Ellie (20 page)

‘Believe me, Miss Hathersley, I’m tempted to do that myself,’ Amos sighed. ‘But further scenes in this house will only be more upsetting for Ellie.’

It was three in the afternoon. Amos had taken the precaution of locking Grace in her room after he put Ellie to bed. Between checking on her and Ellie hourly, he was exhausted.

Ellie was still in bed. She’d woken at eleven, drunk a cup of tea and nibbled at some toast, and then gone back to sleep. Grace was silent and brooding, a danger sign as far as Amos was concerned. She hadn’t objected to being locked in, but neither was she repentant, and had merely smirked when Amos told her that the doctor would be coming that evening.

Marleen had arrived at two-thirty with an American airman called Kurt Vorster, a giant of a man with a blond crew cut and features which looked as if they’d been rearranged by other men’s fists. The American’s tough appearance and the woman’s distraught state had made it doubly hard for Amos to explain the events of last night.

Amos knew so much about Marleen from Ellie that he’d formed a picture in his head of a glamorous, bubbly redhead, something like Rita Hayworth. But this woman sitting in his parlour looked gaunt; her hair was almost orange, with dark roots, and her black costume, clearly intended as mourning, was tight and sleazy-looking, particularly when surrounded by Grace’s prissy lace cloths and biblical pictures. Worse still, she had the language of a fishwife, and he suspected she was more than capable of rampaging upstairs and dragging his sister out by the hair.

Before she’d arrived, Amos had had it all quite clear in his head what he was going to say. He hadn’t for one moment expected it to be easy to explain about his sister, but he had hoped Ellie’s aunt would hear him out calmly.

But Marleen Hathersley wasn’t a calm woman. She had stalked around the room screaming abuse at him, demanding to know if he was mentally deficient, allowing an evacuee in the house when his sister was unbalanced.

‘I had no reason to think she’d do anything like this, and Ellie wanted to stay,’ Amos assured her more than once. ‘Ellie and I got on very well and she liked her teacher here. I admit my sister has always suffered with her nerves, but I couldn’t predict she’d turn like this. No one could.’

Ellie was still asleep upstairs and Amos was determined to make Marleen calm down before she woke.

‘Ain’t it bad enough ’er mum’s dead without some loony attacking her and locking ’er in a fucking cellar,’ Marleen yelled at him. ‘D’you think she’ll ever get over that? That kid’s come through ’ard times with ’er mum, but she knew nothing but love till she came ’ere. If I ’ad my way I’d ’ang that woman up by ’er feet in yer bloody cellar and whip ’er till ’er skin comes off in ribbons.’

‘Please believe me, I’ve grown very fond of Ellie,’ Amos pleaded with her. ‘I liked Mrs Forester too. Only yesterday I was discussing with Ellie the possibility of getting her down here for a holiday. I even hoped Ellie would persuade her to leave London.’

Marleen heard the sincerity in his words, but her grief at losing her best friend made her want to lash out. ‘You’re a pompous, stupid bastard. That’s what you are!’ she screamed at him, eyes sparking with fury. ‘I’ve met some bleedin’ twerps in my life, but no one to equal you. I’d say dead bodies were the best pals for you. If you liked our Ellie so much why didn’t you make sure you found ’er a nice billet? Was it the fucking ten bob a week you wanted?’

‘Please, Miss Hathersley.’ Amos felt weak at such a verbal onslaught; he’d never heard a woman use such terrible language. ‘Speak to Ellie before you pass judgement on me.’

‘I will, make no mistake about that,’ Marleen said, then sagged suddenly, sitting down and covering her face with her hands. ‘Oh God,’ she sobbed. ‘I can ’ardly bear to face Ellie. She and ’er mum loved each other so much. ‘Ow’s the poor kid gonna cope with this?’

‘Whatcha gonna do then, honey?’ the airman drawled. It was clear he’d been press-ganged into driving Marleen to Suffolk. He’d chain-smoked from the moment he walked through the door and the arrogant way he sprawled silently on the settee suggested he cared little about Marleen and even less for her dead friend and her child.

‘Take her home with me, of course.’ Marleen frowned at Kurt as if he was stupid too. ‘You don’t think I’d leave her here with a mad woman, do you?’

‘Come on, honey,’ Kurt said impatiently. ‘London ain’t no place to take a kid, not now with bombing every night. She ain’t your responsibilty.’

Marleen leaped out of her chair, eyes blazing. ‘Bloody men,’ she roared. ‘Ain’t my responsibility? Polly was my best mate. Do you really think I’d walk away from her kid at a time like this?’

Amos felt ashamed of himself for doubting that such a woman would be a true friend to Polly. She obviously cared deeply. But at the same time he could see Marleen was swept away with emotion, and hadn’t given herself time to think things through.

‘I know my opinion must mean little to you after what’s happened,’ Amos said gingerly. ‘But Mr Vorster’s right in saying that London’s unsafe. And we must think of Ellie’s future. She’s been doing well at school here and has many friends. Why don’t you take her home for a few days, and in the meanwhile I’ll talk to her teacher and find her a new home in the town?’

‘I don’t ever want to come back here.’ Ellie’s voice came from the doorway behind them, and all three adults turned in shocked surprise.

She was dressed in her school gym-slip, her hair loose on her shoulders, but she didn’t look like a child. Her expression was too adult and strained.

‘Ellie!’ Marleen moved quickly across the room, arms opening to enfold the girl. ‘Oh baby. I’m so sorry.’

As they embraced fiercely, both faces streaming with tears, Amos sat still in his chair, head bowed, humbled by their grief. Kurt insolently picked up a piece of porcelain and studied it, the gesture implying he regretted being dragged into this.

‘I’ll look after you, Ellie,’ Marleen said stoutly. ‘You can stay with me for as long as you like.’

Amos slipped away upstairs to check on Grace, leaving Marleen to talk to Ellie alone. The airman also went out, saying he’d be back in half an hour.

Grace was sitting in a chair by her bedroom window. ‘So dear “Auntie Marleen’s” another foul-mouthed strumpet,’ she said as Amos came in. ‘Such language!’

‘She’s a far better human being than you are,’ Amos snapped. ‘Just be glad I haven’t dragged you down to meet her. She’d have torn you to pieces. Where’s Ellie’s suitcase and the clothes you confiscated when she arrived?’

Grace pointed to a cupboard. ‘If you tell the doctor anything about me I’ll make you suffer,’ she said slyly.

Amos pulled out the suitcase and turned back to his sister, an expression of utter disgust on his face. ‘You’ve made me suffer most of my life,’ he said coolly. ‘But it’s over now, Grace. You are going where you belong.’

He left quickly, slamming the door and locking it, and then went into Ellie’s room to pack her few belongings.

It was dusk as the airman started up the jeep. Marleen was sitting beside him, Ellie hesitating on the pavement. It had grown very chilly. Amos had put a thick blanket in the back for Ellie to wrap round her, but it would be a long, cold, uncomfortable ride.

‘Write to me?’ he asked bleakly. ‘If you need any help, any time, I’ll be there.’

The long day had taken its toll on Amos: all colour had drained from his normally ruddy face and he looked old. Ellie too was very pale, her eyes enormous, sad pools. She had left her hair loose on her shoulders, a brave attempt at defying Miss Gilbert one last time – in fact she’d made a point of going out to the workshop just so his sister would see her from her bedroom window. Her coat was too short, the cuffs and collar worn thin, and her school gymslip hung down beneath it. But even with the angry red weal on her forehead and her schoolgirl clothes, she held herself with dignity.

‘I’ll miss you,’ she said simply, looking right into his eyes. ‘I don’t blame you for anything. Please say goodbye to Miss Wilkins for me.’

Amos watched until the jeep roared off round the corner, one hand raised in farewell. There was so much more he wished he’d managed to say to her, but it was too late now.

‘Let’s hope my place is still standing,’ Marleen said grimly as they came up the steps from Holborn tube station. ‘At least the rain puts out a few fires.’

It was mid-morning and judging by the leaden sky, driving rain and cold wind, autumn was finally here in earnest.

Kurt had left them late last night at a pub in Essex as he had to get back to his base. Marleen and Ellie had spent an uncomfortable night sharing a single bed in a room with another woman and her two small children. They were glad of the bed, however, and a hot meal, as they had seen dozens of what Marleen called ‘trekkers’ looking for barns or thick hedges to give them shelter away from the bombs. Marleen had explained that hundreds of people did this nightly, rather than stay in the city, most of them too poor even to think of the luxury of a real bed.

Ellie hardly slept at all. Aside from the other woman snoring and Marleen hogging most of the bed, the noise of planes, ack-ack guns and bombing in the distance was scary. It had been a cold, miserable drive from Suffolk. Icy wind blasted through the sides of the jeep and with the headlights taped up Kurt could barely see the road. Marleen kept asking him to slow down, but he took no notice. The night sky first grew pink, and then red as they reached Essex. Marleen said that was how it was most nights, but she thought the docks had been hit yet again.

But now, as Ellie stood with Marleen in High Holborn, she saw for herself the carnage left from the night before. Opposite the tube, a huge building she remembered as having been offices was now just a smoking shell. Desks and filing cabinets, grotesquely twisted and mangled, lay below on a mountain of rubble. Someone’s blue coat still hung on a peg on what had once been the top floor; on another a calendar fluttered in the wind. Three fire-engines stood by, and dozens of firemen were still working, their faces black with soot, some re-coiling hoses, others clambering over fallen masonry checking all the fires were now out.

‘They’re the real ’eroes of this war,’ Marleen said reflectively. She had made up her face this morning and with a side-tilted felt hat hiding her untidy hair, she looked much more like her old self. ‘’Ow they do it night after night defeats me. You can bet not one of ’em’s ’ad a proper night’s sleep since the Blitz began, risking their lives each time they get a shout.’

More men were clearing rubble from the street, sweeping to one side a sea of broken glass, but while Ellie stared open-mouthed in shock, everyone else was walking past without so much as breaking their stride to look.

‘How can people be so calm?’ Ellie asked as Marleen began to walk away. Aside from that building, things were relatively normal. Men with briefcases and office girls were all going about their business. A small café had its windows blown right out, but it was still trading, with a blackboard propped outside saying ‘More open than usual’.

‘That’s the way it ’as to be.’ Marleen shrugged her shoulders. ‘Industry and business gotta keep going. People ’ave to work to feed their families. We’ve all got a bit casual about it really. Those pot-’oles in the road will be filled by tonight, the glass and rubble cleared up. Chances are there’ll be another lot tomorrow, but the milk and post will be delivered, and the typists will turn up to see if their chair’s still in place.’

It was dark in Marleen’s flat and very dusty.

‘The winders went last week.’ Marleen pulled back the curtains to show Ellie the boards. ‘Look what ’appened to the couch!’

There were tiny jagged cuts all along its back, the stuffing peeping out in places. Elsewhere there were more signs of damage: a burn on the carpet which Marleen said was from a piece of shrapnel, and several deep gouges in the highly polished table, caused by more flying glass.

‘It used to be so smart an’ all,’ Marleen said wistfully. ‘Still, I’m luckier than most.’

Ellie broke down when she saw her mother’s pitifully small collection of belongings in the spare room. The blue cardigan Polly had retrieved from the bombed house in Alder Street, a couple of dresses and some underwear. An old chocolate box held all of Ellie’s letters and an envelope stuffed with photographs.

‘She dug and dug down in Alder Street till she found those,’ Marleen said of the photographs. ‘They’re nearly all of you as a nipper. I said, “never mind the snaps, Poll, what about finding a few tins of corned beef?” Know what she said?’

Ellie smiled glumly.

‘She said, “My sugarplum’s face is worth more than a whole crate of soddin’ corned beef.”’

Marleen had intentionally avoided talking about Polly all the way home. She sensed once the floodgates of grief were opened she wouldn’t be able to control herself. But she knew now that Ellie had to grieve, and that here amongst her mother’s things was the right place.

Ellie lay down on the bed, hugging the pillow which still smelt faintly of her mother, and sobbed.

Marleen lay down beside her and took her in her arms. ‘My poor lamb,’ she said. ‘Wish I could take the ’urt away, luv. God knows what either of us will do without her, but we got one another, ain’t we?’

They spent the afternoon sobbing and holding each other, reminiscing about Polly.

‘She was so proud of you, Ellie,’ Marleen said through her tears. ‘Last time she come back from seein’ you she was on about ’ow well you spoke now and ’ow beautiful you were. She really wanted you to be a famous actress one day.’

‘She wasn’t just my mum,’ Ellie sniffed. ‘She was my best friend too. I can’t believe she’s gone for ever.’

‘I can’t be all she was to you. But I know she’d want me to try,’ Marleen said. Tears had coursed through her make-up, giving her a clown-like look. ‘Right now I don’t know what to do for the best. Should I try and find you another home safe in the country?’

‘No. I’m staying here, if you’ll have me, and I’ll get a job.’ Ellie tried to sound brave but her voice wobbled. She had already realised that her mother had paid half the rent here, and Marleen’s job in a West End club couldn’t bring in much. ‘I’ll be fourteen soon, so there’s no point in going to school.’