It hadn’t taken Maddie long to remove all traces of herself from the
bedroom that she and Molly had shared. They’d laughed in this room, cried,
sung the most ridiculous songs and talked about love and romance.
The thought of returning to Cornwall again sent a small shiver of
expectation through her. Surely it was fate? There must be mother-and-baby
homes in London, and yet Commander Worthing had sorted out this one in
Cornwall for her.
Everyone was at work when she left the house in Hammersmith. No one
to say goodbye to. And with a small sigh of regret, she left her key on the
hall table, feeling a little sorry for herself. Deflated, as this part of her life
came to an end with hardly a whimper. She had been happy there with the
rest of the ATS crew and her friend Moll. She’d miss the camaraderie, the
banter of the common room, as they huddled around the fire, listening to the
wireless.
Maddie struggled through the front door shouldering a kitbag, canvas
gas mask holder slung across her chest and carrying her small suitcase. All
her worldly goods. But then life was more than the sum of your
possessions. And her life was about to change in the most radical way. It
was exciting, but also a little frightening; the part that caused her a trace of
sadness was that Rudi would be unable to share this with her. The marvel of
their child.
The train was crowded and uncomfortable, scores of servicemen and
women going on leave, coming back from leave, travelling to new postings.
Civilians too, many of them standing in corridors, waiting anxiously for
seats in packed compartments. Excitement, boredom, sadness: Maddie read
all those emotions on the faces of her fellow travellers. What could they see
on hers? The miracle of her child? Was it already written in her eyes?
She often thought about her baby, had even begun talking to it. Was that
quite normal? Did every pregnant woman do that? Maddie had no idea.
How naive she was. Sex. Her own body. Pregnancy. Those things had never
been discussed in her family.
It seemed ludicrous that there she was, about to bring another life into
the world, and with only a vague idea of the process of giving birth. She’d
looked for a book in the library, but there’d been nothing there to help, only
a medical book that had been more terrifying than reassuring. She’d put it
back on the shelf.
The train slowed to a walking pace, and they were shunted into a siding.
Wartime traffic on the railway, it was always slow. Passenger trains had to
give way to freight trains carrying goods and ammunition. It was the way
things were, it didn’t help to complain.
Her journey from Paddington was to take six hours, arriving in Truro at
four o’clock. Then a short trip on a branch line to a place called St Agnes.
That’s where this home was – Rosemundy House – and they would send a
cart to the station for her.
She’d read the letter from her CO several times now. Chief Commander
Helen Worthing had even included her home telephone number. She was
beyond kind. She had also included some details about where Maddie was
going, and Maddie tried now to get some sense of this Rosemundy House,
the home where she would introduce her baby to the world.
A home for unmarried mothers. Not run by nuns, though. Commander
Worthing had assured her of that. The full force of her new reality hit her.
The place where she was about to spend the next few months of her life was
a home for bad girls, for sinful girls, those who had fallen short of society’s
unwritten rules. Not a holiday camp, then. It would have some kind of
regime It was sure to. So what? She was used to the army, could take
orders, wasn’t any kind of weakling who ran at the first sign of trouble. And
really – just how bad could it be?
The train finally arrived in Truro station at eleven thirty. Almost eight hours
late. It was all a bit wearisome, but what could you do, other than make the
best of it?
Maddie sat on one of the hard, wooden benches with her luggage
around her. That’s when it started to rain. And a tall, elderly man came out
of the booking hall.
The man jangled a massive bunch of keys as he whistled a cheery sort
of tune. Maddie couldn’t put a name to the song, but it was a popular one
that she remembered Molly singing in her more exuberant moods.
He came across to the seat and smiled at her. ‘Having a rest, miss?’ the
man asked.
‘Something like that,’ said Maddie. ‘I missed my train.’
‘Oh?’
‘I’m going to St Agnes. I was supposed to catch a train from here this
afternoon, but the one from Paddington was late.’
‘Dearie me,’ he said in commiseration. ‘Train schedules nowadays,
they’re sometimes just guesses, though I shouldn’t say it. We tries our best,
miss, but it’s the war, you know.’ He grinned at her again, his eyes taking in
her ATS uniform.
Maddie thought he looked like a sort of ragged, ancient teddy bear. A
face that was worn but still perfectly serviceable. He could easily be
someone’s favourite grandad. Not hers, of course. Her grandfather had been
a very stern gentleman, who never grinned. ‘Do you think I could stay here
until my train comes?’
‘’Fraid not, miss. Last train on the branch line’s long gone. Won’t be
one along now till tomorrow morning. First one leaves seven thirty.’
‘Then maybe I could just wait here till then. I won’t cause any trouble.’
Her eyes pleaded with the old man.
‘I’m sure you’re a fine young lady, miss. But you can’t stay here
overnight. GWR’s fussy about things like that. I got to close up straight
after the last train.’
‘I understand,’ said Maddie. ‘I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with
the railway, Mister—?’
‘Bentley. Edward, but you can call me Ted. That’s what friends call me.’
‘Happy to meet you, Ted,’ she said. And she meant it because he
seemed like a very pleasant chap. And ‘Ted’! That was priceless,
considering her thoughts about his resemblance to a teddy bear.
‘Right, I’ll see you out.’ He jangled his keys. ‘You’ll have somewhere
to stay, miss?’ he asked, a concerned look on his face.
‘I’ll walk around for a bit,’ she said. Maddie struggled to her feet and
picked up the suitcase once more, made her way towards the exit.
‘What?! In the blackout and carrying your luggage? It’s pouring cats
and dogs. Can’t have a fine young woman like yerself doing that. You’ll
catch yer death. Besides, it ain’t safe.’ Ted looked at her for a moment. ‘Tell
you what, my sister lives over the road there in one of they railway
cottages. Brother-in-law’s a shunter with the railway, cottage comes cheap
for they pair. You could stop overnight. They wouldn’t mind.’
‘You’re a kind man, Ted. But we can’t wake your sister up in the middle
of the night,’ said Maddie.
‘Gesson! She’d be right pleased to meet you, same as me.’
Maddie smiled back at the ancient Cornishman. She’d been confused
when she’d first come to Cornwall, by the language that was almost
English, but not quite. Their own brand. But Maddie was used to it now. In
fact, she preferred gesson to get on. And wasson to what’s on. Somehow it
seemed more friendly, less harsh than its English equivalent.
‘But you don’t know anything about me,’ she said. ‘I’m a perfect
stranger.’
‘Ain’t none of us perfect, miss,’ he chuckled. ‘So – what’s yer name,
then?’
‘Private Madeline Brady,’ she said. ‘And my friends call me Maddie.’
‘Maddie it is, then,’ said Ted Bentley. ‘See – you ain’t a stranger no
more.’
Ted’s sister, a Cornish woman with the romantic-sounding name of
Morwenna, was every bit as kind as he was. She was a few years younger
than her brother but with the same cheery outlook, despite last night’s
surprise invasion into her tiny cottage.
Morwenna was a down-to-earth, practical woman, with a careworn face
that could still produce a smile and long, steel-grey hair. A woman with a
sense of humour too. She treated Maddie like a long-lost friend. The same
couldn’t be said of her husband, a disagreeable sort of man whose frown
showed exactly what he thought of his night’s sleep being interrupted. But
Morwenna had just winked at Maddie and put a pillow down on the sofa for
her. Better than spending the night sleeping on a railway platform with the
rain pouring down, she’d said.
And now, the next morning, Morwenna Davy had produced a cup of tea
and a ginger biscuit. A proper Cornish one, she’d said proudly. A fairing,
baked right there in Truro.
‘Brilliant, thanks,’ said Maddie, as she gratefully accepted the tea. She
hadn’t had a thing to eat or drink since yesterday morning. ‘But I can’t take
one of your biscuits. What about the ration?’
‘Eat, eat! Looks like you could use it. And you’ll need to keep your
strength up – for the babe.’
‘What… but how…?’
‘Don’t worry, you aren’t showing,’ said Morwenna. ‘Just a feeling I ’ad.
No need to cry. Tis a wonderful thing.’
The tears had been automatic. The long journey and the feelings of
being alone. It had made Maddie feel sorry for herself. ‘Sorry,’ she said.
‘I’m an idiot, and you’re right. It is a wonderful thing.’
‘There you go. Proper job! You wipe your eyes, maid. And enjoy yer
biscuit.’
‘What about your husband, won’t he need breakfast?’ asked Maddie.
‘He? He’s been gone hours. And don’t you pay he no mind. The man
can be teasy at times, but ’tis the hard life and the war.’
‘You didn’t tell him I was pregnant…?’ asked Maddie.
‘Women’s work.’ Morwenna laughed. ‘Hard enough without men
getting in the way. So, you on yer way to Rosemundy House?’
‘How did you know?’ asked Maddie.
‘Put two and two together. Yer off to St Agnes this morning. ’Tis a
small place, not much else up there for a lady like yerself.’
‘Maybe not such a lady, Morwenna. Not to get like this.’ She patted her
stomach.
‘Aye, there’s some that’ll say as much. Even they up there at
Rosemundy. But not me. You was only one part of the transaction, ain’t that
right? Blokes got the easy bit – they can walk away.’
‘Not HIM!’ said Maddie, and she was surprised at the strength in her
voice. At the passion.
‘Oh? Yer man didn’t walk away, then?’
‘He doesn’t know. Don’t suppose he’ll ever know. And he’s a wonderful
man. A kind, sensitive man. Not a rotter, like you might think.’
‘So, he can’t help – but your family…’
‘Ha!’
‘What – you ain’t got one? Father? Mother?’
‘Not all mothers are like you, Morwenna.’
‘Right. Well. You find yerself in need of a friend – if this thing gets
tough – you can always come an’ visit. Give they lot in St Agnes the slip
for the day.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for your kindness.’ She stood up to take
her leave – it was nearly time for her train. ‘Please give my best to your
brother.’
‘No need. You’ll find he over the road at the station already. First one
there in the morning, last one out at night. Railway’s his life.’
Pockets of kindness. You could find them everywhere. She’d found
several of them in Cornwall: the waitress Lizzie Retallack at the Angel
Hotel in Helston, and now, here in Truro in a tiny railway cottage and a
woman she instantly liked. A friendly Cornishwoman who had instinctively
known about Maddie and her problem; had offered help but hadn’t judged
her. It was enough to make her feel optimistic for the world.
