Palace of Tears

by Anna King

  All around them, couples were holding each other fiercely. Children clung to their fathers’ legs, while others squealed with delight as they were thrown playfully into the air, too young to know that they might never see the familiar, loved face again.

  Emily and Doris stood silently, neither of them wanting to interfere in the Carter family’s squabbles. The small group was being jostled on all sides, and when Ida returned to Andy’s side, Emily stepped forward and gently put her arms round Tommy’s neck.

  ‘Take care of yourself, Tommy, and come back home safely, you and Andy.’

  Tommy’s arms wrapped themselves around Emily’s small waist and pulled her hard against his body, desperate for some show of affection, some reassurance that he was loved and cared for. Against her ear he whispered, ‘I’m sorry, Em, you know, for what happened.’ As he felt her try to pull away, his grip tightened. ‘Don’t worry, Em, I won’t ever mention it again. But I just wanted yer ter know that if… well, if anything happened because of… Well, I’d stand by yer.’

  At his words Emily’s body jerked in sudden fear. She hadn’t even thought of the consequences of last night. Then she relaxed. You couldn’t get pregnant the first time, everyone knew that. And there wasn’t going to be a second time, so she had nothing to worry about.

  When he let her go, they smiled at each other fondly.

  ‘May God go with you, Tommy,’ Emily said softly, before she was pushed none too gently to one side by an impatient Doris.

  When Emily turned to Andy, Ida grasped hold of her son’s arm possessively, her reddened eyes filled with anguish. She didn’t want to share her beloved son with anyone, especially now, when their time together was so precious. When Andy roughly freed himself from his mother’s clinging grasp, the hurt was so great that Ida felt like howling aloud. But she kept grimly silent, her eyes fixed steadfastly on the girl who was holding her Andy in her arms. And when she saw the joyous look on Andy’s face, she closed her heart to the realisation that he had pushed his mother from his thoughts.

  A few feet away Doris was standing close to Tommy, her tongue making idle chit-chat, her heart racing as she tried to pluck up the courage to tell her childhood friend her true feelings. The shrill blast of a whistle cut through the babble of noise, driving home the urgency of the time slipping away. Raising her eyes, Doris fixed her attention on the big white clock, watching as if spellbound the black minute-hand, which jerked round and round, eating up the time at what seemed an alarming rate.

  ‘Well, this is it then, Doris. How’s about a goodbye kiss fer an old mate.’ Tommy, about to pick up his heavy kit bag, stopped and grinned at the solemn young woman, his tone nonchalant, but Doris could hear the fear in his voice. Bracing herself, she threw caution to the winds, and with a deep breath she flung herself against the startled young man and threw her arms tightly round his neck.

  Then, with tears raining down her face, she whispered urgently, ‘I love yer, Tommy Carter. I know yer don’t feel the same… but I had ter tell yer. I know I’m gonna feel a right idiot later, fer showing meself up like this, but I don’t care. If this blasted war hadn’t have happened, I’d probably never have told yer. But it did happen, and yer going away, and… and maybe this’ll be the last chance I’ll ever get. So I’ll say it again… I love yer, Tommy. I’ll always love yer, no matter what happens. So now yer know. Go on, yer can have a good laugh now, I don’t care any more…’

  Tommy, his face filled with amazement, gazed down at the bowed head and the plaid scarf that covered the unsightly orange hair. And strangely, it was the scarf, the camouflage behind which Doris hid, that brought home to him just how vulnerable she really was, despite her strident voice and vociferous chatter to the contrary. He was even more amazed at the sudden wealth of emotion that was surging through him. He shook his head, as if trying to clear his jumbled thoughts.

  I love yer, Tommy Carter, I love yer. No-one had ever said that to him before. Oh, he knew Andy loved him, that went without saying. But to hear it put into words…!

  A great lump came to his throat, and he could feel his eyes filling with tears, but somehow it didn’t matter now to be seen crying.

  Gently, very gently, he pushed Doris away and then, with shaking hands, he tilted her chin up so that he could see her more clearly. Even now, after baring her soul, her grey eyes stared back at him defiantly. The protective wall that she hid behind had once more come crashing down. Tommy stared down at the plain face wordlessly, not knowing what to say.

  This was the girl who had won his prized marbles off him, beaten him in arm-wrestling, and bloodied the nose of the school bully after he’d tripped the young Tommy over in the playground, grazing his hands and tearing the skin off his palms as he’d tried to break his fall.

  Now, looking at his childhood friend in a different light, Tommy swallowed painfully. Doris’s unexpected declaration of love, although it had moved him deeply, hadn’t kindled any reciprocal feeling on his part. He held her gaze, knowing just how hard it must have been, and the courage it must have taken to utter those words. And, oh how he wanted to be loved – needed to be loved. Yet as much as he craved for that elusive love he had never received from his mother, that same urgent longing that had been the catalyst of the disastrous night with Emily, he couldn’t pretend to an affection he didn’t feel. He thought too much of Doris to treat her so shabbily.

  But he couldn’t just leave her like this. He knew only too well what it was like to have love thrown back in your face – knew too the devastating pain of rejection. He felt Doris pull away and, without thinking, he grabbed her roughly by the waist, pulling her into his body. Neither of them knew afterwards who had made the first move, but they were suddenly holding each other close, as if they couldn’t bear to be parted. Then, watched in amazement by the small group, they kissed fiercely, their tears mingling.

  Emily watched the poignant scene, her own eyes filling with tears, while her lips spread into a quivering smile. Oh, she was glad for them, for Doris in particular. Now, even if the worst happened, Doris would always have this moment embedded in her memory.

  For a brief second Emily’s mind threw up the image of herself and Tommy lying by the roaring fire, but just as quickly she clamped down on the memory. She deeply regretted what had happened, but happened it had. Everyone made mistakes, and she and Tommy had had more reason than most to forget themselves in one wild, reckless moment.

  Another shrill blast on an unseen whistle cut through the cold morning air. All around them soldiers, families and friends were frantically saying their last goodbyes, snatching a last kiss, a last hug from a loved one. For some, it would indeed be the last kiss, the last hug. But for now the milling crowd of soldiers and civilians tried desperately to maintain an optimistic view, telling themselves that their loved ones would return. Others would die – it would be foolish to believe otherwise – but not their husbands, their sons, or their fathers. These precious men would remain immune to the bullets, cannons and bayonets and would return home unscathed. Thus prayed the mothers, daughters, sweethearts and wives.

  The carriages were rapidly filling with khaki-clad figures leaning from open windows to grasp outstretched hands, or to plant a loving kiss on the cheek of babies and young children. Pandemonium ensued, as officials strode up and down the platform trying to maintain some kind of order.

  Jostled on all sides, the Carter brothers, Emily and Doris strove to keep up a brave face, while close by Ida Carter sobbed uncontrollably.

  Once inside the packed carriage, Tommy and Andy pushed and shoved their way to an open window.

  ‘Look, there they are,’ Doris cried as she raced along the platform, followed closely by Emily and Ida. But the train was already pulling out of the station. Frantic hands were left empty as the train gathered speed. All around them the air was filled with the sound of quiet sobbing, as women and children stared after the disappearing train before making their way desolately back the way they had come. Back home
to their small houses – their empty, cold houses – to carry on with their lives as best they could until their loved ones returned to them.

  ‘Well, that’s that then,’ Doris sniffed noisily. ‘No wonder they’ve nicknamed this station “The Palace of Tears”. Bleeding hell, the sights we’ve seen would make a statue cry.’ Shrugging her shoulders, she squeezed Emily’s arm and added, ‘We’d best get going. There’s nothing to hang around for now, and I’ve got ter get ter work. They’ll probably dock me wages fer being late, the tight sods. Not that I care. I’d’ve given up a month’s wages, rather than miss seeing them off.’ Linking her arm through Doris’s, Emily hugged her friend close to her side.

  ‘I take it you told Tommy how you feel,’ Emily said, smiling through her tears. Seeing the boys off had been more emotional than she’d imagined. She felt a genuine affection for both the Carter boys, but it was nothing compared to the love Doris had for Tommy, nor to the almost fanatical devotion that Ida Carter had for Andy.

  Her voice still wobbly Doris grinned. ‘Yeah I did, and yer know what, Em! He didn’t push me away. In fact he…’

  ‘You had no business being here.’ Ida Carter, her face and eyes red and swollen, had come alongside them. ‘I mean, it’s not as if you’re family, and that’s what this occasion was meant for – family. As it is, you’ve robbed me of precious time with my son. Still, there’s no point in harping on about it now. What’s done is done and, like you said,’ she inclined her head towards Doris, ‘we’d best be getting ourselves home. If we all pool our money, we can get a taxi home, the same as we did to get here.’

  Both girls stared at the small, slim woman in her tight, fitted black coat and hat, amazed at the woman’s cheek. Bristling with rage, Doris thrust her chin forward, her eyes glittering with anger, and said grimly, ‘Don’t yer go getting all hoity-toity with us, yer old bat. Yer no better than I am, and certainly not better than Emily. She’s a real lady, she is, and her mum. So yer can piss off home on yer own, ’cos I’m not sharing a taxi with the likes of you. In fact, I wouldn’t share a far…’

  ‘All right, Doris, all right.’ Emily, her lips quivering with amusement, tried to keep her voice steady. Then she remembered how this woman had treated Tommy and her eyes hardened. Holding Doris tight by her side, she faced the indignant woman and, her voice dangerously low, said, ‘You’re a hard woman, Mrs Carter. Some might even say unfeeling. I certainly would. How you could treat your own flesh and blood, your own son, so cruelly, and on a day such as this, is beyond me. And regarding your request to share a taxi, I agree with Doris, so I’m afraid you’ll have to make your own way home. Good day to you, Mrs Carter.’ The two girls turned and left the older woman glaring after their retreating backs.

  With a determined stride, the irate woman caught up with them and, grabbing hold of Emily’s arm, she leant her face close and snarled, ‘I won’t forget this, young madam. And you can be sure I’ll be having words with your mother about your attitude – that is, when she’s finally released from hospital. Though I’ll have to be quick to catch her in between visits, won’t I?’

  The sneering face turned to one of alarm as Emily moved closer, her actions becoming menacing. Then, to the delight of the silent Doris, Emily said clearly and precisely, ‘Why don’t you piss off, before you feel my hand across your face, you spiteful old witch.’

  The older woman’s jaw dropped in stunned amazement. Then, her lips twisted in rage, she screamed after them, ‘A lady, eh? It didn’t take you long to revert to type. Still, it’s not surprising, considering the company you keep.’

  She remained standing on the platform, still seething with rage, long after the two girls had disappeared from view.

  * * *

  While Emily’s party had been pushing through the milling crowd, Matthew Winter’s taxi had been pulling up at the entrance. Before the vehicle came to a complete stop, Matthew had already jumped from the running board onto the ground.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said impatiently, anxious to be off. The driver, an elderly man with a row of medals pinned to his chest, had kept up a running commentary during the entire journey. The man had served in South Africa, and when he wished Matthew ‘Good luck, sir,’ he knew the true worth of his words.

  Matthew grasped the proffered hand and shook it warmly. Picking up his luggage, he walked into the station, his eyes darting to left and right, looking for a familiar face in the crowd. He had stopped off at Emily’s house on the pretext of dropping off the keys to his uncle’s house, only to be told by a rather stout lady from next door, who was sporting a livid purple eye, that he had just missed Emily, who was on her way to Victoria Station to see the Carter lads off. Hiding his disappointment, Matthew had left the keys with the woman, who had introduced herself as Mrs Button. With his own car left safely parked outside the house in Gore Road, he had jumped back inside the waiting taxi and headed for Victoria Station.

  Now he was here, all he had to do was find Emily. He hadn’t the faintest idea what he would say to her. But what did it matter! As long as he saw her lovely face once more before leaving England, he would be satisfied.

  Passing through the barrier onto the station, he pushed his way through a sea of khaki. Some, indignant at being jostled, turned to protest, their angry words dying on their lips at the sight of the tall officer.

  Matthew pushed on, his anxious eyes searching the crowd for that familiar face. Then he saw her, but she wasn’t alone. The light that came to his eyes dimmed as a young soldier caught Emily up into his arms. The sight of the two young people brought a sickening lurch to his stomach. Afraid that Emily would see him, Matthew turned quickly and walked down the station, getting into the first carriage he came to. Most of the seats were empty, the men on the station waiting until the last moment before boarding the train. Settling himself into a seat by the window, he stared out onto the teeming platform. Being what was known as a ‘Return’ – someone who had already seen action – the imminent crossing to France no longer held anything new for Matthew. No surprises, no expectations, only a fatalism that said; If a bullet has your name on it, it’ll find you; if not…!

  Yet though France held no new surprises, Matthew had always hated this part of the journey. He felt a genuine sympathy for the newly recruited soldiers, some looking barely old enough to shave, their faces alight with a dogged enthusiasm that covered the fear lurking beneath the brave façade.

  But this time Matthew’s thoughts were on Emily, and the disappointment that he was experiencing made him feel physically sick. His eyes brooding, he looked out of the grimy window, then quickly lowered his head. The last thing he wanted was for Emily to see him now. Because if she caught sight of him, she would probably drag her soldier friend over to meet him, and he couldn’t have borne that.

  A look of puzzlement crossed his face. That neighbour he had spoken to, what was her name…? Oh, yes, Mrs Button. She had given him the impression that Emily, along with the ebullient Doris, was seeing off a couple of old friends. His lips twisted into a wry smile. Well! They had certainly seemed friendly enough. Suddenly Matthew felt old – old and dispirited.

  A loud, shrill whistle broke into his thoughts, and grimly he shook his head, determined to put all thoughts of Emily from his mind. Even though he no longer worried about his own safety, his men were depending on him to bring them safely through the war.

  ‘Excuse me… Oh, sorry, sir!’ A young second lieutenant was leaning over Matthew to put his shiny new suitcase on the rack above Matthew’s head.

  ‘That’s perfectly all right and, please, relax,’ Matthew said kindly. ‘There’s no need for ceremony here.’

  Nodding, the young officer sat down opposite Matthew, his face flushed. Taking a copy of Punch from his pocket, he tried to lose himself in the articles.

  Sensing that the second lieutenant needed to be left alone, Matthew sat back, rested his head, closed his eyes and waited for the train to pull out.

  They had been travelling for t
wenty minutes before he opened his eyes. They were now running through the outskirts of London. More and more green patches flashed by, as the train hurtled on its way to Dover. When the houses began to thin out and disappear from view, Matthew raised his eyes to the young man seated opposite him. The copy of Punch now lay unnoticed on his lap. The young officer, whom Matthew surmised had come straight from the Army Academy, was staring out of the window, his palm supporting his chin, his elbow resting on the narrow windowsill. Suddenly, uncontrollable tears welled up in his eyes. He glanced at Matthew, who quickly dropped his gaze to save the poor man from any further embarrassment. The young officer bit his lip, picked up the copy of Punch once more and held it before his face.

  The poor bastard, Matthew thought sympathetically. But there was nothing he could do. To offer any commiseration would only add to the man’s discomfort.

  Settling back once more, Matthew closed his eyes and waited for the train to reach its destination.

  Chapter Ten

  A week passed and still there was no sign of either Lenny or Alfie Ford.

  True to her word, Dot Button had registered a complaint against Alfie, but she was unable to do the same on behalf of her friend Nellie. Despite all her arguments, the police sergeant was adamant. Only the person who had been the victim of an assault could press charges against their attacker, and as Nellie was unlikely to take such a step, Dot had left Hackney police station with a heavy heart. Her own injuries were mild compared to those her dear friend had suffered at the hands of that maniac, so even if the police did catch Alfie, he was hardly likely to be banged up for belting Dot in the face, painful though it had been. As the sergeant had pointed out, if they locked up everyone guilty of blacking someone’s eyes, half the East End would be in the Scrubs. As for the business of Alfie refusing to join up, again she was out of luck. According to the sergeant, they could only act if the military police asked for their help in rounding up such men. And so far Alfie Ford seemed to have escaped their attention.