The last comment received a raised eyebrow from Maude. ‘But what did your parents say, were they disappointed?’
‘No, not really. They’d lived through the war without their daughter and didn’t want to lose her again. I kept the house once we were divorced and continued to live around the corner from the shop. We were all happy. Simple.’
‘Well, that’s something at least.’ Maude checked her watch. ‘We’ve got fifteen minutes before we arrive so I reckon that’s plenty of time for the next instalment so come on, now I’ve finally got you to open up let’s get on with it.’
Dottie huffed. ‘Oh, Maude, do we have to? I’m exhausted from all this talking. Let’s listen to the radio instead.’
The look Maude gave her grandmother indicated that Radio 4 was not going to be an option so sucking in air, then exhaling loudly to demonstrate her dissatisfaction, Dottie moved the story on to the next bittersweet point in her life. George.
Dottie and the Husbands
2005
This was going to be a tricky one because the story of Dottie and George didn’t end well, and for reasons that Dottie didn’t feel able to expand on, not at that moment. The truth of how George died was a secret well buried, the circumstances still haunted her like the pain he’d suffered, both of them tormented but in different ways. Maybe she would never tell anyone what happened, what good would it do?
Maude, as always, was impatient and had plenty of questions. ‘So come on, tell me all about Jazzy George. Husband Number Two.’
The comment lightened her mood and made Dottie chuckle, knowing the nickname was a result of Maude’s childhood fascination with old photos and ferreting through the suitcase that contained them. She used to think that in the ‘olden days’ everything was really black and white and then suddenly someone coloured in the world. It had taken a while for it to sink into six-year-old Maude’s head that the people in the monotone images actually led colourful lives. But at any time, the mention of George always inspired such a conflicting range of emotions and to combat the worst, Dottie tried hard to picture him at his piano in the club, playing jazz.
‘There’s not much to tell really because he left the world far too soon, but who knows, had the scourge of cancer not ruined everything we might have been happy, perhaps we could have made it.’
‘But did you love George? Please tell me it wasn’t like with Roberto.’
Dottie squinted at Maude. ‘Ooh you are such a romantic, Maudie, and I do hate to disappoint you so I will say that in this case, I loved being his wife, I really did. George let me be me and I let him be him. He was a night owl who lived for music. He stayed out late, smoked and drank too much, didn’t realise he had to take care of himself. I left early for work, cycled whenever I could, ate vegetables. We had different sets of friends whose circles crossed spectrums now and then. The house was always full of music, he was a fabulous cook and made glorious food. We rubbed along and sailed our ships that most days would pass on the landing, but we were very happy.’
At this Maude smiled.
Dottie felt suddenly wistful. ‘It makes me sad sometimes, that I’ll never know if we might have had a happy ending. I like to believe we would.’
‘You said he died of cancer, that’s so sad. And what happened to Eddie the Beagle?’
‘Oh, Eddie plodded on for years, but he preferred our cleaner, Elsa, to me. So when he started to pine for George I felt bad leaving him alone all day, so she gradually adopted him. He’d still come with her while she cleaned and would lie in his bed in the kitchen, I couldn’t bear to throw it out, and then Eddie would go home with Elsa. It made me happy that he was happy.’
Dottie didn’t want to dwell on George for too long so moved the conversation along.
‘And then there was Morris, your grandfather. All I can say in my defence is there had been a three-year drought on the man front and I must have been bored. Whatever it was, I took my eye off the ball. After George I’d convinced myself that I didn’t need anyone. I liked living alone. I thrived on the notion that I wasn’t like the other women in my office who couldn’t wait to meet a handsome chap and escape the drudgery of work. I didn’t see my life that way.’
Maude made a point. ‘Thing is, Gran, not everyone yearns for the big career, we all want different things.’
‘Oh, I know that, but it irritated me so much, that during the war years women shouldered the burden while men went away and fought. We worked the land, in munitions factories, joined the army, doing whatever men did before the war. Women showed the world that they could do it too, or at least have a damn good try. They stepped up to the mark. I couldn’t believe that after everything they had achieved and endured, for some of my colleagues and friends, marriage became their main aim.’
‘Yes, but some people want to settle down and have a family, there’s nothing wrong with that.’ Maude sounded indignant.
‘I agree, Maude. However, I preferred to have a choice and alternatives, not fit into a neat box. I’d already decided after George that I wasn’t prepared to conform. Not in a radical political way, it was more of a personal choice. Marriage definitely wasn’t for me, so I made it my mission to work my way up the career ladder. The woman I had been, the special agent trained to do all sorts, wasn’t prepared to capitulate and resign herself to a desk in the corner. Instead I chose to resist. I was good at that.’
Maude folded her arms across her chest and looked slightly confused. ‘So, with all this resolve and a great big fire in your belly, why on earth did you marry Granddad? And when are you going to tell me about your secret service life? You keep dropping hints and mentioning places, you promised you’d explain.’
A loud tut and a huff came before a revelation. ‘When I’m good and ready, Little Miss Impatient and in answer to the marriage question, I married Morris because I got pregnant with your mother. Once again I found myself trotting up those bloody registry office steps.’
‘And what did your parents and Delphine think of all this? Surely in those days it was a bit unusual, you know, to have so many husbands.’
‘Ha, you make me sound like a black widow or man-eater, which I certainly wasn’t. I was having their grandchild; my family were overjoyed, and after all it wasn’t my fault that circumstances had curtailed the previous two unions. As far as they were concerned Morris was a good catch and this time it’d all work out.’
‘That went well then.’
Dottie tittered at that remark. ‘Well nobody can say I didn’t try. Eight years I put up with that bloody man and for the last four it was for the sake of your mum, otherwise he’d have been down the road long before that. Why I even looked twice at him I will never know. Actually, that’s wrong because before he acquired the purple-nosed, permanently pickled look, he was very handsome. But an accountant, I ask you? At least he’d resisted the lure of the family business because the thought of marrying a funeral director…’ Dottie grimaced and shuddered.
‘Like I said, I think I lost my mind and paid the price for sex, literally.’
