East End Jubilee

by Carol Rivers

  ‘Eddie wouldn’t touch anything that was stolen.’ Rose knew she wasting her breath.

  ‘They might have thought we were involved if we hadn’t got a receipt!’

  ‘Well, if you’ve got a receipt, doesn’t that prove Eddie wasn’t out to cheat you?’ Rose felt as though she was sinking in quicksand.

  ‘It proves your husband sold us a stolen television!’

  Rose lifted her chin. ‘I’m sorry for the trouble of course, but you’re judging Eddie before you know all the facts.’

  Olga laughed coldly. ‘There is only one fact. We have just lost fifty honestly earned pounds. We might as well have thrown it down the drain.’

  Rose nearly choked as she heard the price the Parkers had paid for the television. Fifty pounds was a small fortune in Rose’s book.

  Just then Len Silverman appeared. ‘Leave the child alone,’ he said quietly to Olga. ‘She is upset.’

  Olga turned on him fiercely. ‘And so am I, old man!’

  ‘It’s all right, Len. I can fight me own battles,’ Rose said shakily, taking his arm.

  ‘You haven’t heard the last of this.’ Olga lifted her shoulders and marched off. Rose could almost see the steam coming out of her ears.

  ‘I’m truly sorry, Rose,’ the widower apologized as he pushed his fingers through his thin grey hair. ‘It is me who is the cause of your trouble. One of the policemen asked if I knew of anyone owning a new television. He said they were prepared to search in every house so I had better speak up.’ His thick grey eyebrows knitted together. ‘I did so, unfortunately. I hope you are not angry with me.’

  Rose was aware that the retired jeweller kept his home as a shrine to his dead wife, Lena. He hated any intrusion into his life. Since her death ten years ago, the word was he hadn’t moved a stick of furniture. All her clothes and belongings were still in the wardrobe. ‘Forget it, Len. Olga would have told them if you hadn’t,’ Rose said kindly.

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘No, thanks all the same.’ Only a miracle could help now, Rose thought as she hurried back home. Upstairs the girls were sitting on Donnie’s bed looking lost and alone. Rose hugged them hard. ‘Don’t worry, Daddy will be all right.’

  ‘What’s he done wrong?’

  ‘Nothing. The police have made a mistake.’

  Donnie shuddered. ‘Everyone was looking at us funny, like we’d done something wrong.’

  ‘Well, you haven’t and neither has Daddy.’ They had no reason to be ashamed. Whatever the police thought, Rose knew her husband wasn’t guilty of any crime. He worked hard for his living, even though she didn’t like the idea of him dealing in pubs and cafés, anywhere, in fact, he could turn a profit. He never cheated anyone and was always the first to offer help if someone was in trouble. There was no way Eddie would deliberately take something that didn’t belong to him.

  ‘Those policemen were horrible.’ Donnie’s brown eyes filled with tears. ‘They hurt Daddy.’

  ‘But he fought them back.’ Marlene wiped the dirty tears from her cheek with the back of her hand. ‘I saw from Mrs Parker’s window. I tried to kick one of them too.’

  Rose took the little hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘You were sticking up for Daddy I know, but you mustn’t kick people.’

  ‘They came in our house without asking.’

  ‘Well, they did have a search warrant.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘A piece of paper that says you can search someone’s house.’ She pulled them along. ‘Let’s go in and see if they’ve left the house tidy.’

  What had the police expected to find, Rose wondered as they all filed in looking this way and that, first in the front room and then in the kitchen. The front room was her pride and joy with the green moquette couch standing in front of the window and the big shiny radiogram sitting against the far wall. On the mantel was Rogues’ Gallery, photos in brown wooden frames of all the family dating back to her grandparents. On the wall above was a large round bevelled-edge mirror that had always been part of the house for as long as she could remember. There were a few rust spots that had begun to creep over its surface, but if you didn’t look too close, it looked as good as new. To soften the austerity of the room she had made her own flowery cushions and a thick hearthrug sat cosily in front of the black leaded Victorian fireplace. A large brass coal scuttle and companion tongs rested on the ornate brass hearth surround and a framed needlework tapestry her mother had made hid the emptiness of the grate behind. It was slightly askew and some soot had come down on the shiny green tiles. Whoever had been searching up the chimney had found nothing but cobwebs!

  Other than this, the room seemed to be as it was although a few pieces of china looked out of place on the shelves above the radiogram. Rose replaced them asking herself why the police would want to search their modest little home. God knew they had very few possessions and what they did have had been in the family for years.

  Then she thought of the one item of value in the whole house. Not of material importance but certainly of sentimental value. She ran upstairs. Her mother’s necklace was kept in the bottom drawer of the dressing table. The slender row of imitation pearls meant the world to her. She pulled out the drawer and saw Eddie’s socks in a muddle. It was her practice to turn each pair into a ball after washing and lay them side by side. Her hands went shakily to a navy blue pair, well worn and long ago rejected by Eddie.

  ‘Are you looking for Nana’s necklace, Mummy?’ Donnie asked as she came to stand beside her mother.

  ‘Yes, darling.’ Rose shook out the socks and a dainty row of pearls slithered out. ‘They’re still here,’ she sighed in relief as she pressed their comforting shape between her fingers. Whenever Rose held them she felt close to her mother.

  ‘The wardrobe door’s open.’ Donnie pushed her head inside.

  ‘Probably thought we had a television hidden there,’ Rose grumbled as she returned the pearls to the socks.

  ‘They pulled everything out of the toy box,’ Donnie said haughtily. ‘Marlene’s tidying them up.’

  Rose smiled. ‘What a waste of time, searching a lot of old teddy bears!’ They laughed as, hand in hand, they went to help Marlene.

  What was going to happen to Eddie? Rose wondered as they arranged the toys back in the box. He wasn’t a criminal. They didn’t have a lot of money to flash round. One week she had barely enough to make ends meet, the next she managed to buy a few extras. She never quite knew how much Eddie would bring home and, since he wouldn’t agree to her working, one wage was all that ever came into the house.

  Rose looked around her daughters’bedroom. You certainly couldn’t call a wardrobe, chest of drawers and two single beds, luxuries. All the furniture had belonged to her parents who had been killed in an air raid in 1942. They had been sitting in a cinema when the siren went off and failed to reach shelter in time.

  Ruby Street was one of the many island roads that had suffered badly in the bombing. Piles of smoking rubble had mounted daily as the aerial barrage intensified and buildings were flattened. Many of the two up two down Victorian houses that characterized the East End were blown away overnight. Even after eight years, there were still big gaps in the roads and it was only the children who appreciated the debris as they built camps and dug for treasure amongst the dusty remains.

  Rose was well aware that she and the rest of the forgotten island, as it was sometimes called, had to be patient. The authorities were faced with an enormous task. Even though low-rise flats and maisonettes had been built to compensate for the destruction, prefabs abounded. But it was the islanders’ tough attitude to adversity that Rose admired so much. She was proud to be part of the community. Even the factories and wharves along the river’s edge were becoming busier again and the ruined Island Baths had now been successfully rebuilt thanks to local support. In defiance of poverty the women cleaned and polished their front steps even more thoroughly than they ever had before.

&nbs
p; A soft summer breeze drifted under the sash window and Rose drifted back to the present as the brass band began to tune up. She drew her fingers through her untidy hair. ‘Well, that wasn’t too bad, was it?’ she said brightly.

  ‘Are we still going to the party?’ Donnie asked.

  ‘’Course we are,’ Rose said cheerfully, although secretly she didn’t feel in party mood, but she also knew that there was nothing more she could do to help Eddie tonight.

  ‘Oh, it’s you, Neet.’ Rose answered the tap on the back door.

  The caller was Anita Mendoza, her next door neighbour, and Rose smiled trying to hide her blues as Anita entered, dropping her bags and flopping into a chair. ‘Just finished work. Got soaked too. This bloody weather.’

  ‘Pity you had to work on Coronation Day.’

  ‘Had to look after Mrs H’s blooming kids, didn’t I? I’ve got two of me own and there I am, bawling me head off at someone else’s little herberts. Talk about the middle classes. They had a blooming great champagne do and wanted the kids out of the way. Those two little sods are a nightmare. Still, she made it worth me while and I couldn’t refuse.’

  Anita worked as a daily for a wealthy West End family and received very good pay. Rose had often wondered about getting a similar job herself but Eddie was old fashioned enough to believe a woman’s place was in the home.

  Anita blew out a puff of air. Well built, with short, straight fair hair and soft blue eyes, her friend gazed solemnly at her. ‘So, you’d better tell me what happened to Eddie today.’

  Rose lifted her soft brows. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Saw Cissie and Fanny but you know what they’re like for exaggerating.’

  ‘Well, for once they probably haven’t,’ Rose said quietly. ‘In fact I don’t know where to start.’

  ‘You were over at Olga’s,’ Anita prompted making herself comfortable. ‘You all turned up to watch the Coronation on her telly . . .’

  Rose sat down. ‘Well, it was all lovely at first and the coach had just got to Victoria Embankment when Olga broadcast that it was Eddie who sold them the telly. I didn’t know where to put me face. As I told you, Eddie promised she was keeping it under her hat.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Who, Eddie?’ Rose shrugged. ‘He wasn’t there.’

  Anita smirked. ‘Surprise, surprise.’

  Rose frowned at her friend. ‘Oh, he’s not that bad, Neet.’

  ‘As long as you don’t blink, no.’ Anita’s eyebrows lifted. ‘You gotta admit it, Rose, your old man is faster than a streak of greased lightning.’

  Rose had long accepted Eddie’s restless and unpredictable nature so that she almost didn’t notice now. ‘What else did they say outside?’ she asked quietly.

  Anita hesitated. ‘The word is Olga’s telly was stolen and Old Bill carted Eddie off to the nick.’

  Rose closed her eyes. ‘It’s true. I warned him not to get involved with the Parkers. I knew it was bad luck from the moment he mentioned it last week. We had such a row. It’s our golden rule not to sell round here and yet he still went and did it.’

  ‘So what did Mrs High and Mighty Parker have to say about all this?’

  ‘She said the police questioned her as if she was a common criminal. She was furious.’

  Anita groaned. ‘I’m really sorry I wasn’t here,’ she muttered. ‘I’d have given the coppers a piece of me mind.’

  Rose believed Anita would have done just that. They’d been friends for a long time and knew each other very well. Since before the war the Nortons had lived next door to Rose’s parents, but Anita had moved to Stepney and into her in-laws’ house when she’d married Benny Mendoza. Benny’s father, Luis, was from Argentina and had sailed to England as a young merchant seaman. On one of his visits he had met Benny’s mother Mary, after which Luis had never returned to Argentina.

  It was when Benny and Anita and their two sons had returned to Ruby Street in order to care for Anita’s widowed mother that Anita and Rose had grown close. Sadly Mrs Norton died and the house had passed into Anita and Benny’s hands.

  ‘Try not to worry,’ Anita said gently. She looked at her wristwatch. ‘Look, I hate to leave you like this. But I have to go over to Stepney. Benny’s mum is keeping an eye on the boys for me. Are you still going to the party tonight?’

  ‘Yes,’ Rose nodded. ‘The girls need cheering up after today. Marlene even tried to kick one of the policemen because she saw her father do it.’

  ‘They must have got rough with him, then.’

  ‘His nose was bleeding and his hair was all over the place.’

  ‘Look . . .’ Anita scraped back her short hair with the palm of her hand, ‘if I know Eddie he’ll be home in no time, getting round you as usual and claiming it was all just a storm in a teacup, and you’ll have spent all this time worrying for nothing.’

  Rose smiled. ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Now I’d better be going. There’s no buses, so I’ll have to bike it over.’

  ‘Where’s Benny today?’

  ‘Up in the Lake District somewhere. He’s on a three-dayer, delivering metal locks for sheds to farmers.’

  They walked along the hall and heard the girls giggling upstairs. ‘They seem none the worse for wear,’ Anita pointed out.

  ‘I hope not. They’ve been so excited about the party. I even made them special red, white and blue dresses.’

  ‘Well, enjoy it for their sakes.’

  Rose nodded. ‘I’ll try.’

  Anita smiled. ‘See you later, then. I’ll get away from me mother-in-law’s as soon as I can and give you some moral support.’ She stepped out into the busy street and waved goodbye.

  Rose surveyed the colourful scene. All the school benches and tables were lined in the middle of the road. The children were eating and drinking as the women rushed up with refills for their empty plates. Flags were tied from window to window and everyone was laughing and having a good time. Rose knew she must join in and be merry for she was certain the Weavers were not the only ones in the area to gain the attention of the police and she very much doubted if they would be the last.

  The rain had finally stopped.

  Under the crudely painted crowns and Union Jacks strung across the gutters, the bunting hung like bowers of blossom. Festooned lampposts became street maypoles and the tarpaulins had been rolled away. Plates of cakes, sandwiches, jellies, custards, pies, sausages and even jugs of flowers were spread like a medieval feast over the tables. Rose was happy to see the small weekly donation she had made to the celebrations had resulted in this. With meat and sugar rationing still in force the party was nothing short of a miracle.

  ‘Where are we going to sit?’ Marlene asked as they pushed their way through the crowd.

  ‘Over there.’ Rose pulled the girls towards a vacant bench but they were just beaten to it by some boys. They ended up standing outside Olga’s house and Rose felt uncomfortable there, but there wasn’t any room to move. She didn’t know what she’d do if Olga started another scene.

  Suddenly the brass band struck up. The conductor spoke through a loudhailer explaining they would play a medley of tunes. ‘Buttons and Bows’ first, then ‘Riders in the Sky’. This announcement received more good-natured heckling than it did applause. Undaunted, the band let rip.

  ‘Rose!’ It was Len Silverman. He pointed to his own seat. ‘This is for you.’

  Rose knew he regretted having told the police about the television, but she didn’t blame him. She understood the reasons why he kept himself to himself. He’d loved his wife dearly and if he chose to keep her memory alive by preserving the house as it was on the day she died, well then, good luck to him.

  ‘Thanks, Len.’

  ‘No hard feelings, I hope, my dear?’

  ‘None,’ she assured him.

  ‘I’ll squeeze the girls in over there.’ He pointed to a bench. A little black boy and two tiny girls sat on it, stuffing cake.

  Donnie gripped
her hand. ‘I want to stay with you, Mum.’

  ‘What about you, Marlene?’ Len held out a shaky hand. It was deformed with arthritis, but Marlene took it, looking up at him with a beaming smile. Rose knew the children trusted and liked him. Len often sat outside his front door in the sunshine when the weather was good. The elderly Jew would give them boiled sweets in paper wrappers as special treats.

  ‘I like the look of them jellies,’ Marlene said eagerly.

  ‘Then you shall have one.’ With Marlene’s little fingers wrapped in his, the old man led her slowly to the table.

  ‘Hello, Rose.’ It was Mabel Dixon and her husband Fred. He wore a newspaper hat in the shape of a boat. Mabel, as small and plump as her husband was tall and lean, waved a Union Flag. Dora Lovell joined them, a red scarf covering her thin hair. She had a big, red white and blue crêpe paper flower pinned to her baggy jumper.

  ‘Hello,’ Dora said timidly.

  Rose summoned a smile. ‘You all look festive.’

  Fred laughed. ‘Yeah, don’t they? Like blooming Christmas trees.’

  ‘You want to take a look at yourself,’ Mabel said crisply, frowning up at her husband’s head.

  ‘I was just listening to the news on me wireless,’ Dora interrupted quietly. ‘They said the Royal Family all waved from the balcony when they got back to the Palace. Apparently little Prince Charles and his sister, Anne, looked lovely. The Duke of Edinburgh and the Queen Mother was there too, all smiling and waving to everyone.’

  ‘Yes, but the wireless is nothing like the television,’ Mabel argued, glancing at Rose. ‘You can’t beat actually seeing things.’

  ‘I dunno about that,’ her husband frowned. ‘Personally, I prefer me wireless. Don’t go along with all these newfangled contraptions.’

  Mabel cast him a withering look. ‘That’s the first I knew of it, Fred Dixon. You’re always quick enough to park yourself right in front of our Susan’s telly.’

  Rose stood up. ‘You’ll have to excuse us. I’m gonna get the kids something to eat.’

  She could feel their eyes in her back as she walked away. Was it going to be like this all evening, hints rife? When she met Fanny and Cissy, who sat on wooden chairs outside their front doors, she decided to get the first word in.