This Lovely City

by Louise Hare

  ‘Worse.’ Johnny made an arrow with his own hands, pointing to his crotch. ‘You watch out, Sonny.’

  Lawrie shuddered. He’d thought it was over, the spotlight off him at last. He’d not considered that there was still a fella out there who’d fathered the child.

  ‘It wasn’t you, was it, Lawrie?’

  Moses was teasing, he knew, but he still had to stop himself from reacting.

  ‘I’m not sure I’ve ever been to Putney,’ he fired back. ‘Besides, I’ll be a married man in a few months. First of us to tie the knot on English soil.’

  ‘English, Jamaican, don’t matter what soil it is, boy. Your life will never be your own again,’ Johnny warned. ‘You marry the wrong woman and your life be over.’

  ‘Don’t you listen! Evie’s not the wrong woman and Johnny done well himself with Ursula,’ Sonny said. ‘’Sides, the other alternative is ending up like Aston. That boy! How he keep up with all these different women every week?’

  ‘Even Aston is lookin’ to settle down now,’ Moses said.

  Lawrie looked at him in surprise. ‘Aston? You know something I don’t?’

  ‘He never told you ’bout Elaine?’

  Lawrie looked around but the rest of the band seemed as mystified as he was. ‘Elaine?’

  ‘You don’t know? I met her one time when I ran into Aston on Oxford Street. Few weeks back it was and they been shopping. Holding hands and everything,’ Moses recalled. ‘Him carrying a lot of shopping bags, fancy ones, like from one of them high class shops on Regent Street.’

  ‘Must be true love then,’ Johnny said. ‘Only a crazy person goes shopping with their woman.’

  ‘When was this?’ Lawrie asked.

  This Elaine, whoever she was, her name had never come out of Aston’s mouth, not in Lawrie’s presence, at least. Evie had mentioned that she’d seen Aston with a brunette woman at the Lyceum but he’d thought nothing of it. Why wouldn’t he have told Lawrie, of all people, if he was getting serious about a woman?

  ‘Not too long. Month or so ago. Before this trouble all started though, I can tell you that much.’ Moses clicked his fingers. ‘I got it! It was the weekend before the baby was found. I was up in Soho ’cause me tailgut snapped, you remember, that Friday night at the Lyceum? And then I decided I may as well have a stroll along and check out the price of a new shirt ’cause mine was all gettin’ yellow. Definitely it was the week before ’cause I saw him the next Friday evening and he never said nothin’ ’bout her. Seemed like he was avoiding me and I did wonder what was up.’

  Johnny lit a cigarette. ‘Think he been seeing this girl long? She white?’

  ‘Yes, and they seemed very familiar. Hadn’t just met that day or anything. She wasn’t English, though. Had an accent, like French or German, one of those. And she was definitely in charge. Wasn’t keen to stand there on the street making chit-chat. She said they had an appointment for something or other.’

  ‘So Aston has a foreign girlfriend, who he’s been seeing for a while and isn’t keen to associate with his friends. And even I never heard of her. His best friend.’ Lawrie shook his head. ‘What he up to?’

  ‘You think maybe he’s got a reason?’ Sonny asked. ‘Like maybe Elaine had a baby and he don’t want to get her in trouble?’

  ‘You think he got something to do with the murder?’ Moses asked, looking worried. ‘See, I forgot about her until just now. I didn’t think it was important.’

  ‘Aston?’ Johnny laughed. ‘No way, man. He not a babykiller. This girl sounds like she got money – you said they been out shopping in fancy places. Strange sort of thing to do if they plannin’ to commit a murder, don’t you think? Anyway, they arrested that Putney woman.’

  ‘Then why not tell us about her. Not even Lawrie. And he must have been in London that week, right? When the baby was found.’ Sonny disagreed.

  Lawrie leaned back, conflicted; feeling betrayed that Aston hadn’t wanted to introduce him to his woman; feeling like a Judas for thinking even for second that Aston could do something so awful. Unless he’d been given no choice.

  ‘We could let the police know to interview him. Get them off our backs for a while,’ Moses suggested.

  ‘No.’ Sonny waved that notion away like a mosquito. ‘You weren’t at the meeting the other day? We spoke about this. We don’t do that to our own. Besides, do that and you put them back onto Lawrie.’

  ‘Why you think that?’ Moses asked.

  ‘’Cause I found the body, Moses. You forgot? You tell Rathbone that a friend of mine, until recently thought to be in another part of the country at the time, was actually gallivanting around London the week that baby died, you know what he’ll think? That we were in it together.’ Lawrie laughed harshly. ‘You would land me right in it.’

  ‘Then where the hell was Aston when all this took place?’ Moses asked.

  ‘I dunno, but he wasn’t out on Clapham Common killing a baby.’ Lawrie was adamant. Aston was a lot of things but he wasn’t a bad man. If he’d hidden this woman from everyone then there was a good reason. ‘Anyway, this woman they got, her name is not “Elaine”. Elaine got nothin’ to do with this so therefore neither does Aston.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Hush you mouth, Moses.’ Johnny interrupted. ‘Besides, things won’t go on like this. We’ll get a few more bookings once things have calmed down.’

  ‘No more weddings.’ Sonny stared at Johnny darkly. ‘And what you mean a few more? We struggling?’

  ‘Well, the book is looking a little empty,’ Johnny admitted. ‘We just got the Lyceum and a couple gigs round Soho coming up.’

  ‘I thought there was a church dance soon?’ Lawrie tried to think back a couple of weeks.

  ‘They cancelled,’ Johnny said quietly. ‘But just as well. I mean, we don’t want to be playing church halls, do we? Jazz and calypso and proper dance music, that’s what we want, none of this sedate dull English stuff.’

  ‘Just as well none of us rely on the band to pay rent.’ Sonny looked hard at Johnny, the only one of them who did.

  Moses changed the subject to cricket and Lawrie drank another two beers as the light faded into darkness, the men now illuminated by the light from an upstairs window. Lawrie was just thinking that he should get going when he’d finished his beer when they heard the smash.

  ‘Johnny!’ It was Ursula’s voice, panicked.

  A third-floor window scraped open and Johnny’s wife pushed her head out, calling for him once more.

  ‘What the hell go on?’ he shouted up.

  There was another crash and Lawrie could hear the screams of the women and children upstairs, the wail of the baby. Johnny didn’t wait for a reply but ran into the house, Lawrie slower to react, the alcohol dulling his senses. He followed Moses and Sonny inside, more out of curiosity than fear. Even after what they’d spoken about that afternoon, he wasn’t expecting what confronted them as they arrived in the hallway.

  Ursula pounded down the stairs. ‘Don’ you open that door, Johnny! They out there. They got weapon and all sort.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I don’ know, Johnny. Men. White men.’ Her voice lowered now to a hiss. ‘You hear them?’

  They stood there in the dark hallway, their faces barely visible in the twilight. Lawrie listened and could make out the voices on the other side of the solid front door. Two sounded like they were right there, laughing as they stood close enough to ring the doorbell if they’d wanted to. He sniffed suddenly. Something was burning.

  Johnny nudged Moses and pointed to the door that led from the hallway to the room Moses and Sonny shared. ‘You smell that?’

  ‘Shit, man!’ Moses threw open the door and they peered round the frame as he ran inside and turned on the light.

  The cause of the smash had been the window to this room, a brick lying in the centre of the carpet with glass spread everywhere like confetti, all over the beds. Their attackers weren’t the smartest, at least. Their second sh
ot had been a poor attempt at a Molotov cocktail, the glass bottle still intact. It was the burnt wick that had made the rancid smell as the threadbare carpet beneath it smouldered. Moses picked the bottle up gingerly, placing it in the steel sink in the corner of the room while Sonny stamped on the floor until the smoke desisted, a black scorch mark left behind.

  From outside came the sound of whooping, pounding footsteps moving away along the pavement.

  Ursula came down then, her nightgown tied tight and her hair under a scarf. ‘They gone, thank the Lord. I jus’ seen them run off round the corner.’

  ‘All right.’ Johnny kissed her cheek. ‘You go up and check on the pickney, I go out and make sure they gone.’

  They went together to the front door, Johnny gingerly releasing the lock before throwing it open, perhaps hoping to surprise any foolish man who’d stayed behind. There was no one there when they went outside. Lawrie smelt the urine before he saw the faint streams that ran down off what was left of the front window, at least six skinny waterfalls that pooled on the weed-strewn slabs beneath.

  He turned back towards the front door to see Johnny staring at the words that had been daubed in red paint against the chipped black of the front door: NIGGERS GO HOME.

  For a full minute, nobody said a single word.

  9th April 1950

  Dear Gertie,

  You must be wondering what on earth you’ve done to deserve another letter from me so soon. I wish I had better news or didn’t have to bother you with my problems, but I have no one else to talk to.

  Evie has left. Walked out on me. I told you that detective was hanging about. Well, he carried on with his digging and found me out. And of course he told Evie, thinking that her baby must be the baby in the pond. I had to tell her the truth then. She’d have worked it out soon enough. The way she looked at me! I thought that now, with her engaged to Lawrie finally, she’d understand. I thought she’d be grateful that she’s got a bright future ahead of her. Anyway, she just walked out. She sent Lawrie round a few days ago to collect a suitcase of her clothes and things. Thank goodness, he knows none of this else I’m sure he’d be reconsidering marrying her. If anyone knows what men think of an unmarried mother, it’s me after all.

  I wish we could talk. A lot’s gone on since I last saw you and I feel like I’m about to burst with it all but I daren’t write it all down. I can hear you now, saying ‘I told you so’. And I knew at the time it was a risk but I felt it was worth taking. There’s still a chance Evie will come around. If only because Lawrie’s already suspicious. I could see him looking at me, the questions on the tip of his tongue, but he was too afraid to ask. He is a lovely lad. Totally in love with Evie. I do sometimes think she might get away with telling him the truth, the way I’ve seen him look at her.

  I don’t know if I can bear to wait for your reply. You have a telephone, after all. I’m going to call you on Tuesday afternoon. I do for the Rodgers on a Tuesday and she’s never home. I’m sure they won’t notice one tiny telephone call. I’ll ring you at three o’clock so please be in. I need your help, big sis. Yes, yet again. Please be in.

  Love,

  Aggie xx

  18

  It was odd sleeping in a room with Delia, listening to the sound of another person breathing. Evie hadn’t slept through the night since she’d ended up at the Marsons’. She should be more grateful, she knew. After all, she’d had nowhere else to go. This bed, with the spring sticking up just where she would have been most comfortable, was a blessing. But this wasn’t her home. The room was messy, clothes strewn everywhere and the dressing table covered in the paraphernalia of young women: make-up and hair brushes, half empty jars of all sorts of creams, and that wasn’t the worst of it. There were men living in this house who left strange smells in the bathroom and edged nervously around Evie as if she might break if they came too close. She couldn’t remember feeling so awkward and out of place.

  But she couldn’t go home. She couldn’t bear the thought of facing her mother again. Ma must be glad that she’d left. She knew where Evie was but she’d not made any attempt to come round. Ma wasn’t all that old, after all. She could still have a life, away from Evie. It used to be all she talked about, selling up as soon as Evie was out from under her feet, moving away to a place where nobody knew her story.

  The morning of her day off, she waved Delia off to work before getting dressed, leaving the house half an hour later. It was a lovely warm April day and the few of the Marsons’ neighbours who bothered to plant anything at the front of their houses were seeing the benefit now that spring was in full bloom. Stone pots and planters of brightly coloured flowers gave Evie an idea and she made a detour to the high street florist, asking the woman behind the counter for advice. She’d never bought flowers before. Ma said that they died within days so what was the point in wasting money on them. An old poster was stuck up on the wall, asking for information on the Clapham Common baby. They must have forgotten to take it down after that Sanderson woman had been arrested. The florist saw her looking at it and, despite knowing she should keep her mouth shut, Evie told her that she wanted to lay some flowers at the pond. For baby Ophelia. The woman looked at her strangely but didn’t say anything. But Annette Dudley had not cared about her daughter and no child deserved that. A child deserved love; that was why Evie had decided she had to find Annabel. Just to be sure that her mother was now telling the truth and she’d gone to a good home. Then she would leave her be. She paid too much for a bouquet of white carnations and caught the 37 to Clapham Common.

  No one would know that Eagle Pond had been the site of such a macabre tableau only a few weeks prior. It was a peaceful spot, serene, a pair of ducks breaking up its mirrored surface. A little boy, barely out the pram himself, his mother gossiping with an older woman on the path, was tugging at the long grass, laughing as it came free from the soil and tumbled him backwards into its soft lawn. Evie cut off the path onto the grass, smiling as she watched him, her eyes widening as he took off suddenly, toddling at pace towards the water’s edge.

  ‘Hey!’ she cried out as she picked up her speed, waving in the direction of the mother who was a good ten feet away, barely glancing round at Evie’s shout. ‘Excuse me? Hello!’

  Evie hooked her hand into the boy’s duffel coat hood just as he stumbled over the edge, screaming as the cold water shocked him. Throwing her flowers to the ground, she managed to grab him under his armpits and lifted him onto dry land as he cried out for Mummy.

  The mother had finally awoken to the danger and rushed over, pulling her son from Evie’s grasp. ‘What did I tell you? You don’t go near the water!’ She smacked his bottom and Evie bit back a retort, seeing that it was pointless. The boy’s sobs intensified as he was dragged away without a thank you to his rescuer.

  ‘Don’t mind her, love, it’s just the shock. Makes people forget their manners.’ The older woman walked over to Evie, whose ears were still ringing from the high pitch of the boy’s shrieks. ‘Shame about your flowers. Were they for someone special?’

  ‘Sort of.’ Evie stared down at the crushed petals, dark with pond mud where the mother and child had trampled the heads into the ground. ‘They’re where they’re supposed to be, at least.’

  The woman’s expression slid into the same wariness that she’d seen on the florist’s face and she smiled vacantly before walking away. Evie’s shoes were caked in mud. There was a bench set back from the pond and she sat down gratefully. There was no rush, she reminded herself, no appointment to keep. Once she’d stopped shaking, she took off her shoes one by one, wiping them clean on the grass as best she could. They’d have to do; it wasn’t as though she could just go home and change. She’d cross Lawrie’s route and if he caught sight of her, she didn’t know what she would say. Her shins were speckled with dirt and she waited for it to dry before brushing off the worst of it. Doubts were creeping in but she did her best to push them away. Not knowing was worse than knowing the truth, she reminde
d herself.

  It had taken days to build up the courage to get this far. Even Delia didn’t know the real reason she’d taken the day off work. She’d said that she wanted to make a start on the wedding plans, Mr Sullivan reluctantly granting her the leave. Not because she wasn’t owed or deserved it, he told her, but that he didn’t want to lose her. She’d never given it much thought before but there were no married women working at Vernon & Sons. Wives, with a bit of luck, soon became mothers. Would it feel different to carry Lawrie’s baby, a wanted child? She had prayed every day with Annabel, wishing hopelessly that it was all just a bad dream.

  Now that she was only a few minutes’ walk away from her destination she felt paralysed, her encounter with the toddler having knocked the courage from her. She was hollowed out, staring at the sad brown remnants of those innocent carnations. She couldn’t bear to pick them up and dispose of them properly. They would rot eventually, fade away into the soil beneath soon enough. What sort of tribute was a poor cheap bunch of flowers anyway?

  Ma had always said that it was the thought of leaving Evie to rot away in a children’s home that had made up her mind in the end. That the idea of her growing up without love was too cruel to bear. Evie couldn’t help but think that if her own mother had her time again, maybe it would have been Evie found tangled up in the shallows of Eagle Pond, eighteen years before. But Agnes Coleridge had kept her daughter and suffered, never letting Evie forget how lucky she was. Evie pushed herself to her feet with effort. If she meant to go through with her plan then best to get it over with.

  Cedars Road was only a stone’s throw from the north side of the Common, a wide thoroughfare lined with Victorian villas that remembered the war well. Many of the buildings still stood, though they showed their wounds clearly. Like everywhere else in London, progress was slow. Evie turned into the driveway of one of the houses, about halfway along. Only a small sign screwed into the brickwork beside the porch gave away its precise use: Cedars Road Home for Women and Babies. The place of Evie’s birth. The place where her mother had taken Annabel.