After the War is Over (16 page)

Nell nodded. ‘That’s right.’

Iris opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again.

‘Was it the night of Mum and Dad’s party?’ Tom asked.

Nell nodded again. She had to tell the truth as far as she could. She didn’t want them thinking that she’d got pregnant in some back entry like her sister Ena.

Iris found her voice at last. ‘Who was it?’ she demanded angrily. ‘Was it Frank? Did he rape you? If he did, I’ll kill him. I’ll report him to the police, doctor or no bloody doctor.’

‘Iris!’ Tom spoke calmly. ‘You’re jumping to conclusions. Nell will tell us what happened.’ He turned to Nell. ‘Go on.’

‘I wasn’t raped.’ Nell looked first at Iris, then at Tom, allowing no expression on to her face. She didn’t want to put on a show, turn things into a drama. ‘And that,’ she said, ‘is all I’m willing to tell you. What happened that night isn’t something I intend to talk about – not ever. I’m only telling you I’m having a baby because I want
you
to have it – the baby, that is.’

Iris burst into tears and Tom looked totally stunned. Neither spoke for several minutes, because they had no idea what to say.

Eventually it was Nell herself who broke the silence. ‘I know how badly you want a child, Iris. I’ve noticed how upset you are when someone brings their baby to see Tom, and Adele told me you’d had a little boy, Charlie, and that he’d died.’

By now, Iris was able to speak, though her voice was raw and hardly recognisable. ‘I can’t believe you’re saying this, Nell. How can you possibly give us your baby? Just hand him – or her – over. You have no idea how much you will love your baby when it arrives.’ Her eyes shone with passion. ‘I couldn’t have given Charlie away to save my life.’

‘That’s different, darling,’ Tom muttered, ‘completely different.’

Nell looked at her friend. ‘It is, you know.’ She patted her stomach. ‘I know this baby isn’t going to be mine. As soon as I realised I was in the club, I made up me mind to give it to you. I don’t think of it being mine. It belongs to you and Tom. He can put on your medical notes that you’re pregnant, then when it’s born the birth certificate can have you down as the mother and Tom as the father.’ She frowned. ‘I don’t like referring to the baby as “it”, but we won’t know if it’s a boy or a girl until it’s born, will we?’

Perhaps it was the way Nell said ‘
we
won’t know’ that gave Iris real hope that what she was proposing could actually happen. After all, she was a single, pregnant Catholic girl. For someone of her faith, having an abortion was akin to committing murder, yet to have the baby would create a scandal that Nell – possibly the entire family – would never live down. The child would be regarded as a bastard for the rest of its life, an extremely miserable life. Another alternative would be for Nell to go into a home for unmarried mothers. Afterwards, her child would be passed to strangers, but how much better for it to be given to her and Tom . . .

‘Oh Nell!’ She threw her arms around the girl, overwhelmed by the generosity of her spirit and the kindness of her heart. ‘But how will we go about it?’ she asked. ‘Do we both go away until after the birth, or hide here, in this house? And what about your family, Nell? Surely they’ll suspect something odd is going on if you disappear for months?’

‘We can sort things like that out later.’ Tom still appeared to be stunned by Nell’s offer.

Iris shook her head. ‘I want them sorted out now. I don’t want us finding out in a month’s time that it can’t be done, that it can’t be arranged. I’d like to know right now that it’s going to be possible.’

‘I’ve thought about it,’ Nell said. She appeared to have planned everything in her head. ‘It’s going to be difficult not telling Adele and Cyril and Constance and Frank the truth, but I think we should try to if we can. I’d sooner just us three knew I was the real mother.’

‘And how will we do that?’ enquired Tom. He had brought the bottle of spirits upstairs with him and now refilled his glass.

‘Well,’ Nell drew a deep breath, ‘I’m already almost four months gone and it hardly shows. Another month, February, and people will begin to notice, so I’ll have to go away before then. Iris can come with me, or she can stay here and pretend to be pregnant.’

‘I couldn’t possibly do that!’ Iris gasped. ‘I mean, that’s taking misleading people a bit too far. Adele would make a great big fuss of me and I’d feel awful. Anway, Nell, I want to be with you. You can’t possibly go through this all on your own.’ She leant back, closing her eyes. The other two watched, waiting for her to come up with an idea. About half a minute later, she opened her eyes again. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘Let’s tell people I’m pregnant but have high blood pressure and need to spend the next few months in a nursing home, and that you, Nell, are coming to keep me company.’

‘Does that mean I’ll go in a nursing home?’ Nell asked.

Iris shook her head. ‘Tom and I have a little cottage in a village called Caerdovey on the Welsh coast. We used to stay there, mainly at weekends, before the war. During the war, the army requisitioned it for their own use. Perhaps we could all drive there on Sunday and see what sort of state it’s in.’

‘Good idea,’ Tom said crisply. ‘We’ll just have to think of a way of putting people off if they decide to come and see you. Oh, and we’ll need fresh bedding and dishes and other essential items.’ He reached for Nell’s hand. ‘The new year couldn’t possibly have got off to a better start. Thank you, Nell.’

Iris squeezed Nell’s other hand. ‘I can’t thank you enough,’ she said softly.

‘Do you really think it will happen?’ Iris asked Tom later when they were in bed. ‘That by the time summer comes, we’ll have another baby?’

‘I don’t think Nell will change her mind,’ Tom said thoughtfully, ‘but I wouldn’t bet on something else happening to spoil it.’

‘Such as?’

Tom shrugged. ‘A miscarriage, her family finding out,
our
family finding out, something completely unexpected occurring that doesn’t come to mind at the moment.’

‘It seems too good to be true,’ Iris sighed.

Tom kissed her. ‘Don’t get your hopes up too much, darling. We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed for the next five months.’

Soon afterwards he fell asleep, and Iris lay for a long time wondering who the father of Nell’s baby could be. Frank was at the top of her list – Constance would have a fit if she knew Iris regarded her husband as a potential rapist. Though Nell had said it wasn’t rape. The faces of the men at the party were lined up in Iris’s head like an identity parade in a police station, mostly elderly faces, friends of her in-laws. Some she couldn’t remember. Paddy O’Neill had been there, but hadn’t moved out of the parlour as far as she knew. Ryan O’Neill for the last hour or so. And what about Tom, who’d been there longer than anyone and was the only person who knew Nell was ill in bed?

‘I wasn’t raped,’ Nell had said. Did that mean a man had intercourse with her and she didn’t mind? It was hardly what Iris would have expected of the Nell she knew.

In the end, she gave up. All that mattered was that Nell was giving her baby to the Grants. Iris closed her eyes and tried to sleep. For a change, it was happiness and excitement that kept her awake.

Just after lunch on the second day of January, Maggie, seated in front of her typewriter at Thomas Cook’s, became aware that waves of horrible pain were spreading over her body and she felt an overwhelming desire to vomit. As the afternoon wore on, she came to the conclusion that she must have the three-day flu that was doing the rounds. She made her excuses to the woman in charge of her section and went home, managing to reach her flat in Shepherd’s Bush on the tube, feeling sicker with each mile. Once in the house, she dragged herself upstairs, collapsed on the bed fully dressed and fell into a horrible, restless sleep.

Some time later, when it was dark outside, she woke up freezing cold and shivering so much that her teeth really did chatter. She groaned loudly and wished she were back in the army. She’d never been a patient in the little hospital with just four beds in the women’s ward, but she had visited sick friends there. It was always warm, a wireless played all day long, and the nurses were friendly and caring.

Right now, she would have given anything for a hot drink and a cool hand on her brow, but there was no chance of either. The only hands available were her own rather clammy ones – she’d begun to sweat horribly – and she wasn’t up to making her way down to the kitchen on the floor below to boil water.

Oh God! She felt so
miserable
. She buried her head in the pillow, determined not to cry. It had been her own decision to come to London, and she must put up with the fact that there wasn’t a soul to look after her now she was ill.

She sat up, removed her coat and immediately felt cold again. Fortunately she hadn’t made the bed that morning, so it was easy to wriggle under the blankets still wearing her furry boots. She was trying to kick them off when there was a knock on the door.

‘Come in,’ she wheezed, realising too late that she should have asked who was there. Lord knows who she had invited into her room. It was a relief as well as a big surprise when the door opened and Alicia Black, leading light of the ex-servicewomen’s club, came in.

‘Darling!’ she gasped. ‘Oh, just look at you, you poor soul.’

Maggie couldn’t help herself; she burst into tears.

‘There, there!’ Alicia soothed. She knelt by the bed and removed the boots, smoothed the bedclothes, lifted Maggie’s head, shook the pillow and carefully laid it back again. She enquired where the kitchen was and went to make tea.

‘The milk you said was yours was sour, so I used someone else’s,’ she said when she came back with two cups on a tray. ‘Could you bear to be propped up a little so you can drink this comfortably? When you’ve finished, I’ll help you change into a nightie.’

‘Thank you.’ While she was being propped up, Maggie remembered that Alicia had been a nurse in the WRNS. She was an attractive woman of about thirty with the most beautiful skin and dark red hair. ‘How did you know I was ill?’ she managed to croak.

‘I went looking for you at work, darling,’ Alicia said in her dead-posh voice, ‘and was informed you’d gone home feeling rotten. Daphne told me only this morning that she’d met you the other night in Trafalgar Square and you’d both gone to a party, where she’d met this delightful Polish gentleman called Jack and fallen in love. All thoughts of why she’d gone to the square in the first place, to fetch you, were forgotten. As for your address, it’s on our list of members.’

Maggie was still cross that Daphne had managed to nab Jack Kaminski when it was she who’d seen him first – he’d actually
spoken
to her, in fact. She’d been landed with Drugi, who was much too young and boyish. All four were meeting again on Saturday and going to another party. Maggie hoped she’d be better in time.

There was a further knock on the door. This time Alicia leapt to her feet and went to answer it.

‘My mother saw Maggie come home earlier and said she didn’t look a bit well. She wants to know if there’s anything she – or I – can do?’ Maggie recognised Philip Morrison’s voice.

‘Come in, please. I’m Alicia, by the way.’

‘How do you do? I’m Philip. Hello, Maggie.’ He came in, gave her a cursory glance, then turned what could only be described as an admiring gaze on Alicia, who gazed admiringly back. It took quite a few seconds before they remembered Maggie was there.

‘Hopefully you’ll be a little better by tomorrow,’ Alicia said when Philip had gone. ‘Would you like another cup of tea before I go?’

‘No thank you.’

‘About Philip, is he married?’ she asked in a way that was supposed to be casual but sounded terribly contrived.

‘No.’

‘What does he do for a living?’

Maggie couldn’t remember. ‘He designs things,’ she muttered. She was grateful Alicia had come to see her, but longed for her to leave so she could sleep.

Philip returned with the hot-water bottle and the drink, and shortly afterwards he and Alicia left to have dinner together and Maggie fell asleep.

News spread throughout the house in Shepherd’s Bush that one of the residents on the fourth floor was ill. Maggie was brought flowers and meals and other gifts, but it wasn’t these that made her feel better, but the cheery faces that appeared around her door to wish her well. It was almost worthwhile having three-day flu and making so many new friends as a consequence.

Chapter 8

The property in Wales wasn’t exactly Nell’s idea of a cottage, being merely the end of a terrace of nine similar houses on the edge of a coastal village. It had two bedrooms, two living rooms, and a tiny kitchen tacked on the back. There was no bathroom and the lavatory was in the yard. There was no gas or electricity in this part of the village, but the place was well equipped with paraffin lamps, and there was a paraffin stove in the kitchen.

Iris and Tom had looked doubtful when they and Nell had gone to look round the place early in the new year.

‘I don’t recall it being quite so
basic
,’ Iris commented as she looked at the peeling wallpaper and crumbling putty on the windows.

‘Nor I,’ said Tom. ‘It needs decorating from top to bottom – and the furniture throwing away and new stuff bought.’

The place was clean, but that was all. Iris suggested they look for a proper holiday cottage that they could rent, perhaps closer to Liverpool. ‘Though we’ll need to have this place done up if we ever want to use it again.’

Nell suggested they had it done up now. ‘Why not see what it looks like when it’s finished? You would have had it done anyway, so it’s no loss.
Then
you can decide whether to look for somewhere else if you don’t like it.’

‘Good idea, Nell.’ Tom went out to search for the local builder, and Iris and Nell to a hotel on the high street, where they ordered tea and scones.

‘I’ll measure the windows before we leave so I can have curtains made,’ Iris said, ‘and make a list of what furniture has to be bought.’

‘Why does she need you to stay in Wales with her all that time when she’s married to a bloody doctor?’ Alfred Desmond enquired suspiciously when Nell informed him of her plans.