Painting by Numbers
by
Sally Patricia Gardner
Smashwords Edition.
Copyright Sally Patricia Gardner 2008
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Juliet
I suppose that I always knew that my dad was dead. Well, he certainly wasn’t around. Everyone lowered their voices and looked away from me if the subject of fathers came up. When I asked Mum, as I did quite a lot, where he was, she said:
“He’s up in heaven, watching over you, Juliet.” Then she added, “And he’ll be very cross if you are naughty.”
I didn’t find this either enlightening or encouraging, so I spent quite a lot of time writing him little notes with pictures of flowers round the border. I thought that the flowers might have a kind of celestial association. And they were the only thing that I could draw that was even remotely recognisable. I asked my dad to leave heaven, and come back and live with us. So I could have a dad like everyone else. A proper one who couldn’t see when I sneaked my books into the toilet to read, or deliberately made myself late for school and, when I got there lied, that Mum had been ill.
I kept the notes until there was a high wind. Then I tore them into little pieces and threw them out of my bedroom window. I was convinced they flew straight up to heaven and that my dad would read them and come home.
Soon after, my Gran took me to see Bambi. All the other kids in our street had seen it. They said it was smashing, so I was really excited. First of all it was funny and nice and we laughed a lot, and Gran bought me an ice cream when the usherette came round.
Then Bambi’s mother was shot. Dead. Bambi didn’t understand what had happened at first. Neither did I. I thought she’d come back, you see. I didn’t understand that dying was forever. Not until Bambi’s mother died.
But then I knew that my dad wasn’t going to come back either. So I’d better get on with my life without him.
Part One
Juliet – 1949
Mr Grimley, the school dentist, is coming today. Brr! Last time he came he stuck that probe thing so far down my throat that I was nearly sick. His surgery is just down the road so I don’t know why he has to come to the school. Every time he comes he says we have all got bad teeth and need something done. He drilled a hole in one of my teeth last time we had to go to him and then he filled it with horrid tasting metal stuff.
I was sick for several days afterwards – I mean really sick – I kept throwing up over everything. After a bit Mum said she’d had enough of that and she took me to another dentist who took the filling out and put another one in. It all hurt a lot. Both the dentists kept saying that I must be brave but I didn’t feel very brave, especially as I thought my tooth was alright in the first place. But I did stop being sick, so I suppose the second dentist was better than the first one.
Miss Pearson is clapping her hands. “Stand up, children, and form an orderly queue at the door.” She has this high, squeaky voice, which is quite funny as she is very tall and you think her voice is going to be deep. “Chop, chop, now, Juliet, what are you doing? Stop chattering to Leslie, please and both of you get up here at once.”
We weren’t ‘chattering’. I was asking Les if his Mum was feeling better because she was in hospital. Les’s aunt is staying with them to look after him and his sister and their dad. I think she is quite nice but I know he is longing for his mum to come home. As we joined the queue he shook his head at me so I knew things were still as bad. Poor old Les.
In the playground later we all tell each other what Mr Grimley had said to us. As we expected, everyone is going to need a tooth out or a filling done. My best friend Myrtle said she’d rather have hers out because it was quicker and didn’t hurt so much.
“You can have false teeth like my mum,” said Graham.
We all knew that Graham’s mum had her teeth taken out when she got married to Graham’s dad. His firm had paid for her to have false teeth as a wedding present. My mum said that he must have a very good job for them to give him such an expensive wedding present, because it meant that they would never have to pay for dental treatment for her.
Les said, “I think Mr Grimley just says we need things done so that he can get paid for doing them.”
We were shocked into silence for a minute.
“I don’t think he gets paid,” I said. “He just wants to make sure our teeth are alright.”
“Oh, Juliet,” said Les, “you are so silly sometimes.”
I was a bit hurt by this and Myrtle jumped to my defence.
“She’s not silly. You wouldn’t say that if she was a boy. He doesn’t get paid, so there. It’s all part of the National Health Service and dentists do it for free, my Dad’s told me all about it.”
Far from being chastened by this rebuke, Les simply raised his eyebrows in a most annoying fashion and kicked an imaginary football to Graham, who fielded it and ran off dribbling it with Les in hot pursuit.
“Boys!”
Myrtle managed to put a considerable amount of contempt into the word. As she had three brothers I guessed she probably knew what she was talking about. I was a bit worried by what Les had said, though. If you couldn’t trust grown-ups to be honest, who could you trust?
When I got home from school that afternoon Mum was really quiet. I could always tell the minute I went through the door when something was wrong. It was as if there was a sort of ice-cold sheet hanging inside the house and you could feel the chill straight away.
“Hallo, Mum,” I said cautiously.
She was sitting at the kitchen table writing and she didn’t look up.
“Hallo, Juliet.”
I knew from the tone of her voice that I must have done something wrong. I tried frantically to think what my crime might have been but drew a blank. After a minute of standing in the doorway fiddling with the ribbons on my plaits, I decided to pretend that I thought everything was alright.
“Can I have a biscuit, please?”
“No. Go to your room. I will come and see you in a minute. And don’t go upstairs in those shoes, put your slippers on.”
I could tell it was something serious. I was obviously meant to go and contemplate my misdemeanours. Usually I had an inkling as to what they might be, but today I was genuinely clueless. I took my slippers from the cupboard in the hall and put my shoes in their place.
Then I went and sat on the bed to wait, being careful not to mess up the cotton spread and eiderdown. They were in pretty shades of green and Mum liked me to make the bed so they looked sort of untouched, like new. I quite enjoyed doing that, because Gran had given them to me and I wanted to keep them nice but it was difficult not to crumple them when you had nowhere else to sit.
After a bit I got fed up with sitting there trying not to crease up everything, so I decided to straighten up the bed and lie on the floor. I fetched a book from my little book case and rolled over on my tummy to read. I was soon deep in the adventures of The Famous Five. It was quite a long time before I heard Mum coming up the stairs and I jumped to my feet, jolted out of Enid Blyton’s comfortable world. Mum stood in the doorway looking at me for a long moment.
“When you do something careless, I expect you to tell me.”
She had her ‘more in sorrow than in anger’ voice on.
I still had no idea what I had done.
“I always do, Mum.”
In my story books, people who were telling the truth always looked you ‘straight in the eyes’ and I was trying hard to do this. You always knew the liars because they stammered and looked away from you.
Obviously this was a theory that I was going to have to re-examine as, “Don’t lie to me,” was her immediate response.
The next moment she grasped my hand and pulled me out of the room and down the stairs behind her. I was struggling not to fall and could feel the tears welling up. We stopped in the entrance to the dining room.
Mum crossed to the table and threw back the chenille cloth that normally covered it.
“Look!”
I came closer and peered at the surface of the highly polished table. I could see that something had been spilt on it and removed some of the gloss.
“That mark was not there yesterday. You made it and did not come and tell me how careless you had been. Have you any idea how hard I work to keep things nice for us? So that you can grow up in a decent house with good things around you? And this is the way you treat them.”
“I didn’t do it, Mum. It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it.”
She pushed past me into the hall and came back holding an envelope.
“The lady from the school board came to see me today. Now that you are nearly ten, you are entitled to a free place at Gordon’s School in Surrey, through your father’s regiment. I told her that I would think about it. Surrey is a very long way from Brighton and obviously you would have to be a boarder. I am told it is a very strict school. I think it may be just what you need.”
I was filled with panic. The thought of being sent away from home in my beloved Brighton, having to leave my school and friends and Mum and Grandmother was more than I could cope with.
“No, please don’t send me away. Please, Mum, don’t send me away. I’ll be really good, I’ll never be naughty ever again, I promise, I promise,” I babbled hysterically.
“So does that mean you are going to tell me the truth?”
“Yes, I did it, I did it.”
I was nearly incoherent by this time, frantically praying that she wouldn’t ask me for details as I had no idea what had caused the mark, and anyway, I was pretty sure it had been there for ages.
A long silence.
“Very well. We’ll forget about Gordon’s for now, but I have already written a letter of acceptance. If you don’t keep your promise, I shall post the letter.” She placed it carefully behind the clock on the mantelpiece. “You can help me polish out the stain tomorrow.” With a total change of mood, she held out her hand to me. “Come on, let’s go and make some scones for tea. You can wear my big pinny and cut the dough into shapes as I roll it out.”
Rubbing a hanky over my tear stained face, I held her hand tightly as we went into the warm kitchen.
Ellie – 1939
Her skirt was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Ellie wondered how much longer she could get away with it. Mr Dawlish had made much of his generosity in continuing to employ her, a married woman, even though they both knew that she was his best buyer by a long way. It had been her eye for the unusual and flamboyant pottery of Clarice Cliffe that had first put the Brighton shop on the map. She’d not been much more than a kid herself when she first saw the Bizarre ware that the salesman brought round.
“Oh,” she had gasped, holding a small pot at arms length. “The colours are amazing , like great splashes of sun and sea.”
Mr Dawlish had been watching as Miss Brierly, the buyer, took the pot from Ellie. She regarded it with less enthusiasm. “I suppose it has a certain, well, vigour,” she said with a slight sniff, “but I find it a trifle vulgar. Not the kind of thing for Wests at all. Our customers like far more delicate designs.” She swept into the stockroom, leaving Ellie with the salesman.
Ellie looked longingly at the pot. “How much would it cost?” she asked.
The salesman sighed. “Too much for you, love. At least three quid.”
She nodded. “Yes. I thought so. Still, I think it’s worth it. I wish Miss Brierly had ordered some, we could have done a lovely window. I’m sure lots of people would have bought them.”
Mr Dawlish came up behind her. He didn’t actually own the shop, but he was the manager and brother of the owner so Ellie knew that he had a big say in what went on there. He reached for the little pot and looked at it for a long time. Then he gave it back to the salesman and followed Miss Brierly into the stockroom. She emerged almost immediately.
“It seems that Mr Dawlish wishes to give some of these items a trial in our shop,” she informed him haughtily. “If you follow me we will discuss our order.”
The salesman gave Ellie a triumphant wink behind her back and mouthed ‘thank you’.
When the pottery arrived, Mr Dawlish had broken with protocol and asked Ellie to dress the window. She was scared but confident. Within three days, her vibrant window display had disappeared because every piece of the china had sold. Customers, including a famous romantic novelist, had come from as far away as Worthing to see and then stayed to buy. The romantic novelist had come in a large car and had stopped on her way out of the shop to speak to Ellie. Miss
Brierly was not amused. Soon after that day, she was offered, and accepted, a position in the town’s largest drapers. A month later, Ellie was the youngest buyer Wests had ever appointed.
She had been on top of the world. Her wages were nearly doubled and she was able to give her mother more for her keep than she had ever imagined. She even had enough left to buy some of the pieces that had made it all happen. Her mother didn’t share her enthusiasm for the pots and plates and vases, so Ellie, treating herself to a piece each month, kept it all in a big suitcase under her bed.
‘My bottom drawer,’ she told herself. For when she met Mr Right.
By the time she did meet Mr Right – and she knew immediately that she had – there were two filled cases and she was about to start on a third. The collection had grown so large partly because whenever she took a suitor home to meet her mother, the burgeoning relationship ground to a halt.
“Do you have to be quite so nasty to my boy-friends?” asked Ellie.
Mother made a noise that could almost have been a snort if she had been capable of anything so common.
“I need to know that you are not bringing riff-raff into the family.”
And another prospect bit the dust. But, until Colin, she hadn’t really minded that much. She loved her job, and with her closest friend, Rose, went every weekend to the Regent ballroom where they danced their feet off and flirted with all the eligible young men.
Once a year the town staged an enormous carnival and Wests entered a float which the two girls helped decorate and then adorned with their presence, to the enthusiastic cheers of their respective swains. It seemed to Ellie that her life was nearly perfect and, with the perspective of youth, she saw no reason why it should ever end. But then there was Colin and her world changed forever.
She was at the Regent when she met him. She had been dancing with Don, one of her regular escorts. He had asked her to marry him twice but she hadn’t taken him seriously enough to risk taking him home to meet her mother. She thought he was fun and had a feeling that was really as far as things would go between them. She guessed that he probably felt the same way.
They had just finished a very energetic foxtrot. Ellie knew that it was showy rather than expert but that was fine by her. Laughing, she allowed Don to lead her back to the table where she and Rose were sitting with some of the girls from the shop. As she sat down she looked up and met a pair of the darkest brown eyes she had ever seen. Their owner was sitting alone at the next table and he smiled across at her. Smiling back, she waited for him to get to his feet and ask her for the next dance as the band went into a slow waltz, but Don was there first with an elaborate bow. Smilingly, she pleaded breathlessness and sent him off with one of the other girls.
She waited to see if brown eyes would make the first move. Ellie had the confidence of a pretty girl in familiar surroundings, and when he did not move, she went and sat beside him.
“Have you been here before?” she asked, knowing that if he had she would have seen him.
He shook his head. “No. I’ve never been south before.”
She giggled. “That’s why you’ve got such a funny accent – oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I like it.”
“I’m Scottish and I’ve been in the army for some years,” he told her, “but I came out of it last month and soon discovered that there was no work near my home. Nor anywhere in Scotland, as far as I could see. A friend told me there was a real call for site managers down south with all the building going on and I thought I could do that. So I took a chance, came down, and found a job almost straight away. I’ve just been put in charge of the new estate that’s going up in Patcham. So I think this will be my home for some time to come.”
Ellie looked into those dark brown eyes again, and with a self assurance that she didn’t know she possessed said, “I hope that means we shall meet again.”
“So do I,” he replied.
Two months later Ellie took him home to meet her mother.
After long discussions Colin and Ellie had decided that the direct approach was the best.
“My mother will put you through the ‘silent routine’,” Ellie explained. “Leaving it to you to make all the conversation. It’s what she always does. Jump straight in and tell her that we are engaged and are going to get married. Perhaps she will decide to be nice to you when she understands that we mean it.”
She had been overly optimistic. Eighteen months later, easing her jumper down over her tightening skirt, Ellie recalled all too vividly her mother’s words as Colin outlined their plans.
“And can you keep her?” Mother’s expectation of a negative response was tangible.
“Indeed I can, and I will,” replied Colin, although they both knew that she was going to have to continue at Wests if they were to afford the rent on the house in Brighton that they liked.
“Her father left me. When she was a baby. For a whore. How do I know that you won’t do the same to her?”
Ellie had never heard this before. On the rare occasions that she had asked about her father, her mother had always said that it was her decision to leave him. When Ellie had inquired why, she had been told that it was none of her business, and that they were better off without him. And she had certainly never heard her mother use words like ‘whore’. She began to tremble. But worse was to come. Colin held her hand very tightly.
“I will love Ellie forever. We are not children. This is not some passing fancy. I have come here to ask for your blessing on our marriage, but I should tell you that I intend to marry Ellie with or without it.”
Silence. Then Ellie’s mother rose to her feet. “I would rather see you dead on the floor than married to my daughter.” And she left the room.
Ellie could feel the tears welling up but Colin forestalled them. “Go and pack, Ellie. You can stay with Rose while I sort out the house and everything. I will wait for you down here.”
So she did. They left the house hand in hand, Colin carrying the two heavy suitcases that held most of her precious ‘bottom drawer’ china and Ellie festooned with brown paper carrier bags that held everything else. Her mother remained in her room.
Four weeks later, in a bleak registry office with Rose and Mr Dawlish as their witnesses, they were married. Just as the short ceremony began, Ellie heard the door open. Glancing behind, she saw her mother enter. Colin also saw and squeezed her hand tightly. They turned back to the Registrar and the service continued. The formalities over, Mr Dawlish shook hands with them both and even went so far as to give Ellie a peck on the cheek. Rose threw her arms round them both in an exuberant embrace.
“You two are just made for each other,” she declared.
“Let us hope so,” came the voice of Ellie’s mother. Crossing to the newly-weds she held her face to each of them for a kiss. “I have prepared a wedding breakfast at home and there is a taxi outside which I think will take us all,” she announced, leading the way imperiously.
After a startled moment they all followed in her wake.
“A truce of sorts?” murmured Colin.
Ellie’s face was radiant. “I think so,” she whispered in reply.
“Then let’s make the most of it. Long may it last!”
And it had, Ellie reflected. Although Minnie had never admitted as much to her daughter, Ellie suspected she was increasingly charmed by her son-in-law. Ellie was delighted that the two most important people in her life were ‘making an effort’ as Rose put it. Everything seemed to be turning out well after all. However, none of them anticipated that, with the possibility of a war with Germany looming on the horizon, Colin might be recalled to the army. Neither Ellie nor her mother had fully realised the implications that, as an ex-soldier, he was still a reservist. Colin had just hoped and prayed that it would not happen. But it did.
So here she was, five months pregnant and desperately trying to stop it showing, as Ellie knew she would lose her job as soon as it did. She loved their little house in Kemp Town but Colin’s salary as an army private was less than he had been earning as a civilian. Her mother constantly suggested that she should come back home to live, “and I can help you with the baby.”
Ellie had fought too hard for her independence to give it up so easily. She made a silent vow that, no matter what, she would manage. Perhaps the threat of war would pass, and Colin, who was ecstatic at the thought of becoming a father, would be released from the army and their life would be back on course. She asked God for this every night, on her knees beside their double bed. So far He hadn’t taken much notice, but Ellie comforted herself by remembering Mr Chamberlain’s promise of ‘peace in our time’.
Financial salvation came from an unexpected quarter. Rose had recently married and she and her husband were living with his family. Although it was a big old house in one of Brighton’s Regency squares, Rose was finding the situation claustrophobic. Unlike Ellie, she had been asked to resign on her marriage. She had never aspired to a higher position in the shop, being quite happy as a sales assistant, so was not as useful to Mr Dawlish as Ellie.
Her mother-in-law treated Rose as a full-time drudge now that she was not earning, and Robert, her husband, was a salesman on commission, which was not a very lucrative position. Coming into the shop one day Rose confided in Ellie that the rent they were paying to his mother was making it unlikely that they would ever be able to have a place of their own. Ellie was astonished to learn how much they were paying Robert’s family. She did some quick calculations.
“Come and live with me. You can have the two upstairs rooms and we’ll share the kitchen and the bathroom. And you needn’t pay me as much as that.”
Rose was delighted, and Robert did not take much persuading. A month later they moved in.
By then Ellie had already left Wests, having given the required two weeks notice, but Mr Dawlish, saying that she looked ‘a trifle peaky’ had suggested that she leave straight away. Even though he would have incredibly obtuse not to have noticed, it was unthinkable that she should tell him she was pregnant. Gentlemen only discussed such matters with their wives.
As a leaving present he gave her a Bizarre vase to go with the jug that had been her wedding present. The girls clubbed together and gave her a matching honey pot. She said that she would cherish them forever and added them to her growing collection.
Three months later, Ellie gave birth to a daughter. Soon after their wedding, Colin had been given tickets for Romeo and Juliet at Brighton’s famous Theatre Royal. They were mesmerised by the beauty of the play, the almost tangible feeling of Mediterranean heat coming off the stage, and the tragic fate of the lovers. They talked of it for days afterwards.
“A great love, just like ours,” declared Colin, “but we are going to live happily ever after.”
Colin was given compassionate leave to come and see his baby daughter. Her dark hair fell in tiny curls round her face.
“Like a changeling,” said Ellie, disconcerted.
But when Colin saw her he lifted her high in the air with joy, and as she gurgled down at him he said, “My own Juliet, the second great love of my life,” and turning to Ellie, “she is going to be so beautiful, like her mother. I think Juliet suits her, don’t you?”
Ellie sometimes thought that she had never understood happiness until she met Colin. It shone out of her now. “Of course. What else could we possibly call her?”
And so Juliet was named.
Juliet – 1950
Myrtle was late for school this morning so I had to wait until playtime to tell her my news. Mr Smithers is our class teacher this year and no-one dares so much as whisper during lessons. Graham passed me a note last term during composition and Mr Smithers saw him and hit him so hard round the head with his ruler that Graham’s ear bled all over the desk. Mr Smithers just gave him the blackboard duster to hold on it and made him go outside till it stopped. He says that we have to understand the meaning of discipline, which he learnt in the army. I hope no-one ever hit my dad round the head with a ruler.
As soon as we were let into the playground I went rushing up to Myrtle and pulled her over to the shelters. You can’t go down in them any more, of course, they are all shut up, but if you sit on the roof you can get away from the boys crashing around all over the place with their silly footballs. Myrtle had a sherbet fountain and she doesn’t like the liquorice straw much so she gave that to me and scooped the sherbet out with her finger.
“Guess what?” I said, in between sucking the straw, “We are going to have ‘paying guests’”
Myrtle was not as excited as I had been by this information. “You mean your mum’s going to take in lodgers?” she asked, as she tipped out the last of the sherbet into her hand.
“No, Mum says they are ‘paying guests’ and will all be ladies and gentlemen.” I knew that this was the difference between lodgers and paying guests.
Myrtle was still less impressed than I had expected. “My dad says we’d have to be really broke to take in lodgers.”
At that moment the bell rang and we lined up to go back into school. It occurred to me for the first time that perhaps we were broke. Mum crocheted doilies and sold them to the shop she used to work at in the town. She also embroidered tray cloths and stuff like that. But it all took a long time. I remembered her saying to Gran last Sunday as we were leaving her house, “Don’t worry, I’ll pay it back very soon.”
When I got home from school, Mum was in the kitchen. I knew better than to blurt out the questions that had begun to whiz round in my head. Probably just as well as Mum seemed to be in a very good mood. She turned to me with a big smile, “We have to do out your room this evening, Juliet. Mr and Mrs Lancaster are going to move in next week, and they will have the upstairs rooms, so we have to get everything ready for them. We are very lucky to have them: they are a lovely young couple.”
This certainly was a bit of a facer. It had never occurred to me that the ‘paying guests’ might want my bedroom. I realised that I hadn’t given a thought to the practicalities of the situation. We had a quick supper of egg and chips and then we started to pack up my room. Mum told me that the sitting room was going to be our bedroom and that sharing would be fun. It didn’t take long to bring my things downstairs. We put some of my jigsaws and books into a bag to take to the Children’s Hospital in Dyke Road, because they were too young for me now.
Mum said that I could keep my bookcase because Gran had given it to me on my ninth birthday, and it was my best ever present, so we emptied it and carried it down the stairs between us. By the time I had brought all my books down, and then put them back on the shelves after we found a place for the bookcase, I was quite tired, so Mum said that we could stop. She said that she had a man coming to move some of the bigger furniture around the next day and we could finish when that was done.
It felt very strange that night as my bed was the only thing left in the room. All my teddies had gone downstairs. I even missed the silly old kite that Mum had given me last Christmas that was usually propped up in the corner. I had tried to fly it a couple of times but there hardly ever seemed to be enough wind. On the one occasion that there was, I couldn’t hold on to it, and Mum got cross with me because she had to run up the beach after it. I wouldn’t have said, of course, but I didn’t actually like the kite much. What I’d really wanted was a musical box like Myrtle’s, with a ballerina on top who goes round in circles when you wind her up and the music plays. She looks just like Moira Shearer in The Red Shoes. Myrtle says the tune is from a ballet called Swan Lake. She lets me wind it up sometimes and I pretend that it belongs to me. It is so beautiful. I expect it cost too much for Mum. Myrtle’s dad has been talking about buying a car so they must be quite rich.
The empty bedroom felt very creepy. I went right down under the covers so I was almost invisible. My brain might say there was nothing out there in the dark looking for me, but the rest of me wasn’t so sure. I must have gone to sleep for a bit because I woke up with a start and it was still night time. I could hear this noise coming from downstairs. I couldn’t work out what it was, but it felt sort of sad, not scary. I told myself that I was too big now to yell for Mum and, feeling very brave, I slid out of bed and opened my door very quietly.
Peering through the banisters I could see Mum sitting over her tray cloths in the dining room. Only she wasn’t embroidering. Her head was on the table and she was making this big sobbing noise. I didn’t know that grown ups cried. I was glued to the stairs but I somehow knew that I mustn’t let her see me. Suddenly she said in funny, gaspy sort of voice, “Why did you leave me? I loved you so much. How am I going to manage without you?”
I crept silently back to my bed, pushing my fist into my mouth to stop me crying too.
When I got home from school the next day all our bedroom furniture was downstairs. Mum gave me the bottom drawer of her dressing table for my clothes and a bit of her big wardrobe for my coat. We both hung our dressing gowns on the door. I wondered if mine would stop changing into nasty people when I woke in the dark now it was next to Mum’s. It didn’t matter much not having a sitting room because we didn’t use it a lot anyway, just at Christmas or when one of Mum’s friends came to see us. The sofa and armchairs fitted into the dining room quite nicely. We nearly always ate in the kitchen so the only thing that felt different was not going upstairs to bed.
“Tomorrow Mr and Mrs Lancaster will be here. You are always to be polite to them, Juliet, and shake their hands like a grown-up when I introduce you to them. Mr Lancaster is a teacher.” My heart sank. Mum continued, “I know that you like to listen to some of the programmes on the wireless but you must make sure it is always on very softly so that they are not disturbed.”
I nodded. I loved listening to the Light Programme, especially Take it from here and as long as it wasn’t banned I didn’t mind having it turned down.
“Are they going to help pay the rent?” I asked cautiously.
Mum looked shocked. “Whoever told you that?” she asked. “Certainly not. This is not to do with money, Juliet. People of our class don’t talk about that. It’s because they need a home and we have more space than we need, so please don’t ask any more silly questions.”
The following Saturday Mr and Mrs Lancaster moved in. She was the most beautiful lady I had ever seen in my life. She had long dark hair which fell over her face on one side and was pulled back on the other like my favourite film star, Veronica Lake. She was tall and slim and wore red trousers. I knew film actresses wore trousers but I had never seen a lady in them before. Mum introduced us and I went to shake her hand but she gathered me up in a wonderful perfumed embrace and hugged me.
“You must call me Iris,” she declared.
“Aunty Iris,” said Mum firmly. Iris looked taken aback and then laughed with a glorious tinkly sound, “‘Aunty’ Iris it is then.”
Mr Lancaster was quieter but nice. Not like any teacher that I had met, and more importantly, he didn’t seem a bit like Mr Smithers. He had loads and loads of books and I helped to carry them upstairs.
“Can I read some of them?” I asked daringly, when we were out of Mum’s range.
“Of course. Wait till they are all up here and then choose one.”
Later, as I sat on the floor going through them, Mum came and knocked on the door. “Juliet, stop worrying Mr Lancaster and come down for your supper.”
He winked at me conspiratorially and called, “She’s just coming. She has been such a help sorting these books.”
I scrambled to my feet holding a copy of David Copperfield. How could anyone resist a book with the first chapter entitled ‘I was born’? I looked questioningly at Mr Lancaster.
He grinned and nodded. “Good choice. Off you go.”
Downstairs, Aunty Iris was standing at the cooker stirring something that smelt nice in a saucepan. She and Mum were laughing together. I stood in the doorway watching them, clutching my book to my chest.
Myrtle’s dad was quite wrong, I decided. Paying guests were great!
Juliet – 1951
“Uncle Bill, are you up there? Can I come up, please? I’ve got something to show you.”
Aunty Iris’s head appeared over the banister, “Of course you can come up but Bill’s not home yet. Come and show me. I’ll make us a cup of tea.”
I scampered up the stairs waving my letter. I knew Mum was at a Women’s Institute meeting and wouldn’t be home yet, so I was safe. She had made me promise never to disturb Aunty Iris and Uncle Bill, but they said that I could disturb them anytime so we compromised. I kept my promise when Mum was there but cheerfully ignored it when she wasn’t. It suited us all.
“Collins Magazine are going to publish my story!” I was nearly exploding with excitement.
Aunty Iris took the letter from me to read. “Oh, Juliet, that is amazing. Bill will be so thrilled. Does your mum know yet?”
I shook my head. “I only found the letter when I came in just now. It must have come by the late post.”
Collins was a junior magazine with a national reputation and Uncle Bill had suggested that I send one of my stories to them. I hadn’t told them that Mum didn’t know I’d sent it off.
“She will be so proud of you.”
I hoped so. It sometimes felt that whatever I did fell short of her approval. Myrtle only had to get an occasional ‘well done’ in her composition book and her mum would make a special cake for the whole family to celebrate her achievement. It worked the other way with us. If I got less than ‘excellent’ Mum made her displeasure obvious by barely speaking to me. Sometimes I thought that it would be easier not to try. Then, if all my marks were terrible, she would get used to it eventually and everything would be a lot less worrying.
“Look,” said Aunty Iris, “they are going to send you a Parker pen and pencil.”
I grabbed the letter – I hadn’t read beyond the first sentence. “Do you think they will come in one of those special boxes, like you see in the shops?”
“I am sure they will,” replied Aunty Iris.
At that moment we both heard Uncle Bill’s key in the lock. As usual he took the stairs two at a time. As he burst through the door, Aunty Iris said, “Bill, Juliet has got some wonderful news!”
I handed over the letter, bursting with pride.
“Oh, Juliet, that is brilliant. I told you that you could do it! Look out Charles Dickens – here comes Juliet.” And he picked me up and swung me round till he lost his balance and we ended up in a giggling heap on the floor. Uncle Bill read all my stories and encouraged me to write about all sorts of things. “You can have all sorts of adventures without ever moving away from your desk, if you have the gift,” he had told me, “and you do have the gift, Juliet.”
Mum’s voice rang up the stairs, “Juliet, I hope you have been invited, and are not worrying Mr and Mrs Lancaster.”
Uncle Bill scrambled to his feet and called back, “No, Ellie, she’s not .Come and have a cup of tea with us. Juliet has some news for you.”
We all held our breath. Mum only ever came upstairs to use our shared bathroom and had politely but firmly turned down all invitations to socialise with our ‘guests’ as she always called them. There was a long silence and then we heard Mum’s footsteps on the stairs.
Aunty Iris lit the gas under the little ring in the corner of the room where she made tea and took four cups and saucers from the cupboard. I could tell she was pleased.
But as Mum appeared and knocked on the open door she saw the cups and said quickly, “No, dear, not for me. I’ve already had one at the meeting.”
Aunty Iris removed the cup and looked as if she had just failed some kind of test.
Uncle Bill stepped quickly into the breach with, “Look at this, Ellie! Juliet, show your mum the letter.”
I handed it to Mum. She read it slowly, and then said, “You didn’t tell me that you were sending them anything.”
Please, Mum, I thought, tell me that you’re thrilled, or at least that you think I’ve done well.
Uncle Bill said, “I think Juliet wanted to surprise you, Ellie. Isn’t she a clever girl?”
“What is the story about?” asked Mum, ignoring his question.
I was bursting to tell her. “It’s about a girl who has a dog and her dog gets stolen and she runs away from home to find it and meets this kind lady who…” I stopped abruptly. Mum did not look pleased.
“Well, I hope it’s not too silly if it’s going to be in a magazine. Next time you do something like this, please ask me first, Juliet.”
And she made as if to go, but Uncle Bill stopped her. “Ellie, I know Juliet sat the entrance exam for the High School last month. I’m surprised you haven’t heard yet.”
The High School was the school I wanted to go to – all the other kids wanted to go to Grammar School but I knew that I would pass my eleven plus easily so that wouldn’t be a problem. However, the High School was a fee paying school and the girls wore a lovely green uniform. It was an imposing and beautiful building, surrounded by playing fields and woodland. They had tennis courts and even an indoor swimming pool there. It should have been beyond my wildest dreams. However, I had found out that it had two annual scholarship places and Uncle Bill had persuaded Mum to let me try for one of them. I thought that I had done really well in the exams and had been offering up fervent prayers every night.
Mum turned to Uncle Bill. “They offered Juliet a place. I talked to her headmaster and we decided it was not possible. I realised that I could not afford to keep her there even with the scholarship and so I turned their offer down.”
I was stunned. Turned down! Without even discussing it with me? The day’s excitement crumpled to dust. I stared at Mum in disbelief. “How could you have done that? How could you…?” But the tears muffled my voice.
. Aunty Iris crossed to put an arm round me.
Mum said, “I did not consider that I had to discuss it with you, Juliet. You are a child. My decisions are not your business. Please come down now, and we will get tea.”
I followed her down the stairs. Later, I put the letter in the wooden box Gran had given me to keep special things in. But the magic was gone. I wondered if I would ever be able to do anything that would make Mum proud of me. Probably not, I thought. I think that was the moment I gave up trying.
Ellie – 1941
Ellie peered out of the bedroom window, hoping the knock at the front door would not wake her sleeping baby. For nearly eighteen months she had barely managed a decent night’s sleep as Juliet seemed incapable of nodding off for more than half an hour at a time. At the Mothercraft Clinic where Ellie took Juliet every week, they said that she was healthy and growing well, but had run out of suggestions as to how to cope with Juliet’s chronic insomnia.
“She’s just got a very active brain,” Mrs Salmon tried to console Ellie, “she simply doesn’t need a lot of sleep.”
“But why does she cry all the time?” asked Ellie. “I’ve hung toys all round her cot but she doesn’t look at them. She wakes up and starts to scream straight away and nothing but me holding her calms her down.”
“Some babies are just like that, I’m afraid. At least you know she’ll grow out of it eventually.”
So when Juliet had fallen asleep at nearly five o’clock this morning, Ellie had collapsed into her own bed immediately. She often wondered if you could die from tiredness. Then there was the added burden of trying to prevent Juliet from waking Rose and Robert. Ellie could not afford to lose them, and in spite of their assurances that they did not hear the baby, Ellie suspected they were already looking for another place.
Pulling back the curtain further to see who was outside she felt her whole body freeze. The telegram boy’s bike was leaning against the little hedge that bounded her miniscule front garden. A minute later, pulling her dressing gown tightly round her, she was holding a yellow envelope but her fingers were shaking too much to open it.
The boy looked at her questioningly. “Do you want me to wait for an answer, Missus?” She shook her head. They both knew it was from the War Office.
Back in the bedroom, the house shrouded in blessed silence, she opened the envelope and then sat looking into space. Finally she examined the contents.
“We regret to inform you…”
The world exploded around her. “No,” she whispered, “Please, no.”
At that moment, as if she had communicated the noise in her head to her baby, Juliet began to scream. Instinctively Ellie rose to her feet and, like a sleepwalker, picked her up. As always the child quietened immediately and as Ellie paced the room with her, she fell asleep once more on Ellie’s shoulder. Ellie felt the child’s warm breath on her neck. The tears began to run silently down her cheeks. Ellie did not check them. She placed Juliet back in her cot and stood staring down at her. “It’s just us, then. Sorry, darling. It’s just you and me now.”
Later that day, as Ellie mechanically went through her daily routine with the carpet sweeper and duster with Juliet sleeping on her shoulder, there was a knock on her kitchen door. Rose stood there.
“Come in, Rosie,” invited Ellie, “Goodness, when did we start standing on ceremony?”
But she already knew from the expression on Rose’s face what she was going to say.
“Ellie, I’m really sorry because you’ve been so good to us, but I’ve come to give you a week’s notice. Robert has been promoted recently, and we’ve put a down payment on one of the houses they have just finished building in Patcham. He thinks that buying our own house is what we should be doing, or we’ll always be paying rent and never own anything ourselves.” She paused and then, moving closer to Ellie, said in a conspiratorial whisper, “We want to start a family soon, so we shall need a bit more space.”
Ellie nodded dumbly. Seeing her stricken face, Rose said, “Oh, Ellie, you will soon find someone else.”
For a moment Ellie stared at her in confusion, then she realised that her friend, who had no inkling of the morning’s events, was talking about letting the rooms. Summoning a smile she said, “Of course I will. I’ll be alright, don’t you worry.”
A week later Rose and Robert were gone. Ellie wandered round the rooms that had been out of bounds to her for so long. She had placed an advertisement in the local paper but the only couple who had come to view the rooms had been less than enthusiastic and had not called back. Ellie thought this might have more to do with Juliet’s non-stop screaming during their interview with her than anything else. She wondered if Juliet might sleep better if she had her own room, and suddenly realised that she, Ellie, would even if Juliet didn’t. The new nurse at the Mothercraft last week had advised her to ‘let the baby cry it out.’
“Ignore her, my girl,” she’d pronounced firmly. “She’s got you on a piece of string. Just let her cry. Don’t give into her. Don’t pick her up.”
A mere two months before Ellie did not know if she could have even contemplated such a remedy. But her sorrow and her tiredness seemed to have melded into one despairing lump. There were times when she longed for her old carefree life. Now she was a widow with a screaming daughter and not enough money to manage. The War Office had already warned her that her pension might take weeks to come through. She had still told no-one of Colin’s death. It was as if all the while she kept it to herself it hadn’t happened.
She put Juliet into her pram. It was a big blue Silver Cross affair with terrific suspension which often rocked Juliet to sleep when Ellie was pushing her out in it. Colin had insisted that they bought a decent pram and Ellie was grateful for that now, although at the time she had baulked at the expense. She prepared herself for the walk to her mother’s. She should have gone before now. Minnie would be wondering why she hadn’t. It was time to tell her what had happened.
It was a bitter cold day. Pushing the pram up the hill to her childhood home, Ellie felt as if the wind was piercing her clothes like small nails. Juliet slept peacefully under her mound of knitted and crocheted blankets. Arriving at her mother’s, Ellie was greeted with, “I’ve been expecting you for days. I thought something had happened to you. You could have dropped me a postcard.”
Or you could have sent me one, thought Ellie wearily. Not for the first time she wished that she had the sort of mother who would greet her with a hug. But after helping her to bump the pram up the steps into the small, dark hall, her mother began to strip the pram covers from Juliet with a kind of maternal clucking that had never been visited on her daughter.
“There, now, look at this pretty child, what a lovely girl, what a good girl,” she crooned, reaching for the child.
Ellie felt a surge of anger. “Leave my baby alone. I’ve come to tell you that you’ve got your wish.” Her mother fell back, looking askance at her.
Ellie continued. “You wanted him dead. ‘Dead at your feet’ was what you said, I think. Well, we couldn’t quite manage that, I’m afraid. But this should make you happy. Here.” She thrust the telegram at her mother.
Her mother took it and for a moment did not seem to register what she was holding. Then she glanced down. It fell to the floor between them. With one movement she gathered Ellie into her arms. “Oh my dear, my…” She had no more words, but pity and the memory of loss penetrated for a brief moment the emotional vacuum that she had created for herself. Held tight in her mother’s embrace, Ellie’s defences collapsed and she gave way to noisy, ugly sobs that felt as if they might tear her body apart. Minnie pressed her lips to her daughter’s forehead as if by doing so, she could somehow wipe away her pain and grief.
A rap on the front door caused the two women to jump apart as if they had been caught at some illicit practice. The next door neighbour, Mrs Cook, known from childhood to Ellie as ‘Aunty Freda’ stood there.
“Hallo, Ellie, dear,” she said with a warm smile, “I saw you with the pram and I knew you wouldn’t mind me coming in for a peep.” She bent over and tweaked back the sheet clutched in Juliet’s small fist, before continuing in a whisper, “Oh, isn’t she beautiful, with her lovely dark hair, and, my goodness, such a lot of it. She looks just like her Daddy.”
Ellie was glad they were still standing in the cramped dark hall and that her own face was shaded.
“I did have another excuse for coming,” smiled Mrs Cook “My good little girls have been laying really well, I think they must know there’s a war on. So I’ve brought you round a couple of eggs. One for you and one for your mum. Shall we go through to the kitchen, Minnie? I don’t want to take them out here and drop them.”
Leaving the sleeping Juliet in the hall, the three women went into the little kitchen which was lit by a hearth fire as well as a south facing window. Minnie removed one of her two cats from a chair and motioned Mrs Cook into it. Carefully, their neighbour took the two eggs from her pocket in their newspaper parcel and placed them on the table. Ellie had just begun to thank her when the gasping noise that always preceded Juliet’s awakening began.
“The Mothercraft Clinic has told me not to pick her up,” she said.
“Oh, that’s nonsense, poor little mite,” said Mrs Cook, “Can I cuddle her for you?”
Ellie nodded. “Of course. If you have a magic way of getting her back to sleep just let me know.”
Her mother glanced at her sharply, and watched as her friend came back into the room with Juliet on her shoulder. As she patted her gently on the back, Juliet nestled down again and fell asleep.
“But if you put her back in her pram, she’ll scream again,” said Ellie. “I’m worn out with holding her, and carrying her around while I try to do things.”
“You do look peaky, dear,” said Mrs Cook, “Babies can be such hard work, and especially with her daddy at the war and everything. It’ll be easier when things go back to normal. But look at her lovely clothes, do you make them yourself? You always were clever with your needle. There’s not a mother in the land wouldn’t be proud to put their baby in that outfit. Ah, well, time for me to go.” She got to her feet. “Lovely to see you both, dear. Stay there, Minnie – I’ll let myself out.”
Minnie reached up and took her sleeping grand-daughter. “Thank you for the eggs, Freda. A real treat.”
Marooned in the silence of Freda’s departure, the two women sat looking into the fire. Finally, Ellie said, “Rose has gone. They’re buying their own house.”
“Oh, Ellie, what are you going to do?” asked her mother. “You know you could come back here.”
Ellie shook her head. “I’ll think of something. I could always try to rent the upstairs rooms again. But I’m not keen on having someone that I don’t know in the house, and Juliet’s crying would probably drive them away in a week anyway. When Colin’s money comes through again I should be able to manage. As soon as Juliet is bigger I might be able to get some kind of job that’ll fit in with her school. But that won’t be for a bit. Mum,” she paused, knowing how difficult she would find it to make the next request., “I’m behind with the rent. Two weeks. Can you lend me it till I’m on my feet?”
Minnie rose and crossed the room. On the top shelf of the dark dresser was an old green tea caddy with a picture of an elegant woman being served tea by an exotically dressed Indian youth. Taking this down she unscrewed the lid and extracted three pound notes. Handing them to Ellie, she asked, “Will this tide you over?”
Ellie nodded. “Thanks, Mum. I’ll pay you back soon.”
Hurrying back to get home before dark, Ellie mulled over what Freda had said about Juliet’s clothes. The dress and matinée coat that she had admired were crocheted from one of Ellie’s old cream coloured jumpers, the wool unpicked and carefully washed by hand. Ellie had trimmed the bootees and bonnet with some pink ribbon she had found cheap in the market and threaded the leftover ribbon round the hem of the coat. An idea was beginning to form in her mind.
Juliet slept better than usual that night, and Ellie had her first decent night’s sleep since the telegram’s arrival. The following morning, as she spooned some milk soaked-rusks into her daughter’s mouth, she made her plans for the day. An hour later, Juliet was sitting up in her pram and wearing yet another outfit made from her mother’s unpicked jumper, this one trimmed with tiny bows in delicate green ribbon. Ellie marched purposefully into the town. Hauling the pram up the Town Hall steps she made her way to the rent office, and paid the backlog on her rent. She preferred to come into the town to do this, as she did not like the rent collector, the unctuous Mr French, whose hobby was spreading as much gossip from house to house as possible. Ellie intended to keep her life private.
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