The Bells of Bow (30 page)

Babs sat down reluctantly. ‘I’ve got the right fidgets,’ she said with a shudder. ‘It’s all this business. If yer keep going, yer don’t have to think about it.’

‘It’s hard,’ Nellie agreed, ‘but try and forget all that for the minute. Tell me about your Evie. She looks terrible.’

‘Yeah. Yer right there, Nell. But I dunno what’s up with her. She’s not been herself for a week or so now. Must be coming down with something.’

‘Well, I just hope it’s not ’flu, that’s all.’ Nellie jerked her thumb at the bar. ‘I’ve been told some horrible stories across that counter about all the flipping illnesses and things that’re going around again.’

Babs looked worried. ‘I hadn’t thought about ’flu.’

‘Well, yer should. ’Cos she needs to keep her strength up in case she does get a touch of it. Knocks yer for six, it does. I mean, the other night, when you and her went round to do the collection for the wreaths, I couldn’t believe it. Rings under her eyes like an old girl’s, she had. She’s overdoing it, I’m telling yer. Yer wanna have a talk to her, tell her to stay in a few nights a week.’ Nellie curled her lip into a sneer. ‘I reckon Albie Denham can find something or someone to keep himself occupied.’

Babs didn’t need to say anything, it was enough for her just to look at Nellie.

‘Yeah, I know,’ Nellie answered for her with a flap of her hand. ‘Yer might as well talk to yerself as to try and talk to Evie.’

‘Tea?’ Maudie appeared from behind the bar and put the tray down on the table in front of Babs and Nellie.

‘Make the most of this, you two,’ said Nellie, speaking with the weary voice of experience. ‘I’ve done enough funeral teas in this pub to know we’re in for a long hard slog.’

‘That wind cuts through yer like ice.’ Minnie shivered as she stepped inside the Drum behind Clara. ‘It feels more like January than the middle of October out there.’

‘It’s not only the wind that’s making yer shiver, Min,’ whispered Clara, following her inside. ‘It was them coffins.’ Clara’s lip trembled. ‘I’ll never forget ’em, as long as I live. Old Nanna Jenner’s was hardly bigger than the one that the baby was in.’

‘And fancy being buried with yer great-granddaughter.’ Minnie let out a long slow breath. ‘Makes yer think, don’t it, Clara?’

Like the rest of the neighbours, Minnie and Clara stood aimlessly around while they waited for Ted and Liz to come into the pub. When the cars had pulled into the street, Liz had taken it into her head to take the children to have one last look at the bombsite that had once been their home. She wanted them to be able to replace their memories of their mother screaming and fainting with one of her standing there, still desperately sad, but at least in control of herself. Ted had tried to persuade her that it didn’t matter, that it wasn’t necessary, but there had been no reasoning with her. It’s what she wanted to do for her children and for the baby she had lost.

Everyone agreed that it didn’t seem respectful to start eating or drinking till the Jenners appeared – everyone, that is, except Alice Clarke. She was content neither to stand around in silence nor to show a bit of consideration for people’s feelings by whispering quietly to Nobby. As usual she was far more interested in holding forth on whatever happened to be going on, allowing everyone within earshot to have the benefit of her views on events.

‘I wouldn’t mind a cup o’ tea,’ she began, as she surveyed the food table. ‘And a sandwich wouldn’t come amiss after standing round that grave in the perishing cold.’

She waited. When no one replied with the offer of either, she started on a different tack.

‘I don’t think she believes that baby’s dead, yer know. I’ve seen it all before. They go mad when something like that happens. She’ll be up there searching for it.’

Evie shook her head with disgust. ‘Don’t talk so stupid, Alice.’

‘Well, why else did she wanna go up there? It’s morbid, if you ask me.’

Thinking about what Nellie had said about Evie needing to rest, Babs put herself between her twin and Alice. ‘Don’t waste yer breath on her, Eve,’ she said and pulled out a chair for her sister. ‘Sit down,’ she ordered her, nodding towards the seat. Evie looked a bit surprised but sat down gratefully. Then Babs turned her attention to Alice. She folded her arms and looked down her nose at the old woman. ‘She’s being morbid, yer say, Alice?’

‘Yeah, morbid.’

Babs unfolded her arms and pointed her finger very close to Alice’s nose. ‘She’s just buried her baby and Ted’s nan, course she feels sodding morbid. How d’you expect her to feel, like going bloody dancing?’

‘Very nice talk,’ said Alice with a haughty toss of her head. ‘And what’s she sitting down for, that sister o’ your’n? That’s what I wanna know. If old’uns like me can stand up till them two get back here, why can’t she?’

Babs glanced over to Evie and saw that she was fuming. Babs held up her hand to silence her and answered for her. ‘’Cos she ain’t been feeling well, that’s why. I suppose she needs a note from the doctor to say she’s allowed to sit down. Shall I get yer one? Or would yer rather she passed out on the floor in front of yer?’

‘Not well?’ Alice narrowed her eyes and stared hard at Evie. ‘Looks all right to me. Too much gallivanting, that’s all that’s the matter with her. Wants to spend less time bleaching that hair of her’n and get in at a decent hour like other people and then she’d …’

Evie stood up slowly. ‘Have you finished, you nosy old bag?’

‘Eve.’ Georgie touched his daughter gently on the arm. ‘Don’t upset yerself over her, darling.’

‘I ain’t upset.’ Evie said the words very deliberately as though she had to struggle to pronounce each one. ‘I’m bloody furious.’

Alice looked round at her husband who had been standing sheepishly by her side. ‘Nobby,’ she barked. ‘Will you listen to her? I know what she’s got herself all wound up about.’ She turned back to face Evie. ‘Yer know all about getting notes from the doctor, don’t yer? Or should I say that that crooked fancy man of your’n does? I’ve heard all about it. Too ill to join up. Pwuuhh!’

‘You rotten, hatchet-faced old …’ Evie lunged forward, ready to wrap her hands round Alice’s skinny throat.

‘Come on, Evie.’ Maudie spoke calmly but authoritatively as she stepped forward and took Evie’s arm. ‘Come out the back and help me and Babs start making the tea.’

‘You’d better watch what you say about my sister,’ Babs mouthed at Alice before she followed Maudie and Evie into the safety of the kitchen.

Bert Chalmers from the baker’s put his hand on Georgie’s shoulder and winked at him. ‘All right, Ringer? That Alice, eh? Make a saint swear, she would. Tell yer what, Ted won’t mind, let’s go up the bar and get a drink. I hate these things, don’t you?’

‘And I hate
these
things,’ said Ethel Morgan, ripping the black armband off the sleeve of her coat. ‘It was bad enough when it used to always make me think about who I wore it for the last time, and who I’d be wearing it for the next. But now it makes me think about him and his bloody ARP armband.’ She lifted her chin towards her husband Frankie who had followed Georgie and Bert to the bar. ‘And that’s all I need, having to think about him more than I have to.’

As everyone else began to drift towards the bar, the door opened and Ted ushered Liz and the children through into the pub.

Liz stepped inside and just stood there, staring blankly. Everything about her looked pathetic: her arms drooped by her sides, her shoulders were hunched like an old woman’s, and the black coat that Blanche had loaned her hung on her narrow body like an oversized dust sheet thrown over a footstool.

Nellie took Liz by the hand and sat her down at a table in the corner. She signalled for Rita to come over. ‘Try and get Liz to drink this,’ Nellie said, handing Rita the cup of tea she had ready for her. ‘There’s plenty of sugar in it – most of Jim’s ration if he only knew – and a little drop of brandy. Good for her nerves. I’ll take the kids through the back for a bit. They don’t wanna be in here with all this.’

‘Best thing,’ Rita agreed and sat down next to Liz.

Ted was standing in the middle of the room. He started to speak, but seemed immediately to lose his train of thought. ‘I’d, er …’ He ran his hands through his hair and shuffled about. He looked perplexed, as though he wasn’t quite sure why he was there. ‘I’d like to, er …’

Everyone turned to look at him except Liz who carried on staring into the teacup that Rita had placed in her hands.

‘I’d like to say a few words,’ Ted finally managed to say.

Jim came round the bar and handed him a glass of Scotch. ‘You take yer time, mate,’ he said, patting him on the back.

Ted was unaccustomed to drinking spirits but even throwing back the whole glassful in two quick gulps didn’t appear to affect him. He seemed to have trouble noticing anything beyond what was going on in his head. ‘Me, Liz and the kids wanna thank yer for what yer’ve done. That’s what I wanted to say.’

Murmurings went round the bar, reassuring Ted that they hadn’t done anything at all, well, no more than anyone would have done in the same position.

‘No, I mean it. Thanks.’

‘Have you got somewhere to stay yet?’ Maudie asked as she came through from the kitchen carrying a tray of tea, followed by the twins. ‘You know my offer’s still there.’

‘Yeah, I know, Miss Peters. And I’m grateful to yer. But I’ve decided that it’s best for Liz and the kids to go away. It’s all been sorted out, they’re gonna be evacuated to some place in Shropshire somewhere.’

‘You going with ’em, Ted?’ Blanche with her memories of her own evacuation and of Archie joining up was more sensitive than most to talk of separation.

Ted shook his head. ‘I’d like to, Blanche, but I can’t.’ Ted sounded resigned to disappointment and pain. ‘Me job in the docks is a reserved occupation. I’ve gotta stay put.’

‘That don’t seem fair,’ Minnie whispered to Clara. ‘Splitting up the poor buggers at a time like this.’

Clara grasped Minnie’s hand. ‘Terrible. Just terrible.’

‘Well, yer’ve got no worries about finding yerself a place to stay, Ted. We’ve got space upstairs.’ Jim pointed to the ceiling of the bar. ‘Plenty of little rooms up there. Take yer pick. Whichever one yer like.’

Ted stared down at the floor. ‘Yer all really kind.’ He was close to tears. ‘But I don’t think I could stay in the street. Not now. I’ll get lodgings down Poplar way. Near work.’ He took out his hankie and blew his nose loudly.

Maudie waited for Ted to continue, but he just stood there, staring at the floor. She took a deep breath, determined to keep her tears till later, and said, ‘Nellie told me you’re all to have something to eat. Now, who wants tea?’ She turned to Evie. ‘Can you take a few bits of food out the back? Make sure the kids get something to eat.’

At the mention of food, Evie grasped the back of a chair to stop herself swaying. ‘I think I’ll sit down, if yer don’t mind, Maud. Babs’ll do it, won’t yer?’

When everyone had helped themselves to food and drink, they sat around, as was the way with funerals, and talked about old times, present troubles and what might happen tomorrow.

‘It’s true,’ Alice said, after she’d passed on a shocking tale of looting and scavenging that she’d heard from someone down the market. ‘Stealing out of old girls’ houses while they’re in the shelter. That’s all some kids know nowadays, getting something for nothing and don’t care who they hurt.’

‘Yer can’t tar ’em all with the same brush, Alice,’ Georgie said from the next table where he was sitting with Maudie. He was remembering the scared young boy in the bombed corner shop with the half-eaten apple. ‘Some kids don’t come from streets like this one where they’ve got a chance to go to someone for help if they need it. Some poor little sods have to get by whatever way they can. They don’t have a choice if they’re hungry.’

Alice sneered at his stupidity. ‘Don’t give me that.’

‘He’s right,’ said Maudie.

‘Who asked you?’ Alice demanded.

Maudie continued, determined to have her say. ‘It is special round here, the way people stick together. And we should be proud of it. Proud of what we manage to do for each other. If you ever get the chance, you should speak to the vicar about why he lives here. He’ll make you really think.’

‘Vicar!’ spluttered Alice. ‘Yer wanna sort out getting your roof tiles out of my flaming garden instead of wasting yer time round the church Bible bashing.’

Maudie put her cup down gently on its saucer, waited a calming moment before she spoke and then said, ‘I’ve been to see the person at the council office, and she’s promised to send someone round to come and inspect the damage on the roof from the incendiaries. And I’m sure they’ll do something about the tiles. But they say, rightly, that leaks and shattered tiles aren’t exactly dangerous and that I’ll have to wait, just as you will, along with thousands and thousands of other Londoners.’

Alice looked round the room, her eyebrows raised halfway up her forehead. ‘I thought you was gonna sort them tiles out.’

‘I’ll have a word with someone I know down at the station whose sister works at the council, if yer like. See when they think they’ll be able to come to fix it.’

Maudie smiled at George. ‘Thanks.’

‘Till then we’ll have to muck in and see what we can do for ourselves. I’ll help yer clear up and I’ll nail a bit of lino or tarpaulin over the damage.’ Georgie raised his pint to Maudie. ‘We’ll muddle through, girl, don’t you worry yerself.’

Alice narrowed her eyes. ‘You two have got very friendly,’ she said accusingly.

Babs had just arrived at Alice’s table with a tray to clear away the dirty crockery. She winked across at her dad. ‘That all yer got to say, Alice?’ she asked, picking up the empty cups and plates. ‘I thought yer’d have managed something a bit more spiteful or gossipy than that. Must be losing yer touch.’

Maud pressed her lips together trying to stop herself from turning on Alice. When she had got herself under control, she said to Georgie, ‘I’ve got a few veg that you and the girls might like, and one or two eggs. By way of saying thank you.’

Alice wasn’t best pleased that she hadn’t got the response she had hoped for – she had expected at least a denial about their friendship, which she could then make something of. She had to find something else to be nasty about. ‘Sounds like yer’ve got yerself a right little barnyard,’ she snapped.