Molly's Christmas Orphans

by Carol Rivers

  At this, Molly saw Andy look up. She said quickly, ‘Andy, this is the policeman I told you about. Detective Constable Longman, this is Andy Miller, the children’s father.’

  Andy’s dark eyes narrowed. ‘So you’re the copper who Molly said could find my pals?’

  ‘I thought I might be able to help Mrs Swift, yes.’

  ‘Had any luck?’

  Molly noticed that Andy’s stare wasn’t friendly. He stood in a tense manner and his fists were clenched.

  ‘As a matter of fact, yes, I have some new information,’ said the detective casually.

  ‘You have?’ Molly was surprised. ‘Why didn’t you let me know before?’

  ‘As I said, I’ve been away. When I came back, I traced your clerk, Mr Grey, with whom you had an appointment in Queen Victoria Street. Sadly, this man perished in the raid, but I was able to locate the whereabouts of the Denhams.’ He gave his charming smile to Molly. ‘I was about to ask you if you’d like me to follow it up?’

  ‘What do you mean, “follow it up”?’ Andy asked suspiciously.

  The policeman’s smile vanished. ‘I was talking to Mrs Swift.’

  ‘It’s me who’s looking for the Denhams,’ replied Andy bluntly. ‘If you’ve got something to say, mate, then you can talk to me.’

  Molly’s heart sank as the policeman did not reply but took out his notebook and tore off a sheet. He dropped it on the top of the counter. ‘Nice to see you again, Mrs Swift. Here’s the address. And, er . . .’ He glanced at the window. ‘Good to see you have the store up and running again.’ With that, he turned and walked out.

  ‘The more I see of that copper, the less I like him,’ Cissy said, making an entrance.

  ‘You heard everything, I suppose?’ Molly said, watching Andy as he picked up the piece of paper.

  ‘With a voice like he’s got, you’d have to be deaf not to.’

  ‘I can’t believe this,’ Andy said on a gasp. ‘Why didn’t I think of it meself?’

  ‘What?’ asked Molly and Cissy together.

  ‘Betty and Len are in living in Southend with Betty’s sister Gert. Me and Stella and the kids went with the Denhams on a day’s outing. A small flat near the sea.’

  ‘Southend is a long way off.’

  Andy gave a faint smile. ‘Len joked it was the rollercoaster at the Kursaal funfair that got Betty into his arms when nothing else would.’ He gave the paper back to Molly and she slipped it in the shop drawer.

  ‘Well, it seems we’ve come to our journey’s end,’ he told her. ‘I’ll go to the coach station and see about booking seats.’

  ‘What if the transport is only for evacuees?’ asked Molly.

  ‘That’s what the kids are, ain’t they?’ shrugged Andy. ‘Evacuees.’

  ‘Will you write to Betty first?’

  ‘Course. Only proper to ask. But I already know the answer. They love these kids as their own.’ Andy went to the window whistling and began hammering again.

  Molly found it hard to believe the children were actually leaving; that Andy had finally found the people he’d been searching for. She knew she should be very happy for them.

  And she was, wasn’t she?

  It was a hot day in August when, one morning before the shop opened, Molly found a letter addressed to Andy on the mat. She ran upstairs, softly knocking on the front room door, so she wouldn’t wake the household.

  ‘This came for you,’ she whispered when Andy greeted her. He stood in his trousers and vest. Molly blushed, as she had never seen him without his shirt. In the short time he had been home, he’d put on a little weight. His arms and chest had added muscle and his black hair had grown, curling softly at his neck. That rattly cough which had plagued him had subsided and his eyes were now clear and bright. ‘Is it from the Denhams?’ he asked eagerly.

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Come in and we’ll open it.’ He shut the door behind her.

  ‘It’s from Betty,’ he said, his face lighting up with a broad smile. ‘She writes to say there’ll be no problem with having the kids.’

  ‘That’s good news,’ said Molly, wondering why she was feeling so strange. She knew that Andy trusted these people and would never leave the children with someone he couldn’t rely on.

  ‘They often stepped in to look after the kids,’ he said, interrupting her thoughts. ‘Christ only knows how I would have coped if they hadn’t.’

  Molly knew she should be very happy for Andy and his little family.

  ‘The only hurdle now is my medical tomorrow.’

  ‘Do you think you’ll pass it?’

  ‘Don’t see why not.’

  ‘So when do you think you’ll be leaving?’

  ‘The 1st September is Evie’s birthday. My plan would be to take them to Southend on the day, as it’ll be a real treat for them. After I’ve settled them with Betty, I’ll hitch across country down to Portsmouth, where I’ll sign on.’

  ‘So you won’t be coming back here?’

  Andy shrugged. ‘No point. You must have had enough of us by now.’

  Molly tried to smile. ‘I’ll miss the children.’

  ‘Will you?’

  ‘Course. They’re lovely kids.’

  ‘Molly, you’ve done more than your share for us. I ain’t very good with words. And thank you don’t seem enough.’

  ‘I – you needn’t thank me. I just want to see Mark and Evie with a home again.’

  ‘It’ll be bloody hard for them leaving you. They’ve taken a shine to this place, especially Evie. But you’ve got your own life to get on with.’ He pushed the letter in his pocket then reached out to tilt up her chin. ‘Don’t look so glum. I bet when your dad hears about the new window, and with us gone, he’ll be home like a shot.’

  Molly nodded, a little shiver going over her. He’d never touched her before and her reaction was a surprise. ‘Dad said the children are welcome to stay,’ she blurted, ‘as long as they need a roof over their heads.’

  ‘And I’m grateful to him for that. But a man’s home is his castle. He won’t want to come home to a place full of kids and strangers.’

  Molly knew it was in the children’s interest for them to be with the Denhams, but she was finding the prospect difficult.

  ‘Will you ever come back to the East End, do you think?’ she asked as she looked into his lovely dark eyes. She could smell the soap he had washed with coming from his body and her tummy gave a little skip.

  ‘We’ll have to see.’

  ‘Southend is very nice, so I hear.’

  ‘Yes, it ain’t bad. The kids will like the sea, and the funfair when it starts running again.’

  Molly fell silent, as did he. She knew that the parting of the ways would be as hard for her and Cissy as it would be for the children. Now they were leaving, she realized just how fond of Mark and Evie she had become.

  ‘Molly, we’ll all miss you.’ His hand slipped slowly from her face and he took her arms, at first in a friendly gesture, but then before she knew what was happening his chest was against her and her lips were parting. His kiss was gentle at first, as though the chemistry between them surprised him as much as it did her. All her senses reacted as every scent that she had grown up with in the docks drifted from his warm body. She shivered and felt him shiver too. And soon their arms were locked passionately around each other, the overwhelming need that had been, up until now, quite hidden, melting from their bodies.

  In that passionate embrace Molly knew that this was nothing – not even remotely – like friendship that they shared, but something of a much deeper kind. Something she hadn’t shared with Ted throughout the happy years of their marriage.

  It was the Sunday night before the Monday when Andy and the children were to leave. After tea, Molly was in the kitchen packing Andy’s kit bag with the children’s clothes. But it was hard to stop thinking about the night a week ago when she had found herself in his arms, kissing and wanting more, savouring his touch and enjoying hi
s arms tightly around her.

  And then suddenly she had thought of Ted, and guilt had been like a bucket of freezing water thrown over her. Andy had been the first to apologize, almost as embarrassed as she was as he stepped away and allowed her to escape from the room.

  ‘Why’s you puttin’ stuff in me dad’s bag?’ Evie enquired, bringing Molly sharply back to the present.

  ‘It’s your birthday tomorrow, Curly Top. Your dad’s taking you to the seaside.’

  ‘I’s four, ain’t I?’ Evie held up all her ten fingers as she sat on the chair by Molly.

  ‘No, you only need four fingers, like this,’ Mark corrected as he joined them in the kitchen.

  Evie pulled a face. ‘I’s as big as you tomorrow.’

  ‘You ain’t,’ Mark disagreed, throwing himself onto another chair. ‘You’re just a squirt.’ He looked at Molly. ‘Are we really going to live at Betty and Len’s?’

  Molly sat down at the table with them. ‘Yes, your dad has fixed it all up.’

  ‘I thought Betty and Len was dead.’

  ‘I know you did.’ Molly threaded a hand around his shoulders. ‘But didn’t I tell you they weren’t?’

  Mark considered this. ‘Will we have a room like we got here?’

  ‘You might.’

  ‘Is you comin’ to the seaside?’ Evie said, and sliding from her seat pushed her head under Molly’s arm.

  ‘Not just yet.’ Molly had a lump in her throat.

  ‘You ain’t never coming to see us?’ Mark asked, his face filling with apprehension.

  ‘Perhaps, one day. But getting about is very difficult, as you well know, Mark.’ Molly had grown so fond of this little boy and his sister that, even if she did get to Southend, it would be unbearable to leave them again.

  When Andy walked into the kitchen, Molly looked into his eyes and he smiled. They had had very little chance to talk since he’d taken his medical and now, in hindsight, she wondered if he regretted that impetuous embrace. For after all, what could come of it?

  Molly didn’t sleep that night. She tossed and turned, and finally rose as light broke through the kitchen window. She made carrot fudge for Evie’s birthday and before they left Molly gave her the sweets.

  ‘Happy birthday, Curly Top. Don’t look inside the parcel until you’re on the coach. It’s a birthday surprise.’

  Evie turned the brown packet in her fingers. ‘Ain’t you comin’?’ she asked once more.

  ‘I’ve got to open the shop.’

  ‘But it’s me birfday.’

  ‘I know. Be a good girl for Betty and Len.’

  For a few seconds everyone stood silently.

  Then Andy turned to Cissy. ‘Thanks for everything,’ he told her, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

  ‘Look after yourselves,’ Cissy said awkwardly. ‘We’ll miss you little devils.’

  Molly hugged and kissed the children. ‘Goodbye, you two. Look after each other.’ She looked into Andy’s eyes. ‘Good luck, Andy.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  She hoped that he too was remembering the moment they had shared that night, for now, as they were parting, she realized how much that kiss had meant to her.

  In the days to come Molly missed everything about the children: Evie’s laughter and mischievous ways and Mark’s sombre, soulful expressions. She missed the fun they had on bath nights when they splashed in the old tin bath that was kept in the tall kitchen cupboard. She missed mornings and the school routine and night-times and the stories she read them before they went to sleep. She knew Cissy did too, even though she tried to pretend she didn’t.

  It was later, in September, when Jean came into the shop and took a long, calculating look at Molly. ‘Have you heard from Andy?’ she asked, plonking her basket on the counter.

  ‘No. Why should I?’

  ‘Thought he might write.’

  ‘Can’t see him doing that. Not if he didn’t before.’

  Jean looked at her sadly. ‘It don’t seem the same round here without him and the kids. Den says it’s bloody lonely on his fire-watching duties, now there’s not so many raids. And Simon and Susie keep asking me if Mark and Evie are coming back.’

  Molly opened Jean’s bag. ‘So what will it be this morning?’ she asked quickly.

  But Jean only frowned and continued, ‘So, after the war, will Andy go back to Southend to live?’

  ‘Who knows what will happen to any of us after the war?’

  ‘You’re missing them, ain’t you, gel?’

  ‘It’s only natural. After all, they were never any trouble.’

  ‘When was the last time you went out and enjoyed yourself?’

  Molly shrugged. ‘It was with Ted, I suppose. So long ago, I can’t remember.’

  ‘Blimey O’Riley,’ Jean gasped. ‘Listen, now you’ve not got the kids to look after, why don’t you go out on the town?’

  Molly grinned. ‘What, on me own?’

  ‘No, take Cissy with you. Have a good laugh. Destry Rides Again is showing at the Roxy.’

  ‘I don’t like cowboys.’

  ‘Well, it’s a good film, so I heard.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Cissy asked as she came downstairs, tying her turban on her head. ‘Did I hear the flicks mentioned?’

  Jean nodded. ‘I’ll get Den to borrow the works van and take you up to Aldgate.’

  ‘You’re on,’ said Cissy, before Molly could answer. ‘Tell your old man not to be late. We don’t want to turn up just as the performance is over.’

  Molly opened her mouth, then closed it again. Perhaps she should make the effort. A change of scenery might distract her from thinking about Andy and the kids.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cissy had dolled herself up to the nines and felt good as they waved cheerio to Dennis. She had bought a new grey costume at the market and slipped her flask discreetly into the jacket pocket. After all, going to the flicks meant a drink and a fag, even if Molly indulged in neither. But what was the point of a night out if you didn’t enjoy yourself? A corny cowboy at an Aldgate flea-pit wasn’t her cup of tea. But Jean seemed to think they’d enjoy it.

  When Dennis had driven off very slowly, avoiding the holes in the road left by the blitz, she and Molly entered the old, shabby cinema that smelled of wet mackintoshes and stale tobacco. As the blackout blinds were all in operation, they were hurried through the dark foyer to pay for their seats at the interior kiosk.

  ‘I s’pose we’re lucky this place ain’t been bombed,’ Cissy said as they followed the usherette, who when safely inside the auditorium shone her torch along the aisles. ‘But blimey, it don’t half stink in here.’

  ‘Hold your nose,’ Molly chuckled as they took their seats. ‘Do you want a toffee?’

  Cissy grinned. ‘No thanks, I’ve got me mother’s ruin.’

  ‘I thought you might.’

  ‘Do you want a fag?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  They turned and smiled at each other as the lights went down. Cissy satisfied her thirst, a little annoyed that two very tall men had come in to sit in front of them. She sat to one side, noting the biggest nose she had ever seen on a man’s profile.

  Ten minutes later they were watching Pathé News, with the cockerel crowing and all the propaganda that followed. Pictures were shown once more of the ravages of the blitz and the skies full of billowing barrage balloons on their steel tethering cables, forming a hazard for low-flying enemy aircraft. Then there was military music growing louder as film of the British fighters flying home from German occupied territory passed across the screen. Even though there hadn’t been a serious raid by the Luftwaffe since May, the newsreel was insistent that an invasion could still happen any day or night.

  Cissy pulled out her flask again and sucked noisily. The tall man turned round and stared at her.

  She stared back. So what if she enjoyed a bit of a livener?

  After the news, there were more warnings about spies, fifth columnists and the black
market. Then, eventually, the main feature began.

  Cissy sat back, feeling mellow, to watch the opening scenes. The hero was played by Jimmy Stewart, a sheriff in a tough western town. The similarity to someone they knew was obvious. ‘Christ, Molly, that’s Andy, ain’t it? Without his beard, of course.’

  Molly seemed transfixed. ‘There is a likeness.’

  ‘He’s got that same expression as Andy gave your copper friend. A real eyeballer.’

  ‘The copper’s not my friend.’

  ‘Oh, no?’

  ‘Cissy, you’re missing the film.’

  She drank from her flask again, watching with interest how Molly’s expression softened as Destry, who started off a bit of a wimp, suddenly turned into this hard-nosed lawman who could be the twin brother to Andy.

  After the film was over and they had stood for the national anthem, they made their way to the street outside. Cissy felt pleasantly tipsy and threaded her arm through Molly’s. ‘Well, what did you think of lover boy?’

  ‘Who do you mean?’

  ‘Jimmy Stewart. That smile of his, it was Andy’s.’

  ‘So you keep saying.’

  ‘Come on, don’t deny you fancied him a bit.’

  ‘What?’ said Molly blushing. ‘Jimmy Stewart?’

  ‘No, Andy. I saw the way you looked at each other, right from the start.’

  ‘You’ve got a real imagination, Cissy Brown.’

  ‘Listen, Molly,’ Cissy drawled, enjoying the after-effects of the drink, cigarettes and Destry’s understated charm, ‘you can’t kid a kidder. You and Andy and them kids, well, you all went together like apple pie and jelly.’

  ‘Apple pie and custard.’ Molly smirked.

  ‘There, you see. I was right. I knew—’ Cissy was about to enlarge when a tall figure pushed roughly past her.

  ‘ ’Ere, watch it, mate!’ Cissy snapped, ready to give the stranger a piece of her mind, when she froze where she stood. She was looking directly up at Big Nose, from the Roxy, who was pushing his chest into hers while at the same time his pal had got hold of Molly. Vaguely, she heard Molly scream, as they were bundled into an alley where, to her terror, Cissy felt two big mitts go around her throat and squeeze. Her hands went up to protect herself, trying to tear away the strong fingers that were locked around her neck. But the more she wrestled them, the tighter they squeezed, until her windpipe was crushed. Great gasps came from her mouth and she knew that her eyes were popping out from their sockets. Her legs lost all their strength.