Fur Coat, No Knickers

by Anna King

  ‘I don’t bleeding know, Reg. You’ll ’ave ter speak ter Sam when he gets in. Anyway, what’s so bleeding important about registering our cellar?’ A thought suddenly struck her. Aggressive now, she glared at the warden. ‘’ere, you lot ain’t gonna make us share wiv the whole bleeding street, are yer? I don’t mind a few of the neighbours in an emergency, but I ain’t opening it up as a public shelter.’

  Reg uttered a dry laugh. ‘Nah, nothing like that, Aggie. It’s just that the authorities like ter know about basements and cellars in case of a direct hit… Oh, Gawd! I’m sorry, Aggie…’ Reg’s head jerked back nervously as Polly let out a wail. ‘I didn’t mean ter put the frightners on yer, love.’ He addressed the tearful Polly, who seemed ready to drop to the floor in fright.

  Clicking her tongue Aggie turned to Vi, saying, ‘Take Poll into the other room, Vi, will yer? Get her ter lie down on the sofa for a while, she’s had a shock.’

  Violet had changed into her siren suit, as had her sisters, in case of another raid, unlike her nan who was still wearing the dirty floral dress she’d had on all day. More composed now, and feeling flushed with a camaraderie towards her younger sister, Vi said kindly, ‘All right, Nan. Come on, Poll. Let’s get you lying down. You’ll feel better after a sleep.’

  Still in a daze, Polly let herself be led from the room.

  The door had hardly closed behind the two young women before Reg said quietly, ‘I think it’d be better if yer all got yourselves down the basement, Aggie. And you’d better take enough food and drink ter see yer through the night, an’ all.’

  Aggie spun round to face him, her expression grim as she demanded roughly, ‘Yer think they’ll come back tonight?’

  Placing his now-empty mug on the table, Reg nodded.

  ‘I’d lay money on it, Aggie. The docks ’ave taken the worst of it so far. Words coming through the whole of docklands is burning. And not only the docks, but the houses down there an’ all, which means that the blackout’ll be no bloody good tonight. The whole city will be lit up once it gets dark, an’ Hitler’s not gonna miss a chance like that, is he?’ Pushing himself back from the table, Reg asked. ‘By the way, where is Sam? I thought he’d be here with you.’

  Aggie and Grace exchanged a look of concern, but it was Grace who answered.

  ‘That’s the problem, Mr Watson. We don’t know where they are, and we’re worried sick. They—’

  The wail of the siren cut into her words.

  ‘Oh, no, not again!’ Grace cried.

  Reg moved hurriedly towards the door, slamming on his steel hat.

  ‘Get yourselves down the basement, the lot of you, and I’ll see what I can find out about yer mum and dad.’

  Grace had followed Reg to the front door, and as he turned the handle, he paused, ‘By the way, d’yer know where they were going when they left here?’

  Grace answered quickly. ‘Yes. They were going to the pictures. I’m not sure which one. I think it was the Plaza… Wh—what? What’s the matter, Mr Watson? Why are you looking at me like that?’

  The warden had already averted his red-rimmed eyes but not before Grace had glimpsed the look of horror in them. Grace felt something jump within her, like a live being. It travelled from her stomach to her chest and into her throat, and for a few seconds she stopped breathing.

  Watching the dawning horror flooding Grace’s face, Reg felt his legs go weak. He had just come from the Plaza. The whole place was gutted, with no sign of any survivors; but the firemen were still trying to get through. But not now. Not with another raid starting. Oh, dear God Almighty! Not Sam and Hetty. Because if they’d been in the cinema when the bomb dropped then they must be dead. No one could have survived that blast. Not from the devastation he’d witnessed at the Plaza.

  Grace was clutching his arm in desperation.

  ‘What is it, Mr Watson? You know something, I can tell by your face. Tell me, Mr Watson, please… Tell me…’

  The stricken warden could only stare wordlessly into the terrified blue eyes of the young woman standing before him. Never in his life had he felt so inadequate, so useless. Nearby he could hear the crumping noises as the bombs began to fall nearby and, gently, he disengaged himself from Grace’s frantic grasp.

  Shaking his head he muttered helplessly, ‘I’m sorry, Gracie, I’m sorry. You’d better get them all down below before it gets too bad. Go on, love. See to your sisters and your nan. They’re gonna need yer now. Bye, love…’

  Grace stood frozen in the doorway. It was a nightmare. That’s what it was, a nightmare. This couldn’t be happening; it just couldn’t.

  The sound of the falling bombs was growing closer, and as Aggie, Polly and Vi ran out into the hall, Grace took control, grateful for something to do to distract her from the unspeakable thoughts that were torturing her mind.

  ‘Come on, you lot, don’t hang around. Get down the stairs. I’ll grab some food and a bottle of milk, in case…’

  Ignoring the cries of panic, Grace marshalled them all down the basement steps, avoiding eye contact with anyone. Only Aggie, her pale eyes suddenly painfully aware, continued to stare at Grace, but Grace skilfully avoided her grandmother’s silent, pleading look.

  There was nothing definite after all. Her mum and dad might have left the cinema early. They might even have changed their minds about going. They did that sometimes.

  The second air raid was now in earnest, although down here in the basement the noise was muted. Settling herself comfortably on the mattress beside Polly and Vi, Grace hugged her knees. Without being aware of it, she began to hum a well-known popular tune.

  Only once did she raise her head. And when she caught Aggie’s knowing, anguished stare, Grace stopped humming, dropped her head to her knees and forced her mind to go blank.

  Chapter Ten

  There was no time to grieve, not with Goering’s Luftwaffe bombing London day and night without respite. During the infrequent lulls, the people of the East End managed to bury their dead, but not so the Donnelly family. In their tragic case, there were no bodies to lay to rest, no special place where the bereaved family could visit their dead loved ones to gain comfort and solace.

  The cinema where Hetty and Sam had perished had simply been left, the emergency resources already stretched to the limit in a bid to combat the inferno that was sweeping through the East End and beyond. Though, as Reg Watson confided to Rene and Bert Castle in a rare moment of quietness, it was probably for the best, because from his experience, and remember, he had told them, he’d already been through one war so he knew what he was talking about, those people in the cinema had more than likely been blown to bits on impact. And if there was one thing worse than removing bodies from bombed buildings, it was trying to piece bits and bobs of them back together for a decent funeral. No! It was much better this way, even though it made it hard for the Donnelly family to accept their loved ones were really gone, which was what funerals were really for, weren’t they? To say your goodbyes properly and give yourself time to mourn. Still, there was nothing anyone could do to change things now, and after all, the girls still had their gran, and she them. And if anything else was needed, they had their neighbours to turn to.

  * * *

  ‘You sure, Gracie, love? Only I’ve gotta queue up for me own rations, I might as well get yours while I’m there, save both of us standing around for hours.’

  Rene Castle was sitting at the kitchen table, her usually chirpy face solemn as she regarded the young, pale-faced woman standing by the sink. Like the rest of the street she still couldn’t believe Sam and Hetty were gone. If the tragedy had happened before the war then no one would have felt it as hard. But they’d all grown close since the start, and Rene, like many others, wished they’d made the effort to be more friendly in the past. Then again, if the war hadn’t started, Sam and Hetty would still be alive, and she herself wouldn’t be sitting here now preparing to go off and stand in line for hours for a measly piece of liver, or a couple of
chops if she was lucky. That was if there wasn’t another blasted raid before she’d had the chance to get her meagre provisions.

  Raising her head she glanced anxiously at the slim figure and sighed heavily. Poor Grace. It looked like the responsibility for looking after the family had fallen on her young shoulders for the time being, and that had puzzled everyone, for old Aggie had always appeared so strong, so resilient. Now she was a mere shadow of her former self. She’d hardly been seen out of doors since that terrible day, preferring to stay in her room with the curtains closed, even during a raid. Whereas young Polly wouldn’t move from the basement, terrified to set foot outside in case the bombers appeared. And as for that flighty piece Vi! Rene tutted in disgust. Talk about gadding about with her parents hardly cold. Out every night she was, all tarted up to the nines and heading up West, and staying up there an’ all. Mind you, a lot of people had taken to staying up the West End during the night raids. It was a lot safer than round the East End at the moment. But still! Vi should be giving her sister some support instead of letting Grace take all the burden. It wasn’t right! But there you were, life was rarely fair, and she had her own troubles to keep her occupied.

  As if reading her mind, Grace asked quietly, ‘Have you thought any more about sending the children away, Rene? It must be terrifying for them having to put up with all that’s going on.’

  Rene gave a loud exclamation of derision.

  ‘Huh! They’re having a whale of a time, the lot of ’em. Every morning they’re outta the shelter and straight on to the bomb sites, little gits.’ Gathering up her shopping basket, she added laughingly, ‘You should’ve seen what my Billy brought home yesterday. A bit of shrapnel as big as a bleeding bomb. I nearly had a heart attack when he threw it on the table. Proud as punch he was an’ all. It’s the biggest bit found so far, so he tells me an’ his dad. So of course he’s cock of the walk now among his mates. Anyway, I wouldn’t ’ave the heart to send ’em away again. They hated it the first time, cried the whole while they was there, poor little sods, though I’m the one who has nightmares about anything happening to them. But as Tom says, if a bomb’s got your name on it—’ Rene broke off, appalled at her lack of tact, but Grace smiled sadly.

  ‘It’s all right, Rene. You don’t have to watch every word you say.’ Busying herself at the sink, Grace added, ‘Actually, Rene, you could get my shopping, if you don’t mind. I don’t like leaving Nan and Polly if I can help it. It’s bad enough during the week while I’m at work, but I like to stay with them at weekends if I can.’

  Grateful to be of help, Rene answered quickly, ‘Course I will, love. ’Ere, give us your ration books an’ I’ll see what I can pick up.’

  With the ration books carefully stowed inside the large shopping bag, Rene made to take her leave. ‘Oh, by the way. Any news of your young man coming home on leave, love?’

  Grace shook her head. ‘No… Well, not that I’ve heard. Stan did try to get some compassionate leave, but they weren’t family… Mum and Dad, I mean. It would have been different if we were married, but as it is…’ She spread her hands and smiled weakly. ‘But Uncle Danny’s coming home on sick leave. You remember I told you he’d been injured. Nothing serious, thank goodness, just a flesh wound, so he says in his letters, but he’s been given a month’s pass. Then he’s got to report to the army doctor to see if he’s fit to go back at the end of the month.’

  Rene nodded. ‘Well, that’s something, ain’t it, love? And it’ll be nice fer you to have a man about the house again, even if it is only fer a little while.’

  As she left the house Rene thought: Not that Danny will be much help, if she was any judge of character. Oh, he was a good man, and kind, there was no doubt of that, but what Grace and the family needed now was a strong man, someone who would take charge and give Grace a bit of breathing space. More important, someone who could take over and give the girl a chance to grieve properly. ’Cos at the moment she was propping everyone else up, an’ it wasn’t fair, nor natural. It couldn’t go on for much longer, ’cos that poor cow she’d just left was building up a store of trouble for herself. She might carry on as normal for days, even weeks, but she couldn’t keep it up for ever. There was a dam building inside of her, and sooner or later it would break. Quickening her step, Rene nodded to herself. And the sooner the better, as she saw it. Else young Grace was heading for a nervous breakdown. And what would the rest of them do then, if their life-raft was suddenly swept out from under their feet! Shaking her head sorrowfully, Rene set off for the shops and the battle of the queues.

  * * *

  Grace waited until the front door banged, then slowly carried on with the washing in the sink. What she really wanted to do was to slide to the floor, curl up into a tight ball, and howl and scream and cry, and in so doing let the anguish and pain that had been building ever since that awful day roar and gush from her tortured mind. Maybe that would give her some blessed relief from the dreadful loss she had sustained. But she wasn’t allowed! Oh, no! Good old Grace would hold the fort, see to everyone’s needs, give them all the time in the world to grieve in peace, while she got on with the rigours of everyday life… It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t bloody well fair. Why should she be denied the luxury of grieving? Why? She felt her throat contract and tears beginning to prick behind her eyelids, but as usual she pushed down her feelings. Almost savagely, she flung a saucepan into the rapidly cooling water and began to scrub the enamel pot until her fingers bled.

  ‘Who was that?’ Aggie had come downstairs, shuffling into the kitchen and slumping on to the nearest chair.

  Without turning round, Grace answered gruffly, ‘Only Rene. She kindly popped in to see if I needed any help, and, unlike I normally do, I didn’t refuse. She’s getting the shopping for me, so at least that’s one worry off my mind, and, as they say, every little helps.’

  Aggie looked at the slim back of her eldest granddaughter and, noting the harshness in the normally soft voice, felt a moment’s panic. Gawd help us. Don’t let Grace crack now, please. Just let her hang on for just a few more weeks, and then I’ll be able to take over the reins. But not right now. I wouldn’t be able to cope, not yet. She needed more time. And what about Gracie? Her mind threw back the sharp reprimand. What about her, eh, or don’t her feelings count? Aggie’s head drooped forward in shame as an overwhelming sense of guilt swept through her tired body and, not for the first time since the tragedy, she wished wholeheartedly she had gone with her Hetty and Sam to the pictures on that fateful day, then she would have been spared the grief and guilt that was with her every waking moment.

  Gulping loudly, Aggie said, almost timidly, ‘Yeah, well, she’s a good sort, is Rene. In fact all the neighbours have been good. It was the same last time round. People you didn’t speak to from one month to another suddenly got all chummy. I expect thing’s will go back to the way they were after it’s all over…’ When the mug of tea was placed before her, Aggie gratefully wrapped her hands around the steaming brew and said softly, ‘I ain’t been much help ter you, have I, love… Oh, now, don’t try an’ spare me feelings,’ she added quickly as Grace, her face contrite now, made to speak. ‘I know what I’ve been like these past three weeks, an’ I ain’t proud of meself, but it’s partly your fault.’

  Grace, her face twisted in bewilderment, said hesitantly, ‘My fault? How?’

  Aggie reached out and gripped Grace’s hand tightly.

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I said. If you hadn’t been so strong, I would’ve had to be. It goes like that sometimes. You get a couple of people faced with bad news, or some disaster, an’ if you want ter wallow in self-pity, you’ve gotta get in first before anyone else starts to go to pieces. ’Cos if the other people involved start to fall apart, then the strongest of the bunch will be left ter cope. It’s always been that way, and always will be.’ As she continued to talk, Aggie felt a new strength beginning to grow inside her. Leaning across the table she grasped Gracie’s hands and said sadly, ‘And tha
t’s what I meant just now. If you’d gone ter pieces when we heard about your mum and dad, then I wouldn’t have had any time to dwell on it. I would’ve had ter take charge an’ look after all of you. But you was a bit slow, an’ that gave me time to crack up an’ shove all the responsibility for looking after us all on ter your shoulders, Gawd forgive me!’

  When there was no response from the young woman, Aggie looked up almost fearfully into Gracie’s white, strained face, and realised that talk alone wouldn’t help her Gracie. She had to do something positive, to let her granddaughter know she was sincere and not just rabbiting on in an effort to get out of taking some of the load from Gracie’s shoulders. It was then that the resilience that had got Aggie through life slowly began to creep back.

  Swallowing back the last of the now-cold tea, Aggie shifted her weight more comfortably on the chair and said more firmly than she had sounded in a long while, ‘There’ll be no more sleeping upstairs while the raids are on, I promise. I… I suppose some part of me, some cowardly part, was hoping a bomb would drop on me head an’ wipe out all the pain. But it looks like God wants me to stick around fer a while, so I ain’t gonna push me luck any more. Tonight I’m coming down the basement with you and Poll…’ At the mention of her youngest granddaughter, Aggie looked around the room and sighed, ‘She still down there?’

  Grace nodded wearily. ‘I’m afraid so, Nan. She’s hardly left, apart from visiting the bathroom. I don’t want to make a fuss, though, not right now. If she feels safer down there… Well, she’s not doing any harm, though it’s a pity she’s lost her job. Although I can’t blame her boss for sacking her. I mean, where would we be if we all buried ourselves away from reality! You’ve got to go on as best you can, otherwise we might as well be dead.’

  Aggie’s neck snapped back on her shoulders at the obvious slight, and she waited for Grace to apologise, but no apology was forthcoming. She tried to think of something to say or do, anything that would take away the hostility that had crept back into Grace’s face and voice.