She stared at him, disappointment welling up inside her. ‘You grow up, Dan, like the rest of us. Do something useful to see us through this war.’
Her anger with him soon subsided, but Dan stayed out of the way, drinking where he could, until Millie regretted her harsh words and felt guilty for his unhappiness. Teresa, who had been frightened by her bronchial attack into thinking she was dying, recovered and galvanised herself out of bed. She seemed to have found a new zest for living while everything around turned precarious and uncertain. She took to exhorting Nancy Baker and the children to tidy their rooms, encouraging Ava and Millie to run a canteen for passing forces personnel, and ordering her grandsons to collect scrap for the war effort. But she appeared to get most enjoyment from goading Dan into doing something worthwhile.
‘There’ll be no more money for drinking,’ she lectured him, ‘so don’t go thinking you can get round Millie when me back’s turned. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and make yourself useful. You boasted all summer about joining up, but now that we’re at war I don’t hear any brave words!’
Millie tried to defend him, but this just angered Dan the more. ‘I don’t need you to fight me corner!’ he shouted, and banged out of the house. He stayed out that night, Millie did not know where, but when he returned it was to announce that he had been to the recruiting office in the town hall.
‘An orderly with the medical corps,’ he told them, flinging Teresa a look of satisfaction. ‘I could be in France by next month.’
Albert and Robert threw themselves at him in their excitement. ‘Will you see the fighting, Dad?’ Albert asked, his look adoring.
‘Very likely,’ he answered, swinging the boy over his shoulder, ‘I’ll be shovelling up bits of the enemy!’
The boys whooped in glee, but Millie covered her face with her hands in horror. This was all her fault, she realised, and her mother’s for ridiculing Dan’s feelings of worthlessness. Now he was going away, leaving his sons fatherless and her bereft, not to play for some distant club but into the dangers of war.
A week later they saw him off at the station. Millie watched him buoyed up by the attention, enjoying being seen once more as a hero around the town, the famous footballer turning his efforts to serving his country. She kept secret her knowledge that he was proving his bravery to himself as much as to everyone else. Even Teresa came out to wish him well, surprised and pleased with her son-in-law for once. Millie, used to partings, steeled herself for his final embrace and the tears on the faces of her sons. But no matter how many times it had happened, she was filled with a sick emptiness at his going.
The following month she got word that Dan was working in a military hospital outside London. Then, just as they were growing used to blackouts, daily huddles around the wireless for news and growing rationing, he came home in time for Christmas, saying he was being posted abroad.
‘It’ll likely be the Middle East,’ he told them as their extended household gathered in the dining room for a special dinner of pork, which Millie had managed to purchase, and large helpings of Grant’s vegetables. Nancy Baker had grown homesick for Tyneside and returned with her children to be with her husband for the holidays, but Patience and Charity remained while their mother recuperated with Auntie Rachael and seemed in no hurry to join them. Millie could not imagine Dan being so far away from them and tried to hide her anxiety from him and the boys.
‘I’ll bring you back a camel,’ he teased Albert before he left.
‘Never mind about camels,’ Millie said tearfully, ‘just you come back safe.’ This time she could not stop herself weeping at their station parting. With him going so far away, it somehow seemed terribly final. She was filled with an unnamed dread that clawed at her insides. Dan saw her distress and tried to comfort her.
‘Take care of yourself and the lads,’ he said, kissing her tenderly. ‘We’ll all be together again soon.’
Millie tried to smile. ‘Aye, of course.’ But as she watched the train pull away and Dan’s waving arm disappear from view, she was filled with foreboding that she would never see him again. She clutched Jack tightly to her and tried to comfort a howling Albert with words of reassurance that she did not believe.
It was several weeks before she received any news of Dan’s whereabouts and months before any letters finally came through, describing life in a hospital in Egypt. ‘We’ve got a couple of men on the ward waiting to be hanged, but they’ve got dysentery and we’ve got to get them better first,’ he told her with a grim humour in one of his short unsentimental letters. ‘Playing a bit of football, tell the bairns. There’s nothing like the Egyptian Ballroom out here,’ he joked, ‘or if there is I’ve not found it. Send me a picture of you and the lads. My love to you always, Dan.’
Millie treasured his brief notes and tried to imagine what his life must be like. But she had little time to dwell on how much she missed him, for the news at home grew more alarming, with the German invasion pushing relentlessly into France, cutting off the British Expeditionary Force from the ports. In May, just as the shock reports were coming through of the British retreat and evacuation at Dunkirk, news arrived of the death of Patience and Charity’s mother. A short note, edged in black, came from Aunt Rachael bearing the news and asking if the girls could remain in Ashborough for the time being. Millie sent back a telegram asking if she wished her nieces to attend the funeral, but by the time she received a reply, the girls’ mother had been buried a week.
‘I’m sure your father will come to visit,’ Millie tried to comfort the distraught pair. Seven-year-old Charity cried every night for a month for her dead mother, then stopped abruptly on Albert’s ninth birthday. But Patience, who was Robert’s age, grieved more deeply, waking with nightmares, fearing the dark and sticking close by Millie as if she could not bear to let her out of her sight. Upset for the girls, Millie did not allow herself to dwell on how appalling it would be to have to break the news of Dan’s death to their boys, should the worst happen.
At the end of the summer, the girls’ father finally appeared on leave, a small, handsome sub-lieutenant whom Ava, having been to see Gone with the Wind six times, declared looked like Clark Gable. Millie was furious with the blatant way she flirted with Gordon Armstrong and disapproved of the time he spent chatting to her rather than to his bereaved daughters. She saw plainly that this man had little interest in his children, mixing up their names and smacking Charity on her legs when she refused to sit still and be quiet. The younger girl stuck her tongue out at her father and ran from the room, hiding in a place Albert used as a den at the back of the station, until after her parent had gone. Only Albert could coax her out that evening, long after her father had departed. It occurred to Millie that she might have to look after these girls for longer than she had anticipated. Nancy had returned with her children too, so Millie was grateful when Ella suggested that Marjory, having recently left school, came to help out at the hotel.
***
That August, air battles raged over Britain and the spectre of invasion seemed to grow ever more real. Even Grant, a critic of war but disillusioned by Russia’s pact with the Nazis, volunteered for the Home Guard like other veterans of the Great War, and went on night-time manoeuvres. Millie wondered if he knew about the two postcards that had come for Ava from Gordon Armstrong, or noticed the number of times the quartermaster, Bain, came in from the nearby camp to have tea in the hotel.
Millie’s private fears mounted as news came of Italian advances on Egypt from Libya, and she fretted over Dan so far away. She gathered the children around the wireless to listen to Princess Elizabeth give her first public broadcast, speaking to the evacuee children. But she did her best to comfort them and shield them from bleak news. She organised them into ducking for apples instead of having fireworks on bonfire night, and used up precious rations of sugar to make a cake for Charity’s eighth birthday, filling the tea room with children to give her a memorable party behind the blackout curtains.
; That Christmas Millie and Teresa made puddings using carrots instead of dried fruit, and ceremoniously divided the last bananas that they were likely to see while Britain remained blockaded and for which Ava had queued at the grocer’s for two hours. They managed to procure a turkey for their dinner, and ate it cheered by the news that the British had begun a counteroffensive against the Italians in the Western desert.
In the New Year, Millie’s heart lightened at the news of the capture of Tobruk by British and Australian troops, her mind briefly distracted from rising food prices and the problem of how she was going to keep the hotel running. But the relief was short-lived, for Marjory came rushing round with a message.
‘Mam says there’s been someone asking round Tenter Terrace for Dan. She thought you ought to know.’
‘Why?’ Millie asked in surprise. ‘Who is it?’
Marjory blushed. ‘A lass, Mam said. She told her to come round here, but sent me to warn you first.’
‘What lass?’ Millie asked suspiciously, her heart lurching.
Marjory shrugged awkwardly. ‘Not from round here, spoke quite posh.’
‘What did she look like?’ Millie questioned, her heart beating uncomfortably.
‘Bonny looking – blonde. She was in uniform,’ Marjory said, giving her a cautious look.
‘What did she want?’ Millie asked, feeling herself redden and glad that Ava was out.
‘She was looking for Uncle Dan – asked Mam a lot of questions about the family,’ Marjory told her, quickly tying on her apron and setting to work so that Millie would not question her further.
Millie’s pulse raced and she felt sick as she waited for the stranger to appear at the hotel. What if she was some younger women that Dan had taken up with? she agonised. Surely he would not have been unfaithful to her again after the heartache caused by his affair with Dinah? She forced herself to carry on with her jobs and said nothing to her mother or Ava about Marjory’s message, thinking they would find out soon enough. But the morning dragged on and no one called. The afternoon wore on and she busied herself with preparing tea for the household, while Marjory and Ava served in the tea room and Teresa sat mending the evacuees’ clothes. The children rushed in from school, darkness fell, but the mystery blonde did not come. The following day Millie went round to Ella’s and questioned her about the woman.
‘But who was she?’ Millie worried.
‘I don’t know,’ Ella said with a helpless shrug. ‘She never gave her name and I was too taken aback to ask. She was smartly dressed, in army uniform – stationed outside Newcastle somewhere. Asked a lot about you and the bairns. Said she’d never met you, but Dan was a friend of her family’s.’
Millie let out a shuddering sigh and confided her fears in Ella. ‘What if Dan’s been unfaithful to me again? What if this lass has come to show me up?’
‘You’ve no reason to think that, have you?’ Ella asked.
Millie flushed. ‘He always swore that Dinah was the only one – daft little fling, he called it. Said it never meant anything, just that he was lonely without me.’ She gave Ella a defiant look. ‘I believed him when he said there’d never be anyone else – that’s why I took him back. For the sake of the bairns. But now I can’t stop thinking of the old rumours about him and other women.’
‘That was just Ava’s spiteful gossiping,’ her friend retorted.
‘But you said this lass was in the army,’ Millie continued to fret. ‘Dan must’ve met her since he joined up.’
Ella pushed a weak cup of tea towards her. ‘You don’t know that. I think you’re worrying over nothing. This lass might be the sister of a friend of his in the army or an old team-mate. I’m sorry; it’s my fault for not asking. Anyway, she can’t be that interested if she didn’t bother to turn up.’
Millie allowed Ella to calm her fears, and when the woman did not appear she was soon immersed once more in the daily struggle of making ends meet, caring for the children and keeping the peace among the squabbling evacuees and her own boys. Spring came and she forgot about Ella’s caller. April brought news of a German counterattack in North Africa and the worry of the British being driven back from Libya once more. Her last letter from Dan had been cheerful and affectionate, but it had been written before the reversal in fortunes.
She was clearing a tea table, thinking about Dan and how Albert kept asking anxiously for reassurance that his father was safe, when she noticed a woman hovering in the hallway. Something about the way she held herself, the flick of her blonde hair away from her face, made Millie stop and stare. The stranger looked back at her, then took a tentative step forward, and Millie knew in that moment that this was the woman Ella had met. There was something familiar about her pretty face, the lift of her chin maybe, or the dark lashes against her pale skin, yet Millie could not place her. Perhaps she had seen her when she had visited Dan in Yorkshire, yet the woman did not seem very old, even given the wavy starlet hairstyle and the red lipstick.
Millie’s heart grew heavy at the sight of her and she felt suddenly old to be confronted with such a young rival. At that moment, before either of them could speak, Albert and the Baker lads raced in, chased by Charity and Jack. They flew around the dining room, knocking into tables and screeching at the tops of their voices. Millie shouted crossly, ‘I’ve told you to keep out of here. Out; the lot of you!’
As they scattered through the open doorway, Teresa hobbled in on her stick, drawn by the commotion, and apologised to the young woman for nearly being knocked over.
‘It’s these townie evacuees, they’ve got no manners,’ she explained.
‘I’m a townie myself,’ the woman answered in a stiff, well-spoken voice.
‘Is it tea you’d like?’ Teresa asked, ushering her towards the empty tea room and Millie.
‘No thank you,’ she replied. ‘I’m looking for Millie Nixon.’
Millie faced her, saying as calmly as possible, ‘That’s me. Can I help you?’
The woman did not answer at first, just stared at her in curiosity, making Millie feel even more uncomfortable.
‘You’re not what I expected,’ she said at last, her blue eyes critical. ‘You’re taller, but not as pretty. But then I suppose you must have been as a young woman.’
Millie flushed and asked indignantly, ‘And who are you?’
‘I’m Helen Nixon,’ the woman replied, lifting her chin stubbornly. ‘I’m stationed up here. Been plucking up courage to come and visit. It took a bit of asking around to find you, but I knew to come to Ashborough. I funked it the last time. Mother didn’t want me to track any of you down, but I’ve always been curious.’
Millie’s heart pounded. ‘Nixon, you say? Are you related to us?’
Helen gave her a hostile little smile. ‘I am to your husband.’
‘Dan?’ Millie asked, quite baffled.
Teresa elbowed forward. ‘Stop playing games with our Millie,’ she scolded, ‘and tell us what you’re up to! If you’re some little trollop of his, I’ll send you packing.’
The young woman turned on her, shaking with nervous anger. ‘I’m not the trollop, that woman is!’ she declared, stabbing a finger at Millie. ‘I’m Dan Nixon’s daughter!’
Millie was flabbergasted. ‘What?’ she demanded. ‘What do you mean, daughter?’ She was incensed by the claim. Dan’s daughter was their beloved Edith, the only child who had the right to call herself that!
But Helen advanced on her, just as angry, glaring at Millie as if she were the devil.
‘I came to find my father,’ she hissed, ‘to ask him why he deserted me and my mother all those years ago – the real Mrs Nixon.’
Millie’s breath stopped in her throat, her head dizzy with incomprehension. ‘How dare you!’ she gasped.
Helen’s attack faltered for an instant and confusion flickered across her young face. ‘He’s never told you, has he? You really don’t know anything about us. I always wondered how you could live with yourself for taking another woman’s h
usband like you did, marrying him as if you had any right to!’
Millie felt her legs begin to buckle; she slammed the tray she was still clutching down onto the table. ‘I’ve taken no one else’s husband!’ she exclaimed. ‘Dan and I were married good and proper in church, nearly seventeen years ago!’
Helen gave her a look, half pitying, half scornful. ‘Well, he married my mother over twenty years ago, because she was carrying me – his child! Grandfather might have forced him to, but he did it. Cleared off before I was born, but he was still married to Mother at the time. She wouldn’t divorce him at first, because of the scandal it would’ve caused to the family. When he married you, he should’ve gone to prison for bigamy, but Mother would never do anything to harm him. She only divorced him after he wrote and told her he had another daughter. That was typical of Mother, to bother about my father’s bastard child.’
Millie was speechless. She collapsed into a chair. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she whispered. ‘How dare you call my Edith that! Why are you saying such things?’
‘Because it’s true.’ Helen was adamant. ‘I wanted to see what my father is like and I was curious to see his other family too. I find it hard to believe he would turn his back on my mother and me, and the life he could have had with us in London, for this!’ She gave a dismissive wave of her hand.
Teresa cut her short with a jab from her walking stick. ‘Stop that! I’ll not have you say any more against my Millie, and I’ll tell you now, you’ll not find a better lass or a more loving wife and mother than she is. I don’t care who your mother is and I don’t see why we should believe any of your fanciful story! If you’ve nothing better to do than cause trouble, you can clear off somewhere else!’
THE TYNESIDE SAGAS: Box set of three dramatic and emotional stories: A Handful of Stars, Chasing the Dream and For Love & Glory Page 76
