7

Nothing was the same after the news broke in Sowerthwaite that Maddy’s parents were lost at sea on a troop ship. Snowstorms were raging across the dale and playing out was too cold to be fun any more. Sid and Gloria were trapped in the cottage for days on end with nothing to do but fight and root in cupboard drawers for postcards to line up on the rug, imagining far-off places and examining the old stamps. The school was closed and Mrs Batty kept looking at her lodger as if she was a bad smell. It was freezing cold in the bedroom and the windows were iced over with Jack Frost. Gloria was in disgrace.

‘If I’d thowt you was listening at keyholes, milady, I’d have tanned yer backside,’ shouted Mrs Batty for the umpteenth time. ‘You’ve shown me up good and proper with the Hall folk. We were talking confidential, Bert and me. Careless talk costs lives, and your careless talk’s cost me my reputation. Thank goodness young Mrs Belfield is a lady and guessed what you’d been up to, blurting out such untruths to the poor little mite and her having to tell ’er the truth on t’ matter. We don’t want blabbermouths in this house. I hope you’ve learned your lesson?’

There was nothing to do but bow her head and get on with doing extra chores to make up for getting that news all wrong. They’d all attended the memorial service for the Belfields at St Peter’s. The church where Gloria had been a candlelit star was now bare and bleak, packed with strangers in black.

Maddy wore a black armband on her sleeve. She had on a new coat made from a cut-down one of the old lady’s. It was heathery tweed with a real black fur collar and cuffs and a matching hat. She looked like one of the Royal princesses, except for the glasses and patch. They sort of made her equal to everyone else.

Mrs Batty said Maddy’d be taken out of the village school and sent to a private one far away now that she was a proper Belfield. Gloria wondered if she’d ever speak to her again but no one was going anywhere in this blow-in.

She’d never seen so much snow on rooftops, piled up on the side of the lane in huge drifts like ice-cream cones. One morning it cleared enough for the gang to go out foraging and play up the Victory Tree as usual. She was glad that Maddy had come to join them. They climbed up together in silence and looked out over the snow.

‘Do you think trees are real? Does it know when we play in it?’ said Maddy with a sigh.

‘It’s not got a heart, it’s just a tree,’ Gloria quipped, and then wished she hadn’t. She still had to make proper friends again but Maddy ignored her remark.

‘But it’s our special tree. We all talk to it and tell it things. Well, I do…’ she sighed again.

Gloria was flummoxed. Maddy was talking rot again but she must be polite. ‘A tree can’t hear so I suppose it can’t tell tales like Enid, and it don’t talk back,’ she replied.

‘They groan and stretch and rustle. I think it listens to us,’ said Maddy, pushing her specs up her nose to hide her squint.

‘I think you’re daft,’ Gloria said. She’d done it again. Why couldn’t she just keep her gob shut?

‘No I’m not! A tree is a living thing, just like we are. Just think of all the things it must have seen long before we were born.’

‘Like what?’

‘All the birds nesting in it, for a start. People hiding up here, like Robin Hood…’

‘He were never here, were he?’ Gloria knew about him from her history book.

‘I know, but there must’ve been soldiers keeping watch, sweethearts kissing. It must know hundreds of secrets.’

‘You’re mad, you are…it’s just a tree.’ Gloria was getting bored with this.

‘It’s our tree, our Victory Tree. We can always come here and whisper and no one else can see us,’ Maddy went on.

‘What do you want to tell it then?’

‘Don’t know, but I wish my daddy knew I was up here. I wonder if he ever played up here too.’

‘And I wish my mam knew where I was so she could come to stay,’ Gloria added.

‘Let’s make a wish then,’ Maddy smiled, and Gloria felt better and then went and spoiled it by saying, ‘But it’s daft talking to a tree.’

‘Then we could write our wishes down and post them into one of the cracks. Then the tree trunk will hold all our wishes for ever.’ Maddy was not going to give up.

‘That won’t do any good, it’s silly.’

‘No, it’s not. This is a magic tree. It’ll make our dreams come true, you’ll see, but we have to keep it a secret or it won’t work.’

‘Are we still friends, me and you? I’m sorry I got your news wrong, I’ve been in such hot water,’ Gloria blurted as they dangled their legs over the branch. ‘Just you, me and the old tree then?’

Maddy looked at her and nodded. ‘Just you, me and the tree: forever friends.’

Oh, what a relief still to be best friends. It had mattered to Gloria to be shoved out into the cold and not be welcome at the Hall. How then was she to ride on Maddy’s bike, or dress up in the big bedroom with the gold mirror, or be given sweeties from Aunt Julia and do errands for pennies? When she was there it was easy to pretend that she too was a royal princess with servants, not a nobody evacuee from the back streets of Manchester. Forever friends…that was the best news of all.

‘Have you heard the news about Enid?’ Peggy Bickerstaffe ran up to them as they climbed out of their hidy-hole. ‘She’s in big, big trouble.’

They were all ears. ‘This soldier turns up and says he’s Enid’s cousin and could he take her out for the day on New Year, out for tea. The Rug’s just back from her trip and brought him in for inspection while Enid comes down dressed to the nines with lipstick and stockings, her hair all done grown up, and they went off promising to return before dark…She’s not been seen since, silly cow. Now she’s for it! They sent for the constable and Mrs Plum, and it turns out, when they read her file, she doesn’t have a brother or cousin and it was all a big lie so she could go out dancing in Scarperton. Do you think she’s done it with him?’ Peggy giggled.

‘Done what?’ said Maddy as they stopped by a drift of snow on the lane.

‘Made babies…You do know what I mean?’

Gloria laughed but Maddy was blushing. ‘Of course I do. People mate like animals. Everyone knows that.’

‘No it’s not. They have to kiss first, and dogs don’t do that,’ Peggy informed them.

‘You don’t make babies by kissing,’ Gloria butted in. It was her turn to show them she was no dunce. ‘You have to lie down and jump on the bed.’

‘Do you?’ Maddy looked at her with amazement as if she’d said something brilliant.

‘She’s such a fibber,’ said Peggy. ‘You have to kiss first or it doesn’t work…like on the pictures, Rhett Butler and Scarlett.’ They’d all swooned at the film Gone With the Wind.

‘But he carries her up to bed…up the stairs,’ Gloria insisted.

‘If anyone carried Enid up the stairs it’d be like humping a sack of coal,’ Maddy replied and broke out into a grin. It was the first smile Gloria had seen on her face for weeks. ‘We can ask her when she comes back.’

‘She’ll not be back here. I heard Miss Blunt saying she’ll be put in a Home for Wayward Girls after this palaver.’

‘But she hasn’t done anything wrong…just gone for a bit of an adventure.’ Maddy stood throwing wet sticks into the pram for kindling. ‘It’s better than this boring job.’

‘This is war work,’ Peggy argued. ‘Enid’s told lies and ran away, stayed out all night and let him have his way. She’s a tart! No better than a prozzy. They do it for money and go to prison.’

Gloria suddenly felt giddy She saw Elijah Street and the dressed-up women walking up and down in the dark, and men who jumped up and down on Mam’s bed, and the big stone flour jar where she hid her takings. It all made sense like bits of a jigsaw puzzle coming together round a corner piece. If anyone found out her shame here…‘Perhaps he’s done her in and hid her body,’ she suggested. That’s what baddies did in the gangster films. They both looked down at her in amazement.

‘You do talk such bunkum,’ sniffed Peggy.

‘No! Enid could be in danger going off with a stranger like that,’ said Maddy, coming to her defence.

‘He weren’t no stranger. It was one of them soldiers from the battery field. She’s been chatting him up for weeks. He bought her some proper perfume for Christmas, Bourge…joyce or something from Paris. She’s nearly fifteen, old enough to know what she’s doing, I reckon.’ Peggy was put out that they were ganging up against her.

Maddy looked at Gloria and shook her head. ‘I think she’s really silly to run off with someone she hardly knows. What if he’s cruel and leads her up the garden path? You know, like that Waterloo Road film with John Mills, where his wife goes off with a spiv. Mrs Batty saw it and she told Ilse when she brought in the washing. What a scandal! It’s not fair on Aunt Plum.’

‘You would say that. You don’t have to live in this boring dump, miles from anywhere decent. There’s nothing to do but play with soppy kids and go to school. Enid was going to run away with Greg anyway…’

That news shook Gloria but she wasn’t going to show it. ‘Don’t be mean to the Belfields. They’ve got enough to worry about, what with Mr Plum being away and poor Maddy’s terrible news.’

‘It’s all right, Gloria, I can speak for myself,’ Maddy snapped, looking put out. ‘Enid wasn’t thinking about any of that, she’s just being stupid and selfish, worrying everyone like this.’

‘Who are you calling stupid, speccy four eyes?’ Peg shouted. ‘You stuck-up prig!’

‘Shut yer gob, fatso!’ Gloria threw her own brickbats. She was playground queen of calling names. The trick was to get in first.

‘I’ll have you an’ all, carrot top!’ Peggy struck out in her direction but Gloria was too quick and darted away, leaving the girl floundering and stumbling face down in the snow.

‘Just stop it, both of you! She’s not worth it, Gloria…She’s just jealous that Enid went without her.’

‘Oh, go and boil your heads, the two of you. See if I care.’ Peg waltzed off, leaving them to push and pull the battered pram back down the garden track without losing any sticks. It was like old times chatting together. Gloria was glad they were alone.

‘They say you’re going to a new school?’ she asked, wanting to be sure of her facts this time.

‘When the weather gets better after Easter, I’m going to Palgrave House for a term. It’s the prep school for Scarperton Ladies’ College, but I’m not boarding, thank goodness, except in the winter. Aunt Plum says I can go on the train each day but we have to go on some Saturdays, which is a bore.’

‘I wish I went to boarding school like the stories in my comic,’ Gloria sighed. One minute she was a dunce at her reading and then it sort of clicked. She’d come on so fast that she could now read schoolgirl mags and follow some of the stories in a proper book, but Maddy going away would change everything. ‘You’ll be too busy with schooling to play out with us.’

‘Spec so…lots of prep to do in the evenings.’

‘We are still friends, though?’ Gloria moved in closer.

‘Of course, why not?’

‘Can I tell you a secret? You may not want to be my friend when I tell you,’ Gloria replied. Sharing this with Maddy was the scariest thing she could think of to prove their true friendship.

Maddy nodded her head and turned towards her.

‘My mam did it for money…you know, like what Peggy was saying. I think that’s why she put us on the train out of the way, so she could earn more.’ There, her fear was spoken, the awful truth laid bare for her friend to see.

‘I’m sure that isn’t true. Your mother looked very upset to me. She must have wanted to stop you having to…I don’t know. It was a brave thing to do. I won’t tell anyone, I promise but I think you’ve got it a bit wrong.’

Gloria could see that Maddy didn’t believe her. What did she know of Elijah Street and all its dirty back alleys? How could she ever imagine such a world? Still, she hadn’t run away from her in disgust.

‘Thanks,’ she replied. ‘And Greg’s got it all wrong saying you’ll become a right snob when you leave Sowerthwaite.’

Maddy froze on the spot, looking at her in surprise. ‘How dare he? What does he know? Gregory Byrne is talking out of his bottom.’

‘Can I tell him you said that?’ Gloria smiled.

‘Tell him what you like,’ Maddy sniffed. ‘No, just tell him he likes the smell of his own farts!’

‘Maddy! That’s so rude,’ Gloria giggled with relief as they both laughed all the way back down the lane in time for tea and pikelets at the Vic.

How dare Greg Byrne say she’d be a snob! Gloria’s words rankled all the way home. In the end Maddy skipped tea and pikelets by the fire and refused to speak to him when he came in from the garage. The Old Vic wasn’t her home and neither was Brooklyn Hall. Sometimes she felt like a barrage balloon let loose from its moorings, blown this way and that by this blasted war, not belonging anywhere. Nor could she understand why there was no news of the sinking in the newspapers; not in Uncle Algie’s Telegraph or Miss Blunt’s Yorkshire Post.

Bad news was hidden away as if it had never happened. Miss Blunt’s sister had lost her house in Coventry and was living in lodgings. She said the whole city was just rubble and no one was allowed near, but there was nothing in the paper about it. There were terrible pictures about the Great Fire of London and how St Paul’s was saved. Uncle Algie kept waving his paper about furiously but she couldn’t look. She could still smell the flames and hear the screams when she shut her eyes. Nothing about the sunken ship either. It made her feel that Mummy and Daddy weren’t important enough to be mentioned.

If she took the short cut across the fields, she could stop off and climb the icy branches of the Victory Tree again. It was cold and slippy up the rope but the snow had melted from the branches and she could just see the new buds swollen, ready for spring.

Would it really be warm again? Would flowers bloom and baby lambs fill the fields? Would the pain in her tummy ever go away? Up in the branches on the platform Maddy hugged her knees and stared out at the bleak grey fields, high up away from the smoke and soot of the chimneys. This was her home, high up out of sight. Everything was all muddled up in her head like Aunt Julia’s tangled wool.

Gloria so desperately wanted to be her friend but Maddy wasn’t sure she meant what she’d said to her about being ‘forever friends’. Aunt Plum was trying to be kind but was so busy all the time, and now with Enid running away and Uncle Gerald being in danger…Grandma was trying her best to be interested in her school work as she helped her with her knitting stitches and asked her to fetch and carry spectacles and hot-water bottles for her bad back. Sometimes she just wanted to be alone up here but then she felt so lonely. She was nobody’s child now.

There was an album of portraits of Daddy as a little boy in lacy dresses and knickerbockers, in school uniform with Uncle Julian, looking very important, and in soldier’s uniform. Grandma sniffed on her hanky as she turned the pages.

‘You don’t expect to outlive your children,’ she sighed.

Why couldn’t she have done all this before Daddy left? Did you have to be dead before anyone said anything nice about you, Maddy thought. Suddenly Daddy was Grandma’s long-lost beloved son and a hero, and Maddy didn’t recognise him at all.

When she pictured Daddy in her head she saw him pounding the piano with gusto, smiling up as Mummy sang, sucking on his brown pipe as he read her a story before they left for the theatre, digging up the bowling green, cussing and swearing under his breath in his old corduroys and the jumper with the elbows frayed into a big hole, waving goodbye through the train window, hat in hand until the train was well out of her sight. She could never imagine him living here.

Nothing was fun any more, not listening to It’s That Man Again on the wireless nor going to school in the snow. She just wanted to hide away under the bed covers and read. She’d devoured Jane Eyre again and Little Women and Anne of Green Gables for comfort. There was a lending library at the chemist–the books were too old for her but she read them just the same.

Books gave her comfort, knowing other girls had suffered death and sadness.

She no longer liked going to school and had tummy aches in the night and fevers and nightmares that allowed her a lie-in in the morning.

It wasn’t as if she was afraid of going out, but she felt safer in the kitchen, helping Ilse, making milky drinks for the oldies who were scattered about, trying their best to get dressed and downstairs before noon.

It was like a hotel, comings and goings up and down stairs. Aunt Julia had her routine, Grandma had hers, Aunt Plum was always out with the dogs or seeing to the two horses for the trap or helping down at the Vic.

Sometimes Maddy could go a whole day without thinking about not seeing Mummy and Daddy ever again, but other days it just flooded over her like a wave of terror to be so alone in the world. Panda did his best but he was only a stuffed toy. She was getting too old for toys but he’d seen her through the toughest of years.

If she kept quiet no one noticed she’d not been to school until they assembled for afternoon tea on the dot of four thirty. She helped Ilse bake scones and oaty biscuits.

By the time Aunt Plum came rushing through the door and noticed her with a perfunctory, ‘Are you feeling better, darling?’ she’d nod weakly. No further questions were asked until it started all over again, wetting the bed, headaches and tummy pains.

She had managed to stay off school for a whole week but now the school was closed anyway. Grandma sent for Dr David to examine her. He prodded and poked, pulled out her tongue, inspected behind her ears and eyed her up and down.

‘Just a wee bit run down, not surprising for the poor soul, but it’s time we did something about that eye before it weakens her sight.’

He was always more interested in her squint than her tummy. Out came the tonic bottle from his bag and the name of a surgeon in Leeds.

‘Let’s get the girl on her feet before we start poking into her eyes. It appears the last man didn’t make much of a job of it,’ said Grandma. ‘She’s just skin and bone. You’d think we were starving her, not an inch of flesh on her,’ she said, prodding Maddy in the arm as if she was feeling a chicken for the pot.

‘Away with you, Mrs Belfield, she’s tough and made to carry flesh like a thoroughbred, not a cart horse. But I’d send her to a ballet class to straighten out those humped shoulders before she gets a stoop. She’s going to be tall.’

And that was why Maddy was going to be packed off to Madame Drysdale’s Dance Academy in Scarperton to take a ballet class.

‘Do I have to go?’ she moaned to Aunt Plum. ‘I’ll be hopeless and it’s a long way on my own. Why can’t Gloria come too?’

‘The Battys don’t have the money to pay for classes, darling, and bus fares,’ she replied.

‘But we could pay for her…Please. I just can’t face going on my own.’ Maddy whined just enough times for Grandma to consent.

‘Just for a term, mind, to see if it suits, but if you miss classes they will stop for both of you.’

She’d gone with Aunt Plum to visit the Battys and were shown into the front room that smelled of damp and soot and must. Gloria was out and they’d sipped tea politely, and Aunt Plum explained the scheme to Mrs Batty who nodded and smiled and said, ‘How kind to think of her…especially after the unfortunate episode.’

Aunt Plum soon put her at ease with a wave of her hand and left it up to Maddy to tell Gloria this very afternoon, but she’d forgotten to tell her. Why?

As she sat up in the chilly tree loft she felt strangely distant from everything going on around her. Nothing was real any more. She just couldn’t be bothered to tell her and watch the look of delight beam over Gloria’s face.

Gloria would shine in the class and she would be dull. She was as pretty as Maddy was plain. An owl hooted from across the fields and she knew it was time to head down. She was being mean to Gloria and now she realised why. It was because of her spoiling Christmas with the wrong news, misleading her and lulling her into safety.

Maddy wanted to punish her friend a little while longer and then she recalled what Gloria had told her in confidence about her own mother being a harlot, as it said in the Bible. She must look it up in the dictionary in the study. Gloria’s mother had given her up and run away; her own parents had no choice. It wasn’t their fault or Gloria’s fault. It just was. It was war.

Don’t be mean, she thought as she made her way back to the warmth of the Old Vic, so she could walk back with Gloria and tell her the news then. It was the least she could do. But she was not going to speak to Greg Byrne ever again.

Plum rushed down to the Vic as soon as she heard the news that Enid had turned up safe, having been picked up trying to thumb a lift with her ‘boyfriend’, who was now on a charge of abducting a minor. She arrived to a scene of total chaos. From high up the wall, there were a pair of legs dangling from the upper casement window.

‘Get down at once, Enid Cartwright! Stop making an exhibition of yourself,’ shouted Avis Blunt. ‘I don’t know why they bothered to bring you back, you brazen huzzy!’

‘What’s going on, Gregory?’ Plum turned to the young man staring up at the drama.

‘The silly cow says she’s going to jump out of the window if they don’t let her see Alf. She won’t be sent away to no home either.’

‘Cook’s left me to see to the pastry in the oven,’ said Miss Blunt. ‘You must deal with this now…Let her jump, for all we care. There’ll be more for us if she does. I’m sick of her tantrums.’ Avis turned back to the girl, wagging her finger. ‘It’ll be bread and no jam for you until you see sense, my girl. I never had this trouble with my prep school boys. My nerves can’t stand any more of the likes of you. Don’t scratch the paintwork!’

Plum was tired and in no mood for this drama. What with Maddy being difficult and moody, Mother-in-law off her food and being a martyred Minnie, Ilse giving her notice as she wanted to help in the local hospital, and the parcel of supplies to deliver, her head was throbbing.

Plum looked up at the gangling girl with her plump legs and ankle socks, her hair pinned up in a straggly Victory Roll, trying to look older than she really was. How did you reason with a defiant girl of that age? Call her bluff, she thought.

‘If you’re going to jump, Enid, do get on with it. Matron and I haven’t time to stand here gawping at your dramatics. It’s starting to rain.’ Deliberately she turned her back and began to walk away, trembling at her own words. What if the silly girl did jump and she was accused of incitement to suicide?

‘I’m not going to no home…I was coming back any roads…It’s not fair, I ain’t done nothing wrong,’ Enid shouted, but the voice was wobbly and tearful.

Plum turned to see her half in and out of the window. ‘Oh, Greg, can you talk some sense into her?’ she sighed.

‘Who said anything about another home?’ he shouted up at her.

The would-be delinquent paused at this different tack. ‘Shut yer mouth, Byrne. It’s none of yer bloody business what I do!’

‘Why should you be treated any different from the rest of us? What’ve you done to help out but moan and whine and skive off?’ he replied.

‘I went to school, don’t I? I never asked to come to this dump. I done me chores but I’m not a kid, am I? I just want to do what the other girls in the village get up to…yer only young once, Alf says. There’s nothing else to do in these hills. It’s all don’ts in this place: don’t show a light; don’t leave a gate open; don’t make a din; mind your manners and sit at the table. They think we’re rubbish kids,’ she called out to her audience.

‘From where I’m standing, that’s just what you deserve,’ Greg yelled. ‘You can’t just run off and expect everyone to welcome you back with open arms. You let Mrs Plum down.’

‘Hark at ’im. You’d be off down that road like a flash if there weren’t a fancy car for you to fiddle with. You’ve gone soft, teacher’s pet. I know your game. I’m not a kid, I’ll be working soon and then no one can stop me and Alf being together.’

It was too much to stand by and let the boy try to bring her down. Plum was blazing mad as the rain poured down on them but now was not the time to show it. How had she ever got talked into this job?

‘From where I’m standing, Enid, all I can see is next week’s washing and a big baby making an exhibition of herself. I hope Alf isn’t peering down his binoculars, seeing you in your glory; not very glamorous or grown up to get everyone worried and searching for you, and now your boyfriend’s in the glasshouse because of you.’

‘I don’t care,’ Enid said.

‘Well, we do, young lady. Some boyfriend! And you don’t even care what happens to him? Still,’ she paused trying a different tack, ‘if you fall we’ll have to pick up the pieces and send for the undertaker to measure you up. So if you’re going to jump, do it quickly before all these lovely American magazines in my bag get soaked. We’ve had another parcel from over the water full of tinned fruit and goodies. We’ll share out yours with the others, if that’s all right. You’ll not be around to worry and Alf will find another girlfriend in your place,’ she said, hoping this might tempt the disobedient young pup into behaving.

‘What magazines?’ Enid’s sturdy legs were edging back over the window sill.

‘Oh, just Moviegoers, that sort of stuff, but I can send them for salvage…or I can send for the constable again and then you really will be in trouble. It’s your shout,’ Plum coaxed, sensing a shift in the wind.

‘Keep yer hair on! I’m coming down. It’s just not fair.’ Enid wriggled back through the window, to everyone’s relief.

‘That was good, miss,’ laughed Greg.

‘Sometimes the carrot works better than the stick…And what’s this about you running away too? I thought you were starting work at Brigg’s Garage?’

‘No fear, miss. I know when I’m well off, and so does she, up there shouting the odds,’ Greg smiled, seeing Plum’s anxious look. ‘Take no notice. It was hard at first for all of us to settle, what with the village lads calling us names, but once we’d bloodied their noses on the way home from school a time or two, we’re sort of all one gang now, miss.’

Plum smiled, knowing a few of the matrons of Sowerthwaite had turned their noses up at some of the latest arrivals, especially young mothers in curlers, smoking fags on the doorsteps of their billets, hanging about looking bored. The town was full of newcomers unused to country ways. There’d been gossip about some of the young mothers complaining about there being no chip vans, dance halls or public houses, and giving lip to their betters. Perhaps if the locals knew just what some of these families had been through, they’d not be so quick to condemn.

Even Enid had chosen to run back here and take her punishment, sensing they’d be fair with her, the crafty little minx. It was a good sign when runaways returned to the fold like naughty puppies. Enid knew when she was well off too, however much she protested.

If only Maddy was that easy to settle. It was hard to get through the tough little shell she had grown in the past months. Her fears and worries were hidden deep behind a ‘don’t bother me’ mask. Perhaps if they made sure her eyesight was secure, and straightened out the squint, it would give her confidence for when she started her new school.

If Plum had learned anything from working with these young girls it was that appearance mattered. How easy to forget how she’d agonised over spots on her own face and whether her nose was too straight. Poor Maddy had to wear those awful specs and the patch. She pretended not to care but she must be the butt of teasing and worse. How could they have left it so long? The girl was never going to be pretty so they must make the best of what she’d got.