‘He might know we’ll be desperate to hear!’
‘He might have been a bad boy and not allowed onshore. No, scrub that,’ Sid corrected quickly as Dora looked concerned. ‘Not very likely with our Reg, is it? But maybe someone else was and they all got confined to barracks, well, had to stay on board.’
‘That’s not very fair!’
‘Nothing’s fair in love and war, Lil,’ Sid chastised. ‘Or, if they were going to be in dock a while, they might have been carted to a camp upcountry. Where the only post’s a forked stick or smoke signals!’
Dora sighed. ‘We’ll have to be patient, then.’
‘Yes, you will,’ said Sid. ‘I dunno why you’re getting so excited. What’s he going to say when he gets there, anyway – “I can’t tell you where I am but there’s lots of sand”?’
‘And what would your letters say?’ Lily felt obliged to defend Reg. ‘“I can’t tell you where I am but there’s lots of water”?’
‘Come on, Lil! I hope I’m a bit better correspondent than Reg!’
It was true – Reg’s letters, short and infrequent, were unlikely ever to give Freda, their post girl, a hernia.
‘Well,’ said Jim, who was privy to the contents – Sid’s letters were generally read out loud – ‘I admit your last darts match sounded pretty gripping, but let’s be honest, the only thing these two really want to hear about is who you’re courting.’
This too, was true. With Sid’s good looks he’d never been short of girlfriends, and it was hard to believe he wasn’t ‘up with the lark, to bed with the Wrens’, as the saying had it.
‘Crikey, don’t spare my blushes, will you?’ Sid, unusually, seemed taken aback by Jim’s directness. ‘You know me, same as always, taking my chances at village dances.’
‘Still no one special, then?’ enquired Dora.
Sid might not like being put on the spot, but Lily was delighted. Jim was quite right. It was the question she – and her mum, she knew – had been dying to ask.
Sid opened his mouth to answer, but the back door opened, and a familiar voice called ‘Only me.’
Lily looked at Jim and Jim looked at Lily, but instead of the eye-rolling that Beryl’s arrival mid-meal (again!) might have caused, their eyes telegraphed concern. It didn’t sound like Beryl’s usual cheery greeting. Nothing like.
Dora twisted in her chair to call through to the scullery.
‘Beryl? Never mind your boots, come on through.’ So she was concerned as well. Normally it was strictly boots off at the door. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’
Poor Beryl. She was in a heck of a state.
‘It can’t be,’ she blubbered, as, tea abandoned, they all clustered around the chair by the fire where she’d been installed. ‘The baby’s due in a few weeks, and my Les won’t be here to see it come!’
Les had got his posting. He and his unit were being shipped out in a fortnight – and, like Reg, he wasn’t entirely sure where. All they knew was ‘overseas’.
Jim had quietly disappeared to the scullery, but now re-emerged. He tactfully put a cup of tea down at Beryl’s side.
‘Well done, Jim.’ Dora gave him an approving smile. ‘Sugared?’
Jim nodded. ‘One. And a bit.’
Sugar was precious, but if ever it could be sacrificed, it was now.
‘Never mind sugar.’ Sid went to his kitbag, undid it, and produced a half-bottle of rum. ‘Put her a nip of this in it. And let’s get some sense talked around here.’
They all looked at him.
‘Well, not by me! What do I know about marriage and babies? Over to you, Mum!’
As he spoke, he drew up the small rush-topped stool, lifted Beryl’s ankles, and placed it gently under her feet. Then, with a look at Jim that said ‘Danger! Waterworks alert!’ they both retreated to the safety of the dining table.
Dora poured a careful capful of rum into Beryl’s tea. She didn’t really approve of alcohol, and certainly not in the house, but in the circumstances … She stirred Beryl’s tea for her and handed her the cup.
‘Now look here, Beryl,’ she said. ‘You know what we do round here when someone’s in trouble. We all pull together. We did it last year, when you first found out you were expecting, and we’ll do it again. It’s a crying shame Les won’t be with you, but you won’t be on your own.’
Lily nodded vigorously.
‘The fact is,’ Dora continued, unconsciously echoing what Reg had said to Lily, ‘you’re not the only one. You’re far better placed than some, and far, far better placed than you might have been. You’ve got a good home, a good husband in Les, and you’ll have all the help and support you could wish for from Ivy, I know you will.’
‘And me and Mum,’ put in Lily. ‘Whatever you need. Gladys too, I bet.’
‘I know, I know …’ Beryl wiped her eyes with a sodden hanky. ‘You’ll think I’m stupid,’ she snuffled, ‘and I am, it’s not like I haven’t known it was coming, but I dunno, when it actually happens … I was in the phone box speaking to Les, and when he told me, I felt my legs just go from under me!’
Lily reflected that given the size she was, Beryl must have been pretty firmly wedged in the box anyway, so there was little or no chance of her sinking to the floor, but she gave her the benefit of the doubt. If you weren’t allowed a bit of poetic licence when you were pregnant, then when were you?
Beryl applied her hanky to her eyes again, sniffed, and tried to collect herself.
‘It’d mean a lot to me, Dora,’ she quavered, ‘if you’d be with me when the baby comes. Ivy’ll be there if she can, I know, but with Susan …’
‘You don’t have to ask, Beryl,’ Dora replied. ‘Take it as read.’
‘Thank you,’ Beryl said in a small voice. ‘You’re golden, you really are.’
Beryl’s appeal came as no surprise to Lily. For two plain-speakers forced together by circumstance, Beryl and Ivy got on surprisingly well, and Beryl showed an equally surprising patience with Susan. But Ivy knew her daughter-in-law: when it came to childbirth she was unlikely to be the grin-and-bear-it type. Ivy had pointed out that the sight and sound of Beryl in labour could frighten Susan into fits; Les had agreed, and had promptly booked Beryl into the local maternity home.
But Beryl was no fool either. In the short time since Les had told her about his posting, she’d obviously realised that encouraging words and forehead-swabbing, when it came to it, would be much more likely to come from the ever-practical
