Caryl Phillips - Crossing the River

He gives me extra things for Tommy. Like a baby sister or brother, I said. I couldn’t help myself. Do you think it’s funny? whispered an incredulous Sandra. She sounded hurt. I was sorry I’d spoken. I apologized. Sandra paused. I don’t know what I’m going to do, she said. I’m not going backstreet. I don’t want to get rid of it. I’m too frightened to. And I don’t want to marry him. Does he want to marry you? I don’t know. I don’t think so. I hope not, I said. Doesn’t seem to me a good enough reason to commit marriage. A bun in the oven. God, she looked pathetic. Helpless. Child in her belly. Tommy in my arms. Cup of tea in her hands. Why didn’t she just keep her legs shut? It’s easy enough to do. Not exactly difficult, is it? I suppose I was lonely. She answers the question without me having to ask it. I suppose I was lonely and stupid. I should have used something. Yes, I said. Like self-control. Now she was hurt. I could see it on her face. I was sorry I said that. There was a pause and then I continued. I think you’d better write to him. Let him know before he gets back. What do you think? I think so, she says. But what if he doesn’t want to come back? What’s Tommy going to do for a father? I pointed out the obvious. That this is a war. That if Tommy ends up without a father, he won’t be the first and he won’t be the last. That’s the truth, Sandra. And then she started to cry. I made some enquiries, she said. Her voice quivered. But you can’t put it up for adoption without your husband’s permission. I’m done for. Dusk approached. The sky got darker. I could see it was freezing out. I would soon have to go and help Len close up the shop. Always a last-minute rush with those coming in from the town. And we’ve just started to ration meat. I didn’t want to leave her on her own in such a state, but what could I do? I touched her arm. Sandra, I said. Write to him. Tell him. It will make you feel better to know that he knows. And they can get leave. Compassionate leave. Then he can come home and the two of you can sort out whatever it is that you’ve got to sort out. It’ll be better that way. I’ve not told anybody else, she says. So I’m the only one who knows? And the doctor. At the clinic in town. It was getting darker. The shadows were lengthening. I think you should tell him, I said.

Last night Len beat me. After he came back from the pub. Drunk. Once he’s got a mood on, that’s it. He’ll find a reason. It didn’t hurt all that much. It happened so quickly. And I understood why he was doing it. Maybe that’s why it didn’t hurt all that much. He was just working off the embarrassment of not having a uniform. Not even one of the silly bugger Home Guard uniforms. Civvy Street guilt. He was playing at being a man. Secretly drumming on me behind closed doors. But I told him. The next time he raises his hand to me it’ll be the last time. Drunk or sober. It’ll be the last time.

France has gone. It looks like we’ll have to fight to the bitter end by ourselves. Everyone’s talking of invasion. And what to do. They say you’ve got to stay at home. If you’re out when they come, you mustn’t run or you’ll be machine-gunned from the air like they did in Holland and Belgium. It says, in the Star , that you’re not to supply the Germans with food, petrol or maps. And if you see anything at all suspicious you’re to go straight to the police. They sometimes talk to you like you’re mental.

I’ve been thinking about it all week, but trying to pretend that it wasn’t a problem. However, this morning I had to face up to the truth. I didn’t have anything to wear to the dance. And I simply didn’t have the money to go out and buy anything new. A plain dress, some flat shoes and a coat would have to do just nicely, thank you very much. This evening I stood in front of the mirror. When I smiled it took the lines a few moments less to set, and a few moments longer to disappear once I put my face right again. It wasn’t my imagination. I didn’t have to be told. I pulled on my coat and picked up my handbag, then I walked through the village towards the hall. As I approached, I saw a soldier standing by the chipped gate. Come for the dance, ma’am? I hid my ring. Yes, I’ve come for the dance. I panicked. Am I the only one? Have I got the time right? He offered me gum. No thank you, I said. I recognized him, I recognized them all from the shop. And they all knew me. I don’t suppose they knew my name, but they knew my face. I went inside. There were a few more soldiers in the grounds. Walking around in pairs. Laughing. They seemed odd in this grand place. But then I realized that I probably seemed odd here too. The toffs have moved on for the war. Big of them, I thought. Hey, ma’am. Looking for the dance? I nodded. Over there. He was a military policeman. He pointed with his rifle. I hesitated. Hell, just go straight in. So I did. I walked across the lawn — like a real madam — then up the stairs and into a big room. The first thing that I saw was the food. They had stuff on the table that even I hadn’t seen in years. Lemons and grapefruits. Tins of chocolate. Life Savers. Beef steaks. Salami. Sliced tinned peaches. One of them took my coat. May I, he said. Thank you, I said. So polite, I thought. I looked up and saw a few ATS girls from the next village, and some Land Army girls, and a few married ones, all sitting in a line looking frightened. I decided that I’d better go and sit with them. So I went over and sat next to a Land Army girl who was in uniform. She smiled at me but made a point of not saying anything. Then they began to play gramophone records, which didn’t make that much sense to me because they were all standing and we were all sitting. What were we supposed to do? In the corner I saw the officer who’d come into the shop and talked to me about them. He looked over and waved. Hello, Duchess. I stared back through him. I was rather proud of this stare. I could see that it upset him somewhat, but he wasn’t sure what to do. I kept staring through him. The Land Army girl next to me came to life and wanted to know if everything was all right. I told her, yes, that everything was all right. Why shouldn’t it be? I see, said the girl. And still nobody would dance to the gramophone records. And then I noticed that the band were climbing up on to the small stage. They’d pushed some boxes up tight and tacked a cloth drape around the edges, but it looked proper. It looked like a real job, not just something they’d slung together. And then they began to play. It sounded great, but it made everybody feel uneasy. A sitting line of us facing a standing crowd of them. And then I found myself on my feet and walking towards the two who asked me, the tall one and the shorter one. I asked the tall one if he’d like to dance. He smiled at me nervously. I could see the gap in his teeth in the middle of the bottom row. It’s usually at the top, I thought. Where people have a gap in their teeth. It’s unusual to see somebody with a gap in their teeth at the bottom. But that was all right, it was different and I liked that. He put one hand on my shoulder and held out the other. I stretched my arm out to meet it, and he steered me backwards and into the space that was the dance floor. A foxtrot. Over his shoulder I could see everyone looking on. I could see it on their faces. They were shocked. And maybe a bit jealous, but I didn’t care. And then, one by one, the soldiers found the courage to go over to the girls and soon they were all dancing. My partner leant forward and whispered into my ear. Looks like you’ve started the party. You oughta be proud of yourself. I didn’t say anything. You don’t seem shy and uneasy like the rest of them. I still didn’t say anything. I just listened. Listened to him and listened to the music. You from round here? Why? I asked. Well, I was just wondering. I don’t know. I guess you don’t act like them in some ways. Can’t say how exactly, but just different. Inside I was smiling. That was just what I wanted to hear.