The Sun Will Shine Tomorrow Page 2

  I went to bed early as I wanted to write to Greg, my fiancé. He was working in a place called Bletchley Park in England, in some office doing war work, he said. He hadn’t passed the medical for the armed forces because of his bad leg but his letters were full of news about days spent being busy and I know he enjoyed the routine and the work. It was all a bit hush-hush but then so was everything in these traumatic times.

  I had mentioned Rosie’s pregnancy in one of my letters but I didn’t want to be all gloomy tonight and give him all my worries and woes so I tried to keep the letter as cheerful as possible – not an easy task.

  His letters were full of chat about the people he worked with and how lovely the countryside was where he was stationed. ‘The war seems so unreal in a lovely peaceful place like this,’ he wrote. ‘Yet we can hear the muffled sounds of the planes as they drop their bombs on London and the night-time sky is often fiery red with all the blazing buildings. It’s terrible to think about it.’

  I dashed off a quick letter before I spent another sleepless night. I was hoping to look for somewhere else to stay but I felt I couldn’t abandon Rosie just now. She needed help with the house and the shopping and I was the only one close enough who could do it as Granny and Alice were unable to rush around looking after her. All these jumbled thoughts went round in my brain again – the worry and uncertainty of the war and thinking about Danny and Greg. Would they ever come home again?

  I fell asleep around dawn only to be wakened a couple of hours later by the usual sounds coming from Rosie’s room. I stumbled wearily towards the door, feeling as if I had the entire weight of the world on my shoulders. Still, the next day was Saturday. On Saturday and Sunday Lily and I normally stayed away from the house. Dad and Rosie needed some time on their own so we would head for the Overgate.

  On the Saturday afternoon, Granny had a visit from Minnie and her son Peter. I hadn’t seen her for a while and it was great to catch up with all the news. Minnie and Peter had been lucky to escape from the Clydebank bombing last year and they were now back staying with her mother while her husband was away in the army.

  What a strange man-less society we are, I thought – women and children and older men only. As Greg said, an unreal world.

  Minnie said, ‘I’m looking for a house, Ann. It’s terrible living with my mother and she’s getting worse.’

  Granny was sympathetic. ‘Is she still cleaning the house from top to bottom, Minnie?’

  Minnie looked grim. ‘Aye, she is but it’s getting worse. The other night Peter was playing with a pencil and she started wiping the floor around him, saying he’d put pencil marks on the linoleum. She sloshed so much disinfectant water around him that he was soaked and smelling of San Izal for ages. I’m sure she’s going daft with all this cleaning.’

  ‘What will you do, Minnie?’ I asked.

  She shook her head. ‘I wish I knew.’

  Suddenly the door opened and Bella, Granny’s sister, appeared. On seeing her, Grandad said he needed some more tobacco and he hurried off.

  Granny was appalled by his behaviour but fortunately Bella didn’t seem to notice.

  Bella said, ‘I couldn’t help overhearing that you’re looking for a house, Minnie. Is that right?’

  Minnie nodded.

  ‘Well, the house next door to me is becoming empty next week. The old wife died, poor soul, but if you go down to the factor in Reform Street you’ll maybe get it.’

  Minnie was overjoyed. ‘I’ll go and see them first thing on Monday morning. Thanks, Bella!’

  Bella tried not to look like Lady Bountiful but couldn’t. ‘Och, that’s all right, Minnie. We know what a dragon your mother is with the washcloth.’

  Bella lived in Cochrane Street, one of the highly populated streets that formed the ‘Crescent’ area situated beside the very busy Lochee Road. It was also near the Hawkhill where Minnie’s mother lived.

  Bella then turned her attention to me. ‘You might have to join up, Ann – you being a single lassie with no bairns. The papers are saying that you’ll get sent to the munitions factories or you can join the Land Army. What would you like?’

  Before I could answer, Granny butted in. ‘Ann has Lily to look after. How can she go to some munitions factory or anywhere else for that matter?’

  Bella sat in the best chair like a fat Buddha and shook her head. I was always fascinated by the way her heavy jowls wobbled like a plate of jelly. She continued. ‘Doesn’t matter about a sister, I don’t think. Ann will have to go if she’s told.’

  More worries, I thought. Was there no end to them? Also, although I wouldn’t say anything to Bella, I wished she had mentioned the empty house to me. But maybe she didn’t know I was looking for one. And I certainly didn’t begrudge it to Minnie who had been through so much in the last few months, coming out of the shelter in Clydebank to discover the entire area completely flattened and everything gone except what they were wearing. It had been a traumatic time for her and little Peter.

  Bella was now on the subject of Rosie. ‘What a pair of daft beggars they are, having a bairn at their time of life. Still, your father was aye a bit stupid, Ann.’

  Granny glared at her but she went gaily on, ‘And I hear Rosie is sick every morning, noon and night. That can’t be right. There must be something wrong with her to be aye so ill.’

  ‘It’s never stopped you, Bella,’ said Granny acidly. Bella either didn’t hear or else she pretended to be deaf.

  I tried hard not to laugh. Bella was our family hypochondriac and here she was running down Rosie who had just cause for her sickness. But there was no stopping her when she got going in a character assassination.

  ‘Rosie has the shape that’ll run to fat. I bet she’ll be like a house end by the time the bairn’s born.’ This was rich coming from her. There was the well-known family joke about the time she got stuck in a chair at home and it had taken three young men to pull her free.

  Minnie got ready to leave and, to our relief, so did Bella. Minnie said she would let us know about the house and they all departed.

  I said to Granny, ‘I’m looking for a house as well, Granny. It’s not fair on Rosie and Dad having Lily and me hanging about – especially after the baby’s born. I wish I’d heard about the empty house next door to Bella.’

  Granny laughed.

  I looked at her.

  ‘I hope in one way that Minnie doesn’t get it. Imagine living next door to Bella with all the world’s ailments. I think living with a house-proud mother would be better than that.’

  Later, Lily and I left. We made a detour through Dudhope Park where Lily played on the swings. The sun was warm and the sky a cloudless blue. I sat on the grass, alone with my thoughts. I imagined hundreds of planes flying across with their cargoes of exploding bombs and I began to shiver in spite of the warmth. We were lucky here in Dundee. Although a few bombs had fallen, we didn’t have to contend with anything like the people in London, Glasgow and Coventry had – and Clydebank, come to that.

  It was indeed, as Greg had described it, an unreal world. Yet this unreality had violence and death breathing round its edges. For the moment, it had missed us but our turn would surely come. Another thing – what if I did have to go away to a factory somewhere? What would happen to Lily?

  As if she read my mind, she hurried over from her swing to sit beside me. We sat and watched a large bumblebee settle gently on a nearby flower.

  Lily turned to look at me. ‘Is Rosie going to be all right, Ann?’

  ‘Of course – she’ll be fine,’ I said.

  Lily didn’t look happy.

  I said, ‘Rosie’s just going through a bad stage just now but she’ll get much better in a wee while.’

  Lily thought about this for a moment then looked at me with anxious eyes. ‘It’s just that Jean McBean was saying things about Rosie when we were playing.’

  ‘What did she tell you, Lily?’

  She seemed on the verge of tears. ‘She says Rosie i
s going to die – just like Mum.’

  I was angry but I knew comparisons were being made over the two women. I took her hand. ‘Well, Rosie’s not going to die, Lily – I promise you,’ I said and this seemed to cheer her up.

  I wondered what was waiting for us at the house. Was Rosie feeling better? Or worse? And I was mentally kicking myself for making a promise – a promise which I sincerely hoped would turn out all right but, to be honest, it was one I wasn’t a hundred per cent sure about.

  2

  Tuesday afternoon was my usual day for doing the weekly laundry at the Meadows wash-house. I was feeling tired and hot and not looking forward to the next few hours in the hot, steamy building. Up to a few weeks ago, I had only my grandparents’ washing to do along with my own and Lily’s but, with Rosie feeling so ill, Dad had asked me if I could maybe do their laundry as well.

  I trundled the little pram, with the huge basket perched on top, through streets that were dusty and hot in the lovely sunny weather. The sun beat against the pavements and I felt its heat on my bare legs. Just before reaching the steep hill that led to the wash-house, I suddenly felt so weary that I had to stop for a moment. I stood beside the row of large houses that lined Dudhope Street. These were houses that were mainly owned by doctors and their families. The lovely houses had gardens that swept down towards the street. Because of the rationing, these gardens were now planted with vegetables but there was still a patch or two of flowers.

  I stood and watched a fat bumblebee land on one bloom, its droning filling the air, and I was reminded once more of the war and the clarion sound of the eerie siren that heralded an air attack. As I stood looking at the gardens, I thought, not for the first time, of how far away the war seemed to us.

  Then it was on to the wash-house which was even hotter than I imagined. Still, I had no choice but to get started on the dirty washing. The large expanse of green meadow that lay behind this building was full of chattering women and lines of clean laundry flapping in the gentle breeze. The scene was a kaleidoscope of colour and noise – a truly rural scene in the middle of this grimy, industrial city.

  I divided the washing into three separate bundles – that way I wouldn’t get mixed up when it came to deliver Granny’s bundle at the Overgate – and, for the next few hours, I scrubbed and scraped the clothes against the side of the ribbed washboard, rubbing Sunlight soap into the neckbands and cuffs of Dad’s shirts which were really grimy.

  The building was very quiet that day. No doubt most of the women were out in the sun and there was only a muted, droning sound of muffled words being filtered through the hot, steamy air – not unlike the sound of the bumblebee, I thought.

  By four o’clock, I was finished and glad to push my pram out into the open air. I was turning out of the narrow track on to the main road when I saw Maddie and Daniel. She was pushing him in his large Silver Cross high pram and she looked as worn out as I did.

  She waved when she saw me. ‘Hullo, Ann. I went to the house to see you and Rosie told me you were doing the washing.’ She fell into step beside me.

  Maddie, with her regal-looking pram that looked fit for a prince, had a golden-haired baby sitting up under the cotton canopy with its cream fringe. Meanwhile my tatty old pram held the huge wicker basket with the washboard tied on top.

  Little Daniel was smiling at all the trees in the gardens, holding out a chubby hand in their direction.

  ‘You’re getting bigger every day, Daniel,’ I said, leaning over to kiss the top of his fair hair.

  I was constantly amazed at how little he looked like Danny, his father – except, perhaps, for his blue eyes. He certainly didn’t have his father’s bright red hair.

  Maddie swept her blonde hair away from her face and I saw it was as damp with perspiration as mine was.

  She laughed. ‘How you can manage to do a huge pile of washing like that I’ll never know, Ann – especially in this weather.’

  ‘Someone’s got to do it, Maddie. Rosie isn’t well enough just now. Still, things will get better when she’s back on her feet.’

  ‘Rosie looked terrible when I called at the house, Ann. I think she had been sick. Her face looked grey and drawn.’

  I didn’t tell Maddie that this was how she looked every day. Instead, I said to her, ‘You were awfully sick all the time when you were expecting Daniel?’

  Maddie nodded. ‘Not just first thing in the morning either. It lasted till early afternoon but it does pass after a few months. You remember how ill I was, Ann? Is Rosie like that?’

  ‘No, she’s sick all day and night. Everything she eats or drinks seems to come up. It’s terrible, Maddie. Still, the doctor doesn’t seem to think there’s anything wrong.’

  ‘That’s a shame because it’s bad enough being sick in the morning without it happening all day.’ She stopped. ‘Are you going home now?’

  I shook my head. ‘No, I’m going to the Overgate first to leave Granny’s washing then I’ll head for home.’

  ‘Then I’ll walk with you as far as that, Ann, as I’ve got to get home and feed Daniel. He’s now getting rusks with hot milk for his tea and I’m slowly starting him on solids.’ There was no disguising the motherly love in her voice but when she spoke again it was with sadness. ‘I just wish Danny was here to see his son, Ann.’

  I nodded but daren’t speak. I knew I would burst into tears at the thought of Danny being in a prisoner of war camp somewhere strange and alien but I didn’t want to upset Maddie. I remembered the terrible time before Daniel’s birth when everyone thought Danny was dead – killed at Dunkirk. But, by some miracle, he had only been injured and put in a civilian hospital in Germany. It had been months before the Red Cross had found this out and informed Maddie.

  She was still speaking and I realised I hadn’t heard a word she’d said. She stopped and looked at me. ‘The war could go on for years and years and Daniel will grow up and never know his father. What a terrible thought, Ann.’

  She needed to be reassured. ‘Och, this war will be over sooner than you think, Maddie.’ Now why had I said that? I had the talent for coming out with statements that were based on thin air.

  ‘Do you think so? I heard it could last another twenty years.’

  ‘No, Maddie, I don’t think it’ll be as long as that. I’m not saying it’ll be over tomorrow but in a couple of years I’m sure we’ll be at peace with Germany.’ There I go again, I thought – Crystal Ball Annie. Still, she looked relieved and that was the main thing.

  ‘The reason I’ve come to see you today, Ann, is to ask a favour. My sister Joy has got this big box of paints and all sorts of artist’s equipment from an old uncle of mine who used to be a painter. Well, Joy was wondering if Lily could come and stay for the weekend at the house. They could paint away to their hearts’ desire.’

  ‘Oh, Lily will love that, Maddie. You know how much she likes to paint and draw – just like Joy.’

  Lily and Joy were the same age. Both girls had been born on the same day and they had been friends since their toddler days – even though Joy was at a fee-paying school and mixing with the children of well-off parents.

  By now, we had reached the Overgate. ‘Do you want to bring Daniel up to see Granny?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, I do.’ She unbuckled Daniel’s reins and we left the two prams against the wall of the stiflingly hot close.

  Granny was with Alice and the two women were delighted to see the baby.

  ‘This will soon be you, Alice,’ said Granny, holding Daniel on her knee while I put the kettle on. I was so parched I could gladly have drunk a small stream dry.

  Alice looked weary. Her thin face was deeply lined with furrows that had been made worse with all the worry over Rosie. ‘Well, Nan, I’ll just be glad when it’s all over I can tell you,’ she said.

  After our tea, I hung Granny’s washing on the kitchen pulley. The houses in the Overgate didn’t have the luxury of drying greens which meant everything had to be hung up inside – a hug
e pity when the weather was as glorious as this. Our house had a small, postage-stamp-sized drying green which, although a bit inadequate, was at least better than nothing at all.

  Maddie and I then left but, before pushing our prams in different directions, Maddie said, ‘I would really like you to come for the weekend as well, Ann. Do you think you can leave Rosie?’

  ‘Aye, I can, Maddie. We try and leave Dad and Rosie on their own at the weekend so that will be great.’

  Her face lit up. ‘Come on Saturday and stay until Sunday. We can have a good gossip while Lily and Joy play with their paints.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to it already, Maddie,’ I said. ‘But, for now, I’ll have to get this washing pushed up the Hilltown and get it dried in this lovely sun.’ I looked at Daniel. ‘Cheerio, wee pet – I’ll see you on Saturday.’

  He gave me a toothless smile and waved his chubby arms at people passing by.

  ‘Ann …’ Maddie hesitated. ‘I’m thinking about you having this awful load of washing every week. Do you think I could give you a hand? Or ask Hattie to help? She does our laundry at home.’

  It was nice of Maddie to offer but I tried not to burst out laughing. As offers went it was one of the more hilarious ones. Hattie? Do our washing? Heaven forbid. She might do Mrs Pringle’s washing but that was because she was their housekeeper. And I happened to know they sent most of their things to the laundry which meant it would only be the small items that Hattie washed.

  I had a mental picture of Hattie, immaculately dressed, struggling up the steep slope with our shoogly old pram with the basket placed on top. I almost had a fit of the giggles. However, I managed to keep a straight face. ‘That’s really good of you to offer, Maddie, but I’ll manage – thanks.’

  Lily was at home when I reached the house. She had made some tea and toast for herself and Rosie but Rosie was now in her room being sick.

  Lily was almost in tears. ‘I should never have made it for her, Ann. It just makes her ill again.’