East End Angel

by Rivers, Carol

  ‘It puts roofs over heads.’

  ‘That it does. You looking for anything to take? Like a souvenir or such like?’

  ‘No,’ Jim answered with a shrug. ‘I was just strolling down memory lane.’

  ‘Well, don’t stroll over that lot. There used to be an old factory over there. A stray dog got his chips yesterday. Blown sky high, it was. Thank God it was only an animal. The bomb disposal blokes said the Luftwaffe dropped bombs on purpose that had faulty timers. Said it was probably one of them buggers that caused all the trouble in the first place.’ He shook his head warily. ‘Anyway, be seeing you around.’

  ‘Yes, cheerio.’

  Jim watched the young rookie walk down the road, his hands clutched behind his back.

  Treading carefully up the debris, Jim stood at the top. His heart raced. In his head, he heard Pearl’s words: . . . just the wall and the chimney . . . There was a loud noise and I fell . . .

  But there was no wall or chimney now. When had it fallen? It was certainly before he had found her. He looked down at his feet, at the small crater.

  Slowly he began to lift the bricks, working deeper into the hole. He found more of the mantel and a broken hearth stone. Deep in thought, he paused, rubbing the dust from his eyes. As he blinked, a human arm appeared. For some while, he remained there, too stunned to move as he stared into the face of the man, that in life, he had once so hated.

  Part Four

  Chapter 32

  June 1949

  ‘Mum! I just sold a bit of china that Gwen give me last time we was over the shop,’ shouted six-year-old Cynthia as she leaped the stairs of the cottage and burst into her mother’s rag-room. Breathlessly she stood before Pearl, her blue eyes as wide as Jim’s and her bouncing sandy curls spilling down her back like a waterfall. She was very tall for her age and, Pearl liked to think, very bright. For sixpence a week, after school and at weekends, she worked in the yard and loved it. She was her father’s girl, as she always had been.

  ‘Gwen will be pleased when she hears that.’

  Cynthia tossed back her head. ‘I gave Fitz an ’a’penny for it. And sold it for a bob.’

  ‘You made a fine profit there.’

  ‘I’ve got more for me ’orse now.’

  ‘Who did you sell it to?’ Pearl enquired as she sifted the cuttings of tailor’s cloth that Jim had returned with last night.

  ‘Some coster from West Ferry Road that knows Dad.’ Cynthia dropped the payment for the china in the big tobacco pouch that hung from the wall. In this she kept all her savings. ‘Do I get me tanner yet?’

  ‘Have you sorted out the bottles?’

  ‘Dillys is callin’. She wants to help out, but I don’t want to give her any of me money. I’m savin’ up for me ’orse, ain’t I?’

  Pearl left the pile of rags and sat down on the chair. ‘Well, you might not get one of those for a while. You’ll have to be patient.’

  ‘Dad said I could after Barney.’

  ‘Yes, well, we don’t want to wish him away, do we?’

  ‘Course not. I reckon he’ll live as long as me. But there’s space in the stable for a little ’orse too.’

  Pearl laughed and brought her daughter close. ‘Listen, clever clogs, if Dillys wants to help out, I’ll give her thrupence for her time. How does that sound?’

  Cynthia’s brow knitted. ‘I’ll get her to clean the brass for that.’

  ‘It’s a dirty job.’

  ‘She don’t mind. She wants an ’orse too.’

  ‘She’s going to have a job fitting it in her house.’

  Cynthia burst out laughing. Pearl loved her laughter, loud and unguarded. No one was ever going to dampen her spirits and that was the way Pearl encouraged it. The East End was a tough place to live, but Cynth was a natural; she had embraced her new life at the yard with a passion.

  ‘Don’t want to squash me brother,’ she grinned, rolling a finger over the slope of Pearl’s belly. ‘How long’s he gonna be in there?’

  Pearl grinned. ‘Next month, in July, he’ll arrive. Unless he comes early like you.’

  ‘Why did I come early?’

  ‘The stork was flying over this way.’

  ‘I ain’t seen many storks around ’ere.’

  ‘Just keep a good look out and you’ll see one.’

  A small voice from downstairs floated up, calling Cynth.

  Pearl patted her bottom. ‘That’s Dillys. Off you go.’

  ‘Can I go out with Dad tomorra?’

  ‘It’s Sunday.’

  ‘Are we going to Gran’s?’ Cynthia frowned, scratching her head as she looked at Pearl.

  ‘If your dad wants.’

  ‘Or I could go to Sunday school. They give us liquorice strips for readin’ the Bible. I can read all them funny names easy–peasy. But they run out of liquorice last time. It was borin’ after that.’

  Pearl grinned as her daughter ran off. In that respect she certainly took after her mother! No, there was never a dull moment when Cynth was around, as Granny Nesbitt had discovered over the years. Whether it was Cynth’s rough charm that had mellowed her, or age, Pearl couldn’t be sure. But time had brought a truce.

  She was about to stand up when the baby kicked. How surprised she had been when Cynth had turned out to be a girl! But this child was quieter, ponderous even. Would Jim soon have a son?

  Her cheeks warmed at the thought and Pearl caught sight of her reflection in the big, rust-pitted mirror Jim had attached to the wall. Her hair was pinned to the back of her head, a scarf across it to keep out the dust from the rags. Her large canvas apron was stretched tight across her bulge and she smiled at the sight of her rosy cheeks and bright green eyes. Behind her she saw the piles of rags and cuttings that were ready for inspection. Over the years she had learned the value of the clothes and assorted wools that were returned on the cart. Rags of all kinds were a totter’s bread and butter. She loved working in her large, well-ordered rag-room in the eaves of Percy’s cottage. How clever Jim had been to bring the old place back to life after Percy’s death. In the space of three years the yard had become a profitable business, and though it was a dirty old trade, there was a good living in it. Jim had put his heart and soul into the legacy he had received; with no family to call his own, Percy had looked on Jim as a son.

  Pearl went to the window overlooking the yard. From here she could see Cynthia and Dillys by the yard gates. Cynthia was arranging the rows of old bottles and Dillys was on her knees, scrubbing the brass.

  She smiled. It was difficult to believe that in such a short time their lives had blossomed to this. Thanks to Percy, they had begun a new adventure that, during the dark days of war, could never have entered their wildest dreams. She hoped Percy was satisfied with what he now saw as he looked down from a higher place. Perhaps he even smiled at the repainted wooden banner across the gates: ‘James Nesbitt, trader in rags, clothing, plants, ferns, china, brass, lead, iron and bottles. Everything considered, bought and sold.’

  Just then the clipclop of hoofs rang out. Cynthia ran to the big wooden gate and lifted the new latch. Barney plodded in, giving a whinny and tossing his head. Bringing the cart to a halt, Jim pulled Cynthia up beside him. Soon she had climbed down to Barney and sat astride his back, leaning her cheek affectionately against his dirty brown mane and feeding him a carrot. Dillys, who was eleven, watched enviously. Jim called to her and swung her up beside him. Cynthia clambered back and took the reins, driving the cart into the stable below.

  Pearl left her workbench and went downstairs, treading carefully over the rag rug she had made to cover the patchwork of tiles. The cottage was small but adequate – three bedrooms and a large room for their living space, and a scullery and kitchen. They had brought all their things with them from Pride Place so they wouldn’t miss their old home too much. Even Cynth’s small bed that had once been her cot; this would meet the baby’s needs perfectly.

  Just then a tall, handsome man with a slight limp w
alked in the door and came to greet her. The sun shone behind him, silhouetting his muscular figure clad in a collarless shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, and baggy trousers.

  ‘Hello, beautiful.’ Pearl felt his warm lips cover hers. She could taste the river’s salt and she trembled with pleasure. ‘You shouldn’t be on your feet, Mrs N,’ he whispered as he held her close.

  ‘I’ve got nothing else to stand on,’ she laughed, her fingers smoothing the muscle of his strong arms.

  ‘So, is the kettle on?’

  ‘No, but it will be. How was your rounds?’

  A corn-coloured eyebrow lifted, meeting the tumble of sandy grey hair above. ‘I’ve been over the prefabs.’

  ‘Roper’s Way?’

  ‘It’s a nice little road now.’

  Pearl nodded, despite a twinge of sadness. ‘I’m glad.’

  He cupped her face in his hands. ‘I did a trade, a bit of metal for that old washboard on the back of the cart.’

  ‘That was a nice washboard.’

  ‘But the metal’s more interesting. Leastways, what it might have been. Come along with me and I’ll show you.’ He took her hand and led her out to the stable. The girls had fed Barney and he was munching his hay.

  Jim unlocked the backboard and nodded. ‘Do you recognize that?’ He pointed to a plate-shaped object, lying on the pile of rags. He brushed off the earth and held it up. ‘This geezer dug it up. Must have been there a good while. But I’ve seen the like of it before when I was with the council. And many times on the battlefield.’ He looked at her. ‘And so have you – once.’

  Pearl touched its rough edges.

  ‘Careful, it’s sharp.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘A bit of casing from a shell. The prefab I traded at was number twenty-four. Well, it was once, a long time ago.’

  ‘Mum and Dad’s?’

  He nodded slowly, waiting for her response. She screwed up her eyes and shook her head.

  ‘Remember you told me when you was in hospital that there was something stuck in the chimney under all that soot? Well, it was this, or part of it. One of them faulty timer devises from the Blitz.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘As sure as I can be. It was what killed Winters, knocked the wall down on top of him and blew you off your feet. Not enough of an explosion to do much damage unless you was standing right by it.’

  Pearl gasped softly. ‘So that was how it happened.’

  ‘It was VJ day, remember, and no one would have bothered about the noise.’ He placed the metal back in the cart and covered it. ‘So the mystery is finally solved.’

  She shivered. ‘Should I tell Ruby?’

  Jim frowned. ‘Is there any point?’

  ‘She never understood why he was found there,’ Pearl faltered, ‘under all that rubble.’

  ‘If the only question she is left with is why did he fetch up in Roper’s Way, it ain’t a hard one to live with.’

  ‘You did the right thing, laying back those bricks.’

  ‘It was either me or the builders,’ Jim shrugged. ‘But I chose to end it all there and let them find him. His end came as our release and he owed you that much, Pearl.’

  She smiled wistfully. ‘They say ignorance is bliss. Ruby is happy now, with her Mr Right.’

  ‘Old Brewer ain’t a bad sort. He sold the factory for her, didn’t he? And bought them a fine house in the country.’

  Pearl nodded. ‘Near to Mum and Dad as well.’

  He took her hands in his. ‘She’s Mrs Brewer now, leading the fine life she always wanted. She’s given our girl her first cousin and the boy is learning to speak the King’s English, just as Ruby wanted. Not bad going, on the whole, is it?’

  Pearl smiled as she looked up at him. ‘But no woman is as happy as I am.’

  ‘I’d give you the whole world if you wanted it. A big house in the sticks and a posh school for Cynth and the nipper. You only have to say.’

  Pearl pressed his hands on her tummy. ‘Can you see our Cynth warming to a posh school? She’s a free spirit, Jim, and always will be. She loves this island as much as you and me.’

  Jim grinned. ‘You’re not wrong there, Pearly-girl. Why, she can drive that old nag as if she was born and bred to this trade. But I’ve got a secret up me sleeve. I’m going to get her a pony, a pretty one with long legs and a good head. I saw a nice little filly over at Houndsditch today. A bloke is flogging her off cheap to buy a van.’

  ‘I told her she’d have to wait till Barney went.’

  He chuckled. ‘Barney has a good few years in him yet. And I want to see me girl riding proper, with a straight back and on a good-looking animal. Going up Rotten Row of a Sunday and showing them toffs what an islander’s made of He drew her closer. ‘Every day counts, Pearly-girl. Why should we wait for tomorrow? You and I of all people should know that.’

  Pearl drew his face down and kissed his lips tenderly. She didn’t know why their lives were so blessed, or why fate had brought them along this path. For her and Jim, the war had brought heartache and happiness, as it had for so many others. But here in his arms, on the dirty patch of earth they now called their own, no one could be richer in love than the Nesbitts.