The Bells of Bow (50 page)

‘Talking about bells, here’s another Bell what’s always welcome.’ Wally pointed to Babs who was walking towards his stall. ‘Hello, love, how are yer?’ He turned to Art. ‘Look at them dimples. She can even brighten up a rotten November day like this with that smile of hers. If I was a few years younger, girl!’

‘Yeah, and if yer wife wasn’t working in the pie ’n’ mash shop right behind yer, eh, Wally?’ laughed Babs. She put her string bag and basket on the ground, balancing them carefully between her feet.

Art nudged the young boy who helped him on the stall. ‘See that smile of hers, and how she’s all glowing, like? Know what that means?’

The boy shook his head.

‘Means she’s found herself a chap.’

Babs tutted. ‘You and Wally are as bad as each other, Art.’

‘Does it?’ the boy asked, with a soppy, crooked grin that made his face look lopsided.

‘Here,’ said Art, poking his young helper in the ribs. ‘It ain’t you she’s sweet on, is it, kiddo?’

The boy blushed crimson from the teasing. ‘Leave off, Art. Course it ain’t me.’

‘It could be.’ Babs smiled kindly at the lad and ruffled his hair. She leaned closer to him and whispered, ‘Just ignore these two old sods. You give it a while and yer’ll be breaking all the girls’ hearts round here, just you see. Them two are jealous ’cos they’re past it.’

The young lad, made confident by Babs’s words, repaid her with a wink.

The two elderly traders laughed noisily at the boy’s audacity, both enjoying the chance for a bit of a chuckle on a miserable winter’s afternoon.

‘And how’s that gorgeous blonde twin of your’n?’ asked Wally.

‘Still putting herself about with all the blokes, is she?’ the newly self-assured but still very naive youngster asked.

Art and Wally exchanged horrified looks.

Before the boy realised that he had said anything even remotely wrong, Babs had caught him a stinging wallop round his ear. ‘Don’t you be so bloody cheeky, you rotten little bugger.’

‘He didn’t mean no offence to yer, darling,’ said Art, trying to placate her. ‘Did yer, yer big-mouthed little tyke?’

‘No,’ the boy said, a scowl on his face. ‘I didn’t mean
you
was like it. I just meant yer sister what’s knocking around with all them Yanks.’

This time, Babs didn’t have to clout him. Art and Wally did it for her.

‘Oi,’ the boy yelled, covering his stinging ears with his hands. ‘That bloody hurt, that did.’

‘Good,’ snapped Babs. ‘Perhaps yer’ll remember it, and it’ll learn yer some manners.’

‘Want some potatoes and carrots, Babs?’ Wally asked, shaking his head in wonder at the boy’s stupidity.

Babs shook her head; she couldn’t answer, her eyes were brimming with tears.

‘Don’t upset yerself ’cos of yer sister,’ Wally said, putting his short, fat little arm round her shoulder. ‘She ain’t worth it.’

Babs shoved his arm away. ‘Why don’t you piss off, the lot of yer? And yer know what yer can do with yer bloody carrots.’

‘But I didn’t mean—’

‘I know exactly what yer meant.’

Wally dropped his arms to his side and lifted his face to the sky. ‘Keep yer gob shut, Wally,’ he told himself. ‘Aw no,’ he said, feeling the first spots of rain on his upturned face. ‘That’s all we need.’

‘Good,’ sniped Babs. ‘I hope yer all get soaked putting yer stalls away.’ With that she gathered up her things and stomped off back towards Grove Road.

When she eventually got to Darnfield Street, it was she who was soaked. Her hair was plastered flat to her head and her arms were aching from carrying the shopping. The final straw was when she got to number six and pushed sideways at the door to find it was shut tight. She couldn’t believe it.

She didn’t want to put the shopping on the ground in the pouring rain, so while she tried to find her key, she juggled the bags from one hand to the other. But it was no good, it wasn’t in either pocket, or in any of the bags. She shouted loudly for Evie to open up, but no one came. As a last resort she kicked the door as hard as she could. ‘You’d better be in, Evie Bell,’ she muttered, looking up at the sky that had now turned a deep leaden grey.

The door opened unexpectedly and Evie was standing there with, of all things, an apron over her dress. ‘Look at yer,’ she said, ‘yer soaked.’

‘Yeah. I know. I’ve been out to get the shopping in the rain, ain’t I. And then I couldn’t get in me own house and I’ve been standing here shouting like a flipping nutcase.’

‘Well, why don’t yer come in then, yer silly mare? Here, let me take them off yer.’

Babs threw her bags on the floor.

‘I had to shut the door ’cos Betty was running in and out.’

‘Aw.’

‘I’ve made us a nice hot casserole for our tea, from that chicken Maudie give us.’

‘Aw.’

‘Is that all yer gonna do, stand here in the passage dripping all over the place and saying “aw”?’

‘It’s just that you surprise me sometimes, Eve.’

‘I hope so. I do me best.’ Evie picked up the bags and carried them through to the kitchen.

Babs followed her. ‘No, I ain’t messing around, Eve. I … I forget how nice yer can be when yer want to.’

Evie sighed as she heaved the bags onto the draining board. ‘Look, Babs, I know yer think I’m a selfish cow, but I really don’t mean to be. It’s just that I’ve got so many other things on me mind most of the time.’ She looked down at Betty who was sitting under the table totally absorbed in playing with her bricks. ‘I sometimes wonder how I got into all this. Being a widow and having a kid. And I don’t feel much more than a kid meself half the time.’

Babs put her arms out to Evie and hugged her. ‘I know it ain’t been easy for yer. And I know yer think I’m a moaner at times, but I don’t mean to be ratty with yer. I just worry about yer so much, that’s all.’

Evie pulled a face as she lifted Babs’s wet hair from her cheek. ‘What, worry about me? Don’t waste yer time, girl. I’m a survivor, me.’

‘Yeah. I know you are.’

Betty looked up. When she realised that Babs was home she clambered up from the floor and grabbed her round the legs. ‘Babs!’ she yelled, delighted to see her.

Babs bent down and kissed her. ‘I can’t pick you up, tuppence. I’m all wet, look at me.’

Evie went over to the sink and threw her a towel. ‘You get dried off and I’ll dish us up some of the casserole.’

Babs wrapped her hair in the towel and went out to the passage to hang up her wet coat. When she came back in, she sat down at the table, lifted Betty onto her lap and started reading a letter that she had brought in with her.

Evie looked round from the stove. ‘What’s that yer’ve got there?’

‘Nothing.’

‘It’s that letter that come this morning, ain’t it? I bet it’s from him again, that Harry.’

‘What if it is?’ Babs shifted Betty to a more comfortable position.

‘Blimey, that’s how many months yer’ve been writing to each other now?’

Babs shrugged. ‘A few,’ she said nonchalantly.

‘A few?’ snorted Evie, as she poured ladlefuls of the chicken into two big bowls for her and Babs and a small one for Betty. ‘More like six months, I’d say. At least.’ She put the rest of the food back in the oven for Georgie and wiped her hands on the apron. ‘Come on, let’s have a look. Is it full of soppy stuff?’

Babs smiled coyly. ‘Might be.’

‘It is, innit?’

‘Well, the letters have got a bit sort of loving lately.’

Betty, bored with the adults’ conversation, scrambled down from her Auntie Babs’s lap and returned to her game under the table.

‘How d’yer mean, loving?’

‘It says all sorts of nice things,’ Babs glanced at the letter. ‘I really look forward to getting them, more than I can tell yer.’

‘Blimey, they must be good. Let’s have a look.’

‘No.’

‘Come on, it’s addressed to me, ain’t it?’

‘Evie, I said no.’

Evie ignored her; she reached out and grabbed the letter from Babs’s hand. ‘Right, let’s see.’

‘Evie, I mean it. Give it here. Give it back.’

‘No. And look, it
is
addressed to me.’

‘You know it’s not.’

‘But it is, look, it says so. Evie Bell. You’re still pretending to be me, ain’t yer?’

‘I’m pretending that my name is Evie, that’s all. You’re the one who did all the other pretending. Now give it to me!’

Evie wasn’t going to give in so easily, not when she had her mind set on something. She skipped backwards and leapt onto a chair, holding the letter high in the air.

Betty crawled out from under the table and jumped up and down with pleasure at the new game.

Evie’s eyes widened as, with head tipped back, she began reading the letter out loud: ‘“You are being faithful to me, aren’t you, Evie?”’ she read. ‘“You are still my girl?” Blimey!’ She looked down at Babs and giggled. Babs didn’t share Evie’s amusement.

‘“How’s yer sister getting on? Let me know if she’s heard any more news of her husband yet. I’ve been asking around when anyone mentions prisoners of war, yer never know, I might hear something out here.”’ Evie’s mouth fell open. ‘Look,’ she squealed, holding the letter out of Babs’s reach. ‘He’s done a little drawing of stars and the moon to go with the next bit. Here, he ain’t a bad artist, is he?’ She winked. ‘I’ve always liked artistic types.’

‘Eve, if you don’t give me that letter—’

‘Sssshhh,’ Evie put her finger to her lips. ‘Don’t shout, yer’ll upset Betty.’ She returned to her reading. ‘This is the bit that goes with the drawing. “Every night at ten o’clock, I want you to go out and look at the stars and I’ll be doing the same. Even though we can’t be together we’ll know that we are looking at the same sky. You know, Eve, lots of fellers get married after only a weekend together.” Married, he said! “And I know how they feel. It’s like everything’s urgent, important. It makes you realise how important it is to have something and someone stable in yer life. I hate to think of you so far away. And I wish you was in the country somewhere instead of in the East End. But I bet Babs is grateful to have you with her and helping her with her little girl. I really do hope she’s had good news about her husband. Wish I could explain how important it is to get the letters from you. I’d like to be able to tell you all about what it’s like out here. Not to scare you or nothing, but to share it with you. And I’d like you to meet all my mates one day. Good blokes, they are. Tell you what, send me a picture of yourself so I can show them all my blonde bombshell!”’ Evie began to giggle. ‘Bloody hell, Babs, just you watch him run when he finds out he’s fallen in love with a lie!’ She dropped her hand to her side and shook her head in wonder. ‘What an idiot that bloke must be.’

Babs took her chance to snatch the letter back. ‘I hate you sometimes, Evie Bell,’ she sobbed and ran out into the passage.

Evie shrugged as she climbed down from the chair. ‘Yer always saying that,’ she called after her. ‘Now come back in here and get this chicken soup down yer. Yer’ll soon forget all about it.’

‘No, Eve, I won’t, not this time,’ Babs shouted back as she ran, crying her heart out, up the stairs.

Babs pushed open the door to the baker’s shop.

‘Me!’ squealed Betty, pointing up to the brass chime that hung, jangling, behind the door.

Babs lifted her little niece in her arms for her to reach the shiny bell.

‘I bet Auntie Rita’s got something special for this little girl,’ said Rita coming from behind the counter with a glossy topped bun. She held it out for Betty to take.

‘Cake!’ Betty shouted happily.

‘Ssshhh. Uncle Bert made that just for you, don’t tell no one,’ she whispered.

‘Say “ta”,’ said Babs, lifting Betty onto the chair that stood by the counter.

‘Ta,’ she echoed as she wriggled backwards to get comfortable and then began busily tackling the sticky treat.

‘Dunno about the little’un having a sitdown,’ said Rita, glancing critically at Babs’s pale complexion. She stepped back behind the counter. ‘Looks to me like you could do with a seat.’

‘I’m all right, Reet. Bit tired, that’s all.’

‘It’ll be this miserable weather getting yer down. Ne’mind, spring’ll soon be here and that always puts a bit of colour in yer cheeks.’

‘I hope so.’ Babs smiled wearily. ‘Got a loaf for us, please, Reet?’

Rita selected the crustiest one from the blackened metal tray that stood on the wide wooden shelf behind her and put it on the counter in front of Babs. ‘And there’s some birthdays coming up soon if I’ve got me dates right, ain’t there, Babs? That’ll be something to look forward to and all.’

‘Yeah.’ Babs bent down and wiped some cake crumbs from the front of Betty’s coat. ‘Betty’s two on the ninth of March.’

‘Betty’s!’ said Betty gleefully. ‘What Betty’s?’

‘Betty’s lovely,’ Rita smiled at her.

Satisfied with the admiration, Betty got on with her bun.

‘That’s this Tuesday, innit?’

‘Yeah,’ said Babs, straightening up.

‘Two, eh? Don’t time fly?’

Babs looked at Betty and sighed. ‘Yeah, it’s unbelievable sometimes. And so’s the fact that it’s only a couple of months till me and Evie’s twenty-first.’

‘Smashing! Now that really
is
something to celebrate.’

‘D’yer reckon? I don’t feel, like I’ve got much to be happy about.’

‘The war’s getting everyone down, love, don’t let it make yer miserable. It don’t help, yer know.’

‘I know it sounds selfish when people like your Bill are being so brave, but it ain’t just the war, Reet, or the weather that’s getting me down.’ She turned her back to Betty. ‘It’s Eve, if yer must know. I’m totally knackered and Evie’s carrying on like … Well, like she always has and I’m just about sick and tired of it.’

‘Sick!’ repeated Betty.

‘Ears like bats, ain’t they?’ said Rita with a smile. She came from round the otherside of the counter and put her hand gently on Babs’s shoulder. ‘Look, darling, it’s none of my business, and I don’t know what’s happened between you girls, but I couldn’t help but notice the bad feelings between the pair of yer – no one could. But yer shouldn’t have bad feelings, especially not in a family. It don’t do no one no good. It can only lead to heartache.’