Bells of Bournville Green (27 page)

‘Nice of you to bother turning up,’ she’d said, the last time. ‘I s’pose you’ve got time for a cup of tea?’ Greta knew she was jealous of her living with Edie, but wild horses would not have made her move back.

‘Yes, ta.’ She sat down at the kitchen table. ‘You could come and see us sometimes you know,’ she pointed out. ‘We’re only down the road.’

‘I’m not sure I’m wanted, am I?’ Ruby said huffily, banging about with the teapot and cups. ‘I never see you.’

‘Well, you are wanted, all right?’ Greta felt she had enough problems of her own, being left with a child, for a start, without Mom having to be always the one who needed looking after. ‘You could come round any time if you’d just swallow your pride. And I’m here now, aren’t I?’

Once they were sitting talking Ruby thawed out a bit. She was never good at staying in a paddy for long.

‘Seen Trevor?’ Greta asked, sounding as casual as she could. She didn’t miss him, it was true, but she did feel bitterness and sadness about what had happened. Above all she was very curious as to how on earth it was working out with Marleen.

‘No
. She’s
been round a few times though.’ She held the tin out to Greta. ‘Biscuit?’

‘Ta. And? She driven him round the bend yet then?’

Ruby looked a bit bemused. ‘According to her they’re getting on like a house on fire.’

Greta gave a bitter laugh. ‘House on fire’s probably about it!’

‘Well, time’ll tell’ Ruby’s face softened. ‘How’re you? Keeping all right?’

‘Yes. I don’t feel so sick now – it’s wearing off.’

‘You’re a brave ’un, I’ll say that for yer.’

Greta was touched by this unexpected compliment.

‘You can’t rely on men, that’s what life’s taught me. If you can make it on your own, then all power to you, I say.’

Greta was tempted to ask why, if men were so awful, Ruby had gone in for quite so many of them, but she held her tongue.

‘Well, I don’t know what I’d do without Edie.’

As she said it she realized it was the wrong thing to say, but instead of getting huffy again, Ruby looked thoughtful. She seemed to be coming to terms with it.

‘I suppose Edie’s taken on the mantle of Mrs Hatton. She was ever so good to Edie, she was. She was a lovely lady, no one would say otherwise. She helped all of us out during the war. So you’re lucky, bab. She going to let you stay on after the baby’s born?’

‘Yes, she says so,’ Greta said.

Ruby looked wistful, but Greta could also sense relief that her house was not going to be full of the chaos of babies again.

‘Well good luck to her. But don’t forget I’m yer Mom, will you?’

Greta didn’t see Trevor until just before Christmas.

It was evening and a few flakes of snow were whirling in the air.

‘Greta?’ She heard a gentle tapping on the door of her bedroom where she had been having a lie-down, and opened the door to find Edie, looking troubled.

‘Trevor’s downstairs, to see you.’ She spoke very quietly. ‘I said I’d see if you were in, just in case . . .’

‘Oh, thanks, Edie.’ Greta pushed her feet into her slippers. ‘If he’s taken the trouble to come over here finally then I’d better see him.’

‘You can ask him in – take him in the back room if you like . . .’

Greta found herself feeling very calm. She hadn’t seen Trevor in four months, so she certainly didn’t need to get wound up about him now! It did cross her mind to wonder if he’d come to tell her what a dreadful mistake he’d made and to beg her to come home. In which case she’d be able to turn him down!

A draught was blowing through the open front door. She saw him watching her come down the stairs and she felt very conscious that the baby was showing now. He was standing on the step with flakes of snow in his hair.

‘Hello, Trev. What’re you doing here?’ She addressed him in a casual, jokey voice.

‘Come to see you, ent I?’ Trevor seemed to sag, as he always did when unsure of himself.

‘That’s nice. D’you want to come in?’

‘No.’ He looked cold, but also uncomfortable and at a loss what to say.

There was a silence. She saw Trevor staring.

‘How are you?’ she said.

‘All right. Yeah. Fine.’

‘And my sister?’

‘Yeah. She’s fine too. You know, going along . . .’

‘Good,’ she said sharply. As usual Trevor was not going to contribute anything much and she was already impatient. ‘So we’re all fine then.’

‘I just wanted to see—’ He nodded in the direction of her belly. ‘How you are and that.’

‘The baby you mean?’

‘Yeah.’ He looked into her face then, and she could see the hurt. ‘You should’ve told me, Gret. Should’ve told me earlier.’

‘How could I’ve told you when I didn’t know myself?’

‘That’s my babby in there.’

‘Yes,’ she put her hands on her hips. ‘But you went off with my sister. So what d’you want, Trev?’ To her annoyance her eyes filled with tears.

‘Can I see him – when he’s born?’

‘Don’t see why not. It might be a girl though. Some of them are you know.’

‘The thing is . . .’ He looked down, obviously uncomfortable. ‘It’s not just you . . . Marleen’s expecting an’ all.’

‘But I thought she said . . . !’ She remembered Marleen’s past declarations that she’d never, ever, have another baby.

‘Well she is. Three month gone.’

‘Blimey, you didn’t waste any time, did you?’ She blinked her tears away, the soft moment completely over.

She was longing to ask him, almost as if he was still just a pal: So how’re you finding it, Trev? What’ve you let yourself in for, living with Marleen and her kids? D’you wish you’d never started with her?

As if he could read her mind, Trevor said,

‘We’re all right, Marleen and me. She’s not like you. She just wants me. We’re a family. And we’re going to get wed, soon as we can.’

‘Well, bully for you.’ She was stung by that. It didn’t sound like the Marleen she knew at all. ‘Pity you never married her in the first place then, isn’t it?’

‘I want to see my kid,’ Trevor persisted, suddenly turning nasty. ‘You can’t stop me.’

‘No,’ she said pertly, her hand on the door, ready to close it. ‘Well, you know where I am, don’t you?’

Chapter Thirty-Six

As Christmas drew near Greta could see that Pat was getting more and more down, even though she put on a brave face.

‘What’re you going to do at Christmas?’ Greta asked her. ‘Surely your Dad’ll come round? He can’t keep this up for ever.’

‘I don’t know that he will,’ Pat said gloomily. ‘So far as Dad’s concerned, right is right and wrong is wrong and there’s nothing in between. He’s got very high ideals.’

‘Hmmm,’ Greta said, thinking she far preferred people whose ideals weren’t quite so lofty if they made you so cruel. She didn’t like to criticize Pat’s father to her, but she thought he was awful, Bible in hand, nose in the air, and unable to show kindness to his own flesh and blood.

‘I know Edie’d be happy for you to come to us,’ she said. ‘Mom’s coming too – everyone together – well, not Marleen . . .’

‘That’s nice of you – and her,’ Pat said sadly. ‘I’ll just have to see if Mom can talk our Dad round.’

A couple of days later she came to work looking as if she was about to burst with news.

‘Guess what!’ She pulled Greta aside as everyone was putting their overalls on to start work. ‘My Mom came round to see me last night and said she’d spoken to Dad. She said, if he didn’t let me in the house for our Christmas dinner, she was going to take Josie and come and have it with me in my room!’

Greta laughed, astonished. ‘She never!’

‘She did!’ Pat looked tearful, torn between laughter and sadness. ‘I’d’ve loved to be there and seen his face.’

‘So he said yes?’

‘He had to – swallowed his pride.’

About flaming time, the mean old hypocrite, Greta wanted to say. Instead, she said, ‘Well, good luck to you. And I’m glad for you, Pat.’

Christmas was a very happy occasion that year. Greta always loved Bournville in the winter, the factory all lit up like a great palace as they went home in the dark, the shine from its long windows falling across the recreation grounds in front. She loved seeing the big Christmas tree twinkling near the Meeting House, the glow from the windows of cosy houses and glimpses of Christmas decorations inside. A group from the Seven O’Clock Club went carol singing in town and collected money for charity.

In the evenings she went back to the warm welcome of Edie and Anatoli’s. Their house, with its open fire and Christmas tree and streamers made by the children, swirled with visitors over the Christmas break. They were a very sociable couple, and as well as Ruby and Janet and Martin and the twins a whole stream of other friends and relatives visited, among them Edie’s brother Rodney. Greta couldn’t help noticing, though, that although Anatoli had two older children from his first marriage, there was never any sign of them. She knew his son lived abroad somewhere, but why didn’t he ever see his daughter? But she didn’t like to ask.

Edie and Anatoli treated Greta just like a daughter, and were also sensitive and welcoming to Ruby. Pat and her Mom and Josie came round at New Year as well, and though they put on a cheerful front, Pat said Christmas had been a strain.

‘He let me into the house,’ she told Greta quietly. ‘But it was awful. He just carried on as if I wasn’t there. He barely even spoke to me. And poor Mom was trying to keep everyone happy and smooth everything over.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I don’t mind for myself, ’cause at least I can go back to my little room, and go to work. But Mom’s just stuck there day after day and I can’t give her enough help.’

Obviously Mr Floyd never helped. He had to be fresh for his important work in the daytime, for Birmingham’s education department, as well as for the Lord.

The next month was an uneasy time for Pat, because Josie was ill for a time and Mrs Floyd wanted Pat to move back home. Pat was torn.

‘I ought to go back because Mom and Josie need me and I miss them,’ she said. ‘But I don’t want to live with my Dad – not the way he is. I know I did a terrible thing, but my God I’ve paid for it too. And if he can’t forgive me, I don’t want to live there.’

Greta didn’t know what to say. She felt desperately sorry for Pat and Mrs Floyd, both under the thumb of this heartless man.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Easter 1967

‘So why don’t you come with us?’ Edie invited. ‘There’ll be room in the car – we can squeeze up.’

She laughed, seeing Greta’s surprised face.
Her
, go all the way down to London? She’d never been to London in her life! And for a demonstration or march or whatever, with all those strange people Edie and Janet seemed to know, who wore duffel coats and had strange eating habits like being vegetarian. Ruby said they were all cranks.

‘CND needs our support – and there’ll be lots of young people,’ Edie said. ‘It’s vital that we protest – the H-bomb is a terrible evil; surely you think so, don’t you?’

‘Well, yes . . .’ Greta agreed. ‘But . . .’ What did it have to do with her? All these things were decided by politicians weren’t they?

‘But what?’ Edie asked gently. ‘Everyone should be able to have their say, you know. This isn’t Russia. And anyway, it’ll be fun. We’re not going on the march or anything – some people walk all the way from Aldermaston in Berkshire. We’ll just go and join them in London. It’ll be fun – we’ll take all the children and a picnic. I mean—’ She eyed Greta’s stomach apologetically. ‘That’s if you think you can manage? I’d have my doubts if I were you.’

Greta smiled, more worried about what she was letting herself in for in general than about being nearly eight months pregnant. She was carrying the child neatly, a small, round bump at the front, and she felt very healthy. ‘It’s all right, I’ll come! I’m sure I’ll be OK.’

So on Easter morning they set off, all in Anatoli’s capacious car, Martin Ferris in the front beside Anatoli with Naomi on his lap, and Edie, Janet and Greta taking it in turns to hold Peter and Ruth on their laps.

‘I don’t know if they usually have many children on the march,’ Janet said, sounding nervous.

‘Well, in that case,’ Anatoli called breezily over his shoulder, ‘it’s time they did. After all, we are marching on behalf of the future, are we not?’

They played ‘I-Spy’ with the children, and read some story books to while away the time. Edie kept up a supply of mints to suck and biscuits. Every so often she whispered, ‘You all right, love?’ to Greta and Greta said, ‘I’m fine.’ She was happy to sit staring dreamily out of the window while the others talked, taking in the journey south to London, through towns and villages she had never seen before. Life was expanding, she felt, a delicious feeling.

When she thought about the baby and the birth, she felt very scared. Most of the time she pushed thoughts of it away. At least she knew that once it was over, she could stay with Edie and Anatoli.

They found the stream of people moving towards Trafalgar Square, a solemn, soberly dressed crowd holding home-made banners with the CND symbol on them and the words ‘London to Aldermaston’.

For a few moments they stood watching them pass. Greta looked round her, seeing the grand, high buildings of London, dwarfing the drab column of marchers with their macs and serviceable, unglamorous clothing, their sensible shoes and little haversacks. Scattered among the earnest-looking men with spectacles, the women in tweed skirts, walked clergymen in black cassocks. All of them looked determined and serious.

‘Look, here’s a gap,’ Janet said, steering Ruth, whose hand she was holding, into the crowd.

Greta and Edie followed with Peter between them, each holding his hand. Behind them a group was holding a banner which read ‘Leeds Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament’.

‘Feels a bit of a cheat just squeezing in at the last moment!’ Martin Ferris said.

‘Ah well, we’ve got children to deal with,’ Janet replied.

Greta felt self-conscious at first, moving along in the crowd of protesters while passers-by stared at them. She noticed the curious looks they received because of Ruth and Naomi, and realized how much of that Janet had to put up with all the time. It made her feel proud, and defiant on Janet’s behalf.