Home Front Girls (12 page)

‘They’re nice, aren’t they?’ Lucy said when she came back to join him. ‘I thought Annabelle was a bit stuck-up when I first met her, but she’s all right when you get to know her.’ She helped herself to a digestive biscuit from the plate between them.

‘They are nice,’ Joel agreed. ‘And I have the feeling you’re quite enjoying your job. But . . . well, it wouldn’t do to get too close to them. You know what I mean, don’t you?’

Lucy bit her lip. ‘I’m very careful what I tell them,’ she assured him.

He nodded with satisfaction. ‘Good. I don’t mean to be a spoilsport, but if they ever found out . . .’

‘They won’t! At least not from me. But let’s not discuss it on our last night together. All that is in the past now, and I try not to think too much about it.’

Joel pursed his lips now and told her, ‘I went to see Mum today. I told Mrs P that I was going to do a bit of shopping and she looked after Mary for me. She doesn’t seem any better, does she? Do you still go every Sunday?’

‘As much as I can,’ Lucy told him in a small voice. ‘But I can only go if Mrs P is able to look after Mary. It upsets her too much if I take Mary along.’

Her brother reached out to squeeze her hand, sensing that she was getting emotional. ‘And is my money coming through all right?’ he asked.

‘Oh yes,’ she assured him in a slightly wobbly voice. ‘Your wages arrive every other week but you really shouldn’t send so much. You must hardly keep anything for yourself, and now that I have a job I’m managing fine.’

‘It’s not as if I have anything to spend it on, is it?’ he said ruefully. ‘And I need to know that you and Mary have enough to get by on. But what’s going to happen after her birthday? She’ll be five soon.’

‘I know.’ Lucy’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘I try not to think of it too much because I’ll have no choice but to let her be evacuated, and I don’t know how she’ll cope with it. She’s never been away from us before.’

Joel too was worried sick at the thought of it. ‘I’m sure they’ll be kind to her, whoever takes her in,’ he said gently, and hoped with all his heart that that was true.

And then they went on to talk about other things as the short time they had left together ticked away.

Dotty met Lucy and Mary in the bus station on Saturday afternoon and they caught the bus together to Cheylesmore. Mary was looking very pretty in her Sunday best outfit, and anyone seeing her would have thought that she was just a normal little girl, until they looked into her eyes and saw the vacant expression there.

‘Oh Lucy, she looks just
lovely,’
Dotty cooed as she bent to plant a kiss on Mary’s cheek. Then: ‘I wonder what Annabelle’s home will be like?’

‘Really posh, I should think,’ Lucy replied as she paid the conductor. ‘Which is why she’s probably invited us,’ she went on with a grin. ‘I think Annabelle likes to think of us as the paupers.’

‘I reckon you could be right,’ Dotty agreed, then giggled. ‘But she’s nice when you get to know her, isn’t she? Though I have to admit I wasn’t all that keen on her at first. She really hated her job to begin with, she said that it was beneath her, but between you and me I reckon she quite enjoys it now. At least she doesn’t grumble so much, and when I went through the perfume department the other day I saw her arranging her counter without being told. When I teased her about it, she said that she was only doing it so that she knew where everything was, but I didn’t believe her for a minute. I think she takes a pride in her own counter now.’

Lucy nodded in agreement as she pointed out St Michael’s Cathedral to Mary from the window, not that the child took much notice of it, but Lucy never gave up trying to reach her – although deep down she knew that she never would.

Eventually they arrived at their stop and the bus trundled to a halt. Lucy and Dotty ushered Mary off between them then Dotty took a scrap of paper from her pocket and peered at it. It was only three thirty in the afternoon but already the light was fading and it was bitterly cold, although thankfully they hadn’t had any more snow as yet.

‘Ah, that’s Leaf Lane over there – look,’ Dotty pointed. ‘And the house is called Primrose Lodge.’

‘Doesn’t it have a number?’ Lucy asked as they set off with Mary between them.

Dotty scoffed. ‘No, none of them along here do, by the look of it. Numbers are common, didn’t you know? Crikey, they’re really posh, aren’t they?’

They moved on, looking at the names on the gates of the houses, which all seemed to be hiding at the end of long, winding driveways.

‘Ah, here we are,’ Dotty said a good ten minutes later. ‘This is it.’

They set off up the drive in silence, each of them nervous as they glimpsed the size of the house they were approaching.

‘It’s more like a mansion than a house,’ Lucy whispered in awe.

Lucy rang the doorbell and almost instantly Annabelle opened the door with a wide smile on her face.

‘Ah, so you found us then. Come on in out of the cold. Mummy is so looking forward to meeting you.’

Lucy couldn’t help but glance enviously at their friend. It was the first time she had ever seen her out of her white blouse and black skirt, and the other girl looked lovely in a calf-length skirt in a shade of deep blue, with a very pretty lace-trimmed blouse. Her hair had been brushed till it shone like spun gold and Dotty was sure that she could have been a fashion model. She certainly had the looks and the figure.

Annabelle helped them off with their coats as the two other girls stared shyly about.

‘Blimey, I reckon this entrance hallway is as big as my whole flat put together,’ Dotty quipped.

There was a wall-to-wall patterned carpet on the floor and a huge gilt-framed mirror stood above an ornate hall table. Lovely smells of baking were issuing from a doorway further along the hall and Annabelle shooed them towards it, telling them, ‘Mummy is in the kitchen making cakes. She thought Mary might like one for after her tea. We used to have a cook but since she left we’ve discovered that Mummy is actually a very good cook.’

When she threw open a door the two girls found themselves in the most enormous kitchen they had ever seen. Cupboards were ranged around the walls and a huge scrubbed oak table with six chairs placed about it stood in the centre of the room. On the far wall was a large oven and as the girls entered, a woman who was in the process of taking some small sponge cakes from the oven smiled at them in welcome. Once she had placed the baking tray on a rack, she ushered the visitors towards a fireplace where a blazing fire was licking up the chimney.

‘Now which of you is Dotty and which of you is Lucy?’ she asked pleasantly. ‘I’ve heard so much about you from Annabelle. I’ve been really looking forward to meeting you.’

The girls introduced themselves and then the woman bent to Mary’s height and said kindly, ‘And you must be Mary?’ Her eyes were gentle as she looked at the child, who stared blankly back at her. Poor little mite, Miranda thought. Annabelle had told her that Mary was ’not quite right’ as she had put it.

‘Well, I’m Miranda,’ she told them now as she bustled about getting cups and saucers laid out. ‘And I insist that is what you call me. Mrs Smythe is so formal, isn’t it?’

The girls felt themselves begin to relax despite their luxurious surroundings. Miranda was so easy to talk to that she put them at their ease as she began to carry the food to the table. It turned out to be quite a feast. There were sandwiches with cucumber or meat-paste fillings and sausage rolls fresh from the oven followed by home-made fairy cakes and scones.

‘Now do please help yourselves,’ she urged them. ‘Otherwise Annabelle and I shall be eating this lot for the next week.’

They were only too happy to oblige, and as the meal progressed the girls found themselves relaxing even more and talking to Miranda as if they had known her for years. Annabelle’s mother was nothing at all like they had imagined she would be. She had no airs and graces whatsoever, unlike her daughter. It was soon very obvious that Miranda had completely fallen in love with Mary and she kept encouraging the little girl with tasty titbits. In fact, Lucy became concerned that Mary was overeating and worried about her being sick, but she didn’t like to say anything. Miranda was clearly enjoying having a little one to fuss over.

‘Our neighbour, Mrs P, is having an Anderson shelter built in her back yard next week,’ Lucy told them when the conversation turned to the war.

Miranda clucked and shook her head. ‘It’s perhaps for the best,’ she said. ‘You know – just in case. We’re lucky that we have a large cellar. I’ve already taken down there everything I thought we might need if there’s an air raid. Candles, blankets, pillows and that sort of thing. I’ve put some containers of water and tins of food and a tin opener down there as well, but I pray we’ll never have to use them – although it’s looking all the more likely that we shall. It might be quite scary for Mary though – if we have an air raid, I mean,’ she said worriedly. ‘All those loud explosions and everything. Bless her, she won’t understand what’s happening. How old is she, Lucy?’

‘She’ll be five in a few weeks’ time,’ Lucy responded and Miranda saw the fear in her eyes.

‘Ah, so she’ll be evacuated then?’

As Lucy nodded her head, she swallowed tears. Just the thought of it struck terror into her heart.

‘I’m sure she’ll cope admirably,’ Miranda said reassuringly as she patted the girl’s shoulder. ‘After all, even Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret Rose have been evacuated.’

‘Yes, but they’re at Balmoral with servants to wait on them who they probably already know,’ Lucy said hotly. ‘Once Mary goes I shan’t even know where she’s been sent till the person who is taking care of her sends me her address on a postcard. She could end up anywhere – and with total strangers too!’

Seeing that Lucy was becoming distressed, Miranda said calmly, ‘Well now, let’s not talk of sad things any more. Why don’t you two girls tell me all about the departments that you work in at Owen Owen?’

So for the next half an hour that’s exactly what Dotty and Lucy did as Miranda listened with interest.

‘And what hobbies do you both like?’ she asked.

Lucy fell silent and lowered her eyes. There was little time for hobbies in her life with looking after Mary, holding down a full-time job and running a home.

‘Well, I know that you like writing, dear,’ Miranda said, turning her attention to Dotty. ‘In fact, I hope you don’t mind but Annabelle gave me the short story you lent her and I read it straight through. I couldn’t put it down! I think you have a rare gift for storytelling and I’d really love to read some of your other work – if you wouldn’t object, that is . . .’ Her voice trailed away uncertainly as Dotty blushed a dull pillar-box red.

‘I er . . . I’ve never shown anyone my work before until Annabelle and Lucy,’ she stammered self-consciously, ‘apart, that is, from Miss Timms at the orphanage where I was brought up. It was she who encouraged me to write in the first place. I always found it hard to mix and show my feelings, but she told me that I could put all my dreams and feelings down on paper and it does really work. I find that when I’m writing I can go anywhere and be anyone I want . . .’ She lowered her eyes and started fidgeting, but not before Miranda had seen how animated she had become when she spoke of her writing.

‘I read it too, last night,’ Annabelle chipped in. ‘And I have to say I agree. It really was first-rate.’

‘Then in that case I suppose I could let you both read some more.’ Dotty was almost cringing with embarrassment and pleasure, and not used to being the focus of attention, wasn’t at all sure how to act.

‘I shall look forward to that then. But now Annabelle, why don’t you show your friends up to your room and listen to some music or something. I’ll keep little Mary here with me.’

Lucy opened her mouth to object but Miranda held her hand up. ‘She will be perfectly all right down here,’ she promised her with an indulgent smile in the child’s direction. ‘Go on, off with you and enjoy a little free time while you can. I shall tell Mary the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears while we have a cuddle in front of the fire. It used to be one of Annabelle’s favourites when she was a little girl, and if I had a pound note for every time I’d told it to her, I would be a very rich woman by now.’

The girls obediently followed Annabelle from the room, their eyes on stalks as they moved through the beautiful house. It was like entering another world, especially for Dotty, brought up in the austere confines of an orphanage.

Lucy whistled quietly in awe when Annabelle showed them into her bedroom. The main colour scheme varied from the lightest pink to a deep rose, and it looked warm and inviting.

‘I have to admit it’s not usually as neat as this,’ Annabelle said truthfully. ‘At least, not since Mummy had to let our cleaner go, but I had a tidy-up because I knew you were coming.’

‘It’s really beautiful!’ Lucy gasped. ‘You’re so lucky, Annabelle.’

‘I know I am,’ Annabelle said, and her chest swelled. She loved to be the centre of attention.

Dotty was standing at her dressing-table admiring the array of cosmetics there whilst Lucy had wandered over to stroke the velvet floor-length curtains.

Meanwhile, Annabelle had crossed to a small record player and in no time at all the soft strains of a Vera Lynn song were floating around the room. ‘They’re calling her “the Forces sweetheart” now, you know,’ she commented and the girls nodded in agreement.