Tuppence To Spend (15 page)

Nora looked at him. ‘That was the night you got the doctor to me, wasn’t it? What did he do with those things, Dan?’

‘Well, he took ’em back, didn’t he? That’s what I
told
him to do.’

They sat in silence for a few minutes, staring out at the grey streets. The snow had almost gone now, leaving small grimy lumps on the edge of the pavements. Nora glanced uneasily at her husband.

‘We don’t
know
he did, though, do we? The magistrate did say they’d sold stuff before.’

Dan scowled. He was fed up with Gordon and wanted nothing more than to go to the pub with his mates, have a few beers and a game of darts and forget all about it. He was sick of having coppers come to the door, sick of Nora crying, sick of his son’s self-righteous complaints about Micky Baxter. And Sammy didn’t help either, clinging to his mother all the time and looking as frightened as if he thought the coppers were coming for him as well. I dunno
why we ever had kids, he thought as they reached their stop and got off the bus. Nothing but bleeding trouble.

‘I don’t see that it matters now,’ he said as they walked slowly down March Street. ‘The boy’s got his punishment and we’re being punished alongside him. That’s five bob a week you won’t see now, nor his rations neither.’

‘Well, he’s not going to need feeding, is he?’ Nora stopped and put her hand to her side. ‘Oh Dan, I’ve got an awful stitch.’

‘A stitch? You ain’t done nothing to get a stitch. You ain’t hardly walked more than four miles a fortnight, let alone run anywhere. How could you have a stitch?’

‘I don’t know, but it hurts something chronic.’ She leant against him. ‘I don’t know as I can walk home, Dan.’

He stared at her. ‘Come on, Nora, it’s only a step. We’re nearly halfway down March Street. You can walk that bit.’

‘I can’t …’ She sagged against him and he grabbed her as he felt her body begin to slide to the pavement. Suddenly, she was a dead weight and he let her down to lie on the paving stones before looking wildly up and down the street. There was nobody in sight and he looked down at her again and picked up her hand, holding it against his cheek.

‘Come on, Nora – wake up, for Gawd’s sake wake up. You can’t lie here on the pavement, it’s all ice, you’ll catch your death—’ He caught the words up, feeling sick. ‘
Nora
!’

‘What’s up, mate?’

It was Frank Budd, from the other end of the street. He and Dan had been in the Army together in the ‘14–’18 war, and it was Frank who’d told him there was a house for rent in April Grove. He stood beside Dan, staring down, his cap pushed to the back of his head. ‘Missus been took poorly?’

‘Well, she ain’t having an afternoon nap!’ Dan snapped,
then cursed himself as he saw Frank’s expression. ‘Sorry, mate, but she’s just collapsed and I’m at me wits’ end. Could you – could you give me a bit of an ’and? Just to get her down the street and indoors, like.’

‘Course, mate.’ Frank helped Dan pick Nora up and carry her down the street. ‘You going to get her to a doctor?’

‘I just want to get her back home,’ Dan said tersely and they staggered on. It was a wonder, Dan thought, how heavy a little wisp of a thing like Nora could be when she was out for the count. To tell the truth, he was a bit taken aback by how thin she was now. It was a long time since he’d held her in his arms, she was always too tired or too sick just lately, and she only seemed to be half the woman he remembered.

They came to number 2 at last and Dan poked his hand through the letter box and pulled out the key that hung on a string behind it. He unlocked the door and said, ‘It’s all right. I can manage now.’

‘I’ll just help you get her inside,’ Frank said, not noticing Dan’s reluctance to let him over the doorstep. Together they hauled Nora along the passage, past Dan’s bike that had had a puncture for the past month and past a sack of potatoes he’d brought back from the Camber one night, and into the back room. Frank helped lay Nora down in the armchair, then straightened up and looked about him.

Dan looked too, seeing the room for the first time through someone else’s eyes. He saw the dreary wallpaper, stained from where he’d chucked a plate of half-eaten dinner at Sammy one night when the kid had been playing up over his food. He saw the chipped paint on the door of the cupboard under the stairs and the splintered hole in one of the panels where Gordon had put his boot through it in a fit of temper. He saw the table, covered with sheets of newspaper dated two weeks earlier instead of a
tablecloth, with dirty crockery strewn over it and Sammy standing beside it with a tin of cold baked beans which he’d been eating with a spoon. He saw the battered armchair with its stuffing oozing out and the scrap of threadbare mat on the floor in front of the cold embers in the fireplace.

‘Yeah, all right,’ he said, knowing what Frank was thinking. ‘It’s a bloody mess, but she ain’t been too clever lately, see. I can manage now, thanks.’

‘Yes, OK, mate,’ Frank said, dragging his eyes away and thinking what Jess would say if she could see it all. He caught Dan’s look and turned towards the door, then hesitated again. ‘Look, if there’s anything we can do – Jess and me – I mean, we know you’ve had a bit of bother and what with your missus being poorly as well.’

‘I said I can manage,’ Dan said. ‘Thanks.’ He said it as if it meant ‘get out’, and Frank nodded, shrugging his shoulders as he turned away again.

‘All right, mate. It was just a friendly offer. If you change your mind –’ he paused but Dan said nothing and he went through the door. ‘All right, then, cheerio.’ The front door opened and closed. There was silence in the room.

‘Is – is Mummy dead?’ Sammy asked at last in a small voice and his father’s head snapped up.

‘No, of course she’s not dead! Why d’you always keep on about her being dead? She’s just fainted a bit, that’s all – look, she’s coming round already. Well, don’t just stand there – get her a drink of water. And shut that bloody front door, Frank Budd’s left it half open, there’s a draught like the flaming Arctic coming down the passage.’ He sat over Nora, rubbing her hands and whispering to her as Sammy scuttled out to the scullery and poured a cup of water from the tap. ‘Nora, Nora,’ he whispered, ‘wake up, for Gawd’s sake. Don’t go and die on me,
please
. I can’t manage it all without you. Nora,
please
…’

Sammy came back with the water. Dan held it to his wife’s lips and, her eyelids fluttering, she sipped it, choked a little, then drank some more. She gave them both a weak, tremulous smile.

‘Oh, Nora,’ Dan breathed. ‘Thank Gawd. Thank
Gawd
…’

He sat quite still beside her, holding her hand. Sammy wriggled his fingers into the palm of the other and she squeezed it gently. The three of them sat together in the cold room, silent and unspeaking, for a long time.

The phoney war, as those first months were called, came to an abrupt end in June 1940 when the British Expeditionary Force – almost the entire Army – was driven back to the beaches of Dunkirk and the survivors had to be rescued by a flotilla of ships, from the greatest battleship to the humblest dinghy. After that, with France occupied together with most of the rest of Europe, it seemed only a matter of time until Britain too went under the iron heel.

The war then took to the air as the Battle of Britain was waged up and down the Channel and over the south of England. In cities and towns, in hamlets and villages, people took cover, or stood and stared as British and German aircraft tore the skies apart. Every small boy became an expert in identifying Spitfires, Hurricanes, Messerschmitts and Dorniers. Every one dreamed of capturing his very own parachutist.

Evacuees who had come home after Christmas began to filter back to the countryside, but it wasn’t until the bombing began in July and August that many parents started to take the idea seriously again and the billeting officers found themselves busy once more.

‘You could have an evacuee now, Auntie Ruth,’ Lizzie said when she dropped in to see her aunt one afternoon. Now that she didn’t have Joe to look after any more, Ruth was working longer hours again at the Cottage Hospital just over the village green. She often took Silver with her and stood him on his perch near the front door to entertain
visitors. He learned to imitate the nurses and added a few more words to his repertoire.

‘Nurse!’ he would squawk in an uncanny imitation of Matron’s voice. ‘Nurse, come here at once!’ After being caught out a few times, the nurses stopped taking any notice, then found themselves in trouble when Matron really did call them and they ignored her.

Ruth split some scones and spread a thin layer of butter over them. Even in the country, you had to be careful with the rations and they’d formed a new tradition of having butter only if you weren’t having jam or some other spread. Nobody liked margarine much, but Ruth’s home-made blackberry-and-apple jam was famous in the family and its rich flavour concealed the taste.

‘I know. I’ve been thinking about an evacuee. I’ve heard they’re starting to come out again. There was a new batch sent out from Gosport last week but they all went out Fair Oak way. One of the doctors told me. I suppose if there were any from the district our evacuees live in they’d be brought out here, so that they could go to the same school.’

‘Well, you’d better make sure they’ve got your name, then,’ Lizzie said. ‘But could you manage one, Auntie? I mean, what about when you’re working nights?’

‘Well, I thought the kiddy could come with me and sleep in that little side ward. It’s never used.’ Ruth’s brown eyes softened. ‘Poor little mites, they need a bit of comfort. Torn away from their mums and dads. It’s enough to break your heart.’

‘They’re a bit rough, though, some of them,’ Lizzie said. ‘I mean, ones like the Budds are all right, but some of them come from real slums. I’ve heard they’re riddled with lice and fleas, and don’t know how to use a knife and fork, or what a bar of soap’s for, or anything. You want to make sure you get a decent one, Auntie.’

‘I’ll take whatever the good Lord sends me,’ Ruth said.
‘I’m sure me and Silver can manage. He won’t stand any nonsense, will you, Silv?’

‘Stuff and nonsense,’ the bird said. ‘Oompah, oompah, stuff it up your jumper.’

Lizzie grinned. ‘He might even learn a few new words. Or the evacuee might! But honestly, Auntie, you want to be careful. Ask for a nice little girl who’ll be a bit of help to you.’

‘I’d rather have a boy who’d be a bit of life. That’s what I’d have wanted if me and Jack had been blessed. A houseful of boys, like Joyce Moore.’ Ruth’s face saddened. ‘But there, it wasn’t what the good Lord had in mind for us, so maybe He’s giving me another chance now. And that’s why it’s not for me to choose, same as it wouldn’t have been for me to choose if He had decided to send us our own. Take what you’re given and be grateful, that’s what I always say.’

Lizzie spread some jam on her scone and bit into it thoughtfully. Auntie Ruth had always seemed as bright as a wren, bustling cheerfully through life and even when Uncle Jack had died she had never imposed her grief on other people, but had gone back to nursing almost as if nothing had happened. Yet she talked about him constantly and indeed, with Silver croaking words Jack had taught him in Jack’s gravelly voice, he would have been impossible to forget.

‘D’you know when the evacuees will come?’

‘Well, I think they’re sending them out more or less all the time, as the parents decide to let ’em go. And the authorities are going round trying to persuade them that don’t want to that it’s for the best. They say people on the coast are on edge all the time, waiting to hear the church bells ring to say the Germans have arrived.’

Lizzie nodded. ‘Those raids they’ve had in Portsmouth and London sound awful. People killed, buildings smashed
to bits … and they say it’ll get worse. It’s no place for kiddies.’

‘And that’s why we’ve got to give a home to them,’ Ruth said. ‘You’re right, it doesn’t bear thinking of, little children being bombed out of house and home. We’ve got to do all we can for them. Even if they
are
crawling with lice and fleas and don’t know what a knife and fork are for,’ she added. ‘It’s easy enough to give a child a bath and any youngster can learn table manners.’

Lizzie gave her a rueful look. ‘I know, Auntie. You’re right and I’m glad you’re having an evacuee. I hope it’ll be a nice one, that’s all. And it’ll be fun to have a kiddy in the family. You’ll have to bring it over to tea with us.’

‘Tea for two,’ Silver said, evidently feeling that he had been silent for too long. ‘I’m a little teapot, short and stout, here’s my handle, here’s my spout, when you fill me up you’ll hear me shout –’

‘We hear you shout all the time,’ Ruth told him. ‘We don’t have to fill you up to hear that. Have a piece of scone and be quiet. And now tell me what news you’ve got of Alec,’ she said to Lizzie. ‘Surely to goodness he’ll be back in Southampton soon and get a few days’ leave. It’s months since you saw him.’

‘Nearly nine,’ Lizzie agreed ruefully. ‘It’s all that dodging about in the convoys, trying to keep out of the Germans’ way. But I think there’s a chance he’ll come back in the next week or so. I hope so. If he stops away much longer we won’t recognise each other!’

‘Oh, you’ll recognise each other all right,’ Ruth told her with a reminiscent smile. ‘That’s the best thing about being a sailor’s wife – it’s just a series of honeymoons!’

They settled back into their chairs for a good gossip, assisted by Silver until Ruth lost all patience with him and draped his red cover over the cage. After that, they were able to talk in peace, interrupted only by an occasional meaningful snore. Silver was no more asleep than they
were, but even in darkness he couldn’t keep completely quiet.

Lizzie recognised her husband very well when he came swinging up the garden path a few days later. She was standing at the sink peeling potatoes and stared, transfixed, with the knife in her hand as he thrust open the gate. He saw her and bounded across the vegetable patch, grinning, to thrust his head through the open window and deal her a smacking kiss.