by Sam Michaels
Charlotte didn’t know about shock. She didn’t realise she wasn’t thinking straight. She just knew she was penniless, hungry, thirsty and tired and had to do what she needed to survive. She thought, given the state of her, the chances were slim of her finding a man willing to part with his money for a quick fumble. But she had to try. She looked around, getting her bearings, and realised she wasn’t far from a small back-street pub where she’d picked up a bloke a few months ago. Hopeful, though doubtful, and unsure if the pub would be open, she made her way there.
Now close by, her spirits were raised when she saw two men coming towards her. They were laughing and joking with each other, well dressed and nicely spoken. They’d probably take one look at her and laugh in her face but it had to be worth a try and she hoped their judgement would be fuddled with alcohol.
Charlotte pulled her coat back behind her shoulders and pushed her chest out. She stood to the side of the road and hiked her dress up one leg. ‘Hello, boys,’ she said.
As expected, they both stopped, looked her up and down and burst out laughing.
‘Give a girl a break,’ she said. ‘I know I look a mess but it’s dark. You won’t see what you’re screwing.’
The men laughed again. ‘She has a point,’ one said.
‘You can’t possibly be suggesting that we pay for that.’
‘No, Charles, I’m not suggesting we pay for anything. But she’s up for it,’ he said and grabbed Charlotte’s arm and pulled her towards him.
‘You would dare to insult us and offer your filthy, stinking body for cash. You’re not worth a single penny of my money.’
‘Get orf me then,’ she snapped and yanked her arm free. ‘If you ain’t paying, you ain’t getting.’
She went to walk off but the man slapped her round her face. ‘Yes I am,’ he spat and dragged her towards an alley.
Charlotte tried to fight him off but the other man took hold of her legs and they carried her, both laughing and jeering. She felt herself being thrown against a wall. With her face pushed against the bricks, one man pinned her and the other lifted her dress. ‘You can’t do this,’ she cried. ‘I need paying.’
The man grunted as he pushed himself into her whilst the other encouraged him. She soon realised it was useless to try and stop them and once he’d finished, the other took over.
‘Please, just pay me,’ she sobbed. ‘Do what you want to me but be fair.’
The other man pulled out of her and she turned around before slumping to the ground. ‘You owe me,’ she said through her tears. ‘I need money.’
The second man took some coins and threw them on the ground. ‘Shut up whining, whore. It’s all you’re getting and you’re not even worth that.’
As she scrambled on the ground, desperate to pick up the coins, the men walked off, their laughter burning her ears. She counted the pitiful amount. It might buy her a cup of soup but there wasn’t enough for even a loaf of bread. Tears ran down her face. She sat in the damp soil and cried until she felt sick and could barely breathe. She’d taken as much as she could take. She wished she had died instead of the warden. Death had to be better than this life, she thought, absolutely broken and at rock bottom.
21
Georgina had heard the bombs dropping on the other side of the river. The sound had kept her up for most of the night and the smoke from the fires still lingered in the air. Lying in the darkness for hours on end had given her too much time to think. And most of her thoughts had been about Lash. She missed him and thought she always would. The bed still felt so big without him sharing it and her mornings were too quiet. She threw the covers off and padded downstairs.
Mary banged on the wall from next door. Three distinct raps. Georgina did the same, signalling to Mary that she was fine. Three knocks meant all is well, four meant come to the back garden and five was send help. Mary had insisted on the ritual since the Blitz had started. ‘We must look out for each other,’ she’d told Georgina.
She put the kettle on and gazed around her empty kitchen. Oh, she wished she were preparing Alfie his breakfast and changing Selina’s nappy. Her children were growing up so fast and she was missing their milestones. And though her heart ached for them, she’d resigned herself to accepting that they were better off with Lash’s family whilst this devastating war raged. She wasn’t alone in missing her children. Thousands of mothers across cities of Britain had packed their kids off to the safety of the countryside. At least she had the comfort of knowing that her children were with family and being not just cared for but loved too. She should never have argued with Lash about him taking Alfie to his family. She should have let him go with her approval. It was something she’d always regret but she pushed their final moments together from her mind.
Mary banged the wall again, four knocks this time. Georgina turned off the gas under the kettle and went outside, pulling her dressing gown round her against the cold.
‘Morning, pet,’ Mary said, peeping over the fence. ‘They were a bit close last night. Some poor buggers over Chelsea way took a few direct hits. My heart bleeds for them, so it does.’
‘I know, it’s terrible. I was just thinking about Alfie and Selina. I’m glad they’re out of harm’s way with Lash’s family.’
‘Shame we all can’t join them.’ Mary chuckled. ‘Anyway, I won’t keep you – it’s too cold to be standing and having a chat over the fence.’
‘Did you want something, Mary?’
‘Oh, yes. I’d forget me head if it wasn’t attached to my shoulders. It’s Colleen. She’s got herself a job at the radio components factory. With all the men off fighting, they’re crying out for women to work. The thing is, she needs a reference and we were hoping you’d write one for her?’
‘She won’t need a reference. I’ll speak to Mr Underwood today. The job is hers. She can start tomorrow and she’ll be on the same salary as any man would be.’
‘Thank you. My Colleen will be over the moon. And on a man’s wage, fancy that!’
‘You’re welcome. See you soon,’ Georgina said and dashed back indoors to the warmth. She wouldn’t normally get involved with employers and their employees but she knew Mr Underwood was a miser and would try and get away with paying Colleen as little as possible. The girl deserved better. She was a good, hardworking young lady and Georgina didn’t want to see her exploited.
The telephone rang in the hallway. She went to answer it, knowing it would be David.
‘Thank you for asking but I’m fine,’ she said before he’d had a chance to say anything.
‘Ha, good morning. You must have read my mind. I heard South West London took a hammering last night.’
‘It did but it was on the other side of the Thames. A bit too close for comfort.’
‘As long as you’re all right. I’ve some business in Peckham today. Are you free for lunch?’
‘Sorry, I’ll have to take a rain check on that. I’ve my Monday morning meeting and you know what it’s like. Something invariably comes up that requires my immediate attention.’
‘Yes, but I’ll hold you to that rain check.’
Georgina said goodbye and replaced the receiver, her stomach fluttering as it always did when she spoke to David. ‘Bloody man,’ she mumbled under her breath, annoyed with herself for feeling the way she did about him. She wandered into the front room and her eyes set on a photograph of Lash. ‘Sorry,’ she said, feeling guilty for finding David so thrilling. Thankfully, only she and the photograph were aware of the effect David Maynard had on her.
*
Charlotte Mipple almost cried with relief as the gates to her old home in Kent came into view. Every step she took closer pained her. The soles of her feet were blistered and she felt weak with hunger. Nearly there, she thought, pushing on, nearly there.
Once through the gates, she stood and gazed at the stone farmhouse, smoke billowing from the chimney and windows adorned with neat floral curtains. This was home and Charlotte had never been so gra
teful to see it.
The door opened and she saw her sister running towards her. Her vision was blurred and she couldn’t see if Molly looked pleased to see her or not. She hoped so. She went to step forward but her legs gave way and she stumbled to the ground. With no strength left to push herself back to her feet, she lay there, helpless.
‘Charlotte… Charlotte… what on earth?’ Molly said as she pulled at her to sit up.
Charlotte looked sheepishly at her sister. ‘I’m home,’ she said, and smiled weakly.
‘My goodness, look at the state of you. Do you think you can walk if I help you?’
She nodded and, with much effort and Molly’s support, she managed to get to the front door.
‘Mum… Mum,’ Molly shouted inside. ‘Quick, help me.’
Fanny appeared and when she saw Molly dragging Charlotte through the door, her worried expression was quickly replaced with a scowl.
‘What’s she doing here?’
‘I don’t know, Mum. I just found her on the drive. Help me get her to the sofa.’
Appearing annoyed, their mother took the other side of Charlotte and between them, they easily placed her on the homely sofa. Charlotte could feel the welcoming warmth of the fire burning in the hearth and she sunk into the soft cushions behind her. Comfort was a luxury she’d missed for a long time.
Molly knelt beside her and gently brushed Charlotte’s dirty brown hair from her grimy face.
‘What’s happened to you? How did you get yourself in this mess?’ she asked concerned.
Charlotte shrugged. ‘I… er…’
‘It’s all right. Save your strength,’ Molly whispered, then turned to their mother. ‘Bring her some broth and bread. She looks half starved.’
Fanny huffed but returned minutes later with a tray. Molly helped plump up the cushions behind Charlotte’s back and placed the tray on her lap.
‘You must eat,’ she said, ‘and I’ll make you a cuppa.’
Charlotte crammed the broth-soaked bread into her mouth and spooned in mouthfuls of the hearty soup, liquid dripping down her chin. It had been days since she’d eaten more than sour bullace fruit and a few hazelnuts she’d foraged en route. Meanwhile, her mother had followed Molly through to the kitchen and Charlotte knew they’d be discussing her and strained her ears to listen. She couldn’t quite make out what they were saying but as she swallowed the last of her meal, they both returned to the room, her mother still scowling.
‘I’ve brought you a cup of tea,’ Molly said and placed it on the table beside the sofa before removing the tray from Charlotte’s lap. ‘You need to rest, I can see that, but can you tell me what you’re doing back here?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Fanny snapped. ‘She can’t look after herself so she’s come crawling back ’ere. I told Molly and now I’ll tell you… You ain’t welcome.’
‘MUM,’ Molly barked. ‘Give her a chance to explain herself.’
‘She’s had more chances than I’ve had hot dinners. If we let her stay, she’ll bring nothing but trouble, just like she’s always done.’
‘Look at the state of her. We can’t chuck her out and it’s getting dark now.’
‘Fine, but as soon as she’s fit enough, I want her gone. You and me both know that with her under this roof, we’d all have to sleep with one eye open.’
‘Not now, Mum, please,’ Molly said and handed Charlotte the cup of tea.
Charlotte gratefully accepted it, ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I don’t deserve anything from you, I know that.’
‘Good. Then you won’t be disappointed when you get nothing,’ her mum mumbled and marched from the room.
Molly dashed after her and Charlotte heard their raised voices outside the door.
‘Have you forgotten that she plotted to poison your friend?’
‘No, of course I haven’t, but you’ve seen the mess she’s in. We can’t just ignore her.’
‘Yes, we bloody well can, but if you’re intent on putting her up, then I suggest you get on the telephone and tell Georgina. I don’t want no more horrible surprises. One in a day is bad enough.’
‘What do you think has happened to her?’
‘I don’t know and I don’t care.’
‘Mum, she’s your daughter. How can you be so flippant?’
‘She’s wicked and always has been. I thought I raised you girls better but that one ain’t got a heart.’
The door opened again and Molly walked in. ‘Did you hear all that?’ she asked.
Charlotte nodded. She hadn’t expected to be welcomed with open arms, especially by her mum. But Charlotte didn’t care what they thought. She just wanted somewhere to eat and sleep soundly. Somewhere away from men who’d used her body but then wouldn’t pay or only threw her a few coins, or worse, beat her. Somewhere warm, off of the cold and dirty streets where she’d huddled in a doorway for many a night or hunkered down in a stinking alley. And somewhere away from the bombs that dropped every night, terrifying her and leaving images in her head that she’d never forget – maimed bodies, with arms and legs missing. Intestines spilling out of stomachs. Crisped, burnt skin and blood. So much blood.
The noise still filled her ears. First the sirens howling, then the menacing sound of the aeroplane engines approaching. Next, the explosions, the screams, the cries for help, the unmistakable wail of a mourning mother. Then the acrid taste of concrete dust in her dry mouth. And through it all, Charlotte had been alone, afraid in the glare of the fires and desperate for the security and peace of home.
‘Mum’s upset but she’ll calm down. You get some rest now.’
The door closed again as Molly left her in peace and Charlotte’s eyes dropped. But the moment they did, the horrific scenes of war played out in her head, again and again, over and over until eventually, she drifted into a restless and fretful slumber.
*
Georgina stood before her men in the office, the scoundrels of Battersea, she thought affectionately.
‘Johnny, do you have to smoke that thing in here? It’s stinking the place out,’ she moaned.
Johnny stubbed out his cigar and raised one eyebrow at her.
‘Thank you,’ she said and cleared her throat before continuing. ‘Right, we’ve got a lot to get through this morning and I know you’re all knackered after that raid again last night. Hands up anyone who’s been bombed out.’
She looked across her office and was pleased when no hands were raised. ‘Good, that’s a relief. As a token of my appreciation for your efforts during this time, you’ll all be receiving a ration book. Get them from Mr Harel before you leave. Use them with care – they’re not government issue. When you collect your book, I’d like each of you to nominate a local family in need and I’ll endeavour to get one to them too.’
Ned spoke. ‘What, like Mrs Hopper on Sheepcote Lane? Her old man never come back from the trenches last war and now one of her boys is missing in action and her eldest has been killed. She’s got three girls. Her Dot is getting wed, Pops is up the duff and Hilary is one of them backward kids, you know, with the funny face and all, a Mongol.’
‘Yes, Ned, families exactly like Mrs Hopper’s. An extra ration book ain’t much but every little helps. And you lot, no selling yours on. Leave the black market to the Barker twins and Max and Reg. They’ve got Peggy Howarth and her old cronies working for them too so if you see the old girls up to anything, don’t give ’em a tug.’
‘Her indoors will be happy with the extra. She’s always moaning she ain’t got enough butter and sugar and says them Lord Woolton recipes on the radio are ’orrible.’
‘Did you get your hands on any more smokes?’ Max the Axe asked.
‘Yes, of course, and I’ve got a few barrels of sausage skins I want offloading at five hundred quid a go, first come, first served. Mr Harel has a list of goods for sale and prices. You can put your orders in with him and he’ll deduct the cost from your wages. Take a list with you and direct any sales to the black mark
et team.’
‘I take me hat off to ya, Miss Garrett. You’ve got this operation running like a right proper business,’ another said.
Georgina didn’t answer but smiled. The Wilcox business had never been so profitable or efficiently organised as it was now. She’d learned from David Maynard that success wasn’t built on fear and brute force alone. There had to be a brain behind it and like her gran had always told her, she took after her mother – brains and beauty.
‘Erm, Miss Garrett,’ from Ray, her dad’s friend. ‘Bobby Dawkins and a couple of his mates have been charging folk to get in the public shelter at Battersea Park. That ain’t on, is it?’
‘I see, have they indeed? Johnny, pay Dawkins a visit. Make sure it doesn’t happen again and relieve him of his earnings. See to it that the children’s home gets it.’
‘Fair enough. Poor little bleeders ain’t got much,’ Johnny agreed.
‘And what little we have, we want to protect, which brings me on to my next point. Our men are dying fighting for our freedom and the Germans are doing a pretty good job of flattening London. It’s time you stepped up and did your bit to help. You’ve got off light so far but none of us know how long this wretched war will continue. So, I want to see you volunteering for home defence duties. Air raid precaution, fire watch, stretcher carriers, whatever.’ Georgina paused, waiting for the complaints and moaning to start but to her pleasant surprise, the men nodded in affirmation.
‘Good, and we can help by growing fruit and veg too. You’ve seen the poster, Dig for Victory. They’ve even turned over some of the park for allotments. Oppo is going to send us up some seeds and stuff. Grow what you can. It doesn’t matter if you haven’t got a backyard. Use a dustbin outside your door.’ Again, Georgina paused and expected protests but her men appeared more than happy to oblige. Except Johnny.
‘I ain’t got green fingers and don’t fancy getting me hands dirty,’ he moaned.
‘Don’t be a wanker, Johnny,’ Ned said. ‘I suppose you’re too bleedin’ smart to wear a bluette overall and tin hat and all?’