An Unsuitable Mother

by Sheelagh Kelly

  Returning to check on the bread sauce, her mother voiced scepticism. ‘If they’ve got the wherewithal to have half a dozen house guests for the weekend they must shop on the black market.’ Nevertheless, she undertook to relinquish the ration book come Friday evening. ‘Oh, here’s Daddy – right on time as usual!’

  The next day, after a quick bite to eat, Nell hurried round to her lover’s billet during the hour that had been allocated for dinner, to convey the good news that she could go away with Billy as planned. He wasn’t there, of course. Every morning since he had arrived in York, straight from the beaches of Dunkirk and carrying only a mattress and a small bag of rations, along with wounded pride, a lorry had collected him and other infantrymen from their billet, and taken them to a camp for exercise. But Nell left a message with Mrs Precious, just so he would not fret that he might not see her again before being sent to London.

  Then it was back to her typewriter, the rest of the afternoon feeling as long as a week.

  Directly after tea, Nell asked that she might be excused, and ran up to pack a small suitcase, her mother calling after her, ‘I’ve laid out clean underwear for you!’

  Shouting merry thanks, Nell reached behind a row of books to retrieve the carefully folded package she had recently hidden there. Not daring to unwrap the silken nightdress, which had left her virtually penniless until next pay day, she slipped it directly into the case alongside her old one – better take that or Mother might be suspicious. Straight on top went a layer of suitable clothing and a bathing costume. Hidden though it might be, the nightdress provoked a momentary quiver. She was sexually ignorant in regard to the mechanics, though not so totally naive that she did not know the gamble she was taking. A man and a woman in the same bed …

  But then her parents slept in the same bed, and they had no children – and at this moment Nell could not have cared less, for who knew how long they would all have to live? The excitement and urgency of being with Billy overruling any risk, she snapped the case shut, then it was back down the stairs.

  ‘Let us look at you!’

  Hurrying through the hall to the sitting room, a suitcase in one hand, her gas mask container slung over her shoulder, Nell answered her parents’ demand, reduced to a schoolgirl again as she posed for their inspection.

  Father had spread before him on a maroon chenille tablecloth the small arsenal he had accumulated. Some of it was from his exploits as an officer in the Great War, such as the Webley service revolver, the lethal-looking bayonet, and the Luger automatic pistol taken from a dead German. Other weapons were home-made – a brass knuckle duster and a garrotte. To Nell he didn’t appear to be doing anything specific with them, but he just liked to exhibit them from time to time, as if to reassure his family that he would be ready to protect them if the Germans did land. But his attention was now for his daughter. ‘That’s more like the girl I know!’ announced the grey face, with a pleased smile for her lack of make-up. Then he dipped into his pocket and pulled out half a crown. ‘Here you are, my little chickadee, treat yourself.’

  Nell reached out and thanked him with a warm smile.

  ‘Better take a mackintosh in case it rains,’ warned her mother, rising to go and fetch this, whilst Nell exchanged an amused but frustrated glance with her father.

  ‘Let her do it if it keeps her happy,’ Wilfred advised her, as his wife folded the mackintosh over the crook of Nell’s arm.

  ‘Now, have you got everything – identity card?’

  ‘Yes, Mother!’

  ‘Let me check your case.’

  ‘There’s no time!’ Nell dashed for the door. ‘I’ve a bus to catch.’ For once, she thanked providence for the rationing of petrol. There was no danger of Father offering to chauffeur her into town: he was saving all his coupons towards a decent family outing.

  Her parents came to see her off, their exit disturbing a sparrow that was enjoying a dust bath amongst the geraniums, and drawing a tut from Wilfred over the desecration of his prized garden.

  ‘Now, don’t do anything to show us up,’ warned her mother. ‘And if you hear the sirens go straight to a shelter!’

  ‘I won’t – I mean, I will!’ Nell called gaily over her shoulder, and hurried away up the avenue.

  Not until out from under father’s eye did she take a little cardboard pot of rouge from her gas mask container and smear some on her lips, checking her appearance in her compact mirror, before catching her bus, nerves gurgling in her craw all the way into town.

  And there was Billy! As handsome as a film star, waiting for her at the prearranged spot. Waving frantically to him through the window, she jumped off the bus almost before it stopped, and rushed to meet him as he too accelerated forth. Thrilled by what lay ahead, they exchanged a quick bright-eyed kiss, then spurted to catch their connection to Scarborough, which was about to depart further along the kerb.

  Once in their seats, holding hands and grinning like Cheshire cats, they spoke little to each other as the bus chugged jerkily on its way out of the city, for besides them being so keyed up, there were too many passengers who might overhear intimacies.

  However, as the bus paused to give way to a tank, Nell did reveal her successful appointment. ‘Guess who’s to be a nurse?’

  ‘Oh, when?’

  ‘Monday week!’

  ‘Good for you!’ He gave her a commending pat on the hand, before appearing to have second thoughts. ‘’Ere, you won’t be dealing with wounded soldiers, will you?’

  ‘Why, would you be jealous?’ teased Nell.

  ‘I flipping-well would, if you’ll be running your hands over their bits and pieces!’

  She tittered at his rudeness, then moved up close to appease him. ‘Well, you’ve no need to be. I’m led to understand that we’ll only be used for evacuating civilians from London to somewhere safe up north.’ Then she donned an optimistic smile. ‘Maybe we’ll be able to meet down there! You could take me to Bermondsey.’ This was where he hailed from. ‘I’m dying to see it.’

  Billy had mixed feelings about this. ‘Much as I’d love to see you any time, I’d prefer it to be well clear of London. The way things are heading, it’s only a matter of time before they hit us.’

  ‘Hmm, well, I don’t relish being bombed either, but I hope I get to do something crucial, that’s the whole point of becoming a nurse.’ It was Billy who, in part, had inspired her decision. To be so young and yet so totally embroiled in the defence of one’s country, he had put her to shame. ‘Anyway, let’s not talk about the war. Let’s concentrate on enjoying ourselves.’

  ‘Oh, I intend to.’ Billy gave her his dirty grin as the bus started to move again, then added hastily, ‘Speaking about that, you’d better put this on.’ After a peripheral glance, and with a definite lack of ceremony, he withdrew a small box from his pocket and slipped it to her.

  Taking his lead, Nell lifted the lid of the box in surreptitious manner, and though she would have preferred to exclaim and openly admire its contents, she was to sneak the ring quickly onto her finger and whisper only, ‘It’s lovely!’ before tucking the tiny container out of sight.

  But as much as she tried not to draw attention to it, the tips of her thumb and finger itched to examine the golden circle that adorned her wedding finger – not a fake one from Woolworths, as one might expect for an illicit weekend, but a genuine wedding ring – for which she beamed thanks to her lover.

  ‘Only nine carats, I’m afraid.’ Bill looked self-effacing, the restrictions of war and not parsimony having barred him from acquiring a twenty-three carat one, as he was quick to explain. ‘But I’ll be buying you a proper one when it’s all over.’

  ‘No you won’t,’ came her murmured instruction. ‘I’ll be keeping this one forever.’

  Then, sharing a loving smile and a squeeze of each other’s hand, they tore their eyes away, and for the rest of the journey were to watch the countryside whiz by, and to mull over tantalising thoughts about the coming night.


  With the room in total blackout, and her senses all to pot, there was no way of telling when night became day. Nell gasped as, with the aid of a lamp and snatching a look over Billy’s naked shoulder, she consulted his watch on the bedside table. ‘You do realise it’s almost nine o’clock?’ Nine o’clock in the morning that was.

  Her bed companion grinned and stretched luxuriously like a cat, sharing a long, loving gaze with her, before hugging her to him and dappling her shoulder with kisses between words. ‘Well, the landlady did say to make ourselves at home. Anyway, we can stay in bed all day if we like, we’re married.’

  Nell chuckled adoringly and returned his hug, shivering at the touch of his lips on her skin. ‘Oh, I wish we were, Bill, that we could fall asleep together every night, wake up together like this …’ Intensely happy, she released her hold on him and extended her hand to properly examine the exquisite gold ring he had bought her, all shiny and new.

  Averse to losing any contact with her, however brief, Billy repossessed her hand and kissed it. ‘We will one day, I promise. You do believe me, don’cher?’ And he beheld her with a face so earnest that it could not possibly tell a lie.

  ‘Of course I do! That goes without saying.’ They had discussed this in depth. Aside from her parents not granting permission, Billy had told Nell she was much too young to be left a widow.

  ‘I saw what it was like for my mum after Dad was killed,’ he had become serious. ‘If anything should happen to me, I couldn’t bear the thought of you strugg—’

  ‘Don’t!’ Shuffling around quickly to synchronise her body to his again, she laid her hand across his lips, her eyes and voice pleading. ‘Let’s just put everything else aside and enjoy this chance to be together. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is.’ Totally spellbound, she cupped his cheek and stroked his brow, his ear, his smooth young jaw, feeling so intensely close, yet desiring to be closer still.

  Billy agreed, his expression as blissful and contented as Nell’s as he tried to pull her even nearer to him, and rubbed his hand from nape to buttock as they kissed again.

  At length, he tendered, ‘So … was it all right then?’

  Nell glimpsed again the slight self-consciousness she had witnessed upon first entering the hotel room last night. She had been so worried about her own innocence that it had not occurred to her that Billy might be nervous too, but it had turned out that her lover was as inexperienced as she. ‘More than all right,’ she murmured lovingly, bestowing more kisses, to which Billy responded by burying his face in her neck, nuzzling around the back of her ear and into her hair.

  ‘But we really ought to get up,’ she was finally to say. ‘It’ll be embarrassing if the landlady sees the light under the door and comes knocking.’ The rattling of pots could be heard from downstairs, and the thunder of childish footsteps on the landing as the evacuees returned from breakfast.

  ‘She won’t. She thinks we’re on honeymoon, remember?’ Billy assured her, his face still pressed to her neck, dotting it with kisses.

  ‘Even more embarrassing! Everyone at the breakfast table knowing what we’ve been up to.’ But her smiling embrace was to prove Nell didn’t really care. Didn’t care about anything but the boy she loved.

  Eventually, though, they had to rise. Dressing quickly, with a fond smile for Billy as he too covered his nakedness, Nell waited for him to cease hopping about on one foot, before turning off the lamp. Then, rendered blind, she stumbled her way to the window and pulled aside the blackout curtains to let the sun filter through the network of masking tape. Even lit by sunbeams, the room was not much to speak of, with a cast iron bedstead – with very rumpled sheets – beige lino and two well-worn green rugs, a wardrobe, a washstand, and above this an unframed mirror, plus one or two pictures of moorland and sheep to punctuate the faded wallpaper. But to Nell and her lover it was heaven. Both adjusting their clothes, giggling and whispering to each other, they made their way downstairs to seek breakfast, trying to appear like an old married couple.

  The landlady did not bat an eyelid upon announcing she had been keeping something warm for them, and almost immediately they were served with bacon, egg, toast and tea. At least the evacuees had gone off to play, so they were allowed to eat in peace. Tucking in, but remaining self-conscious in an otherwise empty dining room, it was not long before Nell and Billy had cleared their plates, and were escaping into the fresh air.

  Despite the fact that Scarborough was under fortification, with barriers, minefields and concrete pill boxes thrown up around the town, and sections of the beach cordoned off with barbed wire, it remained the bustling place of entertainment it had always been – even more bustling, with so many servicemen and children competing for space along the front. Historically a place to sit in deckchairs and listen to the band, the genteel Spa was now under military requisition. Nevertheless there were pleasures to be had amongst the amusement arcades and shellfish stalls, and these Nell and Billy proceeded to chase, undeterred by the sandbags and wire-netting, barely letting go of each other all day – even managing to eat a saucer of cockles with arms entwined, as they bumped and weaved their starry-eyed way in and out of the promenading throng, absorbing all the raucous treats that were on tap.

  And when the money ran out, there were self-invented pastimes to supply laughter – even without the glasses of beer partaken at lunch – Nell’s companion so easygoing, a delight to be with. For her afternoon recreation he made up a guessing-game, which involved comparing passers-by to animals.

  ‘I can’t think what that chap might be,’ mused Nell, when it came to her turn, swinging her leg as they sat on a bench along the seafront. ‘He’s not really like any creature, is he?’ Billy was quick to gain points. ‘He’s a thatched cottage – has to be, with all that hair. Blimey, he’s like Moe off the Three Stooges!’

  ‘That’s cheating!’ She elbowed him laughingly, and drew away to accuse. ‘You said it had to be animals.’ Even this short gap between them proved too much, her eyes barely able to leave him for one second, as she watched a runnel of sweat filter from his dark hair to his brow, trickling through the creases at the edges of his eyes, then onwards down his firm cheek, before giving in to the urge to dab it away with her finger. ‘I’d hate to hear what I remind you of.’ But she shuffled back to him again, fondly laying her head on his shoulder.

  Billy cuddled up to her, his voice deep and flirtatious as it murmured into her ear, ‘I can answer that easy enough – velvet, and chocolate and cream, all soft and sweet.’

  ‘Oh don’t say that!’ Nell looked and sounded disappointed. ‘Not all sugar and spice and things that make one puke.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that!’ Billy laughed. ‘Gawd help us – how do you want me to see you then?’

  ‘I’d much rather be thought of as a femme fatale.’ She adopted an exotic air, her accent foreign and her voice theatrical. ‘Dark and mysterious –’

  ‘You’re a ruddy mystery all right,’ cut in Billy, whipping his jovial face out of reach as she pretended to clip him. Then he sought to explain. ‘No, it’s just sometimes hard to put a word to a feeling, ain’t it? I think you’re really nice-looking – that goes without saying.’

  His subject flushed with pleasure, but made self-effacing comment. ‘Not exactly dainty, though, not like that girl over there.’

  ‘Who cares? Look at the geezer she’s with, he’s not built like me, is he? No, we’re well-matched, you and me. I like something to get hold of.’ To Nell’s chuckles, he demonstrated this, before adding, ‘What I meant about the velvet thing was, your face has this gentle, warm way about it, as if you’re always concerned for other people, no sharp edges to it …’

  ‘Pudgy,’ contributed Nell.

  ‘No! Stop running yourself down. It’s a lovely mug. Your skin, it’s all creamy, and those chocolatey eyes, it’s as if they’re reflecting candlelight …’ His subject gave a squirm of delight, he an embarrassed quip. ‘How’s that for bleedin’ poetry?’ Moving on
quickly, he asked, ‘Okay, what do I remind you of then?’

  Nell placed a finger to her chin and looked thoughtful. ‘Hmm – a wet dog.’

  ‘Thanks very much!’ he sputtered laughingly. ‘I needn’t ask what you think of my hairy chest!’

  Nell laughed too – her face ached with all the laughing she had done over the past twenty-four hours. ‘Let me finish! One of my uncles has this black mongrel –’

  ‘Oh, even better!’ roared Billy, throwing back his dark curly head.

  ‘– who loves nothing more than to jump in the river, and when he comes out he’s all bright-eyed and laughing and boisterous, bursting with life and energy – that’s what I love about you,’ Nell managed to finish. ‘You’re so full of fun, and believe me there’s such a dearth of it in our house. My parents are such old fogies.’

  ‘Do you ever speculate over what your real ones were like?’ asked Billy, who knew her life story.

  Nell looked slightly taken aback, for she considered Wilfred and Thelma to be her real parents. They were the only ones she had known, and, perhaps due to their honesty in never hiding it from her that she had been adopted, she felt as secure as if she had been born to them. But then she admitted with a guilty smile, ‘Only when my own are annoying me, I wonder if the others were film stars or something exciting like that. But I don’t regard them to be real parents – after all, they gave me away, didn’t they?’

  ‘They must’ve been mad.’ He squeezed her. ‘Well, there’ll be bumper fun when we get our own house – and lots of kids.’ After sharing a tender kiss, his eyes, and Nell’s too, drifted away from each other to watch the youngsters frolick ing on the crowded beach with their buckets and spades. ‘Shall we join ’em?’

  And so they did, removing their shoes and emptying them of sand, then threading their way amongst an ever-growing colony of deckchairs to find an unoccupied patch of beach, where Billy spread his khaki blouse for them to sit on. Then, aware of other people only yards away – old men with knotted handkerchiefs to protect their bald pates and trousers rolled up to the knee, scarlet-faced wives in full corsetry, complete with handbag – in discreet but awkward fashion, both shed their clothes to reveal the swimming costumes worn beneath.