Tuppence to Tooley Street (14 page)

Danny looked at Ben’s pale face and saw the fear in his eyes. ‘Lucy was tellin’ me you was gettin’ some aggro from your boss. What’s ’is attitude now you’re goin’ in the Kate Carney?’

‘To be honest I’m not sure,’ Ben said, scratching his head. ‘He knows that I haven’t changed my views and he thinks I’ve been frightened into putting on a uniform. He’s an old soldier and doesn’t look on me as being very patriotic.’

Danny put his mug down on the floor and crossed his legs. ‘What ’appens if yer don’t get inter the medical corps? The medics are not the only non-combatant lot. You could be in the stores or somefink.’

Ben’s face became dark and he said quietly: ‘I tell you, Danny, as much as the thought of prison terrifies me, I’d have to accept it. The only reason I’ll agree to wear a uniform is if it’s in the medical corps. All right, it’s a compromise, but at least I’d be helping to save life, not taking it.’

Danny nodded, but he felt uncomfortable. He always did when Ben started to talk so seriously.

The noise of the homeward bound traffic and the grating sound of a tram carried up to the room, and Ben got up and closed the window. He came back and sat down heavily in the chair. He looked hard at Danny and folded his hands in his lap.

‘Danny, I want to tell you something,’ he said with deliberation, and his face was serious. ‘You’ve been in action, you might understand. I’m scared of what’s in front of me. I went into that hearing on Monday with all the wrong answers. I was prepared to stand up and say just why I felt I couldn’t join the services, I thought I had it all worked out, but when they started asking those questions I began to shake. My stomach was in a knot and I wanted to be sick. I knew that Lucy was sitting there behind me, and I think it was only that knowledge that kept me from breaking down. I was scared then, and I’m scared now. I started to question my own reasons for being there. Was it really my beliefs? Or was it that I’m a coward? Do you know, I looked at those faces on the bench and I felt they could see right through me. They seemed to be smirking at my discomfort. They could tell I’d crack, I’m sure they could. I haven’t slept properly since Monday, you know. I’m scared of pain and suffering, I can’t bear to see anything suffer. Yesterday, Danny, a dog got run over below. It was yelping and whining, and instead of going down to see if I could do anything, I just sat in this chair until the yelping stopped. I finally looked out of the window and I felt ashamed. A young lad had picked up the dog and was struggling down the street with it. I don’t think it was badly hurt, but I never even went to find out, I just sat there. How, for the Lord’s sake, am I going to cope with the carnage in a battle? Tell me, Danny.’

Danny Sutton looked down at the floor. Ben’s outburst had taken him by surprise and he felt inadequate. He didn’t know what to say. As a medic Ben would be picking up wounded soldiers who were screaming in agony; he would be breathing in the stink of grisly butchery, and mangled bodies waiting to be laid to rest in makeshift graves; he would be shaking with a stark fear that turned his legs to jelly and twisted his stomach into a tight knot. Could Danny explain how it felt when the bullets whistled past and thudded into flesh and bone, when the man beside you fell and you could expect to be the next to get shot? How could he explain the terror to Ben, sitting opposite him, his face white with worry? It was impossible. He could still feel it vividly, but he knew of no words which would help him. Danny looked up at Ben and saw the anxiety in his eyes.

He took a deep breath. ‘I don’t know the answer, Ben. I’m jus’ like you, I get scared of silly fings. We’re all human, ain’t we? I can’t stan’ spiders. There’s no reason ter be scared of bein’ scared, that sort of reasoning only gets yer killed. You’ll be okay, there’ll be uvvers wiv yer. They’ll all be scared, but they’ll still do what they’re s’posed ter do. You’ll get the proper trainin’, you’ll be all right.’

Ben brushed his hand through his hair and sank lower in his seat. ‘I hope you’re right, Danny. I expect you think I’m being stupid, talking that way.’

Danny got up from his chair and stretched his stiff leg. He looked into Ben’s eyes. ‘I don’t fink yer bein’ stupid,’ he said. ‘I’m scared. We’re all scared. You’re no different.’ He paused and looked down. ‘Anyway, I’d better be orf ’ome. I’ll get a rollockin’ if I’m late.’

Ben saw his guest to the door. ‘Thanks for dropping in, Danny, I appreciate it.’

Danny grinned. ‘Yer’ll ’ave ter come up The Globe wiv us an’ ’ave a drink, even if it’s only orange juice. We can ’ave anuvver chat, okay?’

Danny walked out onto the landing and Ben smiled at him. ‘I never knew you were scared of spiders, Danny.’

Danny hunched his shoulders. ‘I’m terrified of ’em. Keep it ter yerself though. If they find out in the pub they’ll be puttin’ spiders in matchboxes jus’ ter see me shout out. Oh well, I’d better get ’ome fer me tea. See yer, Ben.’

‘Cheerio, Danny.’

 

From the London docks and from other ports around Britain the ships assembled in convoy for the hazardous North Atlantic crossing. Tankers and freighters and the destroyer escorts left their home shores under cover of darkness and steamed out into the dangerous ocean. There was now a war at sea and U-boats were searching out the convoys. The destroyer escorts were increasing in size, and more U-boats were being sunk, but the losses at sea were still mounting as Convoy Q407 steamed into mid-Atlantic on the night of the 6th of July 1940. On board the accompanying destroyer, HMS
Prowler
, everyone was at battle stations. A tell-tale blip on the asdic had indicated that a submarine was in the area.

The look-out let his night glasses hang from the strap as he squeezed his eyes tightly against the strain of watching the water. The moon lit up the waves and a myriad stars shone down from a velvet sky. Although a full alert was in operation, an uncanny calmness seemed to surround the convoy. Other destroyers could be seen moving among the merchantmen and guarding the flanks of the stragglers. The look-out blinked and put his glasses up to his eyes once more.

The steady thump of the powerful engines and the roar of the sea were music to the seaman as he scanned the shimmering water. Ever since he was able to remember, the sea had held a fascination for him. He had seen those big ships come up the Thames, and he had watched as they slipped inch by inch into their berths. He had read the names on the sides and learned to recognise their national flags. At night he had scoured his small atlas and studied it until his eyes drooped; the ports around the world were magical names to the lad. He dreamed of becoming a sailor. When he got older his father took him to the Royal Docks in his van. There he stared open-mouthed at the great cargo ships from the Orient. It fascinated him to see those dark-skinned seamen who were not much taller than he come down the gang-planks carrying their white jugs of steaming water. His father had laughed and said they were going off for their tea. The young lad did not question his father, but it seemed strange to him that the little men should all go to the brick shed marked ‘Asiatics’ for their tea. What his father did tell him however was that the little men were Lascars, and that they were the only race who could stand the conditions in the boiler-rooms of those huge coal-burning ships. Sometimes in the Indian Ocean the temperature in the boiler-room could soar to one hundred and twenty degrees.

As he scanned the starlit sea the young sailor remembered the time he had been waiting on the quayside with his father at the West India Dock and saw one of those little men brutally kicked by a ship’s officer. The Lascar had gone aboard without protest and the young lad had vowed that if he ever got to become a seaman he would treat those dark-skinned little men with kindness. He remembered how his father had laughed at his concern for the seaman, and had said that Lascars were a lazy lot who had to be thumped now and then or they wouldn’t work at all. Now the sailor wondered how many of those little men were sweating away now down in the boiler-rooms of the merchantmen as they sailed across the danger area.

Spray soaked the hood of his duffle jacket and dripped from his steel helmet as the look-out searched the ocean from his position up on the bridge. He could see the merchantmen spread out to the horizon, and occasionally he caught sight of one of the escorts cutting in through the lines. His own ship HMS
Prowler
had dropped back to hurry on the stragglers, but now it was racing full-speed to take up the vanguard position.

The officer of the watch called out to him, ‘You awake, Ellis? We’ve picked up a signal.’

Alice Sutton brushed the crumbs from the red and white checked tablecloth as she set a place for her husband Frank. She glanced over at Connie, who had her head buried in the evening paper. Alice banged a knife and fork down hard and then gave her daughter a sharp look, but Connie seemed completely absorbed in the news. Alice came round the table purposefully and tapped Connie on the shoulder. ‘What’s goin’ on ’ere ternight, girl?’ she asked curtly.

Connie looked up in surprise. ‘What d’ya mean, Mum?’

‘Danny’s what I mean. ’E rushes in ’ere like the devil’s after’im, rushes ’is tea down, an’ scoots orf out again. All I got from’im was, “I might be late, I gotta bit o’ business ter see to”. What the bloody ’ell is goin’ on ’ere?’

Connie shrugged her slim shoulders. ‘Search me, Mum. I s’pose ’e’s gone off ter New Cross. Danny always used ter go on Thursdays, didn’t ’e?’

Alice puffed and folded her arms. ‘I’m sure I don’t know, what wiv one an’ the uvver of ’em, they take this place fer a coffee shop.’

Connie put down the paper and gave her mother a smile. ‘You still mad at Dad?’

Alice fought against letting her face relax. ‘I’ve warned yer farver. I ses to ’im, “If yer come in ’ere ternight smellin’ o’ beer an’ yer don’t eat yer tea up, I’m gonna let you ’ave it”.’

‘What, ’is tea, Mum?’

‘No, I’m gonna give ’im a piece o’ me mind. I’m fed up wiv keepin’ ’is tea ’ot. An’ don’t you be so lippy, my girl.’

Connie gave her mother a special smile, and as she looked at her Alice felt herself starting to grin.

‘Sit down, Mum an’ I’ll make us a nice strong cuppa,’ Connie said laughing.

 

Danny walked briskly under the railway arch and crossed the street into Bermondsey Lane. He was taking the back-streets to the Old Kent Road where he could catch the tram to New Cross. He had to pass the Arpinos’ shop and so he decided to look in on Tony. They had often taken a stroll to the dog meetings together before Danny had been mobilised. The clock in the chemist’s window showed 6.30–if he hurried he’d catch the first race. Tony was inside the shop talking to a couple of tall, burly characters as Danny looked in.

‘Fancy the dogs, Tony?’ Danny called out from the door.

‘Sure fing,’ Tony said quickly. ‘Walk on, I’ll catch yer up.’

Danny strolled slowly on towards Tower Bridge Road and soon Tony caught him up. ‘We got trouble I fink, Danny,’ he said with a backward glance. ‘Did yer see those two monkeys I was talkin’ to? They’ve bin doin’ the rounds of all the shops round ’ere this last few days. They’re talkin’ a lot a nonsense about us joinin’ a shopkeepers’ federation. I’ve jus’ told ’em ter come back when me ole man’s there. It’s no good them talkin’ ter me muvver, she won’t know what they’re on about anyway.’

Danny frowned at him. ‘Sounds like the ole protection racket ter me, Tony. Yer wanna be careful, somebody tried ter pull a stroke like that in Tower Bridge Road a few years ago. Me ole man told me about it. This geezer got a right goin’ over. Yer wanna make sure all the shopkeepers stick tergevver. It’s the only way ter beat ’em.’

The two friends crossed into Tower Bridge Road and walked up until they reached The Bricklayers Arms. They stood chatting together at the tram stop.

‘I’ve gotta see that Tony Allen while we’re at the meetin’,’ Danny was saying. ‘Johnny Ross ’as ’ad a word wiv ’im about me doin’ a bit o’ bookkeepin’.’

Tony laughed. ‘You workin’ in an office? Do me a favour, you’ll get the right bleedin’ ’ump in no time.’

‘I’m talkin’ about takin’ bets, yer berk,’ Danny replied with a grin.

Tony winced. ‘Yer wanna be careful there, Tony Allen’s got’is fingers in a lot o’ pies. Yer might get in over yer ’ead. An’ anuvver fing, yer wanna be careful o’ that Jack Mason. ’E’s in wiv Tony Allen. One nasty bastard that is.’

‘Don’t worry, Tony, I’ll be cute. At least it’ll be better than what that ponce at the Labour Exchange offered me on Monday.’

A young woman joined the queue and Tony gave Danny a nudge. ‘That’s a bit of all right!’ he said, his eyes widening.

The woman turned round and gave Tony a cold stare. Tony smiled back at her with a ridiculously innocent look on his face. A number 38 tram pulled up at the stop and the queue boarded. Tony winked at his pal and followed the young woman onto the top deck. As the tram rocked and swayed in the tracks Tony continually glanced over to where she was sitting. At first she ignored him, but as he kept on looking at her she began to wonder whether he was a complete nutcase. But by the time the tram reached New Cross railway arch the two were exchanging smiles.

Danny nudged his friend, ‘C’mon, Casanova,’ he said, ‘this is our stop.’

The first race had just started as the two entered the stadium and climbed the steps into the stand. People were milling around and a roar went up as one of the dogs was bundled over. Dog number 6 went out in front and held the lead until the finish of the race.

‘Not much of a price that,’ Tony remarked, looking at the odds on a bookie’s stand in front of them.

Danny was searching the crowd with his eyes when Tony gave him a nudge. ‘’Ere, look at this.’

Danny glanced down at the race card in Tony’s hand and saw that Shady Lady was entered in the third race. He grinned. ‘That’ll be a rank outsider, they’ll prob’ly give yer two ’undred ter one on that.’