Ripple Effect: Because Of The War

By Jenny Ferns

“Ripple Effect: Because Of The War” is a historical novel set in England in the WWII era. This would appeal to women who struggle with issues of raising a family, adoption, loneliness with absent partners in the military, and the repercussions of PTSD. The novel shows the effect of the war on a family.

The ripple effect of WWII

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer Ferns
• Release date: Feb 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532398278

Jenny Ferns

Jenny Ferns, born and educated in England, emigrated to Canada and then USA. After teaching high school science, and raising a family, her Psychology private practice specialized in trauma, PTSD, addiction and family dynamics. Her historical novel recounts characters' experiences during and after WWII in England. She writes with her British voice, drawing on her imagination, memories, research and clinical observations of families dealing with trauma of all kinds. There is a path to healing and hope. Ripple Effect: Because Of The War is her first novel which won first place at the Royal Palm Literary Awards 2018 with The Florida Writers Association. For something different, Princess Rose and The Wyldewoods, is a story about a princess, a prince of the bees, flower fairies, unicorns and dragons. For a change of pace, she plays Mahjongg and loves to get her hands dirty in her tropical garden. She lives in Florida with her husband and a miniature schnauzer.

Book preview

1

Veronica

London, October 1937

The strident ring of the desk phone snapped Veronica’s attention away from her client notes. Child Guidance Clinic, she answered.

Rachel’s voice sounded breathless and tense. Vee, I need to talk to you.

Long time, no see, sister. Something’s up?

Sort of. Can’t talk on the phone.

Want to come to the flat after work?

Not really. How about Lyons on The Tottenham Court Road?

Delicious idea, darling. Veronica sighed as she hung up the receiver. She didn’t usually linger after work, but Rachel always managed to get her attention. The tightness in her sister’s voice alerted her to trouble of some kind. Veronica always found time to help her.

Veronica stepped into the steamy heat of the busy restaurant with its white tablecloths and the sweet smell of cakes and confectionery. The small corner table for two was perfect. She anticipated a pleasant tea, a treat after a long day at the office.

After an irritating wait of fifteen minutes for Rachel, who was late as usual, she ordered tea from the immaculate waitress in starched white cap and apron. She tucked into the scones, with strawberry jam, thick clotted cream and a pot of hot tea, and relished each bite that melted in her mouth.

Rachel rushed in, flustered and disheveled. Hello, Vee. Sorry. The buses were so packed.

Veronica sensed something was wrong. Rachel usually appeared well groomed with acquired expensive tastes, but not today. Her stylish tailored dress was rumpled and ill-fitting. The thick blonde curls, dark and greasy, lacked their usual abandon. Her face, covered with thick makeup looked puffy and pasty. Veronica suppressed her anxiety and welcomed her with a smile. So how are you, darling sis?

Rachel flopped into the chair. Let me catch my breath and a bite first.

It’s nice to relax and have a civilized tea, once in a while. Work can be so depressing, darling, all the family dramas and those poor children caught up in it all.

Rachel’s face flushed. Your job is to help people when they get in a bind. I need you to help me now.

Help? You don’t look so hot. Are you sick?

Kind of. Here goes. Well, Anthony got busy—very busy, something to do with the stuff going on in Europe, some battles and politics. I don’t know much of what that’s about. He’s a right berk. He wants to close up the flat in Kensington and asked me to find my own place.

You mean it’s over? Veronica tried not to react, but words slipped out. It wasn’t a great arrangement if you ask me.

Hey. I loved him. Anyway, he took care of me, and he did spend money on me for a while. It was fun, but it’s definitely not fun anymore. Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. I got caught.

What do you mean, you ‘got caught’?

Rachel held Veronica’s gaze briefly then took a big bite of scone. I’m bloody preggers, that’s what.

Veronica stared in silent shock. Bloody Hell. I had a feeling. You looked a bit off color when you came in.

Yes. I am sick all the time now. It’s awful.

Veronica stared at Rachel with a twinge of jealousy that her sister would finally be a mother, and she wouldn’t, at least not at the rate she was going, still single. I bet that’s horrid, but congratulations, darling. Does this change things with Anthony?

It not really ‘congratulations.’ Actually, that’s why he’s throwing me out. He doesn’t want anything to do with a baby, or me for that matter.

Oh, no! Veronica opened her eyes wide in horror and took a moment to digest the news. Her pregnant sister was single and pregnant, not something she would wish on anyone.

He wants me to get rid of it. Said he would pay.

Oh, my God! So, are you going to do it?

Thought about it. I can’t. It’s too late. I just came back from the doc. He says I’m past three months. Sod it. I didn’t want to think about it when I saw signs. I thought it was the booze or the flu.

Veronica loved her younger sister, but this was hard to hear. Oh, Rachel. You have got yourself in a mess.

Rachel threw her serviette on the table and made as if to stand up. You’re no help. I didn’t come here to be slapped. Maybe I should just go.

Veronica grabbed Rachel’s arm. Okay. Okay. Calm down and sit down. This is a shock for me too. She glanced around, concerned that people at the next table might eavesdrop. Such things really weren’t discussed in public.

She dropped her voice to a whisper. Let’s get this straight. So, you’re going to have a baby, and Anthony doesn’t want you or the baby. You’re on your own. Any idea how you’re going to manage?

No idea. I have my typist job for a while until they find out I’m pregnant. Then I suppose they’ll fire me. I saved quite a bit while with Anthony. He paid for almost everything. I can rent a room or a cheap flat somewhere. I will survive for a while. Maybe he will help, though I doubt it.

Are you thinking of keeping the baby?

I don’t have a choice, do I? Rachel’s retort was sharp and loud. She fiddled with the crumbs on her plate.

Shh…lower your voice. Veronica’s sensed the panic and fear in her sister. Yes, you do. What about adoption? I could really help you with that of course. There are people in our files who want to adopt a baby, not an older child, like an orphan. God knows there are plenty of those.

Rachel sobbed quietly. I can’t imagine raising a child alone. How can I do that?

Of course, it will be difficult if you keep it. Women have done it before though. I’ll help in any way I can, of course. I am so sorry. This is not going to be easy for you.

Nobody loves me.

Don’t be silly. I love you. You are my sister. Granny loves you. Tears pricked Veronica’s eyes with the sadness of her sister’s dilemma. She reached across the table and held her hand.

Rachel wiped her eyes with a lacy handkerchief. Sex is such a trap, isn’t it?

Veronica nodded agreement. It certainly can be, maybe for me too. I had a false alarm once. Heat rose to her cheeks.

What? You did? You never told me. Good Lord. ‘Miss Perfect’ isn’t so perfect after all.

I’m not perfect, silly. I suppose it was luck. I’m not too keen on letting anyone in on that. It was ages ago, before I learned what to do. Granny was no help in that department, was she? At least I had a serious boyfriend at the time so I would have been fine, I think. I’m glad that didn’t last with him though. Birth control isn’t very reliable, is it? She shook off the shameful memory

Her matter-of-fact side surfaced to solve the problem at hand. Let’s concentrate on you. This is a crisis. When you find a flat, I will help you as much as I can with furniture. I can find some things to pass on, though Heather and I don’t have much extra in our flat. Maybe Granny has some things left over from when she reorganized that big old house into flats. Oh, what about Granny?

Bloody Hell. I can’t ask Granny to help again. She took us in after our parents died with that horrid Spanish flu. I can’t move in with her, besides she’s too old now. Please don’t tell her. It will break her heart. She already thinks I am a lot of trouble.

You and Granny are all the family I have now. I see Granny often. Not like you. When was the last time you visited her? Veronica’s pleasure from eating scones disappeared.

Rachel’s response was sharp. I feel even more guilty now. I know she doesn’t like me much these days.

That’s not true. Granny loves you. She’s a bit bewildered by the choices we both make. Neither of us are married and settled down, like she thinks we should be at our ages. Look at us. She’s still a bit old-fashioned that way.

I find it hard to face her. It’ll be such a disappointment. I feel bad enough as it is. I don’t want her to know about this.

Hey. I think Granny should know sometime soon. She’s like a mother to us. Want to come to tea at Granny’s with me on Sunday?

Rachel looked at her sister with mournful eyes. Not yet. Maybe later.

If you say so. Though I am not sure how long either of us can keep it from her.

I wish I could hide.

If you were a young girl, our parents might send you away somewhere for a few months to have the baby. It would be adopted. You would come back, and nobody would know. That’s not going to happen. You need your job for as long as poss. By the way, there is someone in my agency who deals with situations like this. Want me to set up a time to meet her?

Rachel shook her head. Bloody Hell. I’m not talking to anyone in your office. Horrors. You can help with adoption stuff without me having to talk to anyone, can’t you?

Maybe. It’s not usual, but I will see what I can do, just to start with, mind. Veronica was not happy to stretch the rules for her sister.

Thanks, Vee. I knew you would be sensible.

Right. Don’t you forget it. My teacup is empty. Let’s see what the tealeaves predict. Granny would no doubt see something. Here, what do you think it says?

Rachel took a quick look. Not a damn clue. I don’t want to know. Can I have my tea and talk about something else?

2

Rachel

Rachel’s clothes got tighter and her waist thicker. She speculated that someone would be bound to catch on soon. Maybe it would be Helen, who sat at the next desk, and covered for her when she went to the loo so often, and was quick to offer aspirin for what was supposed to be a hangover.

Helen chatted to Rachel when they took their tea break. Coming to the dance on Saturday? I haven't seen you out for a while.

Don't feel like it.

Oh. How about taking our lunch outside to the park? It's a sunny day, for once, and the autumn leaves are gorgeous. I want to collect some conkers for my nephew. He loves to string them up and won a few games with his best one. I think he cheats though, the little ruffian.

Rachel reached for her bag. Good idea. Let's get out of here for a change. She pulled on her thick baggy cardigan before standing up, in the hope it would hide her bulge.

Rachel relished the fresh air, and they leisurely strolled around the block to the park with a pond where ducks bobbed for food. On the way, Helen picked up a few shiny chestnuts for her nephew and stuffed them in her purse. They settled on a bench to eat their lunch in the thin autumn sunshine. Almost a normal day.

Helen threw a crust for a duck. When is it due?

Rachel groaned. Is it that obvious?

Probably only to us women who’ve had babies. We notice the signs.

April or May. I'm not sure actually. When I threw up sometimes, I thought it was the booze and the late nights at the dances. She relaxed with her friend. I wanted some companionship. You showed me the dance hall. That was fun, for a while. Her cheeks flushed. 

Helen gave her a hug. I know all about it, honey. George, was keen on you, wasn't he? You danced with him all the time.

Yes. We had fun.

Is he the dad?

I think so. Rachel lowered her eyes. Actually, I don't know for sure really. Anthony was gone a lot.

Bloody Hell, Rachel. Didn't you know what to do?

Sort of. Maybe not all the time, when I had too much…you know. I just wanted some fun. Everyone else was doing it. Rachel fiddled with her sandwich wrapper.

That's a damn shame, to say the least. So, have you told Anthony that he is going to be a dad and take care of you? After all, he's got pots of money, hasn't he?

Rachel's tears flowed and smudged her mascara with sooty trails down her cheeks. He's throwing me out. He doesn't want a baby. By the way, he didn’t know about George, and I haven’t told my sister or Gran about George. I was too ashamed. I'm on my own.

Christ Almighty. Well, have you thought of doing something about it?

You mean an abortion? Too late for that. Oh, Helen, what am I going to do? I am preggers and no man… Rachel couldn't eat anymore.

Well, George seemed keen on you. If it could be his, couldn't you persuade him to take care of you?

Tried. He dumped me too. He said he doesn't want a brat. Called me a whore.

Ouch. That's not true, luvy. You wanted to be free and have fun. Lots of us girls do. It doesn’t make us tarts. Just because my man is dead doesn't mean I stay home and act the grieving widow. I'm too young for that. My mum helps with the lad.

You’re lucky. You've got a family and can still go out. There's a bloke you see, isn't there?

Yes. But I don't think it's going anywhere. I am definitely not going to get preggers. What about you then? If you’re going to have this baby, will you keep it or give it up for adoption? You could do that couldn’t you?

Rachel nodded. My sister thinks she can help with an adoption. I think that is the only way to survive this. Hell. How dumb of me to get caught like that? She threw crusts to the ducks. Oh, God. My life went downhill ever since Stan, my first boyfriend, died in a car crash. I loved him so much. I've never kept anyone long since then, except Anthony, that snobby bastard. Now nobody wants me. I'm such a bloody disaster. Maybe I have turned into a slut. I deserve everything that's coming to me.

Helen opened her eyes wide in horror. Don't be such an idiot. You got unlucky. It happens, when we look for love. You aren’t the only one. Other girls manage somehow. Helen sat for a while. What about your gran? Told her yet?

No. Can’t face her.

Helen held her hand. Now you’re going to need all the help you can get. Gran can help surely. From what I hear she's a pretty tough lady.

Rachel blew her nose and pulled out her compact to powder and tidy her face. Okay. I suppose so. Now let's get back to work. Please don't tell anyone. If that snotty boss of ours gets wind of it, he'll fire me right away. I need the money if I have to live alone. Oh, God. This is a nightmare.

3

Veronica

The old lamp with a gilded, multicolored glass shade still sat in the window. It cost more than she wanted to spend, but one Friday evening she bought it anyway, and hoped Heather, her flatmate, would like it. Fortunately, the flat was not far from the Hammersmith station on the ground floor of a tall Victorian row house.

She called out when she opened the door. Coo-ee. Are you home, Heather?

Yes, darling girl. How about a nice glass of wine to relax after your week?

Veronica dropped her briefcase and coat on the floor and unwrapped the lamp. Heather, take a look at what I bought today. Isn't it lovely?

Gorgeous, darling. Bit extravagant, aren’t you? I thought we weren't going to buy expensive things. Isn't this a temporary arrangement?

It’s not really temporary, is it? We’ve been here for years, and it doesn't seem as though either one of us is going to move out and get married at this rate. Veronica thought her grandmother's worries might be true after all. Maybe she would be a spinster.

I’m in no hurry. Are you, Vee?

I wish something would happen soon. At least we don't have to live at home until we marry, like lots of women I know.

Thank goodness. My parents would have driven me barmy. I wasn't ready to settle down back then, or now really. I'm having too much fun. Heather went to the pantry to get two wine glasses. Now how about that bottle of wine before we go out to the play tonight?

Veronica stared into her glass and swirled the ruby red liquid.

Heather filled up the almost empty glass. Penny for your thoughts? You don't look too happy tonight. Something wrong?

I suppose it’s always about Rachel. I swear she gives me sleepless nights.

So, what’s going on with her? Is she still managing with work and the baby coming?

That part is fine. I thought Anthony was the father and didn’t want a baby. Now it seems she persuaded a bloke called George that he is the father. What on earth has she been up to?

That’s her business. I bet you don’t know that much about her love life.

Apparently not. I saw him at her flat last week. Seems like he’s moved in with her.

Marvelous. That’s a good thing, isn’t it? So, is she going to keep the baby then?

I think so. I asked her if she was going to get married. She laughed and said, ‘not in this state.’ It’s all so sudden, living with George. I wonder if he really is the father. What if it doesn’t work out? They haven’t been going together for very long.

"Darling. I think it’s wonderful. Does she love him? If he’s moved in then it sounds like he is being responsible.’

Veronica shook her head. That’s my concern. He gives me the creeps. He’s from the East End, cockney accent. Works in the docks. Kind of a rough type. I don’t know what she sees in him.

Don’t be so snobby, darling. Must something she likes about him. I think it’s wonderful she isn’t going to be alone with the pregnancy or the baby. Maybe you should get to know him. If she loves him, he must be a decent fellow, don’t you think?

I hope so. I am just afraid that she lied and trapped him, just to have a man.

Stop thinking the worst, and think the best for her. Maybe he treats her well and can support a family. That’s what you want for her, isn’t it?

Of course. If she’s happy.

Vee, darling. Just think, you may get to actually be an auntie and have a baby to dote on. Does Granny know? I bet she will be delighted.

She is so ridiculously happy. Actually, I am delighted too. I can’t wait to hold the little darling, to have our small family grow. I can’t help being a bit jealous though.

Not surprised. I am a bit too. When is the due date?

In the spring. May, I think.

Right. I will get some wool, and we can both start knitting something.

You will have to show me how. Never done any knitting.

Of course. This is exciting. I think I will go over and visit the happy couple at the weekend.

Fine. I’ll come with you.

Blast, Heather shook her head. Can’t. Rehearsals for the Pantomime this weekend. Now make sure you are free to come to the theatre party. Let’s find a nice man for you. Maybe babies will come your way too.

Bloody Hell, Heather. I’m thirty-three, and I doubt I will be producing anything in the near future.

Who knows? Maybe sometime. Anyway, there are lots of men around. With fighting in Europe, our soldiers are coming into town, and from all over the place. I bet you will find someone. We might see some tonight.

Veronica marveled at Heather’s optimistic, bohemian way of life. She tried to be like her, but her fears about others’ judgments still influenced her.

Heather polished off the wine in her glass. Don’t be so pessimistic. I’m going to find a handsome man for you very soon. Let’s go out to that play tonight. Who knows who we will meet?

4

Veronica

Christmas —1937

Christmas lights, eager shoppers and Christmas carols on the radio did nothing to lift Veronica’s spirits. She was lonely. After work, the flat was empty and lifeless. Veronica was not part of the excitement of Heather’s whirlwind world of the annual Christmas pantomime.

Heather breezed in. Darling girl. Now you are going to come to the party at the theatre after the ‘Cinderella’ dress rehearsal, on Friday night. You came to the one for ‘Peter Pan’ last year. I think you had a good time. Now, no arguing.

Veronica looked up from her book. You can’t talk. You don’t have anyone special. You spend time with The Boys who, for God sake’s, are fruitcakes, and aren’t going to help you find the kind of man you want. It’s the wrong crowd.

I just adore the queer darlings. Anyway, I’ve got my eye on someone in the props department. Come with me and let’s see if someone you fancy is there. The drama crowd draws in all sorts.

Veronica arrived as planned at the theatre. She wore her brown wool wrap coat against the chill evening air, an extravagant new hat with a feather, and her new clingy burgundy crepe dress with the fashionable hemline at the calf. She’d braved the Christmas crowds of Oxford Street to find this dress—a purchase that couldn’t wait until the Boxing Day sales. She hoped Heather would approve.

The man at the stage door checked her off a guest list and directed her to the party in the depths of the backstage of the old theatre. Passing an open dressing room, she peered inside and saw a jumble of clothes, makeup, and bright lights.

Looking for someone? one of the chorus girls asked.

Yes, I’m on my way to the party. Heather invited me.

Follow me. I’m one of the ‘Babes’. We dance and actually can show our legs.

Veronica followed through the maze of corridors and dressing rooms until they reached the reception party room. She scanned the group to find Heather and wondered if she would fit in here at all. She spied her friend talking animatedly to a couple of men, getting all the attention as usual.

Heather came to greet her. Hello, darling. You look stunning. Love the dress. Now come with me and meet some of my friends.

After she accepted a glass of red wine, Heather introduced her to a few people. Some were obviously patrons—Lord Something or other, his glamorous wife, and a politician or two in stiff, formal suits. Veronica politely shook hands, but most returned to their conversations, ignoring her.

Heather drew her aside to speak with more privacy. Those upper crust types love to mingle with us theatre people. They are ‘slumming,’ but the artistic director needs to chat up the people who might give money. He has big plans for next year. Now, over there is a good actor, John Gielgud. He’s a doll. Oh, and there is Christopher Isherwood. He’s writing us something for next season.

I’ve met him once. He’s a good writer. Oh, Heather, I wish I had seen the rehearsal. Then I would know who’s who.

I have some free tickets for the actual show so you can catch up later. Just a sec, I must talk to Simon.

Veronica stood alone, abandoned. The urge to smoke prompted her to rummage in the beaded bag for cigarettes. As she put one to her mouth, a hand reached out with a lighter.

Hello, pretty lady. Want a light?

She found herself looking into a pair of robin’s-egg blue eyes and the smiling face of a tall, handsome man in a blue Royal Air Force uniform.

Oh… Thank you.

His soft, manicured hand touched hers as he flicked open his gold lighter. A frisson of attraction stirred as she observed him. What brings you here? I can tell you aren’t an actor.

Right. This isn’t a costume. It’s my uniform. Thought it smart enough for a party.

Veronica was intrigued, delighted to have a conversation with the handsome man.

I have the weekend off from the air base. My friend who works the lights invited me. He is proud this theatre is now modernized.

Have you seen this panto?

Not yet. I hear ‘Cinderella’ is funny with Buttons making jokes about the two ugly sisters, who are really, really ugly, played by men. That’s stupid, isn’t it?

That’s what they do in pantomimes. They’re supposed to be funny. I have seen them do that boy thing in other years. Their makeup is way too overdone to hide the stubble, and they aren’t much good in heels, very wobbly, and, of course, their deep voices just aren’t feminine.

Sounds idiotic.

It’s hilarious. I think one of them is a special friend of my flatmate, Heather. He does so love getting dressed up as a woman.

He raised his eyebrows. One of those?

Yes. Shhh. We have to protect them you know.

Don’t see why. Bloody ridiculous, if you ask me. That wouldn’t go down well in my world.

Veronica shrugged. She didn’t want to follow that thought, but still wanted to talk to this man. By the way my name is Veronica. Yours is…

Richard. Now come with me and let’s find a place to sit down away from this mob. I’m a bit out of place here.

Good idea. Me too. I only know a couple of my flatmate’s friends.

They found an old settee pushed away to the side of the room. It was probably once lush red velvet, but age and dark stains from actors’ greasepaint made it look ready for the rubbish dump.

Oops. Veronica sunk into the sagging springs.

Hmm. At least it’s a bit quieter here. Now, I want to hear all about you.

She laughed, attracted by his boldness. Really? I don’t know anything about you. How about you tell me why an RAF officer is here with this artsy crowd?

How do you know I’m not ‘artsy’?

It doesn’t seem to go with the uniform. What do you do in the Air Force anyway?

I fly bombers and train pilots.

Veronica made a wry face. That’s definitely not artsy.

He laughed. I suppose not. But I do read a lot for my relaxation. That’s how I escape from the ugliness in the world, and I love going to the theatre.

Me too. Of course, I had to read a lot for my courses, and for work. But I do like novels.

Heather rushed over and interrupted their conversation. Found you, Vee. I see a charming gentleman with you. She beamed a sexy smile and regally extended her hand for a kiss.

He leaped up, bowed to touch her hand with his lips, gallantly played the game. My pleasure, madam.

A twinge of jealousy caught Veronica off-guard. This is Richard. I was just getting to know him. She introduced her. This is Heather, my flatmate. She’s the artsy, crazy one, not me.

Heather laughed and batted her eyes. Don’t you believe all you hear. Now, Vee, some of us are just too bored here. These important people are breathing down our necks. We have to behave. The Boys have to anyway…you know. We are going over to Simon’s friend’s place for a more exciting time. I think he said there will be food and other goodies. Want to come?

Are you sure? I only just arrived.

"Don’t be a