by Pam Weaver
Never mind, next Saturday was going to be wonderful. She’d got eighteen pounds, four shillings and eleven pence saved upstairs, and that was quite apart from what she had in her Post Office savings book. She could take a couple of quid and buy all the kiddies an ice cream.
The washing up finished, Dottie picked up the bowl to throw the dirty water onto the garden.
‘Coo-ee, coo-ee.’ Ann Pearce was leaning over the garden fence.
Dottie’s heart sank as the full horror of last night came flooding back. What did Ann want? She was smiling. What was she going to say?
Dottie tried to appear unruffled. ‘Lovely day.’
‘Smashing,’ said Ann. She noted Ann’s lank and greasy hair, fastened to the side of her head with a large hairslide. Dottie thought it a pity that she didn’t make more of herself. She wondered if she should offer to give her one of those new Sta Set Magicurls like the one Mary had tried a few months ago. It only cost ninepence and it was really successful. Ann was an attractive woman but it seemed she had given up on herself. Dottie supposed it must be because Ann had lost everything when her husband came home almost two years after the war had ended. There was an ugly scene and both Ann’s husband and the man she was living with had cleared off.
Ann raised an eyebrow. ‘Having a good day today?’
‘Er … yes, thanks,’ said Dottie, slightly flustered.
Ann smiled. ‘How did the wedding go?’
Dottie felt uneasy. She didn’t want this conversation to continue. If Reg came out and saw her talking to Ann, she’d never hear the last of it. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘I think I can hear Reg calling.’
‘Before you go,’ Ann called after her. Her smile was too bright, too eager. Dottie’s stomach churned. ‘I don’t like to ask, but I seem to have run out of money for the gas.’
Dottie relaxed. This was the first time Ann had ever actually asked her for anything directly. Usually, Dottie had to resort to subterfuge to offer her a helping hand.
‘I wonder if you could help me out,’ she’d said to Ann on more than one occasion. ‘I seem to have made far too much casserole for just the two of us. Reg would go mad if he thought I’d was wasting good food, but he doesn’t care to have the same meal two nights running.’
Grudgingly, and only to ‘do her a favour’, Ann would take the dish, making sure to return it, clean, when Reg was at work. For the sake of her pride, Dottie couldn’t do it very often. It wasn’t like Ann to actually ask for something.
‘I meant to have got some change when I went down the village yesterday,’ Ann went on, ‘but I clean forgot all about it when I bumped into Doctor Fitzgerald. It was such a struggle getting away from him. Well, you know how it is.’
Dottie could feel her face begin to flame.
‘So,’ Ann continued, ‘if you could spare a few shillings for the gas …’
The sun went behind a cloud. ‘Yes,’ said Dottie weakly. ‘How much do you need?’
‘Ten bob would do nicely,’ said Ann.
Dottie turned to go inside. ‘I’ll just get my handbag. Ten bob, d’you say?’
Ann nodded. ‘That’ll do … for now.’
Seven
Saturday August 25 was indeed what the papers called ‘a scorcher’. When the lorry arrived outside Dottie’s cottage, the back of it had been transformed by an assortment of blankets and cushions. Mary was perched on top of a pillow laid on a crate of beer and fizzy pop, looking every bit the carnival queen. Tom sat at her feet while all around them the kids were bursting with excitement. Billy had a firm hold on little Christopher and Mary was cradling Connie on her lap. Susan and Maureen sat side by side next to their mother.
‘Don’t you look lovely, hen,’ Mary said as Dottie came down the path carrying a big bag. ‘You’d better sit here in the cab with that pretty dress on.’
‘What, this old thing?’ laughed Dottie, although in truth she was wearing her sundress for the first time. A friend had given her the material because it was too pink. The sleeveless bodice was tight, and she had made a belt to wear at the top of its calf-length full skirt. Luckily she’d been able to match it with some other pink material with tiny white daisies to make a small bolero top.
‘You’re so good with a needle,’ said Mary. ‘Me, I’m hopeless.’
Reg nudged Dottie’s arm. ‘I can’t sit in the back, love,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid if they can’t shove up and make room for me on the seat, I shan’t be going.’ He lowered his voice for Dottie’s ears only. ‘You know I couldn’t face the back of a lorry, not after what happened during the war.’
‘Of course not, dear,’ she smiled. ‘You sit next to Peaches, I’m quite happy at the back with Mary and the children.’
She watched as Peaches, dressed in a voluptuous tent-like dress to hide her bump, pulled Gary onto what was left of her lap and Reg, his Brylcreemed hair flopping attractively over one eye, climbed in beside her. Gary looked a little pale and he was complaining a bit.
‘I’m not so sure we should be taking him,’ said Peaches.
‘He’ll be as right as ninepence when he’s down on the beach,’ said Jack.
Dottie walked around the back and, grabbing hold of Tom’s hand, clambered over the side of the lorry. ‘Poor little Gary still doesn’t seem very happy,’ she said as she sat next to Mary. ‘What’s the matter with him?’
‘Peaches reckons he’s got a bit of a cold,’ said Mary, shaking her head. ‘He’s been like it since Saturday.’ And turning to one of her children, she said sharply, ‘Put your arm in Susan. If you hit something while we’re moving you’ll do yourself a mischief.’
Maureen had gravitated to Dottie’s lap. It felt good holding her. Dottie enveloped her in her arms, enjoying the feel of her warm little body and the faint vinegar smell of her shiny clean hair, soft as down next to her cheek. The old yearning flooded over her again. If only she could have a child of her own …
‘I love you, Auntie Dottie,’ Maureen lisped.
‘And I love you too, darling,’ said Dottie with feeling.
The drive to Littlehampton was very pleasant. They all sang silly songs, ‘Ten green bottles, hanging on the wall, Ten green bottles, hanging on the wall, and if one green bottle should accidentl’y fall … there’ll be nine green bottles hanging on the wall,’ was one and the other was ‘There was ten in the bed and the little one said, ‘Roll over, rollover.’ So they all rolled over and one fell out, there was nine in the bed and the little one said …’ and they clung to each other, laughing whenever Jack took a corner fast.
Forty-five minutes later, they pulled up on the seafront. Tom was the first to jump down. He helped Mary and the kids and then lifted Dottie down. Everybody, except Reg, grabbed a bag and they made their way onto the sand. The warm weather and the Carnival had brought everyone out. The beach was already very crowded. In fact it was difficult to find a stretch of sand big enough for all of them to be together, but eventually they did and luckily it was fairly near the promenade. Dottie pointed out the toilets beyond. ‘Handy for the kids,’ said Mary, giving her a nudge.
Tom and Jack brought some deckchairs down and the adults made themselves comfortable. As for the children, they couldn’t wait to get into the water. Mary stripped them down to their little ruched bathing costumes and knitted swimming trunks and let them go. ‘Make sure you look after them,’ she told Billy.
Knowing they’d soon get bored, Dottie went up top and bought six buckets and spades from the kiosk along the promenade. The children were thrilled to bits.
‘You shouldn’t have spent all that money, hen,’ Mary scolded. ‘They must have cost you a fortune.’
‘They were only one and eleven each,’ said Dottie happily. ‘And besides, it was my pleasure.’
‘What do you say?’ Mary demanded of her children.
Five happy faces looked in her direction and chorused, ‘Thank you, Auntie Dottie.’
Reg gave Dottie a dirty look but just then Jack and Tom appeared
with the crate of beer and fizzy pop.
‘Hope you’ve remembered a bottle opener,’ Reg remarked as he tied a knot in each corner of his handkerchief to make a sun hat. He had already bagged a deckchair and placed himself on the edge of the group.
Everyone looked helplessly from one to the other until Peaches rummaged in her handbag and produced one. ‘Thank the Lord for that,’ laughed Jack as he set about offering the bottles around and removing the tops.
When it came to her turn, Peaches shook her head. ‘I’d sooner have a cuppa.’
‘Then look no further,’ smiled Dottie, reaching for her Thermos flask.
In the end, the men had beer, the women had a cup of tea and the kids shared from a big bottle of cherryade with a replaceable glass stopper.
‘Can I take the empties back to the off-licence and get the tuppence, Mum?’ asked Billy.
‘We haven’t emptied the buggers yet,’ laughed Tom.
‘Language,’ said Mary.
‘Whoops, sorry love.’
The deckchair attendant turned up. Reg appeared to be asleep, so Tom parted with three bob. ‘He didn’t waste much time,’ he grumbled good-naturedly.
The sea glistened in the bright sunlight and the air was filled with the happy shouts of excited children. Dottie kicked off her shoes and let the sand get between her bare toes. Mary’s kids kept themselves amused for hours, making sandcastles and running to the sea with their new buckets to get water for the moat.
Little Gary joined in for a while but it was obvious he wasn’t really feeling well. It didn’t take long before he was all curled up on Mary’s lap with his thumb in his mouth.
At one o’clock they ate their lunch: egg sandwiches, bloater paste sandwiches and cheese sandwiches; but no matter how hard they tried, they all ended up with a little sand on them. Mary handed round some of her fruitcake and Dottie offered them some Victoria sponge. Then they made the kids lay down for a rest. The little ones were shaded by the deckchairs or a blanket suspended between the chairs as they lay underneath.
‘I reckon you should have gone in for the Miss Littlehampton, Dottie,’ said Tom holding out his newspaper. ‘You’re better-looking than that June Hadden any day.’
‘Oh, Tom,’ laughed Dottie. ‘I’m a married woman!’
‘So is she,’ said Mary. ‘She’s a mother of two.’
‘Have a go at the Miss Sussex competition.’ Tom encouraged. ‘That feller from Variety Bandbox is going to crown the winner. Derek Roy.’
‘I don’t think Reg …’ Dottie began.
‘Reg won’t mind, will you, Reg?’
Reg had been lying back in the deckchair with his eyes closed. He opened them to find everyone staring at him, willing him to agree.
‘What, and make a fool of herself?’
‘Your Dottie is a real smasher, Reg,’ Tom protested.
‘Come on, Reg,’ said Mary. ‘Be a sport.’
Reg’s eyes narrowed and Dottie laid her hand on Mary’s arm.
‘Who’s for ice cream?’ said Jack and a chorus of little voices, all wide-awake now, cried out, ‘Me, me!’
‘Good timing, Jack,’ grinned Peaches.
After their ice creams, Gary, Connie and Christopher slept for upwards of an hour while Susan and Maureen managed half an hour. Billy was allowed to go to play by the water’s edge as soon as the others were asleep. Dottie walked with him, not only to keep an eye on him, but also to have a bit of a paddle herself.
She and Billy had a special relationship. He was only little when his dad died but until Tom Prior came along, he’d so desperately tried to do what everyone told him and be the man of the house. He was fiercely protective of his mum. Dottie had never ever told Mary how he’d cried the day of their wedding. His mother and Tom were off on honeymoon – an afternoon at the pictures in Brighton – and Dottie was looking after Billy, Maureen and Susan in their new home. The babies were sleeping and she’d thought Billy was quite happy playing with his toy farmyard but all at once he’d burst into tears. At first she’d thought it was because he was jealous of Tom: after all, he’d had his mother to himself for most of his life. Up until the time Billy’s father was killed, the war had meant that, apart from a couple of periods of leave, Billy had hardly ever seen him. But as she comforted him, Dottie realised the child had taken his ‘job’ as ‘man of the house’ so seriously, that the tears were tears of relief. Now at last Tom could have the responsibility of looking after his mother.
As she and Billy paddled in the water, Reg, his trouser legs rolled up to his calves, came to join them.
Earlier that morning, Dottie had been thinking about that letter from Australia again. She kept forgetting to say something about it and, although he’d obviously taken it and read it, Reg still hadn’t said anything about it. It was probably of no con sequence. A letter from the wife of an old army pal or something … but it was funny that he hadn’t mentioned it again.
She was about to ask him about it, when he said, ‘You’d make somebody a good little mother.’ His remark caught Dottie by surprise. She stared at him, unsure what to say. How odd. Was he feeling the urge again? Oh dear. Could he hang onto it until they were home, or was he going to suggest they go somewhere?
As they all paddled together, Dottie felt she couldn’t be happier. The sun, the sea, the lovely weather, their friends on the beach and Reg … She wanted to tell him so, but she couldn’t embarrass him in front of Billy.
Picking up her skirts, Dottie ran further into the water. Billy followed and the two of them splashed about a bit.
‘Fancy a quick look around Woolworths?’ Mary suggested when Dottie and Billy came back. Reg was already back in his deckchair.
‘Ye-ah,’ said Billy.
‘What about the kids?’ asked Dottie.
‘I’ll stay and keep an eye on them,’ said Peaches.
‘The men can look after them for five minutes, can’t they?’ said Mary.
‘Reg?’ Dottie asked.
‘I’m reading the paper.’
‘Can I come?’ said Billy.
Tom and Jack waved them away. ‘Go on, get on with you and enjoy yourselves.’
‘And me?’ Billy tried again.
‘You heard your mother,’ said Tom. ‘Us men’ll have to look after the kids. About time you took our Christopher over to the toilets, isn’t it?’
‘Aw, Dad!’
The three friends set off for the town. As they walked along the promenade, Peaches fluffed out her blonde hair with her fingers. Dottie linked her arms through theirs and they began an impromptu dance until Mary slipped and trod on some man’s toe.
‘Oi!’ he shouted.
‘Sorry,’ Mary called as they all dissolved into laughter.
‘He’ll have a flat foot now,’ said Peaches. ‘Step – flip, step – flop …’
It was all very silly but Dottie laughed until she held her sides. ‘I haven’t had a laugh like this for ages.’
They stopped off to look at the exhibits in the big marquee on the green.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Mary, holding a prize-winning jar of lemon curd up to the light, ‘your preserves are every bit as good as these, Dottie.’
Dottie blushed happily.
‘And I tell you what,’ said Peaches. ‘I’m busting for the toilet again. Let’s head towards the town.’
The friends linked arms once more and set off to find the public conveniences. Outside again Peaches said, ‘I’ll be glad when this one comes and I can have some fun again. Fancy coming to Brighton with me once I get my figure back? I can’t wait to get some new things.’
‘Let me make you something,’ said Dottie.
‘Be nice if we could all go shopping though, wouldn’t it?’ Peaches remarked.
‘Count me in,’ said Mary.
‘You’re on,’ said Dottie with a smile.
‘How come you haven’t got any kids, Dottie?’ asked Mary. ‘Doesn’t Reg want any?’
Dottie felt her
face colour. ‘It just never happened,’ she faltered.
‘Oh darlin’, I’m sorry,’ said Mary. ‘Me and my big mouth.’
‘It’s all right,’ Dottie quickly reassured her.
‘My cousin Nelly was like that,’ said Peaches. ‘In the end she went to the doctor and he said she and her husband wasn’t doing it right.’
‘What the ’ell were they doing then?’ said Mary, agog.
‘Just touching navels.’
There was a moment of silence then Mary said, ‘Was that all?’
They all burst out laughing.
‘Perhaps your Reg needs some coaching,’ said Mary, giving Dottie a hefty nudge.
‘You volunteering?’ grinned Dottie and they all laughed a third time.
‘What about cousin Nelly?’ Mary asked.
‘Whatever the doc said to them worked,’ said Peaches. ‘They’ve got three kids now.’
‘All the spitting image of the doctor,’ roared Mary. Peaches enjoyed the joke, laughing heartily. Thank goodness they didn’t know about Doctor Fitzgerald, thought Dottie as she joined in. Thankfully the subject of babies, and the lack of them, didn’t come up again.
‘Here we are,’ said Mary as they found the shops.
They wandered around Woolworths and Peaches bought herself a bottle of Lily of the Valley. Mary got each of her brood and Gary a 3D stick of rock with ‘Littlehampton’ printed through it to take home. ‘Clever how they do that,’ she remarked.
Dottie bought a new comb for Reg.
Reg flipped through the pages of the Littlehampton Gazette. Nothing much there. He was just about to fold it up when Connie tottered towards him, a long candlestick of mucus and sand hanging from the end of her nose.
Alarmed, he cried, ‘Tom!’
