‘Yeah.’ Evie stretched out her hand and absentmindedly stroked Flash’s sleek back. ‘I won’t get up. I need me rest, see.’
‘Course, you stay where you are. I’ll let meself out.’
As Babs ran along the Mile End Road, the tears streamed down her cheeks. What had happened to them? What was going to happen to Evie? And as for the baby when it was born, she couldn’t bring herself to think about it.
Back in the flat, Evie stayed where she was in the armchair until the first of the evening’s air raid warnings went, then she heaved herself up from the armchair and went into the kitchen, pulling Flash behind her. She still wasn’t that big – she might have been nearly six months pregnant but she was hardly eating anything – but her body felt unbalanced somehow, as though it wasn’t anything to do with her any more, and she couldn’t control how it moved.
‘Come on, Flash,’ she urged the reluctant dog, pulling its lead, trying to make it join her in the steel-framed Morrison shelter that Chas had brought round for them as his idea of a wedding present. ‘I know yer don’t like it, nor do I, but we’ve gotta get in here ’cos of the bombs.’ She shook her head. ‘You daft cow,’ she admonished herself, ‘just listen to yerself, yer talking to a bloody dog.’ She gave Flash one last tug and got her safely inside. ‘Still, if it wasn’t for you, Flash, I’d wind up talking to meself and we can’t have that, can we? Me going bonkers.’
The raid was long and loud but Evie must have eventually fallen asleep because the next thing she knew was Flash licking her face and the sound of heavy footsteps stumbling along the passage towards the kitchen. She hauled herself up onto her knees and pushed open the heavy netting door of the shelter. Flash bounded out and went straight over to her water bowl in the corner.
As Evie pulled herself upright, Albie came staggering into the kitchen. His eyes looked out of focus and his clothes were rumpled.
‘Where’ve you been again?’ Evie asked, going over to the sink to fill the kettle. She looked at the little clock on the shelf by the sink. It was nearly half past eight. She lifted the corner of the window curtain; the thin wintery sunlight made her blink. So, it was morning.
‘Shut up, can’t yer?’ Albie slurred. ‘Where’s me tea?’
‘Flash had it last night. Baked up to hell it was.’
Albie opened the food cupboard. ‘Where’s all the grub?’ He turned on her. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. ‘What d’yer do with all the dough I give yer if yer don’t buy any grub?’
‘It’s been hard. You ain’t gimme much money this week.’
Albie grabbed the cupboard door to steady himself. ‘Ain’t I?’
‘No.’ Evie set the kettle down on the stove and took a step towards him. ‘Albie, where yer been?’ She spoke softly, not wanting to antagonise him. ‘I ain’t moaning or nothing, but I’m lonely, stuck in here all day. Yer don’t seem to care no more.’
Albie curled his lip in distaste. ‘Shut up and pull that dressing gown round yer. What do you look like?’
‘Albie.’ Evie moved closer and reached out to kiss him, but then she lurched backwards. ‘You rotten bastard. You stink of scent. Where’ve yer been, eh? Albie? You answer me. Where yer been?’
Evie didn’t see him raise his hand to her; she just felt the impact of the blow and the sting of his palm swiping across her cheek.
Flash leapt forward at Albie, snarling and snapping. Albie lashed out at her with his boot but lost his balance and went crashing sideways into the stone sink. Evie grabbed at Flash’s collar, dragging her away from him.
‘Don’t you ever raise yer hand to me again.’ Her breath was coming in short, shuddering gasps. ‘Or touch that dog. ’Cos if yer do, I swear, I’ll kill yer stone dead.’
Albie steadied himself against the sink. ‘Aw yeah?’ he sneered. ‘You and whose army?’ He looked her up and down with disgust. ‘Look at yer. Look at the state of yer.’ He turned his head and did his best to focus on the door and then staggered out to the passage.
‘Look at the state of me?’ she screamed after him. ‘How about this place? Where’s the lovely home you promised me, Albie? Albie?’ There was the sound of the front door opening. ‘Albie, don’t you walk out on me. Albie. Albie.’ She ran out into the passage just as he slammed the door behind him. ‘Come back. It’ll all be all right again. I promise.’ Evie fell to her knees and covered her face with her hands. ‘I promise,’ she sobbed.
Flash nuzzled into her neck, whining softly.
Evie spent the rest of the day frantically cleaning, scrubbing and tidying the flat, doing what she could to make the rooms more homely. Then she washed and made herself up, careful to put a thick layer of powder over the ugly bruise that was spreading across her cheekbone. It didn’t actually hide it but she convinced herself that it made it look less obvious. Next she did her thick blonde hair as painstakingly as if she were going out for a night on the town, and then took off her dressing gown and slipped into one of the loose floral maternity dresses that she had sworn she would never use, but was now glad that Blanche had insisted she borrow ‘just in case’. Eve looked at herself in the mirror over the fireplace in the front room, standing on tiptoes to try and get the full effect. She looked almost like she used to.
There was a knock on the door. She smiled at her reflection in the glass. ‘That’ll be Babs come to see us again,’ she said, bending down to fondle Flash’s ears. ‘Wait till she sees how nice it all looks.’
As Evie opened the front door, the smile froze on her face. It wasn’t Babs standing there at all, it was Albie’s mum.
Queenie barged her way past Evie and marched through to the kitchen where she sat down and made herself comfortable at the Morrison shelter that doubled as a table.
Evie followed her into the kitchen and stood by the old but now sparklingly clean stove. ‘Can I make yer a cup o’ tea?’ she asked flatly.
Queenie stared at the bruising on Evie’s face. ‘You ain’t keeping this place very nice,’ she said, her lips pursed to show her disapproval. ‘My boy’s used to a clean home and decent things round him. He won’t be very pleased with all this.’
Evie could scarcely find the words. ‘Your boy’s used to a clean home and decent things?’ She scratched her head in disbelief. ‘For a start, you give us most of this old junk. And for another thing, your house is—’
‘My house is what?’ Queenie narrowed her eyes and fixed Evie with a stare that made her look just like Albie when he was in one of his tempers.
‘Nothing.’ Evie felt her heart racing as she busied herself with the kettle.
‘I dunno what yer complaining about. Way that boy looks after you.’ Queenie thumped the table top, making her bosom and her chins shake. ‘He got you this Morrison shelter and everything.’
‘He didn’t actually.’ Evie tried to keep her voice calm as she spooned two measures of tea into the cracked earthenware pot. ‘Chas got us that, but I hate the bloody thing anyway, like being in a cage.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ Queenie said sarcastically. ‘I forgot you was used to so much better.’
‘At least I saw a bit of life when I sheltered in the Drum.’
‘Aw yeah, yer’ve always liked a bit of life, haven’t yer? All you Bells are the same.’
Evie spun round to face her, the kettle full of boiling water shaking in her hand. ‘You old …’
Queenie stood up. She towered over Evie. ‘Now you listen to me.’ She jabbed her finger hard into Evie’s shoulder, making her flinch with pain. ‘My Albie come round my house this morning, before nine o’clock it was. And he was hungry. D’you hear me? Hungry. He’d been out all night, working hard to bring you in yer wages and there wasn’t even a bit o’ grub for him. I’m just here to warn yer that yer’d better sort yerself out and start behaving like a proper wife or—’
‘Or what?’ Evie slammed the kettle down on the top of the shelter.
‘You little …’ Queenie raised her hand.
Evie ducked
her head, covering it with her arms. But she was saved from Queenie’s blows by the sound of someone knocking at the front door.
‘That’ll be my Albie,’ said Queenie, straightening herself up. She was breathing like a steam train. ‘Go on, let him in. Let’s hear what he’s got to say about how yer talk to me.’
Evie was sure it wouldn’t be Albie, not at six o’clock in the evening; as she walked towards the door, she prayed she was right.
She opened the door just a crack and peered out into the darkness. ‘Babs. Thank gawd.’ She pulled the door open wide and practically dragged her sister inside. ‘Come in.’
Babs grinned. ‘Yer pleased to see me then? Hope yer don’t mind me coming again so soon,’ she said as she closed the door. ‘But I was so worried about yer yesterday. Yer seemed right down.’
Evie quickly finished draping the blackout curtain over the glass panel in the door and turned to face her sister.
Babs’s mouth fell open. She reached out and touched the bruising on her twin’s face. ‘What the bloody hell happened to you?’
Queenie came storming along the passage and almost sent Babs flying as she shoved past her. ‘Can’t stop,’ she barked. ‘My Bernie’ll be expecting me.’ She pulled the door open and then twisted round to Evie. ‘And you just remember what I said.’
Babs was about to say something to Queenie but Evie stopped her. ‘No, Babs, yer don’t know what’s going on.’
‘Leave off, I can see exactly what’s been going on.’
Queenie stepped outside and slammed the door behind her, leaving them standing in the passage staring at each other.
‘I don’t need you starting, Babs.’ Evie turned her head away. Suddenly she seemed to have clammed up on her sister.
‘I ain’t starting, Eve. I told yer, I’m worried about yer.’ Babs nibbled her lip, trying to keep calm, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the bruising on Evie’s cheek. Seeing her twin suffer was just like being hurt herself. ‘He did that to yer, didn’t he?’ Babs’s voice was trembling with anger.
Evie laughed emptily. ‘Don’t be daft. I walked into the bloody door, didn’t I? I went outside in the yard. For the lav. It was dark and I didn’t have me torch. Yer know what this blackout’s like.’
‘Evie, what yer lying for? It’s me, Babs, yer can’t kid me. It was him, wasn’t it?’
‘Look, I’m a bit busy what with Christmas coming up and everything.’ Eve pulled back the curtain again and opened the door. ‘I’ve got a lot to do.’
‘Well, if yer busy now, I’ll come round tomorrow after work. We can have a chat then.’
‘No. I’ll drop round to number six in a day or so. When I’ve got a bit more time.’
It was nearly half past seven on Christmas Eve. Evie was standing in her kitchen, listlessly stirring a pot of soup for Albie’s supper – at least soup didn’t spoil when he came in late. Two weeks had gone by since she had seen Babs, but Evie still hadn’t been to Darnfield Street.
Albie came in the kitchen with his arms full of brown paper parcels and dumped them on top of the Morrison shelter.
‘Albie, what’s all this? What’s in ’em?’ Evie put the wooden spoon on the draining board and smiled happily – he hadn’t forgotten to buy her something after all.
Albie shrugged. ‘Some of me “clients” reckoned they could get round me by giving me little “seasonal gifts”,’ he sneered. ‘Bloody idiots. All I want’s me dough off ’em. They can shove their bloody presents.’
He strode out of the kitchen and into the bedroom.
Evie followed him. ‘I did me roots this afternoon,’ she said, watching him as he stripped off his shirt and took a clean one from the drawer. ‘So’s I’d look nice if we went out tonight.’ She paused. ‘Being Christmas Eve and everything.’
‘You mad?’ Albie didn’t even bother to look at her. He just got on with buttoning his shirt and fastening his cufflinks. ‘What would I wanna be seen out with you for?’
Evie fought back her tears. ‘If yer won’t take me out, won’t yer even stay indoors with me, Al? Just tonight? Please?’
‘Aw, shut yer nagging.’ Albie selected a tie and eased it under his collar.
‘Go on then,’ Eve shrieked, ‘go out with yer fancy women. Yer no good, just like everybody told me.’
Albie said nothing. He coolly picked his jacket off the bed, slipped it on, turned to face Evie and then slammed his fist into her stomach, sending her reeling backwards and crashing into the wall.
As Evie ricocheted forward, her head jerked back; she opened her eyes and, in a blur, saw Albie disappearing through the door.
The next morning, Babs was in the kitchen at number six, doggedly cutting crosses into the stalks of Brussels sprouts. The last thing she felt like doing was celebrating Christmas when she knew, deep inside as only a twin could, that Evie was in trouble. But she also knew that she had to keep up appearances for her dad’s sake. He was doing so well, settling into his new life at the fire station and, though he’d been so exhausted he’d not mentioned her so much the last few weeks – with Maudie. He still enjoyed a pint down the pub with his mates but he wasn’t boozing to forget like he used to.
All that apart, Babs still couldn’t settle. She kept looking up at the clock, wondering what Evie was doing, longing to go and fetch her, but knowing that the last thing her sister would want was for her to interfere.
She tossed the last of the sprouts into the pot and then opened the oven. The delicious smell of roasting pork filled the kitchen. And, despite her anxieties, she smiled as she thought of how proud her dad had been when he’d brought home the joint of meat, a gift from a grateful butcher whose shop Georgie and his pals had saved from being gutted by fire bombs.
She closed the oven and started setting the table for three – her, Georgie and Maud.
‘Can’t yer find room for a little one?’ someone asked her.
Babs turned round. ‘Evie!’
Eve ran her hands over her middle. ‘Well, maybe not such a little one any more.’
Babs dropped the knives and forks and hugged her sister. ‘Happy Christmas.’
‘And you. Careful, yer’ll squash me parcels.’ Evie dropped her packages on the table and then collapsed into Georgie’s carver chair that still stood by the stove. ‘Here, sort this lot out,’ she sighed.
Babs went through the pile of bags. ‘Oranges. Scotch! Where’d yer get this? Even Nellie ain’t had none of this in for I dunno how long. And there’s a … a … What is this?’ Babs held a heavy, plucked bird up by its legs.
‘It’s a goose.’ Evie winced as she spoke. ‘Yer can cook it tomorrow.’
‘Hark at me going on.’ Babs knelt down by Evie’s chair. ‘And there’s you, I’ve gotta say it, yer don’t look well. What’s wrong, you in pain?’
Evie tried to smile. ‘I see that old photo of us in the passage still ain’t got no glass on it.’
Babs stood up. ‘All right, so you don’t wanna tell me how you are, but I’ve been really concerned, yer know.’ She went over to the sink and began collecting up the trimmings from the sprouts, wrapping them in half a sheet of old newspaper ready to give to Maudie for her hens. ‘I wanted to come to see yer but I didn’t feel that I was very welcome.’
‘Where’s Dad? He about?’
‘No, he’s gone to have a quick pint with Jim.’
‘If he’s on the sherbert again …’ Evie began hauling herself up from the chair.
‘No, yer all right, I really meant a quick pint. He’s been as good as gold since he joined the service and since him and Maudie have been, you know, friends like.’ She flicked her head towards the table. ‘I’ve even laid a place for her. Dad’s gonna knock and see if she wants dinner with us. He went along earlier but she must’ve already gone to church.’ Babs looked up at the clock. It was a quarter past twelve. ‘They’ll be a while yet. Dad said they’d be here for one.’ Babs squatted back down next to Evie’s chair. ‘Come on, why don’t yer tell me wha
t’s up?’
‘Me and Albie have had a few words. He went out last night and he’s been amongst the missing ever since.’
Babs did her best to sound cheerful and encouraging. ‘He’ll be round his mum’s. Yer know what she’s like, how she spoils him. He’ll have stayed there the night.’
‘Don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Babs. You know as well as I do that he might well spend most days round there, but he wasn’t round there last night.’ Eve buried her face in her hands. ‘He was off with some tart again. I know he was.’
‘Eve, don’t do this to yerself, yer can’t carry on like this.’
‘So you know all about being married, do yer? You ain’t even seeing no one.’
‘There’s no need for that.’
‘No. I’m sorry, Babs.’
‘Don’t let’s have him spoil our Christmas. Come on, let’s go down the Drum and see Dad. Have a drink with him. He’d like that.’
‘How can I? Look at the state of me. Me face is all puffy and I look like a flaming barge.’ As she stared up at Babs, Evie’s eyes, with their purple smudges of exhaustion under them, looked huge in her pale, drawn face.
‘It’s up to you.’ Babs shrugged. ‘You sit there then and I’ll finish clearing up.’
Babs busied herself with the dishcloth while Evie sat silently watching her.
It was nearly half past one when Georgie came in. Babs had already started dishing up the dinner.
She looked up from carving the pork. ‘Hello, Dad,’ she said, a broad smile on her face. ‘Look who’s here to see us.’
Evie hauled herself out of the chair and went over and kissed Georgie. ‘Happy Christmas, Dad.’
Georgie hugged her to him. He stank of booze.
‘Where’s Maud, Dad?’ Babs asked as she laid a thick slice of pork and a piece of crackling on each plate.
‘She wasn’t in.’
Eve flashed a glance at Babs. ‘Must still be at church. Probably some special service for Christmas.’
‘Yeah. Must be.’
Georgie hardly spoke during the meal, then he disappeared into the front room with the bottle of Scotch that Evie had brought.
The Bells of Bow Page 28