All Fall Down

by Jenny Oldfield

  What was she doing here? Meggie stared up at them, perplexed. Had she meant to come? She thought not, though there might have been some reason why she should want to find Richie Palmer again. Could it have been that she’d wanted to check Gertie’s story? She tried to concentrate.

  ‘Watch where you’re going, mate!’ An oldish man on a bicycle, balancing a load of firewood on the crossbar, swerved as she strayed into the road. He turned his head to watch her stumble back onto the pavement. Something must have told him to get off and go to her aid. She could have been drunk, but he didn’t think so. ‘Here, help me get her seen to,’ he called out, as Meggie swayed and collapsed in the gutter. No one answered his plea. The girl had fainted, and he was lumbered.

  Worse, a siren started up. Just what he needed. For a moment, the man thought he might leave Meggie to recover unaided. Then he noticed the down-and-outs trickling into the Hungerford Club for the duration. He helped her struggle to her feet. ‘In here,’ he suggested. ‘I’ll get someone to take a look at you.’

  In spite of her daze, Meggie recognised the number 176 above the door. She seemed terrified of the place, and shook herself free. ‘I’ll be all right, ta.’

  ‘There’s a raid on, can’t you hear?’ He began to wonder if he could get home, or if he would have to shelter too. He tried to brush the mud splashes from the girl’s white coat.

  ‘Don’t.’ She stepped away, almost fell.

  ‘Here, I’ll get a cab.’ What a state, he thought. He hailed a taxi and rattled off an instruction to the driver. ‘She ain’t well. How far are you going?’

  ‘Waterloo, if I can make it.’ The driver flicked a cigarette butt onto the road. ‘Does she want a ride or not?’

  The man waited for Meggie to nod. He picked up the bag she’d dropped in the gutter and bundled her into the taxi. The road and pavement were by now almost empty. He grabbed his bike with its load of wood, then waved the driver on. ‘She ain’t with it, mate, but I think she’ll soon come round.’

  ‘How do you know she’s got the price of a cab on her?’ But he relented when he looked in his mirror and saw Meggie’s frightened white face. ‘All right, all right, call it my good deed for the day.’ He drove off at breakneck speed as the siren wailed in broad daylight.

  ‘Cor, stone me, if she don’t go and faint on me again!’ he told his fellow drivers in the shelter at Waterloo. ‘I’m out of the cab, rifling through her things to find out who the hell she is, when this copper comes up. What a bleeding farce. We find a whole bunch of letters tied up in a ribbon in her bag. She’s a Meggie Davidson of Paradise Court. I hand her over to the copper like a hot potato. Let him deal with it.’ He sipped his tea and said it was the last time he was playing good Samaritan.

  It was a police car that had rolled up at the Duke with Meggie in the back. George was locking up, making sure that everyone was clear before the raid got underway. The policeman stopped to ask for the Davidson’s house. It was all right, George said, he was family. The girl’s mother had already taken shelter in the cellar of the pub. He helped Meggie out of the car.

  When she saw who it was, Hettie came rushing through the bar. Meggie stumbled into her arms. She clung to her aunt in a state of shock.

  ‘Hush there, everything’s all right.’ Hettie held her tight. ‘Your ma and grandma are here, we’ll look after you. Come downstairs. Listen, darling, if it’s Ronnie you’re worried about, there’s no need. We got a telephone message. He said to tell you he’s fine. His leave got cancelled right at the last minute. That’s why he wasn’t on the train.’

  Meggie stared at her, expressionless.

  ‘There, there, he knew you’d be upset. He says not to worry, he’ll put in for leave again just as soon as he can. He promises to write you lots of letters. He says you gotta write too.’ Gently she led Meggie down to the shelter. ‘Oh, and he says to tell you he loves you, and something about the stars. What was it?’

  The cellar door opened. Sadie, who had been worried stiff and had telephoned the Bell to see if Meggie was there, took one look at her and clasped her in her arms.

  Tommy couldn’t wait to feel solid pavement under his feet again. His excursion into the country had left him shaken. ‘I ain’t no local yokel,’ he confided to Charlie Ogden one night soon after his return. The two men got on well, considering. He lifted a pint of Annie’s best bitter and took a sip. ‘I don’t know how them Land Army girls stick it, and all for twenty-eight bob a week.’

  ‘How’s Edie?’

  ‘A1 ta.’

  ‘When’s she coming home?’

  ‘Don’t ask me, mate.’

  Charlie decided to mind his own business. ‘How’s Dad’s Army treating you?’

  ‘It’s a bleeding shambles,’ Tommy admitted. ‘I’m a civilian volunteer despatch rider, except I ain’t got a bleeding bike, have I?’

  ‘They call it doing your bit.’

  The desultory conversation drifted, until Dorothy came into the pub to collect Charlie on the way to the cinema. ‘What’s up, Tommy? You got a face like a wet weekend.’ She had a glint in her eye as she got Charlie to order her a drink. ‘How’s Edie getting along?’

  ‘I already asked him.’ Charlie pushed the glass towards her with a meaningful look.

  ‘What’s the matter? She found a nice-looking Yank to take her along to the local hop?’ This was more light entertainment for Dorothy. She was long past regretting the breakdown of her marriage, and although passion wasn’t a large ingredient in her new relationship with Charlie, there was at least a sound understanding between them. Warts and all, she told her women friends. She had to take Charlie’s gloomy fits in her stride, while his feelings for her had strengthened since his near-miss and long hospital stay. Behind the lipstick and the nail polish didn’t exactly beat a heart of pure gold, but at least he knew where he was with Dorothy. ‘I hear you paid Edie a visit. Is she up to her elbows in cow-muck, or what?’

  ‘She drives a bleeding truck.’ Tommy regretted giving even this much away.

  ‘Oh God, what does she look like? Does she have to wear them nasty fawn britches like in the advert? And don’t say you never noticed.’ Dorothy gauged the impact of her teasing. “You ain’t been ditched for a turniphead, have you?’ Why else would Edie be stopping away from home for so long?

  ‘What if she happens to like it there, not having bombs dropped on her head every five minutes?’ Charlie suggested.

  ‘Well, I never thought of that. Maybe I should give it a go.’ Dorothy sat on her stool, perky as anything.

  Even Tommy smiled. ‘You in a pair of dungarees? I don’t think so.’

  ‘Come on, if we’re going. The picture starts at seven.’ Charlie checked his watch. He helped Dorothy on with her coat and left the bar to Tommy and a couple of other customers installed at a corner table.

  After they’d gone, Annie worked her way across, wiping the bar top as she came. She thought she knew what was eating Tommy. ‘Cheer up, it might never happen.’

  He shrugged.

  ‘There again, maybe it already has. How long have you been coming in here, Tommy?’ She put away her cloth and drew up a stool across the bar from him, an unusual move for the ever-active landlady. ‘I make you much of an age with our Ernie. He’d have been forty-four this year.’

  ‘Don’t rub it in.’ He felt every day of his forty-one years.

  ‘Ernie was never more than a boy to me, of course. Not just because of how he was. Forty don’t seem any age when you get to seventy-odd.’ She took her time. There was something specific she wanted to say. ‘You got half your life ahead of you.’ Another pause. ‘How’s business?’

  ‘Picking up,’ he admitted. He’d moved in on two more vacant newspaper stands, started employing Jimmie and Bobby on a full time basis.

  ‘I knew you’d soon be back on your feet.’

  ‘It ain’t hard, Annie. Not with half the work force away fighting a war, remember.’

  ‘Still, it takes guts to
pull yourself back from the brink.’ He sipped at his beer. ‘Spit it out. I know you: you’re gonna give me the benefit of your advice, whether I like it or not.’

  Annie sniffed. ‘You always was a cheeky monkey, Tommy O’Hagan.’ Still, it gave her the way in. ‘Edie’s making you wait, ain’t she?’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Who told you?’

  ‘No one. I worked it out for myself. As a matter of fact, it was me who told her to take her time.’ She braved the impatient rap of Tommy’s glass on the bar. ‘No, listen. I said don’t jump in until you’re ready. Think about it. If she’d leaned on you straight after Bill went and did himself in, where would she be now?’

  ‘Here with me, that’s where!’

  ‘Yes, and leaning on you for the rest of her life. That ain’t Edie. It’s Dorothy more like. Some women need to lean, see?’

  Tommy hadn’t seen his ex-wife in this light before. ‘Funny, I always thought she was the boss.’

  Annie shook her head. ‘Dorothy’s a leaner, believe me. I ain’t running her down, don’t dunk that. Some men like to be leaned on, like Charlie for instance.’

  ‘Where’s this getting us?’ He was still irritated by the idea of Annie having stuck her oar in.

  ‘Round to Edie, that’s where. You say she’s coping out in the sticks?’

  ‘More than that. I’d say she’s bleeding well enjoying it.’ Tinkering with engines, talking to her POW. ‘She only goes and tells me she don’t want to come back to Duke Street!’

  Even Annie was taken aback. ‘What, never?’

  ‘Not ever. She wants to give up the flat.’

  ‘Has she chucked you?’

  ‘She might just as well.’

  ‘But she ain’t?’ Annie got this straight. She could hear more customers gathering on the pavement outside. ‘What’s she saying, Tommy? Is she gonna stay out in Somerset?’

  ‘She don’t bleeding well know.’ They’d talked it over at the hotel, and left it that Edie needed more time to think. ‘On the one hand she says she wants to marry me. On the other, she don’t want to come home.’

  Annie took a deep breath and eased herself off the stool. She took up her post behind the pumps. ‘Well, there’s only one thing for it, Tommy . . .’

  ‘What’s that?’ He was damned if he could see a way out. He’d been racking his brains for days.

  ‘You’ll have to go to her.’

  ‘What, and live out there?’ His jaw dropped.

  ‘No need to look like that. It can’t be all bad.’ Annie railed to see the advantages, she had to admit. ‘Still, some people live in the country all their lives, don’t they? It wouldn’t be my cup of tea, mind you . . .’ Finally she came up with a convincing argument. ‘But if Duke had asked me to go and live in Woolbury Weston, I’d have gone with him like a shot!’

  Annie and Hettie still had Meggie staying with them at the Duke. Ever since her return the previous Saturday she’d been suffering from some kind of shock. Sadie had been unable to get much out of her; only that Meggie had been to the station to meet Ronnie, and, when he failed to show up, had managed to get herself lost. She’d ended up in a state in the back of a police car. She said she didn’t want to go home, she refused to speak or to eat.

  When they called the doctor, he judged her to have had a complete breakdown. ‘Similar in a way to shell shock. You can’t pin it down to one particular event, perhaps. And, of course, you can’t see any physical wound. That makes it more difficult for us to understand.’

  ‘You’re saying it’s her nerves?’ Sadie listened with growing dread. Meggie was staying in Ernie’s old room, white as the sheets she was laid on. ‘But she’ll come round, won’t she?’

  The doctor said he’d seen many such conditions. The more the politicians advocated taking it on the chin and muddling through, the more the East End women patiently took on their shoulders; helping the war effort, coping with food shortages, worrying about their men on the front line, not to mention enduring the Blitz. Some were bound to crack under the strain. ‘Give her time,’ he advised. ‘And plenty of peace and quiet.’

  His reply had left them unnerved. Hettie redoubled her prayers, while Annie took charge of the invalid. Sadie would only fret all the more if she had Meggie at home, and Sadie herself was very near the end of her tether.

  ‘I should’ve stepped in sooner,’ she told Walter. ‘If I’d stood up for Meggie and Ronnie, instead of letting Gertie Elliot rule the roost, Meggie would never have gone off the rails like this. Not if I’d been on her side.’

  ‘We don’t know that.’ Walter felt his family begin to crumble and fall apart. Sadie’s guilt didn’t help, neither did the knowledge that Bertie and Geoff seemed to be getting on fine without them in Coniston. Grace sent weekly cards, and the occasional phone call from the boys revealed that they were having a whale of a time.

  ‘I know!’ Sadie pressed her lips tightly together. ‘Poor Meggie’s been battling all alone to find Richie and to hang onto her sweetheart. I ain’t given her the help a mother should.’ She sat feeling bleak and useless, going over her mistakes.

  He tried to comfort her. ‘She’s getting help now. We’re rallying round.’

  Sadie nodded and looked up through her tears.

  ‘Let Hettie and Annie look after her,’ he said gently. ‘And I’ll look after you.’ His arms were strong enough. He wouldn’t let her down.

  It was Hettie’s habit to hum the old Sally Army tunes as she went about the sick room. They kept her spirits up and let Meggie know she was. there. She had some expertise as a nurse, gained during her time at the hostel, and her stoical outlook meant that she didn’t fuss over details or kill her patient with kindness. On top of this, her faith was strong that Meggie would pull through.

  ‘Forward into ba-attle, See those banners go . . . Onward Christian so-o-o-oldiers, Marching as to-o war . . .’ she sang as she brought a jug of fresh water for the bedside.

  Meggie turned her head; a first weak response.

  ‘Here, let me do your pillows.’ Hettie put the tray down and offered to make her more comfortable, glad when Meggie co-operated. ‘That’s it.’ She lowered her gently, then stroked her forehead. ‘Poor Meggie, what can we do to make it better?’ She saw tears roll sideways. ‘Tell me, darling.’

  Meggie looked up, too weak to reply. Her lips were dry, her limbs heavy. ‘Aunt Ett?’

  ‘I’m still here.’

  ‘I found my pa.’ Four simple words.

  ‘Did you, darling?’

  ‘He needs help. Can we take care of him?’

  ‘We can.’ Nothing could be easier. Hettie clasped Meggie’s hand. For the time being this was enough. She closed her eyes. Eventually she slept. Later she explained the circumstances and Hettie made moves for George to trace Richie Palmer through the Hungerford Club.

  ‘George is the best man for the job,’ she told Annie. ‘He ain’t tangled up in it the way Walter and Rob are. He can keep a cool head.’

  Annie agreed. ‘What if Richie Palmer don’t want to be looked after?’ If he was that far gone, he might not accept their help. Memories of her first husband Wiggin in a similar plight came flooding back. He had carried on drinking and causing trouble right to the bitter end.

  Hettie took this into account. ‘Let’s try and get a roof over his head,’ she decided. ‘It’s the least we can do.’ She looked steadily at her stepmother. ‘Richie is Meggie’s pa, remember.’

  Annie sighed. ‘Let George do it,’ she agreed. ‘But keep Sadie out of it. She won’t be able to stand it if Richie has hit rock-bottom. Believe me, I know.’

  Hettie went ahead and kept Meggie informed. ‘There’s a hostel for the homeless off Bear Lane. Charlie Ogden knows about it. He reckons if we can get Richie back across the water he can book him in there, as long as George promises to keep an eye on him. Charlie says he can pull a few strings.’

  Meggie sat up in bed. ‘I don’t want to visit him. Not yet.’

  Hettie r
olled her eyes. ‘You’re not going nowhere, young lady. Not until we build you up a bit.’ Today had been Meggie’s first attempt to take a little food. She was still weak as a kitten.

  ‘Aunt Ett . . .’

  ‘What now?’ she teased.

  ‘Can you find me a pen and paper?’

  Hettie quickly complied. ‘And here’s an envelope and a stamp. Who are you writing to; Ronnie?’

  Colour came into Meggie’s cheeks as she ducked her head and nodded.

  ‘She’s writing him a letter,’ Hettie reported to Sadie with a smile. ‘That’s a good sign, ain’t it?’

  Dear Ronnie,

  I know how this letter will hurt you, and before you read it I want you to remember the good times we had. I hope that you won’t forget them.

  I came to meet you off the train last week to tell you that we couldn’t go on. Like I said in my other letter, I thought better of us running away together, and this time I want you to believe me. Ronnie, I can’t go through with it. I won’t marry you.

  Meggie broke off time and time again. The words lay flat on the page. What she felt was nowhere on view as the pen squeaked across the white paper. Still, she must make him believe what she wrote.

  You were my first sweetheart. You were very good to me. (She crossed out this last sentence.) But you’re not the husband for me. I know I’m too young to make a go of it with you, and that our lives are meant to follow different paths.

  Don’t think of rushing home again to try and change my mind. It won’t do any good. Every word here is true. So this is goodbye, Ronnie. I want you to forget me and live a happy life. (‘Without me,’ she wrote, then crossed it out.) One day I hope you’ll forgive me for letting you down. I’m sorry. I truly am.

  Love, Meggie.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ‘Woolly Weston. Woody Westbury; I don’t bleeding care!’ Tommy gritted his teeth and told Edie his decision to chuck everything and come to Somerset to join her.