by Joan Moules
Her mother, however, did not approve of her prospective job.
‘A shop assistant,’ she said huffily, on the phone.
‘In a first-class musical establishment,’ Annie said, ‘where I have the opportunity to meet some of the world’s best musicians.’
Mrs Evesham, although she never suggested her daughter come home, tried to prevent her from working there, but Annie called her bluff.
‘What alternative are you offering, Mummy?’ she asked.
‘Further education, of course. Especially in the social graces.’
‘No.’ Annie was unexpectedly firm. ‘I can officially leave school and I intend to. If you can suggest a post for me in London I’ll think about that, but I won’t consider finishing-school. I want to work now until I’m old enough to join the Wrens.’
That was a second shock for her mother. ‘The war will be over before that time comes, but if it isn’t, and it is a very big if, Anita, then we shall see about getting you a high-ranking position.’
Annie laughed. ‘I shall start at the bottom and work my way up. I don’t want privileges. Life’s more fun without them.’
She won her point and contined to live with the Dovers, offering them two shillings more than they had been receiving from the government. Her weekly allowance stayed the same as before and it was lack of coupons rather than money that prevented her from buying more than a couple of blouses and a nice black skirt for work. Mrs Dover’s offer to make her a going out dress with material bought in Bushton market was welcomed. They also bought some curtain-net which was not on coupons to make a lacy blouse.
‘I’ll pay you back for doing this, of course,’ Anita said, but Mrs Dover would not accept anything.
‘I enjoy a bit of sewing, used to make most of Alison’s clothes when she was a girl and the sewing machine needs to earn its keep.’
Annie travelled to Bushton each day on the train, mostly because she was accustomed to it and she didn’t want the bother of finding lodgings in Bushton. More so because she didn’t know how long she would stay in her job. She thought of it as a stepping-stone. She enjoyed what she did, and could converse well with the customers whether they were buying a piano or a mouth-organ. If it was a piano old Mr Jones the manager, used to hover and eventually take over.
It was great having the sheet-music to look at, too. Annie could play the piano passably, but as the Dovers did not possess an instrument she hadn’t had an opportunity since 1939. Johnny had never learnt, ‘but it’ll be handy that you can play when we have a party,’ he told her. ‘That’s if we can run to a joanna after we’re married, gal.’
They still only met once a week, on a Sunday now, because both of them were working on Saturdays. One Sunday Johnny said, ‘Thought we could go to my home for a meal today. Mum’s looking forward to seeing you again.’
The visit was pleasant and she didn’t have time to feel nervous about it. Mrs B was exactly as she remembered her from the time of Johnny’s twelfth birthday, and after their meal she and Johnny walked in Victoria Park and he talked about when he was a little boy and played football where the barrage balloons were now anchored, and as a special treat, went to the zoo there. All too soon it seemed it was time for Annie to return to Winchurch. They went again a couple of times during the next few months, but only for a quick visit and a cup of tea because they were in the area. She found his dad hard to understand, although he made her welcome, but she warmed to his hard-working mum.
She continued her weekly letter to her parents, and occasionally telephoned them now that she was earning, but she had never suggested taking Johnny to her house, and he was very glad about that.
Twice a week Annie attended night-school in Bushton to learn shorthand and typing. Just before Christmas she found a suitable job in a publisher’s office in London.
‘I’ll only be making the tea and doing the post at first,’ she told Johnny. ‘My shorthand is almost non-existent and my typing isn’t up to the standard they would need yet, but I’ll work on it. The important thing is that I’ll be in London.’
She did not want to return home to live – she was adamant about that. For all these years now she had fended for herself in all but the practicalities of life. Both at the boarding-school and later in Winchurch. She did not think she could cope with life with her parents now, without a lot of stress for them all. There would be arguments, and, more important, she knew she would be greatly curtailed in her social arrangements.
Although they never said it in so many words, Annie knew her parents didn’t want her at home either. It would disrupt their lives, especially her mother’s, she thought. She had been away so long, and since her evacuation to the country she had not even returned for school holidays, as she had done before the war.
She and Johnny discussed where she would live. He wanted to ask his mother if Annie could lodge with them, but she hesitated. ‘You haven’t much room, anyway, Johnny, and I wouldn’t want you sleeping on that bedchair permanently, it wouldn’t be right. Then there’s the fares to think about. It will be much better if I find something near to my job. A hostel or something not too expensive to start with. I thought about trying for a job in a department store because I understand that some of them have their own hostels for their girls, but I doubt my parents would allow that. An office job though, that would be acceptable, I think.’
Although she didn’t say so to him, Annie also wondered if she could live in such a poky house as his. She loved it on the few occasions she had visited for the day. There was a friendly warmth that was missing in her own background, but to live there all the time might not work out. Annie Evesham, you are what Johnny would call a bloody snob, she thought, and laughed to herself.
She secured the job and, by adding a couple of years to her age, a place at a small hostel, before she told her parents about it. It was touch and go for her because her mother came down to Winchurch the day she received Annie’s letter with this news. Thank heaven she had sent it the beginning of a week she thought, because if it had arrived on a Saturday and Mrs Evesham had travelled to Kerry Avenue then and stayed the night it would have thrown her Sunday arrangements with Johnny out. And with no way of getting in touch with him it could have been chaotic. He might even have turned up at Kerry Avenue. Of course, it would have been even worse had she come on a Sunday, Annie thought, because she would either have been in, or on her way to, London to meet Johnny. As it was she got home from work in Bushton to find her mother drinking tea with Mrs Dover.
‘I shall be staying at The Shepherd’s Rest for the night,’ Mrs Evesham informed her daughter, ‘while we sort this mess out.’
Annie went along to the inn with her after dinner. She sat on the bed facing her mother who was in the only chair the room boasted.
‘We sent you here to keep you safe,’Mrs Evesham said, ‘and this is how you repay us. You’re a wicked, deceitful girl, and you can write and cancel this job you say you have. I reluctantly agreed to you working in Bushton but you certainly are not returning to London.’
Annie was close to tears, but she took a deep breath and said in a quiet voice, ‘I can’t do that, I have given in my notice here and made plans to start the new job next Monday. It’s all arranged.’
‘Then unarrange it.’
The battle took over an hour, finishing with Annie sobbing into her already soaked handkerchief and Mrs Evesham still sitting impassively straight-backed and dryeyed in the chair.
Annie stood up. ‘I’d best get back,’ she said.
‘Yes, and I want to hear no more of this nonsense. When the war is over we shall all take a holiday and decide on your future. Meanwhile be thankful you have a comfortable safe place to stay, and parents who have your best interests at heart, and learn to be more grateful for it.’
As Annie walked back to Kerry Avenue the tears spilled down her cheeks and she brushed them away impatiently. She can’t stop me, she thought, I shall be earning, I have somewhere to live, and alth
ough I suppose that in law she could force me to do as she wants, it would probably mean going to court and her pride would not let her do that because of what the neighbours might say.
She was glad she had not told her where she was working, nor where the hostel was. She knew she had been fortunate to get in but at her interview she had told them her parents lived too far away for her to live with them and nobody had questioned or checked on this statement.
She knew her mother hadn’t asked for further details because in her mind the matter was settled. Annie would stay in Winchurch, work in Bushton and lodge with Mr and Mrs Dover until the war was over and her parents took up the reins again. Annie was sure the thought that her daughter would defy her to this extent had not entered her mother’s mind.
She gave an enormous sniff as she turned into the Dovers’ front gate. Her handkerchief was too saturated to use, and the tension of these last few hours slowly began to lift. Today was Thursday and on Monday she was booked into the hostel and also to begin her new job. No time for her parents to delve too much now that this evening was over, and she would telephone or write to them when she had been settled in for a few days.
For the first time in many years Annie was actually grateful that her mother had so little real interest in her movements that she had not asked more questions about which firm she was going to. With startling clarity she knew that Johnny’s mum would have done so.
CHAPTER 11
1943
London was stimulating. Annie had a room to herself in the hostel. It was small, very small, but it was hers. Better than a dormitory, she thought, which was fine at boarding-school when you were younger, but since her time at Winchurch she had become used to her privacy.
‘No boys in your room and indoors by ten o’clock unless you have special permission,’ the warden said.
‘Later, when I’m earning more money I expect I’ll move into something more comfortable and with less restrictions,’ she told Johnny.
They met several nights a week and went to the theatre or pictures, or simply walked the streets hand-in-hand and talked. Always there was something to talk about, some subject to probe and explore, a dream to visualize together. Annie was content.
Johnny was happy, and sometimes Annie’s nearness roused him to ecstatic heights and he’d push her from him when they were saying good-night.
The first time they made love was after a visit to the Piccadilly Theatre to see Panama Hattie. They walked back to the hostel and Annie said softly, ‘Wouldn’t it be marvellous if you didn’t have to go home, Johnny? If you lived here too?’
‘It’s an all-girls hostel,’ he said.
Annie laughed. ‘I know, silly. I’m only dreaming. Just suppose you could get in. I’d make you a cup of coffee and we’d sit and drink it, and talk, and kiss good-night in warmth and comfort instead of in a murky old doorway where anyone can disturb us.’
‘Don’t Annie, don’t,’ he whispered agonizedly. ‘Do you think I don’t want to – oh Annie, Annie.’ He held her close and his kisses were suddenly a man’s and not a boy’s.
‘Listen, Johnny, I could sneak you in. Some of the girls do. And someone was going to open the window for me tonight because I hate asking for late-night passes.
‘You do want to, Annie?’ His eyes tried to probe the darkness and see her expression.
‘Yes Johnny. Just as much as you, my love.’
The window at the back was on the catch as her friend had promised it would be. ‘I’ll do it as soon as the warden has been round,’ she’d said, ‘but don’t make a noise getting through because she’ll know it had to be one of us and I’m the most likely culprit.’
They went round the back of the building and Annie gently pushed the sash-corded window upwards sufficiently for her to climb in. Swiftly she looked along the corridor. All was quiet. With finger to her lips she beckoned to Johnny, and seconds later he was standing beside her. The window squeaked a little as they closed it, and Annie took hold of his hand and led him upstairs to her little room which was furnished with a chair, a chest of drawers, a small wardrobe and a bed.
He left half an hour later by the same window, which Annie secured with its brass bolt afterwards. She met no one as, barefooted and in her dressing-gown, she fled back upstairs. Bouncing on to her bed she laid on her back with her arms wrapped across her breasts and her eyes closed.
Johnny was waiting outside her office when she left work the following evening. His dark eyes searched her face tenderly.
‘Are you all right, Annie?’ he asked softly as she came up to him.
‘Why yes.’
‘I didn’t hurt you?’
‘No Johnny.’
He held both her hands. ‘I do love you Annie,’ he said.
Buses screeched to a halt at the stop outside her office; people jostled by on the pavement while they stood there together, oblivious to everything except their feelings for each other.
After that Annie knew she must find somewhere to live where she and Johnny could be together sometimes. Johnny still wanted her to lodge with them, but now more than ever Annie was against the idea.
‘I couldn’t look your mum in the face if I was living there, Johnny. I know that probably sounds silly to you,’ she went on as he looked surprised, ‘but she wouldn’t like it, and we’d be forever on the jump.’
‘She wouldn’t know.’
‘That’s why I couldn’t do it.’
The second time Johnny climbed in through the hostel window the sash-cord broke and he just missed having his neck severed. He was actually through when it came crashing down before he had time to turn round to close it.
‘Quick,’ Annie said, and they both raced upstairs to her room, until they could hear no more sounds downstairs. Then, with Annie’s old coat and hood on as a flimsy disguise, he waited at the bend in the stairs while Annie knocked up the warden to say she felt ill. Peering over the banisters he saw her clutch the doorjamb and almost fall in. That was his cue to get away. There were two windows on the ground floor at the back, the broken sash-cord one and another that was identical and it was this second one, which was nearest to the warden’s flat, that he had to unlock and escape through, while Annie kept the warden inside.
Of course he had missed the last bus home now, so he set off to walk, hoping his mother and father weren’t out roaming the streets for him. He had told them he’d be late, so if luck was with him they would be asleep and would not realize what time he eventually arrived.
He was almost home when he heard planes overhead. Not the sound of British ones but the deeper noise and rhythm of the Luftwaffe. He hadn’t heard the siren and thought it might have gone before he reached the area. In that case his mum would almost certainly be awake, so absolute quiet was called for. No noise or fumbling by the door. With this in mind he felt in his trouser-pocket for his key as he hurried along. It wasn’t there. The planes had gone over now, leaving the echo of the throb of their engines in his whole body. Frantically he searched the other pocket, then the first one again. It had definitely gone. Must have fallen out when he climbed either in or out of one of the hostel windows tonight. At least they couldn’t identify him from a key. It would only prove that someone had been in. And they wouldn’t be able to connect that with Annie either, because there were at least six rooms on that floor. It did however, leave him with the problem of entering his own house. Well, there was nothing for it but to admit he’d lost his key. Wearily now he walked on. Better get into the vicinity, then he could say with truth that when he discovered he had lost it, he thought it was too late to knock them up. He needn’t say just how late.
Johnny hurried down the narrow alley to the back gate, leant over it, and as silently as he could manage he unlatched it and went inside. The yard offered no comfort but with luck the shed wouldn’t be locked. It seldom was. Carefully he tried it and the door opened. Johnny lay down on the floor, grateful to be back, and went fast asleep.
He woke e
arly, conscious only of hearing planes overhead again during what was left of the night. He stretched himself a few times, then took off Annie’s coat. It had certainly kept him warm in the night, but now was the time for planning. His mother would know it wasn’t his, so it must be hidden. Looking around, he saw a bucket in the corner and stuffed the coat inside. Hope I remember to grab it and take it indoors later on, he thought.
All set now to explain his absence by the lost key, he suddenly had the most incredible slice of luck. The back kitchen door opened and his mother shook a cloth or duster or something, he couldn’t make out what. As she was going back someone yoo-hooed from the side of the house, and she went down the narrow path connecting back and front to see who it was.
Johnny took full advantage. He pulled the coat from the bucket and dashed in through the still open back door, up the stairs and into his bedroom. As he leaned against the door he heard his mother’s voice downstairs. It must be seven o’clock, and any minute now she would be up to make sure he was awake. He pulled back the bedcovers and rumpled them a bit, before hastily donning his pyjamas. Then he went to the bathroom to wash. Mrs Bookman was climbing the stairs. ‘Goodness, Johnny, you startled me. I didn’t hear you get up.’
Later, over breakfast she said, ‘What time did you get in, Johnny? I was awake until after midnight listening.’
‘Whatever for? I told you I wouldn’t be early, Mum. We went to the pictures, then had a meal out.’
The lost key presented a problem, but he decided to say nothing until he was going out this evening. Then it would seem as though he’d lost it at work during the day.
At the bus-stop someone said, ‘Bad do up the West End last night, then?’
‘Where?’
‘Trad Street. Early hours of the morning. Killed everyone in the hostel there, and the blast damaged some of the others in the area too.’
Oh God. Annie. She was close to Trad Street.