Molly's Christmas Orphans

by Carol Rivers

  ‘I’ve only been doing it a month, actually,’ he replied. ‘Before that I was a uniform on the beat. The thing is, I volunteered for this new unit in the Force. Community Liaison has been set up to deal with looting and burglary during the blitz. There’s so much thieving going on now, under cover of the blackout. But it’s quite unusual for a shop to be forcefully entered in daylight. Most looters are opportunists and steal quite randomly from the many hundreds of bombed sites.’

  Molly could now understand the reason for his questioning. ‘Well, I’d like to help you,’ she told him truthfully. ‘But really, Miss Brown – er, Cissy – didn’t see the faces of these kids. She couldn’t even describe them to me, let alone give you a description. And that’s what you’re looking for, isn’t it? Some sort of clue as to what they look like?’

  ‘Yes, that’s about it.’

  ‘Who told you about the break-in?’

  ‘It was reported by a warden.’

  ‘I thought so. Well, Mr Stokes is well meaning and does a grand job, but this time he’s made a fuss about nothing.’

  The tall stranger nodded slowly. ‘I take your point. But if I could speak to Miss Brown just for a few minutes, at least I could tell my gaffer that I’ve interviewed her. And that would be the end of that.’

  Molly didn’t know what to do. Cissy would refuse pointblank as she hated the law. But how could she tell this copper that?

  ‘Perhaps I’ll call another day,’ he said, sliding his hat on as a customer walked in. ‘I won’t hold up business. Good afternoon, Mrs Swift.’

  Surprised at the turnaround in his attitude, Molly watched him walk out. When the door closed, she quickly served the woman, a younger lady by the name of Mrs Owens.

  ‘Copper, was he?’ she asked Molly suspiciously. ‘You can tell ’em a mile off.’

  ‘He was very polite.’

  ‘That’s how they get their information. A tin of sardines, please, if you’ve got one. Here’s me ration book.’

  ‘Well, it’s their job, I suppose,’ Molly said, and after serving her with what she wanted, was more than surprised when her customer added that she’d read in the newspaper that twenty cases of looting had been tried at the Old Bailey, of which ten were auxiliary firemen. ‘Someone turned ’em in, poor buggers,’ Mrs Owens said. ‘All the firemen did was help themselves to a few bits and pieces that no one else would’ve wanted.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Molly asked.

  ‘Because my other half is a volunteer fireman and got the inside gen,’ came the caustic reply. ‘A man risks his life to keep London safe and what happens? The law comes down on him like a ton of bricks just to make an example of ordinary, decent blokes. I tell you, I wouldn’t have come in here, love, if I’d known I breathed the same air as that copper.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ said a voice behind Molly, and she turned to see Cissy standing there, her cheeks glowing red.

  ‘Cissy, I didn’t know you were back.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m back all right.’

  ‘Take a tip from me,’ said the woman, ‘stay away from the rozzers, love, if you want to keep your customers.’

  Molly was taken aback when, after Mrs Owens had left, Cissy stared at her angrily. ‘I never thought you’d do the dirty on me,’ she hissed. ‘I never should have trusted you!’ Then, turning on her heel, she ran up the stairs.

  ‘Cissy?’ Molly called a short while later as she stood outside Cissy’s room.

  ‘Door’s open.’

  When Molly walked in she saw Cissy’s clothes piled on the bed. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m leaving. Here, you can have this back.’ She threw a herringbone coat towards her.

  ‘Don’t be daft! It’s yours. I gave it to you.’

  ‘Dunno why you wanted me to stay in the first place.’ She pulled on her shabby old coat, the one that Molly had first seen her wearing at the hospital.

  ‘Are you leaving because of the copper?’

  ‘You told him everything!’ Cissy almost spat, her grey eyes narrowing bitterly. ‘You’ve landed me in it.’

  ‘Sit down on the bed and talk to me sensibly.’

  ‘No, I’m leaving.’

  ‘Not without an explanation,’ Molly said firmly. ‘You owe me that at least.’

  Cissy’s eyes glittered with defiance, but this time Molly wasn’t going to let her get her own way. She pointed to the bed and inclined her head with a jerk. ‘Sit down, Cissy. I don’t often lose me temper, but you are certainly testing it now.’

  ‘Why should I stay?’

  ‘Because we’re friends, or I thought we were.’ Molly sat down on her father’s bed next to the pile of clothes. She wondered if Cissy was going to walk out on her. Then what would she do? She couldn’t physically drag her back. Cissy was behaving like a spoiled child, showing the other side to her very capable nature. But, with a sullen frown and a jut of the chin, Cissy sank down on the bed. She folded her arms over her chest and looked at Molly sullenly.

  ‘Thank you,’ Molly said politely. ‘Now, you must have overheard the last of my conversation with Mrs Owens, who should have known better than to say what she did. The police have a very difficult job to do—’ Molly put up her hand as Cissy was about to interrupt. ‘Let me finish, please. I want you to know that I didn’t report the break-in to the law – even though I felt I should have. I only told Mr Stokes because I assumed you wouldn’t mind having a word with him. He obviously got browned off trying to find you and reported the incident. So, Cissy, if only you had thought it through, we could have avoided this unpleasant situation.’

  Cissy still stared at her defiantly, but Molly could see that her anger was now subsiding and so she continued.

  ‘As your friend,’ she said quietly, ‘I was very upset when I saw your bruised eye. And, after all you’ve told me about your feelings toward the police and authorities, do you really think I would deliberately “land you in it”?’

  Cissy dropped her head, letting her thick dark hair fall over her face as she stared into her lap. ‘So what’s gonna happen now?’

  ‘Do you mean if you don’t run off in a paddy?’

  ‘I can’t help me temper.’

  ‘Well, I’ll tell you what the policeman told me.’ Molly explained all about the newly appointed detective and the Community Liaison set up to protect the public from looters and burglaries. ‘All he needs is a few words with you so his boss can close the books.’

  ‘He’ll go asking me all sorts of questions,’ said Cissy, frowning at Molly. ‘And I won’t have no answers.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘I’ve told him I trust you completely and without you I couldn’t open the store.’

  Cissy’s light-grey eyes widened. ‘Blimey, what did you say that for?’

  ‘Because it’s true. I do trust you and you’re a great help. You even seem to be getting on with the children of late.’

  Cissy sniffed and tossed back her head. ‘They ain’t bad kids, I suppose.’

  ‘So will you think about not legging it when the copper comes back to talk to you?’

  Cissy sat up, on the alert again. ‘When’s that?’

  ‘I don’t know. Mrs Owens came in and he left.’

  ‘I can’t promise nothin’. There’s things I ain’t gonna tell anyone.’

  Molly took a soft breath and nodded. ‘Whatever’s happened in the past is your affair. It don’t make one iota of difference to me.’

  Cissy looked at the clothes on the bed. ‘S’pose I’d better put them back in the wardrobe again.’

  ‘I suppose you had.’ Molly smiled as she left the room. That was probably the closest Cissy would ever come to an apology.

  Soon it was March and Molly decided, as there was no word from Andy, that she would search for the Denhams herself. She would begin at the Red Cross depot where Andy said he’d already enquired. But perhaps someone might recognize the names of Betty and Len Denha
m.

  ‘They could be anywhere by now,’ Cissy said, as one Wednesday morning after Molly had walked the children to school with Jean, she told Cissy her plan.

  ‘It’s worth a try.’

  ‘Well, good luck. Don’t worry about the shop. I’ll manage.’

  ‘I won’t be long,’ Molly promised as she did up her coat and slipped her shopping bag over her arm.

  Cissy waved her off into the murky morning and Molly walked to the bus stop in Westferry Road where she caught the number fifty-seven to Poplar. After the night’s raids the street cleaners were out in force, as were the Civil Defence and fire brigade. The old Red Cross depot was just off the high street and was undergoing repairs. The depot’s volunteers had distinctive red crosses pinned to their clothes as they helped the many displaced families.

  How lucky I am not to be homeless, Molly thought gratefully, as she struggled through the crowds and found a woman in a dark-blue uniform and white apron. She was bending down to an old man who sat silently on a wooden box, staring into space.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Molly said, tapping the woman’s shoulder.

  ‘Yes, what is it?’ She looked at Molly with a harassed expression.

  ‘I’m searching for a couple who were bombed out of their home late last December. Betty and Len Denham is the name. They were from the East India Dock Road area.’

  ‘All these people here are recent casualties,’ she was told. ‘Are they your relatives?’

  ‘No, but the Denhams are members of the Salvation Army.’

  ‘Then you would be better off enquiring at the Mission Hall up the road.’

  ‘I thought perhaps you could tell me if you have any Salvationists working here?’

  ‘Not that I know of. But look around you. There are many who volunteer on a daily basis, then we don’t see them again. You could walk around and ask, if you like.’

  Molly tried a few people, hearing, as she went, stories of terrible heartbreak. So many had lost everything they owned. Many people were in a state of shock, their eyes vague or full of sadness. Some were still being treated for cuts, bruises and minor wounds. Others, like the old man, were sitting or standing without saying a word. Some talked at a rate of knots, some wept, some were silent. Others tried to cope with humour or complaints.

  Eventually Molly gave up. If the Denhams had been brought here on that fateful night in December, no one remembered them now.

  Her next call was to the Salvation Army Mission Hall up the road, where a service was in progress. The wooden bench creaked as she sat down. There were nods and smiles from the gathering as a young girl standing at the front began to sing ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’. Dressed in her bonnet and dark uniform, she was accompanied by a brass band.

  Molly found her mind drifting back to the hymns she remembered from her own childhood. She’d attended Sunday school with Lyn, while their parents did the ordering and wrote up the accounts of the shop. Sunday was supposed to be a day of rest, but not for Bill and Thelma Keen.

  She smiled at the memory of her dad’s words as he lay in the hospital. Yes, their lives had revolved around the store. As soon as they’d been old enough to count pence into shillings and shillings into pounds, she and Lyn had been drafted in to help.

  ‘Welcome,’ a small voice said, and Molly jumped. She looked around. The service had come to an end and the young girl was smiling down at her. ‘Have you come to worship with us?’

  Molly felt awkward. ‘No. I’m not religious.’

  ‘We’re all soldiers of Jesus.’

  ‘I’ve come to ask about some people I’m trying to find. You see, they were Salvationists and were bombed out of their house last December. I need to find them quite badly.’

  ‘Did they attend this Mission?’

  Molly shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. Their names are Betty and Len Denham.’

  The girl, who looked almost as young as Susie, frowned. ‘I’ll ask the band sergeant. He’s been here a long time.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Molly watched her walk away. She went up to a small group of band members who each held an instrument. Molly guessed they were about to practise as they took their seats again.

  The girl was talking to a tall man in uniform and Molly’s hopes rose as he put down his brass cornet and scribbled some words on a piece of paper. Perhaps it was the Denhams’ address?

  ‘Did you find them?’ Molly asked hopefully when the girl returned.

  ‘I’m afraid not. But our bandmaster has written down the address of our headquarters in Queen Victoria Street. You could perhaps write first, giving them all the information you have and asking if your friends can be traced. They will be the people who know.’

  ‘Do you think that’s possible?’

  ‘Have faith in our Lord Jesus Christ,’ said the girl with a big smile. ‘He that believeth has witness in himself.’

  Molly tucked the note in her shopping bag. ‘Thank you.’

  She got up and left. As she stood waiting for the bus home, she wished she could have the kind of faith the girl talked about. But since losing Emily and Ted, the faith she had been taught at Sunday school as a child seemed very far away.

  By the end of March, Molly hadn’t made any more headway with her enquiries. Between the shop and Evie and Mark, all her time was taken up. Then one morning a a familiar figure walked into the shop. This time, Detective Constable Longman had a smile on his face and politely removed his hat. ‘Good morning, Mrs Swift.’

  ‘Detective Constable Longman,’ Molly nodded. She was aware of the silence from the glory hole where Cissy was weighing out potatoes.

  ‘Is Miss Brown about?’

  Molly guessed that he knew she was, as he could have been watching the shop. All the same, she was reluctant to call Cissy, who had been in very good spirits since their last heart-to-heart.

  ‘I’m Cissy Brown,’ Cissy said before Molly could answer, walking in and standing at the counter. ‘What do you want?’

  Molly was very surprised, but also relieved that Cissy hadn’t made herself scarce like she had done before. Perhaps, she thought, Cissy had really taken notice of what she had said about friendship and trust.

  ‘Miss – er – Brown.’ The detective glanced over Molly’s shoulder. ‘Is there somewhere we can speak in private?’

  ‘You can say all you’ve got to say in front of Molly.’ Cissy’s tone was curt.

  ‘Yes, but this is a place of business. You may have customers walking in.’

  ‘So what? I ain’t done nothing.’

  ‘You can go upstairs,’ Molly said quickly. ‘Cissy will show you the way.’

  Just then a customer did come in and Molly attended to what she wanted as Cissy, forced to comply, led the way up to the flat. As Molly filled the woman’s shopping basket with her weekly rations, she hoped this time Cissy would remember it was in her interests to finally resolve the problem, and then, with luck, the police wouldn’t bother her any more.

  When Cissy, some time later, came down followed by the detective, she threw a sour look at Molly, grabbed the broom and disappeared.

  ‘Well, that’s all for now,’ said the detective to Molly as he put on his hat. ‘I’m able to make my report and unless you have anything else to add, I’ll take my leave.’

  ‘No, nothing,’ Molly assured him.

  ‘Here’s my card, just in case.’

  Molly glanced at the card on the counter but didn’t pick it up. He gave her a long look and hesitated. She hoped he wasn’t about to think of something else to ask and so she turned, took a duster from under the counter and began to clean the shelves.

  When he closed the door behind him, Molly went to the window and looked out. She saw the policeman pause on the other side of the road. He slipped his hand into his pocket and brought out a packet of cigarettes. Sliding one between his lips, he struck a match. Slowly he looked over at the shop.

  Molly stepped away and bumped into Cissy. ‘Oh,’ she gasped, ‘you gave me a fr
ight.’

  ‘Is he still there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Quite the charmer, ain’t he?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, he was all sweetness and light, trying to get round me. But I knew exactly what he wanted. He was waiting for me to make me first mistake.’

  Molly stared at Cissy in astonishment, then laughed. ‘Cissy, you’ve seen too many films.’

  ‘No, I ain’t. But I’ve got a nose for coppers.’

  ‘So you keep telling me.’

  ‘He was all eyes. Looking round your place, seeing what you had. Weighing it up.’

  ‘Well, he is a policeman, after all.’

  ‘At least I ain’t been handcuffed and taken off,’ said Cissy going to the window and peering through the glass.

  ‘He wouldn’t do that.’ Molly frowned. ‘You were just a witness, that’s all.’

  ‘Yeah, but he don’t like me.’

  ‘Why would you say that?’

  ‘It’s one law for posh people like you. Another for women like me.’

  ‘Cissy, don’t say that.’

  ‘Why not? It’s true. He could see at a glance what type I am. And when I opened me mouth to speak, that put the tin hat on it.’

  Molly shook her head with a big sigh. What had happened in Cissy’s past to make her so bitter? What was she hiding? Whatever it was, it was clear she had no intention of putting her trust in authority.

  ‘Oh, and now we’ve got another visitor. Thank Gawd it’s not for me this time.’ Cissy turned round with a smirk. ‘You’re welcome to go upstairs and talk in private,’ she mimicked as Molly saw her sister walk up the street, and quickly Molly took the detective’s card and slipped it into her pocket.

  ‘Have you seen Dad?’ Molly asked a few minutes later as Lyn carefully took off her smart fawn coat and matching gloves, handing them to Molly as she sat down on the settee in the front room.

  ‘Yes. Unfortunately Elizabeth’s had a dreadful cold so I haven’t been able to go until now. I didn’t want to pass any germs on to Dad.’

  ‘Is Elizabeth better?’ Molly asked, sitting beside her sister.

  ‘Yes, thanks.’

  Molly served her sister with a cup of tea made in the best china. ‘Did you talk to the doctor?’