Lost Angel

by Kitty Neale

  ‘I still think we should wait.’

  ‘Our savings won’t last, you know that. We need to go now, before our lads come home and all the jobs are filled.’

  Hilda wanted to protest, to find an excuse – any excuse to keep them here.

  ‘What about you, Ellen? Surely you don’t want to leave?’

  ‘I don’t mind, Mum. I hate working in the dairy and I’m bound to find a better job in London.’

  Hilda knew she had lost the argument and her stomach churned, but with nothing further to offer in protest, she said sadly, ‘All right then, we’ll go back.’

  Ellen was up early the next morning and ran along to Sheila’s cottage, saying when her friend opened the door, ‘We’re going back to London and I won’t be coming to work. Will you tell them at the farm and that I’ll collect my wages later today?’

  ‘Oh, no! First Billy and now you. When are you leaving?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning.’

  ‘I’m going to miss you,’ Sheila said sadly, ‘but hold on a minute.’

  She ran inside, returning with a piece of paper.

  ‘It’s my address. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Billy when he left, but would you give him this and…and ask him to write to me?’

  ‘Yes, all right,’ Ellen said as she stuffed the piece of paper into her pocket. She had no intention of passing it on to Billy, but Sheila didn’t know that. ‘I’d best go. Mum wants my help to give the cottage a thorough clean and then I’ve got packing to do.’

  ‘If I don’t get a move on I’ll be late for work. I’ll see you later when you come to the farm.’

  ‘Yeah, see you,’ Ellen called, and as she walked back home she put her hand into her pocket, crushing the piece of paper with Sheila’s address on it into a ball before lobbing it over a hedge and into a field.

  Her eyes were drawn to the church in the distance, to the steeple and cross on top. She was still confused by the old woman and the rune stones and always found herself looking for signs. Was the cross the sign? Was she supposed to go to church again?

  ‘Right, Ellen, that’s it,’ Hilda said as she emptied a pail of water. ‘All done, and once you’ve had a bit of a break, you might as well go to the farm. You won’t get a full week’s wages, but anything is better than nothing.’

  ‘I’ll have a wash first.’

  Hilda looked around the room, pleased to see that it looked almost exactly as she’d found it; better, in fact, without a speck of dirt of dust to be seen. She envied Veronica this lovely cottage, a place that she had come to love. She’d been over there, sitting in that chair when Doug had come back to her, the memory a joyful one. In fact, unlike the London flat, there were only happy memories here and she was heartsick at the thought of leaving.

  ‘Cheer up, love,’ Doug said. ‘At least we’ve got a home to go back to, and with so many people in London without decent accommodation, we’ve got that to be thankful for.’

  ‘I know,’ she said tiredly.

  When Ellen came back from having a wash, Doug asked, ‘What sort of job are you after when we get back to London?’

  ‘I dunno, Dad, maybe work in a flower shop or something like that. It’d be lovely to handle so many different flowers, and to learn how to make lovely bouquets.’

  ‘I can’t say I’m surprised,’ Hilda said. ‘You’ve always been plant-mad and spend hours working in the garden. Anyway, if you want your wages, you’d best get off to the farm.’

  ‘I’ll walk with her,’ said Doug.

  ‘Yes, go, and while you’re both out it’ll give me a chance to put my feet up for a bit. We’ll start packing when you come back.’

  Hilda’s face was downcast as they left. She dreaded the morning, hated the thought of leaving the cottage, and prayed that London wouldn’t bring her more heartache.

  Ellen was taking in the countryside as they walked to the farm. Yes, she’d miss it, but she was excited at the thought of seeing Billy again. When her dad had asked her what sort of job she hoped to find in London, she’d just blurted out the first thing that sprang to mind, but, thinking about it now, she realised that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad working in a flower shop. It wouldn’t be quite the same as growing things, but it was better than nothing.

  ‘Do you know, Ellen, when at sea I used to dream of a life in the country, and envied Gertie her smallholding? I can’t say I’m looking forward to going back to London, but I’m afraid, needs must.’

  ‘Never mind, Dad. One day I might be rich and then I’d buy you a cottage, just like the one we’re leaving. You wouldn’t have to work again either, and you could spend all your time living the life of Riley.’

  ‘That sounds good, but take your time. I might have a bad back, but I ain’t ready to be put out to pasture yet.’

  ‘Billy liked living here too and I wonder how he’s getting on in London.’

  ‘He hasn’t been there for five minutes, but his job at the stables will be open if he wants to come back.’

  Ellen remembered her mum saying that she doubted Mabel would allow it and was cheered by the thought. Yes, but what if her mum was wrong? What if Billy could persuade Mabel to let him come back?

  Doug, too, was deep in thought. He’d told Ellen that he wasn’t ready to be put out to pasture, but now wondered if that was all he was fit for. He hid it as best he could from Hilda and his daughter, but the constant pain in his back was grinding him down.

  He hadn’t wanted Hilda to think him less than a man now and made love to her when he could, but of late had begun to fear that soon it would be beyond him. Afterwards Hilda would fall asleep in his arms, happy, content, while he lay in excruciating agony, unable to sleep until the early hours of the morning. As he stumbled on a stone, a hot rod of pain now shot up Doug’s spine and he gasped.

  ‘Dad, are you all right?’

  ‘It was just a twinge,’ Doug lied, gritting his teeth as he continued to walk. It was his own fault. He’d been warned, the doctors cautioning against any further damage and Doug knew that if he didn’t want to end up a permanent cripple, he would have to tell Hilda that there’d be no more lovemaking.

  ‘Nearly there, Dad.’

  Doug would be relieved to stop for a while, and was glad when they reached the farm. He waited outside, watching Ellen as she went to the dairy. It amazed him how grown up she looked now and there were signs that she was going to be a beautiful young woman. Dark hair framed her pretty face, her small nose was sprinkled with freckles and her blue eyes were clear and bright. It wouldn’t be long before blokes were sniffing around, but they’d have to get past him first. If he could, he’d give his daughter the world, but with a gammy back what chance did he have of earning a decent wage?

  Morose, he took in the view now. It really was a lovely area, the New Forest on the doorstep, and he’d be sorry to leave. The countryside was beautiful, lush, green and the still quietness enough to soothe your soul. Doug grinned – hark at him getting all poetic – and his good humour was restored by the time Ellen returned.

  ‘All set, love?’

  ‘Yes, let’s go.’

  As they walked back to the cottage, Doug was once again struck by the beautiful countryside. He wasn’t looking forward to going back to London, but with the need to earn a living there was no choice.

  One day though, no matter what, he’d come back to this area. Doug didn’t know how, or when, but somehow, he’d do it.

  Chapter 28

  Ellen looked out of the window. They were on the last leg of their journey, sitting on the bus that would take them to Clapham. She had thought London looked awful when they returned from Somerset, but it was even worse now. They had already passed through areas that looked totally destroyed, great swathes of rubble with hardly a building left standing.

  As they reached the north side of Clapham, Ellen saw that a row of houses had been flattened opposite the underground station, and others, along with a church, severely damaged. Worse, as they neared Cla
pham South, it was no longer untouched and she saw ruin after ruin where homes had once stood.

  ‘Doug, the whole of London looks awful and rebuilding is going to take years,’ Ellen heard her mother say.

  ‘Yes, but though Hitler may have crushed property, I doubt he’s crushed Londoners’ spirits.’

  ‘But so many thousands have died.’

  Ellen closed her eyes against her mother’s words, yet knew they were true, her grandparents among the dead. She had never known her father’s parents. They had died in a house fire before she was born, and it suddenly struck Ellen that they were a tiny family, just the three of them now.

  Still, Ellen thought, trying to cheer herself up, her dad had come home, he was alive, and once again she recalled the woman who had spoken to her mother about a vision. It still amazed her that anyone could foresee the future, and Ellen wished she had that ability too. If she could, she would know if Billy was going to return to Hampshire, something she was desperate for him not to do.

  Hilda rose to her feet to follow Doug along the aisle between the seats, saying impatiently, ‘Come on, Ellen, buck yourself up. We’re here.’

  Doug winced as he pulled out the two suitcases that were stowed behind the conductor. Hilda could see that he was in pain and blamed the long journey. They were all tired, jolted on trains and buses, so it wasn’t surprising that Doug’s back was playing him up.

  Hilda pulled out another case, urged Ellen to take the last one, and as they got off the bus she paused to take in their surroundings. She hadn’t wanted to come back to London and now saw nothing to make her change her mind. It had once been a place she loved, where she had been born and bred, yet it brought her nothing but bad memories now. Mum, keep us safe, please don’t let there be any more bad luck, she inwardly begged, her hand automatically going to her neck to clutch the necklace, but it was under her coat and out of reach.

  ‘Are you coming or what?’ Doug said impatiently.

  It was unusual for Doug to be snappy, and a sure sign that he was in pain, so, picking up her case again, Hilda forced a smile.

  ‘Yes, let’s go, and thank goodness our place is only around the corner.’

  Hilda wrinkled her nose as they walked into the downstairs flat. It was dark with the blackout curtains drawn, the smell damp and musty. Doug put the cases down and walked over to the window, pulling the curtains back before throwing it open. Able to see clearly now, Hilda took in the room – the ancient furniture, the yellowing wallpaper – and though the flat had been shut up, there was a thin layer of dust over everything. It looked dismal, depressing, but seeing the pain etched on Doug’s face she forced her voice to sound light.

  ‘Right, let’s get ourselves sorted out. Ellen, you’ll need to run to the shops. We’ll need to get some stuff in, but before you do that, pop up to Mabel’s and see if she can lend us a bit of tea and milk. A cup of Rosie Lee will perk us all up.’

  ‘I’ll just comb my hair.’

  ‘Your hair looks fine. Now scat!’

  Ellen pulled a face, but did as she was told while Doug sank onto a chair, saying, ‘I’m bushed. I’ll have a bit of a rest and then give you a hand.’

  ‘There’s no need. Once this place has been aired and dusted it’ll be fine.’

  ‘If you say so,’ he said, looking around the room doubtfully.

  Hilda knew it was the first time he’d been inside, and to his eyes it must look awful. Somehow, though, they had to make the best of it.

  ‘As you said, Doug, there’s worse off than us and at least we’ve got a roof over our heads.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ he agreed, but Hilda could see that Doug was far from his usual cheery self.

  She picked up two cases and heaved them through to their bedroom, knowing that another job would be to air the linen for their beds. Once again there was a musty smell, so she drew back the blackout curtains, opened the window, and stood grimly looking out onto the street for a moment.

  ‘Hello, it’s only me.’

  It hadn’t been long since she’d seen her, but Hilda had missed Mabel. With a smile on her face at last, she hurried back to the living room.

  ‘Hilda, why didn’t you write and tell me you were coming? I’d have aired this place for you and got you in a bit of shopping.’

  ‘It all happened so quickly and we’d have got here before a letter.’

  ‘I wish you’d been here on VE day to join in the knees-up. You should have seen the celebrations.’

  ‘They went a bit mad in the village, too, and even old Mrs Jones had a little bit of a dance.’

  ‘Did she? I’d wish I’d seen that.’

  ‘It wasn’t a pretty sight,’ Doug said. ‘She even lifted her skirt showing off her knee-length bloomers. Talk about passion killers.’

  Hilda was glad to see that his humour seemed restored, but he still looked drained and there were dark circles under his eyes. She frowned, asking, ‘Where’s Ellen? I need her to go to the shops.’

  ‘Billy came home a bit early today and she’s still chatting to him, but don’t worry, shopping can wait till the morning. I’ve got enough in for you to have dinner with me, but in the meantime here’s some tea, milk and a packet of biscuits.’

  ‘Biscuits?’ Hilda said, her brow rising.

  ‘Thanks to Harry.’

  ‘He’s still up to his old tricks then?’

  ‘Yes, but he’s getting a bit worried. With the war more or less over, he said he’ll have to find a new line of business. I told him he’s jumping the gun; that the men my Jack served with in Burma are still fighting, let alone our troops in other places outside of Europe. Since VE day they seem to have been forgotten.’

  ‘Thanks for writing to tell me about Jack. How’s he doing?’

  ‘He’s fine, though as I said in my letter, he lost a few intestines. He’s applied to go back on the buses, but we’re still waiting to hear. It’s all women now, drivers and conductors, so we’re not sure how things stand.’

  ‘Once their husbands come home, they’ll soon pack the jobs in.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Mabel agreed and then grinned widely. ‘It’s good to have you back in London. I know it hasn’t been long, but I’ve missed you.’

  ‘What, even our spats?’ Hilda asked.

  ‘Yeah, even them.’

  ‘Thanks for the tea. I could do with a cup and so could Doug.’

  ‘Well, if you’re making one,’ Mabel said as she sat down. ‘I’ll have a cup too.’

  Hilda walked through to the kitchen, another room that would need a good clean, she thought, lifting the blackout blind over the small window and at the same time thinking that it was about time Ellen showed her face again. Mabel had said she was chatting to Billy, and now Hilda worried that her daughter’s interest in the boy would be rekindled. Ellen was listening to Billy, gazing at his face as he talked about a job he had found locally.

  ‘I’m a van boy for a department store. It ain’t a bad job and it’s nice to be out and about, but I’d rather be back in Hampshire working with the horses.’

  ‘Will your mum let you go back?’ Ellen asked worriedly.

  ‘She might, but my dad’s dead against it. I was gonna run off, go back without telling them, but they’d come after me.’

  ‘What a shame,’ Ellen said, trying to sound sincere. ‘Why is your dad so against it?’

  ‘He says there’s no future in being a stable boy. I told him there’s no future in being a van boy either, but that just earned me a clip round the ear. I’d forgotten how strict he is. I’m fourteen, out earning a few bob, but he still treats me like a kid.’

  ‘My parents are the same, especially my mum. Sometimes she treats me like a ten-year-old.’

  ‘With you looking like that, she must be blind.’

  Ellen flushed, but covered her embarrassment by saying, ‘I won’t miss working in the dairy.’

  ‘I think you’re mad coming back here.’

  ‘It wasn’t my idea.’ />
  ‘I miss the place, the stables.’

  ‘What about Sheila?’ Ellen asked, cursing herself for not being able to hold back the thought.

  ‘She was a bit of all right, but what I really miss are the horses. I suppose I could write to Sheila, and I expect you know her address, but what’s the point? Mr Dunning won’t keep the job open until I’m old enough to leave home without permission, so I doubt I’ll ever see her again.’

  Ellen held back a sigh of relief. ‘No, I don’t suppose I will either.’

  ‘Ellen, your mum wants you,’ Mabel said as she walked in. ‘There’s a lot to do and she needs a hand.’

  With reluctance, Ellen stood up. She would rather stay and chat to Billy, but still, they were back now, living downstairs, and she was sure to see lots of him. She smiled at the thought, saying, ‘See you later, Billy.’

  ‘Yeah, see you,’ he said, giving her a little wink.

  Ellen’s stomach fluttered. Could that little wink have been a sign that he liked her; that he had noticed her at last?

  It’s funny, Billy thought, but he’d never really noticed Ellen before. She had just been the girl who had come to live downstairs and who had gone to the same school. Like him, she’d been just a gangly kid, and even in Hampshire he’d hardly clocked that she was growing up. Now, though, seeing her again, he realised that she was a bit tasty – thin, but pretty. Not that he was interested. He had better things to do than to chase girls, and, anyway, he preferred blondes.

  He glanced at the clock. He was meeting Harry later, the two of them off to buy a bit of gear. As he’d suspected, fresh eggs were in big demand, and only a few days after coming back to London he’d made a beeline for Harry. He hadn’t been keen on the idea at first, but Billy had talked him round and they now had a few suppliers, blokes who kept chickens on allotments around Wimbledon way who were willing to sell them their eggs for a decent price. They wouldn’t make a fortune, but Billy was always on the lookout for other opportunities, finding a good mentor in Harry.