The Bells of Bow

by Gilda O'Neill

  ‘Aw no, not again,’ wailed Lou. ‘Here we go, more bloody war talk.’

  Frankie wasn’t deterred. ‘Germans have got as far as Boulogne. We’ve gotta be on the ready.’ He pointed at the stony-faced girls. ‘Specially pretty little things like you three. Yer never know what might happen if they ever do get over here.’ He shook his head ominously and leaned closer to Lou. ‘Yer hear all sorts of terrible stories about what them foreign soldiers get up to.’

  ‘That’s nice talk in front of young girls, I don’t think,’ said Nellie angrily and shoved the two glasses in Frankie’s direction.

  Frankie made a show of digging deeply into his pocket.

  ‘Have this one on us,’ Babs said winking at Lou. ‘For our birthday.’

  ‘Good luck to yer, darling,’ said Frankie, raising his pint glass to his lips. ‘And yer don’t need to have no worries about invaders,’ he said, lifting his elbow so that they could all see his Civil Defence armband. ‘Not with Frankie Morgan around.’

  ‘Frankie!’ Ethel shouted from the other side of the crowded pub to her husband. ‘Stop bothering them young girls and fetch them drinks over here.’

  ‘Yes, my sweet,’ he called to her. Then, with a smile on his face, he muttered to the girls under his breath, ‘They could use her as a secret weapon. Hitler’d shoot back to Germany so fast yer wouldn’t see him for dust.’

  Evie, Babs and Lou turned back to the bar to stop Ethel from seeing them laughing, but it also meant that they didn’t see Georgie come into the pub.

  Babs jumped as he tapped her on the shoulder.

  ‘Happy birthday, girls,’ he said with a soppy look on his face.

  Evie smiled with relief when she registered that there was hardly a whiff of booze on his breath.

  ‘I bought yer both a little present,’ he said holding up two identical, flat cardboard boxes. ‘They ain’t much. But they’re all I could afford.’

  ‘That’s where yer’ve been, ain’t it?’ Babs said, taking the box from him. ‘Yer a daft old thing.’ She kissed him tenderly on the cheek. ‘Aw look, Lou, ain’t it pretty?’

  She held the open box out to show Lou the necklace of sparkling glass beads fixed in a dull, gold-coloured setting.

  ‘Help us on with it, Dad,’ Evie said. She handed him the necklace and turned her back to him.

  When both girls had their presents secured round their necks, they went round with Lou, showing them to everyone in the pub.

  ‘Yer not a bad bloke at times,’ sniffed Nellie, wiping her eyes with an extravagantly frilled hankie. ‘Here, you old sod, have a Scotch.’

  Georgie took his drink and went to the end of the bar to stand with Bert and Rita.

  The twins were just showing their glittering gifts to Miss Peters, Minnie and Clara when Albie made his entrance. As usual when he came into a room full of people, he made it into a production. He swaggered, back as straight as a rod, his camelhair overcoat slung across his broad shoulders, carrying a black velvet box in one hand and his trilby in the other. The only difference in his typically boastful demeanour was that on this particular evening, rather than looking smug, he was looking decidedly fed up.

  As was his habit, he stared around the room, gauging the impact of his arrival, then he leant forward and kissed Evie briefly on the lips. He turned to Babs. ‘Hello, doll face,’ he said to her without the trace of a smile. ‘Aw, and a happy birthday to both of yer,’ he added flatly.

  Evie immediately lost all interest in showing her necklace to the neighbours and when Albie went up to the bar, she followed, trotting along behind him like an eager puppy.

  While Babs waited for Minnie to have a good look at her birthday necklace, she kept her eye firmly on Evie. When Minnie had finished admiring it, Babs smiled and said, ‘I’ll send a drink over to you three ladies in a minute. I’m just going over to see Eve.’ With Lou in tow, Babs joined her sister.

  Albie’s mood had grown even darker. He was sipping a large Scotch and complaining to Evie. ‘Bloody hundreds of stakes they’ve hammered in,’ he fumed, ‘right across Hackney Marshes.’ His handsome face was rigid with anger. ‘Put ’em in to stop enemy landings, they reckon, if ever yer’ve heard such total shit. As if the bleed’n Germans wanna go to a piss hole like Hackney.’

  ‘Don’t matter, does it?’ Evie asked sweetly, looking up at him through her thickly mascaraed lashes. ‘Don’t affect us over here.’

  ‘Don’t affect us? Don’t matter?’ Albie looked at her as though she was stupid. He turned to Babs and Lou. ‘Don’t she know nothing, this sister o’ your’n?’

  Evie flushed scarlet with shame.

  Albie shook his head. ‘Only stopped all the flapping, ain’t it, yer silly mare. Good little earner that was and all.’ He swallowed the last of his Scotch and pushed it across the counter to a tight-lipped Nellie. ‘Kept the punters happy. Now what am I gonna do for ’em?’

  Lou pulled a face at Babs, signalling frantically that they should leave Albie and Evie to it. But Babs wasn’t moving. She didn’t like to see her sister upset, and especially not by the likes of Albie Denham.

  Albie snatched up his refilled glass and took a long swallow of the whisky. ‘First thing in the morning I’m gonna get rid o’ that poxy greyhound the old man brought home. No point feeding the bastard if it can’t earn its keep.’ He rested his brawny forearms on the bar. ‘That can go straight in the canal.’

  Evie looked shaken; she touched his sleeve but he shook her off. ‘Yer don’t mean that, Albie, do yer?’

  ‘Don’t I?’

  ‘But I was getting to really love that dog.’

  Albie sneered and took another swig from his glass. ‘How can yer love a bloody dog?’

  Babs took a deep breath and said, ‘I’ll have it.’

  Albie straightened up to his imposing full height and turned towards her. He stared down into her eyes for what seemed like ages before he spoke. ‘All right then,’ he said, with a surprisingly charming smile. ‘The bloody thing’s yours. Happy birthday.’

  Evie shook her head agitatedly. ‘No, you can’t have her. You can’t,’ she said loudly. ‘I’m Albie’s girl friend, and if anyone’s gonna have Flash it’s me. It’s only right.’

  ‘All right, Eve,’ Babs said, trying to calm her down. ‘I was only trying to save the bloody animal ’cos I thought yer was upset. You have it if you’re so keen.’

  Evie opened and closed her mouth like a fish washed up on the shore trying to breathe.

  Nellie came to her rescue. ‘Come on, girls. Ain’t yer gonna take these drinks over to the ladies?’ She shoved a tray towards Babs and nodded towards Minnie, Clara and Miss Peters. ‘Yer’ve kept ’em waiting long enough, haven’t yer?’

  Babs picked up the tray and nodded to Lou. ‘Come and help me.’

  Gratefully, Lou followed her over to the table.

  Next, Nellie filled a squat glass full of whisky, held it up and called along to where Georgie was standing talking to Rita and Bert from the baker’s. ‘For you, Ringer, Evie’ll fetch it.’ Then she shoved the glass into Evie’s hand. ‘Take that for yer dad. Go on.’

  With her cheeks flaming, Evie meekly took the glass but she didn’t have the chance to take it to her father. Albie had grabbed her arm.

  ‘What yer doing with that bit of brass junk round yer neck?’ he demanded loudly.

  Evie bowed her head and touched the necklace that she had only moments ago been so pleased with. Now she felt as though it were burning its way through her flesh.

  Babs was just about to give Miss Peters her sherry, but at the sound of Albie’s dismissive sneers, she stopped in her tracks. She handed the tray to Lou. ‘You sort this out, Lou. I won’t be a minute.’ And with that she marched back to the bar.

  ‘Dad bought these for our birthday,’ she said, her chin high.

  ‘Bloody hell, yer both wearing ‘em.’ He burst into derisive laughter. ‘Green necks the fashion round here, are they?’

  Babs looked along t
he bar to where Georgie was standing with Bert and Rita. His face had drained of colour.

  ‘Get that off,’ Albie instructed Eve.

  ‘Don’t, Eve. Don’t,’ Babs pleaded. She could hardly believe it as Evie ducked her head and reached back to unfasten the necklace. Babs looked along at Georgie. His eyes were fixed on Evie.

  Albie grinned triumphantly as Evie carelessly let the now rejected gift drop from her hand onto the bar. ‘These are more like it,’ he said, brushing Georgie’s present onto the floor and putting down the velvet box he had brought with him in its place. From out of the box he took a string of plump, creamy pearls and held them high for everyone in the pub to see. ‘These are more like what Albie Denham’s girl should be wearing, not a piece of crap like that.’

  As Albie fastened the pearls round the now beaming Evie’s throat, Georgie slammed his glass down on the counter and stormed out.

  ‘Dad!’ Babs called after him, but he was already out of the door. She stood there, defeated.

  Alice Clarke turned to Ethel Morgan. ‘You wait and see,’ she said, nodding wisely, ‘just you mark my words, there’s truth in it as sure as I’m sitting here.’ She gulped down the last of her milk stout and peered at Ethel across the rim of her empty glass. ‘Sure as I’m sitting here,’ she repeated, her eyes narrowed with meaning. ‘Pearls bring tears.’

  10

  When Evie eventually got up the next day, it was getting on for half past three in the afternoon. Sunday dinner had been eaten long ago, Georgie was asleep in the chair in the front room and Babs was sitting at the kitchen table reading the papers and drinking tea.

  Evie shuffled into the kitchen, wrapped in a candlewick dressing gown. Her blonde hair was all over the place and the remains of the previous day’s make-up were smudged around her eyes and lips.

  ‘It’s in the oven if yer want it,’ Babs said without looking up from the paper. ‘It’ll be all baked up by now and serve yer right.’

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’ Evie slumped into one of the hard kitchen chairs opposite her sister.

  Babs put the paper down on the table. ‘Don’t nothing get through that thick skin of your’n no more?’

  Evie rolled her eyes and scratched her head. She yawned loudly. ‘Any tea left in that pot? The inside of my mouth’s like the bottom of a shoe.’

  ‘That’s it,’ snapped Babs. ‘It’s always the same, always what’s wrong with you. How you feel, what you want. How about other people, eh, tell me that?’

  ‘You finished?’

  Babs leant across the table and pointed her finger close to Evie’s face. ‘There’s more things to worry about than the taste in your bloody mouth.’ She flicked the paper open. ‘Look at all this about the poor bloody soldiers in Dunkirk. Look at all this about the French people. Look, go on, look.’ Babs threw the paper across the table at Evie. ‘And now let’s get a bit closer to home.’

  Evie crossed her legs and concentrated on her foot as she jiggled it up and down.

  ‘Can’t look at me, can yer?’ Babs stood up and grabbed her sister’s arm. ‘Have you got any idea how you must have made Dad feel last night?’

  Now Evie stood up too. She pushed Babs away from her. ‘Has he got any idea how he’s made me feel for the last twelve years since Mum left us?’

  ‘Here we go, me, me, me. I’m sick of yer, Evie. Yer’ve changed and I don’t like it.’

  ‘Aw, come on, we gonna start on about Albie again, are we?’ Evie moved closer to Babs. She stared into her face. ‘If you wanna wear a bit o’ glass round yer neck, that’s fine by me. But I’m gonna have nice things. Real things.’ Evie held out the pearls that she was still wearing from the night before. ‘Things like this. Things that’re worth a few bob.’

  Babs sneered and turned away.

  ‘Jealous again, eh?’

  ‘Shut up, Evie, and grow up, can’t yer? Can’t yer see the way he’s treating yer? It’s like he owns yer. Like yer another one of his things to do what he likes with. He’s no good, Eve, can’t yer see that neither? Can’t yer see how he’s making yer look?’

  ‘I don’t wanna choose between you and Albie, Babs, but if you make me, I don’t think there’d be much competition.’

  Babs snorted scornfully. ‘How long do you really think it’s gonna last with him, Eve? Be truthful. You know how he goes through girls. Uses ’em up and chucks ’em away. Why d’yer think Dad’s been so worried about yer? A couple of months ago yer was gonna leave work and move into a posh flat. What’s become of all that, eh?’

  ‘Leave off, can’t yer. Yer jealous, the pair of yer. You and Dad.’ Evie sat back down at the table. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed deeply, trying to control her anger. ‘You ain’t got no right to talk to me like that, Babs. Not you, not no one. And anyway, I wanna go to work, it gives me something to do.’

  ‘Huh!’

  ‘You shut up, Babs, do you hear me? I’m Albie Denham’s girl, and I expect to be treated with a bit of respect. I won’t be spoken to like that.’

  ‘Don’t be so pathetic.’ Babs shook her head. She felt as if she was speaking to a stranger. ‘“I won’t be spoken to like that”,’ she mimicked. ‘Just who do you think you are?’ Babs was shaking with anger. ‘Perhaps this little problem’ll bring yer back to reality.’ She went over and flung open the door that led into the back yard. ‘What yer got to say to that?’

  A large, brindle-coloured greyhound bounded into the kitchen and went skating across the slippery lino, coming to a lolloping, ungainly halt by the stove. It turned round and sat up on its haunches, its tongue hanging down from its excited, grinning chops as it pricked up its ears and looked eagerly from Babs to Evie and back again.

  ‘What the hell …’ Evie drew her legs up on the chair, away from the slobbering animal.

  ‘Come on, Flash,’ Babs said through lips stretched tight across her teeth as she dragged the hound by its collar over to Evie. ‘Come and see yer new mummy.’

  The dog rested its silky muzzle on Evie’s thigh.

  Evie’s mouth dropped open.

  Babs smiled and started walking towards the kitchen door.

  ‘Babs!’

  She raised her eyebrows and shrugged. ‘You wanted it, and whatever your little heart desires …’

  ‘He didn’t. He wouldn’t.’

  Babs nodded. ‘He would and he did. Fetched it round at dinner time while you was still snoring.’

  Evie had never been one to let people see that she was beaten; with her combination of stubborn pride and sheer bloody-mindedness, she was determined that everyone would think that having Flash to look after wasn’t just a childish whim but was exactly what she wanted. And so she began a whole daily routine that now revolved not only round seeing Albie and, usually, going to work, but also round caring for the dog.

  Blanche was out on the pavement sweeping when Evie dashed past her house at the end of Flash’s lead, the long-legged hound dragging her along almost faster than she could run to keep up.

  ‘Can’t stop, Blanche,’ she panted with a hurried wave. ‘Gotta get Flash home and get meself off to work.’

  Just as Evie came to a skidding halt at the front step of number six, Babs came out of their door.

  ‘I’m leaving right now, Eve,’ she said briskly. ‘So it’s up to you whether yer come with me or not, ’cos I ain’t missing that bus.’

  ‘Be right with yer,’ Evie said with a brave smile as she and Flash shot past her and along the passage.

  Babs stepped out onto the pavement and stretched her arms high above her head. ‘Morning, Blanche,’ she said with a leisurely yawn.

  Blanche stopped sweeping and leant on her broom. ‘Morning, darling.’ She took a deep lungful of air. ‘And what a lovely morning it is, eh.’ She sat herself down on the step and laughed. ‘That Evie’s come up smelling of roses again, ain’t she? The sun ain’t stopped shining since she got that dog. Not rained once since she’s had to walk it.’

  A bit reluct
antly, Babs laughed with her. ‘Typical, ain’t it?’

  ‘Keeps on like this,’ Blanche said, ‘and it’s gonna be a summer just like we used to have when I was little. I was saying to my Archie, it’s a shame they had to go and close the lido over Vicky Park, it’d have been smashing over there for the kids in this hot weather.’

  ‘Not only for the kids. I’d have loved to have gone over for a bit of a muck-about in the water. I was thinking how it would’ve been nice to have gone down to Southend for the day like me and Evie used to.’ Babs grinned. ‘We’ve had some right laughs down there.’ She plonked herself down on the step next to Blanche. ‘Yer know,’ she said, cupping her chin in her hands, ‘I’ll be glad when everything gets back to normal.’

  Blanche brushed her hair back off her forehead and sighed. ‘Me and all, darling. I dunno why everything has to be like this.’

  Babs puffed out her cheeks and thought for a moment. ‘Why does everything have to be so complicated? Why can’t it be like it was when we was little? Simple. Not horrible like it is now. I liked it how it used to be.’ Babs’s lip began to tremble and she struggled to keep her voice from quavering. ‘It used to be so good.’

  ‘Seems daft, don’t it?’ Blanche said. She picked absentmindedly at the peeling paint on the broom handle, her expression now as serious as Babs’s had become. ‘All this beautiful weather and us sitting around going on about how we wished things was all like they used to be before the war started.’ Blanche flicked the broom at a cigarette end that had escaped her earlier sweeping. ‘Mind you, all that about them poor sods in Dunkirk, I suppose it really is something to get worked up about.’

  ‘I think yer’ve got me wrong, Blanche.’ Babs sounded guilty. ‘I know it makes me sound selfish and rotten, but I’ve gotta admit, I didn’t really mean things like that. What I meant was that I wished things was like they was before that rotten Albie Denham was around.’ Babs brushed her thick dark hair off her face. ‘But yer right as usual, Blanche. What really matters is all the terrible things that’re going on, the real things that we should be worried about.’