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‘Sorry, luv,’ said Mrs Burndell stepping to one side. ‘My Sally is going to college. The first girl in our family to get a real education.’
‘Mum …’ Sally protested.
‘Well, I can’t help being proud, can I?’ said Mrs Burndell turning to go. ‘See you later.’
The customer smiled indulgently and Sally rolled her eyes.
It was mid-morning before Sally had the chance to open the envelope. She had to wait until the old lady had gone back to the house and the shop was empty before she dared to take it from her apron pocket.
The letter from the college was brief and because of her tears, Sally had a job focusing her eyes properly to read it. Nine words stood out from the rest. ‘… unable to offer you a position at this time …’ Why? What had happened? They’d seemed so sure about her at the interview. She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and began again. ‘We regret that due to certain facts coming to light we are unable to offer you a position at this time …’ She pushed the letter back inside the envelope and sniffed loudly. What facts? Had somebody said something bad about her? She heard the back door of the house slam. Old Miss Dixon must be coming back. Could this be something to do with her? Had the old bag given her a bad reference? Sally looked up but it wasn’t the old woman coming.
‘Time for a cuppa,’ Connie called as she walked into the shop with two cups of tea on a tray. Sally pushed the letter back in her pocket.
‘You all right, Sally?’ Connie asked casually.
‘Fine,’ said Sally a little too quickly but to Connie it was obvious she wasn’t. Her eyes were puffy and she refused to meet Connie’s gaze. She busied herself with the apple box, taking out the damaged ones and giving the good ones a bit of a polish with a duster.
‘Coming to the dance this week?’ Connie persisted.
‘No.’ Sally shook her head. ‘I’m washing my hair.’
‘Oh, come on,’ she said. ‘If you’re feeling a bit down, it’ll do you the world of good.’
‘Terry’s coming home,’ said Sally. ‘People might talk.’
Connie shrugged. If Sally didn’t want to come anymore, there was little she could do.
*
The Japanese surrender came suddenly. When the announcement came over the radio, Ga called from the back door. ‘Constance, Sally … leave that and come inside.’ They closed the shop door and walked across the yard. The radio was turned up enough to let the people in the next county hear it but when Connie mentioned it, Ga said, ‘Shhh. Listen.’
‘This is London,’ the announcer Alvar Lidell began. ‘The Prime Minister, the Right Honorable C.R. Attlee.’ The radio crackled and then his deep slow voice was followed by the more reedy tones of Clement Attlee.
‘Japan has surrendered. The last of our enemies is laid low …’
It all seemed to be a bit of an anti-climax but even though she was still a little distant, Connie hugged Sally. It seemed that the horrors inflicted on Hiroshima and Nagasaki by the atomic bomb had brought a swift end to all hostilities. She took a deep breath. This was the first day of peace in the world for nearly six years.
As the day wore on, Ga insisted on listening to every news bulletin on the radio. In the evening Connie took the bus into Worthing to be with her friends. She’d asked Sally to come but she was met with the same response. Connie shrugged inwardly. There was clearly something wrong but Sally wouldn’t talk about it. Ah, well, if the girl wanted to be on her own she could but after all the misery of the past few years, Connie wanted to let her hair down. She met up with Jane Jackson near the pier. The country had been given two days’ holiday and there were to be fireworks later on but there were fewer flags than on VE Day and only the usual holiday crowd along the seafront. She was missing Kenneth again. What sort of war had he had? Had he survived? No, she wouldn’t even think about that. Of course he was alive … somewhere. Connie struggled to be glad. A grey veil of disappointment seemed to hang over everyone until a hastily formed band of amateur musicians gathered and the young people took over. The two girls gave a wonderful display of the jitterbug and before long, everyone was joining in. For Connie, it wasn’t the same as being in the crowds in London on VE Day but she and Jane had made a valiant attempt to get the party going.
Despite their high hopes, the end of the war hadn’t brought change. There were still petrol shortages, little in the way of coal and supplies and rationing had actually been increased. Aunt Aggie came to see Ga on the Thursday for their weekly game of whist but elsewhere there was little in the way of celebration at the nurseries.
‘You should have seen the queue outside Potter and Bailey’s today,’ she told them at supper. ‘Someone said there was a shipment of bacon but by the time I got there, there wasn’t a rasher to be had.’
‘I noticed that the butcher in the village has a sign in the window,’ Aunt Aggie said. ‘I can’t remember the exact words but it was something like, “Wanted: magician for next week’s stock”.’ And they all laughed.
‘So much for the Labour government,’ Ga muttered darkly.
When Clifford and her mother got back from their week’s holiday, Gwen looked rested and actually sported a bit of a suntan.
‘It was simply heavenly being able to walk along the seafront without all that barbed wire and concrete,’ she said. ‘The shops were a bit bare but we had fireworks when the Jap surrender was announced.’
They’d managed to pick up a couple of sticks of rock for Mandy, a perpetual calendar covered in shells and a present from Eastbourne on it for Ga, and a pretty headscarf for Connie.
Clifford had bought a roll of toilet paper. When he put it on the table Ga wrinkled her nose. Connie burst out laughing. It was called Nasti Toilet Roll and had a cartoon picture of Adolf Hitler on the wrapper.
‘Guaranteed non-irritant,’ grinned Clifford. ‘Good, eh?’
Gwen had even thought of Sally Burndell and Sally seemed quite touched by the box of three handkerchiefs from Woolworths.
‘They’re very pretty,’ said Sally, ‘but you shouldn’t have.’
‘You look as if you need a bit of cheering up,’ smiled Gwen. ‘That boyfriend of yours will soon be home.’
August was drifting towards September. Double summer time finished its first stage in July when the clocks went back one hour. Clifford had eased himself back into position but there was a tension between him and Ga. Even so, the nurseries were being run efficiently and smoothly. The next time Connie went into the lane, Kez and her family had gone. There were no goodbyes. When she saw the pitch was empty, Connie wondered about the pram she had given Simeon. Nothing had been said about it and she was a bit annoyed that he’d apparently taken it with them. She’d trusted him and it would have been nice to give it to her little sister for Christmas.
Mandy and Pip had played outside with her friends during the long school holiday. Connie would miss the lazy afternoons when she took her little sister down to the beach for a swim. The rough ground at the bottom of Sea Lane was ideal for hide and seek and if it got too hot, they could sit among the bushes for a picnic. There were times when her heart ached for what might have been but she knew she was doing the right thing. She had to put her family first.
‘When is it you start at the hospital?’ Gwen and Connie were changing the beds together. It was the beginning of September and Mandy was back at school.
Connie couldn’t look at her mother. ‘I’m not going.’
Gwen was putting the bolster case on. It was always a struggle because the thing was the length of two pillows and very unwieldy. ‘What do you mean, you’re not going?’
‘I thought I’d leave it a year, Mum,’ said Connie trying her best to sound casual. ‘By next year, everything will be back to normal.’
‘Everything is back to normal now,’ Gwen frowned. She stopped what she was doing and looked at her daughter. ‘This sounds like Ga talking.’
Connie picked up the dirty sheets and made for the door.
‘Connie?’ said Gwen. ‘You were so excited when you told us. What’s this all about?’
‘You looked a bit off-colour when I came home,’ said Connie without looking round. ‘It seemed best to wait a while, that’s all.’ Her hand went out to the door latch.
‘Connie, look at me,’ said her mother. ‘Look at me.’
Connie turned slowly, knowing that there was no hiding the tears already glistening in her eyes. ‘Oh Mum …’ Connie said quietly. ‘I really didn’t want to come back to the smallholding. I had already enrolled at the hospital.’
‘I know you had,’ said her mother.
‘But Ga thought …’
‘That bloody woman!’ snapped her mother. ‘Why does she have to stick her oar in every time?’
Connie’s jaw dropped. She’d never heard her mother speak like this before. Gwen smiled encouragingly. ‘Connie, it’s your life and we, Clifford and I, both want you to have the best you possibly can. The world is a much bigger place now. We all need to put the past behind us and start again. Don’t let your opportunities pass you by.’
Connie’s chest constricted. Her mother was an amazing person and she longed to tell her how much her approval meant to her. ‘I wish you had a better life, Mum.’
Gwen carried on struggling with the bolster case. ‘My life is fine,’ she smiled. ‘Now that Clifford has come home, we are making plans of our own.’
‘Plans? What plans?’
‘I can’t talk about it yet but Clifford has some wonderful ideas for the smallholding,’ said her mother. ‘One thing is absolutely certain, you mustn’t waste your life hanging around for us.’
Impulsively, Connie hugged her. ‘Thanks, Mum.’ As they parted, Gwen’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. Put the past behind us … the words echoed in Connie’s head. Ga never let her forget the past … but could she do it? Could she forget the shame and guilt that awful man had brought on her family and actually make something of her life? Could she make it up to her mother for her brother going away? Was there still time? ‘I may not be able to do it now anyway,’ Connie said uncertainly. ‘I haven’t replied to any of their letters.’
Gwen looked at her, horrified. ‘When were you supposed to start?’
‘On 10
September,’ said Connie.
‘Then you’d better leave that and get on the bus straight away,’ she cried. ‘Go down there in person. Blame the war, blame me. Say I’ve been really ill and now I’m better … say anything you like, but whatever you do, make sure you get that place again.’
Connie hesitated.
‘Go on girl!’ her mother cried. And Connie fled.
*
The bridegroom stood up and turned to see the small procession make its way down the aisle. The church was small and even in these difficult times, little used. It smelled dank and musty as he’d walked into the door. He would have preferred a registry office himself. All this preamble – the reading of the banns and talks with the Vicar made him nervous but she’d had her heart set on a proper wedding so he’d given in. The usher, some old fossil who looked as old as Methuselah, showed him to the front pew. His best man, a chap he’d met in the pub a week before, rose unsteadily to his feet as he arrived and gave him a watery smile. His teeth were tobacco stained but he had scrubbed up well enough. They sat down together and waited. After a while he said, ‘Got the ring?’ and the best man nodded. There was a rustling sound by the door of the church and the Vicar came down the aisle. ‘Please stand.’
The organist struck up the tune, ‘Here Comes the Bride’ and his heartbeat quickened. No getting out of this now. He had made a decision which had surprised even himself. He had never really had a close relationship before. Only the one with his mother. Would he be able to cope with marriage? He swayed a little at the thought and wiped his open palms down the side of his suit as he slowly turned to look. The congregation, such as it was, was already standing; only one relative on his side and a spattering of people on hers. Every head was turned in anticipation of the coming bride but his eye was immediately drawn to her. She was wearing a white satin dress with a pretty pink bow at her waist. Someone had put her hair into golden ringlets and she had a halo of roses, the last roses of the summer, on her head. He took in his breath. She was nothing short of an angel sent from heaven. She carried a posy and she watched his face as she walked purposefully towards him. She returned his smile with a gappy grin and then closed her mouth as she remembered her missing milk teeth. He laughed softly andlooked up at his bride, her mother, coming on behind her. Yes, he had done the right thing. Everything was perfect, just perfect.
Seven
It was weird. Pip had been following Connie around all day with his tail between his legs. It was as if he knew she was going.
‘I’ll be around until the 9th but after that I shall move into the nurses’ home,’ Connie told everyone at the tea table.
She had managed to see someone in management and after an hour of being moved from one person to another, had persuaded them that she was ready to start her training.
‘Why can’t you live here?’ Ga sat tight-lipped and frowning at her great niece. ‘You could catch the bus from the end of the road.’
Connie knew that was just a ruse to make her feel that they couldn’t cope without her. Before long Ga would be dumping ‘would-you-just jobs’ into her lap. Oh, Connie while you’re doing that, would-you-just pick out a few of those seedlings, or before you catch the bus, would-you-just take that into the shop for me.
‘I have to be on the ward at seven and you know me first thing in the morning, Ga,’ she said brightly. ‘It’ll be better if I’m in the nurses’ home.’
But Ga wasn’t about to give up that easily. ‘What about all the books you’re supposed to have? You needn’t expect …’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Connie, knowing perfectly well what was coming. ‘I’ve already saved enough to buy everything.’
‘Perhaps it’s just as well things didn’t work out for you and Emmett then,’ Ga remarked acidly. ‘You wouldn’t even be allowed to train if you were married.’
The mention of Emmett made Connie’s heart lurch, but then Ga had meant to upset her, hadn’t she? Why did she keep saying stuff like that? For the sake of her mother, Connie bit her tongue.
‘Why can’t you just be happy for the girl?’ Clifford snapped, ‘and for once, say something encouraging.’
‘Well!’ Ga glared.
‘It’s all right, Clifford,’ Gwen soothed.
Clifford helped himself to some more potatoes. ‘No, it’s not, Gwennie,’ he said.
‘I’m only trying to make her see that it won’t be easy,’ Ga protested.
‘I know it won’t be easy, Ga.’
The atmosphere at the table soured. Her great aunt was probably right, or she would have been right if it was still 1939. The unwritten rule for nurses had always been that women who married would give up the profession but the war had left hospitals alongside many other institutions with severe shortages of manpower. Connie felt sure that by the time she’d gained her nursing badge, the ‘no married women’ edict would be a thing of the past anyway. Not only that, but the new government was pressing ahead with a country-wide health service which would be free to all, regardless of income or status, at the point of need. Things were changing. They were indeed entering a brave new world.
Now that she was really going, Connie was thrown into a hive of activity. She’d found the list of things she was supposed to bring with her to the hospital and set off into town. Ga said nothing when Connie came back with her purchases but she shot her one of her dark looks. As a child, they had terrified her and even now they made Connie feel a little uncomfortable, but she was determined not to let the old lady spoil her excitement.
‘So you’re going to run out on your mother after all,’ said Ga when the two of them were alone in the kitchen. Connie was making a pot of tea and when Ga walked in she’d asked her if she wanted one.
‘I’m not running out on anyone,’ said Connie calmly. ‘Mum’s given me her blessing.’ Her great aunt tightened her mouth disapprovingly. ‘It’s time to think about me,’ Connie pre-empted. She hated herself for feeling the need to justify her own actions. She was a grown woman, for heaven’s sake, but she knew what Ga was like.
‘Me, me, me,’ Ga taunted. ‘Never mind about anyone else.’
Her cheeks flaming with anger, Connie shoved the cup in front of her, slopping some of the tea into the saucer. As she poured her own cup she could hear Ga rubbing her knee and letting out little sighs of pain and discomfort. It took everything Connie had not to stalk out of the room or to round on Ga with some cutting comment but she didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of a fight. She wasn’t going to allow Ga to spoil her last few days at home so there would be no more rows. Ga could harrumph and disapprove as much as she liked but Connie was going to be a nurse no matter what she damn well said.
Sally Burndell blinked at the piece of paper in her hand. She turned over the envelope and looked at the postmark. Worthing 6.30 p.m. Posted last night and locally. She could feel the tears pricking her eyes as she read it again. There was no name at the bottom of course, but whoever sent them seemed to know an awful lot about her. It had been bad enough when she’d got that awful letter from the secretarial college but when she’d applied to the one in Brighton and been refused there as well, she’d been devastated. As the panic rose within her chest, her heartbeat quickened. She lowered herself into a chair. And read it again. ‘I do not wish to cast aspersions …’ What did aspersions mean? Sally wasn’t sure but it didn’t sound good. ‘Do you think it wise to flirt with other men while Terry is away?If I wrote and told him what you were up to, he’d realise you are a tart.’ They were allsigned ‘a well-wisher’. How could someone be a well-wisher and yet write such nasty things? What if this person wrote to Terry? Going to the dances had only been a bit of fun. She never even let another boy kiss her and she always went straight home after they’d finished, either with Connie or Jane. If only she knew who had written such hateful things she would have it out with them. The letter trembled in her hand and as she gave way to her sobs, she was so glad her mother was out shopping. She couldn’t bear it. How could anyone be so cruel? It was all lies. Wicked, wicked lies!
Connie missed Kez. Jane was a good friend but there was something about Kez … She walked up to the lane with Pip most days in the vain hope that they might be back, but she was always disappointed. And what about that pram? Then it crossed her mind that Simeon might have told the Frenchie about it so on her way back from the shops, she headed towards his workshop. She knocked on the door even though it was already open. ‘Hello …’
‘Nearly done,’ said a voice deep inside. He stood up from behind an upturned bicycle frame, and spun the wheel. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I thought you were the owner come back for the bike. Connie, isn’t it? What can I do for you?’
Already her heartbeat was gathering speed. His sleeves were neatly rolled up to his biceps and his shirt was open to the waist. She could see at once that he had an athletic build. He was as attractive as ever, despite his dirty clothes and oil-smudged face. ‘I – I wondered if you knew when Kez and Simeon would be coming back?’ she flustered.
He shook his head and taking a piece of rag from his pocket began to wipe his hands. ‘I don’t think they know themselves.’
Connie nodded and turned to go. ‘It’s just that I’m moving away for a bit.’
‘If I see her, shall I tell her where you’ve gone?’
Connie quickly explained about her nursing. The Frenchie seemed impressed. ‘Good for you. If I see them, I’ll tell them,’ he promised and their eyes locked.
‘There seems to be no end to your talent,’ she laughed nervously, waving her hand towards the mobile shop taking shape at last. ‘Now here you are mending bicycles.’
‘This is my proper job,’ he smiled. ‘I was only helping Simeon out. It was a good idea, wasn’t it?’
‘Your idea, so he said,’ Connie grinned.
‘Ah, yes,’ he said. ‘I’d forgotten. Brilliant, wasn’t it?’ and they both laughed.
Connie was suddenly distracted by her old doll’s pram hanging on a hook by its handle on the wall behind him. It had been painted a lovely shade of maroon and the hood seemed new.
‘Oh yes,’ said the Frenchie following her eye. ‘Simeon said you wanted that for your little sister. Simeon painted it and put on a new hood. I’ve repaired the wonky wheel and he asked me to paint something nice on the sides. I’m afraid I haven’t got around to it yet. Sorry.’
‘No, no,’ she smiled. ‘That’s fine. I wanted it for Christmas, so there’s plenty of time. How much do I owe you?’
