All Fall Down

by Jenny Oldfield

  ‘You and her ain’t had a barney?’

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  He looked closely at her. ‘Never mind about her, Meg. She blows hot and cold. You ain’t crying, are you?’

  She tried not to. ‘I thought she liked me!’

  ‘She does.’ He stopped and drew her into a doorway. All the neon signs were dead in the blackout, all the street lamps and shop windows. ‘Don’t cry.’

  ‘I dropped in ever so often while you were away, and she’s always been a brick to me until now. Why don’t she like me no more?’

  ‘What’s she said?’ He stroked her hair, waiting for her to stop.

  ‘It ain’t what she’s said . . .’

  ‘Take no notice. And listen, we ain’t gonna let it spoil our night, are we?’ He pulled her round. ‘That’s it. It’s us that counts, you and me. I’m here, ain’t I?’

  ‘And shall we still go ice-skating tomorrow?’

  He laughed. ‘Is that what you want?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘What then?’

  For answer she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him long and hard. He held her tight, then cradled her head between his hands. He kissed her cheeks, her eyes, her lips. These were kisses that she’d never given or received before. ‘You do love me?’

  He breathed deeply then went on kissing her, his lips closing over her mouth, his hands on her neck, slipping down between her coat and her soft cream dress. Her head went back against the cold stone of the door arch, she gasped and let her hands fall to her sides.

  ‘Meggie—’ He stopped and buried his face against her, his voice deep and soft. His fingers touched her breasts outside the dress, slid over them, and she let him, astonished, scared, completely given over to the sensations he aroused. ‘I dream about you. I want you.’

  He carried her along on a wave of intimacy. She let him undo the buttons at the neck of her dress, felt the cold air against her shoulder, though he shielded her from the street by pressing her deep into the shadowy doorway. He pulled the straps down from her shoulder, pushed the underthings from her breast. Soon he put his mouth against it and again she gave way. She was helpless to stop him.

  Only, in one tiny part of her consciousness, she knew they stood in a doorway, that this was not how she wanted it to happen, that she would feel cheap, and she had been told that she, the woman, had the power to say no. She wanted him to go on, clung to his strong shoulders, then lifted his face to kiss him again. But she began to whisper, ‘No, not here, not now,’ until he heard and hid his face in her hair and let her cover herself He wrapped her coat around her, saying sorry, he had lost control and now she would think badly of him.

  It was her turn to stroke his head, to comfort him. ‘We both did. I love you. How can I think badly of you?’

  ‘I want us to be together,’ he pleaded. ‘Now more than ever. But I want it all to be above board.’

  ‘Then we’d best wait.’ Everything was clear; they loved each other and they would go one step at a time. ‘You call on me tomorrow,’ she suggested, stopping to kiss him in between organizing the practical things. ‘Meet my ma and step-pa and little brothers.’

  ‘Will they want to?’ He was still subdued, not convinced that he hadn’t overstepped the mark.

  ‘They’ll be head over heels the minute they clap eyes on you, just like me! Geoff and Bertie will drop the RAF. They’ll be first in the queue for the Royal Navy when they see you in uniform!’

  They planned as they walked, trying to cram everything into his two days on shore. He would come to the house in Paradise Court to impress the boys. Then he would take her to a proper dance hall. The day after she would try for a morning off work so as to see him off back to Plymouth. Then it would be who knew how long before they could meet again.

  ‘Don’t think about that,’ he whispered. They stood in the deserted street outside the Duke. On their walk across the river they’d scarcely noticed the scars of war, scarcely listened for the sirens or bothered to watch out for the nearest shelter. They had eyes and ears only for each other as they parted at last; Meggie to surprise her mother by knocking on the door at one in the morning, Ronnie to wander back across the Thames, watching its cold, black waters flow silent and swift.

  The next night, while Meggie and Ronnie danced to the Big Band sound, others gathered at the Duke to discuss the merits of her new young man.

  ‘Very nicely turned out.’ Annie set her seal of approval. Ronnie had switched on the charm for her, she could see that. Still, she seemed set on seeing him in the best possible light.

  ‘He ain’t a bleeding horse,’ Dolly said sourly. Charlie was making a good recovery from his injuries and she and Dorothy had patched up their differences to arrange a rota of hospital visits, but she still found the journey wearisome without a regular bus or tram service. Amy couldn’t always ask Rob to give her a lift, and today had been one of the days when Dolly had struggled there and back on foot. ‘You say he’s nicely turned out as if he’s a carthorse for the brewery.’ Aside from anything else, she was annoyed at having missed this glorious specimen.

  ‘You know what I mean, Dolly.’ Annie gave no quarter, just because Dolly had a son seriously wounded in hospital. ‘Ronnie Elliot is well set-up; nice manners, the lot. Ain’t he, Ett?’

  Hettie nodded from behind the bar.

  ‘If I had to pick a first beau for Meggie myself, he’s the very one I’d have gone for!’

  ‘Blimey!’ Dolly evidently thought this too good to be true.

  ‘Not too pushy, not too shy. And he thinks the world of her.’ Annie smiled. ‘Anyone can see that. Mind you, don’t bother asking Sadie, about him. She’s clammed up on the subject.’

  ‘Didn’t she take to him, then?’

  ‘I never said she didn’t take to him.’ Annie was a scrupulous observer of the facts. ‘I said she’s clammed up. As soon a she set eyes on him, I could tell she was taking a back seat. She just shakes his hand and sits there very quiet, while the boys jump all over him and fire questions at him. He seemed not to notice Sadie. But I did, and Meggie did.’

  ‘Maybe he ain’t good enough?’ Dolly brought up her oft-expressed notion that Sadie could be a snob. ‘I once mentioned Jimmie O’Hagan’s name in the same breath as Meggie’s, and I swear, if looks could have killed . . .’

  ‘Another half, Dolly?’ Hettie came and cut her off. She gathered glasses from Dolly, Rob and Walter, who stood nearby. ‘You two took to him straight off, didn’t you?’

  Rob, not much interested, said yes for a quiet life. ‘How’s your Charlie?’ He asked Dolly.

  ‘On the mend. He’s moaning about the book I took him to read, so he must be.’

  ‘And a little bird tells me that you and Dorothy have called a truce?’ Adroitly Annie stepped in again. ‘A New Year’s resolution?’

  While Dolly took a long drink, Rob leaned sideways to speak to Jimmie. ‘Like the ceasefire in the bleeding trenches,’ he whispered.

  ‘That might be putting it a bit strong,’ Dolly sniffed. ‘But I’m willing to admit that even Dorothy will fight on the beaches when it comes to it. You might not think it to look at her.’

  ‘I hear you’ve got her to thank for Charlie living to fight another day.’ Annie insisted. ‘She ruined a perfectly good jacket and all.’

  ‘Talk of the devil,’ Jimmie said to Rob, loud enough for everyone to hear. All heads turned as the door swung open.

  ‘Look what the cat dragged in!’ Dorothy announced gaily. She stood holding the door open, waiting. ‘I just met him on the street.’

  ‘That makes her the cat, then.’ Nothing would lessen Jimmie’s loathing. Dorothy waltzed in, dressed up in her purple and black costume, fresh from visiting Charlie in his sick bed.

  ‘Come on, Bill, come in and have a drink with the old crowd. Edie ain’t gonna run away while you get a couple of drinks down your neck!’ She pulled him by the arm. ‘Annie, how about a nice big whisky for Bill Morell?
That’s your favourite tipple, ain’t it?’

  There was a silence. Bill came in and nodded to Rob, cap in hand. The gold braid at his cuffs, the crisp white shirt and dark tie set off his sallow features. Although balding and heavy, he carried himself with authority. He accepted the drink with perfunctory politeness and downed it in one.

  ‘Edie never said you had a spot of leave due.’ Dorothy kept her voice raised, clinging onto the impact of their unexpected entrance.

  Dolly muttered under her breath, ready to do battle on Charlie’s behalf if Dorothy so much as sidled up to Morell. But Annie put a hand on her arm and warned her to listen.

  ‘I don’t suppose Edie tells you all her business.’ His lack of courtesy made it plain that it was the drink, not Dorothy’s company, that had waylaid him en route to the flat.

  ‘No, but word usually gets round.’ She perched on a stool next to him, crossing her legs and waiting until he produced a light for her cigarette.

  ‘It came up; just twenty-four hours.’ He remained surly, monosyllabic, but he obliged with the match.

  ‘Hardly worth it, I would’ve thought.’

  ‘That depends.’ A knowing smile crossed his lips.

  ‘So Edie don’t know you’re here?’ She sounded amused and looked round for back-up, making sure to shoot a sharp glance at Jimmie.

  ‘No, it’s a nice surprise for her.’ The smile vanished. ‘Or does that depend too?’

  ‘She’ll be thrilled.’ Dorothy played along. At last Jimmie had the sense to slope out of the bar. Annie stared grim-faced at Bill, while Hettie vanished quietly upstairs. Even Dolly was lost for words.

  ‘Well, you have to grab your chance.’ He accepted another drink, which Annie poured smartly, then stepped back. The second whisky went the way of the first, he reached for his hat and pat it on. ‘Thanks for the welcoming committee, Dorothy.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure, Bill.’ They held their breath as they watched him go.

  ‘Stone the crows!’ Dolly was the first to jump in. ‘Where’s Tommy and Edie now, does anyone know?’

  They didn’t, not for sure. But it was a fair bet that since it was a cold, foggy evening, they would be sitting pretty, or worse, behind the closed doors of Edie’s flat.

  ‘I hope Jimmie gets there double-quick.’ Annie shook herself back into action.

  ‘Have a whisky yourself, Dorothy.’ Rob stepped up to volunteer. ‘And don’t go stirring up trouble with Amy,’ he warned his mother-in-law. ‘This is one pal buying another a drink, that’s all. And if anyone ever deserved it, it’s Dot!’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Edie struggled for calm. She imagined she could stop the nightmare; that she could will herself to wake up and begin the whole sequence again. She would be sitting by the wireless with Tommy, Jimmie wouldn’t come knocking at the door and Bill wouldn’t be treading nearer with every step.

  ‘I ain’t moving a muscle!’ Tommy had insisted.

  Jimmie’s burst of swearing had forced her into action. ‘No. You go, I’ll stay here and face him.’

  ‘I ain’t leaving you here by yourself.’

  ‘You are, Tommy. It’s up to me. I’ve got to break it to him. Jimmie, you take Tommy with you and thanks for the tip-off.’

  Jimmie picked up his brother’s jacket and flung it at him. ‘Get a move on, for God’s sake!’

  ‘It ain’t right,’ Tommy had protested time and again. ‘I ain’t used to sneaking off. Let me stay and face the music.’

  ‘Yes, and get your head ripped off while you’re at it,’ Jimmie said. ‘Come on, let’s beat it.’

  ‘Go!’ Edie’s panic rose as she pictured the scene. ‘I know how to handle him. Leave it to me.’

  ‘If he lays a finger on you—’

  ‘He won’t.’

  ‘I’ll be at the Duke if you need me.’

  At last she’d managed to convince him. After he’d gone with Jimmie, she ran round the flat hiding all signs of his presence, amazed at her own cool eye for detail; the toothbrush in the tooth-glass, Tommy’s shaving-kit. She threw his shirts into the laundry basket, moved his brand of cigarettes from the mantelpiece.

  Now Bill stood outside the door. She put her hand across her mouth to stifle a whimpering cry. Could she trust herself to carry it off, to come out with the truth fair and square? Bill, it’s all over between us.

  His key turned and he stepped inside. ‘Surprise!’

  A cry escaped her. Her eyes widened, she backed away from the door.

  ‘Jesus, Edie, I ain’t a bleeding ghost.’ He took off his hat, flung it onto a chair and stared round the room. ‘Looks like you got off pretty light.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re in apple-pie order compared with some poor blighters down the corridor.’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ She tried to compose herself, taking a deep breath and smoothing the sides of her skirt with her palms. ‘I never expected you, Bill.’

  ‘I never expected me neither.’ His gaze rested on her. ‘My leave came up at the last minute, so I hopped on the train and here I am. Come here.’

  As he moved towards her, unbuttoning his jacket, she smelt the whisky on his breath. She needed to speak up this minute, this second, but he overwhelmed her. He moved in and held her tight, looking dispassionately at the way she had her hair pinned up, smudging his thumb over her lipstick.

  ‘You must be hungry.’ She stepped back, careful to keep her eyes fixed on his face.

  He refused to let go, but allowed her to keep her distance. ‘You smell nice, Edie.’

  She pulled away.

  ‘And you look nice.’ He appraised her white blouse with its neat Peter Pan collar, her short, slim black skirt.

  ‘It’s what I wore for work today.’ She put up a hand to tidy her hair.

  ‘No, let it down.’ He moved around the back of her and circled her waist. ‘Go on, you know I like you with your hair down.’

  Reluctantly she bent her head forward and took out the pins. She shook it loose, knowing that this was a preliminary to Bill taking her into the bedroom. She must speak out. ‘Listen – let me fix you something to eat first.’ She unfurled his interlocking fingers from her waist and managed to twist free. ‘I got some bacon in the pantry saved from last week’s ration, as it happens.’

  He looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘Bacon?’

  ‘I’ll fry it up for you, shall I?’

  The obscene reply, muttered through clenched teeth, made her close her eyes. Then she opened them in an effort to outstare him. ‘Does that mean you don’t want nothing to eat?’

  ‘Bingo.’ Instead he pulled out a crushed packet of cigarettes and lit one. ‘What’s up with you? Why are you acting all jumpy?’

  ‘I’m not. I just got a bit of a shock when you walked in. I don’t get many callers as a rule.’ Now, she thought; now was the time to tell him about Tommy.

  He sank into an easy-chair, legs sprawled, inhaling deeply. ‘Is that why you ain’t given me much of a welcome?’

  ‘I wish you’d telephoned me at work.’

  ‘Hoity-toity. Well, I didn’t. Have I gone and ruined your plans for the evening?’

  ‘It’s not that.’ She gathered herself together and began to rearrange her hair. The action seemed to annoy him. He stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette. ‘It’s a mystery to me why they can’t give you more notice when you get shore-leave.’

  ‘What, and tell the whole bleeding U-boat fleet when the ship’s due in dock?’ Still he followed her with suspicious eyes.

  ‘I suppose.’ She would be normal. She would wait until her nerves had settled, then she would make a clean breast.

  ‘Where are you off to?’

  She paused in the kitchen doorway. ‘To make you a cup of tea.’

  ‘Ain’t you got nothing stronger in the house?’ He went to the sideboard, to the cupboard where any liquor would be kept. He found whisky, gin and port; presents from Tommy. ‘Proper little distillery.’ He dragged down th
e corners of his mouth.

  ‘Left over from Christmas. I got it in for you in case you got home on leave.’

  ‘But I didn’t, did I?’

  She shook her head, mesmerized by his actions. He moved with exaggerated fatigue, rolling his head to ease a stiff neck, pouring a refill into his glass to chase the first swig of whisky.

  ‘Worse luck.’ He drank again. ‘I said, worse luck.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Sound as if you mean it for once.’ As he moved in this time, the bottle swinging from his hand, it was obvious that he didn’t intend to let her go. ‘I want to hear you say how much you missed me, Edie. What sort of Christmas was it, all on your ownio? No one to hang up your stocking with.’ He breathed over her, pawing her with his free hand.

  ‘Bill!’

  ‘What?’ He pushed her against the back of the sofa, making her arch away from him. Overbalancing, his weight tipped against her and they both fell over the back of the seat onto the cushions. Edie lay crushed beneath him. At first she struggled, but knew this would only make him worse. He fumbled and wrenched at the pearl buttons on her blouse.

  ‘Careful, you’ll spill the whisky!’ She tried to slide sideways onto the floor, but he was too heavy.

  ‘Have some.’ He put the neck of the bottle against her lips. ‘Go on, relax. Have a drink and keep me company.’

  If she kept her lips closed he would have let the whisky spill and trickle down onto her chin and neck. So she took a gulp, felt it burn her throat, glad that at least he then had the sense to put the bottle to one side.

  But it was only to free his hand so that he could tear at her clothes, pulling her blouse up, roughly rubbing his mouth against her skin. She was sickened by his lips, the coarse scrape of his bristled chin.

  He took her without consent, without affection, as a right a husband might exercise over an unwilling wife, eyes closed and pushing towards the climax that would evade him if he once stopped to treat Edie as a person in her own right. Her distress excited him, and he answered it with brute force, leaving her with only one option; to submit in order to get it over with. She felt sick and full of loathing; this heavy man pressing down on her, the buckle of his belt scraping against her hip, not caring, and herself too cowardly to tell him the truth, that she didn’t and never would want him any more. Words choked and died in her throat. She could only sob and turn her face to one side and wait.