‘You’ll have to empty one of the drawers of the chest and put him in there to sleep,’ Edith said, pointing at Ronnie. ‘I hope he’s a better sleeper than she is, little madam. Has me up all hours, that’s why I look the way I do. Used to be a looker, I did, look at me now!’
Kate took Ronnie upstairs, cleared a place on the bed and fed him. She laid him gently down and positioned two pillows either side of him. She unpacked her few possessions and placed her hairbrush on top of the chest. She emptied one of the drawers to make a bed for Ronnie as Edith had suggested. The room was small and the bed filled most of it but it was warm and dry and a roof over their heads.
Once Ronnie was settled, Kate reached into her pocket for the letter. She sat with the envelope in her lap, frightened to open it. There could be only one reason that Mrs Mabbs had written to her. She slowly turned the envelope over and tore it open. She took the letter out and unfolded it. The carefully formed writing flowed across the page and Kate stared so hard at it, that it began to move before her eyes.
Dear Kate,
This is the letter that I hoped I would never have to write. I received a telegram a few days ago to tell me that my dear Archie has been killed in action. I know he loved you dearly and it was his intention to propose to you when this dreadful war finally comes to an end. He would have been a fine husband to you but now that will never happen. My only son has been taken from me and I will never see him again. Thereis nothing more I can say except you know you can visit me here at any time.
With best wishes,
Violet Mabbs
Kate folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. She placed it carefully in the drawer, underneath her clothes. She pushed the drawer back and stood gazing at the wall, unable to cry.So much death. A shiver rippled through her body and she felt empty. She knelt beside Ronnie’s makeshift cradle, kissed him lightly on the forehead and stood silently watching him and listening to his breathing.
‘I have you,’ she whispered. ‘We are alive and I have you.’
Edith’s baby was still crying by the time she went downstairs and Edith was trying to rock her with one arm while stirring a pot with the other.
‘Let me do that,’ Kate offered.
‘I’d rather give you her, she’s driving me mad,’ said Edith.
Kate took the baby and asked her name.
‘She’s Grace, though she’s anything but gracious,’ Edith said. ‘He wanted her named that. Grace if it’s a girl and Graham if it’s a boy. So, she’s Grace.’
As Kate placed her on her shoulder, the baby let out an almighty burp.
‘She’s got wind,’ Kate said. ‘Have you tried sitting her up after a feed and rubbing her back until she brings it up?’
‘Well, that midwife is always in such a hurry to get out of here I never get a chance to talk to her. She might have told me.’ Edith sighed.
‘Try it next time you feed her and don’t stop until she lets that wind out.’ Kate smiled.
From then on she and Edith got on really well. They took the babies out, top and tail in the pram. They cooked together.Kate helped Edith to write her letters to her husband, Stan, while Edith helped Kate to sew Ronnie rompers for when he was older.
Kate didn’t know whether to envy Edith because she had a husband, or to pity her because she had to wait each week to see if a letter arrived back. She tried not to think about the distance between her home in Hampshire and London and whether she and Philip would ever find each other again. When he returned home to find her gone, would he even want to be with her? By returning to fight, he was opening himself up to more of the same destructive forces that had changed him in the first place. Perhaps he was changed forever but then this war had changed everything. She had changed. She’d given birth to a child, without him. She’d survived the workhouse, but for now she and Ronnie were safe. So many of the men who went to war didn’t return. There was no way of knowing if Philip would.
She tried to console herself with the thought that this war couldn’t go on forever, but it was showing no signs of coming to an end and uncertainty was a feeling everybody lived with every day. There was no point in making plans. Ronnie was her first concern now, everything else must wait.
The following day Edith answered a knock at the door. Kate heard her greeting Ida but she didn’t hear Ida’s voice at all. Ida came into the kitchen and looked across at Kate, a darkness in her expression. No words of explanation came.
‘Ida? What is it?’ Kate asked, going to her.
Ida just looked at her, wiping away the wetness on her cheeks with her sleeve. Kate reached across and took Ida’s hand.
‘Ida?’ she said again.
Ida sniffed away her tears and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket.
‘It’s Mr Philip,’ she said. ‘Mrs B sent me, she said that you would want to know.’
‘Yes?’ Kate prompted her, not really wanting to hear what she feared was coming next.
‘He’s . . . he’s . . . been killed,’ Ida sobbed. ‘The telegram arrived yesterday.’
A coldness crept through Kate’s body. Her breathing slowed, her vision blurred and her legs felt as if they could not hold her up. Someone was calling her name, someone was speaking to her, but it was far off. There was a humming in her ears that blotted out the words and she felt as if water was flooding into her mouth, choking her.
