Darkest Before Dawn (44 page)

Soon the assembled company were seated at the trestle tables enjoying a meal of almost pre-war proportions. Martha had sat down between her two elder daughters but had to keep jumping up to refill plates and pass food, so she was grateful when Mr Wilmslow put both hands on her shoulders, just as she was about to get up again, and said gently: ‘You are mother of the bride, my dear, and you shouldn't have to keep acting as waitress. Evie is being very good indeed and young Percy is making sure that cups are kept filled, so just you sit back and enjoy yourself and let the three of us cope, for a little while at least.'

Martha looked up at him, smiling. ‘I don't know what I'd do without you, Arthur,' she said, keeping her voice low. ‘You're a tower of strength. I know you didn't really approve when I accepted Percy's gift but you never said so.' He was still holding her shoulders and she put a hand up to gently squeeze his fingers. ‘Thank you for everything.'

Chapter Thirteen

May 1945

Evie ran along the pavement and swerved into Mr Wilmslow's grocer's shop, her face alight with excitement. ‘It's over!' she shouted, twirling around like a dancing dervish, to the astonishment of a couple of elderly women waiting at the counter while Martha and Mr Wilmslow made up their orders. ‘It's over, it's over, it's over. Will rationing end tomorrow? Oh, but I feel so cheated. Fee and Angie both joined up and did their bit for their country, but just because we were making uniforms they called it “essential work” and wouldn't let me join, and now it's too late; there isn't a war to fight any more.'

‘Dismissed you early, did they?' Mr Wilmslow said. ‘Well, so far as I know nothing's changed, not regarding rations, I mean. We had the wireless on, of course, and heard Mr Churchill's announcement, but so far as we're concerned folk have still got to eat so we can't just close up, not like the perishin' clothing factory can.'

Martha smiled at these embittered words and came out from behind the counter and gave her daughter a hug. ‘We're all glad it's over because Roger and Albert will be coming home . . . and Percy, of course . . . but we mustn't forget that the war in the Far East is still on,' she reminded her daughter. ‘Not that the Japs will stand out for long, not with the whole world against them.'

‘I haven't forgotten; I couldn't,' Evie said humbly. ‘But – but don't you think we'll get news of Toby now? I'm sure he's still alive and the minute he's able to do so, he'll get in touch.'

‘Course he will,' Mr Wilmslow said gruffly, clearly repenting of his earlier remarks. He turned to Martha. ‘Shall we close, my dear? Only I reckon if we make our way to St George's Plateau, there'll be all sorts of celebrations goin' on, which I wouldn't want you to miss, nor Evie either, because victory don't happen every day.'

‘That's a good idea,' Martha said. ‘Coming, Evie?'

Evie beamed at her but shook her head. She went behind the counter as she spoke and began to put the first customer's rations into a brown paper bag. ‘No thanks, Ma; I've arranged to meet Jeannie and Phil just as soon as we've changed out of our mucky old work clothes, so I'll finish off here for you, while you do whatever you have to do. We'll probably see you later, I expect.'

Once the customers had left the premises, Evie hung the ‘Closed' sign on the door and locked up, then went upstairs and changed into a thin cotton dress, for it was a warm afternoon. She unpinned her hair, ran a comb through it and considered pinning it up again, then changed her mind. It was nice to feel the silky pageboy bob swinging against her skin. Besides, she only wore her hair loose on special occasions; if this wasn't a special occasion, what was?

As she got ready, Evie remembered something else. Her mother had promised Mr Wilmslow that, when peace arrived, she would marry him and Evie was still not sure that her sisters would altogether approve. She thought Angela would be quite pleased for her mother simply because Albert and Mr Wilmslow had got on well from the start, but Seraphina's feelings about marriage – any marriage – were still somewhat equivocal. There was no doubt in Evie's mind, and nor, she thought, in her mother's, that Seraphina's marriage was not a happy one and was unlikely to survive for long once the couple were constantly in one another's company. Martha, Evie knew, did not approve of divorce and thought that Seraphina and Roger should at least try to resolve their differences and make a go of their marriage, but Evie did not believe for one moment that this hopeful plan would work. She thought that Seraphina and Roger were two very different people from the hopeful young couple who had gone so joyously off to honeymoon in Snowdonia. Of course, the same must apply to a great many married couples, kept apart for five or six years by the exigencies of war, but there had been something wrong between Seraphina and Roger right from the start. Evie walked over to the looking glass on the washstand and surveyed herself critically. She was seventeen years old and just beginning to realise that, plain or no, she was attractive to young men. In fact, she often went to the cinema, or to a dance, or sometimes just for a walk, with the young men home on leave from the forces. She enjoyed their company, made them laugh, sometimes even allowed an old friend such as Percy Baldwin to kiss her good night, but she always made it perfectly plain that they meant nothing to her save as friends.

Percy, she knew, would have liked to be serious, wanted to be able to call her ‘his girl', but she knew instinctively that she would never feel for Percy the way a woman feels for the only man in her life.

Sometimes, she thought she would never marry; after all, if Seraphina could make a mistake, little Evie could make a worse one. I'll be an aunt, she told herself, a fun-loving, popular aunt to Angie's kids and to Fee's as well, of course, because once she's free of Roger she'll wed Toby and live somewhere beautiful and quiet in the country, and have a great many children who can come to stay with me at holiday times, so that I can take them to the pantomime in winter and for trips on the Mersey in summer.

After a careful scrutiny in the mirror, she took a faded blue cardigan out of her drawer and tied it round her waist by its sleeves. She guessed that the celebrations would continue into the night, but did not intend to cover her blue gingham dress with her one and only coat, which was navy, serviceable and also threadbare. The cardigan would be fine for such an occasion.

Presently, she descended the stairs, walked through the stockroom where Mr Wilmslow slept, and through the shop into Scotland Road, which was crammed with people waving flags, blowing whistles and singing songs, all hurrying towards the city centre. She fished out the key which she wore on a ribbon round her neck and locked the door behind her, then set out for the meeting place that she and the girls had agreed on.

Halfway there, she suddenly realised that she was not sharing the excitement and optimism of the crowds on the pavements; in fact, she felt increasingly miserable and knew it was because of Toby. How could he marry Seraphina and produce a number of nephews and nieces for her to spoil if the war with Japan went on and on? She tried to push out of her mind the thought that he could be killed, but it was always there; a grinning spectre waiting to pounce on her when she was down.

Evie shook herself. She was being really stupid, because when it came down to it Toby was just her dear friend who would, she hoped, become her sister's lover and husband. It was right and proper that she should be concerned for him but not that she should allow her worry for him to ruin tonight, victory night.

Startled at her own thoughts, she stopped short, and was cannoned into by a young man in air force uniform who seized her by the shoulder, whirled her round and gave her a smacking kiss. ‘Well of all the luck, and in this crowd, too,' he exclaimed. ‘I only got back an hour ago but as soon as I'd seen me mam and got rid of me kit bag and that, I come searchin' for you. Only the shop were all locked up and the woman next door said as how she thought you'd gone off wi' your mam and old Wilmslow to lerroff a few fireworks of your own. I thought I'd go to the Plateau, and who's the first person I see, hurrying along the pavement? Oh, Evie, ain't it just great? Victory, I mean.'

‘Yes, wonderful,' Evie agreed. ‘Fancy you getting leave just at this moment – you always fall on your feet, don't you, Perce? But to tell you the truth, I'm not feeling that cheerful. You remember Toby, don't you?'

Percy slid an arm round her waist and gave her an affectionate squeeze. ‘Course I remember him; tall, good-looking chap wi' yellow hair an' blue eyes. Married your sister,' he said confidently. ‘He's out in Africa, somewhere, ain't he? Don't say he's bought it!'

Evie glared at him. ‘That's Roger, not Toby, and he's not been killed, if that's what you mean,' she said coldly. ‘Toby was Seraphina's boyfriend when we lived on the canal, but they fell out and she went and married Roger by mistake – well, I think it was a mistake,' she amended hastily. ‘Toby's in the army, not the air force, and he was sent to relieve Singapore when the Japs attacked, and got taken prisoner. We've hardly had a word from him since then, which is over three years, and somehow victory doesn't seem so wonderful when you've a pal like Toby still in the thick of it.'

Percy whistled thoughtfully. ‘I know what you mean,' he said. ‘There have been stories . . . there was that business of all the fake letter cards, back in '44. Yes, I quite see that having a pal in the power of those little yellow bastards might well spoil the celebrations for anyone. Only, surely it's your sister who should be anxious, more than you?'

‘Oh she is, I'm sure – anxious, I mean,' Evie said hastily. ‘And of course I can't help Toby by making myself miserable so I'll do my best to be bright and cheerful.' She twisted within the circle of his arms to look up at him, reflecting that the gangling, spotty youth she had met before the war had turned into a husky, nice-looking young man. ‘But I've arranged to meet a couple of pals outside Lime Street station, so I can't stay with you, much though I'd like to.'

Percy agreed, reluctantly, that they would part outside the station, but in the event the crowds defeated them and they were unable to get further than the Forum, so Evie spent the celebrations with Percy. The church bells which had been silent for almost six years added their clangour to the hooting of shipping and the shrill whistles of railway engines and presently, as it grew dusk, lights blazed out from every window. The two young people watched the fireworks ascending into the starlit sky, hugged one another and wept, but Evie knew that she was weeping for the poor lost souls in the Far East, whilst Percy was weeping for joy.

When at last the two of them turned towards home, pushing their way through the singing, swaying crowds, Percy made a remark which cheered Evie considerably. ‘They're saying, in the officers' mess, that the war in the Far East ain't likely to last long,' he told her. ‘They're going to attack Japan with everything they've got . . . some new secret weapon, somebody said . . . because the Japs are said to fight to the death, you know, so they've got to be totally crushed.'

‘As long as they don't crush the POWs along with the Japs,' Evie said, rather apprehensively. ‘Oh, Percy, I pray for Toby every night and now I'm praying that the whole war will end soon, not just half of it.'

Percy gave a queer look which Evie found hard to interpret, but he said nothing until they stood outside the shop whilst Evie fished her key out and fumbled it into the lock. She turned to him to say good night and to thank him for his company, and would have slipped inside, but Percy stopped her with a hand on her arm. ‘Hang on a minute, Evie. I've asked you, in the past, to be my girl. I've said I want to marry you when the war's over, but you've always pushed me back. I know you've been out with several other fellers but they've always assumed you was going to be serious wi' me. Tell me, queen, are you hoping that this Toby . . . I mean, is it him . . . ?'

Evie interrupted, feeling her face begin to grow hot. ‘I just
told
you, he's Seraphina's feller,' she said furiously. ‘Would I try to take my sister's feller, Percy? No, I would
not
, even if I could, which just isn't possible. Seraphina's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my whole life; she could have any man she wanted and I'm sure she wants Toby, so if you want to stay friends with me, Percy Baldwin, don't even think such a thing.'

When she had gone, Percy stuck his hands in his pockets and whistled, thoughtfully, beneath his breath. Poor little Evie! She could say what she liked; it was plain as a pikestaff to Percy that Evie had had a crush on her sister's boyfriend and he suspected that this had turned into something much warmer, simply because of the old adage, ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder.' But if Seraphina's marriage really was going to break up, then it was highly likely that the girl would go back to her first love. And then, Percy told himself, I must seize my opportunity. After all, I've loved Evie for ages, and though of course I've been out with a dozen or so girls in the last two or three years, none of them has ever meant as much to me as Evie has.

He remembered her as a skinny little kid with a crumpled Pekinese face and a quantity of lank brown hair. When that face had changed to near beauty, he had no idea, for it had been a gradual process; he just knew it had happened. Her large brown eyes, thickly fringed with black lashes, her small, straight nose and V-shaped mouth, and the smooth oval of her face had enchanted others beside himself. Oh, there were more obviously pretty girls; both Seraphina and Angela with their golden curls, bright blue eyes and rose petal complexions were probably considered better looking, but to Percy – and a good few others – there was something about Evie which transcended mere prettiness. He thought perhaps it was a certain sweetness of expression, a mischievous twinkle, plus a good deal of liveliness, that attracted him so much.