by Anna King
Finding herself growing more uncomfortable by the minute, and grateful for the light streaming over them from the hallway, Grace gave an embarrassed laugh.
‘It’s a long story. It was left to us by my grandfather. I mean, we’re not rich, or anything like that. We all have to work, just like everyone else.’
Nobby lowered his gaze, his probing grey eyes sweeping over Grace’s pink-tinged face. Languidly lifting his hand, he gently ran a finger down the side of Grace’s cheek, murmuring, ‘Except for poor old Stan’.
Grace jerked as violently as if an electric current had struck her body. She’d been fiddling with the metal clasp of her handbag, which she now snapped shut firmly, saying in a tremoring voice that betrayed her agitation, ‘Yes, well, Stan will find work soon. Something will turn up eventually. It always does for men who are good with their hands, like Stanley is.’
Nobby stepped closer, a slight smile playing about his wide mouth.
‘Is he now?’
There was no mistaking the inference behind the words and Grace felt her face begin to burn. A hot retort sprang to her lips, then she saw the guileless, open look on Nobby’s face, the forthright friendly expression stripping the words of any offence, and found herself smiling. She knew she should say goodnight and close the door on the captivating man, but she couldn’t seem to move. It was only when she heard a sudden burst of loud laughter coming from inside the house that the spell was broken.
Stepping back she said lightly, ‘It was nice to meet you, Nobby. I’ll tell Stanley you had to leave. He’ll be sorry to have missed saying goodbye.’
Pulling his cap down over his eyes, Nobby dug his hands into the long pockets of his trousers, gave Grace a long, appraising glance, then winked.
‘Don’t worry, Grace. I wasn’t gonna jump on you. I just ain’t used to being with nice girls these days. The sort I meet up with overseas, they’re—’ He uttered an infectious laugh. ‘Don’t take no notice of me, Gracie. I always was a bad ’un. You ask Stan, he’ll tell you. Anyway, I’m off. Thank your family for me, won’t you. For making me feel so welcome I mean. And tell Stan I’ll look him up on me next leave if I can.’
Turning from her, the tall figure ran lightly down the three stone steps to the street. ‘See you, Gracie. Stay lucky.’ Then he was gone, disappearing into the night, and when Grace slowly closed the front door, she had to wait a few moments for her heart to return to its normal beat before joining her family.
Chapter Five
‘Cor blimey, what a bleeding night. I ain’t had that much fun in a long time. What d’yer say, Hetty… It was a good night, wasn’t it, girl?’
Flopping back in the armchair near the banked-down fireplace, Aggie’s head bounced from one to the another of her family for confirmation of her words, her spirits still running high.
Stifling a yawn, Hetty nodded, her face tired but happy.
‘Yes it was, Mum, a very good night. But I think it’s time we were all off to bed, I’m—’
‘Bed! You can’t go to bed yet, Hett,’ Aggie protested anxiously. She’d had a rare good night out, doubly appreciated because of what had gone on before, and was reluctant to end the party mood. Flinging her arms out towards her daughter she cried, ‘Aw, let’s have a bit of supper before we go up, eh, Hett! ’Cos I don’t know about the rest of you, but all that drink’s given me an appetite. Shame the chippie’ll be closed by now, I could just go a nice bit of cod and chips.’
‘I could do you some chips, Nan.’ Polly, her plain face showing no sign of tiredness now, and, like her grandmother, wanting to keep the festive spirit alive for a little longer, sprang to her feet. ‘There’s still some of the bread left you baked this morning, Nan. I could do everyone a chip sandwich… Will that be all right, Mum?’ She looked to her mother for approval, and Hetty, conscious that she was herself a little peckish, nodded.
‘Come on then, I’ll give you a hand. I don’t suppose I’d get any sleep anyway.’
‘That’s the spirit, girl.’ Aggie beamed around the room, her eyes lighting on Sam, who had sat down at the piano at the far corner of the room. ‘That’s the idea, Sammy. Give us a tune, an’ we can carry on where we left off at the club.’
Sam glanced up uncertainly. ‘I don’t think so, Aggie. It’s gone eleven. We must have already woken up the neighbours coming in; I don’t want them banging on the door complaining.’ A slow grin spread over his face. ‘Hetty and me have our reputations to uphold, you know. After all, we are professional people, and as such should show an example. Not roll in roaring drunk on a Friday night and start up an impromptu party. We’ll get our name up in the street if we’re not careful.’
‘Bollocks!’ Aggie shot back dismissively. ‘They might think better of you… Oh, all right then, we’ll do without the piano. You play like a cat having its teeth pulled anyway. Now your dad… Oh, he could play the piano, could old Paddy. And he knew how to have a laugh. You talk about the neighbours, Sam. But not one of ’em ever complained when your dad kept us all up half the night with his goings-on.’
Sam looked over at his mother-in-law and smiled ruefully.
‘No they didn’t. They wouldn’t have dared.’
From the hallway, the tantalising smell of frying potatoes wafted into the room, and when Hetty and Polly entered with two trays piled high with plates of golden chips and fresh bread heaped with butter, everyone in the room drooled hungrily.
With a doorstep sandwich held between stubby fingers, Aggie took a deep bite, licking the corners of her mouth in approval.
‘There’s nothing like a plate of chips and bread and butter after a good drink, is there?’
Finishing her sandwich, she reached forward for another from the tray, sighing contentedly. ‘I was just saying to Sam about old Paddy, Hett. He knew how to enjoy himself. That young fellow tonight put me in mind of him. It’s a shame he couldn’t stay on for a bit. Oh, he had a silver tongue all right. The sort of bloke you could listen to all night, an’ I’ll bet he’s broken a few hearts in his time. What I can’t get over is him being a friend of Stan’s. Isn’t that right, lad?’
Stan, his mouth full of food, chewed frantically in order to make a reply, but Aggie was carrying on regardless. ‘I mean to say, I’d never have imagined you being pally with someone like Nobby Clark, never in a million years. You’re as different to him as chalk an’ cheese. Still, never mind, lad, it’s not your fault… Will you be keeping in touch with him, ’cos I’d like to see him again… We all would, especially Vi… Eh, Vi…! Now where the bleeding hell has she got to…?’
‘She went straight to bed, Nan. She said she was tired.’ Grace, sitting on the arm of the chair by Stanley’s side, gave her fiancé’s hand an affectionate squeeze to compensate for Aggie’s unfortunate choice of words. But Stanley, still mellow with drink, seemed unaware that he had been insulted yet again, albeit unintentionally.
‘Tired!’ Aggie snorted. ‘More like her nose put out of joint. Still, it’ll do her good to be ignored for once… Oh, me Gawd! Look at Sam… Here, Sam, Sammy, lad…’ Her raucous laugh carried across the room to where Sam, an empty brandy glass in his hand, had his head laid on the top of the piano, his eyes jerking open in startled surprise.
Smiling tenderly, Hetty crossed the room and took hold of her husband’s arm.
‘You shouldn’t have had that last brandy.’ She clicked her tongue in admonishment. ‘Come on, love. Let’s get you to bed.’
Sam, his face bearing the simplistic smile of a drunk, looked up at his wife bemused.
‘Wha… what’s that, Hetty. Oh, oh, all right, love, all right.’ Struggling to rise from the piano stool, Sam threw a beseeching look at his wife and groaned piteously. ‘I can’t get up… Hetty, me darlin’. Will you give me a hand, darlin’?’
Smiling broadly, Hetty went to her husband’s aid. With practised ease she lifted Sam’s arm across her shoulder while calling to Aggie, ‘Here, give me a hand, will you, Mum.’
Aggie
pulled herself from the comfort of her chair and took hold of her son-in-law’s other arm and hoisted him to his feet, commenting, ‘He never could hold his drink, not like old Paddy… Here, you, Danny, give us a hand, you big lump, before he has us over.’
Danny sprang forward from the settee like a dog being called to heel. Always wanting to be of use, he took the weight of his brother, his expression assuming the manner of a man engaged in an important task.
With much pulling and panting, Sam was half-carried from the room. As they passed by the door, Aggie, who was pushing Sam from behind, her round face red with exertion, nodded first at Grace, then down to the man lolling in the armchair beside her.
‘He takes after your dad for the drink, Grace. Some men get nasty, others get frisky and others get soppy. And you can’t get any soppier than the pair of these, now can you? Mind you, I’d rather have them like this any day, Oh yes. Better to be soppy than argumentative like some.’
Grace nodded wryly. ‘I suppose you’re right, Nan… Look, you help get dad to bed before he has the lot of you over.’
The sound of banging and laughter could be heard down the passage and up the stairs.
Grace looked at Polly and rolled her eyes.
‘Lord, what a night. It’s lucky Uncle Danny doesn’t drink much, or else we’d have him on our hands as well.’ Shaking her head in amused vexation, she looked down at the sleeping Stanley and added, ‘Help me get Stan over to the settee, will you, Polly? There’s no point in trying to wake him. He can sleep it off here; I’m sure Mum won’t mind him staying the night just this once.’ Standing either side of the armchair, Polly and Grace, like their mother and nan a few minutes since, pulled the drunken man to his feet and dragged him across to the couch, whereupon Stan opened a bleary eye and tried to sit up.
‘Wo… won’t you come ho… home, Bill Bailey, wo… won’t you come home…’
‘Oh, Lord, he’s singing now,’ laughed Polly. ‘At least he’s trying to. Coo, what a racket.’
Letting the heavy form slump sideways on to the settee, the two women stood looking down at him.
‘What now?’ asked Polly, her shiny face mirroring beads of sweat from her exertion. ‘Shall we get him some coffee, or just leave him there?’
‘Oh, just leave him there,’ Grace answered airily. ‘He’ll come round in his own good time.’
Hearing soft footsteps outside the door, Grace glanced up to see Vi standing in the doorway, a pair of high-heeled black pumps dangling from her fingers.
‘They all gone to bed yet?’ she whispered, then, seeing the figure sprawled on the settee she said, ‘Oh, Lord, he’s not stopping the night, is he?’
Grace’s head came up sharply. ‘It’s none of your business if he does or not. And where have you been, anyway? We all thought you’d gone to bed.’
Vi shrugged her shoulders defiantly, but was unable to stop herself from sneaking a quick look up the stairway to make sure the coast was clear.
‘I fancied a walk, that’s all. Anyway, I’m off to bed. See you in the morning… Well, sometime tomorrow anyway. Goodnight.’
‘Night, Vi,’ Polly answered, stifling a yawn. ‘I think I’ll go up as well, Grace. Unless you want me to keep you company.’
Grace smiled fondly. ‘Get up to bed. You look as if you could fall asleep on your feet. Go on. I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight, love.’
Standing with her hand on the doorknob, Polly smiled tiredly at her sister.
‘I never thought we’d end up having such a good night. I didn’t even want to go out, but I’m glad I did. That friend of Stanley’s was a good laugh, wasn’t he, Grace? Did you see Vi trying to hang on to him… Oh!’ Dropping her voice a shade lower, Polly breathed, ‘Do you think Vi went after him! Oh… she wouldn’t have, surely…’
Grace’s mouth turned upwards in a grimace of annoyance. ‘I wouldn’t put it past her. But if that is where she went, then it couldn’t have done her much good, or else she’d have looked a lot happier than she did when she came in.’
‘No, you’re right. Goodnight, Grace.’
‘Yes, goodnight, love.’
For the next five minutes, Grace wandered around the room, picking up and stacking the dirty plates on a tray ready to be taken into the kitchen. She was bending down to retrieve a dropped piece of bread from the carpet when two strong arms snaked around her waist, causing her to cry out in surprise.
‘I thought they’d never go.’ Stanley, his face still flushed from the night’s drinking, bent down and nuzzled at the soft flesh of Grace’s neck, making appreciative noises at the enjoyable task.
Twisting round in the tight grasp, Grace exclaimed sharply, ‘Stan, you idiot. You nearly frightened me half to death, creeping up on me like that.’ Placing her hands on his broad chest, Grace tilted her head back to get a better look at him. ‘Was that all an act? All that singing and larking about—’
Her words were cut off abruptly as Stan kissed her roughly, his hands moving up and down her back. Melting into his body, Grace gave herself up to the passionate embrace without any further protest, until a harsh, familiar voice jerked her back to reality.
‘And we’ll have none of that malarkey, thank you very much. At least not while I’m around.’
The startled couple sprang apart guiltily, both assuming the air of small children caught out in some minor misdemeanour.
Patting her hair awkwardly, Grace stammered, ‘Hello, Nan, we were just…’
Aggie gave a short laugh.
‘I know what you were doing, girl. I’ve still got a good pair of eyes in me head. Now you…’ She dug a short thick finger at Stan’s chest. ‘You can get yourself off home, seeing as how you’ve made such a miraculous recovery. And there was me about to fetch you a pillow and blanket for the night. But I’m sure you’d rather be tucked up in your own bed, eh, lad?’
Stan’s face suddenly looked sickly white.
‘Yeah, you’re right. In fact I think I’ll be off now.’ Glancing feverishly around the room, he caught sight of his hat lying near the armchair and quickly snatched it up. He slammed it down on his head while saying thickly, ‘I’ll come round tomorrow, Grace… About elevenish… All right…?’
Looking positively green now, Stan lurched from the room with Grace hurrying behind him.
‘Stan, Stanley, are you all right—’ But the front door banged in her face, and when she went to follow, she felt her arm gripped tightly.
‘Leave him alone, Grace. A fellow doesn’t like to be seen throwing up by his girlfriend, so make the most of it. ’Cos once you’re married, he won’t be so particular, you take my word for it.’
When Grace did as she was told, Aggie hesitated for a moment, then, her face clearing, she burst out hurriedly, ‘Look, love, about earlier. I didn’t mean to hurt Stan’s feelings, or Danny’s for that matter. It wasn’t them I was mad at, more like the world in general. But I took me bad temper out on them, poor buggers, and I’ll apologise properly to Stan, and your uncle Danny, tomorrow. Now I can’t say fairer than that, can I, love?’ Peering anxiously into Grace’s face, she added humbly, ‘You don’t hold it against me, do you, love?’
The look of uncertainty on the normally implacable countenance brought forth a rush of affection from Grace. Throwing her arms around the broad shoulders, she murmured lovingly, ‘Don’t be daft, Nan. I could never stay angry with you for long.’
Patting the slim back, Aggie returned the hug, then stepped back to look closely into Grace’s face.
‘Well, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had, love. And I don’t blame Stan for wanting to join up either. I’d probably want to do the same if I was in his shoes. Especially after meeting up with that Nobby Clark tonight, and hearing him talk about what it’s like overseas. He made it sound like it was one big laugh. I could see Stan hanging on to every word, poor sod! Still…’ She squeezed Grace’s arm gently. ‘Even if Stan does go and enlist, it don’t mean to say he’ll see any fighting, does
it? Not if there’s no war to fight.’
Grace blinked rapidly. ‘Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ she murmured softly, too tired to worry about it any more tonight.
After locking up and turning out the lights downstairs, the two women climbed the stairs. They paused midway at the sound of soft laughter coming from the main bedroom, then there was silence, and with a knowing look, the women tiptoed up the remainder of the stairs.
* * *
Two weeks later, Stanley and Bert Harris, Stan’s former workmate, met up again for a drink. The following day both men, using each other for moral support, enlisted in the army.
Chapter Six
Events were hotting up over the Channel. Germany had instigated further ‘incidents’ on the Polish border in a flagrant attempt to justify yet another invasion. Hurried negotiations with Russia were carried out in secret, but it was too late. The shock announcement in August that Russia and Germany had signed a pact of non-aggression fuelled the mounting realisation that war now was inevitable.
By the end of August the gigantic task of evacuating three million of Britain’s children to safer zones in the country was complete, leaving their teachers, who had accompanied them, to return to London to await further developments, secure in the knowledge that their young charges were now out of harm’s way.
Sam and Hetty Donnelly, like many of their profession, had spent four hectic days travelling on stuffy, overcrowded trains filled with excited and tearful children, the majority of whom, blissfully unaware of the eminent danger at home, had treated the whole procedure as a great adventure.
Now Britain’s children were safely billeted in various parts of the countryside, the nation sat back waiting to learn its fate.
The summer of 1939 had seen glorious weather, and as September dawned it looked as if the warm climate was set to hold throughout the autumn.