After the War is Over Read Free Page B

sure if she still did. ‘It seems a bit strange not to have seen my own wife for the whole of last year,’ he said stiffly. The smile had disappeared.
    ‘We hardly ever got passes for longer than forty-eight hours,’ Iris informed him. ‘It wasn’t possible to get from Plymouth to Liverpool and back again in such a short time.’
    ‘I wouldn’t have minded not seeing you had I been in the forces too.’
    ‘That wasn’t possible, was it?’
    He shook his head. ‘I wish I wasn’t hopeless in so many ways.’ His shoulders sagged.
    ‘You’re not hopeless in any way that I know.’
    ‘I couldn’t give you a baby.’
    ‘You gave me a baby. It’s probably my own fault I can’t have another.’ Iris closed her eyes, seeing her baby, Charlie, six months old, smiling at her, cooing, falling asleep in her arms. She imagined his bulk pressed against her, his mouth tugging at her breast, and remembered the morning she found him cold in his cot, his face as white as a ghost, lifeless and stiff. Her little boy was dead and she would never get over it for as long as she lived. If it hadn’t been for Charlie, she wouldn’t have joined the army, but she’d needed to get away. Once there, she’d told no one that she’d once had a child.
    Now, perhaps because she was home, in the house where it had happened, it seemed terribly real. ‘Is his cot still here?’ she asked Tom.
    ‘No, I hope you don’t mind, but Mother took it away some time ago. Even if we had another baby, I wouldn’t want him or her to sleep in it. We put the toys and baby clothes in the loft, just in case you wanted them kept.’
    ‘I don’t think I do any more. I’d sooner they were given to another baby.’
    ‘I’ll ask Mother to see to it.’
    ‘It’s all right, Tom. I’ll do it myself.’ He’d also lost a son, and it shouldn’t all be left to him.
    ‘Shall I put more coal on the fire, or will we be going to bed soon?’ He was probably unaware of the longing on his face.
    Iris would have preferred to stay up, but Tom would be hurt. She stretched her arms. ‘I’d sooner go to bed,’ she lied.
    ‘It’s time we started trying for another baby.’ He stood and pulled her to her feet.
    Iris nodded, but didn’t speak. Tom would never know, but she had been trying desperately for another baby since she’d joined the army six years ago, losing track of the number of men that she had slept with. What she would have told Tom had she fallen pregnant, she had no idea. She would cross that bridge when she came to it, she had told herself. As things had turned out, there was no need to tell Tom anything.
    On Saturday, Iris was already in Jenny’s Café when Maggie burst through the door, creating a terrible draught. She wore a bright red coat and a fur tippet around her neck. The café was full – Iris had acquired the last table. Her camel coat was draped over the back of her chair. Her rather severe matching hat sported a speckled feather.
    The chatter in the café was deafening. Everyone was in a good mood for this very special Christmas. A strip of white material hung in the steamy window with ‘Happy Yuletide’ cut from red crepe paper stuck to it. The wireless was playing Christmas carols sung by a children’s choir.
    ‘Is that fox?’ Iris enquired of the tippet as Maggie more or less threw herself on to a chair.
    ‘No, me dad swears it’s rat. I got it off me Auntie Kath. Mam sprinkled it with talcum powder and gave it a good shake in the yard. It’s lovely and warm.’ She created an even bigger draught by removing her coat and flinging it backwards over the chair, laying the fur on her knee. ‘Eh, you’ll never guess,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Me mam’s only expecting another baby. It’s due in May. She doesn’t care whether it’s a boy or a girl.’
    ‘You must give her my congratulations,’ Iris said, keeping the envy out of her voice. ‘Where’s Nell? I thought you two lived right by each other.’
    ‘I