Once the men had been served, Marianne and Alfie escaped upstairs to the sitting room and collapsed together onto the flowered sofa. Alfie splayed his hand over her stomach. ‘You sure there’s only one in there?’ he joked.
Marianne put her hands over his. ‘I’ve had the same thought myself. Lily’s had a listen with one of those thingies and says she can only hear one heartbeat, but I can barely see my feet, and I’m only six months gone.’
He examined her face. ‘How you feeling?’
Marianne smiled tiredly. ‘I’m fine, love. Honest.’
‘And there’s been no more trouble? No pains?’
‘Of course not. Stop fussing.’ In truth, since she’d nearly lost the baby three months before, every twinge and ache made her panic, but Alfie didn’t need to know that.
‘I’m gonna have a word with your mum. She needs to get you some help.’
‘Leave it, Alf,’ Marianne said sharply. ‘Mum’s . . . Well, she’s a bit fragile at the moment. She was scrubbing the pavement again this morning. She won’t talk about it, but I’m sure there’s something going on. She’s been acting so weird. After the raid last night, when she went in her room, I heard her let out this little cry, but she slammed the door on me before I could ask what the matter was. I’m really worried about her.’
Alfie blew out his cheeks. ‘It’s not just her that’s suffering though. You all miss Gladys, and she needs to look out for you as well. You can’t go on like this.’
Luckily at that moment, Marianne’s stomach rippled and distracted. Alfie was right, but how could she explain that she was afraid her mother was going mad? Sometimes, when she couldn’t sleep at night, she heard her mother wandering around the rooms downstairs, muttering to herself. And then there were the items she kept finding around the house: her mother’s silver hairbrush in the pantry, her sherry glass in the oven, and the lavender bag that usually hung on her door in Polly’s cage. When she’d asked about it, her mother had gone pale as a ghost and then shouted at her to mind her own business. She and her younger sister Lily had decided that if this behaviour went on much longer, they would have to take her to a doctor.
‘The little madam’s busy today,’ Marianne said. ‘She usually saves all this till I’m in bed trying to sleep.’
‘You always say “she”. Will you mind if it’s a boy?’ Alfie asked softly.
Marianne smiled. ‘It’s a girl. I’ve seen her. A tiny little thing with bright blonde hair and blue eyes. Just like Daisy.’ It had been six months since her friend had died during a shell attack, but she still thought of her every day.
‘But what if it’s a boy?’
‘Don’t you want a girl?’ she asked, putting her hand over his where it rested on her stomach.
‘I don’t care what it is, love. Boy, girl, lettuce.’ He smiled. ‘Whatever it is, I’ll cherish them till the day I die.’
Marianne leant forward and kissed him softly on the lips. ‘I love you, Alfie Lomax. And you’re right. What does it matter? But . . . a girl would be nice, don’t you think?’
Alfie rolled her over onto her back, careful not to crush the baby. ‘I’ve got precisely one hour before I have to be back. Will your mum mind if we go upstairs for a bit?’ He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ she whispered.
A sudden sharp kick made Alfie groan. ‘How can I have my wicked way with you if that creature is listening in?’
Marianne pushed him off her with a laugh. ‘She can’t understand, you daft ha’porth! And she’s not a creature; she’s our baby.’
‘Marianne, Alfie!’ Nellie’s piercing voice made them stare at each other in dismay.
Alfie sighed. ‘Looks like it’ll have to wait,’ he said ruefully, helping Marianne to her feet.
When they got downstairs, Marianne’s eyes widened as she took in the sight of a short, thin police constable, with a wispy brown moustache, standing in front of the counter, one hand clutched round the neck of a boy with wayward brown hair. Behind them the soldiers were looking on with amusement.
‘Let go of him, Roger!’ Marianne snapped, rushing forward to grasp her son’s arm.
Constable Roger Humphries scowled. ‘You should be thanking me, Marianne. This young man and his equally delinquent friend will end up in jail if they keep going the way they are.’
Marianne sighed. ‘And where is Freddie?’ she asked.
‘I have just deposited him at the fish shop, and Phyllis Perkins told me in no uncertain terms that young Freddie will not be going to the football match later.’
‘Donny?’ Marianne looked at her son, who had so far kept his head bowed and refused to look up. ‘What did you do this time?’
When he still didn’t answer, Alfie stepped forward and bent to look in his face. ‘Don, look at me, mate.’
Reluctantly, the boy’s head came up, his grey eyes large and solemn.
‘What did you do?’ Alfie asked gently.
Donny looked briefly at the constable, then back to the floor.
Just then the door crashed open. ‘Panic over, everyone, I have arrived!’
Briefly, all eyes turned as Bert walked in, followed closely by Reenie and Jim.
They stopped when they saw the tableau standing by the counter.
‘What’s going on?’ Jim asked, looking from Donny to Roger Humphries.
Bert laughed. ‘Been up to your old tricks, Donny boy?’ he asked coming over to ruffle his hair. ‘I taught the lad everything he knows,’ he said proudly.
‘Don’t encourage him, Bert,’ Marianne snapped. Donny idolised his uncle, so his amusement would only serve to spur her son on.
‘This is no laughing matter,’ Roger Humphries said pompously. ‘Donald and Freddie were caught piling sandbags outside a telephone box on the high street.’
Sniggers from the soldiers made the policeman whirl round. ‘You wouldn’t think it was funny if you were the one inside!’
Alfie’s lips twitched. ‘Donny, did you trap Constable Humphries in the telephone box?’
Donny peeped up at him, sensing a softening in his stepfather. ‘Sorry, Alfie,’ he said.
‘“Sorry, Alfie”? What about “Sorry, Constable Humphries”?’ the policeman exclaimed. ‘I’m warning you, Donald Castle, one more thing, just one more, and it’s the juvenile courts for you. Think yourself lucky I’m letting you off this time.’
Marianne sighed. ‘That’s not funny, Donny. People rely on those telephones and your actions were thoughtless and selfish! Now apologise to Constable Humphries.’
‘Sorry, Constable Humphries,’ he mumbled obediently, though he didn’t sound sorry.
Marianne nodded. ‘And if Freddie’s not allowed to the football, then you certainly aren’t either.’
Donny gasped. ‘But that’s not fair! I promised Uncle Bert I’d be there.’
Jasper stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Do what your mum says, Don.’
‘I was speaking to Mum!’ Donny shouted.
‘That’s it, young man!’ Nellie said, reaching beneath the counter and pulling out a wooden spoon. ‘You don’t speak to your elders and betters like that.’ Before Marianne could stop her, she smacked Donny smartly on his behind.
‘Ow, Gran! That hurt.’ He glared at her.
The policeman put his helmet back on. ‘That’s more like it. Spare the rod and spoil the child, that’s what my mother always said, and it didn’t do me no harm. But this is his final warning!’ Then he turned on his heel and marched out.
As soon as the door closed, the place erupted into laughter as the soldiers came to slap Donny on the back. ‘Nice one, son,’ one of them said.
‘No, it’s not a nice one.’ Marianne caught her son’s arm and pulled him towards the staircase just inside the kitchen door. ‘Go to your room and don’t come out till you’ve written a letter of apology to Constable Humphries. And after that, you’re going to spend the rest of the day in your room. Do I make myself clear?’
‘But, Mum, we only did it cos he’s always pickin’ on us.’
‘Do I make myself clear?’ Marianne pointed to the stairs.
Head hanging, Donny nodded and made his way towards the stairs. At the bottom he turned to Alfie. ‘Will you come help me, Alfie?’
‘Course I will, though I hope you don’t expect me to write anything.’ He looked at Marianne with a resigned look and mouthed, ‘Another time?’
She nodded, grateful to have his support, but furious that once again she wouldn’t be able to spend some precious time with her husband.
As they disappeared up the stairs, she rounded on her mother. ‘Don’t ever raise your hand to Donny again! He’s my child and I don’t hold with that sort of thing.’
‘Which is why he’s runnin’ rings round you,’ Nellie said, waving the wooden spoon for emphasis. ‘But shall we continue this conversation when we don’t have an audience?’ She nodded to the men. ‘Anyway, you shouldn’t worry. Bert were the same as a lad but he’s turned out all right.’
Marianne looked over at her brother who was standing in the middle of a circle of men, tall and good-looking as ever, with his dark-brown hair and bright-blue eyes, but he looked thin and tired, his usual sparkle missing. But then, they’d all been missing their usual sparkle.
‘Bert wasn’t brought up during wartime, Mum. It’s different for the kids today; what with no school to keep them on the straight and narrow, most of their friends gone, and them left playing in the ruins of houses or stuck in the caves, knowing that at any moment a bloody great shell could drop out of the sky and kill them and their families. Is it any wonder they’re running wild?’
Reenie came up beside Marianne and put an arm around her friend’s shoulders. ‘It’s true, Mrs C. The kids have gone feral round here. Amount of times we’ve had to scrub graffiti off the walls, and they’re always trying to sneak in and nick stuff out the shop. All we can do is keep an eye on them. Freddie and Don are good lads, it’s just their lives have been turned upside down. But short of sending them away, what can we do? After the last time, Wilf won’t even consider it for Freddie.’
‘And I promised I wouldn’t send Don away again. But . . .’ Marianne shrugged.
‘Oh no, you don’t!’ Nellie exclaimed. ‘After what happened last time? We nearly lost him, Marianne, so if you’re thinking of sending him away again, it’ll be over my dead body,’ Nellie warned.
‘That’s the problem, though,’ Marianne said. ‘It might just come to that.’
‘Stuff and nonsense,’ Nellie tutted. ‘The boy just needs a bit of discipline. And maybe a job.’
Marianne exclaimed. ‘He’s only eleven!’
‘So? Jasper were eight when he started earnin’,’ Nellie retorted.
‘Those were different times, Nell,’ Jasper intervened. ‘The old queen were on the throne, and folk weren’t the same. And it were just me and Mum. I had no choice.’
‘So you think he should just take everything for granted, do you?’
‘Everything?’ Marianne said. ‘What? The bombs, the shells, the lack of food, the lack of schooling, Gladys dying . . . For God’s sake, Mum! Don’t you understand? The kids . . .’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘The kids have got it worse than all of us.’
‘Yeah, you should cut him a bit of slack,’ Jimmy said.
‘A bit of slack? If we gave that kid any more slack, he’d float across the Channel. What does Wilf think about Freddie’s behaviour, Reenie?’
‘He don’t exactly confide in me. I’m just Fred’s aunt, after all. But Wilf can be scary when he’s crossed.’
‘Exactly. He gets discipline. Which is what I were tryin’ to do.’
Marianne snatched the spoon from her mother’s hand. ‘You’ve got to let me do this my way, Mum. So if you don’t need me, I’m going to go up there to make sure he writes that letter.’
Jasper interjected then. ‘Course we don’t need you. You go on up, love. Me and your mum will sort this lot out.’
Marianne climbed the stairs, her thoughts spinning. She was well aware Donny needed discipline and education. But above all, he needed to be safe. And it was within her power to deliver all three. If only she had the courage.