A Place To Call Home

by June Francis

  His smile dimpled. ‘Good! I’ll give you a knock about five,’ he drawled.

  ‘If you’ve a torch, bring it. I lost mine … and don’t forget your gasmask, either,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, Miss! See you later.’ He went in next door.

  Rene gave the rest of the step a perfunctory wipe. Then she emptied the dirty water down the grid and thought of the evening ahead. Going out with a man as handsome as Jeff Hardcastle should have made her feel as excited as a young girl on a first date but all she felt was that it was something to get over with. She’d had little to do with him when she was younger because he had been seven or eight years older. For ages she had accepted Sally’s opinion of her eldest brother as the generous, caring, protective brother, that was until he had vanished down south after the war. She knew the reason for that now, although, like Greta, Cissie and Harry, she questioned why he had never made any effort to see his sister during the intervening years, even though he had believed her out of her mind. She did not want to go out with him but knew she ought to make an effort to look her best.

  So she washed her hair and, as she did so, wondered what to wear. This time of year meant wrapping up. The tip of her nose always went red with the cold. She would look like a clown and he would skit her. Face powder! She still had some somewhere but would have to use it sparingly. Compared to this time two years ago there was so little in the shops.

  ‘What have you washed your hair for?’ asked Vera a few minutes later.

  ‘None of your business,’ said Rene, glancing in the mirror. To her horror she noticed a silver hair among the red-gold and swiftly pinched it beneath finger and thumb and pulled it out. Ouch!

  ‘You’ll be thirty-six in August … that’s if you’re still alive.’

  Rene ignored her, rolling a strand of hair round a pipe cleaner and bending the ends into place.

  ‘What are you putting them in for? You going out? Is it someone from work?’ Rene continued to ignore her. ‘Is it a serviceman you’ve met in town? You can’t trust men in the armed forces, they’re only out for what they can get. He probably thinks you’re easy meat, single at your age,’ sneered her mother. Rene felt like rapping her over the head with the hairbrush. ‘Desperate, that’s what you are,’ muttered Vera.

  Rene turned on her. ‘You’re right, Mother! That’s why I’m going to start making the best of my chances before I’m too old and crabby, like you. And if you don’t shut up, and leave me in peace, I’ll go to the nearest enrolment centre and join the forces if they’ll have me. I’m sure you’ll love the Home for the Sick and Elderly on Belmont Road.’

  Vera gasped, ‘You wouldn’t do that to your poor old mother!’

  ‘Wouldn’t I? You just push me too far and I’ll be off!’ snapped Rene.

  Vera called her a nasty name and then subsided in her chair, muttering to herself.

  A few hours later there was a knock on the door and Rene went to answer it. ‘You ready?’ asked Jeff.

  ‘Yes! And you’re late.’ She was unable to see his features clearly because it had been a dull day and so there were no stars or a moon.

  ‘Sorry! I’ve never known a woman to be on time.’ He flashed his torch over her. ‘You’re the exception and you look very nice, too.’ She was wearing a rust jumper beneath a pin-striped brown worsted suit. On her curling hair she wore a hat with a spotted bow on the brim. Her feet were clad in low heeled court shoes. Even so she was taller than him by two inches. ‘Who’d have ever thought that you’d have turned out such an Amazon,’ he said.

  Immediately she felt like a giantess. ‘I can’t help my height,’ she replied.

  ‘I wasn’t complaining,’ said Jeff, offering his arm.

  After the barest of hesitations she moved her handbag to the shoulder that held her gasmask and slipped her hand through his arm.

  ‘So where are we going?’ he asked, playing the torch over the pavement as they walked down the street.

  ‘I thought you must have had somewhere in mind. If you haven’t I suppose we could go and see Charlie Chaplin in The Great Dictator.’

  ‘That’ll do me,’ said Jeff. ‘So why’s a girl like you, Rene, still living with that cow of a mam of yours?’

  His words irritated her and she withdrew her hand. ‘There’s no need for that. I know she behaved abominably but that’s enough bad news for me, without you adding to it. If you want to talk, then tell me about your travels instead.’

  ‘Sure, if you want to hear.’ And he launched into a description of the places he had been. He was a good raconteur and momentarily she forgave him for his thoughtless remark about her mother. Still feeling some ill effect from having been injured in the blast, it was pleasant not to have to make the effort to rattle on herself. So she let him do all the talking.

  They reached the cinema and he bought tickets for the back stalls. It was not long before he placed his arm round her shoulders and whispered against her ear, ‘Who’d have ever thought that little Rene would grow into a big girl and we’d be sitting together like this?’

  She felt like hitting him but instead removed his arm and shushed him. ‘I want to watch this film.’

  ‘You mean you’re really interested in the little tramp turning into a Adenoid Hynkel? A Hitler imitation if ever I saw one.’

  ‘It’s an American propaganda film so that’s what he’s supposed to be. We could do with the Yanks in the war,’ she said, trying not to lose her temper.

  ‘You mean the big I ams?’ he sneered. ‘If they join us we’ll never hear the end of it. They’ll be saying that they won the war.’

  She turned to him. ‘Do you know many Yanks?’

  ‘Sister, I’ve been sailing the briny for years,’ he drawled. ‘Of course, I know the Yanks … been in a few punch ups with them, too.’

  Rene was about to open her mouth, and ask who’d won, when a voice from the row in front, said, ‘D’yer think the two of yer could bloody shut up? We’re trying to watch the film.’

  Instantly Jeff stood up. ‘Nobody tells me to shut up,’ he said.

  ‘That’s it!’ said Rene, dragged him down into his seat. ‘Another word from you and I’m going.’

  Jeff darted her a surprised look and then grinned. ‘Keep yer hair on, bossy! Oohh! I love a strong woman.’ He settled in his seat, put an arm about her shoulders again and with his free hand forced her head round and kissed her.

  She pushed him away. ‘Don’t! I’m not here for that.’

  ‘Come off it, Rene. You’ve been missing out … besides, don’t you think you owe me something for what your mam did to my family?’

  She could not believe what she was hearing. Hadn’t she been through enough the last few days without having to put up with this kind of thing from Jeff? Who the hell did he think he was? She had to get away from him. She wrenched herself out of his hold and got up. Excusing herself, she made her way along the row of people, ignoring Jeff’s sounds of annoyance.

  Outside it was pitch black except for the odd flash of a torch but she could hear footfalls and people’s voices coming from the direction of the Grafton dance hall to her left. For a moment her brain seemed incapable of deciding which way was home and then she pulled herself together as her eyes became accustomed to the dark. She heard a shout behind her and that egged her on to make a move. She almost ran across the road. Ahead, a little to her left she could see the shadowy shapes of people outside St Michael’s church and she headed towards them, knowing she was going in the right direction. Soon she had left them behind and had passed the red brick office building of Ogden’s tobacco company. The noise from the main road gradually faded away.

  She felt jumpy being on her own in the pitch black without a torch, but told herself to keep on going and realised suddenly that she had stepped off the pavement and had wandered onto the cobbled road. Then she heard running footsteps, caught the light of a wavering beam and her heart leapt into her throat. She was grabbed from behind. ‘What the hell d’you think y
ou’re playing at? Nobody walks out on Jeff Hardcastle and gets away with it,’ he snarled.

  ‘Let me go!’

  ‘Like hell I will,’ Jeff said, clamping Rene’s arms against her sides and, despite her size, almost frogmarching her across the road.

  Although shorter, he was undoubtedly stronger and forced her past a corner shop and into an entry, whirling her round to face him as he shoved her against the wall. Shock took over, this could not be happening. This was Jeff, Sally’s brother! He wouldn’t hurt her! Jeff dropped his gasmask and, wrenching her handbag and gasmask from her shoulder, he pitched them into the darkness, before hitting her across the face. She was stunned. His fingers tore at the buttons of her jacket, hands grabbing at her breasts as he brought his head down and bit her neck. The pain jerked her out of her frozen state and she reacted by grabbing his hair and pulling it hard.

  ‘You bitch! Your mam owes me this,’ he said, and kneed her in the groin. She gasped and released her hold on his hair, doubled up with pain. For a moment she was utterly defenceless and he pushed her back against the wall and forced up her skirts. No! She wasn’t going to let that happen. She ignored the pain in her groin and clawed at his hand and bit whatever part of his flesh she could reach. He grunted and gasped and cursed her, and still she struggled but his strength was beginning to defeat her.

  Suddenly a gleam of light shone on them. ‘Disgustin’!’ said a woman’s voice and the next moment a wave of cold water caught Rene and Jeff forcing them apart. ‘Get away from my door, the pair of yer! Like animals yer are!’

  Jeff spluttered. ‘Mind your own business, yer nosy old cow!’

  A door slammed and they were in darkness. To Rene’s amazement, Jeff began to laugh. ‘What d’you think of that, Rene? Saved in the nick of time.’

  ‘I can’t believe you,’ she said through chattering teeth. Most of her clothing was soaked through and she was freezing.

  ‘You shouldn’t have got my temper up. Here!’ He flicked on his torch. ‘Let’s find yer handbag and gasmask.’

  She made no move to help him. ‘You find them, you filthy sod! How dare you treat me like that.’

  ‘Sorry, Rene! Since the first war I’ve had trouble controlling myself when people go against me. If you’re nice to me it won’t happen again.’

  It definitely wouldn’t happen because she wouldn’t be seen dead in his company! He must be mad! It could be the only sensible reason for his behaviour.

  ‘Here they are, luv.’ He shone the torch on her and dropped her gasmask on her shoulder. She wrenched her handbag from his hand, not wanting him to touch her. ‘Don’t get stroppy, Rene. I’ve said sorry, haven’t I?’

  ‘Saying sorry isn’t enough,’ she said in a seething voice.

  ‘That’s how I feel about you apologising for your mam. Just you think on that before criticising me, girl.’

  Rene did not say a word but limped away. The other end of the entry came out on the street opposite theirs. She did not look back to see if Jeff was following her. She never wanted to see him again.

  12

  Greta gazed out of the tram window as it rattled along Stanley Road. Almost there! She turned to Alex, who was looking smart in a navy blue pinstriped suit. ‘What’ll you do if your mother’s not in? It’s possible she and her husband could be spending the day with one of his other married children. Perhaps you should have written.’

  He nodded. ‘I thought about it and made a start on a letter but I ended up tearing it up. What I wanted to say just wouldn’t come right. Then Jeff disturbed me coming in.’ Alex rolled the tram tickets round his little finger. ‘What d’you think of him going out with Rene?’

  Greta brushed back a strand of dark hair that had fallen into her eyes. ‘I’m not happy about it.’

  Alex looked at her with interest. ‘Why? Don’t you think Rene fancies him the way he was making out to your dad?’

  Greta shifted in her seat. ‘She was pretty cagey when I met her coming out the paper shop and asked how they’d got on. Besides, what chance has she of any kind of love life with her mother around?’

  ‘Rene and your dad would make a good match.’

  Greta said softly, ‘I’ve thought that sometimes … but what’s the use when there’s her mother and Mrs Cox? I wish I knew what Dad was up to with that woman.’

  Alex took Greta’s hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t do anything, like asking her to marry him, without talking to you first. Anyway, we’re here now, kid! So forget them.’ The tram rattled to a halt and he dragged her to her feet.

  As they crossed Stanley Road, Greta said, ‘You look smart. How do I look?’

  He paused on the pavement and inspected her appearance. She was wearing a fir green coat, a Christmas gift from her father, and a bronze-coloured hat crocheted by Miss Birkett. Her dark hair was flicked up at the ends and framed her slender face. ‘Terrible!’ he said.

  Her face fell. ‘What!’

  Alex smiled and his slate grey eyes contained an expression that made her feel breathless. ‘There’s no need to fish for compliments. Those colours suit you. Don’t be worrying!’

  ‘I’m not,’ she lied, but for some reason could not forget that her mother had been his mother’s maid.

  He drew her hand through his arm and headed for one of the wide thoroughfares, named after Oxford colleges: Trinity, Balliol, Merton. The houses were big, built of red brick, and most had three storeys and were fronted by large gardens.

  Greta imagined how much space there must be inside just one of the houses, plenty of room for a big family. She drifted into a day dream and was furnishing one such house to her own taste, with items of class and distinction from Waring & Gillows. She jumped when Alex swore and her eyes followed his gaze. ‘Oh no!’ she whispered.

  The roof and the top floor had completely gone, and only smoke blackened walls, like jagged teeth, remained standing. She looked at Alex’s pale, tense face, and her eyes met his bleak ones. ‘I could strangle Mrs Miller,’ he said in a choking voice.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘I know how you feel, but this can’t have happened recently. There’d be a stronger smell of dampened down fire.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘You’re right! Even so it doesn’t change things.’ He clenched his fists. ‘I’ve come too late.’

  ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t be thinking the worst. Maybe they weren’t at home when the house was hit. We’ll ask one of the neighbours. They should be able to tell us what happened,’ she said.

  Without a word, Alex crossed the road to the house directly opposite. She followed him, standing close to him as he banged on the door. From inside the house came the sound of choral music. ‘You’re going to have to knock louder,’ said Greta. He hammered again, and kept on until, eventually, footsteps were heard inside coming towards them.

  The door opened and an elderly man stood in the vestibule, his back, ramrod straight. ‘Who are you? Do you know what day it is?’ he barked.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Alex, almost snapping to attention. ‘Sunday. But this is an emergency! Can you tell me what happened to the people who lived in the bombed house opposite?’

  ‘Dead!’

  The colour drained from Alex’s face and Greta slipped her hand through his arm. ‘All of them?’ she blurted out.

  ‘Father, mother and two little girls. Little darlings! Blonde beauties! Bomb came through the roof. All in bed! Heartbreaking!’ His rheumy brown eyes were suddenly moist.

  Alex cleared his throat. ‘What about the older couple?’ he croaked. ‘The … grandfather an-and grandmother who were staying there?’

  ‘Nobody else in the house.’

  ‘But they were living there,’ insisted Alex.

  The man snorted. ‘If you mean Mr and Mrs Mawdsley, they sailed for Canada just before war broke out. Went to join her brother.’

  Stupefied, Alex stared at him and then he sagged against the door jamb. ‘Thank God for that,’ he whispered.

/>   ‘Pull yourself together, lad.’ The man looked at him severely. ‘Now if you don’t mind I’m missing part of a Bach Oratorio.’ He made to shut the door and Alex stepped back.

  Swiftly Greta placed her foot in the gap between the door and the door jamb. ‘Mrs Mawdsley is his mother,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t happen to know, sir, where they’ve gone to in Canada?’

  The man shook his head.

  ‘The addresses of Mr Mawdsley’s other children?’ she asked.

  ‘Sorry, young woman! I doubt any of the neighbours would know … not a thing you go asking,’ he said gruffly.

  She thanked him and slipping her hand in Alex’s arm she hurried him away. ‘Canada!’ she exclaimed. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m thinking.’

  ‘Maybe your sisters will have his address,’ said Greta.

  Alex sighed heavily. ‘Let’s hope so but that means finding my Uncle George, who must be the one who put me in the Home.’

  ‘Do you think it was his house Mam pointed out to Rene?’

  His shoulders drooped. ‘Probably! Right now I feel I’m never going to see Mum again.’

  ‘Don’t let yourself get downhearted!’ Greta squeezed his arm.

  Anger flashed across his face and he wrenched his arm out of her grasp. ‘It’s all right for you to say that! How would you feel if you’d been taken away from your family when you were only a kid and put in a strange place? I know your mother and sister and brother are dead but at least you had their company for years and you still have your father and gran. Not only that, you’ll get to see your Uncle Fred, your aunt and cousins! They’ll probably welcome you with open arms just because you’re family You’ll belong without even having to try! I feel like I don’t bloody belong anywhere.’

  Greta was shocked by the savagery in his tone. She had hoped because he had been taken into their family and had lived with them for months now that he would begin to feel part of it, but obviously that wasn’t true. And she had to admit that if her mother, Amy and Alf were not dead but, instead, alive somewhere, then she’d want to move heaven and earth to be with them again.