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Margaret Parish wrote this short story which recalls the bewilderment she felt as a young child as she attempted to come to terms with the end of the war. There were many readjustments to make when peacetime eventually came, not least the return of a father.........

Two’s Company

Megan watched in silence as her mother put the last jelly sweet on the cake. ‘It’s lovely’, she murmured, and wished that she could feel more excited. Everybody on the road had given rations and sweet coupons for the V.E. cake, and the word ‘Victory’ glowed victoriously in red, white and blue sweets from its bed of white icing.
Mrs. Evans had given the icing sugar. Her pantry was stuffed with all sorts. Megan had seen inside it once when Mrs. Evans had forgotten to shut the door. Megan’s eyes had goggled at tins of sausages with the Stars and Stripes American flag stamped on their sides. Tin foiled rolls of ham marked ‘Product of the U.S.A.’ and Californian raisins and even slabs of chocolate. ‘Had this stuff since before war’, Mrs. Evans had blustered, but everybody knew that the youngest Evans daughter had a Yank in tow!
The cake was ready to be carried out to the party table in the street. ‘Go and get your place, pet’, her mother said, ‘you’re between Michael and Shirley.’ But Megan didn’t move. Her shoulders drooped as she leaned against the door frame starting at the excited lines of children, the V-shaped arrangement of trestle tables loaded miraculously with cakes, jellies and sandwiches and the strings of Union Jacks fluttering across the road. ‘I’m just going to change my frock, we’ll go together if you like,’ her mother said. Her voice was so gentle Megan felt her eyes begin to prickle. If only she could tell her mother what was troubling her. But the moment was gone as her mother went upstairs.
Tearful, sick and angry without really knowing why, she had felt like that since the beginning of the week when Mr Churchill came on the wireless and said that the war was almost over. Several times her mother had asked her if she was all right, but Megan couldn’t bring herself to upset her. When the official news of the German surrender was given out, her mother had cried as they hugged each other. ‘Daddy’ll be home soon!’ her mother had smiled through her tears.
That was the problem gnawing away at Megan. ‘Daddy’ll be home soon’. She threw herself down onto the sofa near the door and balled her small hands into fists. Who is this ‘Daddy?’ He’d been away for five years. She was nine now, and felt nearly grown-up. Thoughts merry-go-rounded in her head. He’d probably treat her like a baby. She’d been caught up in the excitement at school. Miss Williams had said the war was finished, and the other children had been thrilled at the prospect of seeing brothers, uncles and Dads again. Bad thoughts that she didn’t want, but couldn’t shut out.
Megan twisted a corner of the cushion, snapping cotton threads. She thought about the happy life she and her mother shared. Going to the pictures every week. Tarzan and Fred Astaire, cowboys and the Pathe News. ‘He won’t want to go to the pictures’ Megan seethed to herself. ‘He’ll have to stay in to add his insurance books up and count the money people had paid.’ There would be no more fun times. Trips to the seaside and holidays in Rhyl. ‘He won’t want to go to Rhyl. Not after those lovely places in Burma or whatever! ‘I hate him!’ she said out loud and punched the cushion, raising tiny puffs of dust.
‘I’m ready!’ her mother called. Megan thought she looked very pretty in her best frock. ‘We’ll send a couple of chaps for the cake when we need it’, she chatted on. ‘Megan, love, you don’t look well. What’s up? Is it the excitement?’ She drew the child close and kissed the top of her head. Megan wanted to chuck out all the bad feelings and pour out her fears. But again the moment went as she heard her mother say, ‘Come on pet, you’ll feel better outside.’
Megan plopped into her place between Michael and Shirley. Michael was shovelling red jelly into his grinning mouth, and Shirley had been sick down her new frock. Somebody stuck a clown’s hat on Megan’s head and she found herself clutching a fish paste sandwich. She felt as if her head was stuffed with cotton wool. Voices were coming to her from far away. Hands reached and snatched, buns and cakes disappeared like magic and she watched mouths stained with yellow ‘pop’ and cake smeared lips opening and shutting like goldfish. She felt sick and miserable.
Somebody called for Megan’s mother to give a song. Curious eyes started at Megan, then flicked away from her tight, miserable face. Selfish in their own excitement, nobody cared, nobody asked why she was unhappy. Her mother was standing with Mr Davies. He had his arm around her shoulders and leaned close to her, harmonising with her clear voice. Even the rowdy children went quiet at the beauty of the singing, and Megan gulped back tears.
‘Dadd’ll be home soon’. The Phrase hammered into her. He’d be wanting to be cuddled. She thought of the nights she had crept into her mother’s bed when she had a bad dream. That man would take her place. There’d be no room for her any more. Megan felt as if she would burst with anger at any moment. The song ended. People were going mad clapping and cheering, and nobody noticed her leave the table and hurry across the road to her house.
She let herself in and shut the door. Her head throbbed. A photograph of her father, tanned legs in army shorts, grinned at her from the sideboard. A brass poker gleamed at her from the hearth. She felt as if she was in a dream and would soon wake up safe in her mother’s arms. She picked up the poker and swiped at the photograph. It shattered on the floor, but her father grinned up at her. She thrust the end of the poker into his face, leaving a black hole.
Tears stung her eyes as she staggered, heavy legged into the kitchen. The cake mocked her from the table. The jelly sweets gleamed ‘VICTORY’…..She slowly raised the poker. ‘This really isn’t happening……it’s just a bad dream, she repeated over and over to herself.
The poker clattered onto the floor when her mother’s voice called, ‘Megan, are you alright?’ from the other room.

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