by Anna King
A loud shout from behind Emily brought her head jerking round and a wide grin to her mouth. There, running towards them, her calf-length skirt flying nearly up to her knees, was Doris Mitchell, her friend from childhood.
‘’Cor, bleeding hell, Em, I’ve been chasing yer all down Morning Lane. Didn’t yer hear me calling yer?’
‘Of course I didn’t, silly, else I would have answered,’ Emily laughed back at her friend. Then, remembering Matthew, who was waiting patiently to be off, she turned to him and said, ‘This is Doris, an old friend of mine, Captain Winter. She works in the munitions factory at Woolwich Arsenal.’
Matthew smiled a greeting, his gaze taking in the bright yellow face and the ginger hair that was protruding from beneath a gaily coloured scarf. It was the task of filling shells with the high-explosive TNT that produced this bizarre coloration. Because of this side-effect, the women and girls employed in munitions work had earnt themselves the nickname of ‘canaries’. Aware that he was staring, he said quickly, ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Doris,’ extending a hand towards the suddenly flustered young woman. ‘You’re very brave to be doing such dangerous and unpleasant work. I trust you are amply compensated for the risks you take.’
For a moment Doris’s face remained blank, then, feeling a hard dig in her ribs, she grasped the gloved hand and replied brightly, ‘Eh? Oh, yes, thank you, sir. I’m earning four times as much as I did before the war.’
‘That’s splendid, splendid,’ the dark head nodded at her. ‘Well, I must be off.’ Turning back to Emily he said, ‘I’ll drop the keys back on Monday on my way to the station. It will probably be sometime in the morning. Will that be convenient?’ As he spoke he wondered if Emily had thought it strange to be asked to stay on at the house to hand the keys over, when it would have been much simpler for her to have left them next door with the Simptons, his uncle’s neighbours. What would she say if she knew it was his idea, and the reason for it to enable him to see her, to be with her, no matter how brief a time? Well, he had come unstuck, hadn’t he? Because his planning hadn’t included the arrival of Lenny. But perhaps if Lenny hadn’t been there, she would have refused the offer of a lift.
Suddenly he felt a great need to be by himself. What did it matter? What did anything matter in these uncertain days? Come Monday he wouldn’t wait around for a last glimpse of Emily, but would simply put the keys through the letterbox of her house without knocking.
There was no use in adding to his torment, or in saying something he would later regret.
‘Yes, that will be fine. If I have to go out, just leave them with my mum.’ If she had been on her own, Emily would have wished him good luck and told him to look after himself, but under the watchful eyes of Doris and Lenny, she felt awkward and had to content herself with a friendly smile at the man who had always shown her kindness.
Encouraged by the warm smile, Matthew was tempted to linger a while longer, then he thought better of it. He could see that Emily was anxious to speak to her friend, and once again he was painfully aware that this was yet another part of Emily’s life from which he was excluded. Forcing a smile to his lips, he said cheerfully, ‘I’ll say goodbye then, Emily. I hope to see you on Monday, but if not… Well, take care of yourself. And you, Lenny,’ he called to the downcast young man who was still watching him hopefully, his doleful eyes clouding over as the shiny Daimler sped away down the street.
‘Coo, he’s a bit of all right, ain’t he, Em.’ Doris gave Emily a playful nudge in the side. ‘No wonder yer don’t want ter leave service, though I still think you’re daft, stopping on there when yer could be earning decent wages, instead of that miserable pittance yer gets from them Winters.’
At her friend’s words, Emily felt a moment’s irritation, then quickly shrugged it off. Doris didn’t mean any harm, she simply spoke whatever was on her mind. She always had done, even as a child. Slipping an arm through Doris’s, she pulled her friend closer and said, ‘For your information, miss, I’ve just been given a raise. Oh yes, you can gawp.’ She bobbed her head in front of Doris’s face. ‘I’m getting another ten shillings a week, and I get all my meals and a room to myself, plus I get perks.’
She now held out the parcel that Miss Rose had given her and, smiling broadly, said triumphantly, ‘I haven’t opened it yet, but I’ll bet it’s some decent clothes, not the Ridley Road rubbish… Oh, Doris, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…’
Her face crumpled in dismay as she realised her gaffe. All the women in the street bought their clothes from Ridley Road, Roman Road or Well Street market. Her eyes flickered over her friend’s cheap woollen coat, then travelled down the length of her own body and the thick, moss-green, three-quarter-length coat with its black velvet collar, another gift from Miss Rose. She groaned silently. How could she have been so tactless, and she hadn’t been home five minutes? Eager to make amends, she was about to apologise further when a light punch to her shoulder sent her off-balance. As she tottered backwards, she reached out and grabbed at Doris’s arm to steady herself.
‘Gawd, you should see your face, Em,’ Doris laughed infectiously. ‘You should know I don’t get insulted easily. Bleeding hell, if I was that sensitive, I wouldn’t have taken a job in munitions. Yer should hear some of the things I’m called, an’ the looks I get from people in the street.’ She gave a loud chuckle. ‘Some of them cross the road when they see me coming. They probably think I’ve got something catching. Still, bugger them all, that’s what I say. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what I wear, I’d still look like second-hand Rose, or rather second-hand Daffodil…’
‘Oh, Doris, that isn’t true, you…’
‘Never mind all that,’ Doris cut in impatiently. ‘D’yer fancy coming out tonight? Only Tommy and Andy have just got back from the Isle of Wight. You remember, they’ve just finished their basic training. I told yer on your last visit. Anyways,’ she carried on, not giving Emily time to answer, ‘they’re going out tonight to celebrate, yer know, kind of their last chance of freedom. Andrew said they’re thinking of going ter the Empire. It should be a good night. How about it, Em, will yer come with us?’
Her anxious eyes were fixed on Emily’s face, willing her to say yes. Although she and Emily had gone to the same school as Tommy and Andrew Carter, and had played with the boys in the streets after school, she knew that the invitation to her had been made out of kindness. It was Emily they both wanted to see, and behind her bright smile and laughter, Doris was hurting inside. She had loved Tommy Carter since the first day of school, but he – like his brother – had only ever had eyes for Emily. And now, looking as she did, well, there wasn’t a hope in hell of Tommy taking more than a brotherly interest in her. Still… as long as she could be near him, even if he only had eyes for Emily, she would take comfort from his presence. Especially now, when she didn’t know if she would ever see him again. A moment’s panic assailed her. What would she do if he was to be killed in action… Oh, God, she wouldn’t be able to bear it.
‘Doris?’ Emily was looking at her with concern.
‘Oh, don’t take any notice of me, Em, I’m just tired. It’s a long journey back and forward every day, but the money’s good, and yer know how I’m fixed, with me dad not able ter work.’
Harry Mitchell had been struck down with rheumatism over ten years ago. Now, in his fifties, he was almost crippled with the disease. His wife, and Doris’s mother, had died some years earlier and now the proud man had to rely on his daughter to feed and clothe him, as well as to keep a roof over their heads.
‘So, what about it? Will you come with us tonight? Tommy said they’d be leaving about seven.’ Seeing the look of uncertainty on her friend’s face, Doris pleaded, ‘Oh, please, Em. It’s their last night. Gawd knows when we’ll have the chance to see them again.’ She quickly quashed the thought that she might never see either of the two young men again. That was too terrible to contemplate.
Seeing how much the evening meant to Doris, Emily relented. She c
ould do with a night out, and Tommy and Andrew had always been good company. She deliberately shut her mind to the reason for the night out. Tommy and Andrew would be all right, she assured herself, nothing was going to happen to them. Not wanting to dwell any further on morbid thoughts, she nodded her head.
‘All right, Doris. But I’ll have to make sure it’s okay with my mum. She might have made other plans, seeing as it’s my first time home in two months.’
Delighted, Doris threw her arms around Emily’s neck. ‘I’ll call for yer about half-past six. See yer, Em.’ Then she was off, running to the terraced house at the far end of the street.
Emily turned to face her brother, who was still lounging against the dusty brick wall.
‘What’s up with you, Lenny?’ she demanded, thinking her brother was still sulking at not being able to have another ride in Matthew’s car. But Lenny had only just remembered the reason for going to meet his sister, and now he was torn with indecision as to whether to tell Emily what had been going on in her absence or to honour his mother’s plea to keep silent. The decision was taken from him as the front door of their house was flung open and his father came charging towards them. Seeing his daughter, Alfie came to an abrupt stop, his eyes suddenly wary. Then he was pushing past Lenny, his face averted from his daughter’s accusing stare.
Without a word Alfie stalked off down the street, his actions betraying his agitation. Afraid for the worst, Emily ran into the house, her heart thumping wildly. There, sitting in the armchair, was her mother, her hand covering her eye. On hearing the soft footsteps she looked up, her face breaking into a smile of welcome.
‘Emily, oh, Emily, I’ve missed you, love. Come in, come in, and I’ll put the kettle on.’ Ushering her daughter into the parlour, she almost ran into the scullery, all the while keeping up a rambling dialogue from the other room. ‘And then, this morning,’ she ended cheerfully, ‘I went and walked into a blasted cupboard while I was at my cleaning job. Lord, it did hurt. Caught me right in the eye. I’ve had some remarks today, I can tell you. Still, while they’re gossiping about me, they’ll leave somebody else alone.’ She came back into the parlour carrying two mugs of tea, her voice and step faltering as she watched Emily pick up a brown envelope from the table. Without a word, Emily drew out a long white feather, her eyes glittering with anger.
‘So… He’s finally dropped his guard, has he? I’ve often wondered when he’d get careless enough to mark you for everyone to see. I’m only surprised it hasn’t happened before. How many of these have come through the letterbox while I’ve been away?’
Slumping onto one of the hard chairs, Nellie shook her head wearily. ‘That’s the first one he’s seen, I… I’ve managed to keep the others from him.’
Crumpling the feather and envelope into a tight ball, Emily threw it contemptuously into the fire. Pulling out a chair, she hitched her knees under the table and picked up the steaming mug of tea.
‘How many others?’ she demanded, her anger increasing at the sight of her mother’s eye, which seemed to be swelling with each passing moment. ‘Come on, Mum, I want to know what’s been going on, and I’m not going to be fobbed off, not this time.’ Then she jumped as Nellie’s lips began to tremble. She was about to go to her mother’s side when the sound of quiet laughter came to her ears. Shocked into silence, Emily watched in amazement and fear as Nellie began to laugh. Softly at first, then louder and louder until Emily, becoming frightened, ran and grabbed hold of Nellie’s shaking shoulders.
‘Stop it, Mum. Stop it, you’re scaring me.’
Nellie pushed at the restraining hands and sniffed loudly. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Emily, it’s just that I’ve suddenly thought of Mrs Riley’s chickens. They’re going to be awfully cold this winter, because the amount of feathers that have come through that letterbox must mean the poor little things have been plucked bare.’
She looked up at Emily with watery eyes, not knowing if she was still laughing or crying, but when her daughter’s arms enfolded her, she gave a loud moan and buried her face in Emily’s neck.
By the open doorway Lenny watched the emotional scene, his eyes filled with anguish. Then, with a despairing shake of his head, he turned and ran, before he humiliated himself further by breaking down and sobbing like the child he was doomed to remain.
Chapter Five
‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right, Mum? I don’t like leaving you on your own, and anyway, I don’t really feel like going out. After the day I’ve had, all I want to do is curl up by the fire and rest.’
Emily looked over to where Nellie was sitting by the fire, her attention on her needlework box and the pile of worn socks on her lap waiting to be darned. Careful to keep her face averted from the pitying glances of the two young men and Doris, who were standing awkwardly by the door, Nellie said firmly, ‘For goodness sake, Emily, how many more times do I have to tell you? I’m fine, and I’ll be a lot better once you’ve gone and given me a bit of peace and quiet to get on with my sewing. Besides, Lenny will be back as soon as his stomach reminds him he’s had no dinner. You know what your brother’s like.’
Emily bit down hard on the retort that hovered on her lips. Oh yes, she knew only too well what her brother was like. And, as much as she loved him and sympathised with his plight, she found it hard to forgive him his periodic disappearances whenever life became difficult. She could understand his actions when he was younger, but not now, not when his mother needed him at home to act as a buffer between her and the brute she had married. Because even though Lenny might be childlike in his mind, his build and strength were more than a match for Alfie Ford. All Lenny needed was the confidence to stand his ground against his father – just once, that’s all it would take – because, like all bullies, Alfie would soon back off once he knew there was a danger of finding himself on the wrong side of a heavy fist. But it was no good Emily voicing her thoughts. Her mother would be horrified at the idea of her son, her little lad, as she still thought of him, squaring up to his own father, however much the situation warranted it.
‘Your friends are waiting, Emily.’
Realising that it was pointless to argue, and knowing her mother was embarrassed by her friends’ presence, Emily picked up her clutch-bag from the table, her fingers opening and shutting the clasp nervously. She felt bad about going out and leaving her mother on her own, after what had happened earlier, though what Emily had witnessed was probably an everyday occurrence. That would explain why her mother had recovered from her short burst of crying so quickly and had fobbed off any further probing by her anxious daughter. As much as Emily didn’t want to admit it, the plain truth was that her mother was so accustomed to being used as a punchbag that she no longer thought anything of it. But even though Nellie seemed resigned to her brutalised state, Emily had no intention of letting it continue, which was why she was reluctant to leave her mother on her own. For all she knew, her dad might well be keeping an eye on the house, just waiting for Emily to leave before he showed his face.
A surge of anger flowed through her, and it wasn’t all directed at her absent father. Threaded through the animosity was a feeling of pity and shame. Shame that her mother could let herself be used in such a way. God! If any man ever raised his hand to her… Then she looked at the bowed head and the anger vanished, leaving in its place a deep sense of guilt for having judged her mother so harshly.
Bending down to kiss the smooth cheek, she whispered, ‘I won’t be long. I’ll be back home as soon as the show is over. And if Dad comes back in the meantime, you tell him I’ll be bringing Andy and Tommy back with me.’
Straightening up she said aloud, ‘Don’t have any supper, Mum. I’ll bring some fish and chips home with me. Or would you prefer some pie and mash?’ A broad smile came to her lips as a look of disgust passed over Nellie’s face. Her mum had never been able to stand the sight of the thick parsley sauce that smothered the traditional pie and mash. And she was the same herself. Every time her dad brou
ght some home, Emily and Nellie would carefully avert their eyes from the gooey mess, as both Lenny and Alfie tucked in with relish. ‘Don’t worry, I was only joking. I’ll bring you a nice bit of cod, or would you prefer plaice?’
‘I’ll have whatever you can get,’ Nellie said testily. ‘Now get yourself off, before those three start climbing the walls with impatience.’ She nodded her head in the direction of the three figures standing by the door, all of whom immediately jumped guiltily. Forgetting her own troubles for a moment, Nellie let her gaze linger on the two young men.
She had known them since their childhood, yet at this minute she hardly recognised them. The fact that they were twins came as a surprise to most people, for they were as different as chalk and cheese, both in appearance and in manner. Nellie could still remember seeing them when they were toddlers.
Andrew, so sturdy with his mop of blond, curly hair falling over his face, and Tommy, as thin as a whippet and his hair as black as coal. They didn’t look much different now. Andrew’s heavy build and blunt features belied his nature. He was a quiet, shy man who had always seemed older than his years, whereas Tommy, with his slim build and dark hair, had always been the dare-devil, the cheeky rogue who could talk his way out of trouble as a boy and now, as a young man, could, as the saying went, charm his way out of hell and into heaven. As long as she’d known him, Tommy had always had a smile on his lips and a gleam of laughter in his dark blue eyes. Though Nellie had often wondered if his happy nature was simply a façade to compensate for the total lack of affection shown to him by his mother. Of the two brothers, Andrew was the one Ida Carter adored, lavishing all her love on that particular son while having as little to do with her other son as was humanly possible. Through no fault of his own, Tommy Carter was the living image of his father, both in looks and personality, and the unfortunate lad had paid dearly for his startling resemblance to the man who had left his wife and sons to fend for themselves many years ago.
