Telegrams and Teacakes: A heartbreaking World War Two family saga, page 11
* * *
The train journey home was spent in exhausted silence. A group of drunken American GIs burst into their carriage at one point, but they must have read the atmosphere, because they left as quickly as they arrived. With her arms folded over her middle, Elsie gazed out of the window, allowing the rhythmic movement of the train to calm her fraught state. She thought of her father, Alberto, in the prisoner-of-war camp on the Isle of Man and the cheerful letters he sent home to her mother and the twins. She longed to speak to him and see him and talk to him about her life. A single tear escaped her eye and ran down her cheek. She didn’t – couldn’t – look at William, who she knew was either asleep or pretending to be asleep. She was too raw from everything that had happened to choose the right words.
Back at the bakery, without acknowledging her, William went to help John, while Elsie walked up the stairs to the kitchen with legs that were weighted with lead, gripping onto the bannister and pulling herself up. She could hear that Audrey was in the kitchen, pot-washing. Instructing herself not to put her worries on Audrey’s shoulders, she forced a smile onto her face as she entered the kitchen.
‘I’m just toasting a teacake,’ said Audrey. ‘Can I do you one? They’re still good. Then you can tell me all about it. And I’ll not have you spare me the details. I know that look. You’ve had a hell of a day, haven’t you?’
Elsie nodded, so grateful for the normality of Audrey and the warmth and rhythm of bakery life. With a deep sigh she allowed Audrey to coax the day’s horrible experience out of her and was relieved to reveal her deepest fears about William, though she knew it hurt Audrey terribly to hear of it.
‘Perhaps he needs proper medical treatment,’ said Elsie quietly. ‘Barbiturates, or the deep sleep treatment, something like that?’
Audrey sat back in her chair and massaged her bump, deep in thought.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t seem right for him.’
‘I think I should write to Mrs Fielding,’ said Elsie. ‘To explain.’
Audrey shook her head and smiled warmly at Elsie.
‘No, love,’ she said. ‘That poor lady can’t give you comfort, nor can you give her comfort. I would leave that wound alone now. Concentrate on helping to heal William.’
‘I thought I was,’ said Elsie, tears dripping down her face. Audrey grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
‘I know, love,’ she said, ‘and you have been helping him. Perhaps it’s just a matter of letting more time pass. We must be patient and gentle with him, not expect him to snap out of it.’
An image of herself slapping William round the face leapt into Elsie’s mind and she flushed with shame, rubbing her palm, which still stung a little from the slap. She should have been more patient and more understanding. But when the person you loved more than anyone else in the world could no longer see the point of living, when most folk were doing everything in their power to survive against the odds, it wasn’t always possible.
Chapter Fourteen
Betty felt torn in two. For some of the day she floated around the bakery remembering Sam’s sweet kisses, her thoughts lost in the music and movement of the dance, but for the rest of the time she worried about Robert. It was a dead cert that he would come back for her, expecting her to return to Bristol to get on with their life together. He might turn up at the bakery today for all she knew, unkempt in his one and only raggedy old suit, his hands like sandpaper blocks and his stomach empty with no wife to cook him a decent dinner. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
‘Where’s your head today, Betty?’ said Audrey as Betty stood staring into space, contemplating her future.
‘I expect it’s with that Canadian soldier who taught her how to jitterbug,’ joked Lily, who was in the bakery helping while Mary played with Joy in the backyard. ‘When are you seeing him again, Betty?’
‘I-I… don’t know,’ she said. ‘It’s all rather complicated.’
‘I’ll say,’ said Audrey with a sympathetic smile. ‘But what’s life if it’s not for sorting out complications? Hey Betty, why don’t you invite your Canadian soldier to the bakery for a meal, a smoke and a chat? I’m sure he’d appreciate the welcome. William and Uncle John would like to have another young man around. William is, well, William’s… in need of distraction and Uncle John needs a reason to sit down and rest. When he’s not baking in the bakehouse, he’s mowing the lawns for the neighbours whose men have gone off to war, so they’re nice and neat when peacetime comes. Yes, what we need is Sam to come for dinner, to give everyone a reason for a good meal and a relax.’
Lily nodded and smiled and Betty felt she couldn’t do anything but agree.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Betty. ‘I’m not sure I should be encouraging him, really.’
‘Gracious, you’re not encouraging him!’ said Audrey. ‘Good citizens throughout the town are opening up their homes to military people billeted here. It’s common decency, nothing more than that.’
‘Okay,’ said Betty uncertainly. ‘I’ll suggest it to him.’
‘Invite him tomorrow evening. Right, I better go and get Mary sorted out,’ Audrey said. ‘I need to check her hair for nits. Apparently, they’re going around the school.’
‘Ooh,’ said Lily, scratching her scalp. ‘You’re making me itchy.’
* * *
When Audrey had left to treat Mary’s hair with nit ointment, Betty and Lily worked together to sell off the last loaves of bread before locking up. Lily noticed how quiet Betty was.
‘Are you okay, Betty?’ she asked. ‘You’re awfully quiet. Is it something to do with this Sam?’
Betty sighed and placed her hands on the counter. She gave Lily a sideways glance, as if contemplating whether to tell her something, then, clearly deciding against it, shook her head.
‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s just my life is getting a bit… confusing. I’m confused.’
Lily watched Betty carefully as her cheeks flushed pink.
‘You know, when I arrived here, I was in a fix and nobody in the world but me knew,’ Lily said, offering Betty an opening. ‘Audrey was so kind when I told her, despite the shame it could have brought upon the bakery. She’s helped me no end, unlike Joy’s father.’
‘So, you’re bringing up Joy on your own?’ Betty asked, incredulous. ‘I thought you had a sweetheart – Jacques?’
Lily sighed and leaned on the counter. Thinking about Jacques made her feel paralysed. She hadn’t heard back from him yet but knew that she would. Soon she was going to have to come clean and tell him the truth about Joy. But it wasn’t just that worrying her. Deep inside she feared that if he was having ideas about eventually wanting to marry her – if he did accept Joy – is that what she really wanted? Yes, she had strong feelings for Jacques, but she also knew there was a whole other, unexplored, side to her. The more she heard about women stepping into men’s jobs, the more she longed to be involved with exciting war work. She loved her job helping refugees learn English, but there were women driving ambulances and working in the shipyards and flying Spitfires. She might be getting ahead of herself a bit here, but there was more to life than becoming a wife. Was it possible to have it all?
‘I hardly know him,’ she said softly. ‘But when we met, we made a connection. I wish I could sit and talk to him, face-to-face, then I’d know where we were and what we were both thinking.’
‘You’d think you knew where you were,’ said Betty, ‘but how can you tell if a person is genuine or not and whether to trust them? I trusted a man and it was a disaster. He took me for a complete fool.’
Lily was taken aback by the vehemence in Betty’s words.
‘What do you mean?’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to gossip, I promise. I know what it’s like to have a burden.’
Betty sighed.
‘I’m married,’ she said. ‘I’m married to a man called Robert, who has also got another wife, Doris. She’s been killed in a bombing and now he wants me back.’
‘He had two wives?’ said Lily, horrified. ‘Have you reported him to the police? Men can go to prison for that, you know.’
‘No,’ said Betty, quickly. ‘I’ve not told anyone but Audrey.’
‘Why won’t you go to the police?’ said Lily.
‘Because he’s also got three littl’uns by Doris.’ Betty sighed. ‘What good would that do them? But it leaves me not knowing what to do. If I don’t go to the authorities, how can I ever be free of him?’
‘Can you divorce him?’ asked Lily. ‘I know it’s uncommon and it would be difficult because you’ll be judged, but—’
‘But if I divorce him, I’d have to say why,’ Betty said. ‘And then he’ll go to prison and those children won’t have a father. He wants me back. Maybe that’s the only way. Maybe there’s no way out.’
Lily identified with the pain and confusion Betty was feeling. She opened her arms and gave Betty a quick, firm hug.
‘There’s always a way out,’ she said, though in this case she wasn’t sure what that way was, ‘as long as you’ve got good friends to help see you through.’
Chapter Fifteen
‘…and then there’s those poor people in Greece,’ said Uncle John, scrubbing his hands in the sink, his white shirt sleeves rolled up. ‘They’re eating boiled daisies and thistles because they’re starving to death!’
Audrey put down the cabbage she was about to chop and leaned her weight on the countertop as John continued.
‘…and the poor children are searching for orange peel in the rubbish,’ he said. ‘Bless their sorry hearts. Oh, it ain’t right, Audrey, it’s murder by a different name. We can only hope this war is over soon, too many innocent people are tangled up in the whole blasted mess.’
He threw the towel he was drying his hands on down onto the table, folded his arms, sighed and offered Audrey a world-weary smile, a dusting of flour in his eyebrows and on the hair in his nostrils.
‘Oh John, I can’t stand to hear any more of it,’ Audrey said, aware that Mary was half-listening from her spot at the kitchen table where she was polishing the cutlery ready for their guest Sam to arrive. ‘It’s heartbreaking. It makes you grateful for every crust.’
‘You should tell any customers complaining about the National Loaf what I just told you about what some Greek people are enduring,’ he said. ‘That will keep them quiet.’
Audrey sighed, thinking of some of the sorry sights she saw in the bakery.
‘I don’t know, John, I think some aren’t far off starving themselves,’ she said sadly. ‘One of our customers, Carol Shaw, that lady from Belle Vue Road, is raising six children on her own in one room on half a shoestring. I always slip extra bread or cakes in her order if she comes in, but I don’t know how she gets by, I really don’t. Her father was recently prosecuted by the Bournemouth Bench for begging, which doesn’t help. He was selling bags of lavender to help her with a few pennies, poor old soul, so now she’s really got nothing.’
‘I’ll make sure she gets some vegetables from the allotment,’ said John. ‘The potatoes and onions are doing nicely. I’ll go up there in the morning to see what I can pull up for her.’
‘You should take some time to rest in the morning after working all night, that’s what,’ said Audrey, pointing a fork at him.
‘I could say the exact same thing to you,’ he said, with mischief in his eyes. ‘Why don’t you go and relax, Audrey? You could play bowls at Meryick Park. The women’s season has started, and bowls would be the perfect antidote to all this war talk.’
‘I haven’t got time for bowls!’ Audrey said, laughing. ‘Besides, they should use the bowling greens for allotments. Mary, please could you run and tell William and Lily that dinner will be in half an hour? That’s when we’re expecting Sam and Betty. Elsie is working again tonight and Pat too, driving the book van out to the military in the lonely spots.’
‘That’s my sister for you,’ said John. ‘Driving people up the wall. No, I can’t do her down. She’s a grafter all right. In fact, she’s the one who should probably be resting! She’s not getting any younger and it can’t be easy, having a son away fighting.’
At that moment William came into the room. He’d obviously made an effort with his appearance and was clean shaven, but he looked pale and distracted. Audrey felt her heart sink. She hadn’t had a chance to talk to him properly about his trip to Eastbourne, but she knew she had to. The problems William had were complex and difficult to treat – but Audrey was sure that with enough home-cooked dinners, fresh sea air, sunshine, love and understanding, he’d get there one day. It was just going to take a lot longer than she and Elsie had first thought.
‘I’ve just checked the ovens, John,’ William said. ‘The fires are doing fine.’
‘Good,’ said John. ‘Thanks, lad. Let’s enjoy our dinner before we get back to work. Now, what can I get you? A Johnnie Walker?’
Lily, Mary and Joy came into the kitchen, Lily chatting about whether Bournemouth would see the usual number of Whitsun holidaymakers that year, and they waited for Sam and Betty to arrive. When they came upstairs, Betty was pink with embarrassment. With her hair newly washed and gleaming, a smidgeon of orange-red lipstick and dressed in one of the frocks Audrey had given her altered to fit her tiny frame, she looked almost doll-like next to Sam, who was a big, strapping lad, with his blond hair swept away from his face and his uniform perfectly pressed. He presented Audrey with a bouquet of roses, which made her gasp.
‘They’re beautiful!’ she said, inhaling their scent. ‘My goodness, thank you.’
She was delighted with them, of course, but they must have cost him a pretty penny.
‘This is my friend, Sam,’ Betty said. ‘Sam, these are my…’
‘Friends,’ said Lily, holding out her hand to Sam. ‘Lovely to meet you. This is Audrey Barton, who runs the bakery. William, her brother, Uncle John, little Mary and my daughter Joy.’
Audrey shook Sam’s hand and smiled at the young couple, who were a handsome pair.
‘It’s good to be here,’ he said, clearly slightly overwhelmed by the number of people staring at him. ‘Feels a lot like home.’
He seemed wistful and Audrey was reminded of when Jacques had stayed at the bakery for a few days of respite. Then, as she did now, she had an overwhelming desire to make sure Sam was made to feel completely welcome. Quickly, she pulled out a chair for him and passed him Uncle John’s untouched drink.
‘Johnnie Walker,’ she said. ‘To welcome you. We have brown stew, cabbage and carrots for dinner. I’ve used all the meat ration so we can enjoy a good meal.’
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You’re so generous. All of the folk I’ve met have been so welcoming to us Canadian boys. I think we can be a little too much at times. Loud, at any rate.’
He laughed a hearty laugh and Audrey placed the pot on the table, opening up a lid to reveal a steaming, deliciously fragrant stew. After she’d served it and the dishes of cabbage, carrots and boiled potatoes were passed around, the group tucked into their meal with enthusiasm, murmuring with pleasure.
‘Good tucker, as always,’ said Uncle John, who had tucked his napkin in his shirt collar. Audrey smiled and lifted a forkful of food to her mouth, but stopped when there was a hammering on the front door.
‘Goodness,’ she said. ‘Whoever can that be?’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said John, helping himself to more vegetables. ‘Just enjoy your dinner. You’re eating for three now, remember? I’m joining you for moral support.’
Laughing at John and moving over to the window, she peered under the net curtain and down to the street. Pushing up the sash window, she leaned out and, on seeing a small child, frowned.
‘I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse me for a moment. There’s a child waiting at the door,’ she said. ‘Might be one of the evacuees lost, or a little scamp in search of a penny bun. I’ll go and see. You carry on. I’m not very hungry, if I’m honest. Dreadful heartburn.’
She made her way down the narrow wooden stairs, her hand resting on her bump, then unbolted the door and was surprised to find not just one child but three standing there, with a man behind them. Running her eyes over the children, she initially thought they must be from a bombed-out house and looking for shelter or help – they were grubby, tired and looked like they hadn’t seen a good dinner in a while.
‘Can I help you?’ she said. ‘Are you in need? I’ve got some stales I will happily give you. Well, they’re called stales, but they’re perfectly good—’
The man shook his head.
‘No, thank you, I’m looking for someone, mind if we come in?’ he said, pushing past her into the hallway. ‘I’ve come to see Betty. I know she’s here, I saw her walking this way. Where is she? Betty!’
The man called out Betty’s name again as he headed towards the staircase, and Audrey realised who this man must be: Robert.
‘Oh, I—’ she said, trying to work out what she should do, but primarily distracted by the three little children, whose faces told a story of exhaustion. They varied in age. Audrey guessed at around five, three and maybe just over a year, and they must be siblings because they all looked to be cut from the same block. On hearing footsteps behind her, Audrey spun on her heel to see Betty at the bottom of the stairs, leaning her hand against the wall, her face the picture of shock.
‘Robert?’ Betty said. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’
Robert put down the little girl he was holding, who started to cry in earnest, sticking her little arms in the air, wanting to be lifted up into the arms of a warm parent. When Robert ignored her, Audrey lifted her up instead, and hoisted her up onto her hip. She gave the child the door keys she had in her hand to hold and inspect, and the little girl was instantly calmed.
‘I told you I’d come back for you,’ Robert said, approaching Betty and gripping her hands in his. ‘Please, love, I’m sorry for what’s happened, but I need you in Bristol. We need you.’
