Starlight

by Anne Douglas

  ‘Here’s mine!’ Addie cried, as her tram came into sight. ‘Jess, come round day after tomorrow, eh, to say goodbye to Marguerite? Poor lassie, she’s to go back to Drem and she’ll be all the time thinking of Ben, down there with all the jerry planes!’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ Jess assured her, seeing her on to the tram, then standing back to wave goodbye.

  ‘Yours next!’ Addie cried from the platform.

  ‘Hope so!’ Jess called.

  But as she stood at the stop, still waiting, her thoughts had returned to Rusty. What did the future hold for him? If his superiors discovered his drinking, would he be court-martialled? He’d sworn he never took risks at work and she believed him, because he’d never risk other lives as well as his own, but someone had said something to Ben and Ben had drawn his own conclusions. If only she could see Rusty – find out what was going on.

  ‘You wanting this one, hen?’ a woman asked in her ear, and giving a start of surprise, Jess saw her tram was beside her at the stop. Although folk said the trams made enough noise to wake the dead, she’d been so deep in her own thoughts, she hadn’t heard her number and almost missed it.

  ‘Oh, I do!’ she cried, ‘thanks!’

  And jumping on to the platform, she was borne away to her lonely home.

  Thirty-Seven

  On a warm, thundery afternoon in August, Jess was in her office, working on a plan she had for children’s Saturday morning cinema, still trying not to think of what was happening in the south where the Battle of Britain continued to rage.

  Every day, the planes from the Luftwaffe came over, attacking airfields and radar stations, and every day, the planes of the British Fighter Command went up to do battle. How long could it go on? Until Hitler realised he wasn’t going to win, and turned to something else. And everyone was pretty sure what that would be – bombing British cities. He was never going to forget the reprisal raids by the British over Berlin in return for an earlier, mistaken, attack on London. It would only be a matter of time before the raids came, and might invasion follow? In the meantime, the fights in the skies went on.

  There was nothing the onlookers of the country could do except, as the order went, ‘carry on’ – with their own lives, their own work, which was why Jess was concentrating hard on her new project for the children.

  It was not something the Princes had offered before, but Jess was keen to make her cinema more a part of the community, and with so many children now returned from the country districts where they’d been sent as evacuees, she was sure her idea would be welcome. After all, cinemas in other areas had been doing it for years – why not the Princes, the best in the city?

  Mustn’t appear to believe we’re too grand, she thought, pencilling in the types of film that would appeal to her new audience. Mickey Mouse and the Disney cartoons, of course, and Popeye, and maybe some of the old Our Gang series. But then they’d need a few educational films as well – geographical stuff, maybe, and animal welfare. Maybe she should set up some meetings with the schools – see what they’d recommend.

  ‘Hello, hello, anybody home?’ came a voice at her door, and it was Sally’s.

  ‘Sally! How nice to see you!’ Jess cried, jumping to her feet. ‘I didn’t know you were on leave.’

  ‘Permanent leave,’ Sally answered with a laugh, as they hugged each other. ‘Oh, my word, Jess, aren’t you the grand one! Manager of the Princes, no less! Didn’t I always say you’d do well?’

  Settling herself in the interview chair, Sally’s round blue eyes rested appraisingly on Jess.

  ‘But, oh, lassie, you’ve lost weight, eh? Is it worrying over Rusty, then? Has he got his posting yet?’

  ‘No’ yet, but I’m expecting him home any time for leave after the course. Then, he’ll be away.’ Jess tried to smile. ‘Like Ben, you know. He’s been posted to the south of England.’

  ‘Poor Marguerite.’ Sally shook her head. ‘At least Arnold’s still in Scotland. Och, what a time we’re all having, eh? Poor George, as well. I was that upset when I heard about him, you know. Thank the Lord you were around to take over!’

  ‘I’d never have got the job if it hadn’t been for the circumstances, Sally. I’m no’ going to pretend otherwise.’

  ‘You’d have got it eventually, Jess. I always knew you weren’t going to stay in the box office. But listen . . . I’ve something to tell you.’ Sally leaned forward and put out her left hand. ‘See that, dear?’

  Jess stared. ‘A wedding ring, Sally? You’re married? And you never said a word!’

  ‘It was all very hush-hush. Special licence. Just the two of us and a couple of witnesses. But I’m here to tell you all about it now.’

  ‘Why, though, Sally? Why’d you suddenly decide to get married, when you said you wouldn’t?’

  ‘Come on, now, you’re the bright one, eh? Why do folk sometimes get married in a hurry?’

  ‘You’re no’. . . you’re no’ telling me you’re . . .’

  ‘I am, dear.’ Sally gave one of her famous chuckles. ‘I’m expecting. And after our two mothers, you’re one of the first to know.’

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ Jess was murmuring. ‘I just can’t take it in.’

  ‘Haven’t you noticed anything unusual about me, then? And I don’t mean I’m showing, because at the moment I’m just my usual overweight self. But something’s different.’

  Hair’s blonder, face is plumper – Jess, frowning, suddenly cried, ‘Why, Sally, where’s your uniform?’

  ‘First prize to Mrs MacVail! And why I’m no’ wearing my uniform is because I’m on that permanent leave I mentioned. I’m out, Jess, out of the army. For me – the war is over!’

  At the dazed expression on Jess’s face, Sally chuckled again.

  ‘For obvious reasons, expectant mums are given the boot, and as I’m expecting, that’s me out. It’s a joke, eh? After all the advice I gave you, to go and fall for a baby myself?’

  ‘Listen, I think I’ll get us some tea.’

  ‘And biscuits, if you’ve got any, dear!’ Sally called. ‘I’m starving.’

  Over the tea and the ginger snaps Edie had produced, Sally explained how she’d been, as she put it, caught out.

  ‘Aye, caught out, Jess. Caught in the trap. Thing was, Arnold and me’d had no leave together, and then we wangled a weekend pass and went to a hotel for a bit of a treat. We were that excited, we just clean forgot our you know what, and Arnold said, “What the hell, we’ll be all right for once.”’

  ‘Talk about famous last words!’ Sally cheerfully drank her tea. ‘Next thing I knew, I was saying goodbye to the girls and on my way home, having to tell my mother and Arnold’s and putting up with all the wailing and gnashing of teeth etcetera. Thank God I’d got my wedding ring!’

  Sally pressed Jess’s hand.

  ‘Sorry you weren’t there to see me married, dear, but I’ve come round soon as I could to tell you.’

  ‘And I appreciate it. But when’s the great day for the baby?’

  ‘Oh, not till January. A nice long way off. Before that, Arnold and me are going to rent our own flat. There’ll be no staying with my ma or Arnold’s. My baby’s going to have his own home. Or her own home, as the case may be.’

  Sally rose and gave Jess a last tight hug.

  ‘Now, I’d better go. But we’ll meet again soon, eh? Have a coffee, or something, now that I‘m a lady of leisure?’

  ‘And if you ever get tired of being that, and the baby’s got a minder, maybe you’ll come back to the Princes?’ Jess asked. ‘Oh, it’d be so good to have somebody like you around here again!’

  ‘Hey, I might take you up on that. Going to walk me out?’

  On their way through the foyer, they passed the same pictures of the stars that Sally had pointed out to the candidates on the box office interview day. Which, to Jess, always seemed to belong to another age, when she’d been a much younger, quite different person.

  ‘There they are!’ Sally cried.
‘All the stars, eh? Oh, my, I could tell you were star-struck all right, Jess. You were up there with them, weren’t you? Eyes shining like it was Christmas. Remember how you used to like Henry Fonda?’

  ‘When did I say I liked Henry Fonda?’ Jess asked quickly.

  ‘Well, was it Tyrone Power, then? Or Laurence Olivier? I’m sure it was one of those handsome heart-throbs.’ Sally’s cheerfulness failed her for a moment. ‘All seems different now, eh?’ Her lip trembled. ‘World seems darker.’

  ‘Don’t say that!’ Jess cried. ‘Think of all you’ve got to look forward to. The baby and everything.’

  ‘Aye, but it’s the chaps we’ll want home, eh? And Arnold’s with the Black Watch – they’re always in the thick of battle.’

  ‘He’ll come home, Sally,’ Jess said urgently, wondering why people brought out such words without meaning. But of course she knew why. They were for comfort. For hope. You had to say something. ‘Rusty, too,’ she added.

  ‘Well, you watch out when you meet Rusty again,’ Sally cried, casting aside her sudden fit of the blues. ‘Aye, you take care. Or there’ll be two of us with the green ration books for expectant mothers!’

  I’ll take care, all right, Jess told herself. In the future, yes, she would want a baby, but not now, when she was so keen to make something of her job. As for Rusty’s future – she couldn’t bear even to contemplate that one day he might not have one at all.

  ‘I’d just like to pop in to see the dear old place,’ Sally was murmuring, bouncing into the box office, but of course she couldn’t stay long for Flo was on her own and the queue waiting for tickets was winding into the street.

  ‘Watch out, you’ll have to lend a hand,’ Jess said with a laugh, at which Flo, giving a harassed smile, said she wished Sally could, and Sally herself promised, next time she was in, she would.

  ‘Not to worry,’ Jess told Sally. ‘I’ll help Flo for a while, seeing as Netta is not due in till five. We’re still what you always said we were, you know – one big happy family!’

  ‘Ah, that’s good, Jess, that’s good!’ Sally cried, and hurried away, back to her waiting mother, calling as she went that she’d be in touch.

  ‘Don’t forget!’ Jess cried, and telling Flo to go for a cup of tea, stepped back with ease into her old job, just for half an hour.

  When she arrived home that evening, there was a letter on the doormat. Thank God, from Rusty.

  He had done well. Passed out near the top of the list, which meant he was truly a navigator. He would be home at the weekend, for end-of-course leave, so get ready to celebrate. No mention of a posting, of course, for the censor would probably only have crossed it out, but while she was preparing to celebrate, she’d better prepare herself for Rusty’s news of it.

  Thirty-Eight

  Somehow, Rusty seemed to know, even in the darkness, that Jess was smiling, and ran his finger round the outline of her mouth as they lay together on his first night home.

  ‘What’s the joke?’ he whispered. ‘Or is that smile for me?’

  ‘All my smiles are for you.’ For some time, she kissed him, then pulled away, still smiling. ‘But I was thinking of Sally.’

  ‘Sally? We’ve just made love, and you’re thinking of Sally Dollar?’

  ‘Ah, but she’s isn’t Sally Dollar now, she’s Mrs Arnold Adams. She got married, and you’ll never guess why. There’s a baby on the way!’

  ‘Help, earth-shattering news!’ Rusty grinned, reaching out for his cigarettes on the bedside table. ‘So, what’s so funny?’

  ‘I wasn’t smiling about the baby. In fact, I think it’s lovely – Sally’s really thrilled, whatever she says. No, I’m just remembering all the advice she gave me and how she said she wouldn’t be married for years. And then she falls for a baby herself!’

  Rusty, smoking, for some time made no comment.

  ‘That was the funny thing,’ Jess said, trying to see his expression. ‘Don’t you think so?’

  ‘But now Sally’s thrilled. How would you feel, Jess?’

  ‘About having a baby? Well, I’d like one some time, but I don’t feel ready yet. I’ve got my job.’ Her fingers kneaded the edge of the sheet. ‘And then – the time’s no’ right, is it?’

  ‘I’m not so sure. Maybe it’s exactly right for you to have a baby.’ Rusty, feeling for the ashtray by the bed, put out his cigarette and took Jess in his arms. ‘Mine, Jess.’

  In spite of the warmth of the night, she shivered and drew away.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she whispered. ‘You’re thinking a bairn would be something of you, aren’t you? For me to have – if you . . .’

  He put his hand over her lips. ‘No words. Don’t put those thoughts into words. I’m coming back.’ He laughed. ‘Haven’t gone anywhere yet.’

  ‘Where are you going, Rusty? You haven’t told me.’

  ‘An airfield in Kent. Mainly reconnaissance work.’

  ‘That’s a relief. I thought you’d be bombing.’

  ‘Not yet. For me, anyway.’

  ‘You will be going on raids, though?’

  ‘Look, I don’t know what I’ll be doing exactly.’

  She was silent, staring into the unknown, but knowing there was no point in questioning him further. After a while, he said quietly, ‘You still don’t want to, Jess? I mean, start a baby?’

  ‘No, it wouldn’t be right just now.’

  ‘Because you know what it’s like, to have no dad?’

  ‘Hush, don’t talk like that, Rusty!’

  ‘Well, the other thing is, you’ve got your job.’

  ‘And I’ve got my job. I’ll no’ deny it means a lot to me.’ Holding him close, she kissed him passionately. ‘But no’ as much as you.’

  ‘You want to go to sleep now?’ he asked tenderly.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ She flung her arms around him. ‘Might be a bit of a waste.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ Rusty said.

  In the morning, bliss over, reality set in. As Jess prepared their frugal breakfast, she knew she was going to have to speak about things that mattered. For her own peace of mind. This was the time, before Rusty left her, to discuss what hung over her like a dark cloud, except when making love rolled it away. But they couldn’t make love all the time.

  ‘Sorry, the breakfast’s no’ up to much,’ she told him, when Rusty came into the kitchen, smelling of soap from the bath she’d run for him, his short hair damp and on end. ‘There’s bacon, but no eggs. I used them for that cake you like.’

  ‘Hey, bacon’s a feast! It’s what the pilots get.’ He gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek and sat down. ‘But you’ve got some, haven’t you?’

  ‘You know I’m no’ fussy over bacon. Toast’ll do me.’

  Pouring tea, she looked away from his happy face, so that she should not be distracted. But maybe she should say nothing? Let things go. Share his happiness on this last weekend before his posting? No. Resolutely, she turned aside from that easy option. She had to speak. There was no other way.

  ‘It was grand that you did so well on the course,’ she said, carefully scraping a little butter on her toast. ‘There were no problems, then?’

  Already, his gaze was wary, as he looked at her over his teacup. ‘I told you I’d no problems with the course, Jess.’

  ‘But you do have problems, Rusty.’

  He set down his cup, pushed away his plate.

  ‘What are you trying to say, Jess? Just tell me.’

  ‘Well . . . I saw Ben before he went south. Marguerite asked Ma and me round.’

  Rusty’s lips tightened. ‘And what’s Ben got to do with anything?’

  ‘He told me he’d met someone from your course.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘He didn’t give his name. But this chap, whoever he was, said he knew you and that you were a good guy . . .’

  ‘Ha!’ Rusty cried. ‘So I am, then.’

  ‘I said that, too, but, apparently, the chap th
ought you were . . .’ Jess hesitated. ‘A bit nervy. Maybe not so fit . . . as you’d been. I’m wondering . . . why he said that.’

  ‘So am I. He has his cheek, discussing me with a complete stranger.’

  ‘Ben is sort of your brother-in-law, Rusty.’

  ‘But the other fellow didn’t know Ben, did he? What the hell gave him the right to tell Ben anything at all about me, for God’s sake?’

  ‘Does he know about your drinking?’ Jess cried. ‘That’s what’s worrying me. If he knows, who else knows?’

  ‘Nobody! Nobody knows, or I’d have been out on my ear by now. There’s no need for you to worry. It’s my secret, and yours – no one else’s.’

  Bravely, her gaze locked with his. ‘I think Ben knows.’

  Rusty pushed back his chair and stood up.

  ‘He couldn’t,’ he said huskily. ‘He’s not even been up to the airfield. There’s no way he could know.’

  ‘Unless this fellow from the course knows. And told him.’

  Watching him now, Jess was painfully wondering how she could ever have thought Rusty looked happy. And she had done it. She had wiped the bliss from his face as though with a wet towel. She had ruined his time with her, and it might be his last. Yet, as she ran to take him into her arms, she knew she couldn’t have taken any other course. There’d been no other way, except to tell him, warn him.

  ‘Rusty,’ she gasped, ‘I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I’ve upset you. But I had to tell you – I had to try to make you see . . .’

  ‘See what?’ he asked dully. ‘That I’m hurting you? I know that already.’

  ‘Hurting yourself! How are you going to carry on, keeping your drinking a secret? You know it isn’t possible. It will come to light and then . . . well, I don’t know what will happen . . . but, oh, Rusty, could you no’ try to give it up?’

  He slowly ran his hand down her face, and looked away.

  ‘I wish I could, Jess. I wish I could.’

  They put the dishes into the sink and sat down together on the sofa in their living room, winding their arms around each other as though all was well, as though they were still the carefree lovers of the night. But to Jess, it was as though they’d both grown older, taken on the cares of a lifetime they could never shake off – except that they had to.