East End Jubilee

by Carol Rivers

  Gentle hands supported her. ‘They’ve gone, my dear. You are safe.’

  Rose heard the cries of the children coming towards her. She looked up at the smooth round face with the monstrous nose. ‘You were with Eddie in Hewis, weren’t you?’

  ‘And you are the young Christian woman who buried a Jew.’

  They looked into each other’s eyes. She didn’t know what he meant, not really. But it didn’t matter for now. Eddie was back in the land of the living. They were all back in the land of the living. Thanks to this man.

  Epilogue

  Friday, 14th December 1956

  Eddie watched his wife in the arms of another man and fell in love with her all over again. Except that now his feelings were deeper and more complex than they had ever been before. His life had changed after Hewis. Not that he’d expected to return to the world he’d left; he wasn’t that much of a fool. He was an ex-con now. He had form. But he hadn’t been prepared for just how much change there had been.

  He watched her with Bobby, dancing slowly under the revolving glass ball of Kirkwood’s Social Club. She was laughing and her hair tumbled over her shoulders. Every now and then a glint of pearls sparkled from her neck. Thank God he’d redeemed them in time, the first thing he’d done when he started his new job.

  She looked stunning tonight in the red dress newly acquired from Solly and Alma’s Knightsbridge shop, of which he was now manager. He desperately wanted to be where Bobby was. Holding her close, looking into her eyes, those huge brown eyes that never failed to entrance him. He didn’t want another man to touch her. Not even Bobby, his brother-in-law of one day.

  Eddie shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden chair. He tried to shrug off the dark mood. After all, the Weavers and Mortons were off to Scotland tomorrow, thanks to Solly and Alma’s wedding present to the newlyweds. Four poster beds, not to mention a banqueting hall and moat.

  ‘Come on, get up and dance, you lazy git.’ A powerful hand grabbed his arm. ‘You can manage a shuffle even if you do have two left feet.’

  Eddie smiled at his old friend. Anita looked the bees’ knees in a black two-piece with a garland of Christmas tinsel strung round her neck. Her make-up had disappeared and she was swaying slightly.

  ‘Who says I’ve got two left feet?’ Eddie pulled her down on the chair beside him. ‘They won’t leave this room breathing.’

  She chuckled. ‘It’s true you ain’t no Fred Astaire, darlin’, but after all the Pimms I’ve sunk tonight I’m capable of dragging you round the floor bodily.’

  ‘Not with your bad back you won’t,’ he teased.

  She clouted him over the head. ‘Don’t you worry about me back tonight, mate. I’m one hundred per cent anaesthetized. Anyway, you can’t talk with your wonky knee.’

  Eddie rubbed it unconsciously. The bone had mended, but he would limp for the rest of his life. He counted himself lucky. It was only his knee that Payne had demolished, not his brain.

  ‘I think I’ll just have a fag.’ Anita shook out a Player’s from the pack on the table. She put it between her lips and coughed. The next minute it was back in the pack again. ‘I’m finished with those bloody things. Where’s me drink?’

  Eddie pushed her glass towards her. ‘Yeah, and I’ll just finish me beer. Get the old oil going round.’

  ‘You don’t need any oilin’, darlin’. You’re sexy enough.’

  Eddie knew she was three sheets to the wind and wasn’t likely to carry out her threat. He laughed again and drank slowly. At ten o’clock he was well and truly knackered. It had been a long day. First, Bobby and Em’s civil marriage ceremony at Poplar registry office, then back to the house for the nosh. The street had all been given an invite to the club tonight. Now everyone, including a few dozen gatecrashers, were enjoying the proverbial knees up.

  Eddie peered through the fug of smoke. The bar was surrounded. Most of the Christmas decorations were well and truly massacred in the free for all to obtain booze. Four young men standing on the dais were dressed in cheap mohair suits and wearing DAs. They were oblivious to the crush and sweating over their instruments; guitar, bass, drums and sax. The tiny dance floor was jam packed, rocking to the new sensation from the States, Elvis the Pelvis.

  The kids would have appreciated the music. A little alarmingly, Eddie found himself missing their company. They’d had a ball today, running around like lunatics and stuffing themselves silly. David Mendoza and Iris were babysitting. Eddie wished he was home with them, his feet up on the pouffe, watching telly. Blimey, was he or was he not a reformed character? Christ, he’d even be cooking the grub next!

  Anita sighed heavily. ‘Don’t she look beautiful tonight?’

  Indisputably, Rose was the most beautiful woman in the room. Under the flickering silver light she swayed in Bobby’s arms. In fact, they looked the perfect couple. His brother-in-law was not only a looker, but a mover too. Dancing was a skill Eddie had never mastered himself.

  ‘Well, they tied the knot then,’ Anita said dryly. ‘Never thought it would happen meself.’

  ‘Just goes to show.’

  ‘You’ll have the house all to yourselves now.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’ll miss ’em.’ Em and Will were like part of the furniture now. He was indebted to his sister-in-law and he would not forget his debt. He owed her one and that was the truth. She’d looked after the kids whilst Rose was at work and contributed to the rent. The bills wouldn’t have got paid otherwise whilst he was away. Not that he had revised his opinion of Rose as a working woman, but it was as plain as a pimple on a pig’s arse that there was no way they’d have managed if Em hadn’t chipped in. Eddie chewed agitatedly on his lip. He still lived in hope Rose would chuck in being old Grimmond’s personal secretary. Trouble was, Rose was too bloody good at her job. And he had the unsettling suspicion she actually liked it. He didn’t go along with women working, never had. They should be with their family, sort out the domestics. His Princess was ten now and Toots eight; they needed a sharp eye. At almost three, Matthew was into everything. Eddie’s chest swelled with pride as he thought of his son and heir. He adored his girls, but a son was special.

  ‘It wasn’t a bad ceremony this morning,’ Anita sighed dreamily. ‘Em looked smashing in that biscuit suit and floppy hat. It was next best to a proper dress, though to me, a register office ain’t quite the same as walking down the aisle.’

  Eddie passed no comment. He was just relieved it was all over. He took a long, slow gulp of his beer.

  ‘Still, you can understand Em being dubious about churches,’ Anita continued. ‘Arthur turned out to be a right perv.’

  On that Eddie was in full agreement. He’d never got on with Arthur and didn’t mind who knew it.

  ‘Just look at her, dancing with my Benny. No more queer jerks any more and she finally chucked away that bloody turban. Bobby’s brought out the best in her, God love him.’

  Eddie considered the two figures crushed together on the dance floor. His sister-in-law and best mate were happily making exhibitions of themselves. Em had really come out of her shell. Yeah, she was a different person to the girl who’d lived with Arthur. Eddie admitted that a bout of green-eye had clouded his opinion of Bobby. Being a con in the nick as opposed to Golden Boy on the outside was no contest. But he conceded now that Bobby was all right, even if he was like Ali Baba’s bloody genie. The house was bulging with electrical gear. They even had a telly, an article Eddie never expected to see appear under his roof after Coronation Day.

  But Bobby was a decent bloke. He had a nice flat to offer Em and Will. True it was stuck over the shop, but Will, poor little sod, was over the moon with ten square feet of personal territory. He wouldn’t have to sleep in a tent or in the front room any more. Eddie had never heard the kid complain whilst living in the sardine can conditions of number forty-six. He was fond of his nephew, more than he let on.

  ‘Your old man is gonna have a corker when he wakes up.’ Eddie chuckled as he watched his o
ld friend attempting, and failing, to twirl Em under his arm.

  ‘So will a few dozen others,’ Anita grinned.

  Eddie smiled as he wondered if Mr Grimmond would regret offering the social club amenities for the knees-up. The bar had been drunk dry, there wasn’t a packet of crisps left in the place and even Balaji Patel had downed a Bloody Mary assuming it was tomato juice. Cissy and Fanny had wiped out the buffet table between them. Len Silverman had provided some kosher grub, all gone in half an hour, kosher subscribers or not. Solly would have approved of that, Eddie thought gratefully.

  He warmed inside as he thought of his good friend, Solly Rosenberg. Back in that Godforsaken dump by the wharf, with his head lying in Rose’s lap, his skull more battered than last Friday’s cod, Solly’s words had said it all.

  And you are the young Christian woman who buried a Jew.

  Eddie shook his head in wonder and slipped deeper into thought, replaying in his mind the events that had led to freedom for him and his family. If Rose had never found the shoebox, if she’d never given back the money, if she’d never buried Olga, if he’d never been sent to Hewis, he’d never have met Solly. And what a friend Solly had proved to be in taking the Weavers under his wing. Payne had not been the only one waiting for Eddie’s release. Solly, too, had been waiting and watching, formulating a plan to help his old friend.

  A sudden burst of clapping startled him. The boys in the band were enjoying an ovation. Anita was whistling through her teeth and clapping.

  ‘So why ain’t your mate here, then?’ she shouted above the racket. ‘You sent him an invite, didn’t you?’

  ‘What, Solly? Yeah, well he’s gonna meet us off the coach, ain’t he?’ Eddie could hardly believe that tomorrow they were all leaving for Bonnie Scotland and two weeks in a genuine bricks and mortar castle. ‘I wish you and Benny was coming. You know you had the invite, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Anita nodded. ‘But we already booked Butlin’s. Brighton this time. All six of us. Me and Benny. Alan and Heather and David and Iris. Otherwise we’d have jumped at the chance of a nice piece of haggis.’

  ‘I ain’t so keen on the haggis,’ Eddie admitted.

  The boys started up again, another Presley number, ‘Blue Suede Shoes’. Everyone was going wild.

  ‘Who would ever have thought you’d have fallen on your feet like this?’ Anita yelled a little drunkenly. ‘What with Solly bunging you one of his posh shops an’ all. Better than a bloody market stall, ain’t it, love?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m a lucky bastard, Neet.’ He didn’t mind admitting he’d had more than his fair share of luck since the nick. He surreptitiously glanced down at his fine grey suit, at the hand-stitched silk lining of the jacket and the perfect fit of the trousers. No more market clobber now, no more pressing his suits under the mattress. This little whistle and flute would go straight to the dry cleaners.

  Eddie still had to pinch himself in the mornings when he found himself in the shop. In his office. With a chair and desk and even a typewriter. When Solly had given him a chance with one of Alma’s babies, he’d jumped at it. The punters, both men and women, were upmarket and trendy. He could kit out a bloke in less than half an hour and turn him out on the town like a prince – if the price was right. And up West, the price was always right. The shop was showing a good profit. And Solly, with his wife well satisfied, was chuffed.

  ‘Not that you don’t deserve your luck,’ Anita added quickly. ‘You always was a smart dresser. I don’t mind telling you, Eddie Weaver, a bit of good cloth is what you were made for.’

  Eddie laughed softly. ‘Ta, girl.’

  ‘You’ll do all right, you will.’

  ‘You’re not doing so bad yourself.’

  ‘Yeah, well, helping Benny with the business is a lot better than sticking me head down other people’s lavs.’

  ‘Come on, you’re a natural with them account books.’

  Anita giggled. ‘Yeah, like a bloody magician.’ She pulled at the tinsel round her neck. ‘Funny how life works out, ain’t it?’

  Eddie answered with feeling. ‘You know, as good as it all is now, I’d give me right arm to put back the clock. I wished I’d never set eyes on Payne. I put everyone through grief, including Benny, and it’s hard to live with meself sometimes.’ He didn’t talk much about Payne now. Tried not to think of him. With Payne on a lifer for a south London murder, there was no chance of their paths crossing. But he still caught himself looking over his shoulder sometimes.

  ‘My Benny’s big enough and ugly enough to take care of himself,’ Anita replied generously. ‘And all that matters for you now is Rose and the kids.’ Anita blinked hard at him. ‘You and Rose – that’s what’s important.’

  Her gaze was sober now. He looked into her shrewd blue eyes. What had been discussed between his wife and her best mate? Anita was a bright monkey, he had to acknowledge it, and she probably knew more about Rose than he did. He himself could never tell what Rose was really thinking. If she still had respect for him as she used to . . . before – well, before that bloody telly.

  He toyed with risking Anita a question or two. But then he realized it would be folly. Women were as thick as thieves and so they should be. Blokes didn’t want to know the gory details. Not really. If Anita knew anything, she was keeping it to herself.

  She smiled, as if approving his move. ‘We all change, love. People expect others to stay the same and that’s the mistake. The trick is, loving someone for the change, not knocking them for it.’

  Eddie had no answer to that. He was no philosopher, but he had learned lessons. He’d never sit in judgement on anyone. Because you never really knew the score. He himself was innocent of the crime he’d gone down for but he’d flown close enough to the candle to burn his wings.

  Yeah, it was funny the way things worked out.

  A crescendo of guitar strumming brought the floor to a standstill. Everyone clapped and the group, sweating over their instruments, took a bow. The guitarist stepped forward.

  ‘By popular request we’ll play the last waltz. Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly’s recent hit, “True Love”.’

  Rose, all breathless and glowing, gazed up at Bobby. Eddie watched them, the air suddenly trapped in his lungs. Every light dimmed except the revolving glass globe above. The stars flickered over the figures like a twinkling universe. Arms crept round necks. Lovers entwined.

  For a moment his wife was lost to him. Eddie peered through the smoke. He didn’t want to see what his eyes were searching for. A beautiful, brown-haired woman dressed in red, enfolded in the arms of a tall, handsome man. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the crowded floor. He couldn’t stop looking for pain. Then, just as he thought his heart would stop, he saw her. She was walking towards him, weaving her way through the empty tables and chairs.

  Eddie swallowed hard. Did she still love him? Did she love him as much as he loved her? Perhaps he’d never know. Perhaps he’d live all his life and never know her true feelings. Could he handle that? He looked into her eyes and searched for the answer.

  It wasn’t long before he had it. The message was coming across loud and clear. He nodded, as if acknowledging the light that had suddenly come on in his brain. How could he ever have doubted that Rose and he shared a deep and eternal, true love? He was going to believe those two words for the rest of his life. Really believe them.

  Rose held out her hand. And he took it.