by Carol Rivers
‘You can. On my next leave.’
‘When’s that?’
‘Can’t say, yet.’
Molly saw Mark scuff a tear from his cheek with his sleeve. She knew he was trying to be brave.
‘Promise you’ll come back for us?’
‘Promise.’ Andy stood up and looked at Evie. ‘Be a good girl for Molly, won’t you?’
‘Where’s you goin’?’
‘Back to me ship. But not for long.’
‘Have you ever ridden a bicycle?’ Molly asked Mark, hoping that she could make this parting feel like more of an adventure.
‘No.’
‘Well, your dad will sit Evie in the basket on the front and you can ride on the saddle. Hold tightly to my shoulders as I push the bike along.’
With Andy’s help, Molly soon had the children sitting comfortably.
As they parted, she smiled at the tall, gaunt-looking man with his anxious expression. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after them. Good luck.’
‘You too, Molly.’ He hesitated, smiling back uncertainly. ‘I dunno what to say. Just thanks – again.’
He stood and watched as she pushed the bicycle slowly across the road. When she reached the other side, she glanced over her shoulder.
Andy Miller was gone.
The journey home took much longer than Molly thought it would. The bike, fully laden, was heavy and it took all her strength to keep it steady. She tried to avoid the potholes and bumps, but the wheels seemed to find them anyway.
When at last they arrived at Chalk Wharf, Molly stopped to catch her breath. The air was thick with salty brine from the river and smoke from the factories and the breeze washed it freshly against their faces. Boatmen and factory workers strolled along the cobbled paths, taking their lunchtime break, and to Molly’s relief the skies overhead, though filled with the ugly shapes of the grey barrage balloons on their long ropes, were empty of aircraft.
‘Can I walk now?’ Mark asked and she helped him down from the saddle.
‘I know you miss your dad,’ Molly said touching his shoulder. ‘But it won’t be long before he’s home.’
Mark looked up at her with his dark, sad eyes. ‘He ain’t coming home. He’s gonna get drowned.’
Molly was taken aback. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Me mum.’
‘Why would she say such a thing, Mark?’
‘Cos lots of sailors drown. They sink down to the bottom of the sea and the fish eat ’em up.’
Molly was very shocked by this idea that Stella had planted in her son’s head. ‘Your dad isn’t going to drown, Mark. He’s got you and Evie to come home for.’
‘I’m ’ungry,’ said Evie from the basket, rattling its wicker sides.
She looked down at Mark who still seemed very unhappy. ‘Do you think you can find the way from here?’ she asked. ‘If you walk in front of us you can spot all the holes first.’
As they walked slowly on, Molly wondered what kind of mother Stella could have been to instil such a fear into her child. But then, Stella had been killed in such a tragic way, no wonder his thoughts were centred around people dying.
At last they arrived back at the shop and Mark headed round to the back. Molly followed with the bike and, taking Evie from the basket, they made their way inside.
Everyone stood still as they looked round the glory hole. The tins, bottles and packets were once again strewn over the floor.
‘Cissy!’ Molly exclaimed when she saw her friend sitting on the bottom stair, nursing a bruised eye. ‘What happened?’
‘I fell over, that’s all. Knocked some stuff from the shelves.’
‘Here, let me see.’ Molly bent down and pulled Cissy’s hand from her face. It was quite a shiner and Molly looked at Cissy suspiciously. ‘You fell over?’
‘Yer, sorry about the stuff.’
Molly turned to the children who were staring at Cissy, their eyes wide and alarmed.
‘It’s all right,’ she told them. ‘You can go and play for a few minutes outside. I’ll make something to eat once I’ve bathed Cissy’s eye.’
Molly helped Cissy upstairs and sat her down in the kitchen. ‘So what really happened?’ she said as she ran a rag under the tap.
‘Couldn’t say in front of the kids. Didn’t want to frighten ’em. I found a couple of tearaways nicking your stuff. They clobbered me and ran off.’
‘Oh, Cissy, I’m going to get a bobby.’
Cissy snatched the rag from her hand. ‘Don’t do that, for Gawd’s sake.’
‘Why not? You’ve been assaulted.’
‘The coppers won’t do nothing,’ Cissy protested. ‘Just ask a lot of nosy questions.’
‘This is a nasty injury. Even if I don’t call the law I’ll have to tell Mr Stokes.’ Molly pushed Cissy’s tangled hair from her face.
‘Why?’
‘I’m sure you can give him a description.’
‘Not likely,’ Cissy said emphatically. ‘It was your fault anyway. The back door was open. Anyone could’ve sneaked in. And they did.’
Molly sighed. ‘Yes, you’re right, it was my fault. I was in a hurry to get to the bus station.’
‘What the bloomin’ heck for?’
‘I wanted to find Andy and the children to tell him I’d look after them.’
Cissy sneered at her. ‘Blimey, you are a soft touch!’
‘I wouldn’t say that at all.’ Molly was put out by this comment. After all, she’d offered Cissy a roof over her head too. Did she consider that a soft touch as well?
Cissy screwed up her eyes. ‘Speaking of kids, who’s that little girl and the soldier I clocked in the photographs?’
‘The man in uniform was my husband, Ted, and the little girl our daughter, Emily,’ Molly said as she bathed Cissy’s eye. ‘She wasn’t quite Evie’s age when she died of the flu five years ago.’
Cissy gasped. ‘Blimey, you’ve had it rough, gel. Now I can see why you’ve taken such a shine to these young ’uns. But remember, you’re liable to get hurt when their dad comes back home and takes ’em away. None of my business, of course, it’s up to you what you do with your life.’
Molly knew there was a grain of truth in what Cissy said. So perhaps she was a soft touch after all?
But she just couldn’t help herself . . .
The next few days were very busy as Molly spent time with Mark and Evie, trying to make them feel welcome, while Cissy worked in the shop, cleaning and arranging the shelves and, to Molly’s delight, learning the prices very quickly.
One afternoon Molly took the bus to the public telephone at Poplar. She had decided not to postpone the call to her sister any longer. ‘Lyn, is that you?’ she asked when the pips went and she put her money in.
‘Molly?’ Lyn’s voice was faint. ‘I hope you haven’t telephoned before. We’ve only just come back from staying with Oscar’s parents in Margate.’
‘Did you have a good time?’
‘Yes, we were thoroughly spoiled. How about you and Dad?’
‘I’m afraid it’s not the best of news.’ Molly explained about the explosion that resulted in their father being taken to hospital.
‘Have you talked to the doctor about his leg?’ Lyn asked immediately.
‘I haven’t yet,’ Molly admitted. ‘But the nurses are very good and—’
‘Molly,’ Lyn interrupted patiently, ‘we need to have all the medical facts to hand before we make any decisions.’
‘What decisions?’ Molly asked, feeling inadequate as usual, as though she’d missed something very important.
‘Dad’s no spring chicken. We need to know where the break is and how quickly it will mend. And that bump to his head could mean he’ll require specialized investigation.’
Thereafter followed so many questions that Molly was relieved to hear the pips interrupt their conversation, and as she had no more money with her, she had to ring off. But not before Lyn had told her she would drive down the following week to
get the matter settled.
Molly took a slow walk home, thinking about Lyn and how capable her older sister was. At twenty-nine, two years old than herself, Lyn had been born for leadership, whereas Molly’s natural inclination was to listen and follow orders. That was the pecking order in their growing up, and when Ted came along, Molly had automatically taken a back seat in their marriage. Ted, like Lyn and Dad, was so good at everything. Molly wouldn’t have known how to live any other way.
Well, at least I’ve got the call over, Molly decided as she finally got back to Roper Street. Whatever Lyn wants to do, she’ll have to run it past Dad first, anyway.
At the store, she found Mr Stokes waiting outside. ‘I’ve tried the door but it’s locked,’ he told her. ‘I just came by to tell you I’ve got a couple of beds for those kids you’ve got staying with you. And while I was here I was hoping to have a word with your lodger.’
Molly peered through the window. ‘She must be out.’
‘Never mind, I’ll pop by again.’
‘Thanks, Mr Stokes.’ Molly waited for him to go then went round the back, where she found Cissy hiding in the shadows.
‘Has he gone?’ she asked, creeping out.
‘Yes. But Cissy, why wouldn’t you speak to him?’
‘I told you, I don’t trust uniforms.’
‘Mr Stokes is just the warden. He looks out for everyone in the neighbourhood, that’s all. Without him calling for help on the night the bomb went off, I’d never have got Dad to hospital on me own.’
‘That’s as maybe,’ Cissy muttered, letting them in the back door. ‘But I ain’t you.’
Molly heaved a sigh and decided to change the subject. ‘Next week we’ll go to the market,’ she suggested, thinking this might cheer Cissy up. ‘You desperately need some clothes. And so do the children.’
‘I’m brassic,’ Cissy said as they stood in the glory hole.
‘Not to worry. You can have an advance from your wages.’
‘What wages?’ Cissy demanded. ‘I don’t expect charity.’
‘You’ll earn your keep,’ Molly replied, wondering if all her coaxing was worth the effort. Cissy could be very argumentative when she felt like it. ‘Besides, we have to visit the council offices.’
‘What for?’
‘Mark and Evie and you have to be officially registered with me as temporary residents, and you’ll need coupons and new identity papers. You won’t be able to do anything without them.’
A remark that sent Cissy scuttling away, rudely muttering under her breath once again.
The following Monday, Molly left the children with Jean and managed with some difficulty to persuade Cissy into going to the market.
Cissy sat on the bus with her chin jutting out and a resentful expression. But Molly was not put off. Cissy needed clothes of her own and couldn’t keep borrowing hers. The children also needed jumpers as they had exhausted the supply in the suitcase. It was essential everyone staying at the store was registered with the council but Molly could see it was no use trying to explain to Cissy. The silence on the bus deepened but Molly was resigned to it; she had other concerns on her mind.
What would she say to Lyn, who might call in at the store after she’d visited Dad? What would Lyn be planning in that focused mind of hers? And what was she going to say when she found Cissy and the children living at the flat?
Half an hour later, Molly and Cissy were standing at Cox Street market’s second-hand clothes stall. The hustle and bustle was enjoyable and Cissy finally chose a sensible skirt and two warm blouses to wear under her overall. Having bought clothes for the children too, they set off for the council buildings a ten-minute walk away.
‘They’ll want to know a lot,’ Cissy complained. ‘What am I gonna tell them?’
‘The truth. That you were bombed out, and give them your new address. Tell them you lost everything and need new documents.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To the Food Office on the next floor. Mark and Evie need orange juice, cod liver oil and extra milk supplies.’
‘What a lot of palaver.’
‘Yes, perhaps. But we’ve got to do it.’ Molly marched Cissy right up to the door of the Welfare Department. As she didn’t trust her to stay there, she waited until she was seen. Then she made her way upstairs.
Later, as arranged, they met on the steps outside. ‘Well, how did you get on?’ Molly asked as they walked to the bus stop.
‘Grilled me something rotten,’ complained Cissy. ‘Wanted to know all me private business. Bloody nosy cows.’
‘But did you get your new papers?’
‘Said they’d send me a letter. Got to check up first.’
‘Me too,’ Molly replied as they climbed aboard the bus. ‘They have to try to keep track of people in wartime.’
‘Pity they couldn’t keep track of my old man,’ Cissy growled as they settled themselves on the seats. ‘Never had a tanner off him and I was left with his debts.’
‘Oh dear. He does sound like a bad penny.’
‘Vince was a penny that managed to roll right under the authorities’ noses and into the wide blue yonder.’
Molly didn’t reply. She was beginning to see why Cissy acted so moodily and sounded so bitter. Yet there were just a few moments every now and then when the mask dropped and Molly glimpsed the sensitive, almost childlike person behind it.
‘So you still want me to work for you?’ Cissy demanded after a while. ‘Even though I ain’t got no papers or nothing?’
Molly chuckled. ‘That was our deal.’
Cissy just gave her that long, chin-out, suspicious look as she burrowed down into the collar of her coat, a trademark expression that Molly was quickly becoming accustomed to.
Chapter Eight
On Friday morning there were a few flakes of snow and, even though it was freezing, Cissy insisted on scrubbing the shop floor. At a few minutes past ten, just after Molly had given the children breakfast, Cissy called up the stairs.
‘Someone here for you!’
Molly hurried to see who it was. She immediately recognized the tall figure of Liz Howells and, hurrying across the shop, pulled her into her arms. ‘Liz, how are you? I’m so glad you’re safe.’
‘Nice to see you, gel. I’ve been over me aunt’s gaff at West Ham. What about you?’
‘I’m all right, but Dad’s in hospital with a broken leg. This is Cissy. She’s going to help me in the shop.’
‘Pleased to meet yer, Cissy.’ Liz smiled, pulling down her shapeless grey hat over her long, thin face. She nodded to the ruins across the road. ‘I used to live over there in that pile of ashes.’
Cissy nodded. ‘You got my sympathy, love.’
‘Sorry to hear about your dad, Molly. You opening up again?’
‘Yes, I hope so. Have you any news on Mrs Lockyer?’
‘Afraid she didn’t make it.’
‘Oh, dear.’ Molly fell silent. She’d known the elderly lady almost all her life.
‘Still, you gotta get on with life. I’ve found a room in the next road, Garland Street. So I’ll be back to spend me coupons with you. And I’ll tell everyone I meet to come with me. Swift’s is the best general store this side of the water.’
Molly smiled gratefully. ‘Thanks, Liz. We’ll need all the custom we can get.’ She watched her old friend Liz walk away, her tall, stooped figure passing a woman coming the other way. Unlike Liz, the younger female was elegantly dressed and walked with purpose, as she made her way around the hole in the road that was now cordoned off from pedestrians.
Molly gasped, then hurriedly removed her overall and pressed down her crumpled skirt.
‘What yer doing that for?’ asked Cissy in surprise.
‘Because that’s my sister Lyn,’ Molly answered, while trying to thread her fingers through her tangled hair.
Smelling sweetly of lavender water, Lyn hugged her. ‘Molly, I’ve just come from the hospital. I had to park Oscar’s car i
n the next road because of that dreadful hole!’
‘That’s where the bomb fell.’
‘When are they filling it in?’ Lyn said, glancing at Cissy.
‘Don’t know.’ Molly said quickly, ‘Lyn, I’d like you to meet my new assistant, Cissy Brown.’
‘Assistant?’ Lyn repeated, as Cissy decided to squash out her dog-end with the tip of her boot at Lyn’s feet. ‘What do you need an assistant for?’
Molly took her sister’s arm as Cissy stalked off into the glory hole. ‘You’d better come upstairs. There’s a lot to tell you.’ She wheeled her through the shop and up the stairs to the kitchen.
‘Sit down and I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘I can’t stay long, the roads in this area are a nightmare. It’ll take me hours to get back to Sidcup.’
As Molly made them tea, she explained how she’d met Cissy, Andy and the children on the night their father had been admitted to hospital. And how, as a result of both Andy and Cissy no longer having roofs over their heads, she had offered Cissy a job as well as taken on Mark and Evie until Andy’s next leave.
‘But . . . but . . .’ spluttered Lyn as she looked up at Molly. ‘These people are strangers. You can’t just invite them to stay in your home.’
‘Well, I have,’ Molly said as she sat beside her sister and filled two mugs with tea. ‘Cissy will look after the shop and the children when I visit Dad.’
‘But, Molly, this is ridiculous. You’re talking as though you have a future here in the East End.’
‘I do. We do. Dad’s leg will get better—’
‘I doubt that, my dear. I spoke with the doctor this morning who gave me rather bad news. The fractures may very well leave him with a limp, at best. At worst, he might not be able to use the leg at all.’
Molly put down her mug with a gasp. ‘But it’s only a break.’
‘A complicated one. Which is why you should start planning to leave this – this place.’ Lyn looked around her as though she was sitting in some kind of slum.
‘Lyn, we grew up here. This has been our home. Me and Ted had plans to build up the business—’
‘Ted is gone, Molly,’ Lyn said sombrely. ‘You’re on your own here. And naturally, as your sister, I want what is best for you. Now, please start thinking sensibly. And don’t go giving Dad any ideas of returning here. I told him this morning he would come and convalesce with us.’
