Pack Up Your Troubles

They watched him walk away and Connie smiled. ‘You stick to your guns, girl.’

‘I intend to.’

‘You said the Frenchie says Simeon has a talent but what does he do for a living?’

Kez shrugged. ‘Odd jobs, scrap metal, driving, that’s all that’s on offer for the likes of us.’

‘So what is his talent?’

Kez led the way round the hedge to where the motor trailer stood. Connie gasped as she saw the beautiful wooden carvings he had put on the side. It wasn’t to Connie’s taste, too garish for that, but she could see that he had a real eye for it. Fleurs-de-lys, scrolls and arches were everywhere and Simeon was up a ladder decorating them with gold leaf.

‘This is amazing!’ Connie cried.

‘And he done the whole thing from scratch.’ Kez smiled in a satisfied way as she touched her husband’s leg and they exchanged a loving glance.

‘What about you, Connie?’ asked Kez. ‘What do you do now?’

‘Didn’t I tell you, I’m going to be a nurse?’ said Connie.

‘A nurse,’ cried Kezia. ‘Don’t you want to get married?’

Connie thought fleetingly of Emmett. ‘Maybe. When the right man comes along.’

Kez grinned. ‘Good for you.’

They went back to the fire and sat down to reminisce. It was getting dark by the time Connie made a move to go home. ‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right walking back on your own?’ Simeon asked as he cleaned his brushes.

‘Fine,’ said Connie. ‘I have Pip with me. He won’t let anybody touch me.’

‘Don’t forget to put the clocks back an hour,’ Kez reminded her. ‘Double summer time ends tonight.’

‘So it does,’ Connie smiled.

As she said her goodbyes and left, Connie felt loved and accepted by all of them. Everyone except Isaac. He had been less pleasant. In fact, he seemed to have a giant chip on his shoulder.

The house was in darkness when Connie got back home. She gave Pip a drink of water and the few scraps her mother had saved him from the evening meal.

‘Silly old dog,’ she said softly as she fondled his ear. ‘I didn’t abandon you, you know. I still love you.’

Leaving him in his basket, Connie crept upstairs. She had thought everyone was asleep but then she heard Ga call her from her room. Connie only ever went in there when invited. It was a cluttered place with piles of leaflets and papers all over the dressing table and the chair. As soon as she walked in the door, Connie could tell by the expression on Ga’s face that something was wrong. She was sitting up in bed, her handbag beside her and her bad knee resting on a pillow. She had a lacy bed-shawl around her shoulders and her hair was in steel pins. How on earth did she sleep in those? Connie wondered.

Olive motioned for her to sit on the bedside chair so Connie moved the mound of papers onto the floor.

‘I want to talk to you about this nursing business,’ said Ga. Connie opened her mouth straight away but her great aunt put up her hand to silence her. ‘You might not be worried about how this will affect me …’

‘And you don’t seem to be bothered that I have a right to my own life,’ Connie interjected.

‘But,’ Ga continued loudly and clearly not listening, ‘have you thought of what this will do to your mother?’

Connie faltered. ‘Mother? In what way?’

‘Can’t you see how she looks?’ said Ga accusingly. ‘The poor woman is exhausted.’ She paused as if to let the words sink in. ‘We need you, Constance. We need you to help share the workload. Gwen cannot carry on much longer.’

There was a short silence. ‘But Clifford will be coming home shortly,’ said Connie.

‘And what sort of a state do you think he might be in?’ Ga retorted. ‘Besides, he’s not getting any younger either. I already told you, we need a young pair of hands.’

Connie looked away. She felt sick with disappointment. She didn’t want to admit it but Ga was right about one thing. Her mother did look worn out. And thin. Connie chewed her bottom lip helplessly. Did she really have to give up the idea of nursing? Surely there had to be another way? It was so bloody unfair. She had a right to live her own life but if she walked out on her mother now, she would just be plain selfish.

‘You don’t have to give me your answer now,’ said Ga. ‘Just think about it.’

‘All right,’ she said quietly, loathing the look of triumph in Ga’s eyes.

Ga nodded. ‘Good girl.’

Biting back her tears, Connie stood up. ‘If I do stay,’ she said stiffly, ‘it will only be for a while. I intend to be a nurse, no matter what you say.’

Ga’s mouth set in a tight line.

‘Oh, one more thing,’ said Ga, as Connie turned to leave. She opened her cavernous handbag, and pulled out a newspaper cutting. Connie took in her breath. It was the picture from the Daily Sketch, the one of her and Eva standing in the fountain at Trafalgar Square with the two sailors. The caption above it read, Playtime for English Roses. She remembered how she’d rolled up her slacks and stood in the water before the two sailors climbed in beside them. The picture was quite flattering too. Connie grinned.

‘It’s no laughing matter,’ Ga snapped. ‘I am absolutely disgusted.’

‘Why?’ Connie challenged. ‘It was only a bit of innocent fun. You were young yourself once, Ga.’

Olive’s face clouded.

‘Come on, it was VE Day,’ Connie protested mildly. ‘We were all happy. The war was over.’

‘And so you took it upon yourself to climb into a fountain with Eva Maxwell.’

For a minute Connie was thrown. She had thought she was going to get a lecture about flaunting herself with two strange men. She hadn’t forgotten the rage she’d felt herself when she’d realised who Eva was, but it didn’t seem that important now. ‘At the time, I didn’t know who she was,’ Connie said with a shake of her head. ‘She was a friend of a friend and she said her name was O’Hara.’

‘Typical,’ Olive sneered. ‘They’re all liars, that lot.’

For some reason, Connie felt the need to defend Eva. ‘O’Hara is her married name,’ she said haughtily. ‘And just for your information, I met her family. It was all very sad. Her husband was killed in the war and I didn’t know who she was until much later in the day.’

Their eyes locked together in a common challenge. Connie refused to look away but it was clear that Olive wasn’t beaten yet. ‘Perhaps that is why Emmett disappeared,’ she said cuttingly. ‘I wonder what he thought when he saw a picture of his fiancée cavorting about with other men? I should have thought you would have learned your lesson by now, my girl.’

Connie’s heart began thumping in her chest. ‘For a start, Emmett was never my fiancé,’ she snapped angrily. ‘And secondly, I have never cavorted with other men, Ga, no matter what you think.’

‘I have a long memory,’ said Ga pointedly.

Connie froze. ‘You always have to bring that up again, don’t you,’ she snapped. ‘I was only a child. It wasn’t my fault.’

Ga looked down her nose. ‘Huh. Seems to me you haven’t changed much,’ she said, waving the newspaper cutting in the air. ‘Most men can sniff out a loose woman a mile off and you’ve got Gertrude’s blood in you, that’s for sure.’

Gertrude Dixon had scandalised the family first by getting herself tattooed and then by running away with a man from the fairground. It might have only raised a few eyebrows now, but fifty years ago, it was so shocking the family had never spoken of her again. Only Ga was determined to keep her memory alive.