Lily’s War (41 page)

‘Me and our May do that?’ Daisy laughed. ‘You must be joking! Anyway I wouldn’t be surprised if wedding bells rang for our May. I saw her in town the other night with a fella.’

Lily stilled. ‘What was he like?’

‘I didn’t get a proper look but he was in uniform.’ Her mouth set. ‘Another RAF bloke. But I can’t see our May giving in like I did. I should have stuck with the Senior Service, Lil.’

‘No guarantee of abstinence there, I would have thought,’ said Lily lightly, hoping she was wrong in her guess about the RAF bloke. ‘Anyway, come in and have a cuppa.’ She scooped Paul up off the floor. He let out a wail as he dropped a car. Daisy picked it up and they went inside.

Lily had no sooner put the kettle on and was spreading jam on bread when the doorbell jangled.

‘I’ll go,’ said her sister.

Daisy was away some time but when she came back, her mouth had lost its dissatisfied droop.

‘It was Frank!’ she said, standing in front of Lily, her hands clasped in front of her. ‘His mother’s died in Rainhill Asylum and it’s knocked him sideways! I told him it was a blessing and he agrees, but you know what he said that really touched my heart, Lil?’ She paused for effect. ‘“I’m really alone now, Daisy. I’ve got no one.” I told him I knew just how he felt and I’ve offered to keep him company while he makes all the arrangements. I think he still loves me because he jumped at the offer. You don’t mind, do you, Lil?’

‘Be gentle with him,’ said Lily, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. ‘And don’t be too cheerful. We mightn’t have loved his mother, poor soul, but he did!’

‘Yes, Lil.’ A smile lit Daisy’s eyes. ‘I’ve been longing to see what lies beyond the shop and in that flat upstairs for years.’ She swung her bag over her shoulder, put her hat on at a jaunty angle and departed.

Daisy married Frank in a quiet ceremony a few days after President Roosevelt died. It seemed so sad to Lily that the president had not lived to see the end of the war because he had been a good friend to Britain. Daisy had a wedding cake made richer from dried fruit donated from her local NAAFI and sewed together a goodly number of opened-up naval uniform scarves to make herself a nightdress.

Aunt Dora and Dermot came over from Ireland. The family had considered it only right that their oldest living member should be at the wedding.

‘A much more sensible match this time,’ said Dora, the feather in her crimson hat nodding in the breeze as they stood outside church. ‘Although if I’m not mistaken Daisy’s put on weight.’

‘You’re getting more tactful in your old age,’ said Lily, smiling. ‘And, yes, she will be leaving the Wrens on medical grounds.’

‘I take it that it’s not his?’ Dora placed a hand through her arm.

Lily’s eyes widened. ‘Why should you think that?’

‘Because he hasn’t got it in him, girl! But he’ll make a good husband and father. Can’t see him straying like that other one would have … although I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. He died like many another before his time, poor boy.’ Without drawing breath she added, ‘Any news of Matt?’

Lily shook her head. ‘I just live in hope and tell myself no news is good news, not that it really helps – but I try not to let my imagination run away with me.’

‘His son’s growing into a fine lad,’ said Dora, looking towards where Josie and Joe were swinging Paul by the arms out of the way of the photographer. ‘And that reminds me.’ She fumbled in her black handbag and pulled out an envelope and handed it to Lily. ‘If you can find anything worth having in the shops, get him something for the birthday I missed.’

‘Thanks. It’s kind of you.’ Lily kissed her aunt’s cheek.

‘Don’t have to make a fuss,’ said Dora gruffly, patting her arm. ‘Tell me, what’s May up to now? I wrote and asked would she like to come and stay with us in Ireland for a holiday, but she said she didn’t want to be out of Liverpool at the moment. She hasn’t got a young man on the scene, has she?’

‘I don’t know about young,’ murmured Lily, her eyes resting on May who was wearing a three-year-old blue organdie dress trimmed with a bandage frill to lengthen it. She was talking in a desultory fashion to Ronnie as they waited for the bride and groom to make a move. They were honeymooning in Blackpool and would be leaving straight after the wedding breadkfast which Ben had paid for. ‘If he’s who I think he is,’ said Lily, ‘then he’s just past thirty.’

Dora glanced round. ‘He’s not here, though?’

‘She’s keeping him quiet. There’s a couple more years before she’s twenty-one and perhaps she thinks I won’t approve.’

‘Some girls are better with an older man. Surely you wouldn’t prevent her from marrying him on the grounds of age? Thirty’s not that old!’

‘I’m not sure what I’d do,’ said Lily, wondering what Matt would make of it all. ‘Anyway it hasn’t come up so let’s not worry about it.’ She smiled and changed the subject.

Life resumed a quieter pattern after the wedding, although Lily was conscious of an awkwardness growing between her and May which she found herself unable to do anything about. She had started to look forward, and with her own words ringing in her ears, asked Ben to take her cows back to the farm and requested that Ronnie deliver milk in churns to the dairy. Her brothers agreed with her foresight and bought her a bottling machine but she and May had to put all the cardboard tops on by hand. Then her sister declared there was no longer any need for her to be at the dairy and began to stay nights at the farm. Lily missed her and wished she could be open but felt unable herself to bring Rob’s name up in conversation. After all, she was only going on a hunch and could be mistaken.

As each week passed an almost tangible feeling of expectancy grew in the air as news of the Allied advances across Germany was broadcast on wireless, in the Pathé news and on front pages. At the beginning of May came the news that Hitler had committed suicide and within days Germany had unconditionally surrendered.

Ronnie and May came rushing into the dairy the day peace was declared in Europe and suddenly May was her old self.

‘Let’s all go into town. I want to be with people!’ She turned shining eyes on Lily. ‘Paul has to go, Lil. This is a day he should remember all his life. We can take turns carrying him when his little legs can’t keep up.’

When they reached Lime Street there were masses of people gathered there. The weather was damp and drizzly and Lily felt there were plenty like herself pleased that some of the fighting was over, but complete peace had not come yet and they wouldn’t be happy until it happened in the Far East. Even so it was good to be with the crowd. Ronnie hoisted Paul on to his shoulders and somehow they managed to make their way on to St George’s Plateau within touching distance of the cenotaph erected after the Great War. There were tears in Lily’s eyes as she glanced at it. She could not help thinking about her father and all those men killed in both wars … and could not get Matt out of her mind as people cheered, sang and waved Union Jacks.

‘Remember,’ said May, gripping Lily’s hand, ‘us coming here to see the King and Queen before the war? We went shopping and you bought me shoes for your wedding.’

‘Of course I remember,’ said Lily, the tears rolling down her cheeks.

May squeezed her hand tightly and said no more. Lily was relieved because she felt if her sister had carried on in that vein she would have broken her heart crying.

They all went back to the farm together and Ben brought out one of the bottles of champagne which he said had been hidden away in Uncle William’s cellar with a label on it saying, ‘Not to be opened until the end of the war’. ‘Probably been there since the beginning of it,’ he added, squinting at the label. He filled the glasses bought during the year of the King’s Coronation and lifted his. ‘To all who have suffered and fought for the victory in Europe – and to Matt’s return when we’ll crack open the other bottle.’ They all looked at Lily and she could see their thoughts. She smiled, drained her glass of its sparkling wine, and then with Paul’s hand in hers went out into the garden.

She released her son when they got to the orchard and he immediately started jumping to try and reach the lower branch of a tree. The blossom was just opening and suddenly she felt in her blood that tingling which spring had always brought in the past. Her body yearned for Matt so strongly it was a physical pain. She dropped on to the ground and lay on her stomach. ‘How much longer, God?’ she whispered. ‘Please make the Japanese surrender and bring him home soon.’

In June the Japanese announced the formation of a People’s Volunteer Corps, including every able-bodied man, woman and child, to resist invasion. Lily found herself remembering after Dunkirk, Ronnie repeating Churchill’s speech about fighting on the streets, and felt for the ordinary people of Japan, especially the women.

In July she read of Australians with bayonets and flamethrowers capturing important ridges in New Guinea, and prayed this was the end of the war there. The Philippines were liberated and the Japanese mainland bombarded by Allied warships. Italy declared war on Japan.

A pale-faced May arrived on a visit and Lily asked if she was sickening for something. ‘Someone told me some of our airmen might have to go out East. Do you think they really need them, Lil?’

Guessing the cause of her worry, Lily said, ‘I wouldn’t have thought so with the Yanks out there.’

May nodded and seemed comforted by what she said, asking if there was any news from Matt. Lily shook her head. ‘But my money’s still being paid so I’m sure he must be alive.’ May hugged her and left.

There was an election and Labour won a landslide victory. Mrs Draper said she hoped this was the beginning of a new age for the working classes, but it all seemed unreal to Lily. All her thoughts were concentrated on the other side of the world.

On 6 August the first atom bomb was dropped on Hiroshima and thousands of people were killed. She remembered the blitz and Matt with a child in his arms. She wept, thinking this had to be the end of the war and soon he would be home. But another bomb was dropped before, on 14 August, the Japanese signed an unconditional surrender.

Liverpool went even wilder on VJ-Day as ships’ hooters blew and bells rang. A two-day holiday was declared, flags and bunting decorated the streets and music was relayed from the floodlit Town Hall and St George’s Hall. People got up for impromptu dances and Irish jigs. If the war had done anything it had partially destroyed bad housing and there was a bit of a better blend of Irish Catholic and English Protestants. The Chinese district nearer the docks had received a battering too and had needed to move up nearer the Anglican cathedral. There were bonfires, and fireworks over the Mersey. There were prayers of thanksgiving and bands played in the park all day.

Soon afterwards Lily received a letter postmarked Liverpool, NSW, dated the beginning of July. She thought ruefully of all the letters she had sent and here she was getting just one. She opened it eagerly. It was brief. Matt had been suffering from some kind of jungle fever and was in hospital. As soon as he could he would be heading home.

‘Your daddy’s all right!’ she cried, swinging Paul up into her arms. ‘He’s coming home!’

‘Daddy! Daddy!’ He bounced in her arms.

‘Poor love,’ said Lily, hugging him. ‘You’ve no idea really what a daddy is.’ She took out the photograph album and showed him, not for the first time, the pictures.

He pressed a stubby finger against Matt’s face. ‘Daddy!’

‘Yes, Daddy,’ she said more soberly. Neither of them would be looking so young and radiant as the photograph when they met. Still she could not be downcast and had to tell someone the news.

She met Mrs Draper in the street and told her. ‘Wonderful, my dear.’ She smiled happily. ‘I’m so pleased for you.’

Lily hugged her and went to tell Daisy but could not get an answer. She went to tell David. He was delighted and they thanked God together. Then she and Paul called at the greengrocer’s on the corner again and this time found her sister leaning on the wooden-holed containers holding potatoes. ‘Daisy, he’s alive and coming home!’ she cried.

‘Great,’ groaned Daisy, with a hand to her belly. ‘I think my pains have started. I’d best tell Frank. Could you fetch the midwife?’

It seemed incredible to Lily that it should happen at such a moment but she did as asked with a smile on her face.

Her sister gave birth to a girl in the early hours of the next morning. Frank seemed pleased and for the first time Lily realised her sister had trusted him with the truth. ‘I don’t know how I’d have coped with a boy, Lil,’ he said. ‘I’d have always been thinking of the father, but this way I can just think of her as Daisy’s daughter and I can love them both and maybe have a lad as well.’

‘I always knew you were the right man for her,’ said Lily, and kissed him affectionately.

When Ronnie came with the milk she told him both pieces of news. ‘That’s great, Lil! I’ll tell the family. You know who’ll be next?’

‘Vera! I hope all goes well for her, too.’

As Lily served customers and did her housework she could not help thinking that perhaps she and Matt could have another child. She was thirty-three but that wasn’t too old. As for Matt he’d be … She counted on her fingers. Around forty. The prime of life for some men. All she had to do was wait.

Vera’s child was a boy and she and Ben were besotted with him.

‘All these people having babies,’ May said moodily. ‘It makes me sick.’

Lily kept silent although she longed to ask May about her love life. Her sister left without saying much else beyond asking when she thought Matt would be home. ‘Any time,’ Lily answered.

Now she knew Matt was coming home the waiting seemed more arduous somehow. Maybe it was because every day she was expecting his arrival. The first shipload of prisoners released from the Japanese prisoner-of-war camps arrived and David told her something of their condition. Lily was horrified. He tried to reassure her quickly. ‘Matt hasn’t been a prisoner.’

‘He’s been ill, though, with some kind of tropical fever. Getting bitten by horrible insects and swallowing goodness knows what kind of food.’ She prepared herself for a Matt she might not recognise, a man who was a shadow of himself.