by Carol Rivers
Eve knew that Eileen was helping Mrs Merritt in the big kitchen where the smell of roasting turkey was creeping out and filling all the other rooms. The men were talking at the big bay window overlooking the street below. Although Mr Merritt had been poorly, he was now feeling more like his old self and sat on the window seat smoking his pipe.
Eve caught Charlie’s eye and he grinned. She returned his smile a little shyly as Pam turned to face her. ‘Thanks, Eve,’ she said as Dulcie let out a scream. ‘I think she must be hungry.’
Eve reluctantly handed over the baby. ‘I don’t want to let her go.’
Pam laughed as she took the child in her arms. ‘She’s delicious enough to eat, isn’t she? I’ll take her into Charlie’s bedroom and feed her. She’ll want her nappy changed too.’
‘Can I help?’ Eve asked.
‘Dulcie keeps the nappies in the scullery. You could bring one for me and a bowl of water so that I can wash her.’
Eve nodded and watched Pam walk away, her tall figure skirting the large and noisy circle of boys and girls, taking the exit that led down to the bedrooms.
In the kitchen, Eve found Eileen and Mrs Merritt preparing the meal.
‘Oh, Eve, I’m sorry to leave you,’ apologized Mrs Merritt. ‘I hope Charlie’s been taking good care of you.’
‘I’ve been holding Dulcie.’
Eileen smiled as she lifted the turkey from the oven and placed it on the top of the stove. ‘She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?’
‘Don’t start getting broody, Eileen,’ chuckled Mrs Merritt as she set the glasses on the long, well-scrubbed family table, decorated with holly and candles. ‘You’ve a football team as it is.’
‘Yes, but every team needs reserves,’ said Eileen, winking at Eve.
The women laughed and Eve looked around for the nappies. ‘Pam said she’d like to change Dulcie and give her a wash.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Charlie’s mother gathered the required things and placed them on a tray. ‘There you are, Eve. And tell Pam that as soon as Dulcie is settled we’ll eat.’
Eve carried the tray along to Charlie’s bedroom which she had been shown earlier as all the coats had been piled on his bed. The room was full of books and personal effects. The brown wood furniture was well polished and the carpet felt luxurious under Eve’s feet, muting the noise, unlike the bare boards of the cottage which echoed noisily. The smell of polish hung in the air and the tall window was decorated by a curved velvet valance, where two long curtains fell beneath, tied back with thick cords.
Pam was sitting in a large upholstered chair, the baby at her breast. ‘I couldn’t wait to change her,’ she said. ‘She is always so hungry.’
Eve placed the tray on the dressing table, next to Charlie’s pens, pencils and writing books, beside a huge tome that Eve noted was about policing.
‘Why don’t you push the coats over on Charlie’s bed and sit and talk to me?’ Pam said as she adjusted the baby’s position.
Eve did as she was bidden, feeling the comfortable give of the springs under her weight. The deep blue cover was old but as Eve touched it, she felt something of Charlie run through her fingertips.
‘Eve, would you think it forward of me if I asked you what happened to your husband?’ Pam asked after a while.
Eve looked into Pam’s healthy face, her blonde hair falling softly around it, her matronly figure and wide shoulders the epitome of motherhood. Was this a chance to get to know her better?
‘He was a cook on board a ship and died whilst at sea,’ she explained after a while.
‘Through illness?’ Pam asked, her voice full of concern.
‘No, we think he may have fallen overboard. Raj was taken on in India, as part of the lascar crew and the British authorities didn’t make many enquiries. So all we can do is guess at what happened.’ Eve hesitated wondering if she should go on, but Pam seemed genuinely interested.
‘Can Charlie help?’ Pam asked before Eve spoke. ‘He is, after all, a policeman.’
Eve smiled. ‘Charlie was with me when they found a body in the river and I went to the morgue to look at it.’
Pam gasped. ‘The morgue!’
‘It wasn’t Raj as he had been dead five years, but Sergeant Moody said the case was still open.’
‘What a dreadful experience,’ Pam sighed.
‘Charlie stayed with me. He was very kind.’
‘Now I know why Charlie spoke so highly of you,’ Pam said softly. ‘I would simply go to pieces if I lost Joe and had to look at a dead man that might be my husband.’ She was silent for a moment as she eased the baby’s head from her breast. A dribble of milk dripped down Dulcie’s chin. Pam wiped it carefully with a handkerchief then did up the buttons of her dress.
‘You have two lovely boys, Eve.’
‘Yes,’ Eve replied proudly.
‘Charlie is very fond of them.’
Eve remembered what Oliver had said about what he’d overheard from his parents. ‘They’re fond of him too . . .’ She paused.
Pam just smiled, then lay the sleeping baby in the crib. ‘Now, it’s time for dinner. Let’s go and join the family.’
Pam slipped an arm through Eve’s as they left the room. They were still walking in this fashion when they entered the kitchen and joined the others for Christmas dinner.
Charlie found himself once more pursuing his own enquiries. He was standing in a Port of London Authority office, waiting patiently for the clerical worker to return with information on the Tarkay’s arrival. It didn’t help that it was Christmas Eve, since all the staff were anticipating an early departure and the sight of a uniformed officer meant work for someone. When Charlie had visited before, a young woman had been able to help him. But that young lady was not in evidence and he was feeling doubtful whether he would discover when and where the Tarkay would berth.
The room was stacked high with books and ledgers and a thick, papery smell filled the air. Two or three other clerks were hurriedly sifting through their work and glancing at their watches.
To Charlie’s immense relief, the male clerk returned. But the relief was short-lived as the pinch-faced and bespectacled older man shook his head. ‘The Tarkay was due to dock the day after tomorrow. But we are told she has been delayed.’
‘Delayed?’ Charlie frowned.
‘This could be due to any amount of reasons,’ the clerk said dismissively. ‘Not sufficient crew, bad weather, a storm somewhere – especially if the voyage takes in Cape Horn through the Straits of Magellan. Never know what weather they hit round there.’
‘When will you know?’ Charlie persevered.
‘When the vessel’s owners enlighten us further.’
‘When will that be? I mean, could it still be before the New Year do you think?’
The man slid off his spectacles and frowned at Charlie. ‘Constable, I only work in this office; I don’t have a crystal ball.’
Charlie smiled. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just that this is important.’
The clerk gave him another stern look. ‘Can you tell me why it’s so important?’
Charlie sighed softly. ‘It’s a long story, but we are trying to trace a member of the crew.’
‘British or Indian?’
Charlie frowned. ‘A lascar, a man named Somar Singh.’
‘And you are certain he’s on board? These crews change quickly, you know.’
Charlie frowned. ‘I can’t be entirely certain he’s on the Tarkay.’
The clerk pushed his spectacles further up on his nose. ‘Have you consulted the British Consul or Customs Office?’
Charlie shrugged. He knew that without Sergeant Moody’s authority he couldn’t do such a thing.
The clerk peered at him. ‘The masters of each ship must notify the Customs Office of all lascars taken on at the commencement of a voyage.’
‘But what if Singh was taken on in India, not here for the return journey?’
‘Then the Indian authorities would hold
that information.’
Charlie thanked the man and left the office. He had no way of securing this information, not without help from his superior. He cringed to think of what Sergeant Moody would say if he knew of all Charlie’s exploits in an effort to get at the truth about Raj Kumar’s death. No, it was just a question now of patience and waiting for the Tarkay to dock.
Outside in the cold air, the Christmas spirit abounded. People were preparing for the celebrations. Charlie felt the exertion of his late shift suddenly kick in. Though he was tired, the morning air was sweet and crisp. He was looking forward to changing from his uniform into his vest and cotton trousers to help his father with the last of the bread that would stand cooling in the shop for the local tradesmen. Thank heaven his dad was recovering from his chill now. But he’d had a few worries of late. The big oven in the bakery wasn’t behaving itself and business had suffered in the Depression. Not as badly as some, but with the relentless upkeep of the bakery and shop, it had been a strain.
Charlie hopped on his bike, intending to enjoy an easy ride from the station, casting a smile to anyone who looked likely to return it. His thoughts as usual turned to Eve; it had been a wonderful Sunday celebration with Eve at his side. She seemed to have taken to Pam and Dulcie especially. Samuel and Albert had got on well with all his nieces and nephews and his parents had been charmed by the beautiful holly studded with red berries and the fragile stems of mistletoe that Eve had brought with her.
After dinner as they sat round singing carols, he’d felt the warmth of the open fire as it reflected on their faces. Eve sat beside him on the couch in the big family room full of the people he most cared about in all the world. He’d been grateful that his family had welcomed Eve in the way they had.
He’d driven Eve and the boys back to the cottage that evening, wondering if he’d ever get the chance to take her in his arms and tell her how much he thought of her. But Peg and Joan had been waiting, eager to hear their news. Another two hours had been spent in the company of Eve’s family and time had flown. How touched he had been when Samuel and Albert had given him his present from under the tree. The scarf and gloves were perfect for winter. He had something rather special of his own to give to them too. A leather football to replace the well-worn one that he had previously given them. This one was top notch quality from one of the big city stores. He’d purchased it at the same time as he’d bought a shawl for Eve, not as colourful as her flower-selling shawl, but it was a good quality wool, and very warm. He’d given Peg a wallet of her favourite tobacco and for Joan he’d got what was now her favourite tipple, a large stoneware bottle of ginger beer. After singing a few carols and eating mince pies for supper, it had been time to leave. Once again, a private moment with Eve had escaped him, but as he drove home he knew that he couldn’t have wished for a better Christmas.
Charlie was deep in thought as he turned onto the Commercial Road. Had he done right in not telling Eve of the fire at the Drunken Sailor? But again, there didn’t seem to be the right time before Christmas. And what good would it have done? Perhaps in the new year they could sit down on their own and quietly discuss things.
What would the new year hold for them? He hoped for good health for his dad and continued employment for George and Joe. For himself and Eve and the boys, he hoped for a fresh start. For now it was clear that he couldn’t think of his future without them.
But did the memories of her husband burn so brightly that the light could never be extinguished?
It was this that spurred him on in searching for the answers to Raj Kumar’s death.
Eve and the boys walked to St Saviour’s for Midnight Mass. The night was cold and clear and though it was late, both pupils and parents filled the chapel to its last inch. After the carol service, the Christmas Mass began. Soon the air was full of incense, strengthened by the whiffs of the alcohol that had been consumed during the evening. The babies and younger children were sleepily squashed in the pews, hushed into silence as Father Flynn began his oratory.
Eve sat with Samuel and Albert watching their classmates, the altar boys, as they served the Mass. Their black floor-length cassocks and white surplices were complemented perfectly by the golden vestments draped over the altar. Though her sons now knew the Latin Mass word-perfect, they had not been chosen to assist Father Flynn. Eve knew that Sister Mary and Sister Superior hadn’t found it in their hearts to forgive her for her outburst. But as the service continued, Eve comforted herself with the thought that Raj would have been proud to see his sons as they sat straight-backed in the hard wooden pews, reciting the Latin responses. Raj had been a good Catholic, this was what he would have wanted for his boys.
When the Mass was over, they filed out into the night and hurried home for the excitement of Christmas Day. Eve had bought large ripe oranges and big red apples, two brown bags full of liquorice and a pennyworth each of barley twists to put in the boys’ stockings. Under the tree there were small presents from Joan, Peg and Jimmy. It was going to be a wonderful day.
On Boxing Day the Higgins asked them all to tea. There were cold meats, pickles and bubble and squeak that they ate to their hearts’ content. The Higgins’ cottage was full to the brim with family, and dirty-faced, squabbling children ran up and down the stairs playing hide and seek. The out of tune piano was in use all day as Maude played a never-ending series of music hall tunes. Joseph had been invited, but he had declined. Eve knew that he had visitors of his own, a young couple who had travelled from Russia to start a new life in this country and to whom Joseph was affording hospitality.
Jimmy brought his friend from Shoreditch, another errand boy, with whom he had stayed during the flood. And together with Samuel and Albert and some of the Higgins’ grandchildren they went to the park with Charlie’s new football. Enjoying the peace, the grownups were left to entertain themselves for an hour.
When it grew dark, the visitors began to leave. As Eve, Peg, Joan, Jimmy and the boys walked down the hill to number three, they were singing carols. Behind them, Joseph’s lights shone out, reflecting the silhouette of a tall ship at the dock walls. The darkening sky still held a little light blue magic and the rigging and furled sails looked like a picture postcard. Eve inhaled the tarry salt and oily scents that rose up from the quiet river. There was no water traffic to speak of and the docks were still.
She could hardly believe that a year ago, there had been such a violent storm that shook the whole nation. This same peaceful river had risen up and leapt over its banks to flood the city’s capital. Just like the stories she had always repeated to the boys, Old Father Thames seemed to have lifted his weed-covered spirit from the riverbed and tossed his watery vengeance at the people of London.
It was cold as they entered the cottage, but Eve quickly made up a fire in the front room whilst the boys went upstairs to put on their cut-down coms. Peg busied herself in the kitchen, stoking the stove and squeezing out the last of the heat.
Eve stared into the flames and thought of Charlie. Had it been a blessing in disguise when they were trapped upstairs in the cottage by six feet of foul water? It was then, almost a year ago, that she had first met Charlie. Since then, with his help, she had searched for the truth about Raj and had only been saved from drowning by the very man who had rescued her from the flood. She had also been ‘outside of herself’, as she had now come to think of the experience on that murky night on the foreshore when she had watched Charlie trying to revive her.
Eve sat on the chair in her coat, mesmerized by the scarlet flames licking at the chimney from the piece of wood she had placed on top of the cold embers. The fire had caught and was burning brightly.
It was as if that was what had happened to her. When she met Charlie, small sparks of happiness began to land on her grieving heart and bring it back to life.
Yet she still thought of Raj and wondered when and how he had departed this earth. Had he sunk below the waves as she had and struggled for his life? Or had something else hap
pened? And why? If only she could set her mind at rest . . .
As Eve tucked the boys into bed that night, she saw Raj in their innocent faces. They had lit a candle for Raj after Midnight Mass and a warm feeling had come over her, as though his presence was close by.
Was he trying to tell her something? Was he reluctant to leave his family until all was well?
Could another person ever love their two boys as Raj had loved them?
‘Mum, when’s Charlie coming round?’ Samuel yawned as she sat on the foot of their bed.
‘In the new year, I expect.’
Albert stuck his nose over the cover. ‘Duggie said he ain’t seen such a good football as what Charlie bought us.’
‘Yes, it’s a very good one.’
‘Charlie said we could go to a match,’ said Samuel yawning again. ‘With Willie and James and Olly. We can all squeeze in the van, just about.’
‘But what if it’s on Saturday morning?’ Albert said in alarm. ‘Father Flynn’ll get cross if we don’t go to confession.’
Albert’s question hung in the air but it wasn’t long before he spoke, his dark eyes studying her face. ‘Mum, do you think Charlie is nice?’
‘Of course I do,’ said Eve as both boys giggled.
‘But nice, like you thought Dad was nice?’
‘What’s this all about?’ Eve ruffled their hair and pulled up the covers.
‘He thinks you’re nice.’
Eve blushed. ‘How do you know that?’
‘He told George and Lucy heard and she told Emily and Emily told Daniel. And then Daniel told us.’
Eve laughed. ‘You children are worse than the adults. Now come on, let’s say our prayers.’
When they had yawned their way through their prayers, she bent to kiss their heads. ‘Goodnight and God Bless, see you in the morning, by God’s good grace, Amen.’