The Girl With No Name (46 page)

So many of the houses in the street had been damaged, many of the people who’d known the Federmans no longer lived there, and those few who did, accepted his story. With the destruction of so many homes during the months of the Blitz, people were living wherever they could find a roof. The man had called him a ‘cellar-rat’, well, Harry knew he was not the only one.

June 1942

It was Saturday evening. The day had been hot and the air was still warm as the midsummer evening sun still lingered over the village. Many of the people of Wynsdown had been hard at work in their gardens, tending the vegetables that added so importantly to the meagre rations they could buy in the shops. Miss Edie had been weeding the vegetable plot and Charlotte had been picking and podding broad beans. These would be salted to preserve them for use later in the year.

‘Save us two portions for supper this evening,’ Miss Edie called over her shoulder.

‘Billy’s coming to fetch me at half past seven,’ Charlotte reminded her.

‘I know, I hadn’t forgotten, but you can’t go to the dance with no food inside you.’

Charlotte was very excited. It was the Wynsdown midsummer dance at the village hall and she was going with Billy. He had come specially to ask Miss Edie if he might take her.

‘Everyone will be going,’ he said, ‘so if I could fetch Charlotte and we could go together, that would be great.’

‘Can I go, Miss Edie? Please say I can go.’

Miss Edie had smiled. Charlotte was sixteen now and there was no reason why she shouldn’t go to the village dance. All her school friends would be there and Miss Edie knew that Billy would take good care of her. Since Billy had claimed Charlotte as his girl, there had been no further bullying from Tommy and his mates, and over the subsequent months few people gave thought to the fact that Charlotte was a German refugee. Her friendship with Billy was accepted, he was recognised as her protector, but in fact very little had changed between them. Billy continued to treat her as he might a younger sister and Charlotte, after the first flush of pleasure that he had claimed her as his girl, came to realise that it had been his way of dealing with the bullies. She was just his friend and that was enough.

‘I can’t see why not,’ Miss Edie said in answer to Billy’s request, ‘provided you bring her home again before eleven.’

‘Oh, Miss Edie, the dance doesn’t end till half past,’ cried Charlotte. ‘Can’t I stay to the end?’

‘In the door by midnight!’ replied Miss Edie and was rewarded with a huge smile that illuminated Charlotte’s face.

‘What are you going to wear?’ Clare asked on their way to school one morning.

‘Miss Edie found a skirt that belonged to her mother,’ Charlotte said, ‘and she’s altered it for me. It’s dark green with white daisies on it and I’ve got a white blouse to go on top.’

‘Lucky you,’ sighed Clare. ‘Ma hasn’t got anything to alter for me. She’s cut up a bedspread to make a skirt for Sandra and though there’s enough material to make me one too, she says we can’t wear the same thing.’

It meant that Clare was going to have to wear her old summer dress and as she pointed out to Charlotte in despair, ‘It was too tight last time I wore it, so goodness only knows how I’ll get into it now! I haven’t even got a decent skirt and blouse, only my school uniform and I’m not wearing that! No, I’ll have to squeeze into my old dress, but no one’ll want to dance with me in a scruffy dress which I’m bursting out of!’

‘Malcolm will!’ Charlotte assured her. ‘You know he likes you. He won’t care if you’re wearing your old dress.’

‘He may not,’ Clare said bitterly, ‘but I will.’

‘But you like him, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ muttered Clare, ‘you know I do... that’s the point!’

‘Can I give Clare my yellow check skirt?’ Charlotte asked Miss Edie later, when she got home. ‘It’s too small for me really, isn’t it? But it’d fit Clare all right and she hasn’t got anything pretty to wear for the dance.’

‘You could offer to lend it to her,’ suggested Miss Edie. She had found the length of yellow gingham in the market in Wells last summer and had bought it to make Charlotte a summer skirt. She had indeed grown out of it now, but Miss Edie had it earmarked for further alteration.

Charlotte shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, ‘that’s not the same. I have to give it to her so that it’s hers.’

Miss Edie could see the point and reluctantly she agreed, so that evening Charlotte took the skirt round to Mrs Prynne’s and gave it to Clare.

‘Everyone’ll know it’s yours,’ objected Clare.

‘Course they won’t!’ Charlotte assured her. ‘I haven’t been wearing it cos it’s too small for me. They won’t remember. And what if they do? Since rationing, everyone’s swapping clothes.’

Billy had called for Charlotte at exactly half past seven. He was waiting in the hallway of Blackdown House when she came down the stairs, pausing at the turn to smile down at him. Billy had claimed her as his girl over a year ago, but as she walked down the stairs, dressed for her first dance, it was as if scales had fallen from his eyes and he were seeing her for the first time. No longer was she the scruffy Charlotte in dungarees and wellington boots who helped him muck out the pig and feed the hens, the Charlotte who, with her dog at her heels, strode out over the hills with him, the Charlotte who wobbled along behind him on his sister’s bike. Now, she was transformed into a new and exotic Charlotte whom he hardly recognised.

Her hair had grown longer over the last months and this evening Miss Edie had helped her put it up for the first time. Swept back smoothly from her face, it was held in place by two tortoiseshell combs, its length coiled at the nape of her neck. The confused and frightened school girl who had arrived from London all those months ago with no memory of who she was, had emerged as a tall and confident young woman with glossy brown hair, warm brown eyes and a generous mouth that curved into a wide smile as she looked down at him. A wave of love surged through Billy, leaving him hot and breathless, and with it he recognised, for the first time, the depth of his feelings for her. Charlotte. His girl. He’d been fond of her, enjoyed being with her, felt the need to protect her, but now, suddenly, he felt awkward and shy. Could this beautiful girl really be his? Could she possibly feel the same about him as he did about her? For the first time Billy felt diffident, hesitant, unsure of what had been so certain before. Charlotte smiled across at him, apparently unaware of the effect she was having on him, and his heart turned a somersault before he pulled himself together and stepping forward said, ‘Charlotte, you look fantastic.’ And there was no disguising the admiration in his eyes.

‘Doesn’t she just?’ agreed Miss Edie, beaming.

‘So do you,’ replied Charlotte, for it was the first time she’d ever seen Billy in a suit, a shirt with a collar and tie, his curly, fair hair smoothed down within an inch of its life. His deep-set blue eyes shone bright from his summer-tanned face and she thought she’d never seen him look more handsome.

‘Midnight,’ Miss Edie reminded them, ‘and not a minute later.’ She watched them walk out into the evening sun and knew a moment of melancholy, remembering how she and Herbert had walked together so many years ago. But her memories were no longer bitter. Herbert had loved her and she him, but he was long gone, and since this strange child had been catapulted into her life and she’d learned to love her, Miss Edie had, at last, been able to revisit her memories without pain and move on.

The hall was hot despite the windows being open and the doors propped wide to allow the thick summer air to circulate. It was almost dusk and when darkness fell they knew they would have to shut the doors and fix the blackout screens, but for just a little longer they were able to continue dancing by the light of the evening sun.

A four-piece band was playing, Paul Rollett thumping away on the village hall piano, Bob Fountain playing his accordion, Andy Hallman blowing mournfully into his saxophone and Dennis Bird beating his drums to keep them in time. Everyone was at the midsummer dance; it was the high spot of the summer and eagerly awaited. Almost every household in Wynsdown had contributed something to the feast and Jack at the Magpie was providing the beer and lemonade.

Some of the senior school children had spent the afternoon decorating the hall with bunting, draping the flags across the ceiling and filling the windowsills with vases of wild flowers gathered from the hedgerows that morning.

It was a wonderful evening. Everyone had managed to find something festive to wear, even if it was only some flowers for a girl’s hair or a jacket from the back of a cupboard, ironed and pressed into uncomfortable service for the evening. Everyone was chattering, sharing plates of food and, of course, dancing. Charlotte grinned across at Clare when she saw her with Malcolm Flint, his arm around her shoulders, and Clare dressed in the yellow skirt and a white lacy blouse that might have once been a net curtain, beaming with pleasure as they walked out on to the tiny space that served as the dance floor.

The vicar and Mrs Vicar were there, as were many of those who had offered homes to the evacuees. Caroline Morrison had come down for the weekend and was being squired by Dr Masters. It was an evening the village was to remember for a long time to come; an evening of good food, good cheer and warmth. Once it grew dark outside, the doors were closed and the blackout shutters put in place. It made the hall unutterably hot and more than one couple slipped out into the warm darkness beyond its walls.

Billy, still a little disorientated by the sudden revelation of his feelings, stood watching the dancing for some time. He didn’t know how to talk to this new, confident Charlotte. For the first time in his life he felt out of his depth.

‘Come on, Billy,’ called Clare from the dance floor. ‘Why aren’t you dancing?’

Charlotte looked up at Billy with a mischievous grin. ‘Why aren’t we dancing, Billy?’ she demanded.

‘I’m not very good at dancing,’ he replied awkwardly, still hesitating.

‘Don’t be silly,’ cried Charlotte, turning to him with a smile that raised his heart-rate. ‘We’ve come to a dance. Let’s dance!’ She held out her hand to him and together they joined the dancers on the floor.

Charlotte was thistledown in his arms, but Billy felt as if he had two left feet.

‘Told you I wasn’t very good,’ he mumbled as he trod on her toe, but Charlotte simply laughed and, holding tight to his arm, refused to let him leave the dance floor.

The band stopped for a well-earned break and with some relief Billy went to the bar to fetch them a drink. Charlotte stood watching the people gathered in the hall, people she’d come to know over the months she’d been in Wynsdown.

‘Hallo, Charlotte.’

Charlotte turned to find Miss Morrison standing beside her, smiling. ‘You look as if you’re enjoying yourself. I saw you dancing!’

‘Oh, I am, Miss Morrison,’ Charlotte cried. ‘We’ve been having dancing lessons at school and I love it.’

‘It’s lovely to see you so happy,’ Miss Morrison said. ‘How’s Miss Everard?’

‘Miss Edie? Oh, she’s fine. I tried to get her to come here tonight, but she said she had a bit of a headache and anyway she’s too old for gallivanting.’ Charlotte looked up at Caroline Morrison and said softly, ‘You don’t have to worry about me, Miss Morrison. I’m very happy with Miss Edie.’

‘Good,’ said Miss Morrison, ‘that’s all I wanted to know. Enjoy the rest of your evening.’

‘What did she want?’ asked Billy when he came back with their drinks.

‘She just wanted to know if I was all right. She’s always been very kind to me, Billy.’

Billy nodded and handed her a glass of lemonade before taking a long pull at his pint of scrumpy.

‘It’s hot in here,’ Charlotte said as she sipped her drink. ‘Shall we go outside and see if it’s a bit cooler?’

Billy would never have dared suggest this to her on this evening, when suddenly their relationship seemed to have changed, but when the suggestion came from her he turned towards the door and holding aside the blackout curtain, led her outside.

‘That’s better,’ Charlotte said as they sat down on one of the benches set around the green. A three-quarter moon sailed out from behind a cloud, bathing the village in silver, the church tower across the green standing in stark relief against the night sky. It was certainly cooler outside and the change in temperature made Charlotte shiver.

‘You’re cold,’ Billy said.

She looked up at him, her face lifted to his. ‘No,’ she whispered, ‘not really.’

Awkwardly, Billy slipped his arm around her shoulders and felt the warmth of her body against his. His kiss was gentle, little more than a brush of his lips against hers, but when she sighed with pleasure, he kissed her again and this time she responded, slipping her arms round his neck to hold him close. After a long moment they broke apart, breathless.

‘Oh, Charlotte,’ was all he could say, but it seemed to be enough as she sighed and snuggled against him.

Other couples had drifted out into the darkness, but as they heard the band strike up again they were returning to the party inside the hall. Suddenly shy, Charlotte got to her feet and said, ‘We should go in.’

It was a magical evening and, floating on a cloud of happiness, Charlotte didn’t want it to end. With Billy’s arms around her she felt she could dance for ever. When the band finally struck up the last waltz, everyone crowded on to the dance floor and there was hardly room to move. Charlotte danced with her head on Billy’s shoulder, enfolded in his arms, so that she felt the steady beat of his heart, beating in rhythm with her own.

As promised, Billy left Charlotte at the door of Blackdown House at a minute to midnight. They had walked slowly home along the lane, arms entwined, complete in their new-found happiness. Outside the gate they paused for one last kiss, before Charlotte slipped from his arms and ran lightly up to the front door. With one hand on the latch she turned for a final blown kiss and then she opened the door and was gone.

Billy turned back down the lane and as he walked home his whole being was filled with Charlotte. His girl. His love. But as he walked across the fields, silvered in the moonlight, he found himself thinking of what he’d recently been asked to do and, for the first time, he wished he’d refused.