by Carol Rivers
Birdie looked at her brother. His close-cropped ginger hair was hidden under a peaked cloth cap. Underneath, his honey-coloured eyebrows grew bushy over his long, fair lashes. It was decided that he should wear Wilfred’s heavy tweed coat buttoned securely across his chest and heavy boots so that he would look like every other working man on the island. His blue eyes were big and childlike in their dark sockets and his shoulders were hunched, as though he was carrying the weight of the world.
‘Now, Harry will be coming in for his dinner, as usual,’ she reminded him briskly in an attempt to disguise her dismay. ‘And I’ll be putting a good solid meal in the bag, to bring down to you each night.’
‘Thanks, gel.’
‘And Pat will be calling in every day when it’s dark,’ she added. ‘I’ll come down meself when I get the chance.’
‘I’m gonna miss seeing you each morning and getting me porridge cooked.’
‘You’ll have to cook it yourself now. We’ve been lucky so far, that bobby ain’t called again,’ she encouraged him, ‘but we don’t want to push our luck.’
‘You’re right there, gel,’ he nodded obediently.
‘Well, good night, then, love.’ She went on her toes and he put his arms around her like a child.
‘Don’t worry about me, I’m on the mend,’ he mumbled. ‘Another week or two and I’ll be fighting fit.’
‘I’d expect nothing less of my big brother.’
But as Harry led the way out into the yard and Frank trod slowly after him, shoulders hunched against the cold, Birdie knew that he was only half the man he used to be. Once he had been her older, stronger, wiser brother, with his life before him, his teasing blue eyes and cheeky smile winning all the girls’ hearts. But now his brave spirit had been broken by the injustice of war and that woman, Inga.
Would he ever be the same man again, Birdie reflected sadly, the kindest of souls who had looked after her and Pat through thick and thin? Her laughing, devil-may-care brother, who never let a day pass without a smile.
Chapter 41
The next morning there was a loud banging at the door. Birdie looked through the letterbox and saw a pair of eyes looking straight into hers. She gave a sigh of relief.
‘Let me in, you lemon!’
Birdie opened the door to a tall woman with fashionable frizzy blonde hair trapped under a blue cloche hat.
‘Flo! Oh, Flo!’ Birdie gasped as she was squeezed tight. ‘I didn’t think it was you.’
‘I thought you was hiding from me.’
‘No, I thought it was the law. Where’s the kids?’
‘With Reg. Well, are you going to invite me in?’
‘Course.’
Flo took off her hat and coat and they made their way to the kitchen. Birdie put the kettle on and turned to find Flo already seated at the table. ‘I had to come over. You wrote that letter saying about your dad and the TB and to keep the kids away. But I can’t wait any longer. I want to see you. So I thought to meself, sod the TB, I’m going to see me mate.’
‘I don’t think you could catch anything now.’
‘Then why haven’t you called round?’
‘Flo, Dad’s had a stroke.’ Birdie sank down on a chair beside her.
‘Oh Gawd! How did he get that as well as the TB?’
‘The doctor said it might be the strain of everything. He can’t speak very well and his cough is still bad. Each time I go, I have to wear a cape and mask, and poor Dad don’t even know what day of the year it is.’
‘When will he come home?’
‘I don’t know. But we miss him.’
‘Course you do, it’s only natural.’
The kettle boiled and Birdie made the tea. When she sat down again, Flo was looking at her critically. ‘So how is the new romance going?’
‘What?’
‘You and Harry, of course.’
Birdie blushed. ‘We’re just good friends.’
‘But I thought you said—’
‘No, it’s a long story.’
‘Go on then, tell me.’
‘I’d rather hear about Reg and the girls.’
‘They miss you and don’t understand why you don’t come round.’
‘I had to be sure I didn’t infect you.’
Flo gave an impatient sigh. ‘Listen, you’ve not gone back to old sober-sides again, have you, and don’t want to tell me?’
Birdie laughed. ‘If you mean Don, no, we are well and truly over. Not that he gave up completely. He came round and took me to Sunday dinner with Aggie. Flo, it was then I saw it all through different eyes and knew it would have been a terrible mistake to marry into the Thornes.’
‘I could have told you that. In fact I did several times, but you wouldn’t listen.’
‘I had my mind set on marriage, you see.’
‘All I can say is, you had a lucky escape. And if you don’t mind me saying something else, you want to look after yourself a bit more. Don’t let yourself go.’ Flo wrinkled her powdered nose thoughtfully. ‘You look different to me, though I can’t put a finger on what it is. Your hair is all over the place. You used to be so particular once.’
Birdie couldn’t help laughing again. ‘Trust you to notice.’
‘Do you like me new waves?’ Flo touched her bubbly blonde curls.
‘They’re just the job.’
‘I got meself a few hours’ cleaning at the school. One of the other mums suggested we went up West for a Marcel. Well, couldn’t miss an opportunity like that, of course. And whilst I was up there, I bought meself this hat.’
‘It suits you.’
‘And this coat.’
Birdie nodded at the fashionable deep blue coat that Flo wore.
‘So you see, you’ve been missing out on a lot. If you’d come round sooner, you could have come up with us.’
Birdie smiled. She realized this was a clumsy effort to make her jealous and her smile soon turned into a chuckle.
‘What are you laughing at?’ Flo asked indignantly.
‘Nothing. It’s just like the old days, that’s all. Seeing you and hearing a bit of good, old-fashioned, down-to-earth normal talk that makes you feel like a woman again.’
Flo grinned too. ‘You don’t get that with blokes, do you?’
‘No, you get a lot of other things, though.’
‘Like what?’ Flo’s eyebrow shot up.
Birdie sighed heavily. A whole lifetime seemed to have shot by since she’d last seen her friend. Could she tell Flo all that had happened? It would be nice to share this heavy weight that had followed her around for so long.
‘Well, I was nearly kidnapped.’
‘What!’ Flo almost choked on her tea. ‘Who would want to kidnap you?’
‘A very nasty woman, who pretended to befriend Frank so that she had someone to blame for blowing up a wagon near Downing Street.’
Flo stared at Birdie open-mouthed. ‘Brigid Connor, have you gone daft?’
Birdie smiled. ‘No, and you might have trouble believing me, but if you like, I’ll tell you what’s been going on. But you must promise not to say a word, not even to Reg. All right?’
‘I don’t tell him nothing anyway,’ shrugged Flo. ‘So that won’t be difficult.’
‘After leaving Aggie’s that day I went round to dinner, I just couldn’t go home. So I caught a tram to Aldgate.’
‘What did you do there?’
‘Nothing. I ran out of money and had to walk home. I was even going to call on you and pour out me troubles . . .’
‘You should have. Nothing like this ever happens to me,’ Flo giggled.
‘It really began with Frank’s escape.’ Birdie told Flo everything, from that moment to the meeting at the pitiful slum in Shadwell and his rescue, finally ending with Frank’s return to March Street and his hideaway down in the airey.
‘So he’s here? Downstairs?’ screeched Flo.
‘Yes, but you mustn’t tell a soul.’
‘Blime
y, no wonder you didn’t want to let me in.’
‘I thought it was the police.’
‘What’s going to happen now? What’s Frank going to do?’ Flo burst out. ‘And what about your dad and what’s he gonna say when—’
‘Flo, I can’t answer your questions. I don’t know meself.’
Flo reached over and grasped her hands. ‘Listen, if you want any help, just say. Me and Reg ain’t much, but we’re your mates. Frank can even come and live with us, if it’s safer.’
It was then that Birdie’s resolution failed and she burst into tears. Flo was so kind and meant what she said. ‘Thanks,’ was all Birdie could mumble as Flo hugged her tight.
‘Go on, dry your tears. Now, you and me are going back to see Reg and the girls. They’ve missed you.’
‘What about the TB?’
‘Bugger that. A bit of fresh air will do you good.’
‘I was going to see Dad.’
‘Can’t you go tomorrow?’
Birdie nodded. She felt very down, but Flo’s company was cheering and she longed to see the girls. And perhaps the fresh air would help. And with luck, tomorrow Dr Shaw would be on duty and she could speak to him.
It was late on Sunday night that Harry noticed Frank was becoming irritable. The scar on his head and his cuts were healing and his general health had improved. But whilst he had been occupying himself as best he could, the strain of the empty hours were showing in his restless behaviour.
After Frank had eaten the supper that Birdie had sent down in the shopping basket, they sat and talked, mostly about the army, in front of the roaring fire. ‘I’ve been reading your books, Harry,’ Frank said, nodding to the shelves.
‘Any one in particular?’ Harry sat himself by the fire, pulling off his working boots and easing his back.
‘Yeah, it’s this.’ Frank selected a large, leather-bound atlas and returned to his chair. ‘I’ve been looking at where me battalion was holed up. It was Arras.’
Harry studied the map and nodded. ‘Arras took a pounding.’ He frowned at Frank. ‘You were there?’
Frank nodded slowly. ‘We was with the Canadians, about the pluckiest buggers I ever met. There was traps everywhere, trenches full of bodies. Sometimes we were standing on ’em. There had been snow . . .’ Frank’s eyes moved into the distance. ‘They looked like they was covered in sheets, till our boots marked them and the blood mingled with the mud. We didn’t care. We were just fighting for our lives. They were dead. Gorn for ever. There was sod all we could do for ’em. It went on like this for days, the bitter wind howling so loud we couldn’t hear the tanks, rolling into the wire and taking down the bodies stuck to ’em. We found where the Huns had built their lines. Our guns was frozen to our hands, but we pressed forward, into their machine guns rattling bullets like rain. It was then we all got separated.’
He swallowed, passing his hand over his face then drawing his fingers down his shirt. ‘I found meself alone and some of them poor Frenchies ran out. This old bloke stumbled forward by this tractor and some of his mates tried to follow. I shouted, “Take cover, you silly bugger, we ain’t saved you yet.” ’
Harry felt all the memories tumble back as Frank spoke. For he too had seen men die so cruelly that, until he heard Frank’s words, he had locked the sight away.
‘Then I saw this Hun appear,’ Frank continued as if to himself. ‘He was on his own, like me. He was gonna shoot ’em all, these poor defenceless bastards.’ Frank cleared his throat with an effort. ‘So I ran at him and stuffed me bayonet through his back. Not once or twice, but I kept on going, again and again. And then I got this bang on me head and I fell down on top of him. I looked him right in his dead eyes. He was only a kid, just a kid. I thought, I’ll see this youngster that I’ve just sliced up. I’m gonna meet him at heaven’s gate.’ Frank looked up slowly. ‘It’s all come back, see? I was so ashamed of meself I must have blocked it out.’
Harry sat in silence, until he brought himself to say softly, ‘It was war, Frank. You did what you had to do.’
‘I killed others, see, but at a distance. I never looked in their eyes.’
‘Frank, did you tell your CO this when you was returned to your unit?’
‘Nah, you’re the only one I’ve told. See, I never give that Hun a chance.’
‘You killed him, yes, but you saved those others.’
‘Didn’t occur to me that the army would think I’d done a bunk. That’s why I gotta get to France. Go back to this place, try and turn somethin’ up.’
‘Yes, but how?’
‘I’m gonna stow away.’
‘You’re what?’ Harry stared at the haunted-eyed, sallow-faced man, bearing a halo of ginger-red hair. He had come to like and admire this person, who went about the airey quietly and cleanly, and who had gradually revealed his thoughts on the hell he had endured.
‘That’s me plan.’
‘Frank, we’ll talk about this again.’
‘You think I’m off me rocker, don’t you?’
‘No. But it’s early days yet.’
Frank collapsed back and closed his eyes. ‘I’ve spent a lot of time thinking. And now I just have to do it.’
Chapter 42
On Monday, Birdie slipped out early to the corner shop just to buy a few provisions, in case she didn’t have time when she came home from the hospital. But on her return, she saw Ma Jenkins, her arms folded over her bosom and a paisley turban wrapped round her head. She was talking to Vi and Annie Carter, who, when they glimpsed Birdie, stepped quickly inside. Only Ma Jenkins remained, a defiant glare on her face and her small, spiteful eyes trained on Birdie as she approached. Then, as Birdie drew level, her attention was taken by a blue uniform that appeared to be standing inside her house.
Her heart leaped as she saw Pat, his face pale and anxious as he stood in the passage. Constable Rudge, his hands clasped behind his back, rocked back and forth, a smug smile on his face as Birdie hurried towards them.
‘What’s going on?’ she demanded, trying to hide the fear that was quickly filling her. ‘Why are you home?’
‘I took the day off. I wasn’t feeling well. Then this lot comes hammering at the door.’ Pat stopped abruptly as the policeman’s gaze fell accusingly on him.
‘The lad was about to tell you that your little game is over.’
Birdie stood still, trying to quell her panic. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘They took Harry,’ Pat burst out.
‘Harry?’ Birdie glanced down the airey steps where she saw another policeman stationed. ‘But why?’
‘He’s an accomplice to a crime, ain’t he?’ PC Rudge boomed.
‘What crime?’ Birdie stood beside Pat. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Aiding and abetting a criminal, that’s what.’
‘They’re after Frank,’ Pat said in a shaken voice. ‘Three of them arrived in this big motor vehicle. A copper in ordinary clothes, and them two. They searched all over, then went down to the airey.’ He lifted his shoulders and looked into her eyes as if to warn her, before saying, ‘I couldn’t do nothing, Birdie.’
Birdie felt fear and anger rise inside her. Pat hadn’t said they found Frank. So where was he? And how did the law know he was here?
‘A nice man like Harry Chambers,’ Birdie accused angrily, ‘you should be ashamed of yourselves. He wouldn’t harm a fly. Now, if you’re finished turning me house upside down, you can get out.’ Birdie stuck her hands on her hips. The policeman hesitated but only for a moment.
‘Good riddance to bad rubbish,’ she called after him.
‘I couldn’t stop them,’ Pat said in a rush, his eyes wide and frightened. ‘I just got home and there was all this thumping at the door.’
‘But where’s Frank?’ Birdie breathed softly. She still felt they were being listened to.
‘Don’t know.’
She put her finger to her lips. ‘Let’s see if they’re gone.’
&n
bsp; They stood together at the window in the parlour. The two policemen were talking outside and strode across to Ma Jenkins. She unfolded her arms and wagged a finger fiercely.
‘I’ll bet it was her,’ Birdie breathed angrily. ‘She’s pointing to the airey.’
‘She must have seen Frank and told them,’ Pat murmured.
‘But when?’
‘When he left, I suppose.’
‘But why did he leave?’
Birdie sank down on a chair. ‘Oh, Frank, what have you gone and done? They’re sure to find you now.’
Pat sat beside her. ‘They might not. He might be on his way to France by now.’
‘But why didn’t he tell us?’ Birdie looked fearful. ‘You don’t think he would . . . No he wouldn’t!’
‘What?’ Pat looked alarmed.
‘Could he have gone to find her?’
‘Who?’
‘Inga, of course.’
Pat shook his head. ‘He doesn’t know where she is. Anyway, our Frank’s not that daft.’
‘Not daft, but perhaps possessed,’ Birdie whispered sadly. ‘He might know where he can find her and was afraid to tell us, so strong is the hold she has over him.’
‘So what do we do?’ Pat said dejectedly.
Birdie watched the two policemen leave Ma Jenkins and walk along March Street. ‘The only thing we can do. Carry on as normal.’
‘What about Harry?’
‘I’ll think what to do later.’
Pat looked unhappy. ‘Sorry I didn’t go to work, but I wanted to see Dad. I just said I wasn’t well in front of the copper.’
‘Oh, Pat, I can’t blame you for that.’ She patted his shoulder and with a deep sigh, gathered up her things. She knew Pat wanted to do something to help Harry, but she couldn’t think of a plan. She hoped that by the time they got to the hospital, at least one of her prayers would have been answered and Wilfred would be making a recovery.
Harry sat in the empty room fitted only with a grimy wooden table and two chairs. A smell of stale tobacco and sweat hung to the smoke-stained walls and badly varnished dark wood. Opposite him sat a thin, hawk-eyed policeman, who went by the name of Detective Inspector Puxley, who had, for the past three hours, been grilling him, asking him the same questions over and over again.