Rosie James - Lexi’s War - A heart-warming wartime saga to bring hope and happiness in 2018

‘Lexi is a wonderful child to me, Albert,’ Cecilia said. ‘Always so helpful and lovely with the younger ones, especially when I’m trying to finish something I’m making, and time and money are short.’ Cecilia didn’t want to prick Albert’s conscience by saying too much about her own way of life and what it entailed. After all, by accepting it, she had sealed her own fate, hadn’t she?

‘Of course, Lexi finished school at the beginning of the year,’ Cecilia went on. ‘She insisted on it, even though I would have liked her to stay on.’ Cecilia sighed. ‘She is so determined to find work, to try and make her way in the world, young though she is. She has got a little job at the sweet shop.’

‘Ah well, then, our Lexi is special,’ Albert said, ‘I always knew it. And she’s going to do well in life, isn’t she … do something out of the ordinary. You just wait and see.’

‘If you say so, Albert,’ Cecilia said. ‘But in our world she’s going to need a miracle, or the luck of the Irish for that to happen.’

They left quietly, and as they reached the other bedroom Cecilia opened the door and nodded. ‘I … we … have a room to ourselves now, Albert,’ she said.

He smiled down at her with that familiar, dark, sensuous smile she knew so well. Then he yawned, slipping his arm around her waist. ‘Sure, and isn’t it time for us to warm that bed?’ he murmured. After all, a man had certain rights.

Cecilia shook her head firmly. ‘You get ready for bed, Albert,’ she said, ‘but I have to pluck and draw that chicken if we’re going to have it for our dinner tomorrow.’

They went downstairs to the scullery where Albert washed himself at the sink while Cecilia sat at the table and started on the chicken. As he went past her, he touched her shoulder.

‘Don’t be long,’ he said.

Although it was now very late Cecilia took her time over the task. She was in no hurry to be a wife to Albert tonight, and anyway, he’d be asleep before she went back upstairs. He’d obviously had a few pints that evening.

She finished what she was doing, then stood and glanced at herself in the small mirror above the sink. She breathed in slowly. She was 42 years old, and looking about 60, with her brown hair going rapidly grey, her face which had once been thought attractive becoming lined, the dark shadows under her eyes making her look permanently tired.

As she stared back at herself, Cecilia recalled Albert’s words about Lexi. About her being, or doing, something special. But it was a pointless thought, a complete waste of time. Everyone knew there was little hope for women. For most, their lot in life was to bear children, keep their men happy, and do housework.

Cecilia paused before going upstairs. It was all very well her husband turning up unexpectedly like he had, but she did not want any more babies. Thankful though she was to have her three healthy children, they must be enough. She could not cope with another mouth to feed, another little one to provide for. And if the worst happened after Albert’s flying visit, she knew she could definitely not cope with the deadly process of trying to interfere with nature …

Upstairs, Cecilia went into the bedroom noiselessly and looked down at her husband. He was lying straight as a rod with his eyes closed and Cecilia smiled – the rhythmic snoring from his partly open lips reassured her that he would not wake easily, and that nothing more would be required of her that day.

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