‘It’s not a spider in there, is it?’
‘No. Look. You don’t have to stand back, it’s not going to bite you.’ He picked up the box and took the top off, and at first all I could see was cotton wool, but then Harry pulled some of it away and there, right in the middle, was a little baby bird. It must have been very young, because it was all naked and folded up, but its eyes were open. ‘I found it in the street. Must have fallen out of a nest.’
‘It’s sweet. Are you going to keep it as a pet?’
Harry shook his head. ‘It can fly away when it’s strong enough. Been feeding it with a fountain-pen filler. Have to get it some worms, soon.’
‘Ooh, I don’t fancy that much. But it’s so kind, looking after it like that. Most people wouldn’t bother.’
Harry looked embarrassed. ‘I don’t know why I did it, really. I just thought it deserved a chance.’
‘Everyone deserves that.’
We stood there for a moment, looking at this tiny thing, and then Harry said, ‘Now, I’ve got to get back to the post, but first I’m going to take you home.’
When we got to my door, he said, ‘Look, I know it’s none of my business, but I don’t think you should go out tonight.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m stopping at home. I’m all in.’
‘I’ll be dropping by the shelter, later. See how you’re getting on.’
‘Thanks. For the tea and…everything.’
I went in and lay down on my bed, but I couldn’t settle. Tried to listen to the wireless but they might as well have been talking Japanese for all I understood of it. I kept thinking how I’d have to go back out there tomorrow or there wouldn’t be the money for Tommy, or the rent, or anything, but each time I tried to imagine myself talking to the men and bringing them back and all of it, I had this terrible panic come over me, like someone had put a black hood over my face so I couldn’t breathe, and my chest got tight. I tried to look at it coldly, I kept telling myself it’s just a business like any other, but I felt sick thinking about Lily and I didn’t want to be on my own—I hadn’t heard the warning but I thought, there’s no point to staying here, I’ll get down to the shelter now and make myself comfortable.
I took a magazine with me, but I couldn’t get interested in it. I sat and watched the people come into the shelter with their blankets and bits and pieces, one pale face after another, all dogtired, and I thought, it’s so hard, and everyone’s cold and dirty and frightened, but they’re still hanging on like grim death—we all are—and for what? What’s the point? Why does anyone go on with it? I thought, I bet there’s a load of people in Germany right now, all doing the same as us, and they’re thinking the exact same thing, except they’d be thinking it in German, not English. You struggle on and you get bombed or you end up like Lily. Oh, I had the blues all right.
Even little Tommy, when I thought of him—well, that usually cheers me up no end, but I thought, Dora’s his mum, and she and Joe would manage somehow if anything happened to me, and I suddenly imagined him as a grown man, saying, ‘Oh, Aunt Rene, I don’t really remember her, she died when I was a kid, and I never realised till years later that she was on the streets…’ and that would be that. And then remembering that moment when the midwife put him into my arms that first time and I held him, and what it felt like… I wasn’t going into one of those places for unmarried mothers where they treat you like dirt and work you half to death, not likely, so Dora said I could have the baby at their flat and she’d tell the midwife I was a widow, which she did. But all the way through, she kept coming to the bedroom door and saying, ‘Keep the noise down or we’ll have the neighbours up,’ and I did my best, but it took a long time and the pain was terrible. I thought I’d never get through it. But then when it was over and the midwife gave him to me, and I sat there holding this little thing in a shawl and I thought, now I know what it’s all about: love. So much love—overwhelming. But then you forget that, and life goes on, and you don’t really know the reason for any of it. So that made it worse, getting sentimental like that, and then the raid started and I thought, I might as well just walk out into the middle of this and have done with it.
I was thinking about it when I heard a noise in front of me, someone clearing their throat, and I looked up and the first thing I saw was Mrs McIver’s alarm clock hanging in front of my nose, and her little birdy hand clutching it like a claw. Do you know what my first thought was? Blimey, it’s the grim reaper. Like the pictures I’ve seen in church, except this was a she not a he and it was an alarm clock instead of an hour-glass, and Death’s wearing a black hood, not a battered old hat that would disgrace a seaside donkey. Of course, now I say it, it doesn’t sound anything like, but that’s what I thought at the time.
‘Hello, dear.’ I was astonished because she’d never spoken to me before, ever. ‘I’m sorry about your friend.’ I said it was nice of her to say so, and she said, ‘It’s a terrible business.’ Then she pulled this packet out of her bag, wrapped in newspaper, and said, ‘Here you are,’ and put it down on my lap. ‘Go on, open it.’ So I unfold the paper, and blow me if it isn’t a lamb chop.
I said, ‘I can’t take this, it’s half your meat ration.’
‘You have it. Keep your strength up.’
‘It’s very kind—’
‘Oh, don’t thank me, dear, it isn’t much. You enjoy it. Now then, I’ve got a message from Harry. He says to tell you he’s been called away but he’ll be coming round as soon as he can.’ Then she went off to her place, just as usual, pulled her pencil out of her hat, licked the end, and got stuck into her crossword.
You could have knocked me down with a feather, and I wasn’t the only one. I could see all the old girls’ faces, the whole row—I had the parcel with the chop in my lap and they never once took their eyes off it. Like being watched by a lot of hawks. In the end I felt so uncomfortable that I picked it up and shoved it into my handbag. I swear I heard a whimper when I snapped it shut.
I must have dozed off some time after that, because a loud noise woke me up with a jerk, and I saw Harry was there, dealing with a couple of troublemakers—drunks, I think. Seeing as he was occupied, I took the chance to powder my nose and give my hair a bit of a pat, and when he’d sorted out the nuisance he came over and sat down by me. That gave the old girls more to gawp at because they’d all woken up with the racket, except for Ale Mary who was snoring fit to beat the band. I was starting to feel like an animal in a zoo, so I said, ‘Would you mind if we went outside? I could do with stretching my legs.’
‘Why not? It’s been pretty quiet for a while.’
He walked me round to the mobile canteen and got us both mugs of tea. ‘It was nice of you to come by, Harry.’
‘I said I would, remember? How are you feeling?’
‘Oh, I just needed to get away from that lot. Mind you, though…’ I told him about Mrs McIver and the chop and I opened my handbag to show him. ‘Can’t let it out of my sight for a minute. But it just shows you, you can’t tell what people will do, can you?’
‘Oh, she’s a good sort,’ said Harry. ‘She was friends with my mum, way back. Anyone in trouble, she’d be straight round there.’
‘With her alarm clock?’
‘No, but she had this set of Apostle spoons. Very fancy. Always had them in her bag, and when she came to our house she’d take them out and put them on the table and give them a little polish, and they’d sit there till it was time for her to go home. Never went anywhere without them, not even the shops. She was worried they’d get stolen. First night I saw her in the shelter, I said, ‘Got your spoons?’ and she was ever so flustered, telling me she’d never had any spoons worth the name and she didn’t know what I was talking about, and the next day she came by the wardens’ shelter and gave me a right ticking off about how I wasn’t to mention them because you don’t know who’s listening.’
‘You’re having me on!’
Harry shook his head. ‘Honestly. But she’s rig
ht really, because we have had robberies—poor old girl last week, over in Marylebone, she lost all her savings. Had it in her bag and someone walked off with it, so you be careful, won’t you? Now, I’d better get off to the post, but I’ll walk you back.’
On the way, he told me he’d been to the Black Horse on the excuse of checking the blackout, but they didn’t know anything more than I’d told him, except that there were some swearing blind they’d heard Ted tell everyone he’d done away with Lily, and others saying he hadn’t said anything of the sort, and nobody knew what to think. But he did tell me that it was Walt, the barman, who’d gone back with Ted and called the police.
‘Was he there?’
‘No. The police might want to talk to you, Rene.’
‘Me? Why?’
‘Well, you must have been one of the last people to see her—I mean, that they know about.’
‘But if they know it’s Ted that’s done it, why do they need to bother with me? I can’t tell them anything.’
‘I’m not saying they will, just that they might, that’s all.’
I said, ‘I’ll never go in the Black Horse again. I couldn’t bear it—the idea of Ted standing there, covered in blood, saying he’d killed Lily…it’s horrible. I honestly don’t think I could bring myself to go through the door.’
Harry said, ‘I don’t think…well, nobody said anything about him being covered in blood, and it isn’t something you’d forget in a hurry.’
‘Well, that’s what I heard. They might have been making more of it, but even if it was just a bit of blood, it’s still horrible. And they still don’t know what happened to Edie. Not that they’ll care. They’re only bothering with this because Ted was caught red-handed, and that makes it easy for them.’
Harry said, ‘Look, Rene. Why don’t you come up and have a drink with me, tomorrow? We don’t have to go near a pub if you don’t want to. We can go to a café.’
‘That’d be nice. Shall I come to the post?’
‘No, come to my flat. In the afternoon. I’ll have a bit of time then. We can have a cup of tea.’
When we were at the shelter, he said, ‘Now, you will stay here till the All-Clear, won’t you?’
‘Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere tonight.’
‘Good. You look after yourself, and I’ll see you tomorrow. And remember…’ he put his finger to his lips, ‘don’t breathe a word about those spoons.’
Despite Lily and everything else, I couldn’t help laughing.
Saturday 28th September
Jim
No chance of going anywhere in this—you can’t even see across the airfield. Shame, I’m in a perfect mood to go up and get stuck in. Got stuck into bacon and eggs, instead. Gervase is at the end of the table, pecking at his plate. He looked up and saw me, blushed like fury, then ducked his head again. Ginger wandered in and pulled up a chair. ‘You wouldn’t be hungry, by any chance?’
‘Starving. Get some more coffee, would you?’
He tilted back his chair and signalled a waitress. ‘By the way,’ he said, ‘Where did you get to on Thursday night?’
I shrugged. ‘Went for a walk.’
‘Bloody long walk. Got a popsy tucked away somewhere?’
I winked. It was enough. Gervase could hear all of it, but I knew he wouldn’t say anything. He didn’t even look up.
‘What about you?’ I asked Ginger.
‘Popsy.’
‘Who’s the lucky girl?’
‘From the village. Name’s Mona. Actually, it wasn’t much fun. She was a bit cut up.’
‘Why? What did you do to her?’
‘Oh, it wasn’t me. It’s this friend of hers. Got herself attacked a couple of weeks ago, and now she won’t leave the house. Mona wouldn’t stop talking about it. God knows why—I don’t know what she expects me to do.’
‘Who attacked her?’
‘Some man. Pilot, Mona says.’
‘What, from here?’
‘Nowhere else, is there?’
‘Did he hurt her?’
‘Not badly, I don’t think. More of a scare than anything.’
‘Really? What did he do?’
‘Not really sure.’ Ginger looked uncomfortable.
It was queer. When Ginger said it was a pilot, I thought: It must have been me. I knew it had happened, but it hadn’t really registered. I couldn’t remember what I’d done, or anything. Not details. I’d chalked it up as a failure, and that was that.
I felt excited. I wanted Ginger to talk about it, to know how much the girl had told his girl, but also to have the pleasure of hearing about it, knowing I’d done it, even if it hadn’t gone according to plan. ‘Well, he might have throttled her, or hit her, or—’
‘I don’t know. Let’s leave it, shall we? I had a bellyful of it last night.’
‘But what did he do?’
‘Oh, you know…’ Ginger rolled his eyes. ‘Wanted to have his way with her.’
‘Did he get it?’
‘Not by the sound of it. Megan—’
‘Is that her name—Megan?’
‘Yes. She told Mona he tried to kill her.’
‘Why would he want to do that?’
‘Exactly. That’s what I said—doesn’t make sense. She probably made the whole thing up.’
‘Sounds like it.’
‘Was she a bit tipsy at the time?’
‘Oh, probably.’
‘Well, it’ll teach her to be more careful in future.’
‘Look, I don’t know.’ Ginger shrugged. ‘What I do know is that Mona’s worried sick, and I was bored sick, listening to it.’
‘So are we.’ Davy, sitting backwards on his chair, flicked a spoonful of porridge at him.
‘Hey! Cut it out!’
Davy flicked another spoonful. ‘Right on target! I knew it was good for something.’
‘Piss off, Dunlop.’ Ginger snatched a napkin and mopped at his jacket.
I wondered if Ginger’s girl was the one in the car, with the lipstick. I hope it was—if it put the wind up her, all the better. She won’t be so cocky anymore, will she?
I said, ‘I was reading about an attack where a man strangled a woman, in London. I think I’ve still got it, somewhere.’ It was strange. I’m not sure if I meant to say that, but I wanted the conversation to continue, to hear more about Ginger’s girl, and the other one, Megan, and I wanted to see Ginger’s reaction to my piece of newspaper.
He stopped wiping his jacket, and looked up. ‘Don’t fancy that much.’ A third spoonful of porridge hit his cap. Davy whooped, then slipped off his chair and ducked under the table as Ginger picked up the milk jug and stormed after him.
I decided I’d try and show it to him later. I swung my feet up on his chair, out of the way, and reached for my cigarette case. Wrong pocket—the only thing in there was a scrap of material. When I pulled it out, I could see that it was a very small envelope, made of blue material, with something inside it. It felt like paper. A cigarette card. Robert Taylor. I turned it over—no message on the back, just the usual business. For a moment, I wondered why someone should have slipped it into my pocket, but then I remembered: I had it from the brunette. Who knows, it might be lucky.
A heavy body rolled against the legs of my chair, and then a hand appeared over the side of the table and pitched the now empty milk jug towards me. I managed to duck in time and it sailed over my head and smashed against the wall. Davy’s head emerged, on a level with an empty plate—‘Howzat?’ and immediately disappeared.
I had another look at the cigarette card. Robert Taylor…girls like film stars. I thought that if I had a girl, like Ginger, I could give her this—might be rather funny, knowing where I got it. I could make up some story… Oh, yes, that sister of mine who died, I could say it was hers. What Mathy said about his sister in the car crash, that’d do. And I’ve got that photograph, as well. Better slip that in my pocket, next time I go to London. I’ll have a look round for somethi
ng that looks the part—shouldn’t be too difficult. What was it that astrologer said in the paper the other day? Do not hesitate to try something new. Well, that’s what I’m doing. Lots of new things, in fact.
My cigarette case was in the other pocket, empty. No idea I’d smoked so many. I glanced down towards Gervase, but he’d gone. Davy and Ginger were still pummelling each other under the table, but I could see Corky at the other end of the room, with the paper.
‘Corky? Corky!’
He didn’t answer, so I went and stood in front of him. ‘Corky!’
He jumped. ‘Oh, sorry. Gone a bit deaf.’
Davy emerged from under the table, with Ginger in an arm-lock. ‘Try blowing your nose.’
‘What?’
Davy pointed at him, then reached down and pinched Ginger’s nose. Ginger blew. ‘Bloody hell!’ Davy let go of him and he ran out of the room.
‘I’ve tried that,’ said Corky. ‘Doesn’t make any difference.’
‘Well, what do you expect?’ grumbled Davy, wiping his hands on his trousers. ‘Up and down like a whore’s drawers all week. Have you tried poking them?’ He put his finger in his own ear to demonstrate, and wiggled it about.
‘That doesn’t work, either.’
Ginger put his head round the door, gave Davy a quick burst with a soda siphon, and made a run for it. Davy dashed off in pursuit. I looked round the room to make sure there was no one else there, then pulled up a chair beside Corky. ‘I killed a girl last night,’ I said, casually. ‘I can recommend it. Quite as much fun as killing Germans. No flying, of course, but it has its compensations. You should try it.’
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