Lily's Journey

by Tania Crosse

  After the rockets came a display of fireworks on a specially constructed gantry, Catherine wheels spinning crazily in mesmerising swirls and dripping sparkling shards onto the grass below, and golden fountains and pyramids of twinkling spangles blossoming like flaming bushes.

  ‘Hello, girls! Enjoying it?’

  ‘Hello, Pete! Yes, good, isn’t it? Gosh, look at—’

  I didn’t get any further. We all suddenly realised that anxious voices were shouting aloud, telling us all to run. We exchanged glances, not sure what on earth was going on as the crowd began to move backwards. We moved with them, and I for one was gripped in fear. A resonant bang cracked through the night air, followed by a series of smaller explosions like gunfire. I ducked. I was in the air-raid shelter again, crouching with Ellen, praying as the bombs dropped all around me.

  ‘Hey, it’s all right, Lily!’ Kate was shouting in my ear and I realised I was clutching onto her arm, my eyes tightly shut. ‘Look, it’s stopped now. I reckon as the rest of the fireworks somehow got set off together!’

  I opened my eyes. Everyone was muttering as it seemed the display had indeed ended prematurely, and the crowd was dispersing.

  ‘Oh, what a pity! Still, no one was hurt.’

  ‘And I’ve got a bottle of beer,’ Peter smirked proudly. ‘You girls want a drop?’

  ‘Oh, Pete!’ Kate giggled. ‘D’you think we should?’

  ‘Coronations don’t happen every day.’

  ‘Oh, all right, then!’ She snatched the bottle and took a long swig.

  ‘Hey, not too much! What about you, Lily?’

  I hesitated. Ellen always kept a bottle of sherry for special occasions and I’d had a little sip once or twice. The little accident with the fireworks had upset me, and perhaps a mouthful of beer would settle my nerves. It tasted foul, like bitter washing-up water. I pulled a face as I handed it to Sally who was eager to try it, but ended up spluttering it down her front, much to Kate’s amusement.

  ‘Sh! Look, everyone’s gone home!’ I warned. ‘I really think we should, too.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right. Goodnight, all! See you on the train in the morning.’

  I crept indoors, trying to be quiet as I expected Sidney to have gone to bed. He hadn’t. He was waiting for me in the kitchen.

  ‘Had a good time, then?’ he asked, surprisingly pleasantly.

  ‘Yes, lovely, thank you.’

  He suddenly frowned, and before I knew it, he grasped my arm and pulled me towards him. Fear gripped me in a vice as his eyes narrowed to frosty slits.

  ‘By God, you’ve been drinking! I can smell it on your breath!’

  ‘Oh!’ I all but squealed from terror rather than pain as his fingers dug into my arm. ‘Yes, I had one little sip of beer, that’s all! And it was horrible! One sip, that’s all!’

  ‘One sip is all it needs!’ he bellowed at me, spittle spraying from his lips. ‘The devil’s brew is drink! I might have known you’d start on it one day! But then you always were trouble, even before you were born. Now get yourself off to bed, and don’t you ever take the devil’s drink again!’

  He let go of me with a violent thrust and I fell back against the wall. The wonderful day had been ruined, and I felt as if my courage had been torn into shreds. Hot tears sprang to my eyes and I fled up the stairs and threw myself on the bed.

  What the hell had he meant, trouble before I was born? It just wasn’t fair! He always seemed to be blaming me, as if there was some secret I still didn’t know about myself. And just as I was beginning to think my life was improving, Sidney had shattered my contentment yet again.

  The next morning, it was as if nothing had happened, and I almost began to wonder if I hadn’t imagined his outburst. But, no. His words kept coming back to haunt me.

  Chapter Six

  ‘You’re not happy, are you, Lily dear? Would you like to come inside and talk about it? A trouble shared is a trouble halved, you know.’

  I blinked into the concerned face of Gloria Luckett, a little startled since I had been somewhat lost in my own thoughts. She had never been anything other than kind and friendly towards me, and other than her enthusiasm for the moor’s ancient sites that she had revealed to me on our first meeting, I had no reason to suspect that she was involved in anything untoward. And now she was the only person among my acquaintances who seemed sensitive to the turmoil I was indeed trying to keep concealed. I was secretly so distraught that I was ready to lean on someone, and all at once, Gloria seemed to be that person.

  ‘Well, yes, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble,’ I faltered, still somewhat hesitant.

  ‘Come along in, then,’ she smiled invitingly.

  I followed her indoors. I always found it odd going into a strange house for the first time. You never knew what you’d find. Everybody’s house seems to smell different, and Gloria’s was no exception. I couldn’t put my finger on it. But there was nothing odd about her house. In fact, it was just a mirror image of ours, only much more cosy and inviting.

  ‘Take a seat,’ Gloria smiled, and I obeyed, sitting down at an old pine table not dissimilar to our own. ‘Drink this,’ she said kindly, placing a small glass of amber liquid in front of me.

  ‘Oh.’ I looked up at her apologetically, Sidney’s outburst on the evening of the coronation still fresh in my mind. ‘I’m afraid I’m not allowed to drink alcohol.’

  ‘And I wouldn’t offer it to you. This is just a little herbal decoction to relax you. It’s all natural, I promise.’ Then she smiled reassuringly. ‘Didn’t I tell you, I dabble in herbs? Only simple remedies anyone can make, but I help a few people here and there.’

  She gestured to a set of shelves crammed with bottles and jars, and it was then that I noticed bunches of greenery hanging from the drying rack above my head. So that’s what I could smell! It all fell into place, and I felt ready to trust her. Whatever was in the remedy, it tasted quite pleasant and within a few minutes, I was feeling more at ease. When Gloria refilled my glass, I was happy to accept it, and I noted that she poured some out for herself.

  ‘Now then, tell me all about it,’ she said persuasively. ‘And take your time.’

  I lowered my eyes, not quite sure where to start, so I told her about my mum first, Grandma Ellen that is, and the letter. And then all about Sidney, his strict, religious attitude to life and his strange reaction to various things that had happened since I had come to live with him. And as I spoke, it dawned on me that I had never told anyone all these details, not even Jeannie in my letters. I somehow felt ashamed, as if it was all partly my fault, but confessing everything to Gloria was definitely a release. She was patient, not interrupting but listening intently until I came to the end of my story. Then she sat back in her chair, tapping her joined fingertips against her lips.

  ‘Your father’s a very unhappy man,’ she pronounced simply.

  ‘Yes, I rather think he is,’ I agreed. ‘I feel sorry for him really, but I just wish he wouldn’t take it out on me.’

  Gloria nodded. ‘It does seem unfair. But you have a big heart, Lily, and I sense a strength in you, and I’m rarely wrong. In fact, I think you’re stronger than your father. I’m certain it’ll all work out in the end. I can feel it in my bones.’

  She said it with such conviction, but I raised my eyebrows sceptically. ‘I wish I could be so sure.’

  ‘You just believe in yourself, and have patience. But to help matters along, did your grandmother have any friends in London she might have confided in?’

  I shook my head. ‘No. I asked at the funeral, but everyone was as astounded as I was to learn she wasn’t my real mother, so I drew a blank there.’

  ‘Oh, well, something will turn up. I know in my bones it will. Trust me, Lily.’

  I really hoped she was right.

  Oddly enough, I felt far more at ease after my conversation with Gloria. So much so that I didn’t even consider pressing Sidney about my past. Or perhaps because I was subconsciously putting it
off. For the next few weeks, I simply enjoyed the better weather that followed the coronation and the opportunity it gave to explore the moor further. Kate and Sally weren’t great walkers but they were happy to come with me on Sunday afternoons provided I didn’t plan too long a ramble!

  The warm, humid weather suddenly broke one morning in a violent thunderstorm. I was at work and even in the shop we were aware of the torrential rain that bucketed down incessantly. It was just after lunch that the lights flickered and went out seconds before a tremendous crash resounded overhead and we were plunged into gloom.

  ‘Goodness!’

  The young lady who was choosing some nail varnish at my counter opened her lovely eyes wide. Their wonderful green-blue colour seemed familiar, but I had served her on several occasions, so perhaps that was why. We both glanced up as another crack of thunder exploded outside and the building shook.

  ‘Oh, dear, I was hoping it would stop,’ the girl complained. ‘I’m already soaked through and I’m going to be late back to work as it is.’

  ‘I think it’s coming down worse, actually,’ I sympathised. ‘Have you got far to go?’

  ‘Only to Plymouth Road.’

  ‘That’s far enough in this. I don’t think I’ve ever known such a storm.’

  ‘Oh, we get them over Dartmoor. It’s the warm, moist air from the Atlantic rising up high over the moor, or something like that.’ She shrugged her shoulders carelessly. ‘Never was a great one for geography. You’re not local are you?’

  I didn’t get a chance to reply as a piercing shriek from the front of the shop silenced all other conversation. My customer forgot all about her nail varnish, turning to look, and I stood up on tiptoe while Mrs Kershaw rushed out of her office.

  ‘Whatever’s going on?’ she called.

  ‘Oh, Mrs Kershaw, there’s water comin’ in the doors!’ came the hysterical reply.

  It seemed we all moved forward, drawn by the catastrophe. There were audible gasps as puddles an inch deep were seeping under the doors, spreading and growing deeper by the second. When I glanced out through the glass, water was streaming down the road and the few pedestrians braving the downpour had been caught in the deluge and were running and splashing in a veritable flood.

  ‘Oh, Good Lord above!’ my customer cried, putting her hand to her head in a dramatic gesture while I gazed in dumbstruck horror beside her.

  ‘Quick, everyone! The brooms in the cleaning cupboard!’ Mrs Kershaw commanded. ‘We must brush it back!’

  For the next few minutes, all was pandemonium. It was so dark with the lights gone out, the sky evidently black outside, and as we all worked furiously, I was reminded of my childhood days in London when people emerged from their shelters after a raid to inspect a familiar scene the bombs had rendered unrecognisable.

  ‘Mrs Kershaw, this is hopeless!’ I exclaimed, suddenly prompted by the memories. ‘But haven’t I seen some sandbags out the back? We could—’

  ‘Oh, clever girl, Lily! Come on! You two keep brushing and the rest of us can bring them in!’

  ‘I’ll help!’ my young lady offered enthusiastically. And then, winking at me, she added under her breath, ‘Quite exciting, really. And a good excuse to be late back to work!’

  Exciting it may have been, but it was more like hard labour as we struggled through the shop with the heavy sacks while Mrs Kershaw evacuated the few other customers out the back way. But I was really glad of my new friend’s help and when, working as a team, we all stood back with fingers crossed to see if our makeshift dam would hold, there was a strong sense of combined achievement.

  ‘Oh, well done, everyone!’ Mrs Kershaw sighed with relief. ‘And especially you, Lily! And thank you, too, dear,’ she nodded at my customer. ‘Now I must make some calls to get this mess sorted out!’

  ‘Well, I suppose I ought to see if I can get back to the office without drowning,’ the girl said with a grimace. ‘The rain’s easing off now the damage is done.’

  ‘I’ll take you out the back way,’ I offered. ‘It’s strange. You’d think the back would be flooded with the river being there.’

  ‘Ah, well, the front isn’t called Brook Street for nothing. An old stream runs underneath and I suppose it hasn’t got so much room to expand as the river, so it floods more easily.’

  ‘That would make sense,’ I agreed. ‘And thank you so much for your help.’

  ‘Oh, I enjoyed it! I like a bit of fun!’ And she waved cheerily as she stepped across the yard.

  The next momentous occasion in my life was a month later, my sixteenth birthday on the twenty-eighth of July. Or at least it should have been momentous. I’d always thought of sixteen as being a milestone. You could get married. Not that I would want to. I hadn’t met anyone that special yet. Actually, that wasn’t strictly true. I still had the joyous memory of my fleeting acquaintance with the young doctor in the car. But I was beginning to give up hope of ever seeing him again.

  Sidney never even wished me happy birthday, let alone produced a card or gift. He just turned a frosty stare on me as I opened the envelope that had arrived the previous morning. I recognised the writing so I knew it was from Jeannie. I read it eagerly as I hadn’t heard from her since May. Her cousin’s family had moved out, having at long last been offered a flat in a new high-rise block in Chiswick, so the house was less crowded now. Jeannie asked if I was sure I didn’t want to come and live there now. I seriously wondered if I shouldn’t take up the offer. But then I would never have the chance of extricating any more information about my family from Sidney, and that remained all important to me. In the meantime, Jeannie didn’t fancy a week’s holiday in the back of beyond, thank you all the same. I was disappointed, but at least she had sent a card, and in the evening I had been invited round to Kate’s house for a special tea.

  The schools, though, had broken up for the summer and so my friends weren’t on the train in the morning. Instead, I bought myself a newspaper to read on the journey. It’s Over, the headline read. After all the bumbling negotiations that seemed to have been going on for months in Korea, a treaty had finally been signed the previous day and the war was over. It was just a case of bringing our lads home. The lucky ones who had survived.

  I recalled the celebrations back in 1945. I had been seven, nearly eight years old. London had gone mad, and rightly so. There were street parties everywhere, despite rationing. It was over and we had won. No more fear. Just a flood of weary men in demob suits coming home to wives who thought they would never see them alive again, and children they scarcely knew. And others who watched with wistful, unshed tears because their menfolk would never be coming home or were still fighting in the far east. I doubted the ending of the Korean War would be celebrated in anything like the same manner, but I felt deeply happy that it was over.

  Later that morning, Mrs Kershaw invited me into her office. ‘You’ve been an exceptional worker from the start,’ she smiled at me, ‘but you saved the store a great deal of damage with your quick thinking. Now, I’ve asked head office if I can have an assistant supervisor, and, though you’re a bit young, the job is yours. You’ll start on the first of August. That’s if you’ll accept the promotion?’

  Accept? Does the world turn once a day? Of course I’d accept. Another step towards the independence I craved. The grin was still splitting my face as I skipped back to my counter. And who should be there choosing the nail varnish she had forgotten a month before on the day of the storm than my young lady with the lovely eyes!

  ‘Oh, hello!’ I beamed at her. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m very well, thank you! Sorry I haven’t been in, but I’ve been so busy. My brother’s coming home from London for a few weeks. And our elder sister’s getting married to an American, so there’s heaps to do. I’m chief bridesmaid and the dresses are blue, so what colour varnish should I have, do you think?’

  ‘Oh, I’d have thought clear or at least very pale. How about this one?’

  ‘That loo
ks excellent! Yes, thank you, I’ll have that one.’ She took out her purse and paid me while I found a small paper bag to put it in. ‘Tell you what,’ she said brightly, ‘when it’s all over, why don’t you and I get together?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I’d like that!’ I returned her broad smile. I somehow knew instantly that we were going to be friends, although I was sure she was a few years older than me.

  ‘Great! Won’t be till the end of August, mind. I’ll come in and find you! I’m Wendy, by the way. Wendy Franfield.’

  ‘Franfield?’ I cried quite incredulously.

  ‘Yes, my father’s a doctor, a GP. You’ve probably heard of him.’

  ‘No, it isn’t that! I know someone who must be your uncle. Artie Mayhew.’

  ‘Uncle Artie? Good Lord!’

  ‘Yes, we met up at Foggintor. We live at Princetown now but my father and I were the last people living up at the quarry.’

  ‘Well, I never! Uncle Artie did mention you! But, oh, look at the time! I simply must go! But I’ll see you in a few weeks! We can have a good old chat!’

  ‘I’ll look forward to it! Hope the wedding goes well!’

  She turned to wave as she left the shop, and I felt that I was having a good birthday after all. If only Sidney would tell me a bit more about my family, it would have been perfect, but I instinctively knew he wouldn’t.

  Chapter Seven

  I first saw him at the Princetown Carnival towards the end of August. This was apparently an annual event that everyone was looking forward to tremendously. Although I was thriving on my new position at work, I booked the day off as I hadn’t had any holiday at all yet. There would be all sorts of activities, but the main events would be the crowning of the carnival and fairy queens and the fancy dress parade down the streets.