Telegrams and Teacakes: A heartbreaking World War Two family saga, page 15
‘What is it?’ Audrey asked, checking Donald’s forehead with her finger and frowning – his temperature was still very high.
‘I still haven’t told him about Joy,’ said Lily, shrugging. ‘I think he’s getting rather ahead of himself. And…’
Lily paused, tucked her copper hair behind her ear, and Audrey tapped her on the arm to get her attention.
‘And what?’ she said. ‘Come on, Lily, spit it out.’
‘I really like Jacques,’ Lily said, ‘and I can imagine loving him, but it’s all this talk about marriage and sharing our lives together. I don’t know if it’s for me. I know I have Joy to take care of, but I want to have adventures, explore the world and work. I don’t want to be stuck at home.’
Audrey smiled at Lily. She was quite a modern girl, really, and Audrey admired her forward-thinking attitude, but she worried about how she would manage with looking after Joy on her own if she never married. If Jacques was understanding about Joy, she’d be daft to let him get away.
‘What do you think?’ Lily said. ‘Am I being selfish?’
‘Not at all,’ said Audrey. ‘You’re being sensible and anyway, Jacques needs to be told about Joy before you think any more about marriage. I think that Jacques has had a horrible few years and is desperate for love. Remember when you helped wash his sore feet when he first arrived at the rest centre? You must have seemed like an angel to him. You are an angel – but an angel with a mind of her own and ambitions. Just be yourself, Lily, that’s all I can say.’
Audrey was interrupted by Donald coughing again, and this time he vomited a little before seeming to gasp for air. The vomit was faintly streaked with red and the skin of his face had a purple-red tinge.
‘Is that blood?’ Audrey asked, panic-stricken. ‘Oh gosh, Lily, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help him!’
Terror gripped Audrey as she held Donald in her arms, feeling utterly helpless. Her stomach twisted further when she saw the expression on Lily’s face – pure fear. ‘Let me see if I can fetch the doctor,’ said Lily, her face completely white. ‘I’ll wake him if I have to.’
Chapter Nineteen
‘There’s someone here to see you,’ Lily said, poking her ashen face round the door.
‘Is it the doctor again?’ Audrey asked, barely looking up from baby Donald’s face. ‘Send him in. He’s still having difficulty breathing. I’m worried sick…’
Audrey hadn’t slept a wink since the doctor had called in the middle of the night and diagnosed Donald with whooping cough. He had recommended a vaporiser and a few drops of Friar’s Balsam and said he’d need to be quarantined from the other children in the bakery, but that there was little more he could do. Audrey had known enough children perish from the disease to know that Donald’s condition was very serious.
‘No, it’s not the doctor, it’s me,’ said Charlie, slowly coming into the room with an obvious limp and removing his hat. ‘I’ve had a stint in hospital and I was allowed home on compassionate leave to see you and the babies. I tried to get word to you, but obviously it didn’t reach you…’
Audrey’s jaw fell open and her legs turned to liquid as she tried to process Charlie’s sudden arrival. Moving towards him and flinging her arms round him, she couldn’t hold in her emotions a moment longer and burst into tears.
‘Hey,’ he said warmly, holding her into his chest. ‘Are you going to introduce me to this little one?’
Audrey, still holding onto Charlie, leaned back so that she could study his face. Her eyes, filled with tears, blinked in amazement and she wondered if she was perhaps hallucinating after not sleeping all night.
‘Yes,’ she sniffed, wiping her nose and eyes and forcing herself to pull herself together. ‘This is Emily and this is Donald, your twins. I’m afraid Donald is poorly. Very poorly. The doctor came last night and said he’s got whooping cough—’
Feeling the desperate urge to break down into tears, Audrey broke off. She wouldn’t collapse in front of Charlie. She had to stay strong, even though it was painfully difficult. Swallowing hard, she continued.
‘The doctor has given me plenty of advice,’ she said, with a sniff, ‘and everyone has been helping around the clock.’
‘Can I hold him?’ Charlie said, gazing into the Moses basket at Donald.
‘Of course, love,’ she said, carefully handing him the baby. ‘Yes, there. That’s right. How much leave do you have?’
‘Two days,’ he said. ‘No time at all.’
They smiled knowingly at one another; their expressions showed their despair at how helpless they were in the face of war, that their lives were no longer their own. In Charlie’s big, capable hands, so used to hard graft and, more lately, weaponry, Donald looked as small and fragile as a snowdrop petal. His breath was raggedy and his little chest heaved in and out with every breath. It was a moment before Audrey realised that Charlie was weeping. Tears slipped down his face and onto the baby’s head. Audrey gulped.
‘Don’t cry, my love,’ she said. ‘I know he will pull through. I believe it in my heart. I’m so sorry to greet you like this. They’re such little angels.’
Charlie shook his head, letting out a deep, shuddering sigh.
‘He’s so small and… and… fragile,’ he said. ‘He’s wholly dependent on you and on the good of people. It’s the contrast between this tiny baby, our tiny babies, and the front line, I can’t get my head around it.’
‘No,’ said Audrey quietly, not wanting to interrupt.
‘I’ve witnessed the deaths of strong, able soldiers on the front line,’ Charlie said, quickly wiping away his tears, ‘and in the moments before death, they have called out for their mothers.’ Choking on his words, he paused to shake his head before continuing.
‘When faced with a sudden, violent, painful death, a man craves the innocent years of childhood,’ he said, ‘when their mother held them in her arms so gently, just as you are doing.’
Audrey was speechless as she tried to comprehend the men’s pain and suffering. Charlie’s words moved her deeply and only served to strengthen her resolve to stay by Donald throughout his sickness and nurture him back to health. She and Charlie linked fingers and gazed at Donald as he took raspy breaths.
‘Is there a chance that he…?’ said Charlie, letting his unfinished sentence hang in the air.
‘That he might die?’ whispered Audrey, her voice breaking. ‘I couldn’t bear it, Charlie, so I will not think it.’
Suppressing tears, they sat together on the bed, watching over their son, praying for him to pull through this critical time. Deep down, Audrey knew that there was a slight but real and dreadful possibility that Donald could die – and if that was his fate, she vowed that he would take his last breath safe in the arms of his mother and father. That he would go in love and in peace.
* * *
While John, William and the girls worked hard to get the bakery open and running, Audrey and Charlie stayed with Donald, with Audrey occasionally going into the next room to feed and check on Emily, who, thank goodness, had no symptoms of whooping cough. Though they were often quiet, they talked sometimes in soft voices of what had been happening in Bournemouth since Charlie was last home. Audrey told him about Betty and Robert’s children – and about how Robert was married to two women, which Charlie couldn’t quite believe. She discussed how, once Donald was well enough, she planned to hold a small welcome-to-the-world party for the twins and how she wished that Charlie could also be there.
‘Do you think the war will go on much longer?’ she asked, holding Charlie’s hand. ‘Are we any closer to it ending?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Charlie, with an enormous sigh. ‘Not as far as I can see. I wish I could tell you otherwise.’
Audrey sighed and rested her gaze on Donald, who, she suddenly panicked, seemed to be turning blue around the lips. Quickly picking him up from his basket, she held him to her chest and looked at Charlie, wild-eyed.
‘I don’t think he’s breathing!’ she said, her heart hammering in her chest as she broke out into a cold sweat. ‘Oh Charlie, what shall we do?’
Audrey felt herself overcome with fear. So strong was her terror that she couldn’t think straight and felt frozen.
‘Come here,’ Charlie said, taking Donald from her and bringing his ear close to his son’s lips. ‘He’s got to breathe! Oh, please God, please breathe.’
At that moment Pat put her head round the door and, seeing what was happening, ran towards them and grabbed Donald by the ankles, hanging him upside down and patting his back until he made an incredible spluttering noise. Wiping the phlegm from Donald’s tiny mouth as he coughed and struggled to breathe, she exhaled in relief, while Audrey, totally in shock, wept into her palms.
‘He’s okay,’ soothed Pat. ‘He’s going to be okay.’
‘Thank you, Mother,’ said Charlie, wrapping his arms around her. ‘I thought the worst then, I really thought he’d stopped breathing.’
Charlie moved to Audrey and held her in his arms while she allowed herself to cry. Pat saw to Donald and soothed him until his irregular breathing eased.
‘I thought it was dramatic on the front line!’ Charlie said, letting out a relieved laugh. ‘Are you all right, Audrey love?’
Audrey nodded, but she looked and felt wrecked, after what was one of the most terrifying experience of her life. ‘I’m sorry, I’m—'
‘You’re tired. And you need a cup of tea and a bite to eat,’ said Pat firmly, feeling Donald’s forehead. ‘I’ll bring you a sandwich up. I think Donald’s fever is abating and his colour is improving, so let’s hope this is a turning point.’
‘Come on, son,’ said Charlie, stroking Donald’s tiny hand. ‘When I go back tomorrow, I want to know my boy is going to be safe and well.’
Audrey glanced at Pat and didn’t miss the wistful smile on her face.
‘It’s all we want for our sons,’ said Pat softly. ‘To be safe and well.’
Chapter Twenty
‘Shhh,’ said Betty, holding her finger to her lips to silence Cyril, Vera and Dora. ‘You have to be really, really quiet, like mice who live in a library. Baby Donald is not well and Charlie, the master baker who owns this bakery, is home on leave. The last thing he’ll want is noisy children he doesn’t even know under his feet. Do you understand me?’
Cyril and Vera nodded, while Dora just blinked and carried on sucking her thumb in Betty’s arms. Poor little mites. Since Robert had disappeared, Betty had been taking care of the children at the bakery and they’d had no choice but to accept her as a temporary parent. Betty had barely seen Audrey, who was busy tending to Donald, and felt constantly guilty for her presence in her home. She kept thinking that she should find somewhere else to go but was at a loss to know where. If she returned to Bristol, there was no guarantee that Robert would be there and anyway, with their home bombed out, where would she live? She had no money to pay for a rented room anywhere and she couldn’t go to the Assistance Board to ask for help because the children weren’t her own – and if she reported Robert for abandoning them, she knew he’d just get into deeper trouble. Despite everything he’d done to disappoint her, she didn’t want to completely ruin his life.
‘How is Donald?’ she asked Pat, who was in the kitchen preparing a sandwich. ‘I feel like we’re all under Audrey and Charlie’s feet here, but I don’t know where else to go.’
Pat turned to face Betty with red eyes. Obviously, she’d been crying and Betty felt guilty for bothering her.
‘Are we going back home?’ asked Cyril meekly. ‘I like it here.’
Betty and Pat exchanged glances while Cyril opened his eyes wide in anticipation of the answer. Betty gently patted him on the head.
‘We’re not going anywhere today,’ said Betty. ‘Is Donald worse?’
‘I think he will be okay,’ said Pat, swiping creamed margarine on the bread in a hurry, ‘and you mustn’t worry. You’re doing a good turn by Robert, looking after his kiddies, we all know that. Audrey would never see you without a roof over your head, but what with Donald having whooping cough, you need to be careful these three don’t catch it. Actually…’
Pat paused from spreading margarine and lifted the knife in the air while she thought something through.
‘I have an idea,’ she said finally, returning to the bread. ‘I’ve been putting up some land girls but they’re moving on in a week. Why don’t you and the children move in with me, to free up some space here at the bakery?’
Betty didn’t reply immediately, quite stunned at the Barton family’s kindness, which seemed to run through their veins in place of blood. She’d once peeked inside Pat’s house when running an errand for Audrey and it was the most lovely, homely home – though, she thought, as a vision of the grandfather clock, collection of antique walking sticks, vases and a cabinet filled with trinkets flashed into her mind, it wasn’t exactly a house for little children.
‘You won’t have to pay me, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ said Pat, putting the sandwiches on a plate and moving towards the door. ‘You can earn your keep helping with the chores.’
‘Oh of course, I would definitely help,’ said Betty. ‘No, I was thinking more of all the precious things a lady like you might own and whether these three might accidentally damage something.’
‘Don’t be daft!’ said Pat. ‘I’d rather see you all comfortable than protect a vase from breaking. Besides, if Hitler and his cronies invade, no doubt they’ll take anything valuable from us straight away. Just look at what happened to the folk in Jersey. The Germans ransacked the place!’
‘Do you think they will invade, like in Jersey?’ said Cyril, his eyes wide circles.
Betty opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment, Lily entered the kitchen, with Joy squirming and fidgeting in her arms.
‘She’s hungry,’ said Lily, placing Joy on the floor and putting her hands on her hips. ‘I haven’t had a moment to sort out dinner and I wanted to run this letter to Jacques to the post office before I change my mind. How is little Donald doing?’
‘Slightly better, I hope,’ said Pat. ‘His temperature has dropped a little.’
‘I can help with Joy,’ said Betty. ‘I can do a cold tea for all the children, can’t I? With Fry’s cocoa afterwards.’
Four faces turned towards Betty, their hopeful eyes shining with happiness at the thought of tea. Dora, still in Betty’s arms, pushed her cheek against her shoulder and Cyril slipped his hand in Betty’s.
‘Oh, thank you, Betty,’ said Lily. ‘You have a touch of a mother hen, you know.’
With the plate of sandwiches for Audrey and Charlie in one hand and the other on the kitchen doorknob, Pat suddenly spun round on her heels.
‘I’ve just had the most brilliant idea—’ she said, but before she could speak another word, the siren sounded its horrible, dreadful wail.
* * *
There wasn’t room for everyone in the Anderson shelter, so while Uncle John and William bravely remained in the bakehouse tending the ovens, so tomorrow’s bread would be baked in time, Audrey saw to it that Pat took baby Emily, Lily, Betty, Mary, Joy and the three Mitchell children into the shelter.
‘Be safe,’ she called, handing Pat Emily’s milk bottle, as anti-aircraft guns echoed in the air. Anxiously, she watched the line of women and children walk out into the garden, gas masks over their arms, pushing through the overalls still hanging on the washing line, and into the shelter door. Imagining them all trying to fit into the small space, with just a flickering candle for warmth and light, she hoped that Emily didn’t wake up crying, wondering where she was. Less than a month old and having to hide underground from bombers – how could this be happening? She could only hope that, having lived through the war, the little ones would grow up doing everything they could for peace.
‘They’ll never get any sleep tonight,’ she said to Charlie, helping him move the wardrobe in front of the bedroom window to protect against blast or bomb splinters. ‘I hope the All Clear will sound sooner rather than later.’
Cradling a sleeping Donald in his arms, Charlie perched on the edge of the bed and Audrey sat down next to him. Anti-aircraft guns were firing in the distance, and they heard the sound of a bomb exploding and looked at each other in fear.
‘Didn’t sound too far away, did it?’ whispered Audrey. ‘Oh Charlie, do you think Donald is through the worst?’
Charlie nodded, staring down at his son.
‘I hope so, love,’ he said. ‘His breathing seems a bit better. What will you do about Emily? She’ll miss her twin if they have to be kept separate.’
‘Doctor says he won’t be contagious for long,’ Audrey said, ‘so they’ll be back together soon enough.’
She gazed at Charlie, burning to tell him how much she was going to miss him when he returned to active service and how she wished they’d become parents in peacetime, so that he could know his children as babies. But, though she longed to spill out all her fears and concerns, she knew it was unfair and unhelpful. This part of his life, at home, was Charlie’s respite. These precious memories would have to see him through the next few months – or years – of combat. She would keep her thoughts to herself.
‘What do you make of the National Loaf?’ she asked him. Charlie pulled a face.
‘Can’t deny that John and William are doing a good job,’ he said. ‘But I’d rather bake and eat a Coburg any day of the week.’
Audrey smiled.
‘The bakery is running all right,’ she said. ‘Some of the customers are late with their payments, but that’s nothing new, is it?’
‘No,’ Charlie said, shaking his head. ‘But don’t let it get out of hand.’
When he was at home, running the bakery, he’d clubbed together with other master bakers in Bournemouth to put an advert in the Echo asking customers to pay their accounts, or else the bakers couldn’t afford to buy the ingredients. It was a difficult one though – neither Charlie nor Audrey would ever see any of their customers go hungry.
