The Bells of Bow (62 page)

‘It’s called a number integrator and computer, sir.’

Babs looked wide-eyed at Evie.

Evie shrugged and whispered, ‘Don’t ask me. I just know I’m gonna marry him.’

‘Sounds complicated,’ said Georgie. He shifted on his chair, reached into his waistcoat pocket and took out his tobacco pouch.

‘I guess it is, sir,’ answered Ray, offering Georgie a cigarette from the packet he produced from the breast pocket of his uniform.

‘Thanks, Ray.’ Georgie took the offered smoke and tapped the cigarette on the back of his hand. ‘I’m not sure what yer talking about with this machine of your’n, but yer think there’s a living to be made in working with it, do yer?’

‘Yes, sir. I do.’

Georgie stuck the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. ‘Babs, Evie, go and make us all a cuppa tea.’ He looked at Ray. ‘Tea all right?’

‘Thank you, sir.

‘I’ll come and help you,’ said Maud, hurrying after the twins.

Ray stood up while the women left the room then held out his lighter to Georgie, who bent his head forward to catch the flame. Ray sat down again.

‘It’s going to. be a very important machine, sir. A machine that will probably change a lot of things in the future.’

Georgie took a drag on his cigarette, blowing the smoke out of his nostrils. ‘Changes for the better, I hope.’

‘Of course, sir.’

‘Ringer.’

‘Ringer,’ smiled Ray.

Someone knocked on the front room door. It was Evie. She poked her head into the room. ‘Dad, I thought I ought to say something while Babs and Maud are in the kitchen.’

Ray stood up and guided her into the room.

‘Just so things are straight, Dad.’ She bowed her head.

Ray took her hand in his and smiled encouragingly.

‘I’ve told Ray about Albie Denham,’ she said.

‘Everything?’ asked Georgie.

She nodded.

‘I know he was a crook, sir. That he beat her.’ Ray squeezed Evie’s hand. ‘And I know about Betty.’

Evie raised her chin a little and gazed at Georgie, trying to gauge his reaction.

His face showed no sign of what he was thinking.

‘That’s why Babs took Betty into Blanche earlier this afternoon, Dad,’ she said quietly. ‘So we could talk to yer about it without her hearing.’

Georgie flicked the end of his cigarette into the hearth and watched it until it had burnt away to nothing. He kept his eyes on the flames and said, ‘And it don’t make no difference to how yer feel about her, Ray?’

Ray also paused before he spoke. ‘It was hard to understand at first,’ he said eventually. ‘That Eve could feel that way about her own child.’ Another pause. ‘It nearly broke us up when she told me back in January.’

George looked at him. ‘So that’s why it took so long for yer to come and see us?’

Ray nodded. ‘I think we both needed time. But, in the end, I knew that I wanted Evie more than I wanted anything else in the world. And that accepting her for what she is was part of that; it wasn’t about trying to change her into some person I’d prefer her to be.’

Evie had to bite hard on her bottom lip to stop herself from crying.

‘And I know she loves Betty in her own way. She just can’t help it that she doesn’t love her the way Babs does, the way she should.’

‘Should?’ repeated Georgie carefully.

‘Sure, I’d be a liar if I didn’t find it difficult. But she was honest with me and that counts for a lot. And we’ve worked it through between us. And everything’s going to be just fine.’

Georgie stood up and put his hand on Ray’s shoulder. ‘I hope so, son,’ he said. ‘I really do.’ He chucked Evie gently under the chin. ‘’Cos this little girl of mine’s been hurt enough. And I’d kill anyone who hurt her again.’

‘There’s something else, Dad.’

‘Well?’

‘Ray’s found a room for me, down near the base. I’m going back with him tonight. Babs knows already.’ She covered her face with her hands. ‘It’ll help Betty get used to me not being here,’ she whispered and bolted from the room.

The two men stood in silence as they listened to her run up the stairs and slam the bedroom door.

Evie and Ray had left for Essex and Babs had gone next door to fetch Betty. Maud and Georgie were sitting in the front room. The wireless was on, Georgie was staring into the fire, and Maud was darning a sock.

Without looking up from her sewing, she said, ‘Why don’t you have a glass of that bourbon that Ray brought for you, George?’

He got up with a sigh. ‘Good idea. Want anything?’

Maudie shook her head. ‘No thanks.’

He poured his drink, sat down and took a sip of the whisky. ‘Babs is a long time,’ he said.

Maudie put her darning down on the arm of the chair. ‘Blanche’ll be showing her that letter again.’

Georgie nodded grimly. ‘Yeah, she’s happy as Larry that young Len’s coming home.’

‘She really thought she’d lost him to the farming life,’ smiled Maudie.

‘It’s funny with kids. Yer can never tell how they’ll turn out.’ Georgie bent forward, unhooked the poker from the companion set and raked it through the hot coals, sending sparks dancing up the chimney. ‘Won’t be having too many more fires now the weather’s improving,’ he said, staring unseeingly into the flames. ‘I’ll have to see about getting this lot swept. Ain’t been done for a couple of years.’

Maudie returned to her darning. ‘I’m glad you got on with Ray, George.’

He put the poker back on the stand. ‘Yeah,’ he said vaguely. ‘That was a surprise, wasn’t it? I’d built meself up to dislike the feller without ever having met him.’ He drank some more whisky. ‘I can’t pretend I understand him accepting about Evie and Betty though. It hurts me to think of that girl moving down to live in lodgings in Essex and leaving her baby here. Just like her mum, when yer come down to it.’

‘There’s more to it than that, George.’

‘Yeah, I suppose so. She ain’t a bad girl, not heartless like her mother was. Still, what do I know about women? Yer all a right bloody puzzle, if you ask me.’

Maudie smiled to herself, pulling the heel of the sock tight over the wooden darning mushroom. ‘I think Ray will do her good, George. Make her happy.’

‘I hope yer right. He seemed decent enough. Clever and all.’ He lifted his glass. ‘Mind you, that bottle of bourbon he brought helped.’

‘And the soap. And the shaving cream. And the tinned fruit. You’ve got enough to feed the whole street.’

‘I already have with half the last lot he sent up for Eve.’

Maudie smiled. ‘I sometimes think you’re too generous for your own good, Georgie Bell.’

‘No I’m not, I’m just a feller who realises he’s well off and wants to share it about a bit.’

‘That’s a good thing to say, George. There’s not many people realise when they are well off, you know.’

‘I’ve got two beautiful, healthy daughters that any man would be proud of. I’ve got an angel of a granddaughter. A job that makes me feel like I’m worth something. A roof over me head.’ He sipped at his drink and studied Maud across the rim of his glass. ‘And now I’ve got you for company and all, haven’t I?’

Maudie put her mending down again. ‘Do you think I could have a glass of that now?’

‘Course.’

She took the glass from him and gulped down a mouthful of the bourbon. Her eyes watered and she started coughing as it hit the back of her throat.

Georgie took the glass from her. ‘All right?’

‘Not used to it,’ she gasped, patting her chest. ‘That’s better. I’ll take it a bit slower next time.’

Georgie handed the glass back to her.

‘I’m going to say this outright, George. There’s no point me beating about the bush or messing around. And I know you’ll think I’m being a bit forward. And I know I’m no spring chicken.’

Georgie laughed, the first time he had done so all day. ‘Come on then, spit it out.’

Maudie stared at the half-moon rug in front of the hearth.

‘Do you think the two of us might make a go of it, George?’

‘What d’yer mean? Me and you, proper like?’

‘Why not?’ Maudie took another big gulp of the whisky, and this time she didn’t notice the effects. ‘I only thought …’ she began, then ran out of words.

‘Blimey,’ Georgie said.

Maudie took a deep breath and stood up. ‘Look, George,’ she said firmly. ‘Maybe you’ll think I’m terrible but I’ve gone too far to stop now. I thought that you could move in with me and leave this place for Babs and Harry.’

‘Babs and Harry?’

Maudie grimaced. ‘Don’t tell me you hadn’t realised? I’ve really put my foot in it now, haven’t I?’

Georgie ran his fingers through his dark, wavy hair. ‘I knew they were seeing each other, but I didn’t realise they was serious.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘Yer know, I think I must be half daft sometimes.’

Maud looked at him expectantly. ‘Well?’ she said.

‘Well what?’

‘George!’

‘There’s a problem.’ Georgie swallowed the remains of his bourbon. ‘I’m still married.’

‘I know.’

Georgie’s chin dropped. ‘What? And yer don’t mind? You being a churchgoer and everything?’

‘I’d rather you were free, but it can’t be helped. The war’s made me see a lot of things very differently.’

‘Yer full of surprises, you.’

‘I hope so, George.’ Maud got up, walked over to him, took his face in her hands and kissed him gently on the lips.

Georgie stood up too. ‘Before anything else’s said, would you tell me something, Maud?’

She smiled gently. ‘Anything.’

‘It’s something that I ain’t been able to get off me mind. About that frock.’

‘Frock?’

‘The one you gave to our Evie to get married in. Did you ever wear it?’

Maudie sat down and nodded for him to do the same. ‘I did wear it,’ she said. ‘But only to have it fitted by the dressmaker.’ There was a faraway look in her eyes as she spoke. ‘I was engaged to a young man. Richard, his name was.’

Georgie went over to her, sat on the arm of her chair and took her hand in his. ‘I’m sorry, Maud, I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘No, you should know. But where do I begin?’ Maudie took out her handkerchief and twisted it round and round her fingers. ‘The old couple I lived with here in Darnfield Street, George. They weren’t my parents. They were Richard’s.’

‘Well, there’s a turn-up; everyone round here just presumed they was yours. So how about yer own mum and dad?’

Maudie hesitated.

‘Sorry, Maud.’ George stared up at the ceiling. ‘Me and my big mouth. I didn’t mean to poke me nose in.’

‘No, you’re not doing that, George. It’s just that I haven’t spoken about my parents for so many years. Although I still think about them. All the time.’ She stuffed the hankie up her sleeve and drained the whisky glass. ‘They were musicians,’ she began. ‘There were times when we didn’t have much money, but the house where we lived was full of love and there were always lots of people laughing and singing. Your girls would have loved it.’

‘Where was that then?’

‘London. Bloomsbury.’

‘I always knew you wasn’t from round these parts.’

Maudie smiled.

‘What happened to them?’

Maudie studied her hands for a moment. ‘They died, both of them. Some sort of fever. It happened so quickly. I wasn’t quite twelve years old, much too young to look after myself, so I was sent to live with an elderly aunt in the country. In a tiny village in Wiltshire.’ Maudie’s face clouded. ‘She didn’t take to me, George. She’d never had any interest in children. I was so unhappy.’

Georgie wanted to take her in his arms to comfort her, but he knew he had to let her speak.

‘But then I was rescued. When I was almost fourteen, Richard’s parents took me in. The idea was that his mother, who ran a free school in the village, needed a helper, and that I could also teach the piano there. It was nonsense of course, she didn’t need any help. But they had plenty of money from their business, so paying a young girl wasn’t a hardship for them. I was more than glad to accept, and my aunt was just as happy to be rid of me.’

‘Would yer like another drink?’ he asked softly.

‘No, thank you.’ Maudie shook her head and put her hand over the top of her glass. ‘Well, let’s see, what happened next? Richard fell in love with me, I suppose. And it was just taken for granted that I loved him. He was a handsome young man with excellent prospects – why would anyone have doubted that I loved him? Then the war broke out and Richard volunteered. Before he went away he asked me to marry him. It was as a sort of promise, I suppose, that I’d wait for him.’

‘And you said yes?’

She nodded. ‘I was seventeen years old, had no family except my aunt who didn’t want me, and I was grateful to his parents for taking me in. We planned to be married on his first leave. The dress was made and the ceremony planned. But instead of him coming back, there was a telegram. He died at Ypres. His parents were heartbroken, and I was distraught. But I want you to know, George, I never loved him. I never loved anyone, not in that way, not until I met you.’

Georgie rubbed his hand thoughtfully over his chin. ‘Yer being honest with me, Maud,’ he said. ‘I appreciate that. And so I’m gonna be the same with you. Much as I hate to think of that poor bloke getting killed and everything, and even though I’m hardly a kid any more, I can’t pretend I ain’t pleased to hear yer say yer never loved him.’

‘We stayed in the village and life went on. But then, it must be what, nearly fifteen years ago, the family business went broke and they lost everything including their home. It was nothing of great importance to anyone else, the firm was just another victim of those hard times, and there were plenty who suffered worse. But they’d never really recovered from losing Richard, and the firm folding was like a final blow, it just broke their spirit. Almost overnight they became old, frail and vulnerable. That was when we moved here. The vicar at St Dorothea’s was a family friend and he got them the house here in Darnfield Street. I cared for them until they died, loved them as though they were my own parents.’

‘Yer know, I’m trying to picture ’em. But I just can’t remember what they looked like.’

‘They stayed indoors most of the time. This was a strange world for them. And anyway, let’s face it, George, you had more than enough problems of your own at that time.’