Missing Thelma’s blameful glance at Nell, Aunt Phyllis tried to catch her husband’s eye, waving above the sea of heads and summoning him. Eventually he came, holding his bottle aloft as he forged a passage towards the latecomers, a similar height and build to Nell’s father, though less poker-faced.
But even as Nell returned his kiss, she was gazing intently over his shoulder at the others.
‘Right, let me go and collar them!’ Upon the final line being hollered, Phyllis wobbled back to the gathering. ‘Settle down, boys, settle down!’ Then, with order half-restored, she led forth her sister-in-law and the mesmerised Nell to introduce them. ‘Ronald, I don’t want to curtail your fun, but let me just acquaint your pals with Aunty Thelma and your cousin.’
Tall and bony, the image of his father, except with pimples, Ronald bade a cheery greeting to the new arrivals, as did his sisters – all three cousins older than Nell, in their twenties – whilst their mother turned to those in khaki and began counting them off on her fingers. ‘Now, let me see if I can remember all their names – no, don’t tell me, Margaret!’ Her elder daughter had been about to leap in. ‘This is George, Sid – no, Stan, oh, I’m so sorry! – John, Reg, and last, but by no means least, Billy.’
Nell’s heart was already spinning, having flipped over in shock at her first glimpse of the latter, who epitomised the phrase ‘tall, dark and handsome’ – if a little chubby. Formally introduced to the young soldiers, she could only blush as Billy extended a confident handshake to her mother, his accent most definitely from the heart of London.
‘Very pleased to meet you, Mrs Spottiswood!’ Then, just as quickly, whilst Nell remained slack-jawed, he grasped her hand too and shook it firmly, smiling with genuine warmth – some might say impishness – into her face. ‘You too, Miss Spottiswood.’
‘Nell.’ She managed to find her voice, and smiled as she withdrew her hand, which felt as if it had touched a live wire, then moved it along the row to be shaken by the rest, one after another.
‘It’s Eleanor,’ corrected Mrs Spottiswood, though her exasperation was mild, and to her sister-in-law and the rest of the gathering she jokingly complained, ‘Really, you give your child a lovely name and what does she do but adulterate it!’
‘A rose by any other name!’ Billy’s eyes were warm and mischievous as they rested on Nell’s blushing face, only to receive a mute warning for this blatancy.
But her mother seemed very taken with the tall and good-looking young man, indeed with all of those who surrounded her, beaming in that coy fashion which always embarrassed Nell. ‘You’re not from round here, Billy!’ She wagged her plump finger at him. Nell wanted to drag one of Aunt Phyllis’s antimacassars over her head.
‘Ah, I can see there’s no fooling you, Mrs Spottiswood!’ Billy, with his sparkling blue eyes, had one of those faces that looked as if it were permanently laughing, but there was such kindness in it too, that no one could take offence at its teasing. ‘No, I have to confess I’m one of your perishing southerners – so is Johnny here.’
‘Nonsense!’ tinkled Thelma Spottiswood. ‘We’re very happy to have you in our midst, all of you.’ Inconveniently overwhelmed by a hot flush, she shed her hat and tried to fluff up the dark-grey waves beneath, which were soaked in perspiration, at the same time wafting her face. ‘Goodness, I thought it was hot enough out there – do excuse me!’
‘I’ll fetch you a drink of water!’ Billy shot off, soon coming back to press a glass into her hand. A crimson-faced Thelma sipped at it gratefully until recovered. Following which, the bout of polite interrogation continued, most of it directed at the handsome Billy, with whom she was obviously smitten – as were Margaret and Daphne, saw Nell, for they clung on his every word.
‘And are you and your friends liking it in York?’
‘Oh, you bet,’ vouched Billy, with a smiling glance at Nell. ‘Not to mention it’s a darned sight safer than the capital at the moment, what with Jerry creeping nearer by the day. Can’t help worrying about my old mum, though.’
Thelma Spottiswood sympathised; Nell, too, managing to display similar condolence, as he looked at her quite brazenly.
At his mention of the enemy, Daphne’s plain face had turned anxious. ‘I heard some people at church this morning saying the Germans’ve already landed and the government’s kept quiet about it.’
‘Don’t you think we’d have seen them by now?’ Touring the room with his bottle, her father remained calm and kind, though there was a hint of anger in his eye for those who had caused such disaffection. ‘Come on, I thought this was meant to be a party?’
With his words, it was back to another singsong, Margaret and Daphne swooping on their handsome visitor, one either side of him as they caroused. Provided with food and drink, Nell and her mother were to sway happily in time to the music, though Thelma didn’t actually know many of the words. Despite being sandwiched between his hostesses, Billy seemed unable to keep his eyes off the attractive dark-haired girl who stood out from the rest, not only because of her height, and though she persisted in turning her back on him, Nell herself could not resist sneaking an admiring look.
‘Well, I’m glad to see you’ve shed that maungy expression,’ observed Thelma, causing her daughter’s face to snap up from her glass. ‘Kicking up such a fuss about wanting to traipse around town on a Sunday, looking into closed shop windows – I told you you’d have a much better time here. See? Mother knows best!’
Sorry for all the horrible thoughts she had entertained earlier, Nell smiled warmly for her mother – the one she genuinely regarded as Mother, and not the faceless one who had given her away – and had to agree that it was a more enjoyable evening than she could ever have forecast.
So enjoyable, in fact, that she and Thelma were still to be found there at ten o’clock.
Then – ‘Hush, everyone!’ A tousle-haired Uncle Cliff urged the roisterers to stop. And they heard that ominous wail that all had come to dread.
‘Oh bother!’ exclaimed Thelma. ‘I was just about to suggest we make a move.’
But there were more fragile souls to be comforted, Uncle Cliff laying a firm hand on Daphne’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, love, it’ll only be another false alarm.’
‘Will it, though?’ Her pasty face had turned even whiter, and her behaviour nervy. ‘This could be it.’
‘Be assured, Daphne,’ laughed her Aunty Thelma, a stalwart of the Women’s Voluntary Services. ‘In the unlikely event that they were to breach our defences, there are millions of us ready to take up arms before we’d allow them to get to our children. Your uncle’s showed me how to use his gun, and God help the first German who tries his bullying tactics on Eleanor!’
Mimicking this bold example, despite her own twinge of nerves, Nell gave her cousin a reassuring smile, and assisted her to the exit.
With others taking care of Daphne, Cliff put on his tin helmet and herded everyone towards the Anderson shelter in the garden. ‘By, it’s going to be a tight old squeeze tonight.’
‘Some of you’d better come in ours!’ summoned a next-door neighbour, invoking the group to split in half and move after him. ‘Bring your glasses with you if you like!’
‘Er, not the bottles as well!’ Cliff objected, but in vain. He uttered a groan, then, after going round turning off the gas and electricity supplies, hurried after the others.
It was dark outside. With those around her toting glasses of beer or sherry, Nell found herself guided by competent male hands towards the even darker interior of the shelter, which smelled of damp earth. Uncle Cliff had rigged up a light of sorts, but they couldn’t turn it on yet, and as they filed in, everyone seemed to be tripping over everyone else’s feet as well as the items of comfort that had been deposited here in case of a drawn-out siege: bottles of water, a torch, a paraffin stove, a kettle, cups, magazines, tins and boxes of essentials. Her mother’s plump bottom directly ahead of her, head down and bent almost double, Nell shuffled and groped her way
in, intending to take a seat beside her mother on one of the bunks that Cliff had fitted on two sides. But somehow, amidst all the fumbling, one of the young soldiers managed to engineer a place for her elsewhere, leaving her sandwiched between him and the one called Billy. Then, with ranks of bodies squashed together, the unnerving wait began.
The light had been turned on now, though it was still very dim. There was desultory chat as they sipped their drinks and waited. Nell herself remained speechless, for she had just felt the back of Billy’s hand caress her thigh. Jammed into place, it was impossible for her to move out of range, and so she remained stiff as a poker on the edge of the bunk, hiding her discomposure in her glass and trying not to flinch, as the hand continued its secret stroking.
With no word to the contrary, Billy seemed to take this as an invitation to go further. To her shock, whilst casually chatting to the others, and unnoticed in the poor light, he worked his arm round behind her and tugged her blouse from under the band of her skirt, slipped his hand beneath it, and began to caress her bare back. Nell developed instant goose bumps, and dared not move as the hand grew ever more adventurous, stroking its way underneath her perspiring armpit and brushing the tips of its fingers against her breast. Outraged at his nerve, Nell immediately clamped her arm down on it to prevent any further indignation, growing redder and redder, and trying to retain her look of interest as Aunty Ethel related each step of her recent medical procedure.
Undeterred, a twinkling Billy – obviously greatly enjoying this assault – managed to release his trapped digits from beneath the moist heat of her arm, and diverted his efforts. Nell shivered in anticipation as his hand meandered seductively downwards over her spine and began to invade the waistband of her skirt. She bent forward as if to attend to some interesting morsel of conversation, though her intention was to prevent this rude foray. She half succeeded. The waistband too tight a squeeze, Billy had to content himself by wiggling a finger against the swell of her buttock. Then, a press stud burst with an audible pop. As alarmed as she, Billy quickly withdrew his hand and pretended to examine the sleeve of his battledress.
Everyone looked at him. ‘Was that you, Billy?’ laughed Aunty Phyllis.
‘Yes, I don’t think this uniform’s quite up to my bulging biceps,’ joked Billy, the object of some amusement. ‘I shall have to get out me needle and thread when I get back to billet.’
Phyllis glanced around for her emergency sewing box. ‘Oh, I’m sure one of us can do it while we’re wait—’
‘Thank you very much, but don’t you go bothering yourself, Mrs Spottiswood!’ he cut in hastily. ‘They teach us how to do that sort of thing in the army – it’s nothing much anyway. And if my seam’s the only thing that explodes tonight I’m sure we’ll all be heartily glad.’
But the ensuing ripple of laughter was curtailed upon the rumble of a distant explosion, and at once everyone’s attention was back on the threat.
A faint burst of machine-gun fire had Daphne almost hysterical. ‘What if there’s gas?’ In the claustrophobic surroundings, she was already gulping for air.
Those around were quick to douse her shrieks. ‘You’ll hear the rattle,’ said her father calmly. ‘And we’ve got our masks. Don’t worry.’
Even so, the tension became palpable, each ear pricked for imminent disaster. With one arm tightly around Daphne, Uncle Cliff took quiet possession of his wife’s hand and gripped it, each of the other men doing likewise with the woman who was seated next to him.
Billy went further. Appointing himself as Nell’s protector, he clamped his arm around her soft flesh and leaned intimately towards her, whilst she was forced to sit there with a rapidly beating heart, as much intent on Billy as on the bombers, wondering what he would get up to next, and if her skirt would fall down when she finally rose to leave.
After what seemed like only minutes to a stimulated Nell, but an interminable wait to the others, the all-clear finally sounded. Thoroughly relieved, the occupants dribbled from the musty shelter into the garden, breathing in sweet air, extending their upper limbs to a sky that was not black but a very deep and romantic shade of blue, stamping their cramped feet, and handing round cigarettes. A secret smoker, Nell was forced to decline as a packet was handed to her, knowing her mother would criticise. Still unnerved herself, not by the bombers but by what had occurred in the shelter, she deftly refastened the press stud on her skirt, and in kindly fashion enquired if her mother was all right.
‘Of course I am!’ announced Thelma with bravado. ‘It’ll take a lot more than that to frighten me – but thank you for asking, dear.’
Nell squeezed her mother’s plump arm, but even as she did this, her eyes were darting around to pinpoint her impudent assailant.
He was behind her, saying in a quiet murmur to his friend John, ‘Wonder if anyone copped it – sounded not too far away. I hope Ma’s all right.’ He spoke not of his mother, but their landlady on the other side of the city.
‘We really must be going now,’ Nell’s mother was saying. ‘It’s terribly late and I want to make sure Wilfred’s safe – he’ll be concerned about us too.’
‘Stan says he and the boys’ll escort you home, Aunty Thelma,’ piped up Ronald.
‘Well, let’s all have another drink first to calm the nerves,’ motioned his father, still with his arm around his whey-faced daughter, and coaxing everyone else indoors to be bolstered with what little alcohol was left.
Lagging behind, so as to give Billy a telling-off, Nell found herself dragged to the rear of an outbuilding, where the boldest of kisses was delivered to her lips. Her protest stifled, she had no option but to kiss him back with equal passion, pushing her mouth against his and squashing her whole body against him.
It was darker behind the asbestos shed, but not so dark that their fumbling outline could not be seen. Though she was enjoying this with every fibre of her body, Nell soon broke free and rebuked him heartily, thumping his chest in playful dissent.
‘You rat!’ she hissed at his laughing face. ‘You sat beside me only days ago and said nothing whilst I grumbled on about having to come to this blasted party instead of being out with you – why didn’t you tell me you knew Ron?’
‘I wanted to surprise you.’ Billy giggled merrily at having incited such a display, then gasped and chuckled as she thumped him again.
‘You certainly did that! I almost had kittens.’
‘So you’re not pleased to see me then?’ Lower lip jutting, he rubbed his chest as if winded.
‘You rotter, you know I am!’ And she kissed him again, even more zealously this time, the heat of it travelling to her groin. Feeling his hand cup her breast, she squeaked from the side of her mouth, ‘Behave – we might be caught!’ But Billy only shook with mirth, and continued to press his ardour, and she to return it.
Drawing breath, Nell glanced around quickly to check they were still unobserved, then asked with eyes agleam, ‘Did I do a good job of pretending we were strangers?’
‘Impeccable.’ He tugged her groin back against his, wriggling in pleasure.
‘And no thanks to you!’ She physically berated him again.
‘Oy! I’ll have you for assault and battery.’ Billy faked offence. ‘Your mother seemed to like me well enough. Maybe I should change the object of my affections.’
Laughingly dismissing this, Nell pressed her face into his warm chest and hugged his khaki-clad form for all she was worth, breathing in the scent of tobacco and beer and the man himself.
‘Seriously, though, your mum did seem to like me,’ put in Billy. ‘Why don’t we just –?’
‘No!’ Nell forestalled him. ‘I know what you’re going to suggest, and coming clean would be the biggest mistake ever. Don’t let Mother fool you. She might well approve of you as a champion of our nation, and so might Father, but once they’ve been alerted that I have a chap my life will become even more regulated. And that’s the last thing I want – oh, I still can’t get over this lovely surpr
ise! My dear, gorgeous Bill.’ She hugged him tightly and he hugged her back, not one trace of self-consciousness between them, as if they had known each other for years instead of just three weeks.
It had been one of those breathtaking events that happen out of the blue. Nell had not gone looking for love at all. In fact, she had been quite disposed to spend that particular evening in more serious pursuit at her first-aid class. It was from there that she and two pals had been ambling home through town, heading innocently for their bus stop, when a group of soldiers had – there was no other word for it – a pounced on them, and, the boys linking the girls’ arms in a firm hold, had commandeered their company for the rest of the night. They had been such a friendly, jocular lot that their cheek could not possibly give offence – not to mention that the girls were eager to seize any bit of excitement on offer, and had readily accepted the soldiers’ invitation for drinks at Betty’s – even though Nell had never entered a bar in her life.
It was to be the first of many dares she had accepted during this brief enthralling period. Madly in love with Billy, and being compelled to face her own mortality like countless others, Nell wanted to taste everything life had to offer. She had known nothing whatsoever about sex prior to meeting him – did not really know the whole of it even now – for neither her mother nor her school had enlightened her about such an unthinkable subject. But the passion he engendered within her, the overwhelming urge to discover, was almost unstoppable tonight …
Then, in a trice Billy’s smile had faded, and his voice was reticent as he stroked her and admitted, ‘I’ve another surprise, only part of it good, I’m afraid. The boys and me have been called back down south.’ At Nell’s utterance of dismay, he gripped her arms and drove the sombre expression from his face as he added, ‘But at least they’ve given us a weekend leave before we go! It means you and me can … well, you know … if you want to.’ His eyes probed hers, brimming with enticement. ‘Will you come away with me?’
An Unsuitable Mother Page 2
