by Rosie Clarke
‘My Sally has never had a new dress from the shops,’ Tilly said. ‘It’s second-hand from the market, unless I have time to make something myself – and it isn’t easy to find material like this now.’
Lizzie had made the bodice and skirt of pink velvet, added a wide white waistband and little white sleeves and a lace collar. It would suit Sally’s colouring, because she was darker than her mother and took after her father.
They talked for a while about the war and how difficult it was to find anything, and then, after Lizzie had drunk two cups of tea and eaten a piece of fatless sponge filled with strawberry jam, she prepared to leave.
‘I wanted to tell you…’ Tilly said, blushing. ‘I think I may be pregnant at last.’
‘You must be over the moon,’ Lizzie hugged her. ‘I’m thrilled for you…’
‘Yes…’ Tilly hesitated, then, ‘I think Mr Oliver may sack me when he knows, because he won’t want me taking time off, and I’m not sure how many hours I’ll be able to work in future.’
‘Surely he’ll let you stay until you have the baby?’
‘He might – but I was wondering…’ Tilly looked awkward. ‘If I only wanted a few hours a week afterwards… would you take me on?’
‘I would’ve offered you a job ages ago, Tilly, but I didn’t think it was fair to Harry’s uncle – and I’m not sure I could afford to offer you a full-time position, but a few hours a week would be ideal.’
‘Don’t be surprised if I turn up one of these days,’ Tilly grinned at her. ‘Knowing me, I’ll be as sick as a dog for weeks and Oliver is sure to kick me out if I take days off.’
‘He doesn’t know what it’s like,’ Lizzie said. ‘I remember all too well and it wasn’t great, but you know where to come if you want me.’
She left Tilly and walked home. It was a pleasant early summer evening and it felt good to be alive, even though the evidence of war was all around her. Some of the bombed-out houses had been pulled right down and most of the rubble cleared; it wouldn’t be long before weeds started to grow between the broken concrete. So many people had lost their homes, but there wasn’t the manpower or the resources to rebuild houses, especially as they might get blown up again very soon.
The sound of a siren close by made Lizzie start, because it was still daylight and though there had been occasional daylight raids it was rare. She looked about her, wondering what best to do. Some distance from her home, Lizzie knew she might not have time to get back before the raid started, if it did – but perhaps it was simply a false alarm.
Rather than spend hours down the underground, waiting for the all-clear, she decided to ignore the warning and get home as quickly as she could. Beth was looking after the children to give Lizzie the chance to visit Tilly and she would take them under the Morrison if necessary.
She walked swiftly through almost empty streets as people rushed to take shelter wherever they could. Some of the larger shops had cellars they’d strengthened so that their staff and customers could seek refuge if an air raid should come during working hours, but there were none around here that Lizzie knew of and the shops were shut as it was Sunday. She quickened her pace, wanting to be home.
Lizzie had almost reached her street when she heard the noise overhead and looked up to see the planes swooping over the river and the Docks. She shivered as she heard the sudden explosion as the bombs began to drop and saw flames shoot into the air. It looked as if that one was much closer, in the next street… her street…
A scream building inside her, Lizzie started to run. She saw the damage as soon as she entered the street; it was at the far end, not near her home, although it had looked to be nearer. Appearances were deceiving, but as Lizzie saw the flames leaping up, she kept running towards the scene of the disaster.
The house that had taken a direct hit was beyond help, because it was on fire, but several other houses had been affected by the blast, tiles lying shattered in the street, glass everywhere and a great hole in the side of a house two doors down. Lizzie saw a woman staggering out and a man carrying a child emerging from the damaged building and went up to them.
‘Is there anyone else inside?’
The woman was too shocked to answer, but the man shook his head. ‘It’s just us…’ He was looking at his neighbour’s home. ‘Oh my God, there was five of them in there – grandmother, mother and three kids…’ He thrust his child at Lizzie. ‘Here, take him. I’m going to see if I can get in…’
‘It’s impossible,’ Lizzie told him but she held the small boy in her arms as he cried and shouted for his father. The woman screamed her husband’s name as he disappeared into the burning building.
‘Johnnie… No… don’t…’
‘You can’t do anything,’ Lizzie said as the woman tried to follow her husband. ‘Here, hold your son…’ She went to the gaping hole in the wall, which was where the man had burst in through the flames and saw him coming back with a child in his arms. He thrust the little girl at her and went back into the flames. ‘Be careful…’ Lizzie cried, but she knew it was useless, his jacket was already smouldering and she could see that the fire had blistered his skin, but he was driven by his mission and when he stumbled out some seconds later with a baby in his arms, she saw that he was overcome with smoke and the pain of his injuries.
Lizzie took the bundle he was still holding as he collapsed, but his wife was kneeling beside him, tears falling as she begged him to speak to her. Lizzie stood with the two rescued children and watched as the house seemed to impound and collapse. Only the man’s quick actions had saved their lives, but perhaps at the cost of his own.
An ambulance came screaming up to them, and the fire engine followed. Lizzie stood back, comforting the whimpering children as best she could as the firemen started pumping water into the house, but she knew it was too late for those still inside.
‘Are these your children, madam? Was it your house?’
‘No, I just came to see if I could help, I live the other end of the street…’ Lizzie said. ‘That man saved these children – but the rest of the family didn’t get out…’
‘No one else is alive in there,’ the ambulance driver, who Lizzie now saw was a woman, said. ‘I’ll take the children, madam – do you need hospital treatment?’
‘No, look after that poor man and his wife. She’s having hysterics…’
‘My colleague will sort her out,’ the woman said grimly. ‘It’s a bloody business, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, yes, it is,’ Lizzie said and watched as the capable woman loaded her ambulance and drove off.
She felt sick and shaken as she walked home. Of course she’d known that the bombs were causing damage everywhere, but to see it – to watch as that brave man risked his life twice for the sake of his neighbour’s children brought home the war in a way she’d never experienced before. It made her feel proud of the camaraderie, the spirit of the East End that triumphed at times like these. However little they had they were willing to share, and do what they could to help those in trouble…
Beth rushed at her as she walked into the kitchen a few minutes later. ‘You’re shaking,’ she said. ‘Were you caught in the raid, Lizzie? By the sound of it, it was pretty close this time.’
‘Yes, just up the street…’ Lizzie was trembling as she told her tale. ‘All I could do was to hold the children. I felt so useless, Beth… that man was badly burned and overcome by the smoke – but somehow he got two children out.’
‘It was a miracle that he managed it,’ Beth pushed a cup of tea in front of her. ‘I’ve put extra sugar in; you need it, love.’
‘Oh, Beth, why – why is it happening?’ Lizzie felt the tears trickling down her cheeks. ‘I’ve just accepted it, felt it was a nuisance we have to cope with – but it’s so terrible when you see something like that… I feel as if I should be doing something to help.’
‘We do what we can,’ Beth said. ‘Dad’s an ARP; we help out at the club for servicemen and we carry on wit
h our lives. Hitler is trying to break us – and if you give up then he succeeds. You make people happy with your hats, Lizzie – and what else can you do? You’re not a nurse and you can’t drive an ambulance… and you can’t join the services, because you have a child.’
‘I know…’ Lizzie drank her tea. ‘It’s stupid – but I felt so useless. I know I can’t do much but I shall think of something… something that will help even if only a little…’
*
Lizzie inquired after the children from the burned out house at the hospital the next day. She had to phone several before she got the right one, but the news was better than she’d hoped. Mr and Mrs Barton were in hospital and their son was being cared for by its grandmother; Mr Barton had severe burns but would recover eventually. The two children he’d rescued were doing well and it had transpired that the mother had taken one of the children to visit a friend, and it was just her mother who had died in the fire. Like so many others, they were being cared for until they could be rehoused, either with friends or in the country.
The news helped Lizzie to recover from the trauma and guilt she’d felt at being so helpless, but she knew she had to do something more for the war effort, though at the moment she wasn’t sure what she could do – she had a business to run, a child to care for, and little time to spare, but the horror she’d witnessed had made her more aware and she was determined to help.
Janet came to see them at the workshops three days later. She’d obviously been to the market and had taken a detour on impulse on her way home. Beth was in the showroom and called Lizzie through to see her.
‘How lovely of you to come and visit us,’ Lizzie greeted her with a smile. ‘Come through and I’ll show you where we work and what we do. I was just about to make a cup of coffee… are you ready for yours, Beth?’
Beth shook her head as one of their regular customers entered the showroom. ‘I’ll have it later, Lizzie.’
Lizzie greeted their customer and then took Janet through to the back room. She spent some minutes showing her the cutting table, the steamer and the boxes of trimmings, and then some of the hats in various stages.
‘We don’t make many fancy hats these days, because some of the more expensive materials are difficult to get now. In fact, most of our hats are felt these days, but we still try to make them look stylish and pretty.’
‘I like these softer hats,’ Janet said and looked at a cherry red velvet beret with undisguised longing in her eyes. ‘How much would something like that be?’
‘Oh, they vary,’ Lizzie said. ‘They start at ten shillings for the very plain ones and go up to twenty-one shillings for these…’ She showed Janet the floppy range that she’d just started to make for spring and summer. ‘Try it on and look at yourself in the mirror.’
Janet laughed and shook her head, but Lizzie arranged the hat over her short curly hair and stood back. ‘Yes, that is just you, Janet.’
Her new friend glanced in the mirror, her face a picture of wonder as she saw how attractive it made her look. ‘Oh, that’s too good for me,’ she said regretfully and took it off. ‘I could buy my son the new coat he needs for twenty-one shillings. Not a new one, but a decent coat off the market that hasn’t had much wear.’
Lizzie was very tempted to give the hat to her as a present, but her instinct told her that Janet might be embarrassed or even offended. She was a decent hard-working woman and she wouldn’t accept charity.
‘Of course,’ Lizzie said easily. ‘This one belongs to a customer anyway, but perhaps one day, when the war is over, you’ll want a nice hat to welcome your husband home.’
‘I’ll save up when I can,’ Janet said and smiled. Lizzie made a cup of coffee for them. It was only the chicory stuff in the bottle, but she heated some milk on the gas ring in her office and it tasted nice.
Beth came through from the front with the order book as they were finishing.
‘I sold six ready-made hats to Mr Bracks,’ she said, showing her the order book, ‘and he’s ordered others Lizzie. I told him next week. He said he would call in on Thursday.’
Lizzie looked through the order and nodded. ‘Yes, this is brilliant, Beth. Ten good hats and the six you sold him today. Things are looking better.’
‘I’ve put the latch on the door, Lizzie. I’ve got a bit of a stomach ache and it is almost time to close anyway…’
‘Come and sit down, Beth. I’ll put the kettle on, love. If you’re not feeling well, you should go home. I can manage…’
‘I’d offer to stay and help,’ Janet said, ‘but I shouldn’t know the prices or how to talk to your customers. I might be able to help in the workrooms, though – just for a couple of hours if you need me. The old lady I look after has gone into hospital and I don’t think she will ever come home again; it’s all the bombs and the upset these days. She ought to have gone to the country, but now it’s too late.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Lizzie said. ‘I could give you a few hours each week, Janet, if you’d like. Jean will show you what we need from you.’
‘Thanks ever so,’ Janet’s face lit up. ‘You didn’t mind my saying?’
‘No, of course not,’ Lizzie said. ‘And don’t worry about the showroom, Jean will go in for a while if Beth decides to go home.’
‘I’ll be going then,’ Janet said. ‘Can I get out without leaving your door unlocked?’
‘Why don’t you go the back way?’ Lizzie said. ‘You just walk down the alley to the main street and you can catch a tram or a bus there.’
‘I’ll get a tram,’ Janet said as Lizzie opened the door for her. ‘It was nice spending some time here, Lizzie – and I shall enjoy helping you.’
‘I’m glad you came round,’ Lizzie said and closed the door after her. She returned to Beth and looked at her in concern. ‘Is your tummy really bad, love?’
‘It’s my period and rather unpleasant this month.’’
She broke off as the telephone shrilled and Lizzie picked it up.
‘Is Beth there?’ Mrs Court asked, sounding strange. ‘Will you ask her to come home as soon as she can please?’
‘Is something wrong with one of her children…?’
Mrs Court gave a strangled sob. ‘I had such a headache, Lizzie. It isn’t like me to take a nap in the afternoon, but I was feeling a bit down. I left them in their cots, because they were all sleepy. When I woke up quite suddenly I felt something was wrong and I went straight to the bedroom – the twins have gone. Betty was all right but crying, but the twins’ cots were empty.’
‘No! Are you sure you didn’t leave them in the playpen or in their pram?’ Lizzie knew she was clutching at straws. Mrs Court was crying and telling her that she was sure she’d left all the children sleeping. Beth had been listening to Lizzie’s side of the conversation and now she grabbed the phone.
‘What’s happened, Mum?’ Her eyes widened with fear as her mother told her the twins were missing. ‘I’m coming home right now…’
‘Beth, don’t jump to conclusions,’ Lizzie said as she slammed down the receiver. ‘They will be somewhere in the house – they couldn’t have got out. I know Matt can toddle about, but he couldn’t open the front door.’
‘Mum always leaves it unlocked. If one of her neighbours came in and couldn’t find her – they might have gone out again and left the door open.’
‘What about your gran? Wouldn’t she have known if someone entered the house while your mum was lying down?’
‘She isn’t there today. It’s her afternoon at the Women’s Institute.’
Beth had grabbed her coat and bag and left hurriedly. Ed looked anxious as he came in to see Lizzie.
‘Something about the children?’
‘Mrs Court was in a panic. She can’t find the twins and asked for Beth to go home at once.’
‘Your little Betty?’ he asked looking worried.
‘She’s all right, just crying. I wonder…’ she hesitated uncertainly.
‘What are yo
u thinking?’
‘Mary has been acting oddly since she lost the baby. Could she have taken them?’
‘Surely not?’ Ed looked disturbed. ‘Why don’t you run and catch Beth up, Lizzie? I can look after things here and Jean can manage if we have more customers – but it’s unlikely at this hour.’
‘All right, I will,’ Lizzie said. She grabbed her coat and bag and ran after Beth. She caught up with her just as the bus drew up and they both got on. Beth looked at her gratefully.
‘I couldn’t ask, but I’m glad you came. I think it’s Mary…’
‘The thought occurred to me too,’ Lizzie said. ‘She won’t hurt them, Beth. She’s just being silly, jealous of what she thinks you’ve got and she hasn’t…’
Beth shook her head impatiently. ‘I have to go home and make sure they haven’t turned up – but then I’m going to Mary’s house.’
‘Yes, all right,’ Lizzie said. ‘Your mum may have found them. I saw Matt trying to climb out of his cot the other day. He might have found a way to escape; they could be hiding somewhere...’
Lizzie didn’t really think the twins were old enough to try something like that; Matt was the strongest and could toddle about, even if he took a tumble sometimes, and Jenny scooted about on her bottom, and they would both be into everything if not secure in their cots or playpen, but Matt usually just screamed until someone came and let him out. She was simply trying to reassure her friend, but Beth would know, as she did, that it wasn’t possible.
She felt just as anxious as Beth. She’d always felt that the children were safe with Beth’s mother, but now she wasn’t sure. If it was too much for Mrs Court to have all three children she might have to make other arrangements.
The bus journey took so long because there were so many repairs going on and congested roads because of all the bomb damage, and Beth jumped off before it had hardly stopped, running up the road to her mother’s home and pushing open the front door. Lizzie followed, feeling apprehensive and upset, because if anything had happened to the twins, Beth would be distraught – but it would be all right. Mary wouldn’t hurt them… would she?
