East End Jubilee

by Carol Rivers

  Rose tried to resist. ‘I want to get up.’

  ‘Well, you can’t,’ Em and Anita shouted at the same time.

  ‘You gotta take notice of the old King’s Proctor,’ Benny said in a gentle tone from above the heads of the two women. ‘You’ve been overdoing it, gel.’

  ‘Dr Cox said bed rest from now on,’ echoed her sister, once more tugging on the eiderdown as if she was wrapping Rose in a straightjacket.

  ‘But I’ve got to be in court tomorrow!’

  Anita and Em were shaking their heads even before she’d finished her sentence and Rose stared up at them helplessly. Anita sat stiffly on the bed. She had worn a dark wool two-piece suit to the Old Bailey and a little scarf pinned at the collar with a marcasite clip, matching leaf earrings adorned her earlobes and her short fair hair was, for once, neatly combed. She said very gently, ‘You want this baby safe and sound don’t you, love?’

  ‘Of course I do, but—’

  ‘There’s no buts where a pregnancy is concerned. You lost a few spots today and you know what that means.’

  At this Benny flushed, cleared his throat and shifted away from the bedside to disappear very quickly out of the door.

  ‘Rosy,’ Em said as she clutched her hands together, ‘you know you could have miscarried, don’t you? I don’t want to be an alarmist, but you must think of the baby.’

  Rose knew her sister was right, had known deep down in her soul as Anita and Benny had helped her into Dr Cox’s surgery that the symptoms she was exhibiting were danger signals. The young doctor had confirmed her fears as he listened to the baby’s disturbed heartbeat and taken her blood pressure. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Weaver,’ he’d said slowly after giving her a thorough examination, ‘but I must advise rest – total rest – from now on until the baby is born. Your blood pressure is raised and added to the show of blood, I urge great caution. Of course I don’t want to worry you—’

  Rose looked at the two women at her bedside. Her sister stood upright like a wraith, bedecked from head to foot in black but thankfully devoid of the turban, whilst Anita sat on the bed in her smart suit, both of them with expressions of regret yet quiet determination on their faces.

  ‘Our Benny said he’d stand in for you,’ Anita said with a little smile. ‘And he’ll get word to Eddie that we’re making you take it easy.’

  ‘But he’ll worry,’ Rose protested unhappily, ‘if I’m not there.’

  ‘He’ll worry more if he sees you carried out of the courtroom on a stretcher,’ Em pointed out bluntly.

  Rose sniffed as the tears were close to spilling. She couldn’t let Eddie down. She had to be there. He would need her moral support even if she couldn’t say anything to help him.

  ‘Look, love,’ Anita began reasonably, ‘you’re not in pain now so it’s natural for you to want to continue as normal. But if you move about you’ll put the babe at risk and you’ve got to bring that blood pressure down. You don’t want another turn like today because the consequences are unthinkable. Dr Cox said you’ve had a warning. The question is, are you going to be sensible and listen to it?’ Anita patted her knee under the eiderdown. ‘Take his advice. For little ’un’s sake.’

  ‘There’s no two ways about it,’ Em said in an authoritative voice, which Rose thought was bordering on hysteria. ‘You have to do what he says. Or . . . or—’

  ‘Or we’ll all be worrying silly,’ Anita settled for, giving Rose a sly wink as Em turned away and fussed with Jane Piper’s cherry red coat.

  Rose screwed her hands together under the sheet then drew her fingers over the nightgown that Em and Anita had helped her to put on, swinging her legs up on to the bed as if she was geriatric. She wanted the best for her baby, of course, but she’d planned to stay on at work until Christmas to earn a bonus and most of all, she had been preparing herself for the remainder of Eddie’s trial. Now all her plans were in jeopardy, added to which the thought of staying in bed for the next two-and-a-half months was inconceivable.

  Suddenly there were voices on the landing outside and a big knuckle drummed on the door. Benny’s voice shouted, ‘Is it all clear to come in?’

  ‘Yes,’ Anita and Em shouted together.

  In came Benny carrying Marlene, who was dressed in her nightgown and looked almost asleep. ‘The boy and Donnie are asleep but Marle just woke up,’ he said gruffly, ‘and wants a cuddle.’

  ‘Come on pet, slip into bed with Mummy,’ Rose murmured as she struggled to pull back the bedclothes.

  ‘Here, wait a moment,’ Em said as she went to Rose’s aid and helped her niece snuggle under the warm bedclothes.

  ‘You’re in bed early, Mummy,’ she yawned as she threaded her arm over Rose’s bump.

  ‘Yes,’ Rose smiled, burying her nose in the thatch of red curls that smelt deliciously of Sunlight.

  ‘Was you tired?’

  ‘A little,’ Rose nodded, but her daughter’s eyes were already closed and her breathing smooth. In seconds she was asleep, effortlessly curling around Rose’s bulky shape.

  She felt a wave of pleasure flow through her body at the close physical contact and knew then that her priority was her girls and the vulnerable life growing inside her. ‘I know you’re all right,’ she conceded as she looked up. ‘You can stop worrying, Em, I won’t try to escape.’

  ‘I should hope not,’ her sister sighed, visibly relaxing.

  ‘So we won’t need to post a guard, then?’ Anita confirmed.

  Rose smiled for the first time. ‘I know when I’m beaten.’

  ‘Could’ve fooled me,’ Em sniffed. ‘I’ve been trying to persuade you to give up work for the past two months.’

  ‘Well, now I’ll have to, won’t I?’ She looked up at Benny. ‘Benny, are you certain you want to go in my place?’

  He gave her a growl, looking like a big brown bear in his patched driving jacket and old trousers, and his tight dark hair growing down the back of his neck. ‘Wild horses wouldn’t stop me, gel. There ain’t nothing I can’t do next week with a bit of shifting around.’

  Rose felt the baby move under Marlene’s arm. Her heart did a little somersault as it always did when Number Three was up to his antics. She arched her back carefully lifting her spine as she imagined the baby stretching his limbs.

  ‘It’s definitely a boy,’ she said as she looked up with shining eyes. ‘He’s playing football again.’

  ‘Then he’s a Stanley or a Matthew, ain’t he?’ Benny remarked dryly. ‘There ain’t no one in the world plays a better winger than Stanley Matthews.’

  They all laughed, and Rose allowed herself the luxury of imagining Number Three outside in the backyard, bashing a football against the Anderson fence with Eddie running around with him, teaching him how to dribble and head the ball. And there she would be, cooking the dinner and watching them play through the kitchen window, simply bursting with pride. Rose sighed contentedly. She wasn’t that keen on Stanley for a name, but Matthew would do very nicely. Even when shortened to Matt, it had a ring to it. Matthew Weaver, yes, she liked that. With a lump in her throat she wondered if Eddie would too.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘Ding-de-dong, ding-de-dong, ding-dong,’ echoed the radio downstairs. Daphne Oxenford’s clear, articulate voice drifted up from the kitchen radio to the boys’ bedroom where Anita was cleaning. Today, Friday, she had given the house a once over, since Mrs H was away for a long weekend and didn’t require her services until Monday.

  Anita was trying not to think about the proceedings at the Old Bailey today. Eddie’s evidence and the summing up would be over by now. Had the jury come to a decision? Her mind felt exhausted with different hypotheses and she was trying to fill every moment to avoid creating yet another. She didn’t dare go in to Em and Rose next door. Not until Benny came home and then they’d go in together.

  The boys’ bedroom, an antidote to the tension, was at the top of Anita’s hit list of chores. She had discovered dirty pants under the beds along with socks as stiff
as walking sticks. Crumpled shirts were dropped carelessly on the floor of their wardrobe and a box of rubbish smelt to high heaven. Anita was not impressed.

  Did they think she lived for their benefit alone? Stripping the sheets off the two mattresses and throwing them over the banister, a small object landed at her feet.

  Anita bent down and picked it up. The dog-end had been clumsily concealed under the pillow, no doubt for revival tonight. She couldn’t be certain from which bed it had fallen, but she had expressly forbidden smoking in their room. For the last twelve months, whilst she had been trying to abstain herself, she had forbidden smoking at all in the house. The fact that she was secretly puffing once more made no difference to her overall plan of action. Benny had almost set himself alight in the front room one evening when a Woodbine had dropped from his fingers to the cushion whilst snoozing. The boys had had a good laugh at Benny’s expense, but Anita had implemented the rule immediately. No smoking in the house. Although they denied it flat, her boys smoked like chimneys. After a Saturday night out they had dog’s breath and smelly clothes to prove it.

  She would have a word with the buggers tonight, although a flat denial was all she’d receive. God help her, the sooner the little sods were taken off her hands, the better. Anita energetically scooped up the clothes that littered the small bedroom. How many years had she been tidying up after men?

  Suddenly the familiar voice of Daphne Oxenford broke into her thoughts. Listen With Mother always evoked bittersweet memories no matter how hard she tried not to get sentimental. How her two little boys had once loved that short fifteen minutes of pure escapism!

  Daphne Oxenford was Anita’s own favourite reader with her cut glass accent and beautiful lilt. Catherine Edwards came a close second. Anita paused to recall Alan and David as healthy, happy four- and five-year-olds, their beautiful dark eyes filling with wonder the moment they heard those tempting words, ‘Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin.’

  Anita had always set aside time to be with her young sons even when she’d started to work part-time as a cleaner. She’d even persuaded them to sit a little longer and endure ten minutes of Woman’s Hour. But as they’d grown older, the novelty had worn off. Anita hummed softly to herself. ‘The Old Clockmaker’ was the theme tune to Jennings at School and she loved it even now. The boys had sung along with her then, both of them with voices like foghorns even as kids.

  When had it happened that Children’s Hour faded into oblivion and Dick Barton, Special Agent, had stolen their affections? She couldn’t remember now, but she could still hum that theme tune too.

  ‘Da-da-dad-drrra-da-drrr-dadadahh . . .’ Anita sang as she turned to the window and pressed her forehead against the cold glass. Her breath formed an opaque curtain in front of her nose and she stroked it gently with her fingertips.

  Her boys had grown up so quickly. From babies in nappies to grown men almost. There had been so much more she’d wanted to do with them. Holidays for instance. She’d dreamed of taking them abroad, visiting the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, a city she’d always wanted to see. None of them, except Benny, had ever been abroad. And he’d only travelled in the Merchant Navy. At least they had made Skegness this year.

  Anita turned away from the window, her gaze landing on the two boys’ beds and all the accoutrements of youth. On the chest of drawers lay an untidy assortment of combs, brushes, Brylcreem jars and a signed photograph of a young blonde Redcoat. She had chosen Alan to dance with her in the Princes’ Ballroom and although he’d gone beetroot he’d obliged very nicely. No two left feet for Alan, Anita thought proudly. Unlike David, Alan was a born dancer and lately spent his Saturday evenings jitterbugging at a local dancehall. Now he gazed at the Redcoat’s photograph every day, swearing he was going back next year to dance with her again.

  Anita wondered if they would all return to Butlin’s as a family? The two weeks this year had been the best holiday of their lives. She was saving again. David had engineered himself a job after school at the bike shop in Poplar. And Benny, equally impressed by Butlin’s, was working as many Sundays as he could find. So maybe they might make it again. Just one more time. Once before her babies left the nest . . .

  The front door banged. Anita jumped. She left the boys’ untidy room and hurried out on the landing.

  ‘Benny? Is that you?’

  No reply. David or Alan would have yelled out, immediately wanting something. But Alan didn’t knock off from Kirkwood’s until four and David was going straight to the bike shop. On the other hand, Benny would have come up directly to tell her the news.

  Anita went slowly down the stairs. The light was on in the kitchen and the fire was alight in the front room flickering shadows across the bottom of the stairs. The November evening had darkened swiftly but the house felt warm and inviting.

  A figure stepped towards her and Anita gave a startled cry. ‘Benny! You scared the life out of me!’ She stopped abruptly on the bottom step. Her husband’s face was grey and lined despite his youthfully olive skin. He’d worn a dark suit especially for court this morning and when he’d left, it seemed to fit him perfectly. He was stocky and muscular and finding a second-hand navy blue suit at the market had been one of Anita’s most satisfying buys. The trousers had needed an inch off the bottoms but Rose had managed the alteration for her. She’d also let down the sleeves to encompass Benny’s unusually thick arms. Being one size larger than Benny’s normal size, the jacket had easily accommodated his broad shoulders. But now he seemed to have shrunk inside the cloth. He’d pulled out the knot of his tie and undone the button of his white shirt. Anita felt a frisson of attraction flow through her and then, unexpectedly, a great tenderness.

  ‘Come and sit down,’ she said and he followed her into the front room. He took his usual armchair by the fire and she one of the dining chairs. Anita was shocked as she met his eyes. She knew straight away what was wrong. He had been weeping.

  ‘I’ll make a cuppa,’ she blurted, confused by her discovery. She had never seen Benny weep, once perhaps when Alan was born, but those were tears of sheer joy. Anita knew that Benny’s emotions were kept tightly under lock and key. He would die rather than expose his true feelings of sensitivity, yet it was clear in his face that something had touched him to the core.

  Benny shook his head and lifted a hand to stop her from leaving. ‘No, don’t go,’ he muttered as his eyes moistened and he continued to shake his head. ‘It’s all over,’ he whispered hoarsely, ‘poor bastard.’ He shivered physically. ‘Neet, I never want to go through anything like that again. I’d rather die before I saw David or Alan come up before a beak.’

  ‘Struth, Benny,’ Anita breathed anxiously, ‘what are you talking about? Our boys ain’t criminals.’

  ‘Nor is Eddie but that didn’t make no difference today. It don’t make sense, it really don’t. Eddie’s a family man, innocent of any of those charges and yet . . .’ His voice was shaking and Anita swallowed.

  ‘Benny, tell me what happened?’

  He sank back against the cushion and exhaled. ‘Eddie went down, gel.’

  Anita closed her eyes. The news was not unexpected to her. No matter how much they had all hoped otherwise, she’d secretly feared the worst. ‘How long for?’

  ‘Two years.’

  Anita stared at the top of her husband’s head as it sank to his chest. She had never expected Benny to lose the raven black, wiry hair that clung to his skull with such determination. But she could see clearly now the faint pink outline of his scalp that a few years ago had been masked to the eye by thick, tight curls. Her heart gave another treacherous lurch as slowly she allowed Benny’s words to sink in. ‘Poor bloody Rose,’ she whispered brokenly.

  Benny looked up, taking a huge breath that startled his wife. ‘It ain’t as bad as it seems, you know.’

  Anita snorted, fighting back the tears. ‘You could have fooled me.’

  ‘They couldn’t prove the warehouse job but the
y found him guilty on handling the stolen telly and obstructing the coppers. The assault charge was thrown out and the old beak gave him two years to run concurrently, not consecutively, thank Gawd.’

  ‘You mean he might have had to do four?’ Anita gulped.

  ‘Yeah, it could have gone that way.’ Benny gave a twisted smile. ‘They couldn’t pin the warehouse on him and that’s a lot to be grateful for. And the jury must’ve listened to what he said about the police doing him over because they went for the obstruction instead.’

  Anita shook her head sorrowfully. ‘But he shouldn’t be doing time at all.’

  ‘I know that, gel. He’s as clean as you or me.’

  ‘Eddie’s a good bloke,’ Anita agreed heatedly, ‘but I wish he was a bit more savvy. If you ask me, he’s easily led up the path.’

  ‘Yeah. But his intentions are good.’

  Anita raised an eyebrow. ‘Yeah, but ain’t the road to hell paved with ’em?’

  Benny looked at her with his sad eyes. His big, swarthy face was regaining a little of its natural colour. ‘Neet, I’d rather walk down a road with Eddie than I would share a cloud with the Angel Gabriel. Eddie’s me mate and when I saw him take that little lot on the jaw today, me heart nearly broke. And that’s not an admission I’d make to anyone but you. It’s so bloody unfair when there’s devious buggers about that would steal from their own mothers if they had the chance. No, Eddie ain’t no villain. And he may be easily led, but he’s got a heart of gold and I love him for it.’

  At her husband’s words Anita was powerless to stop the tears from falling from her eyes and they slipped down her cheeks, resisting her efforts to sweep them away.

  Benny rose and came towards her, lifting her gently and folding her into his arms. ‘We gotta be strong for Rose, love,’ he whispered against her forehead. ‘Her and the kids will need all the help we can give.’

  ‘I know, poor cow.’