The Way Ahead (31 page)

‘Helene?’

‘Bobby?’ She was lying beside him, sad for Roget, sad for the day.

‘Shall we get married, chicken?’

She sat up.

‘Before the war is over, you mean?’

‘As soon as London gets us back to England again. Would you like that?’

‘Yes, I would,
chéri
, very much.’

‘Well, so would I, Helene, so would I, and so would the family. Let’s go for it, shall we, and damn Hitler, Himmler and all the other Nazi hellhounds.’

‘I’m for you, Bobby, today, tomorrow and always,’ whispered Helene, and dipped her head and kissed him.

FELICITY AWOKE AND
sat up. There was a new moon, but she saw nothing of its light. She saw nothing at all. Her world was always in darkness. Very often she lived only with her thoughts and her imagination.

There was a thought now, a thought that had played on her subconscious and woken her up.

She was well overdue. She was, of course she was. She had known it for days.

She sank back.

Soon I must see Dr Gillespie of Bere. See? God, what a hope, you silly woman. Consult him.

Tim, you lovely man, I think, I just think, I might be going to have a baby.

It took her a while to get back to sleep.

She spoke to Rosie during the morning.

‘You darling,’ said Rosie, ‘I’ll phone Dr Gillespie and make an appointment for you.’

‘It’s not too soon?’ said Felicity. ‘Or too imaginative? I mean, there are women, aren’t there, who only imagine the condition?’

‘Don’t let’s join those unfortunate ladies,’ said Rosie. ‘We’re not the kind.’

‘We?’ said Felicity.

‘Felicity, we’re together all the way about this,’ said Rosie. ‘It’s our baby.’

‘Oh, hell,’ said Felicity, ‘you’re counting my chickens.’

‘Chick,’ said Rosie, and laughed. ‘Unless it’s twins,’ she said.

Felicity yelled.

Dr Gillespie gave Felicity a consultation during his evening surgery and promised to let her have the result of his tests as soon as possible.

‘In five minutes?’ said Felicity. ‘Shall I wait?’

‘Ah, wait?’

‘Just a joke from off the top of my dizzy head,’ said Felicity.

‘I like that kind of joke, Mrs Adams,’ said Dr Gillespie, ‘and I think I’ll let you go home with Mrs Chapman now, and phone you when I have the result.’

‘It’s a hairy old world at the moment,’ said Felicity, ‘and wouldn’t be worth living in if certain kind of professionals went missing.’

‘What certain kind?’

‘Doctors,’ said Felicity.

‘Mrs Adams, allow me to say a certain kind of person makes every doctor’s life worthwhile. Your kind.’ Dr Gillespie opened his door then and called Rosie in. Giles and Emily were with her in the waiting-room, Emily in her pram. Rosie collected Felicity, and they made their way home with the
children
. Felicity did not use a stick. She was hand in hand with Giles, who knew what her dark glasses meant, and was accordingly her earnest little guide.

‘Mind, there’s a kerb now, Aunt F’licity.’

‘Yes, darling,’ she said.

God, she said to herself, what have I done? As I am now, dependent on a small boy, I’m mad to have persuaded Tim.

But to have a little boy like Giles, or an infant girl like Emily? Tim’s child? Hold me up, someone, I’m giddy at the prospect.

Alice came out of the local library, having returned
The Forsyte Saga
and borrowed
Lorna Doone
by R. D. Blackmore. A man in a peaked blue cap and a workman’s boiler suit was approaching. He was chewing on a pipe, and carrying a toolbox. He seemed to be checking house numbers. Alice bit her lip, and wondered if she should pass him by or speak. He looked at her as she began to pass, and a little smile touched his face.

‘Guid afternoon, Miss Adams.’

Alice stopped.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said.

‘The same,’ he said, removing his empty pipe.

‘I remember you, of course,’ she said.

‘I’ll no’ forget you,’ he said, ‘all of sixteen and training to be a preacher.’

‘Sixteen? Training to be a preacher? How dare you!’ Alice flamed into hot vexation. ‘Really, what an impertinent man you are!’

Fergus MacAllister laughed.

‘Whisht, lassie, dinna blow up,’ he said.

‘I ought not to say so,’ fumed Alice, ‘but I think you quite hateful.’

‘Och, aye,’ said Fergus, ‘I’m a blackhearted fellow, y’ken, wi’ fearful designs on young lassies.’

‘I believe you,’ said Alice.

‘Try a smile,’ said Fergus.

‘I beg your pardon?’ said Alice.

‘Dinna be so serious, young lady, we’ll win the war yet,’ said Fergus. ‘And guid day to you while I go looking for number twenty-one.’

‘I hope you find it,’ said Alice, ‘for I’m sure everyone there will be tremendously happy to see you.’

Fergus laughed again, and Alice stormed off.

If I never see him again, she thought, I’ll be tremendously happy myself. Sixteen? Sixteen? And training to be a preacher? He’s off his head. Oh, bother it, I meant to tell him I was sorry for not being more hospitable when he fixed our gas leak. Well, I shan’t worry about that now.

Chinese Lady, Mr Finch, Susie and Sammy were listening to the news. Prior to their bedtime, Paula and Phoebe were romping about with Daniel, and the stairs were taking a thumping.

The Allied advance in Italy had brought the American 5th Army into Rome, and Rome was delirious with joy. The GIs, from their trucks and tanks, were throwing candy bars into the uplifted hands of elated Italian females. Fully-fashioned stockings would follow later, when some personal relationships were established. If the BBC news-reader did not mention that, his controlled
description
of events and scenes gave a clear picture of the fall of Rome to the Americans, and the advance of the Free French Force, the Canadians and the British Eighth Army east of the American drive.

‘A splendid campaign,’ said Mr Finch, fully recovered, back at work before expected, and giving Intelligence the benefit of his talents and experience.

‘Edwin, I don’t know what we’re doing in Rome,’ said Chinese Lady, ‘the Pope hasn’t been fighting us, has he?’

‘No, he’s been sitting on his throne not fighting anybody,’ said Sammy. ‘He’s a peacemonger.’

‘Sammy, don’t you mean peacemaker?’ suggested Susie.

‘Same thing,’ said Sammy.

‘Yes, same thing, Sammy,’ said Mr Finch, although he knew there were doubts about the Pope’s strange refusal to condemn Germany’s rabid anti-Semitism. It was being put down to His Holiness’s approval of Germany’s war against Russian Communism, the enemy of the Church.

‘Well, then,’ said Chinese Lady, ‘what’s all our tanks and guns and things doing in Rome?’

‘Chasing the Germans out, Mum,’ said Susie.

‘Susie, you sure our wireless has got it right?’ said Chinese Lady. ‘I often wonder if it knows what it’s talking about. It’s given me many a chronic headache, I can tell you. I was down in Walworth yesterday, visiting Mrs Brown while Cassie was there, and she was telling me they can’t wait to change their own wireless for a new one when new ones are
in
the shops. She’s had headaches too. Edwin, there ought to be a law against wirelesses giving people headaches. Can’t you speak to the Government about it?’

‘As soon as the Government can spare a moment, Maisie, I’ll deliver a note,’ said Mr Finch, one ear on the wireless, the other on the family.

‘Yes, I wish you would,’ said Chinese Lady, who considered her husband the kind of gentleman any government would be pleased to listen to.

The phone rang. They heard Daniel call.

‘I’ll go, Dad. I’ll go, Mum. I’ll go, Grandma. I’ll go, Grandpa.’

‘That young man, well, I don’t know, what’s he telling all of us for?’ asked Chinese Lady.

‘To get a laugh out of Paula and Phoebe,’ said Susie. ‘Listen to them shrieking.’

‘I prefer any loud noises from kids to the air raid sirens,’ said Sammy.

‘Hello?’ said Daniel into the hall phone.

‘Hi, handsome,’ said Patsy.

‘Who’s he?’ asked Daniel.

‘Oh, some smarty-pants,’ said Patsy. ‘Hi, smarty-pants, can I come round? My Pa’s given me a bottle of hooch and a box of candy for your parents and grandparents, and I’ll bring them with me.’

‘Happy to know you’ll bring yourself as well,’ said Daniel, ‘you can help me put Paula and Phoebe to bed. Dad’s been disqualified.’

‘Disqualified?’ said Patsy.

‘From putting the girls to bed,’ said Daniel. ‘He gets them into a giggly tizzy and it keeps them awake.’

‘They don’t put themselves to bed?’ said Patsy.

‘They could, but it’s not as much fun,’ said Daniel.

‘We’ll have to make some rules,’ said Patsy.

‘Rules?’ said Daniel.

‘Sure,’ said Patsy. ‘You have to have rules. We’ll work some out.’

‘Um, I don’t think rules are very popular in this family,’ said Daniel.

‘I can hear those girls,’ said Patsy, ‘you’ve got mayhem. We’ll make some rules.’

‘You make ’em,’ said Daniel, ‘I’ll duck.’

‘Don’t be a funk, Daniel,’ said Patsy, ‘I’ll be on my way in five minutes.’

She brought a bottle of American ‘Southern Comfort’ for Sammy and Mr Finch, and a box of chocolates for Susie and Chinese Lady, also an excited exposition of how the GIs had taken Rome. Then up she went with Daniel and the girls to get the latter quietly into bed. Rule one, she said: undress. Rule two: put on nightwear. Rule three: clean teeth. Rule four: say prayers. Rule five: get into bed quietly. Rule six: go to sleep.

‘What could be more simple, given sensible adult supervision?’ she said.

‘Leave it to you,’ said Daniel. ‘There’s a war on, and that’s enough for me. I’ll sit on the stairs.’

‘You’ll see,’ said Patsy.

The first thing that happened concerned Paula’s attitude. Paula mostly gave no trouble at bedtime. It was Phoebe who always looked for games and giggles. But the mention of rules was a challenge to
Paula
, and she immediately asked if she could do rule six first, then she wouldn’t need to do any of the others. And Phoebe spoke up.

‘What’s rules, please?’

‘Instructions,’ said Patsy.

‘What’s them?’

‘Orders to be obeyed,’ said Patsy.

‘Oh, crikey,’ said Phoebe.

‘Patsy, you been and forgot rule seven,’ said Paula.

‘Oh, yeah?’ said Patsy. ‘So what’s rule seven?’

‘Mummy comes up and says goodnight to us,’ said Paula.

‘And kisses us,’ said Phoebe.

‘That’s rule eight,’ said Paula. ‘Then there’s rule nine. Daddy comes and says goodnight.’

‘And kisses us,’ said Phoebe.

‘And that brings on rule ten, when Daddy kisses you?’ said Patsy. ‘Well, we’ll work a quick way through rules one to six first, get it? Start by undressing.’

She was on a hiding to nothing. Daniel, sitting on the foot of the stairs, with a grin on his face, heard giggles, then laughs, then shrieks. Susie came out into the hall.

‘What’s going on up there?’ she asked.

‘Oh, just a few rules, Mum,’ said Daniel.

‘What rules?’ asked Susie.

‘Patsy’s,’ said Daniel.

‘Well, they’re not working,’ said Susie. ‘Daniel, go up and get those girls into bed.’

‘All three of ’em?’ said Daniel.

‘Listen, my lad,’ said Susie, ‘in our respected families, there’s your dad, there’s your Uncle Boots, there’s your cousin Rosie and cousin Tim. They’re all comics, so we don’t want any more, not even one more, you hear?’

‘Mum, are you looking at me?’

‘Yes, so get those sisters of yours into bed, or I’ll send your grandma up to quieten the little monkeys,’ said Susie.

‘I thought I’d let Patsy give it a go,’ said Daniel.

‘Well, we all love Patsy,’ said Susie, ‘but I don’t think she’s got the hang of it. Go on, Daniel, put your foot down.’ And she left him to it. Out of the girls’ bedroom came Patsy, flushed and giggling. She sat down on the top stair.

‘Who’s winning?’ asked Daniel from down below.

‘I’ve got a headache,’ said Patsy.

There was a yell from Paula. Patsy jumped and disaster struck. She slid all the way down the stairs on her bottom, and although her skirt and slip stayed with her they were very much out of place.

‘Blind O’Reilly,’ said Daniel, ‘is that what the butler saw?’

‘Blow the butler,’ said Patsy, covering up her pants and stockings, ‘and the rules. You go and get them into bed, Daniel.’

To Daniel, it all amounted to an hilarious break from the strained atmosphere of a prolonged war that had had its effect on the whole country. The wish for it to be brought to an end was intense. Mind, the arrival of Patsy into his life was a pretty uplifting event.

He walked her home later and kissed her goodnight at her door. Patsy thought his kisses kind of clean and fresh, and that he never groped. Which was kind of nice.

‘Look, you can hold me, if you like,’ she said.

‘Hold you?’ said Daniel.

‘Put your arms round me,’ said Patsy.

‘What for?’ asked Daniel, who always played this sort of thing for laughs.

‘What for? What for? Well, you like me, don’t you?’

‘Not half,’ said Daniel, ‘especially after what the butler saw.’

Patsy giggled.

‘Listen, funny guy,’ she said, ‘when you come and meet my Pa tomorrow, keep off what the butler saw or he’ll shoot you.’

‘How big is your Pa?’ asked Daniel, not for the first time.

‘Seven feet,’ said Patsy.

‘I think I’ll stay home,’ said Daniel.

‘Daniel, you’ll be here by three,’ said Patsy.

‘All right, I’ll risk it,’ said Daniel. ‘Any rules?’

Patsy gave a little yell and aimed a blow. Daniel ducked and left.

The weather was discouraging. General Eisenhower was fidgeting. The locked-in invasion force was suffering restlessness and boredom. Prime Minister Churchill was calming his nerves with a Scotch or two. Montgomery was itching for the off. The harassed meteorological boffins came up with a
forecast
of slightly improved conditions in two days’ time, the sixth of June.

‘Gentlemen, given that, we’ll go,’ said Eisenhower.