by Carol Rivers
‘Thank God for that.’ Molly relaxed, until Dennis spoke.
‘You ain’t listened to the wireless, then?’
‘No. Why?’
‘They’ve just put out a bulletin. Last night there weren’t no raid.’
‘But there was! I heard the warning. We all did.’
‘Our ARP batteries heard the sound of gunfire too. That set off the alert. They dunno quite what happened, but everyone made for the Bethnal Green tube, as it was the nearest shelter to the sound of the ack-ack.’
‘So the bombers did fly over?’
‘Not a bleeding sign of them.’ Dennis swallowed and wiped his dirty face with even dirtier hands. ‘According to the official government statement put out this morning, someone tripped on the tube stairs and fell. There ain’t no handrail and there’s about nineteen steps what lead down from the street. It was dark and wet and no one could see where they were going. They fell one on top of each other, piling up like bloody dominoes.’
Molly took a horrified breath. ‘Were there many casualties?’ Expecting Dennis to say there were a few, she felt sick when he answered.
‘By the time we arrived with the fire engines and ambulances, they was laying them out in the street. Over a hundred at the first count, and by the time we left in the early hours, we’d counted another fifty.’
Molly and Jean stared at each other. It was too terrible to think of, and they looked at Dennis who had witnessed the tragedy at first hand. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. Molly realized he must have shed many tears throughout the night.
‘Dennis, I don’t know what to say,’ she whispered hoarsely.
‘I never seen nothing like it.’
‘Do you know what the gunfire was about?’
‘Someone said a new kind of bomb was being dropped.’
‘Was it?’ asked Jean, searching her husband’s face.
‘Dunno. There’s rumours flying everywhere. People say foreign agents infiltrated and planned it all. Whatever it was, I’ll never forget them bodies and dragging ’em out from the stairwell.’
Molly saw that Dennis was in no state to talk. His hands were shaking and Jean took his arm and said softly, ‘Come on, Den, let’s go home.’
He didn’t seem to hear her and gazed into space; Molly knew he couldn’t forget what he’d witnessed.
Accompanying her friends to the door, she watched them leave the shop and walk slowly down the street.
Once again, the thought in her mind was: this was what war did to people. There were no rules or regulations to prevent tragedy happening and in cases like this, when there hadn’t been one German bomber seen overhead, people were saying it must be spies.
What could possibly come next?
For days after, the East End buried their dead once again. Molly listened in sympathy to her frightened customers. Some had relatives or friends who had been in Bethnal Green on that rainy night when mysterious gunfire had set off the stampede in the tube stairwell.
No one had an answer. It was all suggestion and suspicion. There was an endless array of propaganda posters, pamphlets, booklets and leaflets issued to the general public. Molly refused to put up any in the shop and was immediately reproached by Mr Stokes.
‘Come along, Molly,’ he told her, waving the poster in the air. ‘You’ve got a space in your window. It’s only fair to give people warning.’
‘I’ve got enough trouble,’ she argued, ‘with Evie and Mark listening what the kids say at school. Like “Careless Talk Costs Lives” and “War Spies – Keep it Under Your Hat”. It frightens the kids.’
‘This poster’s not bad,’ cajoled Mr Stokes. ‘“Loose Lips Sink Ships”.’ He waved it in front of Molly.
‘Yes, and immediately Mark would think of his dad at sea. I’m sorry, but the answer’s no.’
Molly was relieved when the prime minister finally decided to soothe the nation’s unrest. His long-awaited statement to the general public was, at last, positive:
‘We have reached the conclusion that existing orders can now be relaxed and the church bells can be rung on Sundays and other special days to summon worshippers to church.’
It wasn’t much, Molly thought to herself, but it had the desired effect.
Church bells rang all over London at the weekend, and when Andy’s letter plopped on the mat the following week, it was hard for Molly to contain her delight at his news. Passing his finals with flying colours had earned him an unbelievable ten days’ leave!
The date they could expect him home was set for Sunday, 23 May. He would catch the early train to London and arrive in time for dinner.
Molly was over the moon!
Chapter Twenty-Six
May arrived with a warm rush of spring air, a little light rain and a burst of high temperature. Molly was in a whirl of excitement. As she had a room spare now and Andy would have her father’s bed to sleep in, she bought a pair of good second-hand pillowcases from the market and a navy-blue feather eiderdown that just needed a little darning. She also invested a shilling in a pair of men’s slippers. They were almost new and looked about Andy’s size.
‘Why don’t we have a party?’ Jean suggested one day. ‘A sort of congratulations and welcome home all in one.’
‘Where would I hold it? Upstairs might be too small and we ain’t got a yard.’
‘We have though,’ offered Jean. ‘If the weather’s good as this, we could put up a bit of bunting. Lay the food out on the ARP trestles. And have some booze indoors for the blokes.’
‘That’s a nice thought, Jean, but what about Dennis? He ain’t been himself lately.’
‘A knees-up will do him good. It’ll be just like old times. Harry’s old enough now to come out with Cissy and Spot, and why don’t you ask Lyn and your dad to visit? I mean, it would be the perfect time to get them together with Andy and the kids.’
At first Molly was uncertain. Would Lyn consider the offer? They hadn’t seen each other since the day she last came to the shop. But the more she thought about it, the better she liked Jean’s suggestion.
So she wrote and asked her father and sister if they could come to a family party in celebration of Andy passing his finals. To her surprise, the answer came very quickly. ‘It’s about time the family got together,’ Lyn wrote. ‘You’ll be pleased to see how well Dad’s keeping. The country air seems to suit him. I really do think it would suit you too. I miss you, dear, and hope you’ll consider a relocation.’
Molly sighed as she read the letter. It was typical of Lyn to miss the point of Andy’s success and mention her own agenda of persuading Molly to move to Sidcup.
Oh well, she thought, I’ll be proud to show Andy and the kids off. They were her family now and the sooner Lyn accepted that, the better.
The day came and Molly was both nervous and excited. The weather had held and it was a beautiful May day. She was up with the lark, cooking, baking and trying to calm her nerves. Dennis had come out of himself a little in order to help with the party. He’d organized the kids, mustering them to hang the paper flags they’d made around the back yard and over his shed roof. The small patch of brown grass had been trimmed and the tables laid out.
At eleven o’clock, an hour before Andy was expected, they ferried the food Molly had cooked down to Jean’s. Molly gave the four children baskets and bags full of cakes, pies, pastries, pickles and preserves, while Jean’s old pram was used for the knives, forks, plates and tumblers that were to be set on the table in the Turners’ kitchen.
At a few minutes past the hour a noisy green van came spluttering up the road and parked outside the Turners’. Molly saw it from Jean’s window and called to everyone that Spot and Cissy and the baby had arrived.
There were gasps of delight as Spot whispered he’d managed to procure a van for the day and in the rear was enough beer to last for the duration.
No one asked any questions. And when Cissy climbed out, handing the child in her arms to Spot, everyone gathered rou
nd.
‘Ain’t he a charmer?’ said Spot as he bounced Harry in his arms.
‘He’s enormous!’ Jean squealed as she tickled Harry’s plump chin. ‘And such a bonny little boy.’
Molly agreed, but was most happy to see that Cissy looked radiant in a smart white tailored jacket and skirt with her thick and glossy dark hair pinned up in an elegant roll at the back of her head.
‘Dunno where he gets his good looks from,’ Cissy laughed as they all paraded into the house and out into the yard. ‘Reckon he got left on the doorstep.’
Everyone gathered again round Harry, the focus of attention. Molly could hardly believe he was that same struggling infant whose life had hung in the balance almost five months ago.
With a head of straight dark hair and dimples in both cheeks, Harry’s skin was a healthy pink. His large deep-grey eyes, like his mother’s, went intently over the faces in front of him. A glistening strand of drool spun from his mouth and there were roars of laughter when he smacked his lips together and sucked them in with a burp.
Leaving the Fryers surrounded, Molly and Jean put out the rest of the food and Dennis, together with Mr Stokes, enjoyed a first beer with compliments from the large brewery crate hurried in from the back of the van.
When all was ready, Molly went up to Jean’s bedroom and changed from her overall into a cool summer blouse and short skirt. She was putting the finishing touches to her appearance, brushing her auburn waves into place over her shoulders, when there was a knock at the door. Her heart was in her mouth as she ran downstairs to open it.
Expecting to see Andy, instead she found her sister and two very tall, thin children whom she barely recognized. They were all standing stiffly on the doorstep, dressed as if they had stepped this very moment from one of Selfridges’ shop windows.
‘Sorry we’re late,’ Lyn apologized from under a large white linen hat that neatly covered her bobbed fair hair. ‘We started off early but the roads were congested with service vehicles. All Americans, of course. They think they own our roads.’
‘Where’s Dad?’ Molly asked anxiously as she peered out to Oscar’s car parked in the road.
‘He’s on his way.’
‘Can he walk?’
‘Slowly, with his stick. But he’s so very much better than when you last saw him, thanks to our wonderful Mrs James.’
‘Does she still treat him?’
‘Only once every two weeks now. He’d be a wreck still if it wasn’t for the physical therapy. Expensive, of course, but nothing is too much for Oscar.’ Lyn gestured to her children. ‘Now, Elizabeth, George, say hello to your aunt. You haven’t seen her for ages.’
‘Hello, Aunt Molly,’ they both said at once in cut-glass accents.
‘It’s so good to see you.’ Molly kissed her nephew and niece. They smiled politely but looked very nervous at the sound of raucous shouting echoing in from the back yard. ‘My word, you’re both almost as tall as your mother.’
Dark-haired, brown-eyed Elizabeth smiled, standing awkwardly in her navy-blue school blazer and green-striped summer dress. George, a year younger at eight, was coppery-haired and blue-eyed. He wore his school uniform too and Molly noted that the motto on his breast pocket was written in Latin, which she took to be a clue that he was now at the private school Lyn and Oscar had chosen for the children.
Just then, Jean appeared and embraced all three with a warm East End welcome. ‘It’s ages since I’ve seen you lot,’ Jean laughed. ‘Blimey, what are you feeding these kids on, Lyn? Whatever it is, I’ll have some of it for Simon and Susie! Now, I can see Bill’s on his way with your husband, so let me take you outside to meet everyone. The kids are dying to see you.’
Molly watched Jean take Lyn’s arm and propel her along the passage. George and Elizabeth dutifully followed and very soon drinks were being poured by Dennis, and everyone was herded out into the yard where the old gramophone with its HMV recordings had been placed for the afternoon.
Molly thought how regal Lyn looked in a pink summer coat and white gloves. Though she was an East Ender born and bred, after meeting Oscar she had certainly changed her lifestyle. Good for you, Molly thought; Lyn’s was a success story, and Molly felt a wave of pride in her sister.
‘Molly, girl, is that you?’ a croaky voice called from the street.
Looking back, Molly saw Oscar bending to brush an invisible speck of dust from the wing of his car, careful not to dirty his grey blazer and white flannels. A few yards away was her father, limping slowly towards her, leaning heavily on his walking stick. He was stooped and puffing a little, but he looked wonderfully smart in a sports jacket and tweed cloth cap. Even his walking stick was decorated with a gleaming brass trim. Molly could see Lyn’s personal touches to this East End shopkeeper who had been transformed into a country gent.
He stood very still and smiled his lovely smile, reminding her that this was the father she loved and missed so much.
Andy made his way down Roper Street, as he had many times before. He was running late, well over an hour, as there had been delays on the line, and though every instinct told him to veer towards the shop, he passed it with a cursory glance.
Skirting the crater in the road, he listened for the sound of children, for Molly had said she and the kids would meet him at Jean’s. Since it was a Sunday she had said the youngsters would all be playing together; it would fill in the time for them as they excitedly awaited his arrival.
He was grateful for this, for the friendship and support this little family had given his kith and kin. And he looked on Dennis as his best mate, a bloke he could truly rely on.
He was thinking about what Molly had written, of the impact of the Bethnal Green tragedy, when he was startled out of his thoughts. There in the road was the biggest car he’d ever seen, with a shine on it to equal his boots on parade morning.
There was no one around. He paused to study its magnificence, straightening his shoulders under his navy-issue duffel jacket. Then, as the Turners’ front door opened, a slim, auburn-haired woman appeared, dressed in a white short-sleeved blouse and short dark skirt. His heart did a loop-the-loop. Molly’s hair reminded him of English chestnuts in an autumn wood as it flowed over her shoulders. In the next breath she was running towards him and he to her.
‘Oh, darling, darling,’ she whispered as she threw herself into his arms.
Andy held her close. ‘Molly, my God, Molly. I’m not dreaming this, am I?’
She laughed then, her brown eyes seeming to be alight. ‘If you are, we’re in the same dream together. Welcome home.’
Grinning, he looked over her shoulder. ‘I want to kiss you and not stop but I suppose I’d better wait.’
‘Maybe. The house is full of kids.’
‘Is the mayor visiting?’
‘No. That’s Oscar’s car.’
He shook his head slowly. ‘It’s a wonder it ain’t got the Union Jack on the front.’
‘I don’t think that’s Oscar’s style.’
He pushed back a lock of her hair, feeling its softness. Oh, how he’d longed just to do that. ‘Are Mark and Evie okay?’
‘They will be, when they see you.’
‘The train was delayed. Nothing I could do but count the minutes till I got here.’ A soft trickle of music floated in the air. ‘Has Dennis got hold of a brass band?’
‘You’ve got a surprise waiting.’
‘Is it one I’m gonna like?’
‘I think so.’ She took hold of his arm and marched him to the Turners’ front door. ‘Wait there.’
He held his breath, watching her hurry down the hall, his eyes unable to leave her slim and graceful shape. Suddenly Vera Lynn’s ‘White Cliffs of Dover’ was interrupted and all went quiet. When she returned she put her hands over his eyes. ‘Keep them closed. And don’t peep.’
He did as he was told, absorbing the warm and homely smells as she pulled him along; the tantalizing aromas of cooking, floating on the air like an invisible
streamer.
Then she stopped, her hand dropping away. ‘You can open them now,’ she whispered and he did, dragging in a gasp of surprise as the world and his wife appeared before him, clapping and cheering as Mark and Evie ran forward and threw themselves into his arms.
‘Hello, son, congratulations,’ Molly heard her father say, as after all the welcome pats on the back, Andy took a seat beside Bill. ‘Molly told us you’d passed them examinations. You should be proud of yourself.’
‘Thank you, Mr Keen.’
‘Not so much of the Mr Keen. It’s Bill. I’ve heard a lot about you. All good, I’m pleased to say.’
‘I’m relieved to hear that.’ Andy looked at Molly, a slight flush on his face. Then he turned back to Bill and the two men fell into conversation.
Molly hovered uncertainly; Lyn and Oscar were talking to Mr Stokes who had brought his wife, Elaine, a small but boisterous lady who was an active member of the WVS.
Molly knew Andy and Bill would hit it off but she guessed that Lyn and Oscar would have their reservations. For after all, Andy was not about to impress with either an educated accent or a life story that would hold their attention. She could already see that Lyn was watching George and Elizabeth, who were clearly enjoying the loud music with Simon, Susie, Mark and Evie.
Just then, Lyn turned and met Molly’s gaze. She nudged Oscar, and they left the Stokeses and made their way towards her.
Molly decided to get the introductions over quickly. ‘Lyn, Oscar, this is Andy Miller. Andy, my sister and her husband.’
Andy shot to his feet and put out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said and added quickly, ‘Molly’s often spoken about you.’
‘Has she?’ Lyn said frostily, quickly shaking hands.
‘Andy’s home for ten days,’ Molly continued. ‘As I wrote, he’s passed all his exams.’
‘For what?’ Oscar asked, a frown stretching across his high forehead and accentuating his large ears.
‘Signals,’ said Andy simply. ‘I was in the merch and decided to volunteer.’
‘Not the Royal, then?’ Oscar dismissed.
