An East End Girl

by Maggie Ford

  ‘Ready, Dad?’

  He gave a curt nod. Only his eyes, not quite as round and blue as they’d once been, age creeping up on him, betrayed him in a begrudging glow of pride. Though she noticed it, it didn’t compensate for the curt nod. His refusal to answer in words was hurtful. But she smiled it away, following him to the waiting car. He hadn’t even taken her arm.

  The registry office was crowded. Surprise at the sight of so many, every chair occupied, and even more standing at the back so that the doors couldn’t be properly shut, took away the trial of coming here beside her silent father.

  As she paused prior to making her entrance for a last-minute arranging of her dress, Cissy peered in through the half-open door which someone was trying vainly to hold closed, hoping to discover who they all were. Surely she hadn’t invited this many, but before she could focus, the door was opened for her and at a signal, she took Dad’s arm whether he liked it or not, and came in, May holding the door open for her before following.

  Eddie was already to one side, waiting for her. He looked so very handsome as he glanced round, the smile he gave her remarkably steady for someone about to be married. He stepped across to stand beside her, and she felt her love flood over her like a warm wave.

  Side by side they approached the registrar’s table. The registrar, giving each a stiff smile, began the formalities in a businesslike tone. In no time at all it was over, leaving Cissy dazed by the swiftness of it all – married, the signing done, everyone hurried out for confetti and good wishes to be showered over the happy pair, a few lucky enough to have cameras ushering them into line, each focusing with an eye jammed against their box-shaped contraption. Dazed, she smiled for them and they looked into each other’s eyes for them. She had never been so happy; could hardly wait to be off on their honeymoon, alone with him. But there was the reception to get through first, the good wishes to be given, the food to be devoured, goodbyes to be said. And then, ah…

  At the door of Eddie’s office, they stood with their families, Eddie’s mother looking pitifully alone among them, to receive their guests. Before long the office was full of people, many of whom she didn’t recognise.

  ‘Who are they all?’ she hissed.

  Eddie grinned. ‘Friends. Blokes on the river. They clubbed together to buy us a wedding present. Couldn’t leave ’em out.’

  She smiled, shook hands as each one came in, men and their wives, not looking as prosperous as they once had in her dad’s day when work on the water brought in good pay.

  ‘We haven’t got enough to feed them all,’ she whispered slantwise, as in dismay she watched the room fill.

  Again Eddie grinned. ‘They’ve brought their own, mostly. They said they would.’

  Sure enough, Eddie’s desk, pushed back to the wall beside the filing cabinet, the surfaces covered with cloths and the food their parents had already made, began to fill with offerings of cold sausages, small wedges of cheddar cheese, pickled onions, gherkins, savaloys and little homemade cakes. There were even a couple of cherished bottles of gin, probably nicked at one time or other, going to join the bottles of beer and glasses set out on the desk in the tiny reception office. The two shelves above the desk displaying what wedding presents they had received, still wrapped in cheap gift paper or the paper bags in which they’d been purchased.

  The lights on, although it was still daylight, the room was soon filling with a fug of pipe and cigarette smoke, a buzz of voices, and music from the old gramophone one of Eddie’s guests had lugged up the narrow stairs. Being kissed and congratulated, Cissy looked around. There were far more people she didn’t know than family, but she felt suddenly elated. She had a well-attended wedding, she had a lovely steady man for a husband, her parents had forgiven her and had come to see her married, what more could she want?

  Daisy and Theodore had arrived the night before and taken a room at some hotel. Cissy was relieved to see that her daughter had been left behind, though Daisy had asked as a favour that her mother and father be invited. As a wonderful and trusted friend over the past years, how could she say no? Daisy had brought such a lovely wedding present – a full dinner and tea service, far too lovely to use. Unintentionally, it reminded her how changed their roles were, Daisy still able to afford such things despite the times, while she herself continued to struggle to keep herself looking respectable, every last penny of Langley’s money sunk into her shop. But there were thousands far worse off, with nothing to ease their misery. If the worst came to the worst she could always sell her business and live on the proceeds. Many had nothing.

  The cake had been cut and distributed, the table was looking as though an army of voracious rats had marched across it, the first waltz – ‘I’ll Be Loving You, Always’ – was ceremoniously danced by the happy couple and the bottles of drinks in the dingy outer office were already half empty, the effects showing in flushed faces. It was the most wonderful party she could ever imagine. She hadn’t seen much of Eddie, everyone insisting on commandeering their separate attention. She saw him now, through the tight-packed throng in the dingy little office, talking to Daisy’s parents, and she turned away, smiling happily.

  Mrs Evans, a small, pretty if slightly tubby figure next to her large beefy husband, stared up at Eddie, her round, downy face ready to break into smiles at the first word said to her.

  ‘We just wanted to offer our congratulations,’ she chirped and gave her husband a nudge. ‘Didn’t we, Dick?’

  Prompted, her husband brought his gaze away from the filmy office window to say, ‘Yeah, we did,’ before returning to stare into the middle distance.

  In comparison with her, his heavy features and jutting lower lip gave all the appearance of indolence and lack of interest in conversation. It was easy to see who their bubbly daughter took after. Eddie glimpsed Daisy across the room clinging to her German husband’s arm and could hear her high giddy laugh from here.

  ‘You ’ad a lovely day for it – the wedding,’ Mrs Evans was saying. ‘It could’ve easily been raining, but it didn’t, did it, Dick? I said, didn’t I, Dick – they’re a lucky pair to ’ave nice weather. It’s nice for you too, ain’t it, ’aving a ready-made family? But I suppose you will be ’aving little’uns of yer own eventually, won’t you?’

  Eddie’s wandering attention had become riveted on her, his brows knitting together in confusion. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Evans, little’uns of whose own?’

  ‘Why yours. As well as Cissy’s.’

  ‘Cissy’s?’ His frown deepened. ‘I don’t understand. Cissy’s what?’

  The round face had begun to glow, a flush spreading slowly across the downy cheeks. ‘Oh,…. I must’ve made a mistake. Got confused…with someone else.’

  Eddie felt his face tighten. She wasn’t confusing him with anyone else, he was sure. Little cogs were turning in his head, notches slipping one into the other to set strange wheels of thought in motion to form something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

  ‘No, Mrs Evans.’ His voice grated upon his own ears. ‘I don’t think so. What about Cissy?’

  ‘It’s…nothing. Honest.’ Stammering, she backed away, clutching at her husband’s arm, pulling him protesting with her. ‘Anyway, it’s time we went. I’ll tell Daisy we’re going. We’ve ’ad a lovely time. And thanks fer inviting us.’

  Before he could persist, the Evanses were pushing across the room like people swimming against the tide; a few words hastily mouthed at Daisy, who shot a look in his direction. Eddie could see it all; saw Daisy’s teeth catch at her bottom lip, and then she turned on her mother, her face contorted, her words obviously whispered being hissed at her, her hands gesticulating in a secretive way. He watched her bend a little to peck her mother’s cheek leaving the two to trail out. For a second Daisy turned again to Eddie, saw him still watching and turned away quickly.

  From now on, Eddie felt a compulsion to watch. No longer enjoying his wedding, he was a spy watching everyone, every move anyone made, quick to read some
thing into anything: the way Cissy looked across at him, was that a sly glance? Did she carry a secret? Why that frown on her father’s face? Did he know something more about his daughter? Was that why he’d been so slow to forgive her? And her mother, attentive and keeping closer to her – what had Cissy shared with her that she hadn’t shared with him, now her husband? And Bobby, standing there with his sulky wife, what had he said to Eddie’s own father who had died with the secret still locked away? Every fibre of him tried to believe that he’d misinterpreted Daisy’s mother’s embarrassment, yet common sense said that her slip of the tongue and clumsy attempt to cover it up could point only to one thing. For his own peace of mind he must have this out with Cissy at the first chance he got.

  Yet in the end, fearing what he might discover, he said nothing. What the ear doesn’t hear…He did not want his heart to grieve, so he said nothing. And Cissy, who was so much in love with him, suspected nothing, gave herself to him completely that night and every night of the honeymoon, helping him willingly when he remained limp, putting his failure down to marital nerves, knowing how successful had been their premarital love and on the way home telling him excitedly that she thought she was already a couple of months pregnant.

  He thought he made a decent job of looking joyful about her news as he wondered if she had once just as excitedly told someone else of a pregnancy. And the baby, where was it now? Did Daisy Evans have it – Cissy’s long-standing friend who still lived in Paris? That could be why Mrs Evans had become flustered in nearly letting the cat out of the bag. And what of Cissy? Did she love the child if what he imagined was true? Why hadn’t she told him – again if what he was imagining was true?

  ‘As well as Cissy’s…’ The remark bounced around in his head; haunting him for months afterwards, but he never asked, and as Cissy’s stomach began to grow, pride in what they had made together clouded out the vision of what her life had been before. He was to be a father and the past must be put aside. It didn’t, shouldn’t matter.

  But sometimes, in the dead of night when he couldn’t sleep…

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The past was behind her. Cissy was happy, her worries over, except of course about the lack of money – but that was universal. The important thing was, they were together – she was carrying Eddie’s child inside her. For that alone, she felt moments of ecstatic happiness.

  He should have been the same, and he was happy about her pregnancy, but for the most part he seemed to have grown moody, lost in a world of his own sometimes. Probably over his tug business, she assumed and shrugged it off, vowing to help should he decide to share any worry with her. It was hard graft nowadays. He would come home tired and tetchy – so unlike the Eddie she had known before they had married.

  It must be money, it bothered them all. If only she could do more in her shop – entice more customers – perhaps then he wouldn’t look so dismal, wouldn’t be so worried about the future with a little one on the way.

  She invested a small portion of her meagre profit having some handbills made, to be posted through letterboxes in the area. She didn’t tell Eddie. In his present mood he would have called it a waste of time. He was forever criticising the things she tried to do, or so it seemed to her. He was so down, and these days it was well known that once a person became down, they stayed down, became despondent and then indolent, accepting their lot. She didn’t want that to happen to Eddie. At least the handbills would draw the curiosity of a few more customers to see what she had to sell. The trouble was, who would want to be attended by someone with a stomach way out in front? Very few women worked after marriage. Those that did were frowned on, seen as not quite decent. True this was her own business, but to be seen heavily pregnant and working was just not done. She would be pitied, seen to be someone in dire straits. And nothing served more to put a customer off buying than some proprietress showing herself to be in dire straits by working in her condition.

  ‘Eddie, what are we going to do about the shop?’ she asked him just before Christmas.

  Sitting by the fire, the standard lamp behind her for light, she was sorting through some trade magazines. This was her busiest time. She had been quite pleased with her modest increase in sales, though after the New Year it would dwindle away again to its normal trade, which wasn’t as she had once hoped it would be.

  Eddie looked up from his Evening Standard. The light shone directly on his face emphasising his disinterest. ‘Don’t know. It’s your shop.’

  His reply was short and terse, almost impatient. It was so unlike him. He hadn’t even asked what she meant, but she brushed it aside and began explaining without being prompted.

  ‘It’s just that I’m six months now. I’m getting too big to be seen in there. Customers are looking. I often notice them frowning. It’s not good for trade. They look almost sorry for me.’

  Eddie remained looking at her. He knew what she meant. There was nothing worse than appearing to be grovelling cap in hand to procure a deal. He knew all about that. Made sure he wore his best bib and tucker to the office – had to look smart so that anyone meeting him would hopefully see a prosperous man and put business his way. But it wasn’t easy when he was often in his old clothes skippering the Cicely, loathe to pay out on a full crew. He felt for Cissy. At the same time, back came the old thoughts. They made his reply sharp.

  ‘My advice’d be to sell up,’ he said at last, returning to his newspaper. ‘Not as if it brings in that much, way things are. Could be more handy what you get for it. It’s just advice, the way I see it, that’s all. It’s your money to do what you like with.’

  Cissy looked as if she’d been stung. ‘Sell? I couldn’t do that. We need what the shop brings in. Even if it isn’t much, it’s regular. If I sold up, the money would be gone within a year. And if times don’t get any better, what’ll we live on then?’

  ‘You mean I can’t provide.’ He kept his eyes on his newspaper.

  ‘No, I don’t mean that. I mean…it must help. In the times we are living in, every little helps. It must do.’

  He was still giving the paper all his attention, his head down. ‘It won’t ’elp us fer much longer, will it?’

  He knew it sounded more like an accusation than a statement, but he couldn’t moderate it. ‘If yer want to keep the place and can’t manage it yerself, you’ve got ter find someone to look after it for you. That costs money. We ain’t got money. Not from what I provide.’

  The second connotation could not be overlooked this time. Cissy had caught it. She leaned towards him. ‘Darling, I’m not trying to put you down. I don’t mean you can’t provide for us. I just want to help.’

  Now he looked at her, the newspaper rustling noisily as he lay it down sharply on his lap. ‘Putting someone in while you ’ave the baby, is goin’ ter be more trouble than it’s worth. It’ll more likely be a bloody great weight round our necks.’

  Cissy winced visibly. ‘Eddie, don’t swear. You never used to. What have I done? You seem so surly. You’ve been surly ever since…ever since we got married, and I don’t know what’s wrong.’

  How could he tell her? How could he ever broach the subject now? It should have been done at the time, clearing the air for better or worse. Too late now. He must live with it, try to get over it. But it was hard. He loved her, yet he couldn’t get over her deception. Deception that he supposed was still being continued. If one day, she came to him and said, Eddie, I’ve something I have to tell you, he would forgive her with all his heart. But until then…

  ‘Nothing’s the matter,’ he answered her now, and saw her frown.

  ‘It’s the times we’re living in. Things will get better. They must. This depression can’t go on forever.’

  ‘Maybe not.’ He picked up his paper, went back to it again. ‘When d’you reckon on giving up bein’ in the shop?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can manage until the New Year. It’s getting busier with Christmas only a couple of weeks off and finding someone
now just would be silly. I know how to keep customers buying. After that…’

  ‘After that, we’ll be paying someone else,’ he finished sourly, looking up to see her grimace again and that lost, confused look that was often on her face these days.

  ‘What is the matter, Eddie? Is it your business – worrying you – is that it?’

  ‘No more than usual.’

  ‘But…but you used to be so lively – so cheerful. You were always cheerful when I first knew you.’

  ‘Then I must’ve changed. Settled down.’

  ‘No, it’s more than that. What’s worrying you, darling?’

  ‘Darling!’ He couldn’t help the word bursting forth, steeped in sarcasm, unlike him. ‘What the bloody ’ell’s “darling”? You sound like one of them bloody silly flappers you went off with. Can’t you forget hobnobbing with the idle rich? I’m a bit of a come-down for you after them, ain’t I?’

  Cissy stood up sharply, the pile of knitting catalogues she had been thumbing through sliding to the floor in an untidy jumble.

  ‘Why are you being so nasty? I’ve done nothing to you, Eddie. I don’t consider you a come-down. I love you. I love what you are. You can’t be jealous of something that doesn’t even mean anything to me any more. I know I was silly in those days. But I’m older now. I’ve got over all that. I’m a wife now, and soon to be a mother…’ He saw her blanch angrily at his sudden caustic laugh, but she ploughed on. ‘I have responsibilities now and if we can both pull together, things will turn out all right. But sometimes you seem to be trying to block me – in every way. I’m doing my best for us, Eddie.’