An East End Girl

by Maggie Ford

  ‘You see,’ she continued laboriously, ‘I went away with someone.’

  ‘Yes.’ It had sounded to her almost as though he knew all about it. She remembered thinking that he couldn’t know, but his quiet ‘yes’ had made it harder to express what she’d wanted to say.

  She’d continued doggedly, telling him how she had stayed with some people; how lovely it had been, the places she was shown, the romance of it all.

  ‘I was carried away by it all,’ she said, and then coming to the crucial part, she’d paused, had turned away from his trusting eyes, unable to face them, saying, ‘I don’t know how to tell you this.’

  ‘You just say what you have to,’ she heard his voice behind her. ‘Simply.’

  Desperation had clutched at her. ‘I can’t say it…simply.’

  ‘Yes you can.’ There had been tension in his tone, an earnestness again as though he already knew what she was about to say and he was trying to help her.

  Suddenly it had all come out: Langley; the baby; his treatment of her, throwing money at her to get rid of it; how Daisy had taken her in, provided for her while she had the baby, a daughter; had taken charge of the baby while she’d looked for a job; had continued to do so when she returned to England so she could find premises with what had been left from what Langley had given her; how she hadn’t dared tell him, Eddie, about her daughter, frightened that their marriage would be sacrificed, that she loved him so – hadn’t really loved Langley, only been infatuated by him and the romance of her life in France, the craziness of the company she’d known.

  ‘What’s her name?’ Eddie had asked suddenly, his quiet tone taking her by surprise where she had expected him to rant and rave.

  Near to tears as she told him, she heard him murmur that it was a nice name. Nothing else, just that it was a nice name, Noelle Louise.

  Her bad reaction to his acceptance of it all, she supposed, should have been anticipated, but it wasn’t. Turning out quite opposite to what people would normally expect – abject gratitude – she had fallen into a fit of self-indulgent fury. ‘What’s the matter with you? Don’t you see what I’ve done? Can’t you just get angry? For God’s sake tell me you hate me, Eddie. Tell me! Tell me our marriage is all washed up.’

  But he had merely stood up slowly and come over to her. His words would stay with her to her dying day.

  ‘I can’t be angry. Not now. It’s could’ve ’appened to any girl blind enough to go off in search of a bit of romance, looking fer a better life than she ’ad. I’m just sorry I wasn’t the one to give it to you. I’m not angry, Cissy. I was at one time. I waited and waited fer you to tell me, and when you didn’t I felt more and more wounded.’

  She’d looked at him aghast. ‘Are you telling me you already knew? And you let me go on?’

  He shook his head. There was a hint of a smile in his dark eyes – no, more a look of relief than a smile, and again her fury rose.

  ‘You’ve kept what you knew a secret all this time and said nothing – let me go on suffering, not knowing how I would ever begin to tell you? Was that your way of punishing me?’

  She saw the smile desert him. ‘I never wanted to punish you, Cissy. I found out the day we got married. Your friend Daisy’s mother let it out by mistake. She tried to cover it up, but I realised then what she’d said. I should ’ave faced you with it, but I couldn’t. I wanted you to tell me, but you never did, and the longer I waited the more ’urt I felt until I almost began to hate you. I couldn’t even look at you at times. I tried to will you to tell me, but you didn’t, and I couldn’t ask you to tell me, because it wouldn’t ’ave been the same – do you understand?’

  For a moment she had stared at him, the full import of what he was saying sinking in. Yes, she had understood – how he must have hurt, loving her as he did yet feeling hatred of her actions, or the lack of them, hurt by his own stifled anger towards her. She had fallen into his arms, crying out, ‘Oh, Eddie, can you ever forgive me?’

  ‘I can – now.’ He’d held her close. The next thing, she was crying on his shoulder, overwhelmed by the simplicity of his forgiveness, the unnecessary web she’d made for herself finally disentangled.

  Now she sat looking down at the blank sheet of paper and thinking about it all, she picked up the pen, dipped the nib in the bottle of Swan ink and began to write, her decision made.

  ‘Daisy. I, Eddie and I, have decided to sell my shop. We can’t possibly let Eddie’s business go, but my shop’s expendable and, after all, he should be the breadwinner. I think he might have always been a little bit upset, jealous if you like, of my being independent in a way. You know what men are like – they don’t care to be made to feel inferior. So to get enough money to bring you all back to England if we can, that’s what I, we, have decided. The building is rented, but I’ve found a buyer for my business.’

  She paused, staring down at what she had written, then with an afterthought scratched out the ‘we’. Eddie had left it entirely up to her what she did. It hadn’t been churlish on his part, merely that he couldn’t make that decision for her and feel easy in his heart.

  But she wasn’t going to dwell on that, only that she had never felt so grateful to anyone in her life as she felt at this moment to him. She didn’t deserve him, and she still cringed at the thought of all the pain she had inflicted on him by her silliness. But now wasn’t the time to think of that. She had shown him photos of Noelle and he had agreed that she must be brought back to England as soon as they could drum up enough money for it. He had been so worried. She knew he was looking at his tug business being sacrificed, and what could she do but offer her own small business instead?

  ‘What we must do, is make arrangements for me and Eddie to come over as visitors. We’re getting a passport, a short one is quicker, and we’ll be with you as soon as we can. We’ll stay with you on a Friday and then on Saturday morning we’ll all go to Switzerland as if for a few days’ holiday. There’ll be you, me, Eddie and Noelle as English visitors you might say, and Teddy might be taken for granted, we hope, as just holidaying with us. There shouldn’t be any fuss as far as I can see. Just leave the house as it is. Don’t go closing it up or it might look as if you’re leaving the country. Just leave it all behind as though you will be coming back to it after a short holiday. In Switzerland we’ll catch a train through France, then a Channel steamer to here. And don’t worry about the cost. It’s been all worked out. I’ve been lucky to find someone to buy my business. With that and a loan Eddie has been able to get from the bank, we’ll just manage if we go very easy. Everything is going to be all right. You’ll see.’

  She didn’t say that it would leave them vastly in debt with only Eddie’s money now, that very little after paying back the interest every week. What Daisy didn’t know about wouldn’t hurt her.

  She sealed the letter without showing it to Eddie – he would only have been even more embarrassed than he was, and hurriedly posted it. The ball had been set rolling. There was nothing she could do now, even if she had wanted to change her mind.

  Taking a night-crossing Channel steamer, sleeping in chairs to save money on a cabin, travelling by train through France in the early hours, they made Germany by mid-morning, where they would stop for a modest early lunch.

  What she’d expected to find in Germany, Cissy didn’t know. Resentment perhaps? An overpowering sense of peril; hostile interrogation at the German border as their passports were examined?

  What she did find was an incredible friendliness, English holiday visitors gladly welcomed with warm smiles and pleasant faces. Everyone she and Eddie met were charming, from the waitress with a smattering of English at their luncheon table to someone in the street similarly gifted, from whom they had to ask directions, ready to interpret their needs, and the only questions asked were what was England like, had they ever met their King George and Queen Mary, and what did they think of German food after plain stodgy English cooking?

  They arrived at Daisy and T
heodore’s house mid-afternoon. From the outside it looked huge and opulent after the flat over her shop, now vacated of course, she and Eddie back with his mother, one bedroom and sharing the use of her living room and kitchen.

  Daisy, looking strained but healthily pregnant, and Theodore, were at the door to greet them. Noelle was asleep upstairs they were told.

  ‘Oh, God, Cissy!’ Daisy cried, falling emotionally on her friend’s neck the moment of greeting her. ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you again, it really is. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.’

  Theodore solemnly shook Eddie’s hand, very German and formal. ‘I am most happy to met you, sir.’ Then he kissed Cissy’s hand with a small sharp bow. ‘I am delighted to see you again, Fraulein Bennett.’

  ‘Cissy, call me Cissy,’ she laughed as they conducted her and Eddie into the house, at the same time aware of someone pruning roses in the front of a nearby house pausing to watch the goings-on with interest.

  As she glanced towards the woman, she felt for the first time an apprehensive shiver run through her. No sense of friendliness that she could detect emanated from that concentrated look, and she made up her mind there and then that first thing tomorrow they must be on their way, leaving noisily with bright baggage and clothing as though they were anticipating a short fun-filled holiday with friends.

  The interior of Daisy and Theodore’s home was a shock. Traces of recent wealth were still evident, silk wallpaper faintly faded where large paintings had been, a comfortable three-piece suite, a few fine chairs and a table, but the window drapes were cheap and there were no ornaments, carpet and little other furniture, their absence bearing witness to the terrible disquiet and unease behind hasty sales to keep money coming in enough to live on, but she ignored the significance.

  ‘It’s a lovely house,’ she said as, leaving the men to talk in the sitting room, she followed Daisy into the vast kitchen to make coffee.

  ‘It was a lovely house,’ Daisy stressed. ‘But it’s not like it’s ours any more. Any moment it could be taken away from us, confiscated.’

  ‘Why?’ Cissy was aghast.

  ‘Because Teddy’s Jewish.’

  ‘Can they do that?’

  Daisy had her gaze on the coffee percolator, beginning to bubble. ‘Easily. They can do anything they like. They’ve done it to others. We just spend our time waiting. I think they’ve left us alone so far because they realise I’m English and that Noelle’s not Teddy’s child, that we are only fostering her and she belongs to an Englishwoman and was born in France. It’s left them in a bit of a dilemma, I think, so they’ve let us be for a time. But it is only a matter of time.’

  She turned abruptly to Cissy, her brown eyes swimming. ‘Oh, Cissy, I’m so afraid.’

  Confronted by that awful look, Cissy felt the full intensity of the fear that dogged her friend, an intensity of fear no amount of letter writing could convey. It had to be seen for itself to really know it.

  ‘Never mind,’ she said inadequately, vaguely embarrassed by its rawness, but Daisy brightened almost as though she too had become embarrassed, hurriedly changing the subject on to Noelle.

  ‘How much does Eddie know about Noelle?’ she enquired, her old self again, her whisper melodramatic, her eyes on the half-closed kitchen door. Her fear of her situation here in Germany pushed aside, she was once more the Daisy that Cissy had known when they’d tried to be one of the bright young things, but now mature and blooming, glowing, with her condition suiting her. Cissy would ask about her pregnancy later, but just now, her own fear for Daisy put aside, devilment crept into her head, a light-hearted need to punish, just a little. She had Daisy where she wanted her – a little something gossiping Daisy must pay for, if only mildly.

  ‘I told him everything.’

  ‘What, everything?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Daisy paused from setting out coffee cups and saucers to look at her, her eyes, dry now, wide with disbelief. ‘How did he take it?’

  ‘Surprisingly well, really.’

  ‘You don’t mean it!’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘You mean he never batted an eyelid?’

  ‘He already knew.’ Cissy felt her eyes dancing. ‘Ever since our wedding day.’

  ‘You mean you told him then? You never said anything to me.’

  ‘I didn’t tell him.’ Cissy lowered her eyes, began arranging the biscuits onto a plate Daisy had got down from a white-fronted cabinet. ‘Someone else did.’

  ‘My God! Who? Who could have known other than you and me?’

  ‘Your mother.’ She wasn’t angry, more amused. She could have been angry that Daisy had betrayed her – would have been had Eddie not been so readily forgiving. Had he not been, she would have been very angry, blaming Daisy for the ruin of her marriage, but as it was she was merely amused. And it didn’t do any harm to see the loquacious Daisy squirm a little. She wasn’t disappointed. Daisy stood transfixed, coffee percolator in her hand about to pour into the cups.

  ‘Oh, Cissy…I never meant to.’ Her cheeks had begun to flame. ‘It just came out by accident, once when I was visiting her. I could have bitten off my tongue, I never thought she’d go and…’

  Cissy’s laugh cut short her babbled excuses. ‘I’m not annoyed. The way Eddie told it, your mother did the same as you, spoke without even thinking. But it’s done now. And I’m glad it’s out in the open. I even feel grateful to you, Daisy. It’s myself I have to blame. If I’d only been honest with Eddie from the first, so much strain would have been taken off our marriage. It was there, you know, and I couldn’t understand it. He’d been waiting for me to tell him. I hurt him terribly, and I never realised it. The terrible things we do to each other by not being honest.’

  She had long ago ceased laughing, and at the sadness now on her face, Daisy quickly put down the percolator and came over to her.

  ‘Come here, you silly!’ she burst out as the two hugged each other. ‘It’s all in the past now. Everything’s all right. And I’m so grateful you’re here. So very glad. I feel so much safer.’

  ‘Yes.’ She watched as Daisy recovered herself, resuming pouring the coffee, setting milk and sugar on a tray beside the coffee for those who wanted it, with the plate of plain biscuits on another.

  ‘And now we’d better think about what we’re doing tomorrow,’ Cissy went on briskly as they carried the two trays into the sitting room. ‘There’s a lot to think about.’

  There was also Noelle to talk about and that she didn’t relish.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  ‘Come on, darling, time to wake up…’

  Noelle became aware of her arm being gently patted. At first she thought it was the dream. She had been in a wonderful place, full of children, all smaller than her, and they had been dancing and playing games and she had been included in every one. One little girl was patting her arm gently, begging to join the fun. But the voice had grown deeper, more adult, more immediate.

  ‘Come on, darling, wake up. Dinner’ll be ready soon. And you’ve slept and slept. And there’s someone downstairs to see you.’

  Now she was awake. The lovely dream had faded, its colours gone, in its place the solid shape of her bedroom and Auntie bending over her. She felt disappointed. They’d been such friendly children, speaking to her in French and English. Not German. She didn’t like German that much even though she used it. Children said nasty things to her in German, sometimes chanting Jude! Jude! Nastily, as if it were a rude word. She didn’t know what it meant and no one told her. Someone had once said to her that soon she wouldn’t be allowed to come to this kindergarten because they didn’t want any Jude ‘balg’ – meaning all sorts of horrid things like urchin or brat, here.

  Disappointment changed in turn to the reality knowing that outside of dreams, she had no friends. Very few at kindergarten asking her to join their games. Even the person in charge, Fraulein Lotte as the children called her, was nasty to her all the time. Where she always
petted and played with everyone else she ignored Noelle as if she wasn’t there, sometimes even giving her a sharp smack when she didn’t even know what she had done to offend. Soon she’d be going on to an infant school and she hoped they’d be nicer there. Thinking of it her lower lip pouted. Seeing it, Auntie gathered her up.

  ‘Now don’t cry, darling. You always wake up miserable, don’t you? But you must be happy today. Today we’ve got a nice surprise for you. We’re all going on a holiday.’

  Instantly the heavy feeling in her heart went away.

  ‘A holiday!’ she cried, out of Auntie’s arms in a second. ‘What holiday?’

  ‘It’s a surprise. You’re not to say anything to anyone.’

  How could she say anything to anyone when she had no one but Auntie and Vater to talk to?

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Promise,’ she answered, looking serious.

  ‘Come on then.’ Auntie held her hand as they went downstairs.

  There were people in the sitting room. She vaguely recognised the lady, though not the man. She had a vague memory of seeing her after having been on a boat. There’d been a shabby room with lots of boxes, though where it had been she didn’t know. Auntie had said she was Mummy. It seemed odd that she was never with them if she was supposed to be Mummy, though it didn’t worry her that much. Auntie was too nice and lovely for her to long for anyone else.

  Auntie led her up to her now. She was very pretty, smiling, and there were tears in her bright blue eyes as she crouched down to greet her.

  ‘Noelle, you remember your mummy?’

  Solemnly Noelle nodded. There were photo albums with her and Auntie in them, both of them with arms linked, both shown in loose dresses and hats that went right down over their eyes and with no hair to be seen. This Mummy had fair hair curling around her ears and she wore a blue and white plaid dress with a bow at her neck, not at all like her photos though the smile was the same. So this was the Mummy her auntie often mentioned. ‘One day you’ll see her,’ she would say and she would have a sad look when she said that. But lately she had looked a lot less sad when she said the name. Perhaps it had something to do with the little brother or sister that Auntie kept saying would be coming to join them before long.