Moonlight and Ashes

by Rosie Goodwin

  Lucy was sitting on the hearthrug and she could hear the sounds of the twins playing with the neighbour’s children in the back yard.

  ‘What? Oh no. No, thanks. I could murder a pint though. I don’t suppose you’ve got a few bob to spare, have yer?’

  In that moment, had she had any spare cash she would have given it to him willingly, but as it was, she barely had enough to see them through the week.

  ‘Sorry, Sam, I’m afraid I haven’t, but don’t look so glum. Things might turn out to be not quite as bad as you expect, once you get there.’

  ‘Huh! It ain’t the trainin’ bit I’m bothered about. It’s where they’ll send me once the trainin’s over that worries me. You’ve heard the horror stories on the wireless. Men are getting their heads blown off every day. It’d be just my luck if I copped it the first day out there.’

  At that moment Danny exploded into the kitchen, and as Maggie turned to face him, a wave of love washed over her. With his hair tousled and his socks slipped down round his ankles, he looked adorable.

  ‘Look at this ally, Dad! Me an Neil from up the way have been playin’ marbles an’ I won it off him.’ He extended a grubby hand in which nestled a large glass marble for his father’s inspection, but when no comment was forthcoming and his father merely gazed off into space he looked at Maggie.

  ‘Ain’t me dad very well, Mam?’ he muttered falteringly.

  At that minute, Lizzie, who was never more than a few steps behind her brother, also burst into the kitchen. Maggie gave Danny a reassuring smile. She knew that the twins missed their grandad dreadfully. They all did, if it came to that, but she was discovering that life had to go on and was doing her best to cope.

  ‘Your dad’s fine,’ she said. ‘Now come on, the pair of you. Get to the sink and wash yer hands an’ I’ll rustle us all up some dinner, eh?’

  Danny trudged to the sink and half-heartedly twiddled his hands beneath the tap, but all the time he kept a cautious eye on his father. Dinner was a gloomy affair and Maggie was glad when it was over and she could send the children back out to play. As she stood washing up the pots she thought how much lighter the atmosphere would be when Sam finally did go, and guilt made her cheeks grow hot. What was she thinking of? As Sam had quite rightly pointed out, men were being killed every day, some of them no more than boys. He might never come home, so why then, she wondered, didn’t she feel anything? She pushed the thought away and moved on to her next chore.

  The following day, Maggie visited the factory and hurried inside to talk to May, who was only too happy to welcome her back with open arms.

  ‘I was sorry to hear about yer dad, love,’ she sympathised, and Maggie thought that perhaps she wasn’t as bad as everyone made out, after all. It was as she was leaving the factory that Jo spotted her and hastily rose from her machine to follow Maggie outside.

  ‘I er . . . I heard what happened to yer dad an’ I just want to say I’m sorry.’ She shuffled from foot to foot in the bright sunshine, avoiding Maggie’s eyes as she spoke.

  ‘Thank you. It was a shock, as you can imagine, but I’ve decided to come back to work next week. Sam has signed up. He leaves on Monday an’ I’ll be back in on Tuesday. To be honest, I’ll need the money to keep the wolf from the door. But how are things with you?’

  ‘So so.’ Jo blushed beetroot red, and as she raised her head, Maggie saw that her lip was split.

  ‘Was it yer dad or a client that did that?’ she asked softly.

  ‘It was me dad. I told him I weren’t goin’ out on the streets again, but he had other ideas. I tell yer, I wish it was him that was goin’ away instead o’ your Sam - an’ I wish they’d blow him to smithereens. He’s a bastard!’ Her voice was so loaded with hatred that for a moment Maggie was speechless. Standing there, Jo looked very young without her paint and powder on, and Maggie’s heart ached for her.

  ‘Look - why don’t you come round and see me one night next week?’ She hadn’t intended to invite Jo to her home. Somehow the words had just slipped out and there was no going back.

  ‘Why should I do that?’

  ‘Well, the thing is, I’ve just sorted Lizzie’s wardrobe out an’ I have a number of skirts and jumpers that might come in for one of your little sisters. The other thing is, I’ll be glad of a bit of company of a night, when Sam’s gone an’ the children are all in bed.’

  Jo stared at her suspiciously for a moment before muttering, ‘Do yer really want a prostitute in yer home?’

  ‘I know I was hard on you when I first found out,’ Maggie told her apologetically, ‘but the thing is - you’re not doing it because you want to, are you? From what you’ve told me, you don’t have much choice.’

  ‘Yer got that right.’ Jo kicked at a stone and then her face broke into a rare smile. ‘If yer sure then? I’ll do that. I’ll pay fer the clothes though, if there’s anythin’ that’ll fit the little ’uns.’

  In that instant, Maggie realised that Jo had pride and she admired her for it.

  ‘Well, we’ll see, eh? We’ll sort out what night’s best for you when I get back to work next week. Meantime, I’d better go home else the children will be playing merry hell. You take care now.’

  As she walked away, Jo felt a lump rise in her throat. She’d never allowed herself to have a friend before because of her circumstances. She had always been afraid of what they might think of her, if they should discover what she did at nights. And yet here was Maggie inviting her to her home regardless. With an uncharacteristic spring in her step she turned and hurried away back to her machine.

  ‘Cor, Mam, this looks lovely!’ Danny’s eyes shone greedily as he looked at the lovely meal Maggie had laid out on the table. It was the day before his dad was due to leave and Maggie had pulled out all the stops to present Sam with a Sunday dinner that he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. It had been no mean feat. She had begged and borrowed from different people, but now it all seemed worth it as the twins gazed down at the loaded plates approvingly. There was juicy roast beef with crispy Yorkshire puddings, and cabbage and carrots all piled on top of roast potatoes cooked just the way Sam liked them.

  ‘Shall we sit down and have it while it’s hot then?’ she suggested brightly. ‘And there’s a big apple pie and custard for after, for those that have room for any.’

  ‘We will,’ the twins chorused, and they fell on the meal as if they hadn’t eaten for a month.

  Once Maggie had strapped Lucy into her wooden highchair and pulled her up to the table, she smiled at Sam. ‘Come on, love. Tuck in.’

  He stopped pacing up and down the room to glance at her distractedly. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said come and get your dinner before it goes cold. I’ve been standing over a hot stove all day and it would be a shame to see it go to waste.’ She kept her smile fixed firmly in place, determined that the memories he had of his last day at home should be happy ones.

  Reluctantly he pulled his chair up, but all he could do was push the food around the plate. ‘I ain’t very hungry,’ he told her after a while.

  ‘Never mind. Perhaps you’ll find room for some pudding. I invited Mam to join us but she preferred to stay at home again.’

  Danny paused from shovelling food into his mouth. ‘Gran misses Grandad, don’t she?’ he asked sadly.

  ‘Yes, she does, sweetheart. We all do, but let’s not think of that today. I want this to be a happy day.’

  ‘Huh! There’s fat chance o’ that, knowin’ where I’m off to tomorrow.’ Sam scraped his chair back from the table and stormed towards the door. ‘I’m goin’ out fer a bit o’ fresh air. Expect me when yer see me.’

  Maggie’s shoulders sagged. It seemed that all her efforts had been in vain, but she didn’t want to upset the children, so she said briskly: ‘Right then. Who’s for apple pie?’

  Three little hands shot up into the air and wearily she turned away to the oven.

  That evening, as darkness painted the sky above the city, a feeling of
dread settled around Maggie’s heart. She had wanted Sam to spend his last night at home with the children, but they had long since been tucked into bed and were all snoring softly. She paced up and down the kitchen, looking at the tin clock that stood on the mantelshelf every few minutes. Where could he be? She knew he had no money to go the pub, and as he had no other interests, she was deeply concerned. Eventually she twitched the blackout curtains tightly together and curled into a ball on the settee. Her eyes fell on the case packed ready for him at the side of the door. It was a very small case, for as the recruiting officer had told him, once he was issued with his uniform he would need very little else from home. Maggie had packed just one change of clothes and underwear, and had also slipped in a picture of the children, all happy and smiling, that she had had taken especially. She was determined to stay awake until he showed his face, but it had been a long day, and as the hand on the tin clock crept up to midnight she fell fast asleep.

  In the early hours of the morning she started awake. For a moment she was disorientated, but then, as she remembered why she was there, her face creased into a frown. Sitting up slowly, she stretched her stiff arms above her head. It was then that she saw the shadow creeping across the room and her heart skipped a beat. Lunging for the light switch, she clicked it on and gasped when she saw Sam, suitcase in hand, creeping towards the back door like a thief in the night.

  ‘Sam, where have you been? I’ve been so worried. And what have you got your case for? You don’t have to leave until the morning.’

  Unable to meet her questioning eyes, he hung his head. ‘I err . . . I thought I’d head off now.’

  Maggie stared at him. ‘But what about saying goodbye to the children? And to me? Anyway, there are no buses or trams running at this time. Just what are you playing at?’

  Hearing the suspicion in her voice, he shrugged. ‘Yer might as well know now as later.’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘I ain’t goin’.’

  ‘But you’ve got to go now.’ Maggie could hardly believe what she was hearing. If Sam didn’t turn up, he would be classed as a coward and a deserter, and would never be able to hold his head high again.

  He shook his head. ‘All very easy fer you to say, but I don’t fancy getting me head blown off. So I’ve decided I ain’t goin’ - it’s as simple as that.’

  ‘But what will you do? They’ll look for you. You won’t be able to stay round here.’

  ‘I know that.’ He had the grace to look uncomfortable as he again made towards the door. Once there, he turned to look back at her. ‘I’m sorry, Maggie. I know I ain’t been the best husband in the world. You an’ the kids will be better off wi’out me.’

  ‘But where will you go?’ she repeated.

  ‘Better you don’t know, then yer won’t have to lie, will yer?’

  Maggie felt as if she was caught in the grip of a terrible nightmare. ‘Will we ever see you again?’

  He shrugged. ‘Perhaps one day, when this bloody war is all over.’ Without so much as another word he silently slipped away into the night as Maggie stood there reeling from the shock.

  Chapter Eleven

  Pulling her coat about her, Maggie shuffled through the leaves that were whipping across the pavement beneath her feet. It was early September and there was a distinct nip in the air, which was hard to adjust to after the blazing heat of the summer.

  She had been back in the factory for some weeks now. Of Sam there was no sign, and now the children had stopped asking for him, almost as if he’d never existed. Her mother was still giving her cause for concern. Ellen seemed to be slipping into a strange melancholy where no one could reach her, although she was still managing to care for the children while Maggie was at work.

  Maggie was completely worn out. Gone were the days when she would go home to a house of laughter with a meal waiting for her on the table. Instead, she usually arrived home to find her mother slouched in the fireside chair, the pots piled high in the sink and the children running riot.

  Today, Danny and Lizzie met her at the door, flinging themselves into her arms as if they hadn’t seen her for a month. She laughed and kissed the tops of their heads as they both rushed to tell her all about their day.

  ‘One at a time,’ she smiled as she took off her coat. Her mother was in her usual position in the fireside chair. As soon as she heard Maggie, she rose and began to shuffle towards the door.

  ‘Won’t you stay for tea, Mam?’ Maggie knew what the answer would be before the question had left her lips, so her mother’s reply didn’t surprise her.

  ‘No thanks, love. I’ll get back off over home if you don’t mind. I’ve peeled a few potatoes and onions for yer an’ I got yer some ox liver from the butchers.’

  ‘Thanks, Mam. I’ll drop Lucy off in the morning then as usual.’

  Ellen nodded and slowly left the house.

  The next couple of hours passed in a blur as Maggie cooked the children a meal then prepared them for bed. When at last they were all tucked in, she began to tackle the housework. Glancing at the clock, she was shocked to see that it was almost 8 p.m. She wondered where the time had gone. Jo was calling round tonight and the house was scarcely fit to be seen. Still, she comforted herself, she’s coming to see me, not the house, so she’ll have to take me as she finds me. She could hear the rain that had begun to fall, lashing against the window, and briefly wondered if Jo might decide against coming out in it, but spot on eight o’clock there was a tap on the front door.

  When Maggie hurried through the front room to answer it and saw Jo standing there, it was all she could do not to laugh out loud. The girl looked like a drowned rat.

  ‘Come on in quickly. You’ll catch your death standing there,’ she urged.

  Jo stepped inside, and as her eyes swept approvingly round the tidy room, the water began to puddle on the lino at her feet.

  ‘Sorry. Perhaps I should have put it off till another night,’ she said. ‘But it weren’t rainin’ when I set off.’

  ‘Stop worryin’ an’ don’t be silly. It’s only a bit of water. Now come into the kitchen by the fire and get dried off.’ Maggie led the way, and once in the warmth of the little back room, she passed her a towel. ‘Here, give your hair a good rub with that an’ give me your coat. I’ll hang it up to dry an’ then I’ll make yer a nice hot drink.’

  Jo took the towel gratefully as Maggie filled the kettle.

  ‘Sorry the place is in a bit of a state,’ she told Jo over her shoulder. ‘I only manage to keep on top through the week while I’m working, then come the weekend I give everywhere a thorough goin’-over.’

  Jo could have told her that compared to the home she lived in, this was like a little palace but she remained tight-lipped until Maggie had carried two steaming mugs to the table.

  ‘I’m afraid we’re out of sugar. Our Danny used the last of it on his porridge this morning.’

  ‘You’ve got this place really comfortable,’ Jo told Maggie.

  ‘I dare say it’s not too bad, though it could be better if I didn’t have three kids rampagin’ round it. Still, I shouldn’t grumble, I suppose.’

  They both sipped at their drinks until Jo asked, ‘Have yer heard anythin’ from Sam?’

  Maggie shook her head. Apart from her mother and Sam’s mother, Jo was the only person she had told, about him being missing. If the neighbours had noticed that Army officials had been round to see her, they tactfully hadn’t questioned her and she hadn’t enlightened them as to why they had come. Their visit had turned into an ordeal, and by the time they had finished grilling her, she had been shaking like a leaf. They had even searched the house, as if they thought she might be hiding him! Finally she had been ordered to fill in endless forms, and then they had left, telling her in no uncertain terms that should she discover where he was and not tell them, then she would be considered as guilty as he was.

  ‘Not so much as a dickie-bird,’ she sighed, suppressing a shudder as she thought back
to the visit. ‘It’s almost as if he’s disappeared off the face of the earth.’

  ‘Don’t the children find it strange that he didn’t say goodbye to them?’

  ‘I think they might have for a start but they hardly mention him now.’ Maggie’s voice was sad. ‘If I am honest, they’re happier without him. He never had a lot of time for them when he was here. When he did speak to them it was usually to tell them off or to order them to be quiet.’

  ‘Well, at least he weren’t knockin’ seven bells out of’em half the time. That’s where I get most of my bruises from - when I step in between my dad an’ one o’ the little ’uns.’

  Maggie stared at her soberly. Jo was alarmingly thin, but she was wearing a very smart blue costume and had obviously made a great effort to look nice for her visit. Maggie was touched. ‘That’s a lovely outfit you’re wearing, Jo.’

  Her visitor flushed with pleasure at the compliment. ‘I got it in a jumble sale over at some posh church hall in Earlsdon,’ she giggled. ‘I got loads o’ stuff fer the little’uns an’ all, an’ a nice nightie fer me mam. She were tickled pink with it when I got it home.’

  ‘Ah, now that reminds me.’ Crossing to a pile of clothes that were neatly folded over the back of a chair, Maggie carried them to the table. ‘I sorted those things that Lizzie has grown out of for you. Do you think any of them might fit one of your sisters?’

  As she began to hold the articles up one at a time for inspection, Jo said, ‘Cor, they’re lovely, an’ they’ll slot on our Katie a treat. I’m goin’ to pay yer fer ’em though.’

  Maggie glanced at the proud jut of the girl’s chin and was impressed. Jo might not have a lot but she certainly had her pride. ‘I’ll tell you what, let’s just say you owe me a favour if ever I should need one,’ she compromised.

  Jo thought about it for a second and frowned. ‘What sort of favour could I ever do you?’

  ‘Well, perhaps you could babysit for me if ever I needed you?’