The Bells of Bow (19 page)

Babs looked up at the clock. ‘Bloody hell.’ She ran out into the passage and let Lou in.

‘New fashion?’ she said, looking Babs up and down. ‘It would never have occurred to me to go out in me slip and drawers.’

‘I’m sorry, Lou, I didn’t realise the time had gone so fast.’

‘That’s all right. They can wait.’

Babs guided Lou into the kitchen. ‘Look who’s here,’ she said, going over to Blanche and kissing her on the cheek.

A broad smile spread over Lou’s chubby face. ‘Hello, Blanche, good to see yer. How yer doing?’

‘All right, now I’m home.’

‘Ain’t just a holiday then?’

Blanche shook her head emphatically. ‘Definitely not. I’m home for good. Wouldn’t worry if I never saw another bloody sheep in me whole life.’

‘Yer don’t mind if I just do me face, do yer?’ asked Babs, setting up a little hand mirror against the teapot and taking out lipstick, rouge and mascara from her handbag.

‘No, you carry on,’ Blanche said. ‘Wouldn’t want yer going out without a bit of colour in yer cheeks.’

Lou perched on the edge of the table next to Babs. ‘I’m glad yer back, Blanche.’ She hesitated, watching Babs stroke her lashes with the sticky mascara. ‘I’m glad for Babs’s sake.’

Babs didn’t shift her gaze from the mirror. ‘Don’t go getting all dramatic on me, Lou. Cheer up, everything’s fine.’

Lou swallowed. She glanced sideways at Blanche. ‘I ain’t so sure about that, Babs.’

Babs put down her mascara brush and looked at Lou. ‘What yer talking about?’

Lou looked away as though she couldn’t face her friend. ‘I don’t wanna worry yer,’ she said quietly, ‘But I don’t think that everything is fine.’ She glanced at Blanche. ‘I didn’t say nothing before but I reckon I can tell yer now Blanche’s back with yer.’

Lou took a deep breath before the words came tumbling out. ‘If half the stories are true that our Bob’s been telling me about Albie, Babs, then things
definitely
ain’t fine. Evie wants to watch her step. I think she’s getting in well over her head.’

With the coming of spring, the weather in 1940 took a definite turn for the better, but even that did nothing to lift Babs’s spirits. Her doubts and worries about Evie seeing Albie Denham, confirmed so worryingly by Lou, had now deepened into a real fear for her twin. No matter how she tried to get through to her, she couldn’t. Evie was totally obsessed with Albie, refusing to listen to a single question about what he was up to and how he seemed to be growing richer by the day. And Georgie didn’t help matters; if anything, he was drinking even more than usual. So what with Evie being out every night with Albie and Georgie being either in the pub or sleeping off his latest binge, Babs was just about fed up with the situation. It helped having Blanche back home, but Babs couldn’t keep running to her; she had worries of her own, and not only about her children.

Blanche was having to face the increasing possibility that Archie, even though he was over thirty, might be called up. People had been keen for something to actually happen in the war, and now it had, with a vengeance. The so-called Phoney War was over. On 9 April, Hitler’s forces had invaded Norway, and British military help had failed miserably. It definitely wasn’t what the British public had wanted or expected to hear when they called for action; they were stunned by the defeat of Norway.

And then on Friday, 10 May – ironically another beautiful spring day – a further crisis loomed to reduce the spirits. Germany invaded Belgium and Holland; the Germans were moving inexorably through the battered towns and villages towards the Channel and Britain itself. There was a feeling of disbelief, even panic in the air that perhaps the stories and rumours from the early days of the war about a German invasion weren’t just cowardly, defeatist talk after all. Chamberlain was blamed from all quarters for his weak leadership, and at six o’clock that evening, Winston Churchill replaced him as Prime Minister and became leader of the new coalition government.

For a while at least, people once again had a focus for their feelings of patriotism, even if it was only Churchill’s big, triumphant cigar and his rakish siren suit.

Two weeks after Churchill became Prime Minister, on the evening of Saturday, 25 May, Darnfield Street was witness to the increasingly unusual spectacle of Evie and Babs Bell walking along arm in arm towards the Drum.

They might have looked a blooming picture of family happiness, the two lovely girls strolling along in the late spring sunshine, but Evie for one wasn’t in a very good mood. ‘I’m warning yer, Babs,’ she sniped, ‘if Dad turns up drunk and starts, or if he comes over all sentimental, I’m straight out of that pub, right? I really mean it. I ain’t having him show me up in front of Albie.’

Babs had to bite her tongue. Instead of saying what she really felt, she smiled and said, ‘Don’t worry, Eve, Dad won’t start. Not tonight, he won’t. Not with Nellie specially inviting us in for a drink like this.’ She cuddled closer to her twin. ‘Don’t let’s be miserable, eh? Not today. Try and enjoy yerself. For me.’

‘I mean it,’ Eve repeated.

Babs flinched, her sister sounded so hard. ‘He’s probably forgotten it’s our birthday anyway,’ she said quietly.

When the girls stepped inside the Drum, they couldn’t believe it; it was as though all the street was in the pub waiting for them. Jim and Nellie had obviously turned a blind eye to young Mary and Terry Simpkins slipping in with Blanche and Archie because there they were sitting at a corner table with Alice and Nobby’s grandson Micky. Alice and Nobby themselves had a central table with a good all-round view, which they shared with Ethel and Frankie Morgan – who was sitting there complete with his tin helmet and armband. Rita and Bert had popped across from the baker’s and were standing at the bar, and even Miss Peters was sitting there sipping a sherry with her next door neighbours, Minnie and Clara. The only people from the street who were not there were the Jenners, although nobody really expected them to be in the pub, and Georgie was still on the missing list, not having been seen or heard of by anyone since lunchtime.

‘Here y’are, girls, over here.’ Lou was calling to them from the far end of the bar. ‘I’ve had these lined up waiting for you two for nearly half an hour.’

The twins went and stood either side of her as she slid a port and lemon in front of each of them.

‘Thank gawd yer here at last,’ Lou said, raising her glass before she sipped gratefully at it. ‘Nellie and Jim asked all the street in for a birthday drink for yer and they thought the guests of honour wasn’t gonna show.’

Evie and Babs frowned at each other. ‘Did you know?’ they asked each other. They both shook their heads.

‘And all these old moaners in here,’ Lou carried on, with a general wave round the bar, ‘they’ve been driving me flaming barmy. It’s as bad as being at home with me dad. Honest, if I’d have heard another word about fifth columnists, Holland capitulating or that bleed’n Mosley geezer, I swear I’d … I dunno, but I would have.’

‘Ain’t stopped yer talking though, Lou,’ grinned Evie.

‘Shut up, Eve,’ Babs giggled then turned her back to the bar and raised her glass to the neighbours. ‘Sorry we’re late, everyone. We didn’t know yer was all expecting us.’

‘We’d have been in before,’ Evie added, ‘but we’ve been waiting for Dad. It’s really nice to see yer all here. Cheers.’

Calls of ‘Happy birthday, girls’ echoed round the pub and glasses were raised.

The twins turned back to the bar. ‘Ta, Nell,’ they both said. ‘It’s right good of yer, thinking of doing this for us.’

‘There’s a bite to eat later and all,’ said Nellie with an affectionate smile. ‘I thought everyone could do with a bit of a celebration, what with all the bad news lately, and today seemed just the day to do it.’

Lou whispered to Babs out of the side of her mouth, ‘If she starts on about the war …’ But she needn’t have worried. Nellie wasn’t about to give a speech about the enemy or troop movements, she was much more interested in the twins enjoying themselves.

‘I’ve done a few sandwiches and I got in a couple o’ bowls of eels and Rita’s made yer a smashing cake. Nice little spread, it is.’

‘Aw Nellie, what can we say?’ Evie turned to her sister. ‘You say something, Babs.’

‘Yer always so good to us, Nell. What
can
we say?’

‘That’s all the reward I could ask for,’ said Nellie. She sounded choked. ‘Your two beautiful, dimpled faces smiling at me.’ Nellie never tried to hide her fondness for the twins; she had spent many wakeful nights thinking what it would have been like if she and Jim had been fortunate enough to have had children like them; or even one child would have been a dream come true. But it was never to be. She looked along the bar to where her husband was sharing a joke with Bert. If things had turned out how she had always hoped they would, he’d have been a good dad, she thought to herself. He was a kind, decent man, better than that Ringer had turned out to be. He was such a lucky bugger having the girls but he was too stupid lately to realise it. Life wasn’t fair, she’d learnt that years ago.

She took a gulp of her lemonade. ‘Dad not around then, girls?’ she asked.

Evie shook her head. ‘No. He cleared off somewhere hours ago.’

‘He’ll be along soon,’ Nellie said with more sincerity than she felt. ‘He wouldn’t miss his girls’ birthday now, would he?’

Frankie Morgan came up to the bar and pushed in between Lou and Eve. ‘Pint and half of bitter shandy, please, Nell.’ He leaned his scrawny arms on the polished counter. ‘Hear the wireless?’ he asked no one in particular.

‘Aw no, not again,’ wailed Lou. ‘Here we go, more bloody war talk.’

Frankie wasn’t deterred. ‘Germans have got as far as Boulogne. We’ve gotta be on the ready.’ He pointed at the stony-faced girls. ‘Specially pretty little things like you three. Yer never know what might happen if they ever do get over here.’ He shook his head ominously and leaned closer to Lou. ‘Yer hear all sorts of terrible stories about what them foreign soldiers get up to.’

‘That’s nice talk in front of young girls, I don’t think,’ said Nellie angrily and shoved the two glasses in Frankie’s direction.

Frankie made a show of digging deeply into his pocket.

‘Have this one on us,’ Babs said winking at Lou. ‘For our birthday.’

‘Good luck to yer, darling,’ said Frankie, raising his pint glass to his lips. ‘And yer don’t need to have no worries about invaders,’ he said, lifting his elbow so that they could all see his Civil Defence armband. ‘Not with Frankie Morgan around.’

‘Frankie!’ Ethel shouted from the other side of the crowded pub to her husband. ‘Stop bothering them young girls and fetch them drinks over here.’

‘Yes, my sweet,’ he called to her. Then, with a smile on his face, he muttered to the girls under his breath, ‘They could use her as a secret weapon. Hitler’d shoot back to Germany so fast yer wouldn’t see him for dust.’

Evie, Babs and Lou turned back to the bar to stop Ethel from seeing them laughing, but it also meant that they didn’t see Georgie come into the pub.

Babs jumped as he tapped her on the shoulder.

‘Happy birthday, girls,’ he said with a soppy look on his face.

Evie smiled with relief when she registered that there was hardly a whiff of booze on his breath.

‘I bought yer both a little present,’ he said holding up two identical, flat cardboard boxes. ‘They ain’t much. But they’re all I could afford.’

‘That’s where yer’ve been, ain’t it?’ Babs said, taking the box from him. ‘Yer a daft old thing.’ She kissed him tenderly on the cheek. ‘Aw look, Lou, ain’t it pretty?’

She held the open box out to show Lou the necklace of sparkling glass beads fixed in a dull, gold-coloured setting.

‘Help us on with it, Dad,’ Evie said. She handed him the necklace and turned her back to him.

When both girls had their presents secured round their necks, they went round with Lou, showing them to everyone in the pub.

‘Yer not a bad bloke at times,’ sniffed Nellie, wiping her eyes with an extravagantly frilled hankie. ‘Here, you old sod, have a Scotch.’

Georgie took his drink and went to the end of the bar to stand with Bert and Rita.

The twins were just showing their glittering gifts to Miss Peters, Minnie and Clara when Albie made his entrance. As usual when he came into a room full of people, he made it into a production. He swaggered, back as straight as a rod, his camelhair overcoat slung across his broad shoulders, carrying a black velvet box in one hand and his trilby in the other. The only difference in his typically boastful demeanour was that on this particular evening, rather than looking smug, he was looking decidedly fed up.

As was his habit, he stared around the room, gauging the impact of his arrival, then he leant forward and kissed Evie briefly on the lips. He turned to Babs. ‘Hello, doll face,’ he said to her without the trace of a smile. ‘Aw, and a happy birthday to both of yer,’ he added flatly.

Evie immediately lost all interest in showing her necklace to the neighbours and when Albie went up to the bar, she followed, trotting along behind him like an eager puppy.

While Babs waited for Minnie to have a good look at her birthday necklace, she kept her eye firmly on Evie. When Minnie had finished admiring it, Babs smiled and said, ‘I’ll send a drink over to you three ladies in a minute. I’m just going over to see Eve.’ With Lou in tow, Babs joined her sister.

Albie’s mood had grown even darker. He was sipping a large Scotch and complaining to Evie. ‘Bloody hundreds of stakes they’ve hammered in,’ he fumed, ‘right across Hackney Marshes.’ His handsome face was rigid with anger. ‘Put ’em in to stop enemy landings, they reckon, if ever yer’ve heard such total shit. As if the bleed’n Germans wanna go to a piss hole like Hackney.’

‘Don’t matter, does it?’ Evie asked sweetly, looking up at him through her thickly mascaraed lashes. ‘Don’t affect us over here.’

‘Don’t affect us? Don’t matter?’ Albie looked at her as though she was stupid. He turned to Babs and Lou. ‘Don’t she know nothing, this sister o’ your’n?’

Evie flushed scarlet with shame.