by Rosie Archer
Mrs Harrington had told her Syd was a nice man whose wife had died some years ago in childbirth. ‘That man is as straight as a die. He wouldn’t have it when my husband told him not to bother with the few coppers for the laces. He put the money on the counter, shook his head and laughed as he walked out!’
She’d watched Jo bite into her bun. ‘Anyway, there’s not a thing in this shop that’s not got a price on it now.’ Jo had looked up to the top shelf and saw the scribbled pencil marks on the box of odds and ends.
‘Oh, Mum!’
Jo heard Rainey’s long-drawn-out sigh: it was meant to hurry her. ‘Get my coat then.’ She smiled as Rainey practically ran down the hallway.
Huddled together, they walked, mindful of the icy pavements, towards St John’s School.
Jo could feel the excitement mounting in her daughter as, eagerly, she pushed open the door to the music room. Jo stopped, took a deep breath – and froze. The half-glass door slid shut behind Rainey, leaving Jo in the corridor, her heart beating fast and her neck prickling with fear. Through the glass, she could see a semi-circle of chairs containing women and girls of various ages. All were laughing, talking loudly and totally unaware of her. It was but seconds that she stood outside alone but to her it seemed hours.
Suddenly the door was pulled open, and in front of her stood a rounded woman with fair hair and a beaming face. Rainey had made a beeline for Ivy, the girl she’d met at the teacher’s evening, and was totally unaware that Jo hadn’t followed her into the room.
‘Welcome, I’m Maud Herron.’ Her hand snaked towards Jo’s arm and pulled her gently into the warmth and noise. ‘There’s nothing to worry about, we’re all mates here. But I do know exactly how you feel.’
Jo allowed herself to be drawn towards two empty chairs. Maud sat down and said, ‘Mrs Wilkes has just answered a call of nature. Be back in a minute. That your girl you come with? Rainey?’
Jo, her head spinning, tried to answer her, but Maud interrupted, ‘What’s your name, love?’
‘Jo,’ she managed, looking around once more for her daughter.
As though reading her mind, Maud said, ‘Don’t you worry about your girl. She’s sitting with the young ones. My Bea’s with her – she’s the blonde – and Ivy. She’ll be all right.’
Jo was about to say something but stopped as the door clattered open and Mrs Wilkes swept in with the little dog. ‘That’s better,’ she said, and promptly sat down at the upright piano with its back to the class. Toto curled up beside it, having turned around three times to make himself comfortable.
‘Never goes nowhere without that dog, she don’t,’ whispered Maud. ‘It’s like a bleedin’ shadow.’
Jo looked at Maud’s broad-smiling face and immediately felt her fears recede. She grinned back.
‘Welcome to our new girls,’ said Mrs Wilkes, staring straight at Jo. The position of the piano allowed her to see the class. ‘Their names are Jo –’ Jo tried to slither down in her seat, ‘– and Rainey Bird, and I’m sure you lot will make them welcome.’ Mrs Wilkes started clapping and the others in the room followed suit.
The welcome over, she sorted through the briefcase of music at her feet, rose from the piano stool and handed out a sheaf of foolscap papers to a woman at the end of the line. ‘Pass these along, Meg, if you wouldn’t mind.’
‘I can’t read music,’ whispered Jo to Maud. The fear that had been slowly subsiding had come back with a vengeance.
‘Anyone can read words,’ hissed Maud. And when Jo took a page and passed the rest along she saw the single sheet contained the words to popular carols and well-known winter songs. Her eyes were drawn to ‘Jingle Bells’.
‘I never knew there was a second verse,’ she whispered to Maud.
‘Just make sure you get the words right, then,’ came Mrs Wilkes’s voice. ‘We’re going to make a start on learning the right words and tunes to these carols.’
‘What about the stuff we’ve been practising?’ asked a large woman with spectacles.
‘We’re going to learn these as well,’ Mrs Wilkes said, and immediately struck a chord on the piano to show who was in charge. Then she looked at her audience, and said, ‘I know St John’s Choir hasn’t been going long but I thought, with Christmas just around the corner, we could sing and make some money for charity.’
Other people would see and hear them sing! Jo’s gasp was lost among the cheering that erupted.
Mrs Wilkes silenced everyone with a glare and began to play.
At first Jo was scared to open her mouth so she listened to the voices about her. Some were small, some were loud. Maud nudged her arm. Still unsure, Jo looked at the words on the paper and began hesitantly to join in.
It wasn’t very long before she was listening to herself and marvelling at the sound that was coming from deep within her. After a while she began to feel a little more confident. Her singing seemed to be releasing a tension that had been building inside her. She glanced at Maud, who gave her a wink.
After they’d gone through the sheet, with Mrs Wilkes stopping them every so often to explain how the notes should be interpreted and making them all repeat the verses until she was satisfied, Jo saw the hour and a half had passed very quickly.
Maud said, ‘You’ve got a good alto voice.’
Jo looked confused.
‘Contralto. This side of the room is the altos, that side the sopranos.’ She made a chopping movement in the air with her hand, demonstrating the two halves of the class. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Wilkes won’t let you strain your voice to sing in a key that’s not suitable for you.’
‘Oh!’ said Jo, thinking she’d ask Rainey what exactly Maud had meant when she got home. She looked behind her for her daughter and saw her putting on her coat while chatting animatedly with Ivy and the blonde girl, who had a voluptuous figure.
‘That’s my Bea,’ said Maud, proudly. ‘She’s a bit older than your girl and Ivy but Mrs Wilkes likes them to sit together. Bea joined this group when it first started, then talked me into coming along. Your girl goes to St John’s with Ivy, doesn’t she?’ Before Jo could answer, Maud added, ‘I believe we both live in the same direction so we might as well walk home together.’
Jo nodded. She’d enjoy that. She was just about to say something when Mrs Wilkes planted herself in front of her. ‘How do you feel, Jo? Coming back next week?’
Toto was chasing his tail, not realizing it was the other end of himself. His paws were making clicking noises on the parquet flooring.
‘Oh, yes. I really enjoyed it,’ she said. In fact, she couldn’t remember when she’d last felt so much at ease with herself. It was as if the singing had lifted her and her worries had faded.
‘Well done,’ said Mrs Wilkes. Then she put out her foot and stopped Toto in mid-whirl. ‘Oh, you silly dog,’ she said, and followed it up with a loud warning to all the class: ‘Learn your words by next week!’
Chapter Nine
‘Did Mrs Wilkes get you to sing that stupid song you’ve been learning?’
Rainey stared at the broad-shouldered young man with the mop of blond hair falling over his forehead. Blue eyes twinkled in a tanned face. He was sitting in the threadbare armchair beneath the window, his long legs draped over one arm. On the other lay a book, cover uppermost: Graham Greene’s Brighton Rock .
‘Mind your own business,’ snapped Bea. ‘Don’t take any notice – he’s got a screw loose!’ She twirled a finger against her temple and laughed at Rainey. ‘Simple, is my brother Eddie.’
Maud didn’t pause on her way to the scullery. ‘Stop it, you two. I get fed up with your bickering!’
‘I’ll make the tea, Mum.’ The young man, Eddie, rose fluidly. ‘Just don’t let her pinch my chair.’ Rainey saw Eddie was tall and athletic. He disappeared into the scullery. The smell of dinner still hung in the air.
Bea nipped quickly around the table and sat in the chair her brother had vacated.
He poked his head back around the d
oor. ‘I bet you wouldn’t jump in my grave as quick as that!’
‘Act your age, lad,’ came the throaty voice of an elderly man sitting at the table reading a newspaper. ‘You wouldn’t think two grown kids would squabble so much, would you?’ He pushed his spectacles further up his nose. Rainey saw one arm was fixed with sticking plaster. He was obviously talking to her so she shook her head.
‘Well, sit yourselves down,’ said Maud. She pointed to several chairs around the table and an armchair nearer the fire. ‘Eddie!’ The young man looked into the kitchen. He had a kettle in his hand. ‘Let me introduce you to my son. He’s a builder, and I wish he’d find some nice young girl and settle down to get him out from under my feet.’ She waved towards Rainey and her mother. ‘Rainey, Jo,’ she said. ‘They started at the choir tonight.’ He smiled, nodded in greeting and disappeared again. Rainey heard the clink of cups and saucers.
Maud put her hand on the old man’s shoulder. ‘This is my late husband’s father, Solomon,’ she said, ‘We all call him Granddad.’ Solomon made a mumbling sound. Rainey saw that his hands were shaking as he fiddled with the pages of the newspaper. ‘Sit by the fire and get warm, you two.’ Maud gestured Rainey and Jo to chairs, then explained to Solomon, ‘They live in the next street so I brought them home for a cuppa.’
Rainey watched as her mother squeezed past the table to sit in the armchair. Jo nodded at everyone but Rainey sensed she was out of her depth and patted her hand. Maud had suggested on the way home that the two of them come in and meet her family, and Rainey knew Jo hadn’t had it in her to refuse.
The old man was breathing heavily as he hauled himself to his feet. He turned towards the scullery.
Rainey heard Eddie say, ‘You want me to come down to the privy with you, Granddad? It’s slippery out.’
Maud’s lavatory, like Jo and Rainey’s, was at the bottom of the garden.
‘I can walk there. What am I – a baby?’
The back-door latch clicked and a blast of cold air found its way into the warm kitchen before the door banged shut again.
‘You’ll have to excuse Granddad. We love him dearly but he went through the Great War and the gas got him.’ Maud paused. ‘Not only that, but his nerves are shot to pieces. His nightmares are terrible.’ She raised her hands, warming them by the fire. ‘He came to live with us when his wife died but there’s not room for us all in this place. Squashed in like sardines we are. Eddie has to share the front room with him. There’s no way Granddad can manage the stairs. Me and Bea got the bedrooms.’
Rainey heard her mother making sympathetic noises as Maud continued, ‘The council are building new homes in Gosport and we’ve got our name on the list but now with this damn war the men are going in the services and all the building’s slowed down. Even materials are getting scarce. My Eddie knows all about that – he’s had to let men go.’
As if on cue Eddie appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray containing a brown teapot, crockery, milk and sugar. He set it on the table. ‘Can someone else see to this? I’d best go down and make sure the daft ol’ bugger hasn’t fallen on the ice.’ Rainey could tell by the gentle way he spoke about his grandfather that he cared deeply for him. Eddie stared at her, as if noticing her for the first time. ‘Sorry I didn’t greet you properly before.’
‘It’s all right,’ Rainey said. ‘If I hadn’t come here you’d still be sitting reading in your favourite chair.’
Bea cut in: ‘After you’ve drunk your tea do you want to come up to my bedroom?’
Rainey wasn’t sure how to answer that, but as Eddie turned to leave he said, ‘Don’t let her start singing up there!’ And then he was gone. Maud was setting out the cups and saucers.
Bea grabbed hold of Rainey. ‘We’ll have our tea later.’
Rainey heard Maud ask Jo, ‘You didn’t say how you washed up here in Gosport? Unmarried mum, are you?’
‘Something like that.’ Jo’s reply was quick.
As Rainey trudged up the steep stairs after Bea, she decided if that was what Maud thought, she’d go along with the story. After all, neither she nor her mother could tell the exact truth in case her father came looking for them. And Jo had had Rainey very young, so what other answer could there be? Her wedding ring was no protection against rumour.
At the top of the stairs, Bea said, ‘I haven’t closed the blackout curtains.’ Rainey waited outside the back bedroom until the light went on, then followed Bea inside.
It was of a similar size to her own but there the resemblance ended. A double bed covered with a candlewick bedspread was unmade. Dresses hung from the dado rail. Underwear was piled on a chair near the bed. A mirror was propped on the top of a chest of drawers and face powder spilled from a compact onto the wooden surface, mingling with glass earrings and necklaces. Used to austerity as she was, Bea’s room reminded Rainey of Aladdin’s cave. The air was heavy with perfume. Rainey thought it was the loveliest bedroom she’d ever seen – and gasped when she spotted the portable gramophone perched on a kitchen chair by the side of the bed.
She pounced on the pile of records beneath the chair. Decca, Victor, Parlophone, Columbia, most were foxtrots and swing. The record on the turntable of the red HMV 102 was Count Basie’s ‘Swing, Swing, Swing’.
‘I’d love one of these,’ said Rainey. ‘Can’t afford it, though.’
‘I didn’t buy it,’ said Bea. ‘I get good money at Woolies but it doesn’t last long. It was my birthday present from Eddie.’ Bea picked up the little tin of gramophone needles and shook it.
Rainey ran her fingers over the handle that wound the machine. ‘But I thought you and your brother hated each other.’
‘Don’t be daft!’ Bea was laughing at her. ‘We’re the best of friends. We just like teasing each other. I’ll really miss him when he leaves home.’
‘And is he going soon?’
‘Probably not. Just when I think he’s serious about some girl, it all blows up in his face.’
Rainey laughed. They were a lovely family, she thought. ‘Can you play a record?’
Bea looked towards the alarm clock, then shook her head. ‘Best not. It’s getting late and I’m supposed to be on my best behaviour. Don’t want the neighbours banging on the wall because of the noise.’
Rainey glanced at the clock, too. It was almost ten. ‘Me and Mum ought to go,’ she said.
Bea shrugged her shoulders. ‘Before you do, take a look at this.’ From a top drawer she pulled out some papers. ‘Mrs Wilkes has had me and Ivy learning this one. It’s originally an old English folk song. She said it might even be Russian. She’s been wanting another voice to harmonize with us. She’ll pick you, I know she will.’ She tossed her long curls away from her face. Rainey wondered if Bea knew how pretty she was. Betty Grable! Yes, that was who Bea reminded her of.
‘I can’t start learning anything until Mrs Wilkes asks me . . . if she does.’
‘Shall I sing it through for you?’ Once more Bea didn’t wait for an answer. She sat down on the bed beside Rainey, and although she held the paper in her hand, she didn’t look at it.
‘Where the bluebird goes, I will follow
Out in the rain
No one knows . . .’
Bea sang softly and with such feeling the words brought tears to Rainey’s eyes. Bea’s were closed, as if she’d been transported somewhere she had always wanted to be.
When she stopped singing, she opened her eyes and said, ‘With Ivy’s husky voice in my ear I feel like I’m far away and so happy and sad at the same time I could burst.’ She gazed at Rainey. ‘I expect you think I’m silly for saying that.’
Rainey found her voice. ‘No, no. Oh, the words say exactly how I sometimes feel.’ She knew the tune would haunt her. ‘I hope I’ll be asked to sing with you.’
‘Of course you will! Why d’you think she wanted you to join the choir?’
For a moment there was silence.
‘You really think so?’ Rainey loved to sing. Her
mother said she’d been born singing. And for the first time in her life someone, Mrs Wilkes, actually believed she could sing!
Bea pushed the words at her. ‘Take this and learn them. I already know them.’
Rainey held the paper. ‘It’s a bit different from the stuff we sang tonight, isn’t it? Could even be sort of swingy, jazzed up a little.’
‘Mrs Wilkes is a surprising woman. What we sang tonight is only a little of what she’s had us learning. Like she said, now it’s coming up to Christmas she wants us to sing in front of people, and any money we make will go to good causes.’
‘Rainey, we have to go now. Good thing we never poured out your teas, they would have been wasted!’ Her mother’s voice came up the stairs.
Rainey turned to Bea. ‘Oh, I have enjoyed myself tonight, and with you, Bea. Thank you. I think you and I are going to be good friends, and Ivy, of course.’ Impulsively she threw her arms around the older girl, hugging her tightly.
Bea said, ‘I’d like that. Ivy’s great but she’s always got her nose in a book, studying, and you can’t prise her away from the café, only if it’s for something very special.’
Rainey ran down the stairs, the song sheet folded in her pocket, happier than she’d felt in a long time.
Chapter Ten
‘I wish we had presents to give everyone.’
‘Mum, the crackers are for everybody and so is the mock apricot flan.’ Rainey paused. ‘Those carrots, mixed with the last of the jam and some almond essence, really do taste like apricots. And don’t forget the potato shortbread.’ Rainey’s boss had presented her with a box of vegetables as a Christmas bonus.
‘I suppose so,’ Jo said. ‘But it’s not like giving everyone a proper present.’ Jo hated being unable to afford gifts. ‘I was lucky to find that market trader selling crackers so cheaply – there were only a few boxes left. People are stockpiling everything for when rationing comes in. This Christmas is only an imitation of the one we had last year when there was more money . . .’ She shivered. The sun was shining but it was very cold on Christmas morning.
