Only a Mother Knows

‘Forthwith?’ Tilly asked, bemused, but his answer came all too swiftly, and a chill sliced right through her.

‘It means I have to go away tonight.’ Drew’s voice dropped to a whisper as he gazed into her tearful blue eyes. ‘Now. Immediately. I have to catch the flight my father has arranged tonight …’ His smile slipped a little and she could see tears brimming in his eyes.

‘You mean you can get a flight to the States at such short notice, even though you’re not in the Forces?’

‘If there are seats available you can be sure my father will wangle one,’ Drew said.

‘Why do you have to go, Drew?’ Tilly’s voice was barely a whisper as she asked the question. His mother was ill, he was telling her. He would be back some time soon. Some time, soon? She couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing him every day.

‘I knew I would have to go back someday, you knew that, tell me you did, Tilly.’ Drew searched her face as if imprinting her beauty on his memory forever. ‘I tried to leave you with the letter but I couldn’t. I had to see you one more time …’ He tried to keep the obvious misery from his voice but eventually he accepted defeat as his shoulders slumped and all his jovial bravado disappeared. ‘Tilly, I gotta say …’ There was a strange look in his eyes, like he was trying to read her, ‘today was swell, I never wanted it to end …’

‘I’ll never see you again!’ Tilly gasped the words that suddenly struck her, forcing them from her lips. She wanted to get away from this, be anywhere except listening to her one true love tell her he was going tonight. This isn’t right, she thought frantically, first she lost her father then her grandparents – now Drew was leaving her, too. She’d never get over it, she wouldn’t! Tilly could see his beautiful lips moving and forced herself to concentrate.

‘I won’t be gone forever, Tilly, you know that, don’t you?’ Drew gently took her in his strong arms. But Tilly didn’t know any such thing. His plane could be shot down in the middle of the Atlantic. His father might not allow him to come back. Anything could happen.

‘You’re too beautiful to stay away from, my darling, you make my every day complete …’

‘I don’t know what I’ll do without you.’ Tilly blinked her tears away but more came.

‘My mother is very ill.’ He looked down at her for a long time as if trying to choose the right words. But there were none. Drew took a long, deep breath, whilst Tilly tried to swallow the restriction in her throat that had suddenly threatened to choke her.

‘Do you remember when I told you that I may have to go back to the States someday?’ Tilly nodded like a child who needed to be reassured and he continued, ‘I prayed every night that they could find a cure for Mom, and for a while that seemed to be the case.’ Tears were running freely down his handsome face now. ‘I longed to stay with you in this wonderful, devastated place where there is so much love, and a kind of freedom I never had before …’

‘Oh, Drew,’ Tilly whispered, unable to say any more when he gently placed the tip of his finger on her lips.

‘I dreamed we would set up home together. I planned to build us a house when this war is over … our children go to decent schools, be happy and free. I dreamed that one day we would have the perfect life, oh, honey, please don’t cry any more, I can’t bear it …’ Drew gently outlined her face, his touch almost imperceptible, before kissing her tears away. ‘I will come back to you as soon as I can, I promise.’

Tilly had to believe his words or how else could she let him go? They had both known he would have to go home someday. But it would always be too soon.

‘I will come for you, believe me.’ The forced smile on his lips did not reach his eyes and Tilly could not control her agony any longer. Her body gave way to deep, shuddering, convulsive sobs and he held her for a long time, until she was exhausted.

‘Oh, Drew,’ Tilly said eventually, calmer now, remembering the unopened letter still in her hands. ‘Were you really going to leave me without saying goodbye?’

‘I couldn’t – I know that now.’ His words, low, threaded through her hair.

‘You promised that you would take care of me,’ Tilly said, her head on his chest, longing to behave with dignity, since she didn’t want him to remember her with red, swollen eyes and a blotchy face, but it was useless, she couldn’t control this desperate emotion that was seizing her and in the end she didn’t care that she was making a fool of herself.

Drew held her for a long time, silently stroking her hair. Then gently he held her at arm’s length and said in a calm, quiet voice, ‘My darling Tilly …’ Tears filled his own eyes. ‘Please don’t send our ring back to me.’ His voice ebbed and, unable to speak now, Drew bent and tenderly kissed her wet cheek.

Tilly gazed up at him, her arms circling his neck, and through a mist of tears she too was unable to voice her loving, if selfish, thoughts, knowing he had to go. He had no choice. She had a powerful, unbreakable bond with her mother and Tilly knew how devastated she would feel if anything should ever happen to her. How could she deny the man she loved his need to see his own mother, perhaps for the last time? She must let Drew go with the knowledge she would be here waiting for him when he got back. Because, for her to get through this, she had to believe he was coming back. He would come back. She knew he would.

‘I love you, Tilly Robbins.’ Drew’s voice was gravelled with emotion. ‘I will write to you every day. You know that, don’t you?’ He had a desperate need to be reassured. With scalding tears streaming down her cheeks Tilly nodded, her voice refusing to articulate this love she would feel until her dying day.

‘I’ll leave you with a kiss to build a dream on until we can be together again,’ he said before kissing her with a fevered power that took Tilly’s breath away. Then, reluctantly, he walked away. His back was stiff, his head held high as he made his way to the waiting cab.

Tilly watched as its door clunked shut and she waited, desperate for him to turn and wave out of the back window. He didn’t. She waited, and waited, until long after the reverberations of the taxi’s engine could no longer be heard and the chill of the night air caught at her throat. She felt weak with grief, and the eerie silence that had wrapped itself around her was broken now only by her devastated sobs as the vibrant colour of her world disappeared, making everything grey, drab and miserable.

Her mother’s protective arm around her quaking shoulders was just too much right now and she shrugged it away. She didn’t want to be cajoled or coaxed into being calm. She wanted to scream, she wanted to throw herself on the floor, to kick, and beat her fists. She couldn’t bear it! She would die!

‘Come on, my darling.’ Her mother’s voice came from somewhere a long way off. ‘Let’s get you inside.’

‘Oh, Mum,’ Tilly sobbed; her head buried in the crook of her elbow. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ The crumpled letter she had received from her darling Drew was crushed in her shaking hands. He’d sworn to her in church that he would love her forever and she so wanted to believe that as her trembling fingers turned the ring that was now obviously on the third finger of her left hand, the one that she had proudly showed off when she and Drew arrived home from holiday. Tilly had ignored the pained expression on her mother’s face, willing her to be as happy as she was. Drew’s promise to love her and be with her forever more was still deeply etched on her memory.

‘Oh, Mum, how will I be able to carry on without him?’

‘You will find a way, my darling, we women always do.’ Olive rose from where she had been sitting on the corner of Tilly’s bed and went to her daughter’s side, cocooning her in a loving embrace. Hadn’t she, too, had to endure the departure of the man she loved at an early age? ‘I know you are hurting,’ Olive said, rocking Tilly back and forth, ‘but you must be strong. Drew will come back, I’m sure.’ But even to her own ears the words didn’t sound convincing.

‘I don’t think I will ever see him again, Mum,’ Tilly cried, ‘and it’s not just the war. As soon as he gets home he will be back in his father’s clutches again.’ Her voice wavered as the fragrance of summer grass, still clinging to her clothes, reminded her that only a few short hours ago she and Drew were the happiest couple in Hyde Park – or so she had thought. When he’d gently outlined her face with his fingertip and lovingly stroked her hair, was he trying to find the words to tell her he was going away? Or was he counting the minutes knowing his flight would be leaving soon?

‘Shh, my darling, don’t cry,’ Olive whispered, worrying now if Tilly had the strength and maturity to carry on alone, without him. She hoped so, otherwise the girl was lost.

All Olive could do was be there for her heartbroken daughter, and see her through this painful episode as best she could. As a mother she knew she would do everything in her power to prevent the pain and suffering Tilly was going through now.

SIX

‘Dulcie,’ Olive called up the stairs, ‘you have a letter here.’

Dulcie pulled the blanket high up to her chin, wondering if she had truly heard Olive calling her, or if she was still asleep; that luxurious pastime seemed to be in short supply since her work at the munitions factory took up most of her waking hours of late. She wasn’t sure if it was the repetitive drilling of holes and riveting metal or the long, laborious shifts that robbed her of her stamina. But whatever it was she intended to finish her sleep today.

‘Dulcie!’ There was no mistaking Olive’s voice this time. Dulcie opened one blurred eye and tried to focus on the little alarm clock she had managed to save from the salvage people, who took everything they deemed necessary to go towards the building of airplanes and ammunition.

What time was it, she wondered as the muzzy wakefulness began to irritate her. Or, more importantly – what day was it? She had been sent home from the factory yesterday because of a stomach upset, in case she passed it on to every other worker. Thankfully Olive let her rest when she said that she felt so ghastly and also telephoned the munitions factory from the call box at the end of Article Row to say she wouldn’t be in today either.

‘Dulcie, did you hear me?’ Olive called again. ‘There is someone here to see you.’

‘Ohhh, go away,’ Dulcie groaned, feeling nauseous now. If she moved quickly she was sure she was going to disgrace herself and throw up all over Olive’s clean linoleum. She must have eaten something that didn’t agree with her from the newly installed canteen, or maybe it was the whelks her mother had plied her with when she went to see her on Sunday for church. Whatever it was she doubted she could hang on to it much longer.

Olive had chanced a little tap on the door earlier, giving Dulcie an old-fashioned look when she made no effort to get up, then she put a sanitary towel, a Beecham’s pill and a glass of water on the bedside table, and told her she would be back later. Dulcie had said she just needed a long sleep; she didn’t need any pads or powders today, thank you very much.

Thoughts were lazily drifting through her rising consciousness, and as she became more alert questions formed. When was the last time she had been in need of a sanitary pad? Sitting up quickly in bed, she realised it must have been about seven weeks ago! She put her lateness down to the upset caused by Wilder running off with her sister, Edith.

She knew she wasn’t the world’s most regular girl so it didn’t bother her too much that she hadn’t seen her ‘visitors’, as she always called her monthly period; after all, nothing had happened between her and Wilder. She’d made sure of that, and now she was glad the cheating airman hadn’t been able to chalk her up as another willing English girl eager to catch herself a handsome, love-’em-and-leave-’em American. And she was sure that Reece Redgrave didn’t count.

Dulcie had put her air-raid shelter tryst with the young airman down to nothing more than an accidental misunderstanding. It had only been the once and everybody knew that girls could not get caught the first time – and anyway, it had only lasted for moments, not even minutes. Nobody got caught that fast. Dulcie’s heartbeat raced, and beads of perspiration broke out on her top lip and her forehead. You couldn’t get caught that easily, surely?

‘Dulcie, did you hear me? There is someone here with a letter for you.’ It was only when she heard Olive’s obvious impatience that she realised the urgency. Her mind automatically darted to her brother, Rick, whose regiment had been deployed to the desert; she knew because she had actually seen him on the Pathé newsreel at the pictures. His regiment was in Tobruk and had been taken by surprise and captured by the Axis forces. They had got word that he had been taken as a prisoner of war.

Dulcie’s mind was racing as she pulled back the sheets and blankets. She knew that the authorities would send a telegram to her parents if anything had happened to Rick – but they had moved from the East End! Scrambling from the bed her foot got caught in the bedclothes making her stumble. What if he had been involved in an accident? Surely his platoon sergeant would come to her in person. No! They would go to Edith now. Her parents! What if something had happened to them? Oh lord, she thought, there was a war on, people were dying and she was laid up with a stomach bug! She had to do her bit, no matter what. Keep calm and carry on, that’s what the posters said. What if something had happened to her family? The niggling voice persisted. All self-pitying thoughts suddenly went out of her head now as she scrambled into her pink dressing gown she’d bought second-hand from a stall in Portobello market.

Berating herself for her unkempt appearance as she lurched from the room, Dulcie felt her stomach heave again. She hadn’t felt this bad since … In her haste to be downstairs she realised she had never felt this bad. Tying the belt of her dressing gown around her so tightly she could hardly breathe, she saw Olive at the bottom of the stairs.

‘There’s a young American airman in the front room and he wants to see you.’ Olive looked calm and motherly now as Dulcie almost fell on the final step.

‘Who is he?’ Dulcie asked as her heart began to race. Olive knew Wilder so it couldn’t be him. She watched as her landlady shrugged her shoulders. ‘What does he look like?’ She surmised Reece Redgrave had come to visit. Well, she thought, if he had she would give him a piece of her mind. Coming here unannounced and uninvited! How dare he!

Turning, she checked her appearance in the oval oak-encased mirror on the wall opposite the stairs, then, grabbing the comb that was kept on the little occasional table, she ran it quickly through her hair and grimaced, wondering if she looked sufficiently ill to garner a tremendous amount of sympathy. Taking a deep breath and smoothing down the pink imitation-silk dressing gown she strode, head high, shoulders back, towards the front room like a leading lady about to make her Broadway debut.

Sweeping through the door she was dismayed to see that it wasn’t Reece Redgrave who was sitting on Olive’s best settee. As soon as she entered the room the airman stood up and offered his hand to Dulcie, whilst in the other he had an envelope.

‘Hello, ma’am, my name is Joe; I’m a friend of Reece Redgrave …’

‘Oh, he’s sent you to do his dirty work, has he?’ Dulcie said, angry now that he wasn’t who she thought he would be.

‘I don’t know about that, ma’am,’ said the surprised American, ‘but he’s been moping around the barracks, he didn’t go out nor nothin’. This letter is for you, it has your name and address on it so I thought I would deliver it …’ The rest of his words were left unsaid as Dulcie seized the letter he was holding out.

‘I suppose it’s a grovelling apology. Well, if he thinks he can get around me by sending his messenger he’s got another think coming because I’m not won over that easily.’ She was so annoyed that Reece had sent one of his buddies to give her the letter. ‘Some English girls have more pride than to fall at the feet of the next American airman who winks his eye and snaps his fingers, and another thing,’ she began as she roughly tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter.

‘I’m afraid he’s dead, ma’am,’ the airman said simply.

Dulcie heard a gasp and she realised that Olive was standing behind her.

‘This was in his locker; it was sealed and addressed to you so we thought it only right that it should be delivered. I am so sorry to be the bearer of bad news, ma’am. He was shot down off the coast of Northern Ireland.’

Dulcie’s hands shook so badly she almost dropped the letter, and after hurrying up the stairs she slammed the bedroom door and cried bitter tears until she was physically sick. She was still sobbing when Olive knocked a couple of minutes later.

‘Can I come in?’

Dulcie barely choked her consent and she couldn’t even utter the words screaming inside her head. Reece was dead. It was a nightmare. She’d met him fleetingly. She’d forgotten that she told him where she lived because she was so proud of her address. She hadn’t expected him to remember it so vividly, but, she recalled, he had no family, but he must have somebody – anybody. Surely she wasn’t the only girl he had been friendly with?

Dulcie cried as she tried to make out his neat, copperplate handwriting that told her he was sorry he had mistaken her friendliness for something else and that he really did like her a lot. He went on to say that although he had never been loved like that before he would always treasure the memory and he hoped that she would too. He really liked her and thought she was a great gal, and if he could summon up the courage to ever send this letter he would love to ask her out and start all over again …

Dulcie quickly wiped away her tears with the pad of her hand. He must have written the letter just after … She couldn’t bring herself to think about the time in the air-raid shelter. She had been so wanton, so decadently immoral and … drunk! But not drunk enough to forget.

Dulcie could not ignore the fact that she gave Reece his first and probably his last thrill of a woman’s body. And now he was dead.

‘Here, drink this,’ Olive said as she sat on the bed and handed her the glass of water. Dulcie looked into Olive’s kind, motherly eyes and without any need of proof, she knew for certain now that she was carrying Reece’s baby.

‘Oh, Olive,’ Dulcie cried, ‘is Sally home?’

‘No, Dulcie, she isn’t,’ Olive said, ‘but judging by the look of you I think I’d better call Dr Shaw.’

All morning Sally carried out her duties with a smile on her face, a spring in her step and a song in her heart. The sun was shining through the sash windows of the Nightingale ward where injured servicemen were recovering in regimented rows of iron beds whilst a few of them had actually commented on her sunny personality.

‘You look like the cat what’s got the cream, Nurse,’ said one Geordie wag before she briskly popped a thermometer in his mouth and plumped his pillows.

‘You can’t beat a lovely sunny morning,’ Sally smiled, giving nothing away. Everything could have been so different if George had accepted back his engagement ring and they had actually broken up, when they’d had their big discussion earlier in the year. She had been so sure he wouldn’t want a ready-made family, and she couldn’t have rejected baby Alice after all she had been through. It wasn’t the child’s fault, after all, that she had been born into such a treacherous family.

However, George had proved he had a heart of gold when Sally returned home to Article Row to find him playing in the back garden with baby Alice and reassuring Sally that nothing could diminish the love he felt for her.

‘There’s a dark cloud coming over that horizon though,’ said a patient on the other side of the men’s surgical ward, ‘so I’d enjoy it whilst it lasts if I were you, Nurse.’

‘Don’t be such a pessimist, soldier,’ Sally laughed, knowing nothing could dampen her spirits today. When her morning shift was over, George was meeting her for lunch, as he had come to Bart’s to see her, having a couple of days off from the Queen Victoria, and she couldn’t wait to see him. They were going to the National Gallery, as Olive was taking Alice out for the afternoon. and she was so looking forward to their time together.

But an hour later as she and George left Bart’s, the soldier’s forecast became reality when the clouds burst and a powerful downpour came so quickly and so forcefully it bounced off the pavement and had them running for the nearest shelter.

‘Let’s get something to eat before we go to the gallery,’ George said, pulling up the collar of his Crombie overcoat and lowering the brim of his herringbone-patterned trilby against the deluge, whilst Sally wrestled with her umbrella against an unseasonal sudden gust of wind. George took the umbrella and opened it with ease before Sally linked her arm through his. His long, rapid strides caused her to almost run to keep up with him.

‘Hey, what’s the rush? You must be hungry.’ Sally gave a small, nervous laugh. George seemed preoccupied, his thoughts elsewhere and he certainly was not talkative.

‘Is something the matter, George?’ Sally looked up at him and, with his head bent and him being slightly ahead of her, she couldn’t read his expression beneath the rim of his hat. Being a quiet, thoughtful man by nature it wasn’t unusual for the two of them to walk in a companionable silence, each lost in their own idyllic thoughts of the future, content in the security of their love for each other.

But that was before she told George about Alice. He still wanted to stand by his promise to spend the rest of his life with her, he had assured her, but since then his whole manner had become so different from the way he had been before that Sally worried George was having second thoughts. With her arm outstretched in an effort to keep hold of his coat sleeve she wasn’t sure he wanted to be with her at all today.

‘Let’s go in here,’ George said, steering her into a nearby British Restaurant, almost causing her to trip. Then, steadying her without a word, his eyes seemed to say it all. Their usually warm glow was replaced with a sad reproach. She had never seen him like this, and momentarily it unnerved her as she could feel her heart sinking.

‘George?’ Sally wanted the truth, and she wanted it now. ‘Have I said something wrong?’

‘No, darling,’ George said quickly – too quickly, ‘of course you haven’t.’ He took her hand and wrapped his capable, talented fingers around hers as he edged her into the window seat they were lucky enough to bag even though the place was busy with lunchtime workers and shoppers.

After placing her umbrella in the stand near the door George went to find a waitress and Sally watched him. He looked tired, suddenly. She hadn’t noticed that before, and she wondered if he was getting enough sleep. There hadn’t been an air raid for a few weeks now, so his shift patterns were more stable than they had been during the worst of the Blitz. But Sally still worried that he did too much, knowing he thought nothing of jumping into another shift if the hospital was busy, or if another doctor needed help he would be the first to offer.

Feeling slightly uneasy sitting in full view of people passing the window, with its criss-cross tape adorning the large plate glass, Sally turned her engagement ring around her finger, mesmerised by the glint from the weak rays of sunshine now popping through the clouds as the rain eased, and was glad when George returned to the table.

‘They said the menu is on the wall,’ he informed Sally. ‘Anything you fancy?’

‘Just soup for me,’ she answered after quickly studying what was on offer today and not really wanting anything to eat for some reason. She had been so happy and full of hope this morning. For the first time in weeks she felt she could tell George anything. But now she wasn’t so sure.