Darkest Before Dawn (46 page)

Martha looked up sharply. ‘You will not,' she said roundly. ‘When we're married, it'll be different, but Evie and I will buy our wedding clothes. Though we're very grateful for the offer – and for the coupons, of course.'

Mr Wilmslow gave a deep sigh, held the door open for Evie and then followed her down the stairs and into the stockroom. Here they parted, Evie making her way through the shop and out of the front door, erecting her umbrella as soon as she stepped out on to the pavement, for it was raining steadily. Sloshing through the puddles on the way to her bus stop, she went over Toby's letter in her mind. Although it had been addressed to her and to the family, she felt that it had really been intended for Seraphina and decided, after a short inward struggle, that she would put the pages into another envelope and send them on to Seraphina at her airfield.

Evie's bus came along and she jumped aboard. Her job at the clothing factory was changing, for the staff were beginning to make ordinary garments, and she had decided that as soon as she could find alternative work she would leave. She had been going to evening classes, doing a business course, and both her shorthand and her typing were now sufficiently good to mean that an office job was on the cards. However, she had been well paid for making uniforms, and if the money remained the same she would happily make demob suits until the right job turned up.

The conductor tinkled the bell and the bus began to move forward once more. Evie saw a friend in front of her and squeezed past a couple of fat old shawlies, apologising as her dripping umbrella snagged in someone's basket. She was longing to tell everyone that the war really was over for her because very soon now Toby would be returning home. ‘Hey, Lily!' she squeaked, as soon as she was near enough. ‘You'll never guess what I got this morning!'

It was 22 December and Seraphina was preparing for a week's leave, which she would spend at home in Liverpool. Fate had decreed that she would not be spending Christmas, as she had planned, with Eddie, but then neither would she be spending it with Roger. She had written to him, asking for a divorce, as soon as the war ended, but he had responded by first ignoring her letter, and then turning up at her airfield full of righteous indignation and tears. She had felt sorry for him at first, but such feelings had speedily evaporated when he told her, bluntly, that he did not intend to give her grounds, and nor would he ever admit that he had not consummated the marriage. ‘If you want to make our private lives public property, then I suppose you might be able to prove something, but I imagine you've probably been carrying on with someone else whilst I've been abroad, so that horse won't run,' he had said, and there was a sneer in his voice and a look in his eye which had made Seraphina shudder and turn away.

After that, she had gone to a solicitor, but he had not been at all helpful. For a start, he had kept glancing out of the window as she spoke, tapping his wristwatch and holding it to his ear, rudely interrupting her by answering the telephone whenever it rang, and finally telling her that she would find it difficult to persuade a judge that non-consummation of the marriage was sufficient grounds for divorce in her case. ‘These things happen in wartime,' he had said loftily. ‘Young men are under a good deal of stress; they're away for long periods – perhaps even for years – as you say your husband has been. I'm sure, now that he's home, he will speedily put things right. Good morning, Mrs Truelove.'

Seraphina had wanted to scream, to pick up the large ruler on the desk and hit him over the head with it, to throw his wretched telephone straight through the glass of his office window. She had paid for this interview and he had not even listened to her, even though, deeply embarrassing though it had been, she had assured him that she had not been with anyone else since her marriage, and certainly not before that. Unfortunately, her knowledge of the law was not sufficient to tell her whether she would have to allow Roger back into her bed if he wanted to force the issue, but, law or no law, she had no intention of returning to him. She had made a colossal mistake in marrying him, and now that she had met a man she could both respect and love she did not mean to allow Roger to ruin the rest of her life.

Having realised that it would not be possible to spend her week's leave with Eddie, she had decided to go home to Liverpool. It was high time she told Martha what a farce her marriage was, because until she understood she feared that Martha would be aghast at the idea of a divorce. Once she knew, however, that the marriage had not been consummated – never would be – then Seraphina was certain not only of her understanding but also of her sympathy and support.

So, at ten o'clock on the following day, Seraphina set off for Liverpool. Sitting in the train she made her plans. Roger knew where she lived and might come searching for her. So, having thought the matter over, she had decided that when she was demobbed she would go down to the little village in Devon where Angie and her Albert already occupied a thatched, pink-washed cottage opposite the war memorial and close by the church of St Lawrence. Seraphina had visited her sister six months earlier and had fallen in love with the peaceful little hamlet, perched on its rounded hill, the narrow, sunken lanes, the beautiful countryside and the tumbling River Torridge which meandered round the foot of the hill in summer, and roared noisily seawards in winter. Seraphina knew she would be welcomed, even though the cottage only had one spare room, for, naturally, she would pay her sister a fair rent and curates and their wives, she knew, were always short of money. She hoped that she might get work somewhere in the area, to tide her over until she was free to marry Eddie. She had put the idea to Angela, who had received it with great enthusiasm and said that her sister would be bound to find work in the nearby town of Okehampton.

Seraphina had not told Angela why she meant to move away from Liverpool but had a shrewd suspicion that her sister realised there was something wrong between herself and Roger. Once she got to Devon, she would tell her the truth, of course, and thought that Angela would understand completely, enter into her feelings and encourage her to end the marriage, for Angela was looking forward to the birth of her baby and had told Seraphina she meant to have a large family. The thought of a marriage in which the husband refused to allow the wife to have children would, Seraphina knew, be repugnant to her sister.

The passenger beside her, a young woman in ATS uniform, suddenly dived a hand into the breast pocket of her tunic and produced a letter, much read and travel stained. She began to read it and abruptly Seraphina remembered that she had received a letter herself that morning. Now she took it from her pocket and glancing down at it recognised Evie's handwriting. She tore open the envelope – it was a long letter, for there were a couple of sheets of thin, utility paper within – and began to read.

Dear Fee, Wonderful, wonderful news! We had a short letter from Toby yesterday saying that the hospital will discharge him at the end of December. He's sorry to miss Christmas, of course, but thrilled to be coming back to Blighty once more. He says the thing that had worried him most was called a tropical ulcer; it took ages to get well and could have gone even deeper than it did, but he says now there is just a hole in his leg, quite clean and pink, and it doesn't hurt at all. I know you're coming back for Christmas, which is lovely, but couldn't you explain things to your wing officer and ask if you could delay your leave for a week?
Seraphina glanced at the date at the top of the letter. As she had guessed, it had been written ten days ago, for the Christmas post always delayed mail. There would have been no chance of her changing her leave even if she had wanted to. She returned to the letter.

Seraphina sat back and smiled to herself. How sweet and ingenuous Evie was! She could not, of course, have the faintest idea that Seraphina's marriage was a marriage in name only, but she had clearly realised that all was not well. I shall explain things to Ma but I don't believe I'll have to tell Evie very much, she thought, carefully drying her eyes on her hankie and cramming the letter into her pocket. I'm really lucky in my family. Some girls dread having to tell their mother and sisters that they intend to divorce, but I know Ma, Angie and Evie will understand.

Toby was flown home in January and found the freezing temperatures, when he stepped out of the huge plane, a daunting experience. But the nights in the jungle had often been cold and he felt, in his new warm clothes, that he could face most of what his country had to offer. He arrived in Liverpool as the early winter dusk was coming down and looked, almost unbelievingly, at the devastation illumined by the many street lamps and the glow from shop windows. He had known the city had been hard hit but, irrationally, had expected it to have been rebuilt. Now he saw grimly that this was not so. He knew he was still gaunt and pale, but had expected to be surrounded by rosy smiling faces and well-dressed people, for surely such should have been the signs of victory? But the folk hurrying along the pavements looked weary and worn and Toby, standing undecided outside Lime Street station, wondered what he should best do.

Now that he had actually arrived in the city, Toby found he was hesitating. Everything was so strange! Perhaps it would be better if he went home to Micklethwaite first, took things slowly, did not rush into anything. He had half turned back towards the station when another thought occurred to him. If Seraphina had spent her Christmas leave with her family, then there was just a faint hope that she might be there still. And he acknowledged, now, that he wanted to see her; they had so much to talk about. He told himself he would never forget how the memories of their past happiness had kept him going during the most terrible of his days as a POW. Then there was her selfless devotion to him after Dunkirk, when she had knelt by his bed all night, holding his hand and fending off the fearful nightmares from which he had suffered.

Telling himself that he owed Seraphina a good deal, he set off along the pavement. He paused for a moment by a tram stop, but he had already discovered that he was miserably ill at ease in cramped and confined spaces; that crowds filled him with apprehension, though he had no idea why. So instead of waiting for the tram, he decided he would walk and set off at a brisk pace, keeping to the outer edge of the pavement since this made him feel less hemmed in. These feelings won't last, he told himself; it's simply a matter of growing accustomed. I must get in touch with Miles because I'm sure he'll be suffering from very similar feelings, and he is a good deal better equipped to cope with them than I am.

He drew in a deep breath of the chilly night air, then coughed as the cold caught at the back of his throat and grinned to himself. Yes, it would take some getting used to, this new freedom; he would definitely contact Miles.

Evie ran across the wide pavement outside her office and took a flying leap aboard the tram which was just starting to move. The conductor shouted at her but she gave him a wicked grin, shrieked that she was sorry and charged up the stairs and on to the upper deck, knowing that he was unlikely to pursue her up here in order to throw her off for daring to board the tram as it was moving.

There was a seat, too, since the young man who had been occupying it had got to his feet and was making his way down the stairs in order to be first off when they reached his stop. Evie sank into it and looked about her. All day she had had a trembly, excited feeling in the pit of her stomach; all day she had felt as though today was special, though she could not have said why. Seraphina had gone back to her airfield a couple of weeks before and had telephoned the shop – Mr Wilmslow had had a telephone installed and the whole family competed to answer it whenever the bell rang – to say that her demob papers had arrived and she hoped to be going down to Devon in a couple of weeks.

Evie knew that her sister had confided in Martha regarding her marriage – in fact, she had even spoken to Evie about it, asking Evie about her boss, Mr Blewitt. Evie had been able to give her a reassuring report; Mr Blewitt was young, attractive and go-ahead, and dealt with his many clients – mostly women – with considerable sympathy and understanding. Encouraged by Evie's words, Seraphina had made an appointment to see him and had come away from his office looking happier than she had done for some time.

Evie had longed to ask her sister what had transpired – she knew better than to ask Mr Blewitt – but Seraphina had not been terribly forthcoming. ‘It'll be all right,' she had said when Evie had questioned her. ‘I liked your Mr Blewitt very much indeed and he said he saw no reason for me not to be granted a divorce within the next six months or so, which suits me because . . . well, you can't marry someone who isn't even in the same country, can you?'