Family Pride

by Family Pride (retail) (epub)

  “Auntie Bessie?” she queried.

  “Down the shops with Mrs Smoky,” he said.

  “I’ll go and see Granfer, then,” she said, waving the paper on which were written the names and addresses of the customers she had visited.

  “What is it? You look pleased with yourself.”

  “Nothing, I’ve been to see a couple of customers that no longer buy from us to find out why, that’s all. Granfer asked me to,” she added before he could complain that it wasn’t her place to do so.

  “Let me see what you’ve got there,” He stood up from the chair and took the paper from her. “What are these figures beside each name?”

  “They say they’d paid and were asked to pay again. I think someone forgot to write the amounts into the paid column of the cash book. It’s happened before, although not with so many and not with such large amounts. Mrs Trew’s was almost three pounds. That’s a lot to pay twice. No wonder she left us and went to Greens rather than pay.”

  “Mrs Trew has never paid me almost three pounds, I’d have remembered. It is me you think forgot to enter them, isn’t it?”

  “Well, you’re new to it and—”

  “Well you can think again. Dai Smoky can be forgetful, mind. And you aren’t that clever at remembering things! It could have been you, or your mother, she can be careless, too.”

  “Mam wouldn’t forget to do something like enter a payment she’d—”

  “Or the woman could be lying, have you thought of that? No, it has to be me, doesn’t it?”

  “All these? Come off it, Uncle Gerry,”

  “Don’t talk to me like that!”

  “I don’t just think—”

  “What on earth is going on here?” Fanny burst into the room and glared at Gilly. “I could hear you from the top of the street!”

  “These customers have paid their bills and been asked to pay again and I think he knows something about it!”

  “Have you been calling on these people?” Fanny asked as she ran an eye down the paper Gilly had snatched from Gerry and handed her.

  “They’ve all left us to buy from Greens. Granfer asked me to go and ask why.”

  “How did Granfer know?”

  “He – he knows everything that goes on here.”

  “Because you tell him,” Gerry said grimly. “Proper little spy aren’t you, Gilly? Running up there decking to him about all that goes on down here. Don’t you trust your mother and your Auntie Bessie? Is that it?”

  “Why did all these people get asked to pay when they already had, Mam? Ask him that?”

  “Are you accusing me of carelessness, or something more, young lady?” Gerry demanded.

  “I’m going to talk to Granfer.” Gilly turned to escape through the door but her mother caught her, holding her arm tightly.

  “You’ll do no such thing my girl and I want you to apologise to Uncle Gerry, right now.”

  “I won’t. We’ll ask Granfer and Auntie Bessie what they think first.” She made to grab the piece of paper again but Gerry took it from Fanny’s hand and threw it into the fire. He looked directly at Fanny as he said softly, “I don’t want to hear another word about this, or I leave. D’you understand? I leave and I will never come back.” Gilly saw the look of unhappiness on her mother’s face and drooped in resignation. Then she went to the kitchen and made Gerry his cup of tea.

  Chapter Five

  One Saturday evening while Gilly’s mother was out with Gerry and Auntie Bessie was visiting Edna and Vic Worthy, there was an air-raid. Gilly called for Ivor to help bring Granfer down to the shelter but he either didn’t hear or couldn’t be bothered to reply. When she went to look for him he had vanished. Gilly ran up the stairs as the harsh wailing sound of the siren invaded the house, frightening her with its urgency, knowing she was alone.

  “That Uncle Ivor’s supposed to be here to keep me company while Mam and Auntie Bessie are out,” she grumbled as she ran into Granfer’s room. “Come on, Granfer, let’s get you down them stairs.”

  “Your Mam and Auntie Bessie out?” The candle that glowed beside his big bed wavered in the draught from the door and revealed a crafty grin on his small wizened face. “Both of them out and Ivor for the purpose playing deaf?”

  “Yes, come on, we have to get a move on.”

  “Gilly, you go but leave me here. I’ve always wanted to watch from the window and there’s just as much chance for me if there’s a direct hit up by here as down by there. Go on, girl, let me have a bit of fun.”

  “Granfer, I daren’t. Mam’ll kill me if I don’t at least try to get you to safety.”

  “Try you did, I’ll tell them that, but I was too heavy for you. Too many of Bessie’s damned scones,” he added with a chuckle. He allowed her to help him out of bed and to the window where he pushed aside the heavy curtains after blowing out the solitary candle.

  “I’ll stay with you,” Gilly said firmly.

  “No you won’t, you do as your Mam says.”

  “As you said, Granfer, Mam isn’t here, is she?”

  “On her way she’ll be for sure, to see you’re safe.”

  Gilly shook her head, unseen in the darkness. “They’ve gone to the dance-hall down near the beach, she and Uncle Gerry. The wardens won’t let them come all this way home in a raid. They’ll have to shelter with the rest ’til the All Clear sounds.”

  “Hush your chattering, girl, I can hear the planes.”

  For almost half an hour the raid went on, too far away for them to be frightened but near enough for them to see the planes streaking through the night sky being chased by the traces of bullets. Beams of light searching for targets criss-crossed the sky and the occasional crump of a bomb falling filled the night with sound.

  When the raid was reaching its end the sky glowed red with distant fires. The street far below, lit by an eerie light, was empty of people and the sound of the fire-engine rattling past made them look down, their heads touching the window for a better view.

  Far above, unseen by Gilly and Granfer although fire was coming from one of its engines, a damaged Heinkel bomber was shedding its remaining bombs. The pilot hoped to get his stricken plane home once he had lightened its load. With no target in mind, he pressed the release as he passed over the town before heading out over the sea.

  The first explosion made them duck below the sill and squeeze their eyes closed. The second was closer and it terrified them into immobility. The third bomb shattered the window and threw them backwards across the room, light dazzling them and giving Gilly the horrifying impression of being caught up in a ball of flame.

  The brightness of the flash and the deafening blast disorientated her for a moment, then she stood up stiffly, like a badly jointed doll. It was as if she had been held in a cramped position for hours instead of seconds. Her head was ringing as she went to see if Granfer was all right. They spoke to each other, but neither could hear. They held each other tightly and, after what seemed an age, their ears popped and hearing returned.

  “Damn me, that was exciting!” Granfer said and to Gilly his voice sounded strange; tinny, wavery and feeble. Gradually her hearing righted itself and his voice sounded almost normal as he went on, “Daren’t light the candle even supposing I could find it, the black-out curtain is in rags. Look at that, Gilly!” The bed seemed to have danced its way to the wall, the pillows were in the corner piled up tidy and the door had swung itself open. “And for the purpose I can’t find the damned torch. Come on, let’s go down and see if there’s any other damage, the fires outside will light our way.”

  “Best if I go, Granfer, you’ve had a shock and you should rest. I can find my way, my torch is in my pocket.”

  “I’m coming with you. Important now that we stay together.”

  Cautiously they made their way down the stairs. The once quiet and uneventful night was filled with fantasy. There was a background hum, a low measure of sound punctuated occasionally by the tinkle of breaking glass and the rumb
le of falling bricks. Gilly heard voices calling and whistles blew in impatient demand. The low hum grew until it became a roaring sound and as they passed the landing windows a fearfully bright light shone even though the window was blacked out. They paused to lift the heavy curtain and saw that close by houses were blazing. The roar was the jubilant violence of flames devouring peoples’ homes.

  Smells invaded their nostrils and made the danger seem even closer. They checked each stair with the thin beam of the torch before moving on down. There was a draught rushing up the stairs and every turn in the long staircase increased Gilly’s fear of finding a hole where the rest of the stairs should be. The unfamiliar smells increased until Gilly stuffed a handkerchief across her nose and advised Granfer to do the same. His wheezing and his coughing alarmed her.

  Gas was added to the smells of choking soot, dust and smoke which now swirled about them. The acrid stink of explosions filled the air and increased the alarming sensation that they would soon be unable to find the air to breathe. The draught increased so she held down her dress against it and stepped in front of Granfer to protect him from the cold. The house must be severely damaged, she thought, panic rising. The front must be completely missing for the smells to be so insistent and for this draught to be so strong. She forced herself to talk calmly to Granfer as memories of newspaper pictures came back to her, of houses devastated and reduced to unbelievably small piles of rubble. But they reached the ground floor without further alarm and went into the shop. The reason for the draught was immediately apparent. The shop windows were blown out.

  “The horse, love, go and look at poor Ianto,” Granfer pleaded.

  Leaving Granfer in the hollow, open-eyed shop, Gilly made her way through the house and up to the stable. The rolling eyes showed his fright, but both Ianto and his stable seemed undamaged. She threw a warm blanket over the shivering flanks, talked soothingly to the animal for a few moments, then hurried back to Granfer.

  Ivor hadn’t appeared and Gilly had no idea where to start looking for him. She stared at Granfer in the frightening light from the blazing street and half-sobbed.

  “I’d best get you back to bed. Mam’ll kill me for letting you come downstairs and not go to the shelter.” She cried then and Granfer held her as the weary note of the All Clear sounded.

  They could see the damaged shop quite clearly by the light of the fires but they didn’t attempt to do anything, they turned away from its unfamiliar shadowy mess, feeling like trespassers in an unknown place. One counter had been torn from its place along the side wall and stood at an angle across the shop door, blocking it, although the absence of outer walls meant no one would be barred from entering. The other counter was gone altogether. All that remained was a pile of wood that looked like broken and charred matches tipped from a colossal ashtray.

  They walked away from it all and just sat with their arms around each other and waited for Fanny and Bessie to be released from the air-raid shelters and come home. The room behind the shop was a shambles. The ceiling had partly collapsed and soot had fallen from the chimney and was heaped up over the hearth. Everything was covered in layers of dust and dirt. The fusty smell of rubble and the harsher smell of cordite seemed to have come down with it, filling the room with a foulness they couldn’t bear. So they sat in Granfer’s snug, the small room beyond the bake-house where no damage was yet apparent, and where they could wrap themselves in extra coats and look out through the door at the flickering night-sky.

  As soon as they heard Mam calling for them, a touch of hysteria in her voice, Gilly relaxed and at once she and Granfer talked about the air-raid like two small children. Whether it was to reassure her mother or herself Gilly never diagnosed, but ever afterwards, the events of that night were a cause for laughter.

  “Where’s Uncle Gerry?” Gilly asked as her mother looked around with the aid of the torch, muttering to herself, anxious about the whereabouts of her sister, and at the same time assessing what could be done immediately to put the place back to normal.

  “Gone to check that his mother is all right. He said he’ll be back to see if we need anything.”

  Gerry was back before Bessie. “Mam’s house is a ruin,” he announced as he stepped over broken glass to enter the shop. “Mam’s unharmed apart from a bruised knee where she dived under the table for protection. There she was, in the wreck of her home, grieving over some plant that was snapped.”

  “Where is she? You haven’t left her? Go and bring her here, better than being alone!” Fanny said anxiously.

  “She’s gone to stay with Auntie… with ‘her’, ’til morning.” He couldn’t bring himself to mention the name – Megan Moxon the local drunk – although she was hardly a secret. “She’ll be all right ’til morning and her house is safe enough to be left for the moment. Where’s Bessie?” he asked looking round with the aid of his torch at the circle of faces, grimed with the events of the past hours.

  “She hasn’t landed back yet. At the Smoky’s she was.”

  “I’ll go and see if I can find her.” Gerry went back through the ruined shop doorway and bumped into Bessie coming in. She was followed by Ivor, grinning around a mouthful of chocolate.

  “Is everything all right?” she gasped. “Ran all the way I did, afraid of what I’d find.” When she was reassured that everyone was safe, she pushed Ivor’s shoulder roughly with the heel of her hand making him stagger and added, “I found him-by-there, sneaking into the sweet shop through the broken door pinching chocolate. He’d have been arrested if the sergeant had copped eyes on him. Shamed us all.”

  They were afraid to light the gas-stove to make tea in case of further explosions but in Granfer’s snug was a small camping stove with the metholated spirits needed to light it. While Bessie attended to that, Fanny and Gilly began to clean out the fireplace of fallen soot. It was still dark but with their eyes gradually becoming accustomed to the gloom, they managed to clean the worst of the mess and set the fire ready for re-lighting. Outside there was still noisy activity and at intervals Gilly went to see what was happening. She saw Paul and his father helping the wardens as loose brickwork was pulled aside from damaged buildings and people were helped from their fallen homes.

  She ran across the rubble-strewn road and told them there was a hot drink in Granfer’s if they needed it and hurried back to her task.

  Ivor drank tea, ate biscuits and listened to the various reports of the night’s events without telling them where he had been. As dawn brought fresh realisation of the night’s disasters, Ivor once again disappeared. He returned with the hand of an air-raid warden on his shoulder.

  “In a shop I found him, mind. And him with his pockets filled with lollies – sweets of every kind he’d pinched, storing them like a squirrel he was. Best you keep him indoors, the police will get him next time for sure.”

  Paul and Shirley called before the fires had died down outside, to make sure they were all unharmed.

  “The only injury was Ivor having a clout on the ear from me,” Fannny said angrily.

  * * *

  Gerry was in a dilemma. With his home shored up by beams of timber and bearing a notice for everyone to KEEP OUT, he had nowhere to stay. Of course, his mother expected him to come and stay with Auntie Megan, there was a room to rent in the same house, but that wouldn’t do at all. Auntie Megan hadn’t endeared herself to him with her drinking, her swearing and her regular appearances in court for drunken behaviour. He denied she was even related to him whenever he could, although by now most of the people who knew him were aware that the familiar and almost affectionately regarded character was his mother’s sister. Even so, how could he share a house with her, even for a day?

  His mother had settled in almost immediately and had provided a breakfast for him that denied the existence of ration books, having found that Megan hadn’t used her bacon ration for weeks and had a good supply of fats and eggs amid an assortment of stale food packets. He knew it was a ploy, an attempt to show him t
hat things could be very comfortable for him here.

  It was still very early as he walked back to the shop to attempt to get the bread baked for the new day. He had no idea if the bake-house was viable or if the stocks of flour and yeast and fat were undamaged. He slowed down. Perhaps the old boy would stay up and help, he didn’t seem to be that ill, sitting up in that bed acting like he was still in charge. Why didn’t he come down and give a hand if he was fit enough to order them about?

  He found Smoky’s son Dai hard at it washing up the dust that had infiltrated from seams of the old building during the bombing. The benches had been scrubbed, the floor washed and the coke-oven fires were burning with the first batch of loaves already sending out their delicious aroma. Fortunately the dough rising in the trows over-night and covered with hessian had been unaffected.

  “Where’ve you been to, Gerry? I’ve had to clear up and get everything going on my own!”

  “It’s my mother. I had to make sure she was all right. I’ve settled her in with my… with a relation for the present. The house isn’t safe and, well, poor dab, she has to have someone to see that everything is all right.”

  “Of course. Not harmed is she?”

  “No, but there won’t be much bread sold in that street for a while by the looks of it.”

  “You’re right, man. I think the whole bang lot will have to come down.”

  “I’ll make a start on the next batch shall I?”

  “It’s all there waiting to be mixed.”

  Gerry groaned inwardly, wishing he had stayed with his mother for that second cup of tea. He reluctantly reached for the overall and cap and began work.

  At five o’clock he had finished for the day and, giving a call to Fanny to tell her he was going to check on his mother, he went to find Derek Green. He needed to talk to someone over a few pints at George’s, the local name for the King George V public house and Derek might be a sympathetic listener.

  Shirley Green opened the door to his knock, dressed in a bright yellow skirt and jumper, silk stockings on her shapely legs, a smile of welcome on her pretty face. She stepped back to let him in. He leaned towards her, a mocking look in his dark, attractive eyes and whispered, “Husband out, I hope?”