Paint on the Smiles

by Grace Thompson

  There had been no reply to a brief letter Cecily had given to Paul, so they presumed their mother still had no wish to see them. The thought made Cecily resent Paul Gregory even more. Ada thought differently.

  ‘But Cecily, he’s got no one and him a soldier too. I think we ought to make him feel a bit welcome, at least till the war’s over.’ Ada sighed and added, ‘We don’t know what will happen to him. Just think of poor Jack Simmons and all the others who aren’t coming back. He could be gone like them in a matter of weeks. And just think of fighting a battle and then not having anywhere to go when you get a bit of leave. Terrible that must be.’

  ‘You aren’t suggesting he comes here, are you?’

  ‘Big he might be but he’s only a boy. Shame on us if we don’t offer a little bit of hospitality. What d’you think, Phil, love?’

  ‘I agree. Best for us to give a bit of kindness to a homeless soldier.’ He smiled at Cecily, a gloating smile, guessing how afraid she was that Van would be taken in by the big bold, handsome sergeant. ‘Van writes to him every week.’

  ‘I know it’s unreasonable, making too much of Van’s friendship with him,’ Cecily told Peter later. ‘There’s nothing wrong with the boy and Van writing to him – well, that’s a kindness and nothing more. Van isn’t a fool and she’s well able to judge herself. But will she? Or will she be taken in by the glamour of him? He is glamorous; big, handsome and worldly wise and so … so bold. He has eyes that see everything and he smiles as if what he wants is there for the taking.’

  ‘With so many women looking for a man to replace those who have been lost, what he sees usually is his for the taking! But the confidence could be just an act. He might be less sure of himself than he pretends.’

  ‘Please, come on Sunday and judge for yourself,’ Cecily pleaded. ‘Just come, as if it’s a longstanding arrangement.’

  ‘Van won’t be pleased.’

  ‘No, Peter, but I will.’

  So Peter came and ignored the surprised and disappointed look on Van’s face. He handed her a small parcel. ‘This is an un-birthday present,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘Thank you.’ The words were spoken sharply. She didn’t unwrap the gift but put it on one side, guessing it was perfume, refusing to be pleased.

  They ate roast chicken at that difficult meal, Phil having gone into the country and bought one in exchange for sugar and tea, filched from the shop. He still went occasionally with the borrowed horse and cart and brought back what he could buy or barter. He brought back duck eggs, rabbits and mushrooms, sometimes cucumbers and tomatoes and on rarer occasions onions. Fruit, too, in season, reached the shop via his deliveries and queues would form as patient customers stood, hoping that the rare treat wouldn’t be sold before their turn came. Ada proudly told the others of his skill in finding the luxuries they would enjoy today.

  It was Paul who carved the chicken on Van’s insistence, glaring down her mother’s protests, although Phil, whose job it usually was, would have made a better job of it. Van seemed to treat the day like a celebration for herself and Paul, ignoring Cecily when she made a comment that didn’t include him.

  Peter was quiet. Only Ada and Phil seemed unaware of the tension in the artificially cheerful group. They listened to Paul’s stories about life in the wartime army and laughed at his jokes, even though some were more crude than they were used to. He used the head of the table, where Van had placed him, like a stage, from where he watched his audience and played them like an expert.

  When the meal was finished and they had moved the chairs back to enjoy the port he had brought, he went into the passage and came back with two boxes. One was the size of a biscuit tin, the other was small and tied with ribbons. The largest was opened first. It contained an iced cake and bore the words MUVANWIE AND PAUL.

  ‘Sorry about the spelling.’ Paul laughed. ‘That’s the closest the cook could get to Myfanwy. He owed me a favour, see. Got something on him I have. So here we have a cake made with butter.’ He winked at Van. ‘Nothing but the best for my girl, eh? And iced by one of His Majesty’s soldiers. Specially for you, Van.’ He leaned over and kissed Van slowly, and with sounds of satisfaction.

  Cecily looked nervously at the smaller parcel then back to the cake, afraid to ask why Van’s and Paul’s names were together. Peter reached and held her hand.

  Van laughed excitedly as Paul released her and pointed to the second parcel. ‘And now this one?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, impatient girl, you can open it now.’ He sat smiling, his dark eyes darting to Cecily and back to Van, in suppressed excitement as Van’s small, slender fingers pulled at the ribbons and removed the wrapping. Van was smiling too and Cecily had the horrifying sensation that this was a charade especially arranged for her, some tormenting scheme intended to make her squirm. It was becoming unreal, as though the two people in the centre of it were strangers. She gripped Peter’s hand tightly.

  As she had been dreading from the moment she saw it, the package revealed a jeweller’s plush-covered box. Van opened it and gasped in delight. The electric light caught the glitter of diamonds as a ring was lifted from its bed of velvet and handed to Paul. He took Van’s hand and after kissing the palm, slipped the ring onto her third finger. ‘Well?’ he said to Cecily. ‘Aren’t you going to congratulate us?’

  Cecily looked at her daughter and asked quietly, ‘Why didn’t you discuss this with us, Van?’

  ‘No need. I’m nineteen and in eighteen months I’ll be twenty-one. Paul and I don’t intend to marry until then so I won’t need your permission, will I?’

  ‘Permission? No. But it would have been nice to believe we’re important enough to be included in something as important as this.’

  ‘Surprises. That’s what life should be, Cecily,’ Paul said cheerfully. ‘Don’t think I won’t look after her properly. Just because you see me in the uniform of a sergeant doesn’t mean that’s what I’ll always be. No fear. Under this khaki there’s a man going places.’

  ‘To a grocery shop?’ Cecily asked, sarcastically.

  ‘Damn me, no! That’s Van’s territory! No, I have plans of my own. Don’t know exactly what I’ll do but by the time this war’s over, I’ll be ready to get started. Don’t doubt it.’

  Belatedly congratulations were offered and Cecily asked Paul how long he was staying.

  ‘I have to go back tomorrow, Cecily.’

  Hearing him use her name grated on her. He was altogether too bold, she decided, then shuddered at the even worse prospect of him calling her Mam! ‘And will you get leave again soon?’ Her voice sounded artificial and stilted, even to herself.

  ‘I’m not supposed to say, really, but I’m training some boys now for the big push that’s coming in a few months,’ he said conspiratorially, ‘so I’m not far away. I’ll be back in a week or two. I can’t stay away now I’ve found my Myfanwy.’ He smiled at Van, who was still admiring her engagement ring.

  ‘Come and help me take the dishes out, Van,’ Cecily said, and when Van followed her carrying some plates, she said to her, ‘Fortune hunter! I thought you’d have more sense!’ She rattled cups angrily.

  ‘He’ll share the shop when it’s mine to share, Mam. And perhaps he is excited at the prospect of marrying a wealthy woman, but I don’t intend to spend my best years alone, like you! I’m not stupid. I’m well aware of the dangers. Paul and I will be partners but I will hold the reins, of that you can be certain.’ Van’s eyes were glittering with excitement.

  Van went back through the passage to the living room and through the open door Cecily heard laughter ringing out. But she wasn’t a part of it. She was isolated, ostracized by her lack of joy.

  She heard the clatter of china and tensed herself for Van’s return but it was Peter who came back with a laden tray. Silently he stacked the dishes and when she began to wash them, he took a towel and dried them.

  ‘I shouldn’t have said a word,’ she muttered miserably.

  ‘It’s often the be
st,’ he agreed, ‘but the suddenness of it would make any caring mother anxious, specially when she dislikes the man.’

  ‘What d’you think of him? You’re well balanced and just distant enough to judge without prejudice.’

  ‘I don’t think he’ll be enough for Van. She’ll tire of him before her twenty-first birthday.’

  ‘Today was stage-managed for my benefit. She’s scoring points for some reason I don’t understand. She might be stubborn enough to still marry him. Knowing I disapprove could be enough to make her go through with it. Maybe the fact that there’s a connection with Mam has brought the opportunity to hurt me. Oh Peter, I’ve made such a mess of bringing her up – the lies, all the pretence, they’ve ruined the chance of us being close and loving as we once were.’

  ‘She’ll come round, when she’s got it out of her system.’

  ‘She’ll do anything to harm me and make me unhappy. I think she hates me.’

  Peter put down the white cloth and put his arms around her. ‘Cecily, dear girl, you worry too much. However hard you try, you cannot protect Van from every danger, avoid for her every pitfall life brings. You have to accept that she’ll make mistakes. All right, perhaps you said more than you ought, but whether you did or not is irrelevant. Van is nineteen and whatever she is, she will remain. Come, my love, cheer up. Let’s go back in and you can smile your wonderful smile at them both.’

  She looked at him, seeing the kindly friend of so many years and hugged him almost shyly. ‘Peter, what would I do without you? You’re such a good friend. How long has it been now?’

  ‘Thirteen years last April.’ He kissed her lightly on the cheek and she turned impulsively and kissed his lips. With an arm casually around her waist, they went back into the living room with smiles that were genuine.

  Van and Paul were standing and Paul was putting on his army greatcoat.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Cecily asked.

  ‘For a walk and a cuddle in the dark,’ Paul replied.

  ‘We’ll have to start saving our clothing coupons now,’ Ada said happily. ‘Won’t it be lovely to have a wedding in the family? All the relations here. You can have all my coupons, Van, love. What about yours, Cecily?’

  The next morning Cecily went out and spent eight of her twenty-six coupons – which had to last for a year – on a pair of worsted slacks for two pounds fifteen shillings, and a full-sleeved blouse using six more and two pounds sixteen shillings. A pretty nightdress cost one pound and ten shillings and used six coupons. Defiantly she returned to the shop and spent the remaining six coupons on eight pairs of stockings at a shilling a pair.

  Chapter Eight

  THROUGHOUT THAT SUMMER and autumn there were a few air raids but most times the enemy planes flew over the town without causing any trouble. Nuisance raids they were called: a plane passed over and the warning would sound, forcing workers to leave their benches and causing a loss of production. Gradually people became less worried and would hesitate before going to the shelters; some ignored them completely. A few bombs were dropped in the area but there was no return to the fierce attacks of earlier months. One theory was that if a plane had a bomb left after a previous attack somewhere further north, the crew would drop it rather than take it back to Germany, and they were indifferent about the target.

  Cecily spent her days at Van’s side in the office overlooking Watkins’ shop floor, trying not to worry. She tried not to think about Van writing to Paul every day and waiting for his next leave with undisguised excitement. She tried not to think of the way Ada and Phil were allowing the business to slide deeper and deeper towards unrecoverable failure. It was all so difficult and if she tried to discuss either problem she risked an argument, so she worried, but spoke of it only to Peter.

  Ada and Phil seemed to keep themselves busy in spite of falling trade. They still had a few customers registered for weekly rations but these were much reduced. Butter and cheese were down to two ounces per person per week and most weeks there was only one egg. Fuel was restricted too; the coal allowance was not sufficient for a daily fire during the winter, and logs were a popular extra. Magazines were full of recipes for wartime cooking: eggless cakes, fatless sponges, and there was Spam and the famous dried eggs.

  Watkins’ store began to build up for the Christmas trade by having small allocations of tinned fruit. The store was decorated with a few streamers to add some cheer, but in Owen’s shop the shelves remained empty. Phil still went out on the cart but rarely brought anything apart from rabbits. These sold quickly, a queue forming before Phil had taken them from the cart.

  Annette called with their youngest child, whom they had called William, and explained that, try as she might, she couldn’t persuade Willie to return to the shop. ‘He just sits and mopes, except when Danny comes home on leave and that isn’t very often. In fact, it’s months since we saw him,’ she told the sisters.

  ‘Shall I come and see him and ask him to come back?’ Cecily suggested. She was tempted to show Annette the books and point out how much they genuinely needed his advice and encouragement, but loyalty stopped her. It was too easy to offend Ada these days.

  ‘I don’t think he’ll be persuaded, but please try, Auntie Cecily. I’m in despair, I really am. I’m tired of talking to him.’

  ‘And talking isn’t all you’ve been doing, is it?’ Cecily said with a chuckle.

  ‘No, you’ve guessed. There’s another baby due in June. I can manage four children,’ Annette said wearily, ‘but please get Willie from under my feet!’

  ‘Let’s hope the war is over before he’s born.’

  ‘I’ll go on Sunday,’ Cecily told Peter. ‘In between fire drill and first aid and teaching a lot of new girls to drive ambulances! It seems we just get them used to the heavy vehicle then they take their skills to the forces.’

  They went late on Sunday morning and were invited to stay for lunch.

  ‘No, loves, I can’t,’ Cecily said, seeing the small piece of lamb they were prepared to share. ‘Ada will be expecting us back. I only came to have a word with Willie.’ She looked to where the twenty-nine-year-old sat, with a length of wood under his damaged arm trying to shape it into a hobby horse for four-year-old Claire. Seeing him struggling, she decided to use every argument she could to get him back, and forget her loyalties to Ada and Phil.

  ‘I’m so tired these days, I’m likely to fall flat on my face and snore in the gutter,’ she told him, waving her hand in an ineffectual attempt to push her hair from her eyes. ‘That long the days are, I wonder why I bother to go to bed for the few hours I sleep.’ She took a deep breath and went on. ‘It’s Phil partly, Willie. You know he’s a bit, well, a bit odd. He spends a lot of time driving around in the horse and cart, most days coming back with nothing, and Ada is left to cope on her own. I’m with Van all day and I have to come home and cook a meal, then, between all the voluntary work, I deal with the books. Not the ordering, I’m not allowed to do that. I order too much apparently and it isn’t sensible. How they explain how having no stock to sell is sensible I can’t explain.’

  ‘I did wonder about the empty shelves but Ada explained about Van dealing with the big orders to save you worrying about them.’

  ‘That’s only partly true. The bulk of the day-to-day business is still in the shop but they’re running it down and down. Quite honestly, there soon won’t be any business to worry about. Between them they’ve lost three quarters of it already.’

  ‘What will you do?’ Willie asked.

  ‘Please, will you come at least for a little while?’

  ‘I don’t like leaving Annette to get three children into the shelter if there’s a raid. I’m needed here.’

  ‘I know you have your own business to get back on its feet, but could you come and see if you can persuade them to start building it up again? You know the business as well as I do and Phil might not object if you make suggestions about increasing the stock and encouraging our old customers back. I don’t kn
ow what I’ll do if things go on like this for much longer.’

  Willie stood up and walked around the room. ‘What’s the point of me being there? What can I do with one arm?’

  ‘More than most can do with two!’ Cecily snapped. ‘It was your arm and that’s terrible but it wasn’t your brain, was it?’

  Peter beckoned to the children and took them out into the garden, with Annette following.

  ‘It’s easy for you to talk,’ Willie argued.

  ‘I never dreamt you’d be the one to feel sorry for yourself, Willie Morgan! I’m working an eighteen-hour day, running here, running there, trying to do the work of three and watching the business – that you and I built – go down the drain like the water from scrubbing a filthy floor!’

  She glared at him, her blue eyes wide in feigned anger, her fingers crossed behind her back. Her relief, when she heard him chuckle, was enormous.

  ‘All right, you big bully,’ he said. ‘But if I feel I’m not pulling my weight, I’ll pack it in, right?’

  ‘No. That’s not right! Starting with built-in defeat isn’t for me and it isn’t for you either.’

  Peter laughed all the way back to the shop. ‘You’re a formidable woman, Miss Owen.’ He smiled. ‘A suit of armour and a pack of dogs wouldn’t be enough to persuade me to take you on when you’re really determined.’

  ‘Did I overdo it?’

  ‘No, my dear. Like everything else you do, it was perfectly correct.’

  ‘Flatterer!’

  So Willie agreed to go back to the shop, leaving Annette and Victor and Claire and William to get to the shelter, if necessary, without him.

  ‘We managed while you were away, love, and we’ll manage now,’ Annette assured him affectionately. ‘Go to the shop and promise me you won’t try running home through an air raid again.’

  ‘And you promise to take the children and your precious cargo to the shelter the minute the siren starts.’