Patsy had finished her schooling last autumn, and because German air raids had become less worrying, her father allowed her to come and live with him in his rented apartment, which the English called a flat, in a large house off Denmark Hill, in South-East London. He commuted from there to town at all times of the day and night in an old English Ford banger, since his work was governed by the events of the war and by the broadcasting facilities available to the American Press Corps in the sandbaggy heart of London. But when he could relax, he did so in the apartment, and was delighted now to have Patsy there. Patsy, a versatile and affectionate daughter, did whatever housework and cooking were necessary. Her Pa said he liked living among the people of the host nation, and residing out of town helped him to avoid the prolonged drinking sessions so favoured by overseas newsmen. Liquor was ill-received by his sensitive stomach.
Patsy made up her mind about her new acquaintance.
‘OK, Daniel,’ she said, ‘I think I like you, or that I could get to like you, so you can push my bike for me.’
‘Ta for the privilege,’ said Daniel, and his mouth spread in a good-natured smile, a smile that she liked.
They resumed their walk, Patsy recounting at length all the details of how she and her dad crossed the Atlantic in the Queen Mary to England after her mother’s death, how they toured bombed London, and experienced the frightening ordeal one night of their first air raid. This made her Pa send her off to some gruesomely stuffy boarding-school just for girls, where she had to organize other American boarders so that they could form a united front against the English and sock them silly on dormitory raids.
‘We licked ’em,’ she said.
‘Any blood?’ asked Daniel.
‘You bet,’ said Patsy, ‘and it earned us their respect. I’ve got lots of English girl friends now.’
‘We all need friends,’ said Daniel. The occasional bus hove into view, and the occasional car. Other than that, Denmark Hill seemed peaceful, even if a few ruined houses were a stark reminder of a murderous war. ‘Would you mind telling me how old you are?’
‘Eighteen,’ said Patsy. ‘Well, seventeen, I guess. Well, nearly seventeen.’
‘Would your father like you talking to strangers?’ asked Daniel.
‘Strangers?’ said Patsy. ‘Oh, you mean talking to you. But there’s the war, you have to talk to all kinds of people, and you don’t seem like a stranger to me.’
‘Do I strike you as being honest, upright and trustworthy?’ asked Daniel.
‘Sure, and cute as well,’ said Patsy.
‘Cute?’ said Daniel, and laughed.
‘Oh, some guys can be really cute,’ said Patsy. ‘By the way, Pa says this war’s going on for ever.’
‘Tell your Pa to keep that sort of opinion to himself,’ said Daniel. ‘Mr Churchill discourages that, y’know. It’s—’
‘Now there’s a great guy,’ said Patsy. ‘Pa and me have a lot of admiration for Mr Churchill, your country’s sheepdog.’
‘Bulldog,’ said Daniel.
‘Oh, all right, bulldog,’ said Patsy.
‘Anyway,’ said Daniel, ‘warn your Pa not to talk about the war going on for ever. It’s what’s called enemy talk. He could get pelted with bricks picked up from bombed buildings if he said it out loud in public. The public want the war over well before they get all worn out.’
‘I’ll thank you not to criticize my Pa,’ said Patsy.
‘I’m sure he’s a good old Pa, like mine,’ said Daniel.
‘Lucky us, then,’ said Patsy. ‘I like being out of school and looking after mine. He’s up in town today, broadcasting news to the folks back home.’
‘Good old Pa, I’m getting to like the sound of him,’ said Daniel, the bike between him and Patsy. It was friendly of her to keep him company. She could have ridden the machine up the hill, although it would have been a plodding ride.
‘I hope we win the war, you and us,’ she said.
‘Same here,’ said Daniel, and stopped at the entrance to Red Post Hill. ‘This is where I live, Patsy, and you’re a bit farther on. Nice to have met you, good luck, and give my regards to your Pa—’
‘Oh, that’s it, is it?’ said Patsy who, besides having no hang-ups or inhibitions, was typically American in her willingness to make friends, except with furtive characters who had shifty eyes and BO. ‘You’re showing me the door?’
‘Unless you’d like to come home with me and have a cup of tea,’ said Daniel.
‘Daniel, you mean that?’ said Patsy, looking distinctly pleased. ‘I’ve gotten used to English tea.’
‘Got,’ said Daniel.
‘Got what?’ asked Patsy.
‘You’ve got used to English tea.’
‘Yes, I said so.’
‘OK, fair enough,’ said Daniel. ‘Let’s ride there. You sit on the carrier.’
‘Nothing doing,’ said Patsy, ‘it’s my machine.’
‘I’ve got more leg muscle,’ said Daniel.
‘I could dispute that,’ said Patsy.
‘Don’t muck about, Patsy. Sit.’
‘Shan’t. I’m as good as you are, and it’s my machine, I tell you.’
‘Sit, Patsy.’
‘Daniel, stop making me mad.’
‘You’re not mad, you’re laughing.’
‘OK, I give in this time,’ said Patsy, so she sat sideways on the carrier and Daniel rode. He whizzed her down the hill as if Hitler’s demons were on their tails.
What a fun guy, she thought, even if he is a bit skinny.
Chapter Seventeen
AS DANIEL LET himself and Patsy into the house, Susie appeared in the hall.
‘I’m back, Mum,’ said Daniel.
‘So I see,’ said Susie, eyeing his companion with curiosity.
‘Oh, this is Patsy, Patsy Kirk,’ said Daniel. ‘She’s American, and I found her on my way home from the ironmonger.’
‘Found her?’ said Susie.
‘In away,’ said Daniel.
‘No way,’ said Patsy. ‘Finding me is as good as saying I was lost.’
‘Well, we met and got talking,’ said Daniel. ‘Patsy, now meet my one and only mother.’
‘Hi, Mrs Adams,’ said Patsy.
‘Hello, Patsy,’ smiled Susie, and Patsy noted another pair of blue eyes, a Pacific blue.
‘I invited her for a cup of tea,’ said Daniel.
Their voices brought Chinese Lady from her kitchen. Seeing an unknown young lady, she said, ‘My, have we got a visitor, Susie?’ She liked having visitors, providing they weren’t hawkers who wanted to sell something, or tramps who wanted to pass on their fleas. She was in a pleasant frame of mind at the moment, because although Edwin was still keeping to their bed, he was perceptibly better.
‘Grandma,’ said Daniel, ‘this is Patsy Kirk from America. Patsy, meet my grandmother.’
‘Hi, Granny,’ said Patsy.
Chinese Lady blinked, and not at the diminutive alone, for the front door, not yet closed, swung wide open to the breeze and let in a shaft of sunlight. With her back to it, Patsy’s light summer dress became gauzy, revealing the outline of her legs.
‘Oh, my goodness,’ said Chinese Lady, feeling as if she should blush for the young lady. ‘Daniel, close the door.’
Daniel closed it, and Sammy appeared, with Paula and Phoebe in tow.
‘Are we missing something?’ he asked.
‘Patsy,’ said Daniel, ‘that’s my dad, that’s Paula, and that’s Phoebe. They’re my sisters, and there’s another one, but she’s still an evacuee in the West Country. Dad, this is Patsy Kirk from America, a new family friend.’
‘Welcome,’ said Sammy.
‘Hi, everyone,’ smiled Patsy, and she knew then where Daniel got his blue eyes from. From both parents.
‘Crikey,’ said Paula, staring at Patsy, ‘is she yours, Daniel?’
‘Well, young sis, I haven’t made a bid for her yet,’ said Daniel. ‘We’ve only just met, and we’re both hoping
for a cup of tea. Any chance of putting the kettle on, Grandma?’
‘I’ll make a pot for all of us,’ said Chinese Lady, halfway towards recovering from the shock of discovering the American girl wasn’t wearing a slip. Chinese Lady automatically associated that with girls who hadn’t been brought up proper. ‘Bring Miss Kirk through, Daniel.’
They all went through to the large kitchen, bright with light from two windows. Patsy thought it looked old-fashioned with its out-of-date wallpaper, its big heavy dresser, solid iron range, and table covered with a check-patterned oilcloth that must have come out of the Ark or some hillbilly shack. But it also looked like a family gathering place. So she gave it plus points, even if it did need pulling down and rebuilding.
‘Help yourself to a seat, Patsy,’ said Sammy, wearing his Saturday afternoon sports shirt of Cambridge blue with Oxford blue trousers. Patsy thought him an engaging man, with the same kind of inner energy as Daniel.
‘This one,’ said Paula, touching a chair, ‘and I’ll sit on the next one and you can have that one, Phoebe.’
‘Oh, fanks,’ said Phoebe.
Patsy sat down between the two girls. Chinese Lady put the kettle on.
‘How is it you’re in England?’ Susie asked the question of Patsy with a smile.
Patsy, having enjoyed the privilege of growing up in a country in which everyone was encouraged to speak his or her piece, willingly began a new recounting of the events that had led to the arrival of herself and her Pa in the little old island from which her forebears had emigrated. She was in luck, for she was talking to good listeners. Chinese Lady and most members of her family liked to absorb information as much as deliver it. Paula and Phoebe added wide-open eyes and mouths to wide-open ears. Daniel’s new friend, all the way from America, fascinated them.
Patsy, concluding with how much she liked looking after her good old Pa, said, ‘I took his best shirts to the Camberwell Green laundry this afternoon, and it was on my way back that Daniel said hello to me. Listen, Mr Adams, d’you know anything about Ancient Rome?’
‘It was a bit before my time,’ said Sammy, ‘but I did hear they carried on some profitable business with Cleopatra and her Egyptians. Didn’t they sell Cleopatra a barge?’
‘Oh, I guess they might have,’ said Patsy. ‘And did you hear that Ancient Roman grandmothers threw people to the lions?’
‘Eh?’ said Sammy.
‘Pardon?’ said Susie.
‘What’s that?’ said Chinese Lady.
‘Lions,’ said Paula, ‘oh, crikey.’
‘Oh, help,’ breathed Phoebe.
Daniel made a surreptitious movement.
‘Yes, d’you know if it’s true, and that Nero’s grannies liked some gruesome food called jellied eels?’ asked Patsy.
‘Oh, I remember friends of mine in the Old Kent Road liking jellied eels,’ said Chinese Lady, ‘but I brought my own family up on Sunday shrimps and winkles, which you can’t get a lot of now. I just don’t know that this war isn’t worse than the other one.’
‘Patsy, did you say Nero’s grandmothers liked jellied eels?’ asked Susie.
‘It’s what Daniel said, and that Nero did away with them by poisoning the eels,’ declared Patsy. Daniel made another surreptitious movement. Susie had her eye on him, but said nothing. ‘I told him he was crazy,’ remarked Patsy. ‘Is it OK to ask if he really is?’
‘Blessed if I know,’ said Paula, ‘he’s just one of my brothers.’
‘But, I mean,’ said Patsy, ‘Roman grannies throwing people to the lions, that’s got to be – hey, excuse me, but where’s he gone?’
‘I think he’s just slipped out into the garden,’ smiled Susie.
‘What’s he do that for?’ asked Chinese Lady.
‘I’ve got a feeling it’s for safety first reasons on account of some Ancient Roman porkies he’s been telling Patsy about Nero’s grandmothers,’ said Sammy.
‘Well, could someone go and tell him the tea’s nearly ready?’ said Chinese Lady, to whom Nero’s grandmothers, having been laid to rest well before her time, should be left in peace.
‘I’ll go get him,’ said Patsy, and up she came and into the garden she went through the back door.
‘Crumbs,’ said Paula, looking at Phoebe. One moment the visitor had been between them, the next she had vanished.
‘Was that a flash of lightning?’ enquired Sammy.
‘She’s like quicksilver,’ said Susie.
‘Like Emily was,’ said Sammy with sober reflection. He missed Emily, Boots’s first wife.
‘I fink Patsy’s nice,’ said little Phoebe.
‘Yes, but fancy Daniel finding a girl that’s come all the way from America,’ said Paula.
‘It’s working both ways,’ said Sammy. ‘There’s a lot of girls finding a lot of blokes that’ve come all the way from America.’
‘We don’t want to hear about unrespectable goings-on, Sammy,’ said Chinese Lady.
‘Daddy, could I meet a bloke?’ asked Paula. ‘He might be an American uncle.’
‘Listen, Plum Pudding the Second,’ said Sammy, ‘you don’t need an American uncle, you’ve got plenty of homegrown ones.’
‘So have I, don’t I?’ said Phoebe.
‘And grandparents and cousins,’ said Sammy.
‘Crikey,’ said Phoebe in blissful awe.
Outside, Patsy made her acquaintance with a long lawn framed by flowerbeds. Beyond the lawn was a kitchen garden. Up there was Daniel. She ran towards him, calling.
‘Daniel, your granny says tea’s ready.’
‘That’s my granny,’ grinned Daniel, ‘she never fails. Sorry I slipped out while you were telling the family what you knew about old Roman grannies, but—’
‘I like that,’ protested Patsy, ‘I was only repeating what you said.’
‘You sure?’ said Daniel. ‘Sounded far-fetched to me. Anyway, I slipped out just to look at some seed potatoes I planted a while ago. There they are, see? New potatoes on the way.’ He stooped double to touch burgeoning foliage. A little yell escaped him. He straightened up as fast as a sprung bow, dived a hand into his trousers pocket and pulled out a folded brown paper bag. From the bottom of it a score of gleaming needle points had thrust through and pricked his thigh. ‘Look at that lot,’ he said. ‘Vaccinated me, all of ’em. Another half-inch or so nearer and I’d have been a sad case, I tell you, Patsy.’
Patsy shrieked with laughter.
Daniel conceded it had its funny side.
Later, when he was doing the friendly thing by accompanying Patsy to her own home, Chinese Lady had a discreet word with Susie.
‘I don’t know, I’m sure, Susie, but it was a bit of a shock when that American girl was standing at the open door with all that sunshine behind her. It showed right through her frock. Susie, I could hardly believe my eyes at seeing she wasn’t wearing a slip.’
‘I noticed too, Mum,’ smiled Susie.
‘I don’t know why it makes you smile, Susie,’ said Chinese Lady. ‘I mean, only vulgar girls go about with no proper underwear on.’
‘I don’t think Patsy’s vulgar, Mum,’ said Susie.
‘Well, I hope not, Susie,’ said Chinese Lady, ‘we’ve never had vulgar girls come visiting, except that Lily Fuller that used to call on Tommy and wore jumpers that – well, you know what I mean.’
‘I don’t think I ever met Lily Fuller,’ said Susie, ‘but yes, I do know what you mean about the kind of jumpers vulgar girls wear.’
‘Mind, I liked the girl,’ said Chinese Lady.
‘Lily Fuller?’
‘No, not that hussy,’ said Chinese Lady. ‘The American girl. Perhaps Sammy could find out if she’s too poor to afford proper underwear, and if she is, he could bring her some from the factory.’
‘She didn’t look poor,’ said Susie, ‘and her father’s job must pay well, I should think.’
‘Well, you can never tell,’ said Chinese Lady. ‘Some people put a brave face on poverty and s
uchlike.’
‘Like my mum and dad did,’ said Susie, ‘but I’m sure Mum’s brave face didn’t include not wearing a slip.’
‘Susie, I should think not,’ protested Chinese Lady. ‘I don’t know anyone more respectable than your dear mother. As I mentioned to Sammy once, if he’d been only half as respectable, I’d of been a happier woman. Of course, he didn’t take any notice of me, he kept on consorting with people I wouldn’t open the door to. Still, he’s got his good points, I won’t say he hasn’t.’
‘Yes, they show up now and again, Mum,’ said Susie tongue in cheek.
‘Well, that’s a comfort,’ said Chinese Lady. ‘Now I think I’ll go up and sit with Edwin for a bit. I wonder if he knows where the Government’s going to send Boots? It didn’t ought to be sending him anywhere, not after all he’s done for his country, but …’ Her voice was lost to Susie as she left the kitchen to go upstairs. She was still talking on her way up.
* * *
‘Leah,’ said Rachel, at home with her younger daughter, ‘this letter from Edward. Am I to believe it’s completely serious, that he definitely intends to propose marriage to you next year?’
‘Yes, Mama,’ said Leah.
‘He’s in love with you?’
‘Yes, Mama, and he asked if it embarrassed me,’ said Leah.
‘And did it?’ asked Rachel, gentle with her daughter.
‘Mama, I should be embarrassed at Edward being in love with me?’ said Leah. ‘My life, I should say not. I’m still giddy with happiness.’
‘Well, I’ve thought about his letter since receiving it this morning,’ said Rachel, ‘and I want you to know I’m not going to be against it. Your life is your own, and if—’ She paused. She had been going to say that if she had been able to follow her own wants and wishes, she herself might have married outside her religion. ‘And if some mixed marriages don’t work out, others do, and so, I hope, will yours to Edward if it comes about.’
‘Oh, Mama, thank you,’ said Leah.
‘However,’ said Rachel, ‘I’m not sure that your grandfather won’t object. I can’t speak to him at the moment.’ Isaac Moses, her father, was staying with a lawyer and his family in Hampstead. The lawyer was acting for Isaac in regard to obtaining restitution for all he had lost in the way of bonds, share certificates, deeds and other items when his apartment in Lower Marsh had been bombed out of existence during one of the most destructive German air raids on London. ‘When I do have a little talk with him, I hope to make him understand that your happiness must be our first consideration. There, will you leave it to me, darling?’
The Way Ahead Page 15