Coronation Wives (6 page)

As they drove along Billy prattled on about his latest scam for making money. It was something to do with gambling. Polly shut her ears. She had other plans. Was this the time to mention Australia? Perhaps not. Not just yet.

She began to hum and look distractedly out of the window, her thoughts filled with the vision of a sun-filled home and a beach at the end of the garden.

Billy misinterpreted her reason for appearing uninterested. ‘OK! I’ll shut up.’

Polly hummed ‘One Day My Prince Will Come’, her daughter Carol’s favourite song from the film
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

‘What’s that tune yer singing?’

‘“Some Day My Prince Will Come”.’

Keeping his eyes on the road he leaned closer and
whispered, ‘Yer prince is right ’ere, sweet’eart.’

Polly eyed him disdainfully. ‘Where? All I can see is a bloody frog!’

The light from the streetlamp next to the garden gate filtered through the curtains and hit Colin’s metal legs, which Edna had placed in the corner of the bedroom after helping him out of them.

‘They look like the bottom half of a medieval knight waiting for his top half to arrive before going into action.’

Edna laughed. ‘Do they have to stand there in
that
particular corner every night?’

‘You’d give a pet dog its own special place. So why not my legs? Aren’t they worth more than a dog?’ Colin joked.

Catching his mood she flippantly asked, ‘Should we get them their own bed?’

Colin laughed. ‘Come here,’ he said and patted the space in the bed beside him. She got in and helped him turn towards her. There was no embarrassment between them about this. Most people, Edna realized, were uncomfortable with disability. Colin had no problem with the fact that his legs had been blasted out from under him and she’d got used to it. He was one of the lucky ones – he’d come home.

‘I love you, Edna.’ He stroked her hair. His breath was soft and warm. They kissed and embraced just like any other married couple, except perhaps that there was a little more sensitivity when it came to making love. Colin’s strong shoulders and overdeveloped biceps compensated for his lack of legs. Sometimes he forgot that his legs were truncated at the knees and that his body wasn’t quite so easily manoeuvred as it used to be. Sometimes there was just pain, his phantom legs kicking in the night, kidding his brain into thinking they were still there, strips of flesh clinging tenuously to shattered bones.

They lay on their sides facing each other, his palm warm on her breast, his lips moist on her throat.

She ran her hands over the firmness of his shoulders and chest. Colin made her feel secure, more safe and loved than she’d ever felt in her life. There was great pleasure in touching him, helping him move towards her, clasping his pelvis tightly against her own, until the moment they were ready to join together when Colin rolled onto his back and Edna moved on top of him.

‘I’m going to Charlotte’s tomorrow,’ Edna said after they’d made love and kissed affectionately in its warm aftermath.

‘On a Saturday?’

‘I thought I’d take the children to the zoo afterwards.’

‘Do you want me to come?’

Edna sensed his disinclination. ‘Only if you really want to.’

‘Hmm. If it was just the zoo I would. Old Charlotte’s a good sort, but I know what it’ll be like once you and her get together – non-stop women’s talk.’

‘And you think she’s bossy,’ she said with a laugh and a tap on his chin.

‘Right, so I’ll give it a miss – if you don’t mind.’

‘I don’t mind.’

It was exactly what she’d thought he’d say which is why she’d lied. She was going to see Janet, not Charlotte. The zoo was a busy place and the animals would keep the children occupied whilst she talked to Janet and found out exactly what had happened to her and how she could help. They would meet at three o’clock. There was just one thing worrying her. Edna propped herself up on one elbow. ‘I want to ask you something.’

He kept his eyes tightly closed and pretended not to notice. ‘I’m so sleepy,’ he said in the sort of voice one of the children might use.

Edna smiled to herself. Colin
was
a child at times.

Just as she expected, he opened one eye. ‘What is it?’

She traced circles across his chest with her finger. ‘What do you think about secrets?’

‘You should keep them,’ he said with a yawn. His eyes snapped open. ‘What have you done?’

Edna laughed. ‘Nothing. It’s not me.’ She tried to think of the best way to put it. ‘If something happened to a member of a friend’s family and they wanted you to keep it secret, even though you thought that friend could help that person, would you still keep the secret?’

‘Yes,’ said Colin. Then he yawned again and closed his eyes.

Edna lay back on the pillow and did the same. Sleep would be a long time coming, she thought, and opened them again. Keeping Janet’s secret from Charlotte had been worrying her for days. But a secret was a secret. As far as Edna knew, she was the only person Janet had confided in. For Charlotte’s as well as Janet’s sake, she resolved to give her full support.

In no time at all Colin was snoring. Edna nudged him in the ribs.

‘Sorry,’ he said sleepily, reached out and gripped the side of the mattress. Edna obliged, got one hand into his shoulder, one under his hip and moved him onto his side. Despite having overdeveloped arm muscles, turning over wasn’t easy.

She lay awake for what seemed like hours then finally gave up trying. Being careful not to disturb Colin, she pushed back the bedclothes, swung her legs out of bed and tucked her feet into her slippers.

Light fell through the round window at the top of the stairs and lay in a distorted oval like a maladjusted mat.

She stepped into the girls’ room first. Susan was sound asleep, pink lips intermittently sucking on an equally pink thumb. Pamela was in her cot. She too was sucking on her thumb and had kicked her bedclothes down to her ankles.

Edna pulled the bedding up over her warm little body. If anyone had ever told her she’d have such adorable children she’d never have believed it. And three of them! And another on the way – hopefully. So far she’d told no one – not even Colin. She wanted to be sure.

On entering Peter’s room she found that he too had kicked off his bedclothes.

She lingered after covering him up and gently pushed his sandy hair back from his forehead. Being brought up with two girls wasn’t always easy for him. He’d asked her if she could buy him a brother. ‘Not a baby one,’ he’d ordered. ‘I’d like one that’s big enough to play football.’

Remembering what he’d said brought a lump to her throat. How could she tell him that he already had a brother who was older than him and might very well play football?

She hugged herself and stifled a sob. Even though he had a good home, well-off adoptive parents and a better life in Brazil than she could have offered in Bristol, it had never been easy to forget Sherman, her firstborn, illegitimate and given up for adoption during the war. At times like these she imagined her brown-skinned, brown-eyed little boy waking, having breakfast, going to school and saying goodbye to the people who had raised him.

Never mind, she told herself as she brushed away a tear, it’s all in the past. There’s a new age dawning and a bright future to look forward to, new houses, new jobs, new outlooks. A young queen is about to be crowned. The past is dead.

The tea lady was pushing her trolley around the office and duly arrived at Charlotte’s desk.

‘With or without?’ she asked, as the piping hot liquid poured from the urn.

Charlotte was halfway through the details of a man called Lech Rostok from Danzig when something about the two men fighting suddenly hit her. She sat bolt upright. The papers she’d been reading fell from her hand.

‘Polish! They were speaking in Polish!’

Eyes that had been lowered over files in the office she shared with six others turned in her direction.

‘Just thinking aloud,’ she explained with a casual smile and a shake of her head.

‘I do that,’ said the tea lady, her hair a busy frizz around her dumpling face. ‘Now is that with or without sugar?’ she asked again. Charlotte declined. ‘I knew a Pole during the war,’ said the tea lady, a far away look in her eyes as she hugged her oversized teapot close to her chest. ‘Drunken swine!’

‘Oh dear!’

The tea lady moved on and Charlotte’s thoughts went back to the building site, the two men fighting, two others brutalizing them, and the other man wearing a double-breasted suit. The latter had watched, done nothing and said
nothing, but he’d struck a chord. Where had she seen him before?

She stared at the dull cream walls as if the crazed pattern of cracking plaster was a map by which she could obtain answers to her questions. Much as she stared, it told her nothing.

The canteen at Bristol Royal Infirmary always smelt of cottage pie even when it wasn’t on the menu.

‘It’s rissoles,’ Dorothea said to Janet as she poked her fork into one of the two crisp-coated items that sat on her plate.

Janet swallowed a mouthful of cheese sandwich. ‘Of course it is. It’s Friday.’

Dorothea gobbled away, eyed the greyish bread of Janet’s sandwich, and gulped before saying, ‘That doesn’t look very appetizing.’

‘The bread tastes like cardboard and the cheese tastes like soap.’

‘So why didn’t you have the rissoles?’ asked Dorothea as she began on her second.

‘I don’t like snakes.’

Dorothea stopped chewing and looked puzzled. ‘Snakes?’

Janet kept a straight face. ‘Mrs Grey’s sister works in the kitchen and she reckons that with things still in short supply, they put any old rubbish into things like rissoles and pies.’

‘Oh my God!’ Cutlery clattered onto the plate, chair legs scraped swiftly across the floor as Dorothea sprang to her feet. Janet caught a glimpse of her face, just enough to see that she was whitewash pale, before she scooted off towards the corridor, the lavatory, and a heaving of recently bolted lunch into the china bowl.

Janet smiled to herself and murmured, ‘That’ll teach you to leave me to walk home on my own.’

A while ago, Dorothea had made the mistake of disclosing
her hatred of snakes. Never tell people your secrets, thought Janet as she pushed the sandwich and tea away and got up from the table. So far she had only told two people what had happened on the night she’d walked home alone from the Odeon. One was the unsympathetic policeman, a mistake she bitterly regretted. The other was Edna. Janet trusted her not to tell anyone else.

On Saturday, at three in the afternoon, Janet entered the zoo and made her way to the monkey temple.

Complete with domed roof and pillared exterior, it hinted at the Far East and dark jungles. It actually stood in the centre of a concrete compound viewed from steps round its perimeter and its occupants squatted in small groups over its roof, swung from its pillars or looked up the high walls with pleading eyes to the spectators looking back at them.

Janet looked at her watch. Edna was late, understandable having three children to deal with.

She looked towards the wide lawns where Rosie the Indian elephant was being led up and down by her keeper, a bevy of people sitting on a swaying howdah suspended over her back.

‘Aunty Janet!’

She turned at the sound of her name and spotted Susan running towards her, closely followed by her brother Peter who, bearing in mind the proximity of the elephant, seemed to have adopted a suitably regal canter on Trigger.

Wearing a dress of sunshine yellow that complemented her brown eyes and hair, Edna brought up the rear, with Pamela in the pushchair.

‘Sorry we’re late. We had to see Alfred first,’ said Edna breathlessly. ‘He’s a gorilla,’ she added in response to Janet’s puzzled expression. ‘Hold on a minute until I get these ice creams sorted out.’

Three Lyons Maid vanilla ice creams were unwrapped and popped into three sets of wafers. The two eldest children were given whole ones; the youngest made do with half, Edna keeping the remainder for herself.

Susan was first to get her ice cream and placed herself next to Janet. ‘What’s that monkey doing?’ she asked.

‘Eating fleas,’ said Janet.

‘Well, I prefer ice cream,’ said Susan and followed it with a lingering lick, almost as if she were trying to make the monkeys jealous.

Satisfied that the children were occupied watching the monkey colony and out of earshot, Edna looked at Janet, said nothing but merely waited for her to begin.

‘I’d been to the pictures,’ Janet began. The words came easier than she’d expected and the story poured out. Edna remained silent.

At last Janet finished all she had to say and felt better for it. Having someone listen but not comment made her realize how much she’d needed to talk about it, to get the experience out into the open.

‘Who else have you told?’ asked Edna.

‘I went to the police station.’ Janet stared at a pair of monkeys who were presently squabbling over orange peel. ‘They made me feel cheap, as though I wanted it to happen, so I ran from there. That was on the day I bumped into you.’

Edna’s expression was deadly serious. ‘The law is run by men and is biased. They’d say it was your word against his – if they should ever catch him. Would you recognize him?’

Polly shook her head. ‘Perhaps his accent, but then …’ She couldn’t be sure. Everything seemed so unfair. There seemed so little she could do.

Edna eyed the monkeys, her hands clasped and resting on the barrier. ‘You have to put it behind you.’

‘It’s not easy. I feel so second-rate.’

Edna laughed.

Janet frowned. ‘What’s so funny?’

Edna’s expression turned serious. ‘You’re such a good-looking girl. How could you possibly be second-rate?’

‘You know how it is. I’d hoped to meet the right man and have a white wedding just like any other girl.’

‘You can still do that.’

Janet’s face and voice contorted with despair. ‘How can I? You have to be a virgin to have a white wedding.’

Something in Edna’s look made her feel terribly young, terribly naive.