The Street of Broken Dreams

by Tania Crosse

  ‘Gosh, that was kind of him.’

  ‘Certainly was. I was just fourteen then, and I’d never have been able to afford one myself. Or even get hold of one, probably, with the war. And it’s a really good one. So going to live with my big sister had its compensations.’

  ‘She’s OK is our Gert,’ Mildred reprimanded him.

  ‘Yes, I know she is.’ And then turning to Cissie, he winked, ‘She and Milly are like peas in a pod, both in looks and character, so I’ve got to say that, haven’t I? But it was all right for Mildred. She only had to share with our two youngest sisters. Might’ve been a squeeze as it was a smaller room, but I had to share with Gert’s three boys, and proper noisy little rascals they are! So, as soon as it looked like the Blitz was over, I couldn’t wait to get back home.’

  ‘And now the war’s completely over.’ Cissie found herself giving a contented sigh. ‘Well, here, anyway. And it should be in the Pacific soon, too.’

  ‘Wouldn’t be so sure about that,’ Mildred snorted. ‘Look at the way they’re resisting on that island. Okinawa, ain’t it? The Japs know they’re beaten, but they won’t bloody well give in. But I’m not gonna let that spoil today,’ she forced herself to brighten up. ‘You two ready to move onto Piccadilly?’

  ‘Yup. You OK, Cissie?’

  ‘Oh, yes. My ankle’s not hurting at all,’ Cissie smiled back, and when Jake sprang to his feet and politely held out his hand to help her up, she took it gratefully.

  The music from the string of loudspeakers followed them as they sauntered towards the very heart of London. Their progress became slower as more and more people were squeezed onto the streets. Sensing Cissie’s apprehension, Jake linked her arm through his and held tightly onto it with his other hand. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then he felt her grip on him tighten and she held onto him like a limpet. As well she might, since it was impossible to fight the surge as the crowds overspilled the pavements and spread out into the roads.

  All manner of vehicles were inching their way through the pedestrians. A horse and cart packed with Australian troops plodded past, the occupants waving and cheering. A pony and trap, its driver and passenger with a large Union Jack draped across their shoulders. Civilians and figures in uniform sat astride beer barrels in the back of an open lorry, whooping and shouting. Other conveyances of all shapes and sizes with grinning faces poking out of windows. It was utter bedlam, the noise of so many raised voices thunderous, one deafening cacophony of unleashed joy shared by so many and topped by the jolly music blasting out over the public address system.

  When they finally shouldered their way into Piccadilly Circus, it was jam-packed with revellers. The central fountain, boarded up for protection throughout the war and with its statue of Eros’s twin removed, was acting as a precarious perch for some who, in their elation, had dared to climb it. Others had shinned up lamp posts to get a better view of the teeming multitude. Buses, advertising Schweppes, Hovis and Wrigley’s on their sides, were attempting to crawl through the impenetrable human wall, constantly sounding their horns in vain confusion.

  ‘Cor, I’m glad I’m not bleeding working today!’ Mildred managed to yell above the chaos.

  ‘You are tomorrow, though!’ Jake shouted back with a grin. ‘And it won’t be any different!’

  Beside him, Cissie had been enjoying herself until now, despite feeling a little nervous of the congestion. But the old fears were starting to clamp down inside her as she was physically crushed in the seething mass of humanity. She could see nothing but other people’s backs hemming her in and panic was taking hold of her. She must gather enough strength to ask Jake to spirit her away before it overwhelmed her.

  And then, by some miracle, a small space opened up in front of them like the parting of the waves. ‘Knees up, Mother Brown’ was blaring out over the loudspeakers, and a small group had started to dance – doubtless knocking others out of their way in the process. But Cissie could suddenly breathe again as several young women with Union Jack scarves on their heads, just like Mildred, were twirling about, linking arms with sailors in their distinctive, white-edged navy collars. Changing partners and whizzing round again.

  Before she knew it, a uniformed soldier, fresh-faced but for a disfiguring, recent scar across his cheek, had grabbed her arm and dragged her into the dance. Round and round she went, passed onto the next, everyone hopping up and down, laughing, grinning. Totally innocent. Jake’s face flashed before her as he, too, cavorted about, and then Mildred, grinning from ear to ear. The music penetrated Cissie’s soul and she felt safe inside again. That unique sensation when she danced of being whole, of being her, in control, returned, and she threw herself into the frenzy, singing, a warm gladness filling her very core.

  The tune ended, but was instantly followed by ‘The Lambeth Walk’. She was off again, swaying her shoulders, her natural grace and flair not going unnoticed. People had stopped to watch her, for while many a young man that day was trying to kiss as many unknown but willing girls as he could, a few had been attracted to this lithe, graceful figure that was moving so fluidly to the music.

  ‘Hey, give us a kiss, honey!’

  The words shot through her like a dagger. The same words as… She was pulled off balance and into the arms of a brawny GI, his forage cap askew above his immaculate uniform and his face grinning inanely as he brought his mouth down towards hers.

  A storm of terror, of the memory, raged through her, blood spinning fast in her head. No! This time, she wasn’t faint from pain and knocked half unconscious. She was her, she was strong. Her eyes snapped with ferocity as she lashed out against him, fighting in his hold.

  ‘Get off me!’ she screamed like someone possessed.

  At once, she was freed. The fellow backed off, hands in the air and surprise written all over his face in clear letters.

  ‘Sorry, lady, I-I didn’t mean to offend,’ he stuttered.

  Jake had heard Cissie’s cry. He could see the soldier was standing there in shocked embarrassment, other bystanders watching now. Jake felt he had to do something, though he wasn’t sure what, and elbowed his way through. When he did, he saw Cissie’s eyes were wild and enormous, and her face as white as a sheet as she stood, transfixed and staring at the man.

  ‘Sorry, mate, it’s not you. She had a bad experience with an American, that’s all,’ was the first thing that came into his head.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure sorry for that. I apologise,’ the Yank stammered, doffing his cap. ‘And I apologise for whatever it was my countryman did. Makes me feel ashamed. We Americans are meant to be good and wholesome.’

  ‘Apology accepted,’ Jake said levelly. ‘Cissie?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry, too,’ Cissie’s white lips somehow managed to articulate.

  She flinched as Jake’s arm came about her shoulder, but she didn’t resist. She felt such a fool now, drawing attention to herself over an innocent gesture. And Jake hadn’t been exactly off the mark with his ‘fib’, had he? She was grateful, though, for his support. And then Mildred was there, too, her face wrinkled fiercely.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ she demanded, glaring at the Yank. ‘You ain’t hurt me friend?’

  ‘No, no. Cissie had a funny turn, that’s all,’ Jake answered quickly before Mildred could draw any other conclusion. ‘I think it’s all the crowds. Let’s see if we can get something to eat. I reckon she’s a bit faint from lack of nourishment, to coin a phrase. OK, Cissie?’

  Cissie nodded, unable to find breath for any more words as Jake gently led her away. She glanced over her shoulder, mouthing another apology at the innocent American who gave an understanding smile and a half salute. With Mildred bringing up the rear, they battled out of the main crowd and went in search of a British Restaurant. The government had set up nearly three thousand of these communal canteens throughout the country in whatever premises were available, run by volunteers such as the WVS so that they could offer inexpensive meals off ration. They had been
a life-saver for many, especially those who had been bombed out of their homes.

  When the happy threesome eventually found one of these establishments, as was to be expected, it was heaving and they had to queue for a place at one of the long trestle-tables. But once they were seated and had collected from the counter cottage pie and peas for sixpence each – not that there was any other choice – they were able to resume a proper conversation.

  Jake poured Cissie a glass of water from the jug on the table and pushed it in front of her. ‘Here, drink this,’ he commanded. ‘They say you can feel funny if you don’t drink enough.’

  Cissie nodded, and gratefully drank down the entire glass in one go before Jake refilled it. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she muttered, and Jake saw tears collecting in her eyes. ‘I’ve spoilt your day.’

  ‘No, you haven’t,’ Jake insisted. ‘It was the crowds and then dancing when you hadn’t had anything to eat or drink for some while. You’re so petite, you haven’t got room for reserves like the rest of us.’

  ‘And it’s turned so warm,’ Mildred added. But she’d been mulling over the lie she’d caught Jake telling the GI. Was it a lie, though, or had he guessed correctly? ‘But… is that what happened to you?’ she asked gently. ‘You said something yesterday about Yanks and wanting them all to go home. Did you have an argy-bargy with one of them? I mean, you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.’

  Cissie’s face drained of any colour it had and she blinked back at Mildred, unable to speak. Oh, dear God, no! They mustn’t find out! But the horror of that night, the darkness and the pain, reared up inside her again. She tried to swallow it down, but it rose up in a tidal wave and her shoulders heaved as she began to retch.

  ‘OK, OK.’ Jake and Mildred were immediately one at either side of her. ‘Deep breaths, in and out.’

  She obeyed helplessly, her head swimming, a blind haze misting her vision. But slowly the nausea passed and the restaurant came back into focus.

  ‘Better?’ Jake’s voice quivered with anxiety, and Cissie nodded, taking in another deep breath and letting it out in a long, steady stream.

  ‘I really am sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I think I drank the water too quickly when I was so thirsty. That’s all it was. Really. And that fellow, he just took me by surprise. I’ve never… well, I’ve never been kissed by a man, and it was just a bit… alarming. With all the crowds and everything.’

  ‘Oh, is that all?’ Mildred puffed out her cheeks. ‘And a pretty girl like you ain’t never been kissed? Well, I never. But you feeling better? You gonna be able to eat this now?’

  Cissie studied both their kind, smiling faces and relief washed through her. That had been a close one, but she seemed to have put them off the scent. They were good, trustworthy people, mind, and a trickle of contentment had begun to flow hesitantly through her veins in their company. ‘Yes, I’m beginning to feel quite hungry, actually.’

  ‘Well, don’t eat too quickly,’ Jake advised, tucking into his own meal.

  ‘And then what shall we do?’ Cissie asked, neatly changing the subject.

  ‘Up The Mall to Buckingham Palace, I reckon,’ Jake suggested, digging his fork into his food. ‘If you think you’ll be OK, Cissie? There’s bound to be thousands of people. We’ll be packed in like sardines. But wouldn’t it be fantastic to see the King come out on the balcony?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, it would,’ she agreed.

  ‘I’ll hang onto you, I promise.’

  ‘And I’ll be on your other side. Nobody’ll get past me in a hurry. I’m used to giving people what for on the buses, me, if they misbehave!’

  Mildred’s words were spoken in such earnestness that they brought a smile to Cissie’s lips, the incident with the GI all but forgotten. If only she could forget that other incident as easily. It was unlikely she ever would, but could she move forward with her life? A tiny voice inside was whispering that, with the unwitting support of people like Jake and Mildred, perhaps she could.

  Time alone would tell.

  Thirteen

  They ate their lunch at a leisurely pace, and when it was over, retraced their steps to Piccadilly Circus where the giant Bovril and Schweppes Tonic advertisements had been illuminated on the Atlas Assurance Building, something else that hadn’t been seen for nearly six years.

  ‘Give Trafalgar Square a miss, shall we?’ Jake suggested as they ambled down Haymarket. ‘Unless you fancy cooling off in the fountains?’ he joked.

  ‘Yeah, with a hundred other people and your clothes going all transparent when they’re wet?’ Mildred snorted. ‘Nah, let’s go straight to The Mall. You ever danced in any of the theatres round here, Cissie?’

  ‘No, but I’d love to. It’d be a dream come true.’

  Oh, she was feeling so much better again. Almost normal, the dreadful, aching bitterness drifting away. With her new friends taking care of her, she felt she could relax and start enjoying herself.

  They turned into Pall Mall, still swarming with celebrating hordes, but more bearable, until they took a left down Marlborough Road. As they came out into The Mall, not so far from the palace, they could barely move for the thousands of exuberant merrymakers, waving flags and yelling in abandonment. The roar of so many cheering voices was ear-splitting, the only coherence being the music that continued to be bellowed out from the tannoys.

  Suddenly, as if by magic, the uproar began to die down and an extraordinary hush settled on the assembled multitude. Anyone who was still talking was instantly shushed, and Jake held up his hand to tap his watch. It was just coming up to three o’clock.

  In moments, Winston Churchill’s familiar, stentorian voice boomed over the loudspeakers, and everyone fell voraciously on his every word. He gave brief details, confirming what they already knew. In the early hours of the previous morning, German High Command had surrendered to the Allies and the Soviet High Command. The agreement was to be ratified that coming evening in Berlin, and hostilities would end officially at one minute past midnight that night, although the ceasefire had already been sounded all along the Front.

  The revered Prime Minister went on to say that although that day they were enjoying their own celebrations, they were not to forget the Russians who had played such a huge and vital part in the victory. Mr Churchill then reverted to the habitual rousing rhetoric the country was used to hearing from him, rhetoric that had carried the nation through the bleakest days of the Blitz and the darkness beyond. A brief summary of the war followed in the most eloquent of language, and they were told that the evil-doers had now surrendered. Japan, though, remained unsubdued, and the task both at home and abroad must now be completed. Britain must continue to fight for the cause of freedom, and Mr Churchill concluded with an inspiring, ‘God save the King.’

  The adored voice of the nation’s hero died away and a gasp of emotion rumbled through the gathered host as the ‘Last Post’ sounded, and then every pair of lungs joined in the National Anthem, before such a cheer as the world had never heard before swelled up in the warm afternoon air.

  Cissie felt buoyed up by such jubilation, her heart touched by a sense of peace and freedom as she kept beside Jake, who was threading his way across the broad avenue and into the park, where the crowds were less dense. The revelling went on at a slightly more sedate pace, civilians and men and women in all different uniforms joining in the jollifications together. This time when a GI wanted to kiss her, Cissie mentally braced herself. But he merely brushed her cheek and went on to be lost in the crowd. Cissie breathed again. Was a little part of her beginning to heal? And all because of the kindness of Jake and Mildred.

  They stayed in the park for hours, finding a quieter spot over on the far side of the lake. They sat and talked, laughed, got to know each other better. Cissie felt that she could only have celebrated better if she’d been on stage that night, but that would come. The incident with the American wasn’t mentioned again. What had happened to her on that terrible night could not be undone, but perha
ps with the friendship of such good people, she could learn to live with it. And perhaps she could start to look forward, just as Churchill had said the whole nation must.

  They heard the King’s speech being relayed at six o’clock, and intermittent, distant roars as thousands shoehorned themselves in front of the gates of the palace whenever the royal family, including the two princesses, Elizabeth and Margaret, appeared on the balcony. With double daylight saving, dusk would be late, but Cissie, Mildred and even Jake were beginning to tire, and Mildred had an early shift to work in the morning.

  ‘Let’s just go back to the palace and see if they come out again before we go home,’ Jake suggested. ‘It mightn’t be quite so crowded now, and it’d be a pity to miss it.’

  ‘Yeah, all right. But I don’t wanna wait too long,’ Mildred told him.

  They weaved their way back across St James’ Park. People were spilling onto the grass from The Mall, building a bonfire with the park deckchairs. It seemed somewhat overindulgent, but who was going to stop them?

  As they neared the palace, the area was slightly less manic now. They managed to climb the steps up to the Queen Victoria Memorial to get a better view and begin their vigil. But their patience was soon rewarded as another fanfare of cheering swirled through the air when the King and Queen and the princesses appeared yet again. From that distance, the figures were tiny and it was impossible to see any detail, even of what they were wearing. They could just about make out the waving arms, but what an experience to witness anyway, and with the yelling of the crowds all around them! And then, to the utter delight of the watching multitude, Winston Churchill stepped out onto the balcony as well – at least they guessed the additional figure was the Prime Minister from the deafening roar that exploded into the air.

  ‘Mum’ll be disappointed she missed this!’ Mildred cried.

  ‘Well, I’m sure you’ll enjoy telling her all about it!’ Jake shouted back to make himself heard. ‘It’ll be something to talk about for generations.’