Soldier Girl

by Annie Murray

  ‘That’s it, Mr Belham,’ she was saying. ‘Nice and short – I don’t wanna ’ave to come back too soon.’ The boy’s views on the subject were unknown as he was facing the other wall, where a small rectangular mirror was perched lopsidedly. All Molly could see in it was his chin.

  ‘Hello, Dad,’ Tony said.

  The two adults turned. ‘Ooh!’ the woman exclaimed. She was a pasty, underfed-looking person, with anxious blue eyes. ‘Look who’s ’ere – is that your Tony? Ain’t ’e grown up?’

  ‘Tony!’ Mr Belham held out his arms, the scissors waving about alarmingly. A smile spread across his fleshy face, showing a set of teeth with noticeable gaps. It was an appealing, happy-looking face, the skin swarthy and a jolly, upcurling moustache. ‘You’re back, lad! Your mother said you was on the way!’

  ‘Hello, Dad – this is Molly.’

  Mr Belham suddenly became very courtly. ‘Oh yes, yes – I’d best put these down to greet a lovely lady,’ he said, dislodging the scissors with some difficulty from his thick fingers. He held out his hand and shook Molly’s. ‘A tonic to meet you, love – a tonic, that’s what. Well’ – he turned to the boy’s mother with a soppy grin – ‘ain’t she lovely, eh? What’s your name then?’

  ‘Molly, Dad – I’ve just told you!’

  ‘Oh sorry, sorry – Molly. This is Tony’s intended, or so he tells us.’

  ‘Ooh, fancy,’ said the woman.

  ‘I’m afraid you’ve put me in a bit of a dither,’ Mr Belham said.

  ‘That’s all right.’ Molly blushed but couldn’t help laughing as well. Tony’s dad seemed quite bowled over at the sight of her.

  ‘Nice to meet yer,’ she said shyly, conscious that all of them were staring at her, even the little boy, who had turned a freckly face to her and was gawping with his mouth open.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Molly—’ Mr Belham bowed over her hand, showing her a head of bristly black hair. ‘You all right, son? You’re looking fighting fit!’ He patted Tony’s arm. ‘Well, you’d better get over and see your mother, or she’ll never forgive me! She’ll’ve been waiting. I’ll be over later. You’re looking fine, son, fine . . .’ He picked up his scissors in some confusion and put his beefy hand on top of the small boy’s head. ‘Face the front now, son.’

  Tony and Molly did as they were told, looking laughingly at each other as they went back into the street.

  ‘See,’ Tony said, ‘the old man’s all right!’

  ‘He’s nice,’ Molly said. She was more than relieved, she was astonished by the warmth of the welcome. ‘Oh Tony, I’m so glad – you’re so lucky to have a dad like that!’

  ‘Come and meet Ma now.’

  Nerves assailed her again. Supposing his mom was the fly in the ointment?

  There was already a face peering out from behind the nets in the front room of the Belhams’ little terrace. As they drew closer, the curtains gave an uncertain twitch and then were pulled back wider. A hand waved.

  ‘There’s my ma,’ Tony said. ‘She’s got second sight.’

  ‘What – really?’

  ‘I dunno. She always seems to know what’s going on before anyone else!’

  The curtain was hanging back in place now and the door opened to reveal a curvaceous middle-aged woman in a green skirt and tan blouse, each half concealed by an apron with pink flowers on it, her hair the same brown as Tony’s, jaw length and arranged in gentle waves each side of her face. Molly was impressed. She looked very gracious and dignified.

  ‘Tony!’ She stood waving on the step, beaming with pleasure. There was a hint of lipstick on her lips. She reached up to kiss Tony’s cheek, gazing at him fondly and clinging to his arm. ‘I knew you’d be coming about now.’ Her voice was deep, Irish and smooth as syrup. ‘Ah, now is this must be Molly then – how are you dear? Did you both have a good journey then? Come on in now – what are we doing standing out here on the step all day? You must come in and have a cup of tea!’

  She ushered them along the dark hall, still talking. ‘You’ve seen your father then, I suppose? Geraldine’s at work of course, but Josephine’s here waiting for you – oh, she’ll be so pleased, now. Josephine!’ she called up the stairs. ‘Our Tony’s home! Now let me get the water boiling. I hope you don’t mind coming through to the back, Molly, but that’s where we are and we get the warmth there in the winter. Are you hungry? You’ve been travelling a long time, I suppose – where’ve you come from now? . . .’

  Tony smiled at Molly and shrugged. She grinned back. So far neither of them had had to say a word. Led into the back room, she was overcome by the sense that she was in a different sort of home from any she’d visited before. Around the walls, on top of the leafy wallpaper, were a great many pictures which she recognized as religious, even if she wasn’t sure who they were. A crucifix about a foot high hung on one side wall, with a string of white rosary beads draped over it. Molly recognized the Virgin Mary because she wore blue robes. After that, she was stumped. In one corner, on a small table, stood a statue in brown robes, holding a baby in his arms. It was all rather strange, but she liked the room, which felt cosy and welcoming, with two chairs flanking the fireplace and a table and chairs squeezed in at the side. A large aspidistra stood on a pot on a stand behind the net curtains.

  ‘Now then.’ Dymphna Belham stopped to draw breath once she had put the kettle on to boil. She came back in and stood before then, her darting blue eyes looking them both over. Molly felt herself smile. Never before had she met a family that gave off such a sense of warmth and acceptance so immediately. She was rather in awe of Tony’s mom though.

  ‘I haven’t even said hello to you properly yet, Molly,’ Mrs Belham said. Molly thought she would hold out her hand, but she leaned close and kissed Molly’s cheek. Her touch was gently firm and she gave off a scent of rose water. She did not let go of Molly’s hand straight away, but pressed it between hers and looked piercingly into Molly’s face. ‘You’re very welcome, dear.’

  ‘Oh, thank you,’ Molly was saying, feeling intimidated, when there came a frantic drumming of feet down the stairs and a girl with long, flame-red hair tore into the room.

  ‘Tony!’ She propelled herself at him and Tony just about managed to lift her from the floor. ‘You’re back – where’ve you been? You didn’t write to me, you stupid!’ she was pummelling his chest furiously. ‘You said you would – just to me, and you never!’ She was cross and delighted all at once.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jo – I am. I didn’t get round to it, that’s all.’

  ‘Not even a mingy post card, you meanie!’

  ‘Jo – this is Molly.’ He put the girl down and she grew more serious, taking in the stranger in the room.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, looking curious. ‘Are you the one he’s going to marry?’

  ‘Um . . . well. . .’ Molly said, smiling.

  ‘Josephine!’ her mother scolded. ‘You don’t just jump in with a question like that.’

  ‘I like your hair.’ She peered at Molly with great interest. ‘How d’you put it up like that?’

  ‘I’ll do it for yer if you like, later,’ Molly said, enjoying the thirteen-year-old’s frank ways.

  ‘Don’t be bothering her when she’s only after coming through the door!’ Dymphna chided. ‘Now come along – we’re all going to have that cup of tea.’

  They drank from delicate china cups with little wreaths of ivy painted on them, and Molly was given the best chair in the room, leather, with a perilously slippery seat. She planted her feet firmly on the floor in order not to slide around. Dymphna Belham fussed around them constantly, hardly ever sitting still for long herself. Did Molly wish for sugar, or something to eat, and was the chair comfortable? She kept getting up and down, and only settled, in the chair opposite Molly, by the fire, when Tony said, ‘Come on, Ma – stay with us. We’re perfectly all right.’

  Josephine, a pale, intelligent-looking girl, plonked herself on Tony’s lap and sat listening to every
word that was said. His mother wanted to know all about where they had been and what they were doing.

  ‘Will you have a hot drop in your cup there?’ Dymphna asked when Molly put her cup down. ‘I know it’s weak these days, but at least it’s warm and wet.

  ‘It’s the nicest cup of tea I’ve ever had,’ Molly said truthfully, holding her cup out. There was something about Dymphna that made you want to do anything she suggested. It was the force of her personality, combined with her embracing warmth and welcome.

  Dymphna gave a rich, bubbling laugh at Molly’s enthusiasm. ‘Well now, there’s a thing!’ she said.

  They told her all about the camp, and the work, and how beautiful it was there, and then Tony said, ‘Come on, Jo, shift – I need to get up a minute.’

  Josephine twisted round, tweaking her brother’s nose. ‘Where’re you going?’

  ‘Out the back – you know, for a tinkle.’

  ‘You’re not going for that – you’re going to see your princess!’ She scrambled off him. ‘I’m coming too!’

  ‘No I’m not – well, maybe . . .’ he admitted sheepishly. ‘But for a bit of the other too! Back in a tick.’

  Dymphna watched her children fondly as they left the room. Then she turned to Molly, who felt the full force of her powerful attention fixed on her.

  ‘The girls miss their brothers such a lot,’ she said. ‘Mickey’s our biggest worry – he’s in our prayers all the time, God love and protect him. Did Tony tell you? He’s serving in the Merchant Navy. Oh, I’ll bless the day when he’s back here with us. No home is the same these sad days. I’m sure your mother feels the same.’

  Molly smiled politely, not sure what to say. Would Iris even have noticed she wasn’t there?

  ‘Do you have brothers, Molly?’

  ‘Yes, two.’

  ‘And I suppose they’ve joined up as well?’ Dymphna released a sigh. ‘God help us, I’ll be so glad when it’s all over.’

  She looked appraisingly at Molly. ‘So strange you know, seeing you girls in uniforms like that. It seems all wrong really, a bit on the unnatural side, even now. It’s quite becoming though – especially on a girl with a nice figure like yours.’ She leaned across and put her hand on Molly’s arm. Molly felt warmed, and slightly intimidated. ‘I’m so pleased that our Tony’s met someone nice like you,’ she said. ‘You know, I don’t like my boys being away, but Tony joining up has been good for him. He was starting to run wild a bit you know, before the war. He’s a restless sort of boy, with a spark of anger in him, but he’s got a heart of gold.’

  ‘Yes,’ Molly agreed, startled. It was so strange, being treated like one of the family, talked to like this, by someone she’d never met before.

  Now, my dear – I know we’ve all got to get to know one another, but there’s something important you need to know about this family.’ Again she looked deeply into Molly’s eyes. Her own were a mottled blue. ‘We are Roman Catholics, and our faith is of the greatest importance to us.’

  ‘Yes, I know. Tony told me.’

  ‘You’re a Protestant?’

  ‘I’m not really an anything,’ Molly admitted, blushing under this close scrutiny. She already felt as if she would do anything that Dymphna Belham asked, such was the force of her.

  ‘Good. Perhaps that’s better,’ Dymphna said. ‘You can come and join us without prejudice – and you know dear, you’ll be discovering an enormous treasure in your life, the comfort of God and the Church.’

  Tony came back in then, grinning, Josephine still shadowing his steps.

  ‘So your princess is still all right,’ Molly teased.

  ‘Don’t you be spending all your time on that thing so that we never see you, now,’ Dymphna warned, getting up. ‘That’s what he was like before, Molly. Out all hours, no idea where he was or what he was doing . . .’

  ‘I wasn’t doing anything! Just riding.’

  ‘Yes, well don’t you be doing that now – we want to see something of you.’

  ‘I’ve got to have a bit of a ride, Ma – keep her working. And I promised Molly.’

  Dymphna turned to Molly, rolling her eyes. ‘You see? You’ll have to put your foot down. He’s not just got himself to please now.

  ‘I will,’ Molly said, smiling happily at the way Tony’s mother had instantly recruited her as a member of the family. She felt she loved Tony’s mother already.

  ‘Molly and I were just having a little chat,’ Dymphna said, meaningfully. ‘But we can carry on later. I’m sure Molly will soon be very much one of us.’

  Twenty-Four

  By the time they had finished their tea the light was beginning to fade, and soon the rest of the family were home from work.

  Molly found herself sitting round the table with them all that evening, eating a tasty stew – ‘It’s mostly potatoes, I’m afraid,’ Dymphna apologized – and getting to know Tony’s family. His father arrived home from the shop, whistling cheerfully as he came through the door, then calling out, ‘Where’s that boy of mine then?’ Geraldine, a lively sixteen-year-old who seemed older than her years and favoured her father’s dark colouring, came back from her job where she was being trained with the telephone exchange. She was polite and friendly to Molly, though less forward than Josephine, who fired questions at her whenever they popped into her head.

  ‘Why d’you talk like that?’ the younger girl asked as they were eating their stew and potatoes. Molly had been telling them where she was working before the war. Josephine’s face had puckered up with puzzlement.

  ‘Molly’s from Birmingham, cheeky chops,’ Tony told her. ‘That’s how people speak up there. She probably thinks you talk funny.’

  ‘Do you?’ Josephine demanded earnestly.

  ‘Er, no!’ Molly said. ‘I s’pose being in the army you meet all sorts, from all over the place. So I’ve got used to it now.’

  ‘Molly’s a cook, in the army,’ Dymphna informed her husband, from her queenly seat at one end of the table.

  ‘A cook? Well now. Big buckets of slop?’

  Molly laughed. ‘Summat like that, yeah. I’m not very good at it. They complain all the time!’

  ‘I expect you are good at it,’ Dymphna said. ‘And there’s you, Tony love, on the back end of those big guns. Oh, it makes me tremble to think about it.’

  ‘Well, it’s better than being on the front end of them,’ he said. Both his sisters giggled.

  ‘Don’t you be laughing,’ Dymphna protested. ‘That’s not funny, girls. It’s serious – life and death.’

  ‘Bet you’re always in trouble,’ Geraldine observed of her brother. ‘He’s always been in trouble. At school he was the naughtiest in the class.’

  ‘He was Trouble itself,’ Josephine said, big-eyed.

  ‘Ah, he’s got over that now,’ Dymphna said fondly. She looked at Molly. ‘They were a little bit strict, you know. Great believers in discipline. Anyway, Tony – being married’ll make a responsible man out of you.’

  ‘I was in the last lot, you know,’ Fred Belham said, chewing energetically. He shook his head sadly. ‘We never thought we’d all be at it again so soon. War to end all wars – huh! What about your father, Molly?’

  ‘Oh, my father?’ Startled, she had to think quickly. She told them he was an invalid.

  ‘The poor soul,’ Dymphna said, her eyes blue pools of sympathy. ‘Poor man. It’s a wicked thing.’

  ‘Yes.’ To Molly’s consternation, tears welled unexpectedly in her eyes. Seeing Joe’s state through the eyes of others made her feel the tragedy of him.

  ‘Oh, you poor girl, what a sadness for a family,’ Dymphna went on, and Fred was nodding and the others were all staring at her and Molly had to struggle not to weep in the face of all this sympathy. In Tony’s expression was also surprise, hurt: You never told me that . . .

  ‘We’re making the poor child fill up now,’ Dymphna said. ‘So let’s stop that and be talking about something else.’ She asked Molly and Tony questions
about the camp, and they told her some of the day-to-day routines, the jokes, and about the beauty of the place.

  ‘It sounds like where I grew up in Ireland,’ she said, wistfully. She looked round the table. ‘We’re all finished. Now, Geraldine – will you and Jo be clearing the dishes, please?’

  As they sat on over a cup of tea, Dymphna said, ‘Now, these two have stated their intention to marry – and you’ve told your family, Molly?’ Molly nodded, uneasily. ‘Now, there are some important preparations you’ll need to be making, won’t they, Fred?’

  Fred Belham, sitting back to rest his round tummy, nodded sagely through a cloud of cigarette smoke, but let his wife do all the talking. Dymphna sat with her white hands on the cloth, fingers locked loosely together, looking solemn and in command.

  ‘You must go and see Father Callaghan while you’re home, Tony. Molly here will be needing to take instruction from him.’

  Tony nodded, seeming to take for granted that they do this.

  ‘I’ll see him after Mass on Sunday.’

  ‘Well you make sure you do. Of course I can have a word as well. Molly will need to be received into the Church before you go getting married.’

  Molly was intrigued by the seriousness of all this. She didn’t really understand what it was all about, but it felt as if she had been invited to join a very special club, and if Tony and his mom were in it, it was good enough for her.

  Before they turned in for the night, Dymphna led the family in saying the rosary around the statue of Mary in the corner of the room. She handed Molly a set of pearly white rosary beads and said, ‘We’ll just be saying one decade. That’s this set of ten, dear. Just follow on the rest of us.’

  Molly followed as the family said their Hail Marys and Our Father, in a serious, but matter-of-fact way.