by Annie Groves
She knew she could not say anything that would stop him grieving for the people he had lost: his mother, his grandmother, Mrs Dawson, and in some ways his father too because he never got in touch with the boy. Everyone who’d brought him stability and love had gone and his life had changed forever. But at least Olive could assure him of one thing – he was not alone any more.
‘I know we are not a substitute for the family you have lost,’ Olive said, ‘but we are always here, and if you need to get something off your chest or just need to talk to someone, you have got all of us eager females with ever-open ears to listen.’ Then she paused and seemed to ponder for a moment. ‘And if you want to get news to the other end of London in a hurry, there is always Nancy Black next door.’
There was a moment’s silence before Barney raised his head and looked at her. Then a smile plumped his cheeks and showed his straight white teeth, and before she knew it he was laughing and it gladdened her heart when he said in a mock-serious voice, wiping his tearstained face with the back of his hand, ‘I ain’t tellin’ her nuffink.’
‘I don’t blame you,’ Olive said in conspiratorial tones, as a thought struck her. They had been so wrapped up in the events of the last few weeks that she’d never got around to asking him. ‘Barney, about these chicks, what if we put them in the cellar until the weather is warmer? They should be a good size by then.’
‘Would you do that for me, Aunt Olive?’ he asked, jumping up and giving her a loving hug, and Olive understood that she and the girls were the nearest thing he’d had to stability for a long time. Then as if realising what he’d done he gave a jerky little shrug and disentangled himself. Within seconds he was off up the street, leaving Olive to shake her head.
What else could she have done? The remaining eight chicks had no home to go to either, so it was her duty to look after them, and, if they rewarded her with an egg or two, now and then, who was she to refuse them?
‘Not today, thank you, Nancy,’ Olive said, closing the door behind her neighbour who had seen her coming out of the police station, and now wanted to know if there was ‘anything she could do to help’. Well, it would be a poor day when she needed anything from Nancy Black, Olive thought, knowing her neighbour only wanted to find out what she was doing in the police station in the first place, and she didn’t have time for idle gossip today as she had something she wanted to discuss with Agnes in private. Finding her young lodger in the kitchen, she gave her the good news. ‘Archie said he can take us to Surrey in his police car this afternoon.’
Agnes hadn’t told anybody except Olive about her father wanting to see her. ‘I have to go to meet him in a police car?’ she asked hesitantly. Whilst she was not one to look a gift-horse in the mouth Agnes didn’t fancy the idea of turning up to meet a parent she had never seen before looking like a common criminal.
‘He can drop us off somewhere and we can walk the rest of the way if that would put your mind at rest?’ Olive didn’t want to voice what she thought of Agnes’s father; suffice to say, it didn’t look as if he had been in too much of a hurry to find her – twenty years was a long time to mull over the idea of getting to know his offspring.
Olive couldn’t understand how people could reject their children. She couldn’t even envisage how she would have reacted if Tilly had been younger and had to be evacuated for her own safety; she didn’t think she would have let Tilly leave London without her.
But thousands of parents had had to do it. And some of them hadn’t seen their children since the beginning of the war over three years ago. Thankfully it wasn’t a decision she’d had to make, and thinking of Tilly now she still missed her and worried what she was up to.
‘How come Archie can get the petrol to go to Surrey? I heard the government are even rationing official vehicles now,’ Agnes said, not wanting to risk him getting into trouble with his superiors.
‘He has to take some confidential files to a police station out that way, they can’t be posted, and it just so happens that he has to go near Attersham village to get to it.’ Attersham was the place where Agnes’s father lived. ‘That’s a stroke of good luck, isn’t it?’ When Agnes went to see her father, Olive thought, she and Archie would … they would talk, she would find out if everything was going the way it should with Barney, and his police duties, if there was anything he needed. She was determined that she would be a better neighbour to Archie than she had been to his poor wife. And if Nancy had anything to say about it she could say it to her face.
Agnes took her seat at the table and folded a piece of toast before handing it to little Alice, not saying anything for a while.
‘He said he can take us around two o’clock if you like? Otherwise we’ll have a bit of a trek to get to such a small village, that’s if there’s any trains running that far out and it will be treacherous getting there in this awful wet weather.’
‘I don’t mind if you don’t want to come, Olive,’ Agnes said, although not unkindly. ‘I’m not sure I want to go, either, now.’ She always had to fend for herself in the past so it wasn’t any hardship now, and she didn’t want to put Olive out by dragging her to Attersham in this bad weather. Besides, Agnes had checked and knew the nearest station would be three miles away.
‘It’s just nerves,’ Olive assured her, ‘you’ll be fine when you get there.’
‘I would prefer to go early, get it out of the way, if I’m going at all,’ Agnes said, ‘and that way, I won’t have to disappoint Ted’s mum. She’s saved all her coupons for a nice tea.’ Agnes so wanted to give Ted and his family, especially his mother, all the good news – if indeed she did go, and if she did have good news to impart.
‘I’m not sure if Archie can go this morning,’ Olive said doubtfully.
‘I don’t want to be a burden,’ Agnes insisted. ‘I can manage, honestly.’
‘Well,’ said Olive, pulling out a chair and sitting opposite Agnes at the table, ‘I’m not one to interfere as you know, and seeing as you’re like a daughter to me now I’m only giving you the same advice I would give Tilly …’ She paused for a moment. ‘If I can just say, I think you would be sorry if you didn’t go and find out what this man, Mr Weybridge, has to say for himself.’
‘You could have knocked me down with a puff of wind when I found out.’ Agnes sounded almost distant as if expecting the answer to come to her from the air. ‘And why does he suddenly want to see me now, after twenty years? He could have got in touch any time, surely?’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Olive admitted, ‘but I didn’t like to say. Anyway, it won’t do any harm to find out, will it?’
All her life Agnes had wanted to find out who her real family were. She wanted to know that she belonged to somebody. And most of all she wanted to know who that ‘somebody’ was.
‘If you’re worried about Ted, I’m sure he will understand if you are a little late.’
‘But Mrs Jackson has saved her coupons especially.’ Agnes took a deep breath and looked quite despondent, until Olive offered another suggestion.
‘Stop worrying, Agnes, I’ll ask Archie if he can take us this morning after all, and if he can’t he may let you telephone Mr Weybridge from the police station and postpone it until the trains are running better during the week?’
‘He doesn’t have a telephone,’ said Agnes, ‘or at least, there isn’t a number on the letter.’
‘We’ll find a solution, don’t you worry,’ Olive said, brightening as she put on her coat and saw Agnes smile.
A little while later she was back.
‘I’ve had a word with Archie and he said he would drop us off, and then pick us up again about an hour or so later.’ She looked thoughtfully at her lodger. ‘So that’s all worked out for the best, hasn’t it.’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind, Olive?’ Agnes asked, feeling as if she was putting everybody out now.
‘I don’t mind at all, love,’ Olive said, beginning to clear the table ‘and Barney can look after Alice for
a little while, he’ll enjoy that. Sally will be in from her night shift soon anyway, so what do you think?’ Olive’s eyes were bright with enthusiasm and Agnes threw her arms around her landlady’s shoulders and gave her a hug.
‘Oh, Olive, you are so good to me, I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
‘Oh, don’t take on so.’ Olive gave a modest little laugh. ‘Everything will be fine.’ She only hoped her words sounded more positive than she felt.
Only a Mother Knows
TWENTY-ONE
Sally, weary now after a busy night at the hospital, took George’s letter from her pocket and, putting her feet up, decided to have a little read before Alice woke from her nap, whilst Barney, always eager to be of help, promised he would only be in the cellar with the chickens if she needed him.
Her eyes raced down the loving words. She was eager to hear how he was faring, yet she didn’t want to reach the end of the last page. He said he missed her so much and couldn’t wait until they were together again. He asked how Alice was doing and wanted to know if she was looking forward to Christmas. Sally smiled at that; what child didn’t look forward to a visit from Father Christmas? George asked if it was snowing yet, and then, on the last line he wrote: Don’t answer that last question, my darling, for I wonder if it will be snowing in Liverpool on the 24th? With all my love, my darling, yours always George xxx P.S. Give Alice a goodnight kiss from me. xx
‘He’s coming home for Christmas!’ Sally’s shrill cry of excitement echoed around the house as she ran to the top of the cellar steps, sending the chickens squawking in all directions and causing Barney to drop the valuable corn he was feeding them with. She and George had worked out a code for when and if he could get some leave without mentioning the name of the ship or even which service he was with. The letter hadn’t said so but she knew George’s ship was docking at Liverpool! It couldn’t be more perfect. She and George were going to be together at Christmas in her home town. She could go and put a wreath on her parents’ grave and finally make her peace with her father and Morag who, by their tragic deaths, had given her the gift of Alice.
‘Is everything all right, Sally?’ Barney called as he came haring up the cellar steps.
‘George is coming home for Christmas!’ gasped Sally in an excited voice that was barely above a whisper, with happy tears streaming down her face. ‘I can’t tell you how I know but we will spend Christmas together, probably not here though …’ She stopped herself from going further, realising she had already said too much. Then picking up Barney she swung him around the garden, laughing and dancing.
Barney was feeling quite embarrassed now, having never seen the dutiful nursing sister in this mood before. As Sally put him back on his feet he said, ‘That’s great news, Sally, and guess what?’ He paused for dramatic effect. ‘Olive’s gonna be thrilled as well, because she had word from the doctor who took George’s room in the Simpsons’ house. He brought a telephone message from Tilly – she’s coming home for Christmas!’ Looking up at Sally’s ecstatic smile he hoped that when he told Olive the good news she didn’t pick him up and swing him around too.
Sergeant Dawson was not in the least put out by his timetable being rearranged; in fact he said he would rather go to Surrey early and that way he would be back in time for his dinner. So he, Olive and Agnes left the bustle of London traffic and weaved their way out of the capital onto the Portsmouth road before heading towards the rolling countryside, ancient woodland and picturesque villages of Surrey. Agnes could hardly contain her excitement.
‘Won’t you come in with me?’ she asked Olive when they arrived at the small farmhouse that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, suddenly very nervous, especially when she saw chickens and geese running about like demented gatekeepers as Sergeant Dawson’s car pulled into the muddy yard.
Olive patted Agnes arm, silently indicating that the girl would be fine without her. She herself was only too relieved to get out and stretch her legs.
‘I’m grateful for the lift, Archie, but the journey has left me feeling like a leaf in a blizzard,’ she laughed, knowing she had never been so glad to touch mud in all her life. In the distance she could see a young woman on a tractor out in the field and wondered if she was a land girl or if she was resident here.
‘I’ll wait outside if you don’t mind, Agnes, get a bit of fresh air.’ She wrinkled her nose and gave a little grin as the air, at the moment, smelled anything but fresh. Then she spied the pig sty just over the yard. ‘Yell if you need me, I’ll be having a conversation with that porker.’
‘Well, don’t go smuggling him out under your coat.’ Agnes laughed, trying to quell her jangled nerves.
‘Oh, bacon on toast …’ sighed Olive. What she wouldn’t give for a nice pork chop was nobody’s business.
‘Don’t, you’ll have me laughing and this is serious,’ Agnes protested.
‘You’re right,’ said Olive, giving her a gentle push. ‘Go on, find out what all the fuss is about and I’ll see you when you come out again.’ She was in a funny kind of mood. It must have been all the winding roads on the journey, she presumed as she turned and watched Archie’s police car disappear over the hill.
It wasn’t long before he was back, inviting Olive into the car out of the brisk west wind.
‘Oh, I’m glad to see you, Archie,’ Olive said, smiling although her teeth were beginning to chatter. ‘It is so cold out there. I’m sure we’ll soon have snow.’
‘You said that last year and we didn’t, and the year before if I remember correctly,’ Archie said with one of his most disarming grins, causing Olive to feel a sudden rush of heat to her freezing cheeks.
‘What a good memory you have Sergeant Dawson.’ Olive was suddenly aware of their close proximity to one another, and as she watched Archie looking out of the window, his eyes always on duty, she realised how tired he appeared. He had been working all the hours God sent after his wife died and she wondered if he was running from the truth. Olive, taking stock, reckoned that if he kept working as hard as he had been lately he would not have to face up to what had happened. It was all so very, very sad.
‘She never did get over losing our boy,’ Archie said, reading Olive’s thoughts with unerring accuracy. ‘In some ways she blamed herself but …’
‘Nobody could be to blame, Archie, it was God’s will.’ Olive fleetingly covered his hand with hers. It was a small gesture, meant to reassure her friend. But Archie turned to her now and he looked at her, really looked at her, his dark eyes so close to hers that she could see the huge pupils searching her face, her eyes, her hair.
‘Oh, Olive, I shouldn’t feel this way but I do … I’m glad she is at peace with our son. I haven’t been able to grieve because it was what she wanted for so long. If anything I feel angry sometimes that she took the easy way out, leaving me with all the heartache and …’
‘Don’t torture yourself, Archie, it’s not right, you did everything you possibly could and more. You have nothing to blame yourself for.’
Archie touched her shoulder and gave a tight smile. It was a small gesture but it was done with such warmth that it spoke a thousand words and Olive realised that she had spent so long trying to avoid local gossip that she had actually neglected her very true friend. And he was a friend, the best she could ever have.
‘They caught them, you know,’ Archie said suddenly, confusing Olive momentarily.
‘Who caught who, Archie?’ Olive’s brows puckered.
‘Those spivs who were tormenting Barney and young Freddy. We caught them red-handed in number 49, they were using it as a hiding place for all the loot they pinched from bombed-out houses and, would you believe it, even graveyards … The buggers have got no respect for the living or the dead and we got them banged to rights.’
‘Oh, well done, Archie!’ Olive could not contain her delight and she reached across to the driver’s seat and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Then, feeling suddenly embarrassed at her impulsive
performance, Olive sank back into her own seat as the uneasy silence that filled the small interior of the car began to close in on her. She had never done anything so spontaneous in all her life before. Quickly, she turned her head and looked out of the side window to hide the obvious tinge of colour her act had brought on and found the scudding clouds immensely interesting.
After a short while she turned and looked straight ahead beyond the windscreen, engrossed in the stark landscape beyond the farmhouse, whilst out of the corner of her eye she could see Archie was doing exactly the same thing. Neither of them said a word and Olive was only too aware that if they so wished, her light, friendly kiss could have been taken further. Much further.
If Agnes had dreams of a loving father shedding a tear whilst waiting with outstretched arms for her to fall into, then she was sadly mistaken. The door was opened almost immediately and she was greeted, if she could call it that, by a wizened old man who was bent double and had no teeth, reminding Agnes, to her dismay, of a character in a Punch and Judy show she had watched with other children from the orphanage.
‘Come in, come in, come in, you’re letting all the heat out,’ he said in a grumpy voice. Agnes did as she was told and entered the wide expanse of hallway with four bare-wood doors leading off it, which gave way to a dark, narrow staircase running up the middle of the farmhouse to the floor above. The hallway wasn’t very bright as the small high windows were quite dingy and by the looks of it, she thought, hadn’t seen a chamois leather for many a long year. But she wasn’t here to criticise. She was here to meet her father. And looking at this cantankerous old man, she now wished she hadn’t bothered.
‘So, you are Agnes, I presume,’ the old man said in the local accent, which had Agnes straining her ears and wondering if it would be too much of an effort for him to raise his voice a little.
