Keep the Home Fires Burning

by Anne Bennett

  ‘Lucky you,’ Sarah said. ‘I thought he was lovely, though I only had a quick peep.’

  ‘I’m surprised that you even got that,’ Marion said.

  ‘Oh, I shouldn’t have done,’ Sarah said with a grin. ‘Mrs Jenkins went, of course, as I knew she would. But no one came into the shop and the streets were empty ‘cos they were all waiting to see the King. So I took off my overall, shut up shop and went along myself. I had to hide behind people because I couldn’t risk Mrs Jenkins catching sight of me, and of course I couldn’t stay very long, but I did see him.’

  ‘Which is more than we did,’ Peggy said ruefully. ‘We didn’t even know he was going to be in the area. I suppose he went into some factories connected with war work, but not ours.’

  ‘He didn’t go into schools either,’ Magda said, slightly aggrieved. ‘Or at least not ours, he dain’t.’

  ‘The man couldn’t visit everywhere,’ Marion said. ‘He was only here a day, and I don’t suppose that his time is his own either. I mean, he would have advisors and that to work out his itinerary.’

  ‘Would he?’ Tony said surprised. ‘I thought you could do what you wanted when you was King, otherwise what’s the point of being one?’

  ‘Well, royalty usually don’t choose, Tony. They’re born into it,’ Marion said. ‘And you will find, as I did, that there are very few people in this world who can do as they please. Most people are responsible to someone.’

  Tony frowned. He had thought that once he was finished with school he would be as free as a bird. Now his mother said that was not going to be the case. Suddenly the future looked very bleak to him.

  Marion hid her smile at the dismal look on her young son’s face for she knew what he was thinking. She thought she would be a happy person if she had as few worries as he had.

  Peggy arrived home the following night struggling with a large box.

  ‘What have you there?’ Marion asked, intrigued.

  ‘Well, I was going to keep it till Christmas,’ Peggy said, ‘but what’s the odds? We’ll have it now as an early Christmas present. It’s a gramophone that I bought off a bloke at work for three pounds. See, a lot of the girls in our place go to dances and that, and they’ve asked us along. I said me and Vi wouldn’t be able to do it, not properly. I mean, before we came here we’d only been to a couple of village hops, and we didn’t want to look stupid.’

  ‘Anyroad, one of the girls said she’d gone to dancing lessons,’ Violet put in. ‘She said there’s dancing schools everywhere, and when you learn the steps the best way to get good at it quickly is to buy a gramophone and records and practise at home.’

  ‘Anyroad, this bloke heard I was looking for a gramophone,’ Peggy put in. ‘And he had one to sell, so Bob’s your uncle. You don’t mind, do you, Marion?’

  ‘How could I mind?’ Marion said. ‘It will give us all a bit of cheer of a night.’

  ‘And we can take it down the cellar if there’s a raid,’ Peggy said. ‘Maybe it will help drown out the sound of the planes and the explosions.’

  ‘Oh, that’s got to be a good idea,’ Marion said. ‘Then after Christmas I suppose you will be sorting out a dancing school?’

  ‘That’s the idea, yeah.’

  ‘Let’s hope the raids have eased by then.’ Marion turned to Sarah. ‘Do you want to go to dancing lessons too?’

  ‘Oh, can I, Mom?’ Sarah cried. ‘I’d love to learn to dance properly.’

  ‘It will do you good,’ Marion said.

  ‘You could come along too, Richard,’ Violet said. ‘One thing the other girls did say was that there was a shortage of boys and men at these places.’

  ‘However short they were, they wouldn’t want me,’ Richard said assuredly. ‘I have two left feet. It’s a well-known fact. All I would be good for would be turning the handle of the gramophone.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Peggy said. ‘Your feet are as good as anyone else’s. You would be no good in the army with two left feet.’

  ‘All the army cares about is that you can put one before the other,’ Richard said.

  ‘Are you sure that you’re not making excuses because you’re scared?’

  ‘You could be right at that,’ Richard conceded. ‘I’ve never considered myself a coward but I think I would rather face the German Army than a roomful of giggling girls.’

  ‘Shame on you, Richard Whittaker!’ Peggy cried as she caught hold of his hand and spun him around the room, and Marion smiled as she turned back to the stove.

  ‘Can we have a look at the gramophone?’ Tony asked. Peggy nodded. ‘You can.’ She placed it on the table and removed the brown paper it had been wrapped in. ‘But it will be even better when we can actually play it.’

  The gramophone was black and quite neat with ‘His Master’s Voice’ written on the lid. ‘I thought it would have a horn on, where the sound comes out,’ Richard said. ‘Any picture I have ever seen of a gramophone has been like that.’

  ‘They all used to be like that one time,’ Peggy said. ‘This is a more modern one, though you still have to turn the handle to make it work.’

  ‘And how does the sound come off the record?’ Tony asked.

  ‘Golly, I don’t know,’ Peggy exclaimed. ‘It just does, that’s all. Come Saturday Vi and I will go into the Bull Ring and buy a couple of records – they’re only a tanner each in Woolies – and you’ll hear it for yourself. There’s a steel needle in here,’ she said, raising up the arm to show him. ‘You have to be real careful putting that on the record or you’ll scratch it, but we will have a go Saturday and see what it sounds like.’

  Marion was glad that the children had something to cheer them up. She had to admit she would like some lively music too. Again it was the lodgers who had brought lightness to the house and she blessed the day they had come knocking on her door. In her head she composed the letter that she would write to Bill later to explain about the gramophone and the proposed dancing lessons and Richard’s left feet, and maybe make him smile too.

  As Christmas 1940 approached the only thing that Marion could feel positive about was the fact that had been no air raids since 11 December. She could find little in the way of festive food, though, and even less to put in the stockings for the children, and she felt bad about that because in many ways the war had robbed them of a carefree childhood.

  She was determined to buy them some new clothes, and though there was little choice in colour or style Marion thought it a satisfying feeling buying clothes for her own children and not being reliant on handouts from the Christmas Tree Fund. She knew that keeping the children respectably clad would probably be more difficult when the rationing of clothes began in the summer.

  Tony didn’t really care what he had to put on, even if it was a cast-off from his brother or his cousin Jack, but still she bought him a new pullover, navy corduroy trousers and new grey socks and laid them out on the chair by his bed. She thought Missie and Magda would love the dark red jumpers and blue woollen pinafores she’d bought for them. They even had new black boots to see them through the winter.

  Getting things for their stockings was harder, though, but she did manage to find Tony a model of a sailing ship for him to make up, and a tin whistle she found on a junk stall in the Market Hall. Richard gave a grimace when he saw the whistle as they packed the stockings on Christmas Eve. ‘If he plays one note on that in the early hours of the morning I’ll brain him, whether it’s Christmas Day or not.’

  ‘You and me both,’ said Sarah. ‘Though I suppose the twins will be up with the lark.’

  ‘Maybe they will,’ Richard said. ‘But a silver-backed dressing table set each and lengths of pretty hair ribbon will not make as much noise as a tin whistle.’

  ‘Oh, aren’t you the grump?’ Marion chided her son. ‘Christmas is for children, everyone knows that, and these will be grown up soon enough. Now, put the oranges that you queued nearly half a day to get in the toe of each of the stockings, and I’ll add the thrupenny b
it and bar of chocolate and we’re done.’

  ‘I got something else for the kids too,’ Richard said, regaining his good humour. ‘When I was down the Bull Ring for the oranges there was a tout there selling kids’ books and I bought three: Robinson Crusoe for Tony because you bought me that book when I was about his age and it fell apart through overuse. I thought he might like it.’

  ‘Ah, that was nice of you, Richard,’ Marion said. ‘I’m sure he’ll love it.’

  ‘How did you know what to buy the twins?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘A lady who had daughters the same age advised me,’ Richard said. ‘And so I bought The Railway Children for Magda and Black Beauty for Missie.

  ‘Oh, they are sure to love those,’ Sarah said. ‘Despite the restrictions and everything, I think they will have a wonderful day.’

  ‘I hope we all do,’ Marion said. ‘Though it will a different Christmas with Peggy and Violet staying with us.’ She smiled over at both girls. ‘We don’t mind you being here in the least but I’m sure your families will miss you.’

  ‘Well, yes,’ Peggy said with a smile, ‘but to quote a well-worn phrase, there’s war on. I mean, we intended to go home until we heard that the forge was shutting only for Christmas Day. They have urgent new orders for train tracks, due to the bombing.’

  ‘Are you sad about that?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘A bit,’ Violet said. ‘But it helps to know how important the work we do is.’

  ‘And if we were in the Forces we wouldn’t get time off, would we?’ Peggy said. ‘I mean, Sam would never make it home for Christmas and he never moans.’

  ‘Yes, but Sam never moaned about anything,’ Sarah said, and then could have bitten her tongue out because everyone was looking at her. She found herself colouring as she said, ‘I mean, I don’t know … It’s just when he was here that time I never heard him moan much.’

  Marion felt sorry for her daughter and she broke in with, ‘Sarah’s right, Sam didn’t seem the moaning type. In fact, I thought him a fine young man. Now, anyone for a cup of cocoa before bed?’

  Marion got up the next morning to a warm room as Sarah had lit the range. She had also done the girls’ hair. Marion said they looked a treat dressed in their new things, with their hair gleaming and tied back with some of the Christmas ribbons.

  Peggy and Violet endorsed that, and Magda smiled at the lodgers, whom she liked so much. ‘I’m really glad you’re here for Christmas,’ she said, ‘cos if you hadn’t been our grandma and granddad would have wanted to come for Christmas dinner. With you here there just isn’t the room, is there, Mom?’

  ‘No, there isn’t,’ Marion said. ‘But that, Magda, is one of the most uncharitable things I have ever heard you say. And on Christmas Day, as well. You should be thoroughly ashamed of yourself.’

  Magda did bow her head, but not before she had caught the sympathetic glance from Peggy, who could quite understand her point of view.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Marion, ‘you will see your grandparents later because Peggy and Violet are going to a workmate’s for tea and your grandparents will be coming here then.’

  Magda’s head shot up at that news for she hadn’t known that.

  ‘And you can that look off your face, young lady, or I will take it off for you, Christmas or not,’ Marion snapped. She relented a little when she saw the look pass between Magda and her sister and she said more gently, ‘Now come on and let’s get ourselves away to Mass and maybe that will put us all in a better frame of mind and remind us that Christmas is all about the birth of baby Jesus.’

  Magda knew the safest thing for her to do then was to say nothing at all and get ready quickly, and just a few minutes later she was hurrying up the road with her family. The day was crisp and so cold that whispery vapour escaped from mouths, but Marion thought it quite pleasant if a body was well wrapped up.

  She loved Christmas Day. People seemed so friendly calling out ‘Happy Christmas’ to them as they passed. Pat and Polly and their family were waiting for them in the porch of the church, and they all hugged one another as they wished each other Happy Christmas.

  Then Marion saw her parents approach, and she sighed as she saw her mother had a face on her like she’d sucked a lemon. ‘Happy Christmas, Mammy,’ she said, but when she tried to hug her it was like hugging a board. She knew her mother was still cross that they hadn’t been asked to Christmas dinner, though she had done her best to explain. The children all gave her a dutiful kiss on her cheek and wished her Happy Christmas, but she never said anything back. Her father made up for it as he enveloped Marion in a bear hug, then did the same to the twins and Sarah. He shook hands with Tony and Richard, and, warmed by his good wishes, they went into Mass together.

  Back home, Peggy had porridge cooked and keeping warm in the double pan, knowing the family would be hungry when they returned. She waited until they had finished eating before she said to the twins and Tony, ‘Me and Violet couldn’t find anything for you in the shops so we are both giving you money instead,’ and she dropped a two-bob piece into each of their hands and Violet did the same. The three children had never held so much money before – not money that was their very own, anyway – and they were overawed by it all.

  After breakfast Christmas music was playing on the wireless and everyone dispersed: Sarah to help her mother, Peggy and Violet to tidy their room and make their beds, and Tony and Richard working on the sailing ship in their bedroom in the parlour. Missie and Magda sat either side of the crackling range reading the books from Richard, which they had been so pleased with, and it was all very pleasant and cozy.

  Magda suddenly sat up straighter and said, ‘Sniff.’

  Missie looked up from her book. ‘Sniff what?’

  ‘The air.’

  Missie obediently sniffed.

  ‘Well, what can you smell?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You’ve got to be able to smell summat.’

  ‘Well, nothing unusual, I mean. Just the meat cooking and that.’

  ‘That’s what I mean!’ Magda cried. ‘It’s like the smells on Sundays before the war, the gorgeous smell of the roasting meat mixed with the sweet smells from the kitchen where Mom was making all the fancies and cakes and that when the grandparents always came to tea, remember?’

  ‘I remember all right,’ Missie said. ‘I suppose it is like it used to be. It don’t half make you hungry smelling it cooking, though.’

  Tony came through from his bedroom at that point and he too sniffed the air appreciatively. ‘Cor, summat smells good,’ he said. ‘When will it be ready?’

  Magda shrugged. ‘How should we know?’

  Tony began to prowl around restlessly and Magda frowned. ‘Give over, Tony.’

  ‘Give over what?’

  ‘Walking up and down like that. You’re putting me off my book.’

  Before Tony could answer this Missie said, ‘Why don’t you go back to your model, or have you already finished it?’

  Tony shook his head. ‘We’ve got to a bit where Richard says we have to let the glue dry. Should be fine after dinner, and he won’t let me play my whistle, and anyroad, I’m starving.’

  ‘You’re always starving,’ Magda said disparagingly.

  Before Tony could think of a reply to this, Marion put her head round the kitchen door and when she shouted, ‘I could do with a hand now. Who would like to lay the table?’ Magda and Missie threw down their books and were in the kitchen in seconds.

  The dinner was magnificent. Marion hadn’t been able to get any sort of fowl, but she had been able to buy a rabbit from a butcher down the Bull Ring so that’s what was laid in their roasting tin, surrounded by masses of roast potatoes. There was also a large pan of creamed carrots, another of cabbage, and one more pan of boiled potatoes. All the vegetables had been grown on the allotment, and the whole family tucked in with relish.

  Marion looked at her children all grouped around the table, chatting together and laughing and joking wi
th Peggy and Violet, so much part of the family now, and felt a thrill of pride. She suddenly wished, God forgive her, that her mother wasn’t coming to tea that day for she knew she would do her best to ruin everything and she definitely didn’t want the harmony of the day broken. She realised she had spoken so sharply to Magda before Mass because the child had put into words what she herself was feeling and that made her feel guilty.

  Just as if she could read her mother’s mind Magda said, ‘We won’t have to sit on the horsehair sofa when Grandma and Granddad come, will we, because they can’t eat in the parlour any more ‘cos it’s Richard and Tony’s bedroom?’

  ‘No,’ Marion said, ‘you won’t have to sit anywhere except up at the table like everyone else.’

  ‘Oh, good!’

  It was said so fervently that it made Marion smile. ‘Did you dislike the horsehair sofa so much?’ she asked.

  Magda nodded vehemently. ‘I hated just sitting there,’ she said. ‘but the worst part was that the horsehair used to come through the stuff it was covered with and stick in our bottoms and our legs.’

  Marion looked from Magda to Missie, who was nodding.

  ‘It’s true, Mom,’ she said. ‘They felt like thousands of needles pricking you.’

  ‘Surely not?’

  ‘They’re right, Mom,’ Sarah said. ‘I suffered it too.’

  ‘But why didn’t any of you say?’

  ‘You probably wouldn’t have believed us,’ Magda said. ‘I mean, I’ve never seen an adult sitting on that sofa. ‘Cos it was prickly I used to wag my legs about and that used to make Grandma really wild with me.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry I wasn’t more observant,’ Marion said. ‘But rest assured there will be no more sitting on any horsehair sofa ever again. Now if everyone has finished their dinner do you all want pudding? It’s apricot upside-down?’

  She was almost deafened by the response. But after the meal was over and everyone replete, Marion was made to sit down with a cup of tea while the girls cleared away the remains of the dinner and washed everything up.