by Annie Groves
‘Nancy,’ Olive said with the patience born of years living next door to the local busybody, ‘we don’t know that, do we?’ This particular occasion was when, in the butchers shop, Nancy had hinted to a woman from Jubilee Avenue that Mrs Dawson had been very depressed at being left alone for long hours whilst her husband was ‘on duty’ – the last two words had been loaded with such malice that Olive felt obliged to correct her there and then. Sergeant Dawson was grieving over the death of his beloved wife and yet Nancy still couldn’t resist airing her poisonous point of view. She would cause a war in an empty house, Olive thought, wondering what Archie could possibly have done to upset Nancy so much that the woman could not bear the sight of him. And even the death of Archie’s wife could not thaw the ice around Nancy’s heart.
Only a Mother Knows
NINETEEN
Dulcie was resting when she heard a furious ringing of the doorbell. She frowned as she hurried down the stairs to the front door, but her irritation turned to anger when she saw who was making all the noise.
‘If you think you can come here and cause trouble you can think again,’ Dulcie told her sister, Edith, who was standing on the doorstep. But her anger subsided a little when she saw Edith’s expression.
‘I haven’t come to cause trouble, honest, Dulcie. Can I come in?’
‘You wouldn’t know honest if it jumped up and poked you in the eye,’ Dulcie said, still holding a grudge about her sister’s wayward behaviour. Although she had to admit she had never seen Edith looking so down before, and something in the woman’s sombre tone told Dulcie that this was no ordinary call.
Curiosity and the opportunity to swank a little were the only reasons for allowing Edith into her home, Dulcie told herself as she led the way back up the fully carpeted stairs to the luxurious flat.
Grateful David was at his chambers now, Dulcie was fully aware her husband didn’t much care for her sister and who could blame him after the tricks she had played in the past? What kind of daughter would ‘forget’ to inform her parents that she was alive after being involved in a bomb attack? And then just as importantly, come back home and waltz off with her sister’s boyfriend? It was enough to give anyone the pip.
‘In here,’ Dulcie said sharply, opening the door to the opulent sitting-room. She didn’t dare try to second-guess the reason for Edith’s visit but was sure it wasn’t a social call.
‘Oh, you’ve landed on your feet, I must say,’ Edith remarked, her feet sinking into the thick pile carpet as her sweeping gaze took in the lavish furnishings. Dulcie was delighted to see the wind was taken right out of her sister’s sails. Inside, her heart was palpitating fit to burst with justified satisfaction at Edith’s obvious amazement, whilst on the outside her features remained calm, her head held high.
Dulcie hoped she was giving the resigned impression of a woman who was so familiar with the finer things in life that her surroundings were as natural to her as breathing. After all, she reasoned, one didn’t notice the trappings of wealth when one was acquainted with it day in and day out like she was.
‘Close your mouth, Edith, you are dribbling.’ Dulcie felt her adrenaline rise; this was the day she had secretly longed for; the day when her sister was rendered speechless at her success – for a change. She was so delighted with her lot she momentarily considered inviting her mother … Then just as quickly, decided against it.
‘I’m pregnant, Dulcie,’ Edith said, shattering her fleeting triumph. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ Dulcie gave her sister an inflexible stare, and much as she wanted to tell Edith to go and cry on someone else’s shoulder, she knew she could not. Dulcie could not turn her back on her own kin when they were in trouble; even though she might be the same flesh and blood as Edith, she thought as she looked her sister up and down, she certainly wasn’t of the same nature.
‘Is it Wilder’s baby?’ Dulcie asked, not really wanting to hear the answer but knowing she must. She had never given in to the American airman’s obvious charms because she wanted to keep him keen, maintain his interest – but her ploy had backfired when he turned to Edith and changed Dulcie’s life forever.
She eyed her sister whose head was now bent as she nodded her affirmation. Dulcie was sure she would never offer Edith the same advice their mother had given her. She had no intention of dragging her sister to a backstreet abortionist to ‘get rid’ of her dirty little secret, as her mother had claimed Dulcie should have done.
‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked, nodding towards the lovingly polished leather chesterfield sofa that took pride of place in the centre of the expansive room. Unable to look Edith in the face, Dulcie went over to the corner bay and stared out of the tall window. The street was busy below, everything looked so normal – as normal as a bomb-damaged street could look in wartime, she reasoned, watching people hurrying about their business, some looking as if they didn’t have a care and others looking as if they had the weight of the world on their shoulders.
Her emotions were all over the place now as her thoughts travelled back to the day when she saw her younger sister, suitcase in hand, preparing for a weekend away with her man. Fleetingly, the feeling of hurt returned.
‘I can’t keep it, Dulcie. I’ve been offered the leading role in a Broadway play. America!’ There was a pleading note in Edith’s voice when she added, ‘This could be the bigtime for me – this is the chance I’ve been waiting for all my life.’
‘You said the same thing when you got the lead in the West End, too.’ Dulcie forced her dull, disparaging words through tight lips. ‘It didn’t stop you running out on the big time when you went away with Wilder, though, did it?’
‘I … I didn’t run out on it – I would never do that.’ There were tears in Edith’s voice but Dulcie hardened her heart; she couldn’t let her sister hurt her so badly all over again.
‘I saw your name plastered all over the front of the theatre wall.’ Dulcie turned quickly to face her sister. ‘You can’t deny what you did, Edith. Admit it, you wanted Wilder from the moment you set eyes on him.’
‘I don’t deny I went away with Wilder that weekend.’ Edith shook her head, her eyes red-rimmed, and her voice dipped. ‘I can’t deny it, can I?’
‘Well, what are you denying, then?’ Dulcie watched her sister squirm and waited for the new revelation that was bound to be somebody else’s fault, because had Edith never admitted culpability for anything she had ever done in the past. Dulcie could feel the dormant loathing begin to stir; Edith had selfishly coveted everything she herself ever strived for, and now she had the temerity to beg for her support and, not only that, expected Dulcie to swallow her excuses too.
‘I wasn’t the lead in the show that day – I had been fired!’
‘Fired?’ Dulcie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘But you couldn’t have been, your face was on the board outside the theatre.’
‘It was taken down the next day. Wilder had come to see me, and I’ll admit it, I did all the running, I made a play for him and …’ She paused as if unsure, then taking a deep breath she continued, ‘He wasn’t made of wood, Dulcie, if a woman offers herself, he was always going to take it. I was feeling low and vulnerable I suppose …’
Dulcie found that very hard to believe but she let her sister go on.
‘I knew Wilder liked me and he didn’t resist when I said I’d like to get out of London, I was upset, vulnerable … I was … doing you a favour … You could have ended up marrying him and he was always going to deceive you.’
Dulcie was even more flabbergasted now. Up until a moment ago she had firmly believed that you looked out for your own people. It was an unwritten rule in the East End that if you could help someone it was your duty to do so. But Edith was making it very difficult for her to stick to that reasoning now.
‘Vulnerable? You?’ Dulcie was so angry she could have spat in her sister’s eye. However, she decided to play it down, keep calm and go slowly, so Edith could digest every word sh
e said to her sister who was looking more pale by the minute. ‘From what I can make out, Edith, you are one ungrateful, conniving cat from hell, and if I had all the money in the world I would give it to you just to see the back of you.’ Dulcie could see it plainly now. ‘You thought you were doing me a favour by exposing my boyfriend as the lying cheat he most surely was.’ Her voice dripped scorn. ‘Yet, Edith, you made it quite clear what you wanted from Wilder from the very moment you met him. The single theatre ticket. The come-hither looks when he walked into the room. You couldn’t wait to have him all to yourself, could you?’ Dulcie was getting into her stride now and enjoying every minute of her sister’s discomfort. She had waited a long time for this. ‘I knew what Wilder was; he didn’t fool me with his generous, handsome G.I. ways. He took what he could when he could from anyone he could, except me, in the hope that the day would not be his last – and then you came along and his luck ran out.’ Dulcie could feel her blood pressure rise and she had to sit down.
‘But you don’t understand, Dulcie, I loved him – I really loved him.’ Edith should have been an actress and not a singer, Dulcie realised, because she was giving a fair impression of someone who was heartbroken right now. Not that Dulcie could be fooled for a minute.
‘You loved him so much that you want to be rid of his child?’ She threw back her head and laughed. ‘That sounds about right coming from you, Edith. If you were a man they would call you a cad. But now I come to think about it, there are a lot of similarities between you and Wilder.’ If she drank, Dulcie knew she would be reaching for something strongly alcoholic by now. Her heart was pounding and her head was fit to burst.
‘You know I can’t have an illegitimate child, Dulcie, it would be the end of my career.’ Edith sounded so matter-of-fact. So certain that her older sister’s help was what she deserved.
Dulcie sat motionless for a long time and there was only the ticking of the ornate mantle clock to break the silence in the room. Eventually, after thinking long and hard about what she was going to do Dulcie sighed; she had to admire her sister’s gall. If she was honest, Edith had done her a favour. Because, given the opportunity, Dulcie would have married Wilder in a heartbeat if he’d asked her.
She had to admit she had dreamed of Wilder whisking her off to America to live the Hollywood lifestyle, and that was what Edith secretly wanted too … And David? Where did he fit into all of this, she wondered, but the thought was too painful to pursue.
‘Have you been in touch with Wilder’s family?’ Dulcie asked eventually, trying to block out the suspicion that she wouldn’t have given David a moment’s thought back then, or the fact that she was reaping the rewards of marrying in haste. ‘Have you?’ she repeated.
‘Why on earth would I want to do that?’ Edith’s eyes opened wide in amazement at her sister’s obviously idiotic question.
‘They have a right to know,’ Dulcie answered and watched as Edith opened her bag, took something out and clicked it shut again.
‘Have a look at this,’ Edith said, offering Dulcie a dog-eared photograph which showed an old man and woman and a fair-haired boy of about ten. They were standing in front of a run-down shack and were surrounded by dry-looking earth, not a blade of grass in sight.
‘They look really poor, but what’s it got to do with anything?’
‘Take a closer look, Dulcie. The boy is Wilder, the old people are his parents and guess what? They are not that old, it’s their circumstances that have made them look like that.’
Dulcie gasped. She’d always been of the impression that Wilder had come from a really rich family and he’d done nothing to dispel the idea.
‘One of his buddies back at the camp gave it to me when he brought me the news. Obviously his parents were told first.’
‘Oh, my goodness.’ Dulcie’s hand flew to her mouth to stop her saying what was on her mind when she realised her sister had done her a bigger favour than she’d first assumed.
‘So, you won after all. You have all this and I’ve got nothing,’ Edith said in a dull voice, and suddenly Dulcie felt sorry for her sister who had been such a thorn in her side for so many years. They were the same flesh and blood; Dulcie couldn’t turn her away now. ‘What can I do?’ she asked eventually, knowing she couldn’t see her sister in such a desperate predicament.
‘Can you help me, Dulcie?’
Dulcie knew she would help her sister but Edith wasn’t getting away with it that easily. She wanted her to worry a bit more first. Then after a long, hesitant pause, Dulcie thought There but for the grace of God go I, and placing her hand on the gentle swell beneath the expensively tailored cut of her loosely smocked jacket she said a silent thank you for the opulent lifestyle David’s money now afforded her.
Her own five-and-a-half-month pregnancy was still not that obvious as she carried herself with an elegant, upright deportment that made her expanding girth less noticeable, and that suited her just fine.
‘How far along are you?’ Dulcie asked as Edith looked up, and for a fleeting moment her expression was defiant.
‘Twenty-two weeks … The first time we’d … you know?’
Dulcie was astounded. Her sister had come here for her help at twenty-two weeks pregnant – they must have both conceived around the same time. ‘So, you are due in April … May?’
‘How do you know that so quickly?’ Edith asked, but Dulcie shrugged; she was giving nothing away to her sister at this point.
‘We were just having a good time.’ Edith admitted, looking at her brown peep-toe shoes and fiddling with the clasp on her box bag.
‘So it was just the once?’ A stab of pain pierced Dulcie’s heart. Just the once, my eye, she thought. ‘Are you at home with Mum?’ Dulcie watched her sister’s face crumple in disgust.
‘Are you kidding?’ Edith said incredulously. ‘She’d have me round to the nearest backstreet midwife. “Job done. Ta, dearie. Next please” … .’ Edith gave a fair imitation of the woman Dulcie had been introduced to the day her mother took her back to Stepney. ‘I’m not even going to tell her.’
‘Can’t say I blame you,’ Dulcie said, recalling that hot day, when she was threatened with an act even more abhorrent than the one that created her unborn child, knowing the backstreet midwives were making money hand over fist since the Americans came over. While the cat was away, the mice were having a fine old time, she thought miserably.
‘Leave it with me, I’ll talk to David. I know you are not one of his favourite people and he’s not your biggest fan but he would never turn you away.’
‘Do you think he would let me stay until …’
‘… Until the baby’s born?’ Dulcie asked, watching her sister’s head droop even more. Edith nodded without looking at her older sister.
‘And then what will you do?’
‘I could have it adopted … I don’t want to … to get rid of it.’
‘You have left it far too late for that, my girl. But adopted? I see you’ve given it plenty of thought, Edith.’ Dulcie’s sardonic tones were lost on her sister; she could tell by the nod of Edith’s perfectly curled head. At least she was keeping up appearances, Dulcie thought, and hadn’t succumbed to forgetting to wash because she was so miserable, like some did. No, the Simmonds girls knew how to put a brave face on things, Dulcie thought proudly, two sometimes, if need be. But she could hardly believe her own sister could contemplate such a thing as adoption. ‘I’ll bloody well bring it up myself before I’d see it adopted!’ Dulcie declared and was shocked at the speed at which Edith jumped from the sofa.
‘Would you, Dulcie?’ the relief on her face was plain. ‘Would you do that for me?’
‘No, Edith,’ Dulcie said through gritted teeth. ‘I’d do it for the child.’
Only a Mother Knows
TWENTY
In the weeks following Mrs Dawson’s death Barney was practically living in Olive’s house. Archie had no choice but to go straight back to work after the funeral, feeling duty-bound
to carry on as normal for the sake of the boy, and even though he had a sister who lived on a farm somewhere, he told Olive his place was here in Article Row. It gave Olive a chance to give the boy some kind of stable home life, if there was such a thing in these uncertain times and Barney, although quiet at first, seemed to be coming around to the idea of living in a house of women.
Olive had hesitated to tell Barney that things would get better, not knowing how he would react, and decided to take one day at a time. Archie told her he wouldn’t retreat to his sister’s in the countryside because it would be like running away and after all, there was plenty he had to be getting on with at home.
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Olive had said. Barney seemed quite content to help her with baby Alice and be as useful as he could around the house whilst Archie was on duty at the station or on fire-watch. Even though there hadn’t been a raid for ages, due to the Axis forces being busy elsewhere, his duties still had to be attended to.
Barney was proud to be the ‘man of the house’ as Sally and Agnes called him, making his chest swell and his back straighten. He was always ready to run an errand or watch over Alice whilst Olive got the meals ready. And now he was with Olive he didn’t have any need to go near the old place and meet up with the gangs he used to knock around with.
He was so wrapped up in being helpful, thought Olive, that he seemed to have completely got over Mrs Dawson’s death. This was until one day she found him sitting on the back step.
She had just given him the boiled, mashed potato skins to feed the growing chicks when she realised she had forgotten to give him the corn. She saw him looking to where he had built a little chicken coop and realised he was gently stroking a chick cradled in his cupped hands. It was quite still and Barney had tears streaming down his cheeks.
‘Barney, whatever’s the matter?’ Olive asked, worried in case he wasn’t feeling well and didn’t like to say.
‘Everythin’s dying,’ he said simply in a low, strained voice. ‘Even my chicks. All the people I care about are dying … I worried that the same thing might happen to you and Agnes and Sally, especially when I came out here and saw this …’ He held up the dead chick to show Olive, who thought that it might be a bit cold in the garden to keep chicks so young.
