Crossing the River Page 14

  NEW YEAR’S DAY 1940

  Len and his mate Stan borrowed a car so they could drive into town. On business, they said. Drinking business more like, but I went with them so I could see my mother. I told them that I’d meet them outside the bank at six. Len didn’t want to see her, but it didn’t matter. There was no need for either of them to pretend. They’d passed that stage. At about five-thirty, I began to walk back into town, and I noticed that all the iron railings had been ripped out. By the park. Front gardens, everywhere. Together with the pots and pans, that they punctured as soon as you handed them over, the railings would be used for Spitfires. Things were changing. We’d been told that in a week or so we’d have to start rationing bacon, ham, sugar and butter. Customers would only be able to get them with a ration book. I stood by myself in the cold and shivered. The moon was full and the sky was bright with stars. There didn’t seem much point to the blackout. I looked up and wondered if Hitler had found a way to turn out the stars over his country at night. It was after seven. Len was late. Bladdered, I imagined. Not for the first time in my life I felt the humiliation of being abandoned.

  MARCH 1940

  The cold of winter has insisted on hanging on a few weeks past its time. Sandra has been looking increasingly lost and unhappy. These days I go around to visit her two or three times a week. She can’t breast-feed Tommy any more because she says her milk’s all dried up due to worry. He won’t take the bottle, so she has to spoon-feed him, which can take hours. Tommy has become an increasingly noisy problem, but I’ve grown to like him, and to even want to hold him. I never thought that I would want to hold a baby. Sandra seems to like this. The fact that I literally take him off her hands. Today she sat me down and gave me a cup of tea. And then she told me that she was pregnant. I looked at her but said nothing. She was expecting me to say something. That much was clear. She was expecting a reaction of some kind. Horror. Laughter. Something. But I said nothing. Did you hear me? I said I think I’m pregnant. No, in fact I know I’m pregnant. I’m nearly three months gone. She didn’t have to tell me how far gone she was, for I knew that it wasn’t him. I had no idea who it was, but it was clear that she was hoping that I might ask. But I said nothing. I just sipped at my tea. A small mouthful at a time. Don’t you want to know who? I was looking out of the window now. As usual, nothing and nobody in the streets. A perverse part of me longed for her to tell me that it was Len. But it wasn’t. It’s Len’s mate, Joyce. Terry. The farmer. She didn’t have to say who Terry was. I wasn’t so stupid that I couldn’t figure that out for myself. Sandra’s voice began to break.

  He gives me extra things for Tommy. Like a baby sister or brother, I said. I couldn’t help myself. Do you think it’s funny? whispered an incredulous Sandra. She sounded hurt. I was sorry I’d spoken. I apologized. Sandra paused. I don’t know what I’m going to do, she said. I’m not going backstreet. I don’t want to get rid of it. I’m too frightened to. And I don’t want to marry him. Does he want to marry you? I don’t know. I don’t think so. I hope not, I said. Doesn’t seem to me a good enough reason to commit marriage. A bun in the oven. God, she looked pathetic. Helpless. Child in her belly. Tommy in my arms. Cup of tea in her hands. Why didn’t she just keep her legs shut? It’s easy enough to do. Not exactly difficult, is it? I suppose I was lonely. She answers the question without me having to ask it. I suppose I was lonely and stupid. I should have used something. Yes, I said. Like self-control. Now she was hurt. I could see it on her face. I was sorry I said that. There was a pause and then I continued. I think you’d better write to him. Let him know before he gets back. What do you think? I think so, she says. But what if he doesn’t want to come back? What’s Tommy going to do for a father? I pointed out the obvious. That this is a war. That if Tommy ends up without a father, he won’t be the first and he won’t be the last. That’s the truth, Sandra. And then she started to cry. I made some enquiries, she said. Her voice quivered. But you can’t put it up for adoption without your husband’s permission. I’m done for. Dusk approached. The sky got darker. I could see it was freezing out. I would soon have to go and help Len close up the shop. Always a last-minute rush with those coming in from the town. And we’ve just started to ration meat. I didn’t want to leave her on her own in such a state, but what could I do? I touched her arm. Sandra, I said. Write to him. Tell him. It will make you feel better to know that he knows. And they can get leave. Compassionate leave. Then he can come home and the two of you can sort out whatever it is that you’ve got to sort out. It’ll be better that way. I’ve not told anybody else, she says. So I’m the only one who knows? And the doctor. At the clinic in town. It was getting darker. The shadows were lengthening. I think you should tell him, I said.

  MARCH 1940

  Last night Len beat me. After he came back from the pub. Drunk. Once he’s got a mood on, that’s it. He’ll find a reason. It didn’t hurt all that much. It happened so quickly. And I understood why he was doing it. Maybe that’s why it didn’t hurt all that much. He was just working off the embarrassment of not having a uniform. Not even one of the silly bugger Home Guard uniforms. Civvy Street guilt. He was playing at being a man. Secretly drumming on me behind closed doors. But I told him. The next time he raises his hand to me it’ll be the last time. Drunk or sober. It’ll be the last time.

  MAY 1940

  France has gone. It looks like we’ll have to fight to the bitter end by ourselves. Everyone’s talking of invasion. And what to do. They say you’ve got to stay at home. If you’re out when they come, you mustn’t run or you’ll be machine-gunned from the air like they did in Holland and Belgium. It says, in the Star, that you’re not to supply the Germans with food, petrol or maps. And if you see anything at all suspicious you’re to go straight to the police. They sometimes talk to you like you’re mental.

  FEBRUARY 1943

  I’ve been thinking about it all week, but trying to pretend that it wasn’t a problem. However, this morning I had to face up to the truth. I didn’t have anything to wear to the dance. And I simply didn’t have the money to go out and buy anything new. A plain dress, some flat shoes and a coat would have to do just nicely, thank you very much. This evening I stood in front of the mirror. When I smiled it took the lines a few moments less to set, and a few moments longer to disappear once I put my face right again. It wasn’t my imagination. I didn’t have to be told. I pulled on my coat and picked up my handbag, then I walked through the village towards the hall. As I approached, I saw a soldier standing by the chipped gate. Come for the dance, ma’am? I hid my ring. Yes, I’ve come for the dance. I panicked. Am I the only one? Have I got the time right? He offered me gum. No thank you, I said. I recognized him, I recognized them all from the shop. And they all knew me. I don’t suppose they knew my name, but they knew my face. I went inside. There were a few more soldiers in the grounds. Walking around in pairs. Laughing. They seemed odd in this grand place. But then I realized that I probably seemed odd here too. The toffs have moved on for the war. Big of them, I thought. Hey, ma’am. Looking for the dance? I nodded. Over there. He was a military policeman. He pointed with his rifle. I hesitated. Hell, just go straight in. So I did. I walked across the lawn – like a real madam – then up the stairs and into a big room. The first thing that I saw was the food. They had stuff on the table that even I hadn’t seen in years. Lemons and grapefruits. Tins of chocolate. Life Savers. Beef steaks. Salami. Sliced tinned peaches. One of them took my coat. May I, he said. Thank you, I said. So polite, I thought. I looked up and saw a few ATS girls from the next village, and some Land Army girls, and a few married ones, all sitting in a line looking frightened. I decided that I’d better go and sit with them. So I went over and sat next to a Land Army girl who was in uniform. She smiled at me but made a point of not saying anything. Then they began to play gramophone records, which didn’t make that much sense to me because they were all standing and we were all sitting. What were we supposed to do? In the corner I saw the officer who’d co
me into the shop and talked to me about them. He looked over and waved. Hello, Duchess. I stared back through him. I was rather proud of this stare. I could see that it upset him somewhat, but he wasn’t sure what to do. I kept staring through him. The Land Army girl next to me came to life and wanted to know if everything was all right. I told her, yes, that everything was all right. Why shouldn’t it be? I see, said the girl. And still nobody would dance to the gramophone records. And then I noticed that the band were climbing up on to the small stage. They’d pushed some boxes up tight and tacked a cloth drape around the edges, but it looked proper. It looked like a real job, not just something they’d slung together. And then they began to play. It sounded great, but it made everybody feel uneasy. A sitting line of us facing a standing crowd of them. And then I found myself on my feet and walking towards the two who asked me, the tall one and the shorter one. I asked the tall one if he’d like to dance. He smiled at me nervously. I could see the gap in his teeth in the middle of the bottom row. It’s usually at the top, I thought. Where people have a gap in their teeth. It’s unusual to see somebody with a gap in their teeth at the bottom. But that was all right, it was different and I liked that. He put one hand on my shoulder and held out the other. I stretched my arm out to meet it, and he steered me backwards and into the space that was the dance floor. A foxtrot. Over his shoulder I could see everyone looking on. I could see it on their faces. They were shocked. And maybe a bit jealous, but I didn’t care. And then, one by one, the soldiers found the courage to go over to the girls and soon they were all dancing. My partner leant forward and whispered into my ear. Looks like you’ve started the party. You oughta be proud of yourself. I didn’t say anything. You don’t seem shy and uneasy like the rest of them. I still didn’t say anything. I just listened. Listened to him and listened to the music. You from round here? Why? I asked. Well, I was just wondering. I don’t know. I guess you don’t act like them in some ways. Can’t say how exactly, but just different. Inside I was smiling. That was just what I wanted to hear.

  JUNE 1940

  Their faces were drawn and defeated. They looked like they’d seen hell. I couldn’t believe that these were our boys, in shirtsleeves and with no uniforms. Boys is right. That’s what they looked like perched up there on their jeeps and in the back of the trucks. They were starving. Len and I offered some of them tea, but they waved their hands and politely refused. I thought to myself, well, Hitler might as well just come marching through now. We better start learning German. Most of them were too ashamed to even look you in the eye. Our heroes returning from Dunkirk. And yet, all over the papers, they’re still trying to tell us that one Englishman is worth two Germans, four French, twenty Arabs, forty Italians, and any number of Indians. I thought, that fat bastard Churchill will no doubt turn it into some kind of victory. He’ll be on the wireless again tonight, huffing and puffing, and Len will be lapping it all up like a -bloody silly little spaniel. If Churchill tells me one more time that this war is being fought for freedom and true principles of democracy I’ll scream. But, as I looked on at them, I thought to myself that this war can’t go on for much longer if this is the state we’re in. That much was clear for anybody to see. It might as well be the white flag now. We’re going to lose England. We’ve legally placed ourselves, our property and our services at the disposal of His Majesty, and I for one don’t expect to get anything back. And sure enough this evening he was on the wireless, the stuck-up pig. I wanted to turn it off, but Len likes to listen. So I went out for a walk. One of the LDVs flashed a torch in my face and asked me who goes there. I wanted to say to the stupid sod, it’s me, Hitler. I was hoping you wouldn’t catch me because I was planning on invading tonight, starting right here in this village. But now you’ve buggered up my plans, you crafty devil. Oh, it’s just you, Mrs Kitson. I wandered back and sat with Len, who told me that we always start badly. That we English lose every battle but the last. He’d believed the official story behind the looks on those lads’ faces. I was getting good at learning the difference between the official stories and the evidence before my eyes. And even when there was no evidence, I was learning what to disbelieve. And so I sat with Len and began to swear out loud. What’s the matter with you? Nothing, Len. Nothing. I’m just fine.

  MARCH 1943

  I’ve been wondering about him ever since the dance. I didn’t think he was letting me down by not showing up at the shop. I’m not that presumptuous. After all, we only danced a few times and then I was passed around. It was only fair. There wasn’t enough of us so we had to be shared. It turned into a ‘Ladies, excuse me’ dance, which meant anyone could cut in. At the end of the dance we all left together, so there was no question of anyone walking out with anyone. They brought us our coats, and gave us presents. An orange, a pack of cigarettes, and some candy, as they call it. Chocolate is what we call it, and for most of us it was like being given lumps of gold. The Yanks really have no idea of what it means. I think we were maybe a bit rude, like kids, for once they’d given us the chocolate we all muttered a hasty goodnight. Everyone just wanted to escape with the chocolate in case the Yanks changed their minds. The next morning I woke up and thought about him. I wondered if they’d be having another dance for us, or if they’d decided that one was enough. I decided that all dances should start that way, with me and him gliding across the floor and breaking the atmosphere. That was three weeks ago. I have a feeling that they thought me a bit above myself. But still, I have nice, if awkward, memories. But today everything is fine again, for he came into the shop with a big smile upon his face and a bunch of daffodils. He told me that he didn’t know what we called these things. He’d never seen them before, for they didn’t have them where he came from. But he thought he’d like me to have them. He dresses so smartly, and he doesn’t chew gum when he talks. Not like the officers and the others. I don’t know why they think it’s so clever to do this. It’s vulgar. Anybody could tell them that. His hair is well combed, with a sort of razor parting on the left. It’s short, like thin black wool, but he puts some oil or something on it because it shines in the light. Quite bright, actually. Here, take them. He handed the flowers to me and I thanked him. I looked for a jam jar to put them into and he lit a cigarette. Excuse me, do you mind? he asked. Of course I don’t mind. I don’t say this, but I hope he understands. I just shook my head a few times. I’ll be back in a sec, I said. You don’t mind watching the shop, do you? I went out the back and found ajar. I wondered if I should ask him. I didn’t know why I was even going through this for it seemed obvious to me that if I didn’t ask him then nothing was going to happen. I took a peek back through into the shop and saw him just standing there like a spare part, not knowing what to do. And then I came back in with the daffodils standing proudly in a jar. I just asked him outright. Would you like to go for a walk? He looked confused. As though I was trying to trick him into something. A walk? Or perhaps you’re not allowed to do this. To go off limits, or whatever you call it. Is that it? If so, I’m sorry for asking, but it’s just that I thought a walk would be nice. Still, it doesn’t matter if you’re not able to do it. No, he says. But maybe Sunday. I don’t think we get any recreation again until Sunday. Would that be all right? We get most of the day. I looked at him and realized that Sunday it would have to be. We sometimes go to your pub. It seems a nice place. Most of the guys like the English pub, although your beer still tastes a little strange to us. But you do like it? I asked quickly. Yeah sure, we like it. We drink it. There’s nothing else to drink. He laughed as he said this. I don’t mean to be rude, he assured me. Look. I’ve got to get back. I’ve got duties to take care of. Sunday, I said. Sunday, he said. And that was him gone, leaving me with the daffodils.