‘Stop yer noise, Ted,’ shouted Rose over all the banging and crashing that Ted was deliberately making out in the yard. ‘Or yer can get yerself up to bed with no tea.’
Rose smiled to herself as Ted’s reply was muffled by the loud splintering of another half-plank. She couldn’t hear him properly but she could guess what he was saying to himself.
‘That smells ’andsome,’ a voice called along the passage from the open street door.
‘’Allo, Joe,’ said Rose, poking her head round the kitchen door. ‘Come in. An’ pull the door to be’ind yer. Young feller me lad out there left it wide open for a change.’
‘Just on the latch?’
‘Yeh, that’ll be fine.’
Joe walked in and shivered. ‘Cor! It might be May, but it’s turned freezin’ out there tonight. Like winter again.’
He took off his cap, then produced from under his jacket a parcel wrapped in newspaper which he put down on the kitchen table.
‘What’s all this?’ said Rose when she turned round from seeing to the stew that was bubbling away in the pan.
‘Bit a best end o’ neck,’ said Joe. ‘To repay yer for what yer’ve been doin’ for Mum.’
‘Yer didn’t ’ave to do that, Joe.’
‘I know I didn’t ’ave to. I wanted to. An’ now I’m doin’ the dock run as well as the markets, I can sometimes get me ’ands on a bit extra.’ He winked at her. ‘An’ if anyone deserves it, Rose…’
‘All right, that’s enough. I only give ’er a bit o’ dinner,’ said Rose, wiping her hands on her apron and unwrapping the parcel. ‘Aw, ta, Joe. This looks lovely.’ She slipped the meat on to a white plate, then took it into the back yard. There she put in in the mesh-fronted meat safe on the shelf by the kitchen window.
She came back in and held up the teapot to Joe. He nodded in reply.
‘There’s a cup o’ tea in ’ere, Ted,’ Rose called out.
The chopping and banging stopped immediately, and Ted was at the table before Rose had even filled the cups. His face was red with exertion.
‘’Ello, Joe,’ said Ted, flinching as he gulped the hot tea. ‘I’ll be over for a couple o’ games o’ cards later, when I’ve ’ad me tea.’
‘Mum’d like that, Ted,’ said Joe. ‘I’ll get in a drop of ale for us.’
Rose narrowed her eyes at her youngest child. ‘I ’ope yer ain’t been goin’ over Mrs Fuller’s just so’s yer can fill yer gullet with beer, Ted Fairleigh.’
‘No,’ protested Ted sulkily.
Joey saved Ted from having to explain this revelation further. ‘Rose, yer know I wouldn’t dream of interferin’, but I’ve gotta say this. Yer dunno what a weight it is off me mind, with you takin’ Mum a bit o’ grub over, an’ young Ted ’ere amusin’ ’er with a game a cards an’ all ’is daft stories.’ He cuffed Ted playfully round the head. ‘I tell yer, it’s worth a gallon of ale to see me Mum ’appy, believe me. The little devil deserves every drop.’
Ted beamed, enjoying the unfamiliar praise being lavished on him.
‘That’s nice of yer to say so, Joe. I’m glad Ted’s an ’elp. ’E’s been brought up to be a good kid,’ she said, looking at her son suspiciously, but I don’t want ’im takin’ no liberties with yer.’
‘Rose, listen, now I’ve gotta do all this extra work, I’d be worryin’ about Mum somethin’ rotten. Thinkin’ about ’er bein’ by ‘erself while I’m out all hours. An’ that’s what’d ’appen if it wasn’t for the two of you.’
‘She won’t be by ’erself while we’re ’ere, Joe.’
‘I know that, Rose. An’ like I said, I’m right grateful to yer. It means I can do me bit for the war. I might not be fightin’ but I’m still doin’ me bit.’
‘We ’eard from Sammy today,’ said Ted. ‘Didn’t we, Mum? ’E’s ’avin’ a right ol’ time over there. I can’t wait till I’m old enough to join up.’
‘Don’t wish yer life away, son,’ said Joey.
Rose rolled her eyes and tutted. ‘Lives in a dream world this boy. Yer’d think ’e read a different letter to the one I ’eard. ‘Aving a right ol’ time? I dunno where ’e gets ’is barmy ideas.’
Ted finished his tea and stood up. ‘I reckon I must be barmy,’ he said grumpily. ‘I’ve gotta finish choppin’ all that wood out the back before I can even ’ave me grub.’
‘Aw, yer so ’ard done by,’ shouted Rose over the noise that was coming again from the yard.
‘’Eard anythin’ from Bill?’ asked Joey.
‘Yeh,’ sighed Rose. ‘But ’e’s more worried about us lot than ’imself. All ’e wants to know is what’s ’appenin’ with Jess, ’ow’s Charlie, what’s Sammy got to say for ’imself, ’ow am I, is Ted doin’ ’is share? ‘Ave I ’eard from this one an’ that one?’ Rose shook her head. ‘I do what I can to reassure ’im, be cheerful in me letters, like, but it ain’t easy.’
‘Well I think ’e’s a lucky feller to ’ave you worryin’ about ‘im, Rose.’
‘Daft ’apporth,’ she said. ‘It’s no different from you, Joe, always worryin’ about yer mum. That’s what life’s all about, I suppose, makin’ sure yer family’s all right.’
‘’Oo’d ’ave thought all this would be ’appenin’ to everyone though, eh, gel?’ said Joey wearily. ‘Not even two years since it started, an’ this war’s turned the ’ole world on its bloody ’ead.’ He took his watch out of his waistcoat pocket and studied it briefly, then put his cap back on and stood up. ‘Anyway, I’d better be gettin’ back. I put a knuckle of bacon on; it’ll boil dry if I don’t look lively.’
Rose walked down the passage to see Joey out. As she pulled the street door open Florrie was standing next to the step, peering keenly into Rose’s front window.
‘Can I ’elp yer, Flo,’ said Rose loudly.
‘Er, yeh.’ Florrie’s eyebrows shot up and she smiled knowingly to herself when she saw Joey standing behind Rose. She’d been right, there he was, bold as brass.
‘Well?’ said Rose folding her arms.
‘Er, I come to borrow, erm…’ She thought for a moment. ‘A drop o’ milk. That’s it. But I can see yer busy,’ she added slyly.
‘Yeh, I am busy, as a matter of fact, Flo. That’s why Joey’s just leavin’.’
‘Aw, yeh, that’s right,’ said Joe, glad for the chance to escape. ‘I’ll see Ted later on.’
‘Where’s yer jug then, Flo?’ asked Rose, looking pointedly at her neighbour’s empty hands. ‘Give us it an’ I’ll go an’ fetch yer some milk.’
‘Yer know, I dunno what I’m doin’ some days,’ said Florrie, not very convincingly. ‘I must ’ave left it on me table.’
‘Yeh, yer must ’ave. Now if yer don’t mind I’ve got Ted’s tea to see to. Yer can come back later. With a jug. If yer really do want some milk, that is.’
With that, Rose closed the street door and went back into the kitchen. She had enough to think about without letting Florrie Baxter’s poison get to her.
Dear Bill,
Ted is writing this letter for me. I hope it gets to you soon and that you are well. I miss you, Bill, and wish you were here with me. I’d love to know where your ship is and what cargo you’re carrying and everything, but I know you’re not allowed to tell us. I’m right proud of you and what you’re doing, and I should be used to you going away to sea after all these years, but I don’t suppose I’ll ever get used to it.
Jess is still in service in the country. She is very well and happy. Sammy writes when he remembers. I think he’s too busy chasing all the girls over in France. Charlie said in his last letter that he’s written to you, so you know he’s doing fine. Sounds like it was the right thing for him to do after all. So we had all that worry over him for nothing. Trust our Charlie.
Ted has joined up. You wouldn’t know him. He’s shot up again in the last few months. As tall as you are now. He is going to the station in the morning. It’s his last night at home so we are going to The Star. We’ll have one for you, Bill
. Don’t worry yourself about us we are all well. You just look after yourself and come home safe to me. I miss you.
Love from Rose
PS You can still write to Mum because Miss Feldman will read the, letters but don’t write no personal or lovey-dovey stuff.
Love Ted (Private Fairleigh)
* * *
Rose nodded her approval when Ted finished reading the letter to her.
‘Now, Ted,’ she said. ‘I want yer to write one to our Jessie for me.’
For once Ted didn’t moan about being given something to do. He had been so keen to get himself off to the war, but now the time had finally come to leave his mum he wasn’t so sure that he wanted to go after all.
‘Righto,’ he said.
Dear Jess,
Ted is writing this letter for me. We are both well. I’m getting decent money now working in the factory making uniforms. Piece rates it is. It’s a lot more than I ever earned scrubbing all them steps out in the cold. I ain’t felt so well in years and I don’t hardly cough at all now I’m in the warm. I’ve sent you some money to get yourself something. Make sure you do.
Ted’s joined up. Can you believe it? He’s leaving in the morning so I’ll have plenty of time on me hands and still be able to do for old Miss Feldman. I wouldn’t want to leave her in the lurch.
I have a surprise to tell you. She’s going to take over from Ted teaching me to read and write. That surprised you didn’t it, Jess? The poor old girl’s been really suffering lately. Don’t even come from Germany but cos of the way she talks foreign they’re all saying her and her brother are spies. They was glad of him when they was pawning their stuff with him. It’s all different now, and he’s had to close up the shop. They kept breaking all the poor old devil’s windows.
We won’t be seeing your dad for a while. He come home for two days and a night then he was off again to take more supplies to somewhere or other. He wasn’t allowed to say where, and he was right disappointed he missed you. But at least he knows you’re settled. That pleased him.
* * *
‘That’s enough for the minute, Ted,’ said Rose. ‘Give us the paper ’ere.’
Rose smoothed the letter out on the table in front of her.
‘’Ere goes,’ she said bravely.
She took up the pen and began to write in her shaky, ill-formed script, pausing only briefly to ask Ted how to spell the occasional word. The rest she had to leave to chance.
I’m writing this bit myself. Take no notice of the writing. When Dad was here on leave I told him where you was and all about everything. I couldn’t stand him going away again and still not knowing about Sylvia and how happy you are and what a little love she is. He was well chuffed about being a granddad. You should have seen his face. I’m right glad he knows. He would have loved to have seen you both but you know how it is.
The boys still don’t know. None of them do. They still think you went into service. That’s best for now I reckon. I don’t want them getting no ideas about going down there and sorting out you know who. I wouldn’t put it past them. You know how mad they can go. We don’t need that sort of trouble.
* * *
Rose finished writing her piece, then turned the paper over.
‘There y’are, Ted. Yer can carry on writing on the back.’
‘What’s so secret, Mum?’ he asked suspiciously. Always one to see himself at the centre of everyone’s world, he grinned. ‘I’ll bet it was about me.’
‘Typical,’ said Rose. ‘As a matter of fact it was about women’s things, boy, if yer must know. Now shut up askin’ questions an’ get writin’. Yer ain’t a corporal yet, yer know.’
‘Corporal? Yer’d think I was a baby the way yer carry on.’
‘Well yer are to me, yer great daft lump. Yer might be in the army, but yer still me little baby, ain’t yer?’ Rose pinched his cheek tenderly. ‘Yer‘ll be shavin’ next,’ she teased.
Ted rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue impatiently, but he couldn’t fool Rose. She knew that no matter what he said, how brave and grown-up he acted, inside he was still her little boy, and as scared as any other to be leaving for war. The relentless daily casualty lists printed in the newspapers and the stories being brought home by local lads on leave were enough to knock any glamorous ideas out of a young man’s head, even Ted’s.
Rose did her best to dismiss from her mind the visions of her family at war, the images that filled nearly every waking thought and even her dreams. She began dictating the rest of her letter.
I hardly suppose it matters to anyone nowadays what’s happened, Jess, there’s too many other things for people to worry about. My old mum, your nanna, used to say that it was them with nothing better to do what talked about other people. Well, girl, we’ve all got enough to think about nowadays and that’s the truth. Write to me soon, Jess, and remember it’s Miss Feldman what’ll be reading it to me.
Love from Mum and Ted
* * *
Leonore got out of bed as though she was still in a dream and went to sit by the window. She had had a chair placed close to every window in the house. She had it done after Robert had talked in his letter about imagining her sitting looking out at the view over the countryside. It had made her feel a little closer to him, being able to sit there. She usually looked forward so much to reading his letters, but today her hands trembled as she tried to open the envelope. She stared down at the letter in her lap as though it might explode. What did it mean? A letter from Belgium but not in Robert’s writing. What terrible news did it contain? She didn’t know if she could stand anything more happening to her family; she already felt as though her heart would break. She ripped at the flap with the paper knife. There, it was done, she had opened it. Mouthing a silent prayer that nothing had happened to her elder son, Leonore drew in a deep breath, unfolded the sheets of thin paper and began to read.
Dear Mother,
Yes, this is from me, Robert, but Nurse Allerton is writing it.
* * *
As she read the words again, to make sure that she wasn’t mistaken, tears of relief ran down Leonore’s cheeks: her elder child was safe. She wept softly, not bothering to check the tears, as she read the rest of the letter.
Don’t panic. I’m not too bad, a bit shaken, that’s all. I’m in a casualty clearing station. Please don’t worry, we are well behind the lines and I am recovering swiftly. Especially with Nurse Allerton here. She said to say that she didn’t want to write that, but I made her promise to write exactly what I say. It makes a change for the patients to have the chance to bully the nurses for once.
In my letters I have tried to describe what it is like at the front, to explain about the volunteers. I thought I was getting used to it. But since I’ve been in here, I’ve had more time to talk to people. I know now that I will never get used to how some of them are forced to spend their lives. I can hardly believe what they tell me about how they live back home in England. Many of the men are from the same labouring families I once thought of as being little better than farm animals, there for me to use and discard as I felt inclined. I had honestly never realised, never bothered to think about how they lived. I never understood the struggle many of them had just to survive. They are so puny, Ma. Nurse Allerton says it’s the poor diet and terrible housing they have. I wonder that some of them are considered well enough to be out here. I talked about it with some of the other officers. It left us wondering what the men are like whom the army reject as unfit.
But I’d better get on with my news; if I don’t, Nurse will be called away and you will be left with only half a letter.
I have now not only seen, but have experienced personally, the bravery of one of those working men. My life was saved by a private, in reality a boy, who in Kent I would have knocked down rather than go to the bother of reining in my horse. I had been left unconscious during a bombardment. I cannot recall what happened, but I understand that Private Andrew Johnson left the safety of his bunker and
scrambled through coils of barbed wire, all whilst under enemy fire, with the single purpose of dragging me clear of the shelling.
Private Johnson got me to the dressing station, God alone knows how, where they sorted me out before I was sent here. I’d been knocked out cold and the gas had begun to get to me. I owe him my life. I would have caught it for sure if he hadn’t risked his own life to help me. He came right through the gas to get to me. He laughed afterwards, can you imagine? He said it was nothing, that he had his mask on, and I should have been wearing mine, if I didn’t mind him mentioning it. Me being an officer and all. What an amazing man.
The gas, Ma. We couldn’t believe it the first time the brutes used it on us. It drifts across looking so harmless, in a silent blue-white cloud. You can tell when the men have been had by the stuff. They come running blindly towards you. Their faces grey, like death. They spew and cough. The choking makes their streaming eyes bulge out of their sockets. They clutch at their throats. And if they’re really bad, they get confused and run the wrong way, and pandemonium breaks loose. They stumble into the trenches or fall on to the barbed wire and get stuck. Then they are shot. They look like so many crows hung out by the gamekeeper. Nurse Allerton was not keen to write that, but I want you to know what is really happening out here. The truth has always been important to you, as, I am glad to say, it now is to me.
The stories about the Canadians have amazed and impressed everyone. They won’t give in to the gas. They soak their handkerchiefs or scarves in water, their own urine even, and cover their faces. They just keep on firing, holding their places. And the women here, they’d impress you, Ma. Women from all over have come out here to work as nurses and as ambulance drivers. They are wonderful. Nurse Allerton is pulling a face. In all this mayhem, they carry on like nothing’s happening. Telling us to look tidy before the doctor’s rounds, and telling us off for getting ash on the sheets. So bossy.
The Cockney Girl Page 27