Only a Mother Knows

by Annie Groves

  ‘Considering it happened a week ago,’ said Tilly. ‘Edith had plenty of time to tell Dulcie before today. But it was a heck of a shock to discover Wilder had flown so many dangerous missions, then to be killed after being run over by a ruddy great bus in the blackout.’

  ‘Drunk as a lord apparently,’ said Sally, amazed at Tilly’s salty language and how much she had matured since she joined the ATS.

  ‘Edith came here looking for Dulcie and it was Nancy who told her where she was,’ said Agnes, offering a plate of ham sandwiches to the girls who were huddled in the front room catching up on all the gossip.

  ‘That was a bit mean of Nancy, considering she knew Dulcie didn’t want her family at the wedding,’ said Sally, ‘especially Edith, after what she did with Wilder.’

  ‘I know, it seems that malice against Dulcie is irresistible to some people,’ Tilly said as their next-door neighbour brought in a tray of bone china cups and saucers – all matching – which Nancy had lent to Olive for the occasion and watched like a hawk in case anybody was giddy enough to break one.

  ‘I bet she enjoyed every minute of informing Edith that today was her sister’s wedding day,’ Tilly went on, giving Nancy’s retreating back a withering glance.

  ‘Let’s try and keep our chins up for Dulcie’s sake, hey, girls?’ Olive suggested, overhearing the girls’ conversation as she passed around a plate of salmon paste sandwiches – her rations, unfortunately, hadn’t run to real salmon but nevertheless Dulcie had told her earlier that she was thrilled with Olive’s efforts.

  ‘These are scant reward for Olive’s motherly endeavours, I know,’ Dulcie said later, handing her landlady a huge bouquet of flowers, ‘acquired’ from who knew where as they were so scarce. ‘I just want to say that even after my sister’s untimely entrance, Olive has made today one of the best days of my life.’ Olive blushed and gave a little self-deprecating shrug making everybody shout ‘hear, hear’ and give her a colossal round of applause.

  ‘Get away with you,’ Olive protested, hurrying to collect glasses and interrupt the small gathering of men over by the fireside catching up on Rick and David’s wartime adventures and quaffing fine brandy, which had been generously supplied by the groom from his pre-war stock. Olive offered Archie a sandwich and noticed that, although he was joining in the conversations, he seemed a little distracted.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, taking a sandwich and breaking away from the company. His eyes seemed full of neighbourly concern as he said in a low voice, ‘Olive, you should sit for a while, you have been on your feet looking after everybody’s needs since we got back from the register office.’

  Olive felt the heat snake up her neck and face at his considerate words and dismissively flapped her hands. ‘I can’t invite people to my home and expect them to look after themselves, now can I?’

  ‘You enjoy looking after others so much, from what I have seen,’ Archie said, smiling now to alleviate the significance of his observation and after a few moments he relaxed. ‘May I ask you something, Olive?’

  ‘Of course you can, you can ask me anything, Archie,’ Olive replied. However the question he asked her wasn’t the one she expected.

  ‘I know you are very busy and I know I’ve just told you to slow down for your own good but, oh, I’m making a right pig’s ear of this, aren’t I?’ Archie seemed to be searching for the right words. ‘It’s Mrs Dawson … even though she’s a lot better since she came home from hospital, she’s still not her old self, if you see what I mean …’

  ‘You want me to keep my eye on her?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ Archie said quickly, then his shoulders slumped and he gave a sheepish grin. ‘I feel a right hypocrite now.’

  ‘It’s no bother, you know,’ Olive assured him. ‘I pass your house every day, so it won’t be any hardship to knock and ask Mrs Dawson if she needs anything, now will it?’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Archie sighed. ‘It would be a great weight off my mind. You see, I thought having young Barney around would take her mind off the bombings and being on her own when I was out, and it did for a while but it’s coming up to our son’s birthday and she always goes a bit quiet around now …’

  ‘I’ll certainly see what I can do,’ said Olive, concern showing plainly on her face. Being a mother she could empathise with what Mrs Dawson was going through, knowing she would be devastated if anything should ever happen to Tilly.

  ‘It’s Barney I’m thinking about the most, she worries the life out of him, poor lad, and he’s taken to roaming the streets again whilst I’m out working or fire-watching, so I have the added worry of …’ Olive put her hand on Archie’s arm in a gesture of reassurance, just as Nancy brought in a fresh plate of sandwiches. Olive removed her hand from Archie’s arm as if it were on fire.

  ‘I’m sure you worry that he may fall in with the wrong crowd again.’ Olive nodded, knowing it would be so easy for the lad to pick up where he left off with the tearaways he used to hang around with. ‘But don’t give it another thought, I’ll keep my eye on him.’ Olive would do anything for Archie if he asked her – just the same as she would do anything for any of her neighbours if they asked her, she thought briskly.

  Looking around the room, she noticed that everybody was deep in conversation and seemed to be relaxed and enjoying themselves, when a thought struck her. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, how could she possibly in full view of a room full of family and friends? So why did she feel the need to bow to Nancy’s disapproval? ‘And whilst we’re on the subject of Barney,’ she said, feeling braver now, ‘if he has nowhere to go he can always come in here. He could watch baby Alice whilst I’m doing my chores and Sally’s at work. That’s only if he wants to,’ she added quickly. ‘It’ll save him walking the streets now the weather is on the turn.’

  ‘Oh, Olive, you are the best.’ Archie, in a moment of unrestrained happiness, took Olive’s hand and kissed it. Olive was immensely relieved that Nancy had returned to the kitchen and nobody else saw him, but it did give her a feeling of elation for the rest of the day.

  ‘Come on, you lot,’ called Sally over the low conversational hubbub, ‘let’s have a sing-song. We know Dulcie has had some sad news and we are all sorry for that, but it’s her wedding day and we mustn’t let it overshadow her new status as Mrs James-Thompson – if that’s okay with you, Dulcie?’

  Dulcie gave a little shake of her head when, a little later, putting the past to the back of her mind for the sake of her new husband, Sergeant Dawson gave a rousing rendition of a song by Noel Coward entitled, ‘Could You Please Oblige Us With a Bren Gun’, much to general amusement and everybody joined in.

  A lot of water had flowed under the bridge since the early days of war, thought Dulcie as she hummed the chorus. Her sister whom they had initially given up for dead had come back only to run off with her man and, Dulcie realised now, she had nothing to reproach herself for. The enthusiastic applause brought her out of her reverie and seeing David’s happy expression she realised that it was his day too, she must make him as happy as possible and, in the sweet voice that hardly anybody had heard before she sang ‘Bye Bye Blackbird’, much to the astonishment of her friends. And as her perfect, soaring notes reached the chorus Dulcie gave David a little wink of her eye knowing they were going to make the best of things.

  ‘We’ll have the best marriage, Dulcie,’ David said as applause and shouts for more rang in her ears. ‘Just you wait and see, I am going to make you the happiest woman in England, if not the world.’ Dulcie gazed tenderly at her new husband, and, seeing him in a new light as if for the first time, her heart sang with love for him.

  By the end of the revelries there were tears and laughter, old memories resurfaced and new ones were made. Tilly, Sally and Agnes hugged Dulcie so much that David had to beg someone to part them so he and his new wife could leave and begin their married life together.

  Dulcie was still singing, thrilled to be whisked away to the Dorchester for her wedding n
ight with her wonderful new husband. And, tucked up in his arms in the back of his Bentley, she radiated blissful happiness.

  Olive lay awake in her huge double bed and smiled remembering the girls, all four of them, singing together at the end of the afternoon’s joyful celebrations. She had seen a different Dulcie today, the real Dulcie, perhaps.

  However, she wasn’t so sure she was happy about her daughter, Tilly, who, in a very merry state, had insisted on dragging a reluctant Sally to a local dance. Agnes, possibly secretly relieved, had received a telegram summoning her to report to Chancery Lane underground. Olive knew her daughter’s new-found independence did not go unnoticed by the other girls either; Sally had remarked on Tilly’s new, outgoing personality and Olive had to agree that it wouldn’t do to be a wilting wallflower in the army. Although Olive was glad Tilly was seeing a different way of life and becoming more assertive, she was still her mother who worried and nothing would change that.

  However, Olive thought as the full moon, a bomber’s moon they called it, shone its silvery beam through her window, she was glad the day went well and she hoped that Dulcie would be as happy with David as she had been with her husband all those years ago.

  Olive realised that the dry sherries she had quaffed earlier had given her courage to lie with the blackout curtains wide open so she could enjoy the silent silver sky. She wondered what Archie was doing now, knowing he was on duty, and fervently prayed that there would be no air raid tonight. Her mind wandered over the day and it lingered on the memory of Archie’s kiss on her hand, suspecting it had been a moment of madness that had made him do it in front of a room full of people but she was ever so glad of it, knowing Nancy could not make a big hoo-ha over it and invent all kinds of snide possibilities.

  Then, inexplicably, her mind went to Agnes, who had come for a quiet heart-to-heart chat before the girls went out. Her fiancé, Ted, couldn’t make the wedding; he’d had to work his evening shift as a train driver on the underground. But Olive couldn’t see why he couldn’t have come for a few hours to the daytime reception like Archie did.

  She worried about Agnes a little more than about the others, except Tilly of course, as Agnes seemed such a fragile little thing, never disagreeing with anybody and keeping herself to herself unless she and Olive were alone, then she would open up and tell her that all she wanted was a family to call her own. After the little nip of sherry that had been thrust upon her, she’d confided in Olive that she didn’t think Ted’s mother liked her very much.

  ‘Well, she doesn’t recognise a good girl when she sees one then,’ Olive had told her. ‘She doesn’t deserve a lovely future daughter-in-law like you, Agnes.’ This maternal outburst had caused Agnes’s cheeks to colour bright pink as she quickly refuted the heartfelt compliment.

  ‘Ted wouldn’t approve of me going dancing without him anyway,’ Agnes said, causing a little grimace of agony to blight her pretty eyes as she read the telegram.

  ‘Well, maybe he should take you, instead of pandering to that ungrateful mother of his.’ Olive had stopped suddenly, realising she had said too much, and blamed it on the sherry. Then, she’d added more contritely, ‘I won’t tell him if you don’t, let it be our secret.’ This made Agnes smile, and Olive could see the girl didn’t have much choice about going to work whilst the others put on a coat of lipstick, and went dancing. But it was the other thing that Agnes said that bothered Olive more. The girl said she thought somebody was following her when she had to come home on her own.

  A rare fuddle of alcohol was causing Olive to drift into a lovely sleep when she suddenly heard it. The noise was low at first, barely audible … then, growing louder by the second, the banshee wail of the air-raid warning began in earnest.

  ‘Oh please, Lord, let my girls come home safely,’ was her last thought before sleep finally claimed her.

  Only a Mother Knows

  FIFTEEN

  David, with the help of his driver waiting with his wheelchair, was first out of the car when they pulled up outside the Dorchester, the luxurious Mayfair hotel renowned for the politicians, foreign journalists and even Royalty who frequented it, as he wanted to see the look of surprise on the beautiful face of his new wife.

  ‘But, David, I thought …’ What Dulcie thought was left unsaid as he held out his hand and she took it, easing her way out of the car with grace, the way she had seen Queen Elizabeth do it on the Pathé newsreels at the pictures. Looking up at the elegant façade, which thanks to its reinforced concrete structure was said to be the safest in London, Dulcie could not stop the sharp intake of breath or the jaw-dropping look of surprise when she realised that this was where she would have dinner on her wedding night.

  ‘Are we having dinner here?’ she asked as little darts of excitement ricocheted inside her.

  ‘No, darling, we are staying here until we leave for our honeymoon tomorrow.’ David’s face was a mixture of pride and adoration. ‘Nothing is too good for my wife.’ He gave a gentle laugh as Dulcie, forgetting her inflated air of sophistication, gave a little dance and squealed her delight.

  ‘The Dorchester,’ she breathed after raining kisses on David’s cheeks and lips. ‘If my mother could see me now,’ she said in a low voice, ‘this would knock Edith into a cocked hat!’ Then, a sharp zing of panic overwhelmed her momentarily when she realised that she hadn’t a thing to wear for dinner at the Dorchester and she had been in the same clothes all day.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ David said after signing ‘Group-Captain and Mrs James-Thompson’ with a flourish in the hotel register, which gave Dulcie an added thrill, as they were escorted to one of the opulent lifts to be taken to their room. ‘I have taken the liberty of having something brought over for you to change into for dinner.’ His eyes twinkled and Dulcie wondered how he had managed to get her best imitation-silk dress out of her wardrobe without her noticing; she was sure it was there this morning.

  But the sight that met her when they were escorted into the luxurious accommodation almost took her breath away. It wasn’t a room, it was a whole suite of them! And there draped over the lavish double bed was a vision in pewter silk, a dress the likes of which she had only seen on movie stars at the pictures or read about in Vogue that she had so avidly digested before … She stopped herself from thinking any further back. That was then, this is now, Dulcie thought.

  ‘Oh, David, pinch me!’ she squealed again as she hurried over to the bed whilst David was tipping the bell boy. ‘How did you know my size? How did you know this is my all time favourite colour?’

  ‘I’m so glad you like it, darling,’ David smiled. ‘I took the liberty of asking Olive to covertly pump you for information and to find out your size – I couldn’t very well go into Harrods and say “my wife is about this size and this tall”, now could I?’

  ‘Harrods?’ Dulcie could hardly believe her ears as she slipped the expensive dress from the bed and held it up against her in one smooth, effortless sweep before standing in front of the full-length mirror, and tilting her head to one side she said almost shyly, ‘But won’t it show my …?’

  ‘No, darling, the lady who sold it to me assured me the cut of the dress would show your figure off to its full advantage and,’ he gave her a wicked smile, ‘if anybody should suspect that Mrs James-Thompson is expecting a happy event, who am I to disillusion them?’

  ‘Oh, David, you are so good to me.’ Dulcie felt the happy sting of tears, and as he held out his hand once more for her to come and sit beside him on the opulent sofa she could think of no other person in the whole world who was as good to her.

  ‘Shall we have a pre-dinner champagne celebration all of our own?’ His eyes were dancing with delight, she could see.

  ‘Oh, David, do you think we should?’ Dulcie asked, feeling elated.

  ‘Well, I hardly think we shouldn’t,’ David laughed, pulling her towards him.

  ‘I do love you; you know that, don’t you, David, and not just because … because …’ he
had saved her from the shame of carrying an illegitimate child; she would never put that into words though because she did love David, she always had. And she was going to make him the best wife she possibly could.

  ‘I am the luckiest man in the world,’ David said.

  ‘Oh, David, I feel exactly the same,’ Dulcie said as her new husband took her in his arms and kissed her cares away. Then they heard the first whining keen of the air-raid siren.

  ‘We made it to the shelter just in time,’ Tilly told Olive a short while later after the ‘all clear’ had sounded. Olive had spent the time waiting for their return in the Morrison shelter erected in the front room that served as an occasional table with a tablecloth thrown over it when it wasn’t otherwise in use.

  ‘It was a quick one tonight,’ Sally said as Olive poured cocoa into four cups, ‘but if you don’t mind, girls, I’ll take my drink to bed with me, I’m so tired I don’t think I’ll see the bottom of the cup.’ The murmurs of ‘goodnight, sleep tight’ followed Sally to the staircase and, reaching her bedroom door, she closed it quietly behind her knowing that despite what she had just said, she would barely get a wink of sleep tonight.

  She hadn’t been getting as many letters from George as she had hoped and yet ironically she had been getting letters from Callum almost every day, so much so that she began to feel quite embarrassed at the amount of wonderful compliments he was paying her.

  Sally, for some strange reason that she couldn’t fathom, hadn’t thought to mention that she and George were courting; well, she hadn’t seen the need at first, reasoning that it had nothing to do with Callum. However, he seemed to have got it into his head that she wanted to be more than just a friend. But that would be impossible; she had her George to think about now. Tomorrow she would have to write to tell Callum what the situation was.