‘I find it easier not to argue,’ she whispered back.
‘Who is it?’ A voice from the back of the house asked.
‘Johnny, Johnny Castle,’ he shouted back.
‘Don’t be long then. It’s blowing a gale through this kitchen.’
‘Sorry. I only brought some sweets for Josie and Marie, and I thought I might read to them again.’
‘Sorry Johnny, but they’re in bed. Only on Fridays are they allowed a late bedtime as a sort of treat.’
‘Oh, well, I really came to see you, to ask if there’s anything you need. I might be able to get a bit of firewood from where I work, if you need it. You know, boxes the goods are delivered in that are only thrown to the rubbish or burned in the yard.’
‘Thank you; I’m often a bit short of sticks to start the fire.’
‘Is there anything else? I mean, if you have a problem you only have to ask and I’ll sort it.’
He stood close to her, feeling the warmth of her filling his body in a way he had never experienced before. ‘I didn’t really call to ask about firewood,’ he whispered, staring at her, willing her to feel the same as he did, wanting to gather her in his arms, make everything right for her, smoothing the tiredness from her gentle face.
‘Johnny, I like you a great deal and I love the way you are with the children, but don’t make the mistake of thinking there could be anything more.’ She touched his face and then stepped away, backwards towards the door, and stood there waiting for him to leave.
‘I think I’m falling in love with you, Hannah.’
‘How old are you, twenty-one? I’m almost thirty. I’m divorced – disgraced according to some. I have two children. You need someone younger so you can start at the beginning and write your own story.’
‘Why do I feel this way if it’s wrong?’
‘It isn’t wrong. It’s never wrong to love someone, but I’m not the right one to accept that honour. Thank you for being such a wonderful friend to the three of us. We will stay friends, won’t we? I haven’t driven you away by my frankness?’
‘You haven’t driven me away,’ he said as he left.
He walked swiftly from her door and headed away from the town and out into the dark anonymity of the lanes. He felt a little foolish but that passed and he thought seriously about how he felt. The moon was almost done and he could hardly see where he was going. Once or twice he stopped to get his bearings and eventually found himself at the edge of the field in which the barn stood, just visible, a bulky black shadow looming out of the darkness.
He smelled smoke and wandered, feeling his way with care across the hummocky grass and the unevenness caused by cattle, hard now in the grip of frost. He was led by curiosity. He hadn’t seen any gypsies, but it must be them, back for their winter stay, choosing a different field by choice or necessity. He moved closer, expecting every moment that one of their dogs would bark. The caravan was close and he went to stand in its shadow, then realised that the smoke was coming from its chimney. Not the gypsies then.
He heard someone approaching, walking fast, confidently, a thin torchbeam pointing at the ground, and he stood back not wanting to be seen. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, he needed to memorise every word Hannah had said to him; relive it, gather comfort by altering, in his mind, the tone of her replies.
* * *
Irene Castle was waiting for Morgan. The evening was raw, with frost already glistening on branches as she had made her way to and from the woodpile and fed the fire she had lit in the caravan. Once it was burning satisfactorily she went outside. She didn’t bother to put on her coat but walked a little way to see if she could hear Morgan coming. She got as far as the lane and turned back, hugging herself to contain her shivers, anticipating the warm fire waiting for her. She didn’t see her son hiding in the shadows but he saw and recognised her.
‘Mam? What on earth are you doing out here, and without a coat?’
‘Johnny!’ The name came out as a scream as she came upon him.
‘Have you been following me?’ she asked as she quickly recovered.
She continued to shout loudly, her voice high and shrill. Morgan had to be warned if he was in the vicinity.
‘I came out for a walk and my feet just led me here. But what are you doing and where’s your coat?’ He took off his overcoat and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Her shoulders drooped and she said, ‘I don’t know why I’m here. I just had to get out of the house. Your father’s working at the chip shop and won’t be back till eleven, Taff has moved out and you’re never there. What am I supposed to do with my time?’ She still shouted and he tried to soothe her, leading her carefully away from the caravan across the field and on to the level surface of the lane.
‘Come home, Mam, and we’ll sort something out. Evelyn and Taff will come and stay with you sometimes and I don’t have to be out every night, do I? Once this concert is over, Eirlys and I will enjoy a night in with you, listening to the wireless, playing cards.’
He went on talking to her, telling her about the concert preparations and relating stories about the three evacuees. She walked beside him, saying nothing and from the hedge Morgan watched them disappear into the dark November night. He had made an excuse to change his shift from eight hours to four, something, the foreman warned him, that very soon wouldn’t be allowed. He had finished at six instead of ten for nothing.
* * *
Stanley found it a simple business to push open the door of the greengrocer where Johnny’s cousin Beth Castle worked. The door was old and the lock poorly fitted. One good shove and the weakened wood offered no resistance.
He had heard people talk about float and understood it meant that some money was left in the till ready to start the following day. He didn’t think it would be much, but a pound was all he needed to keep his mother safe for a week or two. He found fifteen shillings and pocketed it happily before going to try somewhere else.
He even managed to close the door after him. The damaged wood was pushed into place and he heard the lock click as he pulled on the door knob. ‘Knackered,’ he muttered succinctly.
* * *
Morgan was walking back from the caravan after sitting there for a while wrapped in Irene’s discarded coat and staring into the fire. So long as they weren’t suspected, they could start using the place again in a week or so. Until it was safe, he wondered whether the school caretaker was still careless about locking the door to his room. He had the keys because of his occasional attendance at the ARP meetings. There was an electric fire they could use as long as they were careful to shield its glare, and a comfortable chair.
He was in no real hurry to get home; Annie wouldn’t expect him until after ten and he had told her he might be late, using the excuse that he might join others on ARP business looking for possible sites to station fire-watchers in the event of air raids. He wandered disconsolately through the lanes and back streets of the town.
He was filled with self-pity. He was broke, doing a job he hated, Annie did nothing but remind him of his failures and his daughter was too busy to speak to him.
A shadow separated itself from the dark and he leaned into a hedge and watched as a body emerged from a ground floor window. He ran on tiptoe to intercept the thief, for that was what he must be, leaving a property in such a suspicious manner. A pretty stupid one at that, climbing out where he was in full view from the street.
He was grinning at the story he’d be able to tell as he grabbed the surprisingly small figure and whisked him around to see his face.
‘Stanley! What the hell are you thinking of, boy? Why aren’t you in bed?’ he demanded stupidly. Then, ‘You’ve been thieving again! Do you want to be sent to prison, boy? Is that what you want?’
Stanley tried to run but Morgan held him firmly. ‘What have you been doing, boy?’ he hissed. ‘I thought you’d promised us—’
‘I had to get money so our mum won’t get pushed out and have to sleep
on the pavement, that’s what – and don’t expect me to say sorry, ’cos I ain’t!’
‘You won’t find much money in a shop. They take the money home or put it into the night safe.’
‘The float. I took the float.’ Stanley was still defiant.
‘Pubs, now they’re the places where you’d find money,’ Morgan said with bleak humour.
‘Pubs is where wardens hang about. And they lock and bar them places,’ the expert told him. ‘Shops is easier.’
‘You’ve done this before!’
‘Course I ’ave. Mum’s often broke and I look after her and my brothers.’
‘Pubs might lock up downstairs,’ Morgan said thoughtfully as though to himself. ‘But they don’t worry about upstairs windows, do they? And pubs aren’t the only place worth a visit. We could go to the pictures for the late showing and on the way back—’
‘You mean you’d help me get Mum’s rent?’
‘Let’s say we’ll help each other, is it?’
‘Blimey!’
Since preparations for war had begun in 1938, several stores of food for feeding the army had been set up in the vicinity, and Morgan knew just how to get inside the Nissen hut built close to the perimeter fence. Stanley, long and slim, was just the right person for the job.
The following day Morgan’s shift changed to afternoons and he offered to put the boys to bed so Annie and Eirlys could go to the pictures. When Harold and Percival were asleep, he and Stanley left the house.
Prising up the slightly damaged window was easy. Sammy Richards had unwittingly told him which was the faulty one. Sammy had helped supply the glass for the windows and had noticed the poor fit of several of them. Made of metal, they had warped and no longer fastened properly.
‘Don’t forget, boy,’ Morgan said, repeating his instructions. ‘If there’s any sign of trouble, you run for it and leave the explanations to me, right? Get out of it fast and make sure you’re not seen till you get safely home.’
In less than half an hour, Stanley had handed out half a dozen six-pound tins of corned beef and some tins of ham. Tinned fruit was found in a far corner and after helping the boy out through the window and fixing it as well as they could, they carried the loot in sacks across their shoulders and hid it in an elderly neighbour’s yard until it could be retrieved later.
‘Not a bad night’s work, Stanley my boy,’ Morgan said and promised the boy four half-crowns. ‘Maybe more once I’ve got rid of it. We’ll have no trouble selling this little lot.’
He was dozing when Annie and Eirlys returned. The wireless was playing dance music, the fire blazed cheerfully.
‘Enjoyed a quiet evening then?’ Annie said.
‘Fell asleep I did,’ he said, getting up to make the night-time cups of cocoa.
* * *
Ken Ward arrived on the day of the concert and found accommodation in the same boarding house as Max. He and Max were experienced at producing shows in small halls and the minor problems that developed as curtain-up approached were quickly dealt with. The hall was very overcrowded. Intended to seat forty, Max counted at least fifty-two before the doors were closed for the performance to begin, and he saw them open several more times before the introductory music began.
The excited chatter from the audience was counterbalanced by the hushed nervousness behind the curtains, where Ken confidently organised the adults and children into the order in which they would appear. With a chord on Sammy the carpenter’s accordion, it began.
Five little girls in the dresses made by Hannah sang a few favourites and the audience was encouraged to join in with the chorus. A clown appeared next: Maxie Moon juggling and falling about in the casual way perfected by clowns over hundreds of years. Then a comedy duo with their humour aimed firmly at children so everyone had fun; the children laughing at the entertainment and the adults enjoying the children’s laughter.
As the interval approached, three men came on dressed as rats and sang:
‘Nobody loves a rat, boo hoo, Nobody loves a rat. They’ll cuddle the cat and admire the bat, But nobody loves a rat. Three cheers for the rat!’
‘Boo!’ went the audience.
‘Three cheers for the cat!’
‘Hooray!’ the kids shouted.
‘It’s true what we say, Do what we may, Nobody loves a rat. Boo hoo!’
At that moment there was a commotion at the entrance and the air raid warden came running down the aisle, blowing his whistle and shouting, ‘Put that light out!’
The rats squeaked and began to chase the man around the hall, through the seats and out of the door.
‘Three cheers for the rat!’
‘Hooray,’ the laughing audience shouted.
* * *
Stanley was not in the audience. He had made his excuses to his brothers, promising them a Cadbury’s chocolate bar if they didn’t give him away, and made his way to the corner of Sidney Street where Morgan was waiting for him.
After repeating his instructions to run for it if there was any sign of trouble, Morgan led him to a small window at the back of the newsagent run by Mrs Hetty Downs and her daughter Shirley. Both women were out as, having given a contribution to the concert fund, they had decided they were entitled to see it and had gone to the hall determined to bluff their way inside with several others.
As the ‘rats’ were giving an encore, Morgan was entering through the door opened by the lithe Stanley after he had slipped in through the window.
It wasn’t difficult to find the day’s takings and it was a sizeable sum. With cigarettes and sweets as well as newspapers being sold, they guessed the leather bag used at weekends to put the money in the bank would be full.
Morgan cut the bag open, intending to put it under some rubbish in the allotments as they went home, and Stanley excitedly watched, imagining his mum’s face when she saw the money he was going to present to her one day soon.
The sound, when it came, was slight and for a moment neither of them reacted. Then they realised that someone was pushing against the front door of the shop.
‘They’ve come home early!’ Morgan gasped. ‘They didn’t get in after all.’
He didn’t have to tell Stanley to run. The boy pushed the door shut, locked it and pocketed the key before he wriggled out through the window with Morgan close on his heels. The original plan was for Morgan to use the door and Stanley to lock it after him and escape by the window. Stanley didn’t stop to think, he ran.
Morgan listened and the sound seemed to have stopped. Someone sheltering, that was all. Where was the boy? Dammit. Now he’d have to leave the door open and their theft would be discovered straight away, when the police did their usual check of shop doors. No breathing space until the morning as he had hoped.
It was then he realised that the door was locked. He was trapped unless he could break the door down. Panic began to rise and he looked around him, wondering if there was another way out. Perhaps the shop door? But he couldn’t get out of the store room.
He looked at the window and wondered if he could get through. Pushing it closed after him would mean no one would notice before Mrs Downs and her daughter Shirley opened up in the morning. He wasn’t all that big; it was worth a try, especially when he thought of the alternative.
He stretched up and began to climb on to a cupboard. But overcome by curiosity he looked inside. It was full of cigarettes packs of 200 Player’s Weights, Park Drive, Kensitas with ‘four for your friends’, Woodbines, Du Maurier, Player’s Navy Cut and Wills’ Capstan. And, utterly irresistible, pink, elegant packets of Passing Cloud. He grabbed three cartons, stuffed one into his inside pocket and held the others under his arms and tried to slide out of the window.
He managed to get half-way out by throwing the cartons on to the yard below the window but when he greedily went back for more cigarettes he fell. His foot went under him and all his weight pressed on it. He tried to stand but the pain was frightening. There was no escape. He would be here w
hen Mrs Downs opened up in the morning. His deepest fear was having to explain to Annie.
Stanley, meanwhile, hurried back to his seat and at once joined in with the rest, singing loudly, ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary.’
Morgan was writhing on the floor behind the shop, holding his ankle, cursing his stupidity, and Stanley laughed louder than the rest, making sure people remembered he had been there, blissfully ignorant of what had happened.
In the aisle the audience stood to dance to ‘Knees Up Mother Brown’ and sat again while Max the clown played and sang a silly song about a lazy hen, standing up at one point to reveal an egg on the piano stool, to the delight of the children.
The applause was rowdy and it took a while to empty the hall. Max and Eirlys and Johnny and the others stood exhausted and declared themselves satisfied. Outside, Stanley looked for Morgan.
When they reached home, having been met by Annie, there was no sign of him.
Stanley said he had left his new cap at the hall and before Annie could tell him not to, he was out, running down the dark streets to the newsagent. If Morgan hadn’t got out, he’d be trapped. Mrs Downs and her daughter Shirley were on their way home for certain now.
Racing past the hall he was relieved to see that groups of chattering people still stood around, reluctant for the evening to end. Jumping over fences and skirting through gardens to save time he reached the shop, clambered up and called through the window.
‘I can’t get out, boy, my ankle’s busted I think.’
‘I’ll go for help.’
‘NO!’ Morgan shouted. ‘Get me out of here, and fast!’
Taking the key from his pocket, thankful he hadn’t thrown it away as they had intended, Stanley unlocked the back door and, with Morgan grimacing at every move, managed to help him out of the building and into a nearby lane.
‘Now you can go for help,’ Morgan groaned. ‘Fetch young Johnny Castle, he’s sure to be with our Eirlys.’
Holidays at Home Omnibus Page 13
