by Carol Rivers
‘Dr Neil and I thoroughly discussed Dad’s case. He said his leg will need lots of physical therapy and he’ll be confined to a wheelchair for a period.’
‘A wheelchair?’ Molly took in a breath. ‘How long for?’
‘Who knows?’
‘But they must have given you some indication!’
‘Molly,’ her sister said slowly, as if she was talking to a child, ‘this is no ordinary break. It’s a fracture of all three leg bones including the hip.’
‘Why wasn’t I told?’
‘Probably because you didn’t ask the right questions. You have to sit these medical people down and demand answers. I told him that I wanted a weekly report telephoned to me and that any expense incurred will be paid for by Oscar.’ Her smile told Molly that her sister had enjoyed this discussion. ‘I also explained,’ Lyn continued, ‘that after everything possible has been done for him in the hospital, Oscar will send a vehicle to bring him home to us.’
‘Lyn, you should have asked me before you decided on that.’
‘Why? It’s obvious he can’t come here.’
Molly put down her cup. ‘I’m going to have the glory hole made into a room so he won’t have to go upstairs.’
Lyn looked at her blankly. ‘Molly, that’s not a very good idea. The glory hole is purpose-built for the shop as a storeroom. Where would Dad bathe? He’d need a bedpan because he couldn’t possibly use the closet in the yard. And with two children and a stranger living on the premises, he’d have no privacy at all.’
‘The children won’t be here forever,’ Molly protested. ‘Their father’s making other arrangements when he comes back from sea.’
‘How do you know he will come back?’
This brought Molly upright in her seat. ‘He has to. They’ve no one else.’
‘Precisely. If he perished – quite likely, in his role as a merchant seaman – they’d be orphans. And you, Molly, would be saddled with his family.’ Lyn took an impatient breath. ‘Besides, what on earth would you do with Dad in a wheelchair during the raids? You couldn’t take him into the Turners’ shelter. And pushing him along to a public one, together with your other – er, other “responsibilities”, well – I’m sorry, my dear, but you must agree that Dad coming back here is out of the question.’
Molly felt close to despair. She’d refused to consider the possibility that Dad might not return. This was his home, the home he had lived in for most of his life, and it was inconceivable that he should live elsewhere.
‘I know this is a shock for you,’ Lyn said and patted her arm. ‘But after you’ve given the matter some thought you’ll see it’s all for the best.’
Molly sat, unable to express the feelings that were gripping her. First Emily, then Ted and now Dad. How could fate be so cruel in taking them all away? She was angry and bewildered and hurt. She wanted to shout out against the unfairness of life. Lyn had her lovely family, two growing, healthy children, a husband who loved and protected them and a big, safe house in the country that was in far less danger of being attacked by the Luftwaffe than the East End of London.
But hard on the heels of her turmoil came the voice of reason and the clear knowledge that Lyn, as usual, was right.
‘Come along now, darling.’ Lyn put her arms around her. ‘My advice to you is as it’s always been. Leave the shop and flat. Move out to Sidcup with us and Oscar will find you a lovely new home.’
Molly sighed heavily. Was there any use in protesting? ‘I’ll make us something to eat before you leave,’ she said as Lyn patted her arm.
‘No, I can’t stay, I’m afraid.’ Lyn stood up and Molly hurried to fetch her coat and gloves.
Downstairs in the shop, they embraced once more. ‘Telephone me soon. And remember, Mum would want us to stick together. She would be very relieved to know that you and Dad were out of harm’s way and enjoying your life with us.’
Before Molly could reply, her sister had opened the door and was walking down the street, a tall, stately figure avoiding the barrier around the hole and making her way to her car parked in the next street.
Chapter Eleven
It was the end of March and the nights were becoming lighter, but people were weary of the blitz. Molly read in the newspapers about the deliberate aerial attack on the Queen’s residence and, like Roper Street, Buckingham Palace was showered with incendiary bombs. The Palace survived, but after six months of continual attack, Molly was beginning to wonder if the store’s luck would eventually run out. Each day there was news of the devastation caused to many British cities, ports and industrial areas. So far, number one Roper Street had withstood the pounding. But for how long could her luck last?
She knew too, that soon the doctor would release her father from hospital, as he was now being taught to use a wheelchair. One afternoon when the weather became warmer, Molly pushed him out to the small garden at the rear of the hospital.
‘They wheeled me down to the shelter last night,’ her father complained as Molly sat on a bench beside his wheelchair. ‘Didn’t get any kip, what with all them low-level bombing runs the buggers are doing. Being in this thing don’t help. I ain’t got the hang of pushing meself yet.’
‘You will with practice, Dad.’
‘So they tell me.’
‘You’ll have to be patient and keep trying.’
‘That’s what your mother would say.’
‘Well, then, she’d be right.’
He sighed and nodded. ‘What about the store, ducks? Are you managing all right? Still got that girl and those two kids with you? Forgotten their names, though.’
Molly smiled, happy to know he remembered Cissy and the children. ‘Evie and Mark are doing well at school,’ she told him. ‘Cissy looks after the shop while I’m here. Dad, it’s nice to know your memory’s coming back.’
He grinned. ‘Maybe. Tomorrow I could be off with the fairies.’
‘Have you seen Lyn lately?’
‘Yes, but she don’t stay long. Has to get back to the kids.’ Molly guessed what was coming next. ‘Your sister wants me over at her place. I suppose you two have talked about that?’
Molly nodded. ‘It does seem the sensible thing to do.’
‘Grin and bear it, should I?’
She smiled. ‘Just while you get better. It’ll be nice for Elizabeth and George to have their grandfather around.’
‘Yeah, but I’d like to kick a ball with them. That sort of thing.’
‘You can still throw a ball from a wheelchair.’
When Molly left the hospital that day, she felt very down. She knew things had to change. But must they change so soon?
That night in the Anderson Molly got very little sleep. The Luftwaffe was concentrating its efforts on London and the South East, so the Home Service reported. Simon, Susie, Mark and Evie were growing tired of being cooped up in the bunks; the novelty of their camp had finally worn off and Molly had noticed how restless Cissy was. Even Jean was short-tempered.
Her thoughts turned to Andy. She was certain he would never desert his children. But what if, as Lyn had said, he didn’t survive? The children would be orphans. And who would take care of them?
If only Ted were here. If only she had his strong shoulder to lean on and he could take over all the important decisions that she found so difficult to make.
Business was brisk over Easter, though stock for the shop was in short supply. Molly was told by the warehouse that goods would be limited while British merchant ships were at the mercy of Germany’s U-boat wolf packs. She realized she didn’t even know which ship Andy was serving on. Why hadn’t she asked him?
On Easter Sunday, Molly decided to take her dad some little brown cakes that she’d made with Evie. They were more cocoa and carrot than flour, but she hoped they would cheer him up.
The nurse looked at her in surprise as she walked into the ward. ‘Have you come to see your father?’
‘Yes, is he in the garden?’
‘No,
he was discharged this morning into the care of your sister and brother-in-law. There’s a letter in the office for you.’
Molly stared at the young nurse. ‘But the doctor didn’t tell me he was going.’
‘It was all rather quick,’ the nurse agreed. ‘We’re desperately short of beds, you see. Your father was well enough to leave so I believe the doctor telephoned Mrs Highfield.’
‘Can I have this letter?’
‘Of course.’
Ten minutes later, Molly was sitting on the bench in the hospital garden, where she had sat with her father. The letter wasn’t very long. It also looked rather hurriedly written.
Dearest Molly,
Doctor Neil phoned today, Friday, and said Dad was ready to leave on Sunday. Oscar is driving me; we have bought a wheelchair for him already so we won’t have to borrow one from the hospital. If you would like to telephone me next week, I can tell you how Dad is settling in. Happy Easter.
Love Lyn
Molly brushed a tear from her eye. She looked at the tall trees in front of her, just coming out in bud. Spring was here. She wanted to put her arms around her dad and wish him a happy Easter.
Why didn’t she have a telephone? Why couldn’t she afford to buy a wheelchair and drive a large car? Why couldn’t she have a nice house where Dad could recover in comfort?
The following week, Molly wrote to the director at the Salvation Army Headquarters in the city. She was now determined to find these Denhams. Having thought things over, she knew that the children must be reunited with this married couple as soon as possible. Andy had said they were trusted friends and had looked after them since they had been very small. Although they were not true family, he looked on them as next of kin. It was only right that Evie and Mark should have a future with them.
On Sunday, having posted the letter, she telephoned Lyn from the call box. It was Oscar she spoke to, as Lyn, she was told, was out with the children.
‘Your father is being well looked after,’ Oscar explained in his clipped, capable tone of voice. ‘You’ve no need to worry, Molly.’
‘Can he come to the phone?’
‘He’s having his afternoon nap.’
‘When shall I phone again, then?’
‘Next week,’ Oscar decided. ‘Mrs James will know more by then.’
‘Who is Mrs James?’ Molly asked in surprise.
‘His physical therapist. She’s getting him to take exercise, something he’s reluctant to do, I’m afraid.’
‘What sort of exercise?’ Molly asked in concern.
‘You’ll have to ask Lyn for the details,’ Oscar replied in a brisk tone. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I have business to attend to and must go.’
When Molly replaced the receiver, she felt extremely annoyed. Why hadn’t Lyn written to her about this Mrs James? Was Dad ready for exercising? He was usually so active and energetic. It seemed uncharacteristic of him not to want to try.
Molly walked slowly back home. There was nothing more she could do until she spoke to Lyn. Resolutely she turned her mind to practical matters. There were deliveries to be made, customers’ orders to attend to. Fretting about Dad just wouldn’t help.
It was at the beginning of May when a letter plopped on the mat from the Salvation Army Headquarters. Molly opened it eagerly.
Dear Mrs Swift,
Thank you for your letter concerning Mr and Mrs Denham from the East India Dock district. We shall be able to help you in your search and provide you with a forwarding address. However, this must be done through the proper channels. We can offer you an appointment with our clerk, Mr Grey, on Monday May 12th at midday. Please bring some form of identification with you.
‘Blimey, what a turn-up!’ Cissy said when Molly explained what it was. ‘They must know where the Denhams are, then?’
Molly was very excited. ‘Yes, it seems so.’
‘Lucky they ain’t snuffed it.’ Cissy said bluntly. ‘And the kids will finally get moved on.’
Now there was the possibility of a permanent home for the children, Molly found herself in a dilemma. Had she the right to ‘move them on’, as Cissy said, without Andy’s permission? Would the Denhams continue to send them to school? What accommodation would they be given and how far away would they be? Andy would need to travel to wherever they were on his leave.
‘So what you gonna do?’ asked Cissy as if she was reading her thoughts.
‘Keep the appointment, of course.’
‘How you gonna get up there?’
‘I’ll wait till the weather improves then catch a bus to Aldgate. From there I’ll get another to the Mansion House and then Queen Victoria Street.’
‘They say lots of roads are blocked off after the bombing.’
‘I’ll just have to take a chance. It might take me all day, though. Jean will keep an eye on the kids after school if you’ll look after the shop.’
Cissy shrugged. ‘I’ll have a chance to gas with the customers without you looking over me shoulder.’
Molly grinned. There was something about Cissy that was very endearing even when she was insulting you.
The night before Molly planned to go to Queen Victoria Street, the Luftwaffe returned. No one got a wink of sleep and when they climbed out of the shelter in the morning, covered in dust from head to toe, it was to discover that part of the Anderson roof had been dislodged.
‘I’ll have to reinforce it before we can use it again,’ Dennis told them as they inspected the damage and shook the debris from their clothes. ‘The shop’s okay, Molly, but the bicycle factory caught fire. The fire brigade is up there now, checking it over.’
‘Leave the children with me,’ Jean insisted. ‘I’ll get them ready for school. You get off to the Sally Army.’
‘If the buses are running,’ Dennis warned. ‘There won’t be much of a city left to bomb, the way things are going.’
Molly and Cissy walked up the street to the shop and stopped to watch the firemen dousing the blackened bricks of the bicycle factory.
‘A close call,’ remarked Cissy. ‘It was lucky we put the bike in the shop.’
‘The shop’s van was in there,’ Molly sighed. ‘Don’t think there’ll be much left of that to drive when the war is over.’
‘Come on,’ said Cissy purposefully, seeing her sad expression. ‘What the eye don’t see, the heart don’t grieve over. Thank Gawd it wasn’t the shop and flat, so let’s open up and then you can catch your bus.’
‘Are you sure you’ll be safe on your own?’
‘Why shouldn’t I be?’
As they were talking a figure in a raincoat and trilby walked out of the smoke.
‘Blimey, look who it ain’t,’ said Cissy. ‘I’m off.’ She hurried down the side path to the back of the store.
‘Good morning, Mrs Swift.’ Detective Constable Longman tipped his hat.
‘What are you doing here?’ Molly asked in alarm.
‘The overnight reports for this district came in stating the bicycle factory was on fire. Your shop is right next door, so I came to check you were safe.’
‘You needn’t have troubled.’
‘Perhaps you’re not aware that last night was one of the worst nights of bombing? St Paul’s, the British Museum, the House of Commons and Westminster Hall have all been damaged. Not that London is unique. Liverpool, Clydebank, Portsmouth, Southampton, Plymouth and other towns and cities suffered very badly. You’re lucky to have come through unscathed.’
Molly hadn’t realized just how bad the bombing had been until now. ‘Do you know if the buses are running?’
‘I would say that’s doubtful until the roads are cleared. Do you have to travel somewhere?’
‘Yes, Queen Victoria Street. The headquarters of the Salvation Army.’
‘Are you a member?’
‘No, but it’s an urgent personal matter.’
‘I see.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘Does it have to be today?’
‘Yes, my appointment is fo
r twelve.’
‘Well . . .’ He hesitated, checking his watch. ‘I have to report into headquarters myself. I can drive you some of the way, if not all.’
Molly was suddenly aware of how she must look after a night in the Anderson. To meet with officials, her dirty face must be washed, her crumpled clothes changed and her hair brushed and pinned.
‘I can’t go like this,’ she said quickly. ‘I must clean up first.’
‘And I have to speak to the fire officer. If we meet in, say, twenty minutes outside your shop, then I’ll drive as close to the city as possible.’
Molly was on the point of refusing, for she didn’t care to spend any more time in the inquisitive policeman’s company. But what chance did she have of getting to Queen Victoria Street otherwise?
Finally, she nodded and he gave another brief tip of his trilby before hurrying back into the clouds of smoke and soot.
Chapter Twelve
As she expected, Cissy was not pleased when she heard the news. But Molly held her tongue, quickly washed her face and brushed her hair and put on her best coat. With Cissie’s protests ringing in her ears, she met Detective Constable Longman in the street and walked with him to where he had parked the car.
He politely opened the door for her and as she made herself comfortable in the front seat, she wondered if he was about to fulfil Cissy’s prophecy and begin to interrogate her once more on the break-in at the shop. If so, she would be trapped in the car, unable to escape.
But her concerns came to nothing, as his concentration was focused on the widespread damage to the East End. The roads were chaotic, with many diversions through the blast-damaged landscape. Roofs, walls and pavements were covered in a smoky grey veil through which they could see skeletons of buildings, random piles of rubble and mountains of masonry. The auxiliary firemen were working frenziedly to put out small fires still burning amidst pools of water from the hoses. Molly could see there would have been very few buses today. At least, not from this part of the East End.
