The Victory Girls

by Joanna Toye

  Lily punched him on the arm and he gave her a kiss in return. What had he said in the jeweller’s? Lily and her causes were one of the many reasons he loved her.

  Dora had had a word with Mrs Russell, who’d made a note on Joe’s form for Mr Parfitt, but Lily couldn’t imagine that nondescript individual fighting the boy’s corner very vigorously even if he suspected any wrongdoing. She thought about it all next day at work, and by the evening, she’d decided to do her own spot-check. Jim was on fire-watching duty on the roof of Marlows – not that he’d have been able to stop her; he might as well have tried to stop a tank in its tracks.

  After tea, and Dora’s departure for her WI Knitting Circle – it was hats on circular needles tonight – Lily set off for the Fox and Goose. When she got there, the noise from the open doorway suggested some kind of tournament was going on – darts, by the sound of it. Good. The bar would be busy with players and drinkers; Ethel and her husband would be occupied. Lily made her way round the back.

  There was an untidy yard piled with casks and crates of empties. The back door to the pub was open and she ventured in. On the right-hand side, another door stood open and she peeped cautiously round. It was obviously the family’s living room, and their office, too – on the table the remains of a meal jostled with a litter of papers. There was no sign of Joe. Had he, as Dora had suspected, been put to work out front, collecting glasses and mopping tables?

  Just then, she heard footsteps behind her and froze. Being caught snooping wasn’t going to endear her to Ethel Pearson or her husband. But when she slowly turned, it was Joe.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.

  ‘Looking for you, actually!’

  ‘Fine private eye you are! I saw you come in the back.’

  ‘Must do better,’ smiled Lily. Then, relieved, she asked:

  ‘They haven’t got you working, then?’

  Joe sniffed.

  ‘The old feller said something about washing up but I’d like to see ’em try.’

  ‘Good. So … were you up in your room? You do have a room of your own?’

  Joe tossed his head.

  ‘I’ve got a camp bed. In a box room with some broken bar stools and old lamps.’

  And Dora had been concerned about a bit of damp!

  ‘That doesn’t sound very suitable.’

  Joe shrugged.

  ‘I’ve never had a bed of my own before, so that’s something I s’pose. But it don’t matter anyway ’cos I’m not staying.’

  ‘No, I thought perhaps not. Look, it’s all right,’ soothed Lily. ‘We’ll find you somewhere else.’

  ‘Are you deaf or daft?’ scorned Joe. ‘I’m not staying here and I’m not staying in this stinking town. I’m going to find my sister and we’re going home!’

  ‘Joe! You can’t! How are you going to get there? What are you going to do for money? And how are you going to find Barbara in the first place?’

  ‘You’re going to help me.’

  ‘How do you get yourself in these situations?’ demanded Jim when Lily told him what had happened.

  He knew the answer perfectly well; he’d explained it in the jeweller’s. The ring was burning a hole in his pocket, but how could he stage the proposal when Lily had other things on her mind?

  They were on their usual Sunday afternoon stroll, walking aimlessly, Lily taking no notice of where they were going. Buying time, pretending she’d do some investigation for him, she’d persuaded Joe to stick it out, but she knew he wouldn’t wait long.

  ‘I can’t do anything till the WVS on Tuesday,’ she sighed. ‘We’re bound to talk about the evacuees. Maybe I can talk to Mrs Russell about it and sort of subtly find out the address of the woman who took in Joe’s sister.’

  ‘Yes, and say you do, then what? You’re going to yank her away just because you’ve taken this lad to heart? You might find the little girl’s perfectly happy there.’

  ‘She won’t be happy. She knows as well as Joe that their mother insisted they stay together. She’s got a weak chest. He says she’ll pine and not eat and get sick.’

  ‘He would say that, wouldn’t he?’ protested Jim. ‘So what’s your plan? Smuggle her away in the dead of night? Buy the two of them tickets to London? Come on, Lily, you can’t!’

  ‘I know I can’t! They need a place together, here in Hinton. I thought I could work on the woman who’s got Barbara to take them both.’

  ‘But Mrs Russell tried that on the day they arrived! It was a no-go.’

  ‘But if I explain that I’ve seen Joe, and … Jim! We’ve come miles!’

  Lily had suddenly realised where they were.

  ‘Doesn’t time fly when you’re ranting on,’ said Jim mildly.

  They were almost at Juniper Hill, where Mrs Tunnicliffe lived. Lily stopped, hesitated, then turned to Jim.

  ‘Do you think we could call on her?’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Just to see how she is. As we’re here.’

  ‘Hang on …’ began Jim, pretending to think. ‘Remind me … she was your Good Cause number seventy-one, wasn’t she?’ Lily threw him one of her looks. If only she knew how like Dora she looked when she did that, Jim thought, but also thought it better not to say. ‘Anyway, Uncle Cedric told you someone was keeping an eye on her. You can’t have everyone in Hinton on your conscience, Lily.’

  ‘I know that,’ agreed Lily. ‘If there’s a car there, or if when we ring the bell she’s obviously got company, we’ll come away. But Sunday can be a long day when you’re on your own.’

  It had been Florrie Jessop’s constant complaint if Gladys went out on a Sunday. Now, of course, Florrie’s gripe was the opposite – not a minute’s peace.

  Jim pulled Lily towards him and gave her a kiss.

  ‘I don’t know how you found room for me in your heart,’ he said. ‘But I’m glad you did.’

  There was no car on Mrs Tunnicliffe’s drive, so that was the same as before, but there were some notable differences. The pots on the step were planted with begonias and the knocker had had a fairly recent polish. And when they rang the bell, Mrs Tunnicliffe came to the door almost immediately.

  ‘Lily!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Lily began. ‘We were passing and—’

  Mrs Tunnicliffe smiled. She was looking better as well, in a pale linen dress.

  ‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘You’re just in time for tea.’

  She took them into the sitting room, which was as Lily remembered from her visit after Violet’s death, with its chintz-covered chairs and silver photo frames. She insisted on making the tea herself without Lily’s help.

  When they were all nursing their cups (‘Very little sugar, I’m afraid, and no cake – you must think me a very bad hostess!’) the conversation ran surprisingly smoothly. Out of sensitivity, Lily avoided mentioning Marlows, but Mrs Tunnicliffe brought the subject up herself. Jim told her about Lily’s promotion and Mrs Tunnicliffe asked about a typical day.

  ‘There’s no such thing!’ Lily laughed, but ran through the basic duties which had to be performed every day – the tidying, the displays, the filling in of counterfoils, and the counting of coupons.

  Mrs Tunnicliffe seemed intrigued.

  ‘It’s fascinating to hear about the shop from your point of view,’ she mused.

  ‘And have you been busy?’ Lily finally dared to ask.

  ‘Oh, I keep myself occupied,’ said Mrs Tunnicliffe. ‘The WVS and the Red Cross, you know, and my sons have got me involved with fundraising for various military charities, the Spitfire appeal and so on.’

  The usual round, thought Lily. It was useful work, of course, and it filled time. But did it really fill the void left by Violet?

  ‘I go to the WVS now, with my mum,’ she volunteered. ‘At the Drill Hall on the Tipton Road.’

  ‘Ah, the East Hinton branch.’ Mrs Tunnicliffe nodded. ‘You had to deal with the evacuees.’

  ‘That’
s right!’

  ‘You had quite a job placing them, I heard.’

  ‘Yes,’ Lily sighed. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Jim shift in his seat. She turned back towards Mrs Tunnicliffe. ‘They’re not all in the best homes. Some in the same family had to be split up, I’m afraid, a girl here, a boy there. There was one boy we had to place in a pub.’

  ‘That’s most unfortunate,’ said Mrs Tunnicliffe.

  ‘I know, but we had no choice. There weren’t enough people willing to take more than one. Some had had evacuees before, not always a great success, and most people don’t have the room or the time to give two children the attention they deserve, poor things.’

  Jim gave a little cough and covered it with a ‘sorry’.

  ‘No, I can see that,’ mused Mrs Tunnicliffe. ‘Poor things indeed. Oh well …’ She lifted the silver pot. ‘More tea?’

  ‘You planned that,’ said Jim, when they were back down the drive. Lily was stroking the grey cat which had taken up its position on top of one of the stone pillars at the gate.

  Lily turned innocent blue eyes to his.

  ‘Planned what?’

  ‘You’re hoping she’ll take Joe and Barbara. That’s why you wanted to call on her.’

  ‘I don’t know where you got that idea,’ objected Lily. ‘She brought up the WVS and the evacuees, not me!’

  Jim shook his head, half admiringly. ‘Yes, and if she hadn’t, you’d have found a way to drop it in. You certainly laid it on thick enough. You don’t seriously think she could be persuaded to take them, do you?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Lily blithely. ‘It never crossed my mind.’

  The cat – the disc on his collar gave his name as Theo – lifted his chin and Lily tickled the thick fur underneath. He began a rasping purr.

  ‘Don’t ever play poker, Lily. You’re a terrible liar.’ But Jim was smiling. ‘Though I suppose that’s a good thing about you. Well, there’s certainly no more you could have done. Or can do for now.’

  ‘There is one thing,’ said Lily. She reached up and kissed him, holding the back of his head in a way he loved. ‘You’ve given up all your Sunday afternoon for me, one way and another. I’m sorry, Jim. How do you put up with me, and why?’

  ‘I won’t answer that,’ smiled Jim. But he knew perfectly well.

  Chapter 13

  Lily wasn’t even sure herself if she’d consciously thought of Juniper Hill as a possible home for Joe and Barbara. Well, all right, the thought had crossed her mind, then had crossed back again, if only because she thought she should approach the matter the official way, through Mrs Russell. But when the subject of the evacuees had come up quite spontaneously, it had simply been too tempting. And so obvious! There was Mrs Tunnicliffe, all alone in that family house, which was crying out to be a family house again …

  On Tuesday, it was the WVS meeting. The minute they arrived, Dora made straight for the latest mountain of Army socks that had arrived for darning, but Mrs Russell beckoned Lily over.

  ‘The evacuees that you and your mother were worried about,’ she began. ‘Joe and Barbara Wilson.’

  Lily’s heart started banging away like a trip-hammer. It was impossible to read Mrs Russell’s tone.

  ‘Oh yes?’ she stuttered.

  Had something happened? Had Joe run away? Was she in for a ticking off?

  ‘I had a telephone call on Sunday evening,’ Mrs Russell went on. ‘From Daphne Tunnicliffe.’ She paused. She obviously couldn’t work out quite how Lily knew someone like Mrs Tunnicliffe outside of Marlows. ‘I gather she’s an acquaintance of yours?’

  Lily swallowed hard. Mrs Tunnicliffe had seemed sympathetic, but had she felt that Lily was interfering, taking the plight of the evacuee children too much to heart? Or had she – could Lily dare hope – had she had taken the hint?

  ‘It came half an hour,’ Mrs Russell went on, ‘after my friend – the one who’d taken in Barbara – had left my house in tears. The placement wasn’t working out. The child was unhappy, not eating, not sleeping, crying, wetting the bed …’ Lily’s trip-hammer heart pounded even faster. ‘In short, Daphne’s call was manna from heaven. Your mother had already told me her concerns about leaving Joe at the Fox and Goose. I understand why you had to do it – if someone offers, you can hardly turn them down, and goodness knows, we were desperate. But placing a child in a public house, whether he’s put to work or not, is hardly ideal.’

  The situation at the Fox and Goose didn’t matter now.

  ‘But what did Mrs Tunnicliffe say?’ Lily could hardly get the words out.

  ‘She suggested she meet the children to see whether she could offer them a home together.’

  ‘Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m so pleased!’

  ‘There’s more,’ Mrs Russell looked almost smug. ‘I took them round myself yesterday afternoon and they moved last night.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes! It’s a relief to me as well,’ Mrs Russell confided with a smile. ‘Though Mr Parfitt isn’t too happy. He droned on about people taking matters into their own hands, but his main gripe was having to have his master list retyped, and carbon paper being like gold dust. Well, if that’s all he’s got to worry about, he’s a lucky man! Now, have you seen the socks that are waiting for us? You’d better get started!’

  Lily took her place at a long table next to her mum, already busy with her needle.

  ‘What was all that about?’ queried Dora.

  ‘Joe and Barbara!’ Lily beamed. ‘And it’s all good news!’

  She told Jim about it too when she and Dora got home. He rolled his eyes and shook his head with his usual patient affection – he’d warned her so many times about trying to fix everyone’s problems. It made Lily almost embarrassed that things had worked out as she’d hoped, but she was relieved that they had without her having to get any more embroiled. As time went on, however, that didn’t stop her being intrigued by the new set-up at Juniper Hill.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like a little walk to see how she’s getting on?’ she asked Jim a couple of weeks later. It was a fine summer’s day, and Jim had planned to use their afternoon off to sow spring cabbage in the veg beds in the yard.

  Fatal. Buddy, sniffing around, heard the word ‘walk’ and started his crazed Jack-in-a-box routine.

  ‘Go on,’ urged Lily, trying to calm a yapping Buddy down. ‘Before Jean Crosbie sticks her head over the fence and moans about the noise.’

  ‘Oh, all right.’ Jim gave up. ‘But don’t blame me if you haven’t got any fresh greens on your plate come March.’ Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, ‘Let me get my jacket.’

  Off they went, Buddy nosing his way along the pavements like the hunting dog he was supposed to be, though the scents he’d pick up in Hinton were more likely to be old fish-and-chip papers than pheasant.

  Lily was free to enjoy the scenery, and as they walked that included Jim. She stole a sideways look at him. He’d never have called himself good-looking, but he was – tall, with a finely drawn face, chestnut hair and deep brown eyes. He had so many good qualities, too; he was thoughtful, intelligent, funny. And he was so kind and patient, shortening his long stride to her leg length, listening to her rabbit on, trying to support her even when he didn’t always agree with her, but not afraid to stand his ground when he thought she was off on completely the wrong tack. She sighed happily.

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘Do I need a reason?’ Lily smiled. Then she answered her own question. ‘Just happy.’

  There was no answer when they rang the bell at Mrs Tunnicliffe’s.

  ‘Maybe she’s taken them out,’ suggested Jim. ‘On a walk or something.’

  ‘Yes. Oh well. We tried.’

  They turned and were about to walk away when they heard laughter – children’s laughter. It was coming from the garden at the back.

  ‘Come on, she won’t mind.’

  Lily took Jim’s hand and led him round
the side of the house. Buddy, thrilled to have somewhere new to explore, pulled at his lead on Jim’s other arm. The gravel path crunched lightly under their feet, but when they came to the corner, Jim hauled Buddy back and held Lily back too.

  ‘Let’s not barge in.’

  They peeped round. Joe and Barbara were on the lawn playing Blind Man’s Buff, Barbara squealing excitedly as she evaded her brother’s outstretched hands. There were toys scattered on a rug – a doll, a bat and ball, a toy fort and a Noah’s Ark. Under the cedar tree, four chairs were grouped around a wrought-iron table. Tea was standing ready – the silver tea set and the china cups, plus a plate of sandwiches and a cake. A muslin cloth weighted with glass beads protected a jug of lemonade from flies. In a basket chair to one side sat Mrs Tunnicliffe, watching the children indulgently. And in another, close beside it, sat Cedric Marlow.

  ‘Wha-at?’ Jim exploded. ‘What’s he doing here?’

  ‘Shh!’ Lily dragged him – and Buddy – a few paces backwards, the gravel skittering under their feet.

  ‘But … but … Uncle Cedric! And Mrs Tunnicliffe!’

  ‘Isn’t it sweet?’

  ‘Sweet? How long d’you think it’s been going on?’

  Safely out of earshot, Lily stopped.

  ‘What’s been “going on”?’

  ‘You know, seeing each other!’ Jim looked dazed. ‘Aren’t they a bit long in the tooth for all that?’

  ‘All what? Honestly, Jim, I never knew you were such a prude! You sound like some old fishwife!’

  ‘Well … and here were you thinking she was lonely!’ marvelled Jim. ‘It’s a wonder she’s got time to take on two children! As for him, I don’t know whether to call him a dark horse or a dirty dog!’

  ‘Don’t be so awful! I think it’s lovely. We wanted someone to keep an eye on her and he must have kept in touch. Now come on!’ Lily piloted Jim and Buddy back down the drive. ‘The children are obviously fine and we don’t want them to catch us spying, do we?’

  Shaking his head in disbelief, Jim obeyed mutely, Buddy rather more reluctantly, and they made it safely back to the road. Jim was still dumbfounded at his uncle’s secret life.