Authors: Pamela Evans
Doug flushed and May could tell that he was angered by her father’s attitude. He had been in a strange mood ever since he arrived, which she assumed must be because of the events of the day.
‘More seed cake, Doug?’ offered Flo.
‘Not for me thanks,’ he said, then, catching a look from May, forced a smile and added, ‘I’d love another piece of your delicious apple tart, though, Mrs Stubbs.’
The tension seemed to ease slightly, but May didn’t feel comfortable. So much so that she was rather relieved when Doug suggested that he leave early.
‘Just until we’re used to the blackout I’d like to get home before it’s dark,’ he said.
‘Good idea,’ Flo approved. ‘You get off home and watch what you’re doing on the way.’
After kissing May at the front door and telling her he would be over on Wednesday as usual, he pedalled off down the street and May went back indoors.
That evening May and her mother amused themselves by listening to the author J.B. Priestley reading an instalment from his book
Let the People Sing
on the wireless. Her father went in search of male company at the pub, only to return with the news that it was closed until further notice because of the current emergency and he had grazed his knee having missed the kerb in the blackout and fallen over into the road.
‘If this is what the war is going to be like, Gawd help us all,’ he cursed.
‘If the blackout and the pub being closed is the worst that happens, you won’t hear me complaining,’ said Flo. ‘And neither should you.’
‘All right, all right,’ he sighed. ‘Don’t go on about it.’
It was a night for being at home, but May found herself longing for young company so went to bed early to escape the tedium of adult conversation. Before she got into bed she turned off the light and went over to the window. She pulled back the corner of the blackout curtains to see nothing but darkness apart from the searchlights criss-crossing the navy blue sky and looking oddly beautiful.
What a strange day it had been. It was no wonder Doug had been in such a peculiar mood. Although she had been going out with him for more than four months and usually enjoyed his company, sometimes it seemed as though she didn’t know him at all, and today she had felt distanced from him completely; it was as though chemistry had deserted them and all connection was lost. He had obviously had other things on his mind apart from her and the war, though being Doug, she didn’t enquire so had no idea what they might be. Something she did know for sure was that he had a giant chip on his shoulder about having had TB.
Oh well, everything would probably settle down once they all got used to this strange new world they found themselves in, she thought, as she replaced the curtain and got into bed.
‘So your social life has taken a battering then?’ said Betty the following Wednesday afternoon when the two of them were in the playground adjacent to the Pavilion with Joe.
‘For the moment, yeah,’ May said, sitting with Joe on her lap on the roundabout. When May was around Betty took a break from her parental duties because May loved to look after Joe, who adored her. ‘The government have closed all public places of entertainment by law.’
‘How long for, I wonder.’
‘There’s a notice outside the Odeon saying to look out for reopening, so they can’t be expecting to stay closed for the rest of the war.’
‘There would be a rebellion if they did that,’ Betty opined. ‘Though most people reckon the war will be over by Christmas anyway, don’t they?’
May nodded. ‘I have heard that,’ she said.
‘So what will you and lover boy do with nowhere to go?’ asked Betty.
‘Go for walks and stay at home, I suppose,’ she said. ‘I haven’t seen him since Sunday, but he’s coming over tonight.’
‘Twice a week, weekends and Wednesdays, is that when you see him?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You’d be better off spending your time together at his place,’ suggested Betty. ‘At least you’d get some privacy there.’
‘I shall have to let things settle first,’ explained May. ‘At the moment Mum and Dad are terrified every time I leave the house in case there’s an air raid while I’m out. It’s still very early days.’
‘Mm. It said on the wireless that petrol, coal, electricity and gas are all rationed, so it’s going to be a bleak winter.’
‘People will need the cinemas to escape to even more,’ said May, slowing the roundabout as Joe had had enough and wanted to get off. ‘Shall I get Joe some lemonade from the Pavilion?’ she suggested. ‘We might as well make the most of it if everything is going to be short.’
‘Let’s all have a glass,’ said Betty.
‘Good idea,’ agreed May. ‘Don’t let anyone see us in there or they’ll think the place is open and will want to be served.’
Holding Joe’s hand and with her gas mask slung over her shoulder, May led them into the wooden building that smelled of liquorice, aniseed balls and fresh tobacco. She got the large jar of lemonade powder off the shelf and began to spoon it into a jug while Joe looked on excitedly.
By the end of the month – when there had been no sign of the much-feared air raids – many of the cinemas and dance halls had reopened. But the cinema queues were very long and slow moving. Some picture houses even started to open on Sundays to meet the demand. May and Doug queued for two hours one Saturday night to see
The Wizard of Oz
.
The waiting time was a much jollier experience than before the war, though, with everyone chatting and the cinema manager coming out at regular intervals to talk to the crowds. No one really minded which film was showing; it was enough to be inside the dimly lit auditorium where everything outside was forgotten for a couple of hours.
The return to a kind of normality gave May confidence – a sense that life would go on regardless – and she found the queuing rather fun. She had noticed a new friendliness everywhere; in the street, on the bus, in shops and especially in the Pavilion. It was a pleasure to go to work, though food rationing was expected any time soon, which would mean a lot more paperwork for her and her mother. Still, they were prepared for the extra work, which seemed a minor inconvenience compared to the men who were losing their liberty to the military.
Even the blackout didn’t seem so bad once you got used to it, though May did find it frightening at times. She was reduced to tears one night on her way back from seeing Betty when she lost her bearings in the dark and had no idea where she was. An air-raid warden on his way home had finally come to her rescue.
Doug had something unexpected to tell her one night as they walked home from a local dance.
‘I’ve got a job in an ordnance depot,’ he said. ‘I start work next week.’
‘Well done, but what about your art?’
‘Shelved until after the war,’ he explained. ‘All the paintings that haven’t been sold I’m having sent to my parents’ place to be stored for safety.’
‘But being an artist is your line of work,’ she pointed out.
‘Not in wartime.’ He paused and she could feel the tension in him even though she couldn’t see his face clearly in the dark. ‘We are needed for more important things. Just because we haven’t had any air raids doesn’t mean there isn’t a war on, you know.’
‘I’m not a complete idiot, I know that,’ she made clear. ‘Will you paint in your spare time then?’
‘I might if I’m in the mood,’ he replied, and there was no mistaking the sharpness in his tone.
‘All right, there’s no need to bite my head off.’
‘Well I don’t know if I’ll do any painting,’ he explained. ‘I haven’t even started the new job yet. I might not feel like it after being at work all day.’
‘I thought you creative types felt compelled to follow your inspiration under any circumstances,’ she said. ‘But anyway, I was making conversation, not asking for a declaration of intent.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Apology accepted,’ she said. ‘Why are you in such a bad mood tonight?’
‘I’m not,’ he denied.
‘Yes you are,’ she said. ‘In fact you’ve been like a bear with a sore head ever since war was declared.’
‘No I haven’t.’
‘Yes you have,’ she insisted. ‘I remember it distinctly. You came over on that first Sunday afternoon and were irritable and peculiar.’
‘Was I?’
‘Yes, and you’ve been moody ever since.’
‘Really?’
‘None of us like the fact that there’s a war but we have to make the best of things and you should try doing the same.’
There was a silence, then Doug said, ‘I’ll consider myself well and truly told off.’
‘So you should.’
‘I didn’t realise I’d been moody, but if I have, it has nothing to do with the war,’ he said.
‘What is it all about then?’
‘There isn’t anything,’ he said.
She halted in her step and turned to him, even though she couldn’t see him very well in the dark. ‘Look, Doug, if you want to stop seeing me, you only have to say.’
‘Stop seeing you?’ he said as though astonished by the suggestion. ‘That’s the last thing I want.’
‘You could have fooled me,’ she said, not convinced. ‘But as I’ve been taking the brunt of your bad temper, don’t you think that entitles me to some sort of an explanation? Something is obviously bothering you.’
‘Yes, you’re right.’ He explained briefly the problem with his parents, and added, ‘Something else has upset me too.’
‘What exactly?’
‘I’ve been told that I am unfit for military service because I’ve had TB,’ he explained. ‘Which is why I decided to get a useful job.’
‘Mm, I see,’ she said, slipping her arm through his as they moved on slowly. ‘Well, I suppose you can see their point about the services.’
‘You’ve changed your tune,’ he retorted. ‘I thought you were against prejudice.’
‘I am, but when it comes to the services in wartime it’s about common sense, not prejudice,’ she said. ‘Working in a shop is one thing, being a soldier quite another. You could put your mates’ lives at risk as well as your own if you are not on top form; if you can’t run as fast as the others for instance.’
‘Who said I can’t?’ he asked. ‘Anyone would think I still had the wretched illness.’
‘Be reasonable, Doug,’ she said. ‘It probably will have left its mark on us somewhere and made us a little weaker than other people; it was a serious illness, so it stands to reason.’
‘Maybe,’ he agreed unconvincingly.
‘So can we have a little less gloom and moodiness please?’ she suggested. ‘Anger is a pointless exercise.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘We’ve enough to put up with with this ruddy blackout, we don’t need you putting the dampers on things even more.’
‘Sorry,’ he said, stopping and drawing her into his arms. ‘I don’t deserve you.’
‘I won’t argue with you about that,’ she said, teasing him.
There was a sudden jolt and Doug was pushed away from her.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ said a man’s voice. ‘I didn’t see you there.’
‘Are you all right?’ May asked the stranger.
‘You should have been more careful,’ objected Doug. ‘You could have hurt my girlfriend.’
‘I’m fine,’ May assured them both.
‘You shouldn’t be doing your courting in the middle of the pavement,’ said the man gruffly. ‘That’s what back alleys were invented for.’
‘Sorry,’ said May with an embarrassed giggle.
‘Yeah, sorry, mate,’ added Doug.
The diversion had eased the tension between May and Doug and they were companionable for the rest of the journey.
‘Oh, by the way, May,’ said Doug as they reached the end of her road, ‘I won’t be able to see you at the weekend. I’m going away.’
‘Really?’ she said, curious but careful not to be presumptuous by asking more about his plans.
He offered the information anyway. ‘I’m going to see my parents in Sussex. I might not have much time to travel once I start the new job next week, so I’d better do it before I start. Duty calls and all that.’
‘Good idea,’ said May, trying not to feel hurt because he hadn’t asked her to go with him.
‘Sorry to spring it on you like this.’
‘That’s all right,’ she said.
‘What will you do with yourself?’
‘I’ll find something to do, don’t worry,’ she assured him. ‘My friend Betty could do with a night out, so if her husband will babysit maybe I’ll go to the pictures with her.’
‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you won’t be lonely.’
‘Don’t you worry about me,’ she urged him. ‘You enjoy your weekend away.’
‘I will,’ he said.
‘Cor, am I glad to get out of the house,’ said Betty as she and May walked to the cinema on Saturday night, a clear sky and the moonlight helping them to see their way. ‘It’s like a ruddy asylum in there.’
‘Why?’
‘Mrs Bailey is in tears again because George’s call-up papers have come and Sheila is threatening to join the ATS, probably to get away from her mother’s weeping and wailing.’
‘George has been called up?’ said May, sounding worried.
‘That’s right. He’s going next week.’
‘Why didn’t you say?’
‘I just did.’
‘I mean straight away and bursting with it.’ May was surprised that they hadn’t been the first words her friend had uttered, such was the magnitude of the news. ‘You seem very calm about it,’ she said.
‘We were expecting it, so it’s no surprise,’ Betty explained airily. ‘All the boys will be going so there’s no point in getting into a state about it, is there? Joe will miss his dad, though.’
‘So will you, won’t you?’ said May.
‘It hasn’t happened yet so I don’t know how I’ll feel, but I’m sure to I suppose,’ she said, sounding almost casual. ‘But like everything else that’s happening lately, including the blackout, we just have to put up with it, don’t we?’ They were approaching the cinema and even in the dark they could see the queue. ‘Like long queues at the pictures as well; it has to be done. And I’d sooner be here waiting in the cold than in that house tonight.’
‘Mm.’
May couldn’t understand her friend’s offhand manner about her husband’s imminent departure to terrible danger. If she herself was married to George she’d be worried sick. In fact she was anyway.
George came round to the Stubbses’ to say his goodbyes. When May went to the door with him to see him out he said, ‘It was you I came to see actually, May. As well as saying goodbye, I need a favour.’