A Step In Time (10 page)

Donnie looked at me with wide eyes.

‘You’re pregnant?’ he said, in astonishment. ‘A baby?’

He took his hands away from me and I felt a lurch of fear. Was this it? Was this the beginning of him rejecting me?

But then Donnie put his hands, very gently, onto my stomach.

‘A baby?’ he said in wonder. ‘In here?’

I moved his hands downwards a bit.

‘It’s more like here,’ I said. ‘Can you feel how it’s really firm?’

‘Does it kick?’ he said.

I laughed, pure relief oozing out of me.

‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a little way to go before that happens. It’s only tiny.’

‘But it’s definite?’ Donnie said. ‘You’re definitely having a baby?’

I took a step back, pulled up my jacket and turned to the side, so he could see the outline of my belly and my straining waistband.

‘See?’ I said, smoothing my skirt over my small bump.

‘Ohhhh,’ Donnie breathed.

‘Donnie?’ I said, bracing myself. ‘I know this wasn’t our plan, and I know we’re both really young. And I want you to know that if you don’t want to marry me, that’s okay. I don’t want to force you into anything …’ Donnie stopped me talking with a firm kiss.

‘Are you kidding me?’ he said. ‘Are you freaking kidding me? Of course I want to marry you. You’re having a baby!’

I laughed in delight.

‘Oh, thank God,’ I said, relaxing into his arms. Then a thought struck me. ‘We have to organise the wedding. Is that even possible?’

Donnie smiled down at me.

‘I have no idea,’ he said. ‘But I reckon so. We’ll tell ‘em it’s urgent because I’ve knocked you up.’

I thumped him.

‘Donnie,’ I said in mock outrage. ‘Don’t be so rude.’

Donnie offered me his arm and we walked down the bandstand steps into the park.

‘We do need to be quick,’ I said, serious now. ‘You’re going to France, and I’m going to have to tell everyone. My mother, for instance.’

I winced at the thought of my mother’s reaction.

‘Maybe you should go to the States now,’ Donnie said, thoughtfully. ‘Go and stay with my mom. She’ll love looking after you – and the baby.’

‘Really?’ I said. ‘I like the sound of that. Is it possible?’

‘Sure,’ Donnie said. ‘Well, maybe. We can find out. I’ll send her a telegram after the wedding.’

Just the words were enough to make me excited.

‘Come on then,’ I said, pulling his arm. ‘Let’s go and find a church.’

Chapter Seventeen

We had four days. Four days in which to plan a wedding and get married. Donnie’s division was leaving for France on Thursday, but heading to the coast the night before. Today was Sunday and we’d planned to get married on Wednesday.

‘It can’t be done,’ I said to Audrey in dismay. ‘I don’t have enough coupons for a dress, nor enough time to make it; we’ve got performances every night, and we’ve got to go and see the vicar to arrange everything. It’s impossible.’

But Audrey, who’d grown up in the middle of a huge brood of brothers and sisters, was both wonderful at organising, and incapable of taking no for an answer.

We were in our attic bedroom – thankfully Fat Joan was nowhere to be seen. Audrey came and sat next to me on my narrow bed and took my hand.

‘Look,’ she said, ‘I think I owe you an apology.’

I gazed at her, not understanding what she meant.

‘I was wrong about Donnie,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You were wrong,’ I agreed. ‘He loves me, Audrey.’

She nodded.

‘He’s a good’un,’ she said. ‘And my mum always says to hang on to the good’uns. Not that she’d know, bless her heart. She just hangs on to my useless dad, waste of space that he is.’

I waited for her to get to the point.

‘Anyway, Donnie’s a good’un and he loves you, and that’s all that matters. Not the dress or a cake or any of those things. They mean nothing. As long as you’re there and he’s there, then you’ve got yourselves a wedding.’

A bubble of joy popped in my tummy. I gripped Audrey’s hand a bit tighter.

‘I’m getting married,’ I said gleefully. ‘I’m bloody well getting married.’

Audrey laughed.

‘You are,’ she said. ‘And I might just have a few ideas up my sleeve to make it a day to remember.’

‘Do you?’ I said in surprise. ‘What ideas?’

Audrey laughed.

‘That’d be telling, wouldn’t it?’

There were footsteps on the stairs and Fat Joan came in. She draped herself lazily across a chair and flipped her beautiful hair over her shoulder.

‘Wedding plans?’ she drawled.

I nodded.

‘Got these for you,’ she said, digging in her pocket then holding out a bundle of paper.

‘Clothing coupons?’ I said, bewildered. ‘Whose are these?’

‘They’re yours,’ said Joan. ‘If you want them.’

I looked at the bundle in amazement.

‘From where?’

‘I did a bit of a whip round,’ Joan said, shrugging as though it was no big deal. ‘I asked everyone to hand over a coupon and everyone did.’

‘You did that for me?’ I said.

Joan shrugged again.

‘Nice to have something to look forward to,’ she said.

She uncurled herself from the chair and stood up.

‘I’ve got practice,’ she said. ‘See you later.’

I leapt up from the bed and caught her arm.

‘Thanks,’ I said, giving her a squeeze.

Joan flashed me the smile that made grown men weak.

‘Be happy,’ she said. Then she spun on her heels and slunk off down the stairs.

I turned to Audrey, whose mouth was still open in shock.

‘What are we waiting for?’ I said, waving the coupons like a fan. ‘Let’s go shopping.’

Of course even with the coupons there wasn’t a lot of choice, and I didn’t really have any money to spend anyway, but I managed to get a length of white satin for my dress, and some pale blue cotton for Audrey. Then, giggling like schoolgirls, we got on the bus and went to see Audrey’s mum in Camberwell.

I’d been a bit nervous when Audrey said her mum would help make my dress. Her huge, lively family sounded so different from my own upbringing.

My dad, bless him, had never been the same after the Great War and he died when I was six. I hardly remembered him, actually. He’d stayed in his study most of the time, or slept in his chair by the fire. I had to play quietly because noise bothered him, and he coughed a lot. Everything my mother did was for Dad.

‘Don’t bother your dad,’ she’d say. ‘Let him be.’

We never had the wireless on. And music wasn’t something Dad could tolerate. So the house was so quiet and still, all the time.

When he died, Mum waited a few weeks and then went out and bought a wireless and suddenly there was music all the time. I danced, made-up steps, on the living room rug and Mum watched.

‘Would you like to have dancing lessons?’ she said one day when I was seven. I’d thrown my arms round her in delight.

‘Really?’ I said. ‘Really and truly?’

So she found a teacher and I started to learn and I loved every second of it. And so did my mother. She loved music and dancing, too, so she enjoyed watching me. Enjoyed it a bit too much, perhaps. She made me practise over and over, and she was so proud of me when I was twelve and got my first job dancing in a show at the end of the pier.

I loved dancing, of course, but Mum’s attention was suffocating. I was all she thought about – my costumes, and what I was eating, and what the other girls were eating, and what I could do for my next audition.

I was never short of work – there were enough shows on the pier to keep me busy – and I adored performing. But I dreamed of more. Along with my friend Betty, I spent every Saturday morning – the only time I had to myself with no school, dancing or homework to worry about – at the pictures. Betty liked all the romantic films –she loved Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy – but I liked Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. I’d save up and see the same film over and over, memorising the steps and recreating them in my bedroom later.

So while Mother wanted me to become Worthing’s answer to Shirley Temple – under her watchful eye, of course – I had different plans. When the war came and everything changed, I saw my chance and signed up for the ENSA as soon as I turned eighteen.

Mother tried to make me stay, but she couldn’t say no really. I had to confess I did feel guilty when I thought about her alone at home, but not enough to make me give up on my dreams of Hollywood.

‘Are you all right?’ Audrey’s voice startled me out of my thoughts. ‘We’re here.’

‘Just thinking about my mum,’ I said, as we got off the bus and walked down the road towards her house.

‘Going to tell her about the wedding?’ Audrey said.

I made a face.

‘When it’s over,’ I said. ‘Is that awful?’

‘Will she mind?’

‘Terribly,’ I said. ‘But once Donnie’s gone to France, I’ll go down to Worthing, tell her about the baby and the wedding and break the news that I’m going to America. It’ll be better face to face and by then it’ll be too late for her to try to stop me.’

‘My mum would kill me,’ Audrey said, leading me down the side passage of a row of terraced houses. ‘And I’d feel dreadful, not letting her be part of my wedding day.’

‘There’s no time,’ I pointed out, feeling the guilt I always felt when I thought about my mother begin to swamp me. ‘There’s no point in bothering her.’

‘If you’re sure,’ Audrey said, with a glance that told me she wasn’t convinced. ‘This is it.’

She opened a tall gate into a yard that seemed to me to be full of children.

‘Hello littluns,’ she said, with a grin, as they all leapt on her at once. ‘This is Cora.’

Chapter Eighteen

It took us a while to explain why we’d turned up on the doorstep. Audrey had to peel several children – only a couple of them were actually her siblings; the rest were cousins, neighbours … I lost track – from her legs. Then, once the introductions were made, Audrey’s mum – Reenie – put the kettle on and made a pot of tea in an enormous enamel pot, which she plonked on the table unceremoniously.

‘Go on then,’ she said, eyeing Audrey suspiciously. ‘What you here for?’

Audrey reached over and took a cigarette from her mum’s packet.

‘We need you to make a wedding dress,’ she said.

Reenie’s mouth gaped. She was younger than my mum, but she looked ten years older. Although I’d not seen much of my own mother recently, so it was possible she’d aged, too. Reenie had the same dark brown hair as Audrey, but most of it was tucked under a headscarf. Her face was lined and her brow furrowed – more so now as she stared at Audrey.

‘You stupid cow,’ she said. Her hand shot out to clout Audrey, who ducked just in time, giggling.

‘Not me,’ she said. ‘Cora.’

Reenie looked at me and I wilted, just a little, under her knowing gaze.

‘Expecting?’ she said.

I nodded, embarrassed.

‘He knows?’

I nodded again.

‘What’s he like?’

‘He’s nice, Mum,’ Audrey said. ‘American. Kind. Handsome.’

She looked at me over the top of the huge teapot.

‘He’s a good’un.’

‘He going to take you to America?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Believe him?’

‘Yes.’

Reenie looked grim for a second, then she gave me a huge smile.

‘Right then, best get cracking. Got your fabric?’ she said.

I pulled it out of the bag and handed it to her. She rubbed it appraisingly between her thumb and finger.

‘Not bad,’ she said.

She stood up and unrolled the material so it draped over a chair, then she stood back and looked at it, and me.

‘Showing?’

I stood up and turned to the side, smoothing my skirt down so she could see my small tummy.

‘A bit,’ I said, chewing my lip.

She gave me another smile.

‘It’s not the end of the world, you know,’ she said, picking up a tape measure from the sideboard and gesturing for me to stand still. ‘It might not be what you planned, but it’s not the end of the world.’

Her kind words made me dissolve into tears and she laughed.

‘I was like that with Audrey,’ she said, pulling the tape measure round my back. ‘Arms up. Couldn’t stop crying the whole bloody time. You stand there and cry darlin’ and we’ll do all the work.’

And she did.

She jotted down my measurements on the back of an envelope; then she and Audrey went through a pile of patterns, nodding and showing me pictures occasionally to get my opinion. And I sat at the table and cried. I wasn’t sad, not really. I was overwhelmed with everything that was happening, with how kind everyone was being – when Audrey explained how Fat Joan had collected everyone’s clothing coupons I sobbed even harder – and with the comfort of being in a noisy, happy, family home.

Children ran in and out as we worked, and later two neighbours came by to help, too. And eventually, after three hours, many refills of the enormous teapot, and lord knows how many tears, I had a dress.

It was knee-length, with little cap sleeves and small buttons – donated from the neighbour’s button box – down the front. It had a pale blue belt – another donation from a different neighbour – that sat above my swelling stomach, and helped disguise it. Round the bottom of the skirt was a frill that I could swirl round my knees if I danced.

‘It’s like the one Ginger Rogers wore in
Swing Time
,’ I said in delight, waltzing round the small room and watching the dress flow this way and that.

‘It’s beautiful.’

‘Well, mind it stays that way,’ said Reenie, giving me a grin that was at odds with her stern words. ‘Take it off before you get it dirty.’

I did one last twirl and then reluctantly took off the dress and put my uniform back on.

Reenie wrapped it in paper, tied it with string and handed it to me. I gave her a hug.

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I can’t tell you how much this means to me.’

She squeezed me a bit tighter.

‘Will you come?’ I added. ‘To the wedding? It’s at St Giles’s, tomorrow at two o’clock. Please come. All of you.’

‘It was nice of you to ask them,’ Audrey said, when we were on the bus home. ‘Mum was really chuffed.’