Gertie stood on the doorstep, straightening her shoulders and tugging down the jacket of her brown uniform. She had been surprised at how quickly she’d been able to sell the smallholding, the nearest farmer taking it on along with the animals. He had taken Bertie on too, and she still missed her little dog. Ellen had written just in time to thank her for sending the books, but soon after that Gertie had left Somerset behind.
With her training over, this was the first chance she’d had to travel to London, but now Gertie hesitated before ringing the doorbell. She’d sent a letter with a return address, but Hilda hadn’t replied. Did that mean she wanted her to stay away? Or would she be pleased to see her? The December morning was chilly; the cold wind swirled around her legs as Gertie finally found the courage to ring the bell.
It was Ellen who opened the door, her eyes lighting up with pleasure. ‘Gertie!’
‘Hello, darling, and look at you. You’re almost grown up.’
‘I’m thirteen now.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry it’s late, but I’ve brought your present.’
Ellen smiled with delight as she took the package, and Gertie was struck by the change in her. She had small, burgeoning breasts, but other than that she looked gangly and coltish now, with long, thin legs; her dark hair was cut short and framed her pretty face.
‘Mum, Gertie’s here,’ Ellen called as she reached out a hand to take Gertie’s, pulling her inside.
They crossed the small hall into the living room, Hilda saying when she saw Gertie, ‘Well, look what the cat dragged in.’
Gertie had been holding her breath, but there was no trace of animosity in Hilda’s tone. Relieved, she said, ‘This is my first leave and I wanted to bring Ellen her birthday present.’
‘It seems funny to see you in a skirt,’ Hilda commented.
‘Don’t you like it?’ Gertie asked, removing her peaked hat.
‘It’s all right, but I can’t say the same for those shoes.’
Gertie looked down at her shiny, black lace-ups, hating the way the just-below-knee-length skirt
showed her fat ankles and chunky legs. ‘Yes, well, they aren’t the most flattering.’
‘Sit down, Gertie.’
‘All right, but I can’t stay long.’
‘Oh, thanks, Gertie,’ Ellen said smiling with delight as she unwrapped the book. ‘Look, Mum, it’s tips on gardening.’
‘Very nice,’ Hilda said dryly. ‘Anyway, Gertie, how are you enjoying life in the ATS?’
‘What does ATS stand for?’ asked Ellen.
‘Auxiliary Territorial Service,’ Gertie told her, ‘and I love it. I’m a driver now but, after Ned, learning to drive a car took some getting used to. I also had to learn all about what’s under the bonnet – the carburettor and cam shaft to name a couple of things.’
‘Sounds like double Dutch to me. I’m working in an engineering factory making parts for military vehicles, but I don’t know what they are.’
‘You didn’t answer my letter and I’ve been a bit worried about you. Is everything all right?’
‘Mum lost the baby,’ Ellen said.
‘Baby! What baby?’
‘I came back to London to find myself pregnant, but…but I miscarried.’
‘I’m so sorry. It must have been dreadful.’
‘Doug wrote to say that he was dead chuffed I was having a baby, but then I had to write again
to say I’d lost it. I haven’t had a letter from him since then and dread to think how he took it.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be more concerned about you,’ Gertie said consolingly.
Hilda’s eyes suddenly welled with tears. ‘Yeah, maybe, but can we talk about something else?’
Gertie fumbled for something to say and turned to Ellen, asking, ‘What happened to your hair? It’s very short now.’
‘Nits,’ Ellen told her.
‘Oh, dear,’ Gertie murmured.
‘She picked them up not long after starting school,’ Hilda said. ‘I have to use a steel comb regularly now and it’s less painful when it’s that length.’
‘They weren’t half itchy,’ Ellen complained.
‘I bet,’ Gertie said, then turning to Hilda again, ‘I’ve got another bit of news. My father died last month.’
‘Did he? I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘Hilda, there’s no need to pretend. I know how you felt about my father and I don’t blame you.’
‘Yeah, well, despite everything, he was still your dad.’
‘I hadn’t seen him for years, and though we had an awful relationship I must admit I did shed a tear. Not only that, despite everything he said, all the vitriol thrown at me, he still left me as his heir.’
‘What? That great big house is yours now?’
‘Yes, and a fair bit of money, but I don’t ever
want to live in that place again. If it survives this war, I’ll sell it.’
‘You’ll be stinking rich.’
‘Maybe, but money can’t buy you happiness,’ Gertie said sadly.
‘Only those who have got a few bob come out with that cherry.’
‘Yes, I suppose so. Anyway, where’s Socks?’
‘He went off soon after we got here.’
‘I looked and looked for him,’ Ellen said, ‘but he never came back.’
‘What a shame. I miss Bertie so know you must miss Socks too.’
‘I do, but Mum won’t let me have another cat.’
‘I have enough of a problem finding enough meat for us, without having to feed an animal too. Now go and fill the kettle. I expect Gertie will want a cup of tea.’
‘No, it’s all right; in fact, I’ve got to go now,’ Gertie said as she glanced at her watch.
‘What, already? You’ve only just got here.’
‘This is the first chance I’ve had to make an appointment to see my father’s solicitor and it’s at two o’clock. I don’t know how long I’ll be with him, and I’m due back on base at five.’
‘It’s Saturday. Haven’t you got the weekend off?’
‘I’m afraid there’s no nine to five in the army, Hilda. It doesn’t work like that and I’m on duty tonight.’
Ellen ran up to Gertie, throwing thin arms around her waist. ‘Will you come again soon?’
‘I don’t know, darling. I’m based in England at the moment, but I could be sent abroad at any time.’
Hilda stood up too. ‘It’s been nice to see you, Gertie.’
‘Do you mean that?’
‘Yeah, I mean it.’
Gertie knew that she daren’t touch Hilda, that this fragile thread of friendship could still be easily broken. ‘Thanks, Hilda, but I really must go now.’
Hilda and Ellen walked her to the door, saying goodbye, and Gertie lifted a hand to wave as she walked away. They still felt like her family and it had been nice to see them, but somehow the visit had emphasised how her life had already moved forward. She had made a few new friends in the ATS, one a bit special, but it was early days yet and she had at last learned to be cautious.
‘It was lovely to see Gertie,’ Ellen said. ‘I love my book and I think she looks nice in her uniform.’
‘She was only here for about ten minutes, but, yes, it was nice to see her.’
‘It’s only me,’ Mabel called. ‘Did I just see a woman in uniform leaving?’
‘If you had your nose pinned to the window, yes,’ Hilda said. ‘It was Gertie.’
‘I was just looking outside to see what the weather was like,’ Mabel protested. ‘I’m off to the shops and thought you might need a few things too.’
‘I do, but it’ll probably be a waste of time trying to find anything. Are you coming, Ellen?’
‘Can I go to play with Lucy?’
‘I suppose so,’ Hilda agreed, thinking her daughter was more in Dora’s place than their own. Ellen was taking Bible lessons too now, and, though it irritated Hilda when she went on and on about the church and Jesus, her daughter was happy and that was all that mattered.
‘Are you coming or not?’ Mabel asked impatiently.
‘Yeah, sorry, I was miles away. I’ll just get my coat.’
The three of them left, pausing at Dora’s while Ellen knocked on the door, and, as soon as Lucy let her in, they walked swiftly on in an attempt to keep warm.
‘After what you told me when you came back from Somerset, Hilda, I’m surprised you kept in touch with Gertie.’
‘I didn’t answer her letters, but I’m sorry for that now.’
‘Don’t be daft. You should have sent her off with a flea in her ear!’
‘Ellen was so pleased to see her.’
‘I still think you should tell her to get lost.’
‘No, Mabel. I’ve had lots of time to think about it now. Gertie hasn’t had much of a life and has only known years of unhappiness. She was living like a recluse, and if I hadn’t asked her to put us up, none of it would have happened.’
‘That doesn’t make it right.’
‘Look, I don’t like Gertie’s preferences and find them abhorrent, but in a way I understand why her feelings were misplaced. We were with her for a long time, hardly saw anyone, and only had each other, along with Ellen for company. If there had been more people around, Gertie might have met someone of her own type, and I hope she does that now.’
‘Yeah, it would get her off your back.’
Hilda knew that Mabel would never approve of Gertie, few people did. It would always be hard for Gertie, and even if she did meet someone it would have to be a relationship that remained hidden. Would Gertie ever find happiness? Hilda didn’t know, but they went back a long way and, despite what had happened, she hoped Gertie would.
Ellen turned over in bed and burrowed under the blankets, unwilling to get up and face the cold. Christmas was over, and Ellen wasn’t happy. Her mum had put up a few decorations, but now that she’d learned the meaning of the celebrations, Ellen thought they should have done more. Her mum refused to pray before dinner too, and despite Dora telling her not to give up – that she should go on talking to her mother about the church and Jesus – Ellen felt that no matter how hard she tried, her mum was never going to listen.
She had asked the pastor why her mum’s prayer to save the baby hadn’t been answered. He’d said it was to do with faith, that you had to believe in the Lord, trust in him to answer your prayers and he would. The pastor had then gone on to say that we don’t always get what we ask for, and if that happens we have to accept God’s will, leaving Ellen more confused than ever.
Ellen burrowed down further. She had faith, she believed in Jesus, but he still didn’t answer her prayers. She had begged Jesus to bring her dad home for Christmas, but it hadn’t worked. Maybe it was because she still hadn’t felt that strange born-again thing they talked about in church? She would have to try harder, and, clutching the crucifix, Ellen closed her eyes, praying and hoping Jesus was listening.
Hilda looked at the scant Christmas decorations and decided to take them down. They were only just into the New Year, yet she wasn’t superstitious, and what a New Year it had been. Mabel had somehow got hold of a bottle of gin, probably from Harry, and when the kids were in bed they had seen 1944 in together, both getting tipsy and both sorry for it the next morning. Still, it had been a laugh and Hilda was a little happier now, the loss of her baby growing easier with the passing of time.
Queues for food were growing ever longer, and these days if Hilda saw one she just joined it without even knowing what the shop had just got in until word passed down the line. She longed to see Doug. He had been upset to hear that she’d lost the baby, but more concerned about her recovery, and though his letters were sometimes infrequent, at least he was alive. With so many
women losing their husbands and sons, at least Hilda knew she had that to be thankful for. It was early on a Saturday morning and, as Ellen was still in bed, Hilda dragged a chair forward, deciding to get on with it. She had almost finished and was reaching for the last chain when Ellen appeared.
‘Mum, what are you doing?’
‘Ain’t it obvious?’
‘Be careful,’ Ellen cautioned, running forward to grab the back of the chair as it wobbled.
‘There, done it,’ Hilda said as the last chain floated down and she stepped cautiously onto the floor.
There was a knock on the door now and Ellen said, ‘I’ll get it.’
‘No, you’re still in your pyjamas,’ Hilda protested. She crossed the hall to open it, her knees almost caving when she saw the young man standing on the step.
‘Sorry, missus,’ he said, thrusting the envelope forward and then turning to hurry back to his bicycle.
‘Oh, no…no!’ Hilda cried as she stared at the envelope.
‘Mum, what is it? What’s wrong?’
‘I…I can’t. I can’t open it,’ she sobbed, staggering back to the living room and collapsing onto a chair.
Ellen had never seen her mother like this, her whole body shaking, something falling from her hand and fluttering to the floor. Ellen ran to pick it up, her stomach turning a somersault. A telegram! Her eyes flew to her mother again, frightened by what she saw.
‘Mum, are you all right? You look like you’re going to faint.’
‘Get…get Mabel.’
Heart racing, Ellen pounded up the back stairs, bursting into Mabel’s kitchen, Percy the first person she saw.
‘My…my mum…telegram…Mabel.’
‘Oh shit,’ he said. ‘Mum! Mum!’
‘Blimey, what’s all the fuss about?’
‘It’s Ellen. She said they’ve got a telegram.’
In her haste, Mabel shoved Percy aside to hurry after Ellen, saying, ‘What did the telegram say?’
‘I…I don’t know,’ but as they rushed into the living room, Ellen saw that her mother had it clutched in her hand again – but this time it was open.
‘Mabel…Oh Mabel,’ she cried. ‘It’s Doug. His ship’s been sunk.’
‘Don’t give up, love. He may have been rescued.’
With a glimmer of hope, Ellen looked at her mother, only for it to die when she sobbed, ‘The…the telegram said his ship went down with all hands lost.’
Ellen felt dizzy, pinpricks of light dancing before her eyes.
‘No, no, not my dad!’ she squealed, before sinking into a black void.
When Hilda saw her daughter collapsing onto the floor, she did her best to stand up, but felt as though her heart had been torn in two. Doug, her handsome, lovely Doug…the thought of never seeing him again more than she could bear.
‘It’s all right, I’ll see to her,’ Mabel said, gently pushing Hilda back onto the chair.
Hilda didn’t argue. In fact, she doubted her legs would support her as her whole body continued to shake with shock. She was aware that Ellen was coming round, that Mabel was helping her up. Hilda knew why her daughter had fainted. She had done the same thing when her parents had died, but this time her own pain was so overwhelming, so consuming, that she felt unable to comfort her.
Locked in her own grief, sobs began to rack Hilda’s body. She was unaware of time passing until she realised that somehow Mabel had managed to get her to her feet, one step slowly following another as she was led into her bedroom.
‘Lie down,’ Mabel urged. ‘Don’t worry about Ellen. I’ll take her to my place, settle her with the boys and then come back.’
‘No…no…I just want to be on my own.’
‘Oh, Hilda, I’m so sorry.’
Hilda was barely aware of Mabel’s hand as she gently stroked her hair, or when she later left the room. Doug, her man, the love of her life, was dead. She would never see him again, never be held in his arms, and she didn’t know how she was going to face life without him.
Why?
Hilda’s mind screamed.
Why me? First my parents, then my baby…and now this!
Mabel did her best to comfort Ellen, but the girl was distraught. Percy was white-faced as he stood watching them, Ellen clinging to her. Oh, it was dreadful, dreadful, and Mabel felt so helpless. Like all women with loved ones away, she dreaded getting a telegram, knowing that, like Hilda, she’d find it unbearable.
‘What’s the matter with her?’ Billy asked as, having just got out of bed, he strolled into the room.
‘There’s been a bit of bad news. Percy, take him through to the kitchen and tell him.’
‘What for?’ Billy complained.
‘Just do it,’ Mabel snapped.
Mabel heard the whispers, surprised when Billy appeared again, this time to say, ‘Ellen, I’m sorry to hear about your dad.’
Ellen’s arms tightened around Mabel, her sobs
increasing again. It had been nice of Billy to say that, but his sympathy had made Ellen worse.
‘Come on, darling. You’ve got to be strong for your mum’s sake.’
Ellen burrowed even closer and Mabel cursed her ineffectual, daft words. How could a thirteen-year-old girl be strong when she’d just heard that her dad was dead? Like Hilda, Mabel wasn’t much for religion, but Ellen had recently taken to going to church so perhaps Dora could help.
‘Percy, run next door and get Dora.’
Ellen continued to cling to her, but at last Percy came back, Dora with him, the woman saying, ‘Percy told me and I’m so sorry, Ellen. I can see how upset you are, but lean on Jesus and he’ll give you comfort. He loves you as he loves us all, and your father is with him in heaven now.’
Mabel felt Ellen stiffen, her eyes red and swollen as she choked, ‘If Jesus loves me he wouldn’t have let my dad die. He…he wouldn’t have taken him away from me.’
‘It’s this war, Ellen, this war that’s taken your father away from you, not Jesus.’
‘He should have stopped it then. The…the pastor said that Jesus can do anything, move mountains, and that if we believe in him, we can do anything too. Well, I did believe and I prayed to him but instead of bringing my dad home, he…he’s dead!’
‘Mabel, I think I’ll ask our pastor to come and talk to Ellen.’
‘No! No, I don’t want to see him,’ Ellen cried, unaware that she was mimicking the actions her mother had once made as she ripped the chain from her neck and threw it across the room. ‘This – this is supposed to be Jesus on the cross, but there is no Jesus! Religion is all a load of rubbish.’
‘Oh, Ellen, you don’t mean that.’
‘Yes, I do. Go away! Go away and leave me alone.’
‘Dora, I think it might be for the best,’ Mabel urged.
Sighing, Dora left, but not before saying, ‘Ellen, when you’re up to it, we’ll talk again.’
‘I…I want my mum,’ Ellen then said, pulling away from Mabel. ‘I’m going to see my mum.’
‘Ellen, no! Wait,’ Mabel called, running after her.
When Hilda heard her daughter and Mabel, she feigned sleep. She didn’t want to see them, didn’t want to see anyone. She just wanted to be alone, to lick her wounds in private, as Gertie had once said. However, unlike Gertie’s, Hilda didn’t think her wounds would ever heal. She felt as though her heart had been ripped from her body and all that remained of her was a shell. The pain of having a miscarriage had been horrendous, but it was nothing compared to the agony of losing Doug and at this moment she’d have welcomed death.
‘Come on, Ellen,’ said Mabel. ‘Your mum’s asleep and maybe it’s the best thing for her.’
‘No,’ Ellen said, and then Hilda was aware of the bed dipping, of her daughter climbing up beside her, arms wrapping around her body. She sobbed, turning to cling to Ellen, barely aware of Mabel creeping from the room.