A Strong Hand to Hold

by Anne Bennett

  Jenny would have loved to have gone to the cinema for she went to few places, but she told him about visiting Linda in hospital.

  ‘And why is that so important to you?’ Bob asked, and so as they ate Jenny told him all about Linda, and though she played down her part in the rescue attempt, she did tell him of Linda’s incarceration and the fact that her family had been wiped out.

  After that, no one could be churlish enough to make a fuss about seeing the girl, though Bob did say he was surprised Jenny was allowed to visit so often. ‘Haven’t the hospital got rules and things?’ he enquired. ‘When I was in having my tonsils out, my mother was only allowed to visit on Sunday afternoons. They said it upset the patients too much, but I missed her a great deal. There were complications and I was in for three weeks in the end.’

  ‘For Linda the rules have been relaxed somewhat,’ Jenny told him. ‘In the beginning they encouraged visitors because she’d sunk into a deep depression. Now though, there’s just me and the family doctor, and her old next-door neighbour, who can only really visit at weekends, who come regularly.’

  Bob did wonder why Jenny was such a frequent visitor, for she’d only told him she was one of the ARP wardens who had worked to locate Linda’s position in the rubble. Knowing Jenny’s reluctance to tell anyone of her part in the rescue, Linda regaled Bob with the tale of her bravery and he was amazed. Jenny looked so slight and small, as if she needed looking after, and yet she’d put her life at risk for an unknown child. He was also surprised that Jenny took her responsibilities so seriously, that she was prepared to offer Linda a home with her when she eventually left hospital.

  Anthony hadn’t told him of that side of Jenny’s character. He’d been very fond of his sister, but annoyed by the fact that she’d allowed herself to be browbeaten by his brothers and Geraldine, and dominated by their mother. ‘She lets them upset her, and they know she gets upset,’ he’d said. ‘I wish she’d develop a thicker skin. It gives my mother and grandmother some sort of malicious pleasure to reduce Jenny to tears.’

  Maybe the war and the atrocities she must have seen as a warden had helped to harden Jenny O’Leary, Bob thought. Undoubtedly, her frail appearance was deceptive. He wondered if Anthony had ever noticed his sister’s decisive lift of her chin, the way she had of speaking that would brook no argument and the glint in her beautiful eyes. Oh yes, Jenny could be stubborn enough all right and fully ready to dig her heels in about something she felt passionate about.

  And she felt both passionate about and sorry for the little orphan Linda Lennox, that much was obvious. Bob had to admit the child herself had something. He had a feeling that soon she would develop into a beauty and yet it wasn’t that alone; she had a charm all of her own and a delightful sense of humour.

  It was plain Linda liked Bob. Jenny had wondered if she would be jealous of her bringing someone else, but she wasn’t. She was very interested in him and he found himself telling her all about his family, his Italian mother Francesca, his father Malcolm and his sister Juliana. He told her how he’d known as soon as war broke out which of the services he would apply to join, and went on to describe the men in his squadron and what a fighter pilot’s off-duty life was like.

  Linda listened fascinated and so did Jenny. Anthony had been sure of what he was going to do in the war as well. No one had put obstacles in his way. She wondered if Bob’s mother had objected at all, especially as Italy was now our enemy, or just waved him off with a brave smile and worried about him constantly, dreading the sight of the telegraph boy stopping at her door. Jenny remembered the night the unthinkable and dreadful had happened to her. She wished for a moment she hadn’t met Bob. What if he was the next one she heard of, shot down? She gave a sudden shiver and he turned and said, ‘You all right?’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘You don’t look it. You look deep in thought.’

  ‘Maybe I am.’

  ‘Do you want to share them?’

  ‘They’re not worth sharing,’ Jenny said more sharply than she’d intended. ‘I think we should be making our way home soon. They’ll be settling the children for the night any time now.’

  Bob opened his mouth, but before he could reply to this, the door opened and Beattie came in. She brought in the cold of the night, and Jenny noticed her woolly hat was pulled tight down on her frizzy hair and her cheeks were glowing red. But she smiled at the group around the bed and the girl in it and said, ‘What’s all this then?’

  She really meant, ‘Who is this then?’ as Jenny well knew. She introduced Bob and Beattie said she was pleased to meet him. She gave Jenny a knowing look. Jenny ignored it and said, ‘I thought you don’t visit in the week?’

  ‘I don’t much,’ Beattie said, she then nodded to Linda and said, ‘Ain’t that right, ducks?’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ Linda said. ‘But I’m glad you’re here today.’

  ‘Well,’ Beattie said, ‘I thought if I hadn’t have got out tonight, I’d have given our Vera a clout in the gob.’ She glanced at Bob and said with a grin, ‘Vera’s me sister, dead refined and all she is, like Jenny here. I never had the corners bashed off me, I am as I am. D’you know’, she demanded of Jenny, ‘what that mean-minded bugger called me today? Common. Common, huh! At least I ain’t ashamed of where I came from, like she is. She calls herself respectable. Well, if that’s respectable, you can stick it! She wants to look to her daughter and I told her so and all. Always gawping at the bleeding soldiers up Sutton Park she is. Man mad, the girl is. Mind, if she was ever to fall pregnant, our Vera would die of shame. Wouldn’t be so respectable then, would she?’

  ‘If you’re sure about that, I mean, if Vicky really is doing something wrong, maybe you should have a word with your sister,’ Jenny said.

  ‘Well, I ain’t sure, am I?’ Beattie said. ‘Not absolutely certain, like. It’s more a feeling, and she has that sort of look – you know? But when I tried to tell my sister, she said I had a mind like a bloody sewer, thinking mucky thoughts about her precious Vicky.’

  Jenny suppressed another smile. Tact wasn’t Beattie’s strong point and she wasn’t really surprised that Vera had been annoyed when Beattie attempted to put her wise about her daughter. Heaven knows what Bob Masters thought about it all. But it wasn’t really her business, and they ought to be getting back home before the hospital threw them out.

  She got to her feet and bent to give Linda a kiss, saying as she did so, ‘See you tomorrow.’

  ‘You don’t have to come, if you don’t want,’ Linda said.

  ‘Why wouldn’t I want to?’

  ‘Well, you might want to go out with him,’ Linda said, giving a nod in Bob’s direction.

  ‘If you want to go out with your young man, you go,’ Beattie said before Jenny was able to utter a word. ‘You’re only young once, I say. Don’t you worry about Linda here – I’ll come and visit her. Won’t do me no harm.’ Tell you what,’ she said conspiratorially to Linda, ‘I’ll bring some Christmas cake and mince pies, eh, and we’ll have a feast.’

  ‘Yeah, fine,’ Linda said. She looked from one to the other and went on, ‘The doctor came round today. He’s thinking of operating on Wednesday.’

  ‘Bloody hell, New Year’s Day,’ Beattie said. ‘Let’s hope they’re up to it, if they’ve been partying all night.’

  Jenny saw the look on Linda’s face and could have cheerfully strangled Beattie. ‘Is it definite?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Linda said. ‘I don’t know really. They said they’ll tell me for definite tomorrow.’

  ‘Sure you don’t want me to come in and hear what they say?’

  ‘S’all right,’ Linda said. ‘I’ll tell Beattie.’

  ‘That’s right, Duck,’ Beattie said, and nodding meaningfully at Bob and Jenny she went on, ‘You have a day off tomorrow and don’t worry about a thing.’

  Bob turned and gave Jenny a smile of triumph and she felt her heart turn over and hoped she wasn’t blushing. She got to he
r feet quickly and said, ‘We’d better make a move.’

  Outside they slithered and slipped on patches of black ice. The blackout made it even more difficult to see and the icy blasts of air took their breath away. It was too cold to chatter, but Jenny didn’t want to talk anyway. She wanted to walk with Bob. Cuddled up together for warmth, the pair made their way towards the city centre. ‘Now where to?’ Bob said, as they sat down on the swaying city-bound tram.

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Well, what do you usually do after visiting Linda?’

  ‘Oh, I lead a very exciting life,’ Jenny said with a grin. ‘I go straight home and have a cup of cocoa and go to bed. Course, I used to visit the warden post two nights a week once, another den of iniquity, but the doctor’s forbidden even that until the spring.’

  ‘And quite right too,’ Bob said. ‘I should think you need a break after all you’ve been through.’

  ‘That’s nonsense. I’m perfectly all right now,’ Jenny cried.

  ‘OK, let’s say I’m glad you don’t have to be there, tonight at least,’ Bob said. ‘Let’s be a couple of devils and do something wild, like go for a drink somewhere.’

  ‘You’re on,’ Jenny said with a smile. ‘But I’m afraid I can’t recommend one. I’ve never been in any of them.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll find one to suit,’ Bob said airily. But as they walked up Steelhouse Lane and into Colmore Row towards the Town Hall he was stunned by the amount of bomb damage there was, ‘St Chad’s has survived then,’ Bob said as they crossed Whittall Street and he splayed his torch to the end of it and the Catholic Cathedral.

  ‘Yes,’ Jenny said, ‘but the Anglican Cathedral St Phillips’s nearly didn’t. That was an incendiary attack. Luckily they must have anticipated it and they had removed the stained glass windows before the war and some of the pictures in the art gallery. Good job really ’cos part of it was destroyed by the bombing, and the Town Hall was damaged too. There were nights of bombing – you have no idea. You can’t see from here but in one of the raids in September, though they weren’t as heavy as those that came later, they dropped a line of bombs down Corporation Street, and C&A was the biggest of numerous shops and stores to be annihilated. Later they got Marshall & Snelgrove, too, and a hell of a lot of factories and the Great Western Arcade across the street, so that took out Boots and the Bank of England, and Grey’s Department Store was also reduced to rubble. It was all over the City Centre.’

  ‘It must have been terrible for you all,’ Bob said in genuine sympathy for what the people had had to suffer.

  Jenny nodded, ‘It was because it wasn’t only there in the centre of course, it was all over Birmingham. There were streets and streets of houses, shops, offices, factories big and small, and then all the bombing bent and twisted the tram lines. This made getting about anywhere difficult or else streets often had dirty great craters in them or were littered with masonry rubble or the mangled contents of houses and shops or had sandbags bleeding all over the road or awash with water from broken pipes. This stopped emergency vehicles getting through, and they were so badly needed because I haven’t even started on the people, men, women and children who were dead or dying, severely injured or burnt and desperately needing assistance.’

  She was silent suddenly, and in the light of the torch he could see how pensive her face was and guessed she was reliving some of the sights she had seen, Jenny could have told him he was right for she was remembering Linda’s mother who, in an effort to save her little boys, had thrown herself over them. It had made no odds for the shelter had received a direct hit and it had had crushed them all to death.

  In an effort to divert Jenny from thinking about her depressing memories Bob said, ‘The Gaumont Cinema looks at bit battered, but at least it’s still standing. The Jewellery Quarter looks as if it has taking a pasting.’ He shone his torch over the sea of rubble he was walking beside.

  ‘Most of Colmore Row got it bad.’ Jenny said, including Snow Hill Station.

  ‘Then I’d say there’s no point in going any further,’ Bob said. ‘There used to be a pub in Temple Row down the side of Snow Hill Station. Wonder if that’s still standing.’

  It was and it was called The Old Joint Stock. Jenny entered tentatively because she wasn’t used to going into such places and she was glad to take Bob’s arm for she was feeling very nervous.

  ‘What will you have to drink, Jenny?’ Bob asked as they went in through the door of the pub. She didn’t know. She’d only ever tasted sherry and hadn’t really liked it. ‘There’s no point being too fussy, anyway,’ he said. ‘It all depends on what the pub has in. I’ll fetch you a drink most ladies like. That’s if I can get it, all right?’

  Jenny found she did like the port and lemon that he placed in front of her. Having taken a cautious sip, she smiled at him and said, ‘That’s nice.’

  Bob touched his glass to hers and said, ‘Happy New Year, Jenny.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Jenny said. ‘Happy New Year, Bob.’

  ‘Now don’t you start getting a taste for this stuff,’ Bob warned her with a smile. ‘I don’t want your mother and grandmother after my blood for encouraging you to drink.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, I’m twenty years old.’

  ‘I don’t care how old you are,’ Bob said. ‘That pair you live with would string me up, I’m sure.’

  ‘I don’t think they’d care that much what happened to me,’ Jenny said. ‘But that’s enough about me and my family. What about yours?’

  ‘Mine?’ Bob said. ‘What d’you want to know?’

  ‘Well, you have a slight Midlands accent,’ Jenny said. ‘Do you live far away?’

  ‘Jenny,’ Bob said, ‘I was brought up on Grange Road, and my parents live there still – or at least they do when there isn’t a war on.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Jenny. Grange Road was not far from the Pype Hayes Estate. In fact, it was almost on the edge of it, but it might as well have been a million miles away. All the houses in Grange Road were big, and many had maids and even cooks in them. But when Bob had arrived at her house the previous evening, he’d said he had nowhere special to go. Now it appeared he had parents to visit and a comfy house to live in.

  However, he went on to explain: ‘No one’s in the place now, unless you count Paddy and his wife Dora, who are sort of caretakers while my mother is away. They used to work for us but agreed to come and oversee the place when Dad insisted on packing my mother off to Devon, to live with his sister at the beginning of the war. Not that she’ll stay long, I don’t think. She’s bored stupid and wants to be back home now the raids have eased.’

  ‘What about your sister? Didn’t she go with her?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘You don’t know Jules to ask a question like that,’ Bob said. ‘She wouldn’t bury herself in the country, doing good works, when there was a war to be won. She’s in the Wrens and based in Portsmouth at the moment.’

  ‘And your father?’

  ‘He’s in Intelligence and we’re not at all sure of where he’s based, though of course we can write to him, care of the military.’

  ‘Haven’t you been near the house at all?’

  ‘Oh yes. I went last night. Dora fussed all over me, fed me as if I’d been on a starvation diet. They knew I was coming – I’d sent them word. My room was all ready for me when I got home last night. A fire lit in the grate, and hot-water bottles in the bed. Sheer luxury.’

  ‘If you ask me, you’re spoilt,’ Jenny said. ‘We’ve never had a fire in a bedroom in the house, ever. Not’, she added, ‘that my room has even got a fireplace, but my parents’ room had and the one my brothers shared.’

  Bob raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘I am, I admit it,’ he said. ‘But you see, it wasn’t all my fault. We can’t help what we’re born into.’

  Jenny realized he was right. No one could help it, and Bob went on: ‘After this war, the class system will disintegrate. It will have to.’

  ‘N
o, it won’t,’ Jenny said. ‘It didn’t after the last one, did it? And millions lost their lives. My father told me it was supposed to be the war to end wars, and how they’d come back expecting a land fit for heroes. In the end, many of them came back to the dole queue and hunger and deprivation. It will be the same after this one; the heroes will be forgotten.’

  ‘No, they won’t,’ Bob insisted. ‘They can’t be. You’re right about the last war, the whole thing after was a damned scandal. Those in power conveniently forgot about the slums many lived in and the unemployment many were coming back to. And this time the government didn’t even make adequate provision for them in the event of air-raid attacks.’

  Jenny knew what Bob said was true. Londoners bedding down nightly in the Underground was a well-known fact now, and eventually emergency measures had been set up for them, reluctantly, by the authorities.

  ‘We had a young trainee arrive from London a few weeks ago, Bob said. ‘His whole family had been bombed out since October, and since then his mother and three youngsters hide out at night in an underground warehouse. Apparently there are thousands of people there. They put up barricades for some privacy, and he said the chemical toilets they have now are a great improvement on the buckets they used to have to share. My God,’ Bob groaned, ‘the ironic thing is, these warehouses used to house dray-horses, and they were shipped out of that part of London to somewhere safer. Do you hear that?’ he said to Jenny. ‘Somewhere safer for horses. So they knew this area by the docks would be heavily bombed, and they ignored all the signs and did sod all to protect the people.’

  He stopped then and looking at Jenny said, ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be yelling at you about it. It’s just … this young Cockney lad says his mother, and younger brothers and sisters, are more in danger than he is. It worries him.’

  ‘I bet it does,’ Jenny said grimly. ‘And it is awful, and now everyone agrees it is. But afterwards, these people will be forgotten, like last time.’