The Swallow and the Hummingbird(5)

‘Elsa told her. She said it was like bathing in a tub of warm honey.’ Eddie grinned mischievously as she watched her father’s face extend into a wry smile.

‘My dear child,’ said Hannah severely, ignoring her husband’s obvious amusement, ‘physical love is for the procreation of children within the union   of marriage.’

‘They are engaged,’ Eddie protested, beaming at her sister who had suddenly grown hot and fidgety. ‘After all, she thought he was dead!’

‘They still should have waited. What are a few months?’ Hannah argued.

‘George and Rita will be engaged soon.’ Eddie turned to Rita. ‘You will tell me what it’s like when you do it, won’t you?’ Rita let her long, brown hair fall over her face in thick curls and wriggled in her chair in embarrassment.

‘Edwina, eat your breakfast. You’ll be late for school,’ said Hannah, changing the subject. She was used to Eddie’s tendency to say exactly what she thought, without reflecting on whether it was appropriate. That she had inherited from her grandmother. Eddie watched her mother spoon large dollops of porridge into a bowl then caught eyes with her father. His expression was indulgent.

‘Eddie, dear, do you have to bring Harvey to the table?’ said her mother, noticing the little black bat that clung to the sleeve of Eddie’s woollen cardigan.

‘I told you, Mummy, he doesn’t like being left on his own. He’s used to me now.’

Hannah sighed and picked up her cup of tea, which was as weak as dishwater. ‘The fighting might have stopped but it’s going to take a long time for this country to get back on her feet again. Oh, for a decent cup of tea with a healthy serving of sugar!’

Maddie was nineteen, a young woman of single mind, so there was no need to get up at such an unsociable hour. Although her parents encouraged her to get a job, she felt there was no urgency. Besides, she’d find a husband and then she wouldn’t have to work. She watched Rita leave in the morning to toil away as a land girl on Trees Bolton’s farm; how she’d come home in the evenings with her hands dirty and her hair full of dust, smelling of cows and manure, and was grateful that she had managed to avoid that kind of manual labour. There were enough people keeping the home fires burning for her not to have to add to their numbers. It was a shame the men on the farm were so old and ugly for if they had been as young and handsome as those GIs she might have found something worth doing, like boosting morale in the haystacks. She rolled over and contemplated doing her hair and perhaps painting her nails. Then she remembered that today was the day George was coming home from the war.

Throwing on a dressing gown she padded downstairs to find Rita and her father on the point of leaving. ‘Good luck, Rita,’ she said. ‘I’ll be thinking of you. Four, isn’t it? Leave in good time so that I can do your hair,’ she added, noticing her sister’s unkempt appearance. But she knew it was useless. Rita was as natural as the sea she loved and her locks would always be as tangled as seaweed. ‘I’ll help you. You must look your best for George.’ Then she turned to her mother and seemed to wilt with emotion. ‘Isn’t it simply the most romantic thing in the world, Mummy?’

Rita departed on her bicycle, Humphrey in his Lee Francis, and Eddie wandered reluctantly off to school with Harvey so that Maddie was left alone with her mother to eat what was left of the porridge, now cold beneath a thick layer of skin. Hannah hadn’t had the heart to tell Rita to tidy her room and had overlooked her scruffy appearance on purpose. She turned to her middle daughter. Rita might be untidy but at least she wasn’t idle like Maddie. ‘What are you going to do today?’ she asked, wondering how she could encourage her to do something useful with her time.

Maddie sighed and pulled a face. ‘I’m going to do my hair,’ she said, nibbling a piece of toast like her sister had done.

‘My dear, is it really necessary?’

‘I want to look nice for George too!’ she insisted, knowing full well that George had absolutely nothing to do with it. ‘I thought I could do my hair like Lauren Bacall. Besides, it’s George’s welcome home party tomorrow night. You never know who’ll be there. Maybe I’ll meet the man I’m destined to marry. I want to look my best for him.’

‘Why don’t you come to Megagran’s with me?’ Hannah said. Mrs Megalith had been rather rudely nicknamed Megagran by Humphrey many years before. ‘The bluebells are out in the wood and her garden’s looking lovely. We can have lunch. Make the time go faster.’