When the Lights Go on Again (35 page)

‘The German war is at an end. Advance Britannia. Long live the cause of Freedom. God save the King.’

Those words, spoken by Mr Churchill from number 10 Downing Street at 3.00 p.m. on 8 May 1945 announced the formal end of the war.

‘I still can’t believe that the war is really over,’ Jean was saying breathlessly to Grace, as she rushed into her kitchen, adding, ‘Pass me a couple more of those plates of bloater paste sandwiches, will you, Grace love, and I’ll get them out on the table?’

It was a week since VE Day, and the residents of Ash Grove were throwing a street party to celebrate. Outside, bunting in red, white and blue, quickly made from painted paper, was strung from every lamp-post, whilst trestle tables groaned under the weight of food prepared by the Grove’s housewives.

‘If you ask me, that tinned fruit salad that Jessie Hawthorne from number fourteen’s put out is definitely black market,’ Jean sniffed, as Grace continued
to butter bread with the butter she and Seb had brought from Whitchurch.

‘Well, I dare say it will go down a treat with the cream that me and Seb brought with us, no matter where it’s come from,’ Grace responded to her mother, adding, ‘It’s a pity it’s too early for Dad’s strawberries and raspberries.’

‘I shouldn’t be complaining,’ Jean smiled, as she picked up the plates of sandwiches and headed for the open front door, ‘not when me and your dad have got all four of you here with us.’

The street was buzzing with activity, with small children running around and hiding from one another under the tables, the men standing together round the beer barrel, which had been set up on a table of its own, whilst the women dashed to and fro with plates of food.

‘Here, let me take those for you, Auntie Jean,’ Bella offered outside, relieving Jean of the plates. ‘Where do you want me to put them?’

‘Over there, please, Bella love,’ Jean told her, preparing to hurry back to the kitchen for the next lot of sandwiches. ‘We’ll let everyone get started and stuck in in a few more minutes. Thank goodness it’s not raining; it would have ruined everything.’

Jean’s smile faded a little as she spoke to her niece. As Jean had said to Bella when she and Jan had arrived, it was understandable that Vi hadn’t felt like coming with her or celebrating. After all, it was less than a year since she had lost Charlie.

Thinking of Vi now had Jean putting her hand on Bella’s arm and telling her truthfully, ‘You could
have knocked me down with a feather when you first told me about Vi and Edwin getting back together.’

Bella gave Jean a rueful look. ‘I was surprised as well,’ she admitted. ‘It was losing Charlie that did it. Oh, I can’t quite reach,’ Bella complained as she struggled to lean far enough over the table to put the plates down because of the swell of the baby she was carrying – conceived at Christmas, much to her own and Jan’s joy. Seeing the look they exchanged when Jan took the plates from her to put them down, Jean reflected on how much her niece had changed.

‘Here you are, Mum, that’s the last plateful,’ Grace announced, emerging from the house carrying another plate of sandwiches.

Bella smiled at Grace. Sometimes she felt guilty about feeling so happy, especially when she thought about Charlie, but she and Jan were both so thrilled about the coming baby.

‘Do you remember that Tennis Club dance at the start of the war, when I was so horrid to you, Grace?’ she asked her cousin.

‘Yes,’ Grace laughed, ‘but I can forgive you because it was thanks to you that I first met Seb.’ They both turned to look at Grace’s husband, who had his hands full – literally – with his twin sons, who were demanding to be put down so that they could show off their newly learned almost walking skills.

‘We were only girls then,’ Bella said. ‘The war’s brought so many changes, including a whole new generation of children, what with your twins, and
Francine’s little girl, and this one to join them in a few months’ time.’

‘It’s lovely that Francine and Marcus are here,’ Jean chipped in, looking across the table to where her sister and her husband were standing, with their baby daughter, Claire, who was now nearly four months old and who had her mother and her auntie Grace’s strawberry-blonde curls.

On the other side of the table Francine leaned her head against Marcus’s shoulder. This time last year she could never have imagined it would be possible to be this happy. Then all she had been able to think about was getting Jack back. It was funny the way things worked out. She had thought, when she had given her son up to Emily, that she was making a sacrifice for his sake, but instead her sacrifice had become a gift of great joy and love, thanks to Emily, who had showed her the true generosity of a loving heart.

As Tommy’s unofficial godmother, Francine had attended his end-of-school-year prize-giving, and had watched as her son had been lauded by his headmaster and house head for his scholastic ability, and his good sportsmanship. She had received with pride the smile Tommy had given her, after he had smiled at Emily, and she had cried a few tears along with Emily when they had fussed over him together after the ceremony, two very, very proud mothers, joined in love.

Now she and Marcus had their own little Claire who could already wind her daddy and her half-brother round her little finger.

It was time for people to start eating, before
the sandwiches started to curl up, Jean and the other women had agreed, but getting that message across to such a large group of people was a man’s job, not a woman’s. Purposefully Jean inched past the family groups of adults chatting together, avoiding the children scampering around excitedly as she made her way to where Sam was standing, drawing pints of frothing beer from the barrel.

‘Sam, we need you to tell everyone that it’s time to eat,’ Jean told him, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt to get his attention.

From the end of the street it was lovely to see all the young women out of uniform and dressed in their best, the bright colours of their summer frocks making bold splashes of colour in the warm sunshine.

Sam pulled himself up to his full height, his arms brown and weathered where he had rolled up his sleeves, Jean’s heart filled with pride and love as she watched him. He was a good man, her Sam. One of the best.

Sam clapped his hands. Gradually those around him fell silent, the silence spreading out like ripples on water, until everyone was turning to look at him.

‘Grub’s up,’ he announced. ‘Come on, everyone, tuck in.’

‘Grub’s up?’ Jean repeated indignantly. ‘That was a fine thing to say.’

‘It did the job, didn’t it?’ Sam protested, taking a bite out of an egg sandwich.

Jean shook her head. There were some things, some niceties of life, that men – even the best of them – simply did not understand.

‘Come on, Emily,’ Grace urged, holding out a plate of sandwiches to her. ‘Don’t hold back. You’re family now.’

Family. Emily’s heart swelled with happiness. She, Wilhelm and Tommy had travelled up to Liverpool on the train with Grace, Seb and the twins. The three of them would be spending the night at her old house, before returning to Whitchurch in the morning.

How very blessed she was, Emily thought humbly, as she watched Wilhelm talking with Jean’s husband, Sam. The two men had got on like a house on fire once Sam had realised that Wilhelm was as keen on growing vegetables and the like as he was.

She and Wilhelm had already made enquiries about them marrying, and had been assured that there should be no problem. Next week they were going to look at a farm just outside Nantwich, nothing fancy, just a nice sensible house and enough land for Wilhelm to graze a few sheep and grow his veggies and some crops.

Further down the street, she could see Jean’s youngest daughters with their husbands. Both girls had a look of Jean, and ever so pretty they looked too in their polished cotton summer dresses, one red with little black poodles on it, the other blue with white kittens, white belts showing off their slim waists. Had anyone other than her noticed the similarities in looks between Lou’s husband, Kieran, and her own Tommy? It was no wonder they had a look of one another: after all, Con, Tommy’s father, had also been Kieran’s uncle. She
looked down at her adopted son, her heart filled with love and gratitude. He was the best gift that life had ever given her.

‘How did Kieran get on with his interview with that chap who wants to set up his own private freight company?’ Sasha asked Lou as they stood together whilst the men, including their own husbands, gravitated together.

‘He’s been offered a job – but he won’t be taking it up until he’s been demobbed, and that won’t be for a while because his squadron are still needed to fly supplies over to Germany.’

‘I feel so sorry for the German women and children, with nowhere to live, and no food,’ Sasha said sadly

‘So do I,’ Lou agreed, ‘but the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation people are doing their best for them. Just think how it would have been if we hadn’t fought Hitler and he had won. We wouldn’t just be homeless and starving.’

They looked at one another in mutual understanding. The full horror of the gas chambers and everything that went with them had been revealed to a shocked public after the fall of Berlin.

Today they might all be celebrating victory and the safety of those they loved, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t all also thinking of everything that had been endured to reach that victory, and of all those who had suffered and who had paid the ultimate price.

Bella tucked her arm through Jan’s. They’d been at another VE Day party earlier in the week, given by the Polish community in Liverpool, and Bella had felt so proud of Jan. Now that she was nearly five months pregnant she felt so relieved, after the anxiety of the first three months when she’d worried so much that she might lose her baby, even though their doctor had assured her that there was no cause for alarm. A part of her would always grieve for that little one who had never had the chance to live, thanks to the cruelty of the man who had fathered him – her first husband. That baby would never be forgotten by her, or by Jan.

Jean had told her that she was free to invite Lena and Gavin and their little ones to join the party, but Lena had said that Gavin’s family were throwing a party of their own, and Bella had understood that Lena felt that she and Gavin should go there.

As for Bella’s mother and father, it had been a surprise to them all when Vi had announced that Edwin had asked her to move out to his house at Neston, so that the two of them could start again, which meant that Bella now had her mother’s house to herself, something which delighted her, with Jan on a long leave.

Jean looked around at her family, her heart filled with pride and love.

Somehow they had won through, somehow they were all safe: Grace and Seb with their twins; Lou and Kieran with their plans for the future; Sasha and Bobby, who had made a place for himself
with the Salvage Corps and who got around so nimbly on his artificial leg that you’d almost never know it wasn’t real; Fran, happy now with Marcus and little Claire; Jack with Emily; Bella with Jan, their expected baby such a relief to Bella, Jean knew, after her fears that there might not be one; and, of course, Luke and Katie.

Jean had been so pleased when Luke had told her that he and Katie were going to give things another try. Katie had come to the twins’ wedding, helping out with that same quiet kindness that was so much a part of her, and looking at Luke with her love for him shining in her eyes, just as she was doing now, and Luke looking back at her in just the same way, just as he too was doing now.

‘Those two were meant to be together,’ Jean murmured to herself.

‘Have you made your mind up yet?’

Katie turned her attention away from Grace’s gorgeous sons to look at Luke.

‘About what?’ she began teasingly, before stopping and telling him lovingly, ‘You know I have, Luke. In fact I made up my mind, that afternoon in Sloane Square, when I was lying underneath you, wondering where that doodlebug was going to land, that given the chance I wasn’t going to let you escape a second time.’

Luke laughed. ‘If one of us was worrying about the other escaping then it was me. The minute I read what you’d written about Eddie I knew that I had to find a way of convincing you to
give me a second chance before some other chap stepped in ahead of me.’