The Street of Broken Dreams

by Tania Crosse

  ‘I’ll take her now,’ the girl – Cissie, wasn’t it? – all but snatched the slumbering infant from Eva’s arms. ‘She’ll sleep better in the pram.’

  ‘Oh. Erm, yeah, of course,’ Eva muttered in surprise as Cissie settled her baby sister in the battered old pram that had just been lifted down from the back of the cart.

  ‘Sorry, not a very good introduction.’ Ron Cresswell appeared at Eva’s side and, balancing on his crutch and remaining leg, held out his left hand. Eva found it difficult to shake but hid her awkwardness as the gentleman went on, ‘Good of you to come out to welcome us.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Eva beamed back, taking an instant liking to the stranger who appeared relatively well-spoken, just as poor Nell had been. ‘Like to think I can be a good neighbour to everyone. Hope you’ll all be very happy here.’

  Before she could say any more, the young man came up and hovered by his father’s side. ‘What – shall – I – do, Dad?’ he interrupted in his slow drawl. ‘Can – I – go – inside – and – have – a – look?’

  ‘Of course, Zac. Only don’t get in the way.’ Ron gave a wry smile as his son loped off. ‘Things haven’t been easy of late,’ he admitted in a low tone, instantly warming to Eva’s kind personality. ‘And poor Zac finds change hard. We were bombed out, you see. That doodlebug in Islington last Boxing Day.’

  ‘Blimey!’ Eva couldn’t contain her gasp. It had been a terrible affair with seventy-odd dead and many severely injured. Everyone in London knew about it.

  ‘Yes.’ Ron’s face was solemn. ‘We were lucky to escape with our lives. And we were thankful for that. But we’ve been pushed from pillar to post ever since. We’ve begged, borrowed or stolen most of what you see on the cart,’ he made a wry attempt to joke. ‘You can’t imagine how relieved we are to have found somewhere permanent to live at last. Maybe life will settle down again now.’

  He threw Eva a rueful glance, which she returned with a sympathetic smile. Fate had been particularly cruel to this family, and it simply wasn’t fair. Eva was trying to think of something suitable to say when Bridie Cresswell emerged from the house again.

  ‘Sure, I’m sorry about that. Isn’t the man about as rude as they come, but he was all we could find at short notice.’

  ‘Well, I can see you’ve got your hands full,’ Eva sympathised, relieved that the awkward moment was over. ‘But when you’ve got your stuff inside, don’t worry about finding the kettle. Come into me for a cuppa. Number Eight, remember? I’m not the tidiest on the street, but I’ll give you the warmest welcome.’

  ‘Sure, I’m likely to take you up on that!’

  ‘Really kind of you, Mrs Parker, didn’t you say?’

  ‘It is. But call me Eva,’ she grinned back. ‘And if you need any help, just call. Our Mildred’s back from her shift, and my Stan and our Jake’ll be home from work later, and they’ll be happy to lend a hand. But I’ll leave you to it for now, and maybe see you later. You know where we are.’

  And giving them all her generous smile, Eva took herself back home to Number Eight.

  *

  As Eva went inside, sidling around the bicycle, Mildred was coming down the stairs from changing into her civvies.

  ‘Well?’ she asked, her eyes sparkling with a teasing light. ‘Have you managed to frighten them off?’

  ‘Enough of your cheek!’ Eva laughed back. ‘Come into the kitchen and I’ll tell you all about it. Shall I top the pot up?’

  ‘Nah, I’m all right, thanks, Mum,’ Mildred answered, following Eva into the back room and sitting down at the table. ‘So, spill the beans, then,’ she urged.

  ‘Well.’ Eva lowered herself onto one of the wooden chairs opposite her daughter, eager to report back. ‘They seem a real nice family, but my, do they have problems.’

  ‘All the better for you to mother them, then,’ Mildred grinned. But then she lifted an enquiring eyebrow as her mum’s forehead beetled into a frown.

  ‘Well, unfortunately, when I say problems, I really mean it,’ Eva said, pursing her lips. ‘For a start, the poor dad’s missing an arm and a leg.’

  ‘What?’ Mildred’s eyes opened wide in sympathy. ‘Oh, crikey. Oh, I’m so sorry, Mum. I feel a bit ashamed now. I know how you like to take people under your wing, so I thought you was just exaggerating.’

  Eva shook her head. ‘Wish I was. Really nice chap, mind. Ron his name is. Had a bit of a chat with him. Seems they was bombed out by that bleeding doodlebug what fell on Islington, and this is the first proper place they’ve found to live since.’

  ‘Blimey, they have had more than their fair share of bad luck, ain’t they?’ Mildred was aghast. ‘And was that how he lost his, what did you say, arm and leg?’

  ‘Nah, he wouldn’t have recovered that quick, love. Strikes me he’s a lot older than his wife.’ Eva nodded her head pensively. ‘Could’ve been some sort of accident, I suppose. But I reckon he’s even a bit older than your dad, so he could’ve been wounded in the first war. And I’d guess it brought them down in the world if they’ve come to live here. He talks a bit more proper like. Not really posh, but a bit like poor Nell did. Mind you, what with the Blitz and then the V1 and V2s, if you’ve lost your home, there ain’t many empty houses around and beggars can’t be choosers.’

  ‘And if you’re right, they must be living on a war disability pension, so they wouldn’t exactly be rolling in it, would they, poor sods?’ Mildred scoffed with bitterness as she helped herself to a Rich Tea biscuit. ‘So what about his wife, then?’

  ‘As I say, she’s obviously a lot younger, ’cos she’s just had a nipper.’

  ‘Oh? So how old d’you reckon she is, then? Here, you are sure they’re… well, married like?’

  ‘Oh, yeah. Seem a very genuine family to me,’ Eva assured her. ‘She’s Irish, a really warm person. I’d guess she’s well into her forties.’

  ‘That’s a bit old to be having a baby, ain’t it?’

  Eva shrugged. ‘Not really. It happens sometimes. I was forty-two when I had Primrose. And look at Ellen across the road. She must’ve been forty-six if she was a day when she had little Lily. And it’s not Bridie’s first. That’s her name, Bridie. Which makes things easier. They’ve got two grown-up children and all, you see. A girl, quite a fairylike thing, about your age. Seems a bit, I don’t know, not exactly aloof. More keeping herself to herself, maybe. But you can understand that after all what they’ve been through. I said you and her ought to become friends.’

  ‘Oh, thanks, Mum!’ Mildred rolled her eyes. ‘She don’t sound my type. And I’m not like you. I can’t make friends with just—’

  ‘Yes, you can. And you are like me. Only you doesn’t know it yet. And there’s a boy. A bit older than her, I’d say. Only he’s a bit simple. I mean, he talks, but it’s all sort of slow, as if he’s not quite all there. And he seems a bit sort of…’ Eva paused to search for the right word. ‘Childlike, I guess you’d say. Such a pity. Really handsome lad. But you can see why he’s not in the forces.’

  ‘You wasn’t kidding when you said they’ve got problems, then,’ Mildred considered. ‘But they’ve come to the right place if they need someone to lend them a hand.’ She reached across the table and squeezed her mother’s hand proudly.

  Eva felt a blush flaring into her face and patted her own cheeks to hide it. ‘Well, I invited them to call in for a cuppa once they’ve finished unloading their stuff. So give us a hand to spruce this place up a bit, will you? Can’t have them come in here when there’s spud peelings all over the table, can we?’

  ‘Gawd, you must be impressed with them!’ Mildred chuckled. ‘Never bothered you before!’

  ‘Well, it’s good to make an effort once in a while—’

  ‘Once in a blue moon, more like.’

  ‘Cheeky!’ Eva grinned. ‘I only want them to feel welcome, that’s all. So take that washing off the clothes horse and take it upstairs, would you? Must be aired by now. Don’t want them seeing our bloomers, do
we? And I told them your dad and Jake would give them a hand when they get in from work if they need it.’

  ‘Talk about offering other people’s services!’ Mildred laughed as she stood up. ‘Don’t know what you’re gonna do about the smell of Dad’s trotter, mind.’

  ‘Nothing I can do about that,’ Eva grimaced. ‘Takes ages to cook and he’ll want it for his tea. Just don’t you light up another fag. Good job it’s a nice spring day and I’ve got the window and the scullery door open, getting rid of the stink of cigarettes.’

  Mildred wrinkled her nose as she sniffed the undies she was gathering off the clothes horse. They did smell a bit. Her mum would’ve done better to leave them on the line in the back yard even if the sun had completely gone from it now. But even outside, washing got to smell of coal smoke from all the chimneys around – when you could get hold of any coal, of course. Mind you, it was spring now, so it didn’t matter as much if you couldn’t. It was just the local factory chimneys that were producing the coal smuts now that left dirty marks on your clean washing and made it smell. She supposed she couldn’t blame this flaming war for that, but she’d be glad when it was over and you could keep warm in winter and have decent food on your plate – and without having to queue for hours for it! But perhaps it wouldn’t be long before peace was declared. In Europe anyhow.

  Her heart flipped over as the image of her Gary out in the Far East somehow flashed across her mind. It sounded exotic, with dense, steaming jungle, strange creatures and beautiful flowers. Amazing – if there wasn’t a Jap hiding behind every tree, waiting to stick his knife in your guts. She’d seen it on the Pathé News film clips at the cinema. Gary was on submarines, however, moving stealthily about on or under the water. Mildred shuddered at the very thought of being trapped like that beneath the waves. But it also meant that she could never know exactly where he was and the whole idea terrified her.

  Mildred’s older brother, Kit, had managed to buy her an atlas and she’d seen where places like Borneo and the Philippines were in relation to China and the dreaded Japan, and everywhere in the area the Japanese had overrun. But, unlike her brother, who had an inborn sense of geography which he needed in his job dealing with rail freight going in all sorts of different directions, Mildred was apt to get overwhelmed by all these strange places. Her geographical expertise only extended as far as the London bus routes so that she could advise passengers on their journeys. The Far East was a jumble to her. All she knew was that without flying to the moon, it was about as far away from Banbury Street as a human being could get, and the idea of her Gary being out there was something she tried very hard not to think about.

  She sighed weightily as she ran upstairs with the washed items of clothing, hurling her worries aside. You’d go blooming mad if you thought about it all the time. She’d been seventeen when Gary had gone off to war. Too young to get engaged and they hadn’t known each other long enough, her mum and dad had protested. But they’d made their pledge anyway. She’d loved Gary then. And she couldn’t let him go off to war feeling rejected. But she hadn’t seen him for so long, she sometimes wondered if she’d even recognise him, let alone still love him. But, for the time being, she was pushing her doubts to the back of her mind and most definitely keeping them to herself.

  Well, at least this new family coming to live in Banbury Street would give her something else to think about. She couldn’t wait to meet them, even if the girl didn’t quite sound her cup of tea. But she liked people in general, which was perhaps why she enjoyed her work so much. Perhaps she wasn’t so unlike her mum after all!

  Four

  Watching the empty removal cart trundle away down the street, Cissie Cresswell jiggled the baby in the pram to settle it back to sleep. She’d learnt over the past couple of months that was what you did when an infant’s feeding time wasn’t due yet and the bundle of matinee coat and bonnet was beginning to wriggle. Let it wake too early and you’d only get cries of hunger. The time to play and let the tiny creature start learning about the new world it had been born into was when it was armed with a full stomach and a clean, dry nappy, not when it was howling its head off.

  Once Cissie had bounced little Jane about sufficiently to rock her into slumber again, she manoeuvred the pram over the threshold and into the narrow hallway of their new abode. It wasn’t easy, with the carriage being a wide, old-fashioned affair suspended between massive wheels. God knew where her mother had purloined it from, and Cissie didn’t really care. The contraption had seen better days, its coachwork scratched and dented, and the solid rubber tyres worn and slightly shredded on the edges. But beggars couldn’t be choosers and they’d been lucky to acquire one at all, her mum had said when she’d proudly appeared with the battered article.

  Cissie carefully navigated it along the hallway, trying not to wake its potentially screaming occupant, or damage the walls and skirting boards. Not that it really would have mattered. The place was clean, but it was dark and dingy and a bit of a dump, nothing like their previous home, which had been just as small but light and airy and welcoming. The woodwork in this new house was badly chipped, the walls a sickly mustard colour. The whole place needed a lick of paint to freshen it up – if such a thing was obtainable – preferably in nice bright colours. Perhaps her dad could have a begging word with the landlord, although the rent wasn’t excessive so it could well fall on deaf ears. But sometimes people were sympathetic towards her dad. He had, after all, given half his body at Passchendaele in the last war and obviously hadn’t been able to work since. If he’d only given half his body, and not half his mind as well, things mightn’t have been so bad. But, as it was, her dad suffered in every way possible.

  Cissie compressed her lips in rebellion as she squeezed the pram into the front room. It would be nice and quiet in there for the baby, who would hopefully sleep on for another half-hour before demanding attention. The parlour was to be Cissie’s bedroom and, later on, they would be moving down one of the single beds from the back room upstairs. In order to accommodate it, a small sofa facing the fireplace – left by the previous tenants apparently – would need shifting into the bay window. It was just as well it fitted, as Cissie needed a clear space for something else as well. But they wouldn’t be doing any rearranging of furniture just yet, and for the moment, baby Jane could snore and snuffle on undisturbed.

  Cissie tiptoed out of the room and, silently closing the door, went into the downstairs back room that, together with the scullery that led from it, served as the kitchen. Her mum was standing by the table, deciding where to keep all her pots and pans, crockery and cutlery that Zac was unpacking from half a dozen or so old orange boxes. Ron had managed to persuade their former greengrocer to give them to him free of charge, and they would break up into good kindling wood afterwards.

  ‘Sure, it’s just as well we don’t have a lot,’ Bridie was declaring, turning a prettily decorated, bone-china jug over in her hands. ‘The people before left a lot of stuff behind and it’s far better quality than anything we have. Look at this,’ she said, holding the jug towards her husband. ‘There’s a whole little tea service in the cupboard. Wouldn’t you be thinking they’d take such a thing with them? So you be careful, Zac, not to drop anything that’s not ours in case they come back for it,’ she concluded, dipping her head at her son.

  ‘I – won’t, Mum,’ the young chap promised. ‘You sure – they’re clean?’

  ‘Well, they look spotless to me, but you can wash them all again later if you’re careful,’ she smiled indulgently. ‘But first won’t we make the beds so at least we’ll be all ready to lay our heads down tonight. And so Jane’s still asleep, is she, Cissie?’

  ‘Yes, I managed to get the pram in the front room,’ Cissie informed her with a deep sigh. ‘Bit of a squeeze, but maybe she’ll stay asleep a while longer.’

  Bridie quizzed her daughter with a raised eyebrow. ‘Well, let’s get on while we can. We’ll bring the bed down for you when she wakes up, and when she�
��s been fed, maybe we can pop along to that nice lady who came to say hello.’

  ‘Eva Parker she said her name was, didn’t she?’ Ron put in mildly from his armchair that fitted nicely beside the fireplace.

  ‘She did so. And it’d be rude of us not to accept her invitation. So come on, Zac, move yourself,’ Bridie ordered, bustling out into the hall. ‘You can help us make up the other beds upstairs.’

  Zac obediently followed his mother through the door and Cissie dutifully went to join them, but her father’s low voice made her pause in her step.

  ‘It’s at times like these that I feel so useless,’ he murmured, lowering his eyes to the hook at the end of his right arm. ‘Your mother’s such a practical person, taking care of everything, that sometimes I don’t think she realises just how stupid I feel.’

  Cissie turned back into the room, her heart aching for her poor dad, and laced her arms about his shoulders. ‘Well, I think it’s just as well she’s so capable. I don’t know where we’d all be without her.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Ron nodded with a wry grunt. ‘And you are happy with everything we decided?’ he asked hesitantly. ‘Our move here? A new start? The big fib?’

  Cissie’s lips firmed into a line. ‘Not entirely,’ she admitted in little more than a whisper. ‘But I knew Mum had her heart set on it. And she was so amazing when…’ she faltered. But then she nailed a confident smile on her face. ‘We’ll make a go of it, Dad, really we will. There’s a lot to sort out, but we’re going to make a new life, just see if we don’t.’

  She dropped a kiss on his balding head and made for the door. He watched her go, his eyes misting over. His darling daughter was so strong in her own way, despite what she’d been through. But he prayed to God she could be as strong as she thought she was. For surely their future was as uncertain now as it ever could be.