As the morning wore on, the table bearing the food began to sag beneath the weight of pastries and pies that the neighbours had donated. There were homemade pickles and cakes, and enough sausagemeat baked into little pastry cases to feed an army, as Mrs Massey declared. Maggie looked at the vast array of food. For months they had all learned to do without as the rationing grew stricter, and yet here she was confronted with a feast that she knew she couldn’t touch. At the moment, everything she tried to eat seemed to lodge in her throat and threatened to choke her.
Her eyes were swollen from crying and so were Sam’s, but not for the same reason. The day before, his call-up papers had dropped through the letterbox and he’d been a quivering mess ever since, not that Maggie much cared. All she could think of was saying goodbye to the father she had adored. Bill Sharp had been a kind man, greatly admired and respected by friends and family alike, as the many floral tributes that were being laid by the front door testified. Maggie had begged her mother over the last week to stay with them but Ellen had steadfastly refused whilst her father was still lying in the house.
‘At least I can still talk to him at the minute, even if he don’t talk back,’ was her only reply, and in the end Maggie gave up asking. If truth be told she was desperately worried about her mam. Since the night of her father’s death she hadn’t seen her shed so much as a single tear, and to her mind that wasn’t healthy.
‘She’s bottlin’ it all up inside,’ Mrs Massey said when Maggie expressed her concerns. ‘An’ that ain’t a good thing. It’ll have to find release somewhere, an’ the longer it stays inside the worse it will be, you just mark my words.’
Maggie tended to agree with her. They had since learned that fifteen other souls had perished on the night of the bombings and there had been a steady stream of funerals all week.
‘Word has it that they have a large amount o’ cardboard coffins ready an’ waitin fer the next time,’ Mrs Massey had informed her, and Maggie had shuddered at the thought. It seemed so undignified somehow, to be buried in a cardboard coffin. At least her father was being laid to rest in a sturdy oak casket, which gave her some comfort. He had always paid into a small funeral insurance fund and thankfully, that would pay for most of the expense.
At twelve o’clock sharp a shiny black hearse pulled up outside the house and the undertakers disappeared inside to screw down the coffin lid before reverently carrying it out to the hearse for its final journey.
Mrs Massey, who was staying behind to look after Lucy and get the tea ready for when the mourners got back, pushed Maggie towards the door. ‘Go on, love. Go an’ say yer goodbyes. The little ’un will be fine with me.’
Looking incredibly pretty in a little black hat and a smart two-piece suit that her mother had insisted she should have, Maggie pulled on her gloves, then, taking the twins by the hand, she marched towards the door with Sam close behind her.
William Sharp was laid to rest following a short, dignified service in Swanshill Evangelical Baptist Church. As Maggie threw a clod of earth down onto the coffin lid she knew that a little part of her would be buried with him. Her mother stood dry-eyed at the side of the grave, and when it was over, Maggie gently took her arm and led her away to the feast that awaited them at home. Up until now, Coventry had been subjected to only one air raid, yet that one raid had changed her life forever. She wondered briefly what the next one might bring, and shuddered involuntarily at the thought.
‘Oh, come on, Mam,
please
. You’ve got to eat something. You’ve lost so much weight you’ll slip down a gap in the pavement at this rate. I’ve made you a shepherd’s pie for your dinner - look.’
Ellen Sharp continued to polish the long mahogany sideboard in her front room as she smiled at her daughter over her shoulder. ‘I’ll have it later, love. Just leave it in the kitchen, would yer?’
Maggie sighed. It was now over a week since they’d buried her father and it seemed that ever since, her mother had spent her hours cleaning everything in sight. It was as if something were possessing her and she couldn’t sit still for more than two minutes at a time.
‘Mam. I defy anyone to find so much as a single scrap of dust in this whole house. You were even outside washing the dustbin earlier on, an’ don’t bother to deny it ’cos Mrs Hughes saw you doing it. Now
please
come an’ sit down an’ talk to me, eh? The twins were askin’ after you earlier on. They wonder when you’ll be comin’ to see them. We only live across the road, you know.’
When she snatched the duster from her mother’s hand, Ellen sighed before following her into the kitchen. But even then she didn’t sit down but began to smooth out an imaginary crease in the fringed chenille tablecloth.
Maggie sighed as she filled the kettle at the spotlessly clean stone sink. She’d been wondering if she should go back to work, but while her mother was behaving like this she was afraid to leave her on her own. It was as she was straining the tea into pretty china cups that an idea occurred to her. Perhaps going back to work wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.
‘Mam,’ she said cautiously as she placed the teapot on the table, ‘I was wondering - do you think you might be able to start looking after the children again for me soon? The thing is, money’s a bit tight and it’ll be down to me once Sam has gone off to camp. Not that he’s bringing anything in at the minute. We’re getting by on a wing and a prayer at present but I can’t go back until you feel up to babysitting again.’
A host of emotions flitted across Ellen’s face. Since losing Bill she had barely ventured out of the house. She felt closer to him there, yet she didn’t like to think of Maggie struggling.
‘When were yer thinkin’ o’ going back?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Well, Sam’s going next week so the sooner the better, really. If you think you’re up to it, that is.’
A picture of the twins and Lucy flashed before Ellen’s eyes. She knew that she’d neglected them all shamefully since the funeral. Perhaps it was time to try and get back to some sort of normality?
‘All right then. But couldn’t you just go part-time for a while? Just till I get properly back on me feet again?’
‘I don’t see why not. The way things are at the minute, they’re glad of any hours people can do at the munitions factory,’ Maggie replied. ‘Things are getting worse, if the wireless and the newspapers are anything to go by. They reckon the Royal Navy destroyed a large part of the French fleet while it lay at anchor in Algeria this week, to stop it falling into enemy hands. Problem was, they killed a thousand French sailors in the process. Winston Churchill says he deeply regretted the action but felt he was left with no choice. I ask you - where is it all going to end?’
‘It already
has
ended for me. Or it might as well have done. I just wish me an’ your dad could have gone together.’
‘Oh, Mam! Don’t talk like that. Dad would turn in his grave if he could hear you. An’ what about me an’ the children? You’ve still got us, and what would we do without you, eh?’
Sipping at her tea, Ellen raised a sad smile. ‘Go on, love, you get yerself off home now. The little ’uns will be screamin’ fer their tea by now, if I know ’em.’
‘Are you sure you’ll be all right?’ Maggie’s voice was heavy with concern as she slowly drained her cup and rose from the table.
‘Right as ninepence.’
After planting a kiss on her mother’s pale cheek, Maggie made her way back across the road. She found Sam in the kitchen with his head in his hands, and inexplicably, she felt a pang of sympathy for him. It was more than obvious that he deeply regretted signing up, and it was also obvious that the thought of going to war terrified him. But what could she do about it? The answer came back to her: absolutely nothing! He had made his bed, and to use her mother’s term, now he would have to lie on it.
Keeping her voice gentle, she asked, ‘Would you like me to get you anything?’
Lucy was sitting on the hearthrug and she could hear the sounds of the twins playing with the neighbour’s children in the back yard.
‘What? Oh no. No, thanks. I could murder a pint though. I don’t suppose you’ve got a few bob to spare, have yer?’
In that moment, had she had any spare cash she would have given it to him willingly, but as it was, she barely had enough to see them through the week.
‘Sorry, Sam, I’m afraid I haven’t, but don’t look so glum. Things might turn out to be not quite as bad as you expect, once you get there.’
‘Huh! It ain’t the trainin’ bit I’m bothered about. It’s where they’ll send me once the trainin’s over that worries me. You’ve heard the horror stories on the wireless. Men are getting their heads blown off every day. It’d be just my luck if I copped it the first day out there.’
At that moment Danny exploded into the kitchen, and as Maggie turned to face him, a wave of love washed over her. With his hair tousled and his socks slipped down round his ankles, he looked adorable.
‘Look at this ally, Dad! Me an Neil from up the way have been playin’ marbles an’ I won it off him.’ He extended a grubby hand in which nestled a large glass marble for his father’s inspection, but when no comment was forthcoming and his father merely gazed off into space he looked at Maggie.
‘Ain’t me dad very well, Mam?’ he muttered falteringly.
At that minute, Lizzie, who was never more than a few steps behind her brother, also burst into the kitchen. Maggie gave Danny a reassuring smile. She knew that the twins missed their grandad dreadfully. They all did, if it came to that, but she was discovering that life had to go on and was doing her best to cope.
‘Your dad’s fine,’ she said. ‘Now come on, the pair of you. Get to the sink and wash yer hands an’ I’ll rustle us all up some dinner, eh?’
Danny trudged to the sink and half-heartedly twiddled his hands beneath the tap, but all the time he kept a cautious eye on his father. Dinner was a gloomy affair and Maggie was glad when it was over and she could send the children back out to play. As she stood washing up the pots she thought how much lighter the atmosphere would be when Sam finally did go, and guilt made her cheeks grow hot. What was she thinking of? As Sam had quite rightly pointed out, men were being killed every day, some of them no more than boys. He might never come home, so why then, she wondered, didn’t she feel anything? She pushed the thought away and moved on to her next chore.
The following day, Maggie visited the factory and hurried inside to talk to May, who was only too happy to welcome her back with open arms.
‘I was sorry to hear about yer dad, love,’ she sympathised, and Maggie thought that perhaps she wasn’t as bad as everyone made out, after all. It was as she was leaving the factory that Jo spotted her and hastily rose from her machine to follow Maggie outside.
‘I er . . . I heard what happened to yer dad an’ I just want to say I’m sorry.’ She shuffled from foot to foot in the bright sunshine, avoiding Maggie’s eyes as she spoke.
‘Thank you. It was a shock, as you can imagine, but I’ve decided to come back to work next week. Sam has signed up. He leaves on Monday an’ I’ll be back in on Tuesday. To be honest, I’ll need the money to keep the wolf from the door. But how are things with you?’
‘So so.’ Jo blushed beetroot red, and as she raised her head, Maggie saw that her lip was split.
‘Was it yer dad or a client that did that?’ she asked softly.
‘It was me dad. I told him I weren’t goin’ out on the streets again, but he had other ideas. I tell yer, I wish it was
him
that was goin’ away instead o’ your Sam - an’ I wish they’d blow him to smithereens. He’s a bastard!’ Her voice was so loaded with hatred that for a moment Maggie was speechless. Standing there, Jo looked very young without her paint and powder on, and Maggie’s heart ached for her.
‘Look - why don’t you come round and see me one night next week?’ She hadn’t intended to invite Jo to her home. Somehow the words had just slipped out and there was no going back.
‘Why should I do that?’
‘Well, the thing is, I’ve just sorted Lizzie’s wardrobe out an’ I have a number of skirts and jumpers that might come in for one of your little sisters. The other thing is, I’ll be glad of a bit of company of a night, when Sam’s gone an’ the children are all in bed.’
Jo stared at her suspiciously for a moment before muttering, ‘Do yer
really
want a prostitute in yer home?’
‘I know I was hard on you when I first found out,’ Maggie told her apologetically, ‘but the thing is - you’re not doing it because you want to, are you? From what you’ve told me, you don’t have much choice.’
‘Yer got that right.’ Jo kicked at a stone and then her face broke into a rare smile. ‘If yer sure then? I’ll do that. I’ll pay fer the clothes though, if there’s anythin’ that’ll fit the little ’uns.’
In that instant, Maggie realised that Jo had pride and she admired her for it.
‘Well, we’ll see, eh? We’ll sort out what night’s best for you when I get back to work next week. Meantime, I’d better go home else the children will be playing merry hell. You take care now.’
As she walked away, Jo felt a lump rise in her throat. She’d never allowed herself to have a friend before because of her circumstances. She had always been afraid of what they might think of her, if they should discover what she did at nights. And yet here was Maggie inviting her to her home regardless. With an uncharacteristic spring in her step she turned and hurried away back to her machine.
‘Cor, Mam, this looks lovely!’ Danny’s eyes shone greedily as he looked at the lovely meal Maggie had laid out on the table. It was the day before his dad was due to leave and Maggie had pulled out all the stops to present Sam with a Sunday dinner that he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. It had been no mean feat. She had begged and borrowed from different people, but now it all seemed worth it as the twins gazed down at the loaded plates approvingly. There was juicy roast beef with crispy Yorkshire puddings, and cabbage and carrots all piled on top of roast potatoes cooked just the way Sam liked them.