‘She should contact me in an emergency,’ snapped Mavis as soon as they were outside. ‘I’m still their mother!’
‘Of course you are,’ agreed Lily, ‘but to be honest, Mavis, I’m not sure you always remember that.’
Mavis glowered at her mother. ‘You don’t know nothing,’ she spat. ‘I miss them all the time.’ And she did. Mavis did miss the girls, more than she could have believed. The house seemed empty first thing in the morning when there was no rushing round to be ready for school, and at half-past three when they would have come home, the place was too quiet; but life was certainly easier without them. There was only Jimmy to think about; she could devote all her attention to him. They were even able to go out together on a Saturday night because she didn’t have to stay at home with the girls. Without them in the house, Jimmy was less demanding. He came and went as he pleased, but finding Mavis waiting for him, her attention undivided when he did come in, made their relationship much less stressful.
Mavis could relax and be herself; she no longer had to act as a buffer between her lover and her daughters. There were times when she felt guilty that she was happier without them, but as the days passed she managed to convince herself that she had made the right decision, not for herself, but for them.
After all, she kept telling herself, they’re happy at Mum’s… and I do have the baby to consider too.
She had passed over the girls’ ration books and gave Lily eight shillings a week for their keep, but though she went to see them every Wednesday after school, it seemed as if a gap had opened up between them. They were pleased enough to see her, Rosie in particular ran into her arms, but with Rita it was different. She would say hallo and accept a kiss, but it was to Lily she turned and told about her day; of Lily she asked questions; into Lily’s lap she snuggled. Almost, Mavis thought resentfully, as if I was some distant auntie, not her mother at all.
The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear. It was a Friday; the girls had a day off school and that in itself made the day special. They woke early, and when they’d had their breakfast they waited, barely containing their excitement until the time came to have their hair brushed, tied with a white ribbon and then to get dressed. They each had a new dress for the occasion, cotton frocks fashioned from a pair of curtains that Lily had kept in an old trunk in the attic. They were patterned with red roses, and though they still looked like curtains to Lily, the girls were delighted with them, twirling and spinning so that the skirts flew out like parasols.
‘Won’t everyone think we look lovely!’ cried Rosie, as she made a wobbly curtsey to herself in the mirror. ‘I wish I could wear my party dress every day.’
‘Then it wouldn’t be a party dress, silly,’ pointed out Rita as she took her turn in front of the looking glass. ‘Anyway,’ she went on, pouting, ‘we ain’t going to the party.’
‘Never mind, love,’ comforted Lily. ‘We’ll have a party of our own back here.’
Lily was to take the girls to the register office for the actual wedding, and then they were to make themselves scarce and leave the grown-up guests free to enjoy themselves at the Red Lion.
‘It won’t be the same,’ whined Rita. ‘Why can’t we go to the real party? It’s not fair!’
‘You’re not allowed into a pub,’ Gran explained. ‘It isn’t Mum saying you can’t go in, it’s the government.’
‘Well,’ scowled Rita, ‘it’s still not fair.’
Lily rather agreed. She had offered to have the reception at her house, but Jimmy had poured scorn on the idea. ‘Who’d want to come there?’
‘Better in the Lion, Mum,’ Mavis had said, trying to be conciliatory. ‘Far less work for you… and less expense for us all.’
Lily hadn’t thought of that, but she ought to have realized that Jimmy would have. If they all went to the Red Lion, Mavis and Jimmy would provide the sandwiches, and the cake, but everyone would buy their own drinks.
‘But they won’t see our new dresses,’ wailed Rosie.
‘Course they will,’ Gran assured her, as she brushed Rosie’s fair hair, tying it carefully with two white bows on the top of her head. ‘Everyone at the registry office’ll see you. Now for goodness sake, stand still, child, or I’ll never get your hair done.’ She finished Rosie’s hair and started on Rita’s. Straight and dark and fine, it had to be plaited or it wouldn’t hold a ribbon. Rita looked at her sister’s silky, blonde hair, now caught up with the two white ribbons.
‘Why can’t I have hair like Rosie’s?’ she grumbled.
‘You’ve got lovely hair,’ said her grandmother soothingly, ‘dark like Mum’s.’
‘Rosie’s isn’t like Mum’s.’
‘No,’ agreed Lily, still plaiting the fine hair. ‘Hers is like your daddy’s was.’
‘I wish I had hair like Daddy’s,’ Rita said. ‘How did Rosie get it? She didn’t even know Daddy.’
Lily smiled. ‘Well, some children look like their mothers and some like their fathers, you don’t know till they’re born.’
‘Will Mummy’s new baby look like Uncle Jimmy?’ asked Rosie with interest.
‘No!’ Rita snapped. ‘We don’t want a brother or sister who looks like him. He’s fat and ugly.’
‘Now, Rita, that’s enough!’ said her grandmother firmly. ‘This is Mum’s special day, and you ain’t going to spoil it for her by being rude to Uncle Jimmy.’ She took Rita by the chin and looked into her eyes. ‘You understand, my girl? You behave yourself, or I’ll bring you straight home and there’ll be no party tea for you here either. Understand?’
Rita pulled free and muttered, ‘Yes, Gran,’ but her eyes were mutinous as she turned away.
They gathered outside the register office and waited for the arrival of the bride. The girls jumped up and down the steps, their skirts flying round their legs. Gran had made them each a matching pair of knickers, so that there was the occasional flash of rose-patterned underwear.
Jimmy arrived wearing his demob suit and accompanied by his father, his best man Charlie and a couple of his work-mates with their wives. When he saw the little girls playing on the steps, he glowered at them. Lily, seeing his expression, called them over to her and held each firmly by the hand.
Mavis arrived in a car. Her best friend, Carrie, from down the street, was her matron of honour, and she’d asked her brother to drive them both to the register office.
Mavis stepped out onto the pavement, her face alight with happiness. Lily, looking at her, thought she had never seen her looking so lovely, and she had to blink back unexpected tears. Mavis has had a difficult life since her Don was shot down, Lily thought as she watched her, she deserves some happiness now. I just hope she can find it with Jimmy Randall.
Carrie fussed round Mavis for a moment, straightening her dress where it had been crushed in the car. The dress was cream, patterned with tiny yellow rosebuds. Loose and flowing, it floated from Mavis’s shoulders but did little to disguise her burgeoning state. She had found the material in the market and bought it off the ration. Carrie had made the dress for her and she’d used a strip of the material to trim the jaunty straw hat that now perched on Mavis’s head. To complete her outfit, Mavis carried a tiny bunch of yellow roses, tied with yellow ribbons.
‘Mummy!’ cried Rosie, and pulling free of Lily’s hand she darted over to her mother. ‘Mummy! You’ve got a new dress too!’
Mavis held out a hand to her, smiling, and bent to kiss her daughter. Rosie put her arms round Mavis’s neck and hugged her hard. Lily let go of Rita’s hand, and Rita was about to run to her mother as well, when Jimmy strode over to his bride and grabbed her by the hand.
‘Come on,’ he said, pulling her towards the steps. ‘Let’s get married.’
Mavis smiled up at him and gripping his hand tightly, murmured, ‘Oh yes, Jimmy. Let’s.’
It seemed to take no time at all. They all went into the register office and stood round the bridal pair as they made their vows, and then they were pronounc
ed man and wife, and Mr and Mrs Jimmy Randall emerged into the sunlight.
Rita was disappointed. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t just a man asking Mum and Uncle Jimmy questions. The sun streamed in through the windows, and little dust motes danced in the sunlight. Rita watched them disconsolately, wishing she’d hugged Mum before they went in, like Rosie had. When Uncle Jimmy put a ring on Mum’s finger, Rita suddenly wondered what had happened to the one she used to wear, the one Daddy had given her. She looked carefully, but Mum certainly wasn’t wearing both.
Carrie’s husband, John, had a camera, and he took some pictures of Mum and Uncle Jimmy standing on the steps. He took one of Rita and Rosie in their new dresses, and then he asked Gran to take one of him with Carrie.
‘I don’t know how to use one of these,’ Gran protested, but John said, ‘It’s easy, Mrs Sharples. Just make sure you hold it still and press the button.’
Then it was over. Mum and Uncle Jimmy got into the car and were driven round the corner to the Red Lion, the rest of the guests following on foot.
Lily took Rosie’s hand and, calling to Rita, set off in the other direction, back to her own home in Hampton Road. Rosie skipped cheerfully along beside her. She hadn’t been disappointed in the wedding. Several of the ladies she didn’t know had told her how pretty she looked. No one had said it to Rita.
When they reached the house, they found the party tea waiting. Before the girls had got up that morning, Lily had put a white cloth on the table in the front room, and had laid out plates and glasses. On each plate was a piece of chocolate, and in the middle of the table was a jug of orange squash.
‘Now, Rita,’ Lily said, ‘you come and help me.’ They went into the kitchen and Rita was given a plate of sandwiches to carry through. There was a cake as well, and when they had eaten all that, Lily gave Rita a shilling and sent her to the corner shop for ice cream.
Later, when the children were safely in bed, Lily sat in her armchair and thought about the day. The weather had been perfect, the sun shining, and Mavis looking happier than Lily had seen her for years. The tiredness that had left her pale throughout her pregnancy seemed to have left her, and she’d looked blooming with health as she’d taken Jimmy’s hand and walked into the register office. Lily poured the last of the orange squash into a glass and raised it in a toast.
‘Here’s to you, my darling girl,’ she whispered. ‘I wish you every happiness.’ But even as she said it, Lily knew that the life Mavis had chosen was not going to be an easy one. ‘And I’ll keep your girls safe until they can come back to you, however long that is.’
On Monday it was back to school, but the girls had lots to tell the other children. Lily had explained to Rita and Rosie that when two people got married they went away together for a few days to have a little holiday on their own.
‘It’s called a honeymoon, and that’s why Mummy and Uncle Jimmy have gone to the seaside by themselves. They’ll be back on Saturday and I’m sure Mummy’ll be straight round to tell you all about it.’ She was going to say that perhaps Mum would bring them a stick of rock as a present, but she didn’t, in case Mavis didn’t.
After Lily had dropped the children off at school on Monday morning she went round to Baillies, the grocer’s.
‘How did the wedding go?’ Fred’s wife, Anne, emerged from the back of the shop. ‘You had a lovely day for it. I bet the little girls enjoyed it.’
‘They certainly did,’ Lily agreed, ‘it was lovely.’
‘Where’ve they gone for their honeymoon?’ Anne asked.
‘Southend,’ answered Lily. ‘Be nice there if this weather holds.’
‘Anything else I can get you?’ asked Fred when he’d wrapped her ration of cheese and carefully placed three eggs into her shopping basket.
‘No thanks, Fred, that’s all for today.’
Lily never saw the car that hit her. Her mind still on the wedding, she walked out into the street, straight into its path. There was the squeal of brakes, as Lily and her shopping were thrown up over the bonnet and thudded onto the windscreen. She made no sound, but pedestrians in the street shrieked as they ran to help, or simply stood, transfixed with horror at what they had just seen.
Fred Baillie, hearing the commotion, ran out of his shop and found the driver of the car out on the pavement, his face pale with fright, his hands shaking, saying over and over, ‘Not my fault! She just stepped out. Right in front of me. Just stepped out.’
Lily had slid off the car and was now lying face down in the gutter, blood running from a cut on her head, and one of her legs bent back at an alarming angle. Her eyes were closed and, though people were gathered round her, no one moved to touch her.
‘It’s Lily Sharples,’ cried Fred Baillie. ‘Is she dead?’
‘Wouldn’t know, mate,’ said a small man in overalls who had been peering down at her and now drew hastily back. ‘Looks like it.’
Fred Baillie bent down and lifted Lily’s wrist. He’d been an air-raid warden during the war, and he was used to dealing with the injured and the dead. He found a slight pulse and looked up at the circle of faces. ‘She’s alive. I’ll go and ring for an ambulance from my shop. Don’t move her.’
‘Shouldn’t we try and make her more comfortable?’ suggested a woman. ‘I mean, she’s face down in the gutter. If we just try to turn—’
‘No,’ Mr Baillie insisted. ‘Don’t touch her. I’ll call an ambulance and find a blanket to put over her, but then we leave it to the ambulance men. They’ll know what to do.’ When he was sure the ambulance was on its way and knew where to come, he went back outside and gently laid a blanket over Lily’s still form. He couldn’t hear her breathing, there seemed to be no movement of her chest, but he had definitely felt a pulse and could only hope that she would hold on until the ambulance arrived.
A young police constable had appeared and was speaking to the pale-faced driver. ‘If you could just tell me your name, sir,’ he said, ‘and then tell me exactly what happened here.’
‘Sidney Short. It wasn’t my fault, officer, she simply stepped right out in front of me. I hadn’t a chance of stopping… right out in front of me. Just stepped out.’
The constable took out his notebook and licking his pencil, said, ‘Does anyone know who she is? Did anyone else see what happened here?’
‘Her name’s Lily Sharples,’ supplied Fred Baillie. ‘The ambulance’ll be here directly.’
The constable turned his attention to him. ‘Did you see the accident, sir?’
‘No,’ admitted Fred, ‘but she’d just left my shop when it happened.’ As he spoke he reached down and picked up Lily’s basket from where it had fallen, leaving a smear of broken eggs on the pavement. He glanced into the empty basket and then round on the road. The cheese had disappeared.
At that moment they heard the clang of the ambulance bell. Yet again people paused and turned to see what was happening. This was more excitement than the street had seen since the last raid in 1944. The little crowd gathered again as the ambulance men jumped out and hurried across to the still form in the gutter. One bent down and felt for a pulse and when he succeeded in finding the faint throb under her chin, he said softly, ‘She’s still alive, Ernie. Get the stretcher.’
‘Right-ho, Jack.’ Ernie hauled a stretcher out of the back of the ambulance and laid it on the pavement. Gently the ambulance man lifted Lily’s hair and looked at the head wound. It was still bleeding and her hair was matted with blood. Very carefully he placed his fingers onto her neck, feeling the line of vertebrae at the top of her spine. She moaned a little but didn’t open her eyes, drifting off into unconsciousness again.
‘As much as we can do here, Ernie,’ Jack said straightening up. ‘Let’s get her aboard and back to casualty. You, constable, give us a hand. You support her head… don’t let it loll as we lift her onto the stretcher.’
The young constable hesitated and Fred Baillie said, ‘I’ll do it. I know how from the war.’<
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With extreme care the two ambulance men lifted the inert form of Lily Sharples onto the stretcher, with Fred Baillie holding her head as straight and level as he could.
‘Well done, mate,’ Jack said as they finally slid her into the back of the ambulance and strapped her in. ‘Know her name, do you?’
‘It’s Lily Sharples,’ replied Fred.
When the ambulance had driven off, Fred looked at the shaken Sidney Short and said, ‘Think you’d better come and sit down in my shop, mate. My missus’ll make you some tea. That’s what you need for shock. You come on inside.’ Sidney Short looked at him with gratitude and followed him into the shop.
‘What’s happened, Fred?’ cried Anne as they all trooped inside. Fred explained and Anne said, ‘But we must let Mavis know.’
‘We don’t know where she is,’ Fred said.
‘Southend.’
‘Yes, well, Southend’s a big place. They could be anywhere. How’re we going to find her?’
‘Carrie Maunder might know,’ suggested Anne.
‘I’d better go round and see her,’ said Fred. ‘Ship Street, isn’t she? Number 5?’
‘Yes, I think so,’ said Anne.
Fred nodded and set off for Ship Street.
Carrie was surprised to see him when she answered her bell. ‘Mr Baillie,’ she said, ‘what can I do for you?’
‘Carrie, d’you know where Mavis Stevens what-was has gone on her honeymoon?’
‘Mavis? She’s gone to Southend. Why?’
‘’Cos her ma’s been knocked down in the street and took to the hospital. We need to get hold of her, straight away.’
‘All I know was Southend. I don’t know where they was staying,’ said Carrie in dismay. ‘I think they was just going to find a boarding house when they got there.’
The Throwaway Children Page 6
