Now the War Is Over by Annie Murray Read Free Book Online

spinning works. Rachel turned to smile at her.
    ‘All right, Lil? How is he today?’
    The very look of Lil was heartbreaking. When Rachel first moved to the yard, Lil’s husband Stanley, a strong man and lively as a cricket, who had worked as a carter for the railways, had
just gone off to war. Lil always used to wear her honey-blonde hair piled majestically on her head, and be made up with bright lipstick, full of fun and kindness. These days she was so thin that
the bones in her face seemed overly large and her eyes were sunken. Her hair, still piled on her head, was now almost white, even though she was only in her late forties.
    ‘Oh, he said he’ll stop in today,’ Lil said, trying to sound cheerful. As if Stanley stopping in wasn’t what he did every day of the year. As if she didn’t mind
doing everything alone, trying to manage, as if her husband wasn’t a member of the living dead.
    Rachel could hear the tears building in her voice, but Lil stemmed them and raised her chin.
    ‘Just the way it is, I s’pose. Make the best of it.’ She shrugged and tried to smile, but she could not shift the desolate look in her eyes. Rachel reached out and squeezed her
arm.
    Stanley, who had been a radio operator on RAF fighters, had been shot down over the Mediterranean at night and floated in the black water for twelve hours before he was rescued. Within months,
the plane he was in was hit a second time and he bailed out, on fire, again landing in the sea. By some miracle he was picked up once more by a British naval vessel, but was badly scarred all down
his left side. His mental scars, though, were as bad, if not worse. Sometimes at night you could hear his screams across the yard. Quietly, the neighbours would say it was a pity he survived, that
Lil would have to have him put away. But Lil could not bear to do it.
    ‘He’s my Stanley,’ she would say quietly. ‘For better or worse, I’ll look after him. Anyway, our Marie’s made her life in Liverpool now – what
else’ve I got?’
    Rachel carried the sponge she had made out to the table and placed it alongside the fish-paste sandwiches and jellies and dry cakes. She slipped past Ethel Jackman, who was hardly ever known to
say an agreeable word, least of all to her own husband, and followed Danny who steered Tommy over to the corner of a table, where Gladys and Dolly were standing. Gladys was wearing her usual dark
clothes, though she had added a touch of colour with a vivid red scarf at her neck. Set against her dark chestnut hair streaked now with threads of white, pinned up in a thick, coiled plait, and
her blue eyes, she looked very striking. She had been organizing everyone in the yard for weeks before the celebration, collecting money, making sure things got done. Dolly, beside her, was wearing
a dress of green-and-red flower patterns. The two friends made an exotic pair.
    Dolly was standing behind Donna, seven now, in a little crimson dress and looking as ever, utterly beautiful. The youngest Morrison boy, Freddie, was beside her. The others were far too grown up
to be sitting with the children. The eldest, Eric, was on the point of getting married. Reggie was away and Wally and Jonny were standing about with some of their mates, all with hands in pockets,
a distance back from the table as if they were holding themselves aloof from all this carry-on.
    ‘That’s it, good lad, Tommy,’ Dolly said kindly, as he arrived. She saw Melly hovering about, waiting to look after Tommy. ‘You and Cissy squeeze along there next to
Donna, bab, and Tommy can come up next to you.’
    Cissy and Melly immediately got on either side of Tommy. Rachel gave her daughter a fond glance. You could always rely on Melly. She felt a swell of pride when she compared Melly to those Sutton
girls, Rita and Shirley, who were sitting opposite her, skinny little things with their long ratty hair and mean-looking faces. Rita was a bit older than Melly and Shirley a bit