‘Mind, we’ll have to make do with a few sticks of furniture and no rugs for a while as the beds have to be bought first,’ he said.
‘Well, at least we can furnish this room,’ Cathy said. ‘Everything in Senrab Street is Violet’s, other than a couple of pots, pans and a bit of crockery, and the handful of linen I had in my bottom drawer, but I’m sure Dad will be able to help us with furniture.’
Archie frowned. ‘Aye, your father. I’ve been thinking about him.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll talk him around,’ she said. ‘Jo already knows, and my gran will be no problem at all, so once I get Mum on side, Dad won’t be able to say no.’
Archie opened his mouth to speak but Cathy got in first. ‘Where’s your mum going to sleep?’
‘In the back parlour,’ Archie said. ‘It’s the same size as the room next door and bigger than the one she’s squashed into now.’
Peter came running into the room and Cathy scooped him up and on to her hip. Taking a step back she gazed around at the bare windows, peeling paint and ripped wallpaper, then up to the flex dangling, without a light bulb, from the ceiling rose.
Archie raked his fingers through his hair. ‘I know it needs a dab of paint—’
‘And a going-over with a scrubbing brush and bleach,’ said Cathy, noticing the mouse droppings in the hearth. ‘And it’s a guinea a week?’
‘Aye,’ he replied. ‘I’ll concede it’s a bit over the odds, but I’ve been all over it and there’s no damp or wood rot. Plus, I’d be happier with you all sleeping in a proper basement shelter rather than in a metal box all night. And I know it’s a bit sparse after Senrab—’
‘It’s perfect,’ said Cathy, swinging around and smiling at him.
Peter wriggled to get down and Cathy set him on his feet.
Archie raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s certainly nae that.’
Crossing the floor to where he stood, she rested her hands on his chest.
‘It is,’ she said, sliding them up and around his neck. ‘Because you’re here.’
Archie’s eyes darkened as his arms wound around her.
‘You’re a bit heavy with the swank today, aren’t you, missis,’ he said in a low voice as he drew her into his embrace.
‘Perhaps,’ she replied, tilting her head back. ‘And I grant you this is no palace, but it’s where we can start out life together.’
‘So, shall I tell them we’ll take it?’
Cathy nodded.
‘We’ll take it,’ she said, pulling Peter away from where he was swinging on the cupboard handles.
‘Grand.’ Archie strode over to the window. ‘I’ll drop by the office tomorrow and pay them two weeks’ rent in advance. I’ll request a day off on Monday and we can move in. Then Ma and Kirsty can come on Thursday so we’re all together for Easter.’
‘We should be able to sort out some furniture by then,’ said Cathy.
He nodded.
‘And finally this’ – he stretched his arm across the empty space of the bay – ‘is where I’ll set up my easel and paints to take full advantage of the afternoon and evening light.’
Cathy laughed. ‘That’s why you’re so keen on this house: for your precious paintings.’
Sidestepping Peter, who’d returned to being a train and was chugging around the room, Archie crossed the space between them in two strides and took her back into his arms.
‘I’m keen on this house because it means we can start living the rest of our lives together.’ Kissing her, his hands slipped down her back and on to her bottom. ‘Also,’ he said, tucking her against him, ‘even with a wardrobe, chest of drawers and a double bed, there’s enough room in here for a crib to tuck down the side.’
‘You’re running ahead of yourself, aren’t you?’ Cathy said, giving him a saucy look from under her lashes. ‘We’ve not moved in yet.’
‘Well, you know what the old women say, don’t you?’ he asked, the promise in his blue eyes sending excitement through her. ‘New home. New bairn.’
Cathy gazed up at him for a moment then Peter took off out of the room again.
‘Hold up there, young fella,’ shouted Archie, letting her go and tearing after her son.
Pondering if she’d like a boy or a girl first, before deciding she didn’t really care, Cathy glanced around the empty room that would soon be their home and followed them out.
Cathy, pushing her son in his pushchair, and Archie arrived back at Senrab Street just before noon. The handful of neighbours still out polishing windows and loitering on their doorsteps studied them as they walked towards Cathy’s front door.
Thinking how glad she was that this time next week she could wave all of Violet’s gossipy neighbours goodbye for ever, Cathy guided the front wheels of the pushchair down the side alley.
However, Archie caught her arm and she stopped.
‘Do you think your dad’s back from his morning rounds yet?’ he asked.
‘I should think so,’ said Cathy. ‘He only had a local delivery this morning and he’s got an unclaimed possessions auction at St Paul’s council depot this afternoon. Why?’
‘I thought I might take a stroll down and have a chat with him,’ Archie replied.
Cathy looked puzzled. ‘But I’ve already said I’ll talk him around.’
‘So you did, pet.’ He kissed her. ‘I’ll be back in a while.’
Shoving his hands in his pocket, Archie strolled off down the street in the direction of Commercial Road and Jeremiah’s yard.
Ten minutes later, having negotiated his way through the prams and shopping trolleys of the midday bargain hunters, Archie reached the end of Watney Street Market and turned right into Chapman Street.
Strolling past the coopers’ arched doorway and the garage, he came to the double green gates with ‘Brogan & Sons Home Clearance, Removals and Deliveries’ painted in bold fairground-type lettering across them.
The gates were open, and parked inside the enclosed space was an empty five-ton Bedford lorry with the same insignia painted on the side.
A goods train rattled past on the viaduct above and Archie paused.
Straightening his tie, he strolled in.
Walking between the bedsteads, washstands, sideboards and chairs stacked along one side of the arch, he headed for the space at the far end of the cavernous railway arch.
Reaching the office at the back, Archie found Jeremiah in his workaday cords and collar-less shirt hunched over a ledger on the desk.
He looked up as Archie stopped in the doorway.
‘Sergeant McIntosh,’ Jeremiah said, a broad smile lighting his face as he turned in the chair to greet him.
‘Good day to you, Mr Brogan,’ Archie replied. ‘I wonder if I might take a moment of your time.’
‘Certainly,’ Cathy’s father replied, stowing his pen behind his ear. ‘Is it some furniture you’re looking for?’
Archie gave him a half-smile. ‘In a while perhaps, but first I’d like to talk to you about Cathy.’
Although Jeremiah’s jovial expression remained, a sharp glint crept into his eye. ‘Would you now?’
‘Aye, I would,’ Archie said.
Jeremiah leaned back on the chair. ‘Perhaps I’m being a mite fanciful, but I have the feeling I’ll not be too happy when you have.’
‘You may not,’ said Archie. ‘I thought Cathy a bonny lass as soon as I met her, but living under the same roof as her these past months, ma feelings for her have changed. Knowing she was married I held myself back but on that terrible night at the Bethnal Green shelter, when I thought I’d lost her, I told her I loved her. She said she felt the same about me, so we decided to marry as soon as she had the official notification of her husband’s death. I had planned to come and speak to you once that had happened, to ask you formally for your blessing, but now I can’t.’
‘Because Stanley Wheeler’s been found,’ her father said flatly.
‘Aye,’ said Archie, feeling the weight of the other man�
�s eyes on him. ‘We’d planned to wed on the first of May but as we can’t we’ve decided to set up home together anyhow.’
Jeremiah gave him a hard look. ‘Have you now?’
‘We have,’ Archie replied, matching the other man’s forthright stare. ‘We’ve just been to look at a house at the back of Stepney Green station and, as Cathy likes it, I’ll be dropping by the rent office tomorrow. We plan to move in next Monday and I’m bringing my daughter and Ma down from Glasgow next week.’
Jeremiah gave him a wry look. ‘I have an understanding now as to why you might be in need of some furniture.’
‘I’m not best pleased about the situation we’re in as I’m wild to marry Cathy,’ Archie continued. ‘You and I both know the names Cathy will be called when she moves in with me, with or without a ring on her finger, but neither of us are prepared to live apart for one day longer than we have to, which is why I’m standing before you now. I’m sure you wanted more for Cathy than to be the common-law wife of a half-caste bastard, but I love Cathy and I swear I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life looking after her.’
Jeremiah studied him for a moment.
‘Now, as I recall, the last time we spoke on the matter, I said that it’s a rare joy to be the father of girls,’ he said, rising from his seat.
‘You did,’ said Archie. ‘And I agreed with you.’
‘And correct me if I’m wrong but didn’t I also say I’d have to be mouldering in my grave before I let anyone hurt any of them?’
Archie drew himself up and looked the older man square in the eye. ‘I remember you saying the very same.’
‘Well, I tell you now, Sergeant,’ said Jeremiah, taking a step nearer, ‘I haven’t yet fulfilled that oath as far as my darling Cathy is concerned because the police and the Secret Service got their hands on Stanley Wheeler before I did. Now, I won’t lie and say the situation between you and Cathy is exactly as I’d like it to be, but I tell you this and tell you no more: all I’ve ever wanted for my darling girls is that they find someone who loves them as much as I do. Now, I don’t care if you’re sky blue with green spots, Sergeant, if you’re that man for Cathy—’
‘I am, Mr Brogan,’ Archie said firmly. ‘I promise you, I am.’
The older man scrutinised him for a moment or two longer then offered him his hand.
Archie took it. ‘Thank you, Mr Brogan.’
They shook, then Archie gave him a querying look. ‘The Secret Service?’
‘It’s a long tale best told over a pint.’ Jeremiah punched him lightly on the upper arm. ‘And I’m thinking, Archie, it’s your round.’
Chapter Twenty-seven
‘IT’S GOING TO be a beautiful day,’ said Cathy, looking at the first few rays of spring sunlight streaking across the sky as she filled the kettle with water again.
‘It’s always a beautiful day, waking up next to you,’ Archie said, winding his arms around her waist and kissing her just below her ear.
It was the Wednesday before Palm Sunday and, as the Reveille on the Forces Service had just started, it was just after six thirty. It was also just over a week since the news arrived that Stanley had been found.
Cathy had woken up about fifteen minutes earlier to find Archie already up and having a strip wash at the sink. She was bare-footed and wore just her dressing gown wrapped around her. Archie, on the other hand, was now fully dressed except for his battle jacket, which was draped over the back of a kitchen chair.
Closing her eyes, Cathy revelled in Archie’s loving embrace for a moment then as his hand slipped between the front of her robe and across her skin, she reluctantly wriggled free.
‘You’ll be late,’ she said, putting the kettle back on the hob.
‘I’ve got five minutes yet,’ he said, drawing her back to him for a brief kiss, then letting her go.
‘Peter still not awake?’
Cathy shook her head. ‘Not yet. I’ll get him up when you’ve gone. There’s no rush. I’m popping around to Mum’s before I head off to the centre.’
Picking up his dirty breakfast crockery from the table, she slid the cup into the washing bowl in the sink. However, as she scraped the bacon rind into the pig swill bucket under the sink, the pungent smell of rotting vegetation wafted up and turned her stomach.
Cathy took a deep breath and the nausea subsided.
‘I’m expecting the official thumbs-up from HQ today,’ Archie said, sitting down and pulling on his left boot. ‘So I’ll drop by the Bancroft Estate offices and get the rent book for the house tomorrow and we can move in next week.’
‘Good,’ said Cathy. ‘I can’t wait. And I don’t care if you, me and Peter have to sleep on a mattress until we can get the furniture and before your mum and Kirsty arrive.’
‘It’s worked out well as the school’s closing for the Easter Holidays next week, so it’ll give me a chance to speak to the headmaster at Wessex Street School a few streets away from us too,’ he said, tugging his bootlaces tight.
‘Jo already knows, but it’s all happened so fast I haven’t had a chance to speak to mum, Gran or . . .’ Cathy glanced at the clock. ‘I didn’t realise the time. You’d better get a move on.’
‘I should.’
Standing up, Archie took two strides, slipping his arm around her waist.
‘See you later, sweetheart,’ he said, his ice-blue eyes hot as they gazed down into hers.
Reaching up, she smoothed her hand over his freshly shaved cheek. ‘Be careful, Archie.’
He smiled and pressed his lips on to hers for a moment then released her. However, as he did, the smell of his aftershave drifted up and Cathy’s stomach churned again.
Grabbing his jacket from the chair and opening the back door, Archie strode out.
Cathy watched him through the window as he wheeled his motorbike through the side gate then she returned to the stove. She reached for yesterday’s national loaf sitting on the bread board and her stomach heaved. She gagged. And then gagged again.
Covering her mouth with her hands, she stumbled to the back door and, headless of her bare feet, dashed across the flagstones. Yanking the lavatory door open, she stepped in. A wave of nausea rose up and Cathy planted her hands on either side of the scrubbed wooden seat and threw up.
She took a deep breath then vomited again.
She waited until her stomach had quietened then raised her head. Taking her handkerchief from her dressing-gown pocket, she wiped her mouth and straightened up.
Retying her dressing gown across her, Cathy put her hand on the rough planking of the outhouse door.
She pushed it open to find Violet, also in her dressing gown, standing on the other side.
‘Well,’ she said, giving Cathy the sweetest smile. ‘That’s something new to put in Stanley’s next letter, isn’t it?’
Archie pulled on the brake and slowed his Tiger to a stop. Planting his feet firmly on the tarmac playground, he switched off the engine.
He stepped off and heaved his bike on to its stand and then turned and raised his head. Archie studied the sun lighting the eastern sky above the rooftops. Cathy was right: it was going to be a beautiful spring day. It perfectly reflected his mood.
Satisfied his bike was securely balanced, Archie padlocked it to the railings then, grinding gravel under his boots, he strolled across to the main building.
Pushing open the door, Archie walked in and was greeted by the sound of telephones ringing, male voices and stomping feet from the floor above where the sappers were billeted.
‘Morning, Sarge!’
Archie turned.
‘Aye, so it is,’ he replied, acknowledging Smudger the clerk in the dispatch office. ‘A very good morning indeed.’
Glancing up at the blackboard where the allocations were marked up, Archie yawned.
‘Anything in yet?’
‘Not yet,’ replied Smudger from his seat behind the line of telephones on his desk. ‘But it’s still early and, after the night we had
last night, it won’t be long, and D Squad are on first call.’ He grinned. ‘Looks like the Boche kept you awake all night, too.’
Archie smiled as he remembered why he was tired.
‘Well, I’m away to grab myself a brew so tell any of my bunch of jessies who might be looking for me I’m in the canteen,’ Archie replied.
Turning, he headed towards what had been the school dining hall, but just as his hand touched the brass plate on the door someone called his name.
‘Sergeant McIntosh!’
Archie turned to see the clerk puffing down the corridor waving a yellow report slip in his hand.
‘What is it?’ asked Archie, meeting him halfway.
‘The ARP control room in Shadwell have just sent this through,’ Smudger said, handing him the report.
Archie read quickly then looked up. ‘Who’s first-call officer?’
A sympathetic expression lifted the stout corporal’s round face. ‘Lieutenant Monkman.’
Twenty minutes later, with the sun now bursting over the tops of the riverside wharfs, the police officers moved aside the yellow cordon strung across the road and waved through D Squad’s lorry. Careful not to drive the truck’s tyres over the jagged glass and nails scattered across the road, Mogg pulled hard on the steering wheel and drew up alongside the kerb in Glamis Road.
Opening the cab’s door, Archie jumped down and surveyed the scene.
The southern end of the road that ran off Cable Street was a mix of warehouses and small factories, while at the northern end of the street, by St Mary’s Church, there were residential dwellings.
Although the three-up three-down houses were still standing, their windows gaped like toothless mouths; their glass panes had been shattered in the previous night’s air raid. At the Cable Street end of the cobbled thoroughfare a heavy-rescue team was just packing up, having finished their early-morning search for survivors among the rubble. Behind them, towards the river and docks, a pall of black smoke billowed upwards, the aftermath of a bomb that wouldn’t need Archie’s attention.
The tailgate banged as the men inside scrambled out. Chalky came forward to join him.
A Ration Book Daughter Page 32