It had been five of the longest, unhappiest days of Maddie’s life. Five days
of total misery. Leaving for work alone. Coming home and passing her
friend in the hallway. And Gertie giving her the cold shoulder. She’d
smiled, tried to strike up a conversation, but Gertie had just given her a
stare that had made its way from the Arctic. But Maddie didn’t give up.
And neither did Betty Wooten.
Betty waited until they were both in the kitchen making food,
awkwardly passing each other in silence. The clatter of dishes the only
sound to break up the painful and spiky atmosphere.
‘Incredible!’ said Betty.
They both stared at her, but neither of them spoke.
‘You pair! What age are you? Ten years old? I’ve a mind to knock both
your heads together.’
‘It’s her fault,’ said Gertie with a pout. ‘I never asked for any of this.’
‘No? Seems to me you’re both to blame. And you, Gertrude Adams
you’re acting like a spoilt kid. Sending her to Coventry. Your best friend. I
never heard anything so pathetic. Ain’t one war enough for you?’
Nobody answered her.
‘Right, here’s what’s happening. The pair of you, you’ll sit down and
tell the other one why you’re unhappy. And I’ll be here to referee. I want to
see fair play from both of you. And then you’ll drink your tea and shake
hands, and both apologise to the other for whatever crime you figure’s been
committed. And then we’ll all hug and make up and act like grown-ups for
a change. And if you do all that, I’ll take you both out to the flicks. My
treat.’
It wasn’t easy, but neither was it as hard as Maddie imagined it might
be. Still, a lot of that was down to the common sense and practical
moderation of Betty, who steered them towards a resolution, where no one
was truly to blame for the idiocy that had taken place over the last few days.
Peace talks, Betty called them. They lasted over an hour. A raw and
emotional discussion punctuated by tears, but – thanks to Betty – there was
no anger allowed, and no blame.
It
cleared the air, allowed the two women to start over. A new
beginning. A fresh reappraisal of their friendship. They both agreed on one
thing: neither of them would dwell on the pain of lost children. A bunch of
flowers and tears shed, once a year. They would do it together. For both of
their babies. But they would never forget – it wasn’t something you could
ever forget.
Now that both Gertie and Betty shared the secret of Maddie’s child, she
was relieved. No one had passed judgement or asked about the father of her
child – and Maddie was glad of that.
The love she felt for Rudi Fischer, and the love he had given her in
return, had been a miraculous thing, a tiny precious bud of hope in the
middle of a war. Two enemies who should have hated each other, but who
had loved instead. She wanted to hug the marvel, the wonder of it all, to
herself.
‘You,’ said Gertie, looking at Betty in admiration. ‘You should be in the
War Cabinet.’
‘And waste all those filing skills?’ Betty laughed. She hated filing. It
was a boring job, but better than the munitions factory.
‘So? We going to the flicks or what?’ asked Maddie.
‘Said so, didn’t I?’ Betty grinned. ‘I get to pick the movie, though.
Seeing as I’m paying.’
‘Seems fair,’ said Maddie. ‘Long as it’s not some silly, mushy romance.’
‘And what’s wrong with romance?’ asked Betty.
‘Let’s just have a laugh, eh?’ said Maddie. ‘Think we’ve earned it, don’t
you?’
‘And maybe a glass of porter on the way home?’ suggested Gertie.
‘Sure,’ said Betty, ‘but I ain’t paying for that too.’
‘This is very grand,’ said Gertie. ‘First time I’ve been here.’
‘Shush!’ An angry voice came from behind them in the front stalls.
‘I’m trying to watch the bleedin’ film,’ said another.
‘Sorry, I’m sure,’ giggled Gertie.
But she’s right, thought Maddie. The Ritz was very grand. Luxurious
and a little ostentatious, maybe. What she imagined American cinemas
might look like. And exactly what they all needed right then. A bit of
pampering to liven up the dull wartime restrictions and shake off the misery
they’d gone through over the last few days. All friends again, and revelling
in those beautiful surroundings, which could easily have been Hollywood
rather than the Ritz in Harringay.
Even the outside was impressive, a huge neon sign with the name of the
cinema on it. Very modern. And chic. She wondered about the blackout.
Maybe they switched the sign off when the customers had gone inside. Or
when the blackout kicked in.
Betty had bought them all tickets for the front stalls. The cheap seats.
But then she is paying for all three of us, so fair enough, thought Maddie.
The front stalls were cheap because you were so close to the screen that you
had to crane your neck up to see the film. Back stalls were more expensive
and the place where couples usually went. More room and manoeuvrability
if you wanted to try anything adventurous. The front upstairs circle was the
most expensive of all – people usually went there if they were trying to
impress.
Betty had picked the film and the cinema. This week’s ‘fun feast’, the
advertising had said. It sounded fine – they could all do with a feast of fun
round about now.
They Got Me Covered had a strange, complicated plot, but Dorothy
Lamour and Bob Hope picked their way through it as best they could.
Maddie gave up trying to follow it in the end, and just waited for the jokes.
There were a couple of hilarious bits that made the film worthwhile and the
Nazi spies in it were booed when they came on the screen, but they came to
a sticky end and the audience cheered.
It was a fine evening out and ended on a cheerful note when Maddie
bought bottles of brown ale to take home with them.
Back at the billet it was cold: no roaring fire to gather around in the
lounge, for their coal supply was rationed now to one bucket a week, but all
the same it didn’t matter. The three of them sat there with their greatcoats
on and happily drank brown ale.
‘Not much of a “fun feast”, was it?’ asked Betty. She sounded
disappointed.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Maddie. ‘It had its moments. I thought it was a
grand night. Thanks, Betts.’
‘Yeah, thanks, pal. For everything,’ said Gertie. ‘You’re the best.’
‘Well, we’re mates, ain’t we? The three musketeers, right?’
‘You said it,’ agreed Maddie. ‘All pals together. All for one, and one for
all.’
‘Right,’ said Betty. ‘It’s time for bed for us senior citizens. Check the
blackout and kick the cat out, you pair.’ She laughed. There was no cat.
When she left, Gertie became suddenly serious. ‘Don’t want to open up
no old wounds, Madds, but I need to say something. That okay?’
‘Sure,’ said Maddie. ‘Go ahead. Promise I won’t blow a gasket.’
‘I’m not sure how you really feel about this thing with the commander.
But I think you should take that job she offered. It’d be good for you. And
you’d still be billeted here. Only if it’s what you want to do, mind. It’s up to
you, Madds. But I really don’t mind…’
She didn’t blow a gasket, but the tears Maddie Brady had been holding
back for days now suddenly broke through their barricades.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘That was ridiculous of me.’
‘You sad?’ asked Gertie.
‘Sad? No! They’re happy tears,’ said Maddie. ‘You’re a wonderful
friend, Gertrude Adams. And I’ll never forget you as long as I live.’
‘I should bleedin’ well think not. Now, does that mean you’ll be taking
the job?’
‘And you wouldn’t mind if I left you on your own at the barracks, if I
gave up being a mess orderly?’
‘Don’t worry… Truth be told,’ said Gertie, ‘you ain’t the most natural
skivvy I ever come across.’ She gave Maddie a friendly punch in the arm.
‘It ain’t like they’ll have a problem replacing you.’
‘Swine!’ said Maddie, and grinned. ‘Okay, bedtime. Let’s find that
damn cat.’
