East End Jubilee (23 page)

‘I came last year with Marlene, my youngest daughter—’

‘Then I should have you here.’ He went back to investigating the drawer.

‘I have another daughter too, Andrea, but we call her Donnie. And there’s my husband, Eddie—’

‘This really won’t do.’ Dr Cox was apparently talking to himself as he fingered a set of papers with obvious disdain.

Rose waited patiently, aware of the plastic clock positioned strategically on the desk directly in front of her. Its tick was as loud as an elephant’s heartbeat and she wondered how he
could possibly concentrate when the noise seemed so jarring in the otherwise silent room. Dr Harding had never seemed to possess a clock. It was always first come, first served and wait in the
queue until surgery had ended. No one ever bothered about time. It took as long as it took. Now the clock seemed to be counting the minutes aloud and there was an unspoken urgency in the air.

‘My wife has been acting as receptionist,’ he said, not looking at Rose but still lost in his cabinet. ‘And we don’t seem to have you under W.’

‘You could try R. Read is my maiden name and my family were with—’

‘Very unsatisfactory,’ he cut in, shuffling his fingers.

Rose waited again, wishing now she had abandoned the idea of this visit. She had felt better this morning and would definitely have abandoned coming if Em hadn’t pushed her out of the
house.

The doctor made a severe clucking sound. ‘Very unsatisfactory indeed.’

‘Have you found us?’

‘Yes, but in quite the wrong place.’ Dr Cox returned to his seat, his face disgruntled. He had a thin, severe mouth and Rose at once felt sympathetic towards the absent wife who not
only cooked, fed and kept clean her large family but acted as his bookkeeper too. Rose appreciated how much effort it took to keep factory records in order and assumed it to be much the same with a
doctor’s practice.

‘Well, what is wrong today?’ he sighed at last, looking up with a frown that stretched across his previously unlined brow. His face was shining under the bright bulb above them, his
cool, pale eyes fastening on her for the first time since she had taken her seat.

Rose sat forward, gripping her handbag tightly. ‘It’s probably nothing—’

‘Shall I be the judge of that?’ His intense stare and clipped voice made her start. She felt quite intimidated.

‘Well,’ she hesitated. ‘I’ve had these bouts of sickness and as my mother suffered from ulcers—’

‘The two conditions are not necessarily connected,’ he told her sternly.

‘No . . . no, I suppose not,’ she agreed meekly. ‘But I thought ulcers might run in the family and—’

‘How long have you been feeling unwell?’ he interrupted again and Rose was forced then to explain her other theory, about the anxiety problem stemming from the events of Coronation
Day.

Dr Cox listened without expression and Rose tried bravely to stick to uncluttered facts, but she still couldn’t make Eddie’s arrest and the subsequent events sound any better.

Apparently unfazed by her revelations he then asked her several questions about her health. When these were answered to his satisfaction he stood up and gestured to a long flowery curtain
attached to a rail by shiny brass rings. ‘I’d like to examine you,’ he told her shortly. ‘Undress down to your undergarments please and lie on the examination
couch.’

Rose was horrified. She hadn’t expected this at all.

‘But it’s only a tummy upset,’ she protested weakly.

‘So you keep insisting,’ he replied, head bent once more as he scribbled on the notes in front of him.

Rose had no answer to this and obediently went off to install herself behind the flowery curtain. She took off her dress and hung it on a hook, then lay nervously on the examination couch in her
petticoat.

‘Try to relax,’ he told her as he pressed carefully around her tummy. As apprehensive as she was, Rose had to admit that Dr Cox was very professional in every way and examined her
with the utmost care.

‘You can get dressed again,’ he nodded eventually and soon she was sitting before him once more. The clock didn’t seem quite so loud now and his stare failed to be quite so
off-putting, in fact she was certain his lips were tilted into the beginnings of a smile.

‘Congratulations, Mrs Weaver.’

Rose stared at him blankly. ‘On what?’

‘You are pregnant.’

Rose stared at him as if he was speaking another language. ‘But that’s impossible,’ she heard herself mumble in confusion. ‘We . . . we’ve not been able . . . we
didn’t think . . . we—’

‘When was your last period?’

‘I – er well, before my husband . . .’ She stopped, trying to calculate. Eddie had been arrested on 2nd June. She hadn’t had a period since May and she knew why. The same
thing had happened after her parents had been killed. Her periods had stopped for eight months and Dr Harding had simply told her it was shock and not to worry, they would return in time, which
they had.

Rose began to explain all this to Dr Cox, in a rushed, hectic sort of way, watching him write down the details in his large, neat longhand.

‘I would like a sample of your urine, of course,’ he said, looking up at her with raised eyebrows. ‘From what you’ve told me my calculation is that your baby is due in
February, the middle of the month rather than later.’

‘February!’ she repeated, feeling poleaxed. ‘But . . . but I’ve just got a job!’ was all she managed to splutter.

‘Have you indeed?’ He nodded slowly. ‘Well, depending on your health, which as far as I can discern is good, you would be able to work for several months ahead or as long as
you feel able, depending on the type of work you intend to perform. You’ll need to take care of yourself, rest, eat a sensible diet . . .’

Dr Cox’s words faded into the distance. Even the loud ticking clock could not penetrate Rose’s consciousness. She was pregnant. She and Eddie had made a baby. Ever since Marlene they
had hoped for another child to come along. Eddie wanted a son, but the years had passed and nothing had happened. Until now.

‘See me again in a fortnight and we’ll arrange future appointments,’ Dr Cox was saying as he stood and escorted her through to the waiting room.

Rose walked out as if in a dream, leaving behind her the smell of frying onions, which from this day onward she would associate with becoming pregnant.

Rose didn’t want to go home. She couldn’t face Em just yet, she wanted to think about what Dr Cox had told her. She was expecting a baby! A tiny form was growing in
her tummy, a vulnerable, precious presence that one day she would hold in her arms.

Thoughts of wonder raced through her mind as she wandered along the street. What would Eddie say? They had wanted a baby for so long and now their wish had come true. Perhaps everything would
work out for the best now, she thought hopefully. This might be a new chapter in their lives. Hope began to spread through her like a warm, refreshing glow.

A whiff of smoke blew across her face as she turned the corner. A group of workmen had set light to a pile of rubbish on a building site. The shell of a ruined house was being fully demolished
and the area cleared. Waves of dust blew across the road and swept in her face as a forklift tractor scooped the rubble before it. Everything was in the process of change.

Just like her body. Just like their lives. Fast and furious came the changes sweeping them along, yet all her worries now seemed surmountable. Eddie would get his bail, return home and find Syd.
He’d make the man admit to selling him the television and the police would revise their opinion and drop the charge of assault. With this baby, their lives would change.

Rose turned down the opposite street, her step lighter and brisker. She kept walking, not knowing where she was heading, just wanting to extend the wonderful feeling inside her. She needed to
savour the miracle of her conception. Would their baby be a boy or a girl? Would it have red hair like Marlene or dark locks like Donnie? Eddie’s grey eyes or her own deep brown ones?

Rose viewed all her surroundings through new eyes. The old Victorian terraces looked as though they were sprinkled with stardust and not soot. The small enclave of prefabricated homes, tiny
two-bedroomed bungalows that were hardly bigger than caravans, now sparkled like little pixie cottages. Life felt suddenly better and more beautiful than it ever had before.

Rose found herself in West Ferry Road and directly in front of her rose the sturdy spire of Christ Church, one of the few churches on the island to survive the Blitz.

Below it, the green branches of a very tall tree waved gently over the buildings below. Set either side of the wide, cobbled road the streetlights formed a picturesque arch. How many times had
she walked up this road with her parents and Em to Sunday morning service?

Rose’s heart beat fast as she thought of the future now wrapped in a golden glow in her mind like a fairy story. The sun broke the downy haze and splashed hotly on her face. She breathed
in its health-giving rays and felt its power travel all the way down to her baby. She realized her happiness must have shown because passers by paused and smiled and even commented on how wonderful
the summer was. The world was a beautiful, radiant place and Rose felt like singing her news aloud. But she turned then, eager to be home and to share her wonderful news with Em.

There was a stranger standing on the step of number forty-six as Rose entered Ruby Street. For a moment she held her breath for she didn’t recognize the figure and she
didn’t want anyone or anything to spoil this wonderful day.

But as she grew closer, she exhaled with relief. The stranger was none other than Bobby Morton carrying what looked like a large cardboard box.

‘Hello Mrs Weaver,’ he said in rather an abashed tone as she approached. ‘I’ve just this minute called by.’

Rose smiled, glancing at Em, who looked like a frightened rabbit about to scuttle away to its hole. Her turban was askew, a few wisps of fair hair straggling out to curl round her chin. Rose
banished a swift but unfair urge of irritation as her sister peeped out from the almost closed door.

‘Hello Bob – Mr Morton,’ she corrected herself, glancing quickly at her sister. ‘I’m . . . er, surprised to see you back in this neighbourhood again.’

‘Rosy – you’ve been ages!’ Em interrupted angrily. ‘I’ve been so worried about you.’

Rose shrugged. ‘It’s such a lovely day I didn’t rush home.’

Bobby Morton nodded vigorously. ‘It’s summer at last. Very nice indeed.’

Rose realized the young man was embarrassed, his condition worsened by her sister’s unfriendly attitude. Rose smiled at him. ‘Don’t tell me you want to polish me step
again?’

He blushed under his fair hair which was now slightly longer and rather more untidy than Rose remembered it. ‘I sold a vacuum cleaner to number eighty-seven and I’ve just delivered
it. This is the box.’ He rattled whatever was left inside.

‘You sold a vacuum cleaner to the Dixons?’ she asked in surprise.

‘Yes, they came in my shop last week.’

She was impressed. ‘Well, you finally got your lead then.’

‘Oh indeed. I gave them a demonstration and they bought an Imp Mark One. A very nice little cleaner that will make all the difference to their lifestyle. Mrs Dixon has a lot of difficulty
bending with her arthritis, you know.’

Rose wanted to laugh, but didn’t. ‘Well, congratulations. But that box looks a bit heavy?’

‘More awkward than anything. Next week I’m going to buy myself a small van.’

‘Business must be booming,’ Rose teased.

‘Not really. But I must provide an efficient delivery service. However, back to the reason for my call. I must apologize. I told the Dixons that I knew you.’

Rose raised her eyebrows. ‘Did you, now?’

‘People are less suspicious if someone can vouch for them,’ he said apologetically. ‘And the only person I’d met on my travels was you. I said we had a very interesting
talk on the merits of washing machines.’

Rose looked stern. ‘What if I’d told them you were a rogue?’

He jumped. ‘But I’m not!’

‘No, you’re not, you’re a very nice young man,’ Rose agreed truthfully, which drew a frown of reproach from her sister.

‘That’s all right then,’ he sighed and glanced at Em. ‘I’m very sorry to have disturbed you.’

Her sister’s response was no more than a blink and a twitch and Rose felt another wave of irritation. Couldn’t Em be a little less hostile? Rose decided she should formally introduce
the two.

‘Bobby Morton, this is my sister, Emily. Em, this is the young man I was telling you about who’s taken over the shop in Amethyst Way.’

‘Very pleased to meet you.’ Bobby Morton put down the box and offered his hand but he could almost have been pointing a revolver, Rose thought in alarm, as Em gave a visible start.
She gave one of her nervous little twitches and stepped back into the house. ‘You must er . . . excuse me, I . . . I’ve got the tea on.’ The tiny, turbaned figure disappeared.
Rose was embarrassed as they stood there. She didn’t know how to excuse her sister’s rude behaviour.

‘Oh dear,’ he sighed as they looked at one another. ‘I was in two minds whether to tap or not but I didn’t want you to think I’d taken advantage of our first
meeting if the Dixons spoke to you. I wish I hadn’t now. I think I must have upset your sister.’

‘Don’t worry, it’s not you,’ Rose apologized as she pulled the door to so that they couldn’t be overheard. ‘Em’s had –
we’ve had
–
a difficult time lately. Amongst other things, we’ve been burgled and you’re a little more cautious about who you open the door to after that.’

‘Burgled!’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so. My sister arrived on the day it happened. Naturally, we are still a bit jumpy.’

‘Did they catch the culprits?’

Rose shook her head. ‘No chance, I’m afraid.’

‘Your husband must be very angry,’ he said with emphasis.

Rose looked into his shocked face. ‘Didn’t the Dixons tell you when you mentioned me?’

He stared at her blankly. ‘Tell me what?’

Rose hesitated, but she felt sure she could trust this young man. ‘Well, you’ll probably hear about it sooner or later. Eddie, my husband, was arrested for selling a stolen
television to one of our neighbours. He’s innocent, of course, and somehow we intend to prove it.’