Since returning to Broadwater in August, Stella hadn’t been feeling too well. At the beginning of the school term, she had started a teaching post in the cookery school on Richmond Road. Her students were school leavers who had a flair for domestic science and were destined for jobs in factory canteens and hospital kitchens. The course itself was comprehensive, taking in the preparation and management of food, health and first aid, personal finance, textiles and the care of clothes, hospitality and family life. The students also learned basic housekeeping skills, such as how to mend a fuse and change the washer on a tap. She taught them how to clean work surfaces, remove hard-water deposits with acid solutions, grease with alkaline solutions and which cleaning agents become toxic if mixed together. They took turns to cook meals, and Stella taught them good kitchen hygiene and how to make the meagre rations into filling and nutritious meals.
The problem was, certain foods made her feel nauseous, and she was constantly tired, so Stella made an appointment to see Dr Kirkwood. He gave her a thorough examination, and while she dressed behind the screen, he washed his hands.
‘I would say we are looking towards the end of February,’ he said, sitting at his desk.
‘February?’
He looked up at her. ‘Surely you know?’ he said. ‘Mrs Bell, you are four and a half months pregnant.’
Stella stared at him blankly. Pregnant? Of course! How could she have been so stupid? She’d never given it a thought. Her periods had always been a bit erratic. When was the last time she had one? Before Johnny came back. Yes, it must have been. The doctor was droning on and on about midwives and not overdoing it, but she wasn’t taking anything in. A baby. She was going to have Johnny’s baby.
My darling Johnny,
Forgive the small writing and the fact it’s so close together. I want to get as much as possible on the page. I never thought we would be apart for so long when I waved you goodbye way back in 1940. I honestly believed it would only be for a few months, until Christmas at the most. I lived for your letters, and when they stopped after you’d escaped, I found it very hard to bear. This time, although our separation is still dreadful for me, I know I shall get through it.
I shall never forget our time in Pulborough. It was all too short, but Johnny, my darling, it has changed our lives forever. After all this time, and all the years before the war of trying, it’s happened at last. You told me at the station that you hadn’t had the time to go and buy me something special – something for me to remember you by. But, my darling, you have given me something much more precious than anything money can buy. Johnny, I am expecting your baby. He or she will be born at the end of February, so it looks as if 1945 will be a very special year for us. I do hope you will be home and the war will have ended long before then, but even if you aren’t home and it hasn’t ended, I shall tell our baby all about his or her wonderful daddy, what a lovely man he is and how much I really and truly love him.
The teaching post is most enjoyable. I am living with Mother at the moment. Desmond and Judith are overjoyed about the baby and fuss over me like a couple of old hens. The officers billeted in Salisbury Road move out at Christmas. My plan is to finish work then, which gives me two months to get the house ready for when baby comes.
Dr Kirkwood says I am very fit and healthy, so I should have no problems with the birth. My two dear friends Lillian and Pip are sure to start knitting, so baby will have plenty of warm clothes to wear. Pip is an excellent knitter, but I’m not so sure about Lillian! By Christmas, I shall be the size of a house, so any talk about reviving the Sussex Sisters has gone out of the window. It doesn’t much matter. Pip seems to be getting on with her life, and Lillian is in great demand. I think she’ll be on the radio in no time.
I’d better close now. I am scribbling this in bed and it’s past eleven o’clock. Baby sends a kiss, or is that a kick?
All my best love,
Stella
Georgie entered a competition. He had to find a slogan for Salute the Soldier Day, which was to be held in Homefield Park on Saturday September 9th. Lillian was singing during the celebration, so everyone had pinned their hopes on his success. The slogan had to be eight words or under. Pip insisted that Georgie should think of the slogan himself, but she was on hand to give advice. The top prize was seven pounds, well worth having for an eight-year-old boy. It was hard work, but eventually he came up with ‘They gave everything. Will you give something?’ Pip was quite impressed.
The girls had decided to be there when Lillian sang in the fund-raising concert in support of the British soldier. Even though everyone’s mind was fixed on what was happening on the other side of the Channel, it was a good day. The weather was more settled and the crowds gathered. There were donkey rides, egg-and-spoon races and knobbly knees contests, which caused a lot of hilarity. While the children were enjoying themselves in the sandpit, Stella told them her news. Lillian and Pip were over the moon.
‘Pregnant! Oh, Stella, that’s wonderful!’ cried Pip. ‘When is it due?’
‘End of February,’ said Stella. Already she was basking in the warm glow of pregnancy. ‘I shall stay in the cookery school until Christmas and then I’ll give up work.’
‘Hopefully Johnny will be back home by then,’ said Lillian. ‘The war must end soon, especially now that Paris has been liberated.’
‘Everything seems to be winding down, doesn’t it,’ said Stella. ‘Six months ago, we wouldn’t have had an occasion like this.’
‘There’s still a lot of fighting over there,’ Pip cautioned, ‘and nobody knows when the war will end in the Far East.’
The girls made no comment, but Stella squeezed Pip’s arm.
‘Are your mum and Flora here?’ asked Pip.
Lillian shook her head. ‘Mum said she had things to do at home. I left Flora playing in Mrs Armitage’s garden.’
‘Oh no,’ cried Pip. ‘If I had known, she could have come with me.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Lillian. She felt slightly guilty, but it hadn’t even crossed her mind. Flora would have enjoyed being with the others, but what with getting ready for her performance, she hadn’t given it a thought.
Behind them, they heard a shout. Mr Knight, Iris and Betty had turned up.
‘What time are you on?’ asked Iris, once the introductions were over.
For a second, Lillian seemed mildly irritated. Pip was aware that Mr Knight followed her everywhere, and Lillian had remarked, rather unkindly, Pip thought, that he was beginning to look like a faithful old dog. After she’d said that, Pip had begun to notice that there were times when he stood a little too close to Lillian. He’d never touched her or anything, but it was embarrassing the way he latched on to her.
Lillian looked at her watch. ‘Ooh, ten minutes. I’d better head off.’
‘We’ve been looking forward to this,’ said Betty, ‘and you couldn’t have picked a better day for it.’
‘Let’s hope they make a lot of money,’ said Mr Knight, looking around at all the families enjoying themselves.
‘I’m sure they will,’ Lillian smiled as Nigel hurried over to tell her it was almost time to go on stage. ‘Wish me luck,’ she said as she went with him.
‘Break a leg,’ Pip called after her.
Lillian turned for a second to wave and then looked up at Nigel. As she watched them, Stella felt a stab of discomfort. She glanced over at Pip and saw the same concern in her eyes too. Neither of them actually voiced anything, but Stella was sure they had both had the same thought. There was something going on between Nigel and Lillian. She replayed the last few minutes over in her mind. The way she looked at him. The way he spoke to her. He’d only said, ‘It’s time to get ready, Lillian,’ but there was something in his voice. Something unmistakable, a tenderness, a warmth not apparent in other conversations. She didn’t want to believe it, but there was no doubt about it: Nigel and Lillian were in love.
After the performance, Iris and Betty sat in the tea tent. Mr Knight had offered to buy them a cup of tea and was getting it right now. The two women looked at each other long and hard. Iris was the first to break the silence.
‘You saw it too,’ she said. ‘The way she looked at that pianist?’
Betty nodded. ‘I hope it wasn’t what I’m thinking.’
‘If it is, it’s disgusting,’ said Iris. ‘She should be ashamed of herself, a married woman and all.’ She sniffed and looked away. ‘After that party at Mrs Bell’s house, I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, but not any longer.’
‘Oh, I know, dear,’ said Betty. ‘If anyone believed in her, it was you.’
Iris let out a long sigh. ‘It seems I was right all along. I feel a right fool now.’
‘You know what they say,’ said Betty. ‘Them that lives longest sees most.’ Iris frowned as if she was trying to work that one out. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself, dear,’ Betty went on. ‘You’ve got a good and generous heart.’
They turned their heads towards the tea counter. Mr Knight was coming back with a tray of tea and cakes.
‘Better not mention anything to him,’ Iris counselled.
‘My lips are sealed,’ said Betty.
Halfway through the afternoon, everyone crowded round the makeshift stage for the announcement of the winner of the Slogan for a Soldier Competition. Sadly, Georgie’s effort didn’t win. The slogan chosen was ‘Invest all you have to back the soldier.’
‘That doesn’t have nearly as good a ring to it as Georgie’s,’ said Stella.
Pip sighed. ‘He’ll be very disappointed.’
When Georgie snuck off down the alleyway that evening, there was a large ‘for sale’ board in the grounds of the derelict house. He was going to mention it straight away, but Norman Peabody had turned up with a real German revolver.
‘Where did you get that?’ Georgie gasped.
‘My brother,’ said Norman. ‘He came home on leave, and when he went back, I found it in his wardrobe.’
‘Got any ammo?’ Gideon asked.
Norman shrugged. ‘Dunno. Might have.’
‘Go and have a look,’ said Billy.
‘I’ll have to wait until my mum’s out,’ said Norman. ‘She doesn’t like me going up into his room.’
Georgie was gutted. Until then, the tail fin Brian and Christopher had given him when he went to Pulborough had been the gang’s best trophy. Gideon, who was the fount of all knowledge, had told them it was the sort of thing they dropped on London. Brian and Christopher had also given Georgie a couple of Nazi badges they’d found in the fields after two airmen had parachuted down and been arrested two miles away at Bury Hill. They’d had pride of place on the mantelpiece – until now. The real revolver knocked everything else into a cocked hat and there it stood, leaning against the wall and facing the door.
Norman gave them a smirk. ‘My mum don’t like me going into my brother’s room on account of these.’
He threw three magazines onto the table.
‘What are they?’ Billy asked.
‘Naked women,’ said Norman.
‘Ugh,’ said Georgie, making a sick noise, but much to his surprise, the other boys pounced on them. ‘Let me have a look,’ Georgie said, trying to grab one.
‘You can’t look,’ said Gideon. ‘You’re much too young for that sort of thing.’
Georgie watched as the other boys compared pictures and giggled over the girls. From what he could see, they weren’t up to much anyway. And they weren’t naked either. They may be lying on a rock with no clothes on, but they had a wispy bit of gauze across their legs. What was so exciting about that?
As soon as everyone, except Georgie, had had a proper look, they got on to the subject of the ‘for sale’ sign outside. The DD Gang were anxious and upset.
‘Did you win the comp?’ Billy asked Georgie.
Georgie shook his head.
‘Shame,’ said Billy.
‘It was that Violet Lake,’ said Gideon. ‘It’s not fair. She always wins things.’
‘Well, she is the mayor’s niece,’ Leslie Hoare, sitting at the back, called out.
‘If you’d have got that seven pounds,’ Billy said accusingly, ‘we could have put it towards buying this place.’
Georgie felt terrible.
‘I’ve got seven and six in my moneybox,’ Lionel Brown called out.
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Gideon. ‘A place like this costs fousands.’
‘But it’s falling down,’ said Lionel.
‘It’s the land,’ said Georgie sagely. They all turned to look at him. ‘That’s what my mum says. She says they’ll pull down the house so they can use the land.’
‘Maybe they’ll put up some swings and a slide.’
‘Nah,’ said Gideon. ‘They’ll put up another house more like.’
‘But that means we’ll have nowhere to put our stuff,’ cried Billy.
It was late. The house was silent. Everyone was asleep. If it was going to be done, it had to be done now. If it was ready by the morning, it could go in the post on the way to work. How long would it take to reach him? Not long now, the way things were going. Having chased the Nazis out of Brussels earlier in the month, the Allies were already in Holland. It wouldn’t be long before the British prisoners of war started returning home and it was imperative that he should know before that. The pen hovered over the page and then began to write,
Dear Gordon,
I’m very sorry to have to do this, but I thought you should know. I hate to see a good man being made to look a fool. You can tell me to mind my own business, but when a wife is out nearly every night, I think her husband has the right to be told.
I’m sure that you’ve heard that Mrs Harris used to be part of a singing group called the Sussex Sisters. I have enclosed a newspaper report for your perusal. They were very good, but now she’s taken up with the pianist and she’s gone solo. I’ve seen her in his car in evening dresses that leave little to the imagination, and the way she looks at him, I know there’s something going on. All I can say is that it’s a good job her mother is there to look after your little girl. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I thought you should be prepared for when you come home.
A well-wisher