by Dilly Court
Avril pulled a face. ‘He has an extraordinarily good pair of lungs. Unfortunately my room is next to Shirley’s and the walls are quite thin. I’m not getting my beauty sleep.’ She smiled archly, inviting a courteous disclaimer.
Lionel did not disappoint. ‘No one would know, my dear.’
‘Thank you.’ Avril fluttered her eyelashes. ‘You always say the sweetest things.’
Their casual banter brought a reluctant smile to Ginnie’s lips. ‘You two are quite a double act.’
‘At least we’ve cheered you up.’ Avril patted her on the shoulder. ‘Why don’t you go through to the sitting room and put your feet up. You’ve worked hard all day and it’s still Christmas. I can manage the bar and we’re hardly likely to get any more customers this evening.’
Just as the words left her lips the door opened and Major Dudley walked into the bar. ‘Merry Christmas, Mrs Parkin,’ he said solemnly. ‘That is, if it isn’t too late to offer the compliments of the season.’
‘It’s never too late for compliments of any kind,’ Avril said, beaming. ‘What can I get you, major? Although I’m afraid there isn’t much choice.’
‘I’ll take a half pint of bitter, if you please.’ He took off his hat and placed it on the stool beside Lionel. ‘Good evening, vicar. I guess you’ve had a busy day. May I buy you a drink?’
Lionel downed the last of his whisky. ‘That would be very kind, major. I’m off duty so to speak, as are you.’
‘I guess that neither of us is ever completely off duty, vicar.’
Avril put a half-pint mug of bitter on the counter in front of him. ‘That’s on the house, major.’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t allow that, Mrs Parkin. Times are tough in every business.’
‘Except yours, major.’
‘Sadly so, ma’am.’ Major Dudley turned to Ginnie. ‘How is Mrs Mallory? She’s well, I hope?’
‘Very well, thank you, major.’
‘And the baby?’
‘He’s thriving.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it.’ He took a sip of his drink, eyeing Ginnie over the rim of the glass. ‘It was a bad business. Lieutenant Petrillo was a fine officer.’
‘Yes, he was.’ Ginnie swallowed hard. It would never do to fall apart now.
‘As is Lieutenant Miller.’ Major Dudley lowered his voice. ‘I believe that you were friends?’
She shot a covert glance at Avril but she was deep in conversation with Lionel. Ginnie nodded her head. ‘Yes.’
‘Then you’ll be glad to know that he is on the road to recovery. I heard this afternoon and I thought you would want to know.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Ginnie felt her throat constrict and she dropped her gaze, concentrating on the glass in her hand which she had polished to a diamond shine. ‘Was he badly wounded?’
‘Nothing that won’t heal in time, I believe. I haven’t had a full report yet, but I gather that he’s doing well.’
‘I’m glad.’ She turned away to put the glass on the shelf but it slipped through her fingers and fell to the floor where it shattered into shards. ‘I’ll get a dustpan and brush,’ she murmured and hurried through to the kitchen before anyone had a chance to comment.
Leaning her hands on the pine table she took deep breaths. Tears of relief ran down her cheeks and a sliver of ice seemed to melt from her heart, but her pleasure was tinged with pain. Whatever the outcome, Nick was lost to her. She must face the fact and try to forget him, but somehow she knew that was asking the impossible.
‘What’s the matter?’ Shirley stood in the sitting-room doorway, staring at her in alarm. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Nothing. I’m just tired and I broke a glass in the bar.’
Shirley swooped on the cupboard where the cleaning materials were kept. ‘Well, there’s no need to cry about it. I’ll clear it up.’
‘I’m all right, really.’
Shirley took a hanky from her pocket and tossed it at her. ‘You never have a hanky. You used to wipe your nose on your sleeve when you were little. Mum was always telling you off for it.’
Ginnie wiped her eyes. ‘The major was asking after you and Colin. He’s a nice man.’
‘I can’t believe that made you burst into tears.’
‘I’m tired, that’s all.’
‘Yes, you look awful. Go to bed. I’ll help Avril clear up, and I could do with some cheerful grown-up company. Colin’s adorable but he’s not much of a conversationalist.’ Shirley waltzed through into the bar and closed the door behind her.
Ginnie went to the sink and filled the kettle. A cup of cocoa would help her to sleep and blot out the memories that haunted her by day.
Unfortunately the cocoa kept her awake and when she did fall asleep she was plagued by nightmares in which Nick suffered the most terrible injuries, and she could do nothing to help him. She woke up in a cold sweat to find Avril shaking her by the shoulders. ‘What’s the matter?’ she demanded sleepily.
‘Get up,’ Avril said tersely. ‘I need you downstairs, now.’
In the half-light of dawn Ginnie realised that she had never seen her aunt without her customary maquillage. Avril’s hairnet had slipped to one side revealing tight curls secured with criss-crossed hairgrips. ‘What’s wrong? Is it Shirley or the baby?’
Avril’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘Just come downstairs and I’ll explain. Shirley’s fainted and the baby’s bawling his head off. We’ve just had some terrible news. I need you to be strong, darling. For all of us.’ Avril’s voice broke on a sob and she rushed from the room.
Chapter Six
‘We’ve got to go home straight away,’ Ginnie said dazedly. ‘Mum must be in a terrible state.’
‘Of course, darling.’ Avril sank down on a chair at the kitchen table and reached for her cigarette case. Her hands trembled as she selected one and lit it, inhaling deeply.
‘I can’t believe that he’s dead,’ Shirley whispered, dragging herself to a sitting position on the sofa. ‘Why did it have to be our dad?’ She held out her arms to Ginnie, who had plucked an irate Colin from his cot and brought him downstairs. ‘Give him to me. It’s time for his next feed.’
Ginnie laid the sobbing child in his mother’s arms. ‘Poor little chap; he’ll never know his grandad.’
‘That’s the least of your worries, Virginia,’ Avril said, exhaling a stream of smoke into the beamed ceiling. ‘I don’t want to sound mercenary, but how will Mildred manage financially? I doubt if their mortgage was paid off and she doesn’t know the first thing about business. Who will run the shop?’
Ginnie opened her mouth to protest and then closed it again. The shocking news that their father had been killed was still sinking in, but even as she struggled to come to terms with the situation she realised that Avril was simply being practical. Dad had been the main breadwinner, and she had worked for what amounted to pocket money after she had paid her contribution to the housekeeping. Mum had strong views on that score and had insisted that both she and Shirley must contribute part of their wages towards their keep, but their father had paid all the bills.
Avril’s calm assessment of the situation brought Ginnie back to her senses. She went to the stove and put the kettle on the hob. ‘I’ll run the shop,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ve worked there since I left school and I suppose I know as much about it as anyone.’ She reached for the teapot and the caddy. ‘Strong sweet tea. That’s what Dad would have suggested in a case like this. Not Fred Chinashop’s milky concoction.’ Her breath hitched on a sob and she dashed her hand across her eyes. ‘Avril’s right, Shirley, we’ve got to be practical and put Mum first. We can’t let her lose the house. We just can’t.’
Shirley’s eyes were swimming with tears but she managed a wobbly smile. ‘I’ll be sorry to leave here, Avril. But we have to go home.’
Avril took another long drag on her cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. ‘Of course you must, but I’ll miss you all terribly. It won’t be the sam
e here without you.’
‘We’ll come back for holidays, just like we did when we were kids.’ Ginnie tried to sound cheerful, but her voice broke and she turned her attention to making the tea. She had always wondered why people made tea in a crisis and now she knew.
Avril rose from the table. ‘I must get dressed.’ Catching sight of her reflection in the wall mirror she uttered a squeak of horror. ‘Oh my God. Just look at me. I’m an absolute fright.’ She left the room with her silk peignoir flapping around her like the wings of an agitated angel and her swansdown slippers clattering on the tiled floor.
Despite her sorrow, Ginnie had to smile. ‘Even if the world was about to end Avril would still insist on being dressed for the occasion.’
‘Quite right too,’ Shirley said, nodding with approval. ‘She has standards, and I admire that.’ She studied her left hand, staring at the narrow gold band on her ring finger. ‘Mum’s got her wish, though. Everyone will think that I’m a war widow and not a silly tart who couldn’t say no.’
Ginnie almost scalded herself as she warmed the teapot. ‘Don’t say things like that, Shirley. You loved Charlie and you would have married him if he hadn’t got killed.’
‘I would, because that was what was expected of me, but I don’t think I loved him. I fancied Laurence like mad, but I loved Tony, and I’ll never feel that way about anyone else. I expect I’ll marry some day but he’ll always be second best.’
Ginnie measured tea into the pot, mindful of rationing but making it a little stronger than usual. ‘What about Laurence? You told me that you fell for him and had a fling. Does that mean he might be Colin’s father?’
Shirley shifted the baby to her shoulder and patted his tiny back. ‘That seems like a hundred years ago. I honestly don’t know which of them fathered Colin, but he’s my life now and my priorities have changed.’ She stroked her son’s downy head. ‘I just wish Dad could have seen my little boy. He’d be so proud to have a grandson. He’d have taken him to cricket matches and taught him how to play football.’
Ginnie poured the tea. ‘I still can’t believe he’s gone. Maybe we’ll get home and find it was all a mistake and he wasn’t on fire watch when the V2 exploded.’ She handed a cup to her sister. ‘I’m on duty this morning. I’d better get ready.’
‘You’re not going to work, are you? Apart from anything else, it’s Boxing Day. It’s a bank holiday.’
‘It’s a hospital, Shirley. The wards have to be cleaned whatever the day, and I’ll have to tell them I’m leaving. I expect there’ll be forms to fill in or something like that. But we’ll catch the first train out in the morning, and that’s a promise. We can’t leave Mum to struggle through this on her own.’
They arrived home late the next evening. It was not a long walk from the station but Ginnie had to carry their luggage, although most of it had been sent on ahead in one of Avril’s trunks which bore exotic labels like Cairo and Istanbul. Shirley managed to hook Colin over her good shoulder and Ginnie had made a sling out of one of Avril’s cashmere shawls so that it supported his weight, but even so it was slow progress.
As they walked down Cherry Lane it was strange to see lights in the windows of the houses for the first time in five years, and the contrast between town and country struck Ginnie forcibly. She had grown accustomed to the sounds of the river and the whisper of the breeze rustling the leaves in the overhanging trees. The scent of water and wild flowers, damp earth and even the less fragrant odours of cowpats and horse dung, were absent in the urban landscape. The smell of boiling cabbage, fried onions and chimney smoke filled the air, and even though Cherry Lane was a quiet residential area she could hear the distant rumble of traffic on the main road, and there was a sudden burst of music as a door opened further down the street and two people stood chatting on the front step.
‘My feet are killing me,’ Shirley moaned as she reached over to unlatch the front gate. ‘And I’ll swear that Colin has doubled his weight since we left the hospital.’
Ginnie’s arms felt as though they were being wrenched from their sockets as she hefted the cases up the garden path, but she said nothing. She was struggling with her emotions as well as the heavy luggage as she waited for Shirley to fumble through the contents of her handbag for the door key. It was hard to imagine the state that their mother might be in when they entered the house. It was even harder to visualise what life would be like without their father.
‘At last.’ Shirley put the key in the lock and opened the door. ‘Mum,’ she shouted. ‘We’re home.’
Ginnie heaved the cases into the hall and let them drop to the floor. Her cold fingers had been numb but now they tingled painfully with pins and needles. Shirley was heading for the kitchen when the door opened and Mildred rushed out to greet them.
‘Let me see my grandson,’ she cried excitedly. ‘I’ve been waiting all day for you to arrive.’ She snatched Colin from his mother, holding him at arm’s length with a delighted smile. ‘Isn’t he a bonny baby? Hello, Colin. I’m your granny.’
‘Are you all right, Mum?’ Shirley said anxiously.
Ginnie hesitated, weighing up the situation before she spoke. She had expected her mother to be prostrate with grief, but she was acting as though nothing had happened. She looked positively cheerful, and that was worrying. ‘How are you, Mum?’
Mildred held the baby in the crook of her arm. ‘I’m bearing up. Life has to go on, girls.’ She bustled into the dining room. ‘I’ve had supper keeping warm for ages. I hope it’s not ruined.’
Shirley hurried after her. ‘I should see to Colin first, Mum. He needs changing and he’s ready for a feed.’
‘Don’t worry about the meal, Mum.’ Ginnie followed them, noting with a shiver that the table was laid for four. Her father’s place at the head was set as if he were about to walk into the room.
Paper chains were draped from the central light and pinned to the picture rail, but they were dusty and crumpled and might have been salvaged from one of the cardboard boxes in the attic. There were springs of holly on the mantelpiece next to the black slate clock in the shape of a Roman temple, and a red candle had been stuck on a saucer and placed on the sideboard next to a bowl of apples. The decorations put up in anticipation of the season of peace and goodwill looked sad and shabby and Ginnie had to fight back tears. She was saved from making any comment when Colin took his cue and started to whimper.
Shirley eased him gently from her mother’s grasp. ‘Let me have him, Mum. I’ll go up to my room and see to him there.’
‘Indeed you won’t,’ Mildred said sternly. ‘I lit the fire in the front room two hours ago and it’ll be much warmer than upstairs. Take him in there if you must, but then we’ll eat. I’m not letting good food go to waste.’
Ginnie exchanged anxious glances with her sister. ‘Why don’t you sit down and let me do the work, Mum? You don’t have to manage on your own now. We’re here.’
Mildred’s face crumpled and tears spurted from her eyes. ‘I have to carry on as normal, Ginnie. If I stop I have to face the fact that my Sidney’s gone forever. That bloody V2 took him away from me. I’ll never forgive Hitler. Never.’ She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
Shirley backed towards the door. ‘I’ll be in the lounge if you need me.’
It was an odd sort of homecoming. Mildred’s moods seemed to alternate between desperate attempts to appear normal and a downward spiral into tears and depression. After an uncomfortable meal that included the dreaded Woolton pie, Shirley was pale and exhausted and Mildred insisted on doing the washing-up, shooing them off as if they were still schoolgirls. ‘You look worn out, Shirley,’ she said as she piled up the dirty crockery. ‘Go to bed. I’ll see to everything down here.’ She held up her hand as Ginnie opened her mouth to protest. ‘No, honestly, I must keep to my routine.’
Reluctantly, Ginnie left her to cope on her own and she followed Shirley upstairs to her room, where Colin had been put to bed in a drawer taken from t
he tallboy. Swaddled in a shawl he lay on a pillow like a tiny mummy stolen from an Egyptian tomb.
‘Will Mum be all right?’ Shirley slumped down on her bed and slipped off her shoes. ‘She’s fine one moment and then she collapses.’
‘It’ll take time,’ Ginnie said softly. ‘We’ve got to be supportive.’
‘I’ll have to get a job. D’you think that Mum is capable of looking after Colin?’
‘We’ll have to wait and see.’ Ginnie lifted Shirley’s case onto the bed and opened it. ‘You’ll have to wait until you’re fit enough to work.’
‘But we haven’t got any money. I don’t know how Mum is fixed.’
‘We can hardly barge into her room and ask how much cash she’s got in the bank,’ Ginnie said with a wry smile. ‘Anyway, tomorrow I’m going to open up the shop. It’ll be business as usual. That’s what Dad would have wanted and that’s what I’m going to do.’
Walking into the shop for the first time in six months felt like entering a foreign country. Without her father’s cheery presence the retail area seemed dark and oppressive. The tall rolls of linoleum towered over her and the smell of linseed oil and hessian was evocative of happier times, but that was little comfort now. The utility furniture was practical but dull, and the stock was sadly depleted. There were a few carpet squares set out on the floor and rolls of broadloom stacked against the walls. Whether it was the cold grey December day or the gloom that hung above her in a dark cloud, Ginnie felt a shiver run down her spine. No wonder trade had dropped off if this was what prospective customers found when they entered the shop.
She took off her hat and peeled off her gloves as she marched down the aisle that separated the displays. She switched the light on in the office and her heart sank as she took in the chaotic scene. Without her there to keep order her father had allowed the paperwork to pile up, and the filing baskets overflowed with bills, dockets and receipts. Dirty crockery littered the desk and the wastepaper bin was exploding with rubbish. She took off her coat, rolled up her sleeves and set to work, starting with the cups and saucers. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of sour milk and a rancid half-eaten cheese sandwich that she found hidden beneath an order book. A trip to the dustbin in the back yard was her first priority and then she unlocked the outside lavatory where there was a small hand basin and a gas geyser, which of course had gone out and needed to be relit.
