East End Jubilee

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East End Jubilee Page 30

by Carol Rivers


  Rose wished Benny hadn’t said that. It reminded her of things she didn’t want to think about. She too had always felt Eddie’s case had been handled badly, as had his appeal for bail and yet, deep down inside, a little voice warned her that much worse could have resulted from the past five years of her husband’s dubious activity. And despite Eddie swearing black was blue that running for bookies was no great sin, she knew that British justice would never see it that way.

  ‘I’d better go and help Neet,’ she said brightly, not wanting to return to the depressing subject. ‘We’re eating in the yard. It’s such a lovely day. And the clearing up will be easier.’ She looked around Benny’s front room, at the decorations pinned to the walls, the balloons and paper chains, the odd assortment of Union Flags that had been resurrected from Coronation Day. Only the sign painted in Red Cardinal polish with an old toothbrush announcing Benny’s fortieth was new.

  ‘I won’t get under your feet,’ Benny nodded as he took his chair and lifted the newspaper.

  Rose knew he would be asleep in five minutes, with his head rolled on to his shoulder and the paper fallen on his chest. She closed the door and went into the kitchen. Em, wearing her green turban and Neet, in slippers and loose pinny, were laughing together at the sink. The kitchen table was extended to support a dozen plates all full of savoury snacks and, in the middle, was the birthday cake. Made entirely of sponge and covered in blue butter icing, forty white and blue candles were placed in a circle around the edge; ‘Happy Birthday Benny’ was written in large blue looped icing and a tiny picture of a lorry was glued to a knitting needle and stuck in the middle. Em and Anita had been decorating it all morning whilst Rose had made the sandwiches, at which she was now expert.

  ‘Rosy, you look lovely!’

  ‘Do I?’ Rose blushed as her friend and sister turned to stare at her.

  ‘I haven’t seen that dress in ages,’ Anita frowned.

  ‘You should wear it more, it suits you.’ Smiling approvingly, Em wiped her hands on the towel.

  ‘It’s me Brixton dress. I wore it the first time I saw Eddie.’ The plain, dark green dress with the full skirt had been hidden at the back of the big wardrobe where it wouldn’t remind her of that awful place. But, for some reason, today she had brought it out and tried it on together with the light brown court shoes that had nearly killed her as she walked from home through the foot tunnel to Greenwich and searched for a bus.

  ‘I suppose I’d better try to do something with my hair,’ Em said suddenly, touching her turban. ‘Is there anything more to do, Neet?’

  ‘No, ta, love. We’ve got an hour or so yet before the gannets arrive.’

  ‘The food looks lovely,’ Rose said after her sister had gone.

  Anita whipped off her apron, pulled out a chair and sank down on it. ‘Make a cup, love, would you? I don’t half fancy a fag, you know.’

  ‘How long is it this time?’ Rose put on the kettle and set out two cups. Benny wouldn’t want one, he’d be in the land of nod by now.

  ‘Three months. And bloody killing me.’

  ‘Have something to eat instead.’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘What about a drink then? Something stronger than tea.’

  ‘That’s not a bad idea. I’ll pour a sherry. Take the kettle off the boil, will you? The sherry’s in the cupboard by the sink.’

  Rose replaced the cups in the cupboard and took out the bottle of cream sherry. The glasses were already on the draining board along with a dozen bottles of beer, a bottle of gin and a big bottle of lemonade and cream soda.

  ‘Pour one for yourself and all.’

  ‘It’s a bit early.’

  ‘Yeah, well, it’s a special treat,’ Anita grinned as she took the glass and sipped, smacking her lips enthusiastically. ‘Fortieth birthdays only come round once.’

  ‘And fiftieths.’

  ‘Yeah, and sixtieths.’

  Rose giggled. ‘All right then.’

  For a little while Rose and Anita sat in the sunny summer atmosphere of the kitchen with the back door thrown wide open and the soft breeze drifting in. The children’s voices could be heard over the rooftops and the lazy drone of a bee rumbled not far away. Rose smiled as she sipped her sweet, rich sherry. The bee must have lost its way since there were very few flowers in the neighbourhood to settle on. The Mendozas’ backyard was as barren as her own despite the kudos of the Heath Robinson bathroom extension that Benny had thrown together years ago. But no one would notice this afternoon as the house admitted all and sundry to enjoy the celebration.

  ‘Cheers,’ Anita murmured, suddenly leaning forward to clink the rim of her glass with Rose’s.

  ‘Here’s to Benny,’ Rose nodded.

  ‘And Eddie, bless his cotton socks.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘You ain’t seen that car around lately, I suppose?’

  ‘No. But I keep me eyes peeled all the time.’

  ‘Well, whatever you do, don’t go charging at it with a broom again!’

  Rose grinned. ‘I wished I’d broken their windscreen.’

  ‘They nearly broke your neck, you daft cow,’ Anita said, suddenly serious. ‘If Benny hadn’t bowled you over first they might have succeeded.’

  Rose didn’t like to think of what might have happened if Benny had not taken lightning action. In fact, she’d never seen him move so fast. But she still didn’t regret what she’d done. And maybe it had frightened them off, seeing as how most of the street had turned out to see what was going on.

  Anita’s eyes mellowed then and she raised her glass. ‘Anyway, here’s to Olga.’

  Rose took another sip. ‘Yes, to Olga.’

  ‘I’m still trying to fathom out what happened at the funeral,’ Anita sighed contentedly as she stretched her back against the chair. ‘What with Len wearing that bloody great shawl and going off at a tangent. To be honest, I didn’t understand a word he said.’

  ‘It was a special prayer,’ Rose explained as Len had explained to her. ‘Olga didn’t have any family, so he delegated himself to say it. Apparently Olga would consider it a privilege to have it said for her.’

  ‘Well, for sure she ain’t gonna come back to thank us,’ Anita commented dryly, ‘and what was all that ripping up of her dress about?’

  ‘It’s a sign of mourning,’ Rose answered. ‘Usually a blouse or shirt is used. A parent would tear the left side to denote a deep loss, others tear the right side. Then their dead are buried in white shrouds with no pockets because everyone comes into this world with nothing and goes out with nothing.’

  ‘Well, that makes sense,’ Anita nodded. ‘But there wasn’t any flowers and to my mind, flowers make a funeral.’

  ‘I know, but Jews feel that the bereaved families shouldn’t have to spend more than they can afford. I think that’s very sensible meself.’

  ‘So you’d consider packing Eddie off in a cardboard box and a sheet?’ Anita posed with a smirk.

  Rose grinned. ‘He’d kill me if I did that. Eddie’s a smart dresser as well you know.’

  ‘Yeah – and he’s always got something in his pocket.’

  Rose’s smile faded and all traces of humour left her face. ‘No doubt a betting slip or two if the truth be known.’

  Anita smiled kindly. ‘Don’t take it to heart, love. Floating ain’t the crime of the century, you know.’

  Rose took a long sip of sherry. ‘It isn’t so much what Eddie did but that he didn’t tell me.’

  Anita reached out for the sherry on the draining board and poured herself another. ‘I’ll top you up.’

  Rose watched as her glass was refilled. ‘I still can’t believe it,’ she repeated vaguely. ‘That for five years my husband was off every day running for the bookies.’

  ‘Ah!’ Anita wagged her finger. ‘But you didn’t want to know, did you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Eddie wasn’t allowed to bring his business home, was he?’

  ‘But that was differe
nt.’ Rose was beginning to get upset. ‘Street trading is legal.’

  ‘Maybe it didn’t pay.’

  ‘Then why didn’t he tell me?’

  Anita shrugged. ‘I dunno, love.’

  ‘It’s not as if I badgered him for more than he gave me. I thought we were happy as we were.’

  ‘But perhaps he wanted more,’ Anita suggested. ‘There’s a lot to your old man, girl, more than you think.’

  Rose frowned. ‘Such as?’

  ‘Well, he married you for a start,’ Anita leered. ‘He backed a winner there.’

  Unaccountably, tears pricked in Rose’s eyes. ‘If I’m so special, why did he get himself nicked?’ Her voice was getting high and wavery. ‘He wouldn’t have told me all those lies neither.’

  ‘Hang on, love.’ Anita stared at her. ‘That’s a bit out of order. Eddie didn’t go down specially to piss you off. And he never told any lies to speak of. Just left a bit out, that’s all.’

  ‘Yes, like what he’s really been up to for the last five years.’

  Anita reached across to grasp her wrist. ‘Come on now, you’re just upset. You’ve bottled everything up when it might have been healthier to scream at him or clock him one.’

  ‘How could I? He’s in prison.’

  ‘Well, I’m willing to bet a lot of them women don’t let prison stop them saying their piece.’

  Rose couldn’t deny that she’d often heard raised voices, especially in Brixton. But she and Eddie had always tried to be civilized and not let their emotions overwhelm them. Perhaps she had, as Anita suggested, bottled up her feelings to such an extent that it was unhealthy.

  ‘Eddie’s the man he always was,’ Anita reminded her firmly. ‘He loves you and the kids to distraction. You mean the world to him. He ain’t perfect that’s true, but no man is. Now, you gonna help me get this lot out in the yard and forget all those morbid thoughts?’

  Rose sniffed and stood up. ‘Sorry. It must be this dress.’

  Anita laughed. ‘Well, if you feel like that, go and change. Put on something nice and cheerful. And a word to the wise – let your hair down – literally, tonight, won’t you, girl? To put it bluntly, you ain’t had a good rough and tumble for the past twelve months and since you and your old man were as regular as clockwork on Friday nights, it ain’t no wonder you’re edgy.’

  Rose felt her cheeks crimson.

  Anita burst into laughter. ‘Well, it’s true. Made Benny and me quite randy when we heard you through the wall, at it like rabbits you were.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘’Spect you hear us an’ all?’

  Rose nodded. ‘Only when your window’s open and the wind’s in the right direction.’

  The two friends looked at each other and burst out laughing. By the time Rose went home to change, the sherry was working wonders.

  Rose hadn’t seen Benny quite so drunk before. He was sitting in between his mum and dad, Mary and Luis Mendoza, his cheeks aflame under his dark skin, an almost identical expression of mirth on his face to his father. They were singing a Guy Mitchell number called ‘She Wears Red Feathers and a Hula-Hula Skirt’ and every time it came to the chorus, the two men would stand up and wiggle their wide hips, causing Mary Mendoza to shake her head in hopeless exasperation at the pair who might have been identical twins had not Luis lost almost every strand of his curly, dark hair.

  The record player was being operated by David who, Rose thought, had grown very handsome in the last six months, springing up from a boy into a young man. At fifteen he was as tall as Alan and had a confident smile, all set to eclipse the charm of his brother. The two Travers sisters had been invited to the party and Iris was curled up on the floor beside David. She wore blue jeans and plimsolls and had looped her glossy dark hair in a ponytail.

  Rose was sitting with Matthew on her lap on a chair brought in from her kitchen; Bobby, who was attempting to attract Em’s eye as she offered round the sandwiches, sat next to her. The small space in the middle of the room had just been vacated by Alan and Heather Travers who had performed the jitterbug, young arms and legs swinging precariously. But as soon as David played Johnnie Ray’s ‘Faith Can Move Mountains’ at a much slower but stronger tempo, they disappeared.

  ‘A bit rich for me too,’ Bobby shouted as Em squeezed her way out of the crowded room and Johnnie Ray’s voice crescendoed. Bobby’s eyes swung disappointedly round to Rose.

  ‘What sort of music do you like?’ She felt a little sorry for the young man who was now a regular visitor to Ruby Street. The washing machine had never lacked for an overhaul, the yard was dug over at the end and grass seed laid, though it had never dared to mature. Will’s tent, her nephew’s new bedroom, was inspected regularly for leaks or rips and the guy ropes adjusted. The crumbling bricks on top of the wall at the bottom of the yard that backed on to the lane had been replaced with new ones. The shooting brake was always to hand, Rose’s bike frequently oiled and the chain repaired. The children accepted him without question and Rose noted, as she looked at her son, Matthew was giving him a wide, bubbly smile.

  Bobby grinned back, catching the baby’s hand with his finger. ‘Me favourite’s Doris Day. But I like Dean Martin and Nat King Cole.’

  Rose nodded. ‘“Because You’re Mine” is nice.’

  ‘Do you and Em ever go to the pictures?’

  Rose shook her head. ‘No. But me and Eddie did once in a while. He likes Bogie and I like Ingrid Bergman. Our favourite was Casablanca, of course.’

  ‘Have you heard about these 3D effects? You wear red and green glasses that give you a bit of a fright as if the things were right in front of your face. Me brother took his three kids to a horror film called House of Wax, and really rated it.’

  ‘I didn’t know you had a brother.’

  ‘Yes, Ted. He’s thirty-eight, two years older than me. They live in Norfolk. I only see them at Christmas. They’re smashing kids. And I get on well with Nancy, his wife.’ Bobby softened his voice as the record ended. ‘I’d like it if they lived closer, really.’ Matthew blew more bubbles and Bobby laughed. ‘He’s a lovely baby, Rose.’

  ‘I think so,’ she agreed, drawing her hand softly over the thick, dark cap of baby hair. ‘Would you like a family?’ she asked as she watched Bobby’s eyes drink in Matthew’s cherubic face.

  ‘You bet I would.’ Bobby’s soft blue gaze lingered on the baby. ‘Trouble is, all my time has been taken up with building the business. At the end of the war, I had plenty of ambition and no responsibilities, so I gave it me all. But it does get a bit lonely at night when I finish for the day.’

  ‘You’ll have to get out more,’ Rose advised. He was a good-looking young man and if her sister didn’t snatch him up, someone else would.

  ‘Yeah, but who with?’ Bobby grinned, and Rose fancied she knew the answer but guessed Bobby’s courage failed him when it came to asking Em for a real date.

  ‘You know, in five years’ time, white goods are gonna be big business. I told you once a woman deserved as much help in the house as she could get. And I’ve been proved right,’ he said as another record hit the turntable.

  ‘Are you trying to sell me a vacuum cleaner now?’ Rose kept a straight face as Perry Como’s ‘Don’t Let the Stars Get in Your Eyes’ drifted smoothly over the room.

  Bobby looked at her startled. ‘No of course not—’

  Rose laughed. ‘I’m only teasing. We’re very grateful for the washing machine. I don’t know what we’d have done without it.’

  ‘I could sort you out a second-hand Hoover—’

  ‘I was joking, Bobby.’

  ‘But I want to help,’ he said raising his voice above the music. ‘I’d like to do more, but I don’t want to make a nuisance of myself.’ At that moment, Em entered the room and Rose saw Bobby’s face brighten. Eagerly he followed her passage through the crowd, his conversation with Rose forgotten.

  She lifted Matthew into her arms and decided it was about time her sister did something other than hand roun
d sandwiches. She made her way to where Em was bending, offering sausage rolls to Mabel and Fred Dixon who had just parked themselves on the wooden chairs by the door.

  ‘Em?’

  Her sister turned round. ‘Oh, Rosy, would you like one?’

  ‘No. But Bobby would I’m sure.’

  Her sister, looking flushed and attractive in a peach-coloured, slim-fitting dress with a white belt, glanced across the room. ‘I . . . I—’

  ‘Just go over and talk to him, won’t you?’

  ‘But I’m helping Neet to—’

  ‘No, you’re not. I am now. Take two sausage rolls and I’ll keep the plate.’

  ‘But you’ve got Matthew.’

  ‘He’s due for a sleep in his pram. I’ll put him under the stairs and he’ll go off.’

  ‘Well, I—’

  ‘Em!’ Rose grabbed the plate, balancing Matthew in her other arm. ‘Do as you’re told, won’t you?’

  The two women looked at one another, then Rose began to smile, the twinkle in her eye enough of a message to send Em on her way, if rather reluctantly. Rose deposited the plate with Mabel and told her to pass it round, then trod over the legs and feet that lined the way to the space in the corner where Iris and David were squatting by the Dansette record player.

  ‘Have you got something by Doris Day?’ she asked, and David nodded.

  ‘Yeah,’ he grinned, shuffling through the pile of large plastic records. ‘“Secret Love”. It’s brand new.’

  ‘Perfect,’ Rose smiled. ‘Play it next, will you, love?’

  Rose danced her feet off that night. Alan taught her new steps to the jitterbug and Benny, despite falling over twice, managed a cha-cha, whilst Len Silverman waltzed her round the house and out into the yard. She stopped for a sherry only to be pulled up by David and Iris who started a conga. They made a human snake, hopping and kicking out into the road and around the houses, knocking on the doors in the twilight. The Pipers and the Prices and the Greens all came out and the kids and the dogs ran riot the length of Ruby Street. Someone brought out a harmonica and played it to perfection as the stars twinkled above. Cissy and Fanny plundered the food and drink then sat on their chairs outside Anita’s in their winter coats and scarves, though it was a warm and sultry evening.

 

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