by Annie Clarke
‘Biscuits,’ crooned Tommy.
Stanley held one up. ‘One each, eh?’
‘There are eleven, Stanley,’ said Audrey, ‘and how many are there round the table, including the grown-ups?’
He dropped the biscuit back on the plate. ‘Oh, not one each, eh?’
Audrey laughed. ‘Well, let’s see. Ladies of the co-op and Sophia, can we possibly deprive these starving children of Mrs Phillips’ divine oat biscuits?’
‘Yes, we can,’ roared Madge. ‘None for the bairns.’ They all laughed as Madge continued, ‘Of course we can’t. So, eat up.’
While they did the women congregated by the back door, trying to decide whether they should take them for a game of footie, all of them on the back field, or tell them about the accident – or was it best to wait for definite news? In the end, Sophia whispered, ‘Let’s wait to see what’s what, and instead of being outside, away from the telephone, let’s think of good things, like Fran’s wedding. We’ll go to the attic, see what we can find in the way of curtains and material. She can’t have the same as Sarah, it simply won’t do.’
Annie said, ‘If we used the other curtain that matches the one Sarah’s dress is made of and covered it with net, it would look different. If there are any such curtains tucked away, rather than being greedy …’
Sophia nodded. ‘You lifesavers can be as greedy as you like. Let’s at least look. I haven’t been up there for years, so who knows what’s in the trunks. There might be toys or bikes or something scattered around that could be useful for the children. I do remember a rocking horse that belonged to Ralph. Why on earth didn’t I think of it before?’
Only when there were crumbs left on the plate, hands being wiped across mouths, and glasses of milk finished, did Sophia groan, ‘The flannels are in the scullery. Let’s remember another time.’ Then she beckoned to the children. ‘Come on, we’re off on a voyage of discovery.’
Five minutes later, Sophia was leading the way up the back stairs to the fourth floor and the empty staff bedrooms. Empty, because the girls had all decamped for war work, and so too had the housekeeper. Eva, walking along the corridor with Annie Hall, said, ‘Howay, Mrs Hall, I reckon we could each have a room when we’re really old and in the pit or the Factory, and might not want to sleep with our friends.’
Annie pulled her plaits. ‘Oh, my wee bairn, you’ll be back at home by then, for the war will be finished in a few years, you mark my words.’
Eva stopped in her tracks, suddenly quiet and still as a statue. The other children had halted and were looking at one another. Abraham said, ‘But we will still come to stay with Mrs Massingham? Mr Ralph will still help us with homework, and hear our times tables? He’s started to make us learn them, you know. Says it’s how we’ll get good jobs.’ Then he looked towards Sophia, whose mouth was set in a grim line. ‘Where is Mr Ralph?’ he asked. ‘He said he’d hear our six times table, didn’t he, Eva, when he were off shift?’
‘Aye, and I’ve learned it an’ all,’ Dora nodded.
Enid was shaking her head. ‘Oh, he’s probably all bathed and clean, and out doing business with Mr Massingham. He did some yesterday, didn’t he? You said he was away working when he divint come in for tea. You did too, Mrs Hall. You said that.’
Abraham looked at Sophia again. ‘You were out doing business an’ all, so Mrs Phillips and the co-op put us to bed. So I reckon business is good, or that’s what me da used to say, when he were out all hours.’
‘Aye,’ Marty piped up, ‘so Sophia must have learned her tables, so she could do business, which means Mr Ralph is right. The co-op and all, for they do business with Briddlestone’s, so they learned them—’
Eva hadn’t said a word, when she was usually first off the starting block, but perhaps she didn’t want to go home, thought Annie, looking more closely at the child. Then she shook her head free of thoughts. There were enough questions already, and what they needed were answers, in the form of news of Ralph. Then the Massinghams should tell the bairns, because they mustn’t hear from someone else.
Sophia clapped her hands and set off again along the corridor. There were photographs of the staff on the walls, some with the Massingham family as they enjoyed the Summer Fayre they put on every year, or had done before the war. Annie wondered if it would still be held when the war was over? Besides, why couldn’t it be held during the blessed thing? It’d perk everyone up no end.
‘Come on, onward to the attic,’ called Madge. ‘Let’s find the trunks – and toys.’
‘Just up the stairs at the end,’ said Sophia.
Annie had a sudden thought. ‘Perhaps one of us should be downstairs to hear the telephone, Sophia?’
Madge nodded. ‘You’re right. I’ll go.’
‘There’s a telephone on each floor, including the housekeeper’s room,’ said Sophia. ‘The one with the “Blue Bedroom” sign, Madge, if you have the patience to linger.’ She walked on as Madge slipped away from them, hurrying back along the corridor.
Eva seemed to have come to herself and looked from Sophia back to Annie. ‘Is Sophia all right, Mrs Hall? Why does she have to hear the telephone? And she’s a bit strange today. Howay, but she’s sick and pale a lot these days, come to think of it. But ladies are like that, me mam said. Something to do with time of the month, but—’
‘What happens at a time of the month?’ asked Abraham.
Annie grabbed Eva’s hand and then Abraham’s, hushing him and half running. ‘Come on, let’s catch Sophia.’ The bairns looked at one another and raced along the patterned runner. No need for the maids to get cold feet rushing to the bathroom in the dead of winter, thought Annie. Mark you, the retired housekeeper had said there were fires in every room, and proper beds, not the narrow ones she’d had at her old job. Eva panted, looking up at Annie.
‘Well, is she all right, because that time in the month is dragging on, in’t it? Seems to be all month, and today’s worse than ever.’
‘Of course she’s all right, but it is tiring being a mam to so many, and it’s a big house to look after. But look at her go now, because she’s excited to be opening trunks and finding toys. It’s like Christmas, isn’t it?’
At the end of the corridor they climbed the steep staircase, following Sophia, who took the heavy old key hanging beside the door and turned the lock. The door creaked and the children shrieked as they walked through clinging cobwebs into the roof space, lit only by a few skylights translucent from the dust. There were many trunks, metal and leather, and also wardrobes and shelves of linen, ornaments and books. Through the gloom, Annie could see a huge rocking horse in the corner, hidden below the eaves. The bairns had seen it too and tore across, clustering around it, pulling the bridle, rocking it; then Eva clambered on, trying to find the stirrups.
‘I want a turn,’ called Enid.
Sophia was peering at the labels on the trunks, but glanced round. ‘I believe the word is please, Enid.’ She straightened, smiling at the co-op ladies. ‘If I police the rocker, ladies, do work your way through these. See what’s here. Why not find something for the bridesmaids too?’ She gestured to the trunks. ‘There might be some summer dresses you can alter, or bolts of cotton fabrics.’
They each took a trunk, checking the labels, although most were indecipherable, the ink long since faded. Lifting the lids, they disturbed the dust of ages. It billowed up and motes played in the beams from the skylight. In Annie’s trunk there was a melange of men’s clothes smelling of mothballs. Lying on top was a tweed hacking jacket, size 34 – ah, so for a youngster, she supposed – with tissue paper in the creases of the folded sleeves. Ralph – well, a younger Ralph. She thought of him now in a hospital bed, his head bandaged. Yes, they must definitely have a rota for visiting, for surely voices would help, and the touch of a hand on his, a stroke of his face as the girls had done while he was in the car.
She found she was stroking the rough, hairy tweed. It would itch, but – oh, another sleeve seemed to be
hugging it, from a black suit, smoother.
She was about to shut the lid, but thought it best to refold the suit. She pulled at the sleeve, and out tumbled a British Union of Fascists uniform jacket that had been hidden beneath. She stared, then dropped it as though it burned her fingers, seeing the faded but legible name, Ralph Massingham, written inside the collar. Her mouth went dry and sour. It was true. All the stories of the Massingham whelp as a Fascist were true. This uniform showed he had been more than someone who went to Commie and Fascist meetings alike. It meant he really had been, or still was, one.
She stared around, seeing and hearing nothing – for Fascists were traitors, Nazis, hateful beings – until Eva’s shout broke through.
‘Mrs Hall, Mrs Hall, look at me.’
Annie slammed the lid shut and stood up. She stared at Eva, who smiled down from the horse, but she didn’t really see her, her mind racing. So, was he still a Fascist, or a Nazi? Were they one and the same? She realised her hands had clenched into fists. Oh God. What would it do to Sophia, and to Reginald? But of course he wasn’t, not still. This was a boy’s uniform. But why had he kept it? He’d probably just forgotten he had it. That was it, yes.
She stood straight. For that uniform, the personification of that wickedness, surely did not represent the lad she’d nursed, nor the lad that her husband Joe had begun to admire for working in the pit. Moreover, this was not a family that would house a traitor. She sat down on the trunk. But what if there was another uniform, for a man? Or perhaps not a uniform, but a man who was still a believer in what that uniform represented: a belief that was wicked, cruel, merciless. A belief that was the enemy of everything Britain held dear; a belief they were all fighting against. Whom should she tell?
Eva called again, as she scrambled off the horse, ‘Howay, Mrs Hall. Come and see what the boys have found.’
Annie rose, forcing a smile but not daring to leave the trunk, because somehow she had to protect this family until … Well, what? Until somehow she knew the truth. She made a show of looking to where Eva was pointing. The boys were clustered around an old pedal motor car. Abraham was saying to Sophia, as she heaved Enid onto the rocking horse, ‘Please, Sophia, can we play with it down in t’yard? Maybe Mr Ralph will take it down when he’s heard our tables – if you say yes?’
Sophia was trying to smile, looking from the rocker to the car, but finding no words. It was Maud Bedley who said, ‘Well, maybe Stan, Sid and Norm would take both down if we get Alfie involved too, Sophia? What do you think?’
Just then Audrey cried out, ‘Howay, look, look. Silk, a whole bundle of it. It’s new, wrapped in tissue paper. Aye, it’s parachute silk. Come here, our Annie. It’s so delicate. Sophia, you come too, for you might not want it cut?’
Sophia left the girls around the rocker and joined Annie by Audrey’s trunk. Sophia examined it. ‘What do you think, Annie? You’re the mother of the bride.’
Even the children crowded round now, though Eva had gone quiet again, looking from one adult to another. Sophia lifted it. The children gasped at the parachute silk billowing in all its glory. Everyone gasped. Eva said, ‘Fran’d look like a bliddy princess, so she would.’
‘Language,’ said Madge, wagging a finger. Annie tried to concentrate, tried to think of Fran dressed in such finery, but all she could see was the black uniform.
‘How odd,’ said Sophia. ‘Whose parachute could it be? I must ask Reginald. Oh, no, I remember, he had a cousin in the air force. He stayed once, left stuff behind. Heavens, he’s jolly high up now. We will assume he’s forgotten.’ Her look of innocence fooled no one, for Sophia was clearly on a mission. ‘Oh indeed, finders keepers, eh?’
The women laughed while the children looked bemused and Marty sighed. ‘Can we get back to the rocking horse and car?’
Audrey nodded. ‘Off you go, and leave us to the important work, bonny lad.’
Madge was examining it. ‘Oh look, a tear, several, in fact – the seams have split. Faulty. That’s why we have it. Yes, finders keepers.’ She folded it up again.
Annie nodded. ‘If that’s all right with you, Sophia?’
‘More than all right. Fold it up and wrap the tissue paper round,’ said Sophia. ‘Let’s turn it into something else, just in case anyone comes back for it, then it’ll be too late. Any luck with summer dresses?’
Maud had found some material hidden in another trunk and showed them: blue, pink and pale green. ‘Job done,’ muttered Sophia. ‘Time for another cuppa, weak though it will be, and for the children to have fresh air.’ She looked closely at Annie. ‘Fresh air wouldn’t go amiss for you too, Annie. You look quite out of sorts.’
As the others began to leave the attic, Annie searched in her pocket for anything that would tie that damned trunk shut. Nothing. She cast round. There on the window ledge was a ball of string and a knife. She rushed across, cut a length and tied down the sneck of the trunk, cutting the ends short. She hid the knife behind a trunk tight up against the south wall, then hurried after them. Sophia had been right about turning the silk into something unrecognisable and the same must apply to the uniform, for no matter the truth, it must be turned into ashes.
Sophia waited at the foot of the attic ladder. ‘Lock it, would you, Annie?’ She pointed to the old key on the wall. Annie did, pocketing the key. There, no one was getting in until she was able to get back here and burn the bliddy uniform.
Once in the kitchen, the children tore outside, but then Eva came hurtling down the steps again and stood in the kitchen doorway, arms akimbo. ‘Why did you say Stan were to bring down the horse and the car? Why canna our Ralph, eh? What’s going on?’
No one spoke. Instead, they all looked at Annie, who, they thought, so often had the answers. She swallowed, because today she had too many questions of her own.
Eva spoke again. ‘You all look like they did when they were trying to tell me Mam and Da were not coming out of the rubble cos they were dead. He canna be dead, not Mr Ralph, for there hasn’t been a bomb and he were on business with his da, or …’
Annie saw the fear on the bairn’s face, the lips that started to tremble, and pulled herself together, holding out her arms to the lass. Eva didn’t move, just looked, and what in heaven’s name was a daft lad’s old uniform, discarded but not hidden, to do with anything? A real Fascist would have made sure it couldn’t be found in case it would raise questions. Aye, that was right. As Eva continued to look at her, Annie called, ‘Come here, our Eva.’ It was a command, one that the child obeyed.
Annie waited until the child reached her, then crouched down. Annie looked at Sophia, who nodded, biting her lip, her eyes full. Annie’s voice was quiet. She brushed aside Eva’s blonde fringe. ‘Ralph has had a car accident. He is in Newcastle Royal Victoria Infirmary. Mr Massingham is with him, to find out what’s what. Ralph is asleep, you see. His brain is tired. We didn’t tell you because we have no real news yet. But we are all praying he’ll recover, and you know, I feel he will.’
She realised then that she didn’t quite feel that, but she hoped. Eva was staring, her blue eyes steady, as though she was looking right into Annie’s mind. A mind, Annie realised, that was still mulling over Ralph, because she’d seen the feeling in him, they all had, when he’d been ill. There’d been kindness, appreciation, courage; the biting of his lip as they’d poked, prodded and dressed the wound.
Aye, he had a heart, and traitors couldn’t have hearts, they could only pretend, and if you were sick with fever and pain, then that mask would slip. She smiled broadly, back with Eva, and kissed the child’s forehead, holding her close, whispering, ‘We’ll go and see him when I’ve made up my rota, talked to Fran, Sarah, Viola and Beth to see when they can go, and the lads, and he can listen to you bairns reciting your times tables.’
‘Rota?’
‘Our plan, Eva. We always like a plan.’
She stood as Eva nodded and said, ‘By, Mrs Hall. Our Ralph said you were straight and true, he did, so I know I c
an trust you.’ Then Eva turned to Sophia. ‘Will you promise, not just feel, that he’ll be all right? For I divint want to lose another someone I love.’
Sophia shook her head, holding Eva’s hands. ‘No, none of us can make that promise. I say, as Mrs Hall has just said, that I feel he will recover, and what’s more, we hope, oh how we hope, that he will. We will just have to send him our love on the wind and wait, and while we’re waiting we’ll just go on as before.’ One of Eva’s plaits had loosened and Sophia absent-mindedly redid it while Maud fetched another ribbon from the pot in the scullery.
The phone rang at that moment, and Eva spun round as Sophia dashed to answer. They listened as Sophia said, ‘Oh, darling. No worse? Sister Newsome said what?’ They were all holding their breath. Then Sophia laughed, a real laugh. ‘Well, of course, but you’re way behind, though don’t tell Sister Newsome or she’ll whack your hand. You see, the co-op are drawing up a rota, and the children can chant their times tables when it’s their turn. Fine, we’ll sort it out. Come home soon, darling.’
That evening, as usual, Fran was by the telephone box on the corner of Main Street when the phone rang. She pulled open the door, snatching up the receiver. ‘Is that you, Davey?’ It was, and to hear his voice made the day so much better. ‘Oh Davey, I have silk. Mam brought it back from the attic at the Hall. It’s a parachute, probably an unused reject we think, for there are rents and a note saying “Not fit for purpose”, but there’s more than enough for a dress. Oh, Davey, I’ll be as smart as a pin going down that aisle, and I’ve never worn silk before, but it’s so smooth, and if you didn’t already love me, you’d fall for me like a ton o’ bricks. I’m so pleased, bonny lad. I was thinking I’d look just like Sarah and there we’d be, framed on the mantelpiece while our bairns wonder why she and I look like two peas in a pod. There’s enough cotton material for bridesmaids’ dresses an’ all.’
Davey was laughing, and she shook her head. ‘It might be funny to you, but girls are different.’