by Annie Groves
‘You just put that back in the hallway where it belongs, Harry Banham,’ she scolded. ‘A place for everything and everything in its place – how else are we going to manage, can you tell me that? If Joe can remember then I don’t see why you can’t as well.’
Harry rolled his eyes but went to do as he was asked. ‘Won’t do any harm, it’s only a jacket,’ he protested, his voice echoing back down the hall.
‘It’s cluttering up my kitchen, that’s what it’s doing. If we all did that there’d be no room to cook.’ His mother wasn’t going to let him get away with anything. Harry was always trying his luck, trying to wind her around his little finger, but she’d had years of practice at resisting his easy charm.
Joe snorted, settling himself down at the well-scrubbed old wooden table, fishing the evening paper out of his back pocket. ‘Hello, Kathleen. Brought little Brian round to see Gillian, have you?’
‘Yes, they’re both in the cot,’ Kathleen began, before Harry burst back in and made his way over to that corner, making eager noises.
‘How are my two best playmates?’ he said in a singsong voice, and Kathleen looked up in alarm.
Mattie saw and intercepted her brother. ‘Leave them to sleep, Harry,’ she said firmly. ‘Brian’s been up half the night and given Kath the runaround – all because he caught your cold. Poor little mite can’t fight it off like you can. He needs his sleep.’
Harry slunk away, chastened but not for long. ‘I’ll teach him to fight once he’s big enough though. I’ll take him down the ring when he can walk, Kath, see if he likes it. It’d be the making of him.’
Kathleen shook her head. ‘I don’t know if I hold with all that boxing, Harry. I know you’re good at it but it always looks awful rough.’
Harry strutted across his mother’s rag rug. ‘It’ll turn him into a real man, Kath. Go on, say you’ll let him try.’
‘Plenty of time yet,’ said Flo, wiping her hands on her faded apron. ‘Give the little fellow a chance to make up his own mind, and don’t be bothering Kathleen about it all the time.’
‘And look what it’s done to you,’ Mattie added. ‘Knocked what little sense you ever had clean out of your head.’
Harry folded his arms. ‘You won’t say that when I bring home the shield. I’ll have all the big promoters after me once I start winning big time. It won’t be long now, then you’ll have to fight your way to your own front door, the crowds’ll be out there shouting for me to sign their autograph books.’
Mattie shook her head. ‘Says you. That’ll be the day. More likely someone’ll bust your nose, then you’ll be all upset that your beauty’s ruined.’
Harry couldn’t help but turn to the mirror over the mantelpiece to check his face. He was good-looking and he knew it, with oak-brown hair that was thick enough to be the envy of all the girls he knew – and he knew a lot. So far, despite having been a keen amateur boxer for several years, his looks hadn’t been ruined and he’d kept his unmarked profile. ‘You’re just jealous,’ he said, ruffling Mattie’s hair because he knew it annoyed her.
‘Gerroff,’ she protested, swiping at him.
Joe cleared his throat, well used to breaking up arguments between his two younger siblings. ‘Give it a rest, you two. Let me read the paper in peace.’ He turned his attention back to the headlines, even though they didn’t make for cheerful reading.
‘Kath had the nurse round to see Brian today, you’d made him so poorly,’ Mattie said, goading her brother once more.
Harry’s face fell. ‘Really, Kath? Was he that bad? I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. You know I’d never do that deliberately.’
Kath nodded. ‘I know. He’s just got a bit of a cold, that’s probably all it is, but he was so hot and I couldn’t get him to settle. Anyway, the nurse was very kind. I think she’s new, I haven’t seen her before.’
‘There, see, Mattie, if you’d stayed on at school like your teacher wanted you to, you could have been a nurse too,’ said Harry.
Mattie tossed her head, and the remaining hair in her bun fell out and tumbled to her shoulders. ‘Leave it out, Harry. You know what it’s like as well as I do. They don’t let you do nothing in those nurses’ homes, it’s worse than being in school. I’d never have been able to marry my Lennie and then we wouldn’t have Gillian, and then you’d be sorry.’
Harry shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. I reckon they’re all hoity-toity anyway.’
Kathleen felt obliged to defend Alice. ‘This one wasn’t. She didn’t speak all posh like some of them. She wasn’t that much older than me neither. She was lovely and kind to Brian and she made me a cup of tea. I felt better for seeing her and that’s the truth.’
Flo put a gentle hand on the young woman’s shoulder. ‘Don’t you let that Harry wind you up. I’m glad the nurse could help. That’s what we pay into the provident scheme for, after all.’
Kathleen’s face flushed red in embarrassment, knowing she couldn’t afford to be part of the scheme, but Mattie came to her rescue. ‘Kath’s right, this one wasn’t hoity-toity. She spoke normal – she’s not from round here though. Anyway, that didn’t matter. If Gillian gets taken poorly I’m going to ask for her specially.’
‘I don’t think they let you do that,’ warned Joe from behind his paper with its picture of Neville Chamberlain on the front.
‘Well, they might. If they do I’m going to tell them I want Alice Lake,’ said Mattie firmly. ‘You can say what you like, Joe. I’m going to try, but touch wood I don’t have to.’
Harry immediately touched his sister’s head, and was swiped away once more.
Joe sighed and folded the paper in half, laying it on the table. ‘I don’t like the sound of this,’ he said quietly, tapping one of the articles. ‘They’re gearing up for something big, that’s what it feels like.’
‘Oh, don’t be like that, Joe,’ said Mattie. ‘It’s all a big fuss over nothing, I bet.’
Joe shook his head, and his mother caught his expression. Normally she’d be the first to encourage everyone to look on the bright side, but her eldest’s face gave her pause. She was increasingly coming to respect his views. Joe was the one who’d buckled down to his lessons and got a scholarship to the technical college, a rare achievement for a boy from Jeeves Street. He knew what he was talking about. Mattie could have done well at school if she hadn’t had boys on the brain, and Harry had only ever shown interest in boxing. But her Joe – she was quietly extremely proud of her firstborn. He was going to make something of his life – if this threat of war didn’t get in the way.
Now she busied herself stacking plates beside the stove. Worrying about the future wouldn’t change it. What mattered to her were the people in this room right now – her children and the friend who was almost a member of the family, along with the precious babies. Only one person was missing, and footsteps outside the back door heralded his arrival.
Stanley Banham pushed open the door and inhaled the delicious smell of his wife’s beef stew. ‘That’s something to come home to!’ he exclaimed, going across to peck her quickly on the cheek, as he wasn’t given to big shows of affection.
Flo Banham beamed. Now all was right in her world. She just hoped it would stay that way.
CHAPTER FOUR
Gwen wove her way along the busy street, automatically dodging the boys running messages for their employers, the housewives shopping for food, the small children too young to go to school. Her mind was whirling and she longed for the peace and quiet of her room at the nurses’ home to think about what she’d just heard.
She’d met up with her old friend Miriam for a cup of tea in a café just off Kingsland Road. Miriam, as always, was immaculately turned out, far more fashionable than Gwen had ever been, even when she’d been young and cared about such things. Miriam’s smart navy suit with wide white-trimmed collar put Gwen’s serviceable old brown jacket to shame.
However, Miriam had looked troubled and Gwen soon found out why. Miriam’s husband ran
an upholstery factory not far from the café, and for years the business had been growing steadily. Now there was a change in the air, and unrest among some of the people working there. ‘It’s that Oswald Mosley, he stokes them up,’ Miriam complained. ‘He tells them it’s the Jews who are behind the threat of war, that it’s all our fault. Damn the man. You know his followers are doing disgusting things, pinning pigs’ heads to the synagogues, defacing our shops. It’s made Jacob really worried. Now, when he goes to business meetings, he says some of his former contacts ignore him.’
‘Mosley’s lot talk about peace though,’ Gwen pointed out.
‘Gwen!’ Miriam had been shocked. ‘You’re never telling me you agree with the Fascists? If you do, you’re not the woman I thought you were.’
‘No, no, of course not,’ Gwen said hurriedly. ‘It’s just that I can’t bear the thought of another war. You know what it’s like, you lived through the last one.’ She sighed. ‘I want to believe there’s hope that it won’t happen. Surely there’s still a chance?’
Miriam had raised a beautifully shaped eyebrow at her friend. ‘And if you believe that, Gwen, then again, you aren’t the woman I thought you were.’
They had changed the subject, turning to news of Miriam and Jacob’s son Max, who was in New York, partly for business and partly taking advantage of the chance to see the world. ‘I think he’s met a girl,’ Miriam confided. ‘He won’t say much – he never does. But a mother can tell.’
Gwen had nodded sagely, even though she had no children of her own.
Now she strolled slowly back to Victory Walk, her unease increasing with every step. She wanted so badly to hope that there wouldn’t be another war. What had happened twenty-five years ago had been unbearable and she didn’t think she could go through it all over again. She glanced at the street sign, thinking that it would be a hollow victory indeed if it was all to start up once more. But she was a realist, not a dreamer, and Miriam’s words had confirmed her growing fears. Miriam wasn’t given to despair; her own life had taught her to make the best of things. So if she was gloomy about the future, Gwen took it very seriously.
She valued her time with her friend. It was a respite from the hard daily work of a nurse, and also it was wonderful to chat with somebody her own age. Fiona Dewar was sensible and kind, but as superintendent of the busy nurses’ home she rarely had a moment for a casual chinwag. Gwen sighed. She couldn’t blame the other nurses for being young – after all, she herself had once been their age. But she could blame them – or at least some of them – for their silliness.
That Mary Perkins for a start. Heaven only knew how the girl had managed to qualify as a nurse. She had no common sense at all. To be fair, Gwen could see that she was good with her many elderly patients, warm and friendly. But she was as daft as a brush. She seemed to believe whatever anybody told her, whether it was likely to be true or not. How on earth had she ever passed her exams?
Then there were those new arrivals. Gwen prided herself on being a good judge of character and she could sense that Edith Gillespie had trouble written all over her. As yet she’d done nothing, but then she’d only been at the home for a week. Gwen decided to keep a very close eye on that one. She didn’t like disruptive influences in the home – that meant everyone was on edge and therefore didn’t work as well. That in turn might mean one of them could make a mistake, possibly a fatal one. She couldn’t allow that.
She was less sure about the other young woman, the taller one with the dark blonde hair. She was much harder to read. So far she’d shown herself to be competent and steady. Fiona had let slip that she had outstanding references. However, she gave very little away. She hadn’t shown any tendency towards flightiness, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t lurking there underneath. Gwen decided to keep a close eye on her as well, just in case. You couldn’t be too careful in this profession.
Pushing open the door to the nurses’ home she was greeted with a whoop of joy from somewhere on the lower-ground floor, probably the common room, and then there was a loud burst of laughter. Two seconds later Mary Perkins and that new girl, Edith, came skidding out into the corridor, hastily turning their run into a walk when they saw her glowering at them from the front porch.
‘I’m glad to see you are enjoying yourselves,’ Gwen said firmly, ‘but I must remind you that there is to be no running along the corridors. What if someone were to come down the stairs, possibly carrying something sharp?’
Mary Perkins nodded. ‘Of course. We were just pleased to find out that we’ve got the same free time this week.’
Gwen moved to one side to let them past. She doubted the pair would be spending their leisure hours studying together, or doing anything useful. She closed her eyes briefly. She really mustn’t condemn them out of hand, and yet she reckoned they didn’t have two ounces of brain cells to rub together between them.
‘Oooh, look, they’re definitely Canadian.’ Mary perched on her stool to one side of the Paramount’s dance floor, eyeing the crowd. She nudged Edith, who was looking the other way, trying to catch a glimpse of herself in one of the mirrors.
‘Careful! You nearly had my ginger beer.’ Edith adjusted herself on her stool. She knew it was a mistake to wear a white frock out dancing, it showed every smudge and spill, but she couldn’t resist showing it off. It had a tight waistband, full skirt and deep stiff collar, and she reckoned it was her best chance of looking suave and sophisticated. Being so short, she often felt like a schoolgirl. The downside of this frock was the pressing need to avoid anyone who might knock over a drink on it. Such as Mary.
Mary herself had piled her hair high and wore an equally arresting dress in turquoise silk, designed to draw attention to her curves. It was drawing the attentions of the Canadians right now, and two broke from their group and made their way over.
‘Excuse me, ladies, but would you care for a dance?’ asked the taller one, and Mary immediately jumped off her stool. Edith took in his friend, a pleasant-enough seeming young man, slightly more bashful but evidently keen to hit the floor. ‘Shall we?’ she said, carefully putting her glass on a small side table.
‘Gosh, you’re a good dancer,’ Mary said after the Canadians had reluctantly retreated in order to catch their breath. ‘I can see you’ve done this before.’ The loud hum of many young people enjoying themselves almost drowned out her voice.
‘I have, though I didn’t come here very often,’ Edith admitted. ‘Tottenham Court Road was too far from where I grew up, and we trained in West London so it was usually the Hammersmith Palais. That’s too far from Dalston though. Anyway, you’re not so bad yourself.’
‘That nice pilot was very sweet and said all the right things, but actually he had two left feet. I had to do all the work while making him think he was leading me.’ Mary sighed. ‘Why is it some grown men can’t count to four? It’s not hard.’
‘I hope he’s better at numbers when he’s navigating,’ Edith giggled, swigging the last of her ginger beer. Then her face fell. ‘Talking of numbers, have you seen the time? We’ve well and truly missed curfew.’
Mary shrugged. ‘We knew we probably would.’
Edith looked guilty. ‘Yes, but Alice will wait up. It’s not fair on her. We’ll have to go. What a shame, here come those pilots again. You explain to them we must be off and I’ll go and queue at the cloakroom.’
Mary nodded reluctantly. ‘All right, although we might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. I don’t want to upset Alice, though. You fetch my cream jacket and I’ll let these nice young men down gently, and won’t tell them it’s because one of them can’t dance for toffee.’
Edith and Mary crept carefully along the back fence of the nurses’ home, having just caught the last bus. The ground behind the home was uneven and tricky to navigate in their dancing shoes, which made Edith want to giggle. She knew that would be a bad idea. It was a warm evening and some of her fellow nurses might have kept their windows open, which would surely mean the
y would hear every unusual noise.
‘Ouch!’ Mary grabbed on to Edith’s arm as she nearly twisted her ankle. ‘That was lucky, I thought I was a goner then. That will teach me to wear heels. I could take them off but these stones will rip my stockings to bits.’
‘Shh, keep it down,’ Edith hissed. ‘We’re nearly there.’ She felt along the fence, testing each panel by gently pushing it, until she found the spot she was searching for. With a little creak it gave way, exposing a gap just wide enough to squeeze through. Carefully she gathered her skirt and hoiked it up so she wouldn’t rip the seam. ‘Mind that nail, don’t want to damage your lovely silk frock.’ She gave a final wriggle and was through.
Mary struggled to fit through the gap, cursing the curves that had brought her so much admiration during the evening. She finally made it, but there was a splintering noise as the adjacent panel gave way. ‘Now what?’ she asked.
‘Shhh. Not so loud. I left one of the common-room windows open just a little and asked Alice to check nobody had shut it before she went to bed.’ Edith made her way across the back yard and approached the casement. ‘This is it. I hope she didn’t wait up for us.’
Slowly she edged the sash upwards, making sure not to let it squeak in its frame, and then pulled herself up and over the window ledge and into the common room. ‘Here, take my hands, I’ll pull you up,’ she whispered, not knowing how agile Mary was. Excelling on the dance floor didn’t mean she would have the strength to climb in through a window.
Mary gratefully accepted the help and struggled to reach the windowsill, using all her strength to make it over the threshold. ‘Gosh, that was harder than I thought,’ she admitted, sinking down onto the nearest chair in the dark room. The streetlight from the side road illuminated the sofas and the dining tables, all neatly laid and waiting for the following morning’s breakfast.
Slowly it became clear there was a tall figure standing by the entrance to the service room, half hidden by the deep shadow. ‘Alice? Is that you?’ Edith called as loudly as she dared.