Sing As We Go

by Margaret Dickinson

  Kathy insisted on paying half the fare and, when the vehicle drew up in the street, the driver carried her case right to the front door of Jemima’s house.

  ‘Don’t I get a hand?’ Ron asked in a mock plaintive tone.

  ‘You’re not as pretty as her, sir.’

  Ron laughed. ‘Well, I have to agree with you there.’

  Ron and Kathy waved to each other. ‘See you Wednesday morning, lass. Don’t be late. Train goes at eight thirty.’

  ‘Want picking up?’ the cheeky taxi driver asked.

  ‘Good idea,’ Ron said. ‘Eight fifteen all right?’

  ‘I’ll get you there in time for the train, sir.’

  With a saucy wink at Kathy, he walked back to his taxi. ‘Though I wouldn’t mind makin’ that ’un miss the train.’ He jerked his thumb back over his shoulder towards Kathy. ‘I’d like to tek her home wi’ me. Mind you,’ he sniffed. ‘I don’t know what the missis’d say if I did.’

  The three of them laughed and then, as the taxi was driven away, Ron and Kathy went into their homes.

  As Kathy inserted the key into the lock and pushed open the back door, the familiar warm furry body wound itself around her legs and miaowed a welcome.

  ‘Darling Taffy,’ Kathy murmured as she bent to stroke him. He rubbed his face against her hand and purred ecstatically.

  She carried her suitcase upstairs, the cat bounding ahead of her as if showing her the way. As soon as she opened the bedroom door, Taffy pushed his way into the room and took a flying leap into the middle of the bed, where he turned round three times, kneading the cover.

  ‘Not on Aunt Jemima’s second best eiderdown,’ Kathy laughed, picking up the cat. She flung back the satin eiderdown and set the cat on the blanket underneath. ‘You shouldn’t really be on the bed at all,’ she scolded him lovingly. ‘But I’m so pleased to see you, you can stay while I unpack my clothes.’

  The cat closed his eyes to satisfied slits and purred even louder.

  A little later, Kathy scooped Taffy up from the bed and carried him down the stairs, stroking him and talking to him as she went.

  ‘Now, let’s see what’s for your tea and then I’ll find something to cook for your mistress when she comes home. Won’t that be a nice surprise?’

  The meal was cooked and sitting in a warm oven by the time Jemima was due. The cat was fed and sitting sleepily on Kathy’s knee as she sat in the chair in the corner in the darkness, with only the light of the fire she had lit in the grate for company. She dozed, waiting for Jemima to come home, the warm weight of the cat on her knee a familiar comfort she had so missed since she had been away.

  She didn’t hear the back door open and so Jemima’s cry of surprise as she turned on the light woke both her and Taffy. The cat dug his claws into her leg in fright and then jumped down and fled towards the door and out into the night.

  ‘Oh my, you gave me such a fright,’ Jemima said, recovering a little and laughing. Kathy jumped up and the two women moved towards each other, arms outstretched. ‘But how lovely to see you, my dear.’ Jemima hugged her and then stood back, still holding Kathy by her shoulders. ‘Let me look at you.’ She paused and then added, ‘You look tired. I expect Ron’s been working you far too hard.’

  Of course, Jemima knew all about her touring with the concert party. Kathy had written to tell her and, besides, Ron’s wife would be keeping her well informed too.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Kathy smiled tremulously. She was surprised how emotional she felt at seeing Jemima. She had told her nothing in her letters about her traumatic time at Willow House, the birth of her little boy and all that had happened since.

  Time enough for that in the evening when they had eaten and were sitting together in the firelight.

  Then she would tell Jemima everything that had happened to her.

  ‘So,’ Kathy began when they had washed up the pots together and were sitting close to the fire, Jemima in her chair, Kathy on the rug at her feet. The late September evening was surprising chilly and Jemima had insisted on lighting a fire in the front room. ‘How is everyone? Uncle Ted and Auntie Betty and Morry? And have you heard from Amy?’

  ‘Yes. I get a letter from her most weeks.’ Jemima regarded Kathy over her spectacles. ‘She’s a better letter writer than you, Katherine Burton. You disappointed me. I had hoped you would keep in touch right from the time you left.’ She reached out and patted Kathy’s hand. ‘I do care about you, you know. I wanted to know that you were all right.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Kathy said at once. ‘It – it was difficult.’ Her face was haunted as she was forced to remember her time at Willow House.

  And then, like the flood gates opening, it all came tumbling out. She told Jemima about the harsh regime at the home for unmarried women and the almost inhumane treatment meted out to her when she had been in labour. And then, worst of all, how she had been tricked into signing away her baby.

  ‘I never held him, never even saw him,’ she said huskily.

  Jemima’s face twisted in sympathy. Her own plight all those years ago seemed as nothing compared to what Kathy had suffered.

  ‘But you knew it was a boy?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have done, but one of the other girls told me.’

  ‘I see. But you’ve never seen him.’

  ‘Well, yes, I have. Now.’ Kathy went on to explain how she had found the address of her little boy’s adoptive parents and how she had even got to know Mrs Wainwright.

  ‘Do you think that was wise, dear?’ Jemima said, and then added swiftly, ‘Oh I don’t blame you. I don’t blame you one bit and maybe I’m not the best judge. I’ve been lucky all these years; able to see my son and even have Maurice know who I am. But – but won’t you always be drawn back to go and see him? And I’m so worried that while his mo— Mrs Wainwright might seem friendly enough now, there might come a time when she’d rather you didn’t see him. When he becomes old enough to ask awkward questions . . .’ Jemima’s voice trailed away.

  Kathy was not hurt or offended by the older woman’s words. She knew the outspoken Jemima well enough by now to know that whatever she said was spoken with good intention, even if the words were not always what one wanted to hear.

  ‘I know,’ Kathy said quietly, ‘and I’m ready for that happening. I’m trying to build a life without him, but, Oh, Aunt Jemima, it’s so hard.’ Suddenly, unable to hold back the tears any more, she buried her face in Jemima’s lap. The older woman stroked her hair tenderly and gazed into the fire’s flickering flames, for once quite lost for words.

  A little later, when she was calmer, Kathy asked, ‘Have you heard how my mother is?’

  ‘She’s fine. Betty keeps an eye on her. Of course, her life is hard, we all know that and short of leaving your father, it always will be, but Betty keeps her posted about you and . . .’

  Kathy drew in a sharp breath. ‘You mean – you mean she knows?’

  Jemima shook her head. ‘No, not about that. We wouldn’t divulge such a thing unless you told us we could.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Kathy said pensively, ‘I wouldn’t mind my mother knowing, but then it puts her in a very difficult position having to keep it from my father, so it’s – it’s best she doesn’t know. Not yet, anyway. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to tell her.’

  There was such a wistful longing in the girl’s tone that Jemima’s heart went out to her. Instead, she said briskly, ‘It’s best not. And she’d only worry more about you. Kinder that she doesn’t know for the time being.’

  ‘Have you heard how Mr and Mrs Kendall are?’

  ‘Not good,’ Jemima sighed. ‘Poor George is heartbroken, though he still trudges to work and looks after Beatrice.’

  ‘And Mrs Kendall?’

  ‘Much the same.’

  ‘I’d’ve thought it might – well – have made her worse. Much worse.’

  ‘Killed her, you mean?’ Jemima was as blunt as ever.

  ‘To be honest – yes.’

 
; ‘Mm,’ Jemima was thoughtful. ‘We’ve always thought her illness was put on, haven’t we? Now I’m sure of it. If she really had a weak heart, news of the death of her only beloved son would surely have made her very ill or worse. Instead, it was poor George who had to take a fortnight off work when they got the telegram, but it was Beatrice who just lay there on the couch as always, weeping and wailing and playing the part of the bereaved mother to perfection.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘Because I went to see them.’

  ‘You did?’

  Now Jemima looked embarrassed. ‘To tell you the truth, Kathy, I was about to commit an unforgivable sin. I went with the intention of telling them that you had had Tony’s baby . . .’

  Kathy gasped and her eyes widened in surprise. She was appalled that Jemima could even think of doing such a thing.

  ‘But I didn’t do it,’ Jemima went on hastily. ‘When I got there, I just couldn’t betray you in such a way. And besides, I’m not sure it wouldn’t have made matters worse. Poor George was shattered and struggling to keep going. I arranged for Beatrice to go into a nursing home for a week. Mr James paid for it, just to give poor George a rest.’

  ‘Is he all right now?’

  Jemima sighed sadly. ‘He went away for a few days while Beatrice was in the nursing home. He looked much better when he came back. Though there was still that awful haunted look in his eyes. I don’t suppose he will ever get over losing his only son. His only child.’

  ‘And her?’

  ‘Oh, she’s all right,’ Jemima said, with not a scrap of sympathy for the hypochondriac. ‘Beatrice and her like will be all right, because, my dear Kathy, despite what she’d like the world to think, there’s only one person she’s ever cared about and that’s not, as she would have you believe, her beloved son, but herself. Beatrice Kendall is the epitome of the very worst kind of selfishness.’

  There was silence between them for a while until Kathy murmured. ‘I’d like to go and see his dad.’

  ‘I wouldn’t, my dear, not this time anyway. Perhaps when you come home again.’

  Kathy smiled up at her, tears in her eyes. It wasn’t just the woman’s kindness and understanding, it was the inference that Jemima’s house was Kathy’s home that brought a lump to the girl’s throat and an overwhelming gratitude.

  Thirty-Three

  ‘Now I know the members of this concert party of Ron’s do get paid a little, but it can’t be much . . .’ Jemima began on the Wednesday morning as they breakfasted together before Kathy had to leave.

  ‘Aunt Jemima, it’s very kind of you, but I couldn’t possible take any more. You’ve already been more than generous.’

  ‘Oh, phooey.’ Jemima dismissed her protests with a wave of her hand, then her green eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘So, I’m to take it you’re rolling in it, am I?’

  Kathy laughed wryly. ‘Not exactly, but—’

  ‘No more “buts”. Take it.’

  ‘You’re too good to me,’ Kathy said, her voice trembling.

  ‘More than likely,’ Jemima said crisply, but she was smiling as she said it.

  Moments later, as she drove away with Ron Spencer in the taxi, Kathy looked back to see Jemima standing outside her front door with Taffy in her arms waving goodbye.

  When they arrived at the railway station, Ron rounded up all the party and stood on a nearby seat to say, ‘We’re not going on the train. I’ve got a surprise for you all. Follow me.’ He jumped down and led them all out of the station.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Rosie asked.

  ‘Search me,’ Kathy said. ‘He didn’t say anything in the taxi.’

  ‘Ooh, ’ark at her. Taxi, is it? Come into money, have we?’

  Kathy grinned. ‘Actually, we treated ourselves to a taxi home last week – Ron and me live in the same street. Well, this lovely driver took us home and promised to pick us up today. And do you know what . . . ?’

  ‘He wouldn’t let you pay this morning.’

  Kathy’s eyes widened. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Because it’s what a lot of them do when they know who we are and what we’re doing.’

  ‘Oh.’ Kathy felt deflated and Rosie pinched her arm, laughing. ‘I was only teasing you, you know. I don’t care if you’re a millionaire – I’d still be your friend.’

  ‘If I was, we wouldn’t be travelling about on draughty trains any more— Oh my!’ She stopped short as the whole party came to a halt.

  ‘It doesn’t look as if we’re going to anyway,’ Rosie said, as they all saw Ron pointing proudly towards a single-decker bus with the words ‘The Lindum Players’ painted on the side. ‘The local bus company have donated one of their old buses for our permanent use and, better still, one of their drivers who’s just reached retirement age has volunteered to come with us. This, ladies and gentlemen, is Keith.’

  The whole party cheered the man, who gave them a cheery wave. ‘Hello, there. We’ll get to know each other, but for now let’s get you all stowed aboard and we’ll be off.’

  *

  The concert party grew even closer now that they travelled together all the time, so every time someone was called up, the gap they left was even harder to fill. New members joined and were welcomed into the group, but those that had gone were still missed.

  Ron’s face wore a perpetually worried frown, and at the beginning of December 1941, even he began to lose heart.

  ‘They’re going to call up all single women between twenty and thirty,’ he told the company dolefully. ‘How are we ever to keep going if we lose all the young singers and dancers?’

  Rosie put her arms around Ron, ‘Then we’ll all just have to get married,’ she joked.

  Ron smiled thinly but the anxious frown never left his forehead. ‘I’m serious. How are we to hold the party together?’

  ‘Can’t you apply for deferment for us like you did for Martin? We’re doing our bit for the war effort, when all’s done and said.’

  Ron’s face lightened a little. ‘I could try, I suppose. But whether they’ll let you all stay . . .’

  ‘It’s worth a try, Ron,’ Rosie and her fellow dancers chorused.

  Ron’s application was successful – at least for the time being. More and more the work of ENSA was being recognized as being a valuable part of the war effort. Entertainment of any kind, especially live shows, helped cheer troops and war workers alike, especially at Christmas for those who could not get home. And when America entered the war after the attack on Pearl Harbor, it was likely that there would soon be servicemen stationed in Britain who were thousands of miles from home. Keeping up morale was going to be more important than ever.

  She knew she was part of something special, but Kathy still felt restless. She longed to go back to Saltershaven to see James. Despite her promise to write, Kathy had received no letter or photograph of her little boy from Mrs Wainwright and the passage of time only seemed to make her longing greater, not less. He would be a year old now. Was he walking yet? Had he said his first words? She so longed to know, but she was very afraid that Mrs Wainwright had changed her mind. Perhaps she’d told her husband and they’d decided that they should cut off all contact with their son’s natural mother.

  ‘We’ll write a pantomime.’ Ron interrupted her thoughts, knowing nothing of her inner torment. Kathy sighed and forced a smile. ‘I want you to play principal boy,’ he went on. ‘You’ve lovely long legs and Melody can play principal girl. Yes, I know, I know, she can’t sing, so that’s why we’ve got to rewrite it. We’ll make her part more comic and she can do some of her impressions. It’ll be different and you can sing all the serious ballads. All right? Now, when can you help Lionel and Martin get to work on the script?’

  ‘As soon as you like,’ Kathy said summoning up enthusiasm. A new challenge would help take her mind off her son.

  ‘That’s the ticket.’

  The party’s rewrite of Jack and the Beanstalk was a roaring success and
enjoyed by the concert party as well as by all their audiences. They kept it running for two months, over the Christmas period, altering the topical jokes to fit in with what was happening in the news, lampooning Hitler and his cohorts mercilessly. Early in the New Year they played to audiences of children when the camps invited the locals to the show. By February, they were back to their usual show, travelling by bus from city to city, airfield to army camp, from factory canteen to hospital wards. The routine continued through the spring. In the summer they made another fleeting visit to Lincoln and Kathy was appalled to hear from Jemima, and to see for herself, the damage that bombing had inflicted on the city. But she was pleased to see that, despite the shortages and the constant fear of the bombing, Jemima was coping well. And she was relieved to hear that all was fine at Sandy Furze Farm.

  ‘Your mother’s keeping well too, dear,’ Jemima greeted her. ‘Betty’s roped her in to help out with war work in the village.’ Jemima smiled impishly. ‘Your father grumbled, but as it was Betty asking, there was nothing he could say. He doesn’t want to fall out with Edward and Maurice. They’re helping him out a lot on his farm because he flatly refuses to have land army girls. And evidently it’s doing poor Edith the world of good getting out and meeting other folk. Like I always say, it’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good. Oh, and there’s a letter for you, dear. It arrived two weeks ago, but I didn’t know where to send it on to and I didn’t want it to get lost. Mabel said you were due back here this week, so I hung on to it. Maybe it’s from your mother.’

  Kathy took the letter eagerly, but the handwriting was not that of her mother. It was not one she recognized and the envelope felt stiff, as if there was something else in it besides folded pages of writing paper. Her heart leapt as she opened the envelope carefully and eased out the contents. There was a short letter on one sheet of notepaper, but it was the other item that captured her attention. It was a photograph of a dark-haired little boy, taken at about eighteen months old. He was beaming at the camera and raising one chubby little hand in a friendly wave.