by Tania Crosse
The street ended at a T-junction. Which way? Saul could only guess. But he had all afternoon and the evening, too. He’d go so far along on one side and then try the other way. But there were side streets galore. The girl could live anywhere, if indeed she still did. It was hopeless, but he had to try. He’d give himself the rest of the day and tomorrow. And if he’d had no luck by then, he’d go back to base and give up.
It seemed a modest but respectable area. Apart from the boys on the bomb site – and after all, boys would always be boys – he encountered no scruffy urchins playing on the streets. The houses were in neat terraces, attractive with little front gardens, dating possibly from the very beginning of the century – or the Edwardian period, as Saul had gathered the English called it. Somehow it pleased him to think the girl lived here rather than in one of the East End slums he’d heard about. Hitler had done a good job at slum clearance, he’d heard someone joke – in bad taste as far as Saul was concerned. But even here, there was the odd gaping hole where a house or two had been blown to smithereens. Bizarrely, it reminded Saul of his grandmother and her missing teeth.
He stopped and asked a young mother with a pram who’d eyed him suspiciously, an older woman carrying her shopping, and anyone else he passed. But the answer was always the same as when he knocked at each house in turn.
‘Could be anywhere, dear,’ a sympathetic old lady told him as she peered out from behind her front door. ‘But I was just putting the kettle on if you’d like to come in.’
Something twitched inside him. He could do with a cup of tea, but it worried him that the old lady was so trusting or maybe lonely that she’d ask a complete stranger into her house. And he was wary from his home where any innocent act by a black person could be turned against them, so he replied politely, ‘That’s very kind of ya, ma’am, but I’d best get on.’
‘That’s a pity, young man. But I wish you luck.’
Luck? He’d need more than luck. He’d need a miracle.
He turned into yet another street. Jeez, it was such a labyrinth that he was no longer sure he could find his way back. The place was getting busier as people were coming home from work. Saul sighed and consulted his watch. He was tired, hungry and thirsty. He’d just try this road, and then attempt to retrace his steps.
A prim-looking woman in her forties or thereabouts opened the door to the fourth house down, gazing accusingly at him over her horn-rimmed spectacles.
‘Yes?’ she demanded, making Saul feel awkward and rather stupid as he gave out the spiel he’d repeated so many times that afternoon that it had become mechanical. What was the point? his brain thought while his lips moved of their own accord. She wouldn’t know anything. It was a lost cause.
Something, Saul wasn’t sure what, flitted across the woman’s face. Just for a split second. Saul’s heart rose on a crest of hope. And then the woman’s expression hardened before she shook her head and all but slammed the door in his face.
Saul stood on the step, a deep frown creasing his broad forehead. Did she know something? Recognise his description? Something jerked in his chest. Was he getting near?
With renewed vigour, he began knocking systematically on each door. Some faces were blank. Others curiously veiled over. They knew something. She was here. Somewhere. Saul could feel it in his bones.
‘Sorry. We’ve only lived here a few months. Doesn’t ring a bell. Try next door. The old busybody knows everything. Or thinks she does.’
Saul smiled his thanks and turned away. Next door was the last house in the street on the corner. Ah, well. He might as well drag himself up the short front path to speak to this busybody neighbour, though he doubted he’d get any joy.
The girl who opened the door was of such a similar age to the one he was seeking that Saul almost recoiled and had to steady himself. He could see instantly that it wasn’t her, but just for a second…
He smiled shakily as he repeated his description, watching as the girl’s eyes widened and then settled steadily on his face as he finished.
She didn’t speak, her cheeks draining of their colour. Saul held his breath, pulse hammering as he waited. The girl hesitated, glancing down the street as if checking that nobody was in earshot, her mouth half open as if trying to formulate some words.
‘Who are you, then?’ a voice demanded from inside, and a woman’s head appeared round the door behind the girl.
‘Good evening, ma’am,’ Saul smiled politely, hoping the quiver in his words wasn’t obvious. ‘I’m trying to find a young lady I met somewhere near here a year or so ago.’ And he described the girl for the umpteenth time.
He couldn’t believe it when the woman’s face fairly sparked with distaste, setting some sort of panic rampaging through his body. Did she immediately dislike him because of his colour, like so many people did back home? Or—?
‘Oh, I know who you mean!’ she spat viciously. ‘You don’t want anything to do with her, the little strumpet, I assure you!’ And with that, she yanked the girl, her daughter presumably, inside and slammed the door.
Saul stood there. Poleaxed. Unable to move. He’d been beginning to think he’d imagined the whole affair. That being with Chuck Masters that night had been but a nightmare in his sleep. But now he knew he was right. The girl existed. But he knew nothing about her. And maybe Chuck wasn’t so far off the mark. Walking home alone, late at night. Maybe she wasn’t of good repute. But whatever her circumstances, she hadn’t deserved what had happened. And perhaps it wasn’t the same girl the woman was referring to, anyway.
Saul turned away, his head a swirling vortex of emotion. He needed to think, to consider. He needed to get back to the cheap boarding house where he’d taken a room for the night. Get some sleep. Maybe come back tomorrow and see what else he could dig up.
He rounded the corner of the street back the way he’d come. He was so lost in thought that when he felt a sharp tap on his arm, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked down to see the girl he’d spoken to so briefly at the last house. Where had she sprung from? Surely he’d have heard her running up behind him? But then it dawned on him that it was a corner house and she’d slipped out of a side gate from the back garden.
‘If it’s the same person, I can tell you a bit more,’ the girl said urgently. ‘She and her family lived next door until a few months ago. She’d just had a baby. And she wasn’t married. No sign of a steady boyfriend, even. Everyone shunned her. You can imagine what my mum was like towards her. Well, they were driven out, moved away. But I think…’ She glanced nervously over her shoulder, but then fixed her gaze on Saul’s face. ‘One night, there was a terrible commotion. My bedroom’s at the front, so I saw. She was a dancer, you see. So she used to come home late after the performance. But that night, she hadn’t shown up. Her family went out to look for her. Calling her name. That’s what woke me up. They must have found her eventually and brought her back. I was still awake and went to look out of the window. She was in a right state, crying, could barely walk. I remember thinking she looked as if she’d been attacked. I mean, I couldn’t see that well. It was dark, except for when the moon came out. And soon afterwards, some policemen arrived. Anyway, nine months later, the baby came along. I think I was the only one on the street who felt sorry for her. We’d been sort of friends, you see. But… the baby couldn’t have been yours. It was… very white. Look, I’d better go before my mum catches me. Her name was Cecily Cresswell. Cissie for short. If you find her, say hello to her for me.’
And then the girl was gone. Like a sprite. Leaving Saul reeling. Cecily Cresswell. A dancer. It all added up. Made sense. And the poor kid… Oh, Jesus, it was far worse than he could ever have imagined.
He staggered off down the street.
*
‘That’s fabulous news!’ Stan and Jake chorused that evening when they got in from Price’s. ‘Rob home, at last!’
‘Well, you can imagine our Gert’s cock-a-hoop,’ Eva crowed back. ‘I can remember what it wa
s like when you got back from the first war, Stan. Had to pull us down from the ceiling, I was that blooming happy.’
‘Missed me charm and me good looks,’ Stan grinned, catching her about the waist.
Eva flapped him away. ‘Give over,’ she laughed. ‘So they’re all coming up to stay at Rob’s parents’ next weekend. They’re having a welcome home party for him there on the Saturday afternoon. So I’ve invited everyone here on the Sunday for your birthday, Jake. We’ll have a bit of a knees-up. I rang Hillie, and they can come and all.’
‘Oh, that’s great, Mum, thanks! Works out quite well, ’cos I was planning on going out with some of my mates on the Saturday night.’
‘Cor, me little brother eighteen,’ Mildred teased. ‘Proper grown-up.’
‘Huh, not that it’ll do me much good, not with the fire brigade not wanting me,’ Jake grumbled. ‘Not sure what I want to do with my life now.’
‘Well, at least you’ve got this party to look forward to. That should cheer you up,’ Mildred said pointedly.
‘Yes,’ Jake muttered half-heartedly. And then a sudden light shone into his thoughts. ‘Tell you what. If it’s going to be for my birthday as well, can I invite Cissie? Don’t see much of her now she’s back dancing.’
Eva made a deliberate effort not to exchange knowing glances with either her daughter or Stan. They could see Jake held a torch to young Cissie.
‘Course you can, love,’ Eva beamed. ‘In fact, I thought it’d be nice for all her family to come along and meet all of ours. Don’t seem to have none of their own.’
‘Thanks, Mum. That’ll be great,’ Jake said nonchalantly.
‘Right, well, that’s settled, then.’ Eva’s brow folded into a frown and she scratched her head. ‘Better start working out how the blazes I can feed everyone, mind.’
‘Easy. Ask everyone to bring something,’ Mildred chimed in. And then she turned to Jake with a wink and whispered under her breath, ‘Be better than anything Mum’ll rustle up.’
Jake couldn’t help but smile at the mention of Eva’s lack of culinary skill. But the thought of Cissie coming round had lifted his heart even more.
*
Cissie sprang up onto the platform at the back of the bus, returning the conductress’s smile as she went to sit down on the long sideways seat. It wasn’t that the bus was full. Just the opposite, in fact. But over the past few weeks, she’d become friendly with the clippie whose bus she’d caught most nights and was looking forward to chatting with her.
‘Yer looking chipper tonight, ducks,’ the older woman beamed. ‘Performance went well, did it?’
‘Oh, it always has to,’ Cissie told her earnestly. ‘If it doesn’t, you can get a bad reputation, or people won’t come back again. But, no. We’ve had some good news. We’ve managed to book Wimbledon Theatre for three months, starting the first of August. Often, we only get town halls or whatever. So to have a long run at a proper theatre is very welcome.’
‘Yer gonna get digs there, then? By the time yer get a train from Wimbledon ter Clapham Junction, yer could miss the last bus, and it wouldn’t do fer a pretty kid like you ter be walking all that way alone late at night.’
A dagger sliced beneath Cissie’s ribs, shattering her joy at performing Monsieur Clément’s flowing, fluid interpretation of ‘Rhapsody in Blue’, and performing it to perfection. It was only when she was dancing that she felt alive again. Alive, vital, worth something. And now the kindly woman’s well-meaning words had destroyed the peace that was slowly melting the ice that had frozen solid inside her that night on the bomb site…
She had to force the shadow of a smile to her face. ‘Yes, they’re arranging digs for those who want them, so I probably will,’ she muttered. And suddenly she was back, lying on the rubble in the dark, shame and pain flaming into her spirit and body as if trying to rip out her insides. She felt stifled, head spinning as if she’d pass out, and she ran a desperate hand around the neck of her cardigan.
‘Here, you all right, love? Yer’ve gone all pale.’
Cissie panted out heavily a couple of times as the inside of the bus swam back into focus. ‘Yes. Yes, thanks, I’m fine. Still a bit hot after the performance.’
‘Well, yer ain’t got far ter go once yer get off, have yer?’
Cissie managed another small smile. ‘No, thank heavens. Just round the corner. I’ll be home within a minute.’
Yes, that was another good thing about Banbury Street, she thought to herself. Buses stopped almost at the end of the road, and she only had to walk past a few houses to her own front door. And, of course, the street lights were back on, which made her feel a lot safer.
It had been a good move in more ways than one. Everyone had fallen for the white lie, hook, line and sinker. It was a lie that hurt no one, but one that had saved her sanity. Banbury Street had offered them a fresh start, and where else would they have found such generous, kind-hearted people as the Parkers? Eva, who’d taken them under her wing in her chaotic, loving way; Mildred who was merely a younger version of her; kind, quiet Stan. And then there was Jake.
Oh, Jake. He was lovely. She could sense how he liked her. And she liked him. But… oh, God, she could never bear for a man to touch her in that way ever again. Even if it was someone she loved. It wouldn’t be fair to give Jake the wrong idea. No. Better to stamp it out right from the start.
So perhaps moving to digs for three months was just what was needed.
Nineteen
Cissie sat on the kerb outside Number Eight, knees drawn up beneath her skirt to protect her modesty. Her eyes were closed, face tilted towards the afternoon sunshine that kissed her skin with a soft bloom. Summer seemed to have arrived, at last. About flipping time, she could hear Mildred saying, and the memory brought a soft smile to Cissie’s lips.
Ah, Mildred. What a good friend she was proving to be. They might only have known each other a few months, but they’d felt like bosom pals almost from the start. Strange really, considering how different they were. And yet perhaps that was why. Cissie wondered if one day she could trust Mildred with the truth. It would be a release to share it with someone from outside her family.
Mildred’s young nephews and her niece were engaged in a game of hopscotch chalked out on the pavement. Gert’s three boys were, of course, erupting with excitement to have their daddy back home for good, their exuberance reflecting in their high voices as they played. Cissie let the happy sounds wash over her. Through the open front door of the house behind her, the joyful noise of Jake’s birthday party going on inside wafted onto the street. The warm sun was easing the tension in Cissie’s heart, and the distinctive smell of baked, dusty tarmac filled her nostrils. For the first time since… since it had happened, she almost felt content.
In her head, the music began to play. She was flowing, bending, to ‘Rhapsody in Blue’, but then her mind drifted to Tristan and Isolde. They were reviving it at rehearsals, ready to add into the show at Wimbledon Theatre. It was nearly six months now, and her body was strong enough to cope with the extra vigour required for the controlled intensity of strict classical ballet and the demands of the pointe work. But to dance it again, to lose herself in her art, would help bring her peace and restore her sanity.
‘Hello. You had enough of my boisterous family, then?’
Cissie opened her eyes and squinted up at the familiar form silhouetted against the glaring light. Her face spread into a smile as Jake squatted down on the kerb beside her.
‘Oh, I think your family are all lovely,’ she assured him. ‘I’m so glad I’ve had the chance to meet them all. Now I’ll know who they are when you talk about them. And I think it’s great the way you’re all so close.’
‘I reckon we have Mum to thank for that.’ Jake gave a wry chuckle. ‘There was only her and her mum. Her dad had swanned off when she was little. So she wanted things to be just the opposite for us.’
‘Well, she’s certainly achieved that. Mind you, she’s so outward-go
ing, I think she’d have created an extended family one way or the other, even if she hadn’t had so many children herself. And she seems as thrilled as Gert is to have Rob back home.’
‘Yes, Mum lives for us children,’ Jake agreed, bobbing his head up and down. ‘But, talking of Rob, I think I told you that before the war, he was senior clerk at a major branch of his bank. Well, the deputy manager’s about to retire, and they’ve told Rob he’s in line for the job. Anyway, he says he might be able to get me a job as a junior clerk if I’m interested.’
‘Oh.’ Cissie cocked an eyebrow and glanced at him sideways. ‘That’d be different from being a fireman.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Jake released a pent-up sigh. ‘But that doesn’t look on the cards now. I’d really only been hanging on at Price’s as a stopgap before the fire brigade. So I’d never really considered anything else before, let alone office work.’
‘But would it be just office work, or would you be dealing direct with members of the public, as well?’
‘I don’t know. I think it’d depend on exactly what was on offer. But I was always good at arithmetic at school, and I enjoyed it, too.’
‘Well, I think you’re very sensible to consider your other options. There’s no harm in waiting to see exactly what comes up, is there? You can’t judge until you know.’
‘How very wise. And thanks again for the tie. It’ll be perfect if I do start work at the bank.’
‘My pleasure. I’m glad you like it. It’s hard to know what to get people when there’s not much around. I had plenty of clothing coupons, but there wasn’t much choice, of course, when I actually went to buy it.’
‘Well, I think it’s perfect.’ Jake smiled at her, springing to his feet. ‘It’s chaos inside,’ he grunted, jabbing his head towards the open front door. ‘Think I’ll grab my guitar and sit out here with you and play. If that’s OK with you, of course. Don’t want to spoil your quiet moment.’