by Carol Rivers
‘Though it needs to be stepped up a bit,’ Oscar said peering from behind his newspaper as he sat in his armchair. ‘We need to have a challenging regime.’
Molly looked at her father who gave her a roll of his eyes.
‘Mrs James keeps a diary,’ Lyn said, looking elegant in a deep-pink wool suit and high heels. ‘She keeps a daily check, doesn’t she, Dad?’
Bill Keen sighed. ‘Yes, love.’
‘I don’t know where we’d be without her.’ Lyn pushed back her soft blonde hair and smiled. ‘She’s a treasure.’
‘We’ll be doing a few country walks very soon,’ said Oscar, rustling his newspaper. He narrowed his eyes behind his spectacles and bent his head, showing a neat parting in his wavy light-brown hair. ‘George and Elizabeth are singing in the church choir next week. So we hope to go as a family.’
‘I’ll need me wheelchair,’ said Bill, looking alarmed.
Lyn patted her father’s arm. ‘We’ll see, Dad.’
Molly caught her father’s desperate glance. ‘Would you like me to push you round the garden, Dad, before I go?’
‘That’d be nice, ducks. Give us a hand into it, will you?’
There seemed to be a lot of fuss and bother from Lyn as they took their father’s arms, and Oscar commented that the short journey should be made easily. But Bill dropped heavily into his wheelchair with an exhausted sigh. He nodded to Molly and she pushed him through the open doors to the garden.
‘It’s lovely to see you, ducks,’ Bill said as they made their way over the green lawn to the trees that stood at the bottom. He looked furtively over his shoulder. ‘I’m gasping for me puff. Stop over there where that seat is and I’ll get me pipe and baccy out from its hidey-hole. They can’t see me from there.’
‘Why do you keep it hidden in the wheelchair?’ Molly asked as she watched him furtively unravel the newspaper at his side.
‘Oscar and Lyn say I should give it up as it gets me coughing.’
‘Does it?’
‘Only a bit.’
Molly smiled as she sat down on the seat and watched him light up. The familiar odour of pipe tobacco wafted in the air and Molly breathed it in hungrily. ‘I’ve missed that smell so much.’
‘Blimey, girl, so have I. Can’t do nothing round here without someone nagging.’
‘Lyn’s only trying her best.’
‘Yes, I know. But we’ve all got our ways.’
‘Do you think you’ll be able to go to church to hear the children sing?’
‘Dunno. Don’t mind going. And the kids have got lovely voices.’
‘But?’
‘I’m showed off, see? Like some sort of bloody trophy. Meet this, meet them, say hello. All got long names I can’t remember. Not my sort.’ He puffed fiercely on the pipe. ‘When do you think I can come home?’
‘I don’t know, Dad.’
‘Gotta find a way to get up them stairs.’
‘Try to be patient. You’ll soon get walking again. Especially with Mrs James helping you.’
‘She can talk the hind legs off a donkey.’
Molly grinned. ‘So can you.’
They laughed together and Molly told him all her news, and how relieved she was that the blitz had stopped. He asked about the children and she explained the reason for her trip to the Salvation Army. He pulled a sympathetic face when she described her fruitless drive up to the city with Detective Constable Longman.
‘So you’ve been out with a copper?’
‘He offered to drive me, yes. But the route was impassable. St Paul’s was surrounded by devastation. It was a terrible sight. Then came the news that the Salvation Army headquarters, in Queen Victoria Street, had taken a hit. So it was all a useless effort anyway.’
Bill sat in silence puffing. ‘These kids mean a lot to you, don’t they?’
Molly shrugged. ‘It’s not their fault, this bloody war.’
‘No, it ain’t. But listen, girl, set your mind at rest. They can stay as long as they like with us. I mean you.’
‘Oh, Dad. That’s a lovely thing to say. But they need their father.’
‘Well, all’s not lost. Men turn up from the fighting every day. You read about it in the newspapers. Don’t give up hope. Now what about that other girl, Missy, or Cissy, was it?’
Molly grinned. ‘Cissy. I’m glad to see that your memory seems to be coming back.’
Bill snorted and took a few puffs of his pipe. ‘Shock did it. And shock undid it. Coming to live here I’ve got to have me wits about me. I soon got me brain to work. Now, about this Cissy. Is she pulling her weight?’
‘I wouldn’t be here today if she wasn’t. The customers like her and she likes them.’
‘In that case, give the girl a medal.’
They began talking again, as Molly knew that anything to do with the business cheered her father up. He was a shopkeeper through and through, something that Ted had completely understood and was why he encouraged him to keep his hand in at the store. She was surprised, though, when her dad said, ‘It’s a whole year now, since Ted’s passing. There was you and me in the shop when Winnie came on the wireless. Remember it like yesterday. Which is saying something, as I almost lost me marbles after that bomb dropped.’
Molly nodded. ‘A year exactly.’
‘How are you feeling, love?’
‘I take comfort from the fact Ted’s with Emily.’ Molly didn’t want to admit that she hadn’t been looking forward to the year’s anniversary. She’d put it to the back of her mind and she hoped her dad wasn’t going to dwell on it.
‘You were too young to lose so much.’
‘A lot of people lost much more. Homes, families. The blitz took so many good souls.’
‘Nevertheless, you were robbed.’
‘Not of me life, Dad. Or yours.’ She suddenly saw movement on the patio and was quite relieved to see Oscar waving at them to return. ‘I think it’s time for me to go. Oscar’s driving me back home. He does have a schedule to keep.’
Bill tutted. ‘Like a bloody copper he is, missed his vocation there.’
Molly smiled as Bill quickly put out his pipe. ‘I’m not sure when I’ll be out here again. Will you write to me, Dad?’
‘I’ll have a go, love. But your mother was the woman of words.’
‘Well, just put a few together to let me know how you’re doing,’ Molly said as she began pushing the chair back to the house.
‘I’ll give you a rundown on me exercises,’ Bill muttered under his breath. ‘That’s sure to fill up a page or two.’
Molly chuckled to herself. Her father definitely wasn’t an easy patient.
Andy looked around the room that was clearly kitted out for his kids. Two beds; a brown, eyeless teddy bear on one, and a small, battered metal car missing three of its four wheels on the other. His heart tightened when he saw a pair of boys’ shorts folded over a wooden stool. He walked across the bare floorboards and stood on the patchwork rug, gazing down into the street. There were people now, customers disappearing into the shop below, a bicycle or two weaving past the crater in the road. The two houses opposite no longer smouldered, but were a desolate pile of rubbish. He craned his neck to see if he could see his kids down the road at Jean’s. Should he walk there and surprise them?
Suddenly his legs gave way beneath him. He sank onto the bed, resting for a moment as the mist thickened in front of his eyes. He coughed, hearing the rattle in his chest. He knew he had to wait for the spasm to pass. The doctors had told him it was the result of what had happened before he hit the freezing water. But all that seemed like a dream now.
Suddenly he heard voices. Was it Mark and Evie?
He stood waiting, uncertain of his emotions. He was on the edge and he knew it. If he was to see their faces, touch them, smell them . . . could he hold it together?
Then there were footsteps, slow at first, until they reached the landing. He waited, breath held.
‘Andy?’ a soft voice call
ed.
‘Molly!’ He felt relief and apprehension all at once.
She came into the room. Neither of them spoke and he took a deep breath, hearing the crackling behind his lungs. She looked so – so – what was the word? Beautiful, he supposed. Tall and slender, with a cloud of copper-coloured hair down to her shoulders. Deep-brown, shimmering eyes that seemed to fill her face as she stared at him. She was wearing blue, a colour that reminded him of the sea. A peaceful, friendly sea, unlike the grey wastes of choppy, freezing water that had held him, briefly, a prisoner.
‘Andy, I can’t believe it’s you!’
He managed an ungracious nod. ‘It’s me, all right.’
‘But how – where – what happened?’ She came towards him and he wanted to take her in his arms. To hold her, to know that he was still alive and part of this world. But he stood stock still, in spite of his desire, waiting for the power of speech.
‘You – you look, well, different. No beard. And no hair.’
He smiled falteringly, clasping his chin. ‘About time I had it cut. And the kids never liked me beard scratching their faces—’ He stopped, unable to continue.
‘Oh, Andy!’ She moved hesitantly forward. ‘You don’t know how glad I am to see you.’
He tried to smile in return, but tears smarted in his eyes. Somehow he didn’t feel embarrassed as, seeing his distress, she reached out, sliding her arms around him. They stood, he unable to move as he felt her warmth, her femininity, her comfort and he found his arms linking gently around her waist, his head falling down against her soft hair as he replied, his voice shaky with emotion, ‘Likewise, girl. Likewise.’
The moment was only brief as he pulled himself together. He wasn’t going to make a fool of himself now, not when he was finally back in Blighty. This thought made him smile and he grasped her arms, gently prising her away from him.
‘You look different an’ all. Last time I saw you, you was pushing a bike, with me kids somehow attached to it.’
She laughed, straightening her jacket self-consciously. ‘Six months, can you believe?’
‘I’m sorry I ain’t written.’
‘What happened, Andy?’
‘A lot. Never thought I’d be standing here like this. Never thought I’d see me kids again.’
‘Dad?’ a voice called and Andy listened to the patter of small feet on the stairs. His son and daughter ran in and he caught them in his arms, hugging them to him, with the tears of joy escaping from his eyes.
That evening, Molly closed the shop early and cooked a pie in celebration of Andy’s return. The five of them sat at the kitchen table, enjoying the diced carrots, onions and potatoes mixed with a teaspoonful of porridge to glue the pie together under a scattering of breadcrumbs. Molly smothered the well-browned top with gravy, regretting the fact that she hadn’t brought any farm eggs back with her from Lyn’s. But the pie went down very well and Evie, as usual, demanded more, as she sat on her father’s knee.
‘You still haven’t lost your appetite, young ’un,’ Andy said to his daughter as Molly squeezed out a last tiny portion for the children.
‘I can cook now,’ Evie said, grinning up at her father. ‘Don’t I, Molly?’
‘Yes, you cook very well.’
‘I helps Molly.’
‘She certainly does.’ Molly met Andy’s gaze with a rueful smile.
‘An’ I goes to school, don’t I, Molly?’
At this everyone laughed – even Cissy, Molly noticed, who had come round to being fairly cordial to Andy after he’d explained that he’d been shipwrecked off the coast of Ireland. And, after being rescued, had languished in hospital until three weeks ago.
‘Mark,’ Molly said as she looked down at the boy’s pale face, ‘tell your dad how good you are at sums.’
‘I can say up to me ten times table.’ Mark blushed pink.
‘Who taught you?’
‘Me teacher. And Molly says ’em with me. But me elevens is too hard.’
Once again Andy met Molly’s gaze. ‘You’ve done a treat with the kids, Molly.’
‘They’re both very bright.’
‘Stella was the bright one. Not me. If it hadn’t been for the—’ He stopped, realizing all eyes and ears were on him. He smiled at his son. ‘You get your brains from your mother, Mark.’
‘She’s dead, ain’t she?’ Mark said, his face suddenly full of sadness.
‘I’m afraid so, son.’
‘I thought you was too.’
‘No,’ Andy replied. ‘Not by a long shot.’
‘I told you your dad would come back for you,’ Molly said as she ladled custard into the bowls. ‘Mark’s been very worried,’ she told Andy.
‘If I could have sent word, I would have,’ Andy said quietly. ‘But you ain’t allowed to say where you are or what you’re doing, as the convoys we was on were top secret.’
‘What’s convoys?’ asked Mark.
‘Ships that sail together with navy escorts. Convoys guard our trade ships as we carry important supplies the nation needs to win the war. But I’m sad to say that me own ship was sunk by a German U-boat. We was about a hundred miles off Ireland at dusk with our destroyer escort when a skirmish broke out on our flanks. The next thing we knew a sub was in the middle of us. We put on our cork life jackets, took our positions and the last thing I remember was firing into the ocean. They must have hit us amidships, as we was going down within minutes. I remember choking, breathing in the smoke, and then the icy water crawling over me.’ He paused, stroking his son’s head lovingly. ‘It was thinking of you kids that kept me going. That and me life jacket and the bit of wood I clung to.’
Molly was silent, imagining the terrible event. She could hear the rattle in Andy’s chest as he spoke and she knew that his long spell in hospital hadn’t cured him completely.
‘Will you get sunk again?’ asked Mark.
‘Your dad’s got nine lives,’ Cissy said then, putting down her knife and fork. ‘Or he must have seen a black cat. One of them crosses yer path and you’re made for life.’
‘Did a black cat cross yer path, Dad?’ Mark asked.
Molly saw Andy look at Cissy and grin. ‘I reckon it did.’
‘I wanna cat,’ giggled Evie, pushing her sticky fingers over Andy’s face and patting his cheeks. ‘You gonna buy me one?’
Once again, mischievous Evie relieved the tension and Molly was pleased to see that, finally, Mark had a smile on his face.
And so did she.
In fact, she felt a little guilty that she was much improved, even though it was just one year ago that Ted had left her.
Chapter Fourteen
In the days that followed Andy’s homecoming, Molly arranged for him to sleep on the settee in the front room. Each morning, she watched from the window as he walked Evie and Mark to Jean’s where they would join Simon and Susie for school. She would always have this happy picture in her mind: Andy, tall and lanky, ambling his way down the road, holding his children’s hands. Then he’d hoist Evie across his shoulders, and kick an old, battered ball to Mark over the debris.
After the children were at school, Molly could rely on him to attend to the jobs that needed doing around the store. He occasionally helped Dennis at nights with the fire-watching duties, though, as the raids were far fewer, he was spending more and more time at home.
‘The boards over the window have had their chips,’ he told her one wet July day as a large pool of water formed on the floor. ‘I’ll ask Mr Stokes if he can rustle up any glass down that depot of his.’
Molly knew glass was in very short supply. A great deal of building material had been destroyed during the blitz, so she was very surprised when, at the end of the month, Mr Stokes arrived with his van.
‘Keep this under your hat, love,’ the warden whispered as, helped by Andy, he removed several panes from its interior. ‘Can’t do this for everyone, but yer dad is me mate.’
‘Thanks a lot,’ Andy said when the glass
was safely inside. ‘I owe you one.’
‘A pint down the Quarry will do.’ Mr Stokes grinned, thrusting a dirty hand through his iron-grey hair. ‘The glass is a bit chipped and scratched. But at least you’ll have some sort of window back.’
Molly was delighted when, after Mr Stokes had gone, Dennis appeared, his tool bag in hand. ‘I see old Stokesy has come up with the goods.’
‘Not bad quality either,’ agreed Andy as they examined the panes.
‘Blimey, our customers will see every bit of dust now.’ Cissy grabbed her duster as, with much banging and cursing, Andy and Dennis removed the old boarding and secured the window.
‘Dad really would be heartened to see the shop now,’ Molly said wistfully.
‘How is the old rogue?’ Dennis asked. ‘When’s he coming home?’
‘As soon as he can walk.’
‘How long will that be?’
‘Don’t really know, Den.’ Molly thought of Lyn’s last letter, saying their father wouldn’t cooperate with Mrs James’s exercises.
‘Like I said before, me and Andy could fix up the glory hole. Then he wouldn’t have to go up any stairs. While Andy’s at home, we could do the job together.’
Molly wanted more than anything to agree, but what would Lyn say? Would this cause a family feud? That was something her dad could do without right now. ‘I’ll think about it, Den.’
‘Right, now all the hard work’s done, I’m off. See you later, Andy.’ Dennis grinned, picked up his bag and, after patting Andy on the shoulder, went on his way.
Andy gave her a big smile as he mopped his brow with a rag. ‘Like old times, ain’t it, with your window back?’
‘I just hope it doesn’t get blown in again.’
‘Not so many raids now. Mostly in daylight. And they seem to have given up on this bit of turf.’
It was then that the shop door opened and in walked Detective Constable Longman.
‘Hello.’ She hadn’t expected to see him again and was very surprised at this visit.
The policeman glanced at Andy, who was putting the finishing touches to the window. ‘I’m sorry it’s been a while since I’ve called,’ he addressed Molly. ‘I was transferred to North London to take on a very serious case. I see you’ve now got your windows back. Not much glass around these days.’
