  It was these two that Maggie asked after now as she set two glasses on the table. ‘Any news of the kids?’

  The big woman’s lower lip quivered. ‘Matter o’fact, I had a letter from both of ’em just this mornin’. Seems they’re in a village somewhere on the outskirts o’ Nuneaton, but they ain’t livin’ together. Tony is with a farmer an’ his wife, an’ havin’ the time of his life if his letter is owt to go by. Carol is with a childless couple an’ sounded a bit homesick in the letter.’

  Maggie squeezed her hand sympathetically. ‘You must miss them.’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Mrs Massey admitted. ‘Though God knows why. The little buggers were allus up to some mischief or another at home, but it ain’t the same wi’out’em an’ Lord only knows how we’ll feel at Christmas.’ She looked across at the twins, clean and ready for bed after their Friday-night baths. Danny was sketching on a large pad and Lizzie had settled down at the table to do a jigsaw. ‘Yer really should be thinkin’ o’ gettin’ them pair somewhere safe an’ all,’ she advised. ‘You’d never forgive yourself if there were any bombin’ an’ any harm come to ’em. They’ve had no choice but to send the kids out of London, an’ they reckon that soon we won’t have a choice either.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think there’s much chance of that,’ Maggie said quickly, eager to change the conversation in front of the twins.

  Mrs Massey sniffed, and hitching up her huge breasts, she took a slurp from her glass and stared into the flickering fire.

  Half an hour later, when the twins were in bed, she resumed the earlier conversation almost immediately.

  ‘You’ll have to let ’em go soon, love, so yer may as well make yer mind up to it,’ she said gently. ‘Only reason they weren’t sent off wi’ mine was ’cos they had the chickenpox an’ were too bad to go. But it’ll be different now they’re well. They could well decide to evacuate’em any day now.’

  ‘No!’ Maggie flushed as she realised that she had raised her voice. She couldn’t pretend that her marriage had been made in heaven, but she could just about endure it while she had her children around her. God knows what she’d do if the twins weren’t there. Suddenly tired, she sank down onto the old settee. ‘I’d just like to keep the family together until after Christmas,’ she muttered, and her neighbour’s kind heart went out to her.

  ‘I know yer would, love, an’ God willin’, yer shall. I’m only warnin’ yer ’cos this bloody war is goin’ from bad to worse. The first bombs could be dropped on London any day now, an’ then it’s only a matter o’ time till they start to really target Coventry. Think of it - most o’ the car factories in the city are turning out ammunition, tanks an’ aircraft parts already, so it’s obvious the Germans are gonna take a pot at them. I ain’t sayin’ it to frighten yer. This ain’t easy fer none of us. There’s my Will out there somewhere, bless him. I ain’t heard hide nor hair of him since he joined up last month, an’ who knows how long it will be till I see him again? They could send him anywhere. Could have already, fer all I know. An’ then there’s my Fred - he’s already put hisself up for fire watch, should he be needed.’

  ‘I know how you feel,’ Maggie replied. ‘David has gone off to camp too, but as yet he hasn’t let us know where he is.’ Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, she patted her neighbour’s hand. Mrs Massey was a big woman with a big mouth at times. But for all that she had a big heart too, and during the years that Maggie had lived next door to her, she had proved herself to be a good friend and neighbour time and time again.

  ‘We’ll get through this together,’ Maggie said now.

  Mrs Massey nodded. ‘Aye, happen we will, love. By the way, word has it that they’re startin’ to put the Anderson shelters up in Swanshill next week, so be prepared.’

  Maggie gulped deep in her throat - it was all so much to take in.

  Upstairs, the twins plopped miserably onto the side of Lizzie’s bed. Friday nights weren’t the same any more without Uncle David’s visits. Only last week, he had called round whilst their father was at work to tell them that he would be going away. He
had looked very smart, but different somehow in his Army uniform. Their mum had sobbed and clung on to him as if she might never see him again, and that had brought tears to Lizzie’s eyes too.

  Their mother had told them that now Uncle David had gone, he might be away for a very long time. The thought made the sides of Lizzie’s mouth droop. They all missed him already. All except her father, that was. He and her Uncle David didn’t get on, for some reason.

  The twins had lost count of the number of times they had heard the two men rowing. It was usually following one of their mother’s accidents. Maggie always seemed to have a black eye or a split lip or something, but whenever they asked her what she’d done, she said she had just slipped or bumped herself somehow. And with that, the twins had to be content, although at eight years old they were beginning to notice that the accidents always seemed to happen after they had heard their father shouting while they lay in bed.

  ‘It won’t be the same without Uncle David here fer Christmas,’ Lizzie reflected sadly as she lounged on her candlewick bedspread, the rags in her hair dancing like snakes. ‘Where do yer reckon he’s gone?’

  ‘I heard Mam tellin’ Dad as he’d gone somewhere up North fer trainin’,’ Danny replied gloomily.

  Dropping onto the bed beside her, their fingers entwined as they sat thinking of their uncle, but then their mother’s voice interrupted their melancholy thoughts.

  ‘I hope you two are in bed?’ she called. ‘I shall be up to check in a minute, and make sure you have that light out else we’ll have Mr Hutton hammering on the door.’

  Guiltily, Danny clicked off the light and side-by-side they clambered into Lizzie’s bed.

  ‘Ooh, it’s freezin’,’ Lizzie complained as the cold sheets settled around her thin legs. ‘Mam’s forgot to put the hot bottle in to take the chill off.’