by Annie Groves
Even though Kathleen’s house had not been damaged, the front doorstep was still filmed by a layer of light ash, which must have drifted down from fires close by. Flo tutted as she opened the door. She would brush it clean so the girl wouldn’t need to bother. She knew how Kathleen would hate to see such dirt.
She set down her basket and took the brush from where she knew it was kept in the back kitchen, and went out again. Inspecting the step more closely she could see there was a footprint. That was strange. The shape looked as if it had been made by a high-heeled shoe – the kind Mattie had tried to wear before she settled down and married Lennie. That phase hadn’t lasted long as she could never balance properly. Flo smiled at the memory. Mattie had been such a handful back then. Then she wondered who Kathleen might know who wore such shoes.
It was as she eased herself back up to a standing position, the step now pristine, that Flo saw who the shoe belonged to. A young woman was striding down the street, the high heels presenting her with no problems. She was pushing a pram, under which was a bulging duffel bag. Flo folded her arms over her dog’s-tooth print frock, every instinct telling her this young woman, with her brightly bleached hair and scarlet lipstick, meant trouble.
The woman stopped before her and glared. ‘Where’s Kathleen?’ Her voice revealed she was not from London.
The cogs turned in Flo’s brain. Mattie had told her a potted version of Kathleen’s unwelcome visitor and her extraordinary claims. Those two words clinched it: a Liverpool accent. She knew exactly who this was but that didn’t mean she had to show it.
Instead she smiled blandly. ‘And who might you be?’
The young woman squared up to her as if for a fight. ‘I might ask the same of you.’
Flo nodded. ‘Indeed you might.’ She waited, her face a mask of patience.
The young woman glared some more but then her bad temper got the better of her. ‘Is she in there?’ She stepped forward. ‘Get out of the bloody way. Let me see. I’ve got a bone to pick with her.’
Flo stood her ground. She might be shorter than this woman in her tall spindly heels, and twice her age, and her hands might be stiff with arthritis, but she had no intention of being a pushover. ‘Now then, young lady, I don’t think I can let you into this house unless you tell me who you are.’
The woman’s face was reddening with fury. ‘That should be my house by rights. She gets everything while I get nothing. Well, she won’t get away with it.’
Flo did not move. ‘You’d better tell me what you mean by that.’
‘Oh, I’ll tell you all right. I’ll scream it loud enough so everyone can hear.’
Flo glanced along the street. The weather had turned and people had kept their windows closed, against the increasing chill as well as the drifting remnants of ash from all the fires. If this visitor chose to shout her business from the pavement, then no one would hear.
‘She might be Ray’s official widow, but I’m his most recent woman, so that should count for something. She gets all his pension, when it should come to me. Well, I’m here to ruin her plans. Just you tell her Elsie came by. I know how to stop that money coming in, and she can see how she likes it, to be left penniless by Ray Berry.’
Flo was tempted to say ‘I think she knows’, but bit it back. ‘I’ll tell her no such thing,’ she said calmly. ‘I think you should take your nasty accusations and leave right now.’
Elsie flew at her. ‘I’m not going nowhere. You listen to me if you’re so keen to stick up for her. Let’s see how much you really know about your precious friend. Or are you her mother? You look old enough all right.’ Flo didn’t react, which goaded Elsie still further. ‘She’s been living a lie. She’s been taking that money even though she knows full well that Ray Berry’s still alive. There! Bet that shocked you, didn’t it? What do you have to say about that?’
Flo kept her face impassive. True, when Mattie had told her and Stan that the despicable coward hadn’t died at Dunkirk after all, she had been shaken to her core. Mattie had sworn them to secrecy, asking them not even to let Kathleen know that they had been told, as Kathleen was desperate to keep it quiet – not because she wanted to fraudulently keep the pension but because she wished to protect Brian.
‘I think you are talking stuff and nonsense,’ she said.
‘It’s true all right. And now the bastard’s kicked me out, and his little boy too! How about that! So I’ve got nothing to lose.’ Elsie’s eyes grew crafty. ‘You can tell your precious Kathleen that I’m going to shop him to the police. Then he’ll be for it, and she’ll be arrested for protecting him. I know he’s been round here. She’ll be in water so hot she’ll squeal.’ She pushed angrily on the pram and it swung around so that Flo could see the small child’s face.
She considered her next move. While she didn’t usually approve of breaking the law, she had no wish to bring the police to Kathleen’s door. And what if Ray got wind of this, and thought it was Kathleen who had reported him? What might he do to her or Brian in retaliation? Flo had seen the results of the last beating he had inflicted on his wife, and had no intention of letting that happen again. She had to take a gamble.
‘You got no proof,’ she said.
‘What? You can stand there and say that?’ Elsie shouted. ‘What proof do I need? I’ll tell them my story and they’ll see how wronged I am. Besides, look in front of you! Here’s my proof – my son! Ray’s son!’
Flo slowly shook her head. ‘You’re wrong. They won’t have no reason to believe you. They’ll think it’s a case of sour grapes. Or, if they do believe you, they’ll want to know why you’ve waited all these months to tell them. They might well think that you’re not doing it out of public spirit, or the goodness of your heart, and have you in for questioning instead, for harbouring a fugitive. And as for your boy,’ she paused and refolded her arms, ‘he’s no more Ray Berry’s son than I am. Is he?’ She stared at Elsie until the young woman could no longer hold her gaze.
‘You’ll be sorry for this,’ she hissed.
‘No, Elsie, I don’t think so. And don’t you presume to threaten me.’ Flo drew herself up to her full height. She hadn’t raised three children in the East End for nothing. She’d had to battle to keep them on the right track often enough, and she was never one to back down from an argument. This young woman’s threats were empty ones. ‘You take your boy and get out of here. Don’t you dare to come back and try anything to hurt Kathleen. You take your tricks elsewhere. There’s nothing for you here.’ She kept her voice level and her gaze steady until Elsie turned the pram around with a howl of frustration and set off back down the short street, her high heels clacking on the road’s surface.
Flo brushed her hands down the sides of her frock. ‘Good riddance,’ she breathed. She doubted the woman would be back, now her bluff had been called. Flo debated telling Kathleen about it but decided it would only worry her, and she was pretty sure there was nothing to worry about any more. ‘Right,’ she said to herself. ‘I’ll give my hands a good wash as I feel dirty just for talking to that creature. Then I’ll get on with that cake.’
‘You’re so lucky to have this kitchen to yourselves.’ Edith gazed around the small, neat room that the two Irish nurses shared. ‘I know we’ve got the service room, but sometimes it’s so busy that I don’t bother making myself a drink even if I want one.’
‘Well, you’re always welcome to come over here,’ Bridget offered, setting the kettle to boil. ‘We can do with the company. Otherwise we’ll be bored of the sight of one another.’ She smiled at Ellen to show she didn’t mean it. ‘Will you have a cup of cocoa now?’
‘Yes please.’ Edith perched on one of the stools that just fitted under the narrow table pushed beneath the window. The kitchen was not really big enough to sit in, but as the living room had been turned into a bedroom for Ellen, this was the only common space. She didn’t feel she knew either of the two nurses well enough to sit in their rooms yet.
‘And we have
biscuits!’ Bridget produced a packet from the freshly painted cupboard. She noticed Edith peering at the unfamiliar packaging. ‘Mammy sent them from home. Don’t worry, they taste just as good as your English ones.’ She slid some onto a china plate.
‘I’m sure they do.’ Edith wasn’t about to complain.
‘Now tell us,’ Ellen began, ‘what is the latest news about your boyfriend? His parents went to see him, didn’t they?’
Edith nodded, licking crumbs from her upper lip. ‘They did. Right at the start of the bombing raids. They were ever so relieved to find him in one piece, you can imagine.’ She popped the rest of the biscuit into her mouth. ‘Delicious. Thank you.’
‘I’ll ask Mammy to send more,’ promised Bridget, putting three cups of cocoa on the little table top. ‘That was several weeks ago now, wasn’t it?’
Edith smiled broadly. ‘He’s come on a lot since then. One of the nurses writes to me on his behalf now, and reads him my letters. As soon as they knew who he was, they started using his name and talking about Dalston to him and he began to respond. There’s someone else on the ward from around here and he goes and chats to him about people they know in common and it really helps. Harry’s now just able to chat back a little. The nurse says it’s wonderful to watch, as this other man almost lost his eyesight but now he’s got some of it back. She says they’re her favourite patients.’ Edith beamed. ‘I wish I could swap places, but I don’t suppose I’d get much work done if I did.’
Ellen helped herself to a biscuit. ‘No, you’re needed around here. Will you go to visit him again?’
Edith pulled a face. ‘I would love to, but it’s so hard getting there and back, and really I can’t take up a space on the train when other people need it more. I’ll have to wait a while. Still, I get the letters. Just knowing he’s alive is like a wonder – that will have to do for now.’
Bridget stirred her cocoa, made mostly with water and just a tiny pinch of sugar. She dunked a biscuit in it. ‘Excuse my manners but it makes it sweeter. You should give it a go. Edith, did I tell you that Fiona asked us about midwifery training?’
‘No.’ Edith looked up encouragingly.
‘Well, she did. It’s all your doing – you and Alice, having to deliver that baby in the air-raid shelter. She wants several of us to go on a course so that we’re all set to handle difficult births in all manner of circumstances.’
‘Not that they’ll train us in a blackout with just a few candles for light, I dare say,’ Ellen added. ‘Wasn’t that how it was?’
‘Just about,’ Edith admitted but, before she could say more, the all too familiar wail of the warning siren started up, ruling out any further conversation. ‘Not again. Good job we’d just about finished our cocoa.’ She drained her cup and stood. ‘I’d better get over to the refuge room. You coming?’
‘Take the rest of the packet.’ Bridget passed her the remaining biscuits. ‘We’ll be over in a mo. I just want to get my knitting – no sense in wasting time if we don’t have to.’
Edith left swiftly and Ellen stacked the used cups and plates beside the sink. ‘These can wait until the all clear.’ She looked at her friend. ‘Are you still glad we came? Sometimes when that siren goes, my stomach turns over, I don’t mind telling you.’
Bridget halted in her tracks, amazed. She always thought of Ellen as fearless; in all the years she’d known her, the other woman had never admitted to being afraid of anything, apart from wasps. She had considered herself the fearful one. She turned to her friend, her face thoughtful. ‘Well … yes, I’m still glad.’ She took a moment to consider her reply. ‘I know it’s dangerous, and it was one thing sitting in the staff room in Dublin wanting a bit of an adventure – another kettle of fish altogether now we’re here and in the midst of it. But yes, I don’t regret coming for one moment. Not even that evening in Dr Patcham’s clinic, which was pretty bad now I look back on it. It’s not only getting the chance to do extra training, although I can’t wait to do the midwifery course – I love babies. It’s more than that.’ She hesitated, cleared her throat and then took the plunge. ‘You’ll think I’m crazy …’
‘Well, that’s nothing new.’ Ellen smiled warmly but her eyes were quizzical.
‘The thing is, I’m less afraid now. Not more. That sounds daft, doesn’t it? But I used to be afraid all the time, of silly little things, and felt I wasn’t good enough.’
‘You never said!’ Ellen cried. ‘You should have told me, I could have helped.’
Bridget shook her head. ‘I felt too stupid. Here I was, trained for years to do my job, and yet every time I went to inject somebody I thought I’d do it wrong. That made me doubt I could do all the rest of it too. And yet somehow, now we’re actually being bombed, it’s getting better. When there were all those people looking at me in the clinic, there just wasn’t a choice. There’s no time to think, we have to get on with it. I don’t know why, it’s completely the wrong way round, but I’d rather be here, in the heart of it all, than watching from the sidelines.’
Ellen’s expression was full of sympathy. ‘I never knew you thought like that. You’ve kept that quiet for so long, I don’t know how you’ve managed. I’m scared out of my wits every time that blessed siren goes, but I’m not planning to run away. I just hope it’s over soon.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Better grab your knitting, we’ve to get over to that refuge room before we’re blown to bits. We’d be no use to man nor beast if that happened.’
Bridget nodded. ‘And we wouldn’t be midwives either.’
‘Wouldn’t want to miss that,’ Ellen agreed. ‘Come on, quick, let’s get to safety as fast as we can.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
Billy had kept his eyes peeled following Kathleen’s news about Ray’s reappearance, all the while wondering if the man he hated more than any other would return to his old home. Sometimes his mind flickered to the thought that Ray might go round and hurt her badly if he was desperate; or, even worse, do away with her. Yet what would be the point of that? If he really intended to live off his wife’s pension then she would have to be able to draw it. Even that was ridiculous, he reminded himself. Ray must know deep down that there would be no hiding for long in Jeeves Place. The gossip-hungry neighbours would be on to him like a shot.
He had to hope that Bertie would let something else slip during the course of the day, as he was the only source of information. Bertie, however, appeared to regret having been so outspoken and spoke very little. Billy was sure the man was becoming more and more stressed, snapping at the least thing, frowning all the time, his nails bitten to the quick. He just needed to be patient. As long as Kathleen was safe, he could wait.
Meanwhile the Luftwaffe continued to drop their nightly bombs on the docks and the East End, meaning that everyone was bone tired, and the strenuous work on the wharfs and in the warehouses took longer as everyone dragged their exhausted bodies through the shifts. Fires raged through the night and lasted throughout the days, each one with its own strange characteristic. Pepper fires filled the air with tiny particles, which stung anyone who breathed them in. Rum fires resulted in torrents of blazing liquid pouring from the sheds, and the barrels themselves would explode. Rubber fires produced a vile stench and nobody could approach too closely, meaning they lasted for even longer. None of them knew what they would encounter when they turned up for work. Billy reflected that anyone who thought the dockers had a cushy job which meant they could avoid being called up was totally wrong. This was like being on the front line.
Today had started with fresh revelations of destruction, this time a large storage shed which had taken a direct hit. It had been made partly of timber and so had instantly gone up in flames, leaving little but charred beams and twisted steel in smoking heaps. Whatever had been stored there had mostly perished, but Billy, Bertie and the rest of the team had been ordered to recover what they could and move it to the other end of the wharf.
When Bertie saw where they were to work, he we
nt white as a sheet.
Billy flicked him a glance but Bertie looked away, chewing his lip. Billy watched him closely, waiting for him to try to give the rest of them the slip. The others would be pleased if he did; they often complained at having Bertie in their group as he was nowhere near as fit as most dock workers, and was unable to pull his weight. They were better off without him. But Bertie hung around for most of the morning, pretending to help lift crates, shuffling around in the background.
It was only as lunch time drew near that he made a sly break for it, but Billy was ready for it. He followed his colleague as he made his way to the back of the ravaged shed to an area none of the work party had yet reached. Some crates there remained intact, but others lay partly burnt on the ground, their contents ruined. Behind them there appeared to be a row of smaller crates, which looked to have contained cardboard boxes, but little remained of them other than singed scraps, which smelt strongly of burnt paper. This was overlaid by a meaty stench, pungent and choking.
Bertie was coughing so much that he didn’t hear Billy approach. Then he came to an abrupt halt. His hand flew to cover his mouth, then he started to gag. Wildly he turned around; only at that point did he realise he had been followed. He froze, his eyes watering from the appalling stink.
Finally he gave Billy a short nod. ‘Might have known it would be you,’ he croaked. All his previous belligerence had gone. ‘Well, you’ll be happy now. Got what you wanted at last.’
Billy shook his head, unable to work out what the man was talking about. ‘What do you mean – was this where you kept your stuff? Those boxes over there, were they yours?’
Bertie turned regretfully to gaze at the smaller crates. ‘That would have made me a fortune,’ he said, his voice so low that Billy could hardly hear him.
‘What was in them?’
Bertie shook his head, as if he could scarcely take in the fact that his stolen goods were gone. ‘Medicine,’ he said shortly. ‘Boxes and boxes of it. Everyone would have paid through the nose for it, there’d have been such a shortage. All these people getting hurt in the raids, the demand for this stuff has gone through the roof.’