by Sandy Taylor
‘I’ll tell Eric not to say anything.’
‘Best not.’ I said.
Jean sighed. ‘Love is a very painful thing, isn’t it, Nell?’
‘Listen to you, you old drama queen! You never know, he might surprise you and pop the question.’
‘Wouldn’t that be great? I’d be Mrs Jean Kennedy.’
‘Is that his name?’
‘Yes, his great-grandmother was Irish. We could have our honeymoon in Ireland, wouldn’t that be amazing?’
‘Well, he couldn’t marry a nicer girl than you, Jean.’
‘Thanks, Nell. Do you know what would be great?’
‘Tell me.’
‘A double wedding: me and Eric and you and Robert.’
‘I’m not even seventeen yet, Jean, and I have a lot more on my mind than weddings.’
Just then a family came into the tea rooms and Jean took her pad and pencil out of her apron pocket and went to take their order.
I leaned back against the glass counter and thought about Robert. Jean was so sure that she loved Eric, not a doubt in her mind; maybe there was something wrong with me in that department. Robert was kind and funny and caring, not to mention very good-looking.
One evening Mrs Baxter asked to speak to me. We sat on a bench in the back garden of Sea View. She was looking very serious and I wondered what was on her mind.
‘This may have nothing to do with me, Nell,’ she said, ‘but with your mum not here, I feel a responsibility for you. Can I ask, how old is Robert?’
‘He’s twenty,’ I said.
‘And you are?’
‘Sixteen.’
‘Do you think that perhaps he is a bit too old for you?’
‘I don’t think so – is that what’s worrying you then?’
‘What do you know about him, Nell?’
‘Very little actually, except that he’s kind and polite and he wouldn’t make me do something I didn’t want to do.’
‘I suppose that’s what I was worrying about.’
‘You’ll just have to trust me.’
‘It’s not you I don’t trust, Nell, it’s that handsome pilot of yours.’
‘Don’t forget, Mrs Baxter, I’m a Bermondsey girl and it will take more than a pretty face to turn my head.’
‘Well, the best advice I can give you is, don’t do anything you wouldn’t want your mother to see.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t, so you can stop worrying.’
‘You’re a good girl, Nell, and I wouldn’t like to see you get hurt.’
‘It’s nice that you care about me – it makes me feel less alone. You and Mrs Wright have been so good to us and I know my mum would be very happy if she knew how kind you have both been to me and Olive. I promise that if I have any worries I’ll come to you.’
‘You didn’t mind me saying, Nell?’
‘Of course I didn’t.’
That night I lay in bed and thought about Robert. Was I falling in love with him? Or had I left my heart in that faraway place with a boy who had nothing and yet dreamed of owning a farm of his own one day?
Chapter Thirty-Seven
There was good news coming from the front via Mrs Wright but the flying bombs kept dropping, mostly under the cover of darkness, and then we had to drag ourselves out of bed and troop down to the cellar and spend the rest of the night on a hard bunk bed listening to the snoring salesmen. The flying bombs were horrible things – they made this awful roaring sound and then they went silent. That’s when you had to run for cover because it meant they were about to hit the ground and explode.
Everyone was so used to the bombs and the sirens and the blackouts that it was fast becoming hard to imagine life without them. Nobody voiced what we were all thinking: what if we lost the war? What was going to happen then? Miss Timony said that we must have faith in our soldiers, who were risking their lives for our freedom, but it was a scary time and all everyone wanted was peace.
People carried on working, they got married, they had babies, they danced and they sang, they mourned for the ones they had lost and they held their loved ones tighter. Mrs Wright reckoned the war had brought everyone closer. Neighbours who had squabbled all their lives helped each other out; people became kinder. Miss Timony said it was a shame that it had taken a war to bring people together.
‘Do you think it will last after the war?’ I said.
‘My limited understanding of people, Nell, is that they have very short memories.’
My memory wasn’t short, though: I remembered everything. My daddy’s ginger hair and sparkling blue eyes, the gentleness of my mum, Tony’s bony knees and sweet little Freddie. I remembered our home in Rannly Court that was always full of love and laughter. I remembered the pawn shops, the tallyman, the pubs and the pretty ladies. I remembered the noise of the women and children and the smells coming off the river. I would lie awake at night and relive all those happy times and pray that one day we could all be together again, back in Bermondsey in my little part of the East End, which I loved.
* * *
Winter arrived with a vengeance. Gales battered the coast and sent angry waves bashing against the sea wall and spraying over the promenade. The blackout was difficult enough but the wet weather made it even more treacherous as we stumbled on the slippery pavements and grabbed onto complete strangers. I’d never said sorry to so many people in all my life. But I had a lot to be thankful for. I loved my job; Mr Costos was just about the best boss in the world. He always had a smile on his face and so did Mr Philip, who still insisted on calling me Fanny. They were so kind to me and Olive, and I knew how lucky I was. I was so grateful to Miss Timony for getting this job for me. I got to know the regulars who came into the hotel for their tea; I saw them in the town and they waved and smiled at me like old friends. These people had welcomed me and Olive into their lives and I would be forever grateful to them.
And then there was Robert, who I was getting closer to every day. I remembered Mrs Baxter’s advice not to do anything I wouldn’t want my mum to see and that was getting hard. I would be seventeen in a few months, and that is what Robert whispered in my ear one night when we were cuddled together in a shelter on the seafront. We had only kissed up till now but I knew what he was getting at.
‘You do love me, don’t you, Nell?’ he’d said, brushing away my hair and gently kissing my neck.
‘Maybe.’
‘Only maybe?’
‘You’ll be going away, Robert, I may never see you again.’
Robert tipped my chin up and smiled. ‘You’ve become special to me, Nell; I would never hurt you. I want something to remember you by when I’m fighting this war. You do know that I love you, little Nell?’
‘But you live in Canada and I live here.’
‘I’ll come back for you. We’ll get married – would you like that? Please, Nell, I just want us to be closer. Is that such a lot to ask?’
I had this niggling little thought that Robert was being rather dramatic. His words were like a line from a movie, when the music swells up and the lovers walk hand in hand into the sunset.
‘I’m not ready, Robert,’ I’d said, and he’d gone a bit moody and didn’t hold my hand on the way home. When we got to Sea View, he didn’t kiss me goodnight like he always did, he just started to walk away.
‘Robert!’ I called after him.
He turned around and stared at me.
‘You’re not a child, Nell,’ he said.
Is that what I was being? Was I being a child?
‘You shouldn’t start something if you’re not prepared to see it through.’
‘See what through?’ I asked.
‘Us,’ he said.
Looking at Robert’s face scowling back at me, I almost felt like laughing. He looked like a spoiled child who’d been denied a ride on the merry-go-round. Except that it wasn’t a ride on the merry-go-round that he was asking for, he was asking for something much more precious and I wasn’t ready to give it
to him, however much he scowled.
‘Goodnight, Robert,’ I said, and went indoors.
I could almost hear Miss Timony saying, Don’t give in to blackmail, dear girl.
* * *
I decided to talk to Jean about it.
It was a couple of days before we got the chance to see each other. I hadn’t heard from Robert since the night on the seafront. Well, if he thought I’d give in just because he was acting like a spoiled child, he could jolly well think again.
Jean and I went to a little café opposite the pier. We waited until the waitress brought a big pot of tea and a scone each before we started to talk.
‘I hope you don’t mind me asking,’ I said, ‘but have you and Eric done more than just kiss each other?’
‘Not really – we’ve decided to be strong, even though it’s killing us.’
‘And Eric is okay with that?’
‘Of course he is! I imagine you’re asking me this because Robert wants more than a kiss?’
I nodded.
‘And is that what you want, Nell?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, I think if you really wanted to do it you’d know all right. Sometimes it gets so difficult when I’m with Eric that I feel quite unwell and I know it’s the same for him. It’s just that we’ve decided to wait. It sounds to me as if your Robert has other ideas.’
‘Don’t you like Robert, Jean?’
‘Is that what it sounds like?’
‘It does a bit.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Nell. It’s not that I don’t like him, I just don’t think he’s being very careful with your feelings. He’s handsome and he’s charming and probably used to getting his own way, but you’re only a young girl and he’s old enough to know better. If he can’t control himself that’s his problem, not yours.’
‘That’s just what I needed to hear, Jean, because come to think of it, that’s exactly how he’s acting.’
‘He’ll come round, he likes you.’
‘Does he?’
‘Oh, he likes you all right.’
Jean was right; Robert did indeed come round. In fact, he came round with nylons for me, flowers for Mrs Wright and Mrs Baxter, and bars of chocolate for Olive and Henry.
‘I’ve been an idiot,’ he said, as we walked across the cliffs. ‘Forgive me?’
We stopped walking and I put my arms around his neck. I looked into his handsome face. He was older than me, but sometimes he was like a little boy who wanted all the sweets in the sweetshop and knew that if he begged enough times he’d probably end up getting them. But I wasn’t his mother and he wasn’t going to get round me that easily. He’d chosen a Bermondsey girl and it was time he realised it.
That night in bed I thought about what Robert had said to me. He had as much as asked me to marry him; at least, I thought he had. But he hadn’t actually asked me – he didn’t say the words. I was trying very hard to remember what exactly he had said. Yes, I remembered now. He’d said, ‘We’ll get married – would you like that?’ Only he hadn’t waited for an answer; it was as if he hadn’t needed one. The whole thing made my head hurt. Maybe it was a Canadian thing. Maybe they didn’t bother going down on one knee and actually asking the girl; maybe that was it. I’d ask Jean.
* * *
It was pouring with rain and the wind was buffeting the coast and sending white froth over the sea wall, flooding the promenade and racing across the road. The tea rooms were almost empty.
‘You’d think people would be even more in need of a nice cup of tea and a sticky bun to cheer them up, wouldn’t you?’ said Jean. ‘God, I’m bored stiff!’
‘Jean?’ I said.
‘Mmm?’
‘This may sound like a daft question, but when a boy from Canada asks a girl to marry him, does he go down on one knee?’
‘Oh my God, Nell, has Robert asked you to marry him?’
‘I think so.’
‘You think so?’
I nodded. ‘He didn’t say it in so many words, but he said that he would never hurt me and once the war was over, he would come back and we could get married if I wanted to. I suppose that’s a kind of proposal, isn’t it?’
‘It sounds like a proposal to me, Nell – not the most romantic but definitely a proposal. What did you say?’
‘I didn’t say anything, because I’m not sure that he was looking for an answer.’
‘A double wedding,’ said Jean, grinning. ‘Wouldn’t that be the best thing?’
‘I’m not sure that it would. I’m not sure that I’m ready to settle down and unless Mum is safe and finds us, Olive is still my responsibility.’
‘Well, they’ll be shipped out soon so you’d better make up your mind or it will be too late.’
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Everyone noticed that Robert had stopped coming to the house but no one except Olive mentioned it.
‘Why doesn’t Robert come here anymore?’ she asked one morning as I walked her to school.
‘We had a bit of an argument.’
‘You didn’t bash him over the head with a shovel, did you?’
‘Of course I didn’t. I don’t make a habit of bashing people over the head with shovels, Olive.’
‘Well, that’s a relief, because I don’t fancy going on the run again, Nell, and I don’t think Henry would be allowed to come with us, and I don’t want to leave him.’
I took her hand and we crossed the road and sat in a shelter. It was freezing and the sea was grey and uninviting, bashing against the iron supports of the pier. The ugly barbed wire was still in place, moving and creaking in the cold wind blowing off the sea.
I looked down at Olive and smiled. ‘We are never going to go on the run again, Olive Patterson, so you can stop worrying.’
‘I’m glad about that. I had an argument with Aggie once.’
‘You did?’
‘Yes, and she played “In and Out the Dusty Bluebells” with Mabel Brown and they wouldn’t let me join in, but we made up in the afternoon and Mabel Brown said she would never lend Aggie her skipping rope ever again. So, couldn’t you make up with Robert, Nell?’
‘It’s not as easy as that, Olive. I don’t think that we can ever be friends again.’
‘Couldn’t you just try?’
I shook my head. ‘He’s not the person I thought he was, love.’
‘Does that mean he’s someone else?’
‘In a way.’
‘Is he still called Robert?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, if he’s not the same person, then he must be a different person, and if he’s a different person then he must have a different name.’
How could I explain any of this to my little sister?
‘Let’s just say he isn’t as nice as I thought he was.’
‘I like him a lot, Nell, and so does Henry. Henry says he’s going to be a pilot and fly planes and wear a uniform just like Robert. He’ll have to grow a bit, though.’
‘You like Henry, don’t you?’
‘I like Henry a lot. Henry says he wants us to live together when we grow up.’
‘Would you like that?’
‘No, I’m going to live with Aggie, but I told him that he can cut the grass if he likes.’
I smiled. ‘And what did he say to that?’
‘He said he’d cut the grass but I don’t think he will, Nell. I think he’ll live with Malcolm Fenshaw, who can spit further than anyone else in the school, that’s who I think he’ll live with. Me and Aggie will just have to cut our own grass, but I don’t think that Aggie will mind.’
I felt like laughing out loud as I listened to Olive, but she looked so very serious as she discussed Henry’s living arrangements that I just squeezed her hand. ‘Let’s get you to school,’ I said.
* * *
My heart wasn’t broken but I was angry and I felt stupid – really stupid. I’d thought that Robert was kind and truthful. He’d been lovely to Olive and
that hurt as well. She and Henry had looked up to him as if he was some sort of god, but he wasn’t. He’d even won over Mrs Wright and Mrs Baxter; in fact, he’d made fools of all of us. I found out what he was really like from Jean.
She’d been quiet all afternoon; in fact, she could barely look at me and I couldn’t think what on earth I could have done to upset her.
In between customers I asked her what was wrong.
‘I need to speak to you, Nell, after work,’ she’d said quietly.
‘Sounds serious,’ I said.
‘It is.’
We were sitting in the café with two steaming coffees on the table in front of us.
‘I’m all ears,’ I said, grinning.
‘Oh, Nell, I’m so sorry but you must believe me when I tell you that I’ve only just found out.’
‘Found out what?’
‘How can I say this?’
‘I’ve always found it easiest to just say it, it gets it over with quicker.’
Jean stared out the window, took a deep breath then turned to face me. ‘Robert is married, Nell. He has a wife back in Canada.’
I heard what she’d said but I couldn’t make any sense of it. I watched the rain trickling down the windows, making patterns between the criss-crossed tape. I watched people scurrying past and a bunch of people huddled in the shelter on the seafront.
‘Nell?’ said Jean softly.
I turned and looked at her. ‘A wife?’ I said.
‘Oh, Nell, he has a baby as well. I’m so sorry.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘I told Eric that Robert had more or less asked you to marry him. I couldn’t understand why he was so angry. I’d never seen him like that before and that’s when he told me. I was really cross with him for not telling me sooner, I could have warned you off. I’m still bloody fuming!’
‘This isn’t your fault or Eric’s,’ I said. ‘I just feel like the worst kind of idiot.’
‘You’re not an idiot, Nell, you just trusted one. I could bloody kill him. I could – I could kill him!’