‘You are not to talk to the other girls about this,’ she commanded. ‘It will only upset them.’
Bonnie slept next to Ruth and Gwen at her end of the dormitory. Ruth was a pale-faced girl who was deeply troubled. Gwen was open-faced and from the Welsh valleys.
‘Mam sent me away as soon as she knew I was pregnant,’ she grinned. ‘I’m supposed to be staying with my Auntie Blodwen in Newport Pagnell to help out in her shop.’
‘When’s your baby due?’ Bonnie asked.
‘End of March,’ said Gwen. ‘Roll on, I say, and then I can get on with the rest of my life.’
‘How can you say that?’ gasped Ruth. She was sitting on the end of her bed cradling and rocking her bump.
They never talked about the men who had got them into this state. Ruth was broken-hearted at the thought of giving up her baby. Gwen was more philosophical about it. She had already signed the adoption papers but Ruth was holding out.
‘Ruthy cries all the time,’ Bonnie remarked to Gwen one day when they were both working in the ironing room.
‘Matron has been on at her to sign the adoption papers,’ said Gwen.
‘She doesn’t have to, you know,’ said Bonnie. ‘She has a choice.’
Gwen snorted. ‘Little do you know.’
Bonnie looked up from ironing a sheet. ‘What do you mean?’
‘They never let up,’ said Gwen. ‘One girl who had her baby soon after I came here refused to sign until the very last minute. She even chucked the fountain pen across the room. We all thought she’d manage to hold them off but then Matron threatened to get her sent to a mental home.’
Bonnie was aghast. ‘
What?
’
‘She told her chucking the pen was the first sign of an unstable mind and she’d have her committed, then her kid would be brought up in a children’s home.’
‘But that’s awful,’ Bonnie gasped. ‘What happened?’
‘She signed of course,’ said Gwen. ‘Broke her heart. She was in such a state when they took the baby, it wouldn’t surprise me if she didn’t end up in the nut house after all.’
Bonnie was beginning to appreciate just how lucky she had been to find someone like Lady Brayfield. What if she hadn’t found that place in Holly Acres? Bonnie shuddered and made an inner vow to keep her baby. In fact she would look after her baby so well she would prove everyone wrong.
As the time for Ruth’s baby to be born came nearer, the pressure to sign the adoption papers was stepped up. Matron even made her go to bed without any supper a couple of times and Ruthy cried night after night. Eventually Bonnie could bear it no longer. They were alone in the sitting room, huddled close to the meagre fire trying to get warm. Bonnie had two cardigans and a jumper on and although her front was reasonably comfortable, the draught from the gap under the door meant that her back was perishing cold.
‘You know, Ruthy,’ she said, ‘you don’t have to give your baby away. Matron doesn’t want you to know this but if you go to the welfare people, you can get help from the government.’
‘I’m not good with all that official stuff,’ Ruth said dully after Bonnie explained about the single woman’s allowance.
‘I’ll come with you if you like.’
Ruth’s eyes lit up. ‘Would you? Would you really?’
They collected the paperwork from the welfare office the next day in their free time. On their way back to Red Chimneys Bonnie called in at the post office. She had arranged to have her post office box number address transferred and, to her delight, the clerk handed her a letter. She recognised the handwriting at once. It was from Miss Reeves.
As soon as they got back Matron called Ruth into her office and Bonnie went to find a quiet place to read her letter. She chose the library room. There were no books on the shelves – they had long gone – but the girls knew no one came into this room unless they wanted some time alone or a place to cry.
Bonnie sat on the wide windowsill and looked out onto the barren garden. Winter was losing its grip. Spring was on its way. A few snowdrops nodded in the neglected flowerbeds and a solitary daffodil waved to her from under the window.
She had just torn open the envelope when the door burst open, making Bonnie start. Instinct made her shove her letter into her pocket as she rose to her feet. Matron’s face was black with fury.
‘How dare you,’ she spat. ‘How dare you fill this poor girl’s mind with your fanciful ideas and ridiculous notions.’ She came into the room dragging a sobbing Ruth behind her and holding the allowance application in the air.
‘I only told her there was an alternative …’
‘Oh, I know what you told her,’ Matron said coldly. ‘You gave her false hope.’
‘But it’s not false hope,’ Bonnie protested.
‘Oh no?’ Matron bellowed before Bonnie could say any more. ‘Then tell me, Miss, when she’s got this allowance, where is she going to live? Eh? She can’t go back to her mother. Her mother is ashamed that her daughter is having an illegitimate child.’
Bonnie felt her face flame. She hadn’t thought of that. ‘I’m sure the council would house her,’ she said lamely.
‘Where?’ Matron demanded. ‘Three-quarters of a million homes have been destroyed and the country is up to its eyes in debt. There are whole families living in two rooms.’ She began ripping the form into pieces. ‘Where do you think the government’s priorities lie? With families needing homes or with one silly girl who went and got herself pregnant with the first pair of trousers she set eyes on?’
Ruth let out a howl and ran from the room. Bonnie blinked, willing herself not to cry too.
‘I told you to keep quiet about this, didn’t I?’ Matron went on. She pointed to the empty doorway. ‘I hold you personally responsible for the state that girl is in so from now on, my girl, you are on your own. You will do all your own washing and you can eat your meals when everyone else has finished.’ She turned to leave, adding, ‘And when your baby comes, don’t expect any help from us.’
A chill of fear slid down Bonnie’s spine. ‘Oh Mum,’ she whispered into the cold empty room. ‘I wish you were here …’
‘Excuse me, young woman …’
Rita was surprised by the sharpness of the customer’s tongue until she turned around. It was Mrs Kerr, George’s landlady.
‘I wish to buy a hat and I don’t want to be kept waiting all day.’
‘I’m so sorry, Madam,’ said Rita glancing around the department. Miss Bridewell was serving one of Hubbard’s more wealthy customers and the two assistants were busy in the cubicles.
‘Well?’ Mrs Kerr demanded, ‘are you going to serve me or not?’
Rita wasn’t supposed to serve because she wasn’t considered ‘trained enough’. Mrs Kerr glared at her impatiently.
‘Would you like to sit here?’ said Rita, indicating a dressing table complete with three mirrors. Miss Bridewell was still deep in conversation. ‘May I ask what is the occasion?’
‘We’re having a very important person come to our church,’ said Mrs Kerr, her chest swelling with pride. ‘I am to greet him at the door.’
Rita did some quick thinking. She recalled the plainness of Mrs Kerr’s home and she noted the rather dour outfit she was wearing today. Mrs Kerr wasn’t the sort of woman who would come to a shop like Hubbard’s. She was most likely in her best things. ‘What colour were you thinking of ?’ Rita asked.
‘Blue,’ said Mrs Kerr, ‘or maybe brown.’ She gave Rita a long hard stare in the mirror. ‘Don’t I know you?’
Rita smiled. ‘I came to your house looking for my sister’s gentleman friend,’ she said.
‘Oh yes,’ said Mrs Kerr. ‘I remember.’
Rita put a plain blue hat on the table. ‘He never came back, you know,’ Mrs Kerr said as she tried it on. ‘I’ve still got that suitcase of his.’
‘Thank you, Miss Rogers,’ Miss Bridewell sniffed. ‘I’ll deal with Madam. I’m sure there’s some dresses over there on the rail you can put back. Now, Madam, what can I do for you?’
Mrs Kerr repeated her story and Rita went back to the rail. She could see that the hats Miss Bridewell was showing Mrs Kerr were quite unsuitable: large brimmed hats, Ascot hats, hats with rosettes and ribbons and even a hat with an ostrich plume. Mrs Kerr was not enjoying the experience.
‘Send the other girl back to me,’ she barked. ‘She knew what I was looking for.’
Miss Bridewell had no alternative but to ask Rita to come over and, ten minutes later, Rita had made her first ever sale, a donkey brown hat with a tan-coloured ribbon on the brim.
‘You’d better come round and collect that case,’ said Mrs Kerr as they waited for her change and the receipt to come along the wire from the cashier. ‘I can’t keep it forever. I need the space.’
For the next few weeks Bonnie found herself in Coventry, but surprisingly she didn’t mind too much. She did her work and then her own laundry without complaint. Now that the weather was getting more spring-like, she enjoyed going out and looking around the shops although she didn’t have the money to buy anything. Queuing was no longer a problem: because of her condition, she had been given a ‘Queue Priority’ card. That meant she didn’t have to stand for hours and hours and she could go to the front of the queue if she wanted something. She got a few dirty looks but it didn’t worry her too much.
When she was in her room, Bonnie read and re-read Miss Reeves’ letter and although it always brought her to the brink of tears, it was a comfort to have news of her family.
Dear Bonnie,
I had been hoping that perhaps you would have returned home by now. I trust that you are well. Your sister is doing well at Hubbard’s and I must say I was impressed when I saw the courtesy and care with which she treats her customers. She looks very grown up now. Quite a young lady. The new store is not a patch on the old one which burned down last year, and my dear, it’s so expensive!
Your mother has been working very hard as usual. My sister saw her coming out of the police station just days before Christmas with a very nasty bruise on her face and we were shocked to hear that she had been knocked down and robbed of the monies from her savings club.
My sister and I joined in the festivities at your home on Christmas Day as usual and although she still had a bruise, your mother was very well. We all pooled our resources in these desperate times and a good time was had by all. We discovered then that no one lost out because of the theft because your mother had sold the piano to reimburse the money. We had our usual sing-along accompanied by Mr Hart’s mouth organ and Mr Semadenny (I don’t know how to spell his name) sang beautifully.
As you suggested, I spoke to your mother about you but she seems resigned to the fact that you may not be home for some time. ‘We must learn to live without her, if that’s what shewants,’ those were her very words, but I feel bound to remark that she did look very sad when she told me. My dear, can you not reconsider? Nothing is so terrible that it should separate a family and the three of you always seemed so close. Perhaps you might let me mediate between you, if it would help.
I shall continue to pray for you, my dear.
Yours sincerely,
Evelyn Reeves.
Poor Mother knocked down and robbed? Who could have done such a dreadful thing? And yet it wasn’t really that surprising, was it? Everywhere you looked people were being robbed. The papers said shoplifting had reached epidemic proportions. It was the times they were living in. Desperate people did desperate things and her mother must have been an easy target. Now Bonnie worried about her all the time.
Ruth had had her baby, a boy, and at the moment she wasspending her time looking after him until the adoption was finalised. That gave her six weeks with her son. She breastfed him and spent every waking moment with him. Whenever Bonnie saw her, she seemed very calm.
As Bonnie came down to the laundry room to do her washing one afternoon, she heard heavy banging on the cupboard door. A face was pressed against the small glass panel in the door. It was Gwen.
‘Open the door, Bonnie. Let me out.’
Bonnie frowned. ‘What are you doing in there?’
‘Open the door, please.’ She sounded desperate.
Bonnie looked down. There was no key in the keyhole.
‘She put it on the shelf next to the washing powder,’ said Gwen.
Bonnie hesitated. ‘Who?’
Since Matron’s decree, Bonnie had no idea what was going on. Gwen had had a son five and a half weeks ago and had moved to the ground floor with all the other mothers who had recently given birth. Surprisingly, although she had been so blasé about giving him up, Bonnie had seen her in the grounds and she appeared to be a devoted mother.
‘Hurry, Bonnie.’
Bonnie found the key and turned the lock. Gwen shot out of the door like a bullet from a gun and raced up the stairs. Bonnie followed as quickly as her bump would allow and as she emerged into the hallway she heard a dreadful commotion. Above the sound of a car being driven away at speed Gwen was howling her head off as she knelt in front of Matron and snatched at the hem of her uniform.
‘I want him back,’ she sobbed. ‘Make them give him back.’
‘You signed the papers,’ said Matron, pulling her dress away. ‘There’s nothing you can do about it now. He’ll have a good home and you can get on with the rest of your life. You’ll soon forget.’ She looked up and saw Bonnie. ‘Oh, I might have guessed you’d have something to do with this. When will you learn to stop interfering, Miss?’
When she had gone, Bonnie did her best to comfort Gwen but it was hopeless.
‘He’ll think I didn’t want him,’ she sobbed. ‘But I did, I did.’
‘I know,’ said Bonnie, her own heart breaking for her friend.
‘And I shall never see him again,’ Gwen wailed. ‘Not this side of the grave, I won’t. Oh my poor little boy. I want my little Brian.’