A Distant Dream (11 page)

‘Have they given you any idea when you’ll be out and about again?’ he asked.

‘Not yet. I have to go for a major examination and X-ray in January and I’m hoping they will give me the all-clear then. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.’

‘I’ll be rooting for you.’

Her mother brought in a tray of tea and biscuits and after a few minutes of social chat she made a diplomatic exit, realising that her daughter needed to be alone with her friend. When George left he promised to come again soon, and May knew that he would and was enormously cheered by the prospect.

‘So how is she?’ asked Betty when George got home.

‘Pretty good considering,’ he replied. ‘She looks surprisingly well, actually.’

‘Did she ask why I wasn’t with you?’

‘I didn’t give her the chance. I told her right away that you were busy with the baby and she accepted it, but I could tell that she didn’t believe me,’ he said. ‘May is a bright girl. She will know that you stayed away for the same reason as everyone else. I think she’s used to it but she’s bound to be very hurt.’

‘I can’t take any chances,’ she told him. ‘Not with a baby to look after.’

‘Come off it,’ he said. ‘If you were going to catch anything you’d have done so two years ago when she was first ill and you were always together. Not now that she’s better.’

‘It isn’t only that,’ she said. ‘It’s the thought of being with someone who’s had TB.’

‘Not much of a friend, are you?’ chipped in the forthright Sheila. ‘First you pinch her bloke while she’s away in hospital and now you won’t even go to see her when she’s back home. If I was May I’d tell you to get lost.’

‘Yes. Well May isn’t like you, Sheila,’ George told her. ‘She isn’t such a loudmouth.’

‘Who are you calling a loudmouth?’ Sheila objected. ‘Tell him, Mum. Tell him to watch what he’s saying when he’s speaking to me.’

‘I can’t tell him what to do,’ said his mother. ‘Not now that he’s a married man. That’s Betty’s job.’

‘He doesn’t take any notice of me,’ Betty was quick to point out. ‘If he did, he wouldn’t have gone to see May.’

There was a shocked silence.

‘Surely you wouldn’t try to stop him from seeing May just because you don’t want to?’ said Sheila accusingly.

‘It does seem rather heartless, Betty,’ added Dot.

‘Downright cruel if you ask me,’ Sheila declared.

‘I would rather he didn’t see her,’ Betty told them defiantly. ‘There, now you know and I don’t care what you think.’

‘Right, that’s enough, all of you,’ George intervened sternly. ‘This is a private matter between Betty and me and we will discuss it when we’re on our own. We don’t need you two putting your oar in.’

There was a tense silence followed by a timely intervention from upstairs.

‘The baby’s crying,’ said Betty, glad to escape. ‘I’ll go and see to him.’

‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ said Dot.

George sat down in an armchair and picked up the newspaper, but he was far too preoccupied to take much of it in. It had been an emotional evening one way and another and the ructions weren’t over yet.

Living with the family meant that George and Betty had very little privacy. Their bedroom was about the only place they were ever alone, and here they were always worried about waking Joe. But tonight George had something to say and he was determined not to put it off.

‘The fact is, Betty – and I want to be straight with you about this – I intend to visit May regularly while she needs it, no matter how much you go on at me about it. I really don’t want to upset you, but in this particular instance I don’t feel as though I have a choice.’

‘That’s a nice way to treat your wife, I must say,’ Betty said, sounding peeved.

‘Look, Bet, when I married you, I promised to look after you and be faithful and I intend to be true to everything I promised. But as far as I know I didn’t sign away all my rights as a human being,’ he said, keeping his voice down because of the baby. ‘May needs her friends more than ever just at the moment and I am not going to let her down, because it would be very wrong. If you choose to stay away that is your decision and I’ll respect it, but I must be allowed to do what I think is right without you giving me constant earache about it.’

Betty had already accepted the fact that she could only go so far with George. Annoyingly, he was very much his own man and she knew he wouldn’t change his mind about this. ‘Fair enough,’ she said. ‘I’ll say no more about it.’

‘Hooray for that,’ he said.

Lying beside him later while he slept, Betty had a familiar ache inside that she tried to deny. But it was suddenly so overwhelming it brought tears to her eyes. The fact was, she missed May. She knew she would never have another friend like her; someone who knew all her faults and still wanted to be her pal, though maybe not now after everything that had happened. Betty had thought that having managed to nab George and get herself hitched she wouldn’t need a close woman friend, but she realised now that she did; more than ever before oddly enough.

An unfamiliar feeling of shame crept over her at the way she often behaved. She wished she could be different, but somehow she never was. She just kept on being horrid. She supposed that some people were just made that way, because it came naturally to her. She couldn’t seem to find the empathy that other people had. It was always about herself; as though she was sliding through life on the surface, getting from day to day in pursuit of her own needs. She couldn’t seem to let go of herself.

On the odd occasion when May had been really sick and Betty had imagined her in a hospital bed, she had drawn back from the image almost immediately because she hadn’t enjoyed the feeling. She didn’t like how she felt now either; this awful hollowness that could only be filled by one person.

The following afternoon May and her mother were having a cup of tea together while Flo was taking a break from the shop when there was a knock at the door.

‘Someone to see you, May,’ said Flo, coming back into the room.

‘Well, well,’ said May, seeing Betty looking somewhat shamefaced. ‘You certainly took your time.’

Betty bit her lip. ‘Sorry, May,’ she said. ‘You know me; not the stuff that heroes are made of.’

Patting the bed, May said, ‘Come and sit down.’ She paused, looking at Betty. ‘If that’s too close for your comfort, have a chair instead.’

‘Oh May . . . don’t be like that.’

Flo made a diplomatic exit, saying she had to get back to the shop. After she left, the silence was almost unbearable.

‘Look,’ began May to break the ice. ‘I know that you have a problem with my illness – lots of people feel the same way – but you’re here so you must have got over it to a certain extent. The fact is that I don’t have TB any more, so can we move on from it and forget it? I’m looking to the future. The illness is in the past and pity humiliates me, so don’t even try it.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Betty, sitting down somewhat gingerly on the edge of the bed.

‘We have a lot to catch up on,’ said May at last. ‘You a married lady and a mum.’

Betty nodded.

‘Where is your boy? I’m dying to see him.’

Betty bit her lip.

‘You couldn’t quite chance it for him, could you?’ guessed May. ‘Not with all the supposed germs flying about.’

‘I thought we needed to talk, and that’s nigh on impossible with Joe around. I left him with my mother-in-law.’

‘Oh, I see,’ said May.

‘Look, I know I’m not much of a friend,’ admitted Betty. ‘But I didn’t invent the attitude people have towards that illness. No one wants to catch it, and I’m only human.’

‘So how come you are here?’

‘I’ve finally accepted that it’s safe, I suppose,’ she said. ‘And I’ve missed you something terrible.’

‘Same here,’ said May.

‘What was it like at that place?’ asked Betty.

‘
That place
is called Ashburn, and it was my home for more than a year and a half, so I grew quite fond of it,’ May told her. ‘I made some lovely friends there and I miss them a lot.’

‘Oh,’ said Betty, sounding surprised and not best pleased. ‘Well, you’re back with your real friends now.’

May knew that Betty would never understand the bond she had had with her fellow patients, so there was no point in trying to explain. She also knew that there was something huge standing between them, and while it remained tacit the awkwardness would remain. She decided to bring it out into the open. ‘Did you go after George deliberately to get one over on me?’

Betty turned scarlet. ‘May, how can you say such a thing?’ she demanded.

‘You knew how I felt about him,’ May reminded her. ‘You’ve always known. You flirted with him enough times when I was around and he always made it clear that he wasn’t interested. Then I get news that you are in the family way and getting married. Naturally I wondered.’

‘What’s he been saying?’

‘Nothing at all,’ May assured her. ‘You know George better than that.’

‘Well . . . it wasn’t as though you were engaged to him or anything, was it?’ said Betty sheepishly.

‘I was only fifteen when I went away, for heaven’s sake,’ May reminded her.

‘Look, you weren’t around and I was lonely . . . Anyway, George and I are married now, so you’ll have to accept it.’

‘Don’t patronise me, Betty. I’ve been ill. I haven’t gone soft in the head,’ retorted May. ‘Of course I’ve accepted it. I sent you a letter to that effect.’

‘What’s all this about, then?’

‘It’s about being truthful with each other,’ she replied. ‘It’s what friends do.’

‘All right, I’ll tell you . . . There was a coronation party and there was booze around, which neither of us is used to, and it just sort of happened,’ Betty said guiltily. ‘So can we drop the subject now, please?’

‘By all means. You won’t hear another word from me about it.’ May had made her point, which was all she had wanted. She wouldn’t question Betty any further. In the past she had always let Betty have her own way, but not any more. She had realised that she was going to have to stand up for herself if she wanted to move forward with any scrap of dignity. She had been physically weakened by tuberculosis, but her spirit had grown stronger and she wanted people to know that she wasn’t prepared to be patronised for the rest of her life. It wasn’t easy, though, when you felt so isolated from the outside world. Loneliness was very damaging to the confidence.

‘Good, then perhaps we can move on to more current subjects,’ said Betty. ‘Like Joe’s christening.’

‘Oh?’

‘I was wondering if you might consider the idea of being his godmother,’ Betty heard herself say.

May stared at her in surprise; it was the very last thing she had expected.

‘When you are out and about again, of course,’ Betty added quickly. ‘We won’t have the christening until then.’

‘Do you really mean it?’

‘Of course I do,’ she confirmed. ‘Who else would we ask but our oldest friend?’

An inner warmth spread through May. The fact that someone trusted her and thought she would be around for long enough to take on such an important and responsible job was the most uplifting thing that had happened to her since she’d been taken ill.

‘I’d be very honoured, Betty,’ she said, smiling. ‘Very honoured indeed. Thank you.’

‘It’s a pleasure,’ grinned Betty.

Walking home through the streets, where strange things were appearing – piles of sandbags outside buildings and a notice on a public hall stating that it was now an ARP centre – Betty felt happier than she had in a long time. She had her friend back and that was a really good feeling. The godmother thing had been a spur-of-the-moment idea but she was very glad she’d suggested it, firstly because it had got her back into May’s favour and also because she knew that her friend would do a good job.

It was a peculiar thing, though, how May still had that something special that caused Betty to envy and admire her in equal measures. Betty was now the one who had what all girls wanted, the man, the marriage and the baby and therefore some security and status in society. In comparison May had nothing. She had the stigma of illness hanging over her and not even a boyfriend to call her own. But she still had a touch of class that set her apart and eluded Betty. It was strange.

Oh well, they were friends again, that was the important thing. She would be in George’s good books too, for going to visit, and he would be absolutely delighted about the godmother idea. So things had taken a real turn for the better.

It was January 1939 and May and her parents were in a Lyons tea shop in the West End having a celebration lunch. As it was a Wednesday and half-day closing in Ealing, the three of them had hopped on to the tube into central London as soon as the Pavilion had shut for the day.

Dick ordered their favourite roast beef meal when the Nippy swept neatly up to their table in her smart black and white uniform with white starched apron and cap treating them with the cordiality that people had come to expect of Lyons waitresses.

May looked affectionately from one parent to the other. ‘I’m having such a nice time,’ she told them. ‘Thank you both for giving me this lovely treat.’

‘You deserve it, love, after the rough couple of years you’ve had,’ her mother assured her. ‘It isn’t every week your daughter gets a clean bill of health from the doctor. Me and your dad couldn’t let it pass without doing something a bit special.’

‘That’s right,’ added her husband.

‘We can have a look round the shops afterwards if you like, May,’ suggested Flo. ‘If you see something you fancy to wear, I’ll treat you to it.’

‘I’ll go for a walk in the park while you do that,’ said Dick with good-humoured male disapproval. ‘You won’t catch me traipsing round women’s shops.’

‘Oh, it feels so good to be out again,’ May said effusively, enjoying the feel of London, the bustle created by humanity at large hurrying in all directions. Some women were wearing fashionable fur, the men in overcoats. Both sexes wore hats, women in a variety of styles, men mostly in trilbies. The buzz of the West End seemed like a riotous adventure to May after so long away from crowds of any sort. ‘It’s very exciting.’