At five minutes to ten, just as the previous christening party was leaving the church, the slightly harried vicar signalled for Gloria and her guests to come and sit themselves down at the front of the nave, ready for a prompt ten o’clock start. He had agreed to slot Hope’s christening in before the next one at half ten, which meant, if he got a move on, he might have time for a quick cuppa and some of that lovely home-made apple pie one of his elderly parishioners had made for him.
As everyone started to amble towards the front of the church, Gloria looked over to Polly and Agnes, and asked anxiously, ‘What about Arthur?’
Gloria knew Arthur would want to be here, that he loved Hope to pieces and always kept a watchful eye on her when she was at the Elliots’ during the day. She also knew the old man was not in the best of health, nor was he getting any younger.
‘Don’t worry about Arthur,’ Polly reassured her. ‘He’ll be here soon.’
‘The weather’s probably slowed him down,’ Agnes chipped in, ‘… or this friend of his he’s bringing might be running late … Don’t you worry, just get up there and enjoy your daughter’s special day.’
Gloria smiled a little nervously. She would actually be glad to get this all over and done with. She’d had an awful feeling Vinnie might turn up, and was having to stop herself from looking over at the entrance every few minutes. She had worked hard to keep the christening under wraps, but she knew these things had a way of getting out and becoming fodder for the local gossipmongers. It was looking hopeful, though. If Vinnie hadn’t turned up now, fingers crossed, he wouldn’t turn up at all.
‘Come on, Glor.’ It was Dorothy, looking stunning in a classy, but rather figure-hugging black dress. She had been gassing to Angie and the rest of the women welders but on the vicar’s signal to get ready for the beginning of the ceremony, she had immediately donned a serious, holier-than-thou façade she obviously thought appropriate for her role of godmother.
‘We’ve got to go and stand at the font,’ she said and pointed a gloved hand at the large marble basin in front of the altar. Dorothy had, of course, read up on everything to do with the formalities of a baby’s baptism – something Gloria was thankful for as her mind seemed to be all over the place, and she could barely remember either of her sons’ christenings, they had been that long ago.
The vicar cleared his throat as everyone settled into their places on the hard wooden pews.
‘Oh, doesn’t Hope look lovely?’ Kate whispered to Lily. She was sandwiched between Rosie and Lily.
‘Kate O’Donnell,’ Lily spoke out of the side of her mouth, keeping her eyes focused on the ceremony taking place in front of them. ‘I know you have next to no interest in babies and what you really think lovely is that wonderful hand-sewn broderie anglaise christening gown the baby’s wearing.’
Kate looked at Lily and frowned, before admitting, ‘Well, it is a work of art, isn’t it? Gloria told me it was made by her Scottish grandmother. She lived in some village in Ayrshire known for its embroidery …’
Any further chatter between Lily and Kate – and anyone else, for that matter – was drowned out by the booming voice of the vicar.
‘Good morning, all!’
There was a pause as his eyes scanned the modest – and, he thought, rather diverse – gathering of people for this hastily arranged christening. There was a very eccentric-looking lady with what could only be described as a mass of orange hair, who was sitting with an older, dapper-looking man dressed in an expensive three-piece suit. In the next row there was a young woman who was taller and more muscle-bound than any man he knew, and a young girl who looked east European and was most certainly Jewish. Squashed on at the end of their row was a skinny young boy, with a thick mop of black hair and wearing a pair of incredibly large, thick, round glasses.
‘I would like to welcome you all here today …’ The vicar smiled at Joe, who was in his Home Guard uniform and was clearly the husband of the pretty blonde woman and father to the child, who, for some reason, was holding some sort of rag.
Suddenly the vicar’s facial expression changed, and he looked about him as if he had forgotten something. He turned quickly to Gloria and Dorothy who were standing in front of the large ornate font that had already been half filled with holy water.
‘We’re not expecting anyone else, are we?’ he asked, in a much quieter voice.
Both Gloria and Dorothy knew that he was really asking if the baby’s father was going to make an appearance.
Before Gloria had time to say anything, Dorothy leant forward, pulling on the long black elbow-length gloves she had bought for the occasion, and said in the snootiest voice she could muster, ‘No, vicar, the baby’s father would have, of course, loved to have been here, but sadly – through unavoidable reasons – has not been able to make it. So, please, do carry on.’ She ended her reply with the most endearing of smiles.
‘So then …’ the vicar’s voice returned to its normal volume and he looked ahead at his attentive audience. ‘We are gathered here today for the christening of baby Hope …’
As the vicar spoke, Dorothy cast a look over to Angie and gave her a wink. Dorothy was revelling in every minute of this day, and more than anything she was where she loved to be – centre stage – even if that stage was actually the middle of a church.
Angie, who was seated next to Martha, Hannah and Olly, threw back a look of disapproval. It was only about the second or third time Angie had been in a church in her life, which not only made her feel very self-conscious, but also that she – and her friend – should be on their very best behaviour. This was, as Gloria had called it that day when Hope was born, ‘God’s house’, after all.
The vicar cleared his throat. ‘We will now begin with a blessing,’ he announced.
‘The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ …’
Rosie had caught Dorothy’s cheeky wink, and had to suppress a smile. The girl really was incorrigible. Still, she deserved her moment of glory as she had been the one to bring this baby into the world – and had done so in the most challenging – and most dangerous – of circumstances imaginable.
As the vicar continued with the blessing, Rosie looked at Gloria with baby Hope swaddled in her arms. Gloria was the only one she had told that Peter knew about her ‘other life’. She’d managed to get Gloria on her own a few nights ago when they had all been at the Admiral and had asked if she would be her unofficial banker, and take on the responsibility of paying the fees for her little sister’s education should Rosie find herself behind bars.
Gloria had hardly batted an eyelid, which was what Rosie loved about Gloria. And when Rosie told her she had the money in her haversack, wrapped up in newspaper like a fish and chip supper, Gloria had put her own work holdall next to Rosie’s and told her to pop it in there when no one was looking.
Rosie had felt a massive relief knowing that if she suddenly found herself in one of His Majesty’s Prisons, Gloria would see to it that the bills from the boarding school were paid on time.
As her mind wandered back to the bordello, Rosie turned her head and looked along the pew at Lily and George and saw that they were holding hands. She felt so happy for them, and yet so sad. Their love affair was now out in the open and they had even started to plan their wedding, but it was all on hold. They didn’t even know if they were going to be together, never mind become husband and wife. Their future, which until a week ago had seemed so bright and exciting, now looked ominously uncertain.
And, worst of all, it was all Rosie’s fault.
As the vicar came to the end of his reading, he took a deep breath.
‘And now a few words on––’
But before the vicar had the chance to start his sermon, there was an almighty bang as the church’s huge oak doors clashed open and slammed against the sides of the entrance porch. A gust of wind immediately raced in and swirled around the church in a flurry of mischief, ruffling the thin pages of the hymn books and bibles.
The sudden loud noise caused everyone to jump in their seats, and heads to turn to see who it was that had come to the ceremony late. As they took in the vision of the two men struggling to push the heavy church doors closed, there was the sound of shocked gasps.
‘Jack,’ Gloria said in a whisper.
Dorothy grabbed her friend’s hand and squeezed it hard.
‘Oh my God, it’s Jack,’ she said, unconsciously mimicking Gloria’s hushed tones.
Gloria stood stock-still. Even Hope had stopped wriggling about in her arms and had fallen unusually quiet as if sensing that something important was happening.
Everyone had now focused on the drama at the far end of the church. Jack had managed to force the doors closed, but it had been a struggle against the strength of the wind that seemed to be trying to batter down everything in its path.
‘Please, come in!’ The vicar’s voice boomed out to the back of the church. ‘Get out of this terrible storm that’s been brewing up all morning!’
Arthur staggered to the nearest pew and plonked himself down, leaning forward on the backs of the seats in front of him, struggling to get his breath back. Bel and Agnes jumped up and hurried up the aisle to tend to him.
Seeing that the elderly gentleman was being looked after, the vicar’s attention turned to the man he had come with and who was now walking slowly down the aisle. He looked a little disorientated. As if he didn’t quite know where he was.
‘Please,’ the vicar said to the confused-looking man coming towards him, ‘come and have a seat. We’ve only just got started.’
But the man didn’t look as if he had heard his words. He certainly didn’t look as if he was going to take a seat with the rest of the congregation. He was heading straight for the altar – his eyes fixed on mother and baby.