East End Jubilee

by Carol Rivers

  What a wonderful week that had been, Rose reflected as her thoughts drifted back six weeks to the night of 5th February, 1954.

  ‘He looks like a coconut,’ Marlene had decided as the two girls sat on either side of the big double bed. ‘Like you see at the fair.’

  ‘You looked just the same when you were born,’ Donnie had argued in defence of her newly arrived brother.

  Marlene stared woefully at Rose who was feeding her baby for the first time but she had soon become entranced, holding the starfish hand that boasted miniature nails. Will, however, had made a quick exit after commenting that he couldn’t wait for Matthew to grow up and play out in the yard.

  Anita and Benny had called at ten-thirty, an hour after Dr Cox and the midwife had left. ‘I’m broody, Benny,’ Anita murmured, her eyes misting over as she stood next to her husband, gazing spellbound at the baby. ‘But I suppose it’s too late now?’

  ‘Too right it’s too late,’ Benny had agreed, but Rose had seen the longing in his eyes as he’d bent over the little boy and curled back the shawl around his tiny feet. ‘He’s a cracker, Rose. Look at them plates of meat. They’re good solid articles they are.’

  ‘Our Dave and Alan sent these in.’ Anita laid a dog-eared album on the dressing table. ‘It’s their collection of football cards. They want the babe to have it. By the time he’s old enough to play, he’ll be able to flog the cards and buy a good set of boots.’

  Rose had been overwhelmed with joy that night and despite feeling utterly exhausted had let the girls sit with her until everyone was gone. Em had settled them eventually and taken the baby downstairs in a Moses basket she’d found under the stairs on the pretext of giving Rose a chance to rest. Rose knew that Em would probably stay up half the night just watching him.

  Two days later she’d written to Eddie and told him every bit of news describing the baby down to the last detail. He had replied, overjoyed, from a new prison in Sussex, where offenders not classed as potential escapees were housed. For the first time his letter had sounded like the Eddie she remembered. He told her how much he loved them all and how the time would go quickly now their son had arrived. He asked her to write again soon.

  Suddenly Rose came back to the present as a rather breathless female voice began to recall the events of 1953. She realized Woman’s Hour was over and this programme was a trip down memory lane. The commentator spoke of the Queen’s Coronation and then the conquering of Mount Everest by Edmund Hillary, a handsome New Zealander accompanied by his Sherpa guide, Tensing. She then went on to describe the charismatic and popular American senator, John F. Kennedy who had married his beautiful bride, Jacqueline Bouvier. Rose listened as Matthew fed contentedly. She had spent much longer today feeding him and cuddling him. He seemed to listen to all that she told him and even seemed to like the wireless noise.

  A pleasant melody filled the room, the theme tune to a film called Genevieve, about a veteran motor car and the London to Brighton run. Although Rose hadn’t seen it, the film had captured the nation’s heart last year. There was also the birth of a new series on the radio called The Goon Show, a crazy comedy which had converted Rose and thousands of other listeners to a brand new form of humour.

  Rose was hoping that all these wonderful events would register in her tiny baby’s brain. She sat down at the same time each day to breastfeed him, introducing him to Listen With Mother and Woman’s Hour, just as she had done with the girls. Matthew’s almost black eyes stared up at her like tiny ebony beads set in his still rather red face and two little dimples appeared on his cheeks as a windy smile formed around his mouth. Rose gently lifted him on to her shoulder.

  Rose was blissfully happy. Every time she sat down to feed Matthew, she felt closer to Eddie. A wonderful contentment filled her. She loved just holding him close, even in the middle of the night. Especially in the middle of the night, when everyone else was asleep and she had him entirely to herself.

  The kitchen door banged and Matthew jumped. He gave a little cry and Rose patted his back, smiling.

  ‘You’ll have to get used to loud noises in this house, my darling,’ she chuckled. ‘It’s like Piccadilly Circus sometimes.’

  In just nine months, their lives had changed dramatically, Rose thought as she held Matthew back to her breast for the last few minutes of his feed. The family had expanded and though the rooms always seemed full of noise and chatter, Rose never minded. She had always wanted a big family and now she had it.

  ‘Rosy? Fancy a cuppa?’ Em bustled in, her cheeks red and her hazel eyes wide. She was wearing an apron and held an empty wicker laundry basket in her hands.

  ‘That’d be nice. Look Em, he’s lost that reddy colour and his skin’s going quite peachy.’

  Em dropped the basket and came to sit beside her. She reached out to grasp the baby’s finger. Matthew responded immediately and Em gave a gasp of delight. ‘He knows me, I know he does!’

  ‘’Course he knows you. You’re his Auntie Em.’

  ‘No, I mean really knows me. He squeezed my finger.’

  Rose smiled. ‘Want a hold?’

  ‘Can I?’

  ‘He needs his wind brought up.’ Rose did up her blouse with one hand and then wrapped the blue and white shawl with the football boots around his firm little shoulders.

  Em let him sink into her arms as if he was marshmallow. She gave a sigh of pleasure as she rubbed his back and a pocket of wind erupted. They both laughed and Matthew looked up with beady black eyes and another windy grin.

  ‘I’ve never seen a baby so alert,’ Em noted proudly drawing her fingers over the ebony cap of hair. ‘I do believe he knows everything you say.’

  ‘No doubt about that,’ Rose agreed as she pulled on her cardigan. ‘I was certain he could hear me when he was in my tummy.’ She laid her hand on her flat stomach. She had lost all the extra weight she’d put on during pregnancy.

  ‘Better be careful then,’ Em giggled. ‘Keep your secrets to yourself.’

  ‘Haven’t got any,’ Rose replied innocently.

  Em looked deliberately suspicious. ‘What about the shoebox, then!’

  Rose grinned. ‘I’d forgotten that.’ She had too, she was surprised to discover now. Eight months ago she had thought it was the end of the world almost when someone had broken in and stolen all Eddie’s savings, but Matthew’s birth had changed all that. She hadn’t even been upset when the Evening Gazette had printed a half page on Eddie’s trial and sentence. Not that she’d had to endure any comments from Ruby Street as she was resting in bed at the time. It was poor Em who had been forced to leave the house since shopping had to be done. Rose smiled at the memory of her sister rising at the crack of dawn on Saturdays to arrive at market before everyone else. Even the girls, who Rose had worried about at school, had dealt successfully with playground confrontations.

  Rose was still smiling as she looked at her sister. ‘Anyway, I’m not the only one with secrets. Who had a washing machine for Christmas, then?’

  Em went bright pink. ‘Not me. It was for you – for us both!’

  Rose made a little humming sound. ‘Mr Bobby Morton knows my views on such luxuries, thank you very much.’

  ‘You still said yes to having it,’ Em sniffed.

  ‘Well, it cost next to nothing,’ Rose shrugged. ‘I could hardly refuse.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Em said, burying her face in Matthew’s shawl as she lifted him against her cheek.

  ‘You know he’s keen on you, don’t you?’ Rose said daringly. Her sister was very touchy on the subject of Bobby Morton.

  ‘I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, Rose Weaver.’

  ‘Oh Em, you know he is. And he’s so nice.’

  Em cradled Matthew in her arms and, suddenly serious, she looked up at Rose. ‘Nice blokes don’t exist, except your Eddie and Benny next door,’ she mumbled darkly. ‘Now stop pulling me leg and let me get on with cleaning the kitchen. Take your little lad and grab another ten minutes of cudd
le before it’s time to collect the kids.’

  Rose took Matthew back in her arms and watched her sister bustle out again. The small, square, slightly battered washing machine had come as a complete surprise, when, on Christmas Eve, Bobby had driven up, not in a small van, but a newly purchased shooting brake. They all went out to examine it.

  The roomy, elegant vehicle sported wooden panels down the side and two big headlights on the front placed strategically over a shining chromium bumper. The windows sparkled and the seats smelt of real leather. ‘I can use it for all my deliveries,’ Bobby told them, ‘and take the kids out for a ride if they want.’

  ‘It’s lovely.’ Rose nudged her sister in the ribs.

  ‘Yes,’ said Em distantly.

  Bobby had hurried to the back doors and opened them. ‘I thought this might come in handy,’ he told them, pulling a battered washing machine out and lifting it down to the ground. ‘It’s only second-hand and minus a wringer but I’ve repaired the motor, although the outside looks a bit rough. A customer traded it in against a better one.’

  ‘We don’t want hand-outs, thank you very much,’ said Em quickly.

  ‘It’s not coming free,’ Bobby told her gently. ‘You can have it for four pounds, a few shillings paid each week to clear the balance.’ Rose thought he winked slightly at her as he said it.

  ‘It would help, wouldn’t it, Em?’ Rose urged as her sister sniffed and twitched.

  ‘If you say so,’ she’d shrugged and hurried back to the kitchen.

  Rose looked at Bobby apologetically and noticed how his eyes had followed Em’s retreat. It was then she’d guessed it wasn’t financial profit on his mind, but another sort of interest altogether.

  Rose had asked Bobby to Boxing Day tea, grateful for his offer of the washing machine. Washing by hand for a family of five, soon to be six, was proving a mammoth task for Em. In return Bobby had accepted Rose’s offer and arrived to spend an enjoyable hour at 46 Ruby Street at four-thirty on 26th December.

  ‘I’ll make you that cuppa before I clean the kitchen,’ Em shouted along the hall and woke Rose from her reverie. ‘The larder needs sorting. Someone left the milk out and it’s almost gone off.’

  Rose always kept the milk fresh by standing it in a bowl of cold water and placing a cover over it. But Em had achieved higher standards of hygiene when Rose was confined to bed. When Christmas had arrived warm and windy rather than cold and frosty, the whole kitchen had been under review. Rose hadn’t had the heart to protest that the smell of disinfectant was nauseating.

  Em’s famous words were, ‘When the baby is here we’ll have to pull our socks up!’ As though an infant was going to revolutionize their whole existence. And to be fair, Rose thought ruefully, Matthew had.

  Rose looked down and found her son asleep. Tiny black lashes lay closed on satiny cheeks. Yes, his colour was now peaches and cream, the rosy hue vanished. He was the most beautiful child in existence, Rose decided as she gazed at the cherubic mouth and button nose.

  She sighed in wonder, imagining Eddie beside her, as one day he surely would be.

  A week later, Rose was pushing the deep bassinet pram towards home. She had walked to Cox Street market before ten and purchased vegetables and a nice piece of cod from the fishmonger and stowed them under the belly of the pram. Previously used for Marlene and Donnie, the pram had been stored under the stairs, acting as receptacle for innumerable items. Rose had restored it with a dab or two of paint and brushed off the cream and brown upholstery. It looked as good as new despite its antiquity.

  Matthew was snuggled under Em’s blue and white cover and Rose was wrapped warmly in her old winter coat, a paisley scarf tied over her hair. She was in a world of her own, thinking of Eddie, as she made her way to Ruby Street. She had just posted a letter to confirm she would be visiting him on the first Wednesday in April. He had sent her a visiting order and plans were now in motion to make the long journey from London to Hewis prison in Sussex. Bobby had offered to drive the whole family in his shooting brake and Rose was delighted.

  The weather was still chilly, but dry and Rose considered what she and the children should wear. Though Rose had no money to spend at market, Dolly had offered her a two-piece for three and six. But Rose refused although the smart herringbone suit would have done very nicely. Money was short, though she had saved her wages from Kirkwood’s. With Em’s contribution and Anita and Benny’s generous gift of ten pounds, they were managing to survive.

  Rose thought about the long car journey. She would take a picnic and some sweets to keep the children happy on the three-hour journey. Today there was a promise of sunshine, with a soft spring breeze. What would be appropriate to wear? Dresses, coats, trousers, jumpers – she wanted to impress Eddie, who had not seen the children in over nine months. And Matthew – well, that was easy. His wardrobe was impressive. She had been knitting continuously throughout her confinement in bed. He was the best-dressed baby this side of London Bridge.

  Rose was smiling to herself as she turned the corner and walked past Fred and Mabel Dixon’s. Then she stopped dead. Ten yards in front of her, parked on the other side of the road, was a big brown car.

  ‘Em! Em!’ Rose hit the front of the pram on the door-frame and woke Matthew. ‘Sorry, darling – oh Em, Em!’ She pushed the pram into the front room where it spent most of its life now, parked by the gram, and despite a little wail from Matthew, Rose ran back to the front door. She slammed it closed and pulled the key off the string, a key that had only recently been replaced. Rose stepped back, staring at the door, her eyes wide with fright. Her legs felt as if they were turning to sponge. She was shivering and her heart was drumming in her ears.

  ‘Rosy, whatever’s the matter?’ Em hurried along from the kitchen. Her brow was creased, the tips of her brown eyebrows almost meeting over her nose.

  ‘He’s out there again! It’s him!’

  ‘Who, love? Who?’ Em shook her arm, but Rose was petrified. All the old fears had flooded back and her eyes were glued to the door.

  ‘It’s the car, the brown one. It was here that day—’

  Em stiffened, a look of fear also creeping over her face. ‘You don’t mean—’

  ‘Yes, the one I saw on the day of the burglary. He’s out there, waiting. I know it’s him, I just know it.’

  ‘But . . . but that was a long time ago,’ Em said weakly, her eyes also swivelling to follow Rose’s gaze. ‘How can you be sure it’s the same one?’

  ‘I’ll never forget it. Never.’

  ‘But we don’t know if it was him . . . if it was the person in the car even. It might just be a coincidence, or a car very like it.’

  ‘He looked at me,’ Rose breathed hoarsely. ‘As I pushed the pram past. He looked me right in the eye and I knew it. Oh, Em, it was as if he wanted me to see him, as if he was sitting there deliberately.’

  Em gave a twitch and a little laugh that wasn’t really laughter. ‘Oh, Rosy, why would he do that?’

  ‘To frighten me,’ Rose said without hesitation as she recalled the moment she had met his gaze. Under the trilby hat she had seen a face she would never forget now. The window was down and he was smoking a cigarette. He’d puffed out the smoke as she passed and looked directly up at her. She had never felt so terrified in all her life. His big, ugly features and thick, moist lips were unforgettable. Last time she hadn’t been close enough to see him. This time she had been only inches away. If he’d wanted he could have reached out and touched her.

  They stood looking at the door, Rose’s hand clenched to Em’s arm and the key hidden in her fist as though she was frightened it would disappear.

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t imagine it, love?’ Em’s voice was small.

  ‘Go and look for yourself,’ Rose said, hoping that her sister would. She couldn’t bring herself to look out of the window. Perhaps he had climbed out of the car and was walking across the road? Perhaps he was outside the door this very moment? Rose felt her skin crawl
.

  Em didn’t move, until suddenly Matthew gave a loud wail, annoyed at being left in his pram. Rose started, then hurried into the front room as though Matthew himself was in danger. She pulled him out of the pram and held him to her breast. For a few seconds she took comfort from his small, warm body wrapped in the pram cover. He nuzzled contentedly against her shoulder thankfully oblivious to all that was happening around him. Rose turned slowly round. Em was at the window, her nose pressed against the net. She adjusted her position and looked the other way. Still with a frown on her forehead, she shook her head slowly. ‘Rosy, there’s no one there, dear. No one at all.’

  ‘There must be.’ Rose still wouldn’t go to the window.

  ‘I’ve looked both ways—’

  ‘Up by the Dixons’, on this side.’

  Em craned her neck and adjusted the curtain. ‘It’s completely empty, the pavement, the road. There’s no one there. Only Debbie Price walking towards Dora Lovell’s.’

  ‘The car was parked opposite, between the Dixons’ and Dora’s.’

  ‘Well, if it was, it’s gone now.’

  Rose walked slowly towards the window. She stood behind Em and looked over her shoulder, holding Matthew firmly against her shoulder. Em was right, the street was devoid of vehicles.

  ‘I saw it there, Em. He looked at me. He knew who I was, I swear it.’

  ‘But how could he know? I mean, have you seen him before?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Not on the day of the burglary?’

  ‘No, the car was too far away then.’

  ‘So how do you know he knows you, then, dear?’

  Rose hugged Matthew against her as Em turned round with wide, innocent eyes. ‘You don’t believe me, do you? You think I’m being fanciful.’

  ‘I do believe you,’ Em said hesitantly. ‘I’m just trying to get things straight in my mind. Why, for instance, would a thief come back to a place he’s already burgled and make himself known?’

  Rose had no answer at all. She couldn’t even begin to guess at what the man in the car had wanted, other than to frighten the life out of her. But how had he known she would walk by? Had he followed her? Watched her leave the house this morning? Rose quaked at the very thought. She had felt a little like this last year after the five hundred pounds was stolen. She had been suspicious of every stranger for a while, but it had never seriously worried her that she might be burgled again, even though Anita had warned her to report it to the police. Now she wished she had. At least she could have told them she had seen the car again.