Homefront

by Jill Barry

  Don bit into a crust and crunched it between his teeth. “I like this burnt flavour,” he said when he could.

  “Don’t change the subject. How can Dad possibly want to do that? Surely he’s too old?”

  “For active service he is. He did his bit in the last war. But with his experience of motor vehicles, he could volunteer for other duties.”

  “What about the business? If you go and he goes, the Corner Garage would have to finish trading. He wouldn’t let that happen, surely?”

  Don shrugged. “These are changing times, Charlie. Please don’t say anything to him. I know for sure he won’t want you worrying about it.”

  “Because I’m a girl, you mean?” She pursed her lips.

  “Because you’re his daughter, you knucklehead. You’ve gone through enough without having to face up to a war.” Charlotte pushed her plate away. “Aren’t you going to finish your tea?”

  “You can have it if you like,” she said. “Then, if you go and relieve Dad, I’ll try and make his without burning it to a crisp.”

  “Good girl. Why don’t you take yourself off somewhere this evening? Go and call for Pearl and see if she fancies a walk.”

  “I might take myself for a walk. This is Pearl’s hair washing night.”

  “Isn’t that what girls do when they need an excuse to turn down a date?”

  His sister raised her eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you’ve had that happen to you.”

  He shrugged. “Not yet but to tell the truth, I’m not at all sure about Kitty’s feelings. Maybe she’s worried that I have to get dirty to make a living. When we went to the pictures, she said she was embarrassed because she could smell petrol on me. I do my best to scrub up. You know I do.”

  Charlotte concentrated on slicing two perfect rounds of white bread. “When are you seeing her next?”

  “Saturday afternoon. There’s a tea dance at Randalls. Kitty likes putting on her glad rags.” He rose and carried both dirty plates over to the draining board. “I’ll buy you a bar of that milk chocolate you like if you make a good job of ironing my best shirt.” He leaned against the sink, arms folded.

  “You could have a bath before you eat your dinner on Saturday. That should make sure you smell sweet enough to escort your girl friend to the swankiest place in Peel Bay. How’s that for an idea?”

  “You’re on. Shall I tell Dad his tea’s ready?”

  “It’ll be about five minutes.”

  “And afterwards you’ll get out of the house and stop worrying?”

  “I’ll go for a walk but I can’t guarantee to stop worrying.”

  Don nodded. “Why don’t you go down to the prom? Most of the day-trippers will have left by the time you get there.”

  “Won’t there be lots of courting couples on a lovely evening like this? I might feel like I’m a gooseberry.”

  He shuffled his feet and examined his fingernails. “You know, Charlie, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you found a boyfriend.”

  She raised her eyes heavenwards. “Not you as well. Has Mr Graham been saying something?”

  “Mr Graham who drives the black Austin? Hardly! Should he have?”

  She turned her back and slid the grill pan under the flames. “Go and call Dad. I shan’t move from this spot until his tea’s tastier than they’d serve at a Lyons’ Corner House.”

  Charlotte strolled down the quiet residential street and crossed over at the bottom, heading along the old harbour. A few people walked ahead of her and she overtook a girl she’d known at school, walking with her younger sister. Charlotte called a greeting as she passed, striding along with purpose, not wanting to be drawn into conversation. A tiny breeze ruffled her golden curls as she stopped on the promenade, leaned her elbows on top of the wall and gazed at the sea.

  A broad-bottomed paddle steamer, returning from an excursion, cruised through the calm waters towards the pier. Charlotte could make out the passengers on deck. One or two waved and she returned the greeting. A small craft from the yachting club kept well away from the choppy water in the steamer’s wake, unlike the gang of greedy seagulls, homing in and squabbling over any leftovers suitable for their supper.

  The cool evening air made Charlotte glad of the white angora bolero she wore over her red and white spotted dress. She hadn’t been sure what to change into after she finished washing up the tea things. Hadn’t really been sure what she expected from this precious evening on her own. A summer dress and sandals were a very different look from dungarees and sensible shoes. She’d drawn the line at the lipstick and dab of scent though. It seemed like a fast thing to do when she was only taking a walk. That was probably what her mum would have thought.

  Charlotte set off again, walking towards Fun Land, anticipation causing her heart to beat that little bit faster, the colourful lights and jaunty music of the Dutch barrel organ making her feet want to tap.

  The small pleasure park, owned by Robert Costello’s father, provided employment for a couple of dozen men who were either Peel Bay residents or itinerant workers, putting down temporary roots for the summer season. The stallholders paid for their pitches and offered a variety of games, all with prizes propped on shelves, to tempt visitors to part with their money.

  For the last two years, the Wall of Death had been pulling in good crowds. Charlotte was well aware her father wouldn’t approve of her hanging around ‘that place’ as he described it. But the pungent hot smell of grease and the roar of the engines drew her like a powerful magnet attracting a pin.

  A loudspeaker announcement told her the riders were about to commence the next display. Charlotte hesitated. Should she, shouldn’t she? Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a couple of flashily dressed men looking over at her. One of them muttered something to the other and began moving in her direction. What should she do? She clutched her handbag to her chest, feet frozen to the ground. Was she totally crazy, coming over to Fun Land on her own in the evening, even though it was still broad daylight? Don should have known better than to encourage her. Yet it had seemed such a good idea at the time.

  She looked the other way but when a hand cupped her elbow, she whirled round, determined not to show her fear. Relief flooded her at the sight of Robert Costello, dressed in a pair of blue overalls, his eyes for some unknown reason expressing an amazing amount of concern.

  “Charlotte! You’re not on your own, surely?”

  “There’s no law against it, is there?”

  When he smiled, she liked the way his eyes crinkled. And those eyes were an extraordinary shade of green. Why had she never noticed that before?

  “You’re quite entitled to be here,” said Robert. “I was surprised to see you turn up without a friend in tow, that’s all.”

  “I don’t have that many friends, Robert.” She startled herself by blurting out the comment.

  “Well, that’s something we have in common,” he said.

  “You and me both work odd hours,” said Charlotte, on the defensive. “When you’re involved in running the family business, it makes it difficult to do ordinary things.”

  “Like going to the pictures,” he said.

  “Nor do we know the meaning of nine to five,” she said, still looking into those green, green eyes.

  “How right you are.”

  “I don’t usually go out of an evening,” said Charlotte.

  “So this is your night off and you’re spending it on your own?”

  She nodded. “Don and my father are on duty.”

  “I bet you cooked their tea and washed up before coming out?”

  “Of course,” she said. “And made ham sandwiches for them to eat when they close the garage.”

  Robert swallowed hard. “I don’t suppose … I mean, unless you desperately want to watch the Wall of Death … could I maybe buy you a cup of coffee?”

  Her eyes flickered over his oil-stained overalls. Maybe he intended taking her to a refreshment kiosk. “That would be very nice,” she sa
id.

  “I’m not quite off duty but I think I can twist my father’s arm.” He smiled down at her. “Meet you in the Velvet Ice-cream Parlour ten minutes from now? I need to clean up a bit first.”

  “Really?” Charlotte’s eyes danced.

  “Yes, really.” He smiled at her then looked around. “I’d prefer you to wait for me somewhere safe. Come to think of it, how about you stay by the ticket office? The lady on duty will keep an eye on you.”

  “Thank you but I’m not a child, Robert.”

  “I’m very aware of that, Charlotte,” he said. “Come on. As soon as I’ve made myself respectable, I’ll collect you. You can have a peep at the show while you wait. If anyone says anything, just you tell them the boss’ son said it was all right.”

  The Velvet Ice Cream Parlour overlooked the promenade. Its silver and black Art Deco sleekness made it a popular venue not only for day-trippers and holidaymakers but for the town’s residents as well. Charlie had always loved being brought there by her mother and treasured fond memories of being allowed to choose a Knickerbocker Glory on her twelfth birthday when she’d been deemed tall enough to see over the tall glass and dip the long-handled spoon into the delicious concoction of fruit, nuts and ice cream.

  “So what did you think of the riders?” Robert sat back in his green wicker chair and looked expectantly at her.

  Charlie swirled her spoon in the raspberry sauce topping her double vanilla ice-cream wafer. “I thought the Wall was thrilling. I like speed.”

  “I suppose that’s why the Flying Circus attracts you? Or, maybe it’s one of the reasons.” His lips set in a thin line.

  She shrugged, ignoring the innuendo. “I hadn’t really thought about it. The Wall of Death and the Flying Circus are both daredevil things, aren’t they? It’s odd you’re mad about motorbikes yet you seem dead set against flying. Why do you think that is?”

  He stirred sugar into his coffee. “It’s not so far to fall if you’re a Wall of Death rider.”

  “Have you ever had a go? On the Wall, I mean?”

  He shook his head. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t spare the time. The boys are the experts and there are a million and one things to do around Fun Land. Joe Muggins here usually gets lumbered with most of them.”

  “I know how you feel.” She ate a spoonful of ice cream. “Do you mind if I ask you something, Robert?”

  “Fire away,” he said.

  “Did you know I was coming here this evening?”

  He shook his head. “Certainly not. I had quite a surprise. A pleasant one though.” He smiled at her uncertainly then looked down at his cup.

  “I got a surprise too, seeing you at the Flying Circus the other afternoon,” said Charlie.

  She watched in amazement as his cheeks reddened.

  “Are you sweet on Pearl? Did Don tell you she’d asked if she could come with me? Was that why you turned up?”

  He drained his cup. “What a lot of questions. I’m sure I don’t know what you mean! Come on. I’ll give you a lift home on my bike. We need to leave now so I can be back to help Dad close.”

  “I can walk home, Robert. It won’t be dark for ages yet.”

  He stood up. “Why do women always have to argue?”

  She looked after him as he approached the counter to pay the bill. Suddenly and inexplicably she couldn’t bear the thought of him being sweet on Pearl. But he obviously didn’t want to talk about the subject and she daren’t probe further. After all, it was none of her business.

  They left the ice cream parlour in silence. Strings of coloured lights outlined the rides still open. Other pitches stood in darkness, their waterproof covers transforming them into bulky, sinister shadows. As Charlotte and Robert walked towards the Wall of Death, she saw the lights on the Cakewalk extinguish as if a giant hand snuffed them one by one. In the nearby arcade of amusement machines, hopeful punters pushed pennies into slots or rolled coins down wooden chutes. The mechanical laughing policeman’s manic chuckle sounded menacing. Charlotte shivered.

  When Robert’s arm moved protectively around her waist, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean in to him. Yet, she had to know.

  “You didn’t answer me when I asked you about Pearl.”

  Robert chuckled. “You are the most amazing and annoying girl in the world, Charlotte Moore. Do you know that?”

  “Well, I do now, Robert Costello. And I’m still waiting for an answer.”

  “Heavens above, do I have to spell it out for you? Not that it would do me much good, I reckon.”

  When he removed his arm from her waist she missed its comforting presence.

  “What are you trying to say?” She pulled a pale grey headscarf from her handbag as he sat astride his motorbike.

  He looked at her as she knotted the scarf under her chin. “Hop on,” he said. “Don’t forget to hold tight.”

  Robert accelerated away from the fun fair, Charlotte’s arms wrapped round his waist while she wondered in her turn whether he was the most infuriating person she’d ever met. Two could play at that game. Yet, in spite of the chilly air rushing past, there was a warm feeling inside her she knew hadn’t existed before he’d rescued her from what could have been an awkward situation. They cruised through the quiet streets and it seemed no time at all before he pulled into the kerb beside her front door and she clambered reluctantly from the pillion seat.

  “Thanks for the lift home,” she said.

  “Can I see you again, Charlotte?” Robert kept the engine idling, his goggles pushed up on his forehead.

  “I don’t understand. You know where I am.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Well, I wish I knew where I was,” he said. “I mean I’d like us to go out together soon.”

  “Go out?”

  He sighed. “Yes, as in boy and girl going out.”

  Charlie’s mouth was a round Oh of surprise. “Without Donald or Pearl or anybody else being there?”

  “That’s the general idea. Look, I’d better get back or the old man will be on the warpath. Tell you what, I’ll ring you and see if we can arrange to take the same night off. That would be a start. Cheerio …”

  She stood, staring after him as he roared off.

  The front door burst open and Mr Moore appeared on the scrubbed step. “Oh, good, it’s you, love,” he said. “Get a lift back, did you? I’ve just made a pot of tea.”

  “Robert Costello brought me home on his motorbike,” said Charlotte cautiously.

  “I thought as much soon as I heard that engine. I hope he drove carefully.”

  “Yes. Actually, I enjoyed riding pillion.” She lifted her chin, prepared for a lecture but her dad didn’t comment.

  “Let’s sit down. Don’s in the kitchen but I’m afraid he’s not too chipper.”

  She followed her dad through the hallway. Her brother sat at the kitchen table, his head in his hands.

  “Don? Whatever is it? Are you ill?” Charlotte rushed to his side and dropped to her knees, everything else forgotten in her anxiety.

  He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t fuss, Charlie. I’m afraid she’s given me my marching orders. Made a proper chump of me, she has.”

  For a moment Charlotte couldn’t think what he meant. Then it dawned on her. “You mean Kitty?”

  “Who else? She’s decided she doesn’t want to be tied down. Says she’s too young to go steady. It’s an excuse of course. She’s nearly nineteen, for goodness’ sake.”

  His sister got up to fetch the milk jug. “You could do with a nice, hot cuppa. Dad will pour the tea while I find some biscuits.”

  The men were silent, making Charlotte aware how much she’d sounded like her mum. She undid the wrapping on a packet of ginger nuts and the little family sat around the table in silence.

  “Worse things happen at sea, lad,” said Mr Moore.

  Don did his best to smile though it turned out lop-sided. “This has knocked me off my perch,” he sa
id. “It’ll be a while before I ask another girl to go out with me, that’s for sure.”

  Charlotte bit her lip. Her heart seemed to have soared with the birds this evening and now it had plummeted to earth in tune with her brother’s bitterness. How could she talk about Robert’s invitation and quiz Don about his possible involvement when her brother obviously felt so low?

  “But you were going to take her to Randalls on Saturday,” she said. “The Tea Dance sounded a lovely idea. Did she come here to tell you she’d changed her mind?”

  He fidgeted with his teaspoon. “She sent her little brother round with a note. The kid left it on the office counter then I saw him scarper while I was checking a customer’s oil level.”

  “What a rotten thing to do, sending her little brother to do her dirty work.” Charlotte’s cheeks flushed in anger. “I’d never have believed Kitty was such a fly-by-night! She seemed such a nice girl. Why, if Mum was here now she’d be round her house, giving the baggage a piece of her mind!”

  Donald shrugged, his eyes begging Charlotte not to bring back painful memories.

  Mr Moore stirred his tea, breaking the silence. “All right, love. We’re all upset. I’m sorry to have to say it, Don, but maybe it’s for the best. The news doesn’t get any better. I think there’s no escaping another war, I really do. I’ve kept hoping for the situation to improve but my guess is it won’t be long before Germany lays its cards on the table. Upheaval all over again – that’s what we’re in for, son. And the likes of us can’t do a thing about it.”

  Charlotte closed her eyes in a brief prayer. Please don’t let anything happen to Don. Please don’t make my dad have to go away. Please, please keep Robert safe.

  She surprised herself with that final plea. In spite of Don’s heartache, she knew something very special was happening to her.

  Chapter 4 - Charlotte Makes Progress

  Over the next few days, Charlotte alternated between waiting for Robert to ring and worrying about Don. She deliberately put out of her mind all thoughts of the looming thunderclouds, sensibly deciding, as her dad reckoned, there was nothing anyone could do about it so why waste time mooning around the place?