The Victory Girls

by Joanna Toye

  And the next day Sid was still there, which was lovely, but meant no one had any time to themselves. While Dora went off to church, Sid wanted to hear all Lily and Jim’s news while they prepared the dinner. And in the afternoon, Sid had arranged to meet up with Gladys and Bill. It was only natural he’d want to make the most of his time with his old shipmate again, and it wasn’t that Lily didn’t want to see Gladys and Bill, but frankly she had plenty of time to do that if Bill was going to be coming and going all winter, and what she really wanted was some time on her own with Jim.

  It was not to be. The weather was fine – still warm for October – so Dora packed them some sandwiches and a flask for a picnic tea and they went to the park. Sid and Bill spread out a couple of blankets and they sprawled on the small patch of scrubby grass, almost worn away, that had been left when the rest of the park had been turned over to allotments. Gladys took the twins out of the pram and gave Joy a rattle and Victor a squeaky ball, but the twins were more fascinated by the softly stirring branches above them. They lay on the rug and waved their arms as if trying to reach them, gurgling happily.

  Lily and Gladys left the men talking V1s and V2s, height, velocity, barrage balloons, and radar and went for a stroll round the pond.

  ‘You look like a different person since I last saw you.’ Lily took her friend’s arm. Gladys couldn’t seem to stop smiling – at Bill, at the twins, at her friends, and at complete strangers. It reminded Lily of how she and Jim had been on the day they got engaged.

  ‘I feel it,’ said Gladys, glowing.

  ‘Good. I know you were happy being a mum but having Bill home is going to make all the difference.’

  ‘It already has! Apart from how wonderful it is to see him, and you know, to be … with him again, I hadn’t realised how exhausted I was till he made the bed this morning and took out the nappy bucket and washed the pots. He’s got a long leave this time, special ’cos he hadn’t seen the twins, but in future, it’ll probably just be overnight by the time he’s got here from Portsmouth, or wherever he is.’

  They strolled back to the group on the rug. Sid was explaining (‘This isn’t for Mum’s ears, by the way’) about the difficulty of intercepting the V2s. They didn’t fly as straight or level as the doodlebugs so they were harder to bring down with anti-aircraft fire.

  ‘But before you go worrying,’ Sid told Lily, ‘they’re not aimed where I’m living or working. It’s the East End that’s still copping the worst of it.’

  Bill looked sober – he’d been brought up in the East End, after all.

  ‘Like it needs any more problems! But,’ he added cheerily, ‘now the Russkies are giving Hitler a caning in Poland, we’ve got free rein to bomb Germany to bits while his eye’s off the ball. That’ll put a spoke in his wheel.’

  Jim looked uncomfortable and not just at Bill’s mangled metaphors. Lily knew his view: it was one thing when military targets were taken out, but revenge bombing of cities meant civilian casualties in huge numbers. It was all very well saying Hitler didn’t have a thought for the Londoners who were being killed and if the Nazis were ever to be defeated … Things were pretty desperate, but ‘an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth’ just left everyone worse off, didn’t it?

  Lily sometimes wondered what her life over the last five years would have been like without the war. No bombs, no black market, no blackout. No worrying about Sid and Reg and Bill and all the fighting men; no rationing, no coupons, no queues. Without the war, she’d still have gone to work at Marlows just the same, met Gladys and Beryl, and met Jim. But over and above all that there had been a war, there still was, and that coloured everything.

  The sun was dipping lower now; they’d eaten their picnic and Gladys had fed the twins, but it would soon be time for their bath.

  ‘I know your mum’s been a diamond, you all have, but I don’t know how Glad’s coped,’ Bill said to Lily when Gladys was out of earshot, tucking the twins in their pram. ‘And that scare with her eyesight! I can’t believe none of you told me!’

  ‘What were we going to say?’ Lily defended herself. ‘By the time a letter got to you, her sight could have been back. We’d have worried you for nothing, and you thousands of miles away and nothing you could do.’

  ‘I know, but …’ Bill looked lovingly at his wife. ‘She’s stronger than she looks, isn’t she? I don’t mean physically, but in her head. You all are who’ve been stuck at home, waiting it out. You’ll never get a medal, like I will just for turning up, but you don’t half deserve one.’

  Sid went back to London next day, and Lily’s week in charge of the department began.

  Half-term was always busy on Childrenswear and with Miss Frobisher away, Miss Thomas and Miss Temple had agreed to do extra hours. On Tuesday, however, a flaw in the plan emerged. Miss Thomas arrived looking decidedly groggy.

  ‘I think I’m going down with this cold that’s doing the rounds,’ she sniffed.

  She stuck it out, but the next day phoned Staff Office to say she couldn’t get out of bed. Lily phoned Miss Temple, but she couldn’t come in; she was expecting a plumber it had taken her three months to get hold of.

  ‘I’ll find someone to cover your dinner,’ Jim told Lily in a rushed conversation. As he was covering Miss Frobisher’s supervisor role, he was pretty frantic himself. ‘And Miss Temple’ll be in tomorrow.’

  But the plumber, in fixing one problem, had caused another: Miss Temple apologised but the water was off and she’d have to stay home again until it was reconnected.

  On Friday she turned up, but her face was pale and her nose pink. The plumber had given her the infamous cold that had felled Miss Thomas, though seeing the pressure Lily was under, she struggled through.

  On Saturday, though, she too called in sick. Lily had no one and no break all day. Miss Temple, her head fuzzy the day before, had made some kind of error; the coupons in the drawer didn’t tally with the goods they’d sold. Lily and Jim stayed behind after closing and finally found the discrepancy: Miss Temple had snipped one coupon too many out of the customer’s book for a boy’s jacket. The customer was a regular one, fortunately, and Jim was sure that if the coupon was returned with a covering letter, all would be forgiven. He promised he’d see to it.

  By Sunday, though, Lily was a limp rag.

  ‘It’s a miracle you haven’t got this cold yourself,’ Dora clucked. ‘Go back to bed, I’ll bring you up some toast.’

  Lily had no choice but to agree. Maybe Bill was right. A medal for everyone on the Home Front was in order.

  By Monday morning, though, after some rare cossetting from her mum, she was fully restored and able to greet her returning boss with a smile. Miss Frobisher looked very well, her eyes bright and her hair in its French pleat smoother and glossier than ever.

  ‘How’s it been here?’ she asked.

  ‘Fine!’ bluffed Lily. ‘A very good week! A few wrinkles to iron out, but we ended up twenty-two pounds over target!’

  When Miss Frobisher checked with her deputy supervisor, however, Jim told her the truth. He thought she should know exactly what it had cost Lily to turn that profit.

  ‘Wrinkles? Ironed out?’ Miss Frobisher scolded when she got back to the department. ‘You got through the week virtually on your own!’

  Lily shrugged it away.

  ‘It was fine,’ she insisted.

  ‘Well,’ said Miss Frobisher, ‘I can promise you one thing, I don’t intend taking time off to get married again.’ And added: ‘You’re next!’

  That night was Bill’s last in Hinton for a while. He wanted to take Gladys out and had invited Jim and Lily along; Dora would sit with the twins.

  Gladys was a bundle of nerves. She’d never left them before and though Dora was the most capable babysitter anyone could have wished for, when they got to the pub Gladys was still looking edgy.

  ‘They’ll be fine!’ Bill assured her. ‘They were both sound asleep, weren’t they? They won’t even know you’re gone. Lemo
nade shandy for you, Glad? Same for you, Lily?’

  When Bill and Jim came back with the drinks, Gladys hadn’t even taken her coat off.

  ‘Just the one, then I’ll go,’ she said. ‘It’s lovely of you, Bill, but I don’t think I’m ready for this. They’re too little.’

  Bill put his arm round her.

  ‘Isn’t she a star? There’s not one of the Wrens or WAAF or ATS doing a better job, I don’t reckon.’

  Before anyone could reply, a familiar figure came swaying up.

  ‘Evening.’

  It was Kenny, already well-oiled from the look and sound of him. But what could they do? Jim and Lily had spent weeks encouraging him to join them; they could hardly turn their backs on him now.

  ‘Pull up a stool,’ said Jim, and introduced him to Gladys and Bill, explaining that Kenny was a new neighbour.

  It was awkward, there was no doubt about it, but at least Bill didn’t go to shake Kenny’s hand like Les had done. Gladys seemed transfixed by Kenny’s empty sleeve – now the weather was colder, he’d had to start wearing a jacket. Somehow, they made conversation. Bill diplomatically didn’t ask how Kenny had lost his arm and didn’t talk about his own war service, though his discretion left Kenny free to embark on a rambling monologue and a crude joke. Gladys squirmed until Kenny, pausing for a loud belch, gave her a chance to interrupt.

  ‘Well, this has been very nice, and very nice to meet you, Kenny, but I must be off now, if you’ll excuse me. We’ve got two young babies.’

  She kissed Bill, gave them all a little wave and hurried off, Bill assuring her he wouldn’t be long. Kenny sipped his drink in morose silence and to cover it Bill produced some photos. He and Gladys had gone to a professional studio for them to mark his arrival home. There were the twins on the inevitable fur rug, and then the family group, Gladys seated with the babies on her lap, Bill standing behind like a Victorian paterfamilias.

  Lily and Jim pored over them politely, but Kenny lurched to his feet.

  ‘That’s right, rub it in! First there’s these two, love’s young dream, headed for the altar, now it’s you, married bliss and happy bloody families! I suppose you’re a flaming war hero and all! And what have I got, eh? What have I got to look forward to? I’ve done my bit as well, joined up, served my country, and what have I got for it? Sweet FA!’

  ‘Here—’ Bill began, but Kenny had stumbled off, glass in hand. But the barman refused to serve him again and after more expletives, Kenny reeled out.

  ‘Nice feller,’ said Bill, gathering up his photos.

  ‘We’d better go after him,’ said Jim, drinking up. ‘Sorry about that, Bill, on your last night …’

  But nothing could dent Bill’s good humour.

  ‘I’ll be back soon enough,’ he said. ‘See if we can persuade Gladys out of the house again.’

  They parted outside, with hugs and ‘see you soon’ and Jim took Lily’s arm.

  ‘We’ll try and catch Kenny up and pour him back through the letterbox, shall we? And then, as our evening’s finished sooner than we thought, and there’s been no chance till now with Sid and work and Bill and everything, how about we get out our diaries and pin that wedding date down?’

  Lily looked up at the sky. The moon was waning among streaks of cloud. A light drizzle had started to fall. She took a deep breath. Her head felt so muzzy she’d wondered if she was coming down with the dreaded cold, then she’d wondered if it was the shandy. But she knew it was neither of those things. It was something deeper than that.

  ‘Jim,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry. But I can’t … oh, Jim, I’m sorry but I have to say it. I can’t marry you.’

  Chapter 20

  A few weeks before, the Government had announced that they were easing the blackout. They called it the ‘dim-out’. The streetlights would be illuminated again – not fully, just to the equivalent of moonlight. Like everyone, Lily had been thrilled – no more stumbling around in the pitch black by the light of a wavering torch. Now she longed for the darkness again. The pain and confusion on Jim’s face – his much-loved face – was too piercing to see.

  ‘You can’t … can’t marry me? What do you mean, can’t? But why?’

  Lily shook her head helplessly.

  ‘We can’t talk about it here. Please can we go home?’

  Jim hesitated. Normally, naturally, he’d crook his elbow and she’d slide her arm through it, then he’d press her in close to his body. Now neither of them knew what to do. Awkwardly, they started to walk along side by side, Lily keeping her eyes on the ground, Jim looking fixedly ahead.

  At home, still not speaking, but as courteous as ever, Jim helped her to take off her coat and went to hang it up in the hall. Dora had gone to bed. Lily set about making a pot of tea, which probably neither of them really wanted, but it gave her something to do. She noticed her engagement ring, reflected but distorted in the battered side of the kettle. Guiltily, she turned on the gas.

  Tea made, she carried the tray through. Jim was sitting at the table. She set the tray down and sat down herself.

  ‘Well?’ said Jim. ‘Tell me. What have I done?’

  ‘Nothing!’ cried Lily, then lowered her voice. The last thing she wanted was for her mum to come down. How like him, her lovely Jim, to assume it was his fault. How like him not to be angry, furious, raging, which she surely deserved, but only to want to understand. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘OK. What have I not done?’

  ‘Oh Jim! It’s not you, it’s not you at all!’ She felt her voice rise in volume again and made an effort to bring it down. ‘It’s me! How I feel.’

  ‘How do you feel?’

  That was a good question. She’d asked herself the same thing time and time again since the unsettling unease had started.

  ‘I suppose the best way to put it is that I’m confused.’

  ‘I see. Well, no, I don’t. Why? Is there someone else?’

  ‘What? No! No, no, no!’

  She couldn’t say ‘how could you think that’ because there had been a time, a couple of years ago, when she’d had her head turned by someone else’s attentions. Jim had been away in the country – his mother had been ill. He hadn’t been entirely straight with her about a girl there who had a crush on him either, but that was no excuse. They’d both admitted their foolishness and it had never been mentioned again – till now.

  ‘No,’ she said again, firmly. ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘OK. But you don’t love me. Or not any more. Or not enough.’

  ‘Of course I love you! Desperately!’

  ‘Then I really don’t understand!’

  ‘Let me try to explain.’

  ‘I think you’d better.’ Jim poured milk into the cups, slightly unsteadily, she noticed. Then he lifted the pot. ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘All right.’ Underneath the table, Lily pleated the edge of the cloth between her fingers. She took a deep breath. ‘First of all, this has got nothing to do with us having to wait all this time to get married. Or maybe it has.’

  ‘You really are confused, aren’t you?’ said Jim dryly, pushing her cup across to her. ‘Go on.’

  ‘The point is that it’s given me time to think. And before I get married – before we get married, I have to do something, Jim. I have to prove myself. I have to do something different. Something for the war.’

  Jim lifted his eyes to the ceiling. For the first time he sounded impatient.

  ‘Oh, not again, we’ve been through this! We went through it at the start of the year. All that stuff about the ATS, torn between going away and staying here. And your mum rightly pointed out that you could make a perfectly good contribution to the war effort in Hinton with the WVS, and you’ve been doing that. Look at what you did for those evacuee kids! And you got your promotion at work and … you’re surely not still hankering to join up?’

  Lily’s chin came up, and there was that forceful set of her mouth which he knew so well.

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry, but
I am.’ She tried to explain. ‘The thing is Jim, I’m eighteen and I’ve had no experience of life. I’ve never really had to be tested or had to test myself. By the time Sid and Reg were my age they were in the forces, and so were most men and women.’

  Jim compressed his mouth and she knew what he was thinking.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘I don’t mean that as a dig at you. I know you tried to join the Army but you couldn’t, and I know how that rankles with you—’

  ‘Yes, it does, of course it does, it irks me every day. But I accepted it and got on with what I could do – the ARP and fire watching.’

  ‘I know. And that’s really important work, and I know the WVS is too. But at least you had a go at joining up! And even without that, you haven’t lived in the same place all your life. You’ve moved from your home to Hinton; you’ve seen a bit of the world!’

  ‘A very small bit.’

  ‘OK, but even so …’ Lily’s words were tumbling out now. ‘I’ve tried to convince myself. I know Hinton’s enough for Gladys and Beryl, but seeing Sid recently, and Bill – even Kenny … I thought coping at work without Miss Frobisher would put it all to rest, make me feel better, that I was good at something – but it just rammed it home to me. It’s not enough. I still don’t feel I’m doing enough.’

  ‘And what do you want to do? You can’t think you’d be sent to the front line?’

  ‘No, of course not, but hearing Sid and Bill talk about the Wrens, and Reg writing about him and Gwenda, her with the MTC and her sister in the WAAF …’ she tailed off.

  Jim got up and went to the window. He tweaked a corner of the blackout which might be showing a chink of light. He turned and looked at her.

  ‘You want the same.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said lamely. ‘Like I said, none of this is your fault. It’s just me.’

  Jim came back to the table. He placed his hands on the back of his chair. Lily looked at the hands that had held hers, had so often comforted and caressed her. ‘Lily, I knew what I was taking on with you. You’re a pretty determined character and when you set your mind to something, you want to make it happen. When we first got together, we agreed, didn’t we, we didn’t want to be a soppy couple, only thinking about bottom drawers and babies. I said I’d never want to stand in your way – we knew we both wanted to go as far as we could at Marlows. But you’ve done that and now you’re saying it’s not enough.’