Only a Mother Knows

by Annie Groves

  ‘Eggs!’ Archie’s eyes were wide. ‘Hens’ eggs?’ Considering that rationing allowed everybody only one egg per month, a tray of thirty eggs was a bountiful gift, the likes of which they had not seen since before the war. They could hardly take their eyes off the precious tray. ‘Where did they come from?’ Archie wondered, his mouth watering fit to drown him at the thought of a soft-boiled breakfast egg.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Olive. ‘It was as quiet as the grave except for …’ She suddenly remembered the heavy tractor-like thrum of an engine as a vehicle, hidden in a cloak of smog, chugged its way down Article Row and out of sight. ‘Here’s the note that was under the lid, but I didn’t like to open it.’

  Archie, without compunction, tore open the envelope and read the words written within. ‘It says: Merry Christmas to Agnes and all her family with best wishes, Mr Weybridge.’

  Olive, stunned, looked at Agnes who had just sauntered into the kitchen, tousle-haired and yawning. They greeted her now with huge smiles.

  ‘Anybody would think it was Christmas,’ laughed Agnes, amazed.

  ‘Shall we report it?’ Olive asked. ‘After all it is …’

  ‘Christmas.’ Archie stopped her anxious query. ‘It is a gift and must be accepted as such – and I am off-duty.’

  ‘We never would have broken the law in peacetime …’ Olive wasn’t so sure.

  ‘We never would have needed to,’ said Archie, watching Olive fetch a large earthenware bowl from the cupboard to put the eggs in.

  ‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ Agnes demanded, suddenly animated. ‘Let’s get the pan on and start breakfast. Olive, you sit there, you’ve done enough!’ And with that she put the pan onto the stove. Counting how many of them wanted a precious freshly boiled egg she lowered one each into the bubbling water whilst they all stood in anticipation of a proper breakfast, watching as the pan simmered.

  Sally, coming into the kitchen, gazed with sleepy eyes at the scene in disbelief and exclaimed with pleasure. ‘Eggs?’

  ‘A box of them,’ said Olive, ‘left on the doorstep with a note saying “Happy Christmas”.’

  ‘A box of eggs.’ Sally was amazed. ‘Do you know who left them?’

  ‘We took them into custody,’ Archie said with constabulary importance, ‘and interrogated them, but they refused to talk so we had to remove them to a place of safety before disposing of the evidence.’ Laughing he lifted his egg with his spoon and declared it suitably arrested as he put it into the egg cup, his jocular explanation averting any further questions.

  ‘There was a note saying they needed a good home and I can’t think of one better,’ Agnes said, not wanting to let on about her new-found father as she was still getting used to the idea herself.

  After they had savoured every mouthful, Archie brought out a bottle of cherry brandy and put it with the sherry Olive had won at the WVS Christmas party. The brandy, he said, had been given to him as a Christmas present from a grateful Holborn resident whom he’d helped at some time in the past year.

  ‘I think it would be better if the children open their presents now if that’s all right with you?’ Olive asked, aware that now Barney and Alice had joined them they would get no peace. None of the adults raised the slightest objection.

  Barney was awestruck when Archie gave him a fabulous Avro Anson model aeroplane and examined his wonderful gift in minute detail before whooping around the front room dive-bombing the imaginary enemy. Alice sat cuddling the dolly made for her by Olive.

  Treasure unmeasured, thought Olive, happily agreeing that the adults’ presents would be given out when Dulcie arrived later. Alice, delightedly, also received a rocking cradle, which Archie had spent hours making from scraps of wood, although nobody would have known it was homemade as he had completed it to a professional finish. Olive was surprised when he admitted that he would have loved to have been a carpenter if he hadn’t become a policeman whilst Agnes had made little blankets for the cradle and had quilted a curtain remnant, filling it with freshly washed, if somewhat laddered, nylons. Olive gave Agnes a grateful hug before she went off to work in Chancery Lane until four o’clock.

  Barney could not wipe the smile from his face as he put the new knitted jersey on over his pyjama jacket and his nose remained for the rest of the morning in William Brown’s wartime adventures. Watching them all in contented conversation now, Olive had tears in her eyes.

  Dulcie couldn’t wait to see the back of her genteel if somewhat opinionated mother-in-law, who thought nothing of criticising her home in the most courteous of ways.

  ‘What taste you have, my dear,’ said Lady James-Thompson, ‘this furniture quite puts me in mind of a gentleman’s club.’ Dulcie smiled nobly, secure in the knowledge that it had been chosen by David and his first wife.

  ‘One wasn’t around when the furniture was purchased,’ Dulcie said in her best Selfridges voice. ‘I think David made a superb choice, as it will be so serviceable, especially when the baby arrives. Leather is so much easier to clean, don’t you think?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know,’ said David’s mother in ice-cold tones, ‘having never had to clean it.’

  ‘Let me get you another aperitif, Mother.’ David’s tone matched his mother’s as he reached for a decanter of Dubonnet. ‘Dulcie has worked really hard preparing our lunch and it looks delicious.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ said Lady James-Thompson, obviously not in the least interested in what was on her plate as she hardly ate any of the delicious chicken Dulcie had managed to persuade the butcher to keep back for her. Dulcie had almost balked at what the man had charged, noting that her mother would have been able to feed the whole family for a week for the price of it, before being reminded, if indeed she needed to be, by the snooty butcher that there was a war on.

  However, far from being intimidated by David’s mother and her haughty attitude, Dulcie felt emboldened, especially when she recalled her husband telling her that his paternal grandmother had been a Gaiety Girl. How thrilling, thought Dulcie as she tucked into her chicken and roast potatoes with gusto.

  ‘I see you take eating for two literally, Dulcie?’ said Lady Snooty, as Dulcie had secretly named her mother-in-law.

  ‘Oh, I believe in enjoying what the good lord provides,’ Dulcie answered.

  ‘Oh, I thought it was my son,’ Lady James-Thompson commented.

  Giving Lady J-T her most charming smile Dulcie thought that if she had her way she would tell the woman exactly where she could stuff the parson’s nose. But she knew his mother, coming as she did from an earldom, valued nothing more in a daughter-in-law than a large fortune, however it had been made; after all, David’s first wife, Lydia, was from a family of wealthy mill owners. Still, thought Dulcie, regaining her equilibrium, David had never been as happy with Lydia as he was with her!

  ‘Well, I must not keep you from your friends any longer. David was telling me you are visiting this evening,’ Lady James-Thompson said as she made to rise from the table, not even touching her coffee and mince pie, for which Dulcie had searched the whole of London before having a word with an ex-friend of a friend who could ‘find’ that kind of thing. It was obvious to Dulcie, who was nobody’s fool, that David’s mother could not get out quick enough and was only here under sufferance because of the child Dulcie was carrying. No, she was under no illusions about becoming Lady James-Thompson’s favourite daughter-in-law just yet.

  Deftly manoeuvring himself, David pulled out his mother’s chair so she could quickly move unimpeded from the table.

  ‘Well, I have to say, it’s been wonderful,’ she said, slipping into her mink coat. Yes, thought Dulcie, you have to say so, for the sake of appearances; you don’t want to say it though.

  ‘You will keep in touch, David.’ Lady J-T smiled, giving a little wave as she made for the door. ‘Let me know when the baby is born.’

  ‘Of course I will, Mother,’ David answered, and with pleading eyes he looked at Dulcie, who dropped her napkin on the
table and stood up.

  ‘It was lovely to see you, Lady James-Thompson, you must come again,’ Dulcie said, delightedly watching her mother-in-law’s thinly veiled look of disgust as she leaned towards her and barely touched her daughter-in-law’s shoulder, kissing the air to the side of her cheek. Dutifully Dulcie led the woman down the stairs to the waiting chauffeur-driven Bentley almost identical to David’s.

  Dulcie walked slowly back up to the flat, glad the ordeal was over and consoling herself with the thought that she didn’t have to see David’s mother again if she didn’t want to. He was certainly in no hurry to encourage cosy nights with the family by the looks of things; in fact he had been only a few degrees above frosty over lunch, she thought.

  Slipping off her ever-tightening shoes, Dulcie rubbed her aching feet.

  ‘I am so sorry, darling, she has always been an awkward dragon.’

  ‘Don’t give it another thought, David, I know how awkward mothers can be – in fact I’m an expert.’ Dulcie suddenly brightened. ‘Anyway we have Olive’s gathering to look forward to. Did you put the presents in the bag?’

  ‘All presents are correct,’ David laughed, before offering to go and make them both a welcome cup of tea.

  ‘Oh, you are a love,’ Dulcie said tiredly as she curled up in elegant comfort on the sofa. ‘After tea I’ll wash those dishes before we go to Article Row.’

  She hadn’t realised she had nodded off until David woke her with a cup of tea brought into the sitting room on the tray that was fixed onto his wheelchair, after giving the housekeeper the rest of the day off. Dulcie still couldn’t get used to being waited on hand and foot and her independent personality made it almost impossible to have another woman doing her shopping and cooking; she liked looking after David herself and didn’t think anyone else could take care of her husband as well as she could. However, David said that she must accept help as her pregnancy progressed and reluctantly, she agreed.

  ‘Why didn’t you show your mother that you can walk on your new legs, David?’ Dulcie asked as they sat relaxing with their tea.

  ‘If she knew I was able to move about under my own steam and “appear normal” as she so disgustingly puts it, she would have me accompany her to every boring function she possibly could.’ He paused and thought for a moment and then he shuddered. ‘Heaven forfend, Dulcie.’ They both laughed and moments later were snuggled together on the sofa. Dulcie sighed contentedly. She had never loved anybody the way she loved David.

  ‘We’d better get ready for Olive’s or she’ll think we’re not coming,’ David said dreamily as the effect of the huge lunch and good brandy took its toll.

  ‘Mmm, I know,’ Dulcie responded lazily, not wanting to move at all. ‘I’ve been looking forward to going to Olive’s all week and now it seems such an effort.’

  ‘She will be offended if we don’t go, darling,’ David said, giving her a little push to help her up.

  ‘I know.’ Moving with cumbersome gait from the sofa, Dulcie padded barefoot to their bedroom and, looking in the mirror, realised that her dalliance with another man was plain for everyone to see now.

  Every day she was growing bigger, although she had tried so hard to keep herself as neat as possible. Dulcie knew that if they put a bit of effort into it she and David could have a wonderful life together. She wasn’t talking about the money or the title – although she did enjoy the perks it could bring. They had the same views, the same off-the-wall sense of humour and could discuss almost anything. However, she still sometimes wondered had David only married her to save her from shame, as a friend? He certainly hadn’t married her to please his mother who clearly thought her dreadfully common.

  ‘Ready, darling?’ David asked, popping his head around the bedroom door, and it was that look in his eyes, that open look of adoration, which told her David really loved her and assured her she had nothing at all to worry about if he could possibly do anything about it. She knew the real David, the one who was kind and sensitive and who would walk to the end of the earth on his wooden legs to please her. She was sure they would find their own way one day.

  ‘Two minutes, David,’ Dulcie answered, applying a slick of black-market lipstick.

  Only a Mother Knows

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Tilly was reflecting on the changes the year had brought whilst her mother was doing the things she loved best, busying herself in the kitchen preparing their luncheon feast to come. And it was a feast, of that there was no question. Tilly knew there wouldn’t be many families who would be sitting down to eat such a fabulous spread this Christmas and it was all thanks to her mother’s resourceful housekeeping.

  She could hear her mother humming to the songs being played on the Home Service wireless programme and clearly enjoying the ENSA concert for war workers. Tilly was looking forward to hearing the Empire link-up, which was to be broadcast at two p.m., entitled ‘The Fourth Christmas’, which would send messages home to loved ones from the troops who were serving abroad.

  The house was really Christmassy this year, Tilly thought, as the smell of roast goose wafted through the house, making her mouth water and her tummy rumble even though there were still two hours to go before everybody arrived and they sat down to eat. However, even though it would be so wonderful to have everybody together again there would still be one place empty … What would Drew be doing right now? she wondered.

  ‘It’s lovely to have you home again,’ Olive said, going over to the sideboard and retrieving the silver cutlery, which was brought out only for Christmas and other special occasions and had been bought for her parents on their wedding day. ‘It is just like old times.’

  ‘I was just thinking the same thing myself,’ said Tilly. ‘Everything looks lovely as usual, Mum. You have done a fantastic job with what little there is to be had these days.’ Tilly was trying desperately to shrug off the pall of melancholy that her home visit had resurrected. It was easier to ignore the longing for her soulmate when she was in camp with the other girls; as there was so much else to do and she was kept busy all of the time.

  She had sent Drew and his family a Christmas card, of course, there was no point in being stubborn and childlike about their split. After all, they had shared some very intimate moments in their lives and she knew, she just knew that Drew had felt exactly the same way about her as she did about him – even if his love didn’t last as long, at least the last two years had been spent with the man she would love for the rest of her life.

  Janet, her friend back at camp, thought she was raising her hopes too high, given the reputation the American troops had acquired for ‘loving and leaving’ their girls since they came over here last January, but Tilly knew that Drew wasn’t like the rest of them. He was kind and gentle and moral and upstanding … She could go on listing his qualities recalling the night they vowed, in the little village church, to love each other forever, and as Drew placed the ring on her finger she’d felt a special kind of magic that only truly united souls experienced. She gave a long, drawn-out sigh realising the Christmas card she had hoped to receive hadn’t arrived. But it didn’t stop her heart from aching with love for him.

  ‘I’m going for a little walk before lunch, Mum,’ Tilly said, knowing her mother wouldn’t allow her to help with the preparations; the kitchen being Olive’s domain today and could not be invaded by anybody.

  Taking in the once-familiar landmarks that had now been irrevocably changed by enemy bombings Tilly’s heart slumped as she drove her gloved hands deeper into her pockets, her collar pulled up against the freezing early-afternoon mist. She told herself that if she lost her sense of sight she would still know she was home just by the lingering smell of chimney smoke and freshly scrubbed doorsteps.

  She had been walking nowhere in particular for a long time, enjoying being home once again and sorting out her thoughts. She didn’t want to ruin anybody’s – especially her mother’s – Christmas by being maudlin. Taking a long stroll would hopefully clear her
head. Thoughts of Drew telling her about his father, a tyrant by all accounts, who wanted his son to go into the newspaper empire he had built from scratch, played on her mind. What if his father had forbidden him to come back to England? What if he had joined the Forces and was fighting somewhere right now? That seemed the most obvious answer to Tilly and it hit her so suddenly she stopped right there on the cracked pavement and the audible gasp was loud enough to give a courting couple reason to turn and stare in her direction. Tilly could feel her cheeks burn even in the frosty haze.

  What if Drew had been sent overseas? He could be anywhere! He might not even have seen the Christmas card she sent. But she had to be strong and surrender herself to destiny; if she was to see Drew again, as deep in her heart Tilly believed she would, then the stars would lead him to her once more. Drew had a quietly persevering, some would call it an independent soul, and although he’d told her that he would one day have to comply with his father’s demands, he’d also told her he would only do it with her by his side.

  However, she had to return home now. Agnes would be off-duty soon, after working until four o’clock, and everybody would be arriving. The least she could do was to be there to help her mother. At the corner of Hatton Garden near the old family department store of Gamages, Tilly headed back home.

  ‘We don’t want this on, do we?’ Olive asked, going over to the wireless as dedications were being read out from servicemen abroad. She didn’t want Tilly any more upset than she imagined she must be feeling now, with Drew not being here this year, and remembering how good last year had been.

  ‘Oh, leave it on low, Mum, maybe we can throw the rug back and have a little dance later.’

  ‘That sounds like a lovely idea,’ Olive said, relieved that Tilly seemed to have got over her bout of melancholy.

  The house was alive with chattering voices and happy smiling faces. Nancy was helping Olive by handing out the Christmas punch, made by Archie before he went home for a few hours’ sleep after being on duty the previous night. Barney was flying his Avro Anson from the kitchen to the front room and making the engine noises to go with it, whilst baby Alice was awestruck with wonder.