by Sandy Taylor
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The station was crowded with people. There were lots of soldiers walking about with kit bags slung over their shoulders and WRVS women handing out tea. Some of the soldiers didn’t look much older than Jimmy; they looked weary, as if they’d had enough and seen too much. We boarded the train and Yann put our case in the rack above my head, then spoke to a soldier sitting by the window.
‘Are you going to London, young man?’ he asked.
The soldier nodded. ‘Yes, sir, I am.’
‘Would you mind keeping an eye on my girls?’
‘Of course,’ said the soldier.
Why do we need someone to keep an eye on us? I thought. We’ve done all right on our own so far. But I didn’t say it out loud.
Yann enfolded me in his arms. I pressed my face against his coat and breathed in the musty smell of it. I wanted to remember the smell; I wanted to remember Yann. I didn’t want to leave him.
‘We’ll come back one day,’ I said.
‘I shall look forward to that, my dear.’
Olive’s eyes were filling with tears. Yann noticed and knelt down in front of her. He cupped her face in his hands and said: ‘You will soon be with your family, little one, and knowing how happy you will be makes me happy too. We will miss you, Henri and I, and we will think of you often.’ He wiped away the tears that were now running down Olive’s cheeks. He touched the doll’s head. ‘We shall miss Auntie Missus as well,’ he added.
We waved out the window until Yann was just a speck in the distance.
I sat back and watched the fields and villages racing past. We had come to Wales in the spring of 1942 and we were returning home to London in the spring of 1944. Tony would be thirteen and Freddie wouldn’t be a baby anymore. So much had happened since we’d left Bermondsey. We had encountered the best of people and the worst. Olive and I had made wonderful friends that I knew would stay in our hearts forever. Auntie Beth and Uncle Dylan, Lottie and Aggie and Jimmy and Yann.
The soldier looked across at me and smiled. ‘Going home?’ he said.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘we’re going home.’ I smiled and closed my eyes. We’re going home.
* * *
As the train approached the outskirts of London, my heart felt as if it was bursting out of my body. I was excited, scared, worried and every other emotion it was possible for one person to feel. I couldn’t wait to be in Mum’s arms, just to rest my head against her, to hear her telling me how much she loved me. I wanted to be someone’s child again. For so long I’d felt like Olive’s mum. Maybe that was why I had been content to stay with Yann for so long, because in his quiet way he had taken the responsibility of my little sister off my shoulders. I’d been allowed to be a young girl again.
As the train raced towards London and home I thought about what my future would bring. Perhaps I’d get a job in the sugar factory; maybe Angela was already working there. Or maybe the custard factory. I didn’t care where I worked as long as I was at home.
London looked even worse than I remembered. There was a feeling of dread inside me as we passed whole streets of houses that had been totally demolished.
Had Mum got my letters? And if she had, why hadn’t she written back? Was she okay?
Of course she was okay, of course she was. There was a war on, wasn’t there? Yann had said that was why we hadn’t heard from her. I was praying that he was right.
‘Are we nearly there?’ asked Olive, kneeling up on the seat.
‘Almost,’ I said.
‘Will my mummy be meeting us at the station?’
‘She doesn’t know we’re coming, Olive.’
‘Is it a surprise?’
‘Kind of.’
‘Does she know how old I am?’
‘Of course she does.’
‘Is that cos she borned me, Nell?’
I nodded.
‘Are you going to tell her that you bashed Albert’s head in?’
I looked across at the soldier. He had his eyes closed and I hoped he was asleep. ‘Shush,’ I said.
‘Are you going to tell Mummy that you bashed Albert’s head in?’ she whispered again.
‘I don’t know,’ I said.
‘I shouldn’t bother if I was you, Nell. No good will come of it.’
Olive’s little sayings always seemed to come out of the blue and I hadn’t a clue where she got them from. ‘We’ll see,’ I said. ‘Hush now.’
‘Am I getting on yer nerves, Nell?’
I smiled at her. ‘A bit.’
‘I thought I was.’
As we pulled into Paddington station I looked across at the soldier; he was still asleep. I leaned across and nudged him. ‘We’re here,’ I said gently.
He jumped as I touched him and his arm swung out, almost hitting me.
‘Oh God, sorry,’ he said, pulling himself up in the seat. ‘Did I hit you?’
‘No,’ I said, smiling, ‘you missed.’
‘I seem to go into a dead sleep these days and when I wake up it takes a minute to come to.’
‘I just thought you’d want to know we’d arrived.’
He yawned and rubbed at his chin. ‘Thanks, I might have gone all the way back to Wales,’ he said, smiling. He stood up and stretched. ‘I’ll get your case down for you.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Have you got far to go?’
‘Bermondsey,’ I said. ‘It’s only about five miles, we’ll take the Tube.’
‘Well, good luck,’ he said, opening the carriage door.
‘Good luck to you too.’
I watched him walk away. I hoped he would be all right – I hoped he would make it through this horrible war alive.
I held Olive’s hand as we walked across the crowded station towards the Underground.
‘It smells of home,’ she said.
I took a deep breath and inhaled the smog of London. ‘You’re right, it does,’ I agreed.
‘Am I still seven?’ she said. ‘Cos I feel like eight.’
‘You’re almost eight.’
‘That explains it then.’
I laughed. ‘Let’s go home.’
* * *
We’d been waiting ages for the Tube to turn up when an announcement came over the loudspeaker telling us there were delays on the line and the next train would be in about an hour.
‘Let’s get a cup of tea and something to eat, shall we?’ I said.
We went back up to the platform and Olive skipped ahead of me towards the waiting room. There was a lovely fire burning in the grate and the tea urn was making a bubbling noise; it felt warm and cosy in there. It was mostly filled with soldiers and their girlfriends but there was an empty table by the window.
I left Olive with the case and went over to the counter. ‘Tea and buns for two, please,’ I said.
‘Buns are off, ducky,’ she said.
‘Off?’
‘Yes, ducky, all gone, none left.’
I pointed to the two buns in the glass cabinet next to the till. ‘What about those?’ I said.
‘They’re for Bert – he wouldn’t be happy if I sold those.’
I didn’t ask who Bert was. ‘What have you got left then?’ I asked.
‘Sausage rolls, Battenberg and fruit cake.’
‘I’ll have two pieces of fruit cake then, please.’
‘Only got one left, ducky.’
‘I’ll have one Battenberg and one fruit cake then.’ Mum was going to laugh about this when I told her. Oh, I wished I was telling her now, I wanted to be home. I just wanted to be home.
I carried the tray back to the table and sat down. ‘Battenberg or fruit cake?’ I asked.
‘You know I don’t like marzipan, Nell,’ said Olive, turning up her nose.
‘Have the fruit cake then,’ I said.
‘It feels nice, doesn’t it?’ said Olive, biting into the cake. ‘This bloody cake’s hard as rock.’
‘What feels nice?’
‘What?
’
‘You said it feels nice.’
‘London,’ said Olive. ‘It feels nice, doesn’t it?’
I nodded. ‘Yeah, it does,’ I said, smiling. ‘It feels really nice.’
After making the tea and cake last as long as we could, we made our way back down into the Underground. At last the Tube came rattling through the tunnel and we jumped on. We were nearly there, we were nearly home.
I sat studying the Tube map on the opposite wall; I knew every station on the Underground. Me and Tony used to play a game to see who could remember the most stations.
We changed Tubes at Baker Street – nearly home, nearly home. I hoped Angela was in. I couldn’t wait to sit on the old bed in 59 Edison Terrace and tell her everything that had happened since I’d left home.
We were soon pulling into the station. I picked up the case and we made our way up the escalator and into the open air.
We were hurrying now, along Jamaica Road, through the park, past the pawn shop and the Spread Eagle and Crown. We waved to the pretty ladies leaning against the walls. Hurrying, hurrying towards home and Mum.
As we turned into Rannly Court I started to scream.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was gone. There was nothing but rubble where the flats had once stood. I dropped the case, my knees buckled and I fell to the ground. I was aware of being held, of people touching me, holding me, but I struggled against them. Olive was clinging to me, I could hardly breathe, I was gulping for air, I wanted to die. They were gone, my lovely mum and Tony and baby Freddie, they were all gone. I wanted to die.
‘Hush now, hush now.’ It was Mrs Baxter.
‘Mummy?’ said Olive.
Mrs Baxter sat on the ground and gathered us both into her arms, rocking us as if we were babies. My screams had turned to gut-wrenching sobs that seemed to come from the very bottom of my stomach. I felt as if I had been cut in two, the pain was so bad.
‘Tell me they’re all right, Mrs Baxter, please tell me they’re all right. They can’t be dead, they can’t be. Please tell me they’re all right, please, please, please.’
‘I believe they are alive, Nell.’
‘Really?’
‘I believe they got away.’
Olive was as white as a sheet, tears streaming down her face. I took a deep breath. I had to pull myself together – she only had me now and I couldn’t fall apart. I had to believe that our family were alive. Olive was too little to believe anything less. ‘I’m here, Olive, I’m here. Nell’s here.’
Mrs Baxter helped me to my feet. I was shaking so much I could hardly stand. I took hold of Olive’s hand and helped her up too. ‘It’s going to be all right, Olive,’ I said through my tears.
‘Mummy’s not a deader?’ she said.
‘It’s going to be all right,’ I said again.
‘Come along with me,’ said Mrs Baxter, taking charge.
We walked across the square to the block opposite where Rannly Court used to be. The block of flats where Angela lived.
‘The council gave me this flat, Nell,’ she said, as we climbed up the stone steps.
The flat she showed us into was almost exactly the same as her old one. Me and Olive sat side by side on the couch, while Mrs Baxter went into the kitchen to make tea for us all.
‘I’ve put plenty of sugar in it,’ she said, coming back. ‘For the shock.’
I cupped my hands around the hot mug. I was still shaking and I felt sick in my stomach.
I didn’t want to ask any more questions in front of Olive, I didn’t want to scare her.
‘Try to drink it, love, it will make you feel better,’ I said.
‘Where’s Mr Baxter?’ said Olive, looking round.
‘I lost him a year ago, Olive.’
‘How did you lose him?’ asked Olive, looking confused.
‘I think he died, love,’ I said gently. ‘Did he die, Mrs Baxter?’
‘He did, Nell.’
‘I’m ever so sorry,’ I said.
‘Was it the scarlet fever?’ said Olive.
‘Consumption,’ said Mrs Baxter. ‘All I have left of that dear man is his wooden leg.’
‘Well, at least you’ve got something left of him,’ said Olive very seriously.
‘It helped me through those early days, Olive,’ said Mrs Baxter. ‘I took it to bed with me every night. It was a great comfort.’
‘Auntie Missus has been a great comfort to me an all, Mrs Baxter, cos we’ve been through some pretty bad times too.’
Mrs Baxter was looking confused. ‘Her doll,’ I explained, sipping the hot tea.
‘You’ve grown, Olive,’ said Mrs Baxter, smiling at her.
‘That’s cos I’m nearly eight,’ said Olive. ‘I used to be six and then I was seven, but I didn’t know I was seven until Nell told me, and now I’m almost eight.’
She said all this without seeming to take a breath.
‘So that’s why I’ve grown, Mrs Baxter, cos I’m nearly eight.’
‘You’re a funny little thing, Olive,’ said Mrs Baxter. ‘And a brave one by the sound of it.’
‘I don’t know what I would have done without her,’ I said.
‘Your mum will be proud.’
It made me feel better that Mrs Baxter was talking about my mum as if she was alive. I was beginning to feel calmer sitting in her little flat but I needed to see my family – I had to find them.
‘It must have been terrible,’ I said.
‘I’ve never been so scared in my life, Nell. I fled with nothing but Mr Baxter’s wooden leg.’
‘I’m sorry about your home.’
‘Yes, I was very sad at the time. I lost everything. I’d just bought a new frying pan on the never-never; I’m still paying for it. There were lots of happy times in that little flat but I still have my memories in here,’ she said, touching her heart, ‘and I still have his leg. The Germans couldn’t take that away from me.’
‘I’m glad about that,’ said Olive. ‘I still have Aggie in my heart.’
‘And who’s Aggie?’
‘She’s my best friend and she lives in a sweetshop in Glengaryth.’
‘Well, I’m sure you’ll see her again one day.’
‘Oh, I will, we’re going to live together when we’re grown up, we made a promise.’
‘I’m glad you found a friend, Olive.’
‘So where do you think our family are?’ I asked.
‘I wish I could tell you that, Nell, but I don’t know.’
‘Do you think they were evacuated, Mrs Baxter?’
‘We’ll go down the town hall tomorrow and see if they know anything.’
I looked at the tea in my hands. ‘I can’t go to the town hall, Mrs Baxter.’
‘Can’t you?’
I shook my head.
‘You see, we’re on the run from the old beak,’ said Olive.
Mrs Baxter took my hands in hers. ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’ she asked gently.
‘I did a very bad thing, Mrs Baxter.’
‘Well, if I know you, Nell, I’d say you had a good reason to do whatever you did.’
My eyes filled with tears. ‘I killed someone.’
Mrs Baxter nodded – she didn’t look shocked.
‘She bashed Albert over the head to save me,’ said Olive.
‘So you see, I can’t go down the town hall. No one must know that we’re home.’
‘Then I’ll go on my own and I’ll see what I can find out. You’re amongst your own now, Nell, you have nothing to fear.’
‘What about Angela?’ I said, suddenly remembering my friend.
‘Angela has joined her brothers and sister in the country.’
‘But what about her mum and her granny?’
‘Her granny, poor soul, passed away about a year ago now. It was a blessing in the end. Angela loved her gran but I think she was worn out with the worry of it all. In my opinion it was all too much for such a young girl.’
‘A
nd her mum?’
‘They took her away, Nell. I visit when I can – she’s slowly getting better. I think she’s in the right place and she’s happy enough.’
I’d been looking forward to seeing my friend Angela but at least she was safe and maybe now she could be a young girl again without having to take care of her mum and her granny.
* * *
Me and Olive stayed indoors while Mrs Baxter went down to the town hall.
I looked out the window to where our flat used to be. It made me sad thinking of how happy we had been there. Mum in the kitchen cooking our dinner and Daddy warming his back against the fire and Tony being sent outside to get the mud off his legs. I watched as the big machines rolled backwards and forwards over the rubble, flattening what was left of Rannly Court. I couldn’t think that my family might be under there, I had to believe they were safe somewhere.
Olive joined me at the window. ‘What are they doing, Nell?’ she asked.
‘Just clearing the stuff away, Olive.’
‘What about the tallyman’s horse? Do you think he’s under there?’
‘I shouldn’t think so.’
‘I hope he’s not – even though he bit me I wouldn’t like to think he got squashed.’
‘Try not to worry about it, love,’ I said.
Mrs Baxter’s flat was a lot brighter than the flat we’d lived in. I’d mentioned it to her.
‘It’s cos Rannly Court’s gone, Nell,’ she’d said. ‘It’s let the sun in. Some silly cow said the Germans had done us a favour. I sent her off with a flea in her ear, I can tell you.’
‘I suppose Tony and Freddie have changed a lot since we’ve been gone.’
‘Your Tony’s like a beanpole, not a bit of fat on him. I’d say he’s taller than you now.’
‘And Freddie?’
‘Full of mischief. He’s a dear little chap, walking now, of course, follows Tony everywhere.’
I wanted to ask Mrs Baxter if Mum had heard from my daddy but I couldn’t do it in front of Olive.
After Mrs Baxter left I walked over to the window. Now that Rannly Court had gone you could see the river, my very own ocean. Only it didn’t look as magical as I remembered; it looked black and murky and unwelcoming. It wasn’t an ocean at all – it was just a dirty old river that seemed to hold secrets that scared me.