by Pam Weaver
Annie tilted her head defiantly. ‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’
‘I really should tell Sister,’ said the nurse. ‘If you’ve got milk coming in, they’ll have to bind your breasts.’
‘Oh please …’ Annie pleaded. She kept it up until the nurse, worn down by her persistent pleas, agreed. As she left the nursery, Annie slipped one of her precious pound notes in the woman’s pocket and put her finger to her lips. ‘Don’t tell a soul.’
Alone in her room, Annie had spent some time composing a letter to her godmother. Auntie Phyllis was a bit of an eccentric who lived in a run-down property in Kent with her beloved dogs. The family hadn’t seen her for some time, but Annie knew Auntie Phyllis had her father’s disapproval because she was living in sin with an artist. Because they had never married, Annie hoped her godmother, unlike her father, would be broadminded about letting her keep her baby. Perhaps in return for a little housework, she might consider giving them a roof over their heads until Henry came home. She reminded her of her childhood promise, ‘Any time you need me, just holler,’ and hoped she could find it in her heart to give them a lifeline. Once the letter was in the post, Annie looked for a reply. By the time she and her son were taken to the Mother and Baby Home on the tenth day, Annie still hadn’t heard from Auntie Phyllis. It was a great disappointment. Judith looked a little puffy-eyed as she said her goodbyes, but she promised to pick Annie up in a month’s time.
‘It’ll be almost Christmas by then,’ Judith smiled. ‘We’ll put this behind us and have a wonderful time.’
Annie was cheerful and chatty, but the sinking feeling she now had was getting stronger by the minute. As they prepared her for the journey, the nurses bound her breasts.
‘I can’t understand why you still have milk,’ said the sister. ‘Your breasts are still quite full.’
When she had gone, Annie allowed herself a smile and eased the binding. Shutting herself in the toilet, she released herself from the bandages and expressed some of her milk over the sink with her hand. It seemed an awful waste but she had to keep her milk flowing for the sake of the baby. Someone came to the door and called out, ‘Are you all right in there?’
‘Yes,’ Annie called back. She pushed her breast back under the binding and turned on the taps to flush the milk away. Her father may have refused her a home but this part of the plan was working well. All she needed was a reply from Auntie Phyllis.
*
The walk to Lancing took Sarah an hour. The weather was overcast and there was a definite drop in the temperature. The wind was coming off the sea, so it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Sarah had put both children into the pram with the hood up and was making a game of pushing them. She knew Jenny was tired after school and they were both hungry, but she wanted to get to Vera’s place before dark. All their stuff, not a lot now, was under the pram and it was staring to rain.
She was three shillings short for another night with Mrs Mumford. She was tempted to go back and weather the landlady’s anger in the morning, but that would be like stealing. With all her troubles Sarah had never once stooped to thieving before. She had been a stupid fool. She should have asked for help earlier, but ever the optimist, she’d held out in the hope that something good would turn up the next day. She was determined not to let the children see her crying, so she had to keep swallowing the lump in her throat.
When Vera opened the door, the smell of frying sausages wafted out. ‘Sarah!’
‘I’m sorry to drop in on you like this Vera,’ Sarah began, her mouth salivating, ‘but I’m in trouble.’
Vera kept her arm on the door, effectively barring her entry.
‘I’ve been evicted,’ said Sarah helplessly.
‘Well, you can’t stay here,’ said Vera quickly. ‘We haven’t the room.’
‘I just need somewhere for the kids for a couple of days …’ Sarah began again.
‘No!’ said Vera, glancing anxiously up and down the street. ‘I can’t. You’ll have to find somewhere else.’
‘That’s just the point,’ said Sarah as the door began to close. ‘There is nowhere else. You don’t have to take me in, just the girls.’
Vera leaned out and hissed in her face. ‘I’ve already told you there’s no room here. If you’ve lost your place, that’s your own fault.’
‘Vera,’ Sarah said hopelessly, ‘please. They’ll take my kids away.’
‘Look, I’m sorry this has happened,’ said Vera, ‘but our place is far too small and I’ve just decorated. I want you to go now. Bill will be home from work soon and he won’t want to see you on the doorstep looking like a tramp. You’ve got no right to come over here trying to spoil what I’ve got.’
With that, the door closed. Sarah stared at the glass for several seconds and cursed herself for coming. She’d known in her heart that this would happen, but she’d hoped against hope that Vera might at least be willing to take Jenny and Lu-Lu.
‘Are we going home now, Mummy?’
Sarah choked back her tears and smiled at her trusting little girl. ‘Soon,’ she said, picking up the bootie which had fallen from her dolly’s foot, ‘soon.’
*
‘Have you any idea where Mrs Royal is?’
The woman across the road was putting her key into the front door. Kaye had come out to post a letter to Henry. Now that she knew exactly where he was, she had got her solicitor to draw up the divorce papers, citing two counts of bigamist marriage as proof tantamount to adultery. She didn’t have to worry about reputations being ruined. Sarah and Annie’s predicament was already in the public domain. As the letter hit the bottom of the pillar box, she felt a wonderful sense of release. All she wanted now was to find Sarah, so she’d gone straight round to her house and was puzzled to find it all boarded up.
The woman across the road shook her head.
‘Do you know when she’ll be back?’
‘You’re the second person asking me that today,’ said the woman. ‘Got slung out, didn’t she.’
‘What?’ Kaye was horrified. ‘But why? Where is she living now?’
The woman shrugged. Kaye chewed her lip anxiously. ‘I need to find her.’
‘Could try Mrs Angel.’ Kaye recognised the name and the woman gave her directions, but Mrs Angel, who had already put her ‘Closed’ sign across the door, didn’t know where Sarah was either. ‘I’ve only just got back from my sister’s. I haven’t seen Sarah yet.’
Kaye told her about the boarded-up house and the eviction notice in the window. ‘I had a feeling something wasn’t quite right,’ Mrs Angel said. ‘She asked me if I knew of any lodgings, but she never breathed a word to me that she was actually homeless. I thought she just fancied a change of scene.’
‘Do you think she could have found somewhere else that easily?’
Mrs Angel looked thoughtful. ‘Come to think of it, she’s never asked me to take the card out of the window.’
‘Do you think she would have gone to stay with anyone else? Her sister, perhaps?’
‘I doubt it,’ said Mrs Angel. ‘She and Vera don’t get on.’
Kaye frowned anxiously. ‘I’m really worried about her.’
‘Now that you’ve told me,’ Mrs Angel nodded, ‘I am too.’
‘Do you know her sister’s address? I took her there once to pick up the girls, but I can’t quite remember.’
‘She moved to Annwier Avenue,’ said Mrs Angel. ‘That’s in Lancing, but I don’t remember the number.’
Kaye got back into her car and drove over to Lancing. It didn’t take long to find the road, but it was quite long. Kaye knocked on every other door, but it wasn’t until she stopped a woman with a shopping bag that she found out where Vera was living. She crossed the street and knocked on the door.
As she opened the door, Vera was saying, ‘Look, I’ve already told you … Oh!’
‘Is Sarah here?’ Kaye asked.
Carole pushed in front of her mother and stared at Kaye.
‘But Auntie Sarah was here just now, Mummy,’ Carole piped up.
Vera gave her daughter a look to kill. ‘Oh yes,’ she flustered. ‘Of course. How silly of me. I quite forgot.’
‘She wanted to come in,’ said Carole, ‘but Mummy said no.’
‘Carole,’ Vera hissed. ‘You don’t interrupt adults when they are talking. Now go to your room.’
‘But Mummy …’ Carole protested.
‘Now!’ Vera snapped.
The child slunk away and Vera turned back to Kaye. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know where my sister is,’ she said indignantly. ‘I cannot be held responsible for her actions, but I have told the authorities about those children. It’s not right for her to be trailing them around all over the place. They need a good home and a warm bed.’
Kaye opened her mouth, but before she could say another word Vera had closed the door.
Kaye frowned. Where would Sarah go? And what did her sister mean when she said she had told the authorities? If Sarah really did have nowhere to go, what on earth would she do with her children when it was cold and it was starting to rain? Kaye shuddered to think.
*
They were almost back on the outskirts of Worthing when the rain started to come down really hard. Sarah had both children in the pram. They were very squashed, but at least she could put the hood up, and with the pram apron across their legs, it kept some of the cold and wet at bay. The springs were creaking all the time and Sarah worried that the one holding the back wheel might actually give way. The pram had been a hand-me-down when she got it and since then she had used it for two children and a couple of moves. Right now it groaned under the weight of all it carried. She was dog-tired and hungry. She had given the children her last piece of bread and emptied the jam pot. Not an ideal meal, but it was all she had. Having shared her meagre breakfast with the girls this morning, Sarah herself hadn’t eaten a proper meal since the day before yesterday.
She knew her sister was ashamed and embarrassed by her poverty, but she hadn’t counted on Vera actually turning the children away. She was fairly confident that she wouldn’t be welcome, but she still couldn’t quite believe that her own sister had turned her back on her two nieces Although it would have stuck in her throat to say the words, she would have asked for a few bob to tide her over if Vera hadn’t already slammed the door in her face. What galled Sarah even more was the knowledge that she and Bill had a three-bedroomed house. Angrily, she wiped a tear away from her face with the heel of her hand and pushed doggedly on.
There was a shelter up ahead. It was a Victorian structure and it faced out to sea, which wasn’t ideal, but it had a seat and a roof. She pushed the pram up the slope from the road and headed for it. There was nobody around, although the shelter smelled vaguely of urine. She turned the pram away from the sea and took some stuff out of the hessian bags underneath. Using their clothing, she made a bed on the seat and pulled Jenny out of the pram.
‘Are we going home now, Mummy?’ she asked.
‘Soon,’ said Sarah, her voice choked with emotion and fear. ‘Let’s have a little rest here first, shall we?’
The child lay back without protest and Sarah covered her over. Lu-Lu was struggling to sit up in the pram. ‘No, lay down darling,’ Sarah said. ‘Go to sleep, there’s a good girl.’
With the whooshing of the waves in the background, it didn’t take long before they both drifted off. Sarah sat hunched up on the bench and shivered with the cold. Everything warm was wrapped around her children. Think on the bright side, she told herself. The landlord at the pub would pay her again tomorrow. If they spent the night here, she could put her wage together with the six bob she had left and buy a couple of nights back at the hotel. They’d be together for one more day. After that, if she couldn’t find anywhere for them to live, she would have to let the Welfare put them into a Home. Sarah shivered again. She was destined to spend a cold night sleeping rough, and the enormity of her situation hit home. She faced the sea and wept. She wept for Jenny and Lu-Lu because she had let them down. She wept for her mother because she missed her and wanted more than anything to have a hug. She wept angry, frustrated tears because of Vera and her heartlessness, and she wept for all the other homeless, cold and frightened people in the world. In 1946, there was a lot of talk in the town about the Vigilante group in Brighton who were ‘vigilantly’ scouring the streets of the town looking for empty buildings and giving them to the homeless. The landlords didn’t like it of course, but it gave a needy person a roof over their heads. She wondered vaguely about trying her luck with them, but then the thought of dragging the girls for thirteen miles along the seafront for something which may or may not still be there, brought her back to her senses. She remembered how immediately after the war, people desperate for homes, took over old army camps and RAF stations. They mostly went to ex-servicemen and their families, but what about the empty huts the Canadians had vacated on their base in Shaftesbury Avenue not long after VE Day? Could it be possible that the rows and rows of Nissen huts were still there? Worthing Borough Council had built a lot of prefabs, especially in the Castle Road area, rabbit hutches some people called them, but what she wouldn’t give for one right now.
‘Sarah?’ the voice was gentle. Seeing who it was, Sarah shot to her feet. She hadn’t heard Kaye creeping up on her. She stared at Henry’s wife. Was she having a dream or was she real?
‘Oh Sarah, why didn’t you tell me?’
Sarah felt a massive rush of emotion, but as Kaye came towards her she put up her hand and backed away. ‘Please go away,’ she said. ‘Don’t, just don’t.’
‘I came to look for you because I need your help,’ said Kaye.
‘You need my help?’ Sarah choked. She laughed sardonically. ‘And how exactly can I help you, Mrs Royale?’
‘You remember my aunt?’ said Kaye. ‘She’s living with me now, but the thing is, I have to go up to London and I wanted to ask if you would help me look after her.’
Sarah opened her mouth but nothing came out. There was a lump in her throat the size of an orange and she couldn’t stop shaking. Standing in front of her children, she indicated her predicament.
‘Then perhaps we could both help each other,’ said Kaye, pulling her coat tightly around herself as the chilly sea air bit into her. ‘I have some empty rooms in my house.’
‘No,’ said Sarah, shaking her head in belief, her eyes filling with tears. ‘No. It’s too much … I can’t.’
‘Why not,’ said Kaye. ‘Lottie isn’t mad. She’s been traumatised, but she’s all right. She won’t hurt the children, I promise.’
Sarah sat down on the edge of the seat again and, leaning forward, put her hand on her head. This wasn’t happening. She must be dreaming.
‘Look,’ Kaye persisted, ‘You come and work for me and you can all be together. I won’t hold you to anything. Just until you can find something better.’
Sarah put her hand over her mouth to stop the cry of anguish she knew was coming and stared at her helplessly. What was the catch? There had to be a catch.
Lu-Lu sat up and cried. Sarah took her out of the pram and onto her hip. ‘Shhh. Shhh. It’s all right, darling.’
Then Jenny stirred. ‘Mummy, I’m cold.’
Down by the road, they heard a car door slam and two people began walking up the embankment. The man carried an umbrella and the woman wore flat shoes and a mackintosh. Two policemen were walking towards them from the opposite direction and eventually the four of them merged as they came towards them.
‘Oh God,’ Sarah whispered anxiously. ‘The welfare. They’ve come for my children.’
‘Leave this to me,’ said Kaye. She put out her hand and took Jenny’s. At the same time she began to stuff everything back into the pram.
‘Mrs Royal?’ said the woman as she approached.
‘Yes,’ said Kaye,
just a little ahead of Sarah. The woman seemed a little flummoxed.
‘We’ve come for your children,’ said the man. ‘This is no place for little ones and I hope you are not going to make a fuss for their sakes.’
‘Actually,’ said Kaye stepping in front of him, still holding Jenny’s hand. ‘That’s very kind of you, but I already have my car. In fact, you are parked right next to it.’
‘Who are you?’ the woman demanded.
‘Mrs Royale,’ said Kaye, striding down the grassy slope towards the road and her waiting car. ‘Is that you, DC Harris? You know me, don’t you? Copper Beeches. I can’t think why you’ve chased after my cousin. This has all been a ghastly mistake, of course. I asked her to come and look after our aunt and somehow or other we’ve made an absolute muck-up of the plan. Still never mind, we found each other in the end, didn’t we dear? All my fault of course, but let’s get these children home and tucked up in bed.’
By now everyone had reached Kaye’s car and she was busy bundling Jenny in the back. She opened the front passenger door for Sarah and almost manhandled Sarah, cradling Lu-Lu in her arms, inside.
‘Now just a minute …’ said the woman.
‘DC Harris,’ Kaye called, completely ignoring the woman as she walked around the car. ‘I wonder if you would be an absolute sweetie and push the pram round to my place. I don’t like the thought of leaving it there. You never know who might be around.’
As she slipped into the driver’s seat, the woman opened the back passenger door.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ said Kaye coldly. She could see that the woman was about to make Jenny get out. Kaye smiled and in a slightly less hostile tone added, ‘If you want to pop round tomorrow, we’ll talk then. DC Harris knows my address, don’t you?’ She leaned over and pulled the rear door shut. ‘Goodnight.’
And with a jerk on the accelerator pedal, she left them by the roadside.
Fourteen
As Kaye showed Sarah and her children into the hallway, an angry red-faced woman came out of the kitchen.
