Polly’s Valentine’s card from Tommy arrived a week late, but was savoured just as much, if not more, than if it had arrived on the actual day. Polly kept the little card to herself as she did not want to cause Bel any more anguish or upset, or to remind her of what she no longer had.
The next day, though, she showed it to Arthur, who had held it in his trembling, gnarled hands and told her it was, ‘Lovely.’ His pale blue eyes looked wet and Polly told him, ‘Stop it, Arthur, or you’ll set me off.’ And the two of them had started to laugh, although their laughter had been mixed with more than a few tears.
Later Polly had gone downstairs to find Bel changing Joe’s bandages, but the atmosphere was frosty, so she had taken herself off to bed and lain there until she fell asleep, the little Valentine’s card still in her hand.
The following evening she’d been working a late shift, and when she finally arrived home there was just Bel and Joe up. Agnes had gone to bed early, shattered after a day of child-minding and laundry; Arthur too had taken to his bed, along with his newspapers and his little wireless – one of the few possessions he had brought with him when he’d moved in. Pearl, thankfully, was nowhere to be seen.
‘Your ma not about tonight?’ Polly asked Bel as she went to pour herself a cup of tepid tea from the pot going cold on the kitchen table.
Bel shook her head from side to side, but didn’t say any more. She was sewing up Lucille’s little dress, which had a rip down the side. Lucille loved her miniature yellow pinafore dress, so it usually ended up being washed most evenings and hung out to dry overnight so that it could be worn again the next day.
Polly looked at her sister-in-law and felt the urge to go and shake her, which she knew was unfair, but these days even Big Martha spoke more than Bel, and that was saying something. It was as if Bel’s lack of chatter was a reprimand against them all. As if she was angry with them, which did not make any sense. Polly desperately wanted to take her aside and have a really good talk to her, but so far there just hadn’t been the right time. Polly wondered, though, if perhaps she was making excuses and that she simply had to admit that, for the first time in her life, she did not know how to reach out to Bel.
Heavens knew how Joe was managing to exist in this tense atmosphere day in and day out.
Polly had thought they might all get some respite from it when Bel had gone back to work last week, but she had been proved wrong in quite spectacular fashion; Bel’s behaviour was still providing the local gossips with plenty to talk about.
Polly took a sip of lukewarm tea, then put the cup back down and went to fill the kettle to make a fresh pot. As she stood by the sink and turned the tap on, it was as though you could hear every splash, it was so deathly silent. The house had never been quiet when Joe was in it. He was always the real live wire, chatting or making people laugh, but now it was as though Bel’s refusal to communicate was becoming infectious, as Joe was far from vocal himself these days.
Polly knew what he had been through had obviously affected him and caused him to become more subdued, but so far he had not once spoken about Teddy, or what had happened out in the desert. Polly had understood this to start with, but felt that if Joe didn’t talk about it soon it would get pushed so far down he’d never be able to dig it up and give it a good airing, and that instead it would fester, just like his wound seemed to be doing.
When Polly had been chatting to Gloria one afternoon during a tea break, she’d told her that most of the men and husbands she knew, including her own soon-to-be-ex-husband, had come back from the so-called ‘war to end all wars’ and, in Gloria’s words, it was as if they had all taken a vow never to talk about anything related to their time on the front.
‘It’s not good and it’s not healthy for anyone’s mind to keep everything trapped in,’ she had told Polly as they’d sat in the noisy canteen at work, out of the biting wind, which showed no sign of abating, even though it was almost spring. The weather seemed to have decided it was stuck in winter and was going to stay there for a good while yet. Polly knew that Gloria was speaking from experience as her husband Vinnie had sought solace in drink; every spare penny he got his hands on ended up hitting the coffers of his local boozer as he poured alcohol down his neck, but, worse still, he had taken to using his fists as a way of expressing all his pent-up anger.
As Polly walked back into the noiseless kitchen and put the kettle on the range’s hob, Joe looked at his sister. He desperately wanted to break through the awkward atmosphere, even if it was just for her sake. He could see that Polly was working herself to the bone at the yard, and he was sure she was doing even more overtime than she was expected to do, just to stay away from the house.
Besides, he knew if he didn’t make an effort to speak, Bel certainly wouldn’t.
Joe had not wanted to talk about his need to do something for the war effort, but even though he was still recovering from his injuries, it had been playing on his mind ever since he’d got back; even more so since he’d heard that the other week the German General Erwin Rommel had arrived in North Africa and, two days later, the first units of Jerry ‘Afrika Korps’ had turned up.
Joe knew that there was never going to be an appropriate time to broach the subject, so now seemed as good a moment as any; and by talking to Polly, it would be a dry run before he told his mother and faced her inevitable wrath.
‘I’m thinking of seeing if I can be of any use in the yards.’ Joe’s voice sounded croaky and a little nervous.
Polly immediately turned to face her brother. Her look of disbelief at what he had just suggested said it all.
She was incensed. Was her brother mad? He had nearly died for his country, and would almost certainly never get back his full mobility – even now he still risked losing his limb if he wasn’t careful – and here he was, wanting to go back out there and fight Jerry, even if it was just on the home front.
But just as Polly was about to lambast her brother for his lack of concern for his own recovery, his own wellbeing, as well as for the effect it would have on his mother and the rest of them if he were to fall ill, Bel suddenly chirped up. ‘Oh, I think that’d be a great idea.’
Polly’s mouth fell open. She stared at her sister-in-law.
She felt so angry at her encouragement when that was quite clearly the last thing her brother needed, she could hardly get her words out.
For the first time ever, Polly looked at Bel and saw her mother in her. Pearl was the most insensitive and least empathetic person Polly had ever encountered. She had never once thought Bel was even remotely like her mother – they both shared the same sky-blue eyes but, other than that, Polly would have struggled to even put them as distant relatives.
Now, however, the pair seemed uncannily similar – and it shocked Polly.
It was as if Bel just wanted Joe out of her sight.
‘Really, Bel,’ Polly spluttered out. ‘I never thought I would ever utter these words, but just then I saw – or rather I heard – your mother in you.’
Bel looked at Polly with an expression neither Polly nor Joe could fathom.
Then, as if on cue, Pearl came through the front door, bustled down the hallway and made her entrance. ‘I think my ears are burning.’
Her voice was shrill and a little too loud. They all knew Pearl well enough to recognise she’d had a few, although where she got the money for even just a little tipple was a mystery, as she so far had not paid Agnes a penny in board and lodging.
When her words were greeted with silence, Pearl continued regardless, ‘Aye well, as long as it’s all good, I dinnit mind,’ and with that she walked through the kitchen, staggering a little as she passed Joe and using his shoulders to steady herself, before making her way out the back door and into the yard to have a smoke.