The dover cafe at war, p.6
The Dover Cafe at War, page 6
‘Marianne! Dinner’s ready.’ Lily’s yell down the stairs startled her and she glanced at the clock. It was gone seven! Where was Don? A vague memory came to her of Donny telling her he was going across the road to Freddie’s grandparents. She’d been so absorbed in her task, she’d barely heard him.
She was just walking across the square when the loud roar of a motorcycle made her glance around. She paused and watched as Edie climbed off and leant over to kiss the man sitting with his hands on the handlebars. So there was a man. She squinted, wishing he would take off his helmet so she could get a good look at him. Hesitating for a moment, she wondered whether she should go over, but knew Edie would have a fit if she did. Her mind was made up for her when an exuberant voice called to her across the square.
‘Mum! Mrs Perkins says I can stay the night. Can I?’ Donny ran across the cobbles, Freddie close on his heels, forcing her to turn her attention away from the intriguing scene.
‘You know he’s welcome to stop over, love.’ Phyllis Perkins, Freddie’s grandmother, came up behind Donny. ‘Wilf’s out fishing all night, and one more’s no bother.’
Marianne smiled at her warmly. Phyllis had been such a support ten years before when Donny had been born. While so many had shunned her, Phyllis had come to visit with her baby grandson, declaring that the babies may as well get to know each other seeing as they were the same age. Freddie’s mother – Reenie’s sister, June – had not been happy about it, but Phyllis had done it regardless. Ever since, the boys had been inseparable and, after June died of cancer and Wilf had moved back in with his parents, they had spent most of their time running between each other’s houses.
‘Thanks, Phyllis. Maybe tomorrow, though? This one looks like he needs a good wash.’
Donny hopped up and down at this. ‘Oh, can I, Mrs Perkins? Can I stay tomorrow?’
Phyllis suddenly looked uncomfortable. ‘Well . . . Maybe not tomorrow, but perhaps the next night?’
‘But why not, Gran? Davey’ll be here and it’ll be more fun with three!’ Freddie protested.
Phyllis’s cheeks reddened and she looked at Marianne guiltily. ‘Sorry, love. I promised to look after Davey for Katherine and . . .’ She trailed off and stared down at the floor.
Marianne swallowed and forced a smile. ‘I understand, Phyllis. Really. It’s not your fault.’
Donny was staring between the two women, his eyes wide. ‘But why can’t I stay too? I won’t be naughty.’
Phyllis put an arm around his shoulder and hugged him to her. ‘Oh, Donny, I know you won’t. But, well, it’ll just be a bit crowded tomorrow night. I promise you can come the next night. How’s that?’
Donny stared at her, tears shimmering in his eyes as understanding dawned, then without another word he ran across the square. Throwing an apologetic look at Phyllis, Marianne followed after him, her fists clenched in fury at Horace Smith ruining her son’s day once again. She’d like to wring his scrawny neck!
She noticed idly that the man on the motorbike was no longer there. Time enough for questions once she’d calmed Donny down. As she reached the door to the stairs, she winced as she heard Donny’s bedroom door slam above her.
Ignoring the astonished looks from her sisters and mother, who were sitting at the table in the living room with plates of cold meat, bread and cheese in front of them, she knocked on the door of the little cubby hole that Jasper had built for Donny when he was a baby.
‘Don? Can I come in?’
She could hear his muffled sobbing.
‘Go away!’
Marianne opened the door and went to sit on the bed beside his prostrate form. ‘Donny, love,’ she whispered, stroking his back.
He shrugged her hand off angrily. ‘I said go away!’ Turning over he gave her a fierce look. ‘It’s all your fault. If I had a dad, then I could stay at Freddie’s house and Davey’s dad wouldn’t call me a . . . a . . . ’bomination. I hate you!’ His face was red with fury.
Marianne grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up. Donny tried to resist, but in the end he collapsed against her shoulder, burying his hot little face in her neck as she rubbed his back soothingly and kissed his head, rubbing her cheek against his damp hair.
‘What the devil is going on?’
Marianne looked up to see her mother standing in the doorway, flanked by Lily and Edie.
Shaking her head, she mouthed, ‘I’ll tell you later.’ Then she buried her face back into her son’s hair.
‘Why don’t I have a dad, Mum? Everyone else has one.’
‘Well, I don’t have one either, my love.’
‘Yes you do. Your dad is Grandpa Donald. I don’t even know who mine is. But if I did, then maybe I could be friends with Davey and . . . and some of the others wouldn’t make fun of me.’
‘Do they make fun of you?’
He nodded against her neck and Marianne closed her eyes.
‘Did you tell the teacher?’
He shook his head again. ‘I’m not a snitch. Anyway, me and Fred and Davey made them sorry.’
Marianne sighed. ‘When was this?’
He shook his head again.
Gently she pushed him away from her shoulder and looked him in the eye. ‘Donny, just because you don’t have a father living here, it does not make you a bad boy.’
‘No. They say it’s you who’s bad. And you are! Go away! I don’t want to talk to you!’
‘Donny . . .’
‘I said GO AWAY!’ Angrily he wiped his runny nose on his sleeve.
‘But Don—’
‘LEAVE ME ALONE!’ He pushed away from her and flung himself face down on the blue candlewick bedspread.
Nellie was still standing at the door, staring at her grandson sympathetically. ‘Leave him for now, Marianne. Let him calm down. Then, Donny, my lad, you and your gran are going to have a chat about how you speak to your mother, all right?’
Donny sat up angrily and was about to shout at his grandmother, but seeing the stern expression on her face, he closed his mouth.
‘I should think so too,’ she harrumphed. ‘You might get away with that sort of talk with your mother, but your gran won’t stand for it. Now,’ she said in a softer tone, ‘you take a bit of time to think, Donny, and when you come out, I’ll have your tea waiting for you. All right?’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Course you are. You’re always hungry. And if you promise to say sorry to your mum, maybe I can find you a little treat. How does that sound?’
Donny paused for a moment, thinking about the offer. ‘Can I have one of your chocolate bars?’
Marianne smiled. For as long as she could remember, Nellie had kept a supply of chocolate bars in a cupboard in her bedroom as rewards for good behaviour. They were doled out so infrequently that the chocolate had usually turned white by the time anyone got to eat one, but that didn’t take away from the triumph of being awarded one. Poor Bert, she remembered, had never earned one in his life.
‘We’ll see.’ Nellie looked at Marianne and nodded at the door, indicating that she should leave. Marianne kissed Donny’s cheek, ignoring the fact that he flinched away from her, and rose to follow her mother.
Lily and Edie were sitting at the little table in the corner of the living room near the window that looked out on the square. Edie was hungrily stuffing bread and cheese into her mouth.
‘What was all that about? Or shouldn’t I ask?’ Lily said.
Marianne shook her head wearily. ‘Don’t ask.’
‘If he’s getting bullied, then you need to talk to his teacher,’ Edie said, waving a piece of bread at her sister.
Marianne stared at her angrily, noticing that Edie’s cheeks looked unusually flushed and her eyes were sparkling. But even more mysteriously, her thick, dark hair, usually tied tightly back in a plait, was hanging in luxuriant waves down her back. Edie had always been pretty, but right now she looked beautiful; glowing. Obviously this had something to do with the man on the motorbike. She glanced at Lily, who shrugged. Clearly she’d noticed too.
Edie looked at Marianne challengingly. ‘Well? Can’t you at least tell him about his dad’s family?’
Marianne shook her head. ‘I can’t.’
‘But why? Why have you always been so secretive about it? Marianne, the poor boy is suffering, and he’s right, it is your fault.’
‘It’s not that easy . . .’
‘Of course it is! Open your mouth and tell us. Unless you don’t know who it is?’ Lily said slyly. ‘Perhaps there’s more than one man who could be the father?’
‘How can you say that? Don’t you understand what the last few years have been like for me?’ Marianne’s voice rose. ‘I . . . I . . . Look, he’s dead, so what’s the point of even talking about him?’
‘But . . . surely he had a family?’ Edie persisted. ‘Can’t you at least allow the boy to know his other family?’
Marianne slumped down into one of the garish armchairs that sat either side of the small fireplace and put her hand to her head.
‘Enough, you two,’ Nellie said impatiently. ‘It might come as a surprise to you, but life doesn’t always go to plan. Now, what Marianne’s said is good enough for me, so it should be good enough for you! Haven’t you ever thought that there might be a very good reason why she doesn’t want you to know?’ She gave her two younger daughters a hard glare and they looked away in shame. ‘Good. Now let that be the last I hear of this. Your sister has many faults, but one thing I can say for sure, she’s never been a liar!’
Marianne kept her head bent, guilt washing over her. But then, even if she knew where he was, she didn’t think she’d want the man to come back into her life. The more she’d thought about what had happened when she was sixteen, the more she’d realised how he had taken advantage of her youth and inexperience. Donny didn’t need a man like that in his life.
Lily huffed. ‘Oh, are you saying we’ – she gestured towards Edie – ‘are?’
‘And are you saying you’ve never lied to me? Or you, Edie?’
They didn’t reply.
‘As I thought.’ She leant over and switched on the wireless. ‘Now be quiet, the news’ll be on in a minute.’
After a tense pause, Lily turned her attention to Edie. ‘All right then, seeing as we’re talking about lies. Where have you been this evening, Edie?’
Edie blushed. ‘If you must know, I was working late. It’s busy at the garage at the moment.’
‘Oh really? And you worked for so long that your hair just fell out of its plait, did it? And’ – she reached over to run a finger over Edie’s mouth – ‘is that lipstick?’
Edie batted her hand away. ‘Oh, leave me alone and mind your own business!’
Nellie sighed. ‘Will you two stop bickering! Listen . . .’
The girls stopped talking as the newsreader began to read out Chamberlain’s speech to parliament that day: ‘The issue of peace or war is still undecided, and we still will hope, and still will work, for peace; but we will abate no jot of our resolution to hold fast to the line which we have laid down for ourselves.’
Nellie grunted. ‘Is he just saying that to make us feel better? Peace, my foot. There’ll be no peace here for a long while. And the worst of it is that poor Donny won’t be the only one left without a father.’ She got up and went into her room beside the stairs.
Marianne watched her go, her stomach in knots. It felt like the country was standing on the brink now, and it would take only one small push to topple them over the edge. Her mother was right: the issue of Donny’s father might well get swallowed up with more pressing matters. She knew it was wrong, but she hoped so. She hadn’t realised how difficult it would be to keep the lie going, and to know that her mother trusted her made it all so much worse. She wouldn’t be without Donny for the world, but the pain and anguish his birth had caused her and her family was sometimes too much. How she longed to be married with a little house of her own and a husband who loved her. But that was never going to happen now. Instead, she had to deceive her son, just as she’d deceived her mother for all these years, and the thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Chapter 7
Any hope that war might be avoided evaporated completely over the next couple of weeks, and Nellie watched grim-faced as yet more stalls shut in the market.
‘’Ere, Nellie, did you hear the Clarks off the whelks stall are packing up?’ Gladys said one morning as she placed bowls of porridge in front of a group of servicemen.
‘What? But they’ve run that stall forever! What’s wrong with everyone? How the hell can the town survive if everyone leaves?’
‘The kids are all going soon an’ all,’ Gladys agreed sadly.
Donny, who was sitting having his breakfast in the kitchen, heard this last remark.
‘Mum, you promise you won’t send me away?’ It was the hundredth time he’d checked. So many of his friends were due to leave for Wales in the next couple of days that he’d become convinced she’d sneak him onto a train as well.
‘Not unless it becomes too dangerous to stay here. All right?’
He’d have to be satisfied with that for now.
But just a couple of days later, as the family sat listening to the news about the German invasion of Poland that had started the day before, Marianne wondered whether she might have to send Donny sooner rather than later after all when the newsreader announced that the prime minister would make a special announcement the following day.
Nellie sighed. ‘And we all know what that will be, don’t we?’
‘Perhaps we’ll get to see the boys again soon then,’ Lily remarked. ‘They’d not send them to war without letting them see their families first, surely?’
‘Small consolation,’ Nellie said. ‘Especially if it’s the last time we ever see them.’ She shook her head. ‘This is a time when we all need to stick together, instead of scurrying away like rats.’ Suddenly she sat up straight, a determined look on her face. ‘Tell you what, how do you feel about a bit of late-night baking, girls?’
‘I don’t mind,’ Marianne said. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘I’m thinking we open the café for tea and cake so folk around here can listen to the announcement together.’ Nellie turned to her grandson. ‘Don, get Fred and go knock on a few doors and let people know to come here tomorrow morning. Just the market folk, mind. I’ve nothing against anyone else, but we need to be with our neighbours. They need to remember we’re a community.’
The third of September dawned bright and sunny. And after the efforts of the previous evening, an array of currant buns, fruit cake and a beautiful Victoria sponge, bursting with cream and Marianne’s homemade strawberry jam, sat on the kitchen table.
Donny and Fred had done their job well, and as the clock struck ten, the café started to fill up.
‘Help yourselves to tea, everyone,’ Nellie called above the hubbub. ‘Milk and sugar on the tray. Cake and buns for those who can stomach the thought of food. Oh, and leave a donation in the bowl by the urn. We’re collecting for the war effort. Gawd knows we’re going to need all the help we can get.’
Soon a fog of smoke was hanging in the air and Marianne glanced around the room. The Perkins were here, sitting with the Turners from the grocery store. Reenie sat beside Daisy, while Derek and Mavis, Daisy’s parents-in-law, chatted to Ben and Sam Corner from the hardware stall. Marianne looked out of the front window, now criss-crossed with tape in case of bombing. Donny and his friends were playing football in the square, under strict instructions not to go out of sight of the café windows.
Jasper came blundering in then and Marianne sighed with relief. Nellie would need his comforting presence today. Her heart swelled with affection for him as she took in his large figure and the ARP badge displayed proudly on his front.
‘Land’s sake, Jasper. War hasn’t been declared yet,’ Nellie shouted as she went over to him.
‘Market Square is my patch, so I intend to be ready for anything. And, of course, ready to save your pretty behind should you require it.’ He patted her backside and chuckled, earning himself a slap on the arm.
‘For that you can get your own tea, you cheeky bugger,’ Nellie responded. But Marianne caught a little twinkle in her eye as she walked away from him and shook her head. Even today Jasper could make her mother smile.
The door opened again and Wilf rushed in apologising, his face bright red, and took the last remaining chair next to Reenie. Marianne glanced at the clock. Still thirteen minutes to go. Desperate to distract herself, she checked the urn, then went into the kitchen and busied herself putting more water on to boil and refilling the plates of buns that had been picked bare by their friends.
It was a quiet, grim-faced group that greeted her when she re-emerged. The only sound was the clink of the kettle on the side of the urn and the splash of water as she poured it in. Most of these people had known each other all their lives: they’d worked alongside each other, celebrated weddings and births, and mourned deaths. They knew almost everything about each other and when they got together there was usually a steady hum of chatter and laughter. But today they were quiet as they waited, smoking and drinking their tea, barely looking at the people sitting next to them, each lost in their own thoughts.
At last, a voice boomed from the radio: ‘This is London. You will now hear a statement by the prime minister.’
Everyone sat up straighter, their eyes alert. Barely one minute later, a gasp went around the room. Marianne felt her stomach drop as the reality finally hit home: they were at war. No matter that it had been expected, hearing the words felt like a punch in the gut. Gladys put her hand over her eyes, while Phyllis Perkins collapsed forward onto the table, her head on her arms, sobbing softly. Marianne glanced over to her mother, who was standing by the kitchen door, her face paper white. Jasper was looking at her too, and he went over and put a comforting arm around her. For once Nellie didn’t push him away, instead she turned her face into his chest, her shoulders shaking before she remembered herself and pulled away, standing tall, her chin jutting, her mouth a grim line.
