War Babies (46 page)

For a moment she looked around at them, as if needing reassurance. Everyone was listening, rapt.

‘Oh, Glad,’ Dolly said.

‘Things went along all right for a bit. Then, within the year both my parents died. My father’s heart gave out. My mother was never the same after. She died of the Spanish influenza.
If she hadn’t been so low in herself I believe to this day that she’d have withstood it – she was a strong woman, our mother.’ She was talking swiftly now, as if not wanting
to dwell on those times. ‘By the end of the war there was just me and my sister Mary, with Albert and the baby. Mary was keeping us by and large. I had Alfie at home and I did outwork and
bits of anything I could. We moved into a much poorer place – a little way from here. Mary was doing factory work, and Albert left school and started work at thirteen. We were getting on all
right. And then it came back – the influenza. Just when we thought it was over.’

Rachel felt a cold dread grip her as Gladys spoke. She could see what was coming. Echoing through her head suddenly came a skipping rhyme from the school yard:

‘I was the only one who never got it. Mary and Albert were very bad with it. I thought we were going to lose Mary. Alfie was all right to begin with. And then he went down with it as well.
There was no money coming in. I was at my wits’ end.’

‘Oh God,’ Dolly breathed. ‘How on earth did you manage, Glad?’

Gladys kept her gaze on the table. Her face flushed. ‘I got by for a time. This and that.’

No one asked, but in that moment Rachel saw the man near the market, calling out in that nasty, familiar way,
Polly
. He would never forget Polly, with those eyes of hers. Polly, working
to feed her sick family and keep her baby alive. Rachel felt choked with sadness. She sought out Gladys’s eyes and for a moment they exchanged a silent look. She could see that Gladys knew
she remembered. And she knew that they would never speak of it.

‘I did everything I could. I had the doctor in, found the money for all that. Mary and Albert came through it. But my little Alfie . . . I was up with him day and night. But the Angel of
Death wanted my little one. He breathed his last in my arms.’

Gladys reached into the box and brought out another picture. ‘Here he is. My little man.’ She laid the picture carefully on the table. ‘And these were his.’ Beside the
picture she placed a soft little pair of black leather infant shoes. Finally, from the box, she brought out a locket and opened it to show a dark brown curl of hair.

‘I moved away,’ Gladys went on, ‘to the other side of town, to Ladywood. I left Mary and Albert. I never saw them, not for several years. And I never said a word – not to
anyone. I thought if I opened my mouth, started telling anyone about my Harry and Alfie, I’d fall to pieces. Everyone was forever on about the war dead. My Harry was one of them, but there
was no child marching for him on Empire Day, up at the front of the procession. No child left to do it . . .’ She picked up the picture of Alfie and held it up to them. Rachel saw a big-eyed
child’s face, a corona of dark curls, a little lad dressed all in white. Danny, Rachel thought, with a wrench of pain inside her. God, he was so like Danny . . .

‘That was my war baby,’ Gladys said. She nodded at Rachel. ‘I know – our Danny’s the image of him, almost. Later, after Mary married Wilfred and we were back in
touch, I started to help out with her kids. I’d moved over here by then to be near them. I’ve always looked out for Danny, poor lad.’ In a desolate voice she added. ‘And now
he’s gone.’

Rachel heard a snuffle to her left, then the trumpeting sound of a man blowing his nose, and she realized, touched, that Mo was in a watery state, wiping his eyes. Dolly, also very emotional,
hauled herself up and leaned over to embrace Gladys as she sat at the table.

‘Oh, Glad,’ she said. ‘Fancy you keeping all this in for all these years. But I’m glad you’ve told us now.’

Gladys leaned into her and closed her eyes. ‘Oh – I’m sorry,’ she said, as her own tears started to flow. ‘I just . . . All this time. I don’t know why
really. I thought one day I’d tell everyone, once we were all together, Danny home, and everything right somehow . . . But now he’s gone again and I can’t bear it . . . But it was
Alfie’s birthday again and I just wanted you all to know . . .’ She couldn’t manage any more words. Leaning her head on the table, as Dolly lovingly stroked her shoulder, Gladys
sobbed from the bottom of her heart.

When things had calmed, they sat chatting, the room full of a gentle atmosphere of love and sympathy for Gladys.

‘I wish you’d told me, Glad,’ Dolly said, her own eyes still red from crying with her friend. ‘You didn’t have to shut it away all this time – it was nothing
to be ashamed of.’

‘It was a terrible, black time,’ Gladys said. ‘I didn’t want it all dug up again, or have pictures about to remind me . . . I knew if I kept that photograph of John on
the mantel, everyone would think I was a war widow and that’d be that. No more to be said. I wanted to put the past behind me. And when Mary had her family – I was very fond of those
kids, Danny especially. When Wilf took them all off and wouldn’t say where – well, it was like the same thing happening again. As if they’d all died.’

Rachel ached with sadness. Did Danny have any idea what Gladys felt for him, even now? Or of what he had done to her, to all of them, by disappearing once again? Hearing Gladys’s story,
she was now full of a warmth of gratitude for her own life, for her children. She reached out to stroke the soft skin of Tommy’s arm. Even though her son was not like other little boys, his
body not working the way it should be, even though his prospects were not bright, here he was, alive and so lovable. And she had Melly, her sweet, solemn little girl. Despite everything, she felt
overwhelmed by good fortune compared with Gladys, and grateful to Gladys for all she had given her.

As Dolly and Mo got up to leave, they said their goodbyes tenderly. Mo squeezed Gladys’s shoulder.

‘You always know where we are if you need anything, don’t yer, wench?’

Gladys nodded and smiled up at him, almost shy suddenly. ‘You’ve always been the best, Mo. I’d never leave this yard while you’re here. I don’t know what
I’d’ve done without you and Dolly.’

‘See you tomorrow, bab.’ Dolly kissed Gladys and they gave each other an emotional look. ‘And don’t bottle it all up next time. We know you’re upset about Danny,
both of you –’ Her troubled eyes took in Rachel as well. ‘It’s not a crime to let on, you know.’

They left, and Gladys got up and started briskly clearing the table, her back to the room. Rachel watched her, aching at all she had told them.

‘I wish you’d said, Auntie,’ she dared to begin.

‘Well, I have said now, haven’t I?’ Gladys replied. Her voice was still thick from crying. She didn’t turn round and she obviously didn’t want to talk about it any
more.

‘I’ll have to get Cissy back to Mom’s,’ Rachel said. She had told Peggy she would bring Cissy back that Sunday evening in time for school the next
day.

‘Yes – you go on over,’ Gladys agreed.

‘I expect Melly’ll want to come . . .’

Normally Gladys might have quibbled about spending another fare unnecessarily, but she just nodded. Rachel went to the door to call the girls inside. The sun was going down and the yard was now
full of shadows, stirred up by the energetic movements of children. Cooking smells were coming from the other houses. She thought she saw a cluster of girls up at the far end.

‘Melanie, Cissy!’ she called. Two figures broke away from the little group of children down near the wire factory and moved, with seeming reluctance, along the yard.
‘I’ve got to get you home, Ciss,’ Rachel said.

‘Coming . . .’ They hurried a few steps. Then they slowed, as they reached the lamp post in the middle, then stopped. For a second Rachel thought they were trying to defy her, but
then she saw that they were riveted by the sight of something. Whatever it was, it was coming along the entry and Rachel could not see from where she was standing. She stepped outside.

‘Come on, you two,’ she called, more loudly.

Cissy started to move, but Melanie was completely rooted to the spot.

‘Dad?’ she breathed.

Rachel felt the hard prod of her heartbeat, the way it speeded up. In the uncertain light of dusk she saw a figure come round from the entry. She noticed three things: the unkempt hair, the
froth of something white in his left hand, and some other thing, tucked against the right side of his chest, something small and partly white. She, herself, could not seem to move.

‘Dad!’ Melly ran forward. ‘Dad!’ She flung herself at him, her arms around his waist.

‘Danny?’ Rachel breathed. ‘Oh my God – Danny!’ Other emotions would come later: sorrow and anger and questions would pour out. But in this moment, here he was, her
Danny, and all she could feel was a huge rush of relief and joy.

‘Oh!’ Melly squealed. ‘Look, Ciss, it’s a puppy! Oh, Dad, is it ours – can we keep it?’

‘Hey, hey – steady.’ Danny squatted down and Rachel saw the little creature leap from his arms, a stumpy little white tail wagging madly as it jumped up at everyone in sight.
Melanie was giggling ecstatically and Cissy came to join in. Soon all the children in the yard were crowding round the little Jack Russell.

‘He’s for you, Melly,’ Danny said. ‘And your brother, of course,’ he added.

Melanie was beside herself with excitement. ‘Oh, he’s lovely! He’s mine, Cissy! What’s his name?’

‘Patch,’ Danny said. ‘Look – on his back.’ The little dog’s face was mainly black and his body white, but for a lozenge of black fur all across his back,
almost like a saddle. ‘That’s got to be his name, right?’

‘Patch!’ the girls chirruped.

‘Careful with him,’ Danny instructed. The little dog took off across the yard, the girls squealing behind him.

Danny straightened up and saw Rachel waiting, her arms folded, smiling a little in spite of herself. No matter about all the hurt, the rage, the grief, the sight of him was what she wanted, what
made her smile.

‘Rach?’ He came closer to her.

‘So –’ She put on a stern voice. ‘You’re back, are you?’ She nodded towards the dog. ‘Well, if that’s Patch – are you Jack now
then?’

A vulnerable, sorry look came over Danny’s face. He looked down, then back at her and said, ‘I dunno, Rach. But I hope so – I really do.’ He held out the white froth of
blossom to her – lilac, in perfect bloom. ‘Here – I picked these for you.’

Rachel took them, smelling their strong perfume, and cradled them against her. She went to their door. ‘Auntie,’ she called. ‘You’d better come out.’

Gladys appeared at the door. She took one look at Danny, who stood shamefaced before her, folded her arms and in a tone of enraged affection, said, ‘And where the hell d’you think
you’ve
been?’

It was quite late by the time Rachel and Danny managed to talk properly. Cissy, on seeing the puppy, declared that she was not going home, that she was in fact never going home
again and Rachel had to march her, glowering, to the tram stop. Melanie did not beg to come – she was full of the novelty of her father and the puppy.

When they got to the Hortons’, it was Peggy who answered the door.

‘I don’t
want
to come home,’ Cissy fumed, still full of outrage. ‘Melly’s got a puppy and I want to live there forever.’

Peggy pursed her lips disapprovingly, but before she could say anything, Rachel said, ‘Danny’s home. He’s just come back.’

‘Oh, really – and for how long, I wonder?’ Peggy said contemptuously. She took Cissy’s hand and began to drag her away along the hall. ‘Go on – upstairs,
Cissy, and stop your blarting.’ As Cissy thundered off upstairs, Peggy came back to the door. As usual, she was smartly dressed, in a black, swinging skirt and cream blouse.
‘Well,’ she declared, ‘if he takes off again, don’t come running to me for help.’

‘Running to you?’ Rachel flared at her. She felt stronger suddenly, knowing Danny had come home. ‘Why would I come running to you
, Mother
? When have you ever offered
any help – to me or to anyone?’

Peggy drew herself up, stung. ‘I don’t think there’s any call to talk to me like that,’ she said. ‘When I’ve strained every sinew in my body to be a mother to
you.’

Cissy’s voice bawled suddenly from the top of the stairs: ‘I don’t want to live here. I want to go and live with Rach and Melly and Tommy!’

Rachel glared at her mother in triumph and started to turn away.

‘You ungrateful hussy!’ Peggy called after her. ‘You’ve never known what it is to struggle, that’s your trouble.’

Rachel did not bother either to turn round or to reply.

She found everyone gathered around the fire at home. The little dog, having long been the centre of attention, was fast asleep on the rug. Just opening the door, seeing Danny
there, she had to stop for a second and take it in, to remind herself that this was real – he actually was
here
.

‘There’s tea in the pot,’ Gladys said. She seemed to have recovered her temper. ‘Now – Melly. Up the wooden hill with you. And you, young man,’ she said to
Tommy.

‘I’ll help –’ Danny sprang up.

Rachel looked at him in amazement. He seemed like a different person.

‘I want to,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I want to make things better.’

Tears came to her eyes. She was still smarting from her mother’s self-obsessed fury. ‘You
can
make things better, Danny,’ she said humbly. ‘Every other day, from
now on. But maybe not tonight. Let me just get them off, shall I?’

He nodded. It would be smoother for now if the children did things in a familiar way.

‘Can Patch sleep with me and Tommy?’ Melanie asked, gazing at the puppy with whom she was obviously already head over heels in love.

‘No, not ’til he’s a lot older,’ Rachel said.