by Annie Murray
‘Her name’s Irene and they’ve got two girls, Rita and Shirley. She doesn’t half bawl at them – proper yowm-yowm she is an’ all. That’s what Dolly said – that Black Country talk. Not him, just her. He’s in some factory or other. The way she talks about him you can see she thinks the sun shines out of his . . .’ She eyed Gladys who eyed her back. ‘Out of somewhere of his anyway. Ray this, Ray that. My Ray . . . But she said in the end, she comes from Netherton – as if you couldn’t tell.’ They all laughed, the Black Country and Birmingham seeming about as much the same country as England and Scotland. ‘And she’s expecting as well, about the same time as me and Nett, I think – must be something in the water!’
‘You should tell her about that clinic,’ Gladys said.
Gladys, who had previously been scornful of any ‘interference’ by ‘them’ into the health of expectant mothers, had been converted in her views by talking to the midwife and the health visitor who had come to see Rachel and Melanie. The health visitor was a friendly young woman who had explained to them all the childhood conditions and problems that could be averted by catching them early.
‘I wish we’d had better advice back in the old days,’ Gladys said. ‘For the mothers, I mean. Ooh, I remember the babbies dying of the diarrhoea and all sorts – terrible it was. I know some people think they’re busybodies, but she’s all right, that young woman. They’ve been very good to Dolly. You go – and take the advice they give you. They’ve had some education about it, which is more than the rest of us ever had.’
‘I’ll tell her,’ Rachel said. ‘I’m not sure she’s the sort who’ll listen though.’
The morning after Irene and Ray Sutton moved into number four, there was an upset in the yard – raised angry voices.
‘What’s that racket?’ Gladys said, hands in a bowl of washing-up water. ‘Sounds like trouble.’
Rachel got up from the table to open the door. ‘Sounds as if it’s coming from the brew’us.’
Gladys cocked her ear. ‘That’s Ma Jackman. I’d know her screeching anywhere.’
‘I think she’s having a barney with that Irene woman,’ Rachel said.
Before she could even sit down again, Ma Jackman’s gristly figure came striding along the yard and banged on their door.
‘Glad Poulter? Come and tell ’er to get out the brew’us – it’s my turn this morning. ’Er’s gone in without a by your leave, filling the copper, no thought of asking, and now ’er won’t shift!’
‘All right, Ethel!’ Gladys called. To Rachel she whispered, ‘Better go and sort ’em out. You never know with that one – she might clobber her.’
Gladys pushed her feet into her old black shoes and took off along the yard. Rachel heard raised voices again before they quietened. Soon after, Irene Sutton came huffily out of the brew house and crossed back to her house, clutching a bundle of washing.
‘You’re all right, bab,’ Gladys called to her as she came back. Her tone was kind but firm. ‘You can go in later when Mrs Jackman’s finished hers.’
She came back into the house, rolling her eyes, and returned to her washing-up. She nodded her head towards number four. ‘Got some lip on her, that one.’
Rachel thought Irene Sutton looked intimidating, but at the same time she felt a bit sorry for her. It was never easy being in a new place, with new faces and new ways. And she wanted to get along with her. It would be nice to have someone else in the yard with really young children. The little one did not look much older than Melly – they could be company for each other.
Irene strode out of the yard tugging her two little girls along a bit later, seemingly going shopping. But later in the afternoon, Rachel saw the girls playing out, bent over a puddle of water that had collected outside the brew house. The Morrison boys were out in the road instead of roaring about the yard so it was quite quiet. Slowly she led Melly, who was just beginning to walk, over to the girls. Melly was clutching a little peg doll that Gladys had made for her. Sounds of sloshing water were coming from inside the brew house and Rachel caught sight of Irene’s pale hair behind the grimy windowpane.
‘Hello,’ Rachel said to the children.
They looked up warily at her. The eldest had long, straggly brown hair and a thin, blue-eyed face. She was not a pretty child. Her eyes were narrow and close together, but she had a steady gaze. Close up now, Rachel could see that the younger one was stockier, with a darker shade of brown hair and eyebrows. Her hair just reached her shoulders. Each of them was wearing a little dress in the same pale yellow material, grubby and smeared with dirt.
‘’Lo,’ the older one said. She stood up and swivelled slightly from side to side, in shyness.
‘This is Melanie,’ Rachel said. She saw Melly hug the peg doll close to her chest as if afraid one of them would pinch it. ‘She’s come to play with you. What’s your name, bab?’
It was almost the first time she had ever called anyone ‘bab’. She suddenly felt old.
‘Rita,’ the girl said.
‘That’s nice. How old’re you, Rita. D’you know?’
After more rocking, her eyes cast down, the girl whispered, ‘Three.’ When Rachel asked about her little sister she said her name was Shirley. Rachel guessed the child must be two.
‘Who’s asking?’ a voice said from behind her. Turning, Rachel saw that the blonde woman was standing in the doorway of the brew house, leaning her left side against it, her left knee bent, toe resting on the ground. Her belly was pushing out the front of an ugly grey frock with a bit of lace at the neck. Rachel saw that her shoes were brown, with a low heel and very scuffed. Her manner was pugnacious and forbidding.
Seeing Rachel looking at her, she said, ‘This ain’t how I dress – I’m doing my washing.’ She pushed herself off the door frame and stood upright, a hand laid resentfully on her belly. ‘Not that I can fit into anything decent, sticking out the front like this.’
‘I thought they might play.’ Rachel made her voice as friendly as possible, though Irene seemed hostile. ‘Nice to see some more girls – it’s all been lads in this yard.’
‘Yeah, rowdy little sods that lot are,’ Irene remarked, nodding towards the Morrisons’ house. Rachel felt riled by this criticism of Dolly’s boys but she said:
‘Oh, that’s the Morrisons – they’re all right, they are. Very nice. They’d do anything for you.’
Irene stared back, apparently unimpressed by this information. ‘That’s Rita and Shirley.’ She nodded at the girls now. ‘Shirl!’ she bawled suddenly. ‘Don’t yow go getting wet – get her out of there, Rita!’
Rita dragged Shirley away from the puddle so roughly that Shirley started to grizzle. Melanie stood quietly taking all this in.
‘Yow can pack that in or yow’ll get a threaping – the pair of you!’
Melanie pulled away from Rachel’s hand and went to the other two who seemed interested in her presence. Shirley stopped crying and the three headed off to squat by the wall of the metal spinning works. Rachel kept an eye out but they seemed happy enough.
‘Where’ve you moved from?’ she asked.
‘Oh – over from Long Acre way,’ Irene said. She appeared to relax a bit and stood upright, folding her arms over her belly. ‘My Ray’s at Kynoch’s, on the guns.’ Here she goes again, Rachel thought. The way she said my Ray was as if to say, I’ve got the best-looking man around and don’t you forget it! He’s a cut above anyone else! She tried to imagine saying my Danny like that. Even though she loved Danny and missed him with an endless ache, she just could not imagine talking about him like that. It made her want to laugh.
‘Oh, I’ve heard them,’ Rachel said. You could hear the bangs in the park, the guns being tested. ‘My feller’s in the army.’ She heard the pride flower in her own voice. ‘He’s just gone out east.’
‘Oh, I’m glad my Ray’s reserved,’ Irene said with a smugness that rankled. ‘I wouldn’t want him going off. Keep ’em close, I say.’
All very well
, Rachel thought to herself. Not as if I had a choice. But she didn’t want to get into a quarrel.
‘How long’ve you got to go?’ She nodded at Irene’s belly. ‘Mine’s due September.’
‘Yeah. Mine too. It’d better be a lad this time. I’ve had enough of wenches. Blokes always want a lad, don’t they?’ The way she said it was ‘blowkes’. ‘Best thing you can give ’em.’
‘I s’pose,’ Rachel agreed. In fact Danny said he was quite happy with girls. He was used to having sisters about. He said he’d be happy with anything, they were all family, and she loved him for it. It wasn’t as if she could do anything about it!
She left Irene to her washing, keeping an eye on the girls. She hadn’t warmed to Irene much at all. She seemed rough and big for her boots and not very friendly.
Twenty-Seven
Danny had come home for the first time once his basic training was over, after Easter in 1942. Though it had only been a few weeks, it felt an eternity to Rachel. When she heard he was coming she could hardly keep still for excitement.
‘Your dadda’s coming home today!’ she kept telling Melanie, who was full of smiles, seeing her mother’s happiness.
Just as they were sitting down to tea, they heard a shout along the entry. ‘Hello! Anyone in then?’
‘He’s here!’ Rachel shrieked and tore outside. Coming round the corner was a strong, fit-looking young man with cropped hair, in khaki uniform. His blue eyes blazed with excitement as he saw her and he tore off his cap and ran to her.
‘Danny! Oh, Danny!’ She seized hold of him, laughing and crying at the same time.
He pressed her tight to him. ‘Hello, my wench.’
‘Danny – you’re all muscles!’ She squeezed him. He did look the very picture of health.
Melanie was shy of Danny at first, but she soon came round once he had swooped her up onto his knee.
‘That’s my girl,’ he said. ‘Ooh – you’re getting heavy, Melly!’ He bounded her up and down. ‘Here – horsey-horsey . . .’ Melanie looked round at him, unsure at first, then started to cackle with laughter.
Tea consisted of pease pudding, cabbage and a crumb of cheese.
‘I s’pose you’re getting better grub in the army?’ Gladys said. She too looked delighted to see him. He was her son, Rachel thought, looking at her happy face. Near as, anyway.
‘Nothing’s as good as yours, Auntie,’ Danny said, grinning at her.
‘Oh, go on with you.’ She cuffed his head. ‘By the look of you they’re feeding you like a turkey cock.’
As they ate, they heard all about Danny’s new life. He described the tent he had been living in and the square-bashing, the other lads and some of the pranks they got up to. Rachel realized, with a sinking feeling that she tried not to show, that he seemed to be enjoying it.
When they went up to bed, alone at last after settling Melanie, they were in a fever for each other.
‘God, girl,’ Danny said, steering her to the bed. ‘Get those clothes off – I can’t wait any longer for you.’
He was on her immediately, hungry for all he had missed. They made love quickly, she excited by his urgent need of her. It was only afterwards, as they lay cooling down side by side, that they could talk.
‘You’re bigger – look at your arm,’ she said, stroking the one closest to her. ‘And your chest – look!’
Danny raised his head for a second, peering down at himself. ‘There’s all this PT and things called assault courses we have to do. They’re forever on at us. Run here, do this, do that. Run five or six miles with a pack on – and that’s just before breakfast!’
Hearing the pride in his voice, and how much he was involved with it, somewhere else that she had never seen, Rachel rolled over and looked down into his eyes.
‘D’you miss me, Danny?’
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Course.’ He reached for a strand of her hair and twined it between his fingers. ‘Like anything.’
She wasn’t convinced. ‘But d’you really miss me? Not just – you know – doing it, but me? D’you miss me?’
‘I do . . .’ he said hesitantly.
‘You don’t sound as if you do – as if you mean it!’ she said petulantly. Her tears came so easily after all the longing and aching and missing she had done. ‘I think about you all the time. I live for your letters – they’re what’s keeping me going. But I s’pose,’ she added pitifully, ‘you’re too busy to think of us much.’
Danny lay back, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, almost as if he hadn’t heard her.
‘Danny!’ she wailed.
‘No, listen –’ Serious, he turned on his side to face her. ‘Thing is, Rach – I was just thinking about it, about you saying “missing you”. I mean, I do – course. I want to see you and do this –’ he reached round to give her bottom a saucy pat – ‘all the time. But when people say they’re missing someone, like the other lads do sometimes, the real truth is, I don’t know what they mean. I can’t honestly say I know what it feels like, missing someone. I think it’s . . .’ He looked across the room for a minute as if trying to work it out. ‘I think it’s after being in the home. When you go in a place like that you have to stop yourself missing anyone, your mom, your sisters or whoever you’ve got, ’cause you don’t know if you’re ever going to see them again. You just shut it all out. If you missed them all the time, it’d be too much, sort of thing. So I s’pose I sort of forgot how to do it. But it ain’t ’cause I don’t love you, Rach.’
She wrapped her arms around him, touched by the little boy in him, and hugged him close.
‘Glad to hear it,’ she said into his neck. ‘’Cause I miss you like hell. And I love you, Danny.’
‘You, and her –’ He nodded his head to where Melly was sleeping on her mattress on the floor. ‘And Auntie – you’re everything to me.’
‘What about Jess and Amy?’
Danny hesitated. Matter-of-factly, he said, ‘It’s not as if they’re coming back, is it?’
‘Well, at least you’re here now,’ Rachel said, trying to lift his mood again.
‘I am.’ Danny moved his body against hers again. ‘Oh yes!’
‘Danny!’
‘Sit on me this time,’ he said.
‘All right, your majesty,’ she laughed. ‘Anything you say.’
Since joining up, he had been home three times. After his first leave at Easter he had managed a long weekend in the summer. His last leave had, by what seemed a miracle, been over Christmas 1942. He arrived on Christmas Eve and all of them decorated the house with what they could manage in the way of streamers and some holly Gladys brought back from the market. She had got a sprig of mistletoe too and Danny stood on a chair and banged a nail into the ceiling so they could hang it from a thread in the middle of the room.
‘Go on – give her a kiss!’ Gladys instructed. She was in a happy mood. Rachel and Danny cuddled under it while Gladys applauded and Melanie clapped and gurgled beside her.
That night, when they were in bed, he had laid a hand on Rachel’s belly and wriggled up closer to her, mischief on his face. ‘Let me stay in you, all the way, Rach. Come on – let’s make another one . . .’
Her head whipped round. ‘What? A babby? Are you kidding me?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m not.’ He turned on his front, half on top of her, and looked seriously at her. ‘Rach – there’s summat you need to know. This leave I’m on – it’s called embarkation leave.’
Suspicious now, she pushed him off her and sat up. ‘What d’you mean?’
Danny sat up beside her, putting his arm around her with such gentle care that it made her feel even more worried. ‘We’re being sent somewhere – abroad. That’s all I know – honest. They haven’t told us.’
Rachel fell silent. She turned her head away, feeling desolate. She thought about Netta’s Francis, with his safe job in the Pay Corps in England. Why couldn’t they have given Danny a job like that?
‘Rach �
� I can’t help it. It’s where we’re ordered. The war’ll soon be over – it will.’
‘But how do I know when you’ll come back?’ she said, her emotion building. This was a new blow, which felt unbearable. ‘It’s bad enough that you’re at all these army camps here. But at least we know where you are.’
‘Soon as I get somewhere the first thing I’ll do is let you know,’ he said. ‘I’ll write to you as often as I can.’
She looked up at him in the gloom. ‘D’you want to go, Danny?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t, cross my heart. I want to be back here with you – for it to be over. That’s all I’m waiting for. But –’ he shrugged – ‘they give us these orders. There’s nothing you can do.’
They were both silent then. Terrible thoughts came to her. What if he never came back from wherever they were taking him? She wondered if he was thinking the same, but neither of them wanted to say anything like that. It was as if saying it might make it true.
‘Come ’ere,’ Danny said. His hand moved up and started stroking her breasts, kissing her. ‘We’re here. You and me. Now. You’re my girl, and I need you.’
They had made love every night of his week’s leave, fully, without Danny having to pull out at the last moment, the way they had tried to avoid a baby before. They had spent every moment together. Even when the Morrison boys begged Danny to come out and kick a ball around with them, Rachel went and watched. Once again, when he left, it was as if he was torn away from her. Later, after they already knew he was somewhere in the east, but not exactly where, Rachel had woken one morning feeling sick in a way that was immediately familiar.
‘It’s all right for you, Danny Booker,’ she muttered, after heaving over a pail in her bedroom. ‘All you have to do is make the babbies and then clear off!’
But she smiled a little, thinking of the nights they had had together. No one could take those away. Over the next weeks, she alternated between feeling utterly browned off with Danny one minute and aglow with happiness the next at the thought that another little result of their love was taking shape inside her. Whether she was pleased or fed up really depended on just how sick she was feeling at the time.
