by Daisy Styles
‘Heavens above, darling,’ she exclaimed, as she lay aside the hamper to embrace Isla. ‘You’re the size of a house!’
Isla grinned. ‘I know: I swear I’m eating for an army!’
Jeannie looked with pleasure at her grandchild, who, in her final months of pregnancy, looked like a flower in full bloom; Isla glowed with health and energy, and her soft blonde hair had grown long and had a pretty shine to it.
‘In that case you’ll love my housekeeper’s hamper, full of all your favourite treats,’ Jeannie told her. ‘She made extra for your friends too. There’ll be a mutiny in my house if the government start rationing sugar and butter,’ she joked.
In the sitting room, warmed by a crackling fire, Isla shared out cakes, sandwiches and cheese scones with her friends, which they enjoyed with several pots of tea provided by kindly Merry Paul, as everyone (thanks to Robin) now called the genial nun.
Referring to the recent letters she’d received from Isla, Jeannie spoke gently. ‘It sounds like you’ve had a sorry time here recently?’
Emily, Gloria and Isla exchanged sad looks.
‘Everything happened very quickly,’ Isla murmured tearfully. ‘We never got a chance even to say goodbye to the little boys, and now Shirley’s gone too.’
‘The staff have been wonderful,’ Emily added staunchly. ‘Sister Ada keeps a beady eye on all of us, making sure we don’t get over-emotional and upset our babies.’
‘She’s a wonderful nurse,’ Jeannie said admiringly. ‘You can see it the minute you set eyes on her: so strong and competent but with warmth and compassion – they’re very rare qualities.’
‘We all love her to bits,’ Gloria said fondly. ‘I’m having trouble keeping Robin out of the maternity ward now that he’s found out where Sister Ada lives.’ She burst out laughing. ‘I swear he thinks Merry Paul sleeps under the kitchen table and Sister Ada sleeps in a cot with the babies!’
Taking a sip of tea, Emily mused, ‘You get really close to people in this place and then – before you know it – they’re gone from your life.’
‘I suppose that’s the nature of the establishment,’ Jeannie said.
Sensing their gloom, she tried to talk of other events outside of the Home. Not wanting to dwell on the recent depressing report of the Luftwaffe and German U-boats mining the Thames Estuary, she instead told them about the new film Goodbye, Mr Chips, which everybody was raving about.
‘I’d love to go to the cinema in Grange to see it too,’ Isla said, as she rolled her hands over her huge stomach. ‘But I know I couldn’t sit in a small, cramped seat with this big bump for more than five minutes.’
‘And I’d be nipping to the ladies’ toilets all the time,’ Emily laughed.
‘Never mind,’ Jeannie chuckled. ‘There is life after pregnancy.’
All three women briefly imagined their lives post-childbirth. Fearing the worst, Emily wondered how she and her baby would survive if George didn’t come home to them: where would they live, what would she do? Isla thought of starting her academic life over again, maybe in Oxford or Cambridge this time round; while Gloria thought longingly of returning home to Stan with Robin at her side and a new baby in her arms.
When it came to saying goodbye, Jeannie had a private word with her granddaughter. After giving Isla a firm hug, she said, ‘Not long now, my precious.’
‘I know,’ Isla answered excitedly. ‘I can’t wait for it all to be over, to have my body and my life back, but after all the ghastly events that have happened here I do wonder about the future of my child. Don’t get me wrong,’ she quickly added, ‘I haven’t changed my mind – I still want it adopted – but I hope she, or he, will be safe as well as loved.’
‘You made that perfectly clear when you talked to Father Benedict,’ Jeannie reminded her.
Isla nodded. ‘I trusted him completely,’ she said. ‘I’m quite certain Father Ben would always put the happiness and wellbeing of Mary Vale babies first and foremost. I wouldn’t be at all worried if he were still in charge.’
‘The sooner that good man returns to the Home, the better,’ Jeannie said, as she clambered into the driving seat of her car.
‘Come and visit me again soon,’ Isla begged.
‘I will, sweet child,’ Jeannie promised. ‘Even if the roads are blocked with snow, I’ll struggle over the fells with a hamper that will keep you all going till Christmas!’
26. Midwinter
As December set in, national morale was raised when news came through of the first Canadian troops arriving in Europe.
‘It makes you feel safer when you know another nation is joining in the fight against Hitler,’ Emily said to her friends.
‘The Canadians are a good, loyal lot,’ Gloria said, as she raised her cup of tea in a salutation. ‘Bless ’em all!’
Emily and Gloria exchanged a look as their thoughts flew to their beloved men. Stan’s letters were now few and far between, but at least she got letters, whereas poor Em had still not heard news of her George. The Winter War was now under way, and in Britain conscription was expanded to cover men from nineteen to forty-one years of age. Seeing Em’s strained expression, Gloria reached across to squeeze her friend’s hand.
‘Now the Canadian Air Force is on our side, we’re bound to hear more of our own RAF boys,’ she whispered reassuringly.
‘Oh, I pray so, Gloria,’ Emily said fervently.
Fearful that she was raising false hopes, Gloria added with a warm smile, ‘It makes sense: they can’t report on the Canadian Air Force’s progress without passing on a bit about our own RAF, can they?’
Wanting to believe anything that gave her hope, Emily gave a bleak smile. ‘Fingers crossed,’ she responded. ‘Anything would be better than nothing.’
As one cold and frosty day followed another, the girls began to plan for Christmas. Ada informed them that the convent farm always supplied a tall, sturdy Christmas tree from nearby Cartmel Fell, and that it took pride of place in the large entrance hall. The thought of Christmas sent a burst of welcome cheer around the Home.
‘Maybe we’ll be lucky enough to get a few chickens from the farm along with the Christmas tree?’ Emily said.
‘There’s plenty of allotments round here; we might be able to trade a pair of baby bootees for a big fat hen,’ Isla joked.
In a buzz of activity, motivated particularly by Robin, who even wanted to decorate Merry Paul’s kitchen with streamers and balloons, everybody threw themselves into making decorations and Christmas cards with great gusto. Along with letters, Christmas cards were arriving at Mary Vale too; when Emily received a letter her heart almost stopped beating.
‘Oh, dear God!’ she gasped, clutching the letter in her trembling hands.
After all these long, lonely, agonizing months, was this the letter she’d been hoping and praying for? Had her George finally managed to make contact? Struck by the thought that hardly anybody else knew where she actually was, Emily looked more closely at the letter, which was marked URGENT. Praying and trembling, she ripped open the envelope with fumbling, clumsy fingers and her heart hammering in her chest. Hardly daring to breathe, she unfolded the headed sheets of paper.
Mr and Mrs Reginald Holden,
The Briers,
Didsbury Road,
Chester
Stunned, she stared at the heading for several seconds. ‘George’s parents!’ she thought to herself, and her excitement turned to blind terror. It was months since her brief meeting with them in Manchester on that carefree, happy day when they’d all met up in a pub in the city centre and George had proudly introduced them to his girlfriend. WHY were they writing to her now? Oh, God! Had George perished in the war? Or did he want nothing to do with her? Feeling her baby reacting to her wild emotions, she gently rolled her hands over her stomach to calm the child inside her. When she felt steadier, she finally plucked up the courage to read the letter.
Dear Miss Todd,
We are delighted to inform you t
hat George is fighting for his country somewhere in the Far East; the location and other details have been censored, so that is all the information we can give you at this time.
Feeling weak with relief, Emily could only murmur, ‘Thank God, he’s alive! My George is alive.’ Quickly turning her attention back to the letter, she read on.
Because George was only allowed to write one letter home to his family, he was most keen that we passed on information to you and suggested we got in touch with you at your place of employment, so we have taken the liberty of sending our letter to the Lyons café in Manchester, where he told us you worked.
‘Oh, my God!’ Emily gasped. ‘If he’s telling them to contact me at the café, George must still think I’m working in Manchester!’
As the penny dropped, Emily realized that if George didn’t know she had moved on from Manchester, he very likely hadn’t got the news about her pregnancy either, and clearly neither had his parents. They were all under the impression that she was skipping round the Lyons café serving tea and toast to all and sundry, when, in fact, she was in a mother and baby home in the far North-West of England.
‘All those letters,’ she murmured. ‘What happened to them? Where have they all gone?’
Thanking God she’d left her Mary Vale address with Ivy, who’d kindly forwarded the letter, she read on.
We’re so sorry we’ve not been in touch previously; we would have liked to but we didn’t know your home address and we weren’t sure which of the cafés in Manchester you worked in. When we heard from George that it was the Lyons café in Piccadilly, we immediately posted our goods news off to you. We’ve never forgotten the happy time we spent with you and George, and remember with affection him calling you ‘The most Beautiful Girl in the World!’
Emily glowed with pride; it felt like years, centuries even, since she’d been described as a beauty, since she’d felt like a woman whom a man might desire. During the months of her pregnancy she had lost sight of the slim, shapely girl with long legs and a trim waist, but George describing her as beautiful to his parents brought back a rush of heady memories and sensations that made her feel quite dizzy not only with pleasure but also relief. He hadn’t abandoned her – he just hadn’t got the letters! Eager to hear more, Emily quickly returned to reading the letter in her trembling hand.
George was anxious to explain why he suddenly disappeared from Padgate. As we said, his letter was heavily censored, but reading between the lines it appears his squadron was removed to a secret destination in the UK before being flown out to the Far East. We knew nothing about this; we even travelled to Padgate in Warrington to try to find out more about our son, but we were met with a stone wall.
‘Me too,’ sighed Emily, recalling how months ago she’d begged the guard on duty at the base to help her find her fiancé.
From the date on the postmark, we can see that it has taken months for George’s letter to filter through. We pray our son continues to be safe in the time that has passed since he posted the letter to us. As you know, George is our only child and we miss him dreadfully. We would love to meet you again, Emily: the three of us could support each other during this awful time of waiting. Hoping to hear from you soon.
With our very best wishes,
Reggie and Margaret Holden
In a daze, Emily folded the precious letter, which she held without knowing it to her heart. ‘George still thinks of me; he hasn’t abandoned me. And, even better than that, I’m not alone any more,’ she thought. ‘George’s parents want to see me again, we could be friends – except …’
Emily’s bubble of joy began to fade. How could she possibly follow up on such a warm invitation to meet George’s parents if they didn’t know the truth about her condition?
When Gloria and Isla found Emily in the sitting room clutching a letter, they couldn’t help but fear the worst. Exchanging a nervous look with Gloria, Isla was the first to speak.
‘Em, is everything all right?’
‘Yes, yes,’ Emily assured them. ‘Everything’s wonderful!’ she laughed, Dampening down the anxiety she felt about how George’s parents might react to her pregnancy, she focused on the positive, at least for now. After so many months of worrying that George no longer cared for her, or that he might not even be alive, she had evidence to the contrary, even if it was somewhat out of date. Weak with relief and occasionally fighting back the tears that threatened to overcome her, Emily quickly read the letter to her delighted friends.
‘Oh, Em! I’m so happy for you!’ exclaimed Gloria, when she’d finished.
‘How marvellous that George’s parents want to see you soon,’ Isla added.
‘Mmm,’ Emily said cautiously. ‘Though they don’t know about the baby; neither does George, from the sound of things.’ She continued, ‘I don’t think I’d want to see them after so long looking like this.’ She nodded at her vast tummy. ‘It would be too shocking for them.’
‘But you must write back to them,’ Isla urged.
‘I will, of course,’ Emily assured her friends. ‘And perhaps I can visit them once I’ve had the baby.’
‘But what will you give as your address?’ Gloria inquired. ‘They might see that the postmark isn’t Manchester,’ she pointed out.
‘You’re right,’ Emily replied, thoughtful. ‘I’ll tell them I’m spending Christmas with a friend in the Lake District,’ she grinned. ‘It’s almost the truth!’
Feeling in desperate need of fresh air to clear her conflicting emotions, Emily leapt to her feet. ‘Let’s go for a walk before dinner-time,’ she suggested. ‘Come on, girls,’ she urged. ‘You can help me plan my letter.’
‘Sorry, Emily, I’d love to but I can’t,’ Gloria apologized. ‘I’ve got to check up on Robin. I left him doing some homework but I bet you half a crown he’s scoffing his favourite potato cakes in the kitchen with Merry Paul,’ she joked.
‘Please come with me, Isla,’ Emily said, as Gloria hurried off to find her son.
Isla groaned. ‘It’s too cold,’ she grumbled.
‘A walk will do you good!’ Emily exclaimed. Grabbing Isla’s hand, she gave it a playful tug. ‘Be a pal, keep me company,’ she begged.
Groaning and moaning, Isla staggered to her feet, ‘All right, but I want to be back in time for dinner – and Sister Ann’s fitness classes.’
Emily nodded. ‘Me too,’ she quickly agreed.
Wrapping up in big, warm winter coats and scarves, the girls trudged across the road towards Kents Bank Railway Station, where they heard the loud rumble of an approaching steam train and blasts of smoke told them it was very close. Isla stood on her tiptoes and peered up the track that skirted the large stretch of silver marsh now visible with the tide out.
‘I love watching the trains pull in,’ she said, as excited as a little girl.
Further conversation was drowned out by the train, which slowly ground to a halt before heading on its way again to Grange, and onwards to Arnside, Silverdale and Lancaster. Once it was safe to cross the line, the heavily pregnant girls set out along the marsh, where the wind almost blew them off their feet. Laughing and swaying, Emily clutched Isla’s arm as they made their way across the tracks that threaded around the tidal creeks. When the howling wind snatched their breath away, they fell silent and listened to the call of the wild fowl, while oyster catchers and dunlins swooped and dived over the sparkling water that was so bright and luminous it almost blinded them.
‘Don’t tell me this doesn’t make you feel better?’ Emily exclaimed, as she threw back her head and breathed clean fresh air into her lungs. ‘It’s cold and windy, but it’s great to be outdoors. Especially when I know that my George is alive – and that he loves me still!’
She stopped short as she realized that Isla was no longer listening to her, but was stock still, staring across a stretch of sand littered with birds pecking for food in tidal creeks filled with seawater that the outgoing tide had left behind.
‘There’s someth
ing over there!’ she heard Isla exclaim.
Emily, who had poorer eyesight than her friend, squinted but shrugged. ‘I can’t see anything. What can you see?’ she replied.
‘I don’t know, but something doesn’t look right. We should take a look,’ Isla urged.
Seeing her friend striding boldly off, Emily panicked. ‘Isla, stop!’ she yelled. ‘Stay on the tracks – there’s quicksand out there.’
Though frightened, she hurried after Isla as much as her bulk would allow. Breathless and sweating, Emily struggled through the biting wind that whipped around her, but before she could reach Isla she was horrified to see her dear friend stumble and fall to the ground. Thinking she was stuck in quicksand, Emily screamed out, ‘ISLA!’
Running and stumbling herself, she finally caught up with Isla, who gripped her hand.
Almost hysterical with fear, Emily cried, ‘What is it?’
White and trembling, Isla could only point to a nearby creek.
Following Isla’s finger, Emily gasped, then clutched her belly as if the shock of what she’d seen would cause her to go into labour. She could just about make out the horrifying sight that Isla had spotted. There was a body lying prone on the sand near the rising tide.
27. The Marsh
White-faced, trembling and in shock, the two girls stumbled forwards, and, as they neared the body, their distress grew one hundred times worse when they saw who it was lying there.
‘God Almighty!’ Isla shrieked. ‘It’s Shirley!’
Gasping and spluttering for breath, Isla and Emily took hold of Shirley and tried to help her into an upright position. Horrified by their dear friend’s alabaster-white face, Emily, almost too terrified to ask the question, whispered, ‘Is she alive?’
Isla didn’t reply; instead she stripped off her coat and wrapped it round Shirley’s skinny body. ‘We’ve got to keep her warm,’ she said urgently. ‘Put your coat around her too and lay her down.’
