Florrie, Hettie, Jess and Sadie came down to stand in the cold hallway. They crowded together for comfort. ‘We gotta be patient,’ Florrie said. ‘They’ll look after him and send him back for proper nursing when he’s strong enough.’
Frances nodded. Her friend, Rosie Cornwell, took care of cases like that. ‘Soon as he gets back, well be able to tell. We can go and see him for ourselves . . .’ But she remembered the terrible injuries Rosie described; men without limbs, shell-shocked, scarred, with terrible stammers, or blind from exploding bombs. Sadie began to cry.
‘Stop that, girl, we ain’t lost him,’ Duke told her. His hand still shook as he took hold of the banister rail. ‘He’s one of the lucky ones. We gotta remember that.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
A dark gloom serried on Duke and his family as they waited for news of Robert. A day went by. Hope flickered that his wound would be slight, that his recovery would be swift and complete. After all, he was a strong, fit young man with a good fighting spirit. If enemy shells had failed to finish him off, there was no reason why the doctors and nurses couldn’t patch the wound and put him back together as good as new.
This was the opinion of people up and down Paradise Court. They read the bullish reports of battle and transferred the illusion of national invincibility to individual cases like Robert Parsons. He knew how to take care of himself; none better. He’d lived on his wits all his life, and no one had ever got the upper hand. They held in their minds a picture of the tall, strapping lad manhandling great barrels down into the cellar, and the girls remembered him in particular as brazen, handsome Robert Parsons, the ladies’ man.
‘Any news?’ Annie Wiggin asked Florrie when she came into the bar for her evening drink. Though she still looked askance at Florrie’s bossy ways, she preferred a quiet word with her rather than bothering Duke directly. Annie felt his unspoken hurt keenly, but she had developed the tact to keep her distance. She knew all too well the torment of waiting to hear news of a loved one. Her old man had put her through two whole years of it before she finally gave up hope.
‘Who is it you want to know about this time, Robert or Ernie?’ Florrie was up to her elbows in soap suds, washing glasses. ‘If it’s Ern, there’s nothing new. We’re moving heaven and earth to get him off. His trial comes up in less than a month.’
‘It’s bleeding criminal!’ Annie said, fired up all of a sudden. ‘That’s what it is. Makes my blood boil to think of the poor sod banged up in some prison cell. What d’they think they’re up to, accusing an innocent man?’ She took a savage gulp from her full glass, then calmed down. ‘You been to visit?’
Florrie nodded. ‘Ett took me along with her last week. White as a sheet, he is, and pining for home. He don’t know what’s hit him, not really.’
‘Any rate, he’s in good hands.’ Annie had kept in touch with Frances about the work being done by Mr Sewell on Ernie’s behalf. ‘We gotta hope for the best.’
‘Ett says we gotta trust in Jesus,’ Florrie said. She turned to lean across the bar and lowered her loud voice. ‘Tell me if I’m speaking out of turn here, Annie, but Jesus by himself ain’t enough, not to my way of thinking.’
‘It’s a start, though. With Him on your side, things is bound to get smoother.’ Annie didn’t consider herself religious, but she paid lip service to God’s existence as a kind of insurance premium. ‘I go along with Ett. I think we should trust Him.’
Florrie’s eyes narrowed further. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t against a well-meaning prayer or two, don’t think that. All I’m saying is it’s a good job we got Jess and Frances both doing their bit and all. And it’s a good job we got British justice. Twelve good men and true. I’d rather put my trust in them, if you want to know.’
Annie’s mouth went down at the corners. She glanced sideways to make sure that Duke was well out of hearing. ‘No, Florrie, I’d put my money on Jesus if I was you. Them other scales is weighted against the likes of Ernie, believe me!’
‘No thanks,’ Florrie snapped back.
Annie saw she’d put her man-sized boot in it. ‘Don’t mind me. Of course, we gotta hope for the best, I know that.’ She took another swig from her glass. ‘Anyhow, what’s the news from France? Are they sending Robert home for a drop of Blighty?’
Florrie slung a damp tea-towel across one shoulder and picked up a wooden tray full of clean glasses. ‘They are. We got word this morning. They put him on a train last night; he gets back within the hour.’
‘Well, that’s good, ain’t it?’ Annie’s face lit up with genuine pleasure. ‘That’s what you all been waiting for.’ She nodded at Duke. ‘I hear you’re getting your boy back tonight!’
He came across. ‘We got a telegram. Hettie’s going up to Guy’s to see him.’
Annie faltered. ‘He ain’t coming home then?’
‘Not straight off. He has to stay in the hospital.’ Duke tried to keep a steady gaze and a level voice. ‘They want to keep an eye on him for a bit, that’s all.’ He changed the subject. ‘Now then, Annie, what’s this I been hearing about you giving young Amy Ogden her old job back? I never knew business was that brisk these days.’
Annie shuffled on her seat. ‘It ain’t brilliant, I gotta admit. But she’s been out of work a fair while now, and I promised her ma I’d keep her out of harm’s way. It’s coming up to Christmas; you gotta do your bit.’
‘There’s a lot wouldn’t.’
‘Well, she ain’t a bad little worker. She keeps going on about the bleeding weather though, and I have to tell her to shut it or it gets me down. Otherwise I ain’t got no complaints.’ She finished off her beer.
Duke picked up the glass. ‘Have another one, Annie? It’s on the house.’
Annie beamed at sour-looking Florrie. ‘Don’t mind if I do, Duke. And you tell Jess and Hettie they can come down my stall and get special rates any time they like. Anything they need. I hear their own little business is taking off nicely these days. Cotton thread, darning wool, shoulder pads, bias-binding; I got everything they need nice and cheap. You just tell them that from me, you hear.’ She settled in for a good evening. Trouble brought out the best in folk, she thought. If you couldn’t trust Jesus or justice, at least you could be sure of your friends and neighbours.
When she heard the news about Robert’s home-coming, Sadie went straight down to Charlie’s house. Everything had been so gloomy lately that this ray of light made her jump up to visit, even though she knew Charlie didn’t like her to call. ‘Tell Pa I’m at Charlie’s,’ she shouted up the street to Frances, just coming home from work. ‘Ain’t it brilliant? Robert’s been sent back home!’
Frances nodded quietly and went up to see Jess and baby Grace. ‘I wish to goodness Sadie would calm down a bit,’ she complained. ‘She’s a harum-scarum, and it ain’t as if she’s a little kid no more.’ Frances’s own mood had been thrown off balance by a chance word of Billy Wray. Rosie had called in to tell her that his wife, Ada, had been admitted to the women’s hospital and was very ill.
Jess glanced up from the bed, where she sat cleaning and changing the baby. ‘Leave off, Frances,’ she said. ‘It’s been tough on Sadie lately. She’s only thrilled at Rob being sent home, that’s all.’
Frances sighed. ‘We ain’t heard what’s wrong with him yet, though, have we?’ She sat heavily at the other side of the bed.
‘Ett’s just gone off to find out. We’ll know before too long, at any rate.’ Jess kept busy. She hoped it was bad enough to get him sent home for a good long time, not too bad to have done permanent damage. With luck, they’d have him at home for the trial. He’d be able to come and give evidence in person. Every cloud had a silver lining, she thought.
‘Give me a cuddle of my favourite niece!’ Frances declared with sudden warmth. She bent to pick up the child, gathering her close and breathing in the smell of clean skin and talcum powder. Grace, fully awake and curious, began to poke her chubby fingers against Frances’s lips and nose.
>
Dolly came slowly to the door to answer Sadie’s knock. ‘Why, it ain’t your birthday, is it?’ She stood on the doorstep, arms folded. ‘What’s up? I ain’t missed nothing important, have I?’ She too knew that Charlie was funny about Sadie coming to the house. ‘No!’ Sadie laughed out loud. ‘Not yet. But Rob’s been sent back. He’ll be arriving any minute. I came to tell Charlie!’
Dolly nodded and eased herself back down the corridor. ‘In that case, you’d better sit in the front room while I go up and get him.’ She smiled pleasantly in response to Sadie’s infectious excitement, glad there was something to smile about at last. Maybe the girl would cheer up her moody, touchy son. ‘He ain’t at work with Mr Leigh tonight, so he’ll have a long face on him if I know anything about it. You got your work cut out with him, girl.’
Sadie was shown in, and sat down on a rickety chaise-longue in the Ogdens’ empty front room. The sofa was covered in torn black calico, with its horsehair stuffing sprouting through in places. It wobbled noisily on the bare, uneven floorboards. The grate lay empty in spite of the cold weather, and the walls, once decorated in fawn-flowered wallpaper, were patchy with damp, dark stains. Soon she heard Dolly’s footsteps return downstairs and go through into the kitchen. Several nervous minutes later, she recognized the sound of Charlie’s own scuffing feet.
As the door opened, she sprang up to greet him. ‘Guess what, Charlie, good news!’ she began, darting forward.
Charlie frowned and backed off against the closed door. He felt the bare, bleak meanness of his family circumstances more than he could put into words, but he turned it against Sadie herself. ‘I thought I told you not to come bothering me here.’
She paused. The smile faded. ‘I didn’t think I was bothering you,’ she murmured.
‘You didn’t think, full stop.’
‘I thought you’d be glad, Charlie.’
He moved uneasily towards the window, avoiding her gaze. He didn’t want to be deflected from saying what he knew he must say. Her big, dark, liquid eyes would put him off. ‘Robert gets back tonight, Ma told me,’ he said, his voice flat. He stared out at the row of identical houses opposite; no gardens, no railings, no net curtains, nothing. ‘That’s good.’
Sadie stood there unnerved. She looked a fool, she realized. Dolly could never keep her mouth shut, not even for a second. Sadie’s insides started to churn. She clutched the buckle of her belt and began to back off towards the door. ‘I just wanted to tell you myself, that’s all.’
Charlie nodded. He had to say what he’d decided one night last week when he sat in the projection room at the Gem. Pictures of America flickered on the screen; a great train journey across the Wild West, depicting the exploits of cowboys and gun-slingers. The world was a vast, unexplored territory. The dusty little room was dark. It smelt of hot metal, it whirred as the film rolled past the bright lens. He was stuck in prison and the camera showed him freedom. ‘I want us to stop walking out together,’ he said in an empty way. ‘It ain’t no use going on, now the winter’s here. It ain’t as if we can ride out on Sundays, is it?’ He glanced round to judge the effect of his words. The room fell quiet.
‘But we can go again in spring,’ Sadie said at last. She stared at the back of his head. ‘Can’t we, Charlie?’
‘No, we can’t.’ He hated her docility. Didn’t she realize he was chucking her? Why wasn’t she angry?
‘Why not? Do you have to give your bike back? We’ll get you another one, then it’ll be fine.’ She came close up behind him, reaching out her hand.
‘It ain’t fine!’ He turned on her. ‘Ain’t you heard what I said? I want us to stop walking out together, that’s what. I’m sick of it!’
Sadie stepped to one side, averting her face as if he’d struck her on the cheek, half-turning away so that her long plait swung round in front of her shoulder. She clutched both hands together.
‘What did you have to come here for?’ he raged. ‘Why can’t you stay out of my way? You’re always hanging round, showing me up. Can’t I do nothing on my own? Can’t I?’ His head was thrust towards her, then he rushed past her, pushing her off balance. ‘I ain’t ready to be tied down,’ he said finally. ‘Can’t you see that?’
Sadie gathered herself. He still stood by the door, one hand on the handle. It seemed he wanted her agreement to break off on his terms. Well, he could think again. ‘I ain’t tied you down, Charlie Ogden. I enjoyed being with you, and either you lied to me or else you enjoyed being with me too. That ain’t tying you down. I listened to all your big ideas and I never said nothing. But you never listened to nothing I said, I know that now. I listened while you rabbited on about being hard done by because you ain’t got a garden or a room of your own. Well, poor thing! I ain’t got a room of my own neither. I got one brother wounded in the war, no one knows how bad, and one other brother in gaol accused of murder. I got a sister struggling to bring up a baby on her own. And I think they’re the bleeding best there is!’ She paused, but only to draw breath. ‘I love my family, Charlie Ogden, and I loved you too. Not any more. You don’t know the meaning of the word, and I’m sorry I wasted my time waiting for you to find out!’ She swept past him at the open door. ‘Fine words and big ideas, Charlie. That’s you from top to bottom. Well, you’d better just go off and do them fine deeds so you can live with yourself, and I wish you lots of bleeding luck!’
Charlie watched her go. The front door slammed.
‘Blimey, where did that come from?’ Dolly asked from down in the kitchen. She’d overheard every word. ‘I got her down for a little mouse, but she put you in your place, son.’ She sat sewing stockings. ‘Not half!’
Sadie’s feet hardly touched the pavement as she flew back up Paradise Court. For the first time in her life she’d been deeply hurt and angry, with Charlie and with herself. But she quietened herself as she pushed through the decorated doors and went upstairs. No one would want to hear her troubles, what with Robert due back tonight. She looked flushed and her heart beat fast as a cat’s. ‘Ain’t Ett back yet?’ she asked. Baby Grace was up with a touch of colic, being walked back and forth by Jess, who’d administered gripe water. Frances had the ironing board out by the fire. Freshly ironed clothes lay all around in warm piles.
Charlie waited to confide in Maurice Leigh when he arrived home from work. He came out of the bedroom on to the landing and waited for the older man as he heard his key turn in the lock. ‘I had a word with Sadie and I put a stop to things,’ he told him, his face grave. ‘I told her I didn’t want to be tied down.’
Maurice stood, hands in pockets, his hat tipped back. ‘No complications?’ He remembered his own old, confident motto.
Charlie nodded. ‘It’s one thing walking out every now and then, but I don’t want her hanging around my neck, do I?’
Maurice agreed. ‘Course not. But you thrown a good-looking one away there. You sure you know what you’ve done?’ He kept his expression serious, though Charlie’s tragic face was a bit over the top in the circumstances. He was young and intense.
Charlie frowned. ‘Looks ain’t everything.’ But he had a sharp flash of memory; Sadie’s perfect features stared out from a mass of rich, dark hair as his arms encircled her in the Turkey Trot. ‘Brains is important too. She gotta be able to keep up. I ain’t gonna be round here much longer, see.’
And then Maurice did smile at the forced bravado. ‘Good for you. Beauty and brains. Sounds perfect.’ He nodded. What would your ma say if I took you up the Duke for a quick drink before closing?’ Maurice put a chummy arm around Charlie’s shoulder. ‘Let’s go down and find out, shall we?’
Charlie hesitated. ‘Mind you, I wouldn’t want to bump into her, would I? Sadie, that is.’
Maurice tutted. ‘Hair of the dog,’ he declared. ‘The sooner the better. Face up to things, come on.’ He had his own reasons for wanting a last drink at the pub before closing time. Besides, Charlie had some growing up to do, in his opinion, and he didn’t mind lending a han
d.
That tea-time, Hettie had insisted on making the short journey to Guy’s Hospital alone. ‘They won’t want crowds of people hanging around the first night,’ she warned. ‘There’ll be a whole bunch of our boys coming home wounded on that train, and you know what Rob’s like; he won’t want a fuss.’
Reluctantly the others agreed. ‘Be sure you ask him everything; how long he’s got before they send him back. Every last thing!’ Jess was most particular. ‘Don’t forget nothing.’
‘No need to jump the gun,’ Duke grumbled. ‘Give the boy a chance.’ He squeezed Hettie’s hand as she set off. ‘You look nice and smart,’ he said. She was dressed in her greeny-blue outfit and feathered hat.
Hettie grinned. ‘Yes, well, I didn’t want him dying of shock on me,’ she conceded. ‘He ain’t had time to get used to me being in the Army yet.’
‘Me neither. But you go and cheer him up, girl.’ The old man watched her step out along the dark street. It didn’t seem five minutes since the big send-off. This was modern war, modern life. It moved along too fast. He shook his head clear of hopeless thoughts and went back to work.
Hettie entered the huge doors of the hospital and stepped into an alien world. Outside was the monstrous roar of traffic, the clerks coming home from work, builders clattering up and down scaffolding, factory hands streaming put to the shrill sound of hooters. Inside, all was calm, clean and quiet. Nurses glided down corridors, shrouded in white aprons and nun-like head-dresses. A doctor stuffed a stethoscope into his jacket pocket and went from one ward to another. There was a glimpse of dormitory-style beds and men in pyjamas sitting playing cards at a table by a radiator.
Hettie turned on the spot, wondering where to go next.
‘Name?’ An overweight man behind a desk inside a glass-partitioned room stuck his head through an open window. Visitors were an untidy intrusion, apparently.
‘I want to see Robert Parsons.’ She stayed calm, unbuttoning her jacket in the overheated atmosphere.
Paradise Court Page 27