Goodnight Sweetheart (13 page)

Tenderly Molly touched the shimmering blue folds of the fabric Eddie had given her. June had flatly refused to allow her to use it to make herself a new bridesmaid’s dress, claiming that Molly’s relationship with Eddie had caused her enough trouble already.

June’s dress, finished now, had been carefully folded away. With less than a month to go to the wedding, June was becoming increasingly on edge and anxious, and – or so it seemed to Molly – increasingly hostile about Molly’s feelings for Eddie.

Molly had grown accustomed now to being ignored in the street by the other women from the cul-de-sac, but their coldness towards her still hurt.

With daylight saving time over, and the clocks put back, a grey darkness seemed to have settled over everything, exacerbated by the blackout. Most people who had to be out after dark now carried a torch with them, making sure to point its beam downwards.

‘Instead of t’hospital being filled with folk wot have been bombed, it’s filled with them as has fallen off of t’pavements,’ Bert had complained pithily earlier in the week.

It made Molly smile to see the way in which Bert was steadfastly refusing to pay any attention to Alf’s warnings and threats, claiming that since there hadn’t been any air-raid sirens, there was no need to go into the shelters, which in turn meant that his dog was not going to panic and bite anyone out of fear.

‘Poor old Bert.’ The girls’ father had shaken his head dubiously. ‘It’s all very well him arguing wi’ Alf now, but once rationing comes in there’ll be plenty of folk ready to complain about ’im feeding his dog whilst their kiddies are going wi’out.’

‘But Bert feeds Rover on scraps, doesn’t he?’ Molly had protested.

‘Aye, he does, but folks won’t take account of that, Molly, if’n they gets their dander up. That’s the nature of ’em, you see.’

The last of the sweet juicy tomatoes had long since been plucked from the vines in the allotments’ greenhouses, and the cold dampness of the November air sent a mist swirling over the brown earth and a warning of colder weather to come.

Eddie was back at sea, his ship barely having had time to unload on its return before it was off again across the Atlantic, and Molly listened anxiously to every news bulletin, her stomach tightening with
sick fear every time she heard the words ‘the Atlantic’.

Everyone knew that Hitler had his U-boats patrolling the icy grey wastes of that ocean, hoping to destroy the merchant ships ploughing steadily to and fro across it, bringing into Britain much- needed supplies.

Although the girls at work had thawed slightly towards her, Molly was still conscious of their disapproval. The women in the cul-de-sac, though, whom she had always thought of as friends as well as neighbours, especially Sally Walker, were making it very clear that they did not intend to forgive her. She had been ‘sent to Coventry’, their backs turning to her whenever they saw her in the street.

No one, it seemed, sympathised with her apart from Elsie. Molly hadn’t dared confide her misery to Anne, knowing that she too would disapprove.

Only her driving lessons were bringing a small ray of light and laughter to her days, since it had turned out, to her own astonishment, that she had what Mr Noakes had approvingly described as ‘a natural aptitude’ for driving. Seated beside him in his Wolseley, she had followed his brisk instruction to her to watch what he did, and then she had listened carefully whilst he explained to her about the gears.

‘See this here,’ he had commanded, motioning to Molly to get out of the now stationary car and stand beside the open driver’s door whilst he demonstrated the use of the pedals to her. ‘This
first one is what we call the accelerator, this one next to it is the brake and this last one is called the clutch. ABC, that’s what you’ve got to remember, ABC. And what you have to do once you’ve got the engine turned on is get the car in gear and you do that with the clutch.’

That lesson had been followed by a nerve-racking interlude during which Mr Noakes had lectured Molly on the importance of good clutch control. Despite that, she had still had the car kangaroo jumping all over the road the first time she had tried to put this lesson into practice. Now, though, she knew to the second when the clutch had bitten and she could change gear as smoothly as anything.

Even Mrs Wesley had given Molly a frosty smile on being told of her new accomplishment.

‘Driving!’ June had exclaimed when Molly had told her what she was doing. ‘Getting ideas above your station, you are, my girl,’ she had added, insisting, ‘Tell her, Dad.’

But to Molly’s relief their father had said, ‘I reckon now that they’ve brought in conscription, it’s a good thing if women do learn to drive,’ cos if Hitler does drop his blummin’ bombs, they’re going to be needin’ someone as can drive ambulances and the like.’

‘I don’t know if I’ll ever be that good, Dad,’ Molly had protested.

‘So what will you be driving then?’ June had demanded.

‘The WVS are going to have sommat as they call mobile kitchens,’ Molly had explained. ‘That Lord Woolton has designed them.’

‘And what’s them when they’re at home?’ June had derided her.

‘It’s a van with a bit of a kitchen at the back so as we can drive them into bombed places and make sure that folk can have a cuppa and a bite to eat,’ Molly had explained patiently.

The driving was in small part helping take her mind off Johnny. But now, with less than a month to go before Frank and Johnny came home on leave, before being sent into action, Molly was becoming increasingly apprehensive. Over and over again inside her head she had rehearsed the words she would have to say to Johnny. Nothing could change her mind about her feelings for Eddie, she knew that, but she also knew that she was scared of telling Johnny their relationship was over.

What would she do if he refused to accept that their engagement was at an end – if he lashed out at her with his fists, or threatened her, she worried, as she hurried back from her Saturday afternoon driving lesson.

The cul-de-sac rang with the sounds of the activities of its children, most of whom had now been brought back home by their mothers when the threatened bombs had failed to appear. Over the last few weeks, the sound of children playing, quarrelling and laughing had increased in the Edge
Hill streets once more. Smoke curled upwards from chimneys to hang on the still autumn air. A handful of little girls, skirts tucked into their knickers, were skipping, one at either end of the rope, whilst the others jumped in and out of it in time to the words they were singing.

‘Wallflowers, wallflowers, growing up so high, we’re all little children, we all have to die.’

Molly paused to watch, shuddering inwardly as she listened to the familiar schoolyard songs she and June had once sung, aware now as she had not been then of the dark warning of the words.

‘Excepting little Betty, and she’s the youngest child, half a shame – half a shame – turn your face to the wall again.’

A few boys were pretending to fight, firing imaginary guns, one of them almost running into Molly. She laughed as she recognised Pearl’s younger boy, glad to be released from the darkness of her own thoughts of war and death, reaching out to steady him.

But instead of returning her smile, he pulled away from her and said fiercely, ‘Me mam says we’re to have nowt to do with you on account of what you’ve done.’

White-faced, Molly watched him dart away, oblivious to his mother’s approach until Pearl had drawn level with her.

‘I’ll thank you not to go interfering wi’ my kiddies, if you don’t mind,’ she began sharply. ‘I don’t want you goin’ tittle-tattlin’ about them to them
WVS friends of yours, like you done with poor Daisy’s little lad. Shamed her, you did, and no mistake, letting it out that they’d had to be brung home on account of wettin’ their beds when they was evacuated. Not that either o’ mine would go wettin’ their beds, mind …’

Molly stared at her and then demanded, ‘What do you mean? I haven’t said anything about Daisy’s children to anyone.’

Pearl started to frown. ‘Well, that’s not wot we ’eard. First Daisy goes rushin’ off to bring her kiddies back wi’out saying anything, and then Beryl from number 71 starts tellin’ everyone who’ll listen that they had to come back on account of wettin’ their beds. Of course, it didn’t tek long for us to put two and two together and guess that it had to be you wot had bin talkin’ about it, wot with you being in the WVS an’ all. Ashamed of yourself, you want to be,’ Pearl denounced her roundly.

‘Pearl, it wasn’t me,’ Molly insisted. ‘We
were
told that one of the children had had an … an accident and was being sent home, but Mrs Wesley didn’t mention any names. And even if she had,’ Molly lifted her chin and said firmly, ‘we have to swear an oath to keep confidential things confidential.’

‘Are you saying that it wasn’t you who let it out about Daisy’s lad?’

‘It certainly wasn’t,’ Molly assured her.

‘Well, I don’t know now what to say.’ Pearl was suddenly frowning as she said slowly, ‘’Ere, I’ve
just remembered, doesn’t Beryl’s cousin’s lad walk out wi’ the maid wot works for that Mrs Wesley?’

Molly shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know her.’

‘’Ere, Molly, if it was her that told on Daisy, then I’m right sorry we’ve bin thinking it were you,’ Pearl told her gruffly.

Molly felt there was no point telling Pearl that she had assumed the crime she was being punished for was that of falling in love with Eddie.

‘I’m goin’ to have a word wi’ Beryl and get to the bottom of this. If’n it weren’t you then—’

‘It wasn’t,’ Molly interrupted her quietly. ‘And I’d just as soon forget the whole thing, Pearl. I don’t want any more upset, not with our June’s wedding getting so close, an’ all.’

‘You’re a good lass, Molly,’ Pearl told her, looking uncomfortable. ‘I never thought as it would be you, but Daisy were that upset. All ready for the weddin’, are yer now? Only if there’s owt as any of us can do … My hubby has a contact as he can get a bit of beer and the like from, if your June wants me to have a word wi’ him.’

‘I’ll tell her.’ Molly accepted this olive branch, although privately she was not sure that the vicar would welcome ‘contraband’ alcohol being served in the church hall.

‘You’re looking mighty pleased with yourself,’ June commented when Molly walked into the kitchen.

‘I’ve just seen Pearl,’ Molly told her. ‘You’ll
never guess what, June. They’ve been thinking that it was me that let it slip that Daisy had been told to bring her little lad back from North Wales on account of him wettin’ the bed. That’s why they’ve all been so off with me.’

‘Don’t talk daft.’

‘It’s true,’ Molly insisted. ‘Pearl has just told me. Oh, and she said that her George can get some beer and that for the wedding, if you want him to.’

‘Oh, aye, and I can just imagine what would happen if we let George and that lot bring it in. The vicar would have sommat to say about that – aye, and Frank’s mam as well.’

Molly had detected a slight softening in the hostilities between June and Doris Brookes in the run-up to the wedding, and Frank’s mother had even offered June the loan of her best lace tablecloth. Toasting her toes in front of the back-room fire, Molly allowed herself to smile properly for the first time in weeks. She was pleased to have the reason for Pearl and the others’ recent frostiness towards her out in the open, and even more pleased that it wasn’t anything to do with her relationship with Eddie.

‘I can’t believe that by this time next week Frank will be home,’ June smiled happily, whilst Molly shifted her heavy shopping basket onto her other arm. Both girls were well wrapped up in their winter coats against the raw November weather,
their hands and ears protected by the brightly coloured gloves and scarves Molly had knitted from leftover scraps of wool.

‘We were lucky to get that suet,’ June commented. ‘The Co-op didn’t have any at all, and they were out of sugar an’ all.’

‘I saw Pearl this morning and she said her George had got a load of tinned stuff from some warehouse that had had a fire. Nothing wrong with it, but all the labels had come off. She said she’d let us have a couple of dozen tins.’

‘Dad said that one of his chickens was missing. He reckons someone has taken it for the pot.’

The two sisters looked ruefully at one another.

‘Gawd knows what it’s going to be like when rationing does come in,’ June grimaced.

‘At least we’ve got everything sorted out for the wedding,’ Molly offered comfortingly, but stopped speaking when she saw Johnny’s sisters walking purposefully towards her.

‘We was just on our way round your house,’ Jennifer announced meaningfully.

‘Our mam wants ter have a word with yer about our Johnny. She said to tell yer as it were important.’

June’s mouth tightened. Although she had ceased to criticise her, Molly knew she had not been forgiven.

‘I’ll come round later,’ she offered as she tried to hide both her reluctance and her apprehension.

‘It’d be best if you was to come now.’

‘We’ll both come,’ June announced firmly.

Molly could see June’s nose wrinkling in distaste at the acrid sour smell of bad drains permeating the street where Johnny’s family lived. Stalwartly she managed not to follow her sister’s example, for fear of offending Johnny’s sisters.

‘Going down the dance hall tonight, are yer?’ Deirdre asked them both.

‘Me and Molly have got far too much to do for that, what with my Frank and her Johnny coming home soon,’ June told them, giving Molly a warning look.

‘I can’t see our Johnny coming when he finds out what’s happened,’ Jennifer muttered half under her breath, causing her sister to give her a sharp nudge.

‘I knew sommat like this would happen,’ June whispered angrily to Molly, but in a low voice so that the other girls couldn’t hear. ‘I told you it would get back to Johnny’s family about you and Eddie.’

Molly could feel her face burning, as she and June stood behind Johnny’s sisters and waited for them to open the door.

‘It’s us, Mam,’ Deirdre shouted, ‘and we’ve brought Molly back wi’ us like you told us.’