An Orphan's War

by Molly Green

  ‘Crofton.’ She planted a kiss on his forehead and shut his bedroom door softly behind her.

  She went downstairs, but just as she was heading for the front room she heard Mickey speaking in his usual brash tones.

  ‘I behaved myself and they finally let me out.’ He laughed.

  Oh, no. Why did he have to tell people in that swaggering tone as though he was proud of it?

  ‘That’s a relief, I’m sure.’ Crofton’s voice was quieter and non-committal.

  ‘Yeah, well … it weren’t that long. And no regrets making a good living out of it – one deal leads to another – know what I mean?’

  Maxine could almost see the wink and cringed.

  ‘But now I’m out I want to spend time with the old folk – and my dear sister, of course.’ There was a pause. ‘So what d’ya think of this war between us and Germany which should never have been?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Britain doesn’t have any axe to grind with Germany. It’s a Jew war. Everyone knows that. They’re taking over – fingers in too many pies. Some people say they’ve got to be stopped – no matter what it takes.’

  Maxine stood transfixed. Her brother. My God. He sounded as though he was a fascist. No wonder he’d somehow escaped conscription. He wasn’t going to risk his neck for something he didn’t believe in. She felt the bile come up in the back of her throat with shame as she clutched the doorknob, her forehead beading with perspiration. She strained her ears for Crofton’s reply.

  ‘I doubt my views are in accord with yours so it’s probably best not to comment,’ she heard him say in an icy tone.

  ‘What branch of the RAF are you?’

  ‘I really can’t discuss it.’

  ‘Come on – I’m only asking if it’s Fighter Command or Bomber Command. Surely you can tell me that.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Careless talk costs lives, eh?’ She heard her brother’s contemptuous chuckle. ‘Well, well, it must be secret stuff you’re doing if you can’t even tell me what sector you joined up with.’

  She’d heard enough. Maxine stepped into the doorway and immediately Crofton leapt to his feet.

  ‘Dad said he’d be fine for a couple of hours, so if you’re ready, Crofton …’ She deliberately made her voice crisp, trying to get the message across to him that she wanted to leave right now.

  Mickey was sitting with one leg crossed over the thigh of his other. Languidly rising, his eyes never leaving Crofton’s face, he leaned on the mantelpiece, a mocking smile hovering over his lips. He was beginning to make Maxine uneasy.

  ‘I’m ready,’ Crofton said, looking visibly relieved to be going. He faced Mickey. ‘Well, nice to meet you.’

  ‘Likewise.’ This time Mickey shook Crofton’s outstretched hand, then turned his attention to Maxine. ‘Oh, Sis, before you vanish with your boyfriend, who by the way can’t or won’t even disclose what branch of the RAF he’s in … strange, don’t you think?’ He looked directly at her and smiled. ‘And also strange why you didn’t let me know you’ve made me an uncle. You know how much I love children.’

  Maxine stared in the direction of her brother’s voice but the room dipped. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. She felt the blood leave her head. She was going to pass out. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around her stomach, trying to anchor herself, but her legs no longer supported her and she overbalanced, grabbing the back of the nearest armchair and shook her head. The sound of her heartbeat crashed in her ears and her chest felt it would burst with pain. She wanted to be anywhere but in this room. Like a trapped animal, she locked her gaze with Crofton but immediately turned away when she saw his dazed expression.

  Mickey looked from one to the other, then threw her a look of triumph. ‘Well, Sis, what do you say?’

  Dear God, her parents. They mustn’t find out. Not after keeping Teddy a secret all this time.

  Without daring to glance at Crofton again, her breath ragged, she said, ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ It came out a croak, but she forced a laugh, hoping to mask the turmoil inside her. Teddy. Just the thought of his blue eyes staring up at her tore her heart out. How dare Mickey …? Her feet felt as though they were glued to the floor. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Crofton watching her closely.

  ‘That kid of yours,’ Mickey persisted. ‘The one you had long after your dear husband died. Good old Johnny. Never knew he had it in him. Fancy him able to make a baby from the grave.’

  Dear God. How could she have such a snake for a brother?

  ‘You must be mixing me up with someone else,’ Maxine’s voice cracked, desperately calling on her professionalism as a nurse not to show her fear. She managed to force a smile. ‘I don’t have any children. If I did, don’t you think you’d know about it?’

  ‘Oh, but I do know about it. You had a baby at the Maternity Hospital right here in Liverpool. Named him Edward Taylor … poor old Johnny’s surname, even though the brat isn’t his. I’m surprised you still wear your wedding ring now you’ve got your new boyfriend.’ He cocked a glance at Crofton.

  ‘Mickey … please … you don’t know what you’re talking about so—’

  Mickey snorted. ‘Unfortunately for you, darling sis, I know all about it, though I don’t know where you’ve hidden him. You’ll want to know how I found out. Well, it was the tea lady in your ward – Doreen Moon. Remember her? She happens to be the sister of my cellmate, Eric Moon. She used to comfort you, so I understand. The grieving widow. Pat your hand and bring you a cup of tea, she did.’ He turned to Crofton. ‘Maxine’s always turned her nose up at me, being sent to prison, an’ all – but she’s no angel either. You did know about little Edward, didn’t you, Crofton?’ He paused. ‘Crofton,’ he repeated and frowned. ‘Odd name, that.’ He swivelled to look at Maxine. ‘And then of course there’s Mum and Dad. Do they know, Sis, that they’re grandparents to a sweet little baby boy?’

  His time in prison would seem almost mild compared with the shame she would bring to them.

  ‘I’m going before I say anything I shouldn’t,’ Maxine said, her voice shaking with fear and anger. How could he? Oh, how could he?

  She grabbed Crofton’s arm and led him outside, all the while wondering what she could possibly say to him to make him understand that Teddy was too precious to casually mention. That he held a secret place in her heart that nothing or no one could ever replace. How could Crofton ever forgive her? She’d seen how hurt he’d looked when he’d told her about his ex-wife. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. How could she ever tell him she would love to start a family when she couldn’t even look after the one she’d already borne? There was no future for them. Her dreams were in ashes.

  ‘Is it true?’ Crofton looked at her, but all Maxine could see reflected in his eyes was disbelief and shock.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  ‘This isn’t the place to talk, or the time, especially with your so father ill.’ She opened her mouth to interrupt but he stopped her with his hand. ‘Not now, Maxine. Your father needs you, so I’m going to leave you in peace.’

  He kissed her cheek briefly and she watched him in stupefied misery as he walked out of the door – and no doubt out of her life.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Maxine stepped back through the front door of her parents’ home sick at heart. The only saving grace was that her mother hadn’t witnessed such a terrible conversation. But now she heard in her mother’s voice a lilt she didn’t hear very often, and knew it was because Mickey was home.

  ‘Oh, has your young man gone already, dear?’ she said as soon as she saw her daughter come in. ‘I would like to have got to know him a bit more.’

  ‘Yes, he thought it better not to go out to lunch with Dad so poorly and I agreed,’ Maxine said, her eyes downcast.

  Her mother looked at her with sharper eyes than usual. ‘What’s wrong? You look as though you’ve lost sixpence and found a penny.’

/>   ‘Shall I tell her, dear sis?’ Mickey’s expression was bland as his cool grey eyes, reminding her of Edwin’s, fixed on his sister.

  ‘Please, Mickey …’

  ‘Please tell Mother, or please don’t,’ Mickey said, his mouth twisting into a grin.

  ‘I’ll tell Mum, but in private. She has enough to worry about with Dad.’

  ‘Tell me what?’ Mrs Grey demanded, glancing at the two of them.

  ‘All right, I’ll let you tell Mum,’ Mickey said. ‘After all, you were left holding the baby, so to speak, so you’ll be able to give her all the gory details.’

  Maxine looked steadily at her brother so that in the end he dropped his eyes. What satisfaction could he possibly get from being so cruel? But then what kind of child would grab birds’ eggs out of their nests and smash them, tear wings off butterflies and throw stones at kittens for fun?

  She drew in a deep breath as she prepared to say she’d talk to their mother in private, but it seemed Mrs Grey must have thought Mickey was simply making a figure of speech as she merely said, ‘You can tell me later, dear, but it’s your father who needs the attention now. I’ll run upstairs and see if he wants another cup of tea.’

  One minute later they heard their mother scream.

  ‘Maxine! Mickey! Come upstairs at once!’

  Mickey was a step ahead of his sister.

  ‘What’s the matter, Mother?’ He stormed into the room and was stopped by their mother.

  ‘Oh, Mickey, my darling boy, your father’s dead!’ She flung herself in her son’s arms sobbing. ‘He died as I was trying to puff up his pillows to raise him up. He suddenly slipped from my hands. I thought he’d just fallen asleep but … he’d stopped breathing.’ She pulled away and looked up into Mickey’s face as though he would provide the answer. ‘Oh, what shall I do without him?’ She burst into fresh tears.

  ‘Mum …’ Maxine tried to put an arm round her mother but she practically shook her off. She couldn’t have made it clearer whose support she wanted. Maxine swallowed. Couldn’t her mother see through him? It was what he’d been waiting for – counting on. Now he’d inherit some money to pay off his debts that her parents had worked so hard for. Any left over he would surely gamble away.

  Everything happened in a blur. Maxine hung on to the fact that she’d had some time with her father on her own – that he was relieved and happy she’d met someone she cared for – but then her eyes would fill with tears as she thought of Crofton waiting downstairs. If only she’d gone to fetch him up – introduce him to her father before Mickey had time to spread his poison. Crofton would never want her now.

  He must have thought she didn’t trust him enough to tell him about Teddy. But it wasn’t like that. So many times she’d wanted to confide in him, ease the burden of carrying such a secret, but it never seemed the right time. And now he’d heard it from her despicable brother, who was a jailbird. He wouldn’t want anything more to do with her or her family. And she couldn’t blame him.

  Maxine threw herself into all the preparations for the funeral, thankful June had given her some time off, assuring her all was well in the home. Someone had to take charge as her mother had gone to pieces and Mickey had unsurprisingly disappeared.

  ‘Let me know when you find the will,’ was his last remark. ‘Being the son, I don’t hold much hope out for you, Sis.’ He tore a piece of paper from a small page in his diary and scrawled his name and an address she’d never heard of. She put it behind the clock on the mantelpiece, praying he would go.

  She thought she would scream every time her mother mentioned Mickey and how wonderful it had been to see him again, and thank goodness he was now out of prison and they’d be sure to see more of him, and that he’d promised to attend the funeral, to support her, he’d said. Her mother had run on and on.

  ‘I’ve never believed my son was involved in anything like the black market,’ she said to Maxine on more than one occasion and Maxine had to button her lip to stop herself from the scorn which threatened to burst from her.

  Every night she cried herself to sleep.

  She’d heard nothing from Crofton. His last words replayed over and over in her mind. ‘I’m going to leave you in peace.’ In peace. In her bedroom that was hers as a child, she closed her eyes and mouthed the words, wondering if she would ever find peace again.

  She had to take herself in hand. She owed it to her father.

  The day of the funeral, only ten days before Christmas, could not have been more gloomy. It was dark and pouring with rain, the wind flinging it in all directions. By the time Maxine and her mother arrived at the church they were soaked through. Maxine’s feet squelched in shoes that were not sturdy enough for such stormy weather as they made their way to the front of the church. She sat down, shivering inside her raincoat, even though she wore a vest underneath her twinset and a thick skirt. She decided to remove her raincoat, even though the church was icy cold, so she had a chance to dry out, and folded it over, wondering where to put it for the best. Her mother wordlessly took it from her and put it in the space on the pew next to her. Maxine’s hair, which she’d tied back that morning, was slick to her scalp, and when she took her hat off the raindrops fell down her face like tears.

  Angrily she brushed them away. She didn’t want anyone to think she’d already started to cry. There’d be time for tears in private – not now.

  Her mother clutched her hand throughout the service, squeezing it so tightly it dug into Maxine’s ring. When all the words were said and all the songs were sung and it was finally over they joined the back of the queue to stand at the graveside. This was the part Maxine dreaded more than anything. Her beloved father packed tightly in a wooden box and lowered into the waiting pit. She felt sick and faint at the same time. Her mother glanced at her through her veiled hat, actually looking concerned, even attempting a wan smile. This wasn’t the time, but she knew there’d be no cuddles from her even when they were back at home. Her mother’s love was always reserved for Mickey.

  The vicar’s voice droned on and Maxine thought it would never come to an end. Her feet felt leaden and her fingers inside her gloves were numb. She said the Amens automatically, hardly hearing the words. Her mother threw a clod of earth on the grave, mumbling something, and when Maxine thought she couldn’t stand it a second longer, the vicar brought it to an end. People began to drift away from the graveside and make their way to the local pub, where Maxine had ordered tea and sandwiches for those dozen or so invited.

  ‘Well, that’s that,’ her mother said, taking her arm. ‘I never thought he’d leave me to cope on my own.’

  ‘It was best this way round,’ Maxine said sincerely, as they walked along the church path. ‘You’ll cope because you’re practical, but Dad wouldn’t have been able to look after himself, even if he hadn’t had a bad heart. You never taught him to cook or buy food or wash his clothes.’

  ‘Of course I didn’t.’ Her mother’s voice was shocked. ‘I was his wife. That’s what wives are for. To look after their husbands. They must come first, even before the children. I hope you remember that the next time you marry, Maxine.’

  ‘I doubt there’ll be a next time,’ Maxine answered with growing conviction.

  ‘What about the young man who came to see you when Mickey was here? I forget his name.’

  ‘Crofton … Crofton Wells.’ The words felt awkward as she said them.

  ‘Oh, yes, that’s right. It’s unusual.’ She stopped so abruptly, Maxine almost overbalanced. ‘He seemed quite taken with you.’

  ‘He’s a friend, that’s all,’ Maxine muttered, looking away. She prayed her mother would stop questioning her, but it seemed her mother hadn’t finished.

  ‘Did you invite him to the funeral?’

  ‘No,’ Maxine said in a sharper tone than she’d meant.

  ‘Why did he disappear so suddenly?’ Mrs Grey persisted. ‘The last I heard was that he was taking you out for something to eat.’

 
‘Mum,’ Maxine’s voice was despairing, ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  They walked along the road in silence. And then her mother said the words Maxine had been dreading.

  ‘What was Mickey on about when I came to make your dad a cup of tea? Something about being left holding the baby. Don’t know what on earth he meant by that. But you said you’d tell me later.’ Mrs Grey blinked. ‘It escaped me at the time because I was so excited to see Mickey and worried about your father that I meant to ask you that evening. But then … I found Dad … oh, it’s so horrible, I can’t bear it.’ She burst into tears and fiddled in her handbag for a handkerchief.

  ‘Come on, Mum. Don’t get upset. You don’t want people to see you all tear-stained. We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.’

  Maxine prayed her mother would forget what Mickey had said, but she knew it was futile. Her mother wasn’t going to let that go.

  The small reception at the Rose & Crown thankfully only lasted an hour. Maxine couldn’t get away quick enough, though strangely her mother seemed reluctant to leave. But finally they were home, sitting in the two armchairs that would normally have been occupied by her mother and father.

  ‘Thank goodness that’s over,’ Mrs Grey said, stirring yet another cup of tea. She took a few gulps, then gazed directly at Maxine. ‘You’re keeping something secret and I’m your mother. I have a right to know what’s ailing my daughter.’

  Maxine swallowed. ‘If you must know, Mum, I fell in love with a married man when I was at St Thomas’ hospital.’

  Mrs Grey’s jaw dropped. ‘Oh, my dear—’ Grabbing her handbag, she reached inside for her smelling salts. ‘What a terrible thing to happen,’ she muttered as she unscrewed the top. ‘Thank goodness it happened in London and not here in Liverpool. Think of the scandal.’ She sniffed over the contents of the tiny bottle and began to cough. ‘Silly me,’ she said, her words catching in the next bout of coughing. ‘I always do that.’

  ‘It’s the ammonia, Mum. I’m not sure it’s good for you to use it as often as you do.’