The Bells of Bow

by Gilda O'Neill

  ‘Of course.’ Maudie wanted so much to reach out to her, but she knew she couldn’t. All she could do was cling tight to the little boy. ‘On the day of the …’ Maudie struggled to find the right words, ‘… the day of the service, you could arrange for the cars to leave from my house. If you want, that is.’

  Liz pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. Then she took a deep breath and stared directly at Maudie. ‘Thanks, Miss Peters, I’d appreciate that.’ She turned to her husband. ‘Ted, I wanna get away from here. Now.’

  Ted nodded. He took one of the Woodbines from the packet that Georgie held out to him and stuck it, unlit, into the corner of his mouth. Then he gathered up the few things that remained of their home and handed them to the bigger children to carry. Without a glance behind him, he took Liz by the arm and led her away. The little boy who had been standing with Maudie looked up at her. A final, single tear ran down his cheek. He wiped his nose on the rough sleeve of his hand-me-down jacket and ran over to join his brothers and sisters who were following their parents silently, their heads bowed and their arms full of battered and broken bits and pieces, for all the world like a group of refugees who had been ejected from their homeland.

  All that was left of the Jenners in Darnfield Street was the baby’s pushchair.

  Maudie sighed loudly and blew her nose. ‘How much more can people take?’ She was asking herself as much as Georgie. ‘What’ll be left at this rate?’

  Georgie stared up at the broken husk that had once been number nine. ‘You know what they say, “London can take it”. Just let’s hope they’re right, Maud.’ Without thinking, Georgie put his arm round her shoulders, but almost immediately he pulled it hurriedly away. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he stammered. ‘I didn’t mean to do that. I must be tired. I didn’t mean to take no liberties.’

  Maudie looked up at him through her tears. ‘With all this,’ she said waving her arms helplessly around her, ‘I think we’re past all that now, George, don’t you?’

  Georgie nodded. ‘I reckon yer right, Maud.’

  ‘Maud? George?’ sneered Alice. ‘Do me a favour.’

  From the look on Georgie’s face, Alice was lucky that Blanche came running across the street towards them just then. ‘Ringer, can you help us? Please.’ Tears were streaming down her cheeks. ‘If only my Archie was here. But I don’t know what to do. When we went over home from the Drum just now, we found it. Look. Aw, Ringer. Is it …?’

  Young Len held out his pet rabbit for Georgie to look. ‘There’s no marks on it or nothing, Mr Bell,’ he said anxiously. ‘I think it’s just asleep.’

  Georgie took the limp creature from the boy’s arms and examined it. ‘I’m sorry, son,’ he said gently. ‘It must have been the shock of the bombs what done it.’

  ‘I should never have started that bloody job. We should have stayed in Cornwall.’

  Len took the rabbit tenderly back from Georgie and buried his face into its still warm fur. ‘I wanna go back there, Mum. Please, let me.’

  Blanche stood there, helpless, not knowing what to say or what to do.

  Maudie reached her hand out to Len. ‘Come on, love,’ she said. ‘Let’s go and bury him. We can put him in my back yard if you want. There’s a lot of nice plants there. I bet he’d like that.’

  Alice couldn’t believe her ears. ‘Do what? Yer gonna bury a rabbit? Yer wanna stick it in the pot with a few veg and a bit o’ gravy.’

  Maudie turned to face her mean-minded neighbour. ‘Why don’t you just shut your interfering mouth, Alice, before someone does it for you?’

  Without waiting for Alice’s reply, Maudie went to help Len bury his rabbit, and with it a piece of his childhood that she knew would never return.

  17

  ‘It was nice of that chap down the Roman to let you have all this ham.’ Maudie put down the plate of sandwiches she had made on the big trestle table that Nellie had set up at the far end of the bar.

  ‘People chip in at a time like this for poor sods like the Jenners,’ said Nellie with a rueful smile. ‘Brings out the best in ’em.’

  Maudie wiped her hands on the apron that Nellie had given her to wear over her black crepe dress. ‘What can I do next?’

  Nellie looked up at the big, brass clock that stood on the shelf among the bottles of spirits and luridly coloured liqueurs. ‘Sure yer’ve got enough time?’

  Maudie looked at her watch. ‘Ted’s due to bring Liz and the children over to mine at about half past twelve. So I’ve got about a quarter of an hour.’

  ‘Well, so long as it don’t make yer late. Tell yer what, d’yer fancy making us all a cuppa? The kettle’s already simmering on the hob, it only wants the gas turning up.’ Nellie slumped beside Babs on one of the bench seats that ran along the wall. ‘I dunno about you, Maud, but I could do with a cup. I’m whacked out.’

  ‘I bet you are. You’ve not stopped since I’ve been here, and that was first thing. I’ll make the tea then I’ll nip back home to make sure I’m in when Ted and Liz arrive.’ Maudie ducked under the counter flap and went through to the kitchen.

  Babs eyebrows shot up. ‘You called her Maud,’ she whispered. ‘What’s all that in aid of?’

  Nellie shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me, it’s what she told me to start calling her.’ As she spoke, Nellie stood up and started fiddling about with the plates of sandwiches, the bowls of winkles, cockles and eels and the dishes of pickled onions and red cabbage. She moved them around on the cloth-covered table, critically eyeing the various rearrangements, until she was satisfied with the result. ‘Changed woman, she is. Looks ten years younger. But as to what’s done it …’

  ‘You know as well as I do,’ Babs said, also getting up and putting the sandwiches that Nellie had just moved back to where she had set them down in the first place.

  ‘Well, I suppose I do. I reckon making friends with your dad’s brought her right out of her shell lately.’

  ‘It’s done Dad good and all. He’s been like a different person.’

  Nellie smiled noncommittally. She wanted to see how long Ringer’s new way of carrying on lasted before she was prepared to pass any judgement on it. ‘Now let’s both stop messing around with the food and take the weight off our feet.’ Nellie sat down on the bench again and patted the place next to her. ‘Come on. Sit down.’

  Babs sat down reluctantly. ‘I’ve got the right fidgets,’ she said with a shudder. ‘It’s all this business. If yer keep going, yer don’t have to think about it.’

  ‘It’s hard,’ Nellie agreed, ‘but try and forget all that for the minute. Tell me about your Evie. She looks terrible.’

  ‘Yeah. Yer right there, Nell. But I dunno what’s up with her. She’s not been herself for a week or so now. Must be coming down with something.’

  ‘Well, I just hope it’s not ’flu, that’s all.’ Nellie jerked her thumb at the bar. ‘I’ve been told some horrible stories across that counter about all the flipping illnesses and things that’re going around again.’

  Babs looked worried. ‘I hadn’t thought about ’flu.’

  ‘Well, yer should. ’Cos she needs to keep her strength up in case she does get a touch of it. Knocks yer for six, it does. I mean, the other night, when you and her went round to do the collection for the wreaths, I couldn’t believe it. Rings under her eyes like an old girl’s, she had. She’s overdoing it, I’m telling yer. Yer wanna have a talk to her, tell her to stay in a few nights a week.’ Nellie curled her lip into a sneer. ‘I reckon Albie Denham can find something or someone to keep himself occupied.’

  Babs didn’t need to say anything, it was enough for her just to look at Nellie.

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Nellie answered for her with a flap of her hand. ‘Yer might as well talk to yerself as to try and talk to Evie.’

  ‘Tea?’ Maudie appeared from behind the bar and put the tray down on the table in front of Babs and Nellie.

  ‘Make the most of this, you two,’ said Nellie, speaking with the weary voice
of experience. ‘I’ve done enough funeral teas in this pub to know we’re in for a long hard slog.’

  ‘That wind cuts through yer like ice.’ Minnie shivered as she stepped inside the Drum behind Clara. ‘It feels more like January than the middle of October out there.’

  ‘It’s not only the wind that’s making yer shiver, Min,’ whispered Clara, following her inside. ‘It was them coffins.’ Clara’s lip trembled. ‘I’ll never forget ’em, as long as I live. Old Nanna Jenner’s was hardly bigger than the one that the baby was in.’

  ‘And fancy being buried with yer great-granddaughter.’ Minnie let out a long slow breath. ‘Makes yer think, don’t it, Clara?’

  Like the rest of the neighbours, Minnie and Clara stood aimlessly around while they waited for Ted and Liz to come into the pub. When the cars had pulled into the street, Liz had taken it into her head to take the children to have one last look at the bombsite that had once been their home. She wanted them to be able to replace their memories of their mother screaming and fainting with one of her standing there, still desperately sad, but at least in control of herself. Ted had tried to persuade her that it didn’t matter, that it wasn’t necessary, but there had been no reasoning with her. It’s what she wanted to do for her children and for the baby she had lost.

  Everyone agreed that it didn’t seem respectful to start eating or drinking till the Jenners appeared – everyone, that is, except Alice Clarke. She was content neither to stand around in silence nor to show a bit of consideration for people’s feelings by whispering quietly to Nobby. As usual she was far more interested in holding forth on whatever happened to be going on, allowing everyone within earshot to have the benefit of her views on events.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind a cup o’ tea,’ she began, as she surveyed the food table. ‘And a sandwich wouldn’t come amiss after standing round that grave in the perishing cold.’

  She waited. When no one replied with the offer of either, she started on a different tack.

  ‘I don’t think she believes that baby’s dead, yer know. I’ve seen it all before. They go mad when something like that happens. She’ll be up there searching for it.’

  Evie shook her head with disgust. ‘Don’t talk so stupid, Alice.’

  ‘Well, why else did she wanna go up there? It’s morbid, if you ask me.’

  Thinking about what Nellie had said about Evie needing to rest, Babs put herself between her twin and Alice. ‘Don’t waste yer breath on her, Eve,’ she said and pulled out a chair for her sister. ‘Sit down,’ she ordered her, nodding towards the seat. Evie looked a bit surprised but sat down gratefully. Then Babs turned her attention to Alice. She folded her arms and looked down her nose at the old woman. ‘She’s being morbid, yer say, Alice?’

  ‘Yeah, morbid.’

  Babs unfolded her arms and pointed her finger very close to Alice’s nose. ‘She’s just buried her baby and Ted’s nan, course she feels sodding morbid. How d’you expect her to feel, like going bloody dancing?’

  ‘Very nice talk,’ said Alice with a haughty toss of her head. ‘And what’s she sitting down for, that sister o’ your’n? That’s what I wanna know. If old’uns like me can stand up till them two get back here, why can’t she?’

  Babs glanced over to Evie and saw that she was fuming. Babs held up her hand to silence her and answered for her. ‘’Cos she ain’t been feeling well, that’s why. I suppose she needs a note from the doctor to say she’s allowed to sit down. Shall I get yer one? Or would yer rather she passed out on the floor in front of yer?’

  ‘Not well?’ Alice narrowed her eyes and stared hard at Evie. ‘Looks all right to me. Too much gallivanting, that’s all that’s the matter with her. Wants to spend less time bleaching that hair of her’n and get in at a decent hour like other people and then she’d …’

  Evie stood up slowly. ‘Have you finished, you nosy old bag?’

  ‘Eve.’ Georgie touched his daughter gently on the arm. ‘Don’t upset yerself over her, darling.’

  ‘I ain’t upset.’ Evie said the words very deliberately as though she had to struggle to pronounce each one. ‘I’m bloody furious.’

  Alice looked round at her husband who had been standing sheepishly by her side. ‘Nobby,’ she barked. ‘Will you listen to her? I know what she’s got herself all wound up about.’ She turned back to face Evie. ‘Yer know all about getting notes from the doctor, don’t yer? Or should I say that that crooked fancy man of your’n does? I’ve heard all about it. Too ill to join up. Pwuuhh!’

  ‘You rotten, hatchet-faced old …’ Evie lunged forward, ready to wrap her hands round Alice’s skinny throat.

  ‘Come on, Evie.’ Maudie spoke calmly but authoritatively as she stepped forward and took Evie’s arm. ‘Come out the back and help me and Babs start making the tea.’

  ‘You’d better watch what you say about my sister,’ Babs mouthed at Alice before she followed Maudie and Evie into the safety of the kitchen.

  Bert Chalmers from the baker’s put his hand on Georgie’s shoulder and winked at him. ‘All right, Ringer? That Alice, eh? Make a saint swear, she would. Tell yer what, Ted won’t mind, let’s go up the bar and get a drink. I hate these things, don’t you?’

  ‘And I hate these things,’ said Ethel Morgan, ripping the black armband off the sleeve of her coat. ‘It was bad enough when it used to always make me think about who I wore it for the last time, and who I’d be wearing it for the next. But now it makes me think about him and his bloody ARP armband.’ She lifted her chin towards her husband Frankie who had followed Georgie and Bert to the bar. ‘And that’s all I need, having to think about him more than I have to.’

  As everyone else began to drift towards the bar, the door opened and Ted ushered Liz and the children through into the pub.

  Liz stepped inside and just stood there, staring blankly. Everything about her looked pathetic: her arms drooped by her sides, her shoulders were hunched like an old woman’s, and the black coat that Blanche had loaned her hung on her narrow body like an oversized dust sheet thrown over a footstool.

  Nellie took Liz by the hand and sat her down at a table in the corner. She signalled for Rita to come over. ‘Try and get Liz to drink this,’ Nellie said, handing Rita the cup of tea she had ready for her. ‘There’s plenty of sugar in it – most of Jim’s ration if he only knew – and a little drop of brandy. Good for her nerves. I’ll take the kids through the back for a bit. They don’t wanna be in here with all this.’

  ‘Best thing,’ Rita agreed and sat down next to Liz.

  Ted was standing in the middle of the room. He started to speak, but seemed immediately to lose his train of thought. ‘I’d, er …’ He ran his hands through his hair and shuffled about. He looked perplexed, as though he wasn’t quite sure why he was there. ‘I’d like to, er …’

  Everyone turned to look at him except Liz who carried on staring into the teacup that Rita had placed in her hands.

  ‘I’d like to say a few words,’ Ted finally managed to say.

  Jim came round the bar and handed him a glass of Scotch. ‘You take yer time, mate,’ he said, patting him on the back.

  Ted was unaccustomed to drinking spirits but even throwing back the whole glassful in two quick gulps didn’t appear to affect him. He seemed to have trouble noticing anything beyond what was going on in his head. ‘Me, Liz and the kids wanna thank yer for what yer’ve done. That’s what I wanted to say.’

  Murmurings went round the bar, reassuring Ted that they hadn’t done anything at all, well, no more than anyone would have done in the same position.

  ‘No, I mean it. Thanks.’

  ‘Have you got somewhere to stay yet?’ Maudie asked as she came through from the kitchen carrying a tray of tea, followed by the twins. ‘You know my offer’s still there.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, Miss Peters. And I’m grateful to yer. But I’ve decided that it’s best for Liz and the kids to go away. It’s all been sorted out, they’re gonna be evacuated to some place
in Shropshire somewhere.’

  ‘You going with ’em, Ted?’ Blanche with her memories of her own evacuation and of Archie joining up was more sensitive than most to talk of separation.

  Ted shook his head. ‘I’d like to, Blanche, but I can’t.’ Ted sounded resigned to disappointment and pain. ‘Me job in the docks is a reserved occupation. I’ve gotta stay put.’

  ‘That don’t seem fair,’ Minnie whispered to Clara. ‘Splitting up the poor buggers at a time like this.’

  Clara grasped Minnie’s hand. ‘Terrible. Just terrible.’

  ‘Well, yer’ve got no worries about finding yerself a place to stay, Ted. We’ve got space upstairs.’ Jim pointed to the ceiling of the bar. ‘Plenty of little rooms up there. Take yer pick. Whichever one yer like.’

  Ted stared down at the floor. ‘Yer all really kind.’ He was close to tears. ‘But I don’t think I could stay in the street. Not now. I’ll get lodgings down Poplar way. Near work.’ He took out his hankie and blew his nose loudly.

  Maudie waited for Ted to continue, but he just stood there, staring at the floor. She took a deep breath, determined to keep her tears till later, and said, ‘Nellie told me you’re all to have something to eat. Now, who wants tea?’ She turned to Evie. ‘Can you take a few bits of food out the back? Make sure the kids get something to eat.’

  At the mention of food, Evie grasped the back of a chair to stop herself swaying. ‘I think I’ll sit down, if yer don’t mind, Maud. Babs’ll do it, won’t yer?’

  When everyone had helped themselves to food and drink, they sat around, as was the way with funerals, and talked about old times, present troubles and what might happen tomorrow.

  ‘It’s true,’ Alice said, after she’d passed on a shocking tale of looting and scavenging that she’d heard from someone down the market. ‘Stealing out of old girls’ houses while they’re in the shelter. That’s all some kids know nowadays, getting something for nothing and don’t care who they hurt.’