‘Do you?’ Josephine demanded earnestly.
‘Er, no!’ Molly said. ‘I s’pose being in the army you meet all sorts, from all over the place. So I’ve got used to it now.’
‘Molly’s a cook, in the army,’ Dymphna informed her husband, from her queenly seat at one end of the table.
‘A cook? Well now. Big buckets of slop?’
Molly laughed. ‘Summat like that, yeah. I’m not very good at it. They complain all the time!’
‘I expect you
are
good at it,’ Dymphna said. ‘And there’s you, Tony love, on the back end of those big guns. Oh, it makes me tremble to think about it.’
‘Well, it’s better than being on the front end of them,’ he said. Both his sisters giggled.
‘Don’t you be laughing,’ Dymphna protested. ‘That’s not funny, girls. It’s serious – life and death.’
‘Bet you’re always in trouble,’ Geraldine observed of her brother. ‘He’s always been in trouble. At school he was the naughtiest in the class.’
‘He was Trouble itself,’ Josephine said, big-eyed.
‘Ah, he’s got over that now,’ Dymphna said fondly. She looked at Molly. ‘They were a little bit strict, you know. Great believers in discipline. Anyway, Tony – being married’ll make a responsible man out of you.’
‘I was in the last lot, you know,’ Fred Belham said, chewing energetically. He shook his head sadly. ‘We never thought we’d all be at it again so soon. War to end all wars – huh! What about your father, Molly?’
‘Oh, my father?’ Startled, she had to think quickly. She told them he was an invalid.
‘The poor soul,’ Dymphna said, her eyes blue pools of sympathy. ‘Poor man. It’s a wicked thing.’
‘Yes.’ To Molly’s consternation, tears welled unexpectedly in her eyes. Seeing Joe’s state through the eyes of others made her feel the tragedy of him.
‘Oh, you poor girl, what a sadness for a family,’ Dymphna went on, and Fred was nodding and the others were all staring at her and Molly had to struggle not to weep in the face of all this sympathy. In Tony’s expression was also surprise, hurt:
You never told me that . . .
‘We’re making the poor child fill up now,’ Dymphna said. ‘So let’s stop that and be talking about something else.’ She asked Molly and Tony questions about the camp, and they told her some of the day-to-day routines, the jokes, and about the beauty of the place.
‘It sounds like where I grew up in Ireland,’ she said, wistfully. She looked round the table. ‘We’re all finished. Now, Geraldine – will you and Jo be clearing the dishes, please?’
As they sat on over a cup of tea, Dymphna said, ‘Now, these two have stated their intention to marry – and you’ve told your family, Molly?’ Molly nodded, uneasily. ‘Now, there are some important preparations you’ll need to be making, won’t they, Fred?’
Fred Belham, sitting back to rest his round tummy, nodded sagely through a cloud of cigarette smoke, but let his wife do all the talking. Dymphna sat with her white hands on the cloth, fingers locked loosely together, looking solemn and in command.
‘You must go and see Father Callaghan while you’re home, Tony. Molly here will be needing to take instruction from him.’
Tony nodded, seeming to take for granted that they do this.
‘I’ll see him after Mass on Sunday.’
‘Well you make sure you do. Of course I can have a word as well. Molly will need to be received into the Church before you go getting married.’
Molly was intrigued by the seriousness of all this. She didn’t really understand what it was all about, but it felt as if she had been invited to join a very special club, and if Tony and his mom were in it, it was good enough for her.
Before they turned in for the night, Dymphna led the family in saying the rosary around the statue of Mary in the corner of the room. She handed Molly a set of pearly white rosary beads and said, ‘We’ll just be saying one decade. That’s this set of ten, dear. Just follow on the rest of us.’
Molly followed as the family said their Hail Marys and Our Father, in a serious, but matter-of-fact way.
‘Who’s that one?’ Molly asked afterwards, pointing at the brown-robed statue.
‘Oh, d’you not know that?’ Dymphna laughed. ‘That’s St Anthony, heaven bless him. And that—’ She pointed at a small black-and-white profile on the wall beside him, of a thin-faced, austere-looking man. ‘That’s our Holy Father in Rome, Pope Pius the twelfth.’
‘Oh,’ Molly said, glancing at Tony, who, to her surprise, winked at her. ‘That’s nice.’
‘Our priests are very special to us,’ Dymphna said, passionately. ‘You’ll come to understand that when you’re a Catholic. It’s a marvellous blessing, what those holy men do for the faith. Our Father Callaghan now – he’s a pure, holy man.’
Tony was staring past her, out at the darkening sky.
Later, she insisted that Molly sleep in the small room Tony had always shared with Mickey.
‘Tony can bunk up downstairs like a gentleman,’ she said. ‘Here we are now, dear, I’ll show you where to go.’
Molly lay cosily tucked up behind the blackout curtains which shut out the summer night. This had been Tony’s boyhood bed and she enjoyed the thought of it. He had come up and given her a long, tender kiss goodnight, and then, to her surprise, he had whispered, ‘I’ll see you later!’
Sure enough, a long time later when the house was really quiet, he was at the door, so silently that she had not heard him climb the stairs. He tiptoed across the room, to pull back the edge of the curtain, letting in the thin moonlight, then he was beside her, his breath on her cheek.
‘Budge up, wench!’
‘You shouldn’t be here! What if your mom finds out?’
‘She won’t. Don’t fret.’
Very quietly so as not to make a single spring squeak, he eased himself in beside her as Molly inched up by the wall. Both of them giggled quietly, settling themselves cuddled up close together.
‘Your family are so nice,’ she whispered. ‘Is your mom always like that? So friendly before she even knows people.’
‘She is like that, yes. But she likes you – I can tell. She took to you straight away.’
‘Really? D’you think so?’
‘Course.’ He cuddled her, kissing her back. ‘You’re lovely, Molly. Only you don’t seem to know it!’
She was squirming with pleasure.
‘I think she thinks you’re going to settle me down. She thought I was going off the rails before. And so long as you’ll be a Catholic – that’s what matters to her – being in the fold.’
‘Course I will – I said I would.’
He gave her a squeeze. ‘Everything’ll be all right then.’ He kissed her neck, then whispered, his tone a little hurt, ‘You never said – about your dad.’
She stared into the darkness. ‘Daint I tell yer? He’s in a poor state really. And there’s nothing much you can do. I s’pose I try not to think about it.’
‘Poor man.’ He kissed her. After a silence, he said, ‘What about your ma, love?’
‘I’ve told you.’ She turned her head; anger and resentment swelled in her just thinking about Iris. How could she explain to Tony – especially after meeting his warmhearted mother? ‘I’m not proud of what I’ve come from. I don’t really want to tell you about her – or you to meet her.’
There was a hurt silence. ‘Seems a bit bad that. We’re supposed to be getting married and you won’t even tell me about her. I love
you.
It won’t make any difference.’
Oh, won’t it?
Molly thought, bitterly. Should she pour it all out, the full horrible truth – well, my granddad used to molest me several nights a week and as it turns out he’s my father as well because he bedded my mother, his own daughter? No – she couldn’t tell him everything – not even Tony, who she loved most in all the world. Harshly, she whispered, ‘She’s a boozer, OK? All she cares about is staring into the bottom of a bottle. She’s never been a mom to me and I don’t want anything to do with her. And Joe – my dad – well, he’s done for.’ She twisted round to him, emotionally. ‘I swear to you, when we get wed, I want your mom to be my mother – you can forget about mine.’
In the very faint light she could see him watching her intently. He brought his hand out from under the covers and smoothed back her hair. ‘All right – if that’s really how it is.’
‘It is,’ she said firmly. ‘My family’re nothing like yours. Yours are wonderful.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘I know.’ But there was a dry sadness to the way he said it, in which she could hear his sense of betrayal. And Molly could see what he meant: the impossibility of telling his mother the truth about the saintly priests, the lash of their canes and leather straps. It was as if Dymphna could not have believed it even if it was happening in front of her very eyes. Molly cuddled him tightly.
‘I just want to be part of yours. They’re a proper family, not like mine. When can we get married and make it all right?’
‘Soon,’ he said passionately. ‘We’ll get leave – next time. We’ll do it then.’
‘Oh love! D’yer mean it?’
‘Course I do. The sooner the better.’
Ecstatic, she turned to the wall, snuggling back against him. ‘I love you
so
much,’ she said. For a second she tried to imagine life without him, a future without his love, now she knew what it was like with it, and the thought was so dizzyingly awful she banished it immediately.
‘I love you too, my girl. And tomorrow,’ she heard in her ear, ‘I’m taking you for a ride.’
She clung to him, arms wrapped tight round his waist, the sun on her face and the wind buffeting it as they raced away, first from his cramped, sooty-faced neighbourhood, then out past the villas of north London, further and further until the barrage balloons shrank to tiny dots in the distance behind, then vanished, and the houses spread further apart, and soon there were no factories or chimneys in sight, nothing but farmhouses and barns. It was a warm, sultry August and they had the whole weekend ahead of them. Molly didn’t think it could be possible to be happier.
‘I want to show you my favourite place,’ he said, before they set off. Dymphna had given them a packet of sandwiches, urging them not to be back too late – ‘Because I know what he’s like,’ she twinkled at Molly. ‘There’s no knowing where you’ll get to – it’s a mystery tour you’re going on! Now you just be careful, Tony,’ she added seriously.
After miles of country road, Tony turned into an obscure lane leading to a wood, heading gently downhill, through dappled light, until they reached a stream at the bottom among the trees. The water caught the sunlight through the leaves.
Molly exclaimed at seeing the soft grass and flowers edging the water and feeling the gentle atmosphere of the place. ‘How did you know it was here?’
‘I didn’t. I just came here by accident one day, nosing about. It’s the most peaceful place I’ve ever been. I’ve been wanting to bring you here ever since we first started.’
Molly climbed down from the bike. ‘I’m going to dip my feet in!’ She was still in uniform as she had nothing else with her, but her legs were bare. She slipped off her shoes and sat on the edge of the bank, squeaking as the cold water slid over her feet. Tony came and sat beside her, put his arm round her and kissed her neck.
‘You’re getting tanned.’
She put her hands to her cheeks. ‘They feel as if the wind’s been slapping them all morning!’
‘You look lovely – like a big strong farm girl!’ Then he nuzzled her. ‘My Molly. My wife-to-be.’
She laughed, seemed to be forever laughing these days, despite the war, despite everything. He laughed with her, for no reason, and she thought how handsome he looked, boyish and happy.
‘Mr and Mrs Belham. Like your mom and dad. You’ve made everything so good – I’m so, so happy.’ She beamed into his face, and they moved in closer for a long kiss.
‘Come here,’ he said, and she knew what that meant, could hear how much he wanted her.
‘Here? Surely we can’t?’
‘It’s all right – I’ve never seen another soul anywhere near. Oh love, let’s – please.’
He laid her back on the soft grass and made love to her urgently. Molly did her best to respond, to not go off to the faraway place that these sensations sent her to. She so much wanted it to be right for him, for both of them.
This is Tony,
she kept saying in her mind.
Lovely Tony,
not him. Not him.
Tony who you love . . .
And then he was lying, spent, in her arms and she kissed his face again and again.
They spent the afternoon there, eating the sandwiches, lolling, playing in the stream like children and talking and cuddling in the green quiet and the heaven of a long, lazy afternoon. The war seemed far away, even here, quite close to London. They did not talk about it, didn’t even want to think about it. Today was enough – tomorrow they would deal with when it came.
The next day Tony took her into London town. They walked round looking at the sights – the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey – and strolled across the parks. Despite the sandbags, gun emplacements, shelters and rubble from which it was impossible to escape completely, the London parks were full of people, many managing to find some weekend relaxation in deckchairs and sprawled on the dry grass with handkerchiefs or newspapers shielding their eyes.