Using the glass, Billy studied each face in turn. “Miss, there’s something about both of them, and you can see it—but even with what I said about Addens being a soldier, I can see a sort of sadness in all of the men. The boy as well. And the woman, come to that.” He shrugged. “You’ve got to be careful, haven’t you, miss? I mean, if you want, you can see anything in anyone’s eyes, and give them feelings they didn’t have.”
“I’d like to know who the other men are,” said Sandra. “Here, I managed to get the name of a woman who worked with Hartley-Davies—perhaps she can help.”
Maisie looked at the paper Sandra passed to her. “Miss Clarice Littleton,” she read aloud. “No telephone number, but an address in Maida Vale. Now that’s interesting—I wonder if she kept in touch with Addens.”
“I was curious about that too,” said Sandra. She put her hand to her mouth. “Excuse me—” She ran from the room.
Billy looked back as the outer door slammed, and the sound of footsteps moving in the direction of the lavatory echoed along the corridor outside. He turned back to Maisie.
“Reckon she’s going to tell us soon?”
“I don’t know, Billy,” said Maisie. “She’ll let us know when she’s ready.”
“I mean, it’s not as if I don’t know a woman with a bun in the oven when I see her—what with my Doreen having had four of ’em, and not one an easy time of it.”
Maisie looked at Billy. He glanced back at her, and sighed.
“I know—you can see something’s up with me a mile off. It’s probably showing in my eyes, as far as you’re concerned.” Billy pressed his lips together before speaking again. “My eldest has gone and enlisted. I thought he would wait until his call-up papers arrived on the doormat, but no, he went and did it anyway, and of course I could try to stop him, but . . .” He sighed. “Of all the blimmin’ things, he wants to drive a blimmin’ tank. A tank! I told him, the only thing he’s driving is his mother and me up the wall! Mind you, I suppose if they give him a job like that, at least he’s inside something strong—not like I was, when I was over there in the last war. I was under the ground digging tunnels, and half the time I could hear the Germans digging tunnels on top of mine! I tell you, all the money they get, these politicians, and they have nice houses to live in—yet they can’t sort out an argument to stop us all ending up at war.”
“Adolf Hitler is a very dangerous man, Billy. I saw more than I can say, when I was in Munich. He has to be stopped—we all know that.”
“Of course he does. I just don’t want my boys being the ones out there trying to stop him, I s’pose.”
“Is Doreen holding up?”
“Our little Margaret Rose keeps her from going down. Blimey, if we lost her like we lost our Lizzie, it just doesn’t bear thinking about. Her mind just couldn’t take the strain. But if the Germans start to bomb us, like they’re saying they will, then she’ll go down to her aunt, the one who lives in Hampshire. We can’t go through that again, in and out of them mental hospitals. And seeing as you’ve asked, I—”
Billy stopped speaking as Sandra came back into the office holding a glass of water, and took her seat.
“I think it’s time I told you, miss—and you, Billy.” Sandra swallowed, and took a sip of the water. “I’m expecting a baby.” She leaned forward and began to weep. Billy reached across and took away the glass before she spilled the water.
“Oh, Sandra, that’s wonderful news, just wonderful,” said Maisie, moving to comfort her assistant. She looked at Billy, who nodded and stepped away into the outer office, closing the doors behind him. “Sandra, whatever is it? This is not a time for sadness—it’s a time of great joy for you and Lawrence. A baby—after all you’ve been through, you’ll have a new baby.”
Sandra pulled a handkerchief from her cardigan sleeve and wiped her eyes. “I know, I know all that—but how can I feel joy, bringing a child into a world like this?” She paused, choking back her tears. “And do you know what I saw this morning, miss? I was walking down to the tram stop, and a woman was coming towards me with a pram. I’d never seen one like it—it was like a metal box on wheels, with a little window so she could see her baby inside. It was as if the baby was in its own special chamber to protect it from gas. What kind of world will I bring my baby into? What kind of world, when the poor little mite has to have a pram like a metal box to stop it being gassed to death?”
Maisie held on to Sandra as she continued her weeping, allowing the younger woman to cry until she could shed no more tears. But she said nothing. There was nothing she could say about a baby in a metal box to protect it from poison gas.