Joyce sat with her head down holding her calf. When she finally looked up her face was screwed up with pain and her eyes were watery. ‘Help me turn around and I’ll get down the stairs on my bottom. Then, if you don’t mind, you can help Rose.’ She gasped as she ran out of breath.
Annie nodded, unsure how she could help but knowing she had no choice. She placed her arm around her shoulders before moving her hands quickly to under her arms. ‘Are you ready? If you push down with your hands I will try and take your weight until you’ve turned to face going down.’
‘I’m ready.’
‘Take a deep breath on the count of three. One, two—’
There was a thud of hurried footsteps coming down the hall.
Annie breathed a sigh of relief as she heard Rose as they got nearer. ‘You’re just torturing yourself and it’s got to stop.’
‘Joyce, Rose is coming. She’ll be able to help me get you down the stairs.’
Joyce nodded as Rose and her uncle appeared at the top of the stairs. Arthur stared at the sight in front of him.
‘What’s happened?’ Arthur took a step nearer to them.
Annie noted he was already slurring and it was only midday. She looked at him, tight-lipped. ‘Joyce fell up the stairs while rushing to help bring you down here to safety.’ She looked back at Joyce. ‘We’ve got to get you down the stairs so we can shut the door and we’ve got to do it quickly.’
‘Wait, I can lift her.’
What little colour Joyce had quickly faded. She looked at Annie, her eyes pleading with her to stop him.
Annie lifted her chin and pulled back her shoulders. ‘I don’t mean to be disrespectful, Mr Bradshaw, but you look like you can barely hold yourself up, never mind lift Joyce.’
Arthur turned to Rose and moved to pass her the half-drunk bottle of whiskey.
Rose hesitated, unsure what to do.
Arthur waved it in front of her. ‘We are wasting precious time here.’ He bent down and placed the bottle next to him on the stair. ‘Let me assure you, young lady, I can look after my own niece.’ He knelt down and scooped her up into his arms.
Annie quickly turned and ran down the stairs. Arthur’s heavy footsteps weren’t far behind her, but fear stopped her from looking up at them. ‘Sit her on that old armchair and I’ll find something for her to put her leg up on.’ She glanced around her. ‘There are boxes we could use but you’ll probably need two, maybe three, of them.’
The basement door thudded shut. The candle danced in the draft that came through the small window.
Arthur sucked in his breath. His forehead furrowed as he peered behind him. ‘I know what we can use.’ He took the couple of steps towards several boxes that were piled high.
The girls watched him in silence as he disappeared behind the boxes. Rustling noises kept the girls staring at the many boxes. A few seconds later he reappeared carrying a very small armchair; one that had been made for a child. Arthur placed it in front of Joyce. ‘Put your feet up on that.’
Joyce stared at the plush blue material. There was not a speck of dust on it. ‘I… er… I can’t put my feet up on that, it’s beautiful.’
Arthur shook his head. ‘It’s been wrapped up and buried down here for many years so you might as well put it to good use.’
Annie touched Arthur’s arm. ‘Are you sure about this?’
Arthur nodded. ‘We might be down here for some time so we might as well be comfortable.’
Annie bent over and put her hands under Joyce’s calf and lifted her leg on to the child’s chair. ‘Let me get you some water, only sip it because we don’t know how long we’ll be down here for.’
Joyce leant back in the chair and tried to deep breathe away the pain. ‘So much for Christmas dinner, it’s going to be ruined.’
Rose smiled. ‘We’re safe and that’s all that matters and we do have the chicken.’
Annie smiled. ‘Rose is right, we’ll make bubble and squeak with the rest.’
17
Annie turned the page of the newspaper Mr Bradshaw had left on the dining table. She gasped; the headlines told how the German planes had flown up the Thames heading towards London, under the cover of the fog that had covered the city. Ground fire had made them turn back but not before they had dropped bombs in Dover. She shivered; thank goodness they were in the basement. The war seemed close now that lights had to be dimmed at night.
The doorknocker thudded down several times. Annie ran to the front door and opened it. The cold wintry air rushed in and ran down the hall, the draft escaping into the open rooms.
A boy stood on the doorstep, his cap sat back on his head at a jaunty angle and his thin jacket had seen better days. A bicycle was lying on the edge of the pavement. He held an envelope in his outstretched hand. ‘I’m looking for a Miss A. Cradwell.’
Annie stared down at it. The bold lettering across the top of the light brown envelope told Annie it wasn’t good news. She could feel the boy’s eyes boring into her but she didn’t look up, dread filling her heart. Was it David? Had something happened to him? A band of tension gripped her chest, squeezing until she felt she couldn’t breathe. Her throat tightened and speech evaded her. She suddenly felt weak, as though the strength in her legs to keep her upright had gone. Annie wasn’t sure what was happening. She leant against the door jamb as a fog washed over her. She shook her head trying to clear it away before it totally encompassed her.
The boy looked up at her with wide eyes. ‘Are you Miss A. Cradwell?’
Annie stared at the boy and nodded.
‘This is for you. I’ll wait a couple of minutes in case you would like to send a reply.’
Again, Annie nodded, but this time she took the envelope. Turning it over in her hands, she took a deep breath and slid her finger under the sealed lip of the envelope. The paper rustled, as it ripped open. She pulled the envelope apart and peered in at the folded piece of paper inside. Annie took a deep breath and pulled out the single page. She scanned it quickly before letting it drop to the floor.
The boy picked it up and held it out for her to take but Annie didn’t respond. ‘Do you want me to send a reply?’
Arthur strode into the hall rubbing his hands together. ‘Do we ’ave to ’ave the front door wide open? It’s…’ His words faded away when he saw the boy at the door. He opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it again. He strode towards the front door and took the slip of paper from the boy. He read it and quickly put his hand in his pocket and pulled out ten shillings. ‘Take this, boy, and don’t hang about. The reply is she’s on her way. Go on, no dawdling now.’
The boy nodded and immediately got on his bicycle and peddled as though the devil was after him.
Arthur shut the front door. ‘Come on, Annie, we need to get you to Paddington Station and hope there’s a train available.’ He put the telegram on the console table and took her coat down off the peg and helped her into it. ‘Don’t worry about anything now, I’ll let everyone know what’s happened and where you’ve gone.’
Annie stayed silent.
‘Stay there while I run upstairs and fetch your handbag.’ Arthur ran up the two flights of stairs as quickly as his legs would carry him. His chest was tight before he reached the top but he kept going. He didn’t want to let his mind wander to how he hadn’t known she was a Cradwell, but it certainly explained a lot.
Five minutes later Arthur was running back downstairs. Once at the bottom he passed the black handbag to Annie while he put on his coat. ‘Come on, let’s see if we can find a taxi.’ He took Annie’s arm and opened the front door. Guiding her along Great Earl Street, he saw a black taxi driving towards them. He immediately held out his arm to flag it down. They bundled in the back and Arthur pulled a scrappy piece of paper out of his coat pocket. ‘Paddington train station please.’ He smoothed out the paper on his lap. ‘Have you got a pen or pencil I can use?’
The taxi driver passed a pencil back to him. ‘If yer don’t mind me ask
ing, is the young lady all right?’
‘Yes, she’s just had some bad news, to put it mildly.’ Arthur looked down at his scrawled handwriting on the scrap of paper. ‘When you’ve dropped us off, will you deliver this bit of paper to The Meet and Feast Café in Shaftesbury Avenue and hand it to Joyce? I think she’s the cook there.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘And if she isn’t, she darned well should be. You should try the food there. She’s a great cook. Unfortunately, I’ve never told her that but that’s the story of my life.’
The taxi driver gave a quick glance over his shoulder. ‘It’ll cost yer.’ He glanced from the man to the silent young girl that was sitting next to him. ‘Are you sure she’s all right? She looks deathly pale.’
Arthur looked at Annie, studying her for a few minutes before mumbling, ‘The poor girl has just had an awful shock.’ He should have known she was a Cradwell, it explained the odd glimpses of likeness that had caught him unawares. He shook his head in disgust that this young girl had seen him in such a state.
The station’s large brick-built building was suddenly upon them. The arched roof gave it a distinctive look and feel. People were rushing in and out of the station, most wrapped up against the cold wind that cut through their winter coats. Cars pulled in to let their passengers out before quickly pulling away again.
Arthur handed the driver a pound note and helped Annie out of the taxi. ‘Don’t forget to take that message to the Meet and Feast Café in Shaftesbury Avenue and only give it to Joyce.’
The taxi driver frowned. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll go there now. Are you sure you two are going to be all right?’
Arthur nodded. ‘Thank you.’ He closed the car door. ‘Come on, girl, let’s go and find a train so I can get you home.’
Annie looked up at him for the first time. Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke. ‘Do you think we’ll get there on time?’
Arthur put his arm around her shoulder. ‘If I have my way we will. Come on, let’s find the ticket office.’
*
Joyce, clutching the piece of paper that the taxi driver had just delivered to her at The Meet and Feast Café, almost ran towards Covent Garden. The cold air bit at her face and ripped through her waitress uniform. She had left the café as soon as she read the note. Her own memories threatened to engulf her but she pushed them away. She had only stopped to shout out to Simon she had to go but would be back in half an hour, she hadn’t thought to pick up her coat. Her lungs burnt as she shouted, ‘excuse me,’ trying to avoid bumping into everyone as she rushed past them. Beads of perspiration formed on her forehead and trickled down her face. Her breath came out in short bursts of grey swirls. She had to find Rose and quickly. Annie needed her.
Joyce burst through the stage door of the Aldwych Theatre, immediately bending over trying to catch her breath.
Bert lowered his newspaper and eyed her red face. ‘Are yer all right? ’ere, sit down.’ He stood up and went over to guide her to his chair.
Joyce shook her head. ‘Rose…’ She gasped. ‘Rose…’
Bert frowned. ‘If yer sit ’ere I’ll go get ’er, but yer must promise me yer won’t move.’ He held her arm as she walked over to where he had been sitting. ‘Yer shaking, do yer want me to give ’er that paper yer ’olding?’
Joyce shook her head and sat down on his chair as instructed.
Bert lumbered down the corridor, peering back over his shoulder to make sure the girl was safe. He poked his head round the door of the sewing room. ‘Rose, there’s someone at the door to see yer. She’s clutching a piece of paper and won’t let go of it, and she seems in a terrible way.’
Fear trampled across Rose’s face, her mind went into turmoil. Was it news of her brothers? Had Annie received news of David? It couldn’t be Annie because Bert would have just let her in. Was it Joyce? Had something happened to Annie? Rose jumped up and flew passed Bert. When she got near to the stage door, she saw Joyce, as Bert had described, her pallor grey in colour. ‘Joyce, what is it? You don’t look at all well.’
‘It’s Annie. Apparently she received a telegram this morning.’
Rose’s colour drained from her face. ‘It must be David.’ Her eyes darted from side to side as she tried to think about what to do. ‘I need to go home, she’ll need me.’
Joyce silently thrust the piece of paper in Rose’s hand.
Rose studied the paper, smoothing out the creases so she could read it.
Annie received a telegram from home this morning, I’m taking her home and I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Take care, love Uncle Arthur xx
Tears rolled down Rose’s face. ‘It must be David, she’ll have been in a terrible state.’ She paused. ‘I need to get home, she’s going to need me.’
Joyce nodded. ‘There’s no point in me going, I’ll only be in the way but if you need anything, let me know.’
Rose looked at Joyce. ‘You won’t be in the way. I’m sure you can stay at my house but I know we can’t all just stop working. Hopefully, it won’t be as bad as I’m thinking and I’ll be back in a few days.’ She gazed back down at the scrap of paper. ‘It was good of your uncle to take Annie home, and thank you for bringing his message to me so quickly.’ She looked back at Joyce. ‘I’m glad your colour’s coming back, you looked quite ashen when you arrived.’
Joyce tried to smile but didn’t succeed. ‘I’d better get back to work, Simon will wonder what’s going on. I just told him I had to go.’
Rose looked at her properly for the first time. ‘Where’s your coat?’
Joyce straightened her lips. ‘I didn’t give it a thought, I just ran out.’
Rose shook her head. ‘You’ll freeze going back, I’ll see if we have a costume coat you can borrow.’ She turned to walk away.
‘Rose, it doesn’t matter. It won’t take me long to get back and you’ve got to go.’ Joyce stood up and took a step towards her friend and gave her a hug. ‘Tell Annie I’m thinking of her and I’ll see you when you get back.’
Rose nodded. ‘Only if you’re sure. I don’t want you getting ill and it’s freezing out there.’
Joyce turned to walk away. ‘I’ll be fine, us country folk are made of stern stuff you know.’
Rose smiled. ‘Except you haven’t been country folk for some years now.’
Joyce waved and opened the stage door which thudded shut behind her.
Rose looked down at the piece of paper before folding it in half and pushing it into her skirt pocket. She needed to go and see Kitty to let her know Annie wouldn’t be in.
Two minutes later she was knocking on Kitty’s dressing room door.
‘Come in.’
Rose took a deep breath and turned the handle to open the door. ‘Morning, Miss Smythe.’
Kitty looked up from some papers she was reading. ‘Hello, Rose, to what do I owe this pleasure? Is Annie with you? Only she sometimes reads my lines with me.’
Rose shook her head. ‘I’m sorry but Annie has had to go home. I know she won’t mind me telling you but apparently she received a telegram this morning. I think it must be about her brother. They’re very close. I wouldn’t like to say when she’ll be back but…’ She suddenly became aware she was rambling.
Kitty dropped the papers she was holding. ‘Oh no, the poor girl! Are you going home as well?’
‘I want to but I have to find Miss Hetherington first to get her approval.’
Kitty shook her head. ‘Don’t worry about that, I’ll say I agreed it. You just take yourself off.’
Rose frowned. ‘That’s very kind of you but I don’t want to get you, or anyone else, into trouble.’
Kitty smiled. ‘I’m the star, darling, so I always get what I want.’ Her smile faded. ‘Seriously, your friend needs you so just go and don’t worry about all this, it will still be here when we’re all gone.’
‘Thank you.’ Rose turned to leave the room.
‘Rose, let Annie know I’m thinking of her, and if you need anything, anything at a
ll, just write or send me a telegram. It’s quicker.’
Rose looked over her shoulder. ‘I will, and thank you for your kindness.’ She quickly left the room and paced it out back to the sewing room. ‘Dot,’ she called out as she walked through the door. ‘I’ve got to go.’
Dot turned round from the reel drawer she was tidying up. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Annie’s received a telegram; I’m assuming it’s about David but I don’t know. I don’t know what else it could be about.’ Rose dashed round to her table and picked up her handbag.
Colour drained from Dot’s face. ‘David?’
‘Yes, he and my brothers all enlisted together.’ She stopped what she was doing to stare into space. ‘I hope they’re all right, I keep telling myself no news is good news.’ She glanced over at Dot. ‘Are you all right? You’ve gone quite pale.’
Dot shook her head. ‘Tell me, is Annie’s last name Cradwell?’
‘Yes, it is.’ Rose walked over to her. ‘I think you need to sit down before you fall down.’ She pulled up a chair. ‘You knew that she was a Cradwell and I’m a Spencer. I introduced her to you.’
Dot slowly shook her head again. ‘No, you just told me she was your friend Annie and that she was Kitty Smythe’s dresser.’ Her face was white as a ghost. ‘I’ve wondered but was too frightened to ask… but now… with David… I need to come with you.’ She looked at Rose’s startled expression. ‘I’ll explain. It’s time I stopped running.’
*
Despite the cold air, Arthur’s palms were sweaty. He rubbed them down the side of his trousers, before reaching out to help Annie out of the car outside her family home. She hesitated, the fear she was feeling all over her face. ‘Come on, we all have to learn to face things we don’t want to, and no one knows better than me it’s not easy.’
The cottage door was suddenly flung open and Margaret came running down the gravel path, the stones crunching under her every step. ‘Thank goodness you’re here.’
Annie saw her grandfather standing forlornly in the doorway. He seemed more stooped than she remembered, and yet she hadn’t been gone a year. How could things have changed so quickly?
a heartwarming WW1 saga about love and friendship (The West End Girls Book 1) Page 27