Shirley had telephoned April the following day, and over the next week they met up when their work shifts allowed – but they avoided the kiosk on the seafront. Shirley was nothing like Paula, but April suspected she would have approved of the friendship, for it was strengthened by their shared experience, and they both benefited from having someone to talk to whom they could trust.
Shirley hadn’t been at all fazed by the fact April’s baby would be dark-skinned, and April discovered that she was a good listener, so freely discussed her fears and doubts over what she should do once her baby was born. The others at Beach View were being very supportive, but Shirley was the only one who really understood what she was going through and April was hugely thankful that fate had brought them together.
They were sharing a picnic lunch in Havelock Gardens, enjoying the warmth of the May sunshine while James slept peacefully in his pram and the birds sang from the branches of the surrounding trees. April had worked an earlier shift this morning to accommodate her appointment with the adoption agency, and Shirley had a day off from the factory, so they were making the most of the lovely weather.
‘What time’s your appointment, April?’
‘Two-thirty. And I’m still not sure if I’m doing the right thing.’
Shirley grasped her hand. ‘Only you can really decide what to do,’ she said quietly. ‘So don’t let them steamroller you into signing anything until you’re absolutely sure.’ She gave April an encouraging smile. ‘Would you like me to come with you?’
‘Peggy’s meeting me there, but thanks for the offer, Shirley.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘I suppose it’s best to get things organised now, but I won’t really know how I’ll feel until the baby’s born.’
‘That’s the hardest part. Once you’ve held it, you’re lost. They made me look after James for the ten days I was in hospital, and after that it would have been like ripping out my heart to hand him over.’ Her expression was solemn. ‘If you really want yours to be adopted, then my advice is to have nothing to do with it. Leave the hospital straight away, refuse to see it and sign the papers there and then. You’ll be feeling weepy, but that’s natural because your system’s all mucked up, but according to all the leaflets it will pass.’
April nodded and regarded the rows of vegetables that had been planted amongst the few surviving rose trees. ‘At least you have your mother on your side,’ she murmured. ‘I haven’t heard from mine even though I’ve written to her twice.’
‘Mum has been brilliant despite the fact she’s terrified of Father finding out she’s still in touch and sending me the occasional postal order. She’s hoping to come down for a couple of days while he’s inspecting factories in the Midlands, and I’m really looking forward to seeing her. The last visit was just for a few hours after James was born.’
Shirley visibly brightened. ‘It was lovely to see her cuddling him and making a fuss of him, and I’m sure that if only she could persuade Father to unbend and accept what’s happened they’d both be much happier. After all, James is their only grandchild. ’
‘It must be very hard for your mother.’
Shirley nodded. ‘It is. She’s torn between wanting to be with me and James and having to placate Father. She hates going behind his back, but she has no other choice if she wants to support me.’ With a deep sigh, Shirley adjusted the light blanket over her sleeping baby. ‘I’m their only child, and if I’d stopped to think how much anguish it would cause for everyone I wouldn’t have been so utterly stupid and let my heart rule my head. It wasn’t as if I was that naïve – I knew how babies were made, for goodness’ sake.’
‘We both did,’ said April ruefully. ‘And yet, here we are.’ She looked at her watch and began to pack up their picnic. ‘I’d better get going. I don’t want to keep Peggy waiting.’
‘I’ll walk with you as far as the High Street. There’s a stack of nappies to wash, and my room needs a thorough clean. Mrs Jackson, my landlady, is very particular about tidiness, and as she’s been good enough to give me a room in her house, I don’t want to upset her.’
They strolled out of the small park and walked up the hill towards the ruins of the old church on the corner. ‘Good luck, April. I’ll be thinking of you.’
‘Thanks, Shirley. I’ll let you know how I got on tomorrow after work.’
April watched her push the pram a bit further up the hill before turning into a side street towards her billet, which was a single room in a large house overlooking the recreation ground. Shirley counted herself lucky that she had managed to get any accommodation at all and therefore put up with Mrs Jackson’s constant nagging for fear of being shown the door – and April knew how unsettling it was for her new friend to always be on tenterhooks.
Thinking about her friend’s situation merely sharpened her resolve to have her own baby adopted. Life was difficult enough for Shirley; how much worse would it be if her baby had been black?
April shivered. She adjusted her coat over her bandaged arm, then headed up the High Street towards the imposing and rather forbidding council building where the Church of England Adoption Society had its office. She was doing the right thing – of course she was.
Peggy was already waiting for her and chatting to the young Home Guardsman who was standing looking very bored by the enormous piles of sandbags which protected the façade of the building. She caught sight of April and gave her a warm smile.
‘I managed to persuade Rita and Ivy to look after Daisy for a couple of hours,’ she said. ‘They’re going to take her to the playground and buy her an ice cream, which will no doubt end up down her front – but at least we’ll be able to fully concentrate without her.’
‘It’s really kind of you to come with me,’ said April.
‘Not at all,’ said Peggy airily. ‘I couldn’t possibly let you go through this on your own, and two pairs of ears are better than one – we’re bound to get bogged down in all sorts of details and not take in half of it.’ Her gaze was penetrating as she took April’s hand. ‘Are you all right, dear? Only you look very pale.’
April nodded, determined to remain calm and focused. ‘I’m fine, really. Let’s just get this over and done with, shall we?’
‘Just remember that you’re not alone, April. I’m here and will support you the best I can, and Evelyn Franklyn is a wise old bird after all the years she’s been doing this, so you’ve no worries there.’
April followed Peggy up the concrete steps and into a vast, echoing hall that was tiled in red and dark blue and panelled with dark oak. Peggy gave April an encouraging smile before they headed up the sweeping staircase to the first-floor landing. Stretching into the distance on either side was what looked like an endless corridor of highly polished doors, each sporting the name of the department that was being run from behind it.
April followed Peggy along the line, their footfalls muffled by the deep red carpet as the portraits of past mayors and town councillors stared down at them from the panelled walls. It was as daunting as she’d expected, and April’s pulse was beginning to quicken.
Peggy came to a halt. ‘Take a deep breath, dear, and just remember that it’s your decision in the end. No one can force you to do anything you don’t want to do.’
April took the deep breath, but it didn’t help much, and as Peggy knocked and pushed open the door, she wondered just how fast her heart could beat before it gave out altogether.
The office was much larger than she’d imagined, with long windows overlooking the High Street, an imposing mahogany reception desk and several comfortable chairs placed round a low table on which was a stack of well-thumbed magazines and newspapers.
‘My name’s April Wilton, and I have an appointment with Miss Franklyn,’ she said breathlessly to the little grey-haired woman who seemed dwarfed by the enormous desk.
‘If you’d like to take a seat, Miss Franklyn will be with you shortly.’
They sat side by side on the sagging couch and Peggy reached for her hand. ‘They have a good system here,’ she said quietly. ‘You come in this door, then into her office, and from there you go out through another door much further down the corridor. That way no one bumps into anyone. Discretion is key here, and they’re very good at it.’
April regarded her with some surprise. ‘But how do you know so much about it, Peggy?’
‘I have a friend who came here a long time ago in the hope of adopting her brother’s baby,’ she replied. ‘That sadly didn’t work out, but by the look of things, this place hasn’t changed much over the eighteen years.’
The far door opened and a pleasant-faced woman stepped into the room. She was wearing a sprigged cotton blouse and cream skirt beneath a pink cardigan, her greying hair was neatly brushed back into waves from her lightly made-up face, and the only jewellery she wore was a pretty brooch. ‘Do come in. I’m sorry you were kept waiting,’ she said in a mellow voice.
They followed her into the room to find that it wasn’t furnished as an office at all, but was more like a comfortable drawing room. There were chintz-covered chairs surrounding a low table on which stood a carafe of water and glasses; there were pretty pictures of country scenes on the wall, and a huge vase of flowers stood on the desk that had been discreetly placed beneath the long window.
‘Make yourselves comfortable,’ said Miss Franklyn. She waited until they were seated and then looked at Peggy. ‘It’s nice to see you again, Peggy, although of course the circumstances are a little unusual. Are you related to Miss Wilton?’
Peggy smiled back. ‘April’s my evacuee, Evelyn. I’m here to lend her some support.’
Evelyn Franklyn chuckled. ‘Still the mother hen, I’m delighted to see.’
She turned to April and picked up the notebook and fountain pen from the table between them. ‘There’s no need to be nervous, dear,’ she said calmly. ‘Anything said in this room goes no further – and nothing you may say will shock me. I’ve been doing this for almost forty years, and I very much doubt I haven’t heard it all before.’
She smiled and settled back in the chair, the pen poised over the notebook. ‘Why don’t you begin by telling me about yourself?’
April’s qualms were eased as the older woman’s gentle voice led her through her family history, education and work experience. It was only when Miss Franklyn began asking questions about Daniel that she faltered. ‘I really know very little about him,’ she confessed. ‘He proved to be a liar and a cheat, so I can’t really say for sure if anything he told me was true apart from the fact he eventually revealed that he had a wife and children back in America.’
‘That’s not unusual,’ Evelyn replied calmly. ‘Just tell me what you think you know.’
April conjured up an image of Daniel and described his dark, honey-coloured skin, black hair and gold-flecked eyes. ‘He said his mother was a native Indian and his father was a light-skinned African whose roots went back to the days of slavery. Judging by his bone structure and colour, I can assume that that at least was true,’ she finished lamely.
‘I know this is upsetting for you, but we need to know as much as possible so we can place your baby with the right people,’ Evelyn said, pouring a glass of water for April from the carafe on the table. ‘Were there any serious medical problems, do you know?’
April shook her head and Evelyn turned a page in her notebook before she began to question April about her health and that of her family.
‘My father had no siblings and his parents were very elderly by the time I was born. Father died of a heart attack when I was little, and it was thought to have been caused by his experiences in the trenches during the first war.’ April paused to gather her thoughts.
‘Mother has an older brother who’s in good health, but they did have a sister who died when she was a baby. I don’t know why that was,’ she finished lamely.
Silence fell as Evelyn wrote in her notebook before setting it aside and replacing the cap on her fountain pen. ‘Are you fully committed to having your baby adopted, April? Because once the final papers are signed, you will never be permitted access to its records or be able to trace it.’
‘I realise that,’ she replied, ‘but I think it would be best for the baby to have two parents who really want him – or her – and who will be able to provide a proper home. I’ve seen enough to know that life would be a real struggle for both of us if I didn’t go through with this, and I don’t think that’s fair on the baby, do you?’
‘Have you talked this over with your mother?’
‘I wanted to, but she made it very clear she had no interest in me or the baby.’ April clasped her hands tightly in her lap and regarded the other woman evenly. ‘I’ve discussed it with Peggy and my friend Shirley, who decided to keep her baby and weather the storm of disapproval even though it seems relentless. But I seem to go round in endless circles trying to decide what to do for the best. What’s your advice, Miss Franklyn?’
‘Your circumstances are not unusual, April, and some girls have taken the very brave step of keeping their brown babies. But you seem to be aware of the prejudice and unpleasantness this can cause,’ she added with a sigh, ‘and no matter how much the mothers love their babies, without support from family members, life becomes almost impossible for them. In many cases this results in older children being put into care – and they are much harder to place with adoptive parents. In my opinion, your child would fare better by being placed with a family already in a mixed marriage.’
‘Are there such people willing to adopt a brown baby?’ asked April tentatively.
‘There are,’ Miss Franklyn replied carefully, ‘but they are in the minority, April.’
‘Yes, I see,’ she murmured. ‘And what if no one wants my baby? What will happen to it?’
‘There are foster homes and orphanages which will take your baby and look after it until a suitable family is found. The Church of England Adoption Agency prides itself on making sure that no child is placed with the wrong parents.’
April looked at Peggy for reassurance. ‘What do you think, Peggy?’
‘I think you should sign the first batch of documents to get the ball rolling,’ she replied as she took her hand and held it tightly. ‘That way, the Agency can start to look for the right people, so that when your little one is born, there will be someone there waiting to take him in.’
April nodded and turned back to Evelyn. ‘If I sign these papers now, will that mean I can’t change my mind later?’
Evelyn leaned forward and patted her knee. ‘It’s as Peggy said, it will merely start the search for suitable parents. Applicants have to be vetted very carefully, their homes inspected, their characters and medical history looked into, along with their lifestyle, habits and religion. This all takes time, April, so the sooner you sign these, the sooner we can begin.’ She discreetly placed a form on the table between them.
April looked at the heading on that form, and suddenly everything came into sharp focus. This was real, so real that it made her heart skip a beat as all the doubts and fears returned.
She read every word and looked back at Evelyn. ‘You promise I’m not signing my baby away with this?’
Evelyn’s smile was soft. ‘This is the first document of three. You will sign the second nearer to the birth to give us permission to present your baby to the adoptive parents, but they will have no right to keep the baby until the third document is signed six weeks after the birth. Only after that will you be relinquishing all your rights to your child.’
It all sounded horribly cold and callous, but feeling reassured that she was merely getting things started, and not giving up her baby even before it was born, April signed.
Evelyn nodded her thanks and carefully placed the document in a beige cardboard folder. ‘I will telephone you at Peggy’s when it’s time to sign the second document,’ she said. ‘Now that things are on a more official standing, your doctor will keep me informed of your progress, and nearer the time, we’ll meet again.’
She gathered up her notebook and pen and stood to indicate that the interview was over. ‘If there are any questions you wish to ask then make a list and we can go through them then.’ She pointed to the door on the other side of the room. ‘If you go through there you won’t have to go back into the waiting room, where I do believe I have my next appointment waiting,’ she said quietly.
April shook her hand and headed for the door as Peggy said goodbye to Evelyn and hurried after her.
They walked in silence along the corridor and down the sweeping staircase to the entrance hall where April drew to a halt. ‘What have I done, Peggy?’ she managed through gathering tears.
‘You’ve given some childless couple real hope that they will soon have a lovely baby to love and cherish and raise as their own,’ she said softly before drawing April into her arms. ‘It’s a wondrous gift, April, and they will bless you for it.’
April sniffed back her tears and returned Peggy’s hug before searching in her coat pocket for a handkerchief. ‘I don’t know how to feel at the moment,’ she admitted. ‘One minute I feel that I’m doing the right thing – the next I think I must be very wicked to give my baby away. It’s not its fault – any of this – but mine. And yet he’s the one being punished.’
‘Now you’re just getting worked up,’ said Peggy firmly. ‘Come on, dry your eyes and think properly, April. You’re doing the best thing, really you are, and at times like these we have to remain clear-headed and practical – not get maudlin and over-sentimental. That baby will be loved and cared for, so it’s no punishment – and you, well, you’re still young and have the rest of your life ahead of you. It’s a harsh lesson, April, but now you need to learn by it and do the best you can for you and that baby.’
April knew she was right, but the awful weight of guilt simply refused to leave her – and she wondered then if it ever would.
Despite his outward support of April during the past week, Ron had struggled to accept the situation, for like Fran, his upbringing in Ireland had been a strict one, the moral code adhered to through dire threats of hell fire from the priests and the intransigent opinions of society in general. This might be a different world – a world once more plunged into a war that brought uncertainty with every hour – but surely it was no excuse for turning from the lessons that had been drummed into them since childhood, for, to him at least, they were more important than ever.
He plodded along the undulating hills, his thoughts churning. Rosie had been correct when she’d said he was hardly the right person to judge anyone. He was a sinner, and an unrepentant one at that, but April’s dilemma worried him on several levels.
Her arrival at Beach View had stirred things up and although, on the face of it, everyone seemed happy to support her, Ron knew there was a deep unease in Cordelia and Sarah, which caused some tension. Even his darling Peggy was struggling despite her determined smile, for he’d noted the worry in her eyes every time Shirley came to the house with her baby, and knew that the tittle-tattle had already started in the town – no doubt fanned by that sour-faced bitch Mabel.
And then there was his oldest and dearest friend, Stan, who was blissfully unaware that his blossoming friendship with April would soon force him to face an unpalatable truth, which could cause a huge amount of trouble for him, and for Ethel.
He reached the brow of the hill and looked back to check that Queenie hadn’t been left too far behind – the damned cat still insisted upon accompanying him on these walks and managed somehow to evade all attempts to shut her indoors.
On seeing her fluffy tail waving above the grass, he breathed a sigh of relief and then turned to admire the view of the sparkling sea beyond the jutting white cliffs. It was the tail end of May and in three weeks’ time Stan and Ethel would be getting married. Ron was glad the girl had taken Peggy’s advice not to say anything until after the celebrations, for his old pal deserved to enjoy his special day before the proverbial hit the fan – but he wasn’t too sure he wanted to be around when it did. Ethel could be a ticking time bomb.
He settled down on a tussock of grass while Harvey and Monty raced about like hooligans in search of something to hunt. He lit his pipe and waited for the now familiar sound of Queenie’s miaow, and when he heard it, he gave a soft grunt.
‘Damn fool cat,’ he muttered affectionately as she insinuated herself against his legs. ‘It seems I’m outnumbered by females with minds of their own and no regard for the opinions of a man who suffers terrible from the moving shrapnel.’
Queenie purred loudly, rubbing her cheek against his hand, and then settled down in a patch of sunlight to stretch luxuriously. Her tail fanned out behind her as she yawned and cleaned her pink paws before going into a doze, fluffy ears twitching at the slightest sound.
Ron contentedly smoked his pipe, watching the seabirds hover and swoop above the shore, and the tide begin to turn, bringing the waves further up the shingle at each roll. May had seen a turn in the tide of war too. Ron thought back over the developments of recent months. Despite the terrible toll of lost young lives, the Allied air forces had achieved great victories in the Mediterranean as well as in the heavy bombing campaign over Dortmund, Düsseldorf and Essen in Germany. With further air attacks on southern Italy and Sardinia, and growing support for the Allies in Argentina, it seemed that Germany was at last losing its grip, and that Italy could very soon change sides.
There had been retaliations, of course, with devastating raids on Torquay and Eastbourne, and accounts of utter brutality in Poland against the Jews in their ghettos. It seemed Hitler was determined to wipe them from the face of the earth, and there were appalling stories coming out of Europe about concentration camps and forced labour. And yet the breaching of those German dams in the Ruhr by Barnes Wallace’s amazing bouncing bombs was a triumph of ingenuity and skill, and the thought that Peggy’s younger sister Doreen might have played a very small part in that gave him an enormous sense of pride.
Ron looked at his watch, then scooped up a supine Queenie and gently placed her in one of his larger coat pockets where she settled back to sleep for the ride home. Since being spayed she’d put on weight and was now quite a large, glossy cat; queen of Beach View and all she surveyed and the undoubted nemesis of any other feline that dared encroach on her domain. She’d decided to accept Monty’s presence – under sufferance, as he and Harvey came as a pair – but she didn’t allow any liberty taking, and if his nose got too inquisitive, it would receive a right royal battering from those needle-sharp claws.
Ron strolled back down the hill and along to the Anchor, to return Monty to his home. Back at Beach View, he found the house deserted. Now he remembered that Cordelia had gone out with Bertram, and Peggy was with April at the adoption agency. He grimaced at the thought, his soft old heart going out to the girl. ‘To be sure,’ he muttered as he poured some milk in a saucer for Queenie, ‘’tis a hard lesson for one so young. This world can be very cruel.’
He watched Queenie lap at the milk while Harvey gobbled down some biscuits and water, and then left them to sleep off their walk in the basement. Closing the back door firmly behind him, he set off for Stan’s allotment. He’d promised to help him do a bit of hoeing, and it would provide the perfect opportunity to sound him out about his and Ethel’s views on mixed-race babies.
Stan wasn’t feeling too clever this afternoon. He’d been troubled with indigestion throughout the night and as the day had gone on, the heartburn had become even worse. He slumped into the deckchair outside his shed and stared morosely at his allotment as he swallowed the chalky antacid straight from the bottle.
It was the third bottle he’d gone through in a week, and the regularity and gathering strength of these attacks was finally starting to worry him. He couldn’t afford to be ill, not with the wedding only three weeks away, and it was no good the doctor telling him to cut down on rich food and fried breakfasts – Ethel would think he didn’t appreciate her cooking.
He gave a deep sigh and watched the friendly robin hopping about amongst his early vegetables. Ethel was a marvellous cook who managed to magic up things other people could only dream about during this time of shortages and strict rationing, and he was easily tempted, for he’d always loved his food, and it was a pleasure to have a woman cooking for him again.
‘Hello, Stan. What’s this? Sitting down on the job?’
‘Just resting for a minute, Ron.’
‘Getting too much for you, is it?’ teased Ron as he plumped down in the other deckchair. ‘Get us a cup of tea then, and tell me what you want doing – although it all looks fairly shipshape to me.’
Stan set the kettle on the primus stove. ‘April and Ruby came over to help yesterday,’ he confided. ‘Did a lovely job of weeding and burning the rubbish, too, and it was good to see how well they got on.’
‘They’re about the same age, and now Mike’s been sent up to the wilds of some Scottish Isle, Ruby needs a pal to take her out of things,’ said Ron comfortably.
Ethel appeared around the corner of the shed dressed in her working overalls and knotted headscarf, the usual fag stuck in the corner of her mouth. ‘I’m sure your April’s a pleasant enough girl,’ she said. ‘But I don’t want my Ruby mixing with the likes of that Shirley.’
‘Shirley’s a nice girl,’ protested Stan.
‘Nice girls don’t have babies without an ’usband in tow,’ she retorted sharply. ‘Are you making tea, Stan? Me mouth’s as dry as a duck’s arse after working in that factory all day.’
Stan smiled and kissed her cheek. ‘Just waiting for the kettle to boil, my little flower. Why don’t you sit down and relax?’
‘I ain’t got time to relax,’ she said, gathering up scattered flower pots and setting them in neat stacks by the shed wall. ‘What with me ’aving to ’ave me dress taken in again, and Rosie to see about the last-minute arrangements, there ain’t enough time to breathe, let alone sit down.’
Stan smothered a soft burp and wished he could sneak another few drops of his medicine, for the heartburn was making him feel decidedly sick.
Ethel looked at him sharply. ‘You don’t look right, Stan. You got indigestion again?’
‘Just a touch, but nothing for you to worry your pretty head about,’ he said lightly.
He made the tea and gave it a good stir in the pot before leaving it to draw and then nipped into the shed while Ethel was talking to Ron to have a surreptitious slug of his indigestion mixture. He could hear their conversation through the shed wall, and it made him feel uneasy, for Ethel was inclined to say things he didn’t always approve of – and she was at it again now.
‘Look, Ron,’ said Ethel, ‘I don’t mean to be unkind, but your April needs to be careful who she mixes with. That Shirley’s no better than she should be, and ’anging about with ’er ain’t gunna do April’s reputation no good. The gossip’s already started, you know.’
‘We’ve had that chat among the family,’ said Ron calmly, ‘and we decided we like her and her little boy, so if April wants to be her friend, then why not?’
‘That’s up to you, o’ course, but where I come from gels know better than to get in the family way.’
‘I think you’re exaggerating, Ethel,’ drawled Ron. ‘Girls and boys are the same the world over, and accidents happen – even in the East End.’
‘Not in my neck of the woods, they don’t,’ retorted Ethel. ‘They wouldn’t bleedin’ dare. If some girl in our family went that way she’d be thrashed by her dad and thrown out on the streets. We don’t ’old with that sort of carry-on.’
‘That sounds very harsh, Ethel,’ protested Stan, emerging from the shed. He poured the tea.
‘Yeah, it might to a soft old sod like you, Stan, but the fear of God and a beating from yer dad is usually enough to keep the gels on the straight and narrow.’ She flicked the ash off her cigarette and stuck it back in her mouth with a grimace. ‘Course, there’s some what won’t be deterred by nothing, but at least we ain’t got khaki babies down ’ere in Cliffehaven – yet.’
‘A baby’s a baby regardless of their colour,’ said Stan mildly, ‘and innocent of any sin their parents might have committed. I really do think you should be a bit more charitable, my darling.’
‘I speak as I find, Stan. The world’s gone to ’ell in an ’andcart, and I ain’t afraid to say so.’
Stan didn’t agree with Ethel – and by the look on Ron’s face, neither did he – but he wasn’t about to continue the argument, for he knew he’d only come off the worse for wear and he was feeling lousy enough already. He decided to change the subject.
‘I hope you’ve got your best suit all sorted for the wedding,’ he said to Ron.
‘Aye, but there’s time enough yet to be worrying about such things.’ Ron regarded him from beneath brows that had become unruly again. ‘Have you been to the doctor about that indigestion, Stan? Only you don’t look right.’
Stan nodded. ‘He gave me something for it. I didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all – worrying over all the wedding arrangements and wondering if my replacement on the railway for the day is up to the job. He’s been retired for fifteen years and his eyesight isn’t much good. I just hope he can cope.’
‘The railway people wouldn’t have employed him if he couldn’t cope,’ said Ron. He slurped down the last of his tea and got to his feet. ‘Well, if you don’t need me to do anything, I’d better get back home.’
‘Thanks anyway, Ron. See you for dominoes later on. And don’t be late.’
‘Will we be planning a wee drink or three before the wedding, Stan? You can’t be getting hitched without a drop or two inside you, and I’d be failing in me best man duties otherwise.’
‘We’ll have a couple at the Anchor on the night before – but I don’t want a late one, Ron, or to be waking up with a blinding hangover.’
‘I’ll sort something out with the others then,’ he replied cheerfully, ‘and warn Rosie she’ll need to get some more beer in.’
‘You mind you don’t get ’im ’alf cut and staggering,’ warned Ethel. ‘I want ’im sober and in one piece at the church.’
Ron nodded to her briefly, pulled on his cap and ambled off, his thoughts churning over Ethel’s diatribe. It had left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. If Ethel should ever discover the truth about poor little April’s baby, it could destroy Stan’s happiness and wreck any chance of reconciliation with his niece. After today, it was more important than ever to keep April’s secret safe.
April was aware that everyone knew where she and Peggy had been today, and as she was feeling particularly low, she was grateful that none of them badgered her with questions. She didn’t have much appetite either, but with a war on and rations becoming tighter every week, she knew better than to waste any of her supper, so she forced it down and tried to look as if she was enjoying it. However, as the chatter went on around her she was isolated by her thoughts and the implications of those papers she’d signed this afternoon.
‘Just leave it, love,’ murmured Peggy. ‘I can see you don’t really want it.’
‘But it’s such a waste.’
Peggy shook her head. ‘Nothing goes to waste when Harvey’s about.’ She patted her hand and gave her an encouraging smile. ‘Everything will sort itself out, April, you’ll see,’ she said quietly beneath the excited chatter around the table.
April made a stoic effort to dredge up a smile and tune in to the conversation around her, which had now turned to Stan’s wedding and the clothes the girls had been sewing ever since they’d received their invitations. Like everyone else during this war, they’d had to make do with what they could find, and the four girls had managed to cobble together something special for the occasion out of what they had in their various cupboards. As April listened, she realised she had nothing remotely suitable to wear, and would be in her sixth month of pregnancy by then. It would probably be best if she stayed at home that day.
‘I found something in my wardrobe that will be perfect for you,’ said Peggy as if she’d read April’s thoughts. ‘It’s a navy dress and jacket that my sister Doris passed down to me and that I’ve never had the chance to wear. It was always a bit big for me, you see, and although I meant to take it in and alter it, I never had the time.’
‘I don’t know if I should go to the wedding at all,’ April said hesitantly. ‘I’ll probably be the size of a barrage balloon by then anyway.’
Peggy smiled. ‘I doubt it,’ she murmured. ‘You’re not half the size I was when I was five months gone with Daisy, and you don’t want to miss out on Stan’s wedding, surely?’
‘I do feel I ought to go. There should be someone from the family, but . . .’
Peggy pushed back from the table. ‘That’s settled, then. Come on, let’s see how that outfit looks on you.’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind lending it to me?’
Peggy laughed. ‘I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t.’
April followed Peggy into her bedroom, where Daisy was snuggled in her cot on the brink of sleep, her thumb in her mouth, the silky end of the light blanket clasped in her tiny fist as a comforter. The sight of the sleeping child stirred disturbing emotions in April and she determinedly looked away to watch Peggy unhook a hanger from the wardrobe door.
‘Take it upstairs and try it on,’ she whispered, ‘and if it’s all right, then come and show us. If not, I’m sure one of us can sort something out.’
April closed her bedroom door and took a quavering breath to steady herself before she slid the linen cover from the dress and jacket. The navy blue reminded her sharply of her time in the WRNS, but she refused to let that put her off, for the linen was of good quality, the cut and stitching immaculate and the jacket very smart with white piping and pretty silver buttons.
She stripped off the skirt and blouse that through necessity had become her uniform over the past week, eased off the sling, and stepped into the dress. The silky lining was cool against her skin, the hem reaching to just below her knee. She struggled a bit to thread her plastered arm through the armhole and then had an awful tussle with the buttons at the back. She gave up, and set aside the narrow white belt that came with the dress. It would merely emphasise her thickened waist and rounded stomach.
Slipping on the black pumps she’d bought the day before with her first wages, she pulled on the three-quarter-length jacket, and regarded her reflection in the dressing-table mirror with a critical eye. The dress was loose enough to hide her bump and the jacket draped perfectly as an added layer of camouflage. The colour was flattering, and all in all, she didn’t actually look too bad.
Despite all that had happened today, she felt a flutter of pleasure, for this would be her first social event since she’d been thrown out of the navy, and because it would be Stan’s wedding day, it made it even more special.
She went down to the kitchen and twirled in the doorway to a chorus of praise. ‘I just hope it will still fit in three weeks’ time,’ she said, blushing, ‘and someone will have to do me up on the day. I can’t reach the buttons with one hand.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Peggy, ‘I’ll help with those if your plaster cast isn’t off by then.’
‘I have a hat that will look just right with that,’ said Cordelia from her armchair. ‘I’ll put it in your room when I go up to bed.’
‘Oh, thank you, Cordelia, that’s very kind.’
‘I’ve got some fake pearl earrings you can borrow,’ said Ivy, ‘and a necklace. They were only cheap, but they look quite posh.’
‘And I’ve got a small black clutch bag I brought over from Singapore,’ said Sarah, looking up from the book she was reading. ‘You’re welcome to borrow it for the day, if you’d like.’
‘I’ll do your hair,’ piped up Fran, ‘and help with your make-up. We’ve got to make a real effort for Stan on his special day.’
April regarded them all with the deepest affection and once again thanked her lucky stars that she’d found such a warm and loving home in her hour of need.