Magda's Daughter by Catrin Collier

cliché – live for today, for tomorrow you may die. Every week we seemed to hear news of someone, family or friend, who’d been killed. Most of us honestly believed that we didn’t have a tomorrow, so we did all sorts of crazy things we never would have considered under normal circumstances.’
    â€˜I’ll agree with you there,’ Ronnie echoed.
    â€˜But the war was over when Robert Parsons met my mother,’ Helena emphasized.
    â€˜Only just, from what he told you,’ Alma reminded her. ‘And he was overseas, far from home. The fighting had stopped, and with it the excitement. He was probably lonely, most certainly bored, and your mother was a beautiful young woman who had been treated appallingly while mourning the loss of her husband, her home and her country. He paid her attention and I imagine she was glad to receive it. I know she had you, but it’s difficult to have a meaningful conversation with a baby.’
    â€˜How did you meet Magda?’ Ned asked Alma and Ronnie.
    â€˜I met her in the restaurant.’ Ronnie poured milk into his tea. ‘Peter and I had come into town on business for the garage and stopped for a meal. One perk of being family, probably the only one, is free food in the Ronconi restaurant and cafes. Magda was sitting at a table with you.’ He smiled at Helena. ‘Being a sucker for children, something that happens when you’re the oldest of eleven – and you were gorgeous, not that you aren’t now – I started playing with you. Then Peter realised Magda was crying. She told us that she’d arrived in London docks that morning expecting her fiancé to meet her boat. When he didn’t turn up, she asked a Red Cross official for advice. As she had her fiancé’s address in Pontypridd, he arranged an instant loan from the hardship fund so that she could buy train tickets to Pontypridd.’
    â€˜That much I know, because as soon as Magda had saved enough money from her shop wages, she went to the library to find out the address of the Red Cross in London so she could send them a postal order to repay the loan,’ Alma confirmed.
    â€˜That’s my mother,’ Helena commented, thinking of the money she had sent Bob Parsons.
    â€˜When Magda arrived at Pontypridd station she showed someone her fiancé’s address. They directed her to the house, and his wife opened the door. It must have been a dreadful shock. When your mother told me and Peter what had happened, we decided that, as the man was already married and in no position to do anything for your mother or you, it wasn’t worth looking for him.’
    â€˜A wise decision,’ Alma endorsed. ‘Given your temper and attitude towards men who mistreat women and children, Ronnie, you probably would have thumped him.’
    She picked up the story. ‘As luck would have it, I was visiting the Pontypridd shop that day, and Peter fetched me. Liza was managing the shop at the time, but she was pregnant and I was looking for someone to help her. Peter and Liza gave Magda a room in their house, and one of the young girls in the shop looked after you,’ she nodded to Helena, ‘during the busy times. I realised Magda was capable of running the shop by herself the first week she worked there. So, when Liza gave up work to have her baby, your mother took over. When the flat upstairs became vacant, you and Magda moved in, and the rest you know.’
    â€˜One of my earliest memories is of moving into the flat above the shop, although I can’t remember Peter’s house,’ Helena said slowly. ‘I remembering carrying my doll up the stairs and following Mama around the rooms. She was so happy, especially with the furniture. She kept on repeating, “Look, Helena, our very first home.ˮ’
    â€˜I often wondered how you and Magda ended up in Pontypridd. But I never liked to ask,’ Ned pushed his