We Must Be Brave by Frances Liardet

Author:Frances Liardet [Liardet, Frances]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2019-01-02T12:00:00+00:00

Ellen

Late March, 1944

18

‘I REALLY CAN’T get it at Waltham. They don’t stock it.’

As I lied, I slid the pin of my pearl brooch into the placket of my high-necked blouse. Put my cotton handkerchief in my skirt pocket, and fastened my watch around my wrist. Arrayed in these gifts, all from my husband, I stood up. The dressing-table mirror tilted on its spindles, swinging out of the vertical, so that I looked disconcertingly up my own nose. My lying nose.

A week had passed since Mrs Berrow’s visit. I had endured two days of anguish; then, when I began to jump every time the telephone rang, I’d written back to her. Dear Mrs Berrow, I have come to think it would be best if I came down to Southampton as you suggested. A hasty scrawl, the stamp pasted on askew, shoved into the letterbox furtively, trying to hide the deed even from myself. I had no idea what would come of this. I simply couldn’t remain in limbo, waiting for the blow to fall. Not even certain if there were a blow to fall.

The man might not be there, of course. What would that do to me? I had no idea.

‘Surely they can send it,’ Selwyn said now. ‘What sort of item is it, anyway?’

I was ready with my fabricated excuse. ‘The sort ladies buy in person. From the chemist’s shop.’

In the corner of my eye I watched him pull the white shirt over his head. When his face emerged it was still flushed. ‘Ah. Well. You must do what you must, my love. Indeed.’

I dragged the brush through my hair, out to the side and let it fall. ‘I could cut half this hair off and still make a bun.’ Even to my own ears I sounded brittle. ‘Some poor woman might need a wig. Perhaps I’ll ask in Southampton.’

‘Don’t you dare.’

I turned from the mirror and pulled my jacket on. ‘If I’m not back, send Pamela to Lucy’s after school. To spare Elizabeth.’

The wind had dropped and masses of cool air hung motionless under the trees. I was glad of my heavier canvas skirt. In my handbag was Mrs Berrow’s reply to my letter. I was to meet her, as she had suggested, at the Lyons tea house near the ruined Crown, and our appointment was at four o’clock. I had not been able to tell Selwyn about what Mrs Berrow had said. I couldn’t even broach the subject to Lucy. Every word uttered would bring the unthinkable closer to reality.

And here I was, pushing the unthinkable closer. But I couldn’t do otherwise.

The driver pulled up at the stop, shaking me out of my daze. I climbed aboard. ‘Goodness, I didn’t hear you coming! A return to Southampton, if you please.’

‘I was coasting.’ It was Rick Staveley from Upton, the man lame since birth who had driven this route since before the war. He put two warm coppers into my hand. ‘Twopence change. Do you want the bus station, Mrs Parr?’

‘No.

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