Walking Back to Happiness

She posted that letter with relish, hoping Eileen was consumed with envy on reading it for she was proving a great disappointment as a correspondent.

And now there was the wedding to brag about. She wished Hannah would be married in a white floor length dress made of silk and decorated with lace and little rosebuds so that she could describe her looking like a princess to Eileen. But she wasn’t wearing white, nor a dress either. ‘It wouldn’t be seemly with everything in such short supply and a wicked waste of clothing coupons,’ Gloria told Josie. ‘That navy costume trimmed with cream is much more practical and it can be worn again. It will look nice enough, especially now Amy’s decorated her hat to match the cream shoes and handbag Hannah has.’

Hannah looked more than just nice, she looked lovely, but then she always looked lovely. She didn’t look like a bride, that was all. Josie supposed it was more practical, but did you want to be practical on that one day of your life? She did take on board the bit about clothing coupons, though. She knew they were a headache and one of the first things Hannah had to see to after her arrival was to fit her out with a ration book and a set of clothing coupons.

Josie, coming from the land of plenty in comparison, had imagined that now the war was over, everything would be back to normal, but it was far from that.

And yet Hannah had used some of those precious clothing coupons to get material for a dress for her that had been made up by Amy. It was pale blue and in shimmering satin that fell from her waist in soft folds. It was the nicest and prettiest dress that Josie had ever owned and she had an Alice band covered in rosebuds holding back her hair and pure white socks and black patent leather shoes.

That was another thing, her hair. Gloria had given her a hairbrush and said she must brush her hair one hundred times every night to make it shine and after a month or two, when it had got long enough, she rolled rags around it after her bath on Saturday, so that it would be wavy for Mass on Sunday.

Josie never skimped on the hundred brushes after she’d overheard Amy telling Gloria that Josie’s hair was shining like burnished copper. Burnished copper! Josie said the words to herself, liking the sound of them.

Amy went on to say that her hair was her best feature, for she was a plain little thing, not a patch on her aunt, but if she made the most of herself as she grew up she’d make a quite presentable turn-out in the end. Josie hadn’t been a bit offended by Amy’s remarks for she knew she only spoke the truth.

She had no illusions about her looks and if she’d ever had, they’d have been dispelled the day her mother took her as a small child to visit her great-granny, who lived in the hills, and was ill in bed. She’d been taken by the hand into the bedroom where an old toothless lady with a bonnet covering her head had peered at her with small gimlet eyes in a face screwed up in a scowl. ‘Is this the one?’ she said. ‘The afterthought?’

Then she’d turned her gaze from Josie and looked Frances full in the face and said, ‘Well girl, I don’t know what you’ve done with this one, but she’s as plain as a pike staff.’ And so, at the age of three or four, Josie had learned what she looked like. She knew her eyes were too big for her face, although they were deep brown and could have been attractive in anyone else, her mouth was too big as well, and her skin had a sallow look to it.

But then she’d learned that her hair, which no one had ever bothered much with before, was her best feature and that she might make a good turn-out after all, and for someone who’d thought she was plain as plain could be, that prediction was a soothing one.

So she’d walked behind Hannah down the aisle of the long church, filled with pride as she noted the numbers of people crowding the pews on either side. There was not a relative amongst them, but many of the neighbours and the friends Hannah had made in the area and in the church were there for her special day and Gloria had invited friends of her own to make the day more of an occasion.

Arthur seemed to have few friends and no relatives either. But he’d invited some work colleagues and his boss, Reg Banks, and his lovely wife Elizabeth, and with them all the church was almost full.

At the altar, Josie had taken the bouquet of roses and carnations from Hannah and slipped into the pew beside Gloria, who’d squeezed her arm in support, even while she dabbed at her eyes with a screwed-up lace hanky she held in her hand.

Hannah knelt at the altar beside Arthur, letting the Latin words of the Mass wash over her, soothing her, telling her she was doing the right thing. She didn’t love Arthur, but she’d not deceived him. She’d never said she loved him, nor had he said those words to her. She’d known his reason for marrying her, he’d done it primarily to please his boss.

The boss’s wife, Elizabeth, who Hannah had taken to straightaway, had confided in Hannah as they’d washed up in the kitchen the first time they’d been asked to dinner. ‘Reg thought Arthur a bit of a cold fish. The sort of man married to his mother, you know the type?’

Hannah had nodded. ‘He was very fond of her,’ she said. ‘It upset him greatly when she died. He told me all about it.’

‘Oh, I know it did,’ Elizabeth said, handing Hannah a plate. ‘I’m not meaning to make light of it, but somehow while she was alive, he didn’t seem able to let go and get on with his own life. You do understand me?’

Oh yes, Hannah fully understood.

‘Of course, my dear, you’ve known him some time.’

‘I wouldn’t say I knew him well exactly,’ Hannah said. ‘After his mother died he’d come and stay at Mrs Emmerson’s guesthouse when he had business in the Midlands, often for weeks at a time, but I’d never spoken to him more than mere pleasantries. Then, not long after he’d inherited the house in Erdington, he asked me to marry him. I had no idea he was interested in me in that way.’

‘My dear, any man in the land would be interested in you,’ Elizabeth said with a laugh. ‘My own husband is quite besotted. Oh, don’t you blush, my dear,’ she chided, seeing the crimson flushing on Hannah’s face. ‘You must know how attractive you are. Tell me,’ she went on, turning to Hannah in a confidential manner. ‘Was Arthur your first love?’

Hannah swallowed deeply. She’d told no one about Mike, no one but Gloria, but she’d never been asked so directly before. ‘Don’t be upset or embarrassed, my dear,’ Elizabeth said. ‘It would never go any further than here.’

‘There was someone,’ Hannah admitted. ‘I … I was engaged to him. We … We were going to get married by special licence, just in a registry office, you know. He had leave coming up, but we knew it was likely to be just forty-eight hours. We were due to tell his parents then, but we didn’t foresee any problems. We’d met many times and they liked me well enough.’

Hannah had stopped even attempting to dry anything and stood with a plate in one hand, the tea towel held to her chest with the other, distress showing in every inch of her body. Her eyes were shining with tears and the sense of loss struck her suddenly and with such force, it almost took her breath away.

Elizabeth knew that Hannah was back there with her soldier and she made no movement, nor any attempt to speak. The room was very still and Hannah, her voice made husky with the tears that had squeezed out of her eyes and dribbled down her cheeks, went on. ‘It was all arranged when suddenly all leave was cancelled and he was transferred south.

‘Everyone was talking about the “Big Push”, but although I wanted the war to be over, I also worried for Mike. He’d been injured before, but I had a funny feeling about this. I suppose I sort of knew when the letters stopped, but I hoped. You see, I had received no official news. That went to his parents.

‘I didn’t know that at first. When I’d had no letters for almost three weeks, I called to see them, frantically worried. They lived in Dewsbury in Huddersfield, quite a distance from the hotel where I worked then. I found their house in darkness. Boarded up! Empty!

‘It was about another couple of months before I heard any more,’ Hannah said, ‘and that was from his friend, Luke,’ remembering the letter Tilly brought to her just before she fled from the home. ‘He told me Mike had been killed minutes after landing on the beach. He’d been caught in the blast himself and ended up in hospital on the south coast. He’d been out of it for a few months and not in any state to write to anyone.

‘It was his mother visiting him that had given him the news that Mike’s family had just disappeared. He’d not taken it in at first. He was very ill and still getting to grips with Mike being dead. They’d been special friends for years.

‘It was afterwards he realised I would probably know nothing. He still couldn’t write because he’d broken nearly every bone in his body in the blast and was in plaster up to the eyeballs. He dictated a letter to the nurse telling me everything he knew, which was precious little. I … I remember I went a little wild at the time.’

She looked at Elizabeth suddenly, her face contorted in grief, her eyes ravaged. ‘I was beside myself,’ she said. ‘Half the time, I didn’t know what I was doing. I knew I had to get away, everything in Leeds reminded me of Mike, places we’d been to together, people we knew. I couldn’t stay.’ She stopped and her voice dropped to a mere whisper. ‘If I’d had Mike’s parents’ support, things might have been so different. As it was …’

‘Is that why you came to Birmingham to Mrs Emmerson’s?’ Elizabeth asked gently.

Hannah barely heard the question. She remembered how fearful she’d been then, beaten down with shame, panic-ridden. Nowhere she could turn to. The plate she hadn’t been aware she’d still been holding slipped through her fingers and shattered to pieces on the tiled floor.

Stupefied, Hannah stared at it for a couple of seconds before dropping to her knees and beginning to gather up the pieces into the towel while she gabbled, ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Mrs Banks, truly sorry. I really don’t know what came over me. I just … I don’t know how it happened. What must you think of me?’

‘My dear! My dear!’ Elizabeth said soothingly, lifting Hannah to her feet as Reg’s voice called from the other room, ‘You two women having a smashing time out there?’

Hannah looked towards the kitchen door, terrified Reg would appear there any second and order her and Arthur from the house. Elizabeth caught the look and made a dismissive flap of her hand towards the door. ‘Don’t mind him, that’s his attempt at a joke. As for the plate, don’t worry about it. It’s just an old thing.’

It was no such thing, it was one of a Wedgwood set that Elizabeth was very fond of, but she felt Hannah had been so terribly upset by the revelations and remembrances that she’d urged her to tell, that she didn’t have the heart to tell her. Elizabeth had felt the raw emotion running through Hannah, making her whole body quiver, as she’d helped her up and now she eased the young woman into a kitchen chair. ‘Now you stay there,’ she admonished. ‘I’ll make us a cup of tea and that broken pottery will be cleared up in no time.’

Hannah had been glad to sit, for her legs had shook so much and a roaring had begun in her ears and filled her head and she’d been afraid she was going to faint. But to her great relief, she didn’t and eventually the pounding of her heart eased and her breathing returned to normal.

That incident between Elizabeth and Hannah was never referred to again, but it had forged a friendship between them. This had been noticed by both Arthur and Reg and while Reg had been pleased, Arthur had been delighted. He’d told Hannah over and over what an asset she was to him already.

So, kneeling beside her at the altar, Hannah knew Arthur thought he’d made a good bargain in the marriage. What of her? What had she latched on to Arthur for? She knew well why she’d married the man; because she wanted a home of her own and to be a respectable wife and most importantly, the desperate longing in her for a child.

She was glad Josie had come into her life when she did, although initially she hadn’t wanted to look after her. Her coming had eased the ache Hannah carried inside her. This had especially been the case when homesickness had made her vulnerable and upset and Hannah could soothe her.

Eventually, she would have a child of her own, not that she imagined Arthur would make excessive demands on her, and although Arthur was a man who’d never touch her heart, she would be a good, dutiful wife. And then hopefully before too long, a devoted mother. Her life would then be complete and she’d be content.

Gloria watched the couple kneeling at the altar and wished Hannah and Arthur could have had a week at Blackpool, rather than just a mere three days. Josie had been keen to help, before and after school. The child had learned a lot since she’d come from Ireland and now she was a dab hand at many things in the kitchens and grand at serving the meals. She seemed to like doing it too, or at any rate she was always willing enough, so Hannah didn’t have to worry about her.

But, somehow, she didn’t think it had been Hannah’s decision to have such a short honeymoon, but Arthur’s. Hannah claimed he couldn’t afford it, but Gloria was sure he could. One thing that did worry her about Arthur was his streak of meanness and she hoped Hannah could get him over it.

Gloria had told Hannah before the wedding that she should put her foot down. ‘Start as you mean to go on, my girl,’ she advised.

‘He’s saving for the wedding and honeymoon and all,’ Hannah said. But Gloria was sure he’d have a bit put by, for hadn’t he been working for years with only himself to see to and she could bet his mother left him something. And then his boss, so Hannah said, had promised him a rise on his marriage, when he would have a wife to keep.

Hannah, too, was afraid that Arthur was mean. She’d never told Gloria because she would go on and on about it. But the few times they’d been to the pictures, he’d never bought Hannah anything either going in, or in the interval. The first time, as the lights went up in the interval and the girls had gone down the aisles with the ice creams and such, Arthur had remarked. ‘Never buy anything here. Places like these rip you off, don’t they?’

They probably did, but there was something just so right about sitting in the cinema, eating sweets or licking an ice cream. That was what she’d enjoyed with Mike on his short leaves home, when she’d beg, cajole and bribe fellow workers at the hotel to change shifts to be with him as often as possible.

And after the ice creams, they’d take advantage of the darkness to snuggle together. Not that Arthur did that either. He sat stiff and erect in the seat beside her and never ever held her hand which she would have welcomed. It would have been comforting and Hannah, above all things in the world, needed comfort, comfort and tenderness.