Birmingham Blitz

by Annie Murray

  Saying goodbye to the boys, Tom especially, was terrible. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him as we seemed to have lost Eric.

  ‘Soon as it stops we’ll come and get you,’ I told him, hugging him tight. Tom nuzzled his face against me, seeming younger than eight.

  ‘Promise, Genie?’ He looked up at me, those melting brown eyes full of tears. He was trying so hard not to let them fall.

  ‘I promise.’ I was struggling too, holding back my own tears. I may have longed for the release of it on lots of occasions but this was no time to start blarting. ‘It’ll be an adventure. You know, when I went out of Birmingham—’ I came out with that without thinking and stopped short. My day out with Joe in Kenilworth. How long ago that seemed! It had happened to someone else. I couldn’t think about that now. ‘It was beautiful. You’ll see. And you’ll be able to write and tell me all about it and I’ll write back.’

  Lil and I went to put them on the train and waved them off, their little faces at the window, Tom’s glum, Patsy full of bravado.

  ‘So like his dad, our Patsy,’ Lil said.

  I comforted Lil. Nanny Rawson was livid with her and had been since she’d announced her intention, as Nan put it, ‘to pack your kids off so you can play about with That Chancer of yours.’

  ‘But Mom,’ Lil had said to her, ‘things are so different now. If you find a bit of happiness why not hold on to it and bugger the rules?’

  ‘That’s all very well,’ Nan retorted. ‘But whose rules are you living by now, eh?’

  ‘It’s not like that, Genie,’ Lil sniffed as we walked through town on the way back. ‘I’d have sent Tom anyhow, the way he was. And Frank says he wouldn’t have minded them living with us. He likes kids. Wants some of his own.’ Lil blushed, looking away.

  ‘Nan knows really that they’re better off out of it,’ I told her. ‘It’s you living in sin she can’t stand. You’ll never see eye to eye on that in a million years. She’s waiting for lightning to strike you.’

  Lil looked sober. ‘Like Doreen.’

  When I got home I found Mom had got up and moved. In the still, silent way she had about her now, she was standing with her back to me, leaning on the doorframe which led out of the back room, staring across the kitchen.

  ‘Mom?’ I hurried to her.

  Her eyes were fixed on the cooker and I felt terror rise in me. She was thinking about it. She’s going to do it again! Jesus Christ, no.

  ‘I can’t remember.’ She brought out the words, turning to look at me. Her face was so thin now, her open eye looked enormous. It was terrible seeing her face in that state. The worst part. ‘Don’t remember doing it.’

  ‘Mom, come and sit down.’ I helped her to the chair, her leaning on my shoulder, hopping and shuffling. ‘I’ll make a cup of tea.’ She seemed glad to sit down and as I filled the kettle I told her the boys had gone.

  ‘Poor Lil,’ she said.

  When I brought her the tea she whispered, ‘This is no life, Genie.’ I thought she meant her own reduced, miscarried, crawling-about existence, and I opened my mouth to tell her again how much better she was going to get, when she added, ‘Not for you.’

  I knelt down and took her hand. ‘I don’t mind, Mom. I just want to help you get better. You’re my mom, and that’s all that matters, honest it is.’

  She shook her head, wouldn’t believe it. ‘How’s your Joe?’

  I managed to bring a smile to my face. ‘He’s all right, Mom. Things are fine. Really they are.’

  December 1940

  Shirl and I stood outside Lil’s shop in Hurst Street. It was a narrow, scruffy frontage, squeezed between other shops, with filthy maroon paint flaking off the woodwork and its old sign, saying ‘Stubb’s Pawnbrokers’, roughly whitewashed over. The golden balls had gone from outside though. Lil had evidently given the windows a going over but it still looked seedy and depressing.

  ‘Bit of a dump, innit?’ Shirl pulled the ends of her mouth down comically. ‘I thought this was supposed to be ’er big break?’

  ‘Well, give her a chance. She’s only been here a week.’ I was trying to be brave on Lil’s behalf. She deserved some sort of new start, even if it did feel she was leaving the rest of us in the lurch.

  On the pavement in front of the shop an old piece of blackboard had been leant up under the window. Chalked on it in swirly writing were the words: ‘Liliana – Professional Phrenologist – 2/6d, 5/-, 7/6d.’

  ‘Flipping ’eck, not cheap, is it?’ Shirl exclaimed.

  Underneath in smaller letters it read, ‘Tarot, Fortunes, Palm Readings.’

  ‘’Allo girls, come on in!’ Frank stood in the doorway in his shirtsleeves, although it was freezing, looking miraculously handsome. ‘Lil!’ he shouted into the shop. ‘Your Genie’s ’ere!’

  ‘Cor, look at ’im!’ Shirl hissed at me. ‘’E’s a bit good to be true, ain’t ’e? Can see why she’d risk ’er everything for that.’

  I nudged Shirl hard with my elbow to shut her up and Frank stood back to let us in. It was dark inside and made even more gloomy by the winter day outside.

  Lil, though, was looking anything but gloomy.

  ‘Blimey, Lil. What do you look like?’ I stood back staring at her, laughing. My auntie had been transformed into a gypsy. She had on a very full skirt in blues, reds, orange and green and a blouse which was just as bright with pink, orange and black flowers. She had her hair pinned up and a red silk rose, which matched her red lips, fastened over her left ear, and there were big gold earrings clipped to her earlobes. She pulled the skirt out at each side, curtsied, then twirled round on the wooden floor so it billowed out like a parachute.

  ‘What d’you think of ’er?’ Frank said, sounding like someone who’d just bought a new motorcycle. ‘Looks right for the part, don’t she?’

  She did look gorgeous of course, but so strange and different I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was this Frank’s influence, changing her, making her into someone else? And was what they were doing all a con anyway?

  ‘This is it,’ Lil said, turning round to look at the room. ‘What d’you think?’

  Course the place was very like Mr Palmer’s shop in a way, only a bit bigger. The room was painted the colour of milky tea and there were long, filthy marks along the walls where shelves must’ve been taken down, and damp stains on the ceiling, which was flaking. There was still a counter at the back with oddments of clothes and crocks left by the previous owner, and Lil and Frank had put a table and two chairs in the middle of the room. On the table was a tiny vase with another silk flower stuck in it, and a crystal ball.

  ‘Ooh,’ Shirl said. ‘Can I ’ave a look in?’

  ‘You can look, but you won’t see much,’ Lil said.

  Shirl bent over the table squinting into it. ‘Well what d’you see then?’

  ‘Oh, you’d be surprised.’ Lil laughed mischievously. ‘I had this woman in yesterday, said she could see mountains in the crystal ball. Convinced, she was. Said she’d always had this dream of going to Switzerland. “I’m going to go!” she said. “After the war’s over.” So there’s one very happy lady thinking she’s going to see the Alps. D’you know what it was?’ She pointed over the counter. ‘See them egg-holders?’ Upside down on the counter was a white china holder for a half dozen eggs. ‘It was them she could see reflected in the glass!’

  We all laughed, Frank loudest of all. I mean it was funny after all, but I couldn’t help wondering about it. ‘Well, is any of it true then, what you tell ’em?’

  ‘Course,’ Frank said, through a fag he was lighting. The cigarette hissed and crackled between his lips and he pulled it out and glared at it. ‘Christ! What are these things they’re passing off for fags nowadays? It’s a proper profession. And it’ll be a good little earner. She’s got quite a talent for it your auntie ’as.’ He winked at Lil. Shirl was poking around in the leftovers from the pawn shop.

  ‘Has Nan been to see you?’ I talked to Lil. Wasn’t any
too sure about Frank these days. He was taking over a bit much for my liking.

  ‘Nah, not on your life.’

  ‘Well she wants to see you.’

  Frank tutted. ‘Never lets up, does she?’

  I turned on him. ‘She’s Lil’s mom. And she was looking after her long before you came on the scene.’

  ‘Oi, Genie, no need for that,’ Lil said. I saw Shirl look round at me. ‘Frank didn’t mean anything, did you?’

  Frank gave me his most charming grin. ‘Course not, no offence, Genie. She’s a great old stager your nan.’

  I stared hard at him. Cracks were showing here. No one, as Nan kept pointing out, should have a smile so bewitching or shoes you could see to powder your nose in.

  Some woman came in then with an anxious face wanting her palm read, and Shirl and I took off to do our shopping.

  ‘Go and see Nan,’ I said to Lil before I went.

  She touched my arm. ‘Don’t fret. It’s all right, Genie – things are OK. I’ll go tonight.’

  ‘I just hope she knows what she’s doing,’ I said to Shirl. ‘Our Lil thinks she’s the world expert on men, but I can’t say I’m any too sure about that one she’s got there!’

  The other person in our family who was happy as Larry was Len. Molly was coming up to seven months pregnant and was like the side of a house. Her big belly fascinated Len. Actually it fascinated Shirl too and she was forever leaning over Molly, asking questions about how it felt, was it kicking and all that. Len was a funny mixture of behaviour with Molly. He could ignore her for ages at a time while he fiddled about with Gloria, chuckled away at wireless programmes and forgot even to answer her as if she plain didn’t exist. Other times he was all over her, feeling the babby moving whoever else was about, and stroking and kissing her as if she was a dolly or a pet dog until sometimes she got a bit sharp with him.

  ‘Aw leave off, Lenny, will yer?’

  Mister loved Molly and had been in the habit of curling up on her enormous cushions of thighs when she was around.

  ‘Ooh!’ Molly cried, shaking with laughter one evening when Mister leapt up in a great hurry and shot off her lap. ‘The babby’s kicked ’im off of me! ’E’s going to be a footballer ’e is!’

  The two of them often came over and sat with us, eating anything in sight, Gloria on, completely comfortable with everything in a way I never saw in anyone else. No restlessness, no question about Mom or worry about the way she was. No discontent. Nothing. That was Len and Molly – happy in chairs, for ever.

  They were there when the siren went early on that month and Mister leapt up – this time off me – and howled, head back, the black and white fur across his throat stretched tight.

  ‘Oh Lor,’ Molly grunted, struggling to get out of her chair and not managing. ‘Pull me up, Lenny. I’ll ’ave to get over to Mom’s.’

  As she went, Lenny taking her along, Shirl and I started organizing. Tea in a flask. No booze. Light, coats, rugs.

  ‘Len,’ I called, hearing him come back in. ‘Come and help with Mom.’ But he lumbered in, picked up Gloria before anything else and stowed her under the stairs.

  ‘My God,’ I said to Shirl. ‘What happened to women and children first?’

  ‘No—’ Mom was struggling to speak. ‘I’m not going. Not out there.’

  ‘Please, Mom, come on. We’ve got to.’

  ‘NO.’ She pulled her bad arm in close with the other one and leaned forward, curling in on herself.

  What with the siren going and Mister howling and my nerves already in shreds before all that, I felt as if I was going to explode.

  ‘What the hell am I s’posed to do?’ I raged at Shirl. ‘I can’t force her, can I? What does it matter if we go out there anyway? We could all get killed whatever we do.’

  Shirl took over, squeezed my arm. ‘You’re awright, Genie,’ she said, sounding like Mr Tailor. She bent over Mom. ‘Mrs Watkins, we’re going to take you to the shelter. You can’t stay ’ere.’

  Mom hadn’t the strength to resist us for long but I could feel the distress coming from her and I felt terrible. But I couldn’t help thinking about Mrs Deakin and we struggled down the garden and got her inside. I put the Tilley lamp down on the floor and we laid Mom on one of the bunks, covering her up well. She turned her face away towards the corrugated wall.

  Len brought Mister and closed us in. As the door shut I thought about tombs. Mister whimpered and came over to me.

  ‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ I said to Shirl for the umpteenth time.

  Her big eyes shone in the lamplight. ‘Not ’alf as glad as I am, I can tell you.’

  ‘What does your dad do – in the raids I mean?’

  ‘Oh, ’e’ll be all right. The factory’s over Duddesdon – they’ve got a shelter there.’

  ‘What, so you was on your own of a night?’

  ‘Went round the neighbours – they’ve got a cellar. But I’d much rather be ’ere with you, Genie.’ She turned her head. ‘We’re OK, aren’t we Len?’ she said, squeezing his arm. She nodded across at Mom and mouthed at me. ‘She awright?’

  I reached round, took Mom’s good hand and held it. ‘You asleep, Mom?’

  She made a little noise so I knew she wasn’t.

  ‘You warm enough?’

  ‘I’m OK.’ It was a hoarse whisper.

  When I turned back to Shirl I could see the pity in her eyes and I didn’t know if it was for Mom or me. But seeing someone else looking in on my life made me feel so terrible about everything, the way it’d been broken and changed. First Big Patsy, Dad and Eric – even Lola, I felt sad about her – Mom and Bob and the dead babby, and Joe. But no, not Joe. I wasn’t even going to let myself think about him . . .

  Shirl made jokes to try and keep us going and I tried to laugh, thankful to her because it wasn’t as if she had a lot to laugh about either. We talked in short bursts, going quiet when the planes came over, shrinking our heads down into our necks and cringing until they passed. A couple of times as it was going quiet Len put his arm round Shirl, and she said, ‘Oh, you’re a devil, you are.’

  And I held Mom’s hand and felt her silence like a leaden weight behind me.

  I found Nan alone in her house the next day, down on her hands and her one good knee, the other bent up in front, blackleading the range.

  ‘Here, let me do that.’ I took the cloth and polish off her and tried to rub off some of my outrage at Lil on to its black surface.

  ‘She said she was going to come back. Sod her! I mean it’s not as if Frank would even have been in with a raid on!’

  ‘It would’ve been too late for ’er to come with the raid already started.’ Nan had managed to pull herself stiffly to her feet. ‘And anyroad, I’m awright. Take more than a load of Jerries to frighten me, I can tell you.’

  She looked tired though. ‘It’s just not right you being on your own. Lil should know better.’ I found I was shaking with anger, wanting to scream with it. There was never anything you could do about anything. I wanted to come and keep my nan company of a night, but how could I with Mom the way she was? And going into her house felt awful – no Lil, no kids running round.

  Nan waved a hand at me to shut me up. ‘How’s your mother?’

  ‘Same.’ I was scrubbing like mad at the range.

  ‘You’re all skin and bone. You still being sick?’

  ‘No.’

  She absorbed this, then said. ‘Morgan was bombed out last night – ’is place over in Aston.’

  I stopped and looked round. ‘D’he get out?’

  ‘Oh, that sort always do. Rat out of a sewer. ’E was in the cellar, not a scratch on ’im. ’E was over earlier to see what state the room up ’ere’s in again.’

  ‘He’s never thinking of moving in here?’

  ‘Not unless he wants rain on his face every night. D’you know what ’e ’ad the nerve to ask me?’ She didn’t sound all that outraged, just exhausted. ‘“You being on your own now, Mrs Rawson, I was
wondering if you could spare me one of your rooms for a bit?” Rubbing ’is hands together how ’e does.’

  ‘Nan, you never . . .?’

  A wicked twinkle came into her eyes. ‘I told him I only ever live with men if I’m married to ’em, ta very much. That drained the colour out of ’im I can tell you.’ She let out a big laugh and it was good to hear her. ‘’E says ’e’s lost his business and ’e can’t do any repairs till ’e gets the insurance and there’s no telling ’ow long that’ll take. So that’ll keep ’im out of action for a bit!’

  ‘Nan!’ I laughed with her.

  Wiping her eyes, she said, ‘’E’s ’aving to find somewhere else to move in with his Mom!’

  ‘God, you can’t imagine him being anyone’s son, can you?’ Remembering, I pulled a letter from my pocket. ‘This came today. I haven’t shown it her.’

  Eric’s letter contained the usual wooden scraps of news that we’d had to get used to, but in the middle he wrote, ‘Mummy says I can stay here for good if I want to.’ Mrs Spenser had let him leave it in. She’d obviously wanted us to see it.

  ‘Mummy?’ Nan flared. She stared in disbelief. It wasn’t just Eric thinking of Mrs S as his mom, it was him sounding like a toffy-nosed twit into the bargain.

  ‘She can’t do that, can she? She can’t just keep him?’ I was tearful all of a sudden. ‘Soon there’ll be nothing left.’

  Nan gave my shoulder a pat. ‘She can’t just keep ’im, not unless—’ She broke off and I knew she was thinking of Mom, of what sort of life Eric was going to come back to here. He wouldn’t be getting piano lessons, that was for certain. I could see the grief in Nan’s face, just for a quick flash. ‘No. She can’t just do as she likes.’

  Teresa and her mom were spending as much time as they could over in the Quarter because it was obvious Nonna Amelia was dying. But Teresa found time to call in and visit us and ask if I wanted to go and see the old lady for what would surely be the last time.