Keep the Home Fires Burning (37 page)

‘It doesn’t flipping feel like it,’ Sarah said. ‘Come on, a person would stick to the ground if they stayed still long enough.’

They were not the only ones in the park, by any means. Others were walking off their dinner, and the Whittaker children passed and greeted many people as they made their way round to Aston Hall.

‘Dad told us once just one family would live in that gigantic house,’ Magda said, looking at the edifice.

‘That’s right,’ Sarah said.

‘But why would anyone need that many rooms?’ Missie asked.

‘It was just the way it was with rich people,’ Sarah said. ‘They used to have lots of servants to keep it clean and cook and that, but the war has put paid to that, because people have gone into more war-related work now.’

‘They haven’t a choice any more, anyroad,’ Richard said. ‘Everyone has to register for war work, and it’s far better paid.’

‘I bet Peggy and Violet came from a place like that,’ Magda said.

Sarah nodded. ‘I’d say so. It mightn’t have been so grand or large but it was something similar all right.’

‘They were more than glad to leave, I know that,’ Richard said. ‘Violet told me that herself. She said she hated being at the beck and call of someone else, and being looked down on just because they had money and she didn’t.’

‘And I would,’ Magda declared. ‘Anyone would.’

‘Yeah,’ Sarah said. ‘So I reckon that even when the war is over, the people who live in these types of houses will find it very hard to get staff to work for them, and a good job too, I say.’

‘And I do,’ Richard agreed. ‘Come on, where shall we go now, because we can’t go back yet?’

‘What about if we round the park as far as Grosvenor Road and go on to the canal towpath?’ Magda said. ‘If we follow it as far as Rocky Lane we can go home that way.’

‘You and your flipping canal,’ Sarah said in mock annoyance. ‘It will be freezing down there today.’

‘Well, it’s not going to be blistering hot wherever we go, is it?’ Missie said. ‘And I’d rather face a freezing canal any day than Grandma Murray.’

Back at the house Marion was valiantly trying to cope with her mother, who went on and on about Tony and what a tragedy his death was all through tea. It wasn’t that they never spoke about
him – they spoke about him often, although it had been awakward in the beginning – but Clara’s reminiscences weren’t like that. She went on and on about the tragedy of losing Tony, though she had taken little notice of him when he had been alive. Yet Eddie, who had got to know Marion’s younger son very well, said little, though his saddened eyes spoke volumes. However, nothing Marion said could deflect her mother from her tirade and eventually she would come round to the way that Tony died, and repeat again that she had warned Marion about the gas in the cellar and that if she had heeded her warning then Tony might not have died. Marion could feel the energy draining out of her as she fought the guilt that she was in any way responsible for her son’s death.

When the children returned with scarlet faces and tingling fingers and toes, the room was beautifully warm from the fire that Marion had kept banked up. Sarah, though, noticed the lines of strain on her mother’s face and she sighed inwardly. She decided to pay no attention to her grandmother and instead began to talk to her grandfather about the walk they had had, with the others chipping in here and there in a way that they knew their grandmother thought unmannerly, but they gave her little chance to say so.

Marion had to hide her smile for she knew that they had found their own way of dealing with their grandmother, and wished that she could
ignore her so easily. With dusk descending Eddie and Clara didn’t stay long after that, and everyone heaved a sigh of relief when they eventually went back home.

That night, as Magda lay in bed, she gave a sigh of contentment as she said to Sarah, ‘Wasn’t that the greatest Christmas Day ever? And fancy having dripping toast for tea. It’s just about my favourite and I’ve never had it before on Christmas Day.’

Sarah laughed because it was well known by everyone how much Magda liked dripping toast. She thought it was even better if they opened the door of the range and toasted the bread on the fire using the long toasting forks like they had done that night.

‘Yeah, it was a good day,’ she had to agree. ‘The only thing that could make it better was if this blessed war was to end and Dad was to come home again safe and sound.’ And Sam too, she thought to herself, but she didn’t share that with her sisters.

The dawning of 1942 didn’t fill anyone with enthusiasm, though the young people did take Marion’s words to heart and began going out more. They were well used to the blackout now and were very good at using the shielded torches when batteries for them, which were like gold dust to find in the shops, could be obtained. They went dancing every week – Richard was as keen as the girls were now
? but they also loved the cinema. It was as they arrived home after seeing
Citizen Kane
in the second week of February that Marion told them it had been on the news that Singapore had surrendered to the Japanese Army, who had also captured 100, 000 servicemen.

It was a big blow and very bad for morale. Yet life had to go on. Rationing began to bite deeper than ever and Marion and Polly often complained about it as most women did.

‘Cheese, margarine and tea last year, and points needed for jam, treacle and syrup now,’ Polly said one day to Marion as they returned to Marion’s house with their shopping.

‘I know, and canned meat don’t forget,’ Marion said, as she filled the kettle. ‘I mean Spam don’t taste particularly nice but you can always dress it up a bit and make something more or less edible with it.’

‘I know,’ Polly said. ‘There ain’t much else. They say even soap will be rationed later this year.’

‘Yeah, and sweets,’ Marion said. ‘Parts of Cadbury’s have gone over to putting cordite in rockets now.’ She added with a wry smile, ‘Must be a bit different from putting soft centres into chocolates. Mind you, clothes rationing gets me down altogether.’

‘Yeah,’ Polly agreed. ‘This make do and mend is all very well if you had plenty of clothes to start with.’

‘Yes,’ said Marion. ‘But even before rationing
some clothes disappeared altogether, or were at the very least in short supply.’

‘I thought Father McIntyre was going to organise clothes banks,’ Polly said. ‘Lots of Churches and Mission Halls have been doing that.’

‘Yeah, and by the time he gets around to it, the bloody war will be over.’

‘I think,’ said Polly, ‘certainly before next winter really sets in, you and I might have to take up knitting.’

‘You could be right,’ Marion said. ‘Once upon a time you would never see Ada Shipley at a jumble sale, but now she’s a regular, searching for clothes she can adapt or woollies she can unravel and knit into something else.’

‘Well, knitting can’t be that hard,’ Polly said, ‘because there’s plenty at it, particularly at the moment.’

‘Make Do and Mend’ was on everyone’s lips in the spring of 1942, and to be a squander bug was to be the worst person in the world. In accordance with that, Magda and Missie and all girls of similar age were taught to knit at school. They just knitted squares at first from any spare wool donated, and these were sewn together to make blankets for the homeless. And they taught their mothers how to do it too, for when they learned that clothing coupons were being reduced from 66 points per person to 48, it was all the incentive they needed to get started.

The only place to get wool off ration was at the jumble sale, so Marion and Polly would join Ada Shipley and women like her, doing a little tour now and then to see what they could pick up. In the Whittaker house, everyone became involved. Even the twins became adept at unravelling a woollen jumper and then rolling the wool into balls.

‘There’s patterns in that magazine
Home Notes,
and tips on sewing too, making things out of nowt sort of sewing,’ Polly said to Marion one day when they had the knitting mastered.

‘Ah, but it’s thrupence a week,’ Marion reminded her. ‘And thrupence is thrupence when all’s said and done. Anyroad, I don’t think that magazines like that are for ordinary people. Wasn’t it that magazine that recommended making a blouse out of old dusters? I mean, I ask you, what woman do you know buys dusters? Even down this road, a duster is some old bit of rag that really has no more wear in it at all.’

Polly laughed. ‘I know. It’s the girls buy these magazines, not me. And some of the recipes are good as well as the knitting patterns. I’ll bring a few of them round and you’ll see what I mean.’

On the day of Richard’s birthday, having already told them at work what he intended, he put on his suit and went down to Thorpe Street Barracks just as his father had before him. He was told to report to the army the following Sunday evening.

Everyone was sorry to see Richard go, but Marion held on to her tears because she knew he would be relatively safer in a training camp than helping in the air raids for the moment. The twins showed no such restraint, because since Tony’s death they had leaned on Richard more. He had been aware of it and he was very gentle as he bade them all goodbye.

He hadn’t been left long and the family were eating Sunday tea when explosions were heard in the distance. There had been no sirens but as another blast and then another rent the air, it was obvious that a raid was taking place. Marion’s heart plummeted at the thought that it was all going to start again, but even as she hauled her
shelter bag from under the stairs and began to fill it, all of them point-blank refused to go into the cellar, and instead crowded together under the kitchen table.

The raid went on fast and furious, and though some bombs fell close, they weren’t quite close enough to do much damage.

‘I think Handsworth is getting the main thrust of it,’ Sarah said.

‘Whoever’s getting it would have been grateful for the siren’s warning, I’m sure,’ Marion said. ‘Got complacent, see, ‘cos there has been no raid for a while.’

‘Gone to sleep, more like,’ Violet said.

Suddenly there was a furious hammering on the door and they all looked at each other in alarm.

‘Now who the hell’s that?’ Marion said. She got to her feet and went out into the corridor. She was back in minutes, followed by an ARP warden.

‘It’s Grandma,’ she told the children. ‘She’s had a heart attack and has been taken to the General.’

‘What about Granddad?’ Sarah asked.

‘He went in the ambulance with Grandma,’ Marion said. ‘I shall go straight away.’ She turned to the warden. ‘My sister, Polly, should know too. She will probably be sheltering in the cellar under Atkinson’s Brewery.’

The warden nodded. ‘Your father told us that. My mate’s gone to tell her.’

‘Shall I come with you, Mom?’ Sarah asked.

‘No, love,’ Marion said. ‘I’ll go with Polly. You’ll
have to go into work tomorrow and I don’t know how long I’ll be. Anyway, I need you to see to the others.’

‘We can see to ourselves,’ Magda said. ‘We ain’t babies.’

‘The best thing you can do for me is to act sensibly and do what Sarah tells you,’ Marion said crisply, and Magda said nothing more.

Polly was actually scurrying up the road by the time Marion got to the front door, and the two women hugged each other.

‘Do you want us to go with you?’ the warden asked.

Marion looked at her sister and then said. ‘No, it’s all right. You’re probably more use here as the raid is still going on. We’ll be fine.’

The warden scanned the sky. ‘Getting away light tonight, so far, anyway,’ he said. ‘And I think the trams are still running down Lichfield Road.’

‘They are,’ Polly said. ‘I saw one pass as we came out of the cellar. Thank you for coming to tell us, by the way. It was good of you.’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Marion said.

Marion and Polly, arms linked, began to walk down the road, glad to have each other. It was late enough to be dark, but the arc light slicing through the blackout lit the sky with an orange glow, picking out the droning planes, releasing their screaming harbingers of death.

‘Some other poor bugger’s turn tonight,’ Polly said, for though they heard the thud and crash of
the explosions, they were in the distance, and so were the ack-ack guns barking out their response.

When they reached Lichfield Road, pockets of fire were visible in the distance towards the town, lighting up the skyline and showing up the tram clanking towards them. ‘Come on,’ Polly urged, ‘we’ll have a wait if we miss this one.’

‘Isn’t it awful that we’re not more upset about Mammy, that we aren’t crying and carrying on, though?’ Marion said, as they found seats on the tram. ‘The warden that came to tell me didn’t seem to hold out much hope for her.’

‘I know,’ Polly said. ‘I feel sort of hollow. I mean, she was never what you’d call a loving mother, was she?’

‘No,’ Marion agreed. ‘I know the pain of losing a child now, and it is without doubt the worst pain I’ve ever had to endure, but I couldn’t give in because of the others. Peggy said her mother lost two children, and it was the vicar or whatever they call him that as much as told her to pull herself together and take joy in the husband and children she did have. I fell to wishing afterwards that something similar had been said to our mother.’

‘Maybe it was,’ Polly replied.

Marion shook her head. ‘No. My bet is she was so upset that everyone made many allowances for her, and in the end she thought that was the right way to behave. And she never gave a thought to the fact that you and I together were clearly told
we could not make up in any way for the loss of the others. She never thought how hurtful it was.’

‘I never knew that you felt that bad about it.’

‘I did. I couldn’t help it. I thought one day I would gather up the courage to tell her, but I haven’t so far and now it might be too late.’

‘I know,’ Polly said. ‘And may God forgive me, but I can’t be sorry.’

‘Nor can I,’ Marion said in almost a whisper, as if she couldn’t bear to say the words out loud.

Eddie was sitting just inside, in the waiting room of the General Hospital, with his head down, twisting his hat between his hands. He looked up as they went in and smiled his slow easy smile, but Marion saw the shadow behind that smile and she was across the floor in seconds. She hugged him tight before she asked, ‘Daddy, how is she?’