The Secret Notebook Page 6

  I finished my tea and set it down, thought about letters and what they would mean to a service man or woman away from home and without thinking, I voiced my thoughts.

  ‘I should think it’s a good thing to get letters from your loved ones, for those at home and those away.’

  Jack had nodded at those words and asked whether I wrote to any servicemen. I said I didn’t at the moment, thinking I would likely be writing to his brother in the future. I glanced at the wooden clock on the mantlepiece.

  It was almost ten o’clock. It was my turn to lock the front door tonight; Enid and I took turns during the week, also checking the coals in the grate were out and that everything in the kitchen was turned off for the night.

  I told Jack I’d a few jobs to finish off before locking up and I hoped everyone would be in soon.

  ‘It seems a long old day for those who have to study at night, too.’ I thought of Joe in particular.

  Jack took a breath and responded that my day was as long as theirs. I smiled at that. No one had ever pointed that out to me before.

  Then he said, ‘If you ever want to go for a walk in the evening and Joe’s busy elsewhere, I’m more than happy to keep you company, Molly.’ Jack’s features broke into a smile when I responded with my thanks. I told him that I’d bear it in mind and that he was kind. ‘Tomorrow? If the weather’s not too bad? I do love a walk.’

  He nodded his agreement, stood and pushed his fingers back through his dark hair, and a bit of smut from the fire landed on his cheek. ‘Bob down a bit,’ I told him, ‘so I can rub it off with my hanky. Whoops, I’m smearing it and making it worse.’ My running commentary made us both laugh before I finally got his cheek clean. ‘Good as new,’ I announced, shoving my hanky up my sleeve.

  I wasn’t sure if I imagined it again or if Jack’s cheeks really did go a bit red. Probably it was me rubbing at the smut that caused him to colour up. I noticed in that moment that his eyes shone with such gentle warmth that I found myself smiling.

  Just smiling.

  ‘Hello, hel-lo!’ Joe stopped in the lounge doorway, hands on hips, head tilted on one side. ‘Are you after stealing my girl, Jack?’

  Jack looked irritated at his brother’s words. ‘You know me better than that,’ he said, then added, ‘It’s usually the other way round.’

  Joe swept into the room, smile and arms wide. ‘How’s my beautiful girl?’ He pulled me close, out of Jack’s proximity. Before I’d a chance to answer or explain that I’d just been wiping Jack’s cheek, Joe’s mouth closed over mine.

  My Dear Diary, Joe’s kisses were enough to make me forget what I was doing; that melting warmth always took over, making him the most important – the only thing that mattered.

  He raised his mouth from mine, his eyes half-closed, a small smile tilting his mouth and asked if I would go dancing with him the following Saturday night.

  Any insecurities I had entertained disappeared. And I agreed, of course. I was about to ask him how his studying went and if there’d been some female trainees along in his class, though there must have been; he smelled faintly of roses. But then he smiled, my insides heated and he kissed me again before saying he had to get up early and needed a good sleep before the test.

  It didn’t occur to me until I took our cups into the kitchen, washed them up and checked everything was switched off, that Jack had left the front lounge without a sound. Or maybe he had said goodnight but I hadn’t heard him. Joe’s kisses affected everything my hearing included.

  Blackpool, Thursday November 18, 1943

  Thursday evening, Joe brought a stack of dirty plates into the kitchen and winked at me. His broad shoulders fitted his blue uniform shirt, his height and sheer presence seeming to fill the kitchen doorway. The sleeves had been rolled a couple of turns; his tie slightly loosened. I knew for a fact that they all had to look impeccable first thing in the morning when they left for training, and yet, the more casual look suited him enormously – fitted his slightly bad-boy persona. My stomach did a flippity flop.

  ‘So, you meant what you said last night? Will you come dancing on Saturday night? I’d love to take you.’

  ‘I’d love to, Joe – yes!’ With him. I loved to dance with him. I could barely wait; just the thought of enjoying an evening with him made me happy.

  Once all the clearing up was done, Joe had left to go and do his extra studying, Jack and I hurried over the road to call for Dora, who quickly bundled into her coat and scarf, then the three of us linked arms in the dim light and hurried down onto the promenade to blow off the cobwebs with a brisk walk.

  ‘We should do this every evening,’ I turned my face seaward, so the breeze blew the hair from my face, loving the simple pleasure of the salty air, the distant crash of the tide.

  Both Dora and Jack laughed, tugged me to keep walking in the cold night air.

  Blackpool, Saturday November 20, 1943

  Before we went out, Dora and I painted the buttons on our dresses with some red nail polish. It was amazing how it made our outfits look different. And we helped one another to style our hair. It was terribly wet out, so we opted for twist styles, held in place with hundreds of hair pins and grips.

  Dora said she’s so happy she’s walking out with the tall blond American serviceman called Matt. She meets up with him on Saturday nights at the Tower and she finds his accent sexy, she says. I can’t always tell what he’s saying, but I didn’t tell her that!

  We got a bit blown about on the way to the Tower, but our headscarves kept most of the damage at bay and everyone had rosy cheeks from the wind.

  I noticed for the first time that Jack wasn’t short of willing partners, but he rarely stayed with the same one for more than a couple of dances.

  ‘You look beautiful.’ Joe pulled me close, leaned down and whispered against my ear, sending shivers through me. When I smiled up at him, he held me tighter still and I knew then what I’d suspected the moment I met him.

  I loved Joe.

  I could feel my eyes sparkling with the excitement of being whirled around by this dashingly handsome man, being the recipient of his smiles and his whispers making promises against my ear as we danced close.

  I experienced sensations I never had before. I’d fallen hard and fast.

  At the end of the night we walked with some others going our way so we could make our way back to Banks Street together in the dark, sharing fish and chips out of newspaper whilst walking along the promenade.

  ‘It’s like being on holiday,’ I said as I stole a fat chip from Jack’s serving and he just laughed.

  ‘Do you want to sit down?’ Joe asked.

  We made for the nearest shelter; the breeze coming in off the sea made our cheeks tingle with cold. The rest of our crowd, four or five of them, called out their goodnights and went off into the dark.

  My Dear Diary, Joe and I were alone for what felt like the first time ever. Not literally, because there were lots of folk making their way towards billets and home, but alone in the shelter, just the two of us.

  When Joe spoke, his words made my insides swirl with warmth and with love.

  ‘I haven’t known you long, Molly, but I feel as if I’ve known you a long time.’

  ‘That’s how I feel.’ I turned to face him, his arms went around me, and I moved onto his lap. We shared the longest embrace; the warm firmness of his legs beneath me rose to warm mine, the feel of his torso where we touched felt so powerful.

  The words I love you! shouted in my mind, but I didn’t want to scare him off, so I kept them there. When we broke apart, I traced my finger down his cheek, and was stunned anew by his handsome features, the way his eyes drank in my features, thrilled that he seemed equally besotted with me.

  ‘What are you smiling at, Molly?’

  ‘I’m happy. I’m smiling because I’m happy.’

  ‘Do I make you feel that way?’ He looked pleased, expectant, as if there could be no other reason.

  I spread my fingers
over his chin and raised my lips to his. His chin was cool beneath my fingertips, his breath, his mouth warm. ‘You do. I don’t know why, you just do.’ We kissed again for a long time.

  I ached to tell him I loved him; had the feeling I’d like to stay in the shelter on the sea front forever … but then we both became aware of time passing, of it getting late, and I became mindful that we couldn’t actually stay there forever.

  ‘I think we’d better…’

  ‘Yeah.’ He stood and I slid to my feet from his lap, then Joe held out his hand. ‘We’ve about five minutes to get home, love.’

  Not so far away in the sky above us, unseen night bombers droned and spluttered as we hurried towards Bank Street and home. We just made it.

  It is so strange, my Dear Diary, fewer of Jack and Joe’s forty-two days are left, and time is speeding up. It reminds me of the sand in our egg timer, the fine sand falling through the top of the hourglass to the lower one – ever more quickly – as it nears the end.

  Blackpool, Wednesday November 24, 1943

  A few evenings later, Joe was out. Jack came into the kitchen with a pile of plates, carried them to the sink and began washing up. I dried them whilst we chatted about his family. ‘They’re keeping all right, by all accounts. Spend a lot of time in and out of their Anderson shelter. Ma’s last letter said the sirens are forever wailing. Said she’s looking forward to spending a whole night in her own bed!’

  ‘Poor things.’ I dried another plate and added it to the stack on the table.

  He dropped a stack of washed forks onto the draining board. ‘You should join us in the front room later, we could take another walk first, too if you fancy?’

  ‘Thanks, I might do that if Mother doesn’t need me for anything.’

  Enid had just finished lining up the teapots on their shelf and shrugged. ‘Finish up here, Molly and take care of the locking up – I’ll get an early night. Join the billets if you want, but think on there’s no funny business.’ She wagged her forefinger to emphasise the words I knew were coming, ‘I’ll not stand for any shenanigans under my roof.’ She looked pointedly from me to Jack to be sure her message hit home.

  ‘We just play cards or chat whilst we go for a walk, that’s all, Mrs Webster. No funny business.’ Jack finished drying the forks and put them away.

  Jack and I called across for Dora, but she declined the invite to come for a walk, said ‘I’ll come along tomorrow, bit busy tonight!’

  Then quietly, as we turned to move away, she said, ‘Do you two lovebirds good to go out on your own!’ And she winked. I rolled my eyes and Jack just laughed and we hurried away – there were very few who could tell the brothers apart – including even Dora sometimes! And neither of them bothered to correct folk most of the time. I linked my arm through his as we listened out for cars and hearing none, darted over the road to the promenade. ‘Does it ever cause problems, the two of you being identical?’

  ‘Sometimes, but we’ve learned to handle it.’

  ‘I’ll bet.’ We walked quickly because of the cold and shivering a bit, reached Central Pier and then with just a nod, turned around and made our way back.

  After hanging up my coat and running a comb through my hair, I joined the billets in the front room. Jack had a rough square of blank paper and his pencil moved quickly against it as he kept glancing up at Percy, who sat opposite. Curious, I moved to stand behind his chair. Emerging was an incredibly life-like sketch of Percy’s face: his dark hair, eyebrows and moustache, the half-closed eyes, slightly wonky nose and thin lips spoke of someone relaxing at the end of a long day. Jack added a touch of shading to the line of his subject’s jaw, just a smidge under his cheekbones – and printed the date at the bottom, along with his initials JB. ‘Here you go, Percy.’

  Percy’s broad smile spoke volumes, pleased as punch. ‘Our Alison will be thrilled with this, Jack, thanks.’ He explained to me that his fiancée, Alison, had been bombed out of her house in Stockport, and her photos had all been destroyed.

  ‘It’s a great likeness, I’m sure she’ll love it.’

  I caught Jack’s eye, ‘That’s a real talent you’ve got there, Jack.’

  ‘I’ve promised Edgar a sketch, too.’ He looked up over his shoulder at me. ‘I’d like to draw you, Molly, if you’re free?’

  I was warmed inside at his suggestion, said yes.

  ‘I’ll make us all a brew, then, whilst you draw Edgar, Jack.’

  And, Dear Diary, whilst I was at it, I nipped and tidied my hair, pinched my cheeks for colour and made myself look a bit more decent. By the time I joined the chaps in the front room, Edgar was stifling a yawn. ‘Think it’s the sea air, I sleep like a log here, right from the first night.’

  ‘It does get you like that.’ I set down the tray and then moved behind Jack to see how his sketch was coming along. The likeness was nothing short of incredible. Jack had captured perfectly Edgar’s pale ginger colouring, very short hair and a neat slightly darker moustache, and the mischievous twinkle in his pale blue eyes.

  ‘Nearly done, Edgar,’ Jack said, catching him yawning again. He signed his initials at the bottom of the drawing and handed it to his pal.

  ‘Made me look proper ‘andsome!’ Edgar nodded, grinned with approval and shifted to an easy chair from the upright dining chair. ‘I’ll bet Sophie will kiss this every night before bed!’

  ‘More likely she’ll cover you up,’ Percy said as he handed round the scones. ‘Might give her nightmares.’

  They all laughed, including Edgar, who broke his scone in half and dipped it in his cup of tea.

  ‘Young mucker needs housetraining.’ Percy shook his head and looked exasperated.

  ‘Shame Joe misses this bit of fun, Jack, with having to go out studying,’ I said.

  Percy and Edgar fell silent, just for a second, and exchanged glances. I caught the look and momentarily wondered what I’d said to warrant the exchange, feeling as though I’d missed something. Then Edgar intercepted the brief thought, held up the other half of his scone, his mouth still full when he said, ‘These are good, Molly.’

  Percy set out the draughts board on the small dining table in the window between him and Edgar. ‘Best of three, Ed? For a couple of smokes?’

  Jack indicated I should sit in the dining chair.

  ‘I can’t believe how quick the weeks are going,’ I said whilst Jack’s expression spoke of concentration, his slight smile in place as he made swift yet careful strokes with pencil against paper.

  I didn’t realise, Dear Diary, until Jack sat up, looked at me, then added some adjustments, that I’d had a similar, slight smile on my expression, too.

  It was a little while later when he put his initials at the bottom of the paper along with the date: November 1943. ‘About done, I think, Molly?’ He held it up at arm’s length and the other two looked across from their game.

  ‘Very good,’ were Ed’s words, and he whistled in appreciation.

  Percy nodded in agreement. ‘Tis, very.’

  Jack handed me the sketch. ‘Here you are, Molly.’

  I was stunned at how he had portrayed me using just a pencil; although in grey, black and white, my coppery curls looked shiny, my eyes lit with fun and a small smile tilted my mouth. ‘You’re gifted, Jack.’ For some reason a strange lump rose in my throat and my voice came out a bit hoarse. ‘No one’s ever drawn me before, thank you.’ I looked up at him and his eyes smiled in response.

  He shrugged, tapped a cigarette out of the packet on the table, caught it in his mouth and lit it. ‘I’ve always drawn, have since before I could write, Ma said.’

  ‘Does your brother draw?’ Edgar piped up to which Jack shook his head.

  ‘He thinks it’s soft.’

  ‘Well, I think you’re a good artist, Jack, and I think you’ve taken a flattering view of me. Thank you.’ The sketch just fit in the large patch pocket on the front of my dress so I slid it in and gave it a protective pat. ‘I’ll keep it safe. Oh, I’m
sure Dora would love a drawing too – she could give it to Matt. Would you mind if I mention it?

  Jack readily agreed, ‘Anytime, Molly.’

  ‘I’ll get her to come round tomorrow evening then, if that’s all right?’

  ‘Fine by me. If it doesn’t take too long, maybe the three of us could go for a walk, afterwards? You too, Edgar and Percy?’

  ‘Aye, if I’m not too tired.’ Edgar responded. Percy shook his head.

  The clock on the chimney breast said it was almost ten. Edgar and Percy chorused their goodnights and went upstairs.

  ‘You should go up, too, Jack. Thanks for your help and for the sketch. It’s great.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ As we walked down the hallway, the front door opened; it was bang on ten o’clock.

  ‘Hello, hel-lo, are you trying to steal my girl again, Jack?’ Joe looked tired out; I thought he must have been working hard.

  ‘Oh, dry up.’ Jack looked a bit cheesed off with his brother. ‘You shouldn’t cut it so fine getting in, Joe.’

  I frowned, wondered if I’d imagined a thread of tension running between the brothers, then the thought evaporated when Joe spoke.

  ‘Yeah, sorry.’ He dragged his hand down his face, turned and gave me one of his engaging grins. ‘Sorry, Molly, sweetheart, I got talking after – lost track of time.’ As he spoke, Jack took hold of his arm and guided him to the stairs.

  ‘Apology accepted.’ He did look sorry and I couldn’t be cross when he smiled that way. ‘I said to the others, Joe, it’s a shame you can’t join us in the evenings because of your training.’

  Joe paused and turned to look at me over his shoulder. ‘It is, Molly, a great shame.’ His blue eyes shone with sincerity. ‘Goodnight, sweetheart.’ He gave a slightly wonky salute before moving upward.

  ‘Night, Joe. Night, Jack.’

  ‘Night, Molly.’ Their voices drifted down the stairs.