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Chapter Two

When Iris had realised she was pregnant she had thought that perhaps having a baby might not be all that bad. She decided to try and make the best out of a bad situation and avoiding the chores was a little incentive that helped. No matter how much Iris tried, she felt she wasn’t able to love Maggie as she deserved. Iris couldn’t overcome the fact that Maggie, despite being a good, happy child who gave unconditional love to her parents, was an extra person she had to care for. It was just so inconvenient.

As they approached Primrose Cottage they spotted William running towards them. Iris watched him, it seemed, with new eyes as this strong handsome man with short blond hair, pleasant face and dazzling blue eyes bounded up to them knowing they were safe. This was the man she felt safe with, the man who had never raised his fists to her and the man she depended on. Also, this was the man she cheated on, the man she manipulated and the man with the natural abilities and morals she envied, even begrudged, but knew she would never have.

His quiet placid nature with a genuine respect for people was why the farm workers valued him as a boss. He was able to get the best out of people, was fair but could also get furious if a job was not done properly.

“Thank the Lord, Iris,” exclaimed William breathlessly, “you’re both safe, I was so worried.” He swept Iris up, off her feet, and swung her around.

“Me too,” laughed Maggie, holding up her arms for her father to pick her up.

“Of course, freckles,” he said, with watery eyes. “My girls.” They embraced each other.

“I was so scared, William,” cried Iris, “Hadn’t had a daylight air-raid for a while, and to top it all we’ve little flour for the rabbit pie and I’ve used up all the rations.”

“Bugger the pie, love,” he laughed, “you’re both safe that’s the main thing. Hey Maggie, eggs for tea? I think Betsy Chicken might give up her lovely eggs for this occasion, what do you think?” The three of them made their way back to the cottage. William and Iris held hands whilst Maggie ran alongside trying to steer her mother’s bicycle in a straight line.

That evening, after William had read Maggie a bedtime story and tucked her in for the night, he and Iris sat down at the kitchen table to talk about the day’s events.

“Right love,” he said, reaching across to cup Iris’s hands in his. “How are you really? Maggie’s asleep, so no more pretence my girl.”

“A little shaken,” she said, pulling out her hands from under his. “But I’ll be back to normal in no time, you’ll see, now don’t fuss.” As she got up she placed her hand gently on William’s shoulder. This motion in itself was as close to a loving gesture as Iris could manage and in that moment they both appreciated the meaning for what it was. She made her way over to the stone sink to fill the kettle. “Want a cuppa before we turn in?”

“That’s my girl, tough as old boots and yes please, perhaps with a teaspoon of honey?”

“Don’t push your luck, Mr Harris,” she laughed, as she put the heavy kettle onto the range plate. She checked to see if the fire was reasonably stoked. “You’re in luck, the fire’s up enough for that cuppa and I’ll even boil you an egg for your pack up tomorrow.”

“Goodness me Iris, the royal treatment no less. Two fresh eggs in two days, there’ll be none to sell to the village shop,” he mocked. “Look,” he said, turning serious, “would you feel safer if we bundled up Maggie and slept in the Anderson shelter tonight? It wouldn’t be too bad as it isn’t a cold night.”

“No, Maggie’s well asleep now and I don’t want to disturb her. Let her be, I’ll be all right, we’ll laugh at this in the morning no doubt. Don’t want Jerry to get one over on us anymore today. Wait a minute, what was I thinking?” she said, turning to look at William. “Eggs for tea and a boiled egg for tomorrow’s lunch? That’s too grand. You’ll have a tomato sandwich and be done with it.”

“Yes, you’re right, love. How about we take our cuppas up to bed?” he smiled. “What are you laughing at?”

“You’re funny, William, the thought of taking up a cup of tea in one hand whilst holding the chamber pot in the other? Very romantic I must say.”