Annie Groves - Only a Mother Knows

Drew held her for a long time, silently stroking her hair. Then gently he held her at arm’s length and said in a calm, quiet voice, ‘My darling Tilly …’ Tears filled his own eyes. ‘Please don’t send our ring back to me.’ His voice ebbed and, unable to speak now, Drew bent and tenderly kissed her wet cheek.

Tilly gazed up at him, her arms circling his neck, and through a mist of tears she too was unable to voice her loving, if selfish, thoughts, knowing he had to go. He had no choice. She had a powerful, unbreakable bond with her mother and Tilly knew how devastated she would feel if anything should ever happen to her. How could she deny the man she loved his need to see his own mother, perhaps for the last time? She must let Drew go with the knowledge she would be here waiting for him when he got back. Because, for her to get through this, she had to believe he was coming back. He would come back. She knew he would.

‘I love you, Tilly Robbins.’ Drew’s voice was gravelled with emotion. ‘I will write to you every day. You know that, don’t you?’ He had a desperate need to be reassured. With scalding tears streaming down her cheeks Tilly nodded, her voice refusing to articulate this love she would feel until her dying day.

‘I’ll leave you with a kiss to build a dream on until we can be together again,’ he said before kissing her with a fevered power that took Tilly’s breath away. Then, reluctantly, he walked away. His back was stiff, his head held high as he made his way to the waiting cab.

Tilly watched as its door clunked shut and she waited, desperate for him to turn and wave out of the back window. He didn’t. She waited, and waited, until long after the reverberations of the taxi’s engine could no longer be heard and the chill of the night air caught at her throat. She felt weak with grief, and the eerie silence that had wrapped itself around her was broken now only by her devastated sobs as the vibrant colour of her world disappeared, making everything grey, drab and miserable.

Her mother’s protective arm around her quaking shoulders was just too much right now and she shrugged it away. She didn’t want to be cajoled or coaxed into being calm. She wanted to scream, she wanted to throw herself on the floor, to kick, and beat her fists. She couldn’t bear it! She would die!

‘Come on, my darling.’ Her mother’s voice came from somewhere a long way off. ‘Let’s get you inside.’

‘Oh, Mum,’ Tilly sobbed; her head buried in the crook of her elbow. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ The crumpled letter she had received from her darling Drew was crushed in her shaking hands. He’d sworn to her in church that he would love her forever and she so wanted to believe that as her trembling fingers turned the ring that was now obviously on the third finger of her left hand, the one that she had proudly showed off when she and Drew arrived home from holiday. Tilly had ignored the pained expression on her mother’s face, willing her to be as happy as she was. Drew’s promise to love her and be with her forever more was still deeply etched on her memory.

‘Oh, Mum, how will I be able to carry on without him?’

‘You will find a way, my darling, we women always do.’ Olive rose from where she had been sitting on the corner of Tilly’s bed and went to her daughter’s side, cocooning her in a loving embrace. Hadn’t she, too, had to endure the departure of the man she loved at an early age? ‘I know you are hurting,’ Olive said, rocking Tilly back and forth, ‘but you must be strong. Drew will come back, I’m sure.’ But even to her own ears the words didn’t sound convincing.

‘I don’t think I will ever see him again, Mum,’ Tilly cried, ‘and it’s not just the war. As soon as he gets home he will be back in his father’s clutches again.’ Her voice wavered as the fragrance of summer grass, still clinging to her clothes, reminded her that only a few short hours ago she and Drew were the happiest couple in Hyde Park – or so she had thought. When he’d gently outlined her face with his fingertip and lovingly stroked her hair, was he trying to find the words to tell her he was going away? Or was he counting the minutes knowing his flight would be leaving soon?

‘Shh, my darling, don’t cry,’ Olive whispered, worrying now if Tilly had the strength and maturity to carry on alone, without him. She hoped so, otherwise the girl was lost.

All Olive could do was be there for her heartbroken daughter, and see her through this painful episode as best she could. As a mother she knew she would do everything in her power to prevent the pain and suffering Tilly was going through now.

‘Dulcie,’ Olive called up the stairs, ‘you have a letter here.’

Dulcie pulled the blanket high up to her chin, wondering if she had truly heard Olive calling her, or if she was still asleep; that luxurious pastime seemed to be in short supply since her work at the munitions factory took up most of her waking hours of late. She wasn’t sure if it was the repetitive drilling of holes and riveting metal or the long, laborious shifts that robbed her of her stamina. But whatever it was she intended to finish her sleep today.

‘Dulcie!’ There was no mistaking Olive’s voice this time. Dulcie opened one blurred eye and tried to focus on the little alarm clock she had managed to save from the salvage people, who took everything they deemed necessary to go towards the building of airplanes and ammunition.

What time was it, she wondered as the muzzy wakefulness began to irritate her. Or, more importantly – what day was it? She had been sent home from the factory yesterday because of a stomach upset, in case she passed it on to every other worker. Thankfully Olive let her rest when she said that she felt so ghastly and also telephoned the munitions factory from the call box at the end of Article Row to say she wouldn’t be in today either.

‘Dulcie, did you hear me?’ Olive called again. ‘There is someone here to see you.’

‘Ohhh, go away,’ Dulcie groaned, feeling nauseous now. If she moved quickly she was sure she was going to disgrace herself and throw up all over Olive’s clean linoleum. She must have eaten something that didn’t agree with her from the newly installed canteen, or maybe it was the whelks her mother had plied her with when she went to see her on Sunday for church. Whatever it was she doubted she could hang on to it much longer.

Olive had chanced a little tap on the door earlier, giving Dulcie an old-fashioned look when she made no effort to get up, then she put a sanitary towel, a Beecham’s pill and a glass of water on the bedside table, and told her she would be back later. Dulcie had said she just needed a long sleep; she didn’t need any pads or powders today, thank you very much.

Thoughts were lazily drifting through her rising consciousness, and as she became more alert questions formed. When was the last time she had been in need of a sanitary pad? Sitting up quickly in bed, she realised it must have been about seven weeks ago! She put her lateness down to the upset caused by Wilder running off with her sister, Edith.

She knew she wasn’t the world’s most regular girl so it didn’t bother her too much that she hadn’t seen her ‘visitors’, as she always called her monthly period; after all, nothing had happened between her and Wilder. She’d made sure of that, and now she was glad the cheating airman hadn’t been able to chalk her up as another willing English girl eager to catch herself a handsome, love-’em-and-leave-’em American. And she was sure that Reece Redgrave didn’t count.

Dulcie had put her air-raid shelter tryst with the young airman down to nothing more than an accidental misunderstanding. It had only been the once and everybody knew that girls could not get caught the first time – and anyway, it had only lasted for moments, not even minutes. Nobody got caught that fast. Dulcie’s heartbeat raced, and beads of perspiration broke out on her top lip and her forehead. You couldn’t get caught that easily, surely?