Edie Castle dumped the heavy tea urn on the rickety trestle table Marge had erected at the edge of the field beneath the grey brooding walls of the castle, and pressed her hand into the small of her back. Spending most of her days bent over the bonnets of cars and trucks, or lying on the cold cement peering up at chassis was proving to be more and more difficult. She wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to keep working at the garage at this rate and she was guiltily aware of the extra burden she was putting on Mr Pearson. Soon she’d just be an extra mouth to feed. Two extra mouths, she corrected herself, swallowing down the sense of panic that thought always brought with it.
If only Bill were here; he was the only one who could calm her fears, but after a hasty wedding and just one night together, he’d left to begin his operational training with the RAF. She stared at the thin gold band he’d put on her finger two months before. If not for this tangible proof that they were married, she might not believe it. But what kept her up at night was the thought that it might be the only time they’d ever have together. She kissed the ring and closed her eyes. ‘Come back safe to me, my love. I’m not sure I can do this without you.’
‘God’s sake, Edie, I said I’d do it. You shouldn’t be lifting heavy stuff in your condition.’
Edie jumped as a woman walked towards her carrying a tray of tin mugs. Tall and statuesque, she was elegant in her navy-blue Wren uniform, her red hair bright against the overcast sky.
‘I’m fine,’ Edie said, only just resisting the temptation to snap. Marge lived and worked at the castle and was one of her sister Marianne’s best friends, but she and Edie had grown close over the last few weeks following the bombing of the garage and Edie and Bill’s efforts to prove that Mr Pearson – his uncle and her boss – wasn’t a spy. Now that she rarely saw her sisters, Marge had become one of her closest friends.
‘Really?’ Marge put the tray on the table and examined Edie’s face. ‘Ah, love.’ She put her arms around her. ‘You missing Bill?’
Edie pulled away. ‘I’m fine,’ she said again, wiping her face.
Marge looked sceptical, but tactfully changed the subject. ‘Look at all this.’ She waved her arm at the table, which was crowded with plates of sandwiches and biscuits for them to sell to the spectators, along with jugs of squash for the kids. And the obligatory bowl for donations to War Weapons Week. ‘If we did this every time a group of men decided to kick a ball around, we’d have even less food than we already do.’
‘I think it’s nice that your padre arranged it. And anyway, it’s to raise money for the war effort.’
Marge sighed. ‘Yeah, bless Phil,’ she said, digging in her pocket for a cigarette.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve had enough of him already?’ Marge and Padre Philip had been going out with each other for a couple of months now, and from what she’d seen, he was no match for her friend, who’s fiery hair matched her nature.
Marge lit her cigarette and blew out a long puff of smoke. ‘Course not,’ she said. ‘He’s the sweetest man in the world. I just wish he’d remember to be as nice to himself as he is to everyone around him. Still, least he’s not a pompous know-all like Rodney.’ She grinned.
Edie felt compelled to defend her eldest brother. ‘In many ways Phil and Rod are very alike.’ She smiled slyly at her friend. She liked Phil, but she’d much prefer Marge and Rodney were together. She couldn’t think of anyone she’d like better for a sister-in-law.
Marge let out a brief laugh. ‘You’ve got to be joking?’
‘Nope. They’re both always trying to do the best for everyone. Just Phil shows it by doing nice things and constantly asking if you want to talk about anything, while Rodney shows it by bossing people around. They’re two sides of the same coin.’
Marge snorted. ‘Chalk and cheese more like. See, the thing about Rod is, he wants to boss you around and he expects you to be there whenever he needs you. Whereas Phil . . . Well, Phil is just plain lovely. There are no sides to him.’ She took another puff on her cigarette, then blew it out slowly. ‘None at all,’ she murmured quietly.
A tall thin man wearing a flat cap and blue overalls ambled towards them from the other side of the field, where Pearson’s Garage stood. ‘Pour me a cuppa, before I get back to work, love,’ he said to Edie. ‘Some of us can’t spend all day watching football matches and drinking tea.’
‘Aren’t you going to watch, Mr Pearson?’ Marge bustled up to the table and filled a tin mug for him.
‘You seen the forecourt?’ he asked, pulling a pipe from his blue overall pocket.
‘You need more help round here,’ Marge said briskly. ‘There must be some young lad in the town who’s keen to learn how to fix cars.’
‘Steady on, Marge. I’m not ready to give up yet!’ Edie exclaimed.
‘I am on the lookout, as it happens, but I need someone with experience. I can’t spend time teachin’ as well as all the rest.’
‘Oh, Edie can do that,’ Marge responded.
Edie snatched up the mug of tea Marge had just poured and passed it over to her boss. ‘Weren’t you the one just moaning about my brother bossing everyone around and thinking he knows best?’
Marge tutted. ‘I was just saying. Anyway, seeing as you’re all sorted, I’m just gonna dash back and get Jeanie to join us. I hear Bert’s persuaded your mum to give the army team breakfast at the café. Which sounds a lot better than anything our lot’ll get at the NAAFI.’
Edie folded her arms across her chest. ‘I wouldn’t know what Mum’s doing,’ she said tightly. ‘Nor would I care.’
Marge rolled her eyes. ‘Christ alive! Don’t tell me you’re still not talking to her? How long are you going to keep this up?’
‘Forever,’ Edie retorted baldly. ‘And before you ask, it’s none of your business, so just leave it.’
Marge shrugged. ‘Whatever you say, love.’
After she’d gone, Edie was uncomfortably aware of Mr Pearson’s eyes on her. ‘What?’ she said challengingly.
Her boss took a long sip of tea before saying, ‘Whatever it is your mum’s done, you’re gonna have to forgive her one day.’ He nodded at her stomach. ‘Cos you’re gonna need her soon enough.’
Edie scowled. ‘I’d rather live on the streets than accept help from her.’ She tossed her head and started to walk back to the garage. ‘While we’ve got a few minutes, I’m gonna look at the fuel pump on the Morris.’
Mr Pearson shook his head as he followed her. God knew he loved Edie like a daughter, but he was no substitute for her mother. Especially when it came to looking after babies.
‘And don’t give me that look,’ Edie snapped, her back still to him.
Her boss chortled. ‘A man can’t even give a look anymore?’
Edie peered over her shoulder and smiled fondly. ‘You can give me any look you like, Mr P. All I ask is that you don’t mention my mother again.’
Edie’s thoughts remained on her mother as she bent over the bonnet of the car. She’d meant what she’d said – she never wanted to speak to her again. She’d lied to her all her life about her father’s death, telling her again and again that she hadn’t been there. But she had, and now her memories of that day had returned, her nightmares had intensified. Where once she used to dream about a loud bang and blood on the wall, now she saw her father sitting in his chair, his face blown away. And her mother was holding the gun.