by Amy Miller
‘Is this what the problem is?’ she said, standing and waving the letter around. ‘Is this why you called off our engagement? I don’t believe it!’
Elsie’s face was bright pink. She felt ready to explode. That letter had arrived months before, in January, and she had thought nothing more of it other than to hope Jimmy was safe as she knew he had been posted overseas. She’d had no idea that William had found it and read it – he hadn’t even talked to her about it. He’d made a decision, without even consulting her.
‘Why didn’t you tell me about him?’ he said, his voice and lips quivering.
‘There was nothing to tell!’ said Elsie. ‘There’s no denying he was lonely, and that he needed a friend to take to the dance, but he knew I was engaged! I told him often enough! I hadn’t heard from you in months. All I did was to go to a dance with a friend who was about to be posted overseas. I was never disloyal. It was innocent – you have to accept that. If you can’t, then you don’t know me very well.’
She watched various emotions pass over William’s face as he processed everything she said. In some ways his jealousy should be comforting to her, but in essence, it just served as another insight into his lost confidence, which saddened her greatly. Saddened her, but also infuriated her.
‘I’m sorr—’ he began, but Elsie interrupted by lifting her palm to silence him.
‘They’re just words,’ she said. ‘Show me you’re still the William I fell in love with. The future is in your hands.’
‘But that’s the thing,’ he said. ‘I feel like I have no control over the future at all, none of us do… you just have to read the paper to know that.’
‘You can give up,’ said Elsie, her voice cracking. ‘Or you can get on with it.’
She smiled a sad smile and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her. It wasn’t up to her to persuade William that he had a life to lead, he needed to realise that for himself. With a deep breath, she made her way down the stairs, turning the ring on her finger as she moved.
Chapter Thirteen
Revived by a cup of tea and forty winks, but with underlying exhaustion and red sore eyes that no eye drops could relieve, Audrey set to work in the shop, stacking up loaves in the window. Moving behind the counter to switch on the wireless in preparation for The Kitchen Front, a broadcast that all the customers loved to listen to, she wondered if Maggie would show her face – and doubted it. What a shame she’d been pilfering. Maggie had been so excited about her marriage proposal, Audrey would have loved to be a part of organising the wedding food, but was now uncertain what the future held. Determined not to give up on her though, Audrey decided if she didn’t come into work, she would go and visit her at home. There was no point burying your head in the sand and, on a practical note, she needed Maggie.
Pausing for a moment, her hands on her hips, she gazed out of the window, struggling to imagine how she would get through the day without Maggie and Uncle John. If she was going to get tomorrow’s bread order out, she would need to factor in some proper sleep at some point and cut down on counter goods. The carrot cake, though popular, would have to wait and the eggless sponge cake, which was quick to make but tasted more like a scone than a cake, would have to do in its place. Oh, there was so much to do, there really wasn’t time to sleep!
‘Where are you when I need you?’ she muttered, thinking of Charlie, who had put his sense of duty to defend his country over the responsibility of being Barton’s head baker. Suddenly weary beyond words, she longed for him to be by her side. Interrupting her thoughts, there was a noise from behind her, as William moved into the shop, leaning on his crutch.
‘I’m here,’ he said, in answer to her question to Charlie. ‘What can I do to help? I hear you had a tricky time last night? Elsie left me in no uncertain terms that I have let you down. You should have beckoned me.’
Audrey’s first instinct was to protect and shield William, wanting him to focus on his recuperation, not be worrying about her or the bakery. He was her younger brother, after all, and ever since their father died, she felt she’d been watching his back, though over the last few months, she didn’t know how best to help him.
‘I’m fine—,’ she said. ‘I was taken off guard with John falling ill, so I had to cover for him. And today, well, I might be a shop girl down, so… it never rains but it pours, eh? But don’t you worry. Take yourself upstairs, or outside for some fresh air if you prefer, I can bring you some breakfast…’
‘Will you listen to yourself?’ snapped Elsie, darting into the shop behind William. ‘You’re your own worst enemy, Audrey, let alone Hitler! Stop for a moment, will you, and ask for some help from your own flesh and blood. You’ll be no good to anyone if you’re on the floor by the end of the week, and the bakery will suffer. I have to go and get the twins to school now and then I have a shift on the buses, but I can help in the shop tomorrow if you need me. William, you’ll just have to put up with me being here, if Audrey needs my help. We all need to put our feelings aside and make ourselves useful.’
Elsie walked through the shop and out the door, the bell jingling its merry tune as she went. Audrey and William watched in stunned silence, then looked at one another in surprise. William’s face was caught in sunlight and the skin over one side was mottled, severe scarring across a large area, his eyelid swollen and without lashes, which had never grown back. Audrey knew that he felt ashamed by Elsie’s reprimand and again wanted to compensate for that. She longed for him to come through this all, with his head held high, but before she could console him, he spoke up.
‘Before I went to war I was apprentice baker here,’ he said. ‘I don’t see why I can’t take up that duty again. As long as I can lean my weight on a high stool while I work, I should be fine.’
‘William,’ said Audrey, ‘why did you break up with Elsie? She really never did anything disloyal, I promise you.’
He looked desperately sad and leaned against the shop counter. For a while he said nothing.
‘I’m not the man I was,’ he croaked eventually. ‘That’s all I can say about it.’
Audrey’s heart contracted. She wished she could rewind the months and stop him from ever joining up in the first place. Thinking of that day made her remember the threepenny coin she’d given him, for good luck, and the engagement ring he’d handed to her to give to Elsie. He had seemed so passionate then – if only she could reignite that passion in him.
‘Can you remember when I gave you the threepenny bit that Mother used to put in the Christmas pudding for luck?’ she said. ‘That day at the railway station when you first left? Do you still have it?’
William froze, closed his eyes for a long moment, then slowly shook his head.
‘I gave it to someone,’ he said, faltering.
‘Oh,’ said Audrey, confused. ‘I thought you would keep it, but never mind, I…’
Her attention was diverted to the customers, who were beginning to arrive for their bread. She knew the ladies would want to talk to William and she thought it would do him good to feel their concern, but he scuttled away, wanting to hide elsewhere.
‘She loves you, you know,’ said Audrey, calling after him. ‘But if you’re willing to lose her, then that’s what will happen.’
* * *
The sound of gossip and laughter drifting from the shop, William limped through to the bakehouse, trying with all his might not to break down and cry. Once in the bakehouse, he closed the door behind him and leaned against the wall, his forehead pressing against the warm bricks. He squeezed shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, wanting to pummel the walls with his fists. Nobody had prepared him for this. Nobody had prepared him for after the fight. Oh, it was all very well when he joined up; the camaraderie was immense. The boys sang together, with him accompanying on the mouth harp; together they faced the prospect of stamping out the evil that Hitler was inflicting on the world with huge determination. Their morale was high. And then: the front line. There were no words
to describe the horrors he’d witnessed, no song on the mouth harp that could take away the pain. There was nothing he could do to lessen the guilt he carried, since the dreadful day he’d made the wrong, split-second decision. A decision that had cost his dear friend, David, his life. How could he ever admit to Elsie that he was a coward and that his weakness had resulted in David’s death?
The scene ran through his head on repeat. He had come face-to-face with a young German soldier and though he should have shot him there and then, there was something in the soldier’s eyes that stopped him from doing so. What was it? he questioned himself. Fear? Kindness? Youth? The German soldier had run for his life – and William had let him go – only to find that moments later, the same soldier turned around and shot William’s friend David in the stomach. He could recall the thud of his friend’s body landing on the earth and the feeling of the soil beneath his fingers when he kneeled next to David, as he lay dying in agony. It was William’s fault. His ineptitude meant that he was still here, while David wasn’t.
‘Forgive me,’ he whispered into the empty bakery, but nobody replied. This was a burden he would carry alone, for the rest of his life, and that prospect was overwhelming.
Eyes wide open now, he steadied himself with his hand on the strong wooden bakery table. Elsie and Audrey thought his struggle was because of the loss of his foot and the awful scars on his face. That wasn’t the case. His injuries were a warped, indirect kind of punishment for his actions, weren’t they? If only the girls knew the truth about him; that he was responsible for his friend’s death, that guilt plagued his thoughts and his dreams, like crawling insects. An image of the threepenny bit that Audrey had given him on the day he left Bournemouth flashed into his mind. How preposterous it was that he’d left the coin in David’s palm. How illogical and brainless. Suddenly furious with himself, he knocked his forehead against the wall.
‘William?’ Audrey said, suddenly standing at the doorway to the bakehouse, the sound of a customer’s voice calling ‘Anyone home?’ coming from the unattended shop. ‘If this is too much for you, I understand. I can see how you’re suffering and I don’t want to make it worse, no matter what Elsie or anyone else thinks—’
Gulping, William quickly wiped his eyes with his forearm. He turned to Audrey and tried to offer a reassuring smile. She approached him, concern etched across her face. Sometimes she reminded him of their father, Don – he’d had a huge heart and endless patience too.
‘I’m okay,’ he forced out, but when Audrey gently put her arms around her brother, soothing him with gentle and kind words, he rested his forehead on his sister’s shoulder and could no longer hold in his pent-up feelings of loss and shame. ‘I’m sorry,’ he wept. ‘I’m so sorry! Forgive me.’
Chapter Fourteen
Audrey stood in the entrance to Maggie’s house, trying not to judge Maggie’s grandmother, Gwendolen, as she staggered across the room, knocking a glass of dark yellow liquid to the floor, before she slumped into a chair. The fire had gone out in the damp room and, by the look of the empty saucepans, there wasn’t much on offer in the way of dinner, besides a potato and two carrots that had clearly seen better days plus the crust of a stale loaf Audrey recognised as one of Barton’s. Newly washed tea towels were strung across the hearth – a small attempt at domesticity, at least – and a few pieces of crockery were piled up on a shelf above the sink, but apart from that the room was quite bare. It appeared that Gwendolen barely had two pennies to rub together – and what she did have, she probably spent on tobacco or alcohol.
‘Gracious me!’ muttered Audrey to herself. She’d had no idea that Maggie was living in such austere conditions, only that she lived with her two sisters and her grandmother since her parents were dead. Feeling desperately guilty for not knowing more about her friend’s home life, the penny suddenly dropped. Was this the reason Maggie had been taking ingredients from the bakery? Had she been stealing in order to help her family eat? The first thing she would do when she got back to the bakery was to put together a food parcel and drop it to the family anonymously. A few pots of jam and bottled fruit she’d prepared in the winter would be a good start. She still needed to talk to Maggie, of course. Stealing was wrong, but it seemed she probably had an explanation. ‘What a sorry state,’ Audrey whispered to herself, before increasing her volume: ‘I’ve come to see your granddaughter, Maggie.’
‘Taken to her bed, ’asn’t she?’ slurred Gwendolen. ‘Expect it’s about a fella. She puts it around a bit, or so I’ve ’eard. Always hangin’ around in them alleyways, like an alley cat she is, catching men like mice and playing around with them in her paws. Or claws, I should say.’
‘That doesn’t sound like the Maggie I know,’ said Audrey, frowning. ‘She’s a delightful girl, always smiling and polite, or singing. The customers love her. I missed her at work today and wanted to check she’s in good health and will be returning tomorrow.’
Gwendolen shrugged and pushed herself up once again from the chair. Smacking her lips together and rolling her tongue around her mouth, she pulled a disgruntled expression.
‘Smoker’s fur, ain’t it?’ she said, pointing to her mouth. ‘Can’t afford the mouth rinse though, can I?’
Audrey tried to hide her pity as Gwendolen limped across the floor in her threadbare apron, which looked like it hadn’t been washed in a decade, and shouted up the narrow staircase, before breaking into a hacking cough. It reminded her of Uncle John’s cough, which sounded like it might literally crack open his ribs at any moment. The woman clearly needed medical attention.
‘Maggie!’ she cried, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘You’ve a visitor. Get down ’ere now!’
The shouting and coughing was greeted with silence from Maggie, but moments later, she was at the top of the stairs, poking her head around the bedroom door. With her hairdo flat and unpinned, and without her usual make-up, Maggie looked pale and drawn – not at all like herself. On seeing Audrey, her cheeks flushed pink.
‘I know I’m in trouble,’ she said, sulkily. ‘I know what you’ve come to say.’
‘Hear me out,’ said Audrey. ‘Why don’t you come outside for a walk with me and we can talk? I’ll wait on the pavement.’
Audrey let herself out of the tiny terraced house, bidding farewell to Gwendolen, as the old woman resettled into her chair and stared into space.
‘You don’t know a thing about me, y’ judgemental witch,’ Gwendolen barked, her sharp words sticking into Audrey’s back like darts.
‘I’m not judging you, Gwendolen,’ she retorted. ‘Who am I to judge?’
Closing the door behind her and stung by Gwendolen’s harsh words, Audrey took a gulp of fresh air and, while waiting for Maggie, paced the street in front of the house, her gaze sliding over to the wall opposite, where a police officer was painting an arrow and the wording: Public Shelters in Vaults Under Pavements In This Street.
Tutting, Audrey wished for the millionth time that the war was over. At the moment, life felt like it was being held together by a thread and war was impacting on everything. Connections she had previously thought were strong and unbreakable were dissolving before her eyes. Take William and Elsie; she never could have anticipated that William would break off their engagement. His outburst earlier had shocked and surprised her and made her realise that his mental state was even more fragile than she’d thought. She didn’t believe for a second that he really wanted to split from his true love – there was something else going on. She had to get them back together, somehow. And Maggie, who she would never have expected to steal from her, had done so, probably because she was struggling at home.
Distracted by the sight of a young girl, no more than sixteen, approaching and obviously in tears, she stopped still.
‘Excuse me,’ Audrey said. ‘Are you okay?’
The girl stopped and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Her eyes and nose were bright red from crying. When she faced Audrey, she could see Maggie’s featur
es staring back: the girl must be one of her sisters.
‘Who are you?’ the girl asked, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. ‘Why are you outside my house?’
‘I’m visiting Maggie,’ she said. ‘Are you… her sister?’
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘I’m Isabel.’
‘I’m Audrey,’ she said. ‘I work with Maggie at the bakery. Why are you crying, sweetheart?’
‘Oh, I’ve been “let go” for working too slow,’ she sighed. ‘It’s because my hands are so sore.’
Isabel held up her red-raw hands for her to inspect. Audrey gasped and took the young girl’s hands in her own, frowning at the blistered skin. Isabel needed a warm bath, camomile lotion on those hands and, from the look of her ribs sticking through her dress, a decent meal.
Audrey opened her mouth to give the girl some advice, but the door to Maggie’s house flew open, then slammed shut and then Maggie appeared beside them, and threw her arms around her sister.
‘Oh gosh, Isabel, whatever’s happened?’ she said. ‘You’ve lost your job, haven’t you?’
Audrey watched as Maggie, who had applied make-up, fluffed up her hair and pulled on a cardigan, hugged her sister and patted her back while she cried on her shoulder. Feeling suddenly guilty for being there when Maggie had plenty to deal with, Audrey thought she should come back later.
‘Maggie, I should leave you to deal with your sister…’ she started.
‘No,’ said Maggie. ‘Wait, we need to talk. Isabel, go inside and put your feet up. We will talk later, and don’t worry, I’ll help you find more work. You’re better off away from that dreadful place! Just don’t tell grandmother yet, I’ll break it to her later.’
Audrey’s heart contracted as the sisters hugged one another. Maggie was always cheerful, no matter what was happening – and she loved that about her. Walking along in silence, Audrey struggled to find the right words, passing a corner shop where the shopkeeper had chalked up a sign that read: ‘Fags and Beer, We Are All Here’ and hung out a Union Jack flag, which flapped in the wind.
