Pack Up Your Troubles. Pam Weaver

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her mother. ‘Why does she have to stick her oar in every time?’

      Connie’s jaw dropped. She’d never heard her mother speak like this before. Gwen smiled encouragingly. ‘Connie, it’s your life and we, Clifford and I, both want you to have the best you possibly can. The world is a much bigger place now. We all need to put the past behind us and start again. Don’t let your opportunities pass you by.’

      Connie’s chest constricted. Her mother was an amazing person and she longed to tell her how much her approval meant to her. ‘I wish you had a better life, Mum.’

      Gwen carried on struggling with the bolster case. ‘My life is fine,’ she smiled. ‘Now that Clifford has come home, we are making plans of our own.’

      ‘Plans? What plans?’

      ‘I can’t talk about it yet but Clifford has some wonderful ideas for the smallholding,’ said her mother. ‘One thing is absolutely certain, you mustn’t waste your life hanging around for us.’

      Impulsively, Connie hugged her. ‘Thanks, Mum.’ As they parted, Gwen’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. Put the past behind us … the words echoed in Connie’s head. Ga never let her forget the past … but could she do it? Could she forget the shame and guilt that awful man had brought on her family and actually make something of her life? Could she make it up to her mother for her brother going away? Was there still time? ‘I may not be able to do it now anyway,’ Connie said uncertainly. ‘I haven’t replied to any of their letters.’

      Gwen looked at her, horrified. ‘When were you supposed to start?’

      ‘On 10th September,’ said Connie.

      ‘Then you’d better leave that and get on the bus straight away,’ she cried. ‘Go down there in person. Blame the war, blame me. Say I’ve been really ill and now I’m better … say anything you like, but whatever you do, make sure you get that place again.’

      Connie hesitated.

      ‘Go on girl!’ her mother cried. And Connie fled.

      *

       The bridegroom stood up and turned to see the small procession make its way down the aisle. The church was small and even in these difficult times, little used. It smelled dank and musty as he’d walked into the door. He would have preferred a registry office himself. All this preamble – the reading of the banns and talks with the Vicar made him nervous but she’d had her heart set on a proper wedding so he’d given in. The usher, some old fossil who looked as old as Methuselah, showed him to the front pew. His best man, a chap he’d met in the pub a week before, rose unsteadily to his feet as he arrived and gave him a watery smile. His teeth were tobacco stained but he had scrubbed up well enough. They sat down together and waited. After a while he said, ‘Got the ring?’ and the best man nodded. There was a rustling sound by the door of the church and the Vicar came down the aisle. ‘Please stand.’

      The organist struck up the tune, ‘Here Comes the Bride and his heartbeat quickened. No getting out of this now. He had made a decision which had surprised even himself. He had never really had a close relationship before. Only the one with his mother. Would he be able to cope with marriage? He swayed a little at the thought and wiped his open palms down the side of his suit as he slowly turned to look. The congregation, such as it was, was already standing; only one relative on his side and a spattering of people on hers. Every head was turned in anticipation of the coming bride but his eye was immediately drawn to her. She was wearing a white satin dress with a pretty pink bow at her waist. Someone had put her hair into golden ringlets and she had a halo of roses, the last roses of the summer, on her head. He took in his breath. She was nothing short of an angel sent from heaven. She carried a posy and she watched his face as she walked purposefully towards him. She returned his smile with a gappy grin and then closed her mouth as she remembered her missing milk teeth. He laughed softly and looked up at his bride, her mother, coming on behind her. Yes, he had done the right thing. Everything was perfect, just perfect.

       Seven

      It was weird. Pip had been following Connie around all day with his tail between his legs. It was as if he knew she was going.

      ‘I’ll be around until the 9th but after that I shall move into the nurses’ home,’ Connie told everyone at the tea table.

      She had managed to see someone in management and after an hour of being moved from one person to another, had persuaded them that she was ready to start her training.

      ‘Why can’t you live here?’ Ga sat tight-lipped and frowning at her great niece. ‘You could catch the bus from the end of the road.’

      Connie knew that was just a ruse to make her feel that they couldn’t cope without her. Before long Ga would be dumping ‘would-you-just jobs’ into her lap. Oh, Connie while you’re doing that, would-you-just pick out a few of those seedlings, or before you catch the bus, would-you-just take that into the shop for me.

      ‘I have to be on the ward at seven and you know me first thing in the morning, Ga,’ she said brightly. ‘It’ll be better if I’m in the nurses’ home.’

      But Ga wasn’t about to give up that easily. ‘What about all the books you’re supposed to have? You needn’t expect …’

      ‘Don’t worry,’ said Connie, knowing perfectly well what was coming. ‘I’ve already saved enough to buy everything.’

      ‘Perhaps it’s just as well things didn’t work out for you and Emmett then,’ Ga remarked acidly. ‘You wouldn’t even be allowed to train if you were married.’

      The mention of Emmett made Connie’s heart lurch, but then Ga had meant to upset her, hadn’t she? Why did she keep saying stuff like that? For the sake of her mother, Connie bit her tongue.

      ‘Why can’t you just be happy for the girl?’ Clifford snapped, ‘and for once, say something encouraging.’

      ‘Well!’ Ga glared.

      ‘It’s all right, Clifford,’ Gwen soothed.

      Clifford helped himself to some more potatoes. ‘No, it’s not, Gwennie,’ he said.

      ‘I’m only trying to make her see that it won’t be easy,’ Ga protested.

      ‘I know it won’t be easy, Ga.’

      The atmosphere at the table soured. Her great aunt was probably right, or she would have been right if it was still 1939. The unwritten rule for nurses had always been that women who married would give up the profession but the war had left hospitals alongside many other institutions with severe shortages of manpower. Connie felt sure that by the time she’d gained her nursing badge, the ‘no married women’ edict would be a thing of the past anyway. Not only that, but the new government was pressing ahead with a country-wide health service which would be free to all, regardless of income or status, at the point of need. Things were changing. They were indeed entering a brave new world.

      Now that she was really going, Connie was thrown into a hive of activity. She’d found the list of things she was supposed to bring with her to the hospital and set off into town. Ga said nothing when Connie came back with her purchases but she shot her one of her dark looks. As a child, they had terrified

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