Mavis sat by the fire and looked glumly toward the gramophone. She wished she could replace the sound of Grace’s soft snoring with music, but it would be rude to wake her lodger. Would it be rude to tell her she snored?
Having a lodger was inconvenient, especially one who was an auxiliary policewoman. But what choice did Mavis have if she wanted to save up enough to get out of this place? She drummed her fingers on the chair arm. Veronica’s Christmas teddy bear was finished and the paper chains all assembled. She needed to do darning but the task didn’t appeal to her. She leafed through a copy of Housewife Hans had brought over. Home-decorating, wise budgeting, the plight of British women married to enemy aliens. Nothing to do with her own life.
She was too tired to concentrate anyway. She’d fallen into bed and must have been fast asleep by the time Grace arrived back. She hadn’t slept well or long, however, thanks to the conversation she’d had in the air raid shelter.
Stan, from work, had sat down beside her. “Mavis. All alone? Where’s your man?”
“What are you on about, Stan? Pulling me leg? Ronny’s still at sea, far’s I know.”
“That so? I was sure I saw him coming out of the flicks earlier this week.”
“No. It’s not possible.”
“It was the Crown on Scotswood Road.”
“Lots of servicemen on leave take their girlfriends there. You likely saw one of them, not Ronny.”
“Don’t get het up, Mavis. You’re probably right. I must have been mistaken.”
The exchange unsettled her. Of course Ronny was still safely out at sea. He would have let her know if he was returning on leave and would have been straight home once he arrived in the city.
More than once during the past year she’d momentarily seen him on the street herself. Even after she realized the man was a stranger, she’d been nervous for the rest of the day. She wanted not to think about her husband. She had put all his photos in the back of the kitchen cupboard and relegated his clothes to a cardboard box behind the table at the rear of the scullery.
She couldn’t avoid feeling the gap in the teeth at the back of her mouth when she tried to enjoy a biscuit. Her tongue sought out the gap when she lay in bed in the middle of the night. Sometimes in the day, too. Once she was away from Newcastle, if she had any savings left she’d get her teeth fixed. Another reason she welcomed a lodger bringing in extra money.
In the shelter she started trembling and asked Stan to hold her. Nothing wrong with that.
“You can’t let his memory disturb you, Mavis. If he’s got that much of a hold on you, he might as well still be here.”
“His memory can’t knock my teeth out.” Might Stan come home with her, for company? But how could he when she had a lodger?
She heard Grace moving around and soon she came into the kitchen.
“Didn’t mean to sleep that long. I suppose I was done in.”
“Bloody Germans, interfering with everyone’s sleep. How’re we supposed to stay alert and on the job? Bloody brilliant in its way, got to give the swine that. Tired workers fumble their tasks or have accidents.”
“You’re right. What we need are posters. ‘Lack of sleep sends ships to the deep.’”
“I’m sure the prime minister never gets tired. Did you and Hans get on?”
“He’s very nice.”
“He’s a dear, but.”
“But? But what?”
“For a moment Mavis looked as puzzled as Grace. Then she chuckled. “But nothing. It’s just how we talk. You must learn some Geordie. You have to admit, though, Hans is a dear.”
“A good man to have for a friend, but,” Grace riposted.
They had toast and tea. Mavis pressed Grace for details about the dance but she had little to say, which, Mavis deduced, meant she had quite a bit to say that she didn’t want to say. Well, that was all right then.
“What was that commotion in the shelter about? I stayed where I was. Didn’t want to get in the way.”
And hadn’t wanted to leave Stan’s comradely embrace.
Grace told her about Stu. “I’m sure he’s the one who defaced your door.”
Suddenly the bite of toast Mavis was swallowing turned into a lump in her throat. She took a gulp of tea. “Vicious little bugger. He’s boasted more than once he’d get Hans one day. Like to see him try.”
“I gather he hates Germans because his brother was killed in the war, and he thinks Hans is a German.”
“He’s wrong. No German would set foot in my house. Which reminds me, that missing crisp bar. I found it on the floor behind the chest of drawers.”
Grace looked almost disappointed. “After what I heard this morning I was sure Stu was the one involved. So there wasn’t a burglary?”
“Oh, someone broke in all right. I never leave the window cracked open. I did air the room out the day before you came.” Mavis tried to remember if she had shut the window all the way. It was the kind of habitual action you never remembered. Why would she have failed to do so? “Whoever it was would have no trouble. The sneck doesn’t work properly. Ronny never did get around to fixing it, the lazy bugger. Hans offered to see to it, but what if the neighbors saw him at my bedroom window? That would really get the tongues wagging.”