Only a Mother Knows Read online

  ‘And will she?’ David looked thoroughly amused. ‘Lay her paws on him, I mean.’

  ‘She wouldn’t dare, I’d scratch her eyes out.’ Dulcie let his obvious cynicism sail over her perfectly curled blonde head.

  ‘I think you would, too.’ David could hold in his mirth no longer and laughed aloud. ‘Only someone as beautiful as you could say a thing like that and make it sound inevitable, Dulcie. You are such a tonic.’

  ‘Why thank you, kind sir, I do agree.’ She, too, laughed now. ‘Oh, you are such a good friend, David,’ she said eventually, ‘but you’ve delighted me long enough and I must be off.’ She gathered her bag and gloves from the bed. ‘I’ll see you soon, don’t go home without letting me know what day, I don’t want to waste my time coming all the way down here to see just anybody.’

  ‘Heaven forfend, Dulcie.’ David’s remark was laced with a tinge of irony but it was lost on her as she bent and gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek.

  ‘What would I do without you to pour my heart out to, David? Now, have you got Olive’s address?’

  ‘You gave it to me earlier,’ David smiled, nodding to the piece of paper as Dulcie fussed around the bed, uncharacteristically straightening the cover where she had been sitting – he knew she wouldn’t want people to think she was a slut and couldn’t tidy up after herself.

  David nodded, but before he could say anything Dulcie, with swaying hips and the clip-clip heels of her ankle-band peep-toed shoes, moved towards the door at the end of the nightingale ward. When she reached it she turned and blew him a kiss and waved.

  ‘Toodle-oo for now,’ she mouthed, not waiting to see David raise his one good arm and wave back.

  Only a Mother Knows

  THREE

  In the woods beyond the hospital, one of Dulcie’s fellow lodgers, Sally, was walking with her fiancé, New Zealander George Laidlaw. Sally’s two-year-old half-sister, Alice, was between them as, securely, they each held one of her hands.

  Sally and George had originally met when she had left Liverpool to work as a nurse at Bart’s hospital in London where George had been training as a registrar. George was now working in East Grinstead under Archibald McIndoe. When the war was finally over they planned to marry and live in New Zealand close to George’s parents.

  ‘Have you had no word yet from Callum about us adopting Alice when we get married?’ asked George over the child’s head.

  ‘Not yet,’ Sally answered. ‘I’m not sure where his ship is and it may be difficult to get post to him. But I don’t think he’ll object, he wants what’s best for her, that he brought her straight to me when her parents were killed goes to prove it.’ A small shadow crossed Sally’s face. She had been adamant she would have nothing to do with her orphaned half-sister when Callum brought her late that night. After all, it was Callum’s sister, Morag, who had been her best friend before betraying her in the worst possible way by marrying Sally’s father within months of his wife’s death and had then become pregnant with Alice.

  It had come as a great shock and Sally, usually so caring, was determined that Alice should be handed over to the authorities and put into a children’s home. Olive, her wonderful landlady, had taken over in that gentle way she had and before she knew what had happened for sure, Sally discovered the little girl had found a place in her heart.

  Now she couldn’t envisage a life without her any more than she could imagine one without her darling, steady and caring George, whom she loved so very much. It seemed laughable that she had once had a youthful crush on Callum, who’d been a school teacher before joining the Royal Navy, imagining herself in love with him.

  ‘Swing!’ Alice commanded firmly, bringing Sally out of her reverie and causing the two adults to exchange understanding looks before obliging the toddler and lifting her off her feet in a swinging motion that had her laughing with innocent delight before demanding, ‘More, Georgie, more …’

  Georgie was her own special name for George and it never failed to touch Sally’s heart to see how much the little girl adored him and how very much she was adored in return.

  ‘Every day she reminds me more of Morag,’ Sally told him as they strolled through the leafy wood and was quite surprised when he said, ‘She has your mannerisms.’ She had never imagined the child had watched her so closely as to pick up her ways and those of the other girls back in Article Row, where she also loved trotting around in Olive’s heels ‘helping her’ around the house. Sally knew that one day she would tell Alice the story of her parents and her loving home. She was determined now that the child would know the security and happiness of that kind of secure home life.

  In Hyde Park another member of the household at number 13 was also enjoying the July sunshine. Tilly, Olive’s eighteen-year-old daughter, was sitting on the grass with her head in her American boyfriend Drew’s lap, whilst she read the newspaper article that carried his by-line.

  ‘Oh, Drew, it’s sooo good,’ she exclaimed when she had finished. ‘I do wish you’d let me read your book though.’

  ‘It’s our book,’ he told her, ‘but I don’t want you to read it until it’s finished. You know that,’ Drew reminded her, as he had done every time she begged him to let her read the book he’d started writing shortly after his arrival in London after the beginning of the war. But he softened his refusal with a tender smile and Tilly smiled back.

  ‘I can’t wait for you to finish and for it to be published. I think it should be published now.’

  ‘It won’t be finished until the war is over,’ said Drew, ‘and besides, there isn’t any paper to publish new books at the moment.’

  ‘That’s so true,’ Tilly said with a tinge of regret. ‘Like so much else,’ she mused as the country prepared to enter its fourth year of the war in September. ‘You could get it published if you took it back home to America. Your father owns a newspaper and publishing group after all.’

  Immediately Drew sighed and then took hold of both Tilly’s hands, gently pulling her upright so they could face each other.

  ‘You know I can’t do that, Tilly,’ he said firmly. ‘My father wants only one thing from me and that is to step into his shoes and take over the business – to live the life he wants me to live and not the life I want to live.’ With you, he thought silently.

  ‘There’s nothing I want more than for you to be here with me, you know that, Drew, but I can’t help feeling guilty sometimes. Your family, especially your mother, must miss you so much.’

  Drew sighed again. He knew that he’d never be able to make Tilly understand how different his family values were to those of her own. Tilly might be an only child, but Olive had given her far more love and a happier, more secure childhood than he’d had from his parents and his sisters too. There was a coldness that came ultimately from his father and it affected everything he grasped in his icy, domineeringly cruel embrace in the same way as the warmth that came from Olive’s love for her daughter reached out to all around her.

  ‘They might miss the person they want me to be, a figment of my father’s imagination,’ said Drew, ‘but that person isn’t me, Tilly.’ He looked away for a moment and then turned to her again, his eyes red-rimmed as if he was stemming unshed tears. ‘Please believe me when I tell you, honey, that I have spent the happiest days of my life here with you and your family.’

  Tilly gave him a look of adoring love, although as her mother had brought her up to be considerate to others she felt compelled to say, ‘America is your home though, Drew, and seeing so many of your fellow countrymen over here since America joined the war must make you feel so homesick. I know it would make me feel unsettled.’

  It was true, Drew thought as he paused for thought, seeing so many young Americans filling London’s streets had caused him some sharp pangs of patriotism and pride in his country and his fellow man, and as he and Tilly had vowed to always be honest with one another he knew that it would be an insult to Tilly’s intelligence to deny ever missing America. />
  ‘Yes, it does,’ he admitted, ‘and yes, there are any number of things that I love and miss about my homeland, but nowhere near as many as I love and would miss about you if we were to be parted. England is your home and I hope it will one day be mine too. You are my home. You are my life and you always will be. Always.’

  ‘Oh, Drew,’ was all Tilly could say before he took her in his arms.

  It wasn’t the done thing to kiss publicly in the street, but right now it seemed the most natural thing in the world, and for every disapproving look they received there were many more indulgent smiles from passers-by. It was wartime after all and who could blame a young couple who were so obviously in love for wanting to share every kiss they could?

  A while later Drew told her softly, ‘I don’t feel I am making a sacrifice or that I would secretly prefer it if we made our home in the States. The truth is …’ He looked into the distance, across the park and sighed. ‘The truth is that by being here with you I feel like I’ve escaped from something and someone I was afraid I might have become. I’m a writer. I knew that deep down before I knew what it really meant. Nobody back home understands that.’

  Again, that sense of fairness instilled into Tilly by her mother had her playing devil’s advocate in support of Drew’s absent family. ‘But surely once they see how important it is to you?’

  ‘No, Tilly. That will never happen. My family are different to you, they live by a different code of ethics than the ones you know. Money, and the power it brings, is what means the most to them. My father thinks he can buy anything or anybody and he usually does.’

  Hearing the sadness, even despair, in Drew’s voice, Tilly was reluctant to press him any further. They had talked before on many occasions of his family situation, and the wishes of his father with regard to Drew’s own future.

  ‘London is where my book is set,’ Drew said as if she didn’t already know. ‘It is peopled by Londoners I have met and talked to all through the war … It’s where you are.’ He pulled her close to him, his heart thumping heavily, and he saw the way she looked at him, her love for him so openly and honestly on display. He knew that Tilly wasn’t the kind of girl to play games with a man she loved, and if that made her feel vulnerable it also made him more protective of her, he acknowledged as he cupped her face to kiss her.

  Tilly didn’t object to his public show of love. Why should she? She loved being kissed by Drew and fervently wished they did more than just kiss, but Drew was insistent that they did not cross the line her mother had drawn. And they weren’t the only couple taking advantage of the warm sunny afternoon after the disappointment of the Whitsun Bank Holiday earlier in the year and Hyde Park was full of people out to enjoy themselves despite the war.

  ‘I can’t think straight when you kiss me like that,’ Tilly giggled when he finally released her, ‘and you know it. I just wish …’ All the longing in her passionate nature was there in her voice as well as the look she was giving him whilst Drew’s heart slammed in his ribs.

  ‘It is tempting and would be so easy for us to go back to my lodgings right now … And then I could truly make you mine forever.’ He wasn’t going to do that though and not just because her mother wouldn’t approve. He had his own sense of honour and he had his love for Tilly. Their wedding wasn’t going to be a rushed event with the eyes of the guests wondering if their first child would be born ‘early’. ‘I know what you wish, but our love for each other is something we will have all our lives, Tilly. I, too, want us to be together as husband and wife and we shall be. Your mom just wants to protect you and make sure I don’t take advantage, that’s all.’

  ‘I know that,’ Tilly was forced to concede, loving him even more if that was possible.

  ‘It won’t be long until you’re twenty-one and your mom will have no say in the matter then.’

  ‘She did say we could be married in the June before my twenty-first birthday. It feels like a lifetime away,’ Tilly groaned. ‘Do you think we will still be at war then, Drew?’

  As she stepped off the train at Blackfriars and crossed the busy road, ominous dark clouds were low in the sky. Dulcie raised the collar of her belted herringbone coat and fixed her black felt sailor-style hat with a rhinestone pin, securing it through the upturned brim in such a way as to show off her beauty to its best advantage. She patted the higher left side of the hat to a jaunty angle over her shiny blonde curls. With the black leather clutch bag firmly under her arm she raised her chin and made her way to the bus stop where she would catch her bus to Holborn.

  If she was lucky she would be in time to join Tilly and Olive, who were going to the pictures to see the Three Stooges. After a full week in the munitions factory she felt she deserved a good laugh; the film was on at the Rimini and she had been dying to see it. Although Olive would probably want to go and see the new Greer Garson film, Mrs Miniver. However, Dulcie had to admit that even though Walter Pidgeon was easy on the eye, she’d seen enough of bomb-damaged London streets to last her a lifetime.

  Wilder, as was usual lately, was on flying duty this evening and she had nothing better to do. She was walking along Queen Victoria Street still in view of Blackfriars railway station when a flash of someone familiar caught her eye. But just as quickly she was gone again. For a moment, Dulcie thought she had caught sight of her sister, Edith, heading towards the train station carrying a suitcase.

  How ridiculous.

  Smiling to herself, Dulcie realised that she might be tired after all. Fancy imagining a thing like that, she thought, straining to catch another glimpse through the crowds, especially when she knew well enough that their Edith had just landed the part of leading lady in the West End show Lucky Girl. It was the kind of show Edith had dreamed of playing a starring role in all her life. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to go from understudy to star as the original leading lady had gone down with chicken pox. So Dulcie couldn’t see her sister hopping on a train with her suitcase packed and miss the best role of her career so far.

  Yet as Dulcie zigzagged between the horse-drawn carts and slow-moving rush-hour traffic she saw the girl again. In astonishment Dulcie stopped dead in the middle of the road and was almost run down by a trolley bus.

  The dipping sun caught the glint of her sister’s unmistakeable titian curls as the familiar beaver-lamb box jacket swung around Edith’s inimitable snake-slim hips. She was carrying the dark brown cardboard suitcase that had once belonged to their father and was hurrying towards Blackfriars station. Dulcie lost sight of her momentarily as the crowd surged forth. But as it dispersed there were only two people left on the pavement, their lips glued together in a passionate kiss, and she was right – one of them definitely was Edith.

  Hurrying to cross the road towards her younger sister, Dulcie wanted to know what Edith was playing at, seeing as her name was all over the front of the theatre with ‘sold out’ plastered right across it. Why was she carrying a suitcase? She had a show to do that evening. And that was when Dulcie saw who Edith was kissing.

  For a long, painful moment her heart seemed to ricochet against her ribcage. She recognised the leather flying jacket with the American wings on the sleeve and she knew for certain that the man kissing Edith so passionately and so blatantly in the middle of the street was none other than Wilder.

  Dulcie’s mouth dried and her heart sank to her shoes. Edith had done some unpleasant things in her time but even Dulcie wouldn’t have suspected her sister of something as callous as this betrayal. How could she be so cruel as to steal her man? But as Dulcie’s temper rose she was able to grasp that if her sister could be so heartless as to allow their parents to believe she was dead, she was capable of anything. Dulcie’s teeth clamped so tightly together it made her head ache and she knew that if she could possibly get her hands on the hennaed head of her deceitful sister right now there was no telling what she might do.

  However, she was spared the chance as the couple moved towards the entrance of the railway station. Edith and
Wilder seemed blind to those around them. If Dulcie hadn’t seen it with her own eyes she doubted she would have believed her sister could act so wantonly in the middle of the street. She had been all but eating Wilder alive and he was doing nothing to stop her. Although, Dulcie realised with a sickening lurch, him being a red-blooded male he wouldn’t resist, would he? In fact from what she could see, he was actively encouraging Edith’s scandalous intimacy and taking part with as much enthusiasm! But she didn’t have time to confront them before they suddenly parted and hurried inside the train station.

  Angry beyond reason, Dulcie only just stopped herself from pursuing them, understanding her pride wouldn’t allow such a thing, and turning now, she hurried so quickly down the road that her ankle strap snapped.

  What did she expect, she fumed, her face ablaze with indignation as she scraped her shoe along the pavement, nothing was any good these days. Shoddy shoes. Shoddy boyfriends and even shoddier sisters!

  The brazen hussy could never keep her hands to herself, Dulcie silently raged, trying to ignore the curious stares of passers-by, knowing Edith always wanted what she had and thought nothing of taking whatever she fancied without asking. In fact, thought Dulcie as the acid bile rose to her throat, the more she liked something – or someone – the more Edith wanted it. It was like an obsession. But Dulcie also knew that when Edith had taken her fill she would discard Wilder like one of her pretty blouses. Well, she thought grimly, when he came scuttling back with his tail between his legs she would damn well chop it off!

  Only a Mother Knows

  FOUR

  Angry, salty tears coursed down Dulcie’s cheeks making her mascara run and blurring her vision. She knew she couldn’t possibly get on a bus looking such a sight, and then a thunderclap broke the clouds and the pewter sky released great splashes of rain onto her ashen face, soaking her beautifully styled hair. At any other time she would have been mortified at being seen in such a chaotic state. But what did it matter now? How could her sister be so brazen, she thought as she hurried to the shelter of the bus stop to gather her thoughts and retreat from this deluge. How could Wilder be so callous?