East End Angel (21 page)

‘This won’t ’ang about, gel.’

The chair was tempting. Perhaps she could disguise its ugliness with a blanket?

‘I don’t want any wheels going wonky like this one did,’ Pearl warned him.

‘Good as new, these are. Some posh kid’s been sat in there. No stinky drawers ’ave graced that leather, no, sir.’

‘All right then, I’ll take it.’

‘You won’t be sorry, love.’

‘I hope not.’ Pearl watched him lift the big pram on his cart. With a wave and wink, he departed and Pearl started off home. She couldn’t make up her mind if she liked the pushchair or not, but Cynthia seemed to like it. She could rest her feet on the footrest and look around.

Gwen and Fitz came out of the shop when they saw her. ‘What have you got there?’

‘It’s a pushchair.’

‘We can see that.’

‘It’s off Percy Flint’s cart.’ She was embarrassed as she helped Cynthia out and took off the blanket.

‘What happened to the other one?’

‘We did a swap.’

Gwen grinned. ‘I hope that old scoundrel paid you to take it?’

Pearl blushed. ‘It don’t look much but it pushes well.’

‘It ain’t that bad,’ said Fitz. ‘And it won’t take up no room.’

‘Your sister came home a minute or two ago.’ Gwen lowered her voice as she leaned close. ‘I give her a tin of sardines and a small piece of cheese. It was no more than the size of me thumb, but I wouldn’t let no one else have it. She looked a bit upset to me.’

‘Upset?’

‘Yes, you’d better run up and see.’

When Pearl and Cynthia walked in, Ruby rushed towards them. ‘Pearl, I’ve got a letter!’

Pearl’s heart sank. It always did when there was news from Ricky. Pearl had hoped the novelty of being engaged had worn off for Ruby, but being parted from him had made Ruby’s heart grow fonder.

‘Ricky’s home!’ Ruby gabbled, shaking the piece of paper. ‘This is from the matron of a hospital. She’s writing for Ricky as he can’t write himself Ruby pushed the letter into Pearl’s hands. ‘See, it’s somewhere called Brawton Manor in Surrey and used for wounded officers.’

Pearl read the first few lines. The writing was neat and precise, written on white paper with a printed address.

‘Is he wounded then?’ Pearl asked hoarsely.

‘She says his hands are bandaged, that’s why she’s writing for him. And she’s given a telephone number. Told me to ring on Sunday morning when she’s on duty.’

Pearl tried to think what this meant. But fear was freezing her thoughts. ‘Will you phone?’ she asked hesitantly.

‘Yes, course. I wish Gwen and Fitz had one. I’ll have to go to the box by the park.’ Ruby clutched the letter to her. ‘She doesn’t say he’s bad. She would, wouldn’t she, if it was something serious?’

Pearl could only nod. What did this mean? Was Ricky seriously wounded? She knew Ruby was worried. What was going through her mind? The same things, probably, that would be going through hers if Jim was injured.

‘I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight,’ Ruby said unhappily. ‘I wish she’d written what was wrong with him.’

‘Try not to get upset.’ But Pearl knew Ruby wouldn’t rest until she found out the extent of Ricky’s injuries.

When Pearl climbed out of bed the next morning, it was cloudy and grey. Had Ruby managed any sleep? Looking from the window, she saw a few people making their way to church. She liked to see everyone in their Sunday best clothes. She felt a twinge of guilt when she thought how she hadn’t found time to have Cynthia baptized. Perhaps she would have it done when Cynthia was older. Her mind flew to Ricky. Why couldn’t he use his hands? Were they his only injuries? Maybe they were serious and that was why the matron hadn’t said more. Would Ruby still want to be engaged?

Cynthia stirred in her cot, which, now she was sixteen months old, was a small bed as the bars on either side had been removed. Cynthia rubbed her eyes and grinned, showing her two white front teeth. Pearl loved her baby smell, though it was gradually fading. As she sat her on the little wooden chair incorporating a potty, Cynthia chuckled. ‘Done wee-wee.’

‘Good girl.’

Pearl was glad that Cynthia no longer needed nappies. The old towels cut into strips were becoming harder to find and took a long time to wash and dry. Now she needed only clean knickers.

‘Let’s wake Aunty Ruby.’

Hand in hand they went along the hall, but when they went into Ruby’s room the camp bed was folded up. Pearl found a hastily scribbled note in the kitchen.

‘Gone to telephone.’

Pearl sat Cynthia on the chair. ‘Draw me a picture and I’ll make porridge. We’ll listen to the wireless, see if there’s anything about where Daddy could be.’

‘Daddy!’ Cynthia shouted.

‘Yes, your handsome Daddy,’ Pearl smiled as she switched on the set. She had shown Cynthia Jim’s picture on the dresser every day, so when he came home he wouldn’t seem a stranger.

As she made breakfast, Pearl tried not to think about Ruby and the telephone call. Instead she concentrated on the news. Though Jim hadn’t said where he was after El Alamein, he’d joked in a letter about throwing away his slippers. She took this to mean he’d left the desert and might be with the British Army in Italy. Perhaps he’d be able to give her a hint in his next letter. When would he be home?

She longed to buy some clothes again. She had taken such a pride in her appearance once. Now she, too, had joined the ranks of utility wearers. Would Jim recognize her when he came home?

Cynthia blew bubbles and Pearl laughed. ‘You’re a card, you are, just like your dad. Look at the mess you’re making!’

‘Daddy ’ome soon,’ gurgled Cynthia. She’d heard Pearl say this so often, she knew it by heart.

Just then the door burst open. Ruby came rushing in. She was wearing a jumper and slacks and breathlessly slid off her bicycle clip. ‘I didn’t sleep a wink and was up early.’

‘Sit down, porridge is ready.’

‘I can’t eat. Me stomach’s in a knot. Hello, Cynth, love.’

‘Did you speak to the matron?’ asked Pearl.

‘Yes, she told me the hospital was once a country house owned by a very rich family.’

‘Don’t they live there now?’

‘No, they’ve gone away.’

‘Did you find out any more about Ricky?’

‘Yes, his ship was torpedoed as it followed the German battleship
Tirpitz.’
Ruby pulled out a chair and sank down. ‘Don’t know much about it meself. But there was a fire on board and all the crew had to jump in the freezing water. It was somewhere near Norway and the sea is freezing. Ricky got dragged in a lifeboat, but he was burned by the burning oil that floated on the surface.’

‘Was it just his hands?’

‘No, his chest and shoulder is burned but she said he’s in good spirits and is being treated by the doctors.’

‘How long will he have to stay there?’

‘I didn’t ask.’

‘Will he go back in the navy?’

‘I don’t know that either. She said I could visit and I’ll find out everything then. The train stops at Brawton station and there’s a bus I can catch to the Manor. She offered to make arrangements for me to stay overnight at the local pub.’

‘Surrey is a long way to go.’

‘I told her I’d have to ask me boss for a Saturday morning off.’

Pearl knew that Ruby was very upset and trying not to show it. ‘This place might be a manor but it’s still a hospital, after all. It won’t be just coughs and sneezes,’ she warned.

‘I know that. I’ve done first aid, haven’t I?’

‘Yes, but you’re not very good when it comes to the sight of blood,’ Pearl pointed out.

Ruby smiled. ‘If I faint they can put me in a bed next to Ricky.’

‘Come on, eat your breakfast.’ Pearl knew that Ruby was putting on a brave face but what was the real extent of Ricky’s injuries?

Jim lay on his chest, his rifle beside him, as he peered through the green Italian grass at the foot of the hill. He was trying to take a breath but the air was full of dust. Not the desert dust that was dry and hot. But the dust that had rolled down the lush green hill, was full of the bitter taste of exploding shell.

His unit had been surveying a possible route up to the summit of the hill. A few hours ago a Benedictine monastery had been perched there. Now it was in ruins. For the past few days the noise of the assault had been deafening. Massed formations of American bombers had dropped bomb after bomb on the historic building. The Allied command had told them the monastery was occupied by the enemy. But Jim had his doubts. Even Jerry wouldn’t desecrate a place so venerated, would they? And there had been little or no return gunfire during the onslaught. The sky was a pall of smoke billowing over the once beautiful Italian landscape.

‘It can’t be right to do what we did to such a holy place!’ exclaimed Reg, the young soldier beside him. Jim hadn’t known him long, only since he’d been drafted out of Africa in the advance to the Italian capital. Like Jim, Reg had been at El Alamein. Instead of the leave they’d hoped to get they found themselves in the thick of it again. Now Monte Cassino seemed as much of a killing field as the desert, and Jim was sick of it. He agreed with Reg. It was a crime to have razed the old monastery to the ground.

‘You reckon Jerry was in situ before we came?’ asked Reg as he huddled close to Jim.

Jim merely shrugged. To demolish such a landmark was like wiping St Paul’s off the map. And surely it was clear to the top brass that now there were ruins up there, the enemy had a better chance of holding the hill. Any attempt to drive through to Cassino would take longer.

A volley of gunfire shook the ground. Jim ducked, burying his face in the brittle woodland floor. Strafing whistled past his boots sending a spray of earth in the air. He dared to glance skyward. A plummeting silver bird, entrapped in a plume of smoke, was falling, falling. The whine of the plane’s descent was heart-rending. The fuselage now a mass of flames, it was impossible to tell if it was enemy or Allied. But the pilot had bailed out. His parachute floated down like a dandelion. Did death or life await him?

‘Was he one of ours?’ Reg asked.

‘Couldn’t tell.’

‘Poor bastard.’ Reg wiped the dirt, sweat and filth from his thin face. ‘Don’t suppose anyone stopped to consider if there was monks and nuns inside that place.’

‘Nuns don’t live in monasteries,’ Jim smiled grimly.

‘No, but women and kids could’ve been sheltering there. That’s the place they’d go to, ain’t it, thinking it would be safe? What heartless sod would give the order to shell it?’

‘Some sod that ain’t so holy, I expect.’

‘It’s been standing for hundreds of years. Until us and the Yanks come along.’

Jim felt sick at the thought of such a massacre. He had a wife and daughter at home. But if Jerry had landed in ’thirty-nine, his family might have died too.

‘I reckon they got out before,’ he decided.

‘You gotta give the Yanks their due,’ nodded Reg, adjusting his lying position as he scrambled closer. ‘After Pearl Harbor, nothing was gonna stop them. Not even the bleedin’ Pope.’

A barrage of artillery fire halted their conversation. Both men lay flat to the earth, as the woodland erupted. Jim hung on to his rifle, not moving an inch. This was going to be a hard push, but Reg was right. As bad for the Yanks as the bombing of Pearl Harbor was, it was a stroke of luck for the Allies.

For a few minutes the strafing came close again. Jim thought of his wife and his little daughter, Cynthia. Though he had never seen her or held her, she wasn’t ever out of his mind. And if by chance he did survive this godforsaken war it would be the hope of going home again that saved him.

A gust of wind from the rubble swept into his throat. The cloud was filled with the scent of death. He coughed until his lungs hurt. Drawing up his legs, he dragged himself on his elbows to a bank of mossy stone and bushes. Daring a glance above, all he could see was a few feet in front.

‘Looks like we’re stuck here,’ he growled, narrowing his eyes at the thick curtain of dust. ‘Going nowhere fast and sitting ducks for snipers.’

‘You don’t need to tell me that, mate. I’ve taken one this time,’ Reg answered.

Jim turned to look at his friend. He hadn’t bargained for the twist of his stomach as he saw the bloody chest wound.

Discarding his weapon, he took Reg in his arms. He could hardly bring himself to speak.

Reg arched and clutched him. ‘Gotta fag, mate?’

Somehow he managed to light the dog end. Reg took a gulp, quivered and spat blood.

‘Hang in there, chum. I’ll run for help.’

‘Bit bleedin’ late for that.’

Jim held him tight as he groaned, but then his eyes became clear. They stared past him into the far-off distance. ‘You’ve been a good mate, Jim. You’ll have to look out for yourself, now. Keep that big ginger head of yours down.’

‘You ain’t going nowhere,’ Jim answered roughly. ‘Now let me take a look at this—’

Reg caught his wrist. ‘You know, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like, but it ain’t so bad after all . . .’