War Baby

by Lizzie Lane

  Andrew had given no sign of realising that she was angry with him, but then he wouldn’t, she thought. He was too absorbed in his own little world: his job as a civil servant, his mother, London and everything connected with the privileged upbringing he’d had.

  ‘How about I take you to lunch on the way home?’

  Mary declined. ‘I have to get home. I promised Ruby I wouldn’t be long.’

  He gave no sign of disappointment, just a slight shrug of his shoulders.

  ‘Of course you did. We should have made arrangements before we left your village. Remiss of us not to think ahead.’

  It astounded her that he proclaimed this in the plural, as though she wanted to have lunch with him as much as he did with her.

  ‘My sister’s waiting for me. We have important things to discuss.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THAT DAY, ONCE her sister had gone, Ruby made her way over to Stratham House. The house had no back door as such, having been blocked off years ago when the shop on Court Road had been sold off and divided from the main house. Entry was always through the front door, which opened out on to a large garden with an orchard at the far end. Like most houses in the village, the door was left unlocked during daylight hours.

  Once the bakery was closed, the housework done and Frances was home from school to help her uncle look after Charlie, Ruby made her way along the high street, down Court Road and along the lane to Stratham House. Once through the door, she went upstairs to the room presently occupied by her sister and brother-in-law.

  Mike, she’d been reliably informed by one of the village kids on her way here, had gone up to one of the farms where a land girl had been chased by an escaped pig. The pig was still roaming free and Mike had gone to help catch it. She’d have the house to herself.

  Feeling a little apprehensive on entering the bedroom of a newly married couple, she paused in the doorway. The room smelled of her sister’s scent, a mix of Wrights’ Coal Tar Soap and Evening in Paris, the only perfume still available. She also detected the smell of a man, that salty mix of fresh sweat, Brylcreem and tobacco.

  A sudden movement disturbed her reverie, a shock of whiteness from one side of the room. No ghost but the billowing of white net curtains. The wind had risen suddenly. The blue sky that had promised a day of sunshine had turned to a rolling mass of grey, navy and black. The day outside had grown darker and so had the room.

  Ruby didn’t hesitate to slam the casement window shut and tidy the curtains before the first drops of rain began to fall.

  As the house was built of stone with small windows and thick walls, the rooms were inclined to be dark. Even if it hadn’t been late afternoon the square room was never filled with light. Thankfully there were no alcoves a dull day could make even darker.

  A splash of mint green hung from the wardrobe door. Such a beautiful shade of green. For a moment she just stood there admiring it. She so loved that dress, the simplicity of its softly falling skirt, the slightly puffed sleeves and her favourite sweetheart neckline.

  Before the war the skirt would have been fuller, but as fabric was in short supply, war, not fashion, dictated how many yards of fabric a dress should take, the length of the hemline, just below the knee, the suggestion that sleeves should be short rather than long. Ruby had even read an article on how to lengthen suspenders on corsets rather than buy a new pair, how to cut down men’s shirts to make children’s clothes, to make baby napkins from old Turkish towelling, coats from blankets and how to weave hats from straw.

  The material felt soft between her fingers. The dress looked as though it were made of silk, but was in fact made of an American man-made fabric called rayon. Mike had brought it over for Mary as a wedding present. This was why the skirt was fuller than current fabric rules allowed.

  Ruby sucked in her breath and pressed her hands to her mouth. ‘Oh my word!’

  The words came out in a whisper. What was she waiting for?

  In her haste to try it on, she forgot to undo the fastening on the plain navy blue dress she wore on shop days. Tugging it off, her hair became tangled in the button and tumbled forward on to her face.

  ‘Drat!’

  After bringing the dress back down to her shoulders, she untangled her hair from the button and tried again. This time the dress came off though she’d messed up her hair in the process. Not that it mattered that much. On Saturday it would be just as she liked it and would look wonderful. Ivan’s eyes would shine with admiration and he’d tell her she was the prettiest girl in the room. He’d also told her she was the prettiest girl he’d ever met.

  ‘And I bet you’ve met lots,’ she’d said to him.

  He’d laughed and thrown back his head, the veins in his throat like stiff twigs. ‘Lots! Yes. Lots! I love girls, I tell you. I love girls!’

  Because he laughed, she took it that he was only joking about having known lots of girls. He’d said she was the prettiest and made her feel like a queen. That was good enough for her.

  Taking the dress off the hanger, she carefully undid the tiny pearl buttons that fastened it at the front and slid it over her head. ‘Please let it fit,’ she muttered.

  Ruby crossed her fingers as she slipped the dress over her head, uncrossing them so she could button it up. Once it was on she opened the wardrobe door to observe her reflection in the full-length mirror attached to the inside of the door.

  The sight took her breath away. The dress fitted perfectly and made her feel like a film star. The skirt fell in a vaguely bell shape and ended just below her knees, and the soft material floated around her.

  The only light in the room came in from the window, dimly reflected in the wardrobe mirror. The room had turned unnaturally dark for the time of day. There was just enough reflected in the mirror for her to see herself. She ran her hands down over her hips. Her hair fell luxuriantly around her face and over the mole she had once hated, but no longer, not since the day Ivan had called it her beauty spot.

  Satisfied that she looked fabulous, she began pulling it off over her head. Yet again she’d forgotten one button and ended up with it stuck halfway over her head and covering her face.

  ‘I thought you’d gone.’

  Startled at the sound of Mike’s voice, she turned round, the wardrobe door crashing shut when she let go of it. The room turned even darker until she managed to pull the dress down enough to see.

  She stammered for the right words through the material clinging around her mouth. ‘I didn’t … hear … I mean … you mustn’t …’

  ‘Of course I mustn’t. Do you want me to give you a hand with that dress?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘It’s okay. I’m not going to touch you. I promised I would wait until you’re ready and I will. I’m off to check on the hens. Then I’m off back up to the farm. They need a hand.’

  Then he was gone, leaving Ruby standing there, the dress still stuck around her head.

  If he had lingered, perhaps she would have laughingly informed him of his mistake, that this was Ruby not his wife, Mary, and that Mary had gone into Bristol as planned.

  Ruby stared at the closed door. What was that he had said?

  I’ve promised to wait until you’re ready and I will.

  Was she correct in what she was thinking? Perhaps it was rash to jump to conclusions, but it sounded as though this married couple weren’t yet married in every sense of the word. She could hardly believe it. Was there something wrong with one of them? She knew that her sister had been nervous, but to have not made love yet! No! It couldn’t be true. She must have misunderstood.

  Once the dress was back on its hanger, Ruby stared anew at her reflection. Even though her sister had lost a little weight, it could almost be Mary standing there; they were identical twins after all. She swept her hair back from her face.

  Sucking in her bottom lip she considered what to do next. Should she go downstairs and wait for Mike to come in from collecting eggs and tell him he’d been mistaken?
She visualised laughingly revealing his mistake. Somehow she guessed he wouldn’t think it a laughing matter. He might well be mortified. She made a decision. She had to speak to Mary, the only person she could share it with.

  Quickly, before he returned from the hen house, she was back in her own clothes, the green dress taken down from the hanger and rolled up under her arm, her shoes off so she wouldn’t be heard descending the stairs.

  The front door was open, the smell of wet cabbages coming in from the garden and bird droppings from the hen house. Looking out of the door, she spied Mike’s broad back. He was bent over, changing soiled straw for fresh; the hens preferred to lay their eggs in clean straw and they needed all the eggs they could get.

  Judging the time was right, she was out of the door and through the garden gate before he could see her. Once outside the garden, she clambered back into her shoes and headed for home, not stopping until she was at the top of Court Road.

  Taking a breath, she decided to speak to Mary the minute she got home, preferably the moment she alighted from the car. It was best if she warned her of what had happened before Mike had chance to speak to her and realise that she had gone to Bristol. Seeing as he was up at the farm all day, he wouldn’t know otherwise and it might be best if he didn’t.

  Decision made, she dashed round to the back door of the bakery and into the kitchen where her father was sitting with Charlie on his lap. Charlie was chomping on a Farley Rusk, his few sharp baby teeth nibbling tentatively all around its outer rim. Her father looked up, his eyes shining with pride. ‘That’s his second Farley’s Rusk. He’s going to grow into a strapping lad is our Charlie.’

  ‘Just like his granddad,’ Ruby called over her shoulder as she ran up the stairs, the dress tucked under her arm. Once the dress was safely hanging in her wardrobe, she dashed back down again.

  ‘I’m going to fetch Charlie’s National Dried from Powells’. I’ll make a cuppa when I get back. We can have a fancy cake too. Even you, young Charlie,’ she added, tapping her nephew’s nose as she passed.

  Charlie tried to grab her finger but missed.

  It didn’t take a minute to fetch the tin of National Dried Milk, concentrated orange juice and cod liver oil, all of which young Charlie was entitled to. Because the clinic was all the way up in Kingswood, the district nurse brought it in the pannier of her bicycle and left it at the Powells’. Mrs Powell had been her usual offhand self and Miriam hadn’t been around. Ruby had asked her where she was.

  ‘Behaving herself as a good Christian girl should,’ she’d responded, fixing Ruby with a pair of accusing black eyes.

  Ruby gathered up what she’d come for, tossed her head and stalked out. She loitered between the shop and the lane leading to Stratham House, trying to guess which route Andrew would take: would he come down California Road or come along the main road and up the hill? No matter which way they came, she was likely to miss them. She couldn’t keep her eyes on both routes. There was nothing for it but to head for home, for the bakery. That’s when she had the sneaking suspicion she was finally going in the right direction. Something told her that Mary would head for home. She didn’t know why, she just knew.

  ‘I know that things aren’t right,’ said Ruby as she marched alongside her sister.

  Andrew had left, the sound of the motorcar gradually fading into the distance.

  ‘No. They are not,’ said Mary, presuming she was referring to Andrew Sinclair. ‘I swear I will drive myself everywhere in future. I will not be swayed.’

  ‘Whatever did he say to upset you?’

  ‘It’s something I have to deal with.’

  ‘Look,’ said Ruby keeping pace all the way to the back door. Once in the lee of the back wall of the house she grabbed her sister’s elbow, forcing her to stop and face her before they went in. ‘I know something’s wrong, Mary. Just talk to me about it. I’ll listen. I promise. Are you staying for supper?’

  ‘I’d like to. Mike will know where I am if he wants me, and anyway, I’d like to see Charlie.’

  ‘And we need to talk,’ Ruby said firmly.

  ‘I know.’ Mary’s eyes were averted. Because of the blackout there was little light to see by, but to Ruby it looked as though her sister was churning thoughts over in her mind.

  ‘Mary,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘There’s something I have to tell you. I was in your room over at Stratham House trying on your green dress and Mike came in. He thought—’

  A pink blush spread over Mary’s cheeks. ‘Ruby, can we talk about this later? I need to think things through and, well, there are personal things …’

  ‘I know.’ Ruby’s eyes locked with those of her sister. There were certain times when they seemed to communicate without the use of words. This was one of them.

  ‘Later?’ Mary’s chin jutted forward in the old way, a sign she was going to face whatever was wrong.

  ‘Later,’ Ruby agreed. ‘After supper.’

  ‘And in private. Perhaps we could both put Charlie to bed and talk then.’

  Ruby nodded.

  Mike joined them for supper. Ruby noticed how tense he was, how he kept showering her sister with furtive glances as though waiting for a kind word or some sign that everything was going to be fine between them.

  Frances diverted Mike’s attention with imaginative details of her job prospects while there was a war on, though everyone knew she was too young to be allowed to do war work. Frances had not as yet accepted this, or the fact that she was needed at home to work in the bakery and look after young Charlie.

  There had been talk of the school leaving age being raised from fourteen to fifteen, but although the law had been passed it wasn’t likely to be implemented until the end of the war.

  ‘I think I would like to join the Royal Air Force,’ stated Frances loftily. ‘I like the uniform and I think I would be very good at flying an aeroplane.’

  Everyone laughed. Stan took the opportunity to inform her where she would be working once she’d left school.

  ‘Ain’t it occurred to you that I’ll need an extra pair of hands here? Your sister won’t be around for ever you know.’ He jerked his chin at Mary who looked down into her lap. She hadn’t said a word about going to Lincolnshire.

  Frances didn’t look too happy until he pointed out that she’d also be looking after her cousin most of the time. ‘I think Charlie’s dad would appreciate it,’ he added.

  Everyone noticed his misted eyes and sad smile, weak but sure signs that his time of mourning was over. His son Charlie would live in his heart, but there was a new Charlie now, a little boy who Stan determined would be a credit to his parents.

  Well-fed and tired, young Charlie had fallen asleep.

  ‘Come here, little man. Time for bed.’ Gently, so as not to wake him, Mary unclipped the harness that kept him fastened to his high chair.

  Ruby also got up from her chair. ‘I’ll come up with you.’

  Once Charlie was undressed and snug beneath his blanket in his cot, the twin sisters, mirror images of each other except to those who knew them well, stood looking down at the rosy-cheeked child.

  ‘He looks the picture of contentment,’ Ruby observed. She looked tellingly at her sister. ‘Which is more than I can say for you. What’s the matter, Mary? And don’t say nothing is wrong, because we both know it’s not true.’

  Mary stiffened, her fingers tightening over the bar of the cot, her knuckles angular with tension.

  Ruby went over to the window, trying to appear nonchalant as she waited for her sister to decide whether she was going to deny anything being wrong or pour all her troubles out there and then. In the meantime she chanced opening a chink in the blackout curtains, just enough to see that the only light in the blackness were the myriad stars shining from an indigo sky. God, she reflected, did not respect the laws of the blackout. The moon and stars shone on regardless.

  Along with these thoughts came more pressing ones concerning her sister’s marriage. If Mar
y denied anything was wrong, was it right for her to persist, to make her reveal her problems?

  Smoothing away the gap in the curtain, she turned back to face her sister, saw the tension in Mary’s shoulders and heard the strangled sobs, which she was trying to make sound as though they were heavy sighs. Ruby was not fooled.

  ‘Mary!’ Ruby threw her arms around her sister. Mary’s head landed heavily on her shoulder. ‘Let it all out, Mary. For goodness’ sake, let it all out.’

  The sighs turned into the sobs they really were. ‘Ruby, I feel such a fool! I shouldn’t have married him. It wasn’t fair. On either of us. I know nothing. I know absolutely nothing about men!’

  Ruby closed her eyes and soundlessly cursed those that had started a war that had turned the world upside down. ‘Tell me about it,’ she said softly, mindful of the sleeping baby.

  Mary raised her head while reaching into her sleeve for a handkerchief. She blew her nose quietly. Her eyes stayed fixed on Charlie as she voiced her fear, her foolishness and her regret.

  ‘You see, I was never like you Ruby. You’ve always been at ease with men and although I tried to be like you, I never was.’ She shrugged. ‘I kept my distance. I was Mary Sweet, the dutiful daughter who always wanted everyone to think well of her. I was always standoffish with men, the girl who would remain a virgin until the day she married, the girl who never invited gossip or wicked rumours.’

  ‘Definitely not like me then,’ giggled Ruby.

  Mary laughed quietly. ‘I scared them away. You see, I just never knew … about things … you know … what men and women did to make babies … not really …’

  ‘How did you think babies got made?’ Ruby couldn’t help sounding amazed and if the room had been better lit, Mary would have seen her surprised expression.

  ‘I guess I knew on some level … the mechanics of it but not the reality. I just didn’t have any direct experience.’ Mary shrugged again. ‘I knew nothing, and once faced with having to do it …’