The Way Ahead

by Mary Jane Staples

  ‘I believe you,’ said Alice.

  ‘Try a smile,’ said Fergus.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Alice.

  ‘Dinna be so serious, young lady, we’ll win the war yet,’ said Fergus. ‘And guid day to you while I go looking for number twenty-one.’

  ‘I hope you find it,’ said Alice, ‘for I’m sure everyone there will be tremendously happy to see you.’

  Fergus laughed again, and Alice stormed off.

  If I never see him again, she thought, I’ll be tremendously happy myself. Sixteen? Sixteen? And training to be a preacher? He’s off his head. Oh, bother it, I meant to tell him I was sorry for not being more hospitable when he fixed our gas leak. Well, I shan’t worry about that now.

  Chinese Lady, Mr Finch, Susie and Sammy were listening to the news. Prior to their bedtime, Paula and Phoebe were romping about with Daniel, and the stairs were taking a thumping.

  The Allied advance in Italy had brought the American 5th Army into Rome, and Rome was delirious with joy. The GIs, from their trucks and tanks, were throwing candy bars into the uplifted hands of elated Italian females. Fully-fashioned stockings would follow later, when some personal relationships were established. If the BBC news-reader did not mention that, his controlled description of events and scenes gave a clear picture of the fall of Rome to the Americans, and the advance of the Free French Force, the Canadians and the British Eighth Army east of the American drive.

  ‘A splendid campaign,’ said Mr Finch, fully recovered, back at work before expected, and giving Intelligence the benefit of his talents and experience.

  ‘Edwin, I don’t know what we’re doing in Rome,’ said Chinese Lady, ‘the Pope hasn’t been fighting us, has he?’

  ‘No, he’s been sitting on his throne not fighting anybody,’ said Sammy. ‘He’s a peacemonger.’

  ‘Sammy, don’t you mean peacemaker?’ suggested Susie.

  ‘Same thing,’ said Sammy.

  ‘Yes, same thing, Sammy,’ said Mr Finch, although he knew there were doubts about the Pope’s strange refusal to condemn Germany’s rabid anti-Semitism. It was being put down to His Holiness’s approval of Germany’s war against Russian Communism, the enemy of the Church.

  ‘Well, then,’ said Chinese Lady, ‘what’s all our tanks and guns and things doing in Rome?’

  ‘Chasing the Germans out, Mum,’ said Susie.

  ‘Susie, you sure our wireless has got it right?’ said Chinese Lady. ‘I often wonder if it knows what it’s talking about. It’s given me many a chronic headache, I can tell you. I was down in Walworth yesterday, visiting Mrs Brown while Cassie was there, and she was telling me they can’t wait to change their own wireless for a new one when new ones are in the shops. She’s had headaches too. Edwin, there ought to be a law against wirelesses giving people headaches. Can’t you speak to the Government about it?’

  ‘As soon as the Government can spare a moment, Maisie, I’ll deliver a note,’ said Mr Finch, one ear on the wireless, the other on the family.

  ‘Yes, I wish you would,’ said Chinese Lady, who considered her husband the kind of gentleman any government would be pleased to listen to.

  The phone rang. They heard Daniel call.

  ‘I’ll go, Dad. I’ll go, Mum. I’ll go, Grandma. I’ll go, Grandpa.’

  ‘That young man, well, I don’t know, what’s he telling all of us for?’ asked Chinese Lady.

  ‘To get a laugh out of Paula and Phoebe,’ said Susie. ‘Listen to them shrieking.’

  ‘I prefer any loud noises from kids to the air raid sirens,’ said Sammy.

  ‘Hello?’ said Daniel into the hall phone.

  ‘Hi, handsome,’ said Patsy.

  ‘Who’s he?’ asked Daniel.

  ‘Oh, some smarty-pants,’ said Patsy. ‘Hi, smarty-pants, can I come round? My Pa’s given me a bottle of hooch and a box of candy for your parents and grandparents, and I’ll bring them with me.’

  ‘Happy to know you’ll bring yourself as well,’ said Daniel, ‘you can help me put Paula and Phoebe to bed. Dad’s been disqualified.’

  ‘Disqualified?’ said Patsy.

  ‘From putting the girls to bed,’ said Daniel. ‘He gets them into a giggly tizzy and it keeps them awake.’

  ‘They don’t put themselves to bed?’ said Patsy.

  ‘They could, but it’s not as much fun,’ said Daniel.

  ‘We’ll have to make some rules,’ said Patsy.

  ‘Rules?’ said Daniel.

  ‘Sure,’ said Patsy. ‘You have to have rules. We’ll work some out.’

  ‘Um, I don’t think rules are very popular in this family,’ said Daniel.

  ‘I can hear those girls,’ said Patsy, ‘you’ve got mayhem. We’ll make some rules.’

  ‘You make ’em,’ said Daniel, ‘I’ll duck.’

  ‘Don’t be a funk, Daniel,’ said Patsy, ‘I’ll be on my way in five minutes.’

  She brought a bottle of American ‘Southern Comfort’ for Sammy and Mr Finch, and a box of chocolates for Susie and Chinese Lady, also an excited exposition of how the GIs had taken Rome. Then up she went with Daniel and the girls to get the latter quietly into bed. Rule one, she said: undress. Rule two: put on nightwear. Rule three: clean teeth. Rule four: say prayers. Rule five: get into bed quietly. Rule six: go to sleep.

  ‘What could be more simple, given sensible adult supervision?’ she said.

  ‘Leave it to you,’ said Daniel. ‘There’s a war on, and that’s enough for me. I’ll sit on the stairs.’

  ‘You’ll see,’ said Patsy.

  The first thing that happened concerned Paula’s attitude. Paula mostly gave no trouble at bedtime. It was Phoebe who always looked for games and giggles. But the mention of rules was a challenge to Paula, and she immediately asked if she could do rule six first, then she wouldn’t need to do any of the others. And Phoebe spoke up.

  ‘What’s rules, please?’

  ‘Instructions,’ said Patsy.

  ‘What’s them?’

  ‘Orders to be obeyed,’ said Patsy.

  ‘Oh, crikey,’ said Phoebe.

  ‘Patsy, you been and forgot rule seven,’ said Paula.

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ said Patsy. ‘So what’s rule seven?’

  ‘Mummy comes up and says goodnight to us,’ said Paula.

  ‘And kisses us,’ said Phoebe.

  ‘That’s rule eight,’ said Paula. ‘Then there’s rule nine. Daddy comes and says goodnight.’

  ‘And kisses us,’ said Phoebe.

  ‘And that brings on rule ten, when Daddy kisses you?’ said Patsy. ‘Well, we’ll work a quick way through rules one to six first, get it? Start by undressing.’

  She was on a hiding to nothing. Daniel, sitting on the foot of the stairs, with a grin on his face, heard giggles, then laughs, then shrieks. Susie came out into the hall.

  ‘What’s going on up there?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, just a few rules, Mum,’ said Daniel.

  ‘What rules?’ asked Susie.

  ‘Patsy’s,’ said Daniel.

  ‘Well, they’re not working,’ said Susie. ‘Daniel, go up and get those girls into bed.’

  ‘All three of ’em?’ said Daniel.

  ‘Listen, my lad,’ said Susie, ‘in our respected families, there’s your dad, there’s your Uncle Boots, there’s your cousin Rosie and cousin Tim. They’re all comics, so we don’t want any more, not even one more, you hear?’

  ‘Mum, are you looking at me?’

  ‘Yes, so get those sisters of yours into bed, or I’ll send your grandma up to quieten the little monkeys,’ said Susie.

  ‘I thought I’d let Patsy give it a go,’ said Daniel.

  ‘Well, we all love Patsy,’ said Susie, ‘but I don’t think she’s got the hang of it. Go on, Daniel, put your foot down.’ And she left him to it. Out of the girls’ bedroom came Patsy, flushed and giggling. She sat down on the top stair.

  ‘Who’s winning?’ asked Daniel from down below.

  �
��I’ve got a headache,’ said Patsy.

  There was a yell from Paula. Patsy jumped and disaster struck. She slid all the way down the stairs on her bottom, and although her skirt and slip stayed with her they were very much out of place.

  ‘Blind O’Reilly,’ said Daniel, ‘is that what the butler saw?’

  ‘Blow the butler,’ said Patsy, covering up her pants and stockings, ‘and the rules. You go and get them into bed, Daniel.’

  To Daniel, it all amounted to an hilarious break from the strained atmosphere of a prolonged war that had had its effect on the whole country. The wish for it to be brought to an end was intense. Mind, the arrival of Patsy into his life was a pretty uplifting event.

  He walked her home later and kissed her goodnight at her door. Patsy thought his kisses kind of clean and fresh, and that he never groped. Which was kind of nice.

  ‘Look, you can hold me, if you like,’ she said.

  ‘Hold you?’ said Daniel.

  ‘Put your arms round me,’ said Patsy.

  ‘What for?’ asked Daniel, who always played this sort of thing for laughs.

  ‘What for? What for? Well, you like me, don’t you?’

  ‘Not half,’ said Daniel, ‘especially after what the butler saw.’

  Patsy giggled.

  ‘Listen, funny guy,’ she said, ‘when you come and meet my Pa tomorrow, keep off what the butler saw or he’ll shoot you.’

  ‘How big is your Pa?’ asked Daniel, not for the first time.

  ‘Seven feet,’ said Patsy.

  ‘I think I’ll stay home,’ said Daniel.

  ‘Daniel, you’ll be here by three,’ said Patsy.

  ‘All right, I’ll risk it,’ said Daniel. ‘Any rules?’

  Patsy gave a little yell and aimed a blow. Daniel ducked and left.

  The weather was discouraging. General Eisenhower was fidgeting. The locked-in invasion force was suffering restlessness and boredom. Prime Minister Churchill was calming his nerves with a Scotch or two. Montgomery was itching for the off. The harassed meteorological boffins came up with a forecast of slightly improved conditions in two days’ time, the sixth of June.

  ‘Gentlemen, given that, we’ll go,’ said Eisenhower.

  ‘We’ll still be seasick all the way,’ said an American commander.

  Montgomery, perky, intimated that seasick men would be off their landing-craft like bats out of hell, and who could ask for more?

  If Field Marshal Rommel suspected an imminent invasion attempt, he was confident it could be broken and beaten.

  He advised the German High Command accordingly.

  ‘The main defence zone on the coast is strongly fortified and defended. There are large tactical and operational reserves in the rear areas. Thousands of pieces of artillery, anti-tank guns, rocket projectiles and flame throwers await the enemy. Millions of mines under water and on land lie in wait for him. In spite of the enemy’s great air superiority, we can face coming events with the greatest confidence.’

  It was a fact, however, that this enormous defensive concentration was aimed at smashing Allied landings on the Pas de Calais coast, the German High Command having been convinced by subtle Allied machinations that that was the selected area.

  It was another fact that the landings were to take place on the coast of Normandy, in an area well over one hundred and fifty miles south-east of Calais.

  To 30 Corps and all other units under his direct command, Montgomery sent a personal message of special encouragement. He ended with this famous military quotation:

  ‘He either fears his fate too much,

  Or his deserts are small,

  Who dare not put to the touch,

  To win or lose it all.’

  Earlier that day, a letter dropped lightly on the mat of a house on Denmark Hill. Mrs Vi Adams picked it up. It was addressed to Miss Adams. Vi gave it to Alice.

  ‘It must be for you, love.’

  ‘There’s no address or stamp,’ said Alice.

  ‘It must have come by hand,’ said Vi.

  Alice opened it.

  Dear Miss Adams,

  I think I’d like to say sorry for pulling your leg when we ran into each other. Yes, there you are, sorry. I thought I’d drop you a line to apologize and to mention that if you’d like to change your mind about a visit to the Lyceum Ballroom any Saturday evening, I’d be willing to call for you. Or do you prefer the cinema?

  Yours sincerely,

  Fergus MacAllister

  ‘Well, of all the nerve,’ said Alice, ‘look at that, Mum.’

  She passed the letter to her mother, and Vi read it.

  ‘Alice, who’s Fergus MacAllister?’ she asked.

  ‘You know, that man from the Gas Board who fitted a new joint to the airing cupboard pipe,’ said Alice. ‘The man Dad said he knew about.’

  ‘Oh, that one,’ said Vi. ‘The one you didn’t like.’

  ‘Yes, and I met the gentleman near the library yesterday,’ said Alice.

  ‘What, by arrangement?’ said Vi, wondering if her daughter liked the man, after all, and had actually found an interest outside her studying.

  ‘Arrangement?’ Alice looked offended. ‘I should say not. I bumped into him by accident, worse luck, and as for going dancing with him, even if I had time for social activities of a recreational kind, I wouldn’t wish to share them with Mr MacAllister. He’s short of personal graces.’

  Social activities of a recreational kind? Personal graces? Bless the girl, thought Vi, I hope all this studying isn’t making her old before her time.

  ‘Still, his letter has got a bit of grace to it,’ she said. ‘Alice, isn’t he the young man your dad said was wounded near Dunkirk and has got some shrapnel left in him?’

  ‘Yes, and I’m sorry about that, but I wasn’t given a chance to say so,’ complained Alice. ‘He said I talked like a sixteen-year-old girl training to be a preacher. Can you believe anyone could be so rude?’

  Lord, what an odd thing to say to a girl, thought Vi. Mind, Alice was a bit formal at times, and didn’t have much in common with her cousins Annabelle and Emma, who’d both been happy to leave school at seventeen and sort of dance into the excitements of life.

  ‘Alice, I can’t believe the young man dislikes you if he wants to take you dancing,’ said Vi. ‘Still, you can decide for yourself, love, and let him know when you reply.’

  ‘I’m not going to reply,’ said Alice, ‘I’m simply going to ignore his letter.’

  Vi, the most gentle of women and the most affectionate of mothers, for once felt a lack of sympathy with her daughter.

  ‘Now, Alice, if he was rude to you he’s been gracious enough to say he’s sorry,’ she said, ‘and I think you should be gracious enough to reply. And if you want to turn his invitation down, you can be gracious about that too. I won’t have you going about with your nose in the air.’

  Alice stared at her mum. The rebuke, spoken so firmly, astonished her. Neither of her cockney parents had ever dressed her down like that.

  ‘Well, all right,’ she said, ‘I’ll write to him, then.’

  ‘Do it now, love,’ said Vi, and stood by while Alice composed a reply.

  Dear Mr MacAllister,

  Thank you for your kind letter and for your apology, and I have no hard feelings. However, I really don’t have time for dancing or the cinema as I’m terribly busy studying the subject of English Literature. But thank you for asking me.

  Yours sincerely,

  Alice Adams

  ‘Yes, that’s gracious,’ said Vi, having read it.

  Fergus MacAllister had given his address in Grove Lane, Camberwell, not far from Denmark Hill.

  Vi posted the letter when she went shopping. Conditions were better for young people who did want to go dancing or to enjoy other forms of entertainment. Apart from the recent air raid, which had been very brief, London was being left alone by the Germans. Cinemas, theatres and dance halls were crowded most evenings, and trains, trams and
buses carried people to and from the West End without having to worry about bombs.

  Nor was the German High Command thinking in terms of orthodox assaults from the air. From Calais to Cherbourg, sites for the launching of rocket-powered bombs had been built, all pointing in the direction of London. These sites were being periodically attacked by the Allied Air Forces.

  The Allied High Command knew something the people didn’t. The hope and prayer were that by dint of deadly accurate bombing, the people wouldn’t have that knowledge carried to them in a brutally practical way.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ‘HELLO THERE, HELLO,’ breezed Mr Meredith Kirk, Patsy’s Pa, on Saturday afternoon. ‘I’m delighted to meet you, Daniel.’

  ‘Same here, Mr Kirk,’ said Daniel. The meeting was taking place in the living-room of the apartment, its double windows letting in the grey light of another cloudy and blustery day. June was playing up as if it had taken on a fit of stormy vexation. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you from Miss Kirk, your daughter.’

  ‘Miss Kirk?’ said Pa Kirk.

  ‘Patsy,’ said Daniel, ‘I just thought I ought to show good manners.’

  ‘That’s good manners, calling me Miss Kirk?’ said Patsy.

  ‘I’m not against it,’ said Pa Kirk.

  ‘It’s a hoot,’ said Patsy, ‘but Daniel’s like that sometimes. Kind of eccentric. Well, most times, actually. Don’t take too much notice, Pa.’

  ‘Eccentric?’ said Pa Kirk, a handsome man of forty-five with a deep baritone. ‘In the way of the English?’

  ‘In the way of Daniel Adams,’ said Patsy, ‘but I don’t let it bother me. I’m a good-natured girl guy.’

  Pa Kirk smiled.

  ‘Is that how you find Patsy, Daniel?’ he asked. ‘A good-natured girl guy?’

  ‘Well, to be frank, Mr Kirk,’ said Daniel, ‘your daughter’s got funny ideas about who sits on the carrier when we’re riding her bike. I’ve told her that in this country, fellers sit on the saddle, girls on the carrier, otherwise one of our old native customs goes to pot.’

  Patsy shrieked.

  ‘Told you, Pa, didn’t I tell you? He’s a kook, and an old-fashioned one.’

  ‘Let’s discuss it,’ said Pa Kirk genially. ‘Take a seat, Daniel, and if Patsy would serve us coffee, I guess we could kick a few British and American customs around, and then I’d like to hear what you think about the war generally. I’d be interested in a young man’s point of view and include it in my newscast tonight.’