‘There yer go!’ Sid said, grinning. ‘That’s what the army does for yer. And I can sleep safe in my bed!’
Cynthia tutted. ‘I don’t like having a guest down on the couch . . .’
‘It’s all right, honestly. Em and I’ll probably sit up nattering anyway so that way we shan’t keep anyone awake.’
‘Well if you’re sure, Molly,’ Cynthia said. ‘Have a seat, anyway . . .’ Bob and Violet shuffled round a bit, and Molly sat, warmed by the welcome, thinking how nice it was to be here again, part of the family. Em handed her a cup of tea.
‘I’ll do a couple of extra spuds,’ Cynthia said. ‘Anyroad, I don’t know when the trial’ll be. Did you know ’er – the girl?’
‘No,’ Molly said. ‘There was a girl there last time but her name was Hilda, so far as I remember. Looked a right little madam.’
‘They say the girl, Aggie, had no family – was an orphan. It was some pal of hers put them on to your brother, said she’d been hanging about with him a lot . . .’
Molly thought about all the other things Bert had been up to. She wanted to get them off the subject. All she could feel about Bert was shame and revulsion.
‘D’you ever see your other brother?’ Cynthia was asking. ‘What was his name again?’
‘Tom – no. Haven’t seen ’im in years.’ Molly turned to Em. ‘How’s Norm getting on? You heard from ’im?’
‘Yes – just a couple of days ago.’ Em’s eyes lit up with amusement. ‘He wrote me a nice letter – said he had time to write because he was in hospital . . .’
‘Oh my God – why? Is ’e all right?’
‘He’s right as nine pence.’ Em giggled fondly. ‘It’s just typical of Norm. He’s in there with a broken leg – somewhere in Italy. He fell off the back of a truck!’
‘Oh ain’t that just like Norm!’ Molly laughed. She had thought Norm was a complete idiot when she first met him – hapless and boring. But she realized he was a nice man really, and his accident-proneness made her feel quite fond of him. After all, when had she been any good at judging men, anyway?
‘So how long’s he going to be in there?’
‘I don’t know,’ Em chuckled. ‘I mean, I’m quite glad in a way – at least he’s out of it for a bit – unless they bomb the hospital of course! It’s just like Norm!’
Molly enjoyed sitting squeezed round the table with the family that evening as they all ate tea. And as it turned out, she was there for a special announcement.
‘’Ere – I’ve got summat to tell you all,’ Sid said suddenly. Everyone looked at him.
‘Spit it out then, son,’ Bob said.
‘Well – I’ve been to see Mr Weston, Con’s dad – and asked for her hand in marriage. And ’e said yes.’
‘Yeah, but what did
she
say?’ Em teased.
‘She said yes,
course
she did. I asked her first, daint I?’ Sid said heatedly. ‘What d’yer take me for?’
‘Well – that’s lovely, isn’t it?’ Cynthia said.
Everyone looked at Bob. He put his fork down. ‘Well, bugger me. I never thought you’d get round to it, lad.’
Em and Molly stayed down at the table in the back room talking after the rest of the family had turned in. To Molly’s surprise, Robbie was still up, and Em settled him down on her lap.
‘He’ll have to stop down with me,’ she said. ‘He’s used to me getting into bed with him. He’ll cry else.’
Seeing her old friend with her baby son snuggling up to her, Molly felt a pang of mixed emotions. It looked so lovely! Would she ever have a baby herself? There was longing – if Tony had lived, would they have had a nice little family, Dymphna the adoring grandmother? But the thought of having her own child filled her with sudden queasy panic. She longed to love and be loved, but she certainly didn’t find herself full of maternal feelings. After all, what did she have to give a baby? Would she live in some back street, tied to the house, turning to the bottle for escape like her mother? The thought of it made her want to run away, do anything but that. She envied Em her love for her son, but in those moments she realized she had a horror of being like her.
‘You heard anything else about Madam O’Neill?’ she asked, reminded by the thought of babies.
‘No.’ Em stroked Robbie’s soft hair. Thoughtfully she said, ‘It’s funny isn’t it – that night I saw her . . . I don’t know, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. She looked so . . . bad. Sort of frightened. I don’t know what’s happened to her, obviously, but I can’t help feeling sorry for her.’
‘Well, that’s nice of yer. I mean, when I think what a little cow she was to you.’
‘She was nasty, wasn’t she?’ Em agreed. ‘Hey – there’s a few biscuits somewhere.’ She got up for the tin and sat down again. ‘The thing is, though, she was my pal once. And when you come down to it, Molly – we were only eight years old. We were just kids – and it was her mom made her do it. It’s in the past now. And it sounds as if she’s had her share of trouble, if what Dot says is true.’
They both speculated for a while on what might have happened to Katie. Who’s was the baby? Was she in fact married or not? And why was she back here suddenly – or had she been here all the time? They had lost touch with her and didn’t know anything about her life.
They moved on to talk about their own concerns. Molly told Em about life in Dover. As they chatted, she began to itch again. Her skin was always worst in the evening. She struggled not to scratch. It made her feel dirty, like a flea-ridden dog. Inevitably, the conversation soon moved on to Bert.
‘It’s a relief to be able to talk about it,’ Molly said. ‘I didn’t want to tell any of the girls down there, even my pals. I don’t want my family spoiling it for me.’
Em nodded sympathetically.
‘Thing is Em . . .’ Molly leaned forward. There was one thing she was longing to pour out to her old friend. It was her turn to try and clear her conscience. ‘When I was here last time . . . when I got to the house, he was . . . well, it was plain he was up to all sorts. Always has been. I mean, I know he dodged the army. He can put on fits, you know – fake them. And he did it for other blokes as well. They paid him to stand in for the medical – down ’e’d go, one of his turns, and they’d class him as unfit . . .’
Em gasped. ‘He never! That’s wicked!’
Molly nodded. ‘That’s Bert. When I got there that night there was all sorts going on – stolen stuff, black market. I don’t think there was much he wasn’t getting up to. He had all this knock-off perfume, and he and Mom were bottling it . . . And rations – they’d stolen all sorts of stuff. But that’s just . . .’ She shrugged. ‘I dunno. I know it ain’t legal, but I wouldn’t’ve turned him in for that. He had mates, a gang of ’em, all in it together. But then . . . I’d had a couple of drinks, you see, that’s why – I wasn’t clear in the head. He came up behind me, in the front room, and stuck this cold thing in my neck – it was a gun . . .’
Em’s mouth fell open, her eyes stretched. ‘God, Molly! What did you do?’
‘Well nothing – I mean, I sat still. What else could I do? And he never did anything else – just backed off. But after, when my head was clearer . . . I couldn’t believe it. It didn’t seem real. But I’ve been worried about it ever since. Should I have turned him in? Then he wouldn’t have killed that Agnes.’
‘Oh Molly . . .’ Em sat back in her chair. She gave a shudder. ‘I mean, I know Bert’s always been a bully. But you’d never’ve thought he was capable of
that
. . . But your own brother . . . I mean, it doesn’t seem right to turn in your own brother – it’s not as if he’d done anything then . . . Agnes was strangled anyway, not shot.’
This bald, terrible statement made them look at each other in silent horror. What else was there to be said? But Molly felt such a relief, having poured out everything to Em.
‘You know,’ Em said sweetly. ‘With the family you’ve got, I don’t know how you’ve turned out so nice.’
Molly felt a blush rise through her. She didn’t feel nice, not deep down. But she smiled and said, ‘Well all I can say is, thank God there’s other people about apart from family!’
As the train eased its way out through the southern suburbs of London the next day, Molly found a place to squat on her bag in the corridor by the door, watching through the rain-streaked windows as the soot-coated buildings give way to countryside. With every mile further from Birmingham and nearer Dover, she felt lighter and freer, as if she had cut her family off from her like an unbearably heavy load. She was floating. It had been wonderful to see Em and let out some of her feelings. It didn’t change anything, but it felt like a trouble shared, no longer just whirling round only in her head.
She thought about what she had said to Em last night, those words that had sprung to her lips. Yes, family was something she would have to make out of the people who were prepared to love and care about her. Blood ties were poisonous in her case – they meant not care but cruelty and betrayal. She would have to look elsewhere. Len’s face swam into her mind. Len still claimed he loved her and wanted her. Why had she told him she wasn’t interested? Didn’t she want to be loved by a good, kind man? Why had she panicked like that and hurt him so badly? Now, with a little distance from him, she was overwhelmed with regret. It was all too late now. Why didn’t she know what was good for her when she had it?
But when she reached the billet back in Dover, everyone was so pleased to see her that she forgot her regrets for the moment. It was good to be back.
‘How’s your mother?’ they all kept asking, and Molly had quickly to make something up.
The best thing was going into her room and having Cath say, ‘Hey there, slacker! You’re back then?’
‘What’s it look like?’ Molly retorted, happily.
‘Bet you’ve had a good night’s sleep at least. All right for some. They’ve been shelling the bejaysus out of this place. How’s your mother?’
‘Oh – she’s all right,’ Molly said, throwing her bag on the bed. ‘She’ll live. We’re not close, to tell yer the truth.’
‘Oh – so she’s not on her deathbed then?’ Cath pulled on her trousers, tugging at the legs.
Molly sat down, tugging off her shoes. ‘No, more’s the pity.’
Cath looked shocked for a moment, then creased up with laughter. ‘Oh, that’s grand – there’s not many you can say that to, I’ll bet!’
‘No,’ Molly said. ‘Not when we’re all so
frightfully
fond of Mummeh!’ she added, taking off the accents of some of the posher ATS. ‘Hey – d’you want a cuppa? I’m parched.’
‘Yes – with lots of sugar. I need all the energy I can get. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a busy night. I’ll come down with you . . .
Oh!
’ Cath slapped her hand over her mouth.
‘What?’
‘I completely forgot!
He
was here, yesterday – looking for you!’
‘Who?’
‘
Him
– that Len bloke. He was ever so put out that you weren’t here. Oh my Lord – how could I have forgotten?’
Molly’s heart was racing. ‘But what did he want? Did he say more? Did he leave a note or anything?’
‘Yes – well no,’ Cath said maddeningly. ‘I mean, not in so many words. He went off in a paddy when he found out you weren’t here. He didn’t leave a note. But he wants you back – it’s obvious!’
Len’s visit threw Molly into turmoil. Why had he come, suddenly, without any warning? Hadn’t she made it clear that she wasn’t interested? That they had to break it off? Surely by now he’d gone back to Sheila and made it up, and they’d had their childhood sweetheart wedding in a Norfolk village church strewn with roses, as they had planned all along? But his coming had stirred her up. She’d been so adamant back then that it must not go on. Maybe she’d been too hasty? Len was so decent, so much nicer than most of the men she met.
Sitting at her radiolocation screens that night, once again she had to wrench her mind away from her itchy skin and her own thoughts and keep her eyes fixed on the incoming planes as they crossed the coastline, intent on London. It was a windy night, and she could hear it whistling around the hut. Surely Len would write again? Should she go and try to see him? No – she’d never get more leave . . .
Keep your mind on the job!
she ranted inwardly at herself.
Just get through the night
.
That night was one of several involving heavy bombardment inflicted on the south-east of England. The team came off duty freezing cold and stiff, longing for baths and bed and pints of hot tea.
‘Winnie says it’s “quite like old times again”,’ Cath said, quoting the Prime Minister, and yawning as they were driven back to their billet.
‘Huh – bet they can do without any more of it in London,’ Molly grunted. Mr Churchill’s words made the bombing sound almost homely, even if they were meant to be encouraging. ‘We could do without it here, come to that.’ On top of the raids, the intermittent boom of the shells, aimed at Dover from across the channel, played on the nerves as well.
‘Every bomb a broken heart,’ Cath said.
As winter faded and warmed into spring, there was a series of such nights. The raids began mostly in the early evening and were over by midnight.
Molly was quite glad to be busy. Len’s visit had shaken her. She waited to see if a letter followed, but there was nothing. After a time, the thought of him began to fade into the background again. Her skin gradually cleared up, and life in the army took over once more.