A Dangerous Act of Kindness

by A Dangerous Act of Kindness (retail) (epub)

  ‘I think I’m pretty organised. I turned out Jack’s dressing room yesterday.’

  ‘That must have been difficult.’

  ‘Not as hard as I thought.’

  She hadn’t been thinking of Jack when she folded the clothes away; she was thinking about the last time she went through the drawers, of Lukas stripping off his uniform, climbing into clothes that made him look like any other man, not a soldier at all, not even a German.

  Every room had become a shrine to Lukas’s memory and these women would spoil it.

  ‘I put a few boxes in the boot room for you to have a look through,’ she said. ‘I wondered if you wanted something of Jack’s before I hand them over to the WVS.’

  ‘No. It’s all right. Best to give it all to Mrs Wilson.’

  He pulled a face at her and his mock look of childish fear made her smile, made her forgive him, just a little. She needed an ally.

  ‘Would you stay and have supper here this evening?’ she said.

  ‘Crikey – yes, of course.’

  ‘I dread to think what they’re going to be like.’

  ‘They’ll be fine. It’ll be good to have some extra hands to help. The winter storms have scuppered some of the U-boat attacks in the Atlantic but with spring on the way, it won’t be long before we’re feeling the pinch.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘No more food coming from America, that’s what I mean. You really do need to read the papers. And who’s going to have to fill the gap? Farmers, of course. We may be a reserved occupation but we’ve got our own battles to fight up here, Millie. The battle for food is every bit as important.’

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Ruby Skinner was the type of woman who didn’t enter a room, she occupied it. Within moments of arriving, she’d flung her boots onto the floor, her coat across the back of a chair, her handbag and gas mask onto the sideboard and swung a small suitcase onto the kitchen table. This she opened and began to rummage around inside. So this is it, Millie thought, the invasion has begun. She’d spent days checking the house for evidence that may give her away but still the world around her felt insecure and dangerous.

  ‘I’ve got something in here for you,’ Ruby said as she searched. She was an attractive woman in a grubby sort of way, hair swept up into a Victory roll showing off her strong cheekbones and large eyes. ‘Didn’t manage to save a thing from the house but I’d stood for bleedin’ hours in that queue and I weren’t going to leave the damn thing behind.’

  For someone who had failed to save anything, a great deal of rubbish was tumbling from the case onto the floor.

  ‘Ah, here it is – oops, it’s a bit high.’ She handed a package over to Millie, greaseproof paper stained with blood, ‘soak it in vinegar overnight, cook it up and no one’ll know the difference.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Millie said. The package flopped soft and warm in her hands.

  ‘Open it up then – it’s not going to bite you.’ Ruby gave a cackle of laughter. ‘Well, it might, seeing it’s been sat in that train all those hours.’

  Hugh was bumping another case in through the door, the figure of the second girl standing in the shadows behind him.

  ‘Goodness, something’s humming – Gyp!’

  ‘It’s not the dog,’ Ruby said, ‘it’s the snoek.’

  ‘Snoek?’

  Millie laid the package on the table, peeled back the paper and stared at the lumps of meat.

  ‘It’s not on ration,’ Ruby said, ‘that’s how I got hold of it. Had to bring something with me, what with you being so kind as to put me up. Right, where am I sleeping?’ She crashed the lid back onto the case, underwear and scarves escaping around the edges and set off towards the staircase.

  Oh, Christ, Millie thought, folding the paper back over the snoek, where’s she going now? Give her half a chance and the ruddy woman will take my room.

  And she tried her damnedest but Millie steered her on down the corridor, herded her into the spare room and fled.

  When she made it back to the kitchen, the package had gone but not the smell. It reminded her of Dr Wilson’s pipe-smoker’s breath with a sting of ammonia in the background. It hung heavy in the air and clung to her hands. Perhaps Hugh had chucked the horrid stuff away.

  She went straight over to the kitchen bowl to wash her hands, sniffing at them several times before soaping them again.

  ‘It’s whale meat,’ a small voice said behind her.

  She spun round, peered at the empty kitchen but then she spotted her, the other girl, watching her from the shadows of the kitchen corridor. Why didn’t she come right in? Everyone else did.

  ‘Hello,’ Millie said, drying her hands. ‘Where did Hugh go?’

  ‘He took it outside.’

  ‘Come through. Come on. Would you like to take your coat off?’

  ‘I’ll keep it on if it’s all the same to you.’

  Timid as a mouse. There’s one upstairs who thinks she owns the place and one here who’s too frightened to move.

  ‘I didn’t catch your name.’

  ‘June Russell.’

  ‘Well, it’s very nice to meet you, June,’ she said as she beckoned at her to come nearer.

  Finally the girl sidled forward into the light and it was then that Millie noticed the edge of her coat was bunched up in the fist of a small hand.

  ‘And who’s this?’ she said.

  ‘Danny! Come out and say hello.’

  He was probably no older than seven or eight and he slid around from behind his mother, stuffing the fabric of her coat against his face. June tugged it away from him and propelled him into the room.

  ‘Hello, Danny,’ Millie said but the boy took fright and slipped back behind his mother.

  However old was she, this dumpy girl with a sallow skin, a rash of angry spots scattered across her forehead? The boy tugged at her sleeve and she bent to listen. He whispered in her ear.

  ‘Could we use the privy?’ June said.

  ‘Of course – it’s down there, first door on the left.’

  The boy hauled on her hand, pulling back into the shadows. His mother knelt down and said, ‘It’s all right. I’ll come,’ then looked at Millie and said, ‘he doesn’t like the dark, see.’ He whispered something to his mother who said to Millie, ‘Are there animals out there?’

  Millie was baffled. ‘Out where?’

  ‘Outside.’

  ‘Yes – but nothing that’ll hurt you and you don’t have to go outside again tonight.’

  ‘He needs the privy,’ the girl said in an urgent whisper.

  Hugh strode in from the corridor and squatted down next to the boy.

  ‘Thing is, old chap,’ he said, ‘you don’t have to go outside. Mrs Sanger here has not just one, but two privies inside the house, can you believe? Come on, I’ll show you.’ He took the boy by the hand, shooting Millie an exasperated look.

  What was that meant to mean? Did he think she’d intentionally tried to embarrass them? As they disappeared, she heard Hugh say, ‘I know it seems awfully dark out here in the country, but we’re as safe as houses. No one can see you in the dark – not even the Jerries.’

  The girl went to follow them, changed her mind and stood awkwardly in the centre of the kitchen. She looked so shabby, so lost, that Millie felt a wave of pity.

  ‘It must be very odd and frightening for him,’ she said.

  The girl shook her head. ‘He’s never been out of London.’

  ‘I’ll show you where you’re sleeping. I’ve put you in the big room. I didn’t know about Danny but that’s OK – I could make a bed up on the floor with cushions and things.’

  ‘He can sleep in my bed,’ the girl said. ‘He’s been doing that for a long time – since Bill left.’

  ‘Your husband?’ The girl nodded. ‘Is he away fighting?’

  ‘North Africa, fighting the Wops.’

  ‘Danny must miss him.’

  ‘He don’t remember him that well.’
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  ‘That’s sad.’

  ‘All done and dusted,’ Hugh said. He and Danny seemed to be sharing a joke.

  ‘What’s amused you two?’ Millie said.

  Hugh cupped his mouth with the back of his hand and said in a stage whisper, ‘I was just telling Danny that Gyp wouldn’t eat the snoek.’ He pulled a face at the little boy. ‘I’ve left it in the yard – I wouldn’t be surprised if the foxes turn their noses up at it. Now Danny, let’s go upstairs and see where you and your mummy are sleeping.’

  Millie watched them go, wishing she had Hugh’s easy manner. When he came back downstairs he came over to Millie and said quietly,

  ‘You sure you’ll be all right with this lot, Mills? They’re nothing like the Farrows – East Enders apparently.’

  Ruby clattered into the kitchen in a cloud of cigarette smoke, June sliding in a few minutes later. She had finally discarded her overcoat but still wore a housecoat as if she’d come to char. Danny refused to eat anything other than the bread. The women picked at the rabbit in the stew and left the carrots. They ate the potatoes.

  ‘Never mind,’ Ruby said, stabbing away at a front tooth with her nail, ‘Nice bit of snoek tomorrow, eh?’

  Hugh looked up at the ceiling, narrowing his eyes as if he was squinting at the sun and Danny fidgeted in his chair. June told him to stop wriggling. He looked straight at Hugh and opened his mouth to say something. Hugh jumped to his feet and said, ‘Bedtime for you, young fellow. You must be feeling absolutely bushed.’ He hurried him out. June followed and took the boy upstairs. When Hugh wandered back into the kitchen, he raised his eyebrows and pointed at the ceiling. Millie could hear Danny crying and pleading, his mother telling him to shush.

  ‘Christ almighty,’ Ruby said, drawing down a deep lungful of smoke, ‘that boy needs his legs stung.’

  ‘It’s all a bit new, I suppose – frightening,’ Hugh said. ‘Pop up and see if they’re OK, Millie,’ and he gave her one of those forceful looks.

  * * *

  Millie climbed the stairs. Already the house smelt different; cigarette smoke and a stale smell, like the inside of a biscuit tin mixed with cheap perfume. She wondered how long it would take for her to get used to it; or would these people absorb the smell of the country the longer they lived here?

  She stood in the doorway of the bedroom for a few minutes, watching June trying to make the boy lie down but he went on whining and grizzling until it was almost unbearable. Should have sent Ruby up. She’d have got the poor little blighter to lie down.

  He looked so pitiful in his vest and pants, thin and small and as she watched him wriggling and twisting to sit up, another emotion rose inside her and she said, ‘Why don’t you bring him back down? We could take the counterpane and he could go to sleep on the sofa in the sitting room. He’d be able to hear us chatting and he’d be warm by the fire. You can carry him up later.’

  June and the boy stared at her, unsure. She went down the corridor, fetched an old working shirt for a makeshift dressing gown, turned up the sleeves and tied a cord around the middle. They wrapped him up in the counterpane and carried him back downstairs.

  Hugh had brought over a jar of his homemade cider and once Danny was settled, the four of them gathered around the lamp on the kitchen table while Ruby held court.

  ‘The moment I’d got my hands on that snoek, I was off down the shelter, I can tell you.’ Ruby helped herself to another glass of cider and lit a cigarette. ‘I says to this bloke, “What’s going on up there?” and he says, “The sea’s on fire,” he says, “The docks are on fire.” You could hear incendiaries clattering down like stones on the roofs. Then the bombing started.’

  ‘How long did it go on for?’

  ‘Oh, hours and hours. And when we came out of the shelter the next morning, I thought, This don’t look right. There were hoses everywhere, there was water everywhere, there was electricity cables everywhere and there was a terrible pong of gas and earth and as I turned the corner… it was all gone. My whole street burned completely out. Nothing. There was nothing left at all.’

  Ruby pulled the newspaper towards her and pointed at the picture.

  ‘The fireman says, “If they touch the dome, we’ve bleedin’ had it; but if they don’t touch the dome, we’re OK.” The dome was OK but we weren’t. Not till I come here, eh?’ she said as she reached across the table and grabbed Millie by the hand.

  Millie spotted the wedding band on her finger.

  ‘Where’s your husband?’ she asked.

  ‘Nip was over Northolt last time I heard – ground crew with the 604s…’ Ruby clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Uh-oh,’ she said, ‘loose lips sink ships.’

  ‘And what about you June?’ Hugh said. ‘Do you have someone out there fighting?’

  ‘North Africa,’ she said.

  ‘Brave man.’

  ‘They’re all brave men, our lads,’ Ruby said, taking in a languid lungful of smoke and blowing it in a jet towards Hugh.

  Chapter Forty

  The army truck wagon nosed through the crowds of travellers in the concourse, past soldiers with kit bags, sweethearts kissing, porters rumbling by with tottering loads of cases. The front windows were rolled down, the smell of soot and engine oil floating in on the steamy air. The thicker the crowd became, the more sweat beaded the lieutenant’s upper lip. He seemed more nervous than his prisoner. Lukas sat in the back seat, squeezed between a couple of soldiers, keeping his eyes down. Once this bit is over, he thought, I’ll be in a regular prisoner of war camp. Finally, I’ll be with my own people.

  The station wagon pushed through to the platform and the guards pulled Lukas out from the back. God, how he wished he’d never burned his uniform. They’d given him a jacket of heavyweight twill, the back covered with a huge black circle, marking him a Nazi.

  ‘I’m not a Nazi,’ he said.

  ‘Bully for you,’ the soldier in supply said.

  ‘I’m not wearing it.’

  ‘Look, mate. It’s here on my sheet, clear as day. You’re Luftwaffe. Take the ruddy jacket.’

  I am marked out, he thought, branded as a fanatic as a star marks a Jew.

  Underneath the vast, echoing dome of the station, filled with steam and noise, the crowd jostled and pushed, intent on getting on the train but then a shout went up, ‘It’s a ruddy Jerry.’ People turned, the press of bodies surging towards them.

  The lieutenant pushed him forward, opened the door of a reserved carriage and shouted at him to hurry. He saw faces pressed to the windows further along the train, their mouths twisted, their fists raised.

  A woman pushed through the crowd, dodging around the soldiers. The lieutenant grabbed at her arm, but as he spun her away she pursed her lips and spat in Lukas’s face. It struck him on the eyebrow, dribbled over his lid and down his cheek. When he wiped it away with his sleeve, he smelt nicotine.

  The soldiers pushed him onto the train and he stumbled against the partition. The door slammed. The train guard blew his whistle then shouted at people on the platform to get back. The carriages jerked, crashed together and slowly started to pull away, the sea of twisted faces speeding and blurring as the train gathered momentum.

  As the guards shoved him along the corridor, Lukas peered into the carriages and recognised German uniforms and there, to his immense joy, a face he knew – rabbit teeth, prematurely receding hairline. It was Fischer. He hammered on the glass and Fischer looked up, his odd face breaking into a huge grin.

  ‘Go on then,’ the lieutenant said wearily, pulling the door open. Lukas struggled over the legs of the Kriegsmarine officers, lounging in their seats and squeezed in next to Fischer, shaking him by the hand.

  ‘Lukas, my dear friend. How delightful that we’re both personal guests of King George of England for the duration of this dreadful war.’

  Good old Walter.

  ‘I thought you were dead,’ Lukas said. The last time he saw Walter’s plane, he had a Spitfire right on his tail, hammeri
ng bullets into him, the aluminium of the wings peeling back into quivering springs in the airflow. He saw him bail out, knew he was far too high and watched as his friend slumped unconscious in his parachute harness.

  ‘I bailed out, pulled my chute too early.’

  ‘I saw.’

  ‘Just before I blacked out I had this silly thought…’ Walter began to laugh, his face reddening, tears squeezing out from the corners of his eyes. He kept trying to speak but the words came out as squeaks and splutters.

  ‘I didn’t hear a word of that,’ Lukas said, laughing himself now.

  ‘I thought… Oh, stop it Lukas. Stop making me laugh.’ He took a deep breath, gave one more bellow of laughter and said, ‘I thought it was going to take me so damned long to reach the ground, that the rest of you would be back in France having dinner by the time I landed.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose we would have been except I came down after you.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Pulled my shoulder right out of…’ but even as they laughed Lukas knew he must keep his story to himself. ‘Pulled my shoulder really badly, landed in a tree.’

  ‘A tree?’ Walter said and was off again. ‘And once you’d fallen out of your tree, what did you do?’

  ‘Walked around for days. I thought I could make it back to the coast…’ On they chattered. Walter had been held somewhere else in London, he had no idea where but unlike Lukas, he had company.

  ‘Talk is we’re being sent up north.’

  ‘The invasion?’

  Fischer shook his head. ‘Not likely. That submariner there,’ he said pointing to a pale young man sitting opposite who was working down the cuticles of his nails, ‘says the tides are all wrong now, right into the spring.’

  ‘We can wait’ Lukas said. ‘It’ll come, my friend. Mark my words.’

  Fischer dropped his voice and said, ‘Did you see the landing craft when we flew out from France?’

  ‘Yes. Quite a flotilla.’

  ‘They’re not though, Lukas. They’re little more than river barges. They’ll be useless in open water.’