A Step In Time. Kerry Barrett
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can ask around,’ she said. ‘See if anyone knows anyone.’
‘What do you mean?’ I said, naively.
‘You know,’ she said. Audrey was from London and since we’d been in her hometown her accent had become more pronounced. ‘My sister knows someone in Camberwell. I can find out how much it is?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘No. Not yet.’
‘Have you tried a bath and gin?’ she said. ‘I’ve heard that does the trick.’
I grimaced with the frustration of trying to make her understand.
‘No,’ I said again. ‘It might be all right. Donnie might …’
Audrey gave me a pitying look.
‘He might still want to marry you?’ she said. ‘Yeah, and I might be queen of bloody England.’
‘We’ve got plans,’ I said, thinking of our trip across America. ‘He’s going to take me to Hollywood.’
‘What, with a great big bump or a babe in your arms? I don’t think so, sweetheart.’
Her face softened as tears filled my eyes.
‘Look,’ she said, putting her arm round me. ‘Donnie’s a lovely bloke but that’s all he is at the end of the day, isn’t it? A bloke. Look at you. You’re gorgeous. Nice hair, good tits, great legs. You’re young. You’re lively. You’re a catch. No wonder he’s full of talk now. But will he still be so interested when you’re fat, and your legs are puffy and you’ve got a nipper hanging off your breast?’
She sucked her lips.
‘Unlikely, I’d say.’
‘Audrey,’ I said, appalled. ‘Not all men are like your dad, you know? Donnie loves me whatever I look like. He wants to marry me.’
Audrey squeezed me tighter.
‘It’s not their fault,’ she said. ‘It’s the way they’re made – to only see pretty faces and long legs. And it’s just a shame we’re left to pick up the pieces. I’ll write to my sister, see what she says. It’s best to be prepared.’
I felt overwhelmed with exhaustion. I’d been terrified when I realized I was expecting, but I’d assumed everything would be fine. I’d tell Donnie, and we’d just get married a bit ahead of when we’d planned. I’d stay in London, or go to the country with the baby – anywhere as long as it wasn’t going home to Worthing and my mother – until the war ended, then we’d go to America. But now Audrey had made me wonder if I was just being naive. Maybe she was right. Perhaps Donnie would run a mile when he heard.
I slumped against Audrey, tearful and tired.
‘I really don’t feel very well,’ I said. ‘I feel awful, in fact. I think I need to go back to bed. Can you tell Henry that I’m poorly?’
Audrey nodded.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Have a rest and you’ll feel better tomorrow.’
Like a mum – not my mum, but how I imagined mothers to be – she helped me take my uniform off and slipped my nightie over my head. Then she tucked me into bed and pulled the curtains closed.
‘Rest up,’ she whispered.
I cried myself to sleep.
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