East End Jubilee (29 page)

Em dropped the basket and came to sit beside her. She reached out to grasp the baby’s finger. Matthew responded immediately and Em gave a gasp of delight. ‘He knows me, I know he
does!’

‘’Course he knows you. You’re his Auntie Em.’

‘No, I mean really knows me. He squeezed my finger.’

Rose smiled. ‘Want a hold?’

‘Can I?’

‘He needs his wind brought up.’ Rose did up her blouse with one hand and then wrapped the blue and white shawl with the football boots around his firm little shoulders.

Em let him sink into her arms as if he was marshmallow. She gave a sigh of pleasure as she rubbed his back and a pocket of wind erupted. They both laughed and Matthew looked up with beady black
eyes and another windy grin.

‘I’ve never seen a baby so alert,’ Em noted proudly drawing her fingers over the ebony cap of hair. ‘I do believe he knows everything you say.’

‘No doubt about that,’ Rose agreed as she pulled on her cardigan. ‘I was certain he could hear me when he was in my tummy.’ She laid her hand on her flat stomach. She had
lost all the extra weight she’d put on during pregnancy.

‘Better be careful then,’ Em giggled. ‘Keep your secrets to yourself.’

‘Haven’t got any,’ Rose replied innocently.

Em looked deliberately suspicious. ‘What about the shoebox, then!’

Rose grinned. ‘I’d forgotten that.’ She had too, she was surprised to discover now. Eight months ago she had thought it was the end of the world almost when someone had broken
in and stolen all Eddie’s savings, but Matthew’s birth had changed all that. She hadn’t even been upset when the
Evening Gazette
had printed a half page on Eddie’s
trial and sentence. Not that she’d had to endure any comments from Ruby Street as she was resting in bed at the time. It was poor Em who had been forced to leave the house since shopping had
to be done. Rose smiled at the memory of her sister rising at the crack of dawn on Saturdays to arrive at market before everyone else. Even the girls, who Rose had worried about at school, had
dealt successfully with playground confrontations.

Rose was still smiling as she looked at her sister. ‘Anyway, I’m not the only one with secrets. Who had a washing machine for Christmas, then?’

Em went bright pink. ‘Not me. It was for you – for us both!’

Rose made a little humming sound. ‘Mr Bobby Morton knows my views on such luxuries, thank you very much.’

‘You still said yes to having it,’ Em sniffed.

‘Well, it cost next to nothing,’ Rose shrugged. ‘I could hardly refuse.’

‘Exactly,’ Em said, burying her face in Matthew’s shawl as she lifted him against her cheek.

‘You know he’s keen on you, don’t you?’ Rose said daringly. Her sister was very touchy on the subject of Bobby Morton.

‘I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, Rose Weaver.’

‘Oh Em, you know he is. And he’s so
nice
.’

Em cradled Matthew in her arms and, suddenly serious, she looked up at Rose. ‘Nice blokes don’t exist, except your Eddie and Benny next door,’ she mumbled darkly. ‘Now
stop pulling me leg and let me get on with cleaning the kitchen. Take your little lad and grab another ten minutes of cuddle before it’s time to collect the kids.’

Rose took Matthew back in her arms and watched her sister bustle out again. The small, square, slightly battered washing machine had come as a complete surprise, when, on Christmas Eve, Bobby
had driven up, not in a small van, but a newly purchased shooting brake. They all went out to examine it.

The roomy, elegant vehicle sported wooden panels down the side and two big headlights on the front placed strategically over a shining chromium bumper. The windows sparkled and the seats smelt
of real leather. ‘I can use it for all my deliveries,’ Bobby told them, ‘and take the kids out for a ride if they want.’

‘It’s lovely.’ Rose nudged her sister in the ribs.

‘Yes,’ said Em distantly.

Bobby had hurried to the back doors and opened them. ‘I thought this might come in handy,’ he told them, pulling a battered washing machine out and lifting it down to the ground.
‘It’s only second-hand and minus a wringer but I’ve repaired the motor, although the outside looks a bit rough. A customer traded it in against a better one.’

‘We don’t want hand-outs, thank you very much,’ said Em quickly.

‘It’s not coming free,’ Bobby told her gently. ‘You can have it for four pounds, a few shillings paid each week to clear the balance.’ Rose thought he winked
slightly at her as he said it.

‘It would help, wouldn’t it, Em?’ Rose urged as her sister sniffed and twitched.

‘If you say so,’ she’d shrugged and hurried back to the kitchen.

Rose looked at Bobby apologetically and noticed how his eyes had followed Em’s retreat. It was then she’d guessed it wasn’t financial profit on his mind, but another sort of
interest altogether.

Rose had asked Bobby to Boxing Day tea, grateful for his offer of the washing machine. Washing by hand for a family of five, soon to be six, was proving a mammoth task for Em. In return Bobby
had accepted Rose’s offer and arrived to spend an enjoyable hour at 46 Ruby Street at four-thirty on 26th December.

‘I’ll make you that cuppa before I clean the kitchen,’ Em shouted along the hall and woke Rose from her reverie. ‘The larder needs sorting. Someone left the milk out and
it’s almost gone off.’

Rose always kept the milk fresh by standing it in a bowl of cold water and placing a cover over it. But Em had achieved higher standards of hygiene when Rose was confined to bed. When Christmas
had arrived warm and windy rather than cold and frosty, the whole kitchen had been under review. Rose hadn’t had the heart to protest that the smell of disinfectant was nauseating.

Em’s famous words were, ‘When the baby is here we’ll have to pull our socks up!’ As though an infant was going to revolutionize their whole existence. And to be fair,
Rose thought ruefully, Matthew had.

Rose looked down and found her son asleep. Tiny black lashes lay closed on satiny cheeks. Yes, his colour was now peaches and cream, the rosy hue vanished. He was the most beautiful child in
existence, Rose decided as she gazed at the cherubic mouth and button nose.

She sighed in wonder, imagining Eddie beside her, as one day he surely would be.

A week later, Rose was pushing the deep bassinet pram towards home. She had walked to Cox Street market before ten and purchased vegetables and a nice piece of cod from the
fishmonger and stowed them under the belly of the pram. Previously used for Marlene and Donnie, the pram had been stored under the stairs, acting as receptacle for innumerable items. Rose had
restored it with a dab or two of paint and brushed off the cream and brown upholstery. It looked as good as new despite its antiquity.

Matthew was snuggled under Em’s blue and white cover and Rose was wrapped warmly in her old winter coat, a paisley scarf tied over her hair. She was in a world of her own, thinking of
Eddie, as she made her way to Ruby Street. She had just posted a letter to confirm she would be visiting him on the first Wednesday in April. He had sent her a visiting order and plans were now in
motion to make the long journey from London to Hewis prison in Sussex. Bobby had offered to drive the whole family in his shooting brake and Rose was delighted.

The weather was still chilly, but dry and Rose considered what she and the children should wear. Though Rose had no money to spend at market, Dolly had offered her a two-piece for three and six.
But Rose refused although the smart herringbone suit would have done very nicely. Money was short, though she had saved her wages from Kirkwood’s. With Em’s contribution and Anita and
Benny’s generous gift of ten pounds, they were managing to survive.

Rose thought about the long car journey. She would take a picnic and some sweets to keep the children happy on the three-hour journey. Today there was a promise of sunshine, with a soft spring
breeze. What would be appropriate to wear? Dresses, coats, trousers, jumpers – she wanted to impress Eddie, who had not seen the children in over nine months. And Matthew – well, that
was easy. His wardrobe was impressive. She had been knitting continuously throughout her confinement in bed. He was the best-dressed baby this side of London Bridge.

Rose was smiling to herself as she turned the corner and walked past Fred and Mabel Dixon’s. Then she stopped dead. Ten yards in front of her, parked on the other side of the road, was a
big brown car.

‘Em! Em!’ Rose hit the front of the pram on the door-frame and woke Matthew. ‘Sorry, darling – oh Em, Em!’ She pushed the pram into the front room
where it spent most of its life now, parked by the gram, and despite a little wail from Matthew, Rose ran back to the front door. She slammed it closed and pulled the key off the string, a key that
had only recently been replaced. Rose stepped back, staring at the door, her eyes wide with fright. Her legs felt as if they were turning to sponge. She was shivering and her heart was drumming in
her ears.

‘Rosy, whatever’s the matter?’ Em hurried along from the kitchen. Her brow was creased, the tips of her brown eyebrows almost meeting over her nose.

‘He’s out there again! It’s him!’

‘Who, love? Who?’ Em shook her arm, but Rose was petrified. All the old fears had flooded back and her eyes were glued to the door.

‘It’s the car, the brown one. It was here that day—’

Em stiffened, a look of fear also creeping over her face. ‘You don’t mean—’

‘Yes, the one I saw on the day of the burglary. He’s out there, waiting. I know it’s him, I just know it.’

‘But . . . but that was a long time ago,’ Em said weakly, her eyes also swivelling to follow Rose’s gaze. ‘How can you be sure it’s the same one?’

‘I’ll never forget it. Never.’

‘But we don’t know if it was him . . . if it was the person in the car even. It might just be a coincidence, or a car very like it.’

‘He looked at me,’ Rose breathed hoarsely. ‘As I pushed the pram past. He looked me right in the eye and I knew it. Oh, Em, it was as if he wanted me to see him, as if he was
sitting there deliberately.’

Em gave a twitch and a little laugh that wasn’t really laughter. ‘Oh, Rosy, why would he do that?’

‘To frighten me,’ Rose said without hesitation as she recalled the moment she had met his gaze. Under the trilby hat she had seen a face she would never forget now. The window was
down and he was smoking a cigarette. He’d puffed out the smoke as she passed and looked directly up at her. She had never felt so terrified in all her life. His big, ugly features and thick,
moist lips were unforgettable. Last time she hadn’t been close enough to see him. This time she had been only inches away. If he’d wanted he could have reached out and touched her.

They stood looking at the door, Rose’s hand clenched to Em’s arm and the key hidden in her fist as though she was frightened it would disappear.

‘Are you sure you didn’t imagine it, love?’ Em’s voice was small.

‘Go and look for yourself,’ Rose said, hoping that her sister would. She couldn’t bring herself to look out of the window. Perhaps he had climbed out of the car and was walking
across the road? Perhaps he was outside the door this very moment? Rose felt her skin crawl.

Em didn’t move, until suddenly Matthew gave a loud wail, annoyed at being left in his pram. Rose started, then hurried into the front room as though Matthew himself was in danger. She
pulled him out of the pram and held him to her breast. For a few seconds she took comfort from his small, warm body wrapped in the pram cover. He nuzzled contentedly against her shoulder thankfully
oblivious to all that was happening around him. Rose turned slowly round. Em was at the window, her nose pressed against the net. She adjusted her position and looked the other way. Still with a
frown on her forehead, she shook her head slowly. ‘Rosy, there’s no one there, dear. No one at all.’

‘There must be.’ Rose still wouldn’t go to the window.

‘I’ve looked both ways—’

‘Up by the Dixons’, on this side.’

Em craned her neck and adjusted the curtain. ‘It’s completely empty, the pavement, the road. There’s no one there. Only Debbie Price walking towards Dora
Lovell’s.’

‘The car was parked opposite, between the Dixons’ and Dora’s.’

‘Well, if it was, it’s gone now.’

Rose walked slowly towards the window. She stood behind Em and looked over her shoulder, holding Matthew firmly against her shoulder. Em was right, the street was devoid of vehicles.

‘I saw it there, Em. He looked at me. He knew who I was, I swear it.’

‘But how could he know? I mean, have you seen him before?’

‘No.’

‘Not on the day of the burglary?’

‘No, the car was too far away then.’

‘So how do you know he knows you, then, dear?’

Rose hugged Matthew against her as Em turned round with wide, innocent eyes. ‘You don’t believe me, do you? You think I’m being fanciful.’

‘I do believe you,’ Em said hesitantly. ‘I’m just trying to get things straight in my mind. Why, for instance, would a thief come back to a place he’s already
burgled and make himself known?’

Rose had no answer at all. She couldn’t even begin to guess at what the man in the car had wanted, other than to frighten the life out of her. But how had he known she would walk by? Had
he followed her? Watched her leave the house this morning? Rose quaked at the very thought. She had felt a little like this last year after the five hundred pounds was stolen. She had been
suspicious of every stranger for a while, but it had never seriously worried her that she might be burgled again, even though Anita had warned her to report it to the police. Now she wished she
had. At least she could have told them she had seen the car again.

‘Hold Matthew, will you,’ she whispered, wishing she had Eddie to turn to.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Look outside.’ Slowly she went to the door and took hold of the latch. Would there be anyone standing on the step? What would she do if there was?

Slowly she opened it, steeling herself to close it quickly if the man was there. But no one was. The wind rippled in and touched her cheeks and the sun momentarily peeped from behind a cloud.
Across the road Olga’s door was shut tightly as it had been for months and the front room curtains drawn.