Before they could eat, Dora had to take a look at Lily’s wrist. She bound it loosely with a bit of dry rag – acriflavine, she said sternly, was for burns, not scalds.
‘It’s nothing serious. Jim’s first aid training helped,’ she said. ‘We’ve got the war to thank for that, anyhow!’
Lily’s not-so-serious scald still gave Jim an excuse to be attentive and to bear her off upstairs early, leaving Dora with her basket of mending.
In their room, Jim took Lily in his arms. He looked at her with a mixture of disbelief, wonderment and something like awe.
‘Lily, this is so … incredible. Amazing. I didn’t hear wrong, did I? You’re having a baby. We’re having a baby?’
‘You didn’t hear wrong.’
‘How long have you known?’
‘Not long. Like I said I’m not certain. But I’m ten days overdue now.’
‘And I thought we’d been careful,’ smiled Jim.
‘You know we haven’t. Not always.’
Jim grinned, giving her a swift kiss. ‘Even so. I’m stunned.’
‘So was I when I realised. Still am really.’
Something in her tone, a hint of flatness, alerted him.
‘Lily – is something wrong? You are pleased, aren’t you? I don’t know how I kept from blurting it out to your mum all evening, it’s sort of bubbling away inside me—’ He broke off as he realised, and the realisation clouded his face even more. ‘I know. It’s what we were talking about before, isn’t it? Marlows. You’ve just got where you want to be at work.’
‘Yes. But …’ she faltered. ‘This changes everything.’
‘It doesn’t have to,’ urged Jim. ‘It’s not going to happen for months and when it does, it’s not the end of all that.’
‘Oh come on, Jim! You know it is!’
‘It’s a temporary halt, that’s all. You can go back to work, I’m not going to stop you! Your mum’d love to look after the little one, I’m sure.’
Lily smiled at him sadly. Back to work, maybe, until the next baby; all being well, she was sure they wouldn’t want to stop at one. And then, once there were two to look after, could she expect her mum to do that, day in, day out, on top of the alteration work she did for Beryl to supplement her widow’s pension? No one expected married women to work, let alone ones with children. If anything, Lily would only be able to work part-time, like Miss Temple, and probably have to drop down to second sales to do that. She couldn’t assume whatever position she got would be on Childrenswear, either. Earlier in the year, Mr Simmonds had said that Lily’s next move could be to junior buyer, and beyond that, the dizzy heights of buyer beckoned. Not now.
‘You don’t look convinced.’ Jim lifted her chin to make her look at him. ‘But it can be done. Look at Beryl! Look at Miss Frobisher!’
Lily shook her head.
‘Beryl had an idea for her own business; I don’t. And Miss Frobisher – that’s not the same. She had to work because she was bringing up her son alone, and it was the war, anyhow. All women worked, married ones, ones with children, whatever. I have to be realistic – it’s different now. My life will be different from now on.’
Dora had a phrase – she had a phrase for most things – ‘better out than in’. And now Lily had admitted how mixed up she felt – a conflict that almost seemed traitorous – she did, in some obscure way, feel better.
She took Jim’s hands.
‘Look, Jim. Don’t get me wrong. I am pleased – or I will be, I know I will be, once I’ve come to terms with it. I think I’m still in shock, really.’
Jim smiled the smile she loved, the one that told her she could tell him whatever she was thinking, even when the thoughts were ugly and unbecoming ones, and he’d understand.
‘It’s a massive thing to come to terms with,’ he said. ‘Even if it had been planned – which it wasn’t. Far bigger for you than for me. Life-changing.’
‘Yes.’ Lily smiled too, a steadier, happier smile, one of relief that he understood; that they were in this together. ‘But look, in the end Marlows is just a job and this is a baby. A new life. A miracle.’
Jim kissed her again.
‘It is. We hadn’t expected it – well, not so soon – but it’ll be wonderful, Lily. We’ll make it wonderful. And you are going to be wonderful mother.’
Lily wished she felt as sure.
On their next half-day from the shop, Lily arranged to go and see Gladys.
‘I’m going to see what I can learn from the most devoted mother I know,’ she told Jim as he got into his old gardening trousers, ready to lift some potatoes. ‘Apart from my mum, of course.’
They’d agreed not to say anything to Dora until they were certain beyond doubt, and Lily wasn’t planning to tell Gladys either, not yet. She’d told Jim that Beryl knew – that in fact it was Beryl who’d pointed it out – but for all Beryl’s big talk, she could keep a secret when she had to. They’d kept enough of hers, after all – including when she’d got pregnant well before she and Les were married.
But when Lily got to Gladys’s, all was not sweetness and light.
‘Kept me awake all night, they did, those two little perishers,’ Florrie Jessop grumbled before Lily had even sat down. Gladys was getting the twins up from their after-dinner nap and Bill was out, job-hunting as usual. ‘First one then the other – teething again! I don’t feel like I’ve had a wink of sleep! I’ve got bags under my eyes you could put a week’s washing in.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Lily pointedly. ‘So Gladys had a disturbed night as well. She had to get up to them – at least you could stay in bed.’
Florrie grunted. She really was a first-class misery.
‘Sorry, Lily—’
Gladys came in, carrying a wriggling Victor, while Joy toddled behind. Florrie tossed her head with an impatient ‘tch!’ and headed for the door.
‘I’ll leave you to it now you’ve got your friend to help you,’ she said – as if she’d been helping in the first place.
Joy made for Lily and presented her with the filthy rabbit she carried everywhere. As Lily expressed delight and jiggled the rabbit on her knee, Gladys put Victor down. He immediately made for the tablecloth and started tugging at it. Gladys grabbed him and set him on the rug with a rag book, a wooden engine and, unfortunately, a tin drum. She straightened up, rubbing her back.
‘My back’s killing me! It was walking these two up and down all night, it’s a wonder I didn’t come through the floor!’ Remembering herself, she apologised. ‘Sorry, Lily, I haven’t even said hello. Cup of tea?’
‘I’ll make it.’
Prising Joy’s surprisingly strong fingers off her skirt, Lily stood up, and felt immediately light-headed. She’d had this feeling a couple of times lately – another early symptom, she supposed. At least she wasn’t nauseous, in fact she was constantly hungry: it wouldn’t be long before Dora noticed that the loaf wasn’t lasting as long as usual. Lily had made an appointment at the doctor’s, but she knew already what he’d confirm. Then everyone could be told.
In the kitchen doorway, she turned and looked at Gladys. Backache forgotten, she was on all fours tickling a chuckling Joy while Victor, shrieking, clambered on her back to use her as a rocking horse. Florrie could be heard from above, banging her stick on the floor in protest at the noise. A taste of things to come? It was a far cry from the sedate atmosphere of the sales floor at Marlows, that was for sure.
After they’d drunk their tea safely out of reach of the twins, Lily got down on the floor too, snatching moments of conversation with Gladys when the children allowed. Once they’d calmed down, they were both very sweet and very comical. Joy nestled into Lily’s side, thumb in mouth, while she read The Three Little Pigs. Victor, the clown of the pair, played peep-po from behind the rag book, before placing it over his head like a bonnet. Lily marvelled at their soft yet solid little bodies, and breathed in the scent of nappy cream and baby powder. Their hair was so silky, their skin so peachily perfect. She couldn’t help smiling at the way they got frustrated when they couldn’t fit the wooden block in the right slot; the way they beamed when you helped them and the resulting thud meant success. No wonder Gladys loved them so. And when they were your own … maybe it would be all right after all …
Bill came home after about an hour, and Lily didn’t need to ask if he’d had any luck on his job search. His face said everything and she thought it best to make a tactful exit.
As Lily closed the back door behind her, Gladys turned to her husband. Bill had slumped in a chair.
‘Nothing,’ he said curtly. ‘Oh, I tell a lie. Public lavatory attendant in Tipton, or street sweeper in Dudley. Take your pick.’
‘Oh, Bill. Not even labouring?’ Gladys knelt beside him and took his hand. One nail was black and two fingers swollen where a concrete block had dropped on it on his last labouring job.
‘Sweet FA.’ Their hands were joined on his thigh, and he plucked at the material of his suit – his demob suit. ‘But it’s not all bad news. A feller outside a pub offered me seven pounds ten for my suit. I’ve taken his name and address. I’ll take it round later.’
‘Your suit?’
‘I don’t need it, do I? The only place I ever go is the Labour Exchange, and I’m a bit overdressed for that. It’s not like I’m going to get a position as a bank manager, is it?’
‘But your demob suit – do you have to?’
Bill grimaced.
‘Get real, Glad. Winter’s coming and the ’leccy bill’s going to go up. Christmas is coming. The kids need shoes and coats, let alone presents. You need a warm coat, and a decent one, not worn-out rummage. We need a bigger pram or a pushchair. We’re running down our savings as it is.’
Gladys stretched up and kissed him.
‘You’re a good man, Bill. I’m lucky to have you.’
‘You won’t say that when we’re on the streets.’
‘We won’t be on the streets! It’s Gran’s name on the rent book, for a start.’
‘Yeah, your gran.’ Bill couldn’t help pulling a face. ‘She’s not cheap to feed, either, all them barley sugars.’
As Victor tried to grab Joy’s rusk and Gladys went to break up the squabble, Bill sat back in the chair. He wouldn’t be sorry to see the suit go. It mocked him now, the replacement for the uniform he’d worn so proudly – well, not always that proudly, to be honest. But when he thought now about how he and his shipmates had groaned at reveille, at another kit inspection or lifeboat drill … How he’d longed for home after months on end in the stuffy sleeping quarters he shared with five others, a break from the whining interference of the radio waves when he was trying to get a fix on a signal and the endless monotony of the grey seas when he was on watch, straining his eyes for the sight of an enemy ship … How he’d missed Gladys and the twins, how he’d longed to be with them. And now he was … he loved being with them, he loved being a family man, but wasn’t his job as a husband and father to provide for them? Was that too much to ask?
The following Wednesday afternoon Lily had her doctor’s appointment. The sample she’d dropped in still had to come back from analysis, but the doctor made her lie down and prodded her tummy lightly, though Lily suspected that was simply for show. He surely couldn’t feel anything – the baby was barely the size of a broad bean, from what a quick peek at her mum’s Home Doctor book had told her. But when she’d rearranged her clothes, the doctor said he could already confirm what he called ‘the happy news’. Smiling, because it was expected, Lily took the leaflets about free orange juice and the extra rations she’d be entitled to. This was it, then. She was going to be a mother. She and Jim were going to be parents.
‘What does it feel like to be right every time?’ she asked Beryl when they met in Lyons afterwards, as they’d arranged. Beryl’s Brides, like all the other shops in Hinton, closed for a midweek half-day.
‘Pretty good,’ said Beryl smugly.
Lily poured their tea. Beryl was turning her teacake this way and that, looking for the almost invisible smear of butter.
‘Due in the summer. Late June or early July. Barely a year after the wedding.’
Beryl took a bite of her teacake and made a face.
‘Sawdust,’ she said. And then, looking at Lily shrewdly, she asked: ‘You’re not sure you’re ready, are you? When you thought you’d be going a lot further up the ladder at Marlows.’
Lily stared out of the window. Woolworth’s was opposite, where she’d thought she might have to take a job after Nancy had come back. Now, of course, things would work out anyway: Lily would leave, and Nancy might well go back to being first sales on Childrenswear; she wouldn’t be working closely with Jim any more, not that there’d been anything to be jealous of there in the first place. Very neat. Quite a silver lining, if you wanted to look at it that way.
She turned back to Beryl.
‘Maybe that’s why it takes nine months to grow a baby,’ she said, stirring her tea with its miserly ration of sugar. ‘So you have time to get used to it.’
Beryl reached over and touched her hand.
‘You wouldn’t … no, you’re too sensible. Too … moral.’
‘What?’
‘Well, you know when I got pregnant with our Bobby. And I wasn’t sure how Les’d take it – we weren’t even together any more at that point. And I tried that silly business with the hot bath and the gin …’
‘No! Never! Nothing like that! How could you think …?’
‘OK, OK! I just had to say it, that’s all. I never thought you would.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘Good. But you don’t need to – you’re married, and you’ve got your lovely Jim – and your mum. It was you and your mum that straightened me out, made me see sense, wasn’t it, and got me back together with Les. And you and Jim were such a help when I got into a mess with the business …’ Beryl grasped Lily’s hand across the table. ‘I’ll be right by your side in this, Lily. I owe you such a lot.’
‘Thanks, Beryl.’ Lily couldn’t help but be moved by Beryl’s sincerity.
‘Your mum’ll be thrilled,’ Beryl reassured her. ‘And Gladys will be too, once she knows. She’s still got plenty of baby stuff hers have outgrown that she can lend you.’
‘I know. Thank you, Beryl, really.’
‘Don’t be daft, that’s what friends are for!’ Lightening the mood, Beryl issued a challenge. ‘Now eat up! And the first one to find a proper currant in these so-called teacakes gets to guess if it’s a girl or a boy!’