The Watercress Girls (21 page)

The landlord’s wife brought in the first course. ‘Rissoles’, she said apologetically. ‘I can recommend the gravy though, made with good stock. Our home-grown vegetables, we store them in the cellar. Your beer, sir. Port and lemon for the lady. Would you care to listen to the wireless?’

Dave looked at Evie. ‘No thank you. I must say this looks very nice….’

The rissoles were piping hot and indeed tasty. The apple tart which
followed was tart, as sugar was used sparingly. The Bird’s custard powder was mixed with dried milk.

When the table was cleared of dishes, they sat opposite each other in the armchairs. ‘Let’s talk, say all the things we should have learned about each other, but haven’t. You first, Evie.’

‘All I can say is, I know what’s the most important thing in your life – your family.’

‘Nothing about how you really feel about me – how you suspect I feel about you?’

‘No. No!’

He stretched out his hand towards her, but she kept her hands resolutely folded in her lap. ‘Please, Evie.…’

‘You would regret it for ever if you betrayed your wife.’

‘I see your resolve is stronger than mine. I really didn’t bring you here to make love to you, you know. I miss Vi terribly. She’s not here. You are. I think it’s highly probable I won’t see either of you again,’ he said flatly.

‘I think we should leave now.’ Evie rose. He stood up, in turn. ‘I’ll fetch our coats,’ he said.

They parted outside the main gates of the Amy Able. She didn’t resist when he pulled her to him and kissed her. ‘Goodbye,’ he murmured.

‘Goodbye. Good luck,’ she managed in return.

Rhoda and Noreen didn’t question her about her delayed arrival back. But that night, as they settled down in their narrow beds, she told them: ‘Nothing happened. Nothing at all….’

M
egan’s last shift on the general ward in the hospital, where she had been working since she’d graduated last summer, was on Christmas Day, her eighteenth birthday. She was paid thirty cents an hour for basic domestic duties, and Mattie insisted that she should save her earnings for the future.

‘Perhaps you will decide on a career in nursing,’ Mattie said
hopefully
.

‘I don’t think I’m cut out for that, Mom. Oh, I’m real glad to be helping out the way I do now, though I hate being on bedpan duty – and the patients say I make ’em smile.’

‘Haven’t you any idea what you might do, after this?’

‘Wait and see, eh?’ Megan knew, of course, what she intended to do. She just wasn’t sure that her mom and dad would agree with her choice.

The nurses sang favourite carols and the few patients who had not been able to get home or had no family to care for them, sat up in bed, or in chairs with a blanket over their knees, to open the presents the hospital staff had delivered. The cleaners hovered in the background, to watch. They would collect up the torn wrapping paper and generally tidy the ward before going off duty. It was late afternoon.

Megan was thinking about Tommy. He was a long way from his own home in Canada. Tommy was somewhere in England, attached to the RAF. She’d posted him a photograph of herself, with the message,
Love always, from Megan
. The photographer’s art had made her look like a film star, she mused. Surely he would see how grown-up she was now.

With a start, she realized that her name was being called. Sister Julienne was holding out a parcel. ‘Miss Megan Myfanwy Parry – please step forward!’

As Megan did so, voices were raised in song once more, some old and quavery and out of tune, a pleasing baritone from one of the doctors, but all knew the words: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU – HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU – HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR MEGAN, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!

There was more warbling back home, where the family had kindly
postponed
opening their own presents and sitting down to their Christmas dinner until Megan’s return. They’d been joined as usual by Sybil and Lloyd and, for a few hours, Max, who was fortunate to have leave from the army before going overseas to the battle zone. He was six months older than Megan and had joined up immediately he left school.

‘Sorry, I didn’t manage to get out and buy you one present, let alone, two,’ Max apologized. ‘But I do have a little something for you, don’t worry.’

‘Well, I didn’t know you were coming today, so I’ve nothing for you, either!’

Griff fastened his and Mattie’s gift, a gold chain and heart-shaped pendant round her neck. ‘Oh, you still smell of carbolic – but this is with our love,’ he said.

‘Mom, Dad – it’s beautiful! Thank you so much.’ Megan’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘I’ll have a quick squirt of Sybil and Lloyd’s scent, eh?’

‘Do you mind,’ Sybil smiled. ‘It’s Chanel No 5 and so no squirting, just dabbing!’

‘You can open the pendant,’ Mattie told Megan. ‘Put a tiny photo inside, or a lock of hair. Not your father’s, he can’t spare any, these days.’

‘Cruel woman, your mom,’ Griff said fondly.

Megan postponed her announcement until after they’d eaten. She thought, Dad will understand, he’s more placid than Mom. He’s always smiling since he left that dreary job at the garage, just after America went to war. He loves his work in the planning department at the aircraft factory, he’s doing something worthwhile again….

Max gave Megan his present when he thought no one was looking. A small box, which he slipped into her hand as they sat side by side at the table. ‘Don’t open it now – it’s not much, but I hope you’ll wear it and think of me,’ he whispered.

She said in her forthright way, ‘I’m sorry I didn’t have time for
shopping
this Christmas. I thought you’d be too busy too, so—’

‘You needn’t make excuses. Just say you’ll knit me some socks.’

‘What makes you imagine I can knit?’ she challenged, but she didn’t feel irritated, as she usually did, at his persistence. He was a
good-looking
fellow, tall and athletic, but, despite the uniform, he still seemed immature compared with Tommy.

Griff and Lloyd were sharing the carving duties, one with the turkey, the other with the ham. Not quite the spread of pre-war days but, as Mattie
observed: ‘We’re so fortunate. Evie is still eating college fare, and Ronnie’s Fanny is feeding the five thousand she says, on short commons….’

The pudding arrived, and generous portions were served, with custard and cream. Then they raised their glasses to salute Christmas and Megan on her special birthday. ‘To Megan, may you have a good year to follow!’

It was time to tell them. Megan looked round at the smiling faces. ‘Well, it’s beginning well. I’m following Max’s good example and joining up before conscription. I’ve decided I want to train to be an army driver. In fact, I’ve already had an interview. I was asked what my strengths were and all I could think of was, I drove my mom to safety through a dust storm!’

There was a stunned silence. Then Griff cleared his throat, stood up and said huskily: ‘We’ve always been proud of you, Megan, but
especially
today. Raise your glasses all of you, to a wonderful girl. Megan.’

‘Megan!’ they echoed.

‘You’re crying, Mom,’ Megan said, concerned.

Mattie dabbed at her wet face with her table napkin. ‘I’ll miss you – but, oh, Megan, I know I would have done the same, at your age!’

‘Of course you would,’ Griff agreed, adding: ‘Didn’t cousin Bert once say you were a girl and a half, Megan? You certainly get that spirit from your mom!’

Sybil tapped her glass with a spoon to gain their attention. ‘I’ve some news to impart, too. Lloyd and I have decided to close down the beauty parlour side of the business, for the duration. It doesn’t seem
appropriate
at this time. However, we’ll keep the hairdressing salon going, as we have more mature staff there, who are past call-up. Lloyd is
concentrating
on his laboratory work, and me – I am offering my services to the military hospital to help those service personnel who suffer burns or other disfigurement in the fighting. My skills at concealing scars and blemishes could aid rehabilitation, I’m told.’

‘Sybil, that’s a great idea!’ Mattie assured her. She thought, there must be something
I
could do, too, to help the war effort. Selling war bonds perhaps? Or maybe working in Bigelow’s part-time – they’re suffering from a shortage of staff now. Will we have a family gathering like this next Christmas, I wonder?

‘When are you leaving?’ Max asked Megan.

Attention focused once more on Megan.

‘Next week,’ she said, ‘Mom and Dad, I hope that’s not too much of a shock!’

Griff squeezed Mattie’s hand, answered for them both. ‘Having made up your mind, the best thing to do is to get on with it! We’re behind you, all the way!’

After the guests had departed, Megan helped her parents with the clearing up, then went off to bed. She settled under the covers,
comfortable
in old pyjamas, fingering the locket round her neck. She’d write to Tommy and ask if he had any spare Polyfotos, she mused. She didn’t need to say what for. She suddenly recalled the little box which Max had given her. She’d put it on her bedside table. She reached out, and opened it. His high school fraternity pin! With a rueful smile, she pinned it to her jacket. It was obvious what he meant by this gift. She’d thank him, of course, and wear the pin for friendship’s sake.

The fierce hug he’d given her earlier when he was about to leave, the way he’d kissed her full on the lips for the first time and murmured, ‘Think of me – sometimes – Megan,
please
.…’ had made her realize the extent of his feelings for her. Now, as she checked that the pin was fastened securely, she sighed. ‘I don’t suppose,’ she said aloud, ‘that
Tommy
thought of
me
, today….’

M
egan had come through her basic army training with flying colours. She had been flown over with other young women drivers to a secret location deep in the countryside. They were aware that they were here to chauffeur their superiors to important meetings, that
something
very exciting was about to happen, which could lead to a breakthrough in the hostilities, but they didn’t talk about it, even among themselves, or allude to it in letters home.

She was becoming accustomed now to driving down narrow, leafy lanes, the lack of signposts, disguised or removed when there had been a very real threat of invasion after Dunkirk, even to the rain and ensuing damp conditions of an English spring. Banks of delicate, lovely wild flowers made Megan catch her breath. Land girls driving tractors; women riding bicycles with baskets on the front, and toddlers strapped in little seats behind, raised a hand in greeting as the staff car passed them.

Two of the most senior officers were to attend a weekend
conference
in London. Megan was chosen to drive them there. The officers would be staying at a big hotel, where security was already in place: Megan would put up at a smaller establishment, and was told to enjoy her short break, but to stay within the hotel at all times in case she was needed.

She told herself there was no reason why she shouldn’t contact Tommy and ask him over on the Saturday evening; he was stationed in Surrey and grounded for a spell. It was a pity she wouldn’t be able to see
anything much of London, she thought, on her first visit. She knew that her mother was disappointed too, that she hadn’t yet been able to get in touch with her Aunt Evie in Lincolnshire, or the relatives in Suffolk.

Driving through bomb-ravaged London was a sombre experience. Some of the buildings were mere shells. Having come from the lush countryside, she realized just what London and the other big cities had suffered two years previously.

The great hotel, however, was seemingly untouched. Megan was not invited inside but drove away immediately her passengers had alighted. Her more modest destination was some miles away.

Her arrival was expected. She was escorted to a pleasant room on the first floor, where a tray of refreshments was delivered shortly
afterwards
. ‘Dinner at seven, madam, in the dining room.’ The young woman who’d accompanied her opened a door. ‘Your private bathroom. There’s enough hot water if you wish to take a bath.’

‘Thank you,’ Megan said. ‘I’d sure appreciate that.’

She took off her cap and threw it on the bed. It would be good, she thought, to hang up her uniform, to change into something pretty and feminine before Tommy arrived. That was if he did, of course. He hadn’t confirmed that he would.

It was four o’clock. Time for tea. She settled herself at the small table in the sitting area. A silver tea-service was a pleasant change from the tin mugs she’d become accustomed to. She’d hoped for a gooey cake or two, but there was a single scone on a plate, already split and spread thinly with butter.

Refreshed, she rested on top of the coverlet on the bed and closed her eyes for a brief nap. She awoke with a start, to discover that it was past six. I’ll have to hurry, she thought ruefully – but I’m not going to miss out on my bath, or washing my hair!

Fortunately, she’d brought bath salts, soap and shampoo, because these luxury items were no longer provided. However, there was a big white towel, embroidered in one corner with the name of the hotel, and a smaller towel for drying her hair, which she’d wash in the bath, to save time and water.

The pale-pink chiffon dress, with cap sleeves and cross-over bodice sparkling with silver sequins was the one she’d worn for the studio portrait she’d sent to Tommy. She’d had no chance to wear it since. It was lined in silk, so she’d no need of a petticoat, only minimal
underwear
. She smoothed her nylon stockings carefully over her legs, then slipped her feet into borrowed silver dancing-shoes, with heels. Her hair was still damp but she swept it up off her neck with a pair of glittery combs. No worries about setting a style – her hair was curly, and that was it, she thought.

Megan looked at her face in the dressing-table mirror. Just a dab of powder to disguise the shine bestowed by steaming water,
coral-coloured
lipstick and touches of the expensive perfume given her by Sybil last Christmas.

She took a deep breath. Just on seven. Would he be already at the table, waiting for her to appear? I can’t hurry in these heels, she reminded herself.

The dining-room was almost deserted: no Tommy. A couple of women in sensible tweeds sat at a corner table. Megan immediately felt conspicuous. In wartime, she realized, it was not necessary to dress for dinner.

She was guided to her table by a middle-aged man, with sleek pomaded hair and a pencil-thin moustache. ‘Good evening, madam. My name is Louis. Do you wish to order now, or wait for your guest to arrive?’

‘I’ll wait, thank you,’ she said. She was aware that the women were regarding her from their table. Did she look that much out of place?

‘Would you like a drink while you study the menu?’ Louis prompted.

Megan felt flustered. She’d never ordered a drink for herself.

‘A little wine, perhaps?’ Louis persisted.

‘A small glass of sherry,’ she decided. Sybil was the most sophisticated person she knew, and that was usually her choice.

She picked up the menu nonchalantly. Most of the items were crossed through. The selection of food on the base was more appetizing, mostly flown over from the States. They enjoyed fresh-baked white bread, and deep-fried doughnuts.

‘Chef’s choice of the day … stewed rabbit and savoury dumplings,’ she read aloud in disbelief, wrinkling her nose. ‘I wonder why they didn’t translate that into French!’

‘Doesn’t sound too bad to me,’ remarked a cheerful voice.

Megan looked up, couldn’t suppress a gasp. ‘Tommy – you got here!’

‘Sure did. I’ve even booked a room overnight. Glad to see me?’ He slid into a chair opposite, placed his cap on the table, and sat smiling at her, still in his uniform.