by Nancy Revell
He slowed down as he passed the cordoned-off bomb site where Binns, the town’s most exclusive department store, had once been. His mam had written and told them about each bombing that had hammered the town, but seeing the shadowy outline of a huge mound of bricks and rubble where once the grand three-storey store had stood was still shocking.
Turning left at the bottom of the street, he looked across the road and was glad to see the darkened outline of the town’s magnificent museum, which was thankfully still in one piece.
He quickened his pace as he walked along Borough Road towards the start of the east end. He suddenly felt a rush of boyish excitement at seeing his mam. She wrote regularly, but it had still been almost four years since he’d seen her – been able to give her a hug. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when he knocked on her door and she saw it was him.
Chapter Thirteen
‘Surprise!’ Bobby dumped his coat and duffel bag by his feet on the mat at the entrance to the basement flat and put his arms out.
Gloria stood stock-still, her hand holding the front door open, looking at her eldest son. She was in complete shock.
‘Mam, it’s me! Bobby. Have you forgotten what your own son looks like?’ He laughed, scooping her up in his arms and giving her a big bear hug, almost lifting her off the ground.
‘Bobby … I can’t believe it.’ Gloria’s voice was muffled against her son’s navy blue sailor’s uniform; her slippered feet just touching the floor.
Bobby put his dumbfounded mother down and then rested his hands on her shoulders and looked at her. ‘You look well, Mam. Very well.’ His smile was wide, and his brown eyes twinkled. This was the happiest he had felt since leaving his ship.
Gloria reached up to touch her son’s cheek and promptly burst out crying.
‘Oh, Mam.’ Bobby wrapped his arms around her once again. ‘Don’t cry. You should be happy.’
‘I am. I am.’ Gloria was now half laughing, half crying. ‘Just shocked.’ She wiped the tears away with both hands. ‘Are yer back for good?’ She looked at his head. ‘What about this head injury?’
Bobby laughed, rubbing his hand self-consciously across the top of his head; his hair was more like stubble as it had been clipped so short. ‘All these questions. Can I get a nice cup of tea first? Perhaps I can even get through the door?’
As he spoke, he looked over his mam’s head and spotted the most amazing-looking woman – long dark hair, fashioned like a Hollywood starlet – and the thought went through his head momentarily that she might be famous before he dismissed it. His mam had not mentioned being chummy with any movie stars. His vision dropped down to the little girl sitting on her lap. She, too, was a gem. Same dark hair, only bobbed. Same heart-shaped face. Mother and child were staring at him, looking almost as stunned as his mam. He immediately took his cap off. ‘Sorry, ma’am, I didn’t see you sat there.’
Gloria stepped aside so he could come into the warmth of the flat. So entranced was Bobby by this vision of unexpected beauty in a red dress, he didn’t see Jack standing in the kitchen doorway.
Striding across the living area, Bobby threw out his hand. ‘Glad to make your acquaintance …?’ His deep voice rose in a question.
‘Dorothy. Dorothy Williams.’
As soon as their hands touched, they both got a short, sharp electrical shock.
‘Oh my God,’ Dorothy laughed. ‘Did you feel that?’
‘I certainly did!’ Bobby beamed back at her.
Sensing movement to his left, Bobby looked round and it was only then that he saw Jack.
‘Sorry, mister, I didn’t see you there.’ Presuming the man was a neighbour or a friend, he again threw his hand out and the two men shook. Their handshakes were equally firm.
‘Jack Crawford.’
‘Bobby Armstrong.’
Straight away, Bobby turned his attention back to Dorothy and the little girl on her lap.
‘And what’s your daughter’s name?’
Dorothy laughed a little too loudly, betraying her nerves. ‘Well, you’re right – we do actually look uncannily similar.’ She flashed Gloria a look and then glanced down at Hope; a trickle of toffee-laced goo was making its way out of the corner of her mouth. ‘But we’re not related.’
Bobby glanced down at Dorothy’s left hand and saw it was devoid of any kind of jewellery. His heart leapt. This homecoming was getting better by the second.
‘This is my god-daughter,’ Dorothy said. ‘Hope.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Hope.’ And for the third time Bobby stretched out his arm and gently shook the chubby little hand of the toddler who was almost as pretty as her godmother.
‘Sit down, Bobby, sit down,’ Gloria said, taking him by the arm and gently pushing him onto the seat next to Dorothy and Hope. ‘Let’s get yer a nice cup of tea.’ Gloria hurried into the kitchen. ‘Are yer hungry, Bobby?’ she called out. ‘How about a sandwich?’
‘No, Mam, a cuppa tea’s just fine for the moment,’ Bobby shouted back. He had been hungry, but on seeing the vision of gorgeousness in her figure-hugging red dress, his appetite had immediately vanished.
‘You staying for another, Dor?’
‘Eee, no, Glor, I’d best get off …’
The words were barely out of her mouth when Bobby suddenly hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. ‘You’re Dor! Mam’s workmate at Thompson’s!’ Bobby looked incredulous.
Dorothy shuffled about uneasily on her chair. She was glad Hope seemed more than happy to stay sitting on her lap, sucking on her toffee and staring at the incredibly handsome man who was her brother.
‘That’s me.’ Dorothy forced herself to sound jocular.
‘Sorry to sound so surprised, you’re just not what I expected.’ Bobby looked up at his mam as she placed a cup of tea in front of him. He wanted to add that the Dor he’d read about in the letters Gloria had sent him and Gordon described Dorothy as a bit of a dipstick, the squad’s clown – her and another girl called Angie. His mam had missed out the part about her being a real looker.
Bobby caught Dorothy looking up at Gloria and the man called Jack before she started to fold up a piece of paper on the table in front of her.
‘Is this young lady having a lesson?’ he asked, smiling at Hope. The little girl was totally adorable. He looked back at Dorothy. ‘Mam says you’re the educated one of the squad?’
Again, Dorothy forced a laugh. ‘More that I read lots of trashy books.’
‘So, Bobby,’ Gloria sat down next to her son, putting her hand on his arm, ‘tell me – what’s happened? Why are you back?’
Bobby took his mam’s hand in his own and squeezed it. ‘I’ve been medically discharged.’
‘Your head injury?’ Jack asked. From where he had been standing, he had spotted scarring on Bobby’s head behind his left ear where the hair hadn’t grown back.
Bobby was aware that Jack had said something because everyone’s attention had gone to him, but he hadn’t heard a word. He turned his head round and tilted it slightly to the left. ‘Sorry, what was that?’ He looked at Jack properly for the first time. Was he the little girl’s father? A bit old. Perhaps he was Dorothy’s father? They had similar dark looks.
‘Yer head injury,’ Jack repeated. ‘Is that why they’ve medically discharged you?’
Bobby nodded. ‘Yes. Got a bash on my head and lost the hearing in my left ear.’ He wanted to say more: how frustrated he was about the decision; how he’d pleaded for them to let him stay on, at least until after the planned invasion of Europe. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to come across as a whinger, especially in front of Dorothy.
‘So, no other long-lasting injuries?’ Jack pursued the point. After suffering amnesia, he had learnt how complex the brain was and how head injuries could cause problems that weren’t always immediately noticeable.
‘No, I’ve not lost any of my marbles,’ Bobby laughed, knowing what Jack was intimating. ‘Not that I had many to start with.’
Bobby glanced at Dorothy and smiled. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He forced himself to take a sup of his tea, his eyes still flickering up at her.
Just then Hope suddenly got restless and wriggled off Dorothy’s lap.
Smiling as she toddled past, she made a beeline for Gloria.
Bobby watched as Hope stretched out her hands, lifted her angelic little face up to Gloria and called out, ‘Mammy!’
Chapter Fourteen
‘Mammy?’ Bobby repeated, looking confused, as Gloria got up from her chair and picked up the pretty, dark-haired little girl.
‘Yes,’ Gloria said, ‘that’s right … I’m Hope’s mammy.’
She hitched Hope into a comfortable position on her hip.
‘I’m so sorry, Bobby, I should have told you sooner.’
Bobby shook his head in disbelief; he didn’t say anything, just sat glued to his seat at the dining table.
‘And I’m Hope’s father.’ Jack stepped forward and put his hand on Gloria’s shoulder.
Bobby looked to Dorothy as though for confirmation. She nodded.
There was a moment’s silence before Gloria sat down, Hope still clinging to her like a little monkey. Dorothy got up and tried to take her, but Hope shook her head vehemently and buried her head in her mammy’s bosom.
As Dorothy returned to her seat, Gloria started to speak, her voice low and even, relating to her son how, shortly after starting work at Thompson’s, she had met Jack, who was working as the yard manager. They had started a relationship and not long afterwards she had unexpectedly fallen with Hope.
Bobby did not speak a word or interrupt as his mam told him that her marriage to Vinnie had been a long time dead, something, she said, both he and Gordon had probably realised when they were still at home. It had taken a while, but she had finally made it official and divorced him shortly before he was sent overseas. Gloria kept the events of the past three years as brief and to the point as possible. She omitted to mention any of the terrible violence that Vinnie had subjected her to, not wanting to sound as though she was making excuses for what had happened.
‘All I can say, Bobby, is that I’m so, so sorry that I didn’t tell you and Gordon beforehand – and that you’ve had to find out like this.’ She attempted a smile but gave up on seeing her son’s stony demeanour. ‘I know I should have come clean a long time ago, but I just kept putting it off and putting it off – and then time went on ’n it got harder ’n harder … I guess I just didn’t know how to tell you … I wanted it to be face to face—’
‘Glor was just about to write you a letter,’ Dorothy interjected.
Bobby turned and looked at Dorothy. He didn’t say anything, but instead got up and started pacing up and down the living room.
‘OK, just so I’ve got this right,’ he said, his eyes darting from his mam, who was holding Hope – his sister – to Jack, his mam’s married, live-in-lover.
‘You started work at Thompson’s – ’ he exhaled ‘ – when you were still married to our dad.’ A deep breath. ‘And within a few months you’d started seeing the yard manager.’ He cocked his head over at Jack, who was standing behind Gloria, his hands resting protectively on her shoulders. Jack’s eyes were glued to Bobby, ready to react if he looked as though he was going to lose it. There was a good chance. He was his father’s son, after all.
‘A man who was also still married,’ Bobby continued, glaring at Jack. ‘And a few months later you were – ’ he looked at Hope ‘ – in the family way.’ Bobby was struggling not to raise his voice, something he didn’t want to do, not with a little one about. ‘And it’s now been more than three years and you never thought to tell Gordon and me during all that time?’ Bobby stopped pacing and was now standing, arms akimbo, in the middle of the living room. He shook his head. ‘You never even thought to tell us that you’d left Dad – never mind divorced him?’
Gloria opened her mouth, but nothing came out. There was another long silence.
Suddenly, Bobby felt as though the walls of the small flat were closing in on him.
‘Sorry, Mam, but I’m gonna have to go. I need some time to let all this sink in.’ He went to the doorway where he had dumped his coat and pulled it on.
‘But where yer gonna stay?’ Gloria fretted, standing up and handing Hope over to Jack. ‘You’ve just got back. Stay here. Let’s talk this through.’
Bobby shook his head, shot Jack another dark look and turned to leave. Grabbing his duffel bag, he opened the door and left the flat.
Dorothy looked at the table and seeing that Bobby had left his white peaked sailor’s cap, she grabbed it and went after him.
When Dorothy reached the top of the stone steps that led to the Borough Road, she immediately caught sight of Bobby, his broad physique and the square shoulders of his sailor’s coat just about visible in the dark of the blackout.
‘Hey, Bobby, you forgot your cap!’ she shouted out.
She saw him turn on hearing her voice and she hurried towards him. When she reached him, she was suddenly aware of how tall he was. He had seemed tall in the flat, but she’d put that down to the room’s low ceiling as well as to Gloria being quite short, but now she was standing next to him, she realised he must have been nearly six foot.
‘Thanks.’ His voice was deep, serious and surly. He took his cap and put it on.
‘Where’re you going to go?’ Dorothy asked. It was getting late and she doubted he had much money to waste on a hotel.
‘Hostel … Sally Army,’ he said, looking down at Dorothy’s flushed, attractive face.
Dorothy could feel the intensity of his stare.
‘I know somewhere that’ll have you,’ she said, looking down at her wristwatch, more to avoid his stare than to see what time it was. ‘Hopefully, it won’t be too late.’
She started walking.
‘Follow me,’ she ordered, still not looking him in the eye.
Bobby did as he was told, keeping to her left as they crossed the Borough Road and walked past the Burton House Hotel pub. Two middle-aged men still wearing work overalls and flat caps bundled out the entrance, bringing with them the smell of smoke and beer. A brief snatch of sound escaped. Laughter and loud chatter. The place sounded lively.
‘I know it’s not really any of my business,’ Dorothy said, looking up at Bobby’s profile as they turned right into Tatham Street, ‘but I really don’t think you should be mad with your mam.’
‘You’re right,’ Bobby said, glancing down and catching Dorothy’s eye. ‘It’s not really any of your business.’
Dorothy stopped in her tracks and glowered at him. She wanted to tell him that, actually, it was her business. Gloria was more than a workmate. She was more like a mother to her than her own. She wanted to tell him that she loved and cared for Gloria. She’d even helped deliver her baby, for God’s sake. Dorothy wanted to tell him all this and more, but she didn’t.
Looking down at this angry, ravishing vision in red, Bobby suddenly realised Dorothy had nothing to keep her warm. He shrugged off his heavy three-quarter-length jacket and held it out.
‘Here, put this on. It’s cold,’ he commanded.
Dorothy tutted. ‘I’m fine. We’re nearly there.’ She forced herself to look him in the eye. ‘I just think you should know that your mam’s been through a tough time.’ She started walking. ‘There’s a lot you don’t know.’
Bobby swung his coat over his shoulder and watched Dorothy for a moment as she stomped ahead in her high-heeled shoes.
‘Clearly,’ Bobby said, striding to catch her up.
When they reached 34 Tatham Street, Dorothy knocked on the front door, which was, as usual, slightly ajar. Dorothy breathed a sigh of relief. The door only got bolted when everyone had gone to bed.
‘Cooee!’ she called out through the gap, being careful not to make too much noise. She guessed the babies would be in bed at this time and she would be everyone’s least favourite person if she woke them.
Seconds later she heard steps on the tiled hallway and the door was pulled wide open.
‘Dorothy! Why, this is a surprise.’ Agnes looked up at the sailor standing next to her. He took off his cap and dipped his head by way of a greeting.
‘Come in. Come in,’ Agnes commanded.
Dorothy was glad Agnes hadn’t asked her to explain why she’d turned up on her doorstep, togged up to the nines on a Friday night, with a sailor boy by her side.
‘I’m so sorry to come so late,’ she said, stepping over the threshold and following Agnes down the hallway. Sensing no one behind her, she looked back to see Bobby was still standing on the doorstep.
‘Come on!’ She waved her arm impatiently.
Walking into the kitchen, Dorothy was glad there was no one else about, just Tramp and Pup who were curled up by the range. She looked at the clock. It had gone half nine.
‘Everyone in bed?’ she asked as Bobby appeared in the kitchen doorway.
Agnes chuckled, disappearing into the scullery and reappearing with a pot of tea. ‘That’s what having children does to yer.’
‘I’ve never known the house so quiet,’ Dorothy said, keeping her voice low.
‘Best time of the day,’ Agnes said, putting the pot of tea on the kitchen table and waving her arm towards the chairs. ‘Sit down.’ She looked up at Bobby. ‘You’re too tall to be standing about. I need to be able to see your face.’
Bobby smiled as he hung his coat on the back of the chair and he and Dorothy sat down next to each other.
‘Agnes, this is Bobby – Gloria’s son.’ Dorothy turned to Bobby, who immediately stuck out his hand.
‘Well I never.’ Agnes’s face broke into a genuine smile. ‘Gloria’s son.’ She shook his hand. ‘This is a surprise. I’m Agnes, pet. Agnes Elliot. I’m a friend of yer mam’s.’