A Wartime Friend

by Lizzie Lane

  Constable John Carter was taken aback. Seeing a stranger in uniform standing on his doorstep threw him for a moment, until Ray introduced himself.

  ‘Ray Malin. Come back from the dead, so to speak.’

  PC Carter took the extended hand and shook it while doing his best to hide his dismay. Not the best way to end the day, he thought. Up until now, he’d been pretty cheerful. At lunchtime he’d gone round to Meg’s for lunch. He’d helped her hang the new curtains she’d made and even lent a hand getting the cot together – an awkward job if ever there was one. He couldn’t have felt more involved if the child was his; in fact, it felt as though it was his. More than that, he was already thinking ahead, planning when he would ask Meg to marry him.

  The man standing at the door of the station house changed all that.

  Twilight was turning into an inky dark night. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Malin. Better come inside. I’ve just drawn the blackout curtains.’

  Ray followed the man he assumed to have lain with his wife into an office area complete with reception desk and cupboards set into recesses either side of the chimney breast. A gas fire bubbled and spat in the grate. John jerked his chin at the old fire and apologised for its sputtering. ‘It’s not working properly.’ He bent down and turned it off, at the same time hiding his despairing expression.

  As he stood up again, his smile was warm enough, but he felt far from happy. ‘Good timing, you coming back right now; just in time to see your offspring coming into the world.’

  Carter’s expression was totally open. If it hadn’t been, then Ray might have accused him of being a liar and a knave. The expression was that of a man who always told the truth when it really mattered.

  The words Ray had planned to say, about the policeman standing by the woman he’d got pregnant, stuck in his throat. Instead he said, ‘Ah! Yes. Very opportune indeed.’

  ‘Got plenty of leave, have you?’

  ‘No. I’m leaving almost immediately.’

  ‘Oh.’ John’s enforced cheerfulness disappeared.

  Ray twirled his cap in his hands, his expression hooded and inward-looking. ‘I’m going away. Things have happened. I wanted to ask you a favour before I leave.’

  Carter waited. He didn’t know what to say, and whatever he said might be the wrong thing. Best to say nothing.

  ‘Meg and I have been apart for a while. She thought I was dead and I … Well, being apart gave me time to think. We’re separating. Eventually we’ll get divorced. I won’t be back, but I would like to think that somebody is looking after her and the baby. Will you do that?’

  Carter frowned. Desiring Meg was one thing. Her husband asking him to look after her was quite another. Ray didn’t seem to know he was doing something that the policeman found unpalatable. ‘Mr Malin, I’m here for her if she wants me now she knows you’re still alive, but that’s her decision. Not mine and not yours. She values her independence.’

  Ray set his cap back on his head and slapped it flat with his hand. ‘Yes,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I can see that.’

  Driving back to base, he almost laughed at the fact that Meg had let him believe that the baby she was carrying was not his. It was pure coincidence that PC Carter had told him the truth. He could doubt him but the man’s open look didn’t allow him to do that. Carter had been telling the truth. However, it did sadden him. They hadn’t been apart for that long, yet this cruel war had torn them apart – or had it in fact forced them to see each other as they really were? He’d found Nicole. Meg, whether she saw it or not, had stepped back from her old self and found someone new.

  The doctor’s wife phoned through news to her husband that Mrs Malin had started her contractions. He was already out on a call to a farm four miles south of the village. Tired but dedicated, he wiped his sweating brow with his handkerchief, his answer determined by how long it would take for him to get back. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can. She should be all right for a while, but just in case, get a message to Alice Wickes. Ring the pub. They’ll get a message through.’

  Alice was cutting up an old blanket to make a winter coat for her eldest when Gladys Stenner came round, opening the door without knocking to tell her the news. ‘It’s coming, Alice! It’s coming!’

  Everyone took notice when Gladys Stenner shouted. Alice leapt to her feet, then looked round at her kids. Gladys noticed. ‘I’ll stay and look after the youngsters if you like. Cliff can manage on his own.’

  Lily had been conscientiously making a teddy bear for the baby from old blanket cut-offs. Now she was on her feet running for the door, scattering the materials for her sewing project behind her.

  Alice shouted after her. ‘Lily! Come back here this minute.’ Lily disappeared, leaving Alice eyeing the fragments of material, cotton, pins and needles that now lay scattered on the floor. ‘Dear, Lord,’ she sighed to herself, palm on her forehead. ‘Gladys, could I ask you to pick all this up while I put on my coat and go and see what I can do?’

  ‘Say no more. You get out there.’

  No doubt woken by his mother’s shouting, a demanding wail sounded from upstairs. ‘Oh no. He’ll wake everybody if I don’t see to him.’

  Gladys was picking up the scattered bits and pieces, squinting in order to see the pins and needles better. ‘The doctor said there was no need to panic. He seemed to think nothing would happen for a few hours yet.’

  Alice tucked her chin in tight to her neck and gave Gladys a withering look. ‘Yeah! And he said all my labours would be over within twenty-four hours. Wishful thinking. Forty-eight and counting! I’ll just go up and see to the little ’uns before I head over to Meg’s.’

  Afterwards, Alice got her coat and managed to hook out her old shoes that she’d squashed into the coal scuttle for burning. They looked worn out but retrieving them from the scuttle was like rescuing old friends. Comfort before pride, she said to herself. ‘The kettle’s on the hob and there’s a stewed batch in the teapot,’ she shouted over her shoulder.

  As each pain rolled over her, Meg took deep breaths and then the door slammed open. ‘Lily! I thought you were the doctor.’

  Lily threw off her coat and patted Rudy on the head. Then all the bravado, the courage to face her foster mother giving birth, suddenly drained out of her. Meg frowned. ‘You look worried. What’s the matter?’

  ‘I’m frightened. You’re not going to die, are you?’

  ‘I’m not ill. I’m having a baby.’

  Lily felt tongue-tied. She was remembering another time, another place and another woman giving birth. Where was that? She couldn’t quite remember but knew it had happened. The memory took root like a weed just beneath the surface of a pond.

  ‘Lily, go back and stay with Alice.’

  Lily shook her head. ‘No. I can’t. I have to stay. I have to …’ She didn’t know what she had to do, only that it was encapsulated in her memory. ‘You should be in bed. I’ll help you up.’

  Another pain speared through Meg’s body. ‘I can wait for the doctor, thank you.’

  ‘No, you can’t. You have to lie down. Babies are born when you’re lying down.’

  Another pain. ‘Less of your cheek, young lady.’

  ‘It’s not cheek. I’ve seen it before. You have to lie down.’

  Meg had always thought that Lily’s startlingly blue eyes and fair hair made her look younger than she actually was. Tonight she seemed more than her age, not because of any change in the colour of her eyes or her hair but because of her serious expression.

  The pains came sharp and fast now, disrupting her resolve and her train of thought. ‘I suppose I should be …’ she conceded.

  ‘I’ll help you up there.’

  ‘I think I can manage …’

  It wasn’t just another pain that made Meg hesitate, but the fact that Lily was filling the kettle, lighting the gas, then fetching and folding clean towels from the clothes dolly that hung before the range. Her self-assurance was quite amazing, and in consequence her expr
ession had acquired a maturity Meg had not noticed before.

  With firm resolve, Lily helped Meg from the chair. ‘Come on. The baby will be coming soon.’

  Meg chortled. ‘Oh yes. And how would you know that?’ She didn’t see Lily’s expression, the sudden flash of recognition in her eyes. Déjà vu. Something happening that she’d seen happen once before.

  ‘I told you. I’ve seen it before. You have to lie down. I have to help you.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘I don’t know!’

  ‘Lily, we have to wait …’

  ‘No! No! I don’t want you die. I don’t want you to die!’ She threw herself into Meg’s arms. Meg grimaced while caressing the blonde hair she loved so much. Meg gave herself up to the pain, which was swiftly taking over. She would accept whatever Lily said.

  Lily, determined to help her foster mother up the stairs, forced herself to concentrate on the here and now and not on the sudden memories threatening to engulf her and turn her to jelly. The train, the pile of bodies, the woman who had died in labour along with her newborn child, threatened to swamp her mind – it all came flooding back. If she were to think clearly, they had to be kept at bay. Doing that meant accepting what had happened without breaking down. She had to think clearly.

  Rudy padded across the flagstone floor to the bottom of the stairs, his melting brown eyes full of sympathetic interest. One paw was already on the bottom tread when Lily turned round and told him to sit and stay. Meg glanced over her shoulder. If it hadn’t been for the pain, she might have made a quip about him looking like a nervous father. But she didn’t. The pain was enough to bear, though when she thought about the child’s father it wasn’t Ray who came to mind. It was John’s worried frown.

  The bed linen had been changed that morning and Meg couldn’t help but feel relieved at the prospect of sliding between those crisp, cool sheets. She pulled back the covers.

  ‘Wait there.’ Lily dashed off downstairs, returning with two clean towels and some sheets of yesterday’s newspaper. By the time she had returned Meg had got herself ready, removing her outer clothes, then her underclothes and putting on a clean nightdress. For a moment she stood there, her hands holding her stomach as another contraction ripped through her and something that felt as heavy as an anvil pushed downwards between her legs.

  ‘You need to lie on the bed,’ Lily said to her.

  ‘That’s what I want to do.’

  As she lay back on the heap of pillows she was racked by another contraction. When she attempted to reach for the bedcovers, her whole stomach seemed to heave sideways then downwards. She’d never had a baby before but knew that it was coming. Fast! Very fast.

  What happened next should have been in a blur of pain and discomfort, embarrassment even, that a young girl was lifting her nightdress, then feeling her naked belly. Lily gasped and her eyes opened wide as she peered between Meg’s parted thighs. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, suddenly glancing up. ‘I know what to do.’

  Meg felt herself opening up. Somehow it seemed part of her, yet not part of her, almost as though she were watching the event rather than being the chief participant. The look in her foster daughter’s eyes was hypnotic and held her attention.

  ‘It’s coming,’ Lily whispered, her face bright with amazement. ‘I can see its head.’

  Meg got herself up on to her elbows, trying her best to peer between her knees and see what Lily was seeing. ‘Lily, you must run and get somebody …’

  ‘It’s all right. The woman on the train was a midwife. She told the lady having the baby what had to be done. I remember what she said. You have to turn the head so that the shoulders come through sideways.’

  Meg paused. This was such a lot for a young girl to do.

  ‘I’ve already done it. I know what to do. I’ve seen it done before.’

  Meg thought she’d heard wrongly. Lily was just a child …

  It was as though her whole womb, stomach and intestines had flushed out of her body and on to the crumpled newspaper. There was also a feeling of relief followed by a piercing cry. Keen to see her newborn and to know whether it was a boy or a girl, Meg pushed herself up back on to her elbows. ‘What is it? What is it?’

  Before Lily could answer, the bedroom door burst open. ‘Oh my God!’ Alice’s expression was one of amazement.

  ‘Boy or girl?’ asked Meg, her face glowing with delight even though the aftermath of the birth pains were still sending spasms of movement over her stomach. Alice placed the child in a towel and raised her up so Meg could see. ‘A little girl!’ Meg almost choked on a mixture of laughter and tears.

  Alice turned to Lily. ‘Did you do this?’

  Lily nodded. ‘Somebody had to.’

  ‘You?’ Alice was incredulous.

  Lily spoke slowly as though she were explaining the details of a film recently seen at the cinema. ‘I saw it done once before. It was on a train. I saw it all.’ She didn’t add that both mother and baby had died in a pool of blood.

  Alice took over and was closely followed by Doctor Fudge.

  ‘You go on outside and play. Or take that dog for a walk,’ Alice ordered her. It was obvious Alice had overlooked the fact that it was dark outside and all the other kids would be in bed. Even Samuel Golding, a boy who had saved her from the loneliness her nationality and her dreams had bequeathed her.

  Rudy followed her out into the twilight of a March evening. Raindrops from earlier dripped like pearls from the eaves and the air was fresh with damp grass and newly formed buds. The familiar figure of PC John Carter set his bicycle against the hedge and pushed open the garden gate. He took off his helmet as he approached her, undid his top button as though he were sweating streams and eyed her nervously.

  Instead of jumping around John’s knees and wagging his tail furiously, Rudy circled him as though wanting to reassure and escorted John to the front step where Lily was sitting. John got the message and sat on the end of the step, with Lily at the other end, chin supported on knuckles, and the dog between them.

  ‘It’s a girl.’

  John wondered at Lily’s perception before it came to him that asking the gender of the newborn was only to be expected.

  ‘Auntie Meg is fine. They’re both fine.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘Are you going to marry Auntie Meg now the baby’s been born?’

  In all other awkward circumstances, licking his lips would help grease his response. In this particular instance and asked this particular question, John was lost for words and no amount of licking made his lips any moister.

  ‘Do you think I should?’

  Lily fixed him with a piercing stare that made him wince. He’d seen magistrates look at poachers in the same way before passing sentence, as though they knew that they were going to lie even before they opened their mouths. The stare turned solemn.

  ‘You’d make a good father.’

  He smiled. ‘That’s the best compliment I’ve ever had.’

  He thought of Ray Malin, the baby’s real father. His visit and its purpose had knocked him sideways. Something had broken between Mr and Mrs Malin, something that could not be mended. Ray hadn’t said as much, but the message was there. He was going away. Look after my wife, though to John’s ears the message was that the coast was clear. He’d been right to reprimand her husband that it wasn’t up to him whether she was inclined towards him or not. Not that he doubted she was. Something warm had grown between them. Just friendship at first and so far their affection had been restrained to reassuring hugs and occasional stolen kisses.

  John, Lily and Rudy the dog sat silently watching the bats weaving around any obstacle in their way before circling back to the church tower. Once the bats were gone they continued to sit, listening to the night sounds and watching a waning moon flit in and out of lacy clouds.

  The beam from a flashlight suddenly swept over them. ‘What’s this then? The three wise monkeys?’

  ‘We’re waiting
to see the baby,’ returned John.

  ‘I’ve made it a teddy bear – well almost,’ added Lily.

  Rudy gave a single woof.

  Reg Puller grunted something about expectant fathers and stalked off. As though he thinks I’m the father, thought John, feeling immensely proud that he might. He sat, lost in thought, waiting for Lily to say something rather than having to speak himself. However, he did wonder how she was feeling about the baby, whether she might be jealous.

  ‘I’m looking forward to seeing this baby. I expect you are too.’

  ‘I’ve already seen it. I brought it into the world.’

  John fell to silence. There was something deadpan about her voice, as though bringing a baby into the world wasn’t all that difficult. ‘You sound very knowledgeable.’

  ‘I saw a baby being born once before. I was on a train. It was packed with people. The woman was lying down near to where I was stood. I saw everything.’

  John felt as though his tongue had cleaved to his mouth. For a moment he just did not know what to say. All he could do was express genuine surprise. ‘Lily. I had no idea …’

  ‘I lost my memory, you know. It started coming back some time ago. Now, watching the baby arrive, I know everything. My name came back some time ago but didn’t really mean anything and I didn’t want to tell Auntie Meg. I didn’t want to upset her.’

  John’s speechlessness continued for a moment. He felt wonder but also surprise – and pity. The poor child. But he must not expound pity, that could only upset her. ‘I like the name Lily. Will I like your new name?’

  ‘Leah. My name’s Leah. Leah Westerman. My parents are … were … Rudolph – Rudy – and Rachel Westerman. I don’t think they’re alive. I would feel their presence if they were alive, wouldn’t I?’

  John’s jaw dropped. His face paled. ‘I don’t know. Some people can, but I don’t know.’

  Lily cleared her throat and began to recite the bits of her life she now recalled. ‘I think we were Jewish. Not that we practised it very much, but in Austria that didn’t matter. We were what we were, and we were quite rich. We moved to France. Then everything was taken from us and we were put on that train. My father feared I would die at the labour camp. That’s why he took me off the train and placed me on the pile of dead people. He told me to pretend that I was dead.’