Soldier Girl (15 page)

The sobs stopped for a moment. Cath clearly didn’t want to be heard.

‘Cath – what’s up?’ Molly leaned close, whispering. ‘This ain’t like you.’

There was a long silence, then a little more of Cath’s head appeared over the bedding. ‘Nothing,’ she said moistly. ’Don’t worry about me. You go back to bed, Molly, thanks anyway.’

‘Come on, Cath – it ain’t like you to be upset like this.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Cath whispered savagely. ‘Well how would you know that for sure?’ Then her aggression crumpled and she began crying again. ‘Oh my God, Molly, I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. I’m done for.’

As Molly was wondering what on earth could have made her friend feel so desperate, she became aware then of a tiny finger of light and someone else moving towards them. Win tiptoed across, lighting her way with a blackout torch, and sat on the other side of the bed, where she looked questioningly at Molly in the feeble light from the torch. Molly shrugged. She was annoyed by Win’s arrival. Cath was
her
friend. Why did Win always have to put herself in charge of everything?

‘Cath—’ Win touched Cath’s shoulder, trying to pull back the bedclothes, but Cath clung to them fiercely. ‘It’s Win. Do let us help. What’s the matter?’ Her tone was friendly but brisk.

There was no reply.

Molly leaned closer and, speaking very gently, said, ‘Look, love, if it’s that bad, why don’t you let us help yer? A trouble shared and all that. You never know, we might have some bright ideas.’

Cath sat up suddenly, as if surrendering, pulling her knees up to her chest. Hesitantly, Molly put her arm round Cath’s shoulders. ‘Whatever it is can’t be that bad.’

‘Oh yes it can. I thought you might have all guessed by now, the way I’ve been. I mean, it’s no good – you’ll all have to find out in the end.’ She wept, weakly.

‘Oh there now,’ Molly said, feeling so sorry for Cath, who had been so bubbly and friendly when they all arrived. ‘Why don’t you tell us and we’ll see if we can help?’

Cath wasn’t at ease with Win so she spoke to Molly, shaking her head with disbelief. ‘I’m so frightened, Molly. I don’t know what’s going to become of me. I . . .’ Her voice cracking again, she said, ‘I’m certain now – I’m going to have a baby.’

Molly heard Win give a slight gasp, but for once she couldn’t think what to say. Molly was utterly shocked as well. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that this might be the trouble.

‘I’ve been feeling poorly, a bit sick and fainting and . . . I’ve missed now, twice . . . They’ll throw me out and I’ve no idea where I’ll go – I’ve nobody . . .’

Still trying to take this in, Molly said, ‘But what about going home – your family?’

‘I can’t go home. What would Daddy be doing with another mouth to feed and all the disgrace of it? And there’s nothing for me there. Oh God, I wish my mammy was still alive!’ She wept broken-heartedly.

‘Does anyone know? Any high-ups, I mean?’ Win asked. The conversation was all conducted in a fierce whisper.

Cath shook her head, wiping her eyes. ‘I don’t know what to do, where to go. I’ve been going half mad thinking of it.’

‘Poor love,’ Molly said, hugging her. She was frightened for Cath, full of dread. There were such stories about girls having babies, bad enough to make your hair curl.

‘I can’t keep it up much longer, can I?’ Cath said. ‘I didn’t know, not when I joined up, I honestly didn’t. It was someone in Birmingham, a fella, only saw him twice and he sort of made me . . . He wasn’t even very nice . . .’ Her tears flowed again. ‘Oh why did I let him? I just thought it’d be all right the once, you know, he was so pushy for it.’

‘Ain’t they all?’ Molly said. ‘You poor babby. That bastard wants seeing to good and proper, that ’e does.’

Win, seemingly unable to cope with the way the conversation was developing, cut in with, ‘Look – is there no chance at all of you marrying this man?’

‘No! I told you – I don’t even know where he is and he’s a creep. I’d not want to chain myself to him for life, I can tell you!’

‘You can’t go on like this. You’ll have to tell someone – before you get your posting.’

‘I know. I know!’

There was a pause. Molly could feel Cath’s desperation.

‘What’ll happen to me?’ Cath asked in a tiny voice.

‘I’m afraid I don’t know,’ Win said. ‘There must be some provision, some way of. . .’ She trailed off, out of her depth.

‘Look, I’ll come with yer if you want,’ Molly said. ‘Go and speak to the Gorgon to start. So you don’t have to do it on your own.’

‘No – there’s no need to drag you into it,’ Cath said. ‘Thanks anyway, Molly. But I’ll have to face up to it.’

These last words were spoken with such desolation that Molly felt tears come to her eyes. How dreadful for Cath to be so alone in the world.

‘I wish there was summat we could do to help.’

‘It’s not your fault, is it?’

‘No, but I feel for yer, love.’

‘I’m terribly sorry, Cath,’ Win said awkwardly. ‘You must feel awful. But you are going to have to own up.’

‘I know. There’s going to be no hiding it once I’m swelled up like a balloon, now is there?’

‘Oh Cath.’ Molly gave her a squeeze. She had no real idea what might happen to Cath, but she felt so sorry for her.

There was nothing else they could do except go back to bed. Molly didn’t sleep well that night, full of sad turmoil about the girl lying next to her and fearing what would become of her. She could hear Win tossing and turning in bed too.

When she woke the next morning, Molly was disturbed to find Cath already gone. Win came over to her looking very worried, and sat down close to her. ‘Did you see her leave?’ she whispered. Molly saw a couple of the others glace curiously at them.

‘No – I mean she was there ’til not long ago because I could hear her moving about,’ Molly said. ‘I must’ve dozed off because I never heard her get up or nothing.’

Win looked very uneasy.

‘You don’t think she’s done anything . . .’ Molly trailed off, awful thoughts rushing into her mind. She pictured Cath lying on the railway track.

‘I just hope not,’ Win said. ‘I think I’d better go and see the Gorgon, right away.’

Win went to see Phoebe Morrison and Molly waited outside for her, growing more and more uneasy. A few minutes later Win appeared, looking slightly relieved, if not exactly happy.

‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘Cath’s seen her. She must have got up very early, gone straight there.’

‘Where is she?’

‘On her way to the station, apparently. They’re packing her off to some home where she can have the baby.’

‘Well then what’ll happen to them?’

It was Win’s turn to shrug. ‘I’m afraid I really don’t know.’ Molly saw how pale and strained Win looked in the morning light.

‘You did yer best,’ Molly said as they walked slowly towards their breakfast.

Win looked at her, surprised. The corners of her mouth twitched up for a moment, then she sighed. ‘Thanks. But I feel awful. I suppose I feel I should’ve noticed – should have been able to do more for her.’

‘No – none of it’s your fault.’ Molly shook her head. ‘How were you to know? You can’t go blaming yourself. Poor old Cath though. Some factory Jack up an alley I s’pose. Wants putting up against a wall himself and shooting, ’e does.’

To her surprise, Win laughed. ‘You certainly have a way with words.’ She looked at Molly, attentively. Seeming slightly puzzled, she said, ‘And you’re really a very kind-hearted soul, aren’t you?’

Molly felt the blood flame in her cheeks. ‘I don’t know about that. But I don’t half feel sorry for the poor cow.’

‘You were good to her last night. I was so shocked I didn’t know what to say.’

‘Well I was shocked an’ all,’ Molly admitted. Sadly, she added, ‘I s’pose that’s that. We’ll never see ’er again.’

The words came to her like a slap in the face.

‘Catering Corps?’

She was still saying it over and over again when she came out of the selection officer’s office.

‘They want me to be a ruddy cook!’

Molly was so hurt and disgusted she could hardly put it into words.

‘But—’ She had tried to argue with the crisp-voiced officer. ‘Are you sure? I was hoping for summat else – anything. Ack-ack – anything like that.’

The officer glanced down at Molly’s record, then piercingly up into her eyes. ‘We need good cooks – no one wants a bad cook—’ She tried to laugh to soften what was so evidently a blow to Molly. ‘An army marches on its stomach, you know – consider it the most useful of war work. You will be sent for training as from Monday. Dismiss!’

Molly just about managed to remember to salute before plunging outside again in a rage of disappointment. She had hoped for something important and exciting, and what did she get? Cooking endless vats of rice pudding for ungrateful mouths! She didn’t even want to tell the others what her trade was to be. Still, she told herself, as any hope she had of better things melted away, what did you expect? She knew her behaviour during basic training had been bad and now she bitterly regretted it. But
cooking!
She hadn’t joined the army to bloody well cook!

‘You wait,’ she vowed furiously, storming back across the camp. ‘They get burnt sodding custard every day until they’re sick of me!’

Em smiled faintly, slid Molly’s letter back in its envelope and laid it on the table, yawning so hard it brought tears to her eyes. She sat at the table in the back room nursing her cup of strong, sweet tea, trying to pull herself together, settle her queasy stomach and jangled nerves, and get ready for work. It was so cold she could see her breath in the house.

There’d been a bad raid last night – the first really heavy one in a while – and she’d been on ARP duty, only returning home an hour ago, after the All Clear, after the checks she and Mr Radcliffe had made on the neighbourhood. Waves of planes had come over during the night. She hadn’t had a wink of sleep, but the family hadn’t been much better off roughing it down in the cellar either, in this freezing cold. They’d finally crawled up to bed before dawn to catch a few scraps of slumber before the day began.

She heard slow treads on the stairs. Her father appeared, unshaven, yawning, his eyes bloodshot. He’d been in his clothes all night. Though he didn’t say as much, he looked relieved to see her home safely.

‘All right, Em?’ was all he rumbled, indistinctly. ‘What a night, eh?’

He disappeared out to the privy at the back, then came back in looking a little more awake.

‘There’s tea in the pot,’ Em said.

‘Ta.’ Bob poured himself a cup. She watched him, thinking how old he looked, white hairs winning over the brown. He wandered over to the table. ‘Who’s that from?’

‘Molly.’

‘Oh ar. Where’s ’er these days, then?’ He rubbed his hand gratingly over his salt and pepper stubble, overcome by another huge yawn.

‘Somewhere down south. Don’t know exactly.’

He nodded through the yawn. ‘I ’ope it’s a bit bloody warmer for ’er than it is up ’ere.’

Em pushed her chair back. ‘I’d better wake the others.’

‘Yer a good wench.’

The morning routine: Bob off to work at the power station, Mom up to be ready for Frankie and Brenda to arrive, so that their mom, Irene Skelton, could get to the factory. Not that Irene showed any gratitude, but Cynthia felt sorry for her kids. Frankie was seven, so Violet walked down to the school with him. Brenda wasn’t yet five, so she needed minding all day. Sid, sixteen and full of it, would come tearing down, seize hold of Frankie and upend him, shaking peals of laughter out of him, and then he’d be out the door still eating, to work at the radiator factory. Joyce, who was nearly fourteen, was just finishing off her time at school. And Em – she had her job with Mr Perry.

Bernard Perry had run his fruit and veg shop in Great Lister Street for years. Em could remember when his pink-faced wife Jean was still alive and they ran it together. She’d died when their one son, David, was thirteen and as soon as he was old enough, David ran it with his dad. But David was in the army now, and Em had taken over the job, glad of something near home, of not having to go into another factory, even though the pay wasn’t as good. And Mr Perry was very understanding. He knew Cynthia Brown had been up and down for years and he’d give Em time off when necessary.