by Pam Weaver
There was no doubt about it, the chair had to go.
She had pushed a note through Archie’s letterbox a week ago asking him to take it, but he hadn’t responded. She was aware that every now and again he was watching her as she walked over the crossing or down her street when she got home from the factory. Since that note he had been standing in the window every evening but she didn’t acknowledge him. She held her head high and pretended she hadn’t seen him. If she had looked at him, she would have broken down, but even though she ignored him, his eyes bored into her back until she reached her door. Yet he still made no attempt to come for the chair.
On Saturday morning, as soon as Rita had left for work, she manoeuvred it towards the front door. It had casters but one of them was damaged and the chair was heavy. It took a mammoth effort to get it over the doorstep and her short path leading to the road wasn’t as wide as the chair. It kept sinking into the flowerbeds on either side. It was difficult to steer and at one point she heard the bus coming. The chair was determined to veer into the road but somehow she managed to keep it on the pavement before the bus ran them both down.
The blinds were still down in the shop when she got there. She didn’t want to see Archie or to speak to him – how could she when she knew what she’d done – so she pushed it into the recess of the door and left it. She left no note. He would know where it had come from. All she wanted was to get on with her life.
Twenty-One
Bonnie had a long weekend off. She had nowhere to go but she’d made up her mind to try and make it special for Shirley. She was eight months old now and as bright as a button. In fact she would soon be moving from the Baby room into Tweenies. Sometimes Bonnie took Shirley down into the playroom to be with them. Shirley was crawling and standing about but she had to get used to being with bigger children. The Baby room was an oasis of calm compared with being with the boisterous one to two year olds and life was a lot more robust in the Tweenies room.
Bonnie decided to go up to Oxford Street and see the Christmas lights. Someone had told her the windows at Selfridges were a wonder to behold and she wanted Shirley to see them. She knew the baby would never remember them, but she would and she would write it all down in the scrapbook she kept for Shirley. Called ‘My Life’, the scrapbook contained details of every event in her baby’s life. ‘When I had my first meal,’ Bonnie wrote, ‘my mummy gave me baby rice. I didn’t like it and I shuddered and spat it out.’ Another time she wrote, ‘I took my first step today. Auntie Norah said I was very clever. Some babies don’t walk until they are much older.’ And on another page she had written, ‘Today is my Granny’s birthday. I’ve never seen her but Mummy says if she knew about me she would love me very much.’ There was a birthday card stuck on the opposite page. It was inscribed, ‘To my Granny. Happy birthday. Lots of love Shirley X.’
Bonnie caught the train from Kingston and arrived at London Waterloo. The last time she had travelled to the capital was when she had arranged to meet George. That all seemed a long time ago now and Waterloo was quite different from Victoria.
It was only as she caught the bus to Selfridges that Bonnie decided to look up Dora and Cook. It was a bit awkward getting on the bus with the pushchair but the conductor was very helpful, putting it under the stairwell himself. Shirley was as good as gold. She loved sitting on Bonnie’s lap and looking out of the window.
The streets were packed with shoppers. Bonnie had to be careful that people with heavy bulging bags didn’t bash Shirley as they pushed past her. Selfridges was every bit as amazing as she’d been told. This year’s theme was Toyland and every window was decorated in a totally different way.
Bonnie had been warned about pickpockets so she kept her purse on the inside of her buttoned-up coat as she lifted Shirley up to see the moving figures on display. A little toy train ran around a village snow scene in one window and a huge smiley Father Christmas laughed as he packed his toys into a sack inthe next one. All around her, children pressed their faces to the glass, no doubt wishing that they could have a quarter of the toys on display for themselves. Shirley stared, her eyes wide with wonder.
By the time they had seen all the windows, Shirley was tired. She’d missed her usual mid-morning nap. Bonnie changed her nappy (fortunately only wet) on her lap in the ladies’, then, tucking her up warmly, Bonnie walked to a bus shelter to give her a bottle. She’d wrapped it in two clean nappies and it was still fairly warm.
Lady Brayfield had expressed the wish that Richard should not be told about Bonnie’s baby and she respected that, but Richard still kept in touch with her via her post office box number. Because of that, Bonnie knew Lady Brayfield was taking him and his mother to a Bournemouth hotel for a pre-Christmas break. In his letter, Richard had grumbled that it was going to be boring, boring, boring … She would be sorry not to see him but, with luck, only Dora and Cook would be at home.
Bonnie walked around the back and knocked lightly on the door. A few minutes later, Cook opened it. Bonnie felt sure she would be welcomed, but she had no idea just how much. The two women were absolutely thrilled to see her and ten minutes later Bonnie was sitting at the kitchen table while a rather bemused and still sleepy Shirley was being cuddled and spoiled by them both. There was a lot to catch up on.
‘I took a chance that you’d both be here,’ Bonnie explained. ‘Richard told me the family were off to Bournemouth. Is his mother well?’
‘Back to normal,’ said Cook giving Shirley a biscuit.
‘She’s divorced him,’ Dora added. ‘Missus says he’s already married someone else.’
‘Poor fish,’ Cook muttered. ‘Now,’ she said looking at Bonnie and settling back in her chair with Shirley on her lap, ‘tell us what you’ve been doing and where you live.’
Bonnie skipped the Mother and Baby Home and told her all about her training and the nursery.
‘Sounds like you’ve fallen on your feet, dear,’ said Cook.
Dora had put the tea things on the table. ‘Have we got any cake, Cook?’
‘You know very well there’s a fruit cake in the larder,’ said Cook putting Shirley down and helping her to walk to the next chair. ‘You’ve had your eye on it ever since it came out of the oven.’
Bonnie smiled. They always seemed to be bickering but she knew they were totally devoted to each other.
The time went all too quickly and it was important to get Shirley home for bedtime. Bonnie kissed her dear friends and they stood by the rear entrance and waved to her until she’d left the mews. She turned into the next street and a young woman came rushing out of a side street and they collided.
‘Sorry,’ they both said and Bonnie froze.
‘Bonnie! What on earth are you doing here?’ It was Dinah.
There wasn’t time to stop. She quickly explained that she had to get the baby back to the nursery where she worked and that her bus would be along at any minute.
‘What a pretty child,’ Dinah remarked. ‘How could a mother bear to put her in a nursery?’
Bonnie couldn’t look at her.
‘I can’t believe it’s really you,’ cried Dinah. ‘When is your next day off ?’
‘Not until after Christmas,’ said Bonnie.
‘Let’s meet then,’ said Dinah. A young man wandered back to where they were standing. Bonnie was aware of him but didn’t really look. ‘Do you know Lyons Corner House at Marble Arch?’
Bonnie nodded.
‘Then meet me on January 5th for lunch,’ said Dinah, looking in her pocket diary. ‘It’s a Wednesday. I’ll be there at 12.30.’
‘All right,’ said Bonnie. It shouldn’t be too difficult to request a weekday off, especially a Wednesday. It was half day closing and most of the girls preferred a day when they could go shopping, so Wednesday was not a popular choice. ‘Oh, my bus!’
The three of them ran to the stop, the man with his hand out, and the bus pulled up.
‘Your mother will be so pleased to hear that I’ve found y
ou,’ said Dinah.
‘Please don’t tell her,’ Bonnie panicked. ‘I’ll explain everything when we meet, but please don’t tell her now.’
The man began collapsing the pushchair as Bonnie snatched Shirley from it.
‘Sorry, darling,’ said Dinah. ‘Bonnie, this is my friend, John Finley.’
It was only then that Bonnie looked at him.
‘We’ve already met.’ He winked at Bonnie as he leaned past her and pushed the pushchair under the stairs. ‘I saw you once at one of the WMCS shows.’
Bonnie stared at his back, the shock of seeing him making her legs wobble.
‘Thanks,’ she said weakly.
‘Hurry up and sit down, if you please, Miss,’ said the conductor. He had his hand on the bell. ‘I don’t want you and baby to fall down when we move off.’
John got off the platform and Bonnie stepped onto the bus with Shirley in her arms. As she sat in the first available seat, Dinah knocked on the window. ‘Wednesday the 5th. Promise me you’ll come.’
‘I promise,’ said Bonnie and as the bus pulled into the Christmas traffic, she took a long look at John Finley.
Later that day, Bonnie sat alone in her bedroom, completely stunned. She had bathed and fed Shirley as soon as she’d got back to the nursery and now her little girl was fast asleep after her big adventure. Nancy wanted to hear all about her day and Bonnie told her about the beautiful windows at Selfridges and her meeting with Dora and Cook. She had smiled as she talked, not wanting Nancy to guess the turmoil that was going on inside. Fancy bumping into Dinah like that. It was the last thing she’d expected to happen, and it had been even more shocking to meet her friend.
The stare she had given him from the window of the bus was chewed up with emotion. Blind panic, because it was so un-expected; fear that he might know who she was, or suspect something from her behaviour; curiosity; and the need to make sure everything appeared normal in front of Dinah. Coupled with all that was the fear that, despite her promise, Dinah might talk to her mother about Shirley.
As she thought about it more carefully, she realised that Dinah might not actually connect her and Shirley as being together. Hadn’t she said, ‘what a pretty child. How could a mother bear to put her in a nursery?’
A wave of relief washed over Bonnie, but there was still the vexed question of John’s birth. How would her mother feel if Dinah took John across the road to her house? Oh God, it was all such a mess.
Her roommate, Doreen, was on lates. She glanced at the clock. It was 8.15pm. Doreen wouldn’t be back upstairs for at least another three-quarters of an hour. Bonnie got her box out and opened it for the first time since she’d arrived at the nursery eight months before. She rummaged through the old birthday cards, fondled her mother’s best hanky and kissed Shirley’s birth certificate. It was the letter she was looking for. She spread it out and read the bare bones again. A boy, John Finley, mother’s name Grace Follett, father’s name Maxwell. If the letter was dated the 12th, he must have been born on 11th May 1924. There was no doubt about it, John Finley was her half brother.
She tried to recall the stories her mother had told her about her courting days. Not a lot. As far as Bonnie could remember, her mother had met her father when she was 19. They had married three years later when she was still 22. Her eldest child, Bonnie, had come along on September 4th 1929 … but according to this letter, she wasn’t Grace’s first child. John had been born the year her mother turned 17.
She folded the letter carefully. When Dinah had been making arrangements to see her again, Bonnie had had no intention of meeting her, but now she wanted to go. She had to find out about John without Dinah wondering about her interest. As she packed the box back into the little drawer with a key, a realisation was growing in Bonnie’s mind. If her mother had given birth to a child out of wedlock, she would have no real reason to reject Shirley. Perhaps John Finley was the one person who could bring the family back together again.
Grace had been ‘cleaning’ again but this time as she walked home she was feeling a whole heap better. Norris had told her he was going away. His wife needed a break, apparently, so he was taking her to America. They were due to sail in February on the Queen Mary. Because of the Christmas celebrations and the amount of organising it would take to get away for such a long period of time, he wouldn’t be requiring her until after his trip. Grace couldn’t have had a better Christmas present.
Three months without his lecherous hands all over her body. What bliss. And if she was lucky, they might never touch her again. This was her golden opportunity to get that locket. Somehow she had to get into the office without anyone seeing.
‘I hope you have a wonderful holiday, Mrs Finley,’ she said aloud. ‘In fact, why not take two? Take the whole bloomin’ year if you like.’
The lights were on in Archie’s shop as she went past and Michael’s chair was in the window. There was a notice across the seat. ‘To be restored …’
One part had been stripped away to the bare wood. The stuffing lay all around. Grace felt somehow at one with the chair. Her insides had been pulled out the day she’d walked away from Archie. A beautiful piece of red leather lay across the arm and a piece of green leather hung over the back of the chair. One day the chair would be beautiful again, its past torn away and forgotten. If only it was that easy for her.
She could see him at the back of the shop, bent over his work, and her heart lurched. He was working late. He’d be tired and then he’d have to go into the little flat and get his own tea. How she longed to offer him a meal, to sit by the fire and talk over the day. She thought back to that last day they’d had together, and his kisses. She closed her eyes for a second and sighed. If only, if only … She opened her eyes and saw a woman coming from the back of the shop with a cup of tea in her hands. She put it down next to where Archie was working. He stood up and held out a necklace of some sort. The woman clapped her hands and kissed his cheek. It was an awful shock. She didn’t know why but she had never expected Archie to find someone else. But why shouldn’t he? He was an attractive man, warm and friendly, the sort of man any woman would be proud to have. Grace turned her back and walked with hurried steps towards her home. Her heart was aching. Even if she were free to love him, he wouldn’t want her anyway, she told herself fiercely. She’d been in Finley’s bed. She was nothing more than a tramp and she hated herself.
Back home she washed herself in the scullery, but even when she’d finished, she still didn’t feel clean; and besides she couldn’t wash away the terrible ache in her heart. Life was so unfair.
With the onset of another Christmas without Bonnie, Grace struggled to pretend that everything was all right. More than a year had passed since she’d seen her daughter. What was she doing? Where was she living now? Was she happy? It was hard to believe that Bonnie could go a whole twelve months without a thought for the mother and sister she’d left behind. On dark days, Grace was convinced that Bonnie was ill, had perhaps contracted some God-awful disease like polio and was too ill to tell the authorities who she was. On really dark days, Grace imagined her daughter lying in a ditch somewhere, her poor body exposed to the elements, but then she remembered the birthday card. Bonnie couldn’t be dead if she’d sent her a card, and then it upset her that she couldn’t send one to her. She had no idea what Rita was thinking but after the night they had sobbed together in each other’s arms, it seemed that the girl was getting on with her life. They’d been shopping for a new suitcase – ‘part of your Christmas present’, Grace told her – and using her staff discount, Rita had bought a few more affordable things from Hubbard’s.
When Christmas came, fewer of their old friends came round. Uncle Charlie Hanson had taken Snowy to Dorset to meet his relations. It looked as if things were getting quite serious between them and Grace was glad. Snowy wasn’t meant to be alone. They still had a good time, but she missed Manny Hart. He had a heavy cold. Of course, Archie didn’t come, but then she hadn’t expected h
im to.
January 2nd 1949 found Grace on platform 2 of Worthing station to wave goodbye to Rita. Now that it was really happening, Rita was excited about the course but Grace had very mixed feelings.
‘Don’t forget to write,’ Grace told her for the umpteenth time. ‘And if there’s an emergency, ring Salvatore and he’ll come and get me.’
‘Mum,’ said Rita patiently. ‘Everything will be fine.’ The train pulled into the station and Rita gathered her things. ‘Try not to miss me too much.’
They gave each other a knowing look and hugged each other tight. ‘I promise, I will keep in touch,’ said Rita emphatically and Grace nodded.
Rita climbed aboard and leaned out of the window.
‘You’ve got Aunt Rene’s money safe?’ said Grace unnecessarily.
Rita nodded and kissed her cheek. ‘Take care, Mum.’
Grace was dry-eyed as the train pulled out of the station but down in the underpass a tear trickled down her cheek. Bonnie was gone, and now Rita. She sniffed. If it hadn’t have been for that damned war, she would still have Michael to go home to. If it hadn’t have been for Norris Finley, she’d still have a son … and she might have been going home to Archie. Just the thought of him made her heart constrict. She forced herself to pull herself together. It was no use hankering after something that would never be. There were plenty of people far worse off. She walked out of the station with a newfound determination. She still had a life to live and she could see things a lot clearer now. She had to stop kowtowing to Norris. All she had to do was get her hands on that locket.
