After the big car had driven away, Molly returned wearily to the party. Harry’s warmth and affection helped to distract her from the sinking sensation inside; why was it so impossible to win Lyn’s approval? There seemed to be no answer to this. And though Andy hadn’t mentioned the embarrassing scene, she could see that he had been hurt by her sister ignoring him.
‘Well, ladies,’ said Spot, emerging from the shed where the men had been ensconced, drinking beer, ‘time to take me other halves home.’
‘Come over and see us soon,’ Cissy said as she walked with Molly to the elderly green van. ‘And chin up, girl. Your sister will come round.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘She’s got to. Or else she’s the one who’ll lose out.’
At these words Molly hugged her friend, who more than anyone, except Jean, knew just how much she sought Lyn’s approval.
They all stood in the evening sunshine waving as the noisy vehicle trundled off. When at last it was out of sight, Molly found herself standing in the street alone with Andy.
‘I enjoyed my surprise,’ he whispered as he slipped an arm around her waist. ‘But what was all that about moving to Sidcup?’
‘I’m so sorry Lyn was rude.’
‘Didn’t take no notice.’
‘I’m sure you did. I was hoping this could be a real family affair. But Lyn’s always had her own ideas on what she thinks is best for me.’
‘I gathered that. But you’re a big girl now.’
‘Yes. It’s hard to convince her. Ever since we were small she’s been the leader and I’ve followed. It’s not so odd for the pecking order in a family. And Lyn has been so successful. She was clever at school and when she left she picked a wealthy husband with a high-ranking job. My world with Ted seemed to be very small in comparison.’
‘But you loved Ted,’ Andy said gently. ‘You had something that Lyn hasn’t, a real husband and a real life going on that wasn’t fabricated.’
‘What do you mean?’ Molly asked curiously.
‘Oscar’s afraid to be himself. He didn’t even want to drink until your dad got to him to partake. When we got him a little tipsy and told a few jokes, the man really came out of himself.’
Molly nodded thoughtfully. She had always hoped that Oscar wasn’t really the stuffed shirt he portrayed himself to be. ‘That was nice of you, to make him feel comfortable enough to relax.’
‘I think Oscar and me will rub along.’
Molly shivered from top to toe. Andy was talking so positively and it made her feel wonderful inside. She wanted him to kiss her and she wanted to kiss him back but, smiling at each other, they walked slowly indoors.
As she helped Jean to wash the dishes, Molly was preoccupied. She had never really given Oscar much consideration over the years, but Andy had broken down the barriers in just one meeting. She loved him for this, for it had given her a new outlook on her sister’s marriage and the reasons why Lyn seemed to have changed so much from the East Ender she used to be. Wealth and prosperity had forced both Lyn and Oscar to adopt roles in life that made them seem remote, even arrogant at times.
‘Don’t worry about it, gel,’ said Jean as she tidied away the china.
‘Worry about what?’
‘I’ve been gassing for the last ten minutes and you ain’t noticed.’
‘Oh dear. Sorry.’
‘Listen,’ said Jean knowingly, ‘it’s you and Andy that matters. No one else.’
Molly smiled. ‘Thanks. Is it that obvious?’
‘Only to those who can read you.’ Jean nudged her elbow and winked. ‘Enjoy yourself while you’ve got the chance, that’s my motto.’
That evening, as they left the Turners’, she and Andy walked home arm in arm, while Mark and Evie scampered happily ahead. The sun was low in the sky and a crimson sunset cast a fire over the roofs of the houses, reflecting its image in all the windows. Jean was right. It was too beautiful an evening to think about anything other than how happy she was to have Andy safe beside her.
That night, after the children were in bed, Andy took her in his arms. As if by magic all her worries disappeared. She could only think of how much she loved him, and of how they would be together when the war was over.
When the war was over. The words were like a mantra in her mind. Words she could cling to that gave her all the reassurance she needed in a world that felt, at times, so alien.
Although Molly still had to open the shop that week, Andy took Mark and Evie to school and was there to meet them in the afternoons. They would call for Molly on their return and she would join them for a walk to the park, or a picnic in Island Gardens, or a game of football on the nearby pitch.
When Saturday arrived and Liz looked after the store, they all caught the bus to the city. Mark and Evie were so excited they couldn’t sit still, jumping up and down to see the sights.
Molly was very proud of them. Mark wore a new pair of short trousers and a clean white shirt. Andy had run a comb under the cold-water tap, threaded it though his son’s dark hair and drawn a neat parting at the side. Molly had brushed Evie’s hair until it shone in gold ringlets and dressed her in a blue-and-white gingham frock. Andy had been unable to take his eyes from his growing family.
Since there had been no daylight raids in the past week, the roads were clear. It was an uninterrupted drive to Covent Garden where they dismounted, bought sticky nougat under the great pillared entrance, and toured the many stalls.
As Mark and Evie ran around the busy area, Andy slipped his arm round Molly’s waist.
‘Happy?’ he asked her and she nodded.
‘Are you?’
‘Very.’
‘Do you think they know?’ Molly asked as they watched the children playing.
‘About us? Course they do.’
‘They’re special kids. Really lovely. They always make me feel liked.’
‘Why shouldn’t they?’
‘I’m not Stella. I can’t replace their mother.’
‘They don’t want that. They want you, Molly, the person who, next to me, loves ’em most in all the world.’
At this Molly smiled. She still had her doubts about the role she was taking on, for no one could replace a parent. But she wanted the children to know that they were safe with her and she would never let them down.
It was later, as they stood outside the imposing gates of Buckingham Palace, and Andy showed Mark the many troops guarding the home of the King and his family, that Evie began to tire.
Molly lifted her into her arms and felt two skinny legs curl tightly around her waist.
‘ ’As the King got a princess in there?’ she whispered tiredly, her head dropping to Molly’s shoulder.
‘He has – two, in fact.’
‘Can we see ’em?’
‘Sometimes they stand on a balcony.’
‘They ain’t standing there today.’
No answer was needed as Evie fell soundly asleep, her breath warm on Molly’s neck.
‘Enough sightseeing,’ Andy said in Molly’s ear as he returned with Mark. ‘Let’s find somewhere to eat.’
The bus took them to a British Restaurant canteen, and for under a shilling, they ate as much as they possibly could. Molly was surprised to find the food piping hot: mashed potato spread over minced meat with carrots and green peas. For afters there was stodgy pudding stuffed with real raisins.
‘Dead flies, ain’t they?’ decided Evie. ‘But I like ’em any way.’
Even Mark laughed at this and failed to argue the point.
By the time they reached home, the children were ready for bed. As had become their routine, Andy told them a story about camp life and the friends he had made there. There were a few yawned questions, but soon they were asleep.
When Andy returned to the front room, Molly was waiting, flushed and content. He took her in his arms and held her gently.
‘Molly, let’s go to bed too.’
In reply, Molly kissed him passionately, her body longing for his love. He took her hand and they tiptoed along the passage, pausing briefly to listen to the soft snores inside the children’s bedroom.
Like thieves in the night they crept into Molly’s bedroom and soon they were in bed, bodies entwined.
‘This is the best part,’ Andy told her as they lay there. ‘Knowing we’ve got all night and waking up to find you there in the morning.’
‘Where else would I be?’
He gave a deep sigh and kissed her mouth with such sweetness that Molly wished she could keep the taste of his lips on hers forever.
‘I love you, Andy,’ she told him, her fingers folding over the muscle of his arm. ‘I need you and the strength you give me.’
‘I want to protect you, Molly,’ he replied, pressing her so closely she thought they felt like one. ‘I don’t want to go to war and leave you and the kids. Look what you’ve gone through already to keep them safe. But as I have no choice in the matter, I’d like to take these memories with me. It’s the closest I’m going to get to the vows we’ll make when it’s all over. Does that make sense?’
‘Perfectly,’ Molly whispered, and their kiss was the seal on their tryst.
If Molly had thought that guilt would creep into her thoughts, she was wrong; guilt that Ted was gone and she was loving another man in his place, when their lives had once been bound together so intensely in marriage and by their love for Emily.
What she felt for Andy was an entirely different emotion; it was a kind of arriving ‘home’ after the wilderness years. She could leave behind that void of darkness and desperation she had felt after losing her daughter, the chasm that had never been bridged for either Ted or herself. Ted had gone to war – his calling, and his redemption, despite his tragic death. But she had been left, wondering why she had survived to handle the pain alone, her only comforts the shop and Dad.
And then Dad had gone. A loved one removed once again from her life, and she’d had to face the fact she was alone, having to come to terms with loss thrice over. Yet fate had been kind to her. She had stumbled somehow into Andy and the children’s lives and found a different kind of loving.
As Andy lay beside her, exploring her body and bringing her such exquisite joy, Molly gave thanks. She wasn’t sure who to, for she wasn’t a religious person, though she had sometimes uttered a prayer in those dark times of the blitz.
Now her thanks were combined with a knowledge of herself that she had never had before. She was prepared to give herself completely and take the chance. For who knew what was to happen in the future?
For now, she took what she could: his kisses, his ragged words of desire, his beautiful naked body and the uninhibited pleasure he gave her beyond all physical expectation.
But mostly, the love. Unconditional. Yet committed. Loving her as she loved him. For however much longer they had together.
Over the coming weeks and months, after Andy had returned to camp, Molly was to think many times of his lovemaking. The unpleasantness with Lyn paled into insignificance, as she recalled the whispered words that she and Andy had shared.
And when in August he wrote to her that, as a commissioned signalman and Morse code operator, should he still be land-based, he was putting in for leave at Christmas. He couldn’t say more, he wrote, but told her not to discount the possibility.
Liz was the one, however, to burst her bubble. One morning she brought in the daily newspaper and, opening it wide on the counter, read an extract from one of the country’s best-informed war correspondents.
‘“Although Britain’s engagement in the Atlantic has been highly successful over the summer and the threat to our Allied ships from the German U-boat fleets has been countered, the theatre of war in Russia and its latest offensive is of such importance that the whole war may depend on the outcome.” ’
‘So what does that mean for us?’ Molly asked in confusion.
‘Well, if our navy has done the trick in the Atlantic, where are our sailors gonna be sent next?’
Molly’s heart leaped. ‘I don’t know. Does it say anything else?’
Liz read on. ‘“The American and British armies and navy are pushing forward in Sicily and Italy. Allied warships have been sent to shell the coasts, and bombers are on full assault along the length of the Italian coastline.” ’ Liz looked at Molly and nervously adjusted her brown beret. ‘Looks to me like it’s all hands on deck in the Mediterranean. I reckon your Andy is likely to be drafted down there.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘Dunno, love. But the papers say this is a bloody big push in Europe. Don’t want to worry you, but I shouldn’t count on him being home for Christmas.’
Molly knew that Liz studied the papers intently and that her friend spent many hours discussing the current situation with their customers. Was she right about this? Was the war in Europe escalating? What did that mean for Andy?
Restless thoughts whirled around in her head and for the rest of the day she couldn’t relax. War was so cruel. It disrupted so many lives and often extinguished the smallest of hopes.
Her answer came in late September, when a very brief letter arrived from Andy. It bore no English postmark. By the way it read, she could tell it had been heavily censored from overseas. He told her he loved her and the children. That he missed them dreadfully and would always treasure the memories of his last leave, which would sustain him in the months to come.
Unlike his other letters from camp, this one had an ominous undertone and since no mention was made of Christmas, Molly feared that Liz was right.
As the daily wireless bulletins increased in number and Molly listened with the customers in the shop, it was clear to one and all that the war in Europe was reaching a climax.
Which way would it go, everyone questioned? When the conquered Italy decided to declare war on Germany, its once ally, all the customers cheered. But when the sickening news came through of the Nazi capture of a Benedictine monastery at Monte Cassino, transforming it into an impenetrable fortress, everyone stood still, shocked by the reports of the slaughter that was taking place on such holy ground.
Molly felt as though she was living in a surreal world. Daily, the shop became a meeting place for people to come and absorb the latest triumphs and failures of the Allies and Russia, who had fought so long and so hard in the merciless freezing conditions against the German army.
Many customers were still waiting for news of their men scattered not only in Europe but in far-flung places like South-East Asia, Burma, New Guinea and all across the Pacific. Like Molly, none of them had any confirmation of where they were or when they would see them again.
Letters became few and far between. The postal service was erratic. Everyone dreaded the arrival of a telegram.
Molly broke it to the children in December that they were not likely to see their father at Christmas.
‘Me dad’s on a big ship, ain’t he?’ Evie said, at once accepting the fact. ‘He’s gonna teach us to swim when he comes ’ome. Then I can be a sailor too, like ’im.’
Molly expected Mark to correct his sister, as was their usual routine. But this time, at a very grown-up eight years old, he gave no response.
The little boy was becoming a man too early, keenly aware now that the war machine rolled steadily onward, influencing not only his own life and his sister’s, but the life of the father he adored.