Women on the Home Front

by Annie Groves

  The wedding was lavish, with dancing and music. They had taken the train to London for their honeymoon and saw all the sights. Then came the miscarriages, one after another. Marco joined up and one brief reunion resulted in precious Rosaria. Now when she looked at him all she felt was loving pity.

  How could she be honest and tell him she didn’t care for him in that way any more? No words would ever come out of her mouth to hurt him. The truth would kill him and she couldn’t do that to such a brave man. It was tempting to blurt out all her feelings and dump them on him once and for all, but the price of loving Sylvio was to carry all this guilt like some huge rock on her back.

  It was her burden, not Marco’s, and yet of all the men she knew she sensed he might understand and forgive.

  She was dying too, living a half-life of secrets and lies, trying to stay cheerful and busy for Rosaria’s sake. Yet Rosa was not enough. How she yearned for another baby at her breast and the clutter of little ones to distract her from this constant aching.

  The ice-cream parlour was not enough. It would never be her business without Marco by her side. Santinis only gave to the sons, so it would be Enzo’s café one day, not Rosa’s. It wasn’t fair. The cleaning jobs kept her so active she slept with exhaustion each night.

  The only consolation in her life was those stolen moments with Sylvio when she could forget the dreary world. She loved how he styled her hair this way and that, trying new cuts and lotions. Her head was like a lump of clay from which he created such amusing sculptures for the competitions.

  Their next job was to prepare the mannequins for the Fashion Parade in the town hall, the one that Diana’s mother was organising for the Hospital Comforts Fund.

  Levine’s would be showing off their most exclusive range for the smart ladies of town. Rumour had it there would be some of the ‘New Look’ fashions on display with frilly underskirts and merino wool boleros.

  For one evening, perhaps, they could work together and no one would suspect. Time disappeared when she was lying in his arms and there was only the hush of the silent salon and the flicker of neon lights flashing outside as they made love on the floor. This was the time of dreams, when they wished great falling stars full of wishes, silly love talk, the ‘what ifs’ when the world they knew faded into the distance, with its rationing, coupons and drabness. For these few hours she lost all her ‘must dos’ and feasted on these precious stolen moments but when they separated she was back in the real world, pacing the floor in the small hours of the morning, seeing the pain on Marco’s face.

  This life of lies was tearing her apart and it couldn’t go on. Marco would want her to have some life of her own but not this treachery. He thought the Olive Oil Club and Rosa’s dancing success were enough.

  He’d nearly killed himself to see Rosa dance. If only he knew the way things were. Of all men he would understand, but he trusted her and how easy it is to be believed when you are trusted completely. Once that trust was betrayed it could never be repaired. Better to carry the burden alone and not hurt him any more. Better to give up her lover and sleep easy.

  Our Lady of Sorrows, please help me!’ she prayed. ‘A mamma must put her children first and make sacrifices.’ She prayed for the strength to resist Sylvio and walk away. This could not go on.

  Now, as the moon rose over the dark purple hills and the stars shone like icicles in the clear sky, she sensed resolve and purpose and a cleansing. It was going to be a fresh start. From now on she’d devote herself only to her husband and child and the success of the business.

  She was blessed with good friends in Lily, Ana, Su, Queenie and Diana. They believed in her. They must be enough. Giving into passion, to temptation was a sin. No more fancy hairdos and vanity. From now on her mind and heart must rest only on the blessings she’d been given. There was a roof over her head and they wanted for nothing. Marco need never know about her little lapse, as he’d never known about the GI, all those years ago. A terrible thought stabbed her in the gut. Was Marco being punished for her sins? Surely not? Better to sort it out now.

  Tomorrow she would face her first confession for months, do every penance and attend Mass once more to blot out this backlog of sinning and make him better.

  There was chaos in the café when Lily arrived. Enzo was struggling to keep up with the afternoon shoppers.

  ‘Is Maria in the back?’ she asked.

  ‘She’s upstairs, lazy cow!’ he snapped.

  It was not like Maria to shirk a busy shift. Time to find out what was wrong.

  She was curled up on the little sofa, covered in a blanket, sobbing.

  ‘Whatever’s the matter?’ Lily said, going to put the kettle on the stove.

  ‘I’m bad woman, Lily.’ Her sobs shook her whole body.

  Maria was not making any sense, but Lily knew a cup in her hand and a chance to talk it over might help. ‘You’re a good woman. What’s brought all this on?’

  ‘I have to tell someone. I am terrible woman in mortal sin. What will I do, Lily?’

  ‘Shove this down you. I’ve put sugar in it,’ Lily replied. ‘It’s not that bad, surely? No one could do more than you for Marco.’

  ‘It’s not how it should be with us. We are married. We should share bed and loving and now I betray mio marito. I am lonely. I do my duty for the Santini family but my toes are cold at night and I find warmth in the arms of Sylvio Bertorelli. They will kill me if they find out. I disgrace the family name.’

  So Ivy’s gossip was true. Lily sighed. Not that it was a surprise when she had seen how those two looked at each other. This confession was way out of her league. What should she say? What did she know of such things? Better just to listen and say nowt but a friend needed support at a time like this.

  ‘It’s hard for you on your own. He’d understand. You’re only human.’

  ‘No, you do not understand our ways. They will kill me! Sylvio make me feel like a film star but it is wrong what we do but, oh, he loves me.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ Lily whispered. ‘It must be hard.’

  ‘I am dying inside. One child is not enough for me. Rosaria needs brothers and sisters. I do not like this family. It is all making money. Angelo and Toni would kill me and take my child from me. I don’t deserve such a husband.’

  ‘You’re doing your best to protect him. You’re only human, Maria.’ What else could be said that was not going to make her feel worse?

  ‘When I am with Sylvio, we lie under the stars, make snow angels, wishing great dreams for the salon. We are like Romeo and Juliet. There are no rations and coupons or icy grass, just moonlight and kisses, but it is all ended now. I have to think of Marco.’

  ‘You were happy together once?’ Lily asked as she sat down, a wonky spring digging into her bottom. Better to let Maria get it all out of her system.

  ‘I was glad he was the only one left to marry. The others are…poof! It is hard to carry secret, Lily. It is like a big rock on my back that bends me in two. It is better to give up my happiness. Marco doesn’t deserve a faithless woman. I have to be strong for both of us.’

  Lily nodded, thinking how she had to be strong for Walter. He was like a lost little boy sometimes who needed a shove in the right direction. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her in his own way but he was not good at showing his affection.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I will tell him,’ Maria sobbed, ‘Sylvio, I can’t see you any more. No more competitions. People talk and I can’t risk Rosa. I have such a pain in my stomach and my head.’ She was sobbing until she was hoarse.

  Why did the film Brief Encounter come into Lily’s mind? She had queued with Enid to see it twice. The heroine had to choose between her doctor sweetheart or her family, and it all ended in tears. It was like going through the mangle watching that film, they were that rung out. Passion like that was unnerving and it worried her. The film music was ringing in her head at the very thought of all that pent-up emotion.


  The only courtship she was experiencing was a very steady away sort of loving. But how did anyone do a day’s work after all those shenanigans?

  ‘We have to do Diana’s fashion show. I will tell him then,’ Maria sobbed. ‘The fates brought us together and showed us what might have been. It is cruel but life is cruel, I think. No more Lavaroni’s, no more shows. I go to confession,’ she sobbed, wiping her eyes. ‘Now I must go downstairs. How are things at home?’

  ‘It was as bad as you feared. I destroyed the hash. Levi was beaten up and now Mother is ruling the roost. We are all in disgrace.’

  ‘You are a good family. It will pass…’

  ‘Oh, Ria, if only you knew the half of it, but my lips are sealed. Believe me, all families have secrets.’

  ‘Don’t say a word to anyone,’ Maria was pleading. ‘I’d better go.’

  ‘You wash your face, go down there and I’ll fetch Rosa from her nonna’s house. I’ll make you both some tea and we’ll go and see Marco together. You ought not to be on your own tonight,’ Lily offered, glad to feel needed.

  ‘You are a good egg, Lily. You will make Walt a fine woman.’

  Oh heck! Walt would wonder where she had got to again. There was just time to nip on the bus to leave a message and the shopping with his mother.

  But when a friend was in trouble it was company they needed. Walt could wait.

  There would be years together in that little house on the hill, years and years of it, not like Sylvio and Maria, the star-crossed lovers. It was so sad: just one moment of stolen passion. Who was it said that all passion ended in the grave? Now she was getting as bad as Maria with her romantic fantasies. Why hadn’t she ever felt like that with Walt? When she looked at him lately all she wanted to do was criticise. What was wrong with her? Was she jealous of Maria and Sylvio, jealous of adulterers? It was all so confusing.

  17

  Cinderellas in Ballgowns

  ‘I’m sorry, girls, but you’re going to have to sing for your supper tonight,’ said Diana, tapping her pencil on her wine glass in the Unsworths’ dining room. She had fed them on grilled trout with game chips and the last of the apples in the loft, made into a crumble with oats and ground nuts and a bottle of Daddy’s best wine. Someone had to fly the British flag when it came to cuisine.

  ‘Mummy has asked for the Olive Oils to help with her charity mannequin parade. It’s for the hospital so I want some good prizes for the raffle,’ she paused for breath and to read off her list.

  ‘Lavaroni’s have agreed to do the hairdressing, Battersby’s the shoes and Levine’s the clothes, but they want some local girls to model the outfits: tall girls who can stride out in the New Look.’ She looked straight in the direction of Ana and Lily.

  ‘Su, I want you to help with the raffle. Queenie and Maria are committed to Sylvio so, you two, you are volunteered.’

  ‘I’m no clotheshorse,’ Lily protested.

  Why did that girl put herself down so? She would look elegant if she just bothered to stand up straight.

  ‘I no walk across stage,’ said Ana, who was blossoming by the day. She was another who slouched into her uniform.

  ‘Of course you will. It’s for a good cause and it will give Lily some practice for her wedding day. Once Sophie Levine is finished with us, we won’t recognise ourselves. Anyway, the audience’ll be looking at the fashions, not at you. I hope everyone here will sell at least a dozen tickets or else.’

  The faces opposite her looked down at their dirty plates. Was she being bossy again? She couldn’t help being enthusiastic.

  It was just that over the past few weeks, with exams, Diana had missed their gatherings and gossip. Everyone was going round with glum faces so they all needed something to cheer them up and what better than a late spring fashion show?

  Keeping busy was what had kept her sane all these months since her return. Coming back to Grimbleton was not what she had intended, but when Binky upped and left her and found a new playmate, she had crawled back from Cairo with her tail between her legs.

  She was too old to be living at home and Mummy was puzzled why there were no boyfriends calling round. How could she explain there never would be and that her heart was still aching for Binky Ballard?

  The Olive Oils had saved her sanity. She loved their company and living all their mysterious lives at second-hand. Guiding was fun and her job was important, but being an auntie to all those little girls was like having her own nephews and nieces.

  Being an only child was a pain at times: the golden egg that must deliver for all the expensive education she had received. They still treated her as if she was home for the hols, not as an adult, a senior nurse with years of experience in battlefield hospitals. There were things she couldn’t tell anyone of what she had seen. Daddy guessed but said little.

  Friendship and loyalty to the team was what had seen her through the worst of times and the best.

  She had thought that Binky would be ready to settle down and set up home, find work together, but Binky had other ideas. It was hurtful to know she was just a war time fling, not a lifetime’s love. It hurt so much she never wanted to feel anything again.

  Better to go home and lick her wounds for a while, sob into her pillow and pull herself together, rise to the challenge and all that bosh!

  Thank goodness she had found a bevy of lonely, limping women to mother along.

  Each one of them was as tough as desert boots but they just didn’t realise it yet.

  Lily was at the beck and call of her brood. Maria was having some sort of emotional crisis. Su and Ana were mystery guests-definitely a tale to tell there-and poor Queenie didn’t know which day of the week it was, she was so busy rushing from job to job.

  If you want something doing ask a busy person, went the saying and it was true. No one protested too loudly, no one refused to lend a hand. All they needed was a bit of organising and she had that ability in spades. ‘Right,’ she ordered. ‘This’s what we’ll do…’

  On the afternoon of the parade Lily found herself having her hair lopped and chopped and set into waves. She’d just been to a rehearsal in the town hall, learning to pace down the catwalk while Sophie Levine pointed out all the features of her outfit.

  Diana had marched her off to the corsetiere in Silver Street where she’d been shovelled into the tightest boned corselet and brassiere, two sizes too small for her, yielding up precious coupons for the pleasure.

  ‘Foundations are basic, Lily. Like a body without bones, a dress without a corset has no structure,’ Diana insisted.

  ‘I thought buildings needed structure,’ she replied.

  ‘Exactly, my point…You know what happens to a house without foundations?’

  What a surprise to discover she’d a bust after all, and the neatest waist.

  ‘I can’t breathe,’ she protested.

  ‘That’s the point! It’ll make you stand up and breathe properly, not slouch. Posture, think posture.’

  It was all right for Diana-she was slim as a lath, more like a boy than a girl. Everything looked neat on her.

  Ana was quaking in her shoes, trying to find an excuse not to turn up, but she was transformed by a good hoisting harness. When Diana was on the march there was no shillyshallying in the ranks.

  Esme had lined up half of Division Street to support the effort by buying tickets. What if I stumble and fall and make a right fool of myself? Lily wondered.

  It was funny how, once the clothes were put on, she felt a different person, no longer good old Lil, but more like a Lily or even Joan Crawford, American and glamorous. Until she saw herself full of curlers in the mirror.

  Sylvio was stomping around, giving orders with a grim face instead of his usual grin. Had Maria done what she had promised and given him his marching orders? Happen it was for the best.

  Maria was keeping out of everyone’s way, just shampooing and towelling off. Queenie was playing pig in the middle, pretending there weren’t any tensions in
the salon.

  Ana refused to have her hair cut, so now it was coiled in a sophisticated chignon at the back of her head and covered in a net headscarf.

  Susan was sulking because she wasn’t modelling and she was the prettiest of the lot of them. Ivy had refused to buy a ticket so they saddled her with the babysitting, for once. Esme had put her foot down and insisted she pull her weight.

  Maria couldn’t wait for the salon to empty, for the models to rush across to the town hall, for Gianni to disappear upstairs so she could catch Sylvio on his own.

  It had been a long afternoon and she should have taken her half-day visit to Moses Heights but there were so many heads to do.

  This time she wanted to face her husband with a clear conscience. She would go for visiting time as usual on the evening bus with Rosa.

  Sylvio had been in a bad mood all morning. Gianni was breathing down his neck, saying what styles he must show. The trouble was they were yesterday’s hairdos, not suitable for the New Look clothes.

  ‘He won’t let me do anything new,’ Sylvio complained as he shot into the wash cubicle.

  ‘Il poverino’, Maria smiled. ‘Just be patient, one day everyone will want your ideas.’

  ‘We have to get out of here…start a new salon.’

  ‘Now’s not the time,’ she whispered. He was barely out of the POW camp, without any money to set up on his own. It was too soon for Grimbleton to accept him. ‘One day, perhaps…you will show them all.’

  ‘We will do it together, yes?’

  Maria drew in a breath. ‘There is no “we”. I am married. I have baby and big family. I must work for them.’

  ‘No, I take care of you both. We go away.’

  ‘Stop this!’ she cried. ‘This is a silly dream. This can’t go on. You know it’s wrong. We will be punished.’

  Sylvio grabbed her tight and shook her. ‘What are you saying? We are good for each other. I will wait for you…until Marco…’ He spoke in desperation.