by Annie Groves
Billy was about to escort them to a small table covered in a maroon velour cloth, when there was a commotion from the opposite side, followed by clapping, as Harry came into the area, followed by Joe. Edith instantly sprinted across and flung her arms around him. Harry picked her up and twirled her around, his happiness complete, as the photographer took yet another set of pictures.
Major Ingham indicated that they should all join him at the larger table where he had installed himself, along with another man in army uniform. ‘Well done again, Banham,’ he said, slapping Harry heartily on the back. ‘And may I ask who is your very beautiful friend? I beg your pardon, friends?’
Harry introduced Edith, Alice and Mary, then took a seat in between Edith and the major.
‘Some champagne, I think,’ said the major. He waved to the barman, who had obviously been prepared; he hurried over, carrying a tray, on which he’d balanced an ice bucket containing a glistening green bottle and an assortment of fluted glasses.
Edith eyed it in amazement, but Mary nodded as if she was rather more used to such goings-on. ‘Don’t mind if I do,’ she said as the other officer popped open the cork.
Harry accepted a glass, as it would clearly have been rude not to, although for two pins he’d as soon as had a pint of bitter. Joe exchanged a look with his brother, evidently wishing the same, but he too accepted a flute and raised it. ‘To Harry,’ he said.
‘To Harry,’ everyone echoed, and Harry beamed in appreciation, one arm around the back of Edith’s chair.
Mary turned her smile on the officer who’d opened the bottle and began to charm him, while he seemed only too happen to listen.
Joe, who had wondered if this might turn out to be an awkward occasion, breathed a low sigh of relief. He’d had champagne exactly once before in his whole life, and he suspected Harry had never tried it. He was pretty certain Billy hadn’t either, although their old friend was slugging it back as if there was no tomorrow and the officer had already topped him up. Mary was perfectly at home, but then, Joe had clocked her accent on their first meeting and could assume she had been brought up in a very different social circle to that of Jeeves Street. He looked down the table at Alice, who was tentatively sipping at her glass, hardly drinking anything. He hoped he could catch her eye … Joe guessed this wasn’t the sort of night out she was normally used to and was keen to talk to her, to put her at her ease, though she and Edith seemed to be enjoying themselves. Joe supposed that as nurses they were accustomed to meeting all kinds of people and instantly establishing a rapport so maybe she didn’t need to be put at ease. It wouldn’t do to be shy and bumbling if you had to persuade a patient what was in their best interests and had only a short time in which to do it. At that moment, Alice looked down the table towards him and saw him looking at her. He smiled and mouthed, ‘Are you all right?’ at her and she shrugged and nodded, returning his smile with a wry one of her own.
Reluctantly, he turned his attention back to the conversation.
‘… in the event of war breaking out in the near future,’ the officer was saying earnestly.
‘Oh, surely not!’ Mary exclaimed. ‘It’s too bad. I can’t believe that’s really going to happen.’ Her hand flew to her throat.
Joe suppressed a groan, as everyone else looked at Mary in sad amazement. Did she really think that it could still be avoided? Joe’s limited knowledge of the young woman had taught him that she was a perpetual optimist, not exactly switched on when it came to current affairs – unlike Alice, who he’d swiftly realised followed them obsessively, or, by the looks of it, Edith, who might not come across as the studious kind but was proving herself to be very quick on the uptake in all manner of ways.
‘I would love to agree with you, my dear,’ said the major, his serious grey eyes resting on Mary, ‘but I am afraid it is merely a question of when, not if. We would do well to make what preparations we can, with what little time is left to us before it all begins.’
Mary paled and bit her lip.
Major Ingham turned back to Harry. ‘This brings me to one particular reason I wanted to speak to you,’ he said. ‘Forgive me for being so direct but, as I just said, we might not have the luxury of time. Have you thought what you will do once hostilities are underway? Have you joined any of the reserves?’
Harry shook his head. ‘Not yet, but I won’t chicken out if it comes to it,’ he said. ‘I want to do my bit. I hate that Hitler, and those followers of his who’ve been running all over the East End and stirring up trouble. We catch any of those on our patch, we throw them out of the pub.’
The major nodded, as if he’d expected nothing less. ‘Then you’ll probably have worked out that there is likely to be conscription of one kind or another. You’ – he gazed at Harry, Joe and Billy in turn – ‘are just the sort of young men who’ll be in demand. If you act now, you stand a better chance of getting a choice in what you do, rather than being forced into a situation that doesn’t suit you.’
Joe cleared his throat. ‘What do you mean, exactly?’ He met the major’s eyes and didn’t back down.
The major clasped and re-clasped his hands, which rested on the deep red tablecloth. ‘I suppose what I’m trying to do is get my bid in before anyone else does, or at least with regard to your brother. You, Harry,’ and he swivelled around again, ‘are a genuine talent in the boxing world and I’d hate to see that go to waste because you are called up to serve your country.’
Harry bridled. ‘I just said, I intend to serve if it comes to it. I won’t ask for a way out just cos I’m a boxer.’
‘No, no, that’s not what I had in mind,’ said the major hurriedly. ‘You may know that I was inter-services champion myself when I was not much older than you. You may also know that the army produces most of the champions in that competition. That’s not to say that the Air Force and Navy don’t have good coaches, or that they don’t take boxing seriously – but if I say so myself, the army does it better. You may want to take that into consideration.’
Harry took a slow sip from his glass. This wasn’t how he’d expected the evening to go. He glanced down at Edith, who had an alarmed expression on her face. She fiddled anxiously with the stem of her flute and looked swiftly away, and already he knew her well enough to understand this was because she didn’t want him to see she was afraid.
‘Harry,’ said Joe, ‘we can’t make any sudden decisions. What the major has to say is valid but we have to talk to Ma and Pa.’
‘Of course,’ said the major. ‘Don’t rush into anything – but don’t leave it until it’s too late, either.’ He reached into his pocket. ‘Here’s my card. I’ve written an address on the back. If you do decide to take my advice, go to that recruiting office and explain I have sent you. I’m sure your local office is very efficient but, if you do sign up with us, I want to know that I can personally oversee your progress.’
Harry blinked slowly as he tucked the card into his own pocket. To be under Jimmy Ingham’s wing – that was more than he could ever have hoped for. He hadn’t really thought about signing up yet, but it made sense in many ways. He didn’t mind his current job, in the local hardware store, but he only worked there to give himself lots of time for boxing. It wasn’t exactly a reserved profession and nor was it something he wanted to continue for the rest of his life.
‘I want to talk it over with Edith too,’ he said, squeezing her hand.
Edith’s chin went up. ‘You must do what you think is right, Harry,’ she said with just the smallest shake in her voice. ‘I’ll be proud of you whatever you do. You’re a brave man, I knew that already, but you showed us all this evening. I’ll support whatever decision you make.’
Joe nodded, impressed by this young woman who’d so recently come into his brother’s life, but who was showing herself to be mature beyond her years. Again, he brought himself up short. As a nurse, she must have seen things that most women her age would have known nothing about. Also, if it came to war, she’d be in the th
ick of it. Mary, meanwhile, looked as if she might cry at any moment.
He glanced along to where Alice was sitting. She’d calmly listened while all of this was going on and Joe was struck again by her poise and demeanour. Watchful and unruffled. She was the sort of person this country would need when the going got tough, he thought. He’d seen her only once since she’d returned the book, and that was just briefly, but what she’d said had stuck in his mind. She’d been with her teacher friend, Janet Phipps, and he’d bumped into them on what turned out to be the last day of the school term. Alice had told him that all the parents had just been given a letter, asking them to listen for announcements on the radio that would tell them when the children needed to be evacuated. She and Janet had prepared a plan for the junior classes of St Benedict’s. Mary might not want to believe it, but people all around her were getting ready for war.
Edith swallowed a gulp of champagne and quietly prayed that it would give her courage. She’d been so proud of Harry when he’d won, and for a wonderful few minutes she’d entertained the idea of another kind of life – being feted as the girlfriend of a champion, her picture in the papers, going to parties and having one long good time. Already that bubble had burst. Reality was staring her in the face. War was coming, but Harry would fight for his country just as hard as he’d fought in the ring. Maybe this way he could do both. She had to be glad that he’d been given the chance to make that choice.
She didn’t want to think about what it would be like without him, waiting to hear how he was, what he was doing, if he was unhurt, or even if he was still alive. It had been bad enough for that hour or so in the pub garden. How much worse would it be to endure months of not knowing? She clenched her jaw, trying not to give way to her emotions. She’d only known Harry for a couple of months but it was as if he’d always been there, an essential part of her existence. Now she was just going to have to learn to be apart from him. It wasn’t fair. But she couldn’t break down and show her disappointment now. It was the night of his triumph: he was her hero, and she had to remember that, hang on to it, whatever the future was about to bring.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
September 1939
‘Pinch, punch, first of the month,’ said Fiona Dewar brightly as she joined Gwen at the breakfast table. They were the only ones down so far. The dawn had not long broken and the birds could still be heard calling outside in the trees at the back of the yard.
Gwen looked up. ‘You’re very cheerful today.’
Fiona tipped her head to one side. ‘No point in being gloomier than necessary, Gwen. There’ll be enough of that to come. It’s down to us to buoy our spirits up, and we must set an example to our younger colleagues.’
Gwen spooned up some porridge. ‘I wonder how they’ll cope,’ she said. ‘It’s going to be the biggest test of character any of them will ever have faced. I worry about them – I have some serious doubts where a few of them are concerned.’
Fiona looked kindly at her old friend. ‘You don’t need to worry, or at least not yet. Worrying before the event never changed anything, you know that as well as I do.’ She buttered her toast. ‘Better make the most of these everyday luxuries, hey? I do like my toast smothered in this stuff.’ She took a big bite.
‘Miriam’s told her son to stay in America,’ Gwen said. ‘I think she’s trying to organise an escape plan if it becomes necessary. She’s already got a family staying in her spare rooms – they’ve come over from Austria and can barely speak a word of English.’
‘The poor things.’ Fiona’s expression changed from lively to sad and then to resolute. ‘She’s doing the right thing. It doesn’t hurt to plan. We will all need our organisational skills soon.’
Gwen ate her food thoughtfully. ‘Should we think about offering first-aid training to the general public? That might be reassuring for them – and it could help to keep some of our flightier young colleagues in check.’
Fiona couldn’t help laughing. ‘Oh really, Gwen. Sorry, no, that’s a good idea, but they aren’t a bunch of schoolgirls, you know.’
‘No?’ Gwen raised her eyebrows. ‘You do know that Edith Gillespie has only just returned before ten o’clock on a number of occasions, having been caught flagrantly breaking curfew with that Mary Perkins a matter of days after arriving. Those two lack discipline, no two ways about it.’
‘Oh, surely not.’ Fiona set down her last slice of toast. ‘There have been no complaints about their professional conduct, have there? In fact the reverse. They are both assets to our establishment, I’d say.’
‘That’s as maybe,’ said Gwen darkly, ‘but it’s a breach of discipline all the same. If they are missing their sleep they will find their ability to concentrate is affected. That’s a fact.’
Fiona sighed. ‘I realise they shouldn’t be defying the curfew, but all the same, as long as they aren’t making mistakes in their work, then I’m inclined to let them have their fun while they can. Edith was in the paper last week, wasn’t she, with that new local boxing hero? Good-looking chap, I’ll say that much. Bit of a catch, you might say.’
Gwen gave her colleague a level look, as if to indicate she herself would say no such thing.
‘I’d better get cracking.’ Fiona stood up. ‘Plenty of letters to attend to first thing. Do tell Gladys I’ll need her to go to the post office if you see her, won’t you? I’m going to be rather busy.’
Gwen raised her eyebrows as she swallowed more porridge.
Fiona nodded. ‘Today’s the day. I have to find Alice Lake and then we have to organise the evacuation of St Benedict’s. Trains are leaving Hackney Downs at noon.’
Alice gazed along the platform, trying to gauge how many children had yet to be recorded on her clipboard. They ranged from the very smallest in the reception class up to young teenagers, the big brothers and sisters of the pupils she had met. There were mothers who had very young children, who had chosen to accompany them to wherever they were being sent – somewhere safer than London’s East End. A few were carrying babes in arms. All had the regulation gas masks in their carriers, and most clutched bags of belongings.
Alice was impressed that so far most of them, mothers and children alike, had managed to stay calm, even though it must have seemed overwhelming and frightening to the very little ones. It was hard enough to explain to the older children. Some clearly thought it was a great adventure, holding their paper bags of food as if they were off to a grand picnic. Others cowered behind adults or their friends, unwilling to show how upset they were, but unable to make a game of it.
Janet Phipps bustled along to where Alice stood. ‘How are you doing?’ she asked, her customary calm demeanour just about still in place.
‘Not too bad,’ said Alice, hoping her confidence wasn’t misplaced. ‘I’ve got all the names as far down as that bench there. I’m just about to take the last ones.’
‘Good,’ said Janet. ‘There are some faces missing, though. I’m sure of it.’
‘How can you tell?’ asked Alice.
‘You get used to it when you’ve been teaching big groups as long as I have,’ Janet assured her. ‘Ah, here comes trouble. Mrs Barnes is on her way over.’
‘Who is that?’ Alice asked.
‘Dotty’s mother,’ Janet said out of the corner of her mouth as the woman approached, and sure enough Alice caught sight of the familiar little figure with blonde ringlets holding on to the woman’s coat-tails. When the girl noticed her, she ran across, waving.
‘Look, Mummy, it’s the nurse,’ she called, as Alice crouched to speak to her.
‘Hello, Dotty. I see you’ve got your gas mask, just like you were asked to,’ Alice said, observing that the mask in its container was almost the same size as the child’s body, she was so small.
Mrs Barnes was highly agitated, much more so than her daughter. ‘Miss Phipps, Miss Phipps,’ she began, her voice straining with anxiety. ‘You’ve got to tell us, where are we going? How do we know we’ll be safe? Should
we really go? What’s best for the children? I can’t put Dotty in danger, I just can’t.’
Janet took a quick inward breath and turned to face the panicking mother. ‘Now, Mrs Barnes. There’s really no need to worry. We’ve got it all in hand.’
‘No need to worry!’ echoed the woman in disbelief. ‘Why else would all the children be lined up like this? There’s every need to worry, it stands to reason. My Dotty’s sensitive, she doesn’t like crowds, you see.’
Alice thought the little girl was coping very well, watching everything unfold with interest and showing no signs of hating the crowd. Perhaps she was used to seeing her mother in a tizz.
‘We’ll look after Dotty,’ Janet began, but Mrs Barnes interrupted.
‘I’m not letting her go anywhere without me. I’m staying right by her side. She’s never spent more than the length of a school day away from me and she won’t cope. I’m going too, wherever it is you’re sending us.’
Janet nodded, acknowledging that as Dotty was so young her mother would be entitled to go with her, but wondering in reality who it was who would be unable to cope. She felt obliged to test the waters.
‘Now that’s very commendable, Mrs Barnes, but rest assured Dotty will be looked after very well, and you shouldn’t feel obliged to come, particularly if your husband needs you at home.’
‘Obliged!’ The woman’s face flushed red. ‘That’s got nothing to do with it! My Dotty is the most precious thing in my life and I can’t trust anyone else to look after her, not even for a day. You could be sending them off to anybody. They might have no idea of how to look after children. Dotty gets bronchitis; I can’t rely on any old Tom, Dick or Harry to know how to care for her.’
‘Don’t distress yourself, Mrs Barnes,’ Janet said, realising there would be no separating them. ‘We don’t want Dotty to become upset, now do we? You can certainly go with her if you feel that is the right thing to do.’ She paused. ‘Have you everything you need with you?’