When the Lights Go On Again. Annie Groves
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growing hope that Hitler was going to be defeated.
The city centre was busy and bustling with men and women in every kind of uniform: British Army, Royal Navy, and the RAF; American infantry and airmen, Poles, Canadians New Zealanders and Aussies.
As she passed the street that led to the Royal Court Theatre, Lou felt her heart give a flurry of angry thuds. It was there that she and Sasha had first met Kieran Mallory, the nephew of its manager, Con Bryant. They had gone there naïvely hoping to be taken on as dancers. Instead of sending them on their way, Kieran and his uncle Con had deliberately encouraged them to believe that they had a stage future ahead of them. And by playing each of them off against the other, pretending to each behind the other’s back that he liked her the best, Kieran had cleverly come between them, fostering a mistrust and jealousy that had ultimately almost led to a terrible tragedy.
That was all in the past now, Lou reminded herself. Sasha was happily engaged to the young bomb disposal sapper who had saved her life, and Lou herself had achieved her ambition of becoming a pilot.
But the division between them was still there.
Not because of Kieran Mallory, Lou assured herself. He meant nothing to either of them now and she certainly wasn’t going to give him an importance in her life that he didn’t deserve.
Her nose, accustomed now to the smell of aviation fuel, hot engines, and Naafi food, set against a countryside background, was now beginning to recognise the smells of home: sea salt-sprayed air mixed with smoke and dust; the smell of vinegar, fish and chips wafting out of a chippy as she made her way up through the city streets toward Edge Hill; the scent of steam and coal from the trains in the Edge Hill freight yard, those smells gradually fading as she walked further up Edge Hill Road, leaving the city centre behind her, so that by the time she was turning into Ash Grove, Lou could have sworn she could smell the newly turned earth from the row of neat allotments that ran behind the houses and down to the railway embankment, one of which belonged to her own father. Her heart lifted, and just as though she were still a little girl, she suddenly wanted to run the last few yards, just as she and Sasha had done as children, racing one another to see who could reach the back door first, and somehow always getting there together, falling into the kitchen in gales of giggles. It had always been Sasha, though, who had still looked neat and tidy, whilst Lou had always been the one with a ribbon missing from one of her plaits and her ankle socks falling down.
In those days, when they had got home from school they had measured the days from the way the kitchen smelled. Mondays, the smell would be of lye soap and laundry, because Monday was wash day, just as on Fridays the smell would be of fish. They were not a Catholic family but their mother had still followed the traditional habit of serving fish on Fridays. Thursday’s smell had always been Lou’s favourite because Thursday was baking day, and they would return home from school to find the kitchen wonderfully scented with the aroma of cakes or scones, or whatever it was their mother had been baking.
Those had been such happy days. She had never dreamed then of what might lie ahead of them, never imagined that there would ever be a time when she and Sasha would not do everything together. Then such a thing had been unthinkable. Then…
The back door was half open. A pang of unexpected happiness, tinged with uncertainty, made Lou hesitate, suddenly conscious, now that she was here, how very much she wanted to make things right with her twin and for them to be close again.
She pushed open the door.
‘Lou!’
Jean stared in delight at her daughter, taking in her air of calm confidence and the smartness of her appearance.
‘Mum.’ Lou’s voice thickened with emotion as she was enveloped in her mother’s loving embrace.
‘You’ve grown,’ Jean told her. ‘A least an inch.’
‘It’s this cap,’ Lou laughed. ‘It makes me look taller. Oh, Mum, it’s lovely to be home. I do miss you all, especially Sash.’
The once bright yellow paint on the kitchen walls might look a little faded and war-weary now, but the love that filled the small room hadn’t changed, and nor had her mother.
‘Tell me all about everyone,’ Lou begged her mother. ‘I get letters, but it isn’t the same as seeing people. How’s Grace liking Whitchurch? And what about Auntie Fran? And Sasha, Mum, how is she?’
Jean sighed and shook her head slightly.
‘I’m worried about her,’ she admitted. Normally she would not have dreamed of discussing one of the twins with the other, but Lou had such an air of quiet competence about her now that unexpectedly Jean discovered that it was actually a relief to be able to voice her concerns about Sasha to someone who knew and understood her so well.
‘There’s nothing wrong between her and Bobby, is there?’ Lou asked anxiously.
‘I don’t think so, Lou. I just don’t know what’s wrong with her, except that nothing seems to please her these days.’
Outside the back door Sasha stiffened, anger and resentment filling her. So that’s what she got for using some of her precious time off to come home early to welcome her twin – overhearing Lou and their mother talking about her behind her back.
Sasha pushed open the door and marched into the kitchen, her unexpected appearance forcing an uncomfortable silence on the room.
‘Don’t worry about me,’ she told her mother and sister. ‘I’ll go up to my room so that you can go on talking about me behind my back.’
‘Oh, Sasha, love, don’t be like that,’ Jean pleaded.
She was upsetting her mother, Sasha could see, and immediately her anger turned to guilt and misery. She knew that her mother was anxious about her, but how could she tell her about the shameful secret that was eating into her? How could she tell her what a coward she was, especially now with Lou standing there in her smart uniform. Lou, her twin, whose letters home were full of the exciting and dangerous things she was doing.
Wanting to change the subject and lighten the mood in the kitchen, Lou announced, ‘I wish so much you’d been with me last night, Sash. A group of us went to this dance and there was this dreadful show-off American girl pilot who was trying to prove that us British girls couldn’t jitterbug, so I had to show her that she was wrong. I did pretty well but it would have been so much better if you’d been there.’
Was that a hint of a smile relaxing Sasha’s frown?
‘Oh, and I’ve got to tell you this. You’ll never guess who was there,’ Lou continued. ‘Kieran Mallory, and—’
Immediately Sasha’s smile disappeared. ‘Kieran Mallory? Why have you got to tell me about him? Do you think I actually need reminding about what he did, or how keen you were to get in his good books? I thought we’d agreed that we’d never talk about him again.’
Lou didn’t know what to say.
‘It was thanks to you and him that I nearly got myself killed,’ Sasha threw at her, red flags of emotion burning in her cheeks. ‘I would have been killed an’ all if it hadn’t been for my Bobby, saving me like he did by taking my place in that bomb shaft.’
Guilt filled Lou. ‘Sash, you know how dreadful I feel about that.’ Remorsefully she reached out her hand to her twin, but Sasha stepped back from her.
‘It’s easy enough for you to say that, but it doesn’t seem to have stopped you taking up with Kieran again.’
‘I haven’t taken up with him,’ Lou protested. ‘I only mentioned him because I wanted to tell you that he was with this dreadful American girl!’
‘And that’s why you wanted to outdance her, isn’t it? So that you could show off to him.’
‘No,’ Lou protested. ‘It wasn’t like that at all.’
‘Then why are you so keen to tell me that you’ve met up with him again? If you’re