The Throwaway Children (7 page)

‘Will Uncle Jimmy come and see us, too?’ asked Rosie.

‘No!’ It was Rita who spat out the answer.

‘No,’ her grandmother agreed more softly, ‘he’ll be too busy to come. Now, let’s go upstairs and pack up some of your things, then we can take them to my house.’

Packing took little time. Their few clothes fitted easily into the small cardboard suitcase that Mavis produced, and favourite toys were crammed into a shopping bag. Rosie clutched Knitty, a strange-looking creature that Lily had knitted from an unravelled jumper. He had buttons for eyes, an embroidered nose and smiley mouth, and Rosie loved him dearly, always sleeping with him tucked under her arm. Both girls had their school satchels with their plimsolls for drill, and Rita slipped the photograph of Daddy into the pages of her sum book. She was careful not to let Mum see him, in case she took him away.

Once they were packed and ready, they set out for Lily’s house. Walking along the street, carrying the suitcase, the shopping bag and their satchels, they looked for all the world, Lily thought, like the refugees you saw on the cinema newsreels.

As the next weeks slipped by, the girls settled into their new home, and their new routine. Rosie had shed a few tears at bedtime the first few nights. She wanted Mum to come and kiss her goodnight, and when Gran tucked them in and kissed them she whispered on a sob, ‘I want my mummy!’

‘Course you do, lovey,’ soothed Gran. ‘But don’t cry, she’s coming to see you tomorrow when you get home from school. Now you snuggle down with Knitty, like a good girl, and it’ll be tomorrow in no time.’

Rita missed her mother, too, but she was determined not to say so. Mum had sent them to Gran’s so that she could be with Uncle Jimmy. Well, thought Rita, I don’t care. I don’t want to live with Uncle Jimmy, I’d rather stay with Gran.

But she did care. She missed the familiar kitchen with its own peculiar smell, its cluttered shelves and scarred wooden table. Gran’s kitchen, though familiar, wasn’t the same. Rita missed her bedroom, too, with its faded roses on the wall and cracked window pane. She had a bed to herself now, but she missed sharing with Rosie and very often she crept in beside her, curling round her as she always had, so that they were as warm and cosy as two kittens in a basket.

School was just the same and if it wasn’t raining, Gran let them play in the park on the way home most days now, but Rita missed running on home to tell Mum about her day afterwards; she missed Mum as she used to be, Mum-before-Uncle-Jimmy.

Mavis and Lily had gone to school together to see Miss Hassinger, the head teacher. Miss Hassinger had been at the school for over thirty years and had taught Mavis herself when she was eight years old. Walking into her office now, Mavis felt as if twenty years had dropped away and she was still only eight years old, about to be scolded for some misdemeanour. Miss Hassinger offered them a chair each, and when they’d sat down she looked expectantly from one to the other.

Miss Hassinger was a small, bird-like woman, with completely white hair wound into a pleat at the back of her head. She had bright, darting eyes that missed nothing and these were turned on her erstwhile pupil now. Uncomfortable under her scrutiny, Mavis looked away and gazing out of the window, left the explanations to her mother.

Lily also turned to Mavis, waiting, but when it was clear that she wasn’t going to speak, she said, ‘It’s about Rita and Rosie.’

Miss Hassinger nodded encouragingly. ‘Yes?’

‘We’ve come to tell you that Rita and Rosie are moving in with me,’ Lily explained. ‘Just for a while. Mavis is getting married in a few weeks…’

Miss Hassinger’s glance flicked to Mavis’s protruding belly and the expression in her eyes said ‘and about time too’.

‘…and when the baby’s born… you know… it’ll be easier for her if the girls are with me for a bit,’ Lily finished.

‘I see.’ Miss Hassinger was one of the old school. Strict she certainly was, demanding instant and unquestioning obedience from the children she taught, but no one ever doubted that she was concerned for the welfare of those children and wanted the best for them. ‘I must say I did wonder if something was happening at home. Rita, particularly, has been very unsettled of late. She’s normally such a happy little soul, bright and outgoing, you know, but recently she’s been… well, difficult. Not disobedient exactly, but not polite and not easy to handle.’ Miss Hassinger looked across at Mavis. ‘I was thinking of asking you to come in for a chat, Mrs Stevens.’

Mavis shifted uneasily in her chair. Miss Hassinger was always punctilious in how she addressed her old pupils, treating them with the courtesy and respect due to their attained adulthood, but Mavis had never felt comfortable with it. She wished that her old teacher would forget about ‘Mrs Stevens’ and call her Mavis as she always had. Even now she did not respond, still leaving the explanations to her mother.

‘Mavis’s fiancé is in and out of the house, as you’d expect,’ Lily went on, ‘and the girls have found it unsettling. They don’t remember their dad, see, and ain’t used to having a man about the place.’

‘I do see,’ Miss Hassinger said, her eyes bright with understanding. ‘I’m sure this arrangement’s for the best, then, just for a while.’ She got to her feet and Lily and Mavis stood up too. ‘I wish you every happiness in your new marriage, Mrs Stevens,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘Perhaps,’ she added to Lily as Mavis turned away in embarrassment, ‘you’d be good enough to give Miss Granger your address on your way out, Mrs Sharples, just so we can keep our records straight. We need to know who to contact in an emergency.’

‘She should contact
me
in an emergency,’ snapped Mavis as soon as they were outside. ‘I’m still their mother!’

‘Of course you are,’ agreed Lily, ‘but to be honest, Mavis, I’m not sure you always remember that.’

Mavis glowered at her mother. ‘You don’t know nothing,’ she spat. ‘I miss them all the time.’ And she did. Mavis did miss the girls, more than she could have believed. The house seemed empty first thing in the morning when there was no rushing round to be ready for school, and at half-past three when they would have come home, the place was too quiet; but life was certainly easier without them. There was only Jimmy to think about; she could devote all her attention to him. They were even able to go out together on a Saturday night because she didn’t have to stay at home with the girls. Without them in the house, Jimmy was less demanding. He came and went as he pleased, but finding Mavis waiting for him, her attention undivided when he did come in, made their relationship much less stressful.

Mavis could relax and be herself; she no longer had to act as a buffer between her lover and her daughters. There were times when she felt guilty that she was happier without them, but as the days passed she managed to convince herself that she had made the right decision, not for herself, but for them.

After all, she kept telling herself, they’re happy at Mum’s… and I do have the baby to consider too.

She had passed over the girls’ ration books and gave Lily eight shillings a week for their keep, but though she went to see them every Wednesday after school, it seemed as if a gap had opened up between them. They were pleased enough to see her, Rosie in particular ran into her arms, but with Rita it was different. She would say hallo and accept a kiss, but it was to Lily she turned and told about her day; of Lily she asked questions; into Lily’s lap she snuggled. Almost, Mavis thought resentfully, as if I was some distant auntie, not her mother at all.

The day of the wedding dawned bright and clear. It was a Friday; the girls had a day off school and that in itself made the day special. They woke early, and when they’d had their breakfast they waited, barely containing their excitement until the time came to have their hair brushed, tied with a white ribbon and then to get dressed. They each had a new dress for the occasion, cotton frocks fashioned from a pair of curtains that Lily had kept in an old trunk in the attic. They were patterned with red roses, and though they still looked like curtains to Lily, the girls were delighted with them, twirling and spinning so that the skirts flew out like parasols.

‘Won’t everyone think we look lovely!’ cried Rosie, as she made a wobbly curtsey to herself in the mirror. ‘I wish I could wear my party dress every day.’

‘Then it wouldn’t be a party dress, silly,’ pointed out Rita as she took her turn in front of the looking glass. ‘Anyway,’ she went on, pouting, ‘we ain’t going to the party.’

‘Never mind, love,’ comforted Lily. ‘We’ll have a party of our own back here.’

Lily was to take the girls to the register office for the actual wedding, and then they were to make themselves scarce and leave the grown-up guests free to enjoy themselves at the Red Lion.

‘It won’t be the same,’ whined Rita. ‘Why can’t we go to the real party? It’s not fair!’

‘You’re not allowed into a pub,’ Gran explained. ‘It isn’t Mum saying you can’t go in, it’s the government.’

‘Well,’ scowled Rita, ‘it’s still not fair.’

Lily rather agreed. She had offered to have the reception at her house, but Jimmy had poured scorn on the idea. ‘Who’d want to come there?’

‘Better in the Lion, Mum,’ Mavis had said, trying to be conciliatory. ‘Far less work for you… and less expense for us all.’

Lily hadn’t thought of that, but she ought to have realized that Jimmy would have. If they all went to the Red Lion, Mavis and Jimmy would provide the sandwiches, and the cake, but everyone would buy their own drinks.

‘But they won’t see our new dresses,’ wailed Rosie.

‘Course they will,’ Gran assured her, as she brushed Rosie’s fair hair, tying it carefully with two white bows on the top of her head. ‘Everyone at the registry office’ll see you. Now for goodness sake, stand still, child, or I’ll never get your hair done.’ She finished Rosie’s hair and started on Rita’s. Straight and dark and fine, it had to be plaited or it wouldn’t hold a ribbon. Rita looked at her sister’s silky, blonde hair, now caught up with the two white ribbons.

‘Why can’t I have hair like Rosie’s?’ she grumbled.

‘You’ve got lovely hair,’ said her grandmother soothingly, ‘dark like Mum’s.’

‘Rosie’s isn’t like Mum’s.’

‘No,’ agreed Lily, still plaiting the fine hair. ‘Hers is like your daddy’s was.’

‘I wish I had hair like Daddy’s,’ Rita said. ‘How did Rosie get it? She didn’t even know Daddy.’

Lily smiled. ‘Well, some children look like their mothers and some like their fathers, you don’t know till they’re born.’

‘Will Mummy’s new baby look like Uncle Jimmy?’ asked Rosie with interest.

‘No!’ Rita snapped. ‘We don’t want a brother or sister who looks like him. He’s fat and ugly.’

‘Now, Rita, that’s enough!’ said her grandmother firmly. ‘This is Mum’s special day, and you ain’t going to spoil it for her by being rude to Uncle Jimmy.’ She took Rita by the chin and looked into her eyes. ‘You understand, my girl? You behave yourself, or I’ll bring you straight home and there’ll be no party tea for you here either. Understand?’

Rita pulled free and muttered, ‘Yes, Gran,’ but her eyes were mutinous as she turned away.

They gathered outside the register office and waited for the arrival of the bride. The girls jumped up and down the steps, their skirts flying round their legs. Gran had made them each a matching pair of knickers, so that there was the occasional flash of rose-patterned underwear.

Jimmy arrived wearing his demob suit and accompanied by his father, his best man Charlie and a couple of his work-mates with their wives. When he saw the little girls playing on the steps, he glowered at them. Lily, seeing his expression, called them over to her and held each firmly by the hand.

Mavis arrived in a car. Her best friend, Carrie, from down the street, was her matron of honour, and she’d asked her brother to drive them both to the register office.

Mavis stepped out onto the pavement, her face alight with happiness. Lily, looking at her, thought she had never seen her looking so lovely, and she had to blink back unexpected tears. Mavis has had a difficult life since her Don was shot down, Lily thought as she watched her, she deserves some happiness now. I just hope she can find it with Jimmy Randall.

Carrie fussed round Mavis for a moment, straightening her dress where it had been crushed in the car. The dress was cream, patterned with tiny yellow rosebuds. Loose and flowing, it floated from Mavis’s shoulders but did little to disguise her burgeoning state. She had found the material in the market and bought it off the ration. Carrie had made the dress for her and she’d used a strip of the material to trim the jaunty straw hat that now perched on Mavis’s head. To complete her outfit, Mavis carried a tiny bunch of yellow roses, tied with yellow ribbons.

‘Mummy!’ cried Rosie, and pulling free of Lily’s hand she darted over to her mother. ‘Mummy! You’ve got a new dress too!’

Mavis held out a hand to her, smiling, and bent to kiss her daughter. Rosie put her arms round Mavis’s neck and hugged her hard. Lily let go of Rita’s hand, and Rita was about to run to her mother as well, when Jimmy strode over to his bride and grabbed her by the hand.

‘Come on,’ he said, pulling her towards the steps. ‘Let’s get married.’

Mavis smiled up at him and gripping his hand tightly, murmured, ‘Oh yes, Jimmy. Let’s.’

It seemed to take no time at all. They all went into the register office and stood round the bridal pair as they made their vows, and then they were pronounced man and wife, and Mr and Mrs Jimmy Randall emerged into the sunlight.

Rita was disappointed. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t just a man asking Mum and Uncle Jimmy questions. The sun streamed in through the windows, and little dust motes danced in the sunlight. Rita watched them disconsolately, wishing she’d hugged Mum before they went in, like Rosie had. When Uncle Jimmy put a ring on Mum’s finger, Rita suddenly wondered what had happened to the one she used to wear, the one Daddy had given her. She looked carefully, but Mum certainly wasn’t wearing both.

Carrie’s husband, John, had a camera, and he took some pictures of Mum and Uncle Jimmy standing on the steps. He took one of Rita and Rosie in their new dresses, and then he asked Gran to take one of him with Carrie.