Now the War Is Over (39 page)

‘You still gardening?’ She wanted to keep things light, to talk about him and not about herself.

Reggie nodded. ‘Just started at the college – at Worcester. They’re training me.’ At this, he looked happy, and proud. ‘I’m just back for a few days,
that’s all.’

‘You like it then?’

‘Yeah. I do,’ he said. ‘Suits me fine – best thing that could’ve happened. And you, Melly . . .’ He looked more closely at her. His eyes seemed to drink her
in. For a second a pulse of excitement passed through her, before she forced it away. For heaven’s sake. But she saw how manly Reggie’s face was these days, the jaw more pronounced.
There was shyness in his eyes, but also concern. ‘Our mom said you left the hospital – that you had a bit of a . . . Well, that you weren’t well.’

Again she felt her cheeks burn red. Why did it feel so shameful to admit that you hadn’t been well? At least, that kind of not well – when it was in your head.

‘I, er . . .’ She hesitated, looking across at the lady selling her bottles of pungent perfume,
Cologne de Paris
. ‘I was a bit poorly. I’m all right now,
though.’

She folded her arms across her, as if to protect herself. Reggie was looking intently at her, listening carefully. For a moment she felt tears prickle in her eyes at seeing this old, familiar
face, his slightly lopsided smile. But she made herself smile.

‘I’m back here for the moment, any road,’ she said, putting on a cheery tone. ‘Listen, Reggie – it’s nice seeing you but I’ve got to take Dad his money.
He’s waiting . . .’

‘All right,’ he said, with seeming reluctance. ‘Ta-ra then.’

She walked fast back across the market with her head down and did not turn back.

They did not go for a drink that evening. By closing time Gladys was close to collapse so they all went straight home. Given the state of her house, it was clear that Gladys
was going to have to live with them.

‘She’ll have to have Tommy’s room,’ Rachel said, obviously put out by Gladys’s appearance. ‘You can go on the put-you-up down here for a few days, can’t
you, Tommy?’

Gladys, to everyone’s astonishment, went to bed like a lamb.

‘She must be bad,’ Rachel said, once she was settled up there. She closed the kitchen door and turned to Danny. ‘I s’pose she’ll have to stay here for a bit, the
state she’s in.’

‘She can’t go back there,’ Danny said. ‘The whole ceiling’s fallen in. It’s an absolute bloody mess. She’ll have to stop with us.’

Melly saw her mother digest this. She knew Mom was not keen on living with Gladys again.

‘Danny.’ Rachel stood with her hands on her hips. ‘We haven’t the room any more. I don’t want us to live like beans in a can again. She’ll have to find
somewhere else. Soon as she’s better. Are you listening to me?’

Danny was leaning over the table, eyeing the paper. ‘Yeah – all right, wench. Yeah.’

On the Monday afternoon, Melly drifted along Harborne High Street, gathering bits of shopping: more bread, a pot of jam, buns, potatoes. A household of eight always seemed to
need something from the shops.

She was glad to get out of the house. Sometimes when it was fine she went out and caught a bus, sat in a park where it was peaceful, just to get away.

It was bad enough sharing a room with Sandra again, who was always on at her for something. But Melly was the one who usually ended up chivvying Kev, Ricky and Sandra to get ready for school and
walking the two youngest ones there as well. Sandra was a chatterbox and seldom stopped rattling on and Ricky was just dreamy and never got going in time. Most days he was dragging along the street
still doing up his clothes.

She had also been looking after Gladys, who was feverish and had a bad chesty cough. And Mom and Dad had been having more of their ding-dongs since Gladys arrived.

Last night, Dad had been on about getting another stall – in London.

‘Are you
mad
, Danny?’ Rachel was off straight away. ‘What the hell’re you on about? We can only just manage the one you’ve got here – all that
running about to Somerset and down to London. What d’you want to go piling it on for – eh? We’ve got enough coming in.’

‘You have to diversify. That’s business!’ Her father stood in the kitchen, shirt hanging out of his trousers, waving his arms around so he nearly took Kev’s head off.

‘Apart from anything,’ Rachel said, ‘it’s all owned by them Jewish lads down there. That time you went down and everything was shut, remember? Jewish holiday. Says it
all, doesn’t it.’

‘They’re all right, those lads,’ Danny said. ‘I do business with ’em all the time.’

‘They’d run rings round you, Danny. You don’t believe me, I know – but they would. Closed shop, they are – they look after their own. You’re best off where
you are.’

Rachel moved away to cook his fry-up, as if the argument was already closed. Which in a way it was because they’d never agree and Mom was usually right.

But it wasn’t over because then she turned from the spitting frying pan and said, ‘And anyway – I was thinking, it’s time I learned to drive.’

It wasn’t just Dad – everyone in the room looked startled.

‘
You?
’ Danny said. ‘Drive?’ He sank on to a chair as if the very idea had floored him and grinned at her.

‘What d’you mean
you
?’ Rachel was on her high horse immediately. She wielded a spatula in his direction. ‘What’s wrong with that? Even our Tommy’s
driving so why the hell shouldn’t I?’

Tommy was still getting the hang of his three-wheeler. He had been very nervous at first, but Melly could see he was enjoying the freedom of it.

Danny shook his head. ‘Lady drivers . . .’ He was half serious, half teasing, but Rachel didn’t see it that way.

‘Ladies don’t drive cars,’ Ricky announced, not especially helpfully.

Mom was off. ‘Oh, don’t they? For heaven’s sake, Danny, what about Cissy? That baby sister of mine’s been swanning about in a car for ages. And Mrs Hipkiss along the road
drives the car all the time – and that Mrs Robb – she’s got her
own
car.’

‘Well, she’s a widow,’ Danny pointed out, ‘so there ain’t no one to stop her.’

‘For God’s sake!’ Rachel erupted. ‘Of course ladies drive – what about all that lot in the war?’

Sometimes, even in this house which was a palace compared to the yard in Aston, it still felt as if there were too many people in it. Melly found herself aching for the peace of her room in the
nurses’ home.

She went home, carrying her few bits of shopping. Outside the house was parked a smart red car. She frowned. Whose could that be?

She could hear Gladys coughing upstairs and voices from the back. Mom was home from the school, but who else was here? She shouldered the kitchen door open.

‘Mom, whose is that—?’

Sitting with Mom at the table was Reggie Morrison.

‘Oh!’ Melly stalled, startled.

‘Look who’s here,’ Rachel said. ‘Put the kettle on again, will you, wench. He’s only just arrived. He went to see Auntie – didn’t you, bab? – and
found she was over here. That’s nice of you, Reggie.’

‘All right, Reggie,’ Melly said, taking refuge in filling the kettle and unpacking the shopping.

‘I thought I’d call on her before I go,’ Reggie said. He seemed flustered.

‘To the college?’ Melly said. She found herself very conscious of her clothes, the same boring old rags: grey skirt, white blouse, black shoes. She had her hair just scraped up
anyhow. She wished it didn’t matter but she felt plain and drab.

‘Yes – I’m going back on Thursday,’ he said.

Melly nodded, not looking at him.

‘Your mother all right?’ Rachel asked. ‘And Mo?’

‘Yeah – they’re all right,’ Reggie said. ‘Jonny’s home – nose in a book all the time as usual. Mom says you can’t get a word out of him and when
you do you can’t understand it!’

Gladys laughed. After Jonny had done his National Service, he had gone to Birmingham University to study history. He was now completing his training to be a teacher.

‘He’s got his exams any day now, ‘Reggie said.

‘Rather him than me,’ Rachel said. Melly felt a prickle of irritation. Why was Mom so down on anyone who tried to do anything different?

‘Good for him,’ Melly said, getting the teapot ready. She was glad to have something to be in charge of. It made her feel less awkward with Reggie being there. After all, it was
Auntie he had come to see. Gladys was ‘auntie’ to all the Morrison kids as well as to her.

‘Someone had to get the brains,’ Reggie said.

‘Have a cake with your tea, Reggie?’ Rachel asked. ‘Did you get buns, Melly?’

‘Chelseas,’ Melly said. ‘And Auntie’s cream horn.’

‘Oh, no – you’re all right,’ Reggie said. ‘I’m not hungry, ta.’

‘I don’t think Auntie’ll be up to eating that,’ Rachel said. ‘You have it, love – keep you going.’

‘Oh – all right then, if you’re sure.’

They drank their tea and talked about the families. Reggie was very interested in Tommy’s car.

‘Fancy him getting one of them,’ he said. ‘That’s nice for him.’

‘He’ll be back soon – you can see it,’ Rachel said. ‘You could have one, couldn’t you?’

Reggie blushed. Melly felt very annoyed with Mom – she could see he didn’t like being put in the same camp as Tommy.

‘Don’t need one,’ he said. ‘I can drive an ordinary car.’ He jerked his head with a shy grin. ‘It’s parked out there.’

‘Oh,’ Rachel said. ‘Yes. Course. I was thinking you’d come on the bus.’

So that was Reggie’s! Melly thought. It was hard even now to remember how much money Mo and Dolly had going spare. They had been very careful with it.

‘You’ve got a nice bit of garden here, haven’t you?’ Reggie said. ‘You can grow your own stuff. Our dad’s gone mad on it with that big patch they’ve
got. He reckons he’s grown the biggest swedes in the whole street this year.’

Melly wrinkled her nose. She was not keen on swede. Mom and Dad had never got round to planting anything in their strip of back garden. But she was intrigued. Reggie had changed.

‘Nothing by halves, our Mo,’ Rachel said. She pushed herself up from the table. ‘’Scuse me a tick.’

Melly felt herself tense as her mother left the room. She and Reggie were silent for a moment. She became acutely aware of his physical presence at the end of the table, the shape of his
shoulders, the hairs on his arm below his rolled sleeve, as it rested on the table.

‘I, er . . .’ Reggie said. He glanced at the door. She could see he wanted to speak quickly, before Mom came back. ‘I’m off on Thursday, as I say.’ As he spoke he
was looking at the tablecloth’s red-and-white checks. ‘I’ve got a couple of days free. I was thinking, as you’re . . . Well, you know, you’re at home, like –
whether you’d fancy a day out somewhere?’

Melly’s heart slammed into panicky thudding.

‘I . . .’ she began. ‘I . . . That’s nice of you, Reggie. But I can’t. I’m at work the next three days – at Pearce’s shop. Those are the days I
do.’

‘Oh.’ He looked disillusioned. She realized that not only had she said she couldn’t come with him, she had also sounded as if she didn’t want to. In fact she was not at
all sure that she
did
want to, but she felt terrible for hurting his feelings.

‘Well . . .’ Reggie was red-faced now. She was touched. ‘What about today? Now, like? Have you got anything else on?’

‘No,’ she had to admit. A pain went through her. She could not make sense of it, how it felt. It was a long time since she had felt anything much. ‘No, I haven’t.’
She looked across at him. Even though a part of her was desperate to run and hide, he was being kind and she couldn’t turn him down. ‘All right, then.’

‘Fancy going out to the Lickeys?’ Reggie said as they stepped out of the house. He lit a cigarette. Now that they were alone he seemed nervous again.

‘All right.’

‘Here we are then.’

She looked more closely at his red sports car – a sleek, low-slung creation with headlamps like peeping eyes – and a chuckle burst out of her.

‘What’s so funny?’ Reggie sounded rather wounded. He was opening the passenger door for her.

‘It’s just – you know, any of us having a car like this. Is it a Daimler?’

‘Austin-Healey – it’s called a Bugeye Sprite,’ he said. ‘Dad gave me most of the money for it.’

Melly giggled, settling herself in the car’s tight little space. ‘It’s like Cissy’s. Hers is a Daimler, I think she said – and it’s white.’

‘Cissy’s got a car like this?’ Reggie said, astonished.

‘Her husband bought it for her, if you please – they’re rolling in it.’

Reggie laughed then, as he slammed the door and started up the throbbing engine. ‘Blimey – trust Cissy. She always had an eye for the main chance, that one.’

Melly looked at him in surprise. It was news to her that he had ever even noticed Cissy.

She felt lighter at heart as Reggie turned towards Selly Oak and then out along the Bristol Road towards the Lickey Hills. It was nice to get out – and to do it with some company for a
change instead of sitting in parks alone, locked into her own moods.

They didn’t talk a lot. It was too much effort against the force of the wind with the car roof down. She had tied her hair up, but even in the low seat, the force of the wind billowed bits
of it round her face and her cheeks felt battered by it. She felt freer and suddenly more alive than she had in ages. It was a relief to feel something good, after the numbness that had taken her
over.

Now and then, as they roared along, Reggie glanced at her. When she looked back, they smiled. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the movement of Reggie’s thighs as he worked the
pedals. He felt at once foreign to her and overwhelmingly familiar. It was all very strange. But she began to relax.

Once they had parked, he said, ‘Well – how about a walk? Then I’ll take you to the tea rooms, if there’s time.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘All right. But . . .’ She looked at him, awkward now.

‘It’s all right,’ he said, dignified. ‘I can walk. Just not as fast as some.’