Babs was just about to put her key in the lock to let herself indoors after spending the evening with Lou when she heard the warning. She stood there for a moment, wondering what to do. Should she go indoors to the loneliness of an empty house, or into the stifling heat and discomfort of the shelter where Blanche would probably be with the kids, so at least she’d have a bit of company.
The decision was made for her; within moments of the warnings beginning there was a sound she didn’t at first recognise but the meaning of which she soon guessed. A blitz of bombs was whistling down over London from out of the black night sky with unprecedented ferocity. Babs made a dash for the shelter, pleading heavenwards to whoever might be listening that Evie and her dad were somewhere safe and that none of the missiles would fall on Darnfield Street. Just as she got to the shelter door, she turned on her heel and sprinted back to number six. Frantically fumbling in the dark for her key, she called loudly, ‘OK, Flash, don’t worry, I’m here.’ Inside, the terrified greyhound howled pitifully.
With the door finally open, Babs flew along the passage and into the kitchen. ‘I dunno what Alice is gonna say about you going in the shelter,’ she said, as she snapped Flash’s lead onto her collar and dragged the quivering animal towards the front door.
The next day there were enough rumours flying around about fire bombs, high explosives and the terrible death toll to ensure that on Sunday evening nearly everyone in the East End was glued to their wireless sets, waiting for any scrap of comfort, information or instruction – anything, in fact, to tell them what was happening.
In Darnfield Street, Frankie Morgan’s previously dismissed warnings and directions were being taken seriously or at least considered carefully. Even those like the Jenners with their brood of little ones and their elderly grandmother, who still didn’t fancy the idea of going in the shelter, followed Frankie’s instructions and were sleeping downstairs, away from the threat of unsuspected fires starting over their sleeping heads.
At a quarter past eleven on that Sunday night the sirens went again. This time people didn’t hesitate; they threw their coats on over their nightclothes and headed for the public shelter.
By the time Babs got to the shelter, it was almost full. Blanche sat Janey on her lap, making room on the bench. ‘She’s half asleep anyway.’
Babs took off her soft felt hat and shoved it in her pocket. She shook her hair over her shoulder and stared at Alice. ‘Not got nothing nasty to say about Flash tonight?’ she asked before Alice had a chance to say anything.
Alice surprised them all by shaking her head and not saying a word.
Blanche raised her eyebrows at Babs. ‘Blimey, what’s up with her?’ she whispered under her breath.
Babs shrugged. ‘Dunno, but she’s got the needle over something.’
‘Are your dad and sister all right?’ Maudie Peters asked suddenly. ‘If I’m not being nosy.’
‘Course you ain’t. Nice of yer to ask.’ Babs glared at Alice, daring her to make a comment as she added, ‘Dad’ll still be in the Drum, he’s working tonight, so Nellie and Jim’ll take him down the cellar with them, and Evie’s out with her feller up West.’
‘So he’ll look after her,’ said Maudie reassuringly.
‘Yes,’ said Babs with a sideways glance at Blanche. ‘He will.’
‘Here they come,’ sighed Minnie as the droning sound of approaching aircraft made everyone look anxiously up at the ceiling of the shelter as though they could see through it into the blackness of the night sky. ‘Let’s hope there’s no surprises for us tonight, eh?’ She patted Clara’s shaking hand. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be all right in here,’ she reassured her terrified friend, then she turned to Babs and gestured silently to Clara. ‘Why don’t yer give us a song, Babs? Cheer us all up.’
‘Yer on,’ said Babs. She stood up and handed Flash’s lead to Blanche’s Len who was squatting on the floor by his mum’s feet. ‘I think yer all know this one,’ she said and started singing the opening notes of ‘Bye Bye Blackbird’. Babs was slightly shocked when Maudie Peters began clapping along, but was delighted when she got everyone – everyone except Alice and Nobby – joining in.
‘This has turned into a right old sing-song,’ beamed Minnie as she and Clara swayed in time to the tune. ‘More like a Saturday night in the Drum than a Sunday night in the shelter.’
By the time the all clear sounded at dawn the next morning, Babs had gone through just about every song that they all knew and Miss Peters had sung one or two that they didn’t.
Archie stuck his head out of the shelter first. Satisfied that it was safe, he let Mary and Terry slip out past him. ‘I’m just gonna have a word with Frankie then I’ll go and put the kettle on,’ he said to Blanche, pecking her on the cheek and ruffling Janey’s fluffy baby curls.
‘Ta, darling,’ Blanche said sleepily. ‘I could murder a cuppa tea that ain’t been in a flask.’
Blanche let most of the others file out of the shelter before she herself got to her feet and stepped out into the bright, early morning sun. She handed Janey gratefully to Babs while she stretched her aching limbs. ‘Monday morning and the world’s still here,’ she yawned. ‘Look at it, it’s like nothing’s happened.’ Smiling down at Len she said, ‘What a weekend, eh, son? But it weren’t too bad, was it? I mean, if that’s all that’s gonna happen, we ain’t got nothing to worry about, have we?’ Blanche flinched as she felt someone poke her hard in the side. ‘Oi! What the hell was that?’ She spun round to see Alice standing there, fists on her tiny hips, scowling with fury. ‘I might have known it was you, Alice,’ Blanche said, rubbing her side. ‘I thought yer’d been too quiet all night. Now what d’yer want?’
‘I wanna know how you can have the gall to stand there and say we ain’t got nothing to worry about.’ Alice was speaking nine to the dozen. It was the first time she had said anything since the warning had gone the previous night and she had a lot of catching up to do. ‘There was bombs and gawd knows what falling out here and you have the cheek to say that. And her,’ she jabbed her finger towards Babs, ‘she had the bloody sauce to sing. And that Miss Peters. I thought she’d have more sense, her a church-goer and all.’ Alice’s eyes blazed. ‘We could all have died in there last night.’
Blanche took a deep breath, then said as calmly as she could, ‘Babs, all right if Len takes Flash for a little run?’
Babs nodded. ‘Course. Go on, Len, and watch she don’t pull yer over.’
Blanche watched her son as he raced off happily at the end of Flash’s lead. Satisfied that he was out of earshot, Blanche folded her arms and rocked back on her heels. ‘Ain’t you got no brain at all, Alice? We was all doing our best to keep cheerful, and me, I was trying to kid Len along that it was all safe and sound out here. And you have to go and put the bloody willies up him. What’s the matter with you?’
‘What’s the matter with me?’ Alice was now yelling as loud as he already little voice let her. ‘What’s the matter with you, yer mean. Yer should still be evacuated with young kids like your’n.’
Blanche looked at Babs. ‘Have I heard right?’ She didn’t wait for Babs to answer. ‘You hypocritical old bag, Alice. If you wasn’t such a little runt, I swear I’d …’ She could barely get the words out she was so angry. ‘It wasn’t no time ago that you was running me down for going away and mouthing off about how your precious girl wouldn’t have let her kid be evacuated. And now.’
Alice stuck her chin out. ‘That’s before my Micky told me about Southern Grove.’
‘And what exactly did your Micky tell yer about Southern Grove?’
‘They had bombs there. Loads of ’em. Fire bombs and big exploding ones that wrecked all the houses and blew great holes in the road. He said he’d never seen nothing like it.’
Blanche shook her head in wonder. ‘I don’t believe you, Alice. Yer always such a sodding know-all. But this time we all know yer wrong ’cos yer can ask anyone, it was only the docks what got it.’
> Alice was silent for a moment, then she said quietly, ‘Say what you like. I know different.’ Then she marched off towards her house.
Blanche stared after her. ‘Gawd only knows what she’d say if she found out how serious her Micky’s got with my Mary.’
‘I’d better go and see if Dad and Evie have got back,’ said Babs, holding Janey out to Blanche.
‘Right.’ Blanche sounded distracted as she took the toddler from her. ‘I’ll send Len over with the dog soon as he gets back.’
‘When he’s ready. I won’t be going into work till later.’ Babs began walking away.
‘Babs,’ Blanche called after her.
Babs stopped and turned back. ‘Yeah?’
‘They ain’t interested in hitting houses and people like us, are they?’
Babs shrugged. ‘No. I don’t suppose so.’
‘I’m not so sure.’ It was Clara. She and Minnie had left the shelter straight after Archie but they hadn’t gone indoors yet. It had been only the second time that they’d spent the night in there and they both needed some fresh air. ‘I heard the kids talking in the shelter about how Southern Grove got it. It’s true what she said.’
Blanche held Janey tight to her chest. ‘No it’s not, it’s just more stories. And yer don’t wanna listen to kids no more than yer wanna listen to Alice.’
Clara sniffed. ‘I wish I’d stayed under the bed like I wanted,’ she said tearfully. ‘Then I wouldn’t have heard all this horrible stuff in the first place and I wouldn’t have to tell all you.’
‘Don’t upset yerself.’ Minnie handed Clara a hankie and wrapped her arm round her friend’s broad shoulders.
‘But I heard it from someone else and all,’ wailed Clara.
‘Who from?’ Minnie frowned. ‘Yer’ve been with us all night in the shelter.’
Clara blew her nose noisily. Staring down at the pavement, she said softly, ‘Frankie Morgan was saying about it to your Archie when we left after the all clear just now.’
Blanche swallowed hard. ‘You know how people exaggerate, Clara,’ she said, trying her best to smile. ‘Always gotta have a story to tell. I’ll talk to Archie. You’ll see, it’ll all be a load of old toffee.’
‘Well, let’s hope that’s all it is, ’cos I’m scared, scared stiff. I knew it was gonna be like this from the minute that war broke out, when them rotten sirens went off for the first time.’ She looked up, her eyes full of tears. ‘Say something happened to one of us, Min, to you or me, think what it’d be like to be left all alone.’
‘Shut up, Clara, or yer’ll have me grizzling and all.’ Minnie took the hankie from Clara and blew her own nose. ‘What’s got into you? Yer giving me the creeps.’ She looked to Blanche and Babs for support. ‘Please, tell her there’s nothing to worry about.’
But it wasn’t Babs or Blanche who spoke next, it was Evie. While Clara had been speaking, Albie had dropped her outside number six and as soon as she’d seen Babs she’d come running over to her. ‘Thank gawd yer all right,’ she said, throwing her arms round Babs. ‘When I saw all the bomb damage to them little houses as we was driving along, I made Albie drive like a nutcase to get me back to yer. I nearly had kittens worrying.’
Clara burst into loud noisy tears.
‘Evie!’ snapped Blanche.
Evie looked bewildered. ‘What? What have I said?’
12
After a few edgy days, things rapidly got back to normal for the residents of Darnfield Street, or what passed for normal at the beginning of September 1940. The weather was fine, more like high summer than autumn, and the fact that there had been no warnings so far that day, not even the by now expected false alarms, had helped lift everyone’s mood. But as Babs hurried along Grove Road on that sunny Saturday morning, loaded down with shopping, her mood was not very sweet at all. In fact, she was getting herself worked up into a real temper.
‘You promised me, Evie,’ she muttered to herself. ‘You said you wouldn’t let me down again.’
But Evie had let her down. For the last goodness only knew how many weeks, her sister had failed to come in after going out on a Friday night with Albie Denham, leaving Babs by herself to sort out the shopping and cleaning that had to be done over the weekend.
Babs was so busy complaining to herself that at first she didn’t hear her name being called, but when she eventually stopped and looked over her shoulder to find out who wanted her, she saw it was Blanche and Len staggering towards her. They were even more laden with bags than she was.
‘At last,’ Blanche shouted to her. ‘I’ve been trying to get yer to slow down since yer left the market.’ She puffed loudly as she dumped her bags on the pavement. ‘I always say it, but this time I really mean it, it’s a good job I’ve got my Lenny here to help me, ain’t it?’ Blanche winked affectionately at her son and rubbed at her aching back.
‘Yer right there, Blanche,’ said Babs, doing her best to smile at Len as she too let her bags drop to the pavement. ‘I could do with a bit of help meself.’
‘It ain’t like you to go down the Roman on yer own.’
‘No,’ Babs said flatly, ‘it ain’t usually, but it’s becoming something of a habit lately and one that I ain’t very keen on, to tell yer the truth.’
‘Evie not come home again?’ Blanche asked quietly, almost mouthing the words, so that Len couldn’t hear.
Babs shook her head. ‘No.’ After a moment of uneasy silence, Babs spoke to Len. ‘So what you been up to then, apart from helping yer mum?’
‘I’ve started a collection,’ said Len, his eyes shining at the thought of it. ‘Look.’ He dug into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a chunk of metal. ‘Shrapnel, that is. I think. Or part of an aeroplane anyway.’
‘Fancy that,’ said Babs, looking at it closely.
‘I found it out walking along the canal—’
‘You what?’ demanded Blanche. ‘Yer know you ain’t allowed down there.’
‘Not by the canal exactly, Mum,’ Len quickly corrected himself. ‘But down that sort of end of the street.’ He turned back to Babs. ‘There was this dogfight, see.’ Len waved his arms excitedly in the air. ‘Vapour trails right across the sky and Spitfires and Hurricanes and everything all fighting the Jerries in their Messerschmitts. Then they got him! Bull’s eye! And I’ll bet my mum’s kettle was used to make the Spitfire what got him.’
Blanche was frowning. ‘Are you telling the truth, Len?’
‘Yeah.’ He sounded hurt that his mum would doubt him. ‘You give yer kettle in when the lady come round collecting ’em.’
‘Yer know I don’t mean about no kettle.’
Len swallowed hard and looked down at his boots.
‘There ain’t been no planes come down anywhere near here, Len. So where yer been? You been off on that old bike of your dad’s again?’
‘When we was in Cornwall yer let me go for miles without having a go at me.’
‘Well, we ain’t in Cornwall now, thank gawd.’
‘I wish I was still there. It was smashing.’
‘Don’t start crying, Len.’ As always, the sight of any of her children even close to tears immediately mollified Blanche’s temper. ‘Tell yer what,’ she said gently. ‘I’ll talk to Dad about you getting that rabbit yer wanted, how about that?’
‘Would yer, Mum?’ His tears forgotten, Len was now beaming.
‘Course, and why don’t yer ask Babs if she’ll let yer take Flash out for a walk later?’
‘I’d be grateful if yer would, Len,’ said Babs, smiling down at him. ‘It’d save me a job.’
‘If I take these bags home now, Mum, and put the stuff in the cupboard, can I take her out straightaway?’
‘Go on then. And tell Mary to get the kettle on.’
Len picked up the two bags he had been struggling with earlier, their weight no longer a problem, and raced off as fast as he could towards Darnfield Street.
‘She’s out the back in the scullery,’ Babs called aft
er him. ‘The key’s on the string.’
‘Righto!’ Len shouted back.
‘He’s such a good kid, Blanche.’
‘Yeah. I wish he was a bit happier, that’s all. Then perhaps he wouldn’t go wandering. He was like a different boy when we was down there.’ Blanche looked down at the shopping round Babs’s feet. ‘You looking after the dog and all now, Babs?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think you’re letting Evie get away with murder.’
Babs shrugged. ‘Ain’t got much choice, really. Someone’s gotta do it.’
Blanche studied Babs’s face for a moment; she looked tired. Doing her best to sound cheerful, she said, ‘Here, I saw Ringer talking to Miss Peters again the other day. Looked like they was getting on right well and all.’
Babs looked surprised. ‘Me dad and Maudie Peters? You sure, Blanche?’
‘Yeah, didn’t yer know? That’s a few times I’ve seen ’em chatting lately.’
‘What am I meant to be, on the Brains Trust?’ snapped Babs. ‘Course I didn’t know. How am I meant to know anything?’ She kicked at one of the shopping bags, sending a stream of potatoes rolling towards the road. ‘I’m too flaming busy working and cooking and cleaning to have a chance to know anything.’ She bent down and started picking up the vegetables. ‘Bloody things.’
Blanche bent down to help her. ‘Sorry, Babs, I didn’t mean to upset yer,’ she said, stuffing them back in the bag.
‘No, Blanche, I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m tired, that’s all.’
‘Yer doing too much.’
‘Got yer eye on me, have yer?’
‘I ain’t poking me nose in, Babs.’ Straightening herself up, Blanche handed her the last of the potatoes. ‘I’m just a bit worried about yer.’
‘I know you are, Blanche, and I’m grateful to yer.’
Blanche smiled and picked up her bags. ‘Come on, let’s get this lot home. I tell yer what, why don’t you do a list of what yer want every morning, drop it in through me door, and I can get yer bits for yer while yer at work. I bet yer spend all yer dinner time in them bloody queues.’
The Bells of Bow Page 18
