There’s Always Tomorrow

‘Come along now,’ said the sister briskly. ‘It’s best not to upset the little lad again.’

Nine

It was quarter to ten when Dottie finally got home. As Jack dropped her off at the gate, she saw Ann Pearce’s curtain twitch. Nosy old cow, she thought irritably. She’d probably think she could get even more money out of her now. That last time … it was blackmail, wasn’t it?

As Dottie walked indoors, Reg scowled. For one sickening second, Dottie thought Ann might have been round and told him about Dr Fitzgerald.

‘How long does it bloody take to go to the doctor’s house and ask him for a visit?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve been waiting for hours for my tea.’

‘They took little Gary to hospital,’ she said.

Reg’s expression changed. ‘Hospital?’

Dottie slipped off her bolero and reached for her wrap-over apron. ‘I’m afraid Gary has been admitted.’

Reg lowered himself into a chair. ‘Admitted …’

‘It’s a bit late for cooking,’ Dottie said matter-of-factly. She was angry that he’d sat there all that time, helplessly waiting for her to come home. Couldn’t he have got his own tea for once? ‘Shall I do you a couple of fried eggs?’

He nodded and she set about gathering the frying pan, the eggs from the bucket of cold water on the scullery floor and the dripping from the meat safe.

‘What’s wrong with him?’

Heartened that Reg was so concerned, she forgave him immediately.

‘He has polio,’ she said, cracking an egg over the melted dripping in the pan. ‘But they seemed to think he’ll be a bit better in a day or two.’ She filled the kettle with water and put it on the gas.

‘Peaches staying with him, is she?’

‘No,’ said Dottie. ‘They wouldn’t allow it. It’s too dangerous, what with her being pregnant and all. That’s why I went.’

His eyes flashed. ‘You?’

She cut a slice of bread and put it into the hot fat. ‘And I promised Peaches I would visit him until she’s allowed to go.’

‘You’re not to go.’

‘Although how I’m going to fit it all in I don’t know,’ she said turning the bread over.

‘I said,’ his tone was harsh, ‘you’re not to go.’

She gave him a puzzled look. ‘But I promised.’

‘I don’t bloody care! You’re not going.’

She put the eggs and fried bread onto his plate and put it in front of him. Then she filled the teapot and sat at the table with him. She wanted to throw the supper at him. She’d have given anything to scream at him, ‘I’ll make my own decisions and I don’t need you to tell me what to do.’ But she knew she had to tackle this calmly. He was getting wound up and if she upset him too much, he’d be horrible for days.

‘Look, Reg,’ she said quietly. ‘I know you’re worried about me, but really, I don’t think I’ll come to any harm and Peaches is upset that Gary won’t have anyone he knows.’

He glared at her and stabbed the air with his fork. ‘I don’t care about bloody Peaches. I’m telling you now, you’re not going and there’s an end to it.’ A splatter of egg yolk ran down his chin.

‘But she’s my friend.’

He carried on eating. She poured his tea and one for herself. She had to make him understand just how important this was. She didn’t have many friends around here and Peaches was one of the best. She’d been there for her when Auntie Bessie died. She and Mary had virtually done the whole of her wake: Dottie had been in such a state, and Reg wasn’t much help, so she’d been glad to leave it to them. Their friendship went way, way back. Peaches, Mary and Sylvie had kept her going for many a long and lonely month while she’d waited for news of Reg during the war. Other women had been allowed to write to their husbands but Reg had been on a top-secret mission so she had to wait it out with no word from him at all. Peaches, Mary and Sylvie had been there for her which was why it was so important not to let Peaches down in this, her hour of need.

‘Reg,’ she tried again, ‘don’t worry. I’ll be perfectly safe.’

He slammed his knife and fork onto the plate, making her jump. Then he leaned back and, reaching into his pocket, drew out a piece of paper.

‘No, it’s not bloody safe,’ he cried. ‘And there’s the reason why you can’t go.’

He threw the paper onto the table in front of her. Dottie’s heartbeat quickened. The letter from Australia! She’d forgotten all about it. She’d had what Aunt Bessie would have called a presentiment that it wasn’t just any old letter the moment she first set eyes on it. Now it rested on the table between them, small and rectangular, and yet it seemed as big as a house.

She stared at the sloping handwriting, the stamp and the strange postmark, and her blood ran cold. This must be serious, but what on earth did it say? She shivered and looked up at her husband.

‘Well, go on,’ he said with a note of triumph in his voice. ‘Read it. I know you’re dying to.’

Her hand was trembling as she picked it up. So flimsy and yet heavy with destiny. It was going to change her life, she knew it … she just knew it.

She took it out and read it slowly. I never told you but in ’43 I had a child. Her name is Patricia. She’s eight now. Her eyes filled with tears and she swallowed hard. 1943? He had been with some other woman almost as soon as they had been married? He’d been sent abroad just four weeks after their wedding and straight after that, the very next year, he’d been unfaithful?

Please come to fetch her, she read on, I hope that deep down, you can find it in your heart to forgive me … She laid the letter on the table and looked up at him. He was smiling.

‘See?’ he said triumphantly. ‘You think I can’t bloody do it, but I can see? I’ve got a kid of my own. She gave me a kid. She knew how to turn a man on. She knew what to do. Not like you, you bloody cold fish.’

His words cut her into a thousand pieces but all she could think of was that he had had a child with another woman. He had a child … and she didn’t. Why couldn’t he make love with her? Other people thought she was attractive but he was always calling her a cold fish, even though she really tried. She did everything he wanted her to, even things she didn’t like.

‘For God’s sake, stop that snivelling,’ he said sharply and Dottie suddenly realised that she was crying. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out her hanky. Then she blew her nose quietly and dabbed her eyes. She shouldn’t have done that. It must have been the shock of seeing Gary.

‘I want to get her over here,’ he was saying. ‘I want my little girl here, living with us.’

‘Living with us?’ she said faintly.

‘Why not?’ he challenged. ‘She’s mine. Why shouldn’t I have her here?’

Dottie stared at him, her brain refusing to function. This was all too much for one day. Foolishly she’d always thought he’d been as faithful as she’d been. It never crossed her mind that he’d even had the opportunity. No, she hadn’t thought about it. She’d just presumed … but how wrong had she been? He had a child, a daughter. And now he wanted her to come over here?

Her stomach churned. All at once she felt sick and jumped up and ran to heave over the slop bucket in the scullery.

‘That’s right,’ he bellowed after her. ‘Always got to be the centre of attention. Get yourself noticed. Let’s have the drama queen.’

She steadied herself and wiped her mouth on her hanky, then she walked back into the kitchen.

He was sitting with one hand on his head and the other holding the photograph. ‘I want her here, Dot,’ he said. ‘I want my little girl.’

She couldn’t speak. She wanted to be happy for him, but his joy was her misery. He didn’t seem to care about how she was feeling. She couldn’t think straight. Her eye was drawn to the woman in the photograph.

‘Don’t you see, you daft bat?’ he said looking up at her. ‘This is your chance too. You’ve always wanted to be a mother. Well, now’s your chance. A little girl. Patsy. Nice name, Patsy. We’ll be a family.’