Homefront

by Jill Barry

  Charlotte stirred hot milk into two cups. “I see no reason why not. We’ll have the domestic routine to talk about as well as what we hear on the radio. She enjoys reading too. We might even venture to the cinema now and then, to cheer ourselves up.”

  “You’ll need to keep your wits about you. Keep your eyes peeled for any funny business. War brings out the best in some people – the dark side in others.”

  Charlie’s hand trembled as she put her dad’s cup down on the table. “In that case, I’m extra glad Mr Costello’s going to be around. I imagine he must have a good nose for odd goings-on.” She turned her head. “That’s Don back. I doubt he’ll be wanting cocoa if he’s been drinking beer.”

  “If I know your brother, he’ll be after a snack.”

  Don pushed open the door. “Any chance of a bit of bread and cheese? I’m still a growing lad.”

  Charlotte watched her dad throw back his head and roar with laughter. She was going to miss these two so much. She knew she’d miss Robert of course but she’d known no other life than the one lived in the family home. Now she realised how wise was her father’s decision to suggest Eleanor should move in. Having someone to share a laugh with, as well as day-to-day chores, would prove vital.

  “How was Robert?” Charlie tried to appear nonchalant.

  Don winked at his father. “Robert? I reckon he was out with another woman!”

  Charlotte folded her arms. “Not even bread and water for you then, brother dear.”

  Don held up his arms in surrender. “Only joking.” He fished in his pocket and produced a small brown envelope. “Trade you this for a bit of supper?”

  She whipped the letter from his hand and tucked it in her pocket. “Seeing as I won’t be feeding you much longer, I’ll make you a sandwich.”

  “Aren’t you going to open your love letter, sis?”

  “Come on, Don. If you want to talk about romance, why don’t you stand up and be counted?”

  Years later, Charlotte would remember that moment – the moment when she, her brother and indeed her father, stood on the brink of three different love stories. Years later, she would remember the trials and tribulations each of them would undergo in order to find contentment with the object of their affection.

  Once upstairs, Charlotte ripped open her envelope and took out a small sheet of flimsy lined paper. Robert’s taste, or more likely his mother’s, obviously didn’t run to fancy stationery. She held the letter against her chest, wondering what he had to say, savouring the feeling of anticipation. After all, despite her brother’s joking, this truly might be her very first love letter and she’d no intention of rushing such a precious and magical moment.

  Yet as she began reading the brief message, it was as if someone reached inside her chest and squeezed her heart, robbing her breath, her hopes and her happiness. The young man she loved surely couldn’t have written the words on this page?

  Charlotte lay back on her pale pink eiderdown and buried her face in her hands, muffled sobs wracking her body. What, oh what, had brought this on? Now she faced a night’s tossing and turning, wondering what she’d done to deserve this polite little epistle. He said he wanted to see her before he left for training camp. Tomorrow morning she and her father had an appointment with their bank manager. It was something to do with her ability to sign cheques in the garage proprietor’s absence. She’d ask her father to drop her over at the fun fair afterwards so she could make sense of the rubbish Robert seemed to have in his head. It hurt, discovering how he could undervalue her feelings for him. Suddenly, convincing him otherwise had become the most important thing in the world.

  “I’ll drop you off round the back,” her father said as he drove along the old harbour road.

  “Are you sure? I could walk from here.” She knew he’d a million things to do before he left Peel Bay.

  “Certain. I’ve begun handing over the reins today. We’ve got you sorted out with the bank and I left George and Jack to have some instruction from Don. They certainly don’t need me hovering over them.”

  For a moment she thought he was about to add something else but it wasn’t in his nature to reveal his emotions.

  “Eleanor and I will be all right, Dad,” she said. “I know we’ll come through this OK. All of us.”

  He smiled at her. “I hope you’re right, my girl. Now, off you go to that young man of yours. You’ll be back by half-past twelve?”

  “Of course. There’s a pot of lentil soup sitting on the stove. See you later, Dad.”

  Lunchtime cover was important. Her father and brother each took half an hour for their meal and she fitted in with them, depending which hat she wore that day. Charlotte knew she must be punctual. In future of course, she’d be sharing duties with Mr Costello. Jack, anxious as he was to become the best ever apprentice, wouldn’t be allowed near the office until he’d proved his worth.

  They drove slowly along the promenade where two or three walkers were enjoying the fresh air. Everywhere else seemed deserted, including the pleasure park. Her father stopped to let her out and she stood, watching the kingfisher-blue Vauxhall with its silver trim and black running boards set off before she turned to the small side door to the funfair. Soon the site would be totally barricaded, secured against winter storms and who knew what else? Charlotte slid the bolt across and lifted the latch to let herself in.

  It seemed odd to see the big brassy barrel organ permanently silenced and the children’s roundabouts motionless. How long would this war take? Would some of those kiddies who’d recently enjoyed the rides be too big to fit in the brightly painted cars and miniature carriages once the funfair returned to normal business? If it ever did, she thought with a pang of sadness. Robert seemed to have lost his optimism about more than one matter.

  “Charlotte! How did you know I was over here? My mother’s gone to help clean the church.”

  “I tried the side gate. Your father’s at the garage so I put two and two together.” She smiled shyly at Robert as he emerged from behind the swing boats. “Why were you hiding behind there?”

  “Everything has to be battened down. Just at the time when we should be doing our best to renovate this business ready for next year, the war has to come along and ruin everything.”

  Somehow she knew he didn’t need soothing remarks and platitudes. This was a young man grieving for several reasons.

  “You know how sorry I am, Robert.”

  He managed a faint smile and looked her up and down. “You’re dressed up posh today. I don’t think I’ve seen you wearing a costume before.”

  She looked down at her sapphire blue tweed two-piece suit, unaware how much the nipped-in jacket and box pleated skirt suited her curvy figure.

  “Dad made an appointment with the bank manager. I had to be vetted.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “What’s the matter?”

  She shrugged. “It makes it all seem so final – everything cut and dried like this. The other thing is, I keep saying Eleanor and I’ll manage, but what if I do something wrong? Make some awful bloomer and ruin the business?” It was the first time she’d confided her innermost fears to anyone. “I know your dad’s going to be around but in the end it’s down to me, isn’t it?”

  Robert moved a step closer. The breeze blew a lock of fair hair across Charlotte’s face and he reached to trap it between his forefinger and thumb.

  “Oh!” She didn’t pull away, even though he’d surprised her.

  “Charlotte, I …” His hand dropped to his side. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry about what, exactly? Sorry you don’t seem able to trust me?” She held her breath, relieved she’d come out with her hurt, sarcastic comment but fearful she’d somehow unlocked Pandora’s boxful of woes.

  “I’m sorry about lots of things. I’m sorry and I’m angry all at the same time.” He folded his arms across his chest and looked away from her, frowning at the desolate fairground, seemingly unable to look her in the eye.

&
nbsp; “I couldn’t believe it, when I read your letter,” she whispered.

  “I shouldn’t have mouthed out about wanting you to wait for me. I can’t go away, expecting you not to go out and enjoy yourself while you have the chance. I can’t expect you to hang around for someone like me.”

  “Someone like you? You don’t want me, do you Robert? Isn’t that what this is all about? For goodness sake, stop shilly-shallying and have the decency to tell me to my face!”

  Regret and resignation showed in his expression as he turned to face her. A breeze rattled the metal loops securing the flag fluttering at the top of the flagpole, making little chinking sounds. “I don’t think I’m good enough for you, Charlotte. I’ve gone from being heir to a business with potential to … to being heir to nothing. Not to mention the fact your father’s had to rescue mine, in order to keep the Costellos from going totally under.”

  “What on earth brought all this on? Your mum and dad have a nice home. She’s planning to offer people bed and breakfast but we know that needs time to develop. My dad needs someone to help him out of a jam. What is your problem?”

  “You deserve better than the likes of me. But your dad thinks the world of you so he’s handed my father a job to please you.”

  “That’s just where you’re wrong, Mr Clever Sticks! My dad told me he knew of four men he thought suitable for the garage. He decided to go for his first choice. You know what? Your dad was that first choice. And I’ve heard my dad say nothing but good things about either of you – any of you! Dad said I needed to make my own decisions and to consult Mr Costello whenever I needed. That’s how much confidence he has in him. As for this decision you’ve come to, you obviously didn’t feel you should consult me. Do my feelings mean so little to you, Robert?” She dropped her voice. “You certainly had me fooled.”

  “That’s not fair. I do care about you, Charlotte. I care more than you know. That’s why I think it’s best we remain good friends, rather than you be tied to a lowly squaddie with no prospects.”

  She blew her top. “I will not be told what to do, Robert Costello. I will not be fobbed off by silly excuses that don’t add up. You must think I’m some little milksop with her head in the clouds! Well, I have news for you.”

  Rerunning their encounter later in her thoughts, she wouldn’t be able to recall exactly how she found herself in Robert’s arms. But suddenly the two of them were clinging to one another, hugging as if they couldn’t bear ever to let go. She lifted her face to his as he looked down at her.

  “I want to kiss you, Charlotte.” His words were almost drowned by a noisy seagull squawking above them.

  Her heart beat faster than it should. All thoughts of war and separation vanished like Cinderella’s sequins at midnight. She wanted the reassurance of his kiss but daren’t voice her thoughts.

  Charlotte closed her eyes and let Robert Costello become the first young man ever to give her a proper, grown-up kiss. It didn’t last long but his lips felt soft and warm on hers and his strong arms comforted her, making her feel cherished.

  She hadn’t finished with him yet.

  “Now tell me you don’t want me to be your girlfriend.” She tilted her chin and fixed him with a glare.

  He laughed then … laughed and hugged her against him again. “I’ve been listening to my demons,” he said, his mouth so close she could feel his breath warm on her cheek. “It must be the heebie-jeebies about going to war. I’m sorry to have upset you, Charlotte. Do you really, truly want to wait for me? Even though I’ve been such an idiot?”

  But she didn’t reply. This time, the garage proprietor’s daughter silenced him with a kiss. Neither moved away until an aircraft roared far above them, on the flight path to nearby RAF Kimberley. The sound broke the spell, bringing them back to the present.

  “I must get back,” she said.

  He nodded. “I understand. Duty calls. May I see you later?” Robert’s eyes were tender as he gazed at her.

  She hoisted her shoulder bag higher. “And risk another telling off?” She tried to keep her tone light but to her ears her voice sounded shaky.

  He laughed. “What do you think?”

  She hesitated. “I want to see you, of course I do. But it’s your last evening, yours and Don’s. Shouldn’t you each be with your families?”

  He took her hands in his. “You’re so thoughtful. That’s one of the reasons I love you,” he said, almost as though thinking aloud.

  “Say that again!” Charlotte could hardly believe what she’d heard.

  “You’re so thoughtful,” said Robert.

  “No, Robert, I mean the other bit. I love you, I mean.”

  “I love you too, Charlotte. One day, I want us to be together for always. You know what I’m saying? But for now, I’ll write as often as I can.”

  “You’d better,” she said, trying not to become overwhelmed with joy. “Especially as you’ve discovered what I’m like when I get cross.”

  “Come to the station tomorrow and see me off? Mum says she can’t bear to wave goodbye.”

  Charlotte took a deep breath. “You try and keep me away. I want the last thing you see to be me waving to you. And when you come back on leave, I intend to be the first person you see standing on the platform.”

  Chapter 8 - Charlotte in Charge

  Saying goodbye to Don next day proved almost as painful as saying goodbye to Robert. Pearl and Charlotte stood, a few feet away from each other on the platform as the train slowly pulled away, taking the rookie soldiers to their new life. Charlotte suspected her friend must be lost in her own little world, as she herself was.

  “I’m glad they’re travelling together,” said Pearl as the two girls walked from the station towards where Charlotte had parked the car. Mr Moore wanted to spend his last day as a civilian, doing what he always did which mainly involved making sure his customers were looked after properly. He and Charlotte were to have a quiet meal together that evening with an open invitation to call round at Eleanor’s flat later, if they wished. Charlotte excused herself from going, saying she wanted to tidy Don’s bedroom, in reality feeling it would be good for her father to spend a quiet hour alone with his old friend.

  “Well, you know you’re most welcome to change your mind,” Eleanor had said.

  Charlotte dropped Pearl at her house then drove home, parking her dad’s Vauxhall carefully in its usual place. On the forecourt, George Costello, dressed in overalls, was serving a customer. Through the workshop door Charlotte saw her father watching young Jack mend a puncture. She’d worn her smart suit to drive to the station and needed to change into her work clothes before continuing with her day.

  She let herself into the house and ran upstairs to her room. She’d made her bed neatly before driving the others to the station but now something caught her eye and she paused as she undid the dark blue buttons of her jacket. On her lace-trimmed pillow lay a cream envelope. Beside it was a brown paper bag, which she opened, only to find two bars of her favourite chocolate plus a plain white postcard with her name scrawled on the address side. The message from her brother was brief and instructed her not to eat the treat all at once and to keep her powder dry.

  Tears welled but she blinked hard and picked up the envelope, looking round for the paper knife she kept on her chest of drawers. This note from Robert was as different as could possibly be from his previous letter. Although equally brief, this message filled her with joy, fuelling her determination to tackle everything lying ahead.

  By the time you read this, I’ll have left Peel Bay. Being parted from you won’t be easy but every day that passes will bring us one day closer to seeing each other again. I love you, Charlotte, with all my heart.

  He’d signed his name with a big curly capital R and added three lopsided kisses. She smiled as she imagined him asking his mother if she could find him some stationery more suitable to write a love letter upon than the thin sheet of lined paper Charlotte had last night torn into shreds and watch
ed burst into flames in the stove.

  She was determined to stay positive. She mopped up the tears signalling a poignant mix of sadness and happiness then changed swiftly into a woolly jumper and old skirt before going to collect Don’s washing. Walking into her brother’s room was like taking a step back into his childhood. He still kept a couple of toy tin cars on a shelf and a pile of comic books beneath his bed. A cricket bat with a grass stain left over from summer stood propped against the wall beside the wardrobe that always seemed to list to one side.

  His discarded clothing, in a heap on the floor, prompted a wry smile as she gazed at the grey socks, striped shirt and Fair Isle pullover he’d worn the previous evening. It would be khaki for her big brother from now on. The trainee soldiers weren’t permitted to take civilian clothing with them. At least they didn’t have heavy suitcases to lug around, her brother had joked.

  She wondered what Don and Robert would look like in uniform. How long would they remain at the Deaconsbury camp before the two friends were parted? Her father would be stationed not quite so far up country, at a training centre called Huddlesham. She could probably drive there in less than two hours but he would take the train next morning and be met at the other end. Saying goodbye to her dad would, she knew, sorely test her but then, he probably felt the same way. At least she’d be in familiar surroundings and not leaping into the unknown.

  She felt a rush of relief as she thought of Eleanor, arriving tomorrow evening, after she’d closed the salon. An empty house would be intolerable at this time. How had she ever imagined her idea of bliss would be oceans of peace and quiet with no dirty socks smirking from the laundry basket and no meals to prepare!

  Charlotte had enough cold beef left over to make a cottage pie and in spite of her churned up emotions, found she’d developed an appetite. Her father insisted they had a glass of sherry together by the living room fire before they ate. After their meal, she shooed him off round to Eleanor’s place where she knew he’d be presented with one of his favourites - a rich fruitcake ready for him to take next day.