Secrets of the Singer Girls (29 page)

Daisy’s head started to spin as he went on.

‘They will also run checks into any dependants I might have back in the United States to ensure I can afford to keep a family. The whole process can take as long as six months, so you see,
a quick wedding before I return to base just isn’t possible. Besides which,’ he added, sadly, ‘a part of me doesn’t even dare attempt it. If they got wind that I’d got
a white woman pregnant, I reckon they’d ship me out so fast my feet wouldn’t touch the ground.’

‘Then let’s elope?’ she babbled, knowing how daft the suggestion sounded before it was even out of her mouth.

Anyone caught violating US Army procedures on marriage will be subjected to a court martial,’ Robert replied.

‘Well, I certainly don’t want you slung in jail,’ she sighed, coming down to earth with a bump. Daisy knew that even if they did find a way to cut through the red tape and get
married the next day, it would be of little use anyhow. Her desperation was clouding her judgement. Daisy was so obviously pregnant that there was no wedding dress on earth big enough to disguise
the unsavoury truth. It was simply too late. In a little over three months her baby would be born illegitimate, a dirty, disgraceful secret, at least in society’s eyes.

‘We’re out of options and time.’ Daisy sighed heavily, feeling like a condemned woman. ‘First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in a carriage.
We’ve gone about things the wrong way, Robert.’

‘I guess so,’ he replied miserably. ‘But hear this, Daisy. I love you and I am going to marry you one day. I promise you we will be together.’

With that he sat back down on the bed and took her hand in his.

She marvelled at the sight of her slight white fingers entwined in his strong brown ones.

‘Half-caste children will be harder to adopt, they say. So the longer I stay in the home can only be a good thing surely,’ she reasoned. ‘It could take months for them to find
potential parents to adopt. I can work there, in the laundry, in return for my keep. Perhaps by then the war will be over and we may get permission to wed. That’s our only hope.’

Robert shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t bank on a swift end to this war, Daisy. Trust me, Hitler’s not going to be throwing in the towel anytime soon. But I do know this: I want to
be in your life and the baby’s,’ he answered. ‘It might seem impossible, but it doesn’t mean we can’t keep trying.’

Daisy nodded, suddenly feeling quite overcome with exhaustion.

‘It means the world to at least know you do care for me and feel the way I do. I knew I wasn’t imagining it. It will give me something to cling to when the time comes
to—’ Daisy broke off.

Robert’s chocolate-brown eyes flashed with love. ‘I got you into this mess and I will get you out of it somehow,’ he vowed.

He wrapped Daisy and their unborn baby into his big, warm wool coat and planted a soft kiss on the top of her head. Snuggled safely in his arms, Daisy prayed he was right. In just a short while
Robert would be gone again, she would enter the home, and then what? Who knew what the future held for their ill-fated love affair? She was fast running out of options and time.

They stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, neither daring to utter a word. What was the point? Every conversation just seemed to lead them down a dead end, and there were more questions
than answers.

A sharp knock at the door startled them.

‘I think it’s time Robert was leaving now,’ Vera called stiffly from the other side of the door.

‘You better go,’ wept Daisy. ‘Vera will be having kittens at the thought of you in here.’

‘All right,’ he sighed, reluctantly pulling back from Daisy’s embrace and planting a gentle hand on her tummy. ‘But never forget me, dear Daisy. Wherever I end up, I
shall never forget you, or our baby.’

Sunday morning in the children’s hospital and Vera was enjoying what was always the highlight of her week. A pot of tea and some time spent with the woman whose wise
counsel she valued above all. It had been two weeks now since she and Archie had taken Daisy to the home in Suffolk, and Vera was still haunted by the memory.

‘I feel so guilty,’ Vera confided to Matron. ‘You should have seen her face when we pulled off and left her there. Didn’t help that GI turning up like that at the last
minute and unsettling her with promises he can’t possibly hope to keep.’

‘You must have felt wretched, Vera,’ replied Matron sympathetically. ‘But it was the right thing to do. You have spared her a scandal, and when she returns, she can start to
pick up the pieces of her life.’

‘I dare say,’ Vera sighed. ‘I just hope she doesn’t end up hating me for it.’

‘How could she possibly when you were acting with her best interests? And now tell me, my dear, what news of the man in
your
life?’ she enquired, raising her eyebrow a
fraction as she sipped her tea.

Vera knew she was referring to Archie, but she deliberately chose to misconstrue the question.

‘My father, you mean?’ she asked. ‘I heard from the police that he received a six-month prison term for handling stolen goods. He isn’t due for release until next April.
Daisy’s baby is expected in the middle of February, so that gives us a little breathing space to make sure things are dealt with by the time he returns. Hopefully, the rumour-mongering will
have died down by then, but I have to figure out a story to feed my father should the gossip ever reach his ears, and I better make it a good one. Goodness only knows what he’d do if he
discovered his younger daughter had an illegitimate child in his absence.’ Vera’s face paled. ‘Can you ever imagine?’

‘On this matter, have you given any thought to what we discussed before?’ asked Matron. ‘Your father may temporarily be out of your life, but your problems are not quite dead
and buried. He will come out of prison an angrier man than he went in, and then what?’

Vera shuddered at the thought of how much more twisted her father could grow behind bars. ‘I’ll worry about that later,’ she replied quickly.

Matron smiled softly, undeterred. ‘The past may dictate who we are, my dear, but we get to determine who we become.’

Matron’s comment was left hanging in the air and Vera swiftly changed the subject.

A very happy half-hour was spent setting the world to rights before Matron rose to her feet. ‘I must be on my rounds now.’

‘Of course,’ Vera replied, meeting the elderly woman’s smile with warmth and affection. ‘I must go too. I have Poppy, Archie and Sal coming over for their
dinner.’

Vera left, safe in the knowledge that no matter what secrets lurked in her past, they would always be safe with Matron, for she alone knew the
whole
truth and would take it with her to
the grave.

An hour later, Vera was busy preparing dinner when Poppy, Sal and Archie arrived. Since Frank’s arrest, Sunday dinner at 24 Tavern Street had become a bit of a ritual.
The girls and Archie always brought what modest provisions they could find, and by teaming up their rations, they could usually put together something quite passable to eat.

‘Vera, that stew smells out of this world,’ grinned Archie, pouring himself a glass of frothy brown stout.

Sal cleared her throat nervously. ‘Please listen, everyone,’ she said. ‘I have some news. I finally got the letter informing me what happened to Reggie.’

And?’ Vera whirled round, dropping her potato peeler into the sink with a clatter.

‘Yes, do tell, Sal,’ urged Poppy.

Sal took a deep breath. ‘Well . . . apparently he was working as a fly driver, transporting jerrycans of fuel, when a long-range struck one of the cans and it ignited. He tried to throw
the burning cans from the lorry, but the fire spread and the lorry blew up. He burned to death.’

The room fell silent. Vera said nothing, but she was certain the irony of his death escaped no one. He had burned and branded Sal in the worst possible way and now God had punished him.

‘So will you think about bringing your boys home now?’ Poppy asked.

Sal’s face lit up. ‘Well, that’s what I was thinking,’ she admitted.

‘But is it the right time to be thinking of bringing them home to the East End?’ Vera interjected. ‘There may be fewer bombs now, but it’s still not safe.’

‘I know, and I’ve pondered the wisdom of it long and hard,’ said Sal. ‘But I’m the only parent they’ve got now, and when Reggie was alive, I was so petrified
I was never a proper mum, not like they deserved. The guilt will never leave me.’

‘Oh, poppycock,’ scoffed Vera. ‘You’ve always loved the bones of your lads, as well they know.’

‘No, Vera,’ Sal insisted, her voice thick with passion. ‘You don’t understand. I wasn’t the mother they should have had: fear knocked the stuffing out of me. I was
there, but never
really
there for them. I’ve got a lot of making up to do, and it might sound selfish, but I need them near me, now more than ever. I’m going to write to the
postmistress they’re billeted with and send her the train fare so they can return.’

Archie had remained silent up until now. ‘Sal,’ he said warily, ‘I’m thrilled for you, love, that your life seems to be getting back on track, but what about work?
Who’s going to look after your boys? I need full-time workers right now.’

‘Already looked into it, Mr Gladstone,’ she replied. ‘I’ve enrolled them both in the local primary school.’

Archie frowned. ‘And if the school closes or gets bombed out? You know what the schools are like round here, Sal, there just aren’t enough teachers to keep ‘em open.’

‘Then I’ll go down the town hall and see what
can
be done,’ she replied firmly. ‘I heard on the wireless that the government’s setting up hundreds of
wartime day nurseries around the country providing childcare to free women like me up for war work. Why, there’s one opening up right here in Bethnal Green! Tell me why I can’t be a mum
and work? Us women workers are the backbone of the home front, or so the government keep telling us.’

‘Two lads and a job, though, Sal? It’s a lot to cope with on your own,’ he warned.

‘She’s not on her own, though, is she?’ Poppy blurted, to everyone’s surprise. ‘We’re all here, and we can help out with the boys. Vera’s been feeding
me since I arrived in the East End, and I’m sure she won’t let Sal’s boys go hungry. I’m happy to help out with caring for them. As long as we all pull our weight, Sal will
manage. The East End looks out for its own – isn’t that what you always say? Those lads mightn’t have a dad anymore, but they’ve got a mum who loves them and two aunties on
standby. Three when Daisy comes home.’

Poppy’s face shone with determination as she gazed around the group. ‘Coming here was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I feel as if I’ve got a proper family for
the first time ever. Don’t we owe it to Sal to reunite her family?’

Sal, Vera and Archie stared at Poppy, shocked but impressed with her forthright manner.

‘Well said, Poppy,’ Vera breathed admiringly. ‘That’s settled, then. They’re coming home.’

‘Thank you, girls,’ Sal said gratefully. ‘I just can’t bear to be apart from my boys any longer.’

‘Good, now please be seated for dinner,’ Vera ordered. ‘This stew’s going cold.’

After Archie had said grace, he held his glass aloft. A toast, if I may, to Sal. I’m truly happy you’re getting your family back, love. If anyone deserves some happiness, it’s
you.’

As everyone clinked glasses, Vera smiled along too, but she found her gaze drifting to the empty chair where Daisy usually sat. Poor Daisy. Just as Sal was making plans to be reunited with her
children, Vera’s sister was about to be wrenched apart from hers. It was all unutterably sad, and she prayed Daisy would find the strength to survive the heartache that lay ahead. For no one
knew better than she the true price of such a selfless act.

Poppy had wolfed down her stew and couldn’t wait to get back to the sanctuary of her digs. As wonderful as it was to see Sal making plans to rebuild her life, she was
dying to get home so she could write another reply to Freddie. It was all she had been able to think of that day.

She had received his reply to her second letter yesterday, and already she had managed to read it so many times the pages were well thumbed. Sitting on the back of the bus as it trundled its way
through Bethnal Green, she couldn’t even wait to get home before fishing it out again for another look.

Well, I’ll be. The Singer Girls indeed
, he’d written in the same immaculate handwriting as his last letter, which was neatly folded on Poppy’s bedside table.

Poppy giggled, sighed dreamily and rested her head against the bus window before reading on.

A deep flush spread over Poppy’s cheeks at the thought of her face being pinned to a soldier’s bedpost. Happen there was no harm in sending a photo, was there? There
was a shop near the factory where she could get one done for a couple of pence. It’s where all the girls went to have photos taken for their serving sweethearts. Chewing her lip slightly at
the thought of what to wear, she read on.