Evie went over to the sink and threw her a towel. ‘You get dried off and I’ll dish us up some of the casserole.’
Babs wrapped her hair in the towel and went out to the passage to hang up her wet coat. When she came back in, she sat down at the table, lifted Betty onto her lap and started reading a letter that she had brought in with her.
Evie looked round from the stove. ‘What’s that yer’ve got there?’
‘Nothing.’
‘It’s that letter that come this morning, ain’t it? I bet it’s from him again, that Harry.’
‘What if it is?’ Babs shifted Betty to a more comfortable position.
‘Blimey, that’s how many months yer’ve been writing to each other now?’
Babs shrugged. ‘A few,’ she said nonchalantly.
‘A few?’ snorted Evie, as she poured ladlefuls of the chicken into two big bowls for her and Babs and a small one for Betty. ‘More like six months, I’d say. At least.’ She put the rest of the food back in the oven for Georgie and wiped her hands on the apron. ‘Come on, let’s have a look. Is it full of soppy stuff?’
Babs smiled coyly. ‘Might be.’
‘It is, innit?’
‘Well, the letters have got a bit sort of loving lately.’
Betty, bored with the adults’ conversation, scrambled down from her Auntie Babs’s lap and returned to her game under the table.
‘How d’yer mean, loving?’
‘It says all sorts of nice things,’ Babs glanced at the letter. ‘I really look forward to getting them, more than I can tell yer.’
‘Blimey, they must be good. Let’s have a look.’
‘No.’
‘Come on, it’s addressed to me, ain’t it?’
‘Evie, I said no.’
Evie ignored her; she reached out and grabbed the letter from Babs’s hand. ‘Right, let’s see.’
‘Evie, I mean it. Give it here. Give it back.’
‘No. And look, it is addressed to me.’
‘You know it’s not.’
‘But it is, look, it says so. Evie Bell. You’re still pretending to be me, ain’t yer?’
‘I’m pretending that my name is Evie, that’s all. You’re the one who did all the other pretending. Now give it to me!’
Evie wasn’t going to give in so easily, not when she had her mind set on something. She skipped backwards and leapt onto a chair, holding the letter high in the air.
Betty crawled out from under the table and jumped up and down with pleasure at the new game.
Evie’s eyes widened as, with head tipped back, she began reading the letter out loud: ‘“You are being faithful to me, aren’t you, Evie?”’ she read. ‘“You are still my girl?” Blimey!’ She looked down at Babs and giggled. Babs didn’t share Evie’s amusement.
‘“How’s yer sister getting on? Let me know if she’s heard any more news of her husband yet. I’ve been asking around when anyone mentions prisoners of war, yer never know, I might hear something out here.”’ Evie’s mouth fell open. ‘Look,’ she squealed, holding the letter out of Babs’s reach. ‘He’s done a little drawing of stars and the moon to go with the next bit. Here, he ain’t a bad artist, is he?’ She winked. ‘I’ve always liked artistic types.’
‘Eve, if you don’t give me that letter—’
‘Sssshhh,’ Evie put her finger to her lips. ‘Don’t shout, yer’ll upset Betty.’ She returned to her reading. ‘This is the bit that goes with the drawing. “Every night at ten o’clock, I want you to go out and look at the stars and I’ll be doing the same. Even though we can’t be together we’ll know that we are looking at the same sky. You know, Eve, lots of fellers get married after only a weekend together.” Married, he said! “And I know how they feel. It’s like everything’s urgent, important. It makes you realise how important it is to have something and someone stable in yer life. I hate to think of you so far away. And I wish you was in the country somewhere instead of in the East End. But I bet Babs is grateful to have you with her and helping her with her little girl. I really do hope she’s had good news about her husband. Wish I could explain how important it is to get the letters from you. I’d like to be able to tell you all about what it’s like out here. Not to scare you or nothing, but to share it with you. And I’d like you to meet all my mates one day. Good blokes, they are. Tell you what, send me a picture of yourself so I can show them all my blonde bombshell!”’ Evie began to giggle. ‘Bloody hell, Babs, just you watch him run when he finds out he’s fallen in love with a lie!’ She dropped her hand to her side and shook her head in wonder. ‘What an idiot that bloke must be.’
Babs took her chance to snatch the letter back. ‘I hate you sometimes, Evie Bell,’ she sobbed and ran out into the passage.
Evie shrugged as she climbed down from the chair. ‘Yer always saying that,’ she called after her. ‘Now come back in here and get this chicken soup down yer. Yer’ll soon forget all about it.’
‘No, Eve, I won’t, not this time,’ Babs shouted back as she ran, crying her heart out, up the stairs.
31
Babs pushed open the door to the baker’s shop.
‘Me!’ squealed Betty, pointing up to the brass chime that hung, jangling, behind the door.
Babs lifted her little niece in her arms for her to reach the shiny bell.
‘I bet Auntie Rita’s got something special for this little girl,’ said Rita coming from behind the counter with a glossy topped bun. She held it out for Betty to take.
‘Cake!’ Betty shouted happily.
‘Ssshhh. Uncle Bert made that just for you, don’t tell no one,’ she whispered.
‘Say “ta”,’ said Babs, lifting Betty onto the chair that stood by the counter.
‘Ta,’ she echoed as she wriggled backwards to get comfortable and then began busily tackling the sticky treat.
‘Dunno about the little’un having a sitdown,’ said Rita, glancing critically at Babs’s pale complexion. She stepped back behind the counter. ‘Looks to me like you could do with a seat.’
‘I’m all right, Reet. Bit tired, that’s all.’
‘It’ll be this miserable weather getting yer down. Ne’mind, spring’ll soon be here and that always puts a bit of colour in yer cheeks.’
‘I hope so.’ Babs smiled wearily. ‘Got a loaf for us, please, Reet?’
Rita selected the crustiest one from the blackened metal tray that stood on the wide wooden shelf behind her and put it on the counter in front of Babs. ‘And there’s some birthdays coming up soon if I’ve got me dates right, ain’t there, Babs? That’ll be something to look forward to and all.’
‘Yeah.’ Babs bent down and wiped some cake crumbs from the front of Betty’s coat. ‘Betty’s two on the ninth of March.’
‘Betty’s!’ said Betty gleefully. ‘What Betty’s?’
‘Betty’s lovely,’ Rita smiled at her.
Satisfied with the admiration, Betty got on with her bun.
‘That’s this Tuesday, innit?’
‘Yeah,’ said Babs, straightening up.
‘Two, eh? Don’t time fly?’
Babs looked at Betty and sighed. ‘Yeah, it’s unbelievable sometimes. And so’s the fact that it’s only a couple of months till me and Evie’s twenty-first.’
‘Smashing! Now that really is something to celebrate.’
‘D’yer reckon? I don’t feel, like I’ve got much to be happy about.’
‘The war’s getting everyone down, love, don’t let it make yer miserable. It don’t help, yer know.’
‘I know it sounds selfish when people like your Bill are being so brave, but it ain’t just the war, Reet, or the weather that’s getting me down.’ She turned her back to Betty. ‘It’s Eve, if yer must know. I’m totally knackered and Evie’s carrying on like … Well, like she always has and I’m just about sick and tired of it.’
‘Sick!’ repeated Betty.
‘Ears like bats, ain’t they?’ said Rita with a smile. She came from round the otherside of th
e counter and put her hand gently on Babs’s shoulder. ‘Look, darling, it’s none of my business, and I don’t know what’s happened between you girls, but I couldn’t help but notice the bad feelings between the pair of yer – no one could. But yer shouldn’t have bad feelings, especially not in a family. It don’t do no one no good. It can only lead to heartache.’
Babs dropped her chin and stared down at the scrubbed tiled floor. ‘Since, you know, the way I see her ignoring the little one,’ Babs whispered and nodded towards Betty, ‘I’ve really had it with her. I feel like I’m more of a mum than …’ Babs’s words petered out as the shop door opened with a jangle of the bell. ‘Hello, Ethel,’ she said.
Rita stepped back behind the counter. ‘Don’t usually see you this early on a Saturday, Ett. Whatever’s up with yer? Yer look like yer’ve had a kick up the bum.’
Babs lifted Betty off the seat and stood her in the corner with the remains of her cake while Ethel Morgan sat herself down on the chair.
‘I ain’t slept all night,’ she said gravely. ‘It’s my Frankie.’
Rita’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Aw no, Ett, he ain’t …?’
Ethel shook her head and laughed mirthlessly. ‘No, I’ll never get shot of the dozy old bugger that easy. He’s like a bad penny, that one, he’ll never come to no harm. No, it was what he told me when he got in last night that’s upset me.’
‘What?’
‘You heard about that terrible business down the Tube at Bethnal Green, didn’t yer, Reet?’
‘What, that happened a couple of nights ago to them people what was sheltering?’
Ethel nodded.
Rita looked at Babs. ‘Did you hear about it? Awful it was. A bomb rolled down the steps and killed every single one of them.’
‘No, it wasn’t a bomb, not according to the warden what told my Frankie about it.’ Ethel shook her head in disbelief as though she couldn’t comprehend what she was about to tell them. ‘This feller who was telling him, like, he reckons it was getting on for about half past eight, in the evening like. All pitch dark. And they went and let off these new guns they’ve got in Victoria Park. Massive great things he said they are. Special anti-aircraft, like. Well, the noise carried and them people over in Bethnal Green panicked. Thought it was Jerry bombs gonna fall on ’em. So they all started running for cover, didn’t they?’ Ethel took out her handkerchief from her bag and wiped the palms of her hands. ‘Yer know the station there at Bethnal Green’s the main shelter for them parts?’
Babs and Rita nodded.
‘So, it was the obvious place to go, wasn’t it? And that’s where they headed.’ She paused again to wipe her hands. ‘But the shelter’s only got the one entrance, see? Down them steep stone steps. It only took one to stumble.’ She bowed her head. ‘Frankie said there was a hundred and seventy-three killed.’ She looked from Babs to Rita then back to the floor. ‘A hundred and seventy-three. Can you even start to think about it? Plus gawd knows how many badly hurt.’
Rita leant against the counter. ‘Just up the road really, ain’t it, Bethnal Green? I ain’t never heard nothing like it. Everyone who’s come in the shop’s been sure it was a bomb.’ She hugged herself and rubbed her arms as though she was cold, sending little puffs of flour dust floating off into the warm air. ‘So how comes it’s only out now about what really happened?’
Ethel shrugged. ‘I asked my Frankie the selfsame question. He just said, they can’t just tell us the truth, can they? They’re too worried about people getting downhearted if they knew all that was going on all the time.’
‘Getting downhearted,’ said Rita scornfully. ‘That’s a good word for it.’ She paused. ‘But I suppose they’re right in a way. I mean, this bloody war’s getting to all of us as it is, without having news like that, that we’re all so sodding scared it don’t even need bombs to kill us.’
‘Yeah,’ said Babs. She spoke so quietly that Ethel had to lean forward in her chair to hear her. ‘But when yer don’t know the real truth about something, that’s when yer get all these rumours starting, don’t yer? And that hurts people even more. Lies never help.’
Ethel looked up at Babs. ‘The truth can hurt and all, girl,’ she said. ‘And you of all people should know that, coming from your family.’
Babs bristled. ‘I think yer’d better explain what yer mean, Ethel.’
Rita drew in her breath and said quickly, ‘Poor buggers. Terrible, terrible thing to happen.’
‘Yeah,’ Babs agreed, keeping her stare fixed on Ethel. ‘And it makes silly little family worries seem a bit pathetic, don’t it?’
Ethel narrowed her eyes. ‘Not when they’re family worries about your own sister and her carryings on.’
Babs turned to Rita. ‘Sounds like Alice Clarke’s been opening her big gob again.’ She grabbed her loaf from the counter and stuck it in her string bag. ‘Come on, Betty. Time we was getting home to do Granddad’s breakfast. I mean, we stand here gassing instead of getting on with our jobs and yer don’t know what rumours might get started about us.’
As Babs slammed the shop door behind her, Rita folded her arms and said to Ethel, ‘That wasn’t called for, Ett.’
Ethel stood up and tucked her handkerchief in her pocket. ‘I was only speaking the truth. No harm in that.’
‘After all you just said about being careful with telling the truth? And about making people downhearted?’
Ethel curled her lip contemptuously.
‘And anyway, you hardly get the truth by listening to Alice Clarke.’
‘I ain’t had to listen to no one,’ Ethel said, striding over to the door. ‘I’ve got the evidence of me own eyes. I live next door to the little whore, remember. I see all her carryings on for meself, thank you very much.’
It was a lovely early June evening, a week after the twins’ twenty-first birthday, and Evie was doing her best to work her old trick, perfected over the years, of charming Babs into being friends because she wanted something from her. But it wasn’t going very well. Babs hadn’t been such an easy touch lately, and it was beginning to get on Evie’s nerves; she wasn’t used to not getting her own way.
Like most of their neighbours in Darnfield Street, the sisters were sitting out on the pavement on kitchen chairs, making the most of the sunshine. Betty and Janey were playing happily on the step with Betty’s building bricks, and the front window of number six was pushed up so they could hear the music on the wireless while they ate the strawberries that Evie had somehow procured, with the sole intent of using them to ingratiate herself with Babs when she got in from work hot and tired.
‘It’s only for a couple of hours, I promise,’ said Evie, sorting through the colander for the darkest red fruits she could find and handing them to her sister. ‘And I’ll be back well before eleven. And if I can’t go, it’ll be rotten because there’s no way I can get in touch with Gina to tell her, and she’ll be left standing there like a right peanut.’
Babs nibbled thoughtfully on one of the luscious berries, licking her lips to savour every last drop of juice. ‘How come you said yer’d go out with her in the first place if yer didn’t have no one to mind Betty?’
For a brief moment, Evie forgot that she was trying to persuade Babs by being charming, and snapped angrily at her, ‘I didn’t say I would go. Weren’t you listening?’
Babs calmly raised her eyebrows at Evie, then bent sideways to put another handful of strawberries onto the plate the children were eating from as they carried on with their building game.
Evie exhaled slowly. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. All right?’ She raked her fingers dramatically through her blonde hair. ‘It must be the strain of being stuck at home all day that’s making me so edgy.’
‘Stuck at home? You?’ Babs suppressed an incredulous laugh. ‘So – you were explaining about Gina.’
‘Aw yeah. Gina. Well, she pushed this note through the letter box—’
‘You were out, you mean? Not stuck at home?’
/> ‘I have to go out sometimes.’ She gestured agitatedly at the fruit. ‘How d’yer think I got them?’
‘I was wondering that. Where did yer manage to get ’em?’
Evie knew when she was on dicey ground and she hurriedly changed the subject back to one that suited her. ‘Anyway, this note. It said how I should meet her. Tonight. And ’cos I was cooking yer tea I didn’t have a chance to go round and tell her I couldn’t go, did I?’
‘Let’s see.’
‘What?’
‘The note.’
Evie hesitated. ‘I can’t remember what I did with it.’
‘There’s a surprise.’ Babs held up a strawberry. ‘And this is me tea, I suppose?’
Evie dismissed Babs’s cynicism with a shrug and a little wrinkle of her nose. Then she tried a different approach. ‘Listen to that,’ she said pointing to the open window. ‘“Besame Mucho” your favourite.’
‘Is it?’ Babs looked surprised.
‘Yeah, yer know yer love it. Come on, let’s have a dance.’
‘What, out here in the street?’
‘Why not?’
Evie got up from her chair and pulled Babs after her into the road. ‘I’ll lead,’ Evie said with a wink. And spun Babs round by the arm and into a rhythmic Latin two-step. She knew that music was one thing that Babs could never resist.
Janey and Betty watched the adults from their seat on the step, and clapped with delight at grown-ups acting so daft.
‘Blimey, will yer look at them, Clara,’ Minnie called out from across the street. ‘It’s Fred and Ginger!’
Evie tossed her head back as she and Babs swayed past them. ‘Come and join in, girls.’
Minnie grabbed Clara by her hand and the big, buxom women were soon pirouetting around like a pair of youngsters less than half their age.
When the song finished, Minnie and Clara were puffing, their big bosoms heaving from the effort.
‘Fancy a few strawberries?’ offered Evie, banking on Babs being more amenable if they had company.
Minnie and Clara both nodded.
‘Lovely,’ said Clara politely, patting her chest as she tried to steady her breathing.
The Bells of Bow Page 41