Cockney Orphan

by Carol Rivers

  Olive wept a little. ‘He’s not coming home for his birthday on the twenty-ninth.’

  Ebbie laughed. ‘Don’t think the army cater for birthdays, love. Just thank your lucky stars he can make it at all.’

  Olive tucked the letter in her apron pocket. Connie knew she would read it ten times over by the time she went to bed. After dinner they all sat round the fire and opened their presents. As Connie took the tray of tea into the front room afterwards, Kevin looked up at her. ‘Connie, sit down a minute, Sylvie and me have an announcement to make.’

  ‘What is it?’ Olive asked as she clutched her cup tightly.

  Kevin glanced at Sylvie. ‘We want to tie the knot.’

  The cup clattered into the saucer. ‘What did you just say?’

  ‘We want to get married. Her mum and dad have given us their blessing.’ Kevin held Sylvie’s hand.

  ‘You’ve asked them already?’

  ‘We had to, Mum.’

  Olive stared at the two young people sitting on the couch. ‘You mean – you’re – you’re – expecting!’

  Sylvie burst into tears.

  ‘Oh, Christ,’ Ebbie muttered, glancing at his wife.

  Connie put her arm around Sylvie. She was very upset and Connie patted her back gently. ‘Don’t cry, Sylvie. It’ll be all right.’

  Olive rose to her feet. ‘How could you both be so irresponsible?’

  Kevin went to his mother. He tried to put his arm around her but she shrugged him off. ‘I’m sorry, Mum—’

  ‘It’s too late for apologies,’ she broke in angrily. ‘How are you going to manage? Where are you going to live? How do you propose to keep a family on your wage?’

  ‘Lots of our friends are married,’ Kevin protested. ‘Why not us?’

  ‘Because I expected something better of you, Kevin.’ Olive’s face was filled with disappointment. ‘You’ve locked shackles on your ankles, young man, and you’ll never lose them again.’

  ‘Now, Mother.’ Ebbie tried to calm his wife. ‘What’s done is done. We’ll just have to make the best of it.’

  ‘How do you make the best of nothing?’ she retorted, her lips trembling. ‘You’ve not got a penny saved between you.’

  ‘It doesn’t all boil down to money, Mum.’

  ‘Doesn’t it?’ Olive’s face tightened. ‘So tell me, where are you going to live? Here?’

  Kevin looked embarrassed. ‘Billy’s not here now so me and Sylvie thought we could use the bedroom.’

  Olive looked shocked. ‘There will be three of you very soon, plus your sister and me and Dad, and just because Billy’s in the army it doesn’t mean he won’t want a bed to sleep on when he comes home. What do you propose he should do then? Sleep with the baby?’ She turned her attention to Sylvie. ‘And what do your parents have to say on the subject of accommodation?’

  Sylvie flushed. ‘We’ve only got two bedrooms.’

  Olive looked back at her son. ‘You don’t know how disappointed I am in you, Kevin.’ She turned and left the room.

  They all sat in silence until Sylvie began to cry again softly. Kevin put his arm around her as she laid her head on his shoulder. Connie sighed. A baby in the family again. It was the most wonderful thing she could imagine. Once she might have agreed with her mother but after having Lucky in her life her ambition to become a career girl had vanished. All she wanted was to hold Lucky in her arms again. Where was he now? Was he loved and cherished? Did he miss her?

  If only Sylvie knew how blessed she was!

  Predictably, Christmas Day ended on a low note. Olive refused to resume the topic and turned on the radio as she began her knitting. Ebbie hid behind an old newspaper and finally Kevin walked Sylvie home.

  When everyone was in bed, Connie sat by the embers of the fire. Christmas night and she was alone. She took out her pencil and paper and began to write in the soft glow of the room. The first letter was to the Admiralty. She requested that, as Vic’s fiancée, she be informed of any developments in his case. The second letter was to Vic. She told him how much she missed him and that tomorrow, Boxing Day, she was going to spend with Pat and the children. When she had finished, she sealed both envelopes and addressed them.

  The following day she walked over to Pat’s. There was not a great selection in the larder and as there were no shops open Connie made bread and butter pudding accompanied by layers of spam. She cleaned the place from top to bottom, dragged in the tin bath and washed the children. Afterwards she played with them in front of the fire. Connie gave Lawrence a teddy bear for his cot and Doris a Hans Christian Andersen picture book. They sat reading after tea and it wasn’t until eight o’clock that Connie finally took her leave.

  Pat had been very quiet all day. What was going through her mind? she wondered as she walked back to Kettle Street. It was the first time that Connie had found the house and children in a neglected state. And even though Laurie’s Christmas letter had arrived, Pat had seemed oddly detached.

  Connie knew there was something wrong but she didn’t know what. She would call again soon and try to find out.

  Peggy Burton finally closed the doors of the Mile End soup kitchen. She let out a long sigh. Her feet were aching to the point of screaming. It was four o’clock on a Friday, the last Friday of 1943. She had fed and watered the world, it felt like, and now all she needed was to spoil herself with a cup of tea and feet up beside her husband as the New Year dawned.

  She removed her apron and went into the small room. All the decks were clear thanks to Eileen, Ginny and Fay, who had gone home. Only Grace and her brother remained on the premises.

  She watched the young girl and little boy as they played together on the floor. More bruises on the girl’s arms, though she had pulled down her sleeves now. Peggy’s suspicions were growing by the day. But, alas, now she had to send them home.

  ‘Grace, it’s time to go, dear.’

  The young girl nodded but the boy didn’t look up. He seemed to be in a world of his own, though he liked playing with the other small children.

  ‘Grace?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Burton?’

  ‘How is your mother?’ As eager as Peggy was to go home to her nice warm fire and somewhat neglected husband, her instinct told her that her work wasn’t yet finished.

  ‘Resting.’

  Ah! That word again. What did resting really mean? Peggy sat down on one of the wooden chairs and patted the seat beside her. Grace walked slowly over and lowered her tiny bottom, tucked her black patent shoes underneath her and sat contentedly.

  ‘Well, now, before you go, shall I see if there’s a biscuit or two left?’ Peggy asked.

  ‘Yes please!’

  The little boy looked up eagerly. Peggy knew how bright he really was. She’d wondered if his hearing was at fault when often he refused to respond. So she’d made her own investigations, rattling spoons to his right and left, and caught his attention immediately. No, the child was neither deaf nor dim. On the contrary, this child was as healthy as the next.

  Peggy smiled and stood up. In the New Year she would make more enquiries regarding this curious pair. It was strange the mother had never arrived to see where her children were going each day. And where did those marks on Grace’s arms come from? Or, possibly, from whom?

  The mild, unseasonable January confused everyone. But just in case Jack Frost arrived Connie wore warm woollen gloves, a scarf and a heavy coat as she left work and went straight to Pat’s. All the chimneys were belching smoke. There was talk again of a new and deadly weapon that Germany was testing out. The rumours circulated every so often; people still did their stint of fire-watching or Home Guard duties, but with all the talk of the European invasion nerves were on edge at what would happen next.

  When Connie arrived at Pat’s, a man dressed in a dark coat stood on the doorstep. Pat was staring out from her dark-rimmed eyes, trying to console a screaming Lawrence.

  ‘This is unacceptable, I’m afraid,’ he was shouting above the ba
by’s cries. ‘The matter must be settled at once.’

  ‘I told you,’ Pat pleaded tearfully, ‘I’ll pay you when I get a job. I haven’t any money now.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Connie asked anxiously as she ascended the steps.

  He turned to frown at her. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Mrs Grant’s brother’s fiancée.’

  ‘Do you live here?’

  ‘No. Why?’

  The man ignored her and turned back to Pat. ‘I must insist on settlement or I shall have to refer the debt to our collectors. We have no wish to involve the bailiffs, but I’m afraid non-payment will result in just such an action.’

  Doris appeared, tears splashing down her cheeks as she clung to Pat’s skirt.

  ‘I have my job to do,’ the stranger continued, raising his voice over both screaming children.

  ‘Does your job include frightening women and children?’ Connie demanded as she took Lawrence, who smelled quite badly, into her arms.

  A blood vessel seemed to swell in the man’s neck. His red skin bulged over his collar. ‘I can see I’m wasting my time.’ With a glare at Pat, he moved down the steps. ‘Good day to you.’

  Pat sighed forlornly after he’d gone.

  ‘What was all that about bailiffs?’ Connie asked as she stepped into the cold, dark hall.

  ‘I’m behind with the rent.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Ten pounds.’

  ‘Has he called before?’

  Pat nodded. ‘I just can’t seem to manage on Laurie’s allowance and I’m too tired to even think about getting a job,’ she admitted as Lawrence’s cries rose to a crescendo. ‘I feel exhausted.’

  ‘Then why don’t you go and rest,’ Connie suggested as she took Doris’s hand. ‘I’ll see to the kids.’

  Without protest Pat walked wearily into the bedroom.

  Connie ushered Doris into the kitchen and noticed at once that her dress was stained. Lawrence’s romper was filthy and his nappy soaked.

  ‘I’ll change Lawrence,’ she told Doris, helping the little girl on to a chair. ‘And we’ll make ourselves a nice cup of tea.’

  ‘We ain’t got none, Auntie Con,’ Doris said.

  ‘No tea?’ Connie looked around. Dirty crocks abounded, the stove was unwashed and crusty with burned food. The place was freezing and a stale smell pervaded the room.

  Connie looked in the larder. Apart from half a loaf and a rack of vegetables there was virtually nothing. She closed the door and turned back to Doris, who was looking up at her with expectant eyes.

  ‘Are you hungry, Doris?’

  ‘Yes, Auntie Con.’

  ‘We’ll go to the shops, shall we?’

  ‘Mummy’s got no money.’

  ‘Did she tell you that?’

  ‘No, she told the man. He was angry.’ Doris sucked her lip. ‘Mummy was crying.’

  Connie bent down and balanced Lawrence on her knees. She took hold of Doris’s cold hands. ‘That’s only because she’s tired and needs a good, long sleep. We’ll change Lawrence’s nappy and make him comfortable, then put him in the pram and go down to buy some nice things to eat.’

  Doris smiled. ‘Can I have a gob-stopper?’

  ‘Don’t see why not.’

  ‘Goodee!’

  When Lawrence was dry and wrapped under his blankets in the pram, Connie helped Doris with her coat and scarf. Five minutes later she was skipping happily beside the pram and Lawrence was fast asleep, exhausted from all the crying he’d done

  Connie used her own coupons at Mrs Gane’s corner shop, filling up Gran’s shopping basket. As they left the shop a car pulled up. The unpleasant man from the council stepped out. He was about to knock on a door when Connie pushed the pram towards him.

  ‘Stop!’ Connie called.

  Once again she received a sneer. ‘What is it?’ He moved on to the pavement cautiously.

  ‘I understand Mrs Grant owes you rent.’

  ‘That’s private business.’

  ‘But you are the rent collector, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m the council’s department representative,’ he corrected her pompously.

  Connie reached into her handbag. She still hadn’t opened her wage packet, and now shook out £3 17s 6d from the envelope, adding more coins from her purse. ‘Here’s five pounds towards what she owes.’

  He took it suspiciously. ‘What about the balance?’

  ‘You’ll get it.’

  He looked at her doubtfully. ‘I don’t know what my superiors will say about this.’

  ‘I should think you’ll get promoted on the strength of this.’ She pushed her purse back in her bag. ‘Anyway, if the bailiffs put Pat and the kids on the street you won’t get a brass farthing more.’

  ‘There’s no need to take that attitude,’ he answered nastily. ‘We wouldn’t evict someone unless it was absolutely necessary.’

  ‘Well, you could have fooled me the way you went on at Pat today. Her health is poor after Gran’s death and her husband is in the army, fighting for his country.’ She deliberately looked him up and down.

  ‘Am I to understand, Miss . . . er . . .’

  ‘Marsh is the name.’

  ‘That you, Miss Marsh, will stand as guarantor for repayment of the debt?’

  ‘If that’s how you want to put it, yes.’

  He drew himself up to his full height. ‘Then I’ll take your address, please.’

  Connie gave it. ‘Now, if you’ll write me a receipt?’

  Reluctantly he brought out his little book, counted the money and wrote on the piece of paper. Connie took it and grabbing Doris’s hand she pushed the pram away, her head held high.

  ‘Is he gonna get cross with Mummy again?’ Doris asked as they hurried on.

  ‘No, love. No one’s going to make Mummy cry again, I promise. Now, let’s have a little walk to warm us up, then when we get home I’m going to make you a nice big dinner and we’ll sit round the fire to eat it.’

  Connie was thinking about what she had done. She had used up all of one week’s wages. To economize she would have to walk to work and avoid the canteen and postpone any expenditure. She had five pounds in a jar at home, some of which she’d have to give to Mum. Had she been hasty in her promise to clear Pat’s debt? But she just couldn’t let Pat and the children be thrown out!

  When they got back Connie shovelled the last remnants of coke into the fire. Then she cooked a meal: vegetable pie and mashed potatoes followed by a nourishing dried egg custard that both children ate swiftly. When this was done she took Pat in a cup of tea and helped her to dress.

  ‘Go in the kitchen and sit by the stove,’ she told her. ‘I’ll put the kids to bed.’

  Connie washed and changed them and, when Lawrence was snoozing in his cot, she read Doris a story and kissed her goodnight.

  Returning to the kitchen, she found Pat asleep in Gran’s rocking chair. Her tea was untouched. Connie sat beside her and sighed. What was she to do with this sad little family?

  Studying Pat’s gaunt features as she lay in the chair, she knew there was only one decision to make.

  And it was one that would solve everyone’s problems.

  Sunday dinner was over and Connie finished wiping up. She took off her apron and looked at Olive. The letter that had come from Billy yesterday saying his leave had been cancelled hadn’t improved her mother’s mood. Still, there was no going back now on what she had decided.

  ‘Mum, I’d like to talk to you and Dad.’

  Olive turned from the sink, an expression of alarm on her face. ‘Oh, God, what is it now?’

  ‘Nothing to worry about. It’s to do with Pat and the kids.’

  Olive sighed in relief. ‘Thank the Good Lord. I’m living on my nerve ends these days wondering what’s going to happen next in this family.’

  ‘Can we go in the front room?’

  Olive dried her hands on the towel. ‘I’ll just make tea.’ The tray was set and broug
ht in. Ebbie folded his Sunday newspaper as Olive poured the tea.

  Connie sat beside her mother on the couch. She was ready for an outburst, which she hoped to calm with a bright idea that she’d had last night after coming home from Pat’s.

  ‘Well, Constance, what is it?’

  Connie noted her mother hadn’t picked up her cup and saucer. Her father was looking at her anxiously. She didn’t want to upset either of them and she knew this would be difficult. But in the end it would be better for everyone.

  ‘As I was saying, it’s about Pat. She isn’t managing on Laurie’s pay.’

  ‘But she gets all his soldier’s allowance, doesn’t she?’ her father asked.

  ‘His pay is only twenty-five shillings a week.’

  ‘I thought Gran left her some.’ Olive was looking worried now.

  ‘She did, but it’s gone.’ Connie didn’t say anything about the rent collector or having given him money.

  ‘Can’t she get her old job back?’

  ‘She’s still not very well.’

  ‘What can we do to help?’ Ebbie asked kindly.

  Connie took a breath. ‘I thought I would move in as her lodger.’

  Olive gasped. ‘You mean leave home – here – Kettle Street?’

  ‘Only until she can manage again.’

  ‘But when will that be?’ Olive’s mouth was twitching.

  ‘Mum, Sylvie could move in then. There would be room for all three of them if I went. It would solve a big problem, wouldn’t it? And you’d still have all your family round you.’

  Olive looked into Connie’s eyes. ‘I . . . I . . .’ she spluttered.

  ‘After all, I’m engaged and I’d be moving out when—’

  ‘When what?’ Olive gazed at her incredulously. ‘Vic’s not coming home, Constance, he’s—’

  ‘Olive!’ Ebbie interrupted sharply, his face darkening.

  Connie shook her head slowly. ‘It’s all right, Dad.’

  Olive looked hurt. ‘Well, it’s true, isn’t it? Everyone is walking around on eggshells, Constance, trying not to upset you by saying the truth. You must face the fact that sooner or later—’