The Bells of Bow (13 page)

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Authors: Gilda O'Neill

Tags: #Chick-Lit, #Family Saga, #Fiction, #Love Stories, #Relationships, #Romance, #Women's Fiction

BOOK: The Bells of Bow
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‘Well, you make sure yer do,’ blustered Frankie and started bashing on the door of number five instead. When he got no reply there either, he ducked furtively inside the last door on that side of the road, which just happened to be the Drum and Monkey.

Frankie knew that Nellie and Jim planned to use the pub’s cellar as a shelter for themselves and any customers who were in the pub during a raid, but, he reasoned to himself, he’d better check anyway. Inside the empty bar – purely in the interest of steadying his nerves – he helped himself to a tot of whisky which stood untouched on one of the tables. But, with his responsibilities as a warden in mind, he refused Nellie’s shouted offer that whoever it was up there in the bar was welcome to join them in the cellar.

As Frankie took a few more moments to check that there was nobody left in the pub who had missed the warnings – or who might just have left another Scotch going begging – the neighbours on the other side of the street were having to sort themselves out without the benefit of their warden’s advice.

Across the road, on the opposite corner to the pub, where just a moment ago Maudie had been standing with her bicycle, Rita and Bert Chambers had taken refuge in the big basement cook-house below their bakery. They had their arms round each other, fretting about their only son, Bill, who had only recently joined the air force. Next door at number four, no one was in, as Blanche and Archie Simpkins had already made their way with their four children to what Blanche could only pray was the safety of the surface shelter. In number six, next door to the Simpkins, while the siren screamed the teeth-jarring notes of its two-minute-long warning, Babs was agitatedly struggling with her gas mask.

Evie peered nervously out of the kitchen window up at the sky. ‘Hurry up, Babs, that warning ain’t no joke, yer know.’

‘I told yer. I ain’t going out without me gas mask on.’ Babs was now getting furious, not only with the strap adjuster that would not budge, but with herself for not having practised putting on the stupid thing when she had the chance.

‘I hope Albie’s all right,’ Evie said and turned round from the window to tell Babs that she
had
to get a move on, but instead she burst into wild laughter, her fear making her shrill. ‘Yer look just like a pig with glasses on in that thing. Blanche was saying she couldn’t get her youngest to even try hers on. Don’t blame her though. If you could see yerself. Right idiot yer look. Really stupid.’

Babs muttered something unintelligible.

‘Eh?’

Babs ripped the mask from her face. ‘I said, sod Blanche and her kids. Where’s Dad?’

Gas mask in hand, she rushed into the front room calling out urgently for him, while Evie hollered up the stairs. But there was no reply to either of them. The girls looked at each other. Without another word Evie ran after Babs out into the street.

‘I don’t believe this.’ Evie went over to where Georgie was standing in the middle of the road staring up at the sky, his hand shading his eyes from the bright morning sunshine. She grabbed his arm. ‘Are you barmy, Dad? Come on, yer coming with us.’

He didn’t protest, he just looked bewildered as, with one of his daughters on either side of him, he let himself be frogmarched along the road to the shelter. ‘It’s like Babs said, it don’t seem right, do it? Not on a day like this. Yer know, the morning yer mum left us was a nice day like this.’

The twins said nothing.

When they reached the shelter, Babs grasped the handle and pulled the door open wide for Georgie.

‘Shut that flaming door, can’t yer?’ someone shouted from the dimly lit interior which was thick with the smells of paraffin, cigarette smoke and fear.

Babs shoved Georgie inside and slammed the door shut behind her and Evie.

Their eyes quickly became accustomed to the pale light coming from the single oil lamp which swung from a hook in the ceiling. There was barely room for them on the narrow wooden benches which ran down either side of the rough brick walls, and almost every part of the floor was covered in possessions or children.

Blanche Simpkins shifted closer to her husband Archie and patted the bench. ‘Here y’are, Ringer,’ she said. ‘You sit here between me and Miss Peters.’

Georgie nodded silently and slumped down onto the hard unpainted seat between the two women.

‘Not exactly luxury, is it?’ Evie said solemnly as she picked her way over the various little Jenners and sat down on the floor in the corner by Blanche’s two oldest children, Mary and Terry.

Babs stayed where she was, standing uneasily by the door, listening for any unfamiliar sounds coming from outside.

‘As I was saying before we was interrupted,’ said Alice Clarke. The street moaner and gossip fixed her accusing gaze on Georgie. ‘I didn’t know whether to stay indoors and die in me own front room or come into this death trap. I listened to the wireless for instructions but that was useless, so I went outside, and then I see that bleed’n idiot of a copper on his bike going past the top of the turning. Placards he had on him, if yer don’t mind. On his chest and back. Lot of bloody good that is after the sirens had already gone. And as for that Frankie Morgan, we might all have been bombed to death by the time that old goat got himself moving.’

‘Well, we’re all in here now, Alice. So why don’t you shut your cake hole and give us all a rest?’ Blanche rolled her eyes at Ethel Morgan, trying to convey to her that, no matter what Alice said, the rest of them all knew that Ethel, determined as she was, couldn’t be held responsible for her Frankie’s aggravating habits. ‘All safe and sound, ain’t we?’

‘Safe?’ Alice snorted. ‘I don’t think so. Not in here.’

Blanche lifted her chin in the direction of Liz Jenner who was rocking her baby to and fro, looking ready to start crying again at any moment. ‘Can’t yer see yer upsetting everyone?’

‘I ain’t upset,’ said Blanche’s son Terry, doing his best to impress Evie, who rewarded his bravado by ruffling his hair and smiling at him.

‘Hope we ain’t in here long,’ Alice Clarke’s husband Nobby said in his doom-laden voice. ‘Our young Micky’s meant to be coming over to help me whitewash the lav
and
I never brought me embrocation with me. I’m a martyr to me chest if I don’t rub it in regular. But Alice said we had to come straight here once she’d made up her mind what we had to do. So I had to leave it on the mantelpiece. Hope no bombs don’t fall on the house or nothing, ’cos the chemist won’t be open till the morning and I won’t be able to sleep tonight without me embrocation.’

Blanche shook her head disbelievingly at Babs, who was now, despite her fears, hardly able to suppress her laughter.

‘Did you manage to bring anything with yer, Blanche?’ Babs asked, spluttering the words as she tried to keep a straight face.

Blanche squeezed Archie’s arm. ‘Only me old man and me kids. That’s all I need.’

‘I brought me knitting.’ The tiny voice that came piping from near where Evie was squashed on the floor with the kids came from Ted Jenner’s old granny who’d lived with her grandson since he’d got married.

‘Gran loves her bit of knitting, don’t yer?’ Ted said gently.

‘I grabbed this off the table,’ laughed Archie and pulled a quart bottle of pale ale from under his jacket. ‘Wanna swig, chaps?’

Ted Jenner gladly accepted the offer but Nobby, after a sharp, tight-lipped glare from Alice, reluctantly refused.

‘I didn’t think to bring nothing with me,’ said Babs with a shrug.

‘I brought this.’ Evie held up the photograph of herself and Babs. ‘I just grabbed it off the wall as we run out.’

Babs picked her way between the children and, squatting down next to Evie, kissed her on the cheek. ‘Yer a soft hap’orth,’ she said affectionately.

Evie frowned as she wiped the dull surface of the picture. ‘Dunno what’s happened to it, though. Could do with some new glass.’

‘I never thought to bring nothing neither,’ said Ethel thoughtfully. ‘When I heard my Frankie shouting the odds and ordering everyone to either get in here or back indoors, I went to the street door to see what all you lot was doing.’

Alice sniggered. ‘What, didn’t your Frankie make sure you was all right first then, Ethel?’

Ethel was indignant. ‘He told me exactly what to do, just like in the instructions he’s been given. I told yer, I was just seeing what everyone else was up to.’

‘Yeah, right. Course he did.’ Alice looked knowingly at her neighbours. ‘I can just imagine Frankie being bothered or brave enough to hang around to tell you what to do.’

Evie winked conspiratorially at Terry and Mary Simpkins. ‘Here, Ethel, I wonder where he is now. Wonder what he’s up to while you’re stuck in here with us.’

‘Ssshhh, shut up, can’t yer, Eve,’ said Babs and found just enough room to elbow her hard in the ribs. ‘Aw, sorry,’ she hissed sarcastically at her sister. ‘Cramped in here, ain’t it?’

‘Bloody cramped,’ complained Alice. ‘If we had decent gardens instead of them piddling bits of back yards we could all have our own Anderson shelters. It’s all right for some.’ She sighed loudly. ‘Still, me and Nobby’d even have to share that with them upstairs.’

‘Where are Minnie and Clara?’ It was the first time that Maudie had spoken.

‘They wanted to stay indoors,’ said Alice with a sneer. ‘Said they was gonna shelter under their bed. Gawd knows how they think they’ll get under it though. Pair of bloody great porpoises.’ She leaned towards Maudie, her skinny claw of a finger jabbing the air to emphasise her point. ‘They might have been married once upon a time, the pair of ’em. But they’ve lived together for years, they have, if yer know what I mean. And we have to have ’em living upstairs, decent people like me and Nobby.’

‘You big-mouthed old bu –’ The rest of Evie’s words were drowned in a sudden, loud, high-pitched monotone which came droning from the street outside.

‘Here, ain’t that the all clear?’ Ted Jenner stood up, bashing his head on the Tilly lamp. ‘Yeah, it is. Listen. Listen, it is!’

Within a few seconds the shelter was empty and the neighbours were standing around aimlessly in the road as though unsure what they should do next.

‘That it then?’ asked Alice. She sounded disappointed that events hadn’t been more dramatic.

‘Well, I dunno about the rest of yers,’ Georgie said. ‘But I need a drop of something.’

‘Yer on, Dad.’ Evie turned her nose up at Alice and took Georgie’s arm. ‘Come on, Babs, I’ll treat us all to a drink.’

‘I’ll just go and knock for Minnie and Clara,’ said Babs, with a defiant look at Alice. ‘I’ll be with yer in a minute.’

Five minutes later Babs walked into the Drum with Minnie and Clara clinging weakly to either side of her.

‘I thought we’d find him in here,’ Babs laughed and nodded towards Frankie Morgan who was holding court at the bar. ‘Left Ethel all on her tod, the old devil.’

Minnie smiled feebly. ‘Not surprised, the ruckings he gets off her. Still, who can blame her, he’s such a flipping nuisance. And, speak as I find, I’ve never heard her moan at no one else.’ Minnie suddenly went very pale and held her hand to her forehead. ‘I think I’d better sit down, Babs.’

Babs settled the two large women at a table and went to fetch them a drink.

Georgie had already downed a couple of Scotches and was halfway down a pint of half and half while at the same time busying himself acting as potman, a job that Jim and Nellie Walker let him do for a few shillings a week and to pay off his slate. They were nobody’s fools but they tolerated Georgie’s drunken unreliability, letting him get away with more than enough, because of their fondness for the twins. They’d never had children themselves and since the girls were small they’d had more than a soft spot for them.

‘I think it’s nerves, but Clara seems more worried about their dinner getting ruined than any bombs falling on her,’ Babs said as she slipped into the space at the bar between Rita and Bert from the baker’s. ‘Yer made ’em turn the gas off, didn’t yer, Frankie?’

‘Bloody right I did. It’s me duty.’

Bert, his hair white with the flour that he never quite managed to brush from it entirely, called over to Minnie and Clara, ‘Yer know yer always welcome to put yer Sunday dinners in me ovens, girls, don’t yer? Life’s gotta go on, eh? Can’t have me two favourites going without their grub, now can I?’ He laughed good-naturedly, his round cheeks glowing like apples, and took a swig from his pint. ‘Just so long as Jim’s beer don’t run out, eh? Then we’ll all be happy.’

‘Don’t you worry yerself, Bert,’ Jim answered him back as he handed Babs the drinks for Minnie and Clara. ‘I’ll just put a bit more water in than usual.’

Nellie the landlady shoved her husband Jim unceremoniously out of the way and leant across the bar to where Evie was standing. ‘Got yerself a new chap, I see.’ She touched Evie gently on the side of her face. ‘Nice motor and all. Good luck to yer, darling. Pretty little thing like you deserves the best. And look at yer lovely blonde hair and all.’

‘Yer’ll have to get yerself a nice geezer sorted out, twin,’ Jim called over to Babs as she sat down with Minnie and Clara. ‘Can’t have yer letting the brunettes down, now can we?’

‘I dunno why everyone sounds so bleed’n cheerful,’ Frankie complained. ‘But then I don’t suppose none o’ you lot remember the Zeppelin raids.’

‘Blimey, yer sound just like me old granny.’ Archie winked at Nellie. ‘Watch it, or he’ll frighten all yer customers away, Nell.’

Frankie wasn’t put off by either Archie’s sarcasm or everyone else’s laughter. ‘Terrible, it was, the Great War. Dropped bombs right out o’ the sky on ordinary people, just like us.’

‘Don’t be soft,’ Jim said as he pulled Georgie another pint. ‘All this won’t come to nothing, you just wait and see. Bit of a ruck between the politicians and that’ll be that. Anyway, why’d the Germans wanna bomb ordinary people like us?’

‘Yer could ask why they wanted to bomb them poor sods in Spain a few years back,’ said Frankie, nodding wisely to himself. ‘Front line we’ll be here, you just wait. Too near the docks and the City for our own good, you mark my words. I shouldn’t mention it, but it’s what they’ve been saying down at the ARP centre for months.’

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