Shipyard Girls at War, page 36
Joe slowed his pace as he digested what Bel had told him. He had guessed as much from Pearl’s ‘sweethearts’ comment in the pub.
‘The thing is,’ Bel said, turning to look at Joe, ‘Ma’s not the best person to keep a secret. She said she wouldn’t say anything, but I know she won’t be able to help herself. She’ll keep on dropping little hints or making snide little comments like she did last night, and Agnes and Polly will soon put two and two together.’
Joe looked at Bel and thought she looked as forlorn as she sounded.
As they reached Mowbray Road, Joe looked to make sure the road was clear. ‘Come on, let’s go and see the lions.’
Bel didn’t say anything, but followed Joe’s lead across the road, through the park entrance and towards the stone lions that had miraculously escaped the recent bombings. It was where they used to come as children, taking it in turns to sit on the back of the life-sized sculptures.
Joe didn’t give two hoots if Pearl had seen them, or if she told his mother and sister – or the whole world. What mattered was this woman here beside him now.
‘Bel.’ He stopped by the wall on which the lion was lying, head up and alert, paws out, face turned gently to the late morning sun.
Joe understood how Bel felt. That the thought of people knowing she had been intimate with her husband’s brother was so scandalous. That she had striven to lead a completely different life to that of her own mother – one of respectability – and that she would hate the thought of others thinking she was a loose woman. And a widow at that.
‘Bel,’ he said again, but this time he took her hand in his.
For a moment he thought Bel was going to let him hold her, let him take her in his arms – but he was wrong.
Bel wrenched her hand away from his, exploding into a furious rage. Her fists were clenched as she shouted at him.
‘Don’t! Don’t touch me! I hate you, Joe! I hate you! I can’t even bear to be near you!’
Her anger was spent more or less as soon as it had surfaced, though, and in its place came a well of tears which started to trickle down her face.
‘It’s all such a mess!’ she lamented.
Joe looked at the woman he loved, whom he had always loved. Whom he knew better than anyone else in this world, apart from his brother. And he took her clenched fists in both his hands, making her look up at him.
‘Well, I love you, Bel. And I don’t care who knows it. I’ve always loved you. And always will. And there’s nothing I can do about it.’
Joe saw the change in Bel’s face, as if she had finally given up fighting, and he leant down and kissed her salty lips.
He let go of her hands and wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again and again. And she kissed him back. Tears still falling down her cheeks, but he could feel her love, her warmth, her passion.
They stayed there and kissed each other over and over again for what felt like an eternity beneath the guard of the lion.
‘I want you, Bel,’ Joe whispered in her ear. He took her head in his hands and kissed her heart-shaped face gently all over. ‘Not just now, but for ever.’
Bel’s eyes shone back at Joe, but there was a question in them. ‘And Maria?’ she asked hesitantly.
Bel had hated the thought of Joe being with Maria, and hated herself more for feeling jealous, especially as Maria was such a lovely person.
‘I’ve ended it with her,’ Joe said.
‘But?’ Bel was just about to question him about his comments over dinner last night – that the two of them were still seeing each other.
‘A lie,’ Joe said simply. ‘I decided it wasn’t fair to string Maria along. She’s a lovely girl and will make someone an even lovelier wife, but it was never going to be me. I couldn’t – not the way I feel about you. It wasn’t fair on her … And,’ Joe sighed, ‘the reason I lied last night was that I just couldn’t deal with all the questions if I’d admitted I wasn’t seeing her any more.’
This time it was Bel who leaned up to Joe to kiss him.
As her kiss lingered, Joe’s hands felt the outline of her back through her cotton dress, and he felt her body arch towards him, responding, showing him that she too felt the same.
When they parted he traced her face and looked down at her and deep into her large blue eyes – eyes he knew so well and that he had pictured many a night before sleep took him elsewhere.
Bel looked at Joe, her face a mixture of emotions. ‘What are we going to do?’ she asked.
There was so much they needed to talk about, and Joe knew he needed to reassure Bel. The war had taught him so many different lessons. Life lessons. Some good. Some bad. But the most important one was that their lives were precious. And if two people genuinely loved each other, then they must let that love live. And not bury it.
‘Come on, let’s take a walk in the park – what’s left of it,’ Joe said, looking at the cordoned-off bomb site, and putting his arm around Bel’s shoulders and pulling her to him as they started ambling away from the lion’s protection.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Pearl was standing outside the town’s railway station on Athenaeum Street. She had put her one piece of luggage down by her side on the pavement just outside the main entrance. Even though she didn’t have many belongings, she had enough to make her battered brown and green suitcase heavy for someone of her stature. She had managed to steal out of the house without anyone seeing her, which hadn’t been difficult as there was only Agnes at home and she was clearly on a mission to get a record amount of laundry done before it was time to prepare the lunch.
The loud hissing and chuffing of a steam train champing at the bit to begin its journey was just sounding out, drowning out all other sounds, when a harried-looking young woman, swinging a small leather vanity case, rushed past Pearl and accidently knocked into her.
Pearl staggered a little but managed to steady herself. Victor’s letter, however, fluttered free from her hand and a gentle gust of wind blew it into the side of the road.
‘Watch it!’ Pearl shouted to the back of the girl, now disappearing into the crowds that were crushing to get through the station barriers, eager to get down on to the platform to the waiting train.
As Pearl swung her head back, she caught sight of her letter and watched it flutter about before it landed in the gutter. She didn’t move, but instead remained rooted to the spot, watching, slightly mesmerised by the sight of the single sheet of white paper as it flitted further along the gutter with the passing of each motor vehicle that trundled along the road.
Was this a sign? she wondered.
Did this mean she should stay here? Or should she just leave?
Go. And not look back?
Her gaze remained fixed on the letter, and on the messy, spider-like scrawl that had been scratched on to the paper in blue ink.
What the hell was wrong with her? Why didn’t she just get her backside in there, buy her ticket and get on the soddin’ train?
Pearl dipped her hand into the deep pocket of her old blue trench coat and felt for her purse. In it she had enough money for the journey, but not much more. She had managed to siphon off a shilling here and there from those a little worse for wear when she was working at the Tatham.
Bel, forever the eagle eye, had been justified in accusing her of keeping back change from the chores she had done for Agnes, and from her trips out with Lucille, but it hadn’t amounted to much. What she had secretly stashed away would pay for her train fare, but what was left would barely buy a bag of groceries and a packet of fags. She had hoped that Bel would give her some of her own money, or would have borrowed some from the family, but she should have guessed she wouldn’t. That girl had a hard streak in her when she wanted.
Chip off the old block, Pearl thought, pleased that her daughter had at least learnt something from her.
Well, she would deal with being skint and the debts when she was down there. There would be some way round it. But, more than anything, Victor wanted her back, didn’t he? They had been together for a few years, had made a home of sorts for themselves in their little rented room …
The squeal of the stationmaster’s whistle made Pearl jump.
Why was she so jittery? Get a grip, woman! she chastised herself.
Even thinking about staying was sheer madness. She should be in there now, buying her ticket and sitting on the platform, waiting for the train that was going to take her back down south.
For pity’s sake, she had only come up here because Victor had chucked her out, and now he wanted her back. She would be mad not to go. Wouldn’t she?
‘Train approaching platform one, the twelve o’clock service to Portsmouth, calling at …’
A stab of panic coursed through Pearl’s body, making her heart beat faster. God, she needed a drink.
She clumsily got out her packet of Woodbines; her hand was trembling as she pulled out a cigarette and sparked it up, inhaling deeply, hoping it would give her some comfort or, better still, an answer.
If she was honest with herself, she had been in the doldrums since the night she had gone in to see Isabelle in her bedroom and asked her for a sub.
Her daughter’s distraught face and angry words had grazed her conscience. She hated to admit it, but Isabelle had actually been right when she had said that she’d thought Pearl was actually starting to enjoy a normal family life. She had surprised herself, but it was true – she did like it. She had never had family meals around the table before, and she had made a few friends round the doors. Ronald was kind with his cigs and they enjoyed a good chinwag over a smoke. She had even quite enjoyed working in the Tatham; she had got to know some of the regulars quite well, and the perks of the job were good – the wages, the free booze, as well as the compliments and attention she received from the older blokes.
But it was her little granddaughter who always brought a smile to her face. At first she had thought the little girl would get on her nerves, like most children did – but she hadn’t. She was such a lovely bairn – full of fun and cheek. In some ways Pearl saw a little of herself in the child.
‘Train standing on platform one is the Portsmouth service. All aboard.’
Hearing the crackling voice of the tannoy speaker sounding out from inside the railway station, Pearl panicked. She tossed her cigarette to the side. She felt nauseous. Spotting Victor’s letter, she automatically went to pick it up, but another slight gust of wind blew it out of the gutter, into the middle of the road and under a passing double-decker.
Would she end up like the man in the story she’d read to Lucille the other night, and throw her last chip into a life with Victor, only to lose everything if he chucked her out again, ending her days homeless and freezing to death?
As she moved forward, Pearl accidentally kicked her suitcase over and it fell on its side, causing the metal clasp to spring open. She stepped back and bent down to try and stuff some of her clothes that had escaped free back into the case.
Angrily, she tried to force it shut. Fighting back the tears.
‘Don’t turn on the waterworks!’ she told herself. Words her mother had shouted at her, which she had then repeated to her own daughter.
She jammed the case shut several times, but the catch was broken; each time it rebelled and sprang open again.
‘Come on!’ Pearl argued with her luggage, but it was no good, the case flopped back open, allowing blouses and skirts to once again break free.
And it was then the dam behind Pearl’s eyes burst forth, allowing tears to pour unhindered down her face.
But what if Isabelle wanted shot of her? Sometimes she thought her daughter looked at her as if she hated the very ground she walked on. She had even told her to her face that she thought she had been a terrible mother.
So, why not just go? Get on the damned train!
Pearl knelt on the ground next to her suitcase and put her hands to her face and cried.
And then she cried some more.
As she did so, a picture of her granddaughter’s giggling little face filled her vision, and Pearl felt an unusual pull in her heart. It was a feeling she seldom had, and rarely allowed herself to feel.
After a few moments Pearl stood up and turned round.
Leaving her broken suitcase on the ground, she marched purposefully into the station.
Chapter Fifty-Three
For the next hour, Joe and Bel walked and talked. After a while they sat down on one of the park benches, felt the sun on their faces and kissed again, their fingers intertwining, Joe touching every inch of Bel’s bare arm and feeling goose bumps appear. He ached for the moment when he could touch every part of her body, every inch of her skin, when they could lie together and cement their love; but he knew he would have to wait. He had waited this long. He could be patient.
Bel told Joe what her mother had said; how she had been so hurt to hear that all Pearl seemed to be after was money.
Joe recalled how Pearl had asked him at the party if he had received any compensation for his injuries, and everything started to fall into place – the real reason that Pearl had turned up was now evident.
‘I hate to say it, but that woman’s a bloody parasite,’ Joe mused.
He felt sorry for Bel, that she had never experienced what every child should have a right to – the unconditional love of a mother. But, despite this, Bel herself had been a wonderful mum – so full of love and care. He had felt so much respect for her and how Bel had made sure she had not repeated the same mistakes with Lucille – in fact she had done quite the reverse. Lucille could not want for a better mum.
‘You know, the sad thing is,’ Bel said, tears filling her eyes, ‘I actually started to hope Ma had changed. I mean, I knew she wasn’t going to suddenly transform into some kind of fairy godmother, but I really thought that she was starting to enjoy a normal family life with us all.’
Bel was quiet for a moment, feeling the sadness for a future that would never be. ‘But she’s the same old manipulative ma, only she’s just managed to learn to hide it better.’
Joe sighed. Over the years, Bel had often expressed the hope that her mother would change and would eventually give her the care and nurture she had craved all her life. It was as though she refused to give up on the woman who had given birth to her, no matter what she’d done, or how cruel she’d been – and continued to be.
When Bel told him what Pearl had prophesied in regard to Agnes’s and Polly’s reaction to their love, he forced himself to swallow his anger.
‘But, the worst thing is, she’s right.’ The worried expression had returned to Bel’s face. ‘They’ll be so disappointed in me. I feel so ashamed.’
Joe put his finger on her lips and then kissed her. ‘There is nothing shameful about what we feel for each other. Nothing. I never want to hear you say that again.
‘I know how you must feel, and what must have been going on in your head these past few weeks, but you have to stop fretting. Teddy wanted me to look after you. He made me promise just before I was evacuated back to England,’ Joe said. ‘Teddy wanted you to be happy. For Lucille to be happy.’
Since he had come back, Joe had had plenty of time to think, plenty of restless nights lying awake, and he would often wonder if Teddy had somehow known of his love for Bel, and that in his own way his brother had been giving him permission to be with his wife by making him promise to take care of her should he die on the battlefield – and then, when Joe had been told about Teddy’s last letter to Bel, a shiver had gone down his spine.
His brother’s last wish to the two people he loved so dearly had been that they look after one another.
Bel looked at the intensity in Joe’s open face and knew he believed what he said: Teddy had wanted her to be happy above all else – and that Joe himself had no guilt about his feelings towards her whatsoever.
Bel sighed and looked up to the light blue sky, decorated with what looked like a smattering of misshapen cotton-wool balls. She wondered if there really was a heaven – if there was some kind of life after death. If only Teddy would show her it was all right. She had loved him with every fibre of her being; couldn’t bear to imagine that he would think any less of the love they had because of the feelings she now had for Joe.
Her thoughts about Teddy, however, were interrupted by the sound of a distant rumbling breaking through the peace and tranquillity of the skies above.
‘Did you hear that?’ Joe asked.
Bel nodded. The beginnings of panic rose up from the pit of her stomach. It didn’t matter how often she heard the familiar, distant drone of an enemy aircraft, it never failed to instil in her the fear of God.
A few seconds later there followed the belated wail of the air-raid siren as it sounded out across the town.
After a peaceful three months, the town had been lured into a false sense of security.
Now the Luftwaffe had caught the home defences unawares. The town was once again under attack.
Joe and Bel looked at each other. ‘Lucille!’ they said in unison.
As they rushed back to Tatham Street, Bel looked up to the sky, still blazing with sunlight, but now threatening darkness, death, and destruction.
Chapter Fifty-Four
As the first bombs dropped on the north side of the river, Joe and Bel flew back through the front door of Tatham Street just in time to see Agnes charging down the hallway with two gas masks and Lucille in her arms. The poor woman looked as though she was going to collapse with sheer fright.
‘Thank God you’re here!’
Just then Arthur turned up outside the house, clutching a bunch of radishes.
‘Come on! We’ve—’ His voice was blotted out by the loud, punctuated sound of the ack-ack guns, frantically spilling out their bullets across the sky.
‘Arthur, yer gas mask.’
‘Sod the bloody mask, let’s go!’ Arthur turned, as Bel grabbed an ashen-faced Lucille from her mother-in-law’s arms, which were still covered in soapy suds.
