by Carol Rivers
Molly was shocked. ‘What did he say?’
‘Not very much, as he’s still suffering from the concussion. I told him, tactfully, that this is the right time now for both you and him to move to Sidcup. There’s very little bombing compared to what you’ve had here. It’s safe and very picturesque. Oscar will find a nice little cottage for you to rent while you sell the shop.’
Lyn smiled, a satisfied look on her attractive face. In her blue coat, the same shade as her blue eyes, with a slightly paler blue handbag over her arm, Molly thought how elegant and fashionable she looked. She hardly recognized her sister these days.
‘Lyn, I don’t want to sell our old home and my livelihood.’
‘I understand that, Molly, I do. But you must think of Dad now. He’ll need your support. And so do I and Oscar. Besides, Elizabeth and George have hardly had the chance to get to know their aunt over the past few years.’ Lyn drank the rest of her tea hurriedly, then, frowning at Molly’s anxious face, she said persuasively, ‘Think about it, Molly. What have you left to stay for? Oscar thinks this war is going to be long and drawn-out. There’s no money coming into this part of the capital and there’s bound to be more bombing of the docks. The East End is finished, dear. Surely that’s obvious?’
Molly gulped down her shock. She couldn’t believe her ears.
Cissy stood in the shadows at the bottom of the staircase and strained to listen to the voices upstairs. She had taken an instant dislike to Molly’s sister, and was well aware the feeling was mutual.
What worried Cissy the most was the fact that, according to the snatches of conversation from above, Molly was being pressured into selling the store. Who was this Oscar who seemed to have such a big say in things? And what business was it of anyone else but Molly and her father?
Cissy felt the old feelings of fear creep slowly back. When she’d found those kids in the shop, stealing from Molly, she’d thought it was Ronnie’s men, who would have done far more than punch her in the eye. Years ago, she’d believed her old man, Vince, would stick by her, but he’d proved to a be a spineless git and had soon ditched her. She’d been a soft touch after, for that animal Ronnie who’d won her trust and then put her on the game. Fear had followed her like a shadow since then. Ethel had been her last chance of escape. But now the old girl was gone, and Molly, although she was a nice kid, seemed to have no backbone.
Just then she heard the children and she jumped away from the stairs.
‘Hello, you lot,’ she said a little guiltily as Simon, Susie, Mark and Evie came running in from the yard.
‘Mark fell over,’ Susie said, showing Cissy her bloody handkerchief. ‘His scab’s come off.’
Simon stepped forward, his face very red under his freckles. ‘We didn’t push him or nothing.’
‘You gotta have that graze washed, old son,’ she told Mark. ‘Come on, we’ll go upstairs and bathe it.’ She lifted him into her arms and followed the others, who bounded up the stairs in front of her.
Cissy smiled to herself. Mark’s bleeding knee would make a timely interruption in Molly’s conversation with that bossy cow, Lyn.
Chapter Nine
Molly shivered, hugging herself as she came up the stairs and entered the kitchen. On finding herself faced with a room full of noisy kids, her sister had quickly taken her leave.
‘Well, that went well,’ Cissy observed dryly as she drew a carving knife through the bread and handed a slice to each child now sitting round the kitchen table.
Ignoring the sarcasm, Molly smiled at the children. ‘Is your knee better, Mark?’
‘S’all right. Cissy put something on it. Who was that lady?’
‘She’s my sister, Lyn. We grew up together here. Now she’s married and has two children, George and Elizabeth, who are five and six.’
‘Why didn’t they come too?’ enquired Susie.
‘They’re at school where they live in Sidcup.’
‘We’re going to school on Monday,’ said Simon, licking his lips. ‘Mark can bring Evie too. She’s a bit young, but our teacher won’t mind as most of the kids go there till the war’s over. Mum said she’ll take them. It ain’t a proper school cos ours is closed right now. But you still learn plenty of things.’
‘I wanna go ter school!’ Evie shouted, banging her spoon on the table and poking out her tongue. Everyone laughed, including Cissy.
Molly had watched with some interest the way in which Cissy had made Mark sit on the chair next to Lyn as she unravelled his bloody sock. With Evie climbing onto Lyn’s lap in order to get a better view of the minor operation, and putting her grubby hands all over Lyn’s clean coat, their discussion had soon come to an end.
‘Can we go out and play in the snow again?’ asked Mark.
‘Yes, but no more falling over.’
Laughing and shouting, the children all jumped up from the table and ran down the stairs.
Molly looked at Cissy, who seemed to be enjoying their company. ‘So, now you’ve met my sister.’
‘She’s posh, ain’t she?’
‘Lyn’s an East Ender like me and you.’
‘Well, she don’t sound like one. Are you gonna sell the shop?’
Molly smiled curiously. ‘Were you listening?’
‘No, course not. Couldn’t help but hear a bit. For my money’s worth, I don’t reckon the East End’s finished. Do you?’
‘Well, no . . . but—’
‘You’ll have all your old customers come in on Monday, and like your mate Liz said, the word soon gets around about a good store.’ Without another word, Cissy was off down the stairs.
Molly stood thoughtfully in the kitchen. It seemed Cissy, a virtual stranger, had more confidence in restoring the business than Lyn did. But what if Lyn was right about Dad and he could never use his leg again? What hope had she of rebuilding their lives here in Roper Street, if Dad wasn’t part of her world?
The hospital, on Sunday afternoon, was busier than ever when Molly arrived. Relatives, friends and casualties from the overnight raids were filling the hospital’s corridors. Molly hadn’t slept well in the Anderson. She couldn’t stop thinking about Lyn’s plans for Dad. Should she just agree to them? What about Dad? Did he want to live in Sidcup?
As she walked into the ward, she saw his bed was empty. ‘Your father’s been transferred to the longer-stay ward,’ a nurse informed her, giving directions of how to get there.
‘I’m Mrs Swift. How’s my father?’ Molly asked at the small office which stood adjacent to the new ward.
The sister looked up. ‘Have you spoken to the doctor?’ she asked.
‘No, but my sister did when she visited and was told his injury was more serious than we thought.’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so. But with patience and physical therapy he may be able to walk again.’
Molly felt very shocked. Lyn was right. Molly had been hoping that she might have exaggerated in order to get her way. ‘Does Dad know?’
‘We’ve explained the situation. But at the moment, because of the concussion and to relieve him of any pain, his medication is helping to ease any worries. And I must warn you, he may not remember immediately who you are.’
The sister took Molly to a small room with only a handful of beds. It was very quiet in here and the visitors at each bed all looked up and smiled. Molly felt grateful for the welcome but found it hard to look at her father, who lay in a bed by the wall, a small figure under the white sheets covering the unsightly cage.
He was asleep and so she sat down on the chair. His cheeks were sunken under the bandage and he was propped into position by pillows.
‘Hello, love,’ he said, suddenly coming awake.
The tears were very close as she held his hand. ‘I’m glad they’ve found you a nice quiet ward.’
He sighed and dredged up a smile. ‘How’s tricks with you?’
‘You’ll be glad to know I’m opening the shop tomorrow.’
Molly decided not to say anything
about Lyn’s visit unless he spoke about her first. But then he fell asleep again and Molly sat quietly listening to him breathe. After a while, he woke with a start. ‘Molly, love! How long have you been sitting there?’
‘Not very long, Dad.’
‘How do you like my new bed?’
‘Much better. It’s nice and quiet in this ward.’
‘I’ve met a new pal. He’s over there, Charlie – see? He was a docker in his time and knows Roper Street.’
Molly looked over to where a man sat in his bed, propped by pillows and reading a newspaper. ‘I’m glad you’ve made a friend.’
Molly listened to her father as he told her about the doctors and nurses, and the routine of the new ward, which seemed to be all he was concerned about. Deciding not to refer to Lyn or the shop, Molly felt better. It must be as the sister had warned her, she decided: Dad was living in his own little world. So for the rest of the visit she sat and listened, until his eyes closed and he fell back to sleep again.
All too soon it was Monday. The bombing overnight had kept them all awake in the shelter, even the kids, and she had wondered if number one Roper Street would end up like Liz’s house, a pile of burning bricks!
But, miraculously, the shop and flat had survived the night unscathed. Leaving Mark and Evie to play in their room, Molly and Cissy went downstairs and turned the sign to OPEN.
‘Ready for the rush?’ asked Cissy in her usual mocking manner as she put on her overall.
‘Well, we should have a delivery today,’ Molly replied as she too put on her overall. ‘Last week I wrote to the wholesalers, so it should come today. I warned them to send their van up the street the other way, as there’s still the big hole in the road.’
‘What’s on order?’ asked Cissy, who Molly saw had washed her dark hair and minus her turban looked very presentable.
‘The usual order for our registered customers, bearing in mind that paraffin and kindling are in short supply. It’s the paraffin we need the most, as people are using it to stop the red army released from the brick cavities after the bombing. On the food side, I’m hoping for a full quota of Spam, condensed milk and Camp coffee if we’re lucky. Oh yes, and bags of flour and some cereals and a little veg.’
‘What do we do till we get our first customer?’ Cissy asked, prowling the floor.
‘Let’s practise,’ suggested Molly. ‘I’ll be the customer.’ She took several items from the shelves. ‘You take my money and ring up the amount in pounds, pence and/or shillings.’
For the rest of the morning, in between stopping to talk to the children, Molly and Cissy continued to practise in the empty shop.
Just as Molly was wondering if the shop door would ever open, the van driver arrived. Most of Molly’s order was complete, and as they began to unpack it a customer came in, followed by another and then another. Molly couldn’t contain her delight as everyone wished her success – faces old and new, who assured her they would make Swift’s their chosen store.
The day had been a success, Molly congratulated herself that night. Lyn had been mistaken. There was still business to be had in the East End, despite the bombing. And Cissy had taken like a duck to water to the running of the shop and serving the customers. When she visited Dad later in the week, Molly would be able to leave the shop and the children in the capable hands of her new assistant.
After a very busy Monday, Tuesday was a complete disaster.
There were only a few customers as news came through from the wholesalers of sweeping new price controls from the Food Minister, Lord Woolton. These applied to poultry and preserves, coffee, cocoa, rice, biscuits, custard and jelly, and many more. By the end of the day, with no business, Molly was crestfallen.
‘Bloody government,’ Cissy complained as she swept the shop floor and Molly turned the sign to CLOSED. ‘Always out to make a fast buck.’
‘We’ll have to struggle on,’ Molly said as she cashed up the meagre two pounds and sixpence. ‘We can’t fall at the first hurdle.’
But by the end of the week Molly was beginning to wonder if Lyn wasn’t right and the East End was finished. The number of new customers who had registered with the shop was small so far. Each one complained of the higher prices, which Molly could do nothing about. Fortunately Evie and Mark’s ration books had arrived, but Cissy was still waiting for hers and Molly was using her own coupons to meet their needs.
Then on Saturday morning, Liz Howells bustled in as usual, wearing her trademark grey hat. Molly was delighted to see that several neighbours accompanied her.
‘Don’t worry,’ Liz assured Molly and Cissy. ‘The new prices was a shock to everyone at first, even the shops up west suffered. But we’ve all got to eat and we know that Swift’s won’t rook us.’
More customers followed, and by the end of the day Molly had taken enough money to pay the wholesalers’ bill.
The most welcome news came from Jean, who had asked the school if they would register both Evie and Mark on their books. The answer was in the affirmative and Molly allowed herself to hope that perhaps, as from now, life wouldn’t pose such a struggle and all her good intentions would finally bear fruit.
Chapter Ten
New customers arrived daily as word went round that Swift’s General Store was open for business again. Other customers came by word of mouth and registered at Swift’s, and Molly always made it worth their while. She knew she was up against the markets and other corner shops, so she offered to make deliveries on her bike. Once again Cissy proved her worth and shared the rounds with Molly.
This was a successful arrangement and many customers who were housebound chose Swift’s as their store.
Molly was pleased to see that Cissy spent her hard-earned wage on new clothes rather than on filling her flask. She had taken a fancy to the big wardrobe in Dad’s room and whenever she had a spare moment Molly knew she would be upstairs, rummaging around on its shelves.
By the middle of February business was buoyant, but there was no word from Andy. Molly had hoped for a letter, but nothing had come through. Mark missed his dad and was often withdrawn, unlike his sister, who was the centre of everyone’s attention with her winning ways. Even the teachers told Molly that she was a most welcome addition to the class.
At the end of the month, on a cold and drizzly winter morning, a stranger walked into the shop. He was tall and slim, his face shaded by a trilby and the turned-up collar of his raincoat. Molly noticed that all her customers left quickly.
‘I’d like to speak to Miss Brown,’ he told her, looking round with a suspicious expression in his dark eyes.
‘She’s out on deliveries,’ Molly said, frowning. ‘What do you want with her?’
‘When will she be back?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, not liking his questioning.
‘How long do deliveries usually take?’
Molly straightened her back. ‘That’s no business of yours,’ she said coldly. ‘Who are you? And what do you want with Cissy?’
The man looked at her for one long moment then slid his hand inside his raincoat. He showed her his identity card. ‘Detective Constable Longman,’ he said in an official tone. ‘Are you Mrs Swift?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘Your store was burgled and it wasn’t reported. Do you know it’s an offence to obstruct the law?’
Molly had known all along it was wrong not to tell the authorities about the looters. Mr Stokes must have passed the information on, as Cissy had gone out of her way to avoid him.
‘If you mean those kids pinching a few things,’ Molly said, trying to sound as though this was unimportant, ‘it was nothing. And it was my fault anyway, as I left the back door open.’
‘Trespassing, nevertheless,’ said the policeman. ‘Witnessed by Miss Brown.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘I think I’d better ask the questions, don’t you? Now, how long has Miss Brown been working for you?’
Molly didn’t l
ike this line of questioning at all. It was as if he suspected Cissy of wrongdoing. ‘Long enough for me to trust her,’ she replied without hesitation. ‘If it wasn’t for Miss Brown I wouldn’t be able to open the store. My dad’s in hospital and I have to visit him. Added to which I’m looking after two children whose mother died in the blitz just after Christmas. We’ve struggled through some very hard times and after losing my husband at Dunkirk last year, I considered giving up the business. But I was lucky enough to find someone I could rely on to help me.’ Molly took an indignant breath.
‘Did the thieves take any money?’ the policeman asked.
‘No, there wasn’t any to take. Now, are we finished?’
‘I’m only trying to do my job here,’ the detective replied. ‘We have to protect the public from criminals. And the only way we can do that is to track them down, whoever they may be. Stealing is stealing, whether it’s a couple of kids or a gang. And don’t forget, if those kids are successful once, they’re liable to try again.’
Molly felt a little guilty. He seemed a decent sort and of course he did have a point. Those kids shouldn’t have done what they did and getting away with it might have spurred them on to more break-ins. Besides, she was certain they had caused Cissy’s black eye, which was her greatest concern. ‘Yes, I do understand,’ she relented. ‘But there’s nothing here for you to worry about now. I’ve had new bolts fitted and don’t keep much cash in the till.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ A friendly smile lifted his lips. ‘We do seem to have got off on the wrong foot. Do you think we could start again, this time without an interrogation on my part? And may I also say how sorry I am to hear of your loss. Those boys at Dunkirk were very brave lads.’
These sympathetic remarks surprised Molly. He was at last sounding human. ‘I realize you have a very difficult job to do,’ she admitted cautiously.
