Ellie

by Lesley Pearse

  In fourteen years of marriage he had never said he loved her. But he did then, and made love to her with such tenderness that the past was wiped out completely.

  Annie’s last memory of Ted was of winding a scarf around his neck, down in the kitchen. It was a raw January morning, still dark outside, and the boys were still in bed. Ted caught hold of her two hands, pressing them to his lips, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

  ‘You and the boys mean everything in the world to me,’ he said, his voice cracking with emotion. ‘I’m ashamed of how I’ve treated you, you deserved better. But when the war’s over I’ll make it up to you, my darling.’

  The telegram telling her of Ted’s death in France arrived just days after she had written a long, loving letter announcing the news that she was expecting another child.

  Charley was born in October of that year. On November 11th, as bells rang out all over London for Armistice Day, Annie nursed her new baby and cried.

  Yet her stoic nature refused to be bowed down by finding herself a widow with five boys to care for. She had the house and a tiny widow’s pension, and at thirty-two she was young and resourceful enough to manage.

  In those first years after the Great War came times of hardship almost as bad as she’d experienced in childhood. Boarders were so scarce that sometimes she and the boys huddled round the fire in the kitchen with nothing but a couple of slices of bread each for their suppers. But slowly Annie’s natural warmth and kindness attracted lodgers who came and stayed. The basement of 33 Coburgh Street rang out with the boys’ laughter, permeating the entire house. Old Mrs King would have been appalled to find her fine linen sheets and dainty china used by working men. Doubtless she would turn in her grave at the robust stews and roasts Annie seduced her lodgers with. But Annie found real happiness, and she had time to lavish on her boys. As they grew into manhood each one of them was honest, diligent and a credit to her.

  Now, when Annie looked back at over forty years of living in this house, she understood why she’d felt that sense of deep gratitude on her first night here. Her fate was marked out that day and she didn’t regret a moment of it. Her boys were scattered now: Bill married and living in Australia, James in the army, Steven in the airforce, Eddie buried in France. But she still had Charley to hold on to. She busied herself by helping her neighbours and offering temporary accommodation to those bombed out. During the Blitz her basement was open house to anyone who needed shelter.

  Yet although she maintained a calm front to her neighbours and sons, Annie fretted about Charley. All through the Blitz, when he didn’t come home for days on end, she half expected each knock on the door to be a senior officer with the news he’d been killed. So many times he staggered in too exhausted to even speak, his eyebrows and lashes singed, eyes red-rimmed. He made light about the holes in his underwear, or the time his rubber boots had melted, but she knew he was haunted about friends who had lost their lives and by the bodies he hauled out of burning houses.

  Now Annie was afraid for Charley again, for a sixth sense told her the young girl along the passage was going to cause him pain. She’d seen that light in his eyes when Ellie came out of the bathroom in his pyjamas, her hair all shiny and clean, her skin pink from her bath, and Annie guessed it was already too late to attempt to divert fate.

  Annie was ironing a dress on the kitchen table when she heard the door along the passage creak.

  ‘Is that you, Ellie?’ she called out. It was almost six in the evening, and she’d just been considering waking her with some tea.

  Ellie came into the kitchen. She was still wearing Charley’s pyjamas and she looked apprehensive.

  ‘Sit yourself down.’ Annie stood the iron up on its end and crossed the kitchen to fill the kettle. ‘I’ll make us a cup of tea.’

  Ellie sat in an easy chair by the fireplace. When she’d arrived here with Charley she’d taken in little more than that it was a big house on several floors. She’d been so tired she’d willingly let Mrs King run her bath and tuck her into bed, but when she woke again to find herself in a gloomy small room with bars over the windows, she’d had a moment or two of pure panic.

  ‘I expect you’re feeling a bit strange,’ Annie said gently as she lit the gas under the kettle. ‘And worried about your aunt and the future.’

  Ellie felt exactly as she had on the day she was evacuated. This house wasn’t creepy like the Gilberts’ and Mrs King was kind, but nevertheless she felt marooned and scared.

  The kitchen was very homely, despite being in the basement. Bright curtains hung at the window, and a shaft of late afternoon sun shone down through the railings from the pavement above. Photographs tacked to the walls above the fireplace showed all five boys from babies to manhood. Letters were stuffed behind the clock, and old toys, games and children’s books still remained amongst pretty china on the old dresser.

  ‘I’m very grateful to you and Charley,’ Ellie said hesitantly. ‘But I can’t stay here.’

  Annie guessed what lay behind that remark. She sat herself down at the kitchen table and smiled at Ellie. ‘Let’s just look at what we’ve got here,’ she said. ‘You’ve lost your home, your money and you haven’t any family. Worse still is the uncertainty about your auntie. Now Charley and me are rattling around in this big house. You won’t be in the way because I’ve always had lodgers. Isn’t it best to stay with us, at least until we get more news of your aunt?’

  Put like that, Ellie could only nod her head in agreement.

  ‘Well, that’s settled,’ Annie said. ‘I took the liberty of getting you some clothes from the WVS. We can sort out things like a new ration book in a day or two.’

  ‘But –’ Ellie started to protest, but to her dismay she began to cry again.

  ‘But you’re scared?’ Annie asked, reaching out and taking one of Ellie’s hands. ‘You’re quite safe here, ducks. I’m just an ordinary woman whose boys are all scattered by the war and I’ll be glad of your company. Now shall we look at these clothes?’

  She put a handkerchief in Ellie’s hands and stood up. ‘Some of the things they gave me are awful,’ she smiled. ‘I wouldn’t put a refugee in them, much less a pretty girl like you. But there’s a couple of really nice frocks and some camiknickers good enough for the Queen of Sheba.’

  ‘You are kind,’ Ellie said tearfully, heartened by the woman’s sincerity. ‘I just don’t want to be any trouble to anyone.’

  ‘Look at this.’ Annie held up the apple-green crêpe de Chine frock she’d been ironing. ‘I should think this one came from one of those rich women in Regent’s Park, look at the quality.’

  Ellie’s unhappiness was eased by the dress. It was cut on the bias, the way good dresses always were before the war, and it had a corsage of darker green embroidery from one shoulder to just above the bust line. She liked everything about it – the little shoulder pads, the covered buttons and its nipped-in waist.

  She held it up to herself. ‘It’s lovely.’ She smiled. ‘I really like it.’

  ‘Look at these, then.’ Annie made a scandalised face and held up some dainty pink camiknicker by their narrow straps. ‘I wish I was slim enough to wear them. Why don’t you try them on?’

  Ellie took the underwear and the dress through to the room she’d slept in and pulled off her pyjamas. All her underwear had been old, worn and poor quality. These silky camiknickers slid over her hips like a caress, instantly making her feel beautiful. She didn’t need a mirror to know she looked as desirable as Brenda at the club in them. If it had been Marleen in the kitchen next door instead of Mrs King she would have pranced in to show them off.

  The frock was an even bigger thrill. It fitted as if it was made for her. She could hardly believe anyone would throw it out.

  ‘How does it look?’ she asked Annie shyly, standing in the kitchen doorway.

  Annie smiled. The dress suited Ellie just as she’d known it would: the colour threw a pink glow on her skin and it flattered her curvy shape.
r />   ‘Perfect,’ she said. ‘How about the undies?’

  ‘They’re lovely.’ Ellie blushed.

  Annie could see why Charley had reacted so quickly to this girl. It wasn’t just her sultry looks, but a kind of glow that came from deep within her.

  ‘Well there’s a lot more things we might be able to use,’ Annie said. ‘Come and look with me and see what you think.’

  It was quite the cosiest evening Annie had had for some time. They ate Spam and fried potatoes and discussed the clothes. A skirt needed taking in, and another big, warm dress had enough material in its skirt alone to make a more simple one. A huge, voluminous cotton nightdress would make three or four pairs of knickers.

  Several times they heard bombs, but they were mainly to the south, probably on the other side of the river.

  ‘I’ve never had anything as nice as this dress,’ Ellie admitted later, turning to look at herself in the mirror.

  ‘Do you know, the first decent dress I ever had was my uniform when I came here to work,’ Annie said, taking a trip down memory lane and remembering how she’d stood admiring herself in just the way Ellie was now. She told Ellie how it was for her at fourteen at her dreadful home in Poplar, and how she became determined to stay here at all costs.

  ‘I know she was my mother,’ she said with a shrug of her shoulders. ‘But she’d have sold me into prostitution if she’d got the price of a drink for me. Sometimes we have to be ruthless and just think of ourselves. Now and again I wonder what happened to my brothers and sisters; sometimes I even feel a little guilty. But if I’d hung about Poplar for much longer I’d have been sucked into it too.’

  In turn Ellie told her about the Gilberts, about Amos’s kindness and Grace’s passion for cleaning and collecting waste. Quite unselfconsciously Ellie lapsed into her impersonations, giving a hilarious performance of Grace measuring the bread, and even of the crazy way she attacked Ellie that last night and shut her in the cellar.

  ‘Did you ever discover if he got her locked up?’ Annie spluttered with laughter. The story should have been a tragic one, but Ellie had made it pantomime.

  ‘He did.’ A sad expression flitted across Ellie’s face. ‘But he’s happier now. I’ve only written a couple of times. I’ve been too busy working and there didn’t seem to be much point in keeping in touch.’

  As Ellie moved on to talk about Marleen, Annie began to get a fuller picture. Ellie skipped over it, referring to drink and men friends with a blush of shame.

  ‘I love her, though,’ she hastily added. ‘She couldn’t help it. I think she drank so she could pretend she was still young and pretty. She’s a good person really, she was always there for me and Mum.’

  ‘Don’t judge her by what other people say is right,’ Annie said gently. ‘Remember all those times she was there for you and forget the rest. It’s my belief we all find a crossroads in our life, and most of us gamble on which road to take. For some, like me, the road turned out to be a good one, but I didn’t know that when I set out. Your aunt chose the wrong turning, that’s all. It could happen to anyone.’

  At half past nine, Ellie got up. ‘I’ve got to go to the club, Mrs King,’ she said almost wistfully. ‘It’s important to me.’

  Annie knew she couldn’t stop her, and now she knew more about Ellie she felt she had no right to attempt it.

  ‘Mind how you go,’ was all she could say. ‘Nip into a shelter if you hear a doodle-bug, won’t you? I’ll leave the basement door on the latch for you.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs King.’ Ellie impulsively leaned forward to kiss the older woman. ‘For everything.’

  Annie caught hold of Ellie and hugged her. ‘It’s Annie,’ she said, her gentle brown eyes, so much like Charley’s, alight with concern. ‘I think we’re going to get on famously, Ellie. I do hope so – I always wanted a daughter, you know.’

  Annie dragged her eyes away from Ellie on the stage to watch her son for a moment. He was leaning forward, drinking in every word she sang, totally unaware of his firemen friends at the bar, the pint of beer on the table in front of him or anything else.

  Ellie had been living with them at Coburgh Street for almost three weeks now. Marleen, much to Ellie’s joy, had been transferred to a new spinal injuries unit called Stoke Mandeville Hospital in Buckinghamshire, where they not only pioneered revolutionary treatment for their patients but aimed to return most of them, despite their profound disabilities, back to the community as useful and respected citizens.

  Ellie had become like the daughter Annie had always wanted. It was a pleasure to look after her. Ellie’s funny impersonations made her laugh, and the days seemed shorter with Ellie’s chatter, and her interest in Annie’s family and friends. She was a great help, too. Unasked, she took over whitestoning the front steps, cleaning the brass and the guests’ bedrooms. She helped with the washing, prepared the vegetables, and even sat down at the sewing machine one day to mend a whole pile of sheets. When a doodle-bug had flattened number 66, fortunately when the entire family was out, Ellie had rallied round to help with emergency arrangements. Annie had been amazed when she saw Ellie scrabbling over the rubble, salvaging toys and bits of furniture. It said something about the girl’s character that she knew a retrieved teddy bear or doll would go a long way to comfort a small child.

  Annie was quite sure her son was falling in love with Ellie. Perhaps this should have alarmed her, but it didn’t. If she could choose the perfect daughter-in-law, Ellie would be the one.

  Tonight, however, was the first time they’d heard Ellie sing in public. From the moment Annie saw Ellie get up on the stage she realised that this was the only rival Charley had.

  It had been Charley’s suggestion that all three of them went to the Old Duke for a drink. It was the first time since Ellie moved in that her Sunday off had coincided with his.

  The four-piece band was playing as they came in and soon after the landlord asked for volunteers to come up and sing.

  Doodle-bugs didn’t deter people from coming out any longer. As in the Blitz, they managed their work-and play-time round them. Factories and some of the taller offices had spotters on the roofs and they sounded the alarm when a bomb was coming in that direction. The streets could be emptied in seconds – building workers shinning down from scaffolding, mothers rushing with prams – and then everything suddenly started again with the all clear. In the pubs people rarely moved: the windows could rattle, the beer mugs jump on the tables, but the conversation continued. There was a commonly held theory that public houses couldn’t be hit.

  The three of them had heard one old drunk get up and sing a terrible rendition of George Formby’s ‘When I’m Cleaning Windows’, quickly followed by a gutsy but out-of-tune version of ‘If you were the only girl in the world’ by the flower woman from the station.

  Charley had pushed Ellie up next. Annie didn’t know whether this was to show her off to his friends or out of curiosity about her ability. But whatever his reason, there was no doubt Ellie was a born performer.

  She’d sung ‘Shine on Harvest Moon’ first and the applause was so great the landlord had asked for more. ‘Little Steeple Pointing to a Star’ came next and then ‘The London I Love’. But now she was singing ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ and there wasn’t one person in the bar unmoved by her voice.

  Annie felt a chill run down her spine as Ellie sang the last line, her voice husky and wistful. Somehow the lyrics suggested Ellie’s ambitions and dreams. Annie knew deep down they weren’t about a husband and children.

  ‘Wasn’t she great?’ Charley shouted to Annie over the raucous applause. ‘I never expected her to be as good as that!’

  Ellie came back to her vacant seat, her face glowing with perspiration.

  ‘You really can sing,’ Annie said, reaching forward to pat her shoulder. ‘Charley and I nearly burst with pride. Let’s have another drink to celebrate?’

  ‘On me.’ Frank the burly landlord had squeezed through the packed tables an
d was now leaning towards Ellie. ‘What’ll you ’ave, darlin’?’

  ‘Just a cordial, please.’ Ellie smiled up at Frank. She knew his next question would be whether she would sing again on a regular basis; she was just hoping he’d settle for an early slot so she could do a stint here and then go on to the Blue Moon afterwards.

  Annie had a port, Charley a pint. Frank offered Ellie five shillings to sing on Saturday nights.

  ‘Make it ten bob and I’ll do it,’ she said cheekily. She guessed he could easily afford it. The pub was packed on Saturdays, and she’d heard that Frank’s only problem was getting enough beer for his regulars.

  The drinks arrived, the deal was struck and Frank disappeared back behind his bar. It was only then that Ellie noticed Charley’s face had tightened.

  She wasn’t going to ask him why: she knew. He didn’t like the thought of her singing in here when he wasn’t around. In one way it was comforting to feel protected, but whether Charley liked it or not, she was determined to sing here or anywhere else they were prepared to pay her.

  ‘I’ll make some cocoa,’ Annie said later, putting the kettle on. ‘What a nice evening it’s been. I haven’t enjoyed myself so much for years.’

  Ellie sat down at the kitchen table, glancing at Charley. He hadn’t said much since she made the deal with Frank to sing at the pub and she felt he was brooding about it. She wanted to bring it out in the open, but perhaps it would be better to leave it for now.

  ‘How far is it to Stoke Mandeville?’ she asked instead. ‘I thought about going to see Marleen tomorrow.’

  Ellie had felt an overwhelming sense of relief when Marleen was transferred to Stoke Mandeville. To see her aunt just lying there in a big, noisy ward at University College Hospital, heavily sedated, her face covered with dressings was distressing enough, but the hopelessness of her situation was far worse. In her few lucid moments she lay crying, wishing for death, and who could blame her when all movement and sight was gone. But then Dr Guttmann, the leading spinal specialist, came to see her, offering her a ray of hope.