by Sam Michaels
‘It’s not easy, no new mother wants to send their child away and I know you’re still nursing, but surely it’d be better for Selina to be on the formula rather than under a pile of rubble? I’m sorry to be blunt, pet, but that’s how it is.’
Georgina drew in a long sigh. She knew Mary was right but hated the thought of sending her baby away. As it was, she’d only seen Alfie twice in the last year, and one of those occasions had been for her dad’s funeral. Not that she’d had a body to bury. Kelly’s gang had seen to that and disposed of him in some heinous way, though she’d still wanted a service. But not in the same church where Lash’s had been held. She’d made sure that the vicar of that church had been defrocked but she still couldn’t bring herself to step foot in the place. So her father’s service had been held in quiet, in a small church near the Thames. She’d shed many tears and had been angry at first, screaming at the walls of her house, asking why her dad had been so reckless and had left her all alone. She’d had no-one, except Molly who’d come to stay for a week, but she’d never divulged to her friend what Kevin Kelly had done to her. Jack was the only person she ever told and now he’d been dead a year and her anger had given way to gratefulness for giving his life to protect hers.
‘You look deep in thought there, pet. Are you thinking about what I said?’ Mary asked.
The shelter, as comfortable as Mary had made it, smelt damp. The deckchairs had black mould spots growing and a terrible draught whipped in through a small gap at the top of the door. This was no place for a baby to sleep, with bombs dropping all around them and the skies glowing orange with the flames of London burning.
‘Yes, Mary. I’ll write to Lash’s parents first thing in the morning.’
‘Being a good mother means making sacrifices,’ Mary whispered as she looked down at the baby in her arms.
They heard another tremendous explosion, which rattled the shelter.
‘Sweet Jesus in Heaven, holy Mary Mother of sweet Jesus and holy Saint Joseph and all the saints, pray for us!’ Mary exclaimed.
Georgina looked at Colleen and they both giggled.
‘You can stop that now or I’ll take my wooden spoon to the pair of yous,’ Mary said. ‘Sweet Mother of God, I hope my old man’s in one piece.’
‘Is he on duty tonight?’ Georgina asked.
‘Yes, as he is most nights. He likes to do his bit, you know, but I don’t think he’s fit enough to be a fire warden. Woe betide I say anything so I keep my big mouth shut and let the silly old codger ger on with it. Sounds like all hell is breaking loose tonight. He’ll have his work cut out.’
Selina slept peacefully in Mary’s arms, blissfully unaware of the carnage outside. The Blitzkrieg, or Blitz, as they called it, had started five weeks earlier at the beginning of September and had been unforgiving in its damage and casualties. Georgina had taken refuge under the stairs on a few occasions and now, as the bombs dropped close by, she was thankful to be in Mary’s dug-out shelter. Most of the street had received delivery of one but Georgina had refused to have hers installed. She couldn’t risk her gran’s husband being dug up from his resting place in her backyard. The thought of how ludicrous that sounded made a smile spread across her face. Next door held more than merely special memories. It held secrets too.
They were all surprised when the all-clear siren sounded.
‘I wasn’t expecting that so soon,’ Mary said and handed Selina back to Georgina. ‘But if they come back again tonight, you be sure to get yourself in here with me and Colleen.’
‘I will, and thanks, Mary,’ Georgina said, making a mental note to ensure her kindly neighbour received an extra book of faked ration coupons.
Mary opened the shelter door and looked outside. ‘Thank the Lord, sweet Jesus, my house is still standing and so is yours, Georgina.’
‘That’s a relief,’ she said as she stepped into the muddy garden, ‘but it looks like a fire at the end of the street.’
‘So it does,’ Mary said. ‘But there’s nothing you can do to help with a bairn in your arms. Get yourself inside, safe and warm. Me and Colleen will make some tea and take some blankets up there.’
Georgina nodded and slipped back inside to the familiar comfort of her own home, though the house felt lonely and quiet. She laid Selina down in her crib and poured herself a large brandy before sitting on the front room windowsill. Here, she slowly sipped her drink and looked through the net curtains out onto the familiar street. The fire burning at the end illuminated it with an orange hue, making a mockery of the government-imposed compulsory blackout. Hitler’s Luftwaffe didn’t need lights to see where to bomb. The Thames alone was a good marker for them and they were relentless in their campaign. Still, British morale was high and Londoners were resilient, rejoicing in every German aircraft that the RAF shot down from the skies.
But Georgina wondered how long this would continue and how much of a battering the country could take before it surrendered like France, the Netherlands and Belgium had. Where once she’d provided her men with false medical exemption certificates and discouraged them from fighting for their King and country, now she realised that they would be fighting for their freedom. Her freedom and Selina’s too. So, when they gathered in the office on Monday morning, she’d have some new instructions for them.
*
Nancy Austin picked up the note that had been slid under her door and took it through to the lounge. She sat down on the leather chesterfield to read it, but something already told her that she was facing impending danger. The note was scrawled in black ink and read: Constance Conte is dead. Body found in bombed-out house in Greenwich. Be careful. There was no signature but Nancy guessed her lover’s secretary had delivered it. He was the only person Nancy knew in Harold’s circle who cared enough about her to send a warning. And yes, this was a very definite warning. Constance Conte, the wife of Harold Conte, had been to see her just days before. Constance had uncovered a terrible secret about her husband and shared it with Nancy.
God, Nancy rued the day that Constance had told her what she knew. It had shocked Nancy to the core but, of course, Harold had denied it. But in confronting him, Nancy had unwittingly disclosed that his wife harboured damaging information about him. And now she was dead.
Nancy reread the note again. Greenwich… It made no sense. As far as Nancy knew, Constance had no connections with anyone in Greenwich so what was she doing in a house there? Unless her body had been put in a bombed site to conceal a murder. It suddenly became clear in her head and she realised Harold had made sure that Constance wasn’t able to tell her secret to anyone else.
Nancy feared she would be next and ran to the front door of her apartment. She bolted the locks but if he wanted her silenced forever too, a couple of locks on the front door wouldn’t protect her life. ‘You foolish woman,’ she told herself, trembling with fear, and sat on the floor staring at the door, praying that no-one would try to enter.
How had she been so blind? What Constance had told her about Harold shouldn’t have come as such a shock. Even this flat, the exclusive development in Balham, held clues to Harold’s ‘other’ life. She recalled him promising her with great pride that she would be safe from the bombs here in Du Cane Court. When she’d asked how he could make such assurances, Harold had said that Hitler would never bomb the apartments because, once Britain was defeated, the leader of the Third Reich had the stylish art-deco complex earmarked as his headquarters. She hadn’t questioned him further and just accepted what he’d said.
And the misunderstanding last year, when she’d convinced herself that he was a spy. He’d called her stupid and now she could see she had been! She recalled the night he’d shown up with blood on his coat. She’d never discovered whose it was but it proved what he was capable of.
Nancy sat for a whole hour staring at the door whilst her mind turned. He would be coming for her, she had no doubt, and decided she couldn’t sit and wait to greet her killer. She had to escape and dashed through to
the bedroom to pack a small case. She had money, not enough to last a year but enough to get away with for now. Though she had no idea where she’d go. Nancy had no friends to turn to; Harold had seen to that by slowly and meticulously manipulating her to drop her friends one by one.
She stood at the front door and took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself and pluck up the courage to walk outside. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the hallway mirror. Her immaculately waved blonde hair was neatly pinned but her face, void of any lipstick, looked pale. She slicked on some colour to her lips and pinched her cheeks, pinking them up a little. If there were assassins waiting on the other side of the door, at least she’d die looking her best.
Grabbing her small case and clutching her handbag under her arm, Nancy bravely flung open the door and stepped out, relieved that no-one was loitering on the balconies of Du Cane Court. She hurried along and down the stairs where the doorman in reception greeted her in his usual polite but friendly manner. Thankfully, he appeared busy with another resident and didn’t question where she was going with a case in hand.
Out on Balham High Road, the street was in an eerie darkness. She could smell the faint aroma of burning buildings in the air, the aftermath of German air raids. A few people were hanging around outside Balham underground station, probably on their way home after sheltering down there from the bombs. Nancy was glad to see them there. Ordinary people going about their ordinary lives. It offered reassurance – Harold wouldn’t attempt to kill her with so many witnesses around. But as the crowds dispersed, Nancy knew there was only one person who could possibly help her. She had to get to Wandsworth and see her older brother, Cuthbert.
20
It had been wonderful for Georgina to spend a few hours with Alfie, but when Lash’s parents said goodbye with Selina, Georgina’s heart was left aching for her children.
‘Stop at the printers,’ she told Victor from the back seat of her car. ‘There’s something I need to collect before I see David. And turn that bloody radio off. I don’t want us to attract any unwanted attention from the authorities and if we get pulled over, they’ll nick us for having a car radio.’
Georgina saw Victor pull a doubtful face.
‘It’s true, I read about it in the paper. No cars are allowed radio transmitters as they could be used as instruments for spying, apparently. I know, it sounds ridiculous but it’s a new law. So get Big H to remove it tomorrow.’
The car rounded a corner and as they approached a small brick bridge, Georgina noticed several women climbing the grass embankment to a stationary train. She wondered what was going on and told Victor to slow down.
She wound down her window to a blast of cold air and called to a young lad who was standing by the bridge and watching the scene.
‘What are they doing?’
‘There’s a load of soldiers on the train, miss. They’ve been stuck there for nearly an hour waiting to get into the Junction. One of ’em called out and asked me mum if she had a cigarette. She sent me up with her last one and I told her they looked ever so knackered. She says they’re war-beaten and now she’s got the others giving them their cigs too. She won’t let me climb up there again ’cos she said it’ll ruin me only decent pair of shoes.’
Georgina wound the window back up then told Victor, ‘Give them the cartons out of the boot, all of them. And give the women and kids the chocolate. Hurry.’
She watched the young lad’s eyes light up as Victor handed him a bar of chocolate. When he passed out the cigarette cartons, a human chain formed up the embankment and even with the windows closed, Georgina could hear the rapturous cheers and applause from the soldiers.
‘I told the kid to pass on the message that Georgina Garrett said thank you for your service,’ Victor said as he climbed back behind the wheel.
Georgina smiled, happy with her small gesture. ‘Drive on,’ she said.
When they arrived at the printing press, Brian was pleased to see Georgina and eager to show her the work they’d done. She sat at Lash’s old desk with a magnifying glass in hand and studied the forged ration books.
‘These are good, Brian, really good,’ she said and looked up at his proud face.
‘Yeah, they are, ain’t they. He’s an expert forger, that Wilbur. When you first brought him in, I thought to meself, no way, the old git couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face, but well, blimey, Miss Garrett, I was wrong.’
‘Yes, Brian, very wrong. That “old git” as you called him, has been faking passports and the like since before you was born. He worked for the government during the Great War only don’t mention it to him. It’s not something he likes to talk about. But that long-sighted act, is just that – an act.’
‘He had me fooled, that’s for sure.’
‘Tell Wilbur well done from me and I’ll be in to see him next week. You can proceed with printing the rest of these now. Good work, Brian.’
‘Thank you, Miss Garrett.’
She left with the forged ration book and was soon at David Maynard’s office.
‘Georgina, you are a shining light through the bleakness of the Blitz,’ he said affectionately and kissed her cheek.
‘Hello, David. Have you been reading poetry again?’
‘I have. It beats reading all the doom and gloom in the papers.’
‘But you are keeping abreast of things, I hope?’
‘Yes, of course. How else could I hold your attention in a conversation? But to be honest, I’ve hardly had much time for reading lately. Now that the Italians have moved out of Soho, I’ve been expanding my business interests. It’s a very lucrative part of town, an area in which maybe you should think about dipping your toes?’
‘No, I don’t think so, David. I’m more than happy with The Penthouse and not interested in opening any other clubs.’
‘If you change your mind, just give me the nod. I know of a few premises that could do with having a bit of class added to them.’
Georgina smiled and removed her purple wide-brimmed hat and matching leather gloves as she sat on his sofa. ‘I have something of interest,’ she said with a teasing tone.
David pulled a seat round from the back of his large desk and sat opposite her, his knees almost touching hers. ‘Is this going to cost me?’ he asked.
‘Oh, yes, handsomely.’
‘God help me, out with it then.’
Georgina pulled the ration book from her handbag and handed it to him, their fingers briefly touching.
‘A ration book,’ he said. ‘What of it?’
‘Take a close look.’
He flicked through the coupons. ‘Just looks like a straightforward book of coupons to me.’
‘Exactly. But it’s not. My printers made it this morning.’
David’s eyes widened and he inspected the book more thoroughly. ‘It’s good.’
‘I know.’
‘How many have you got?’
‘How many do you want?’
‘As many as you can supply.’
‘We have to go careful, David. I don’t want to flood the market and raise suspicion.’
‘What’s your price?’
‘Ten pounds a sheet.’
David sucked a sharp intake of breath. ‘Eight?’
‘No.’
‘Seven?’
‘Certainly not!’
‘Nine?’
‘I said ten.’
‘Fine. I don’t know why I bother trying to barter with you. You never budge.’
‘I’ll have them to you next week. Will forty suffice for now?’
‘If that’s what you’ve got, I’ll take them. Now, that’s enough business for the day. Let me get you a drink. Champagne?’
‘Of course,’ Georgina answered but she wasn’t yet finished. ‘I have an idea I’d like to run past you.’
‘Go on.’
‘The docks.’
‘What about them?’
‘Well, have you taken advantage of t
he meat carcasses being shipped in? I happen to know there’s a large shipment arriving on Tuesday.’
‘No,’ David answered slowly. ‘I haven’t. Are you suggesting that I should?’
‘Absolutely. My spivs can offload as much meat as you can supply and I’m sure yours could too.’
‘Yes, but it’d be risky. Before you say it, I know the blackout makes it easier but there’s extra security on the docks now.’
‘When has something so trivial as security ever bothered you, David?’
‘It hasn’t. I’m just peeved that I hadn’t thought of doing it before you mentioned it,’ he answered and clinked her glass. ‘I’ll get it organised and you can take ten per cent of the haul. We’ll call it your finder’s fee.’
‘Twenty-five per cent and I’ll discount the ration coupons to nine pounds.’
‘You drive a hard bargain, Georgina, but you always end up getting your own way.’
Georgina sipped her champagne, thinking of Lash. He used to say the same thing about her.
David’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘How about you let me get my own way for a change and allow me to take you out to dinner this evening?’
Georgina cleared her throat, desperately trying to think of a polite way to decline. She was tempted to dine with David, very tempted, but it would feel disloyal to Lash.
As if reading her mind, he reached over and took her hand. ‘As friends, Georgina, that’s all.’
His touch left her feeling flushed and she quickly pulled her hand away as a wave of guilt washed over her. David had always had this effect on her though she’d tried hard to deny it. ‘I can’t, David.’
‘I’ll be waiting, when you’re ready.’
Georgina stood up and handed David her half-empty glass. His ice-blue eyes bored into hers. ‘I’ll see you next week, with the coupons,’ she said, and could feel her cheeks burning as unwanted passions stirred within.
David stood also and placed the glasses to one side. The look in his eyes was so intense that she half expected him to take her in his arms and kiss her. He didn’t, but a part of her wanted him to. It had been so long since anyone had held her. She knew she’d be unable to resist. Instead, he walked her to the door.