The War Widows. Leah Fleming
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At the sound of the name the two women rose as one. ‘Yes,’ they replied in unison, standing expectantly and then immediately stared at each other with suspicion.
Lily sat down with shock.
‘This is Miss Winstanley, she’s come to collect one of you,’ said the officer, but they both also sat down promptly and shook their heads.
‘There must be some mistake. I’ve come for Miss Susan Brown from Burma,’ said Lily.
The man was pointing to the oriental girl, who was back on the floor, prostrate again, her head buried in her palms.
‘Honourable sir, I do not know this lady…She is not my Mister Stan,’ she sobbed, pulling her child into her chest away from them.
The other girl grabbed her hand. ‘Get up, Miss Susan. Your Mister Stan has sent for you. Lucky, lucky you.’ She turned to Lily. ‘I wait for Sergeant Winstanley. She wait for a Mister Stan.’
Lily felt her knees shaking. There couldn’t be two Winstanleys anticipated, could there?
‘Not to worry,’ she whispered. ‘If your name is Susan Brown, then it’s me come to collect you. I’m Lily Winstanley, Freddie’s sister. I’m sorry I was late.’ Stretching out her hand as if to gather up Susan in one fell swoop, there was no hiding her relief. ‘Freddie said you were bonny but I was expecting…never mind…’ There was no hiding her surprise.
‘Freddie, you know my Freddie, Miss Lily?’ said the Greek lass, jumping up excitedly. ‘I have his address: twenty-two Division Street, Grimbleton.’ A piece of paper was shoved under Lily’s nose. Arms were flung round her. ‘He is coming for me too?’
‘Hang on,’ Lily gasped, stepping back quickly. ‘Not so fast…It’s her I’ve come for: Susan Brown from Burma, Freddie’s intended. I don’t know anything about you. Show us that address again,’ she said, peering at it intently and then at them both.
‘But that is my address too,’ cried Susan, peering at the lettering. ‘My Stan lives at twenty-two Division Street, Grimbleton. It is written on my heart.’
The other girl folded her arms. ‘But I am Anastasia Papadaki. Sergeant Freddie Winstanley is my man and Konstandina is his child. I name her after his mother, Konstantia. It is the custom, yes?’
‘No, No! I am Susan Liat Brown. Mr Winstanley is my intended,’ screamed Susan. ‘And this is his child, Joy Liat. He is my man. I have his address. You, lady, are a big liar! I have a photo…See!’ Susan produced a tattered sepia photograph. ‘It was taken in Rangoon before he left on a ship, when I was a teacher. See…we are in a concert party.’ Her smile was triumphant.
Lily peered at it with dismay. There was no doubting that was Freddie grinning at the camera, dressed in a Pierrot costume.
‘Give me here. On the bones of Agios Vasilios…Ne! Ne! Yes! That is Freddie, my Freddie. We meet in Athens when I was nurse,’ said the Greek, refusing to give way. ‘She is liar. Susan is dead!’
‘How am I dead if I am here with little Joy?’ Susan shouted back, clinging to the toddler. ‘She is his little Joy.’
There was a deafening silence as they both stared at each other. Lily’s heart was thumping a drumbeat. It would take the judgement of Solomon to sort out this mess.
‘Oh heck,’ she said, scratching her head. What have you been up to Freddie? she sighed.
They were all looking to her for guidance. ‘What do we do now?’
‘These women go nowhere,’ ordered the officer, already pink in the face. ‘Not until the man in question comes to collect them in person. He can’t have two wives in this country, whatever he’s been up to. So one of you is going to be disappointed, I’m afraid. Sergeant Winstanley must choose his bride.’
‘That might prove difficult, sir. Can I have a word in private?’ Lily whispered to the officer.
He pointed to a corner out of earshot, both looking over at the mothers, who were each wishing that the other would disappear into thin air. How on earth was this mess going to be sorted out?
Miss Brown was standing frozen like a statue, tears rolling down her face. Anastasia was standing with her arms folded. And there were the two kiddies to consider: were they both really Freddie’s little girls? The two of them then came storming across, led by the Greek, who was all fired up.
‘Come on, missy…I no trust them. They hide words from us. We have daughters. Maybe there are two Freddie Winstanleys. One for each of us.’ Miss Ana was taking charge. ‘You and me is going to sort this out.’
The officer stood in their path. ‘There’s been a development,’ he said softly. ‘I’m sorry but under the circumstances, you must both go with Miss Winstanley and sort this out amongst yourselves, the two of you and the family. His mother is waiting to meet you. Good luck!’
He looked relieved to be shovelling this awkward problem on to the stunned woman in the tweed suit. And Lily was too shocked to do anything other than gather up their luggage and propel them towards the door like a taxi driver.
It was raining hard as they trooped towards the black van with no time for Lily to put on her mackintosh so it would hide the black armband sewn onto her sleeve. The mothers would be far too upset to note its significance or the fact that they were getting soaked.
Somehow cases and bodies and children were crammed into the back of Gertie. The gloomy ride back to Grimbleton was a blur of steamy windows accompanied by the ammonia smell of wet nappies and the sniffing of tears in the back. Gertie coughed and spluttered in protest at the extra weight but trundled them northwards. If only she was driving the bigger Rover saloon but it was still in the garage, standing on bricks, out of action for the duration.
What on earth must these two poor lasses be thinking? Lily felt her hands shaking at the wheel. Perhaps it was lucky that the windows were steamed up so they missed the worst of the soot and the grime, the gaping bomb sites around Manchester, the dark satanic mills.
Lily’s heart was thudding as the streets of Grimbleton came into view.
What on earth was she going to do with two of them? What would the family say to two women with the same address? How did they explain away two little girls, not the size of tuppence halfpenny? What would the neighbours think, and Walt too?
This would be the biggest bombshell to hit Division Street since the air raid in ’41. I’d like to give that brother of mine a piece of my mind. He’s gone too far this time, she thought.
Then she remembered he was dead and these two didn’t know. None of them would ever see him again.
The baby, Dina, was whimpering, tugging her back to reality. Freddie may have passed away but he’d sure as hell left quite a legacy behind.
Susan peered at the back of the driver’s head, at the roll of brown hair anchored with pins and at the felt hat. What was she doing in this clanking van? Had they been kidnapped? Why was she crushed in the back with strangers and the smell of stale bottoms? This was not how England should be, surely?
It should be a beautiful carriage and horses like the picture on the tin of chocolates that Stan brought as a gift to Auntie Betty, her guardian. There was a pretty house with a golden grass roof. Roses tumbling from the walls and a blue, blue sky. She had read many school books with castles and great stone palaces in them, wide parks with tall trees, but nothing like this.
Outside it was all grey and sooty, no moonlight on this wet afternoon. Gaslamps flickered like troubled spirits. For all she was brought up as a Christian girl, she believed her grandmother when it came to honouring the nyats, those guardian spirits of house