Wartime Family (38 page)

‘Randall? You’re wanted in the visitors’ room.’

Captain Gregory had been about to shut the door, but stopped when she saw the surprise on Lizzie’s face.

‘Are you alright?’

‘I’m not expecting a visitor.’

‘Not even a friend?’

Thinking that Margot had come to see her, Lizzie visibly relaxed. ‘I won’t be a moment.’ She reached for her clothes. Seeing Margot again would lift her spirits. Over a cup of tea they’d discuss Owen, men and the world in general. Margot would be discreet; she wouldn’t let her eyes drop to Lizzie’s fat belly or mention the impending birth.

Despite her girth Lizzie flew down the stairs and into the small room to the right of the staircase. The room held a small bookcase, six chairs and a giant aspidistra in an olive-green pot.

A sincere smile plastered to her face, Lizzie breezed into the room. The woman got up as she entered. At first she wondered why Daw was here and reached the obvious conclusion that Patrick had spilled the beans. Perhaps her mind was playing tricks: this woman looked like Daw, but wasn’t Daw. Her sister was handsome but never looked elegant, and neither did she have the money to wear mink, good-quality tweed skirts and handsome leather court shoes.

As realization dawned, Lizzie’s smile turned to jaw-dropping surprise.

The woman got to her feet. ‘Do forgive this intrusion, but I had to see you.’ Her voice rang like a bell.

This was Daw and yet it wasn’t Daw; it was her mother’s face but not quite her mother’s face. First and foremost, why was she here? Lizzie waited for her to explain.

Elizabeth Ford looked at her with imploring eyes. ‘I expect you’re wondering who I am and how I found you. Patrick didn’t give your secret away, if that’s what you think. On the contrary, he was very reticent until I told him why I wanted to see you. He understood then. We both knew that I had to come and that my coming here might help you reach the right decision.’

She was talking in riddles. The only part that made Lizzie react was her mention of Patrick. He’d sworn not to tell anyone.

‘Your mother wrote to you about me, I believe.’

Lizzie sank into a chair. ‘Yes. You’re Elizabeth!’

Her gaze was steady. ‘So are you.’

Lizzie nodded. Their mother had named them both Elizabeth. Everything had been in the letter. Reading about the other Elizabeth had been so impersonal. Face to face was not so much disconcerting as strange.

Elizabeth Ford waved a gloved hand at one of the chairs. ‘Please. Sit down.’

Lizzie lowered herself into the chair as though in a dream, her eyes never leaving her half-sister’s face. ‘So you got hold of Patrick and he sent you here? Have you told my mother where I am and what’s happening?’

Elizabeth shook her head. ‘No. I had to promise Patrick that I wouldn’t. It was agreed between your mother – our mother – and me that she would write to you first before I came visiting. She told me your address was secret but that Patrick would know. I visited him first and explained the situation. He begged me to tell you that his offer is still open.’

‘And you know about his offer?’

‘He told me.’ Elizabeth paused and leaned forward. ‘Think very carefully about what you are doing. Think of what your – our – mother went through.’

Lizzie eyed her quizzically. It was difficult to accept that this elegant woman had had such an unpromising start in life. Orphanages and Dickensian stories usually accompanied a baby being given away at birth.

‘What sort of upbringing did you have? Were people cruel to you?’ she asked.

Elizabeth shook her head. ‘No. I was one of the lucky ones.’

Lizzie gave a little gasp as the child kicked inside her.

Elizabeth noticed. ‘Is it coming?’

The sudden twinges she’d been feeling all morning intensified. She nodded. ‘I think so.’

Elizabeth looked at her watch. It looked to be made of silver and studied with stones. ‘I have to go. I have to visit my husband.’

‘I hear he’s under lock and key.’

‘Until he’s better,’ Elizabeth sighed and looked sad. ‘Whenever that may be.’

‘He caused a lot of problems.’

‘I’m sorry he did, but also thankful. I would never have found you if he hadn’t applied his skills to the task.’

Lizzie nodded. ‘I suppose so.’

‘I always wondered,’ Elizabeth said suddenly. ‘Once I knew I was adopted, I always wondered who my mother was, why she’d abandoned me and who my natural family were. Wanting to know stays with you, but not as strongly as the feeling of abandonment.’

Lizzie stared at the floor. What now? This visit was totally unexpected. This woman had been a baby just like the one inside of her, and now she was a person with feelings and hopes and dreams for the future, but also with problems. It was obvious from the sadness in her eyes that she was worried about her husband.

‘Will you be seeing Patrick again?’

‘I don’t know. He said he would call in on you.’

‘Male visitors aren’t allowed.’

‘Not even those who want to marry the mother?’

Lizzie didn’t answer. Of course he’d be let in, but was she ready for him? The baby moved again, as though urging her to act before it was too late. ‘Tell him I won’t object.’

‘I will.’

‘Have you seen Harry?’

Elizabeth smiled as she pulled on her gloves. ‘I have. He hugged me and called me “sis”. I love him for that.’

‘I’d like him to visit if he can.’

Elizabeth headed for the door. ‘I’m not sure whether he can, what with this business at Pearl Harbor.’

Lizzie looked at her blankly. ‘Pearl Harbor? What’s that?’

News was slow entering the walls of Pilemarsh Abbey. Like visitors, the outside world was held firmly at the door.

‘Yesterday the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. The United States has now entered the war. Goodness knows what will happen from here on. But never mind,’ she said and kissed Lizzie on both cheeks. ‘I’m so pleased I have a family. So pleased I’ve found my roots.’

In the early hours of the morning of December 9th 1941, Lizzie gave birth to twin girls – Mary and Elizabeth – named after the two living queens, one the mother-in-law of the other.

The almoner came to talk about having them adopted.

‘It’s easier to place one than place two,’ she said. ‘Rest assured they’ll be placed with two separate families who will take good care of them.’

Exhausted after her ordeal, Lizzie lay back against the pillows and collected her thoughts. The prospect of the twins growing up separately appalled her. Her children had suckled at her breasts, and even now her body was reacting to their presence, the sticky birth milk seeping into her nightdress. Nothing would ever be the same again. She knew that now. Her life was no longer just for her. She had seen her beautiful children and in a flash had turned from a pussycat into a tiger.

‘I have a form for you to sign,’ the almoner continued. ‘Well, two forms actually. One for each child.’

Taking her inaction and silence for exhaustion, the almoner pushed the pieces of paper beneath Lizzie’s fingers and pressed a pen into her right hand. ‘There. A signature on each and it’s all over.’

Lizzie stared at the screen surrounding her bed, but didn’t see the dull green cloth. All she could see was a future alone when in fact it could be so different. The choice was hers and hers alone. The paper crumpled beneath her fingertips. The pen rolled on to the counterpane. ‘No.’

The almoner raised her eyebrows. ‘No?’

‘No. I’ve decided to keep them.’

The almoner looked outraged. ‘But you’ve no husband?’

Lizzie smiled weakly. ‘Not at the moment. But I will shortly. I definitely will.’

Michael explained in his letters that all leave was cancelled due to the worsening situation in the Far East. Once she’d opened and read them, Mary Anne hugged them against her heart. There were long gaps between writing and his infrequent visits. She’d written to his parents in the hope of finding out more. They had written back, addressing her as though she were Michael’s landlady and not the love of his life. They remarked on some photographs he’d sent them of a ‘young English girl’. Whose photographs had he sent? She wouldn’t tackle him about it, preferring to brood over what might be while hoping for something better.

‘Mum, you’re worrying unnecessarily,’ said Lizzie. ‘You’ve been down that route before.’

Having two new grandchildren helped her cope, although she didn’t know the truth about their father and Lizzie hoped she would never find out. Christmas would have been a subdued affair if it hadn’t been for Lizzie, Patrick and the twins. A special marriage licence had been granted so their wedding was celebrated alongside Christmas.

‘Best time of the year,’ Patrick had quipped. ‘Christmas and wedding anniversaries all in one!’

Daw sobbed all the way through the ceremony because she was missing John. After seeing what her father was capable of and meeting Elizabeth Ford, Daw had forgiven her husband for whatever he’d done – or hadn’t done.

‘What did he do to upset her?’ Lizzie asked.

Her mother shrugged. ‘Knowing our Daw it wasn’t that dreadful. She’s such a stickler for having things done her way.’

‘Never been any different,’ said Lizzie dismissively.

The event was low key. Patrick, Lizzie and two of his army pals had gone to the Register Office. Mary Anne had been left to look after the twins and Daw had come over with Mathilda. The wedding feast was held in the rooms above the Red Cross shop. By collecting coupons and receiving donations from Harry’s black-market friends, a tea time spread of cake, jam and bread and butter, along with a little fruit jelly preserved by Gertrude Palmer, covered an oblong table.

The wedding was too short notice for Harry and Michael to come. John’s aunt and uncle from the corner shop were there, and so was Gertrude although she didn’t look her normal self. During the celebrations, she called Mary Anne over.

‘I’ve something to tell you,’ she said, looking very down in the mouth. Mary Anne wondered if she was ill and asked her outright.

‘Right as rain,’ said Gertrude. ‘Right as rain.’

‘Then what …?’

‘I need someone to run the shop for a short time. There are some family matters I have to take care of. Well?’

Gertrude’s manner was abrupt at the best of times, but more so today. There was something defensive about her voice, her eyes and her lack of expression. Mary Anne guessed that the family matters she had to attend to were serious. There was no point in asking why. Gertrude kept her family life very separate from her work for the Red Cross.

‘Just a yes or no will do,’ Gertrude continued in her usual brusque manner.

‘I’ll do it.’

For a moment Mary Anne got the impression that Gertrude had been expecting her to probe further. There was a look of relief when she didn’t.

‘Right,’ said Gertrude, her stiff features brightened with a smile. ‘Then let’s toast the couple well.’

Glasses were raised to the happy couple. The day was perfect. Patrick looked like a dog with two tails and Lizzie looked good in a black and white checked costume trimmed with velvet on the collar and cuffs.

Henry Randall, Lizzie’s father, had not been invited to the wedding feast, but Patrick’s mother had. She sidled up to Mary Anne, a brown ale in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

‘Lovely spread, Mary Anne. Lovely couple, aren’t they?’

‘I think so.’ Mary Anne held her breath as a cloud of cheap perfume and face powder threatened to choke her. The baby girls were the twin apples of her eyes. Her only regret was that Lizzie hadn’t told her sooner so she could have been there at the birth.

‘I didn’t want to shame you,’ Lizzie had said. ‘And I didn’t want to force Patrick’s hand. I wanted him to marry me for myself, not because I was pregnant.’

Rosie, Patrick’s mother, was still gabbling on between sips of brown ale.

‘Twins too! I suppose they are his,’ she said glibly.

Mary Anne looked at her in amazement. Men had breezed in and out of Rosie Kelly’s life as frequently as a trail of ants over the doorstep. ‘I’ll caution you to shut your trap. Not everyone’s tarred with the same brush as you, Rosie Kelly!’

‘What?’ Rosie eyed her quizzically. The penny suddenly dropped. ‘No, Mary Anne, you’ve got me all wrong. I wasn’t casting doubt on your Lizzie. It was just the miracle of my Patrick becoming a dad. He had mumps when he was little, you see. That’s why him becoming a father at all took me right off guard.’

Mumps! She knew the implications of small boys getting mumps. She told herself that Rosie could have got it all wrong. Patrick had been neglected from the moment he was born, but still looked in on his mother despite her defects. Patrick could have been suffering from anything. Rosie wouldn’t have worried too much about him so could easily have been mistaken.

Don’t let it worry you
, she said to herself.

Patrick and Lizzie looked so happy together. They’d been friends since they were small. Something of her concern following Rosie’s comments must have showed on her face, and Patrick came over.

‘Now don’t you worry, Mrs Randall. You’ve gained a son who’ll always look after your Lizzie – and the little ’uns, of course.’

She smiled and couldn’t stop her eyes watering. Patrick was such a kind young man. ‘I know you will, Patrick. I know you two have always looked out for each other.’

There was something about the sudden look that came to his eyes that made her start, an unguarded moment when the truth had risen to the surface and then been instantly hidden.

‘I know you will,’ she said softly and kissed his cheek. ‘I know you will.’

She told herself that all was well, that Patrick was definitely the twins’ father. But a small doubt remained. Why hadn’t Lizzie told her when she was expecting? And why had she stayed away until they were born? Memories of a private nursing home run by nuns came back to Mary Anne. She had given birth to her first born in secret, away from prying eyes – just as Lizzie had done. Adoption papers had been drawn up just before the birth. Her parents had signed them because she hadn’t yet been twenty-one. Lizzie was old enough to sign her own. Again she pushed the doubt away, but it kept coming back. In time Lizzie might tell her the truth, but for now Mary Anne would keep her doubts to herself.