Molly's War Read online

  Molly climbed out of bed and lit the gas jet on the wall above the fireplace. These dark mornings were a bane. She put on her overcoat in case one of the lads should wake and get up. Then, gathering her clothes together, crept downstairs.

  The privy was across the yard. Slipping out of the back door and running across with her shoes unlaced on her bare feet, she shivered in the nagging, bitter cold. Back in the kitchen, still warm as the fire had been banked up the night before, she washed in a ladle of water from the boiler in the range and dressed hurriedly. She hadn’t time to make a cup of tea. The fire was sluggish, reluctant to come back to life. Never mind, she’d get one in the canteen during her break.

  Soon she was speeding down the road to where the bus was just pulling up at the stop on the end of the rows. Jackson would be there when she got back tonight, she thought, a warm glow suffusing her so that she hardly felt the cold. And Harry too, of course.

  Chapter Fifteen

  SATURDAY MORNING WENT on and on until Molly thought it would never come to an end. She was filling cordite bags for the navy, bag after boring bag, except that she couldn’t be too bored, couldn’t let her mind wander much. This stuff was dangerous.

  George Formby was on the wireless singing ‘Mr Woo’ and Molly sang along with him softly, her voice sounding hollow in the small room on her own.

  This afternoon she was going only as far as Bishop and Jackson was coming into town to meet her. The whole lovely afternoon stretched before her. They were going to have something to eat at the King’s Hall cafe. Then, if the weather was cold or wet, and she couldn’t really tell where she was working, they would go to the matinee at the King’s Hall picture house. Or, if it was nice, they would walk in the Bishop’s park. She didn’t care which, she was going to be with him. There was happiness bubbling inside of her at the thought of it.

  They could do exactly as they liked because Harry had a date. He was going out with a girl – was being evasive about who she was exactly.

  ‘Fast work that, mind,’ Jackson had said last night when her brother told them he had a date. ‘You haven’t been home two days yet.’

  ‘Can I help it if I’m irresistible to women?’ Harry had grinned and put on what he called his Clarke Gable look. He’d taken out his comb and combed back his dark hair with exagerated care, pushing it back slightly at the front to make a quiff.

  Molly smiled at the memory. Tonight they would worm out of him who the girl was. So far all they’d got was his hands describing curves in the air and a long wolf whistle.

  For the thousandth time she wondered what time it was. Surely it must be twelve o’clock by now? She started on another bag but at last the buzzer went, George Formby was cut off in the middle of asking Mr Woo what he could do, and Molly was free to go.

  They ate pie and peas and chips at the King’s Hall. Jackson had half a beer and Molly had a shandy, pale amber and sweet from the added lemonade. It tasted like nectar.

  ‘Now what?’ asked Jackson as they finished their meal and the waitress brought the bill. ‘You choose, I’ll do whatever you want to do.’ He delved into his pocket and brought out a pound note and gave it to the waitress. ‘Sixpence for yourself,’ he said and smiled at her. She blushed and walked away hurriedly to get change at the desk. ‘Some girls have all the luck,’ she commented to the cashier, who followed her glance to the dashing soldier and his girl.

  ‘I see what you mean,’ she replied. ‘It makes your heart flutter to look at him, doesn’t it?’ She held a hand dramatically over where she thought her heart to be and they both giggled.

  ‘The sun’s shining, we’ll go for a walk,’ Molly decided.

  ‘Walking in December? Folks’ll think we’re off our chumps.’ Jackson raised an eyebrow but she knew he was joking. He took hold of her hand and drew her out and down the stairs to Newgate Street, busy with Saturday shoppers.

  ‘The park it is then.’

  They walked slowly down the street, looking in shop windows, not exactly hand in hand but close enough to be touching each other sort of accidentally all the time. Jackson paused by the jeweller’s window. ‘Look, Molly, what sort of ring would you like? Always supposing, of course, that we were going to get engaged, you’d like a ring, wouldn’t you? Or if you don’t want to get engaged, we can pretend, can’t we?’ He was laughing but his eyes were serious, watching her.

  Suddenly she was short of breath. Her hands fluttered in front of her, she couldn’t keep them still. She bit her lip. Was this a real proposal? No, she told herself, he’s joking, he doesn’t mean it. If I said yes and picked out a ring he would run a mile, of course he would. She stared up at him.

  ‘Oh, Molly, if you’re not ready we’ll wait,’ he said, the smile gone from his face. They stood close together in the middle of the pavement as people pushed past them on their way to the market.

  ‘You’re having me on,’ she said, forcing herself to look away. ‘Come on, let’s walk, it’s too cold to stand about.’ She made to walk on but he caught hold of her shoulders, his firm grip holding her still.

  ‘No, Molly, I’ve never been so serious in my life,’ he said, and suddenly a great elation filled her, shining out of her eyes.

  ‘You’re asking?’ she said, for all the world as though they were at the church hall hop and he had come over for a dance.

  ‘I’m asking,’ he said. And it didn’t matter at all (or just a little bit) that they had to come down to earth when they saw the prices in the window. Seven pounds ten shillings for a ring with three minuscule diamonds set on the slant on a golden band!

  ‘You like it, don’t you? I can’t buy it today,’ he said regretfully. ‘But I will, now I know what you want, I promise you, my love.’

  ‘Are you going to stop blocking the blooming pavement or have I to batter me way through with this pram?’

  A strident voice cut into their dream. A tired-looking woman with dull untidy hair was trying to get by, pushing an enormous old pram with two toddlers hanging on to the handle on either side. They sprang into the shop doorway to clear the pavement.

  ‘Love’s young dream, eh?’ the woman said as she passed.

  One of the toddlers started to wail, ‘Can I have a ride, Mam? Me legs’re tired. Howay, Mam, lift us up, I won’t sit on the babby’s legs.’

  She stopped and lifted him on to the bottom of the pram, glancing again at Molly and Jackson. ‘Aye, well, just you wait a year or two an’ see what happens,’ she said to Molly. ‘I’d think twice if I was you.’ But Molly wasn’t looking at her any more, she was gazing through the window at the glass counter just inside the jeweller’s with a sense of déjà vu. It was just like in her dream, the nightmare she’d had the other night when the jeweller had accused her of bringing in the bracelet. Oh, dear God! Suddenly all her old terrors rose to the surface.

  ‘Molly?’ Jackson took her arm, pulled her to him. ‘What’s the matter, Molly? You’re not that upset because I haven’t got the money with me to pay for a ring now, are you?’

  She shook her head, shaking away the terrors. It had just been a nightmare, she told herself firmly.

  ‘Nothing. Nothing’s the matter,’ she said, and smiled brightly up at him. She tucked her hand in his arm, feeling the warmth and strength of him beneath the rough khaki cloth. ‘Come on, let’s go to the park or it’ll be dark before we get there.’

  The market place was filled with stalls and thronged with shoppers hoping for bargains. Late Saturday afternoon was the time for those, the traders dropping their prices before packing up to go home. ‘Now then, missus, two cauliflowers for the price of one … three pounds of carrots for the price of two … a proper bargain. Why, man, I’ll be out of pocket …’

  Jackson and Molly strode on to the gothic archway and the gate which led to the bridle path past the castle and on to the deer park. There were few people about though the sun still shone, slanting its rays through the railings of the castle gardens and pointing up the ancient battlements. But
the lovers weren’t interested in the castle, they were in a world of their own, going through the cattle gate at the end and on up the grass to the square deerhouse then back down into the valley where the Gaunless ran, hurrying to meet the Wear, brown and peaty and swollen now in winter time.

  A wind had sprung up, keen and promising a frost later on, but here, in the small valley, they were sheltered from it though it soughed and whined through the high, bare branches of the trees. Molly felt as though they were the only people in the whole world. They could stay here, hidden away from everyone else, the war and all its dangers.

  They paused beneath the branches of one of the oaks which had given the town its name, a thick, ancient tree with branches low and spreading, its carpet of dry brown leaves rustling under their feet. And it was all so perfectly natural, so meant to be, as Jackson’s arms went around her and Molly lifted her face for his kisses. He loosed her coat and his, undid the top button of her blouse and kissed the swell of her breast. She sighed in ecstasy, feeling the two of them cocooned in the warm blanket of their love.

  ‘You will marry me, won’t you, Molly?’ he asked urgently.

  ‘I will,’ she replied, and to her it was a dedication as binding as if she had said her vows in church.

  ‘My next leave? Even if I have to get a special licence?’

  ‘Your next leave.’

  For a while she could think of nothing but the feel of his hands on her body, the surge of her response taking her by surprise at the strength of it. She was filled with the need to sink down on to the carpet of leaves with him and make love, full, total love.

  An aeroplane went by overhead, then another. She heard them only as part of the background: the waters of the Gaunless rushing over stones, a lorry going up Durham Road in the distance, the wind. But for Jackson the engine noise brought him back to reality. He lifted his head, moved his hands back to the comparative safety of Molly’s waist. She moaned softly with her need, leaned even closer in to him.

  ‘We have to be sensible,’ he whispered. ‘You’re so young.’ That wasn’t really what he meant. He meant that he was going to war and couldn’t just make love and leave her. Suppose she was expecting a baby? Suppose he didn’t come back? What would she do then? She was just a girl herself, nobbut a bairn. When she opened her eyes they were dark with the want of him and his resolve almost went. But another flight went past. Five, no, six planes this time. He looked up to the sky. Hurricanes they were, flying low enough for him to see the roundels on their sides. The war was real and where would he be in a couple of weeks’ time?

  ‘Come on, Molly, it’s getting dark,’ he said and fastened her buttons again, then his own. They walked out of the park against the stiffening wind, apart now, not touching. He didn’t think he could bear to touch her without making love, not yet, not until his blood had cooled down.

  The aeroplanes had had their effect on Molly, too. She didn’t know whether they were fighters or bombers but it had suddenly occurred to her that there were factories in Germany with girls filling bombs just as she was doing, and the thought of them dropping on Jackson and Harry and the rest of the Durham Light Infantry, and all the other soldiers going over there to Belgium or France or wherever they were going, filled her with unspeakable dread.

  They caught the bus back to Eden Hope and sat close together on the narrow seat, holding hands. The bus filled up with people they knew; housewives with full baskets, men running to join the queue from Kingsway Football Ground, talking loudly of the match, arguing about the results. It had been a local derby, Shildon versus Bishop, and there were supporters of both teams. The bus was packed, men standing in the aisle, shouting across the heads of those sitting down. ‘The ref wants his eyes tested!’ being the mildest of the comments. Some of the men, young miners, looked at Jackson in his uniform with a mixture of envy and respect. Some spoke to him: ‘Good luck, lad.’ Or, ‘On leave are you, mate?’

  A few of the women gave Molly peculiar looks and whispered to each other but she didn’t care, not now, not when she had Jackson beside her. Most of the folk in Eden Hope had accepted her back among them anyway. The scandal had been a nine days’ wonder. There were more important things to talk about now.

  Alighting at the end of the rows, most of the women joined the men in calling ‘Goodnight!’ to them. It was already black dark as they walked down the back street, bumping into each other between the blacked-out houses for both of them had forgotten their flashlights. Jackson took her arm and led her into the yard and she felt cherished and looked after. Something of a novelty for Molly.

  ‘There’s a dance at the church hall the night,’ said Harry after they had got in and were eating their tea. Sausages and mash it was, with brown sauce, and dire warnings yet again from Maggie about how these would probably be the last they saw before the meat rationing came in.

  ‘There’s them that’s hoarding tins as fast as they can get a hold of them, but not me,’ she said self-righteously. Then had the grace to add, ‘I haven’t the money to do that any road.’

  ‘We’ll go, won’t we, Molly?’ Jackson said in answer to Harry. ‘A military two-step’ll go down a treat, eh?’

  ‘Oh, man, don’t be so old-fashioned,’ said Harry. ‘A nice why-dance is what I like.’

  ‘Why-dance?’ said Molly, puzzled.

  ‘Aye, you know, a slow waltz and a crowded floor and me just to say moving, me arms round a girl …’ He held his arms in front of him as though round a girl, his head on one side, his eyes half-closed, and they all laughed.

  ‘You haven’t got a partner,’ said Molly.

  ‘Who needs a partner? They’ll be falling over each other to dance with me, our Molly.’ He paused. ‘Any road, as it happens I’m meeting a lass inside. Wait till you see her an’ all. A blonde, just as high as my heart, curves in all the right places …’ His hands drew a figure of eight in the air.

  ‘Well, we’ll have to go now, pet, if only to see this beauty.’ Jackson grinned at Molly.

  ‘Aye, go on. Me an’ your dad are going to have a night by the fire listening to the wireless,’ said Maggie. Time was when Frank was down the club every Saturday night with his mates but things were different now.

  The church hall was filling up nicely when they arrived. Molly left her coat in the cloakroom and combed her hair in front of the looking glass, surprised at her own reflection. Her eyes shone, her cheeks glowed. Why, she was almost pretty!

  ‘Well, look who’s here!’ a familiar voice said and there was Mona from the factory, standing beside her as she applied poppy red lipstick to her pert mouth.

  ‘Mona! What are you doing here? You live at Ferryhill, don’t you?’

  ‘Visiting me auntie,’ said her friend, pressing her lips together then inspecting them critically in the glass. ‘I’m here for the weekend, did I not tell you?’

  ‘You at the dance on your own?’ asked Molly. If she was, then in all civility she had to let her friend keep them company.

  ‘No, I’m with a fella.’ Mona grinned triumphantly. ‘Fast work, eh? A soldier an’ all, home on leave. I met him last night. By, he’s lovely an’ all, Molly, I think I’ve fallen for him. He likes me too, I can tell.’ She put a hand to her nape and flicked her long blonde hair back from her shoulders, arranging the front so that a lock fell forward in the manner of Veronica Lake. Her eyes twinkled up at Molly. ‘Right, let’s go. We’ll knock ’em dead, eh?’

  Molly laughed and followed her out of the cloakroom to see her walk straight over to where Jackson and Harry were waiting by the side of the stage where a five-piece band, most of whom were members of the colliery brass band, were striking up the first dance. Jackson’s face was a study as Harry seized Mona round the waist and took a whirl round the floor, completing almost a whole circuit before other couples joined them.

  ‘You dancing?’ asked Jackson, and took Molly in his arms. They too began quickstepping to ‘Dancing Cheek to Cheek’. The hall was crowded, mostly with miners
and their girls but there was a sprinkling of khaki and Air Force blue, a couple of sailors standing out in their navy blue.

  Molly was in heaven with Jackson’s arms around her. They danced a Boston two step followed by the quickstep and then a waltz and a veleta, and then it was a ladies’ excuse-me quickstep. Molly hardly heard the announcements from the stage, she was in a world of her own, dreaming away, not wanting the evening to end, she was so happy. So it was a bit of a surprise when she felt a tap on the shoulder.

  ‘Excuse me!’

  Jackson’s arms loosened reluctantly and Molly found herself left at the side of the floor while he whirled away with a girl with long black hair hanging down her back over a bright red dress which swirled out as they spun round. Feeling bereft she watched the dancers until she was caught up herself by a tall gangly youth who took her round the floor with more enthusiasm than skill. But it was not the thing to refuse to dance with anyone when you were without a partner, and anyway, she was so euphorically happy she even smiled when his foot descended with some force on hers.

  ‘Hey, watch what you’re doing!’

  They stopped abruptly as the boy cannoned into another couple, knocking the girl from the arms of her partner.

  ‘Sorry, did I hurt you?’ the lad mumbled, his face bright red.

  ‘What do you think, you clumsy oaf?’ snapped Joan Pendle, rubbing her shoulder and wincing theatrically. For that was who it was, Joan Pendle, and she was dancing with Harry. Molly gazed up at him in surprise. He looked stiff and uncomfortable.

  ‘No harm done,’ he said. ‘Come on, Joan.’ He pulled her away and set off dancing again. There were only a few bars of the music left and Molly and her partner didn’t get started before it came to an end.

  ‘Blooming cheek, hasn’t she?’ Mona was at Molly’s elbow, gazing at Joan. ‘Who is she any road?’