When the Lights Go On Again. Annie Groves
of volunteers.’
‘Do you think it’s true, Katie, what everyone’s saying about the Forces getting ready to invade France?’ Gina asked.
‘Well, we shall have to if they’re going to defeat Hitler,’ Katie answered.
‘I know,’ Gina acknowledged, ‘but after what happened to the poor men in August last year when the invasion of Dieppe failed and so many men were killed and wounded…’
The two girls exchanged sad looks. The young men who had gone so bravely to their deaths had all been Canadian volunteers from overseas, who had wanted to do their bit for the country with which so many of them had family ties.
‘I’ll come to you for six o’clock, shall I? Then we can walk round to the American Embassy from your billet?’
Katie agreed.
‘I’m hoping to visit Leonard’s parents next weekend,’ Gina told her as they both stood up. ‘I promised Leonard that I’d try to go and see them and the children as often as I can whilst he’s away.’
Leonard had two children from his first marriage to a Frenchwoman, a son and a daughter of four and three. Odile, their mother, had been killed in a car accident with her lover, and the two children lived in the country with Leonard’s parents.
‘The children are so sweet,’ Gina confessed. ‘Little Adam asked me ever so seriously the last time I saw them if he and Amy could call me Mummy. Poor little things. Leonard told me that Odile didn’t have much time for them. I’ve never thought of myself as maternal, but now…I’m really beginning to miss them when I’m in London.’
‘I think that they are very lucky to have you as their stepmother, Gina.’
‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ Gina protested, but Katie could see that she was pleased.
‘And Tommy’s housemaster at the Grammar School has said as how he thinks that Tommy is a very bright boy and that I should be thinking about him perhaps going on up to Oxford if he works hard. He says that Tommy’s got a really good ear for languages.’ Emily couldn’t help boasting a little as she worked alongside the other women on that week’s rota for doing the church flowers, at Whitchurch’s historic Queen Anne church, St Alkmund’s.
‘He’s a lovely lad and no mistake, Emily,’ her friend and neighbour Ivy Wilson agreed loyally. ‘Looks ever so smart too in his uniform.’
The Grammar School divided its pupils into four houses, each house represented by its own uniform colour. Emily had been lucky enough to have been told by the dressmaker, who altered her own clothes, that she had another customer whose son had just finished school and who no longer needed his uniform. Acting as a go-between, the dressmaker had negotiated a price for the uniform that was acceptable to both parties, and so Tommy had been able to start Grammar School in a proper uniform.
‘Don’t worry about the blazer being a bit big for him,’ the dressmaker had reassured Emily ‘He’ll grow into it soon enough. Grow like weeds, young ones do.’
‘Well I never, Emily, that was ever such a good idea of yours to add a bit of greenery to the flowers to make them go a bit further. A real asset to the flower rota, you are, and no mistake,’ Ivy continued warmly.
Listening happily to her neighbour’s praise, Emily congratulated herself, not for the first time, that moving here to Whitchurch was definitely the best thing she had ever done.
The church, with its square tower, had been rebuilt from sandstone in the early 1700s, and blended perfectly into its surroundings, the graveyard with its time-worn gravestones testament to the many generations of local families who had worshipped there. Its main claim to fame was that beneath its porch the heart of Sir John Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, made famous by Shakespeare, was buried.
The vicar and his wife were a kind, well-thought-of couple, and the female members of the congregation were enthusiastic about doing their bit for the war. In general Emily had found them a friendly group, who had welcomed her warmly amongst them. Apart from Ina Davies, who was eyeing her disparagingly now as she sniffed, ‘Personally I wouldn’t have said that all them leaves are right for church flowers. Not that my opinion matters, of course, but to my mind there’s something a bit common about them.’
Emily and Ivy exchanged looks. For some reason Ina Davies had taken against Emily right from the start when she had first moved to Whitchurch, often making critical and sometimes hurtful comments about Emily in Emily’s own hearing. According to her neighbour, Ina wasn’t well liked in the community but people put up with her out of their good nature.
‘Give over, Ina,’ Ivy protested. ‘They set off them dahlias a treat.’
‘And as for that son of yours being good at languages,’ Ina continued, ignoring Ivy’s comment, ‘I should think he would be, given the amount of time that German POW spends at your house. I don’t think I’d want any lad of mine spending so much time with someone like that, a Nazi! ‘Oo knows what he might be telling him.’
‘Wilhelm is not a Nazi. He was forced to join up and fight,’ Emily protested.
‘That’s easy enough for him to say now. Stands to reason he’s going to want to protect himself by pretending he was forced to support Hitler. Mind you, I’ve got to say that it seems to me that there’s something funny going on when someone who reckons to be British starts defending a German. My Harry says he’s never seen the like of it,’ Ina continued. ‘A German POW coming and going like he does, making himself at home, brazen as anything and acting like he isn’t a POW at all…’ She pursed her lips in disapproval. ‘My Harry says he’s surprised that someone hasn’t said something to the authorities and got something done about it.’
The atmosphere in the church had changed, the other women looking meaningfully at one another and, Emily thought, questioningly at her, the happy mood in which they had all been working together changing to one of discomfort.
It was a relief to Emily when the flowers were finished and she was free to leave.
‘Don’t worry about what Ina had to say,’ Ivy tried to comfort her as they walked home together. ‘She’s always had a nasty side to her and been a bit of a troublemaker. I reckon she’s jealous that you’ve got Wilhelm looking after your garden for you, and doing a good job on it too, whilst she’s got to rely on her Harry who wouldn’t know one end of a carrot from another. Course it doesn’t help that their Christopher was taken prisoner at Dunkirk. She reckons the POWs we’ve got here have it easy compared with her Christopher, but that’s not your fault and she’s got no right picking on you like she did. Not that anyone will pay any attention to her, not knowing what she’s like.’
Emily was grateful for her neighbour’s kindness, but Ina’s comments had left her feeling upset and uncomfortable.
Things hadn’t gone as well in Neston as he had hoped, Charlie admitted as he drove through Wallasey, heading for his mother’s. His father had flatly refused to give him any money, demanding to know how Charlie expected him to be able to afford to give him money when he was having to support two households. And that despite the fact there had been two cars parked on the drive of the fancy house his father was renting, and Pauline had been tricked out in what looked like three strands of real pearls and a ruddy great solitaire diamond ‘engagement’ ring. Charlie had tried flattering her, hoping that by buttering her up a bit she’d weigh in on his behalf with his father, but he hadn’t reckoned on how hard-faced she was, Charlie admitted, scowling as he remembered how his father’s mistress had waited until his father wasn’t there before telling him that any spare cash his father had would be going into her bank account and not Charlie’s.
Hard as nails, that’s what she was, and now he’d wasted almost the whole of Saturday and his