that it’s going to be a boy.’
It would certainly probably be a good thing if Lena and Gavin’s baby were a boy, Bella reflected. Gavin was a wonderful father to Lena’s little girl and adored her, but Bella felt privately that there would be less chance of comparisons being made between the child that Charlie had fathered, and the one that was Gavin’s own, if this next baby was a boy.
Thinking of Charlie reminded her of why she had come to find Lena.
‘I’ll go and make us both a cup of tea, shall I?’ Lena suggested, starting to get to her feet, but Bella stopped her, shaking her head.
‘There’s something I want to tell you.’
Immediately Lena’s face lit up. ‘You’ve started a baby,’ she challenged Bella excitedly. ‘You and Jan. Oh, Bella, I’m so pleased.’
‘No, it isn’t that. It’s Charlie. He’s coming home this weekend. He told me that he’s expecting to be sent into action soon and that he wanted to come up and see Mummy.’
They exchanged understanding looks.
‘You’ll want to tell Gavin, of course,’ Bella went on, ‘although I don’t think you’re likely to run into Charlie. He’s bound to want to give you a wide berth after the way he’s behaved.’
‘It wasn’t his fault that I was daft enough to think he wanted to marry me when all he wanted was a good time.’
‘It was his fault that he didn’t tell you that he was already engaged to be married, Lena.’
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ Lena assured her. ‘In many ways I reckon he did me a favour.’
‘A favour? When he left you carrying his child?’ Bella protested.
‘Well, if it hadn’t been for me being pregnant I’d never have got to meet you, and look at all the things you’ve done for me, Bella – giving me a home and a job, and being such a good friend to me. If it wasn’t for you I’d never have met Gavin, and I’d probably have come to a bad end instead of being married to the best husband a girl could have, and having the best friend in the world. Don’t you worry about me accidentally bumping into your Charlie. If I did, I’d tell him how lucky I reckon I am.’
‘Oh, Lena, you’re a real tonic and no mistake,’ Bella laughed.
‘Hug, Auntie Bella, hug.’
The sound of her niece’s voice had Bella going immediately towards the little girl to pick her up and cuddle her close. She smelled of that lovely vanilla and baby powder scent, and Bella’s hold on her tightened as she breathed it in.
Lena’s innocent comment about Bella being pregnant herself had caused a little ache deep inside her body. Once she had been going to have a child, but because of her first husband’s physical assault on her she had lost that baby. Jan had been there then to help her, although then she had believed she hated him.
They had talked during the brief time they had shared together before Jan had had to rejoin his Polish RAF Squadron down on the South Coast, and Bella had told Jan then that she didn’t want to have a baby until the war was over, and until he could be with her.
‘I’m so afraid, Jan,’ she had confessed to him. ‘After what happened before. I couldn’t bear that to happen again.’
‘It won’t. It was Alan who caused your miscarriage,’ he had tried to reassure her.
‘I know that, but I’m still afraid. I need you to be there with me – I need your strength. Somehow I feel that if you are there then everything will be all right…our baby will be all right,’ Bella had told him.
Jan had kissed her then and she had kissed him back, and he had told her that everything would be as she wished. She knew she had made the right decision, but that couldn’t stop her aching with longing to feel Jan’s child growing inside her. It wouldn’t be long now until the war ended. Everyone said so. All she had to do was wait.
Wait and pray that Jan would come safely through it. Bella hugged her niece even more tightly. The Polish Squadron within the RAF had a reputation for bravery and daring. Jan had already been shot down once whilst in action. If she should lose him…but she mustn’t think of that. She must think instead of doing her own bit for the war effort, of playing her part and, of course, of dealing with the fuss her mother would make once she learned that Charlie was going to pay them a visit but that Daphne would not be with them.
So Charlie was coming home. Lena put a calming hand on her stomach as the baby within it kicked hard as though in protest against the intrusion into her thoughts of someone else. Lena looked down at her daughter. She was a beautiful little girl with the same dark curls that Lena herself had inherited from her Italian father, but where Lena’s skin had a faintly olive tone to it, Janette was fair-skinned and blue-eyed. Everyone who saw the three of them together remarked on the fact that whilst her daughter’s hair was the same colour as Lena’s own, her eyes were the same colour as her father, Gavin’s. Only of course Gavin had not fathered her at all, even if she called him Daddy and the two of them adored one another. Charlie had fathered her. Charlie, whom Lena had so naïvely and foolishly believed loved her and had meant what he had said when he had promised to marry her.
How silly she had been giving her heart and her body so immediately to Charlie. She was much wiser now, and with this new baby on the way she had everything she could possibly want.
So why did the fact that Charlie was coming home make her feel so restless and…on edge? A sudden flurry of kicks from the baby punished her for her thoughts and reminded her of where her duty lay. She was so lucky to have what she did, Lena told herself. So very lucky.
Katie enjoyed her voluntary work at the American Red Cross’s home from home for the American military at Rainbow Corner in Leicester Square, although she had to admit that it could be very demanding, especially on evenings like this one, when she was running late. She’d earned herself a disapproving look from the senior voluntary worker in charge on the reception area as she’d hurried in and made a dash for the cloakroom, where she’d removed her blue blazer and her neat white hat with its navy-blue bow trimming.
There’d be no chance of begging five minutes to snatch a hot drink and something to eat, Katie thought ruefully, quickly dabbing Max Factor powder onto her nose and then applying a fresh coat of pink lipstick, before combing her soft dark gold curls. Working at the Postal Censorship Office did not require her to wear a uniform, and the warmth of the September sunshine had meant that she had gone to work this morning wearing a neat white blouse under her precious ‘good’ blazer, and a red skirt with a pattern of white daisies on it, not really thinking about the significance of the colours until a small group of British Army high-ups had passed her when she left work, one of them commenting approvingly, ‘Red, white and blue, eh? Jolly good show, young lady. That’s the spirit.’
It was almost miraculous how things had changed since El Alamein and the Allies’ success. The air of tension and anxiety that had filled London’s streets like the dust from its bombed-out buildings had begun to lift, to be replaced by a sense of energy and optimism. The years of sacrifice, both in terms of human life and going without, of having faith and holding strong, were finally beginning to pay off. You could see it in the pride with which everyone was beginning to hold themselves, especially those in uniform, even if the shadow of Dunkirk and all the losses that had followed it were still there.
Victory – it was so close that you could almost taste it, almost…inside your thoughts, in your conversations with others, but it wasn’t real yet, and there were still hundreds, thousands, perhaps, of young men who would have to sacrifice their lives before it could be achieved.
Some of those young men would be those who were here tonight in the Rainbow Club, Katie knew: eager, enthusiastic, brash young Americans, come to show the Brits how to win a war and not in the least abashed about saying so either.
They didn’t mean any harm,