Only a Mother Knows

‘I know it must have come as a shock when I told you about Alice,’ Sally ventured as they waited for their order, all the time watching him closely, worrying what impact her words were having. ‘I was concerned that, being such a kind and gentle man, you would feel duty bound to take the two of us on after saying you would and then regret it but be too kind to say so?’

‘It isn’t like that, Sally.’ George gave her hand a gentle squeeze. ‘That’s not the case at all. I think Alice is a lovely child and I would be proud to bring her up as my own. I am so glad you told me about her, because I want to get to know and love her as much as you do.’

‘Then what’s wrong George?’ Sally asked, knowing George had been acting strangely for a while now and she still didn’t have a clue why. He seemed even more reserved and distracted than usual. And given that he wouldn’t look her in the eye, as he usually did, she wondered if he really had gone off her and was trying to gently let her down. ‘Is it me, George?’ She had to know.

‘No, never!’ She saw the look of alarm flash across his face. ‘Never, never would I stop loving you, Sally, I couldn’t.’

‘Be that as it may,’ Sally answered, acknowledging he sounded sincere enough, and in his heart he probably meant every word. But what about his family? What would they think of their talented son taking up with a girl who had a child to bring up? George might have every intention in the world of bringing up Alice, but his mother could well have other ideas, and it was this thought that worried her now.

Sally didn’t have time to answer as the waitress brought them each a bowl of vegetable soup and some bread. There was an uneasy silence between them now broken only by the low buzz of conversation from fellow diners and the distant singing voices of Flanagan and Allen urging the rabbit to run, run, run.

And Sally knew exactly how it felt, as they completed the rest of their meal in a strained silence. If it hadn’t been for the fact that it would be a criminal waste of good food she would have left it, as her appetite had all but disappeared, and she was having a difficult job of swallowing the soup even though it really was delicious. Slowly they managed to clear their bowls, each lost in their thoughts.

‘Have you had enough to eat?’ George asked and Sally nodded with an air of inevitability; the meal had been a disaster, and after George threw half a crown onto the little plate for the two threepenny soups, he helped her into her coat. They walked out of the restaurant without waiting for the two shillings change and Sally knew the smiling waitress was going to have a happy day today with such a good tip to spend.

‘Sally, I …’ He was finding it hard to say what needed to be said, so she helped him.

‘George, do you mind if we don’t go to the gallery? I am so tired, I didn’t sleep well last night, Alice was fractious and …’

‘No my dear, certainly not.’ His words came out in a relieved rush. ‘I have a mountain of paperwork, and reports coming up to my knees.’ He gave a small stab at humour but neither of them was in the mood for frivolity. ‘I will walk you back to Article Row and …’

‘I don’t mind walking alone if you have to take the train back to the hospital,’ Sally lied. She did mind. She minded terribly, but there was nothing she could do about it as the sinking sensation of disappointment threatened to overwhelm her. However, quietly, she refused to let George see her disappointment.

‘I wouldn’t dream of letting you walk home on your own. Anyway, I’m staying in Drew’s room just for a couple of nights, now that he’s gone back to America,’ George said kindly, taking her hand as if there was nothing wrong. ‘Makes me feel quite nostalgic for when everyone used to lodge there. You must have a rest, you look tired.’

‘Alice will soon put paid to that idea,’ Sally laughed with forced brightness, ‘but Olive will welcome the break from looking after her, I should imagine.’

‘I’m sure she won’t,’ George said, unconsciously tucking her hand into his pocket, something he had done since they spent their weekend away together. ‘From what I’ve seen, Alice is smothered with love from every direction; she’s a very lucky little girl to have such an adoring female family.’

Sally looked up at him and for the first time that day he smiled, really smiled, as if the thought actually brought him pleasure and for a fleeting moment Sally wanted to beg him to spend the rest of the day with her, but she didn’t. Her pride wouldn’t let her.

Back at number 13, Article Row, George politely refused Olive’s offer of a cup of tea, explaining he had a lot of work to finish before the next morning. And after walking with him down the long hallway, Sally was more than a little surprised when she received a chaste kiss on her cheek. Placing his trilby hat on his head at a jaunty angle, George turned without another word and walked out of the front door.

Olive recounted to Sally that she’d had to call the doctor for Dulcie who had received a terrible shock: a friend of Wilder’s, whom she had known too, had been shot down and killed the night before.

‘I’ll check on her later,’ Sally said a little distractedly, looking out of the window.

‘Is something the matter, Sally?’ Olive asked, her voice full of concern when she came into the kitchen after checking on Dulcie and putting baby Alice down for her afternoon nap. ‘You look a bit pale, I hope you’re not coming down with this bug as well.’ She didn’t like to see the young woman so down.

‘I think George has gone off me now he knows about Alice,’ Sally said abruptly.

‘No!’ Olive’s eyes widened: she’d worried this might happen after their weekend away together. And even though they were a very mature, responsible couple, George had savoured the fruit of Sally’s love, and now it looked like he was losing his appetite. Olive sighed; she didn’t have George down as a love-’em-and-leave-’em type of chap but who knew what was going on in a man’s mind these days?

‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ Sally countered. ‘I’m being silly, I’m sure everything will be fine,’ she added over-brightly, not sure at all.

‘Of course it will,’ Olive said. ‘George is very busy; his mind must be full of worries.’ ‘Worries’ being the war and the added casualties, she thought, pulling her chair from under the table, knowing everybody was under a huge amount of added pressure. However she couldn’t bear to see ‘her girls’ upset, and even if she was overstepping the mark she wouldn’t let any of them suffer alone and in silence; one never knew what the next few hours could bring.

‘I did think he looked a little pre-occupied, if you don’t mind me saying …’

‘Oh, you’re right, Olive, he’s been ever so busy at the hospital,’ Sally said quickly, ‘and in his spare time he has to deal with writing up all those reports and …’ It was no use, her throat constricted and her chin trembled and she couldn’t continue. Without any more warning Sally suddenly burst into floods of tears. In a flash Olive was at her side, cooing and shushing her like her mother used to do, cocooning her convulsive shoulders.

‘Never mind, my dear,’ Olive cooed, ‘you just let it all out.’ After a few moments Sally’s tears receded and Olive offered her hot tea after putting in an extra half spoon of sugar and put down the cup, which thanks to the shortages was resting on a mismatched saucer. ‘Drink this whilst it’s hot, it’ll do you the world of good.’

‘Tea solves all ills.’ Sally didn’t intend her voice to sound so abrupt. ‘I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful …’

‘Don’t you give it another thought, my dear,’ Olive said, stalling Sally’s apologies. ‘You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you need me.’ She resumed her seat on the other side of the table and her warm, caring eyes viewed Sally’s sadness with maternal compassion. ‘You know where I am if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, or an ear to listen.’

‘Thank you, Olive, I’ll remember that.’ Sally gave the other woman a watery smile before blowing her nose and shrugging a little. She couldn’t possibly tell Olive that there was also the question of what would happen to Alice if she and George didn’t marry now; someone had to look after the child – and she had to work. How else would they be able to afford to live in Article Row if she wasn’t earning? Olive was a wonderful woman, everybody knew that, but she couldn’t conjure up food and heating out of thin air.

‘Why don’t you go over to him?’ Olive asked Sally after draining her cup. ‘You will feel much better if you know one way or the other.’

‘Know what?’ Sally asked weakly, not feeling strong enough for this.

‘Know how much work he has to do, maybe you could help.’ Sally looked at Olive and wondered if she should? She knew she wouldn’t rest until she and George had cleared the air and she found out what his problem was, because it was obvious there was one, no matter how much he tried to persuade her everything was fine. Also, Sally knew she couldn’t risk another night without sleep.

‘Go on,’ Olive said, ‘take as much time as you like, Alice is fine here with us.’

Sally jumped up before her courage could fail her again and she gave Olive a huge hug. ‘Thank you, thank you so much.’

‘Get away with you.’ Olive smiled and rolled her eyes. ‘And don’t come back here until you’ve got everything sorted out once and for all.’ She knew her girls seemed wrapped up in their own personal conflicts now. She had to be strong for all of them.

In Hyde Park on their last day together, Tilly thought, Drew had let her waffle on, talking about the war and how it must feel to lose somebody they loved, and all the time he was aware that he, too, could lose the woman who had brought him into the world and gave him life. Drew, kind, loving Drew, who had let her talk of how things could be, when all along his heart was breaking.

A dry sob shook her body as Tilly realised yet again how special he really was, how considerate of the feelings of others who were suffering even when his own emotions were being put to the test.

Unable to hold it all together any longer, the dam of Tilly’s sorrow burst forth and scalding tears coursed down her cheeks. Alone in her room she dared not let her mother see her until her tears had subsided and she didn’t think that would be for a good while yet.

However, she realised when she could think more clearly, lying still and calmer now, it wasn’t Drew’s mother she had cried for – she didn’t know the woman – but she did know that Drew would be deeply shocked and saddened. And it was he who was deserving of her commiserations now. Tilly knew he felt things more keenly than most people. He cared deeply for those he didn’t even know, so she could only imagine how his mother’s passing would devastate him. He would be suffering so much and she was heartbroken that she could not be by his side to comfort and console him. And this grieved her more than words could say.

Feeling a little reckless and with Olive’s encouragement still ringing in her ears Sally knew she wasn’t going to let George go as easily as she first imagined she would. Slipping the key he had given her earlier into the Yale lock, Sally vowed she would coax him with her own method of loving, which would persuade him that she and Alice were the only family he would ever need. And as Drew had gone back to America she knew they wouldn’t be interrupted.

Silently opening the sitting-room door Sally wasn’t surprised that the only sound in the house was the heartbeat tick of the clock on the mantelpiece, and knowing George would be concentrating on his files in the study she crept in so as not to disturb him. However, as she stepped into the room another unexpected sound could be heard.

The clink of a bottle hitting the rim of a crystal glass was followed by the gentle glug of liquid being poured, and Sally wondered, all of a sudden, if she was intruding. Maybe George had company? Her heart beat accelerated.

‘Hello, George,’ Sally managed to say quietly when she saw him at the sideboard and realised he was alone. George had been oblivious to her presence it seemed, going by his astonished expression when he wheeled around and spilled some of his drink. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’ But it wasn’t his look of amazement that gave Sally cause for concern – it was the realisation that he was absolutely stumbling drunk.

‘Shally.’ George slurred her name and raised his glass, giving her a lopsided half-smile. ‘Come and have a little drinky with me.’

‘I think you’ve had enough, George.’ She had left him not more than an hour ago. How could he possibly have got himself into this state in such a short space of time? He must have drunk the alcohol like water.

‘C’mon, let’s have a little drinky and then …’ His eyes had a glassy gleam she had never seen before, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. He flapped the brandy bottle in the air and invited her, with a come-hither wave of his other hand, to join him. Sally wasn’t even sure he could see her properly, he was so drunk. However, he wasn’t so drunk he didn’t notice her hesitation. Slowly, with great concentration, he placed the bottle on the sideboard, then, taking a deep breath, he said in slow, measured tones, ‘Shally … let me exshplain … hic …’ His intoxicated state had led to an outbreak of hiccups, which he found quite amusing – even though Sally did not when she recognised he was so sloshed he couldn’t make it back to the sofa unaided.

‘Here, let me help you before you fall over.’ Sally wrinkled her nose as he tried to give her a big wet slobbery kiss on the cheek and succeeded in landing in a dishevelled heap on the sofa, scattering cushions and laughing inanely at nothing in particular. She knew George wasn’t a heavy drinker; in fact neither of them cared much for alcohol. Instead they much preferred going to the pictures or the theatre, but most of all they liked to keep a clear head. So for George to get into this state Sally knew he must have something very disturbing on his mind.

‘I’ll get you a cup of black coffee, George, it might sober you up a little,’ Sally said in her most professional, no-nonsense voice which she used to settle unruly squaddies who tried it on. She turned to leave the room, but felt herself being held back by her wrist, and as she quickly turned she found herself being pulled towards George, and landed on top of him with a thump. For as much as she loved him and would usually welcome such an intimate embrace, Sally wasn’t too keen on the strong brandy smell that seemed to emanate from his every pore, nor the one-eyed stare as he tried to focus.

‘Let me get you that coffee, darling,’ Sally said in her most soothing tones as she scrambled to her feet. There was absolutely nothing George could do to stop her as he couldn’t get to his own feet in such an inebriated condition, and in fact he was so far gone he couldn’t keep his other eye open either.

When Sally returned moments later with two cups of black coffee, George’s head was hanging over the side of the settee, his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth and he was snoring like an overstuffed pig. Sally noticed the brandy glass, balanced precariously between his fingers, was spilling its contents onto the carpet. George, she noted with concern, was dead to the world and experiencing no pain, but Sally couldn’t guarantee he would feel that way when he woke up later; in fact she would lay money on him feeling very sorry for himself.

Looking at him now, even in this drunken state, she knew she would forgive him, eventually. However, she worried it would be too dangerous to leave him alone.

‘What if you vomited in your sleep?’ Sally asked the unconscious George. ‘You could choke to death. What if you tried to climb the stairs? You could fall down and break your neck!’ No, she thought, there was nothing for it but to stay until he was safely awake. ‘And when you wake up later with a screaming hangover there will be words, George, and most of them will be coming from me.’

It was late and growing dark when George began to stir, and Sally could tell just by the putty-coloured tinge around his gills that he was suffering an explosive hangover.

‘Feeling queasy, George?’ Sally asked, secretly satisfied he wasn’t feeling up to answering her back. ‘You have slept like a dead man for hours, I daren’t leave you.’ She hoped that Olive wouldn’t be too cross about looking after Alice all this time, but it was imperative she made sure George was safe. ‘I’ve taken advantage of Olive’s good nature for too long already, George,’ she said, watching as he leaned forward and buried his head in his two hands. ‘I can’t expect her to look after Alice indefinitely.’

‘Sally, darling, can you just be quiet for one moment.’ George had never so much as disagreed with her before now, and she was shocked to the core to hear him telling her to shut up now. She opened her mouth to say something in retaliation and then, thinking better of it, she closed it again. How could he speak to her like this? Was this the proof she needed that he had gone off her after all and decided to drink himself into oblivion before he could break the bad news? ‘I’ve joined up,’ he said simply, looking defeated. Momentarily, not one single thought passed through Sally’s dumfounded brain. Then the realisation began to creep in. Joined up? Joined up!

‘But George, you have a job here!’

‘A safe job, you mean!’ George looked so angry when he said that and then he told her he had enlisted in the Royal Navy that very morning as a ship’s surgeon and no matter how many times he tried to get it into her head that he was doing the honourable thing Sally would not listen.

She was so angry she left him standing in the middle of the room looking dishevelled and smelling like a brewery whilst she went to make him some black coffee. Once she had gathered her thoughts together she would decide on what to do next.

‘Don’t you understand, Sally, I need to do this.’ George followed her to the kitchen ‘I cannot let my fellow countrymen down and hide behind the privilege of a consultancy – oh, did I tell you I got the consultant’s job? – Today, would you believe.’ He gave a hard, almost bitter laugh; Sally knew he’d waited so long for the position.

‘But, George, you are needed here!’ Her words, so strangled, were barely audible.

‘Tell me, Sally, who needs me more than those poor brave men torpedoed out of the water?’

‘I do, George,’ Sally answered, all her fight depleted now.

SEVEN

Drew knew there were two ways to go to the mall. There was the lower east side, which was the shortest route and the one everybody usually took. That meant passing where all his old buddies hung out, who would no doubt want to know about England or ask about his mother’s funeral yesterday and he didn’t want to talk about it. Then there was the longer way round, which of course took longer.

Although, he silently reasoned, if he took the short route he wouldn’t need to take the car his father had bought him as a bribe to keep him in the States. However, the guys would stop him for catch-ups on every corner and he didn’t need that today. His mind made up, he decided to take the Chevrolet Sedan to the mall.

Feeling unusually unsociable because he was missing Tilly so much, Drew knew Al’s Diner was the only place he could get a burger on rye and a fresh cup of coffee without being badgered for information about his trip overseas. As the car glided to a halt outside the diner, he wanted to think about the wonderful girl he’d left in London.

Sitting on the high stool at the counter waiting for his order he settled, once more, into the familiar smell of hot percolated coffee and fresh doughnuts that had been absent in England. But it was Tilly, so keenly missed, that he wanted right now.

He wondered how long it would take for her mail to reach here, knowing he couldn’t go much longer without hearing from her. His mind was in turmoil. What if she got hurt – or worse? A pony-tailed girl in bobby socks, carrying school text books, sat next to him and smiled. Drew, not having the heart to ignore her, smiled back, but heck, he wasn’t in the mood for talking right now.

‘Say, didn’t you used to live in England?’ she asked and Drew nodded. ‘My brother’s over there,’ she continued in a forthright way, ‘he’s in Liverpool – have you heard of it?’

‘Yeah, I’ve heard of it.’ Drew said, shrugging his shoulders. He was glad when her girlfriends came into the diner drooling over the latest Frank Sinatra photo in a magazine. Drew sighed with relief.

His father had used every trick in the book, Drew knew, short of actually having him arrested to keep him here. But he was determined when he’d finished the latest harebrained assignment his father set for him he was going back to Tilly. His wonderful mother was gone now, so what did he have to stay here for?

His thoughts drifted back to London and girls no older than the ones in the booth across the shiny blue-and-yellow tiled floor sharing a soda, who would be working in munitions factories or driving buses. They would be on fire-watch duty like his Tilly, or manning ack-ack guns like the girls in the Forces, dressing the open, livid wounds of their brave countrymen like Sally or keeping essential services going like Agnes, brave women one and all …

Distracted, he took a peek at the newspaper his father published. It was being read by a large truck driver sitting next to him who didn’t lift his head when he called to the waitress for eggs over easy, whilst the young girl across the floor dropped a dime in the juke box. Everything was so normal here, a million miles away from the devastation in London. He listened to the haunting melody of Glenn Miller’s ‘At Last’ fade to be replaced by the whirr and click of another record dropping on the Wurlitzer juke box, with its flashing lights and glass-domed top.

Drew managed to sit at the diner counter only long enough for the beautifully melodious tones of Vera Lynn’s voice to tell him there’d be blue birds over the white cliffs of Dover, which caused a restriction so tight in his throat he could hardly swallow. The last time he’d heard that song he and Tilly were dancing together, making plans for their future. It was all too much and he couldn’t take any more.

‘Skip the order,’ Drew managed to say to the waitress behind the counter who didn’t bat an eyelash at his request as they would have done in England, he noticed, for the simple reason that rationing hadn’t hit here. Maybe it never would, he thought, who knew?

All he did know was that there was no shortage of food and drink at his mother’s funeral, which had been like a who’s who of his father’s shallow supporters. All of them in the business of lightening his load if he wished to avail himself of their services, all of them his ‘yes’ men.

Listen to yourself. Drew angrily crossed the sidewalk to the Sedan. You’re already beginning to sound like one of Dad’s people, who use ten words where two will do.

‘Oh, Tilly, I gotta get outta here!’ Drew said aloud, ignoring the suspicious stares of people passing by. ‘Oh, honey, why do we have to live so far apart?’ He was so deep in thought he didn’t even see the truck coming, nor hear the screams of the women who tried to grab his arm to stop him walking into the road. He didn’t feel a thing.

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