‘But I’m scared I’ll go like Mom – have to go to the asylum and . . . Oh Dot!’ She turned, frantically, to face her. ‘What if I get like that? The thought of it terrifies the life out of me!’
Dot gently rubbed her back, her face serious, and Em was grateful to see that she was not going to dismiss her fears and tell her not to be silly.
‘I don’t s’pose you will, love. I don’t know what happened to your mom exactly. But remember she’d had three babbies and been all right before. I don’t know if it was anything to do with the shock of Joycie going missing so soon after. I don’t s’pose we’ll ever know. But I don’t know as it runs in families. Best thing is not to worry too much. You know – hope for the best and don’t get all down and gloomy. Keep cheerful for the babby’s sake! You’ve always been a happy little soul, despite it all – I’m sure you’ll be all right.’
Em went home a little comforted, especially taking with her Dot’s reminder that she was always there, and to come and see her if she ever wanted a natter.
Over the summer months, the sickness gradually wore off and Em adjusted to the idea that she was going to be a mother. Sometimes she felt completely unprepared, like a child herself, but mostly it was an exciting, awesome thought. Norm greeted the news with huge enthusiasm and at last, at the end of July, when his basic training was over, he was allowed home on leave. Once more they stayed for those few days in Saltley. Norm, Em realized with amusement, would have been happy to spend his entire leave in bed with her.
‘God, I’ve missed you,’ he kept saying, before snuggling up to her and pressing her to make love all over again. Em wondered if it was safe, but it seemed to feel all right.
‘I thought you’d have a bit of a belly on you by now,’ he said the first time he saw her naked. She was lying beside him and he examined her carefully as if she was a precious piece of china and he was checking for chips and cracks.
‘No – I’m only three months gone,’ she said. ‘It’s at the end you get big.’
He stroked his hand over her tummy. ‘Well, I wonder who’s in there. Oh love – it’s so . . . Well, it’s a miracle, ain’t it?’
Norm seemed stronger, a little older somehow, with his service haircut and his blue uniform. Naked, he seemed to have filled out a little. He talked a lot, telling her all about it, the other lads he had trained with, from all over the place, about the planes and routines. She could see that, much as he missed her, in some ways he was having the time of his life, and she was both glad and a little jealous.
‘Don’t forget me, will you?’ she said, wistfully.
‘Forget you?’ Norm said, appalled. ‘How could I forget you? You’re my missus. You’re the most precious thing in the world!’
The blissful days of his leave tore past. He saved the news that upset her until the end: he was going to Canada next, to complete his training as a fighter pilot.
‘
Canada?
’ she said, bewildered. He might as well have said Timbuktu. It was so strange and far away.
‘It won’t be for ever,’ he said. ‘Then I’ll most likely get a posting back here.’
And he was gone. While holding fast to the knowledge of how much he loved her and she him, she resigned herself to adjusting to being without him and going back to her old routine once again.
But things had a way of not settling down for long. A couple of weeks later, Em was walking back from work, her feet aching from standing in the shop, but appreciating no longer feeling sick, and enjoying the feel of the warm air on her bare arms and legs. She turned her face up to the sun, squinting. She was carrying a few vegetables that Mr Perry had given her which she knew Mom would be glad of for tea, and she stopped to donate a few of them to one of the elderly ladies along the street.
The front doors of most of the houses were open and she heard the sound of music from several wireless sets floating out to her, then the music cut off and a man’s voice was talking. Their door was open too, but to her surprise, Cynthia was not listening to the wireless as she often did while she cooked. Em felt an immediate sense of foreboding. Had something happened? Was she going to find that Cynthia had taken to her bed upstairs?
‘Mom? I’ve got some stuff for you from Mr Per—’
She stopped in amazement in the doorway through to the back. Cynthia was sitting at the table looking perfectly all right and a familiar figure was sitting opposite her with her back to Em, unmistakable at a glance, with her striking figure and thick blonde hair. But the face that then turned to greet her was pink and puffy with tears.
‘Molly?’
‘ ’Ello, Em,’ she said dully.
Em’s first thought was that Molly had seen the Buttons’ ravaged house across the street. She knew how upset Molly would be about Jenny and Stanley and thought this the reason for the strange, tragic expression in both Cynthia’s and Molly’s eyes.
‘It’s terrible, isn’t it?’ Em said sympathetically. ‘We just couldn’t believe it when it happened.’ She put her hand on Molly’s shoulder. ‘It’s ever so nice to see you, Molly. Have you got a bit of leave?’
‘No,’ Molly said, fresh tears running down her cheeks. ‘I’ve left the army. I was engaged, Em, to a lovely fella, and he was killed – last week. I can’t stay in the army, not after that. I’m home now – for good.’
Turning into Kenilworth Street that afternoon, Molly had thought her heart could not weigh any heavier, until she saw the smashed wreckage of the place she had long thought of as her refuge and home – Jenny and Stanley Button’s house.
‘Oh my God,’ she breathed, the sight of it jolting her to a standstill.
She’d known about it, of course, but seeing was another matter. The front of the house had collapsed, leaving black, gaping holes. Most of the rubble had been cleared away to make the street passable, and much of the smashed brick and other mess had been piled into the shell of the ruined house.
Slowly, Molly moved closer, trying to come to terms with the reality of it – that the Buttons were gone for ever. She could see the white walls of the room she had slept in upstairs, the door frame leading off the postcard-sized landing. It was one of the worst things she’d ever seen. And it all brought back the explosion that had killed Tony only a few heartbreaking days ago. She looked down to shut out the desolate sight, feeling herself start to shake again. Already immersed in the wrenching awfulness of losing him, this was too much. Everyone she had ever truly loved in the world was gone, and being back here, instead of being any sort of comfort, made it all feel starkly worse.
Why had she even come back? She had panicked, turned on the spur of the moment towards something familiar, to get away from anywhere that could remind her of Tony. But of course it did remind her. It pressed her further into the pain. And what comfort could she find here? Here there was nothing that could be called a home. There was Em, of course, but she was married now, had her own family and future. But for Molly now, there was nothing anywhere. What did it matter where she went?
Standing in the street on that warm afternoon, for a few moments her anguish grew until it was unbearable. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed, desperately craving a drink to blot out the pain, to blur the edges of everything and let her sink into black unconsciousness. But no. NO! She mustn’t start down that road. No now: not ever.
I’m not ending up like my bloody mother!
she raged inwardly.
If I only do one good thing in my life it will be not ending up like that sodden old cow.
A tiny sound snagged her attention. It was someone coughing further along the road, but it was instantly familiar. Opening her eyes, she saw a figure in the distance: skinny, slightly bent, walking in a furtive manner, head turning from side to side, glancing behind as if uneasy about being followed. Yet there was something different. She watched, rooted to the spot, as her brother came towards her from the far end of the street.
Realizing that the last thing on earth she wanted to do was run into Bert, she dashed to number eighteen, rapped urgently on the Browns’ half-open door and stepped inside.
‘Who’s that?’ Cynthia came through from the back. It took her seconds to recognize her. ‘
Molly?
What on
earth
are you doing here?’
‘Shhh!’ Molly put her finger urgently to her lips. She’d nipped in quickly and hidden behind the door, pretty sure Bert hadn’t seen her. ‘Sorry, Mrs Brown, only Bert’s coming along . . .’
‘Huh,’ Cynthia said contemptuously. She folded her arms and the two of them peered out from behind the nets as Bert went slouching past. His greasy hair was parted in the middle and slicked back either side.
‘Look at that suit – those lapels!’ Molly whispered. ‘He daint get that down the pawn shop – he looks a proper dandy! Those shoes! How did he get hold of all that?’
‘Not by a hard day’s work, you can bet,’ Cynthia said.
Bert disappeared and the two women turned to each other. Molly was struck by some change in Cynthia. She had always been a lovely-looking woman, strong and curvaceous, with her dark eyes and dark wavy hair. She was wearing a loose frock under which could be seen clearly the outline of her generous breasts. She looked suddenly older, slacker in the body. But she appeared steady: she was not going through one of her bad patches, by the looks of things.
Molly saw Cynthia take in the sight of her in her uniform, of her hair taken up smartly under her hat. Even in the fog of her grief, Molly had automatically dressed as if for an inspection.
‘You look so different! Very grown-up.’ Cynthia smiled, then took in Molly’s hollow-eyed, desolate expression and closed the front door. ‘Come through, bab – I’ll get you a cup of tea. What’s happened?’
It all came pouring out as Molly sat at the table. Cynthia busied herself making the tea, until Molly got to the bit about being in London with Tony, and then the bomb, and she came and sat close, her dark eyes seeming to reflect the horror she was hearing.
‘Oh love – what a terrible thing to happen – and on top of Mr and Mrs Button!’ She rested her hand on Molly’s arm as she talked, weeping wretchedly. ‘You poor, poor thing. No wonder you can’t go back there. That’s right, you have a good cry and let some of it out.’
Once Em had come home and heard the news, they’d told Molly to go up on Em’s bed and have a rest.
‘You look all in, love,’ Cynthia said.
And though she did not think she would be able to, as soon as she lay down sleep overcame her.
She woke in the late-afternoon light to find Em sitting on the edge of the bed and the low sun slanting through the window.
‘Brought you another cup of tea,’ Em said.
Molly sat up, disorientated, her hair rumpled round her face. ‘I couldn’t think where I was.’
‘I’m not surprised.’ Em still looked stricken. ‘I’m ever so sorry, Molly.’
Molly took the cup of tea, her eyes filling with tears again at the sight of Em’s sympathetic face. Sipping her tea, she looked around her. She was in the bigger bed that Em shared with Joyce, and by the wall was Violet’s single one.
‘What’re you going to do?’ Em asked.
Molly shrugged. ‘I haven’t thought. Go back to the factory, I s’pose.’
Em was frowning. ‘Won’t they come and look for you? Surely they will?’
‘Will they?’ Molly looked unconcerned by this thought. ‘Oh I don’t s’pose so.’ Looking over the rim of her teacup, she said, ‘How’re you, Em? Norm all right?’
‘I think so.’ Em smiled. ‘He’s in Canada. Can you believe it? All that way.’ She blushed prettily. ‘Did Mom tell you?’
‘What?’
‘I’m expecting.’
A terrible pang went through Molly, seeing Em’s face, which she now noticed was different, radiant in a way she’d never seen before. Em looked happy and excited, with a husband and future, whereas she . . . But she dragged her features into a smile.
‘Oh I am pleased for yer! That’s lovely, Em! When’s it due to arrive?’
‘January,’ Em said. ‘I’ve got my special ration book, it’s a green one they give you if you’re having a babby, and Mr Perry’s being ever so kind when I haven’t been feeling too well . . .’ She stopped, seeing the sadness in Molly’s face. ‘Sorry – not very nice of me.’ She touched her friend’s shoulder. ‘Rattling on after all that’s happened to you.’
‘No – I’m happy for yer,’ Molly said, wiping away the tears which wouldn’t stop running down her cheeks. ‘Em – d’you know what happened to Stanley?’
‘No.’ Em thought for a moment. ‘It was a terrible night. I was on duty round the corner. I came round and saw it, after . . . They’d gone by then. They took both of ’em away – I s’pose he went to the hospital. D’you want to go and see him?’
‘They were ever so kind to me. And he must be lost without Mrs B. She was the life and soul, did everything for him.’
‘We’ll have to find out,’ Em said. ‘I’ll ask around.’
‘And what about Wally?’
‘Who’s Wally?’
‘The little dog – don’t you remember?’
Em looked vague. ‘I don’t know. He must’ve got killed – or run off.’ She got up from the bed. ‘Look Molly, I don’t know what you want to do, but you can bunk up with us here if you like. If you don’t want to go home? Have you even seen their new place?’ Em saw Molly’s blank look. ‘You
did
know they’ve moved?’