Wish Me Luck

by Dickinson, Margaret

  As the guests milled around, helping themselves to the food, chattering and laughing, Meg made her way through the throng to stand behind him.

  ‘Hello, Jake. How are you?’

  He heard her voice and, slowly, he turned to face her. The breath caught in his throat. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. He didn’t see the tiny lines around her eyes; to him the years fell away and there before him was his flame-haired Meg with her heartbreaking smile.

  He cleared his throat but his voice was still a little husky as he answered, ‘Fine, Meg. And you? You .. . you look – wonderful.’ He couldn’t stop the compliment escaping his lips, even though he felt disloyal to the absent Betsy the moment the words were said. But Meg was smiling up at him, her green eyes gently teasing him. ‘So do you.’

  Jake pulled a face. ‘I don’t know about that. I’ve a lot more wrinkles and grey hairs.’

  Meg’s gaze never left his face. ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘You haven’t changed. You’re still my – still Jake.’

  There was an awkward pause before she went on, making her tone deliberately light. ‘Who’d’ve thought it, eh? Your girl and my boy. Must be fate taking a hand, Jake.’

  Jake sighed. ‘That’s one way of putting it, I suppose. But is it a kind fate or a cruel one?’

  Meg glanced across at Robbie and Fleur, who were touring the room, making sure they spoke to each and every person there to give their thanks.

  ‘He’s not like me, Jake. Just in case you’re worried. He’s got none of my badness. He loves Fleur dearly. He won’t hurt her like I.. .’ Her voice trailed away and Jake saw the tears shimmer in her eyes.

  ‘Oh, don’t cry, Meggie, I couldn’t bear it,’ he whispered and fished out the spotless white handkerchief from his top pocket. ‘Here.’ His use of the pet name he’d always had for her all those years ago was almost her undoing. For a moment the tears threatened to spill over.

  ‘Thanks.’ Meg dabbed carefully at her eyes. Then she handed him the handkerchief, which he stuffed back into his pocket.

  ‘You weren’t bad,’ he told her softly. ‘Just . . . just very young and you’d been so hurt by – well – by life. I said some very harsh things to you then, Meggie. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I deserved them, Jake,’ she said simply. ‘But I want you to know, I’ve changed. Ever since that day when I nearly lost Robbie, when that dreadful woman tried to snatch him away from me, I’ve tried to make up for all the terrible things I did. I know I can’t change the past, but I’ve tried to be a better person. Truly, I have.’

  ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself, Meggie. We . . . we all make mistakes. We’ve all done things we maybe shouldn’t have.’ She looked at him keenly, but he was avoiding her gaze now. ‘Can I ask you something, Meg? Don’t answer, if you don’t want to.’

  She knew a moment’s panic, but then remembered. This was Jake she was talking to: Jake, who knew everything there was to know about her. She had no secrets from him. Nor did she want any. If there was one person in the whole wide world whom Meg could trust, it was Jake.

  ‘Is it true that you have your father living with you?’

  Meg laughed with relief. ‘Yes, but I can see why you’re surprised.’ She smiled impishly now. ‘That’s all part of my reformed character, Jake. How could I continue to bear a grudge against him when I did things that were just as bad, if not worse?’

  Jake pursed his lips. ‘Well, it was because of what he did that made you like that. You were only searching for security. For someone to take care of you. You couldn’t wait for . . .’ His voice trailed away.

  Meg shook her head. ‘Don’t try to excuse me, Jake. I . . . I should have had more faith.’ Her voice was almost an inaudible whisper as she added, ‘More faith in you.’

  ‘How did he come back into your life?’

  ‘Just turned up at my door one day. He’d been living rough. He was in a terrible state. How could I turn him away?’

  ‘What happened to Alice Smallwood? The girl he ran off with?’

  Meg shrugged. ‘She’d found a bigger fish. Ran off with someone with money. Pops has never talked about her much, but I gather he tried to follow her, and the feller she’d taken up with got some of his cronies to beat Pops up. Nearly killed him. He’d still got a lot of the bruises by the time he found me.’ She paused and then added softly, ‘He’s spent every day since trying to make it up to me and he’s been wonderful for Robbie.’ She glanced across fondly at her son. ‘That’s one thing I’m never going to apologize for, Jake. Having Robbie. Though I could have wished that his father—’

  ‘Don’t, Meggie, don’t say it.’ He reached out and took her hand. ‘It shouldn’t be spoken of. Not today of all days.’

  ‘No, you’re right.’ She smiled up at him, her tears dried now. ‘Today’s a happy day. Let’s just enjoy it. Let’s just enjoy seeing each other again because I gather’ – she looked around the room – ‘that this might be the only chance we’ll ever get.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jake said sadly. ‘I’m afraid it probably is, Meggie.’

  Thirty-Two

  ‘Fleur,’ Robbie whispered close to her ear so that no one else could hear. ‘Don’t look now, but your dad is holding my mum’s hand.’

  ‘Eh?’ Startled, Fleur looked round quickly, her gaze seeking out Jake and Meg.

  ‘No, no, don’t look. Don’t – spoil it. In a minute or two as we move round the room, take a look though. There’s something between them. You can see it in their faces. Just look.’

  Fleur tried to concentrate on what the woman in front of her was saying. ‘My dear, you look lovely,’ the little woman who helped her husband run the village bakery gushed. ‘It’s done us so much good to have such a pretty wedding in the midst of these dark times. Everyone in the village has loved planning this little surprise for you both. Of course, it was Harry’s idea, but we’ve all chipped in. I made the cake. I’m so sorry it’s covered with a cardboard decoration instead of real icing.’

  ‘You’ve all been wonderful. You’ve made our day even more special. And the cake looks wonderful. You’d never know until you get right near it that it’s not real. But the real cake underneath tastes delicious,’ Fleur said and, impulsively, she leant forward and kissed the woman’s cheek.

  ‘Lots of people gave me fruit for it,’ the little woman went on, blushing a little. ‘And Mr Clegg gave me the eggs.’

  ‘How very kind everyone has been.’

  Then, at last, Fleur was able to move away and take a surreptitious look across the crowded room towards her father and Meg. What she saw made her catch her breath in a gasp of surprise.

  Close beside her, Robbie murmured, ‘See what I mean?’

  ‘Yes.’ Fleur nodded slowly. ‘Yes, I do.’

  Jake and Meg were standing close together looking into each other’s faces as if there was no one else in the room. They were oblivious to the chatter and laughter around them, completely lost in their own little world.

  Fleur made an involuntary movement towards them, but Robbie touched her arm and said softly, ‘Don’t spoil it, Fleur. What harm can it do? Just this once. This may be the only time they’ll ever have.’

  Fleur bit her lip. Even from the other side of the room, she could see the raw emotion on her father’s face, could see Robbie’s mother’s eyes shimmering with tears, and her tremulous smile.

  ‘Yes, but what about my mum? What about her?’

  ‘She was the one who chose not to come today.’

  ‘Yes – and now we can see why, can’t we?’

  Robbie sighed. ‘But if she had come, darling, that’ – he nodded towards the couple – ‘wouldn’t be happening, now would it?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ Fleur agreed.

  ‘I don’t expect they’ll ever meet up again. Let them just have these few moments, eh?’

  Fleur nodded, a lump in her throat. She felt torn by divided loyalties: loyalty to her mother and yet now she understood a little more the reason behi
nd the faraway look she had so often seen in her father’s eyes.

  ‘Kenny’ll put a stop to it, though, if he sees.’

  Robbie laughed softly. ‘He’s got eyes for no one but Ruth, darling. I don’t think he’ll even notice. Now, come along, I think we can be on our way without it looking too rude to all these kind people.’

  They made another circuit of the room, saying goodbye to everyone and repeating their thanks.

  Kenny pumped Robbie’s hand. ‘Look after my big sister, else I’ll be after you.’

  Robbie laughed. ‘I will and thanks, Kenny, for today. I know it hasn’t been easy for you.’

  Kenny pulled a face. There was no need to pretend he didn’t know what Robbie meant. ‘It’s Dad I feel sorry for. It’s not long before I can join up and, believe me, I’m off the moment I can. But Dad’ll be left there on his own with her.’ He shook his head. ‘I really don’t know what’s got into her. She never used to be like this. But maybe once this is all over, she’ll settle down a bit. Come to terms with it, you know.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Robbie said, but as he turned away to go towards where Jake and his mother were still standing engrossed in each other, he thought, but I doubt it.

  Meg and Jake broke apart, almost guiltily, as Robbie and Fleur arrived beside them at the same moment.

  ‘You off now?’ Jake said heartily. He held out his hand to Robbie. There had been no official speeches by the father of the bride or the best man. Only Robbie had stood up and thanked everyone present for the marvellous surprise reception. So now was the moment for Jake to say, ‘I’m proud to have you as my son-in-law. Take care of each other . . .’ He seemed about to say more, but his voice cracked and he swallowed as if having difficulty in holding back the tears.

  Meg broke the moment by kissing Fleur on both cheeks and saying, ‘And I already love you, my darling daughter-in-law. And I can’t wait for you to make me into a granny.’

  The tension was broken by Robbie saying, ‘Hey, steady on, Mum.’ But he enveloped Meg into his arms, giving her a bear hug. ‘Look after Pops and we’ll see you as soon as we get back.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Now that’s a secret. Even Fleur doesn’t know. But I’ll ring Mr Tomkins when we get there. I promise.’

  After a lot more handshaking and hugs, Fleur and Robbie finally made their escape, running hand in hand down the lane, laughing together.

  ‘I thought we’d never get away,’ Robbie said.

  ‘I know, but wasn’t it a lovely surprise? How sweet of everyone.’

  ‘It was. The perfect send off.’

  Back at the cottage, Fleur changed quickly into her best outfit and Robbie loosened his tie and flung his cap into the back of the borrowed sports car as he stowed Fleur’s battered suitcase in the boot space. He opened the passenger door for her to climb in and then he vaulted over the door on the driver’s side.

  ‘Ready?’ He grinned at her and Fleur giggled, deliciously anticipating the week ahead. A whole seven days alone and away from the war.

  As they passed the pub, a shower of confetti cascaded over them, thrown by the villagers who lined the lane. With shouts of ‘Good Luck’ ringing in their ears, they roared out of the village.

  It was strangely quiet after the sound of their car had faded away, an anti-climax after all the frivolity. The villagers began to drift away back to their own homes, carefully carrying some of the food that had been left. It was too precious to waste. Jake and Meg stood awkwardly together, knowing the moment of parting had come. As Kenny came bounding towards them, Meg held out her hand.

  ‘Goodbye, Jake. It’s been lovely to see you, and Robbie will look after her, I can promise you that.’

  Jake nodded. ‘I know,’ he said huskily. ‘And . . . and you take care of yourself, Meggie.’

  ‘Ruth’s had to rush off. She’s on duty later. So—’ Kenny glanced from one to the other. ‘Are you ready, Dad?’

  ‘Just coming, just coming, lad,’ Jake replied, yet he made no move.

  It was Meg who turned to Kenny, held out her hand and said, ‘It’s been good to meet you, Kenny. Take care.’

  ‘Can we give you a lift anywhere, Mrs Rodwell?’ the young man asked.

  ‘That’s very kind of you.’ Meg smiled. ‘But I’ll be fine.’

  Then, before either of them could stop her, she turned and walked away from them without looking back. Jake stood a moment watching her until Kenny touched his arm and said gently, ‘Come on, Dad. Time we were going home.’

  ‘What’s this, I’d like to know?’

  Betsy thrust Jake’s large white handkerchief towards him, shaking it under his nose. Even before he could look at it properly, she shrieked, ‘Make-up, that’s what it is. A woman’s make-up. Whose is it, might I ask? As if I didn’t know.’

  Jake blinked and stared at the smear of pink on the white cotton. Keeping his face expressionless, he said mildly, ‘It’s Fleur’s. Whose do you think it is?’ He stared her straight in the eyes. ‘She had a few tears, the lass did. And why do you think that was, eh?’

  For a moment, Betsy was disconcerted. ‘Over me, you mean?’

  ‘Of course over you, Betsy. Doesn’t every girl want her mother with her on her wedding day?’

  ‘How would I know?’ Betsy said bitterly. ‘I never had a mother. At least, not one I can remember very well.’

  ‘Then all the more reason why you should’ve swallowed your own resentment and thought of her – for once. But you’ll just have to live with it now, Betsy, won’t you? That you didn’t go to your only daughter’s wedding.’

  Jake turned on his heel and slammed out of the house, leaving Betsy – for the first time – feeling a twinge of guilt.

  Thirty-Three

  They drove to the east coast, to Skegness, where they walked along the sea front and viewed with sadness the lovely scene scarred with rolls of barbed wire. Areas of the wide expanse of sandy beach were mined. Even there, the war could not be forgotten entirely.

  ‘There’s a lot of RAF chaps about. I wonder why?’ Robbie mused. In the bar of the guesthouse where they were staying, they found out.

  ‘It’s a training centre,’ the landlord, Jim Spriggs, explained and winked. ‘Good place for square bashing, ain’t it? All that drill along Grand Parade and Tower Esplanade. They’re even using some of the quieter streets, an’ all. It’s a sight to see.’

  ‘We saw them this morning,’ Robbie said. ‘We were trying to get on the pier, but couldn’t. I wanted to see it from the ground.’ He smiled. ‘We often come over this way when we’re setting off across the North Sea and Johnny – that’s our navigator – uses your pier as a guide. Reckons he knows what course to set then.’

  ‘Aye, I’ve heard that said afore,’ Jim nodded. ‘They’ve built an assault course near the pier and another in an overgrown area at the end of North Parade that the locals have always called “The Jungle”. The RAF lads are billeted in the empty hotels on the sea front and their officers’ mess is in one of the bigger hotels, the NAAFI in another.’ He pulled a face. ‘But I reckon a lot of the hotels are closed for the duration – to holidaymakers that is. Oh, we get a few, like yourselves, but not like we used to afore the war. The kiddies can’t play on a mined beach, can they? There’s even a gun position in the Fairy Dell.’ His mouth tightened. The fact seemed to hurt him personally. ‘But it’s not the RAF being here we mind,’ he said, as if fearful he might have given offence to his guests. ‘We like having ’em, and, of course, we’ve got the Royal Navy just up the road. Taken over Billy Butlin’s holiday camp. HMS Royal Arthur, they call it. Oh, there’s a lot going on in Skeggy, I can tell you, but it’s just this bloody war’s altered everyone’s lives, hasn’t it?’ He eyed them curiously. ‘What about you two . . . ?’ Then, guessing correctly, a broad smile spread across his face. ‘Ah, honeymooners, eh? A wartime wedding?’

  Robbie grinned back at him. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Oi, missis,’ the man ra
ised his voice. ‘We’ve got a couple of honeymooners here, love.’

  His wife appeared from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. ‘Oh, how lovely. I’ll cook you something special tonight, my dears . . .’ And with a smile and a nod, his ‘missis’ disappeared back into her kitchen.

  ‘Now, mebbe I shouldn’t be telling you this,’ Jim said with a teasing smile, ‘seeing as you’re honeymooners, but there is a very good show on this week at the local theatre.’ He reached under the bar and pulled out the local paper. Opening it up, he jabbed his finger. ‘Aye, here it is. “All Clear” they call it. Some clever acts, so I’ve been told. And then there’s two very good cinemas in the town.’ He sniffed with annoyance. ‘Used to have three we did until the Luftwaffe decided to bomb one of ’em last January. The Central and then there’s the Parade on the sea front.’

  ‘We saw it this morning. It was advertising a Henry Fonda film, I think.’

  ‘That’s right. Chad Hanna. It’s got Dorothy Lamour in, an’ all. I like her. Bit of all right, she is.’ He glanced archly at Robbie. ‘Mind you, you’ll not be noticing, will ya, lad?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Robbie said gallantly.

  Fleur grinned saucily and said, ‘Well, I don’t mind you looking, as long as you don’t touch.’ To which remark the two men laughed heartily.

  ‘Then there’s Pygmalion on at the Central with Leslie Howard and Wendy Hiller . . .’ Jim went on.

  ‘I’ve seen that,’ Fleur said.

  ‘So’ – Robbie grinned – ‘Dorothy Lamour it is, then.’

  The variety show they saw at the Arcadia Theatre later in the week was slick and professional, with a silent comedy routine, a witty comedian, and a clever dancing act. To top it all, the female singer, Elsie, each night picked a serviceman from the audience to assist her in her song ‘Arm in Arm Together’.

  Robbie, sitting three rows back, in his smart RAF uniform, the silver buttons sparkling in the lights, was a sitting duck. He cast a rueful grin at Fleur, who dissolved into helpless laughter to see him taken up on stage to be greeted by rapturous applause from the audience. At the end of the song, Elsie brought him back to his seat and planted a kiss on his cheek, leaving a perfect impression of her mouth in lipstick.