Authors: Carol Rivers
Connie was staring at the letter, when someone tapped her shoulder.
‘Are you Connie?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m Albie Cross, Gran’s friend.’
Connie jumped off the wall. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s Pat. She’s having the baby.’
‘But she’s not due for three weeks!’
‘Can you come?’
They hurried to the gate, only seeing the truck as they turned into the street. Clint waved through the open window. She grabbed the old man’s arm and pulled him with her. This time it was
Connie who asked Clint for his help.
‘How is she?’ Connie asked the doctor as she scrambled out from the truck. ‘Has she had the baby?’
Doctor Deakin nodded. ‘I’m sending round the midwife.’
‘Is Pat all right?’
‘Yes, but there were complications,’ was all he said as he climbed into his little black car. ‘Gran will explain.’
Connie ran back to the truck. ‘Thanks for the lift, Clint.’
‘Has she had the baby?’
‘Yes, but the doctor said she had complications.’
‘Do you want me to come in with you?’
She hesitated. ‘I don’t know how long I’m going to be. But it would help if you could tell Nan and Lofty what’s happened. I’ll be late home tonight.’
He nodded and started the engine. ‘Can I call back for you?’
‘No, I’ll catch the bus.’
‘Take care, Connie.’ The truck roared off.
Albie was still standing on the pavement. ‘Tell Alice to shout if she wants me.’
‘Thanks, Albie.’ Connie hurried up the steps. The house was quiet, too quiet. The door to Pat’s room was closed but Vic’s was open. A crib stood beside his empty bed. She
could hear movement from the kitchen, but made a detour to the baby. A little red face surrounded by thick black hair poked out above the white covers. He looked perfect.
‘Hello, ducks,’ Gran said softly as Connie entered the kitchen. ‘Thanks for coming.’
‘Where’s Doris?’
‘I sent her next door to Eve Beale.’ Connie sat down at the table and waited for Gran to continue. ‘The baby isn’t quite right.’
‘He looks fine . . .’
Gran shook her head before Connie finished. ‘His foot is misshapen. No one knows why. Doctor said most likely he was growing like it inside her.’
‘Will he be able to walk?’ Connie asked quickly.
Gran sighed heavily. ‘At the moment it’s just a stub that turns inward. And, as if that’s not bad enough for the poor girl, Dr Deakin says this is the end of her childbearing
days.’
‘Oh, Gran, poor Pat.’
A small sound echoed and they both stood up. ‘That’s the baby,’ Gran said hurriedly. ‘He must be hungry again. Go and talk to Pat and cheer her up. The birth took it out
of her. She fed him, then fell asleep as we cleaned her up. Must be feeling rotten about now, especially with what the doc told her.’
Connie hurried towards Pat’s closed door. Without Laurie, she was going to need all the support she could get and by hook or by crook that was what she was going to get if it cost Connie
every last ounce of strength she had.
It was third of April and a warm, sunny Saturday. The skies were clear when Connie left for work.
‘Happy birthday, Con,’ Len said, pressing an envelope into her hand.
‘Happy birthday,’ Jenny added pleasantly. She held out a small packet. ‘It’s not much, I’m afraid.’
Connie opened them both. A card depicting a bowl of red roses from Len and Jenny’s gift, a white lacy handkerchief with a pink ‘21’ embroidered in the corner.
‘It’s lovely, Jenny.’
‘I wish I was twenty-one again,’ Len said ruefully.
‘Just start counting backwards.’ Connie grinned.
‘Are you celebrating tonight?’
‘Mum is making a cake.’ Connie nodded. ‘Though it might be made out of cardboard.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s the thought that counts.’
‘Happy birthday, Connie.’ Mr Burns handed her a card.
‘Thank you, Mr Burns.’
‘Enjoy it while you may. Youth doesn’t last for ever.’ Connie glanced at Len, who was smothering a chuckle, and even Jenny smiled as they studied it.
‘Don’t forget to put out this birthday card for salvage!’ it warned under the heading of ‘Happy 21st Birthday’.
The girls of the typing pool and canteen had clubbed together for a small bunch of flowers. She had three more cards from the other offices and several from the girls in the packing
department.
Connie left at one o’clock, wondering if Clint would be sitting in his truck by the gates. But the yard was empty. As usual she hurried, intending to catch the bus to Gran’s and be
home in time for tea. Kevin and Sylvie had promised to be there. And Olive had asked Nan and Lofty to come as well. Connie would have liked a party, it was her twenty-first after all, but no one
had suggested it.
When she arrived at Nan’s, Lucky was busy playing with his train. She thought of Vic as she helped him push it over the lino. Her twenty-first and the man she loved could be anywhere in
the world by now. Still, at least his letter had arrived in time.
‘Going out anywhere tonight?’ Nan enquired as she brought in Lucky’s coat and threaded his arms through the sleeves.
‘No, Mum’s made a cake though. You coming along to share it?’
‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
Connie held Lucky’s hand as they walked to the door. ‘See you later, then.’
‘Yes – oh, and happy birthday, love.’
‘Thanks, Nan.’
Olive and Ebbie were out when she got in. ‘Well, it looks as though it’s just you and me.’ She smiled as she gathered Lucky in her arms. ‘We’ll catch the bus over
to Gran’s, shall we?’
‘Gran’s!’ Lucky exclaimed excitedly.
Connie gave him a big kiss. ‘We’ll see Doris and baby Lawrence too.’
They set off and caught the bus at the end of the road. She hoped Pat was feeling better. She hadn’t set foot in the street since the birth of the baby. It would be lovely if they could
celebrate her birthday by walking up the road with the pram and the two kids. They could even stop for a drink at the café. But when they arrived at Pat’s, Laurie was home.
He put his arms around Connie and hugged her. There were tears in his eyes. ‘It’s good to see you, girl. And Lucky, blimey, haven’t you grown?’ He patted Lucky’s
cheek. ‘You’re a handsome lad, you are, chum.’
‘Have you got leave, Laurie?’ Connie asked as she hung their coats and gas masks on the hall-stand.
He nodded. ‘Two days. But it’s better than nothing. I’ve been trying to get a smile out of Pat, but she’s not her old self. We always wanted a big family and now it seems
that’s never going to happen. For me it’s not such a big thing, as Pat and the kids we’ve got is enough for me. But for a woman as young as Pat, it’s a bitter pill to
swallow.’
‘It’s early days yet, Laurie, she needs time to recover her health.’
He nodded. ‘Yes, course. Maybe she’ll cheer up when she sees you.’
They went into the front room, where Gran was sitting with little Lawrence in her arms. He was bawling louder than the kettle whistling in the kitchen and Doris was in tears. Pat looked
distressed as she tried to comfort her little girl.
‘None of us had any sleep last night,’ she complained to Connie. ‘I don’t know if he’s in pain with his foot or if he’s just hungry.’
‘Has he been fed?’
‘Yes, just this minute.’
Laurie shook his head. ‘You’re worrying too much, love.’
‘I can’t help it,’ Pat replied on the verge of tears. ‘You don’t understand. You’re away all the time.’
Connie took the baby from Gran, who retreated out to the kitchen. ‘Why don’t you and Laurie take Doris out for a walk?’ Connie suggested as she rocked Lawrence.
‘It’s a lovely afternoon. The fresh air will do you good.’
Ten minutes later Connie had rocked Lawrence off to sleep in the pram. Gran was taking forty winks in her bedroom and the house was quiet again.
Connie turned her attention to the pile of nappies and dirty rompers in a basket by the boiler. She would have them hanging on the rack all smelling nice by the time Pat and Laurie returned. No
one had remembered it was her birthday, though. But did it matter?
Connie couldn’t help feeling a little neglected as she rolled up her sleeves and began the washing.
When she got home at five o’clock, her mother had made a real cake. The sponge had two small candles stuck in the top and a paper fringe tied around it. A carrot had been
diced up to read, ‘Happy 21st’.
‘It’s lovely, Mum,’ Connie said as her mother lowered the plate to the front room table.
‘Happy birthday, Constance.’ Her mum and dad kissed her, then sat down.
‘’Appy, ’appy,’ warbled Lucky, climbing on to the chair and poking his finger in the sponge.
‘What time are Nan and Lofty coming?’ Connie asked, taking Lucky on her lap.
‘We said we’d go down to them,’ her father replied stiffly.
‘Oh.’
Her mother stood up. ‘Let’s go and spruce ourselves up, dear,’ Olive suggested to Connie. ‘Put on something nice. It is your twenty-first after all.’
Yes, but it doesn’t feel much like it, Connie thought as they went upstairs.
‘You two look nice,’ her father greeted them when they returned.
Lucky flung his arms around her. ‘Con-Con, birfday!’ He pushed his head through the folds of her soft blue summer dress and pulled her round and round, making them laugh.
At six o’clock they all walked down to number eighteen. ‘Anyone home?’ Ebbie called as he pushed open Nan’s front door.
No one replied. They all stood in the hall, gazing at the closed front-room door.
‘We might as well go in,’ Olive said. ‘Open the door, dear.’
Connie turned the handle. ‘Happy twenty-first!’ everyone shouted as a multitude surged forward to greet them.
The presents were piled on the sideboard: a pair of woollen gloves for winter, a game of Lexicon with a damaged top. A Handy Wartime Guide for the woman at home, a copy of
Sew and Save
. One tin of Bemax, one of Bournville, a packet of blackout playing cards, a set of blouse patterns, a jar of Nelson strawberry preserve, Potato Pete’s recipe book, a
pair of lovely silk stockings and a half-pound box of Cadbury’s Milk Tray. There were more gifts unopened at the back, awaiting investigation.
Connie looked around. How had so many people fitted into one room? All her friends, family and some of the neighbours were there. She hadn’t suspected a thing. The cry of ‘Happy
twenty-first!’ was still in her ears.
Len and Jenny, Gran, Pat, Laurie and the children – all of them had managed to keep the secret today. Kevin and Sylvie, Taffy and even Clint, the Shutlers from down the road and Nan and
Lofty. Baby Lawrence was asleep in Lucky’s pram, positioned carefully under the stairs. Doris and Lucky entertained themselves as usual with the toys.
Mrs Shutler opened the piano lid and began to play. Taffy pushed his way over to Connie. ‘Sorry to see Billy ain’t here.’
‘Me too.’ Connie nodded as she folded up the paper from her presents and tucked it to one side. ‘We haven’t seen much of him lately.’
‘Me neither.’
Connie was surprised. ‘Why not?’
‘He’s gone with someone else.’
‘You mean, roofing?’
‘That and fighting. Or, as he calls it, boxing. Don’t let on to your mother. But there was nothing I could do to change his mind. Wouldn’t wait till he was ready. Palled up
with this joker to get himself gloves. I hope he knows what he’s doing.’
‘Now I’m worried, Taff. He was injured badly last time he fought.’
Taffy shook his head. ‘Don’t know anything about that.’
Connie had known something was wrong. What was Billy doing, leaving Taffy? They were a good team and Billy was on the straight and narrow.
‘Anyway,’ Taffy winked, ‘don’t let it spoil yer day, gel. Happy birthday.’
The evening wore on, but Connie was disappointed that Billy hadn’t shown up. Kevin hadn’t been able to find him. No one knew where he was. After what Taffy had told her, she was
worried.
‘That sure is a pretty headscarf,’ a deep voice rumbled beside her.
Clint’s blue eyes were bright and his tailored uniform made him stand out in the room full of shabby English clothes.
‘It’s from Billy. He brought it to work and gave it to Len to give me.’
‘Where is he tonight?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘He’ll show up.’
Connie wished she was as certain as Clint that he would. She felt the soft silk between her fingers. It was a quality headscarf covered in a beautiful oriental design. She inhaled its fragrant
aroma. Was he really able to afford a gift like this?
‘Billy’s a good kid,’ Clint said quietly. ‘He’s just young and impressionable.’
‘That’s what worries me.’
‘Is your fiancé still in New York?’
‘He wrote but didn’t say where he was.’
Clint nodded thoughtfully. ‘The Red Army broke through at Leningrad this year and the Allies are heading for Italy. I’d guess he’s on his way back to Europe.’
Connie’s spirits lifted. Perhaps Vic would get leave. Even if it was only twenty-four hours, how wonderful that would be. Clint was pouring himself a beer when Olive appeared from the
kitchen. ‘Connie, you’ve got visitors.’
‘Who is it?’ Connie followed her mother out.
‘It’s that man, Gilbert Tucker.’
‘How did he find us?’
‘He heard all the noise and came looking.’ She glanced sideways. ‘There’s a woman with him. Says they’re going to be married.’
Connie wondered what Gilbert Tucker was up to now.
‘T
his is Sybil, my fiancée.’ Gilbert Tucker pushed his lady friend forward.
The woman seemed very timid. She held out a limp, gloved hand. Connie judged her to be about forty, but she could have been younger as her plain dark hair and grey coat made her look older.
Connie didn’t know what to say. The woman was looking at her with a nervous expression.
‘I’ve been to the authorities,’ Gilbert Tucker said. ‘It won’t be long before I can prove who I am. I’m going to get everything done legal before we get
married. We don’t want any misunderstandings.’
The small woman looked up at him. ‘When are we taking Sydney?’ she whispered vaguely.