This Lovely City

by Louise Hare

  Evie felt compelled to laugh at the absurdity of her mother’s words but she knew if she started she might not be able to stop. What else was she if not a monster?

  ‘When I spoke to Sister Mary again last June she told me that the adoption had all gone through. She went to a family in Hammersmith, a vicar and his wife, God bless them. Just returned from missionary work in Zaire and wanted to give an unwanted child a good home.’

  Annabel was alive. That was what she had to remember. Hammersmith wasn’t that far away. She might have walked past this vicar and his wife, maybe even as they pushed a pram along the street.

  ‘I only went ahead with what we’d already agreed,’ Ma pleaded. ‘You were the one who changed your mind at the last minute.’

  ‘It all makes sense now. You were so angry when I told you I’d decided to keep her. I ruined your life and you wanted me gone, not stuck in your home with a screaming brat.’ Evie cast her head back towards the ceiling. ‘I’m a fool. How did I never suspect?’

  Ma flinched at the accusation. ‘You can’t understand, Evie. I lost my chance at a normal life. I didn’t want you to make the same mistake and I knew that with Lawrie you had a golden opportunity. He was always asking after you, all those months that you were away. Aren’t you happier now, without that burden? With that ring on your finger?’

  Bile rose up and Evie dashed to the kitchen, hand across her mouth, only just making it to the sink before she vomited up whisky, her oesophagus on fire from the corrosive liquid.

  ‘Evie, love, are you all right?’ Her mother came up and put her arms around her from behind.

  ‘Get off me!’ She pushed her away, hard enough to make her stumble.

  Evie’s throat tightened as images flicked through her mind like a movie. A baby girl being handed to two smiling parents. Sleeping in a cot, tucked in amongst fluffy blankets. Her first smile shared with a woman who wasn’t Evie, calling that woman Mama for the first time, laughing as she was congratulated for her first steps. A first birthday party, any day now, with a cake and a candle that her father blew out for her. Would they have changed her name or was she still Annabel to them?

  ‘I never wanted you to find out like this.’

  ‘You didn’t want me to find out at all,’ Evie clarified.

  Agnes Coleridge had always been formidable, had done her best to hide any weakness even from her own daughter. Now she looked small and tired but Evie couldn’t feel pity, only the heat of her anger and the cold steel of the sink, grounding her as she clutched it with both hands. She couldn’t stay here.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Ma tried to grab her hand as she pushed past. ‘Evie?’

  Evie walked out into the warm April sunshine. She didn’t know where she was going but she had to get as far away as possible from her mother. This wasn’t her home any more.

  Extract from the Evening Standard – Wednesday 5th April 1950

  Police have announced the arrest of a Putney woman in the Ophelia case, almost a month after the body of a baby was discovered in the shallows of Eagle Pond, Clapham Common.

  DS Kenneth Rathbone spoke at today’s press conference, naming the suspect as Annette Dudley, age 29, of Lacy Road, Putney. Previously known as Mrs Sanderson, Mrs Dudley had recently remarried and moved to her new husband’s address. It was apparently a concerned neighbour from her prior address in Southfields who came forward with the information that led to Mrs Dudley’s arrest on Sunday.

  Mrs Sanderson, as she was, had been well known amongst her neighbours as she was often spotted coming and going to various dances and parties following the death of her first husband during the war. More than once she was observed returning home accompanied by gentlemen who stayed overnight at her address. The witness could not swear to it but has mentioned the possibility that one or more of these men was of a duskier persuasion than is usually seen in the vicinity.

  In April of last year a pram appeared outside Mrs Sanderson’s house and she was seen with a baby, presumably her own.

  ‘She kept herself to herself,’ one local man told us. ‘She always kept a blanket over the baby so you couldn’t tell if it was normal or one of them. I wouldn’t have been surprised either way.’

  Mr Dudley claims that the child was not his and that he was in fact rushed into marrying his new wife just six weeks ago when she told him she was pregnant once more. The police tell us that they have no reason to doubt his account. No eyewitnesses place Mr Dudley at the Southfields house and he is thought to be the victim of a duplicitous woman, eager to escape her miserable life as an unmarried mother.

  17

  Evie sat like a statue, her back pressed into the hard wood of the pew. Lawrie could feel the apprehension in the air as she kept her head turned to the front, well aware that her mother was only a few feet away. It had been over a week now and Evie still refused to talk about whatever had gone on between her and her mother.

  He stood with the rest of the congregation, fumbling for the hymn book.

  ‘What’s she doing?’ Evie whispered to him, one verse in.

  He looked across. Agnes was singing but without her usual gusto, her head down in her book. She was alone now. She and Evie had always sat together on the left back pew, Mrs Ryan and her charges on the right pew, but now Evie had changed sides. She hadn’t been back home once. Instead, she had sent Lawrie round with a list of what she needed and he had drunk tea in the kitchen while Agnes packed a small blue suitcase for him to take to Delia’s. She’d been just as reticent as her daughter when he’d dared to ask what had happened between them.

  ‘She’s just singing the hymn,’ he replied.

  He was glad that Agnes slipped out of the church the instant the service was over, allowing Evie to relax as they strolled back to Mrs Ryan’s. Evie had been invited over, Mrs Ryan wanting to have a special dinner in honour of the Easter holiday.

  ‘I was thinking,’ Evie said. ‘Is it too soon to get married next month?’

  ‘People will think there’s a reason for us rushing into it,’ he joked.

  ‘Is it rushing? We’ve been together almost a year after all, and we love one another, don’t we?’ She looked up and he saw in her clear gaze that she was serious.

  ‘But we’ve only been engaged a couple weeks,’ he said, surprised. ‘Why not September like we said? That’s when I got my leave. So we can go away on honeymoon afterwards. Didn’t you tell your boss?’

  He’d got it all planned out in his head already. Get married in the church here, the reception in the hall next door with the band providing the music. Then they’d catch the evening train down to Brighton and spend a week by the sea. He’d worked out costings with Mrs Ryan’s help (the idea of flowers hadn’t even crossed his mind). Agnes had been going to make the dress. They couldn’t marry without the dress, so Evie would just have to forgive her mother for whatever it was she’d done.

  ‘It’s just that I can’t stay at Delia’s for ever. And I won’t go back to Ma’s before you say anything. I could try and find a room to let but it seems such a waste of money when we could be living together.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘September seems so far away!’

  ‘Let me see if I can get some overtime,’ he found himself saying. He could always speak to Derek about extra deliveries.

  ‘Things are back to normal now. I reckon we could use a celebration.’

  ‘You’re right there.’ He’d been shocked at how the news had affected him, hearing of the arrest of the Putney woman. People spoke of a weight lifting when they had such news but he had never understood it until that moment. Annette Dudley’s arrest had felt like a sack of rocks falling from his back. Ever since he’d felt as though he were skipping instead of walking. ‘There’s something else you should know.’ He braced himself. ‘Aston’s at home.’

  ‘He’s back, is he?’

  ‘Turned up last night,’ Lawrie told her. ‘No advance warning, of course.’

  He’d just been sitting there, feet firmly under th
e table as Mrs Ryan brought him a sandwich made with the last of the bread. Lawrie got the impression he’d been expecting to spend the weekend elsewhere but had suddenly been left with nowhere else to go. He’d slept in while Lawrie had dressed for church, saying one Sunday’s attendance wouldn’t save his soul, even if it was for Easter. He was probably right.

  ‘Now, Evie, I’ve got a nice piece of beef in, thanks to Derek. You do eat beef, don’t you?’ Mrs Ryan caught them up, dragging Arthur behind.

  ‘It’s my favourite, Mrs Ryan.’

  ‘And after dinner, Lawrie, I’ll sit down and write to Lucille. Your poor mother! It’s been weeks since we last wrote.’

  Lawrie had to stifle a smile. He’d made up for his silence with a six-page letter back home, full of his good news and with not one mention of any baby or the police. He knew Mrs Ryan well enough to know she wouldn’t land him in trouble.

  Aston had made himself useful for once and laid the table. The best tablecloth, last seen at Christmas, cutlery laid out properly, napkins, even two candles as a centrepiece. Mrs Ryan oohed and aahed and Aston smiled bashfully as Evie rolled her eyes. Lawrie nudged her, hoping they’d both behave, but the smell of the beef was making his mouth water and all he cared about was how long it would be before he could eat.

  ‘Sit yourself down, Evie,’ Mrs Ryan invited.

  She sat, Lawrie taking the seat beside her as he saw Aston make a move. No way was Aston going to be allowed to wind Evie up today. It was supposed to be a celebration, not only of their engagement but of Lawrie’s freedom. Rathbone’s car had not been seen in a week. Lawrie would have enjoyed seeing that twisted smile wiped off the detective’s face when he found out the truth.

  Derek appeared carrying a heavy cardboard box. ‘Some wine came in from France the other day. Supposed to be decent.’ He unpacked a few bottles and went in search of a corkscrew.

  Arthur put on his glasses and inspected the label of one of the bottles. ‘Looks drinkable.’

  They all sat down, Arthur tugging at Mrs Ryan’s apron until she joined them and stopped fussing with the potatoes that needed to go in the oven. Six of them round the table. Arthur sat at the head, Derek at the bottom, the two men of the house. Wine was poured, and Arthur led the congratulations. Mrs Ryan even took a suspicious sip. Sherry and the odd Snowball at Christmas were her usual tipples.

  ‘Are we almost ready to eat, Ma, I’m starving?’ Derek rubbed his belly.

  ‘Less than an hour. You’ll last,’ his mother told him. ‘Evie, love, you can smoke out in the yard, if you’d like. The boys can show you.’

  Lawrie let her go without him. He’d told Aston to play nicely with her and this was his chance to show that he could be civil. Derek was there as chaperone so hopefully they could manage five minutes together without fighting.

  ‘You find out yet what happened with her next door?’ Arthur asked once the trio had closed the door behind them.

  ‘Evie won’t tell me. You think I should be worried?’ Stupid question; he was already worried.

  ‘They’ll sort it out by the wedding, surely.’ Mrs Ryan slammed the oven door on the potatoes and sat back down. ‘A girl needs her mother on her wedding day. And whatever else you say about Agnes, she’s a cracking seamstress. She’ll send Evie up the aisle looking a million dollars.’

  ‘I don’t know. Evie wants to move the wedding up to next month. She says that the sooner we move in together the better.’ He could tell from Mrs Ryan’s expression what she thought of that idea. ‘I mean, it makes sense the way she puts it but it won’t be the wedding we wanted. No honeymoon for a start, I can’t change my leave.’

  ‘I thought she was staying with her friend, whatshername?’

  ‘Delia. She is. I think she feels a bit awkward about it, though. Like she’s imposing.’

  ‘And yet we get the privilege of young Aston for days at a time without any rent money,’ Arthur commented. ‘How long did you say he’s staying for this time?’

  ‘God only knows,’ Lawrie replied. ‘I’m sorry. If he’s taking advantage I can talk to him. Get him to put his hand in his pocket at least.’

  ‘No, Lawrie, this is still my house and I make the rules.’ Mrs Ryan patted Arthur’s hand. ‘I said he was welcome to stay any time and that stands. He brings us presents every now and again, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Well, that’s another thing. If me and Evie get our own flat then I doubt she’ll want him staying with us. September was perfect. Time to save up, time for Aston to get a job and find himself somewhere to live…’ Lawrie sighed and drank some more wine. He’d just have to put his foot down with Evie. She could make it up with Agnes if she was so unhappy staying with Delia.

  The back door opened but only Derek came in, his face telling its own story as he closed it behind him. ‘It might be sunny out but with them two it feels more like the bleeding Arctic.’

  Arthur looked over at Lawrie and shrugged. Wasn’t it typical? Just when he thought everything was sorted. Getting back to normal. Things going his way. Lawrie stormed outside, but the pair of them were just standing there in silence, a few feet apart.

  ‘Everything all right?’ He felt a little deflated, denied the opportunity to let out his own frustration.

  ‘Fine,’ Evie said, her smile looking a little too forced.

  He looked at Aston who just shrugged and threw his cigarette butt into the flowerpot ashtray before walking back inside. Evie looked away and, just for a moment, she seemed like a stranger. Not his girl.

  ‘What’s going on with you?’ He walked closer and she let him fold her into his arms.

  ‘Nothing.’

  He rested his head upon hers and breathed in. She smelled like Evie. And she fitted beneath his chin as though she had been made for him, their height as complementary as their minds.

  ‘Why you won’t talk to me?’ he asked. ‘You don’t trust me?’

  ‘I do. Of course I do. It’s just… sometimes there are secrets that aren’t just mine, you know?’ Her smile was sad as she looked up at him. ‘What if I promise that I’ll tell you everything before we get married?’

  ‘In September? And do it properly, like we talked about?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. I was just having a panic before. We’ll do it properly.’

  ‘Good.’

  He gave in though he knew he should try harder. What was so terrible that she couldn’t tell him? Something that Agnes had done, he guessed, else why would she leave home the way she had, with no warning? And with this bull-headed determination not to go back.

  They went back inside when Mrs Ryan called out that dinner was ready. Aston kept his manners but didn’t say a word to Evie directly all through the meal. He was just his usual raucous self.

  Lawrie drank a little too much wine, his head fuzzy by the time Mrs Ryan started to clear the empty plates from the table.

  ‘I should go,’ Evie said suddenly. ‘I told Mrs Marson I wouldn’t be late home.’

  ‘It’s still early, Evie,’ Mrs Ryan protested.

  ‘I can walk you back,’ Lawrie offered, not trying to talk her into staying.

  The fresh air did him some good, even though the silence between them grew oppressive the closer they got to the Marsons’. She’d said that she would tell him everything, he just had to be patient. She’d backed down over rushing the wedding already, it wouldn’t be long before she sorted things out with her mother. This was between Agnes and Evie, nothing to do with him.

  They kissed briefly at the end of the street and he watched until she was safely inside the house. It was all going to be just fine, he told himself.

  On a whim, partly because he felt like another drink, partly because he didn’t want to go home and have Aston tell him what a coward he was for not demanding the truth from Evie, he detoured to Johnny’s house.

  Johnny’s place was on Somerleyton Road, just up from where Lawrie had spent his first few weeks in London. The imposing Victorian façades had survived the war for
the most part but these former family dwellings had been carved up into rooms, Johnny’s family occupying two such rooms at the top of a building at the Coldharbour Lane end of the street. Sonny and Moses shared another room on the ground floor of the same house. Another family of three, and a room whose occupants seemed to have changed every time Lawrie went over, made up the rest of the household.

  He went round the back, hearing voices and laughter over the wall. Unless it was raining or freezing cold, they always sat out back, jumpers and jackets on even in the height of summer.

  ‘Ah, look who grace us with his presence!’ Johnny stood closest, reaching out to greet his friend.

  ‘You fell out with Evie?’ Moses always seemed to know when something was going on.

  ‘Nah, man.’ It wasn’t quite a lie after all. ‘I just walked her home and since you were sort of on me way…’

  Johnny passed him a bottle of beer. ‘Good to see you.’

  The sun was low in the sky but there was still almost an hour before it would set, and Lawrie gladly took a seat next to Moses on one of the crates. It was just the four of them. The Originals as Johnny called them when Al wasn’t around.

  ‘We just sayin’, who you think they gonna pin this baby death on now?’ Sonny asked.

  Lawrie choked a little as his beer went the wrong way. ‘What you mean? They got that woman. They gonna leave us alone now.’

  Moses chuckled. ‘Nah, man. I tellin’ you, at work all the talk now is what a whore that woman is, she let some blackie sleep with her. They sayin’ if they find that nigger they make sure he won’ touch no other white woman. As in, he won’t be physically able to.’

  ‘They gon’ break his hands?’ Sonny asked.