by Anna King
‘Now look, you’ll only get inter trouble if yer carry on,’ a red-faced officer called out grimly as he tried to keep a hold on his struggling prisoner and avoid the women’s blows at the same time. ‘This man’s under arrest fer desertion, an’ there’s nothing any of yer can do about it. So go home, all of yer.’ Relinquishing his grip on the prisoner to his fellow officers, the sergeant swore loudly as he gripped Emily’s flailing arms and pushed her away into the crowd. Immediately Doris was on his back, but before she could do any harm she found herself being thrown off and landed in the gutter with a resounding thump. Panting for breath, the sergeant bellowed angrily, ‘Now I won’t warn yer again, you two.’ He pointed a warning finger at the two women, who glared back at him without fear. ‘Any more of it, an’ yer’ll find yerselves locked up fer the night. Now clear off, an’ let us get on with our job.’
Panting hard, the other two officers dragged and pulled Tommy to the waiting vehicle. Then Tommy suddenly stopped struggling, his anguished gaze fixed on his mother.
‘Why, Mum? Fer Gawd’s sake, why? I know yer never loved me like Andy, but I’m yer own flesh an’ blood. How could yer, Mum… How could yer?’
Ida returned the gaze without blinking. Then she felt her heart leap in surprise. For the eyes that stared at her were a mirror-image of her own. A sudden shudder went through her. How had she never noticed that before? But then she had never spent much time looking at this son. She had always avoided contact with him as far as possible.
Would she have felt differently about him if she’d noticed the similarity before? Suddenly her body felt deflated. It didn’t matter now – nothing mattered any more.
The sound of the wailing siren filled the air, causing her body to jerk in startled surprise. Angry, muttered words floated around Ida as her neighbours glared at her with animosity, their combined voices becoming louder by the minute. She returned their stares, her eyes picking out individual faces in the crowd, the majority of whom she had never had time for. But there was Dot Button, and Mrs Riley from number eighteen, thinking she was something special just because she had a couple of moulting chickens in her back yard. Her eyes flickered over the faces, then darted back to the slim, attractive woman holding a wrapped-up bundle close to her chest. Ida blinked, then swallowed hard. That was her grandson whom Nellie Ford was holding so possessively. If the father had been Andrew, she would have wrenched the child from the woman’s arms. But it wasn’t – it was Tommy’s, and that being the case…
She felt strangely light-headed, and then Doris, her face ravaged with tears, pulled her round and spat in her face, ‘Yer vicious bitch. Yer miserable, stinking, vicious bitch. I hope yer rot in hell fer what yer’ve done tonight.’ Then she lifted her arm high in the air and brought the flat of her hand down across Ida’s face.
Ida staggered back under the violent blow, then she seemed to compose herself. Turning her head slightly, she cast one last look over the bevy of women glaring at her in silent condemnation and shrugged. Sod ‘em. It wasn’t any of their business. When a hard lump of mud hit her squarely in the back, she jerked momentarily and then, her head held high, she walked sedately to her house, entered the hallway and shut the door heavily behind her. Back in the warmth of the parlour she stood uncertainly, as if she couldn’t remember where she was. Then her eyes dropped to the worn boots lying by the fireside and she smiled.
‘How many times must I tell yer to put yer boots away, Andrew? Oh, never mind, I’ll do it,’ she tutted lovingly. She bent down and put the boots tidily by the side of the armchair and began to sing softly:
What’s the use of worrying,
It never was worthwhile… Sooo,
Pack up yer troubles in an old kit bag,
And smile, smile, smile.
Banking the fire up, she moved the two armchairs further away from it and made her way to the scullery. Still humming, she turned the gas pipe on the oven to full blast. Then, kneeling down, she rested her head inside the oven and closed her eyes.
Chapter Twenty-One
It was over. The war to end all wars was finally over.
And when the news reached London, tug-whistles sounded, followed by the booming of foghorns from large berthed ships along the Thames. Maroons were fired from the Tower of London, paper-boys ran through the streets with special editions and many factories were shut down for the day. People ran wildly into the streets, cheering and hugging perfect strangers, united in a fever of excitement and happiness. Public houses opened their doors all day, and churches held special Masses for those who chose to celebrate with prayer. All through November and December the soldiers’ homecomings were welcomed with Union Jacks hanging from upstairs windows and streams of bunting tied across the streets.
It was now July 1919, eight months since the war had ended, but it hadn’t ended for Tommy Carter, who had spent those months, and the preceding year, in Wormwood Scrubs, after being court-martialled for desertion in the face of the enemy. He had been sentenced to death by firing squad, and whether the sentence would actually have been carried out, had it not been for the intervention of Captain Matthew Winter, would never be known.
Tommy had been in prison for six months before the captain, who had been hospitalised in France during that time, discovered Tommy’s fate and immediately set about doing all in his power to have Tommy pardoned. This, however, proved to be impossible. It wouldn’t do, he was told, to grant a pardon to a soldier who had deserted, whatever the circumstances. To take such an act would be to open the floodgates for thousands of soldiers with like minds.
Nevertheless, the perseverance of the captain led to the matter being raised in the House, and within days the newspapers had got hold of the story and had made a field-day out of it. Captain Winter’s moving account of how Thomas and Andrew Carter had risked their lives to save his – their heroic action resulting in the death of Andrew Carter, shot dead by a sniper’s bullet just yards from the safety of his own lines – had stirred the nation. The papers went on to state that Thomas Carter, devastated by the death of his twin brother, had temporarily lost his reason, but that once his senses had been restored, the young soldier had had every intention of returning to duty at the earliest opportunity. This claim had been corroborated by neighbours and by the officers who had arrested him.
It had all made very good headlines, but what captured the nation most was the fact that it had been the soldier’s own mother who had turned him over to the police, before the unfortunate young man had the chance to return to France of his own volition. The wave of sympathy turned to a public outcry at the decision to execute Thomas Carter, forcing the authorities to reconsider. Another debate was raised in the House, this time resulting in a second trial being ordered.
The trial was still in progress when peace was declared, and with no reason to make an example of Tommy Carter, and bearing in mind public opinion, the charge was commuted from desertion to going AWOL and his sentence reduced to two years, with three months deducted for good behaviour.
During his stay in prison Tommy had, at times, teetered on the brink of a nervous breakdown. And on the day that his mother was buried in a pauper’s grave, he nearly let himself be swept over the edge. Because, even knowing that she had betrayed him, he had still nurtured the hope that one day she would come to love him as she had loved Andy.
The only thing that had kept Tommy sane was knowing that every visiting day would bring Emily, Doris and his son to see him. He had had other visitors – Mrs Ford and Mrs Button had visited twice, and Captain Winter on several occasions – but it was his life-long friends whom he most looked forward to seeing; and his son, of course.
But today he was being set free, and Emily and Doris were going to meet him and take him home to the Fords’ house until he found a place of his own; at least, that’s what Emily had thought was happening. But it now seemed that she was wrong, for Doris, her face slightly flushed, was telling her that she’d found a couple of furnished rooms to let,
and she was going to ask Tommy to share them with her.
They were on the bus travelling towards Wormwood Scrubs when Doris dropped her bombshell. Emily, trying to keep a hold on her two-year-old son, who was endeavouring to escape her grasp, could only look at her friend in hurt disbelief.
Both women had made a special effort to look nice for Tommy’s release. Emily was wearing a pale blue blouse and a straight navy skirt that came to just above her ankles, and black shoes with gold buckles. Doris’s blouse was bright red in colour, with a frill that ran down the front and tucked neatly into a black skirt.
‘Don’t look at me like that, Em,’ Doris muttered, turning her head towards the window. ‘You know it would never work out… I mean, all of us living together under the same roof. Besides, there isn’t enough room.’
Keeping her voice light Emily said, ‘And does Tommy know of your plans, Doris, or are you going to surprise him, too?’
‘Aw, Em. Don’t be like that, please. And yes, he knows. I wrote an’ told him I’d found a place fer us… but, whether or not he’ll want ter come with me…’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘Well, I’ll soon find out, won’t I?’
She looked at Emily for reassurance and her friend, the hurt showing plainly in her face, said, ‘You don’t trust me, do you, Doris? You’re afraid I’ll make a play for Tommy, or vice-versa. That’s the real reason you want to get Tommy away from me, isn’t it?’
Doris turned a shame-faced look on Emily and shook her head.
‘I’m sorry, Em. Honest, I really am.’ Fiddling nervously with the clasp of her handbag, Doris chewed on the corner of her bottom lip. ‘I know yer don’t feel like I do about Tommy, but… but, if we’re all in the same house… Well, yer never know what might happen, an’…’
‘And you’d rather take temptation out of my way. Is that it, Doris? And what about Joseph? Do you plan to keep Tommy away from his son too?’ Emily asked angrily. The toddler sitting on her lap heard the tone in his mother’s voice and began to whimper, and Emily, filled with contrition, turned her attention to her child.
Gathering Joseph up into her arms, she stroked the dark hair soothingly, her mind in turmoil. To say that she felt stunned by Doris’s news was an understatement, yet she knew in her heart that it was for the best. She loved Tommy, and always had, but only as a friend. But she wasn’t sure how he felt about her. And with the child as a common bond… She buried her face in the child’s hair to cover her confusion, and it wasn’t until they had alighted from the bus that she turned to Doris and said shakily, ‘Maybe you’re right, Doris. But you should have said something before now. It came as a shock. And my mum’s got everything ready for him. I mean, she’s set up the bed Mrs Button gave her in the front room, and partitioned that space with a heavy curtain so he’ll have some privacy. Well, you know all that, don’t you? Because you helped with the preparations, and never said a word. Oh, Doris, you should have told us. It wasn’t fair to let my mum do all that work for nothing.’
‘It might not be for nothing, Em. Like I said, I don’t know if Tommy will want ter share a place with me… But if he doesn’t, well, I’ll take the place fer meself, ’cos I couldn’t stand it if he turned me down. I… I can’t take the chance of being hurt again.’ They were nearing the prison gates now, and Doris, pulling at Emily’s arm, stopped walking and pleaded, ‘D’yer understand, Em? I just can’t face it again.’
And Emily, although the hurt was still rankling, made a supreme effort and gave a sardonic smile.
‘It’s all right, Doris, I under stand. Though I would never have made a play for Tommy, I don’t feel that way about him. But if it makes you easier in your mind… well, you do what you must.’ Hitching the child further up in her arms she added, ‘Where is this place you’ve found?’
Doris looked down at her feet before replying guiltily, ‘It’s in Ilford. Well, just on the borders really. It’s more London way than Essex.’
The smile on Emily’s face faltered and, when she replied, she couldn’t stop a steely ring entering her voice.
‘Really! Well, you’re certainly not taking any chances, are you, Doris?’ Then she was striding off, leaving Doris to follow miserably in her wake.
There were a few people milling uncomfortably outside the iron-studded wooden gates, their eyes fixed firmly on the ground beneath their feet. One couple, a middle-aged man and his wife, moved quickly to one side as Emily and Doris approached. And Doris, seeing their furtive look, let out a loud laugh.
‘I don’t know why yer looking so worried. We’re all in the same boat, ain’t we? Unless yer think we’ve come ter have tea with the warden.’
‘Doris, behave yourself,’ Emily reprimanded her friend, knowing that Doris was simply letting off hot air.
Looking at her watch, Emily saw there were still another fifteen minutes to wait. Tommy wouldn’t be released until eleven-thirty. So she set her son down on the ground and, gripping the small hand, proceeded to walk him up and down the gravelly path.
Doris watched the two figures, her face filled with misery. Kicking up small pebbles among the gravel, she came over to stand beside Emily, saying apologetically, ‘Look, Em, I know yer mad at me, an’ I don’t blame yer, but well… Yer see, I thought you and the captain were gonna – you know – I mean, he did ask yer ter marry him, didn’t he? And that would’ve made everything all right. Only he ain’t said anything ter yer since he came back, has he? And he’s had plenty of chances. So yer see, Em, yer can’t blame me fer worrying, ’cos…’
Emily spun round, her face flaming.
‘Because what, Doris?’ she demanded, her chest heaving with angry emotion. ‘You make it sound as if I’d grab Tommy just because he’s available. Why don’t you just find a knife and stick it into my back, Doris? You might as well, because you’ve done everything but.’
Doris stepped back, her own temper beginning to rise, her mood made worse by knowing that she was in the wrong. Then they both heard the sound of a car approaching and Emily instinctively scooped Joseph up out of harm’s way. She felt her face begin to burn, and a sudden rush of hope leapt into her heart as she recognised the occupant of the gleaming black Daimler.
‘Hello, Emily, and you too, Miss Mitchell.’ Matthew clambered awkwardly out of the motorcar. ‘I see I’m early. I wasn’t quite sure if it was eleven or eleven-thirty… Still, I’m in time, that’s the main thing.’
As he came to stand by them, Emily felt her heart begin to pound. She had seen him on several occasions during the past year, as Doris had so tactlessly pointed out, but not once had he made any mention of that day in the park when he had handed her his front-door key and asked her to marry him. She had long since returned the key, and the weekly sum of five pounds had been stopped at her insistence. The relationship between them seemed to have reverted to what it had been before she left the house in Gore Road; and Emily felt angry and upset that he had raised her hopes concerning their future together. She had expected better of him than that.
But she couldn’t fault Captain Winter on the way he had battled on Tommy’s behalf, because it was his tireless efforts that had brought Tommy’s case to the notice of the public and, together with the help of Fleet Street, he had succeeded in obtaining Tommy’s release. She looked down to where Matthew was crouching in front of Joseph, tickling the young boy’s neck and ears, much to her son’s amusement. Yet it seemed to Emily as if he were deliberately using her child to avoid talking to her.
Well! He needn’t worry. She had too much pride to go begging for favours from him – or anyone else for that matter. She would concentrate on Tommy, for this was Tommy’s day and nothing must be allowed to spoil it.
Tommy was coming home –only he wasn’t, was he? Not if he fell in with Doris’s plans. And if that happened Emily would lose two very dear friends, because she couldn’t see Doris visiting too often, unless… Unless you were safely married, a voice mocked at her. Emily jumped as if those last words had been spoken aloud, and when Dori
s and Matthew looked towards her quizzically, she laughed shakily and said, ‘My nerves are all on edge today. I’ll be fine once we get back home.’
Any further talk was cut short by the sound of a loud click as a lock was turned, and each of them, in their own way, took a deep breath and waited for Tommy to appear. Three men stepped through the Judas Gate and each was quickly embraced by those waiting for them.
And then Tommy was stepping out, his features gaunt, as was his body, dressed in the ten-shilling blue-striped suit that he had bought for his demob. He stood still, one bony hand gripping a brown paper parcel that contained his only belongings, his eyes filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite put a name to. Then he was being enveloped by soft arms and fresh-smelling bodies, as the two women threw themselves against him. He let the parcel fall unheeded to the ground, and when his son was put squirming into his arms, Tommy let out a low groan and, burying his face in the soft neck, let the tears flow unashamedly.
Matthew, feeling somewhat excluded, stood to one side and watched the poignant scene, and found that he too was having to swallow hard against the rise of emotion within him. He looked up and found himself staring into the tear-filled eyes of Tommy Carter; one of the men who had saved his life, the other having forfeited his own in the heroic dash across the battlefield in France.
Pushing the two crying women gently to one side, Tommy, still holding his son tight against his chest, came up to Matthew with his hand outstretched.
‘Thank yer, sir. I know it was you who saved me from the firing squad, an’ got me released earlier than I was supposed ter be, an’ I just want yer ter know how grateful I am fer all yer help.’
Matthew jumped back as if scalded, a terrible feeling of inadequacy stealing over him. Here was this man thanking him, when it was because of him that Tommy Carter had lost his brother and been incarcerated within those forbidding gates for twenty months. Twenty months of being branded a coward and a deserter, locked up alongside conchies and treated with contempt by prisoners and guards alike, and for the first part of his sentence not knowing if he was going to be lined up against a wall and shot. Yet the man showed no sign of animosity towards Matthew. The warm handshake and accompanying words were genuine, and Matthew couldn’t help but bow his head, when he remembered the thoughts he had harboured against this man for being the father of Emily’s child.