Orphans of War

Her recent visit to London to see Gerald off into the unknown after what was obviously embarkation leave gave Plum a good idea what London was going through. There were raids every night and total devastation in some parts of the town. It had been a bittersweet reunion: going to parties held in smoky basement flats, trying to get last-minute tickets for a show, spending the night in a public shelter when they were caught in a raid, and a twelve-hour journey back on the train. She felt so guilty to be living so peacefully out in the sticks away from such terrors. Their parting had been rushed and fraught and very public.

Gerald listened to all her news of the hostel and her new job politely.

‘I must tell you what Peggy said to me the other day,’ she prattled on, hoping to amuse him. ‘We were running the vacuum cleaner over the drugget in the Vic. Peggy Bickerstaffe, the little pug-faced one who steals biscuits when no one is looking, was supposed to be helping. She just stood there looking at it puzzled. “Am I one of them?” She pointed down to the machine.

‘“A Hoover?” I replied. “It’s a vacuum cleaner, dear.”’

‘“That’s right, miss, a vac…and we’re vaccies. We’re sent out all day picking up other people’s rubbish.” It brought me up sharpish, I tell you. You never know what goes on in the mind of a child, do you?’

‘I wouldn’t know…’ Gerald replied, obviously not interested, but she wanted him to know what sort of children she was billeting.

‘Enid shocked me the other night too when we were making cocoa in the kitchen. She was talking to Nancy and Ruby bragging, almost. “At the last house I was in, I got sixpence for doing cartwheels. The old man used to give me extra if I did it wi’ no knickers on,” she sniggered.

‘“That’s enough,” I said, trying to change the subject. ‘No wonder that girl is boy mad. Makes me think what other things went on and she’s still only a child. What do you think?’

Gerald shook his head. ‘Let’s go to bed.’

They made love on that last night in the hope of conceiving another baby but somehow their very desperation spoiled it for her. She just couldn’t relax into it. Part of her was still smarting from his earlier betrayal and wondering if his affair was really over. Was he just humouring his wife to keep her sweet and still seeing Daisy behind her back? Did it suit him that she was stuck up north with his mother, out of sight? Was she just a glorified housekeeper? He knew she and Pleasance didn’t get on, but her own parents were dead.

Loyalty would always keep her at her post. That was a given. She’d been raised to value service to others as the duty of anyone brought up in comfort, wealth and security. What she was doing for those unfortunate evacuee children was important. She just wished he would be more interested in his niece, Maddy

There’d been just time before her return to trawl through the shops to find gifts for her charges. She had clothing coupons from the local authorities to spend on Greg and the Conleys. There were still materials hidden away in shops that could make winter dresses and trousers. She found toys for Sid and Gloria in Hamleys, and a present for Maddy that was a bit extravagant.

If only Pleasance would spend more time with the girl and get to know her, Plum sighed, looking out of the sooty train, but she seemed to avoid the child. It was so unfair. In fact, Pleasance avoided all the evacuee children, claiming she was too busy doing her war work. Sometimes this consisted of little more than endless tea parties with ladies in smart hats bemoaning the lack of decent domestic servants while they knitted balaclavas and scarves. Their comfortable world was being turned upside down by this war and Mother was struggling to adjust to not having her usual creature comforts to hand: their car was doubling up for one of the town ambulances, the bedrooms were filled with aged relatives, and now Maddy had children traipsing up and down the stairs making a racket that got on her nerves. Her son’s visit was playing on her nerves too.

How strange to meet a brother-and sister-in-law for the first time. Would Arthur remind her of Gerald or the photo of Julian in the drawing room? Gerald looked so dashing in his uniform with his thin moustache hovering above his upper lip like Robert Donat, the film star. If only he wasn’t so handsome.

Men like him didn’t have to work to charm the girls, they just turned up, all tight trousers and teeth, and the doves fluttered in the cote around them. She should know–she’d felt the power of his charm beaming in her direction. Theirs had been a whirlwind romance. She’d come out in London and Yorkshire, done the round of debutante parties and balls, been thrown in the path of suitable partners, and Gerald had been the most handsome, persistent and debonair. The fact that she was an heiress of sorts with a good pedigree made his wooing all the more ardent, she realised with hindsight.

The Templetons fought with King Charles, lost their lands under Cromwell and then got them back under Charles II. The estate near Richmond now belonged to her brother, Tim, but there was a generous settlement on her; not a fortune but enough to give her independence.

She was young, naïve, taking all Gerald’s flattering attention at face value. He did love her in his own way, as a desired object, a pretty face and the future mother of his children. The miscarriages had changed all that, made her wary, and he’d lost patience and found other pretty faces. His mother was disappointed with them both for not coming up to scratch in the heir department. She didn’t like weakness.

Was that why Pleasance distanced herself from Arthur’s child–because she was plain? Was it her roving eye and spectacles, her bony frame and gawky gait that disappointed her? Maddy was growing fast. All the newcomers had blossomed on fresh air, good food and quiet nights’ rest.

It was just as she first thought, these children were like a kennel of puppies. She smiled thinking of roly-poly Peggy, who stuck to Enid Cartwright. Both were at the awkward age of fourteen, being too old for dolls and too young for boys.

Little Mitch Brown was a serious chap, old for his years, with a hunted look on his face like a nervous terrier. Bryan Partridge was like one of those lolloping mongrels, willing, shambolic and always racing into mischief. Nancy Shadlow was so quiet she was like a timid sheepdog cowering in a barn yard, silent and wary. She cried for her mam and sisters, and wasn’t settling at all. Gloria was a bouncing red setter, impossible to keep still but she tagged along with Maddy, who had the knack of reining her in somehow.

Gregory was the one coming on better than she’d dared hope, the pack leader, handsome in a rough sort of way and proud; a bit of an Alsatian about him. She’d already asked at Brigg’s Garage if he could be taken on as a mechanic.

It was promising to be a great Christmas–if only Herr Hitler would give his bombers a holiday over the festive season so everyone in the country could have a good night’s rest. Just a lull for a few days would do.

As the towns turned into villages and hills, grey into green, Plum peered out at the beauty of her surroundings, relieved and guilty to be leaving the nightly raids behind. Her war work was of a different kind from that of the women in the city: trying to give these lost children some fun, hope, and discipline. She tried to temper Avis Blunt’s coldness with some warmth and understanding.

Matron was always banging on about them needing a firm hand but Plum had always got more from her dogs with praise and titbits than with sticks and a beating. Too much yelling and punishment made them anxious and confused, and that set them off in the wrong direction. Surely the children needed firm consistency but also praise when they deserved it?

They had hidden the latest food parcel sent as goodwill gifts from the American people. It was bulging with treats and clothing, and so precious. With all the terrible submarine attacks on convoys in the Atlantic, who knew when they might receive another one? There were more tough clothes for playing in, warm nighties, tins of syrup, lovely quilted bedspreads, milk powder, sweets and magazines. Christmas at the Old Vic was going to be fun.

The hostel’s Christmas turkey was provided by the Town Council and the Christmas puddings were ready in Mrs Batty’s scullery. The children would lunch after morning service and the Belfields, along with their elderly houseguests, would dine later and dress for the occasion.

Plum had used her own coupons to buy Maddy a turquoise velvet dress with long sleeves from Harrods. It was outrageously extravagant but she wanted the child to have something pretty to wear for her parents. Pleasance would have to go halves with her whether she liked this present or not. The other gift had been hidden at Brigg’s Garage for weeks, out of sight of peering eyes.

Everyone was doing their best to be cheerful and festive, but the shops were struggling to keep up with demand. All the factories were up to speed and turned to war production: curtain mills turned into shirt factories, woollen mills turning out uniform cloth, silk mills churning out parachute silk, engineering works pumping out machine tools and spares for aircraft and tanks.

The streets of Scarperton were filled with older men and women with baskets, nipping out in their lunch break to catch up on shopping. The farms were full of land girls. Plum wondered what it was doing to the babies and children, not having fathers around the house and mothers on shift work.

Then she smiled, thinking of her own childhood, when Nanny dressed her to take tea with Mummy and Daddy, if he was home. Sometimes she hardly saw him for weeks. Mummy was a lovely creature who popped into the nursery to say good night, dressed in chiffon and smelling of vanilla perfume. They were loving strangers to her in some ways.

Everyone had to make sacrifices now but she yearned to have a child of her own to cherish, one who would not be farmed out to servants all day. Without Gerald close by it was an impossible dream. War was causing such disruption even in this sleepy market town.

All the schoolmasters were called up for service and older staff brought out of retirement, married women were also back in the classroom. Farmhands, postmen and shopkeepers had all but disappeared. It reminded Plum of after the Great War when she was young and so many of her friends had daddies killed in the war. On market days it seemed as if the whole town was full of women, young boys and farmers, who had a reserved occupation. There were a few soldiers billeted around the streets but no army camps nearby.

She hoped that Arthur and Dolly would arrive back in time for Christmas. They were due to dock in Liverpool at the end of next week, if all went well. No wonder Maddy was excited and Pleasance was going around with a look on her face like her corns were pinching her.

‘What have you got against Dolly?’ Plum asked one night, after her return from London.

Maddy was in bed and the oldies were snoozing by the fire with their cocoa. Pleasance had looked down her specs at Plum.

‘It’s a matter of standards. Those sorts of girls…well, we all know what showgirls are like…actresses. I never expected a son of mine to get mixed up with one of them,’ she sighed.

‘But Dolly was singing to wounded troops when they met,’ Plum replied.

‘On the make, dear, just looking out for someone to be her meal ticket…It was all about the S word,’ she whispered back.

‘The what?’ Plum could hardly believe what she was hearing.

‘You know perfectly well what I’m getting at. Sex,’ Pleasance mouthed in disgust. ‘It was just sex with those two!’

‘And so it should be at that age, Mother. Dolly’s a lovely-looking woman. I’ve seen posters of her.’

‘So why did they produce such an ugly duckling? I’m not even sure if Madeleine is Arthur’s…I did warn him he was making a mistake.’

‘Oh, enough! That’s not very Christian. How can you say such a wicked thing when they’ve been out giving their services to the troops? Arthur sounds like the nicest of the brothers.’ How dare Mother insinuate such a cruel thing about Dolly!

‘I’m surprised at you. Gerald is the handsomest of all my boys,’ Pleasance preened, looking up from her book.

Plum plonked herself down on the sofa, picked up her knitting. It was time for some home truths. ‘I think this family must have a fascination for the stage. I know Gerald has. He’s kept a mistress in London for years. In fact, he was seeing her before we were married. He says he’s finished with her but I’m not so sure. If you want to criticise anyone, tear your own pretty boy off a strip, not Arthur. He’s the only one with a happy marriage.’ That would pop her balloon.

‘Prunella, what’s got into you? Don’t be so mean. Gerry can’t defend himself. Men are like that sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything. You have to make allowances for their urges. They don’t marry girls like that–not in my day, they didn’t.’

‘Didn’t you have any urges then?’ Plum paused, unimpressed by her argument.

‘No I did not. I did my duty and gave him three sons. In return he gave me respect and didn’t trouble me much after that. What Harry did in his spare time, I never asked, but Arthur wouldn’t leave well alone; he had to go and marry the girl against our wishes. I blame him for Harry’s death–letting the family down, going on the stage, refusing to go into the business with not even a grandson to inherit. Gerald was too young to take over. He’s just a man being a man. It’s a pity there’s no child. You wouldn’t talk so freely then.’

‘It’s not for want of trying.’ Plum blushed with embarrassment. ‘You missed out, not enjoying the physical side of marriage. It can be fun.’

‘So much fun that my son seeks comforts elsewhere? Our sort of women are not bred for such…messiness. Next thing you’ll be saying we should demand to be pleasured and equals like those damned Suffragettes making fools of themselves. There are women paid to give those sorts of services…’