Readying up his belongings, he made his way up the alley towards a tap behind one of the shops where he would freshen up. Dusk was beginning to fall; if he got a move on he would be able to make it to the old bakery shop. Old Frank had always been good to him in the past and would give him any left-overs after the day’s business. All the local merchants knew him and had always backed him up in the bad times but it wouldn’t be long before word was out and the authorities would be looking for him. Unsure of whom he could trust, he knew he would have to leave the immediate area soon. Where would he go after he had seen Frank?
Suddenly he remembered Bob, a family friend, who lived in Camden Town. Bob had relatives and contacts all over the city and was really in the know. He had a little pawnshop and had a bit of a locksmith business going. He’d heard talk that Bob’s business involved some shady stuff, just hearsay but Alex always assumed that he earned a bit on the side with a little safe cracking orthodox and unorthodox. Being situated in north London, in Camden Town, Bob was far enough away from the immediate area which would suit Alex just fine.
Camden Town was vaguely familiar to Alex from the time he and his mother had lived there during the war. They had spent time in Chalk Farm, Regents Park and Primrose Hill. Yes that’s what he would do; he would head for Camden Town and call on Bob. With a bit of luck he would be able to do some odd jobs for him and might learn a bit about the trade, locks and security systems had always fascinated him. His spirits lifted. Renewed strength and vigour surged through his veins.
“Yes,” he shouted, “I’m resilient, that’s what I am. Me mam always said that.”
Chapter 2
London’s War
Alex’s father, James, had been a docker in the Southampton Docks and fortunately his work had been fairly steady. He felt proud of the fact that he had played a part, albeit small, in the development of that area, particularly the Western Docks where construction had begun in the late 1920s and ran until the early 1930s, allowing for much larger vessels to be accommodated.
Upon completion of the docks, James participated in the dismantling of all the fixtures from the Mauretania, a massive passenger ship which had been constructed in the early 1900s. The vessel was being taken out of service by ‘The Cunard Line’ as it was superseded by the ‘Queens’ and considered obsolete. Following a varied career, the Mauretania was initially a passenger ship, then a hospital and troopship during WW1 and was subsequently refitted at Southampton to resume service as a passenger ship in its later years. A huge auction was held in the docks of all the ship’s fixtures and fittings prior to the vessel heading north for disassembling in 1935.
James had met Grace, his future bride, just by chance when they collided in the High Street and her groceries were strewn half way down the street. Rushing to salvage what they could and colliding once again, they collapsed on the pavement helpless with laughter. The following weeks found them madly in love and typical of lovers with no rationality they married at the first opportunity.
When their baby boy was born they were completely besotted. One night James suggested they move to Primrose Hill in London where his aging mother was living.
“Grace dear, you have no family or relatives and mum can really help out with the little lad. It would really take the load off my mind if you’re agreeable.”
The suggestion made sense, so they uprooted and moved to London.
****
James’ mother had a ground floor suite in one of the large Victorian houses nestled amongst the many bordering Primrose Hill. Beautiful homes with detailed lace curtain panels hanging in the bay windows surrounded by embossed brickwork and elaborate mouldings. Unfortunately, her mother-in-law’s house had fallen into disrepair but the living space seemed huge compared to their recent accommodation, with three bedrooms and plenty of room to accommodate all of them. Grace found the kitchen almost intolerable, however, nothing much but an alcove with a curtain across to block it from the rest of the living space. The lack of space in the alcove was coupled with the lack of gas. She had noticed that they were getting less and less gas for their money, because typical of those times, the greedy landlord adjusted the meter practically every time he came, forcing Grace and her mother-in-law to put more and more shillings in the slot. Once the shilling’s worth of gas had been used, it would automatically shut off. Cooking a meal was becoming more and more expensive, and cold food became the norm to conserve energy.
The house had been the family home but as her mother-in-law had been widowed when she lost her husband in WW1 and left with children, she had no option but to sell. The buyer immediately divided the house up into flats and crammed as many people in as he could. James’ mother was very accepting of the situation, although it must have been heartbreaking to see the change in her old home but she was getting on in years and didn’t want to move from the area. A lovely patio garden, not huge but very beautiful with a paved courtyard and a big wrought iron gate bordering the front of the property, had been kept up reasonably well. The back garden, however, was completely overgrown, unused for many years and left to go wild, evidenced by the gorgeous perfumed dog rose which threatened to overcome every other plant in the garden, being extremely invasive by nature. It was interesting to note that because citrus fruits were unavailable during these pre-war times, the government was encouraging people to gather rose hips wherever possible for the vitamin C, which their diet sorely lacked. Even back in ancient times, rosehips had been recognised for their medicinal qualities. In fact Grace had read that the great Roman Naturalist Pliny (AD 23) upheld the belief that the dog rose was named such because the root cured the bite of a mad dog.
The long narrow lot was surrounded by a huge red brick wall, common in Victorian houses. Grace would sometimes venture onto the perimeter fascinated by the abundance of life. Because of the garden’s unkempt state it was home for many little creatures, weaving their way in and around the tangled undergrowth and undisturbed wilderness. A massive blackberry bush trailed down the wall with the biggest, sweetest blackberries Grace had ever seen or tasted for that matter. She would gather them into a bowl and make pies, cramming as many into the oven as would fit to conserve power. No self-respecting Brit would turn the oven on unless every available bit of space was put to use.
One night at dinner, Grace broached the subject she had been pondering all day. She had not wanted to belittle James in any way but he still hadn’t found permanent work and it was getting impossible to manage.
“James, I’ve been offered a very good steady position in service with a really well-to-do family and I want to take the job. It makes sense, at least until you get fixed up.”
Finally, after hashing it out, they both decided that it was indeed for the best and Grace rattled on while she had the advantage.
“And the great thing is that Miranda, that’s the lady of the house, said I could take little Alex with me. They have a lovely nursery and it couldn’t have worked out better for us at this time. Your mum isn’t up to looking after the baby for any length of time; she needs to rest as she’s very frail.”
Knowing Grace was right, James gratefully acquiesced.
Miranda treated Grace very well and even offered her more work as a nanny in between her domestic chores. Miranda loved little Alex as did the family children and it was a very workable arrangement all round. Grace managed to make ends meet with difficulty as she had never been physically strong. A weak heart aggravated the situation causing her to suffer extreme exhaustion. Miranda was kind and knowing Grace’s medical condition went easy on her and made allowances for her bouts of ill health.
****
It was September 3, 1939. Grace was taking the opportunity to relax for a few moments before starting lunch. Her mother-in-law was dozing in the old rocking chair. She had been worried about the old lady who was not herself and seemed to have given up of late. Her gnarled arthritic fingers picked through her food like a small bird foraging for fragments and she spent an inor
dinate amount of time sleeping, as did her little grandson, who was again sleeping soundly in his crib without a care in the world, while his father was out looking for work.
With the growing unrest and threat of war, James didn’t have to look for employment long because he was conscripted by the government. Initially, young men of 20 and 21 years were required to take six months’ military training and the RAF had taken over part of Primrose Hill for training purposes. Gradually other age groups were included in the conscription program and soon well over one million joined the forces, the majority going into the Army.
All the uncertainties of life passed through Grace’s mind, not the least the recent conversation with her boss. One day, Miranda had sat Grace down in the kitchen.
“I’m sorry Grace but I’m closing up the house. The war is getting much too close to home and I am taking the kids to the country. I’ll not be back with them until after this is all over.”
Miranda’s voice droned on but Grace barely heard. She was stunned and had been relying on the money. Her mind desperately sought a solution.
“Yes, I’ll be staying with my sister until this has all blown over. How will you manage, do you think you’ll be alright?”
How empty the words seemed to Grace. Miranda had already made her plans and was leaving. Why was she bothering to placate her at this point in the game?
****
Grace sat up abruptly when suddenly broadcasting was interrupted to bring the announcement of the onset of war. Neville Chamberlain, the British Prime Minister, announced that a state of war existed between Britain and Germany.
The enemy started bombing steadily at first; nobody could have imagined what was to come. Nevertheless, in anticipation of the worst, the evacuation of London began and continued for the next few days. Hundreds of cars poured out of the city crammed with families, pets and belongings, in fact anything that could be jammed into the vehicles. They were fleeing to the country. The railway cancelled their plans for their pending strike and herded hundreds of little cockney children into the carriages. They were being evacuated to the country where it was considered they would be safe. Their mothers, bewildered, watched their departure, completely lost without their offspring, wondering when and if they would see them again.
British troops got ready for the onslaught, and mingled with the crowd singing all the old songs, some of which had actually been sung in the First World War. Their enthusiastic patriotism and hilarity spurred everybody on to join with them in the gaiety. All banded together with hearts filled with hope and no idea of what was about to hit them.
Increasing to massive proportions, enemy aircraft filled the heavens and disgorged their bombs unmercifully for more than two months with catastrophic ramifications, changing the face of London forever.
Previous merriment was very soon forgotten. Londoners who did not evacuate now stayed in their homes. Not only did the Blitz bring the city to its knees but also major cities such as Southampton, Liverpool, Manchester and others. One third of London was wiped out superseding that of the Great Fire of London 300 years previously. If the enemy had not been deployed back to Russia, the horror would have continued. The British public enraged at the carnage vowed that what had been started by the German dictator would be continued relentlessly until every vestige of Nazism was overcome and wiped off the face of the earth.
During the Blitz, huge numbers of people forced their way into the underground station seeking protection from the ‘reign of terror’, which caused the government to reconsider its view that it was not economically viable during wartime to develop the underground as deep shelters running under existing train lines. Several sites were proposed and agreed upon for fitting out as shelters. These were developed in a timely fashion and proved to be of triple value; as a protection for thousands against the onslaught of bombs and following the war, as housing for the Caribbean immigrants and later forming the basis for the new high speed underground tube line development.
****
James was to be shipped out overseas in the morning. The young couple held each other as if their very lives depended on it. They talked and they loved, then they talked again. Fear was in their eyes and echoed in James’ words.
“Tomorrow we’ll leave our homes and everything that is precious to us. We’ll travel paths strewn with monstrous happenings, wishing our feet could follow another course. We won’t take life, living, loving, or in fact anything for granted ever again because we’ll evolve into different beings and those we love and cherish will also evolve because of the shear fear or reality of losing their loved ones. Oh but it were for a better cause than war, but out of this spiritual metamorphosis will come resilience. Those of us that survive will be strong and those that survive and don’t evolve will weaken and die; but you my love are strong, you will survive and evolve to love and nurture our son through the years, possibly without his father by your side. So be brave my dear, we are as untried children in the face of such adversity, only our strength will see us through.”
****
War had been raging for four torturous years, the suffering and hardship incalculable both to those valiant souls on the front and those at home bearing the loss of their loved ones. And such was the state of poor Grace.
The telegram lay on the floor and she sat, drained of all energy. Her young husband was dead just as the allies were winning the battle and there was a glimmer of hope that the war would be ending soon. She was never to recover from her grief and neither did her mother-in-law who passed away shortly after.
Grace received a very small widow’s allowance from the Army as the wife of a non-commissioned officer. As was the case for many service women, the money was not enough to provide for them adequately, particularly if they had small children. Grace had managed to hang on for as long as she could but with a burden of too high rent decided to move closer into town which, although under heavy siege, offered her a better chance of earning something to supplement her pension. She would give it a shot she decided and if it didn’t work out she would take Alex back down south where she had been born. In the interim, she would get in touch with Frank, an old family friend, who owned a bakery closer to the city centre. He would look out for both of them and see them right. Having made a decision, she felt moderately better about her situation. Her Army pension would help until she was able to get some sort of work.
****
The death of the Nazi dictator by his own hand brought about an end to the war. British casualties, while not as high as WW1, were still astronomical. The nation went berserk with joy, singing and dancing in the streets celebrating the end of the wanton killing. Their misery had been exacerbated by years of shortages and food rationing, which unbeknownst to the citizens was to continue on until 1954. Basic necessities such as no hot water and other needs were just a fact of life for many.
Winston Churchill gave his great victory speech and the Royals mingled with the crowds and made appearances on the balcony at Buckingham Palace. The drinkers got drunk and the more pious prayed and gave thanks to their God in the few churches that remained, the majority of those re-built after the great fire of London had been annihilated yet again in this war but the faith lived on.
There were many who were never able to get their lives together again; sorrow over the loss of their loved ones was all encompassing, sapping them of all purpose and motivation rendering them incapable of avoiding the black pit of despair. These poor wretches neither gave thanks nor succumbed to drink.
****
It was 1946 when Grace moved to Clapham with her seven year old son.
Shortly after the end of the war, emphasis was placed on re-building London and housing thousands of displaced and homeless people. The first council high-rise came into being. Grace put her name down for one of the flats but many citizens were in the same boat and as she needed work, she was forced to take accommodation above a second-hand shop which, although adequate, was in an area which left a lot
to be desired but it came with the added benefit that she was hired on a part-time basis to work in the shop. The pay was menial but it meant that she could spend time with Alex.
One day Grace saw a small ad in the little café down the road for a part-time waitress. The owner liked her and thought she would be good for trade so he hired her for the early evening shift. Grace was overjoyed, she now had two part-time jobs which worked for her and Alex, and things started to pick up for them. She knew she was not in good shape growing weaker daily but with the new National Health Service which had been brought about following the general election in 1945, she was able to get assistance. Grace, however, was losing the fight, her breathing becoming laboured with even the slightest exertion.
Remembering the last words of her sweet husband, she taught her son resilience and the basic necessities he should always keep to hand. She taught him how to survive on little when there was little of anything, how to sew when the clothes were falling off his back, how to cook and eat when there was little in the pantry and most of all, she taught him to put bitterness aside when life was taking everything he loved and to believe in magic. This she would always emphasise.
“Because magic is all around us,” she would say. “We may have to dig for it but it’s there just the same, and magic blots out all the bad things that can happen to us, and son,” accentuating every word, “If you find you’re ever on your own, you go to Uncle Frank.”
Whenever she said that, Alex started to get worried.
“But mum you’re here, we’re together, we’re strong and we can handle things.”
“Now listen to me. I’m dead serious. If you ever find yourself in trouble or alone, just go to Uncle Frank. Do you hear me?”
He could see she always got agitated at this point trying to catch her breath and dropped the subject hastily.
“Now mum,” he would say, “What about a nice cup of tea?”
That always did it and brought everything back to where it was supposed to be.
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