Always in my Heart

by Pam Weaver

  ‘What about you, Betty? How are you coping?’

  ‘The house is a bit empty without Ken and Raymond,’ she admitted, ‘but apparently we may have people billeted on us before long.’

  ‘I’m not sure Mother would take kindly to strangers in the house,’ Doreen remarked.

  ‘She may not have a choice,’ Betty said sagely. ‘What about you, Florrie? Are you sending the kids away to the country when the evacuation starts?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Florrie. ‘I wouldn’t worry about Shirley, but I can’t imagine Tom settling down with someone he’d never met before. Besides, who would take him?’

  ‘Vera’s little girl, she’s blind and she’s going,’ said Betty.

  ‘Yes, but she’s going with the whole school,’ said Florrie. ‘They’ll all be in the same boat. Poor Tom is expected to be the same as everyone else, only he isn’t.’

  The other two nodded in agreement and a little chill settled over them.

  ‘I heard a good joke the other day,’ said Florrie, deliberately brightening up. ‘There was this farmer who put a notice up in his field. “I will give this field to a contented man.” A few days later, a man knocked on his door. “I am a very contented man,” he said, “so I’ve come to claim the field.” “Is that right?” said the farmer. “Well, if you’re so contented, why do you want my field?”’

  There was a second or two of silence; then Betty threw her head back and laughed, and Doreen joined in. Florrie smiled. ‘Now, who wants an iced bun?’ she said. ‘I bought some from Mr Bolton especially.’

  Southend was even more wonderful than Shirley could ever have imagined. Overlooked by boarding houses and hotels, the promenade led to a fairly small stretch of sand. They were disappointed until Rev. Goose explained that the tide was in and the beach would get progressively bigger as the day wore on. The beach itself was absolutely packed, but Mrs Keene managed to find a narrow area under the sea wall where she and the children could be together. Rev. Goose made it his business to collect a few deckchairs for the other adult helpers in the group, and the children sat on the sand either on an old army blanket, brought along for the purpose, or on their own towels. Somehow or other each person had a small area of sand to play on and before long they were making sand pies and building sandcastles.

  Shirley and some of the bigger girls took some of the little ones down to the water’s edge for a paddle. A few had brought swimsuits and they enjoyed splashing about. Tom wandered along with them, searching for shells, which he put into his pockets as he followed the ever-growing area of shingle along the water’s edge. Shirley had no idea why he wanted them, but knowing her brother, he had a plan somewhere in that muddled head of his. Under Father Goose’s expert eye, some of the older boys set about building an elaborate fort complete with moat and stream.

  At twelve-thirty, everybody ate their lunch. Those who had sandwiches shared theirs with those who didn’t. They watched one of the pleasure boats pull into the jetty to disgorge its passengers and take on a queue of people waiting for a trip along the shoreline. A toilet break came next and Shirley and the older girls took the smaller children. Telling their charges to stay with Shirley, Helen and Ann snuck off, and a second or two later, Shirley saw them running towards the town. They really had gone without her! Shirley’s eyes stung with unshed tears. Oh, it wasn’t fair! She felt a mixture of disappointment, envy and a little slither of fear, but amazingly, when they all congregated together again, nobody missed them. Not even when Rev. Goose bought every child and the adults an ice cream while they sat on the sand to watch the Punch-and-Judy show.

  The trek to the Kursaal was a bit of a nightmare, but once they had arrived, Rev. Goose assigned a manageable ratio of children to adults or older girls, to make sure everyone was looked after. Tom, confused by all the noise, was content to stay close to Shirley and watch. No one managed to persuade him to go on a ride, but he did win a goldfish in a jam jar when he got a wooden hoop over a stand on the hoopla stall. He was delighted. It was only as they left the amusements that Helen and Ann were missed and a major panic ensued.

  ‘Has anyone seen them?’ Rev. Goose demanded, and when he was met with blank expressions, his face grew purple. ‘Where on earth have they gone? If someone knows anything about this and I find out you’ve said nothing, I shall be extremely angry.’

  Shirley busied herself with the little ones, bending low in case Father Goose saw her blushing. Eventually, the police were called and it looked as if the whole day was going to be ruined. Shirley didn’t know what to do. Should she tell them that her friends had probably gone to Woolworths?

  In the end, it was decided that Mrs Keene and one of the other Sunday-school teachers should go in a police car and be driven around the resort in the hope of spotting them. The rest of the party would go on to Sunny Side Cafe for high tea, as arranged. As the crocodile of excited children weaved its way slowly through the crowds, Shirley kept a lookout in case she spotted Helen and Ann first. She hoped to warn them of the pickle they were in so that they could get their stories straight. It was difficult to find them in the crowds, especially while she was holding the sweaty hands of two tired and hungry little ones. Tom trailed behind her with his goldfish in the jam jar.

  The tea was amazing. They had more sandwiches, pork pies, sausage rolls and jelly and trifle, followed by chocolate cake. As the meal drew to a close, Ann came into the cafe, escorted by a policeman. She was looking very red-eyed and upset, and it was obvious that she’d been crying. Rev. Goose sat her at a table far away from the others. He seemed fairly cross but anxious as well. Shirley was conscious of the adults with their heads together, whispering. It was bad enough that Ann was in trouble, but where was Helen?

  Back on the coach, Helen still hadn’t materialized, and Ann sat hunched up in her seat occasionally wiping her tears away with a handkerchief. As Shirley and Tom sat down, he put his jam jar on the floor and took a cigarette packet out of his pocket. For a second, Shirley panicked. Where had he got fags from? She hadn’t given him any money, just like Mum said. Tom pushed the packet open to reveal not Player’s Navy Cut cigarettes but a curled-up worm.

  ‘Ugh,’ said Shirley. ‘Where did you get that from?’

  ‘I found it,’ said Tom. ‘I’m going to look it up in my book.’

  The creature was about six inches long, pinkish-red with a small head. It didn’t seem to have any eyes, but it was covered in something that looked like bristles.

  Just at that moment, Father Goose came by counting heads. ‘What have you got there, Tom?’

  ‘It’s my pet,’ said Tom, closing the cigarette packet.

  ‘And do you know what it’s called?’

  ‘Walter,’ said Tom seriously.

  ‘Actually,’ said Father Goose, ‘it’s a lugworm. I think I’d better take it up to the front of the coach in case it escapes, don’t you? You can have it back when you get home.’

  ‘Helen still isn’t here, sir,’ Shirley reminded him.

  Father Goose nodded. ‘I know where she is, thank you, Shirley.’

  Reluctantly, Tom handed Walter and his goldfish over; then with everyone on board, except Helen, they set off, leaving behind the smell of the sea, the fresh air and the sunshine. Once they were well under way, Father Goose started a sing-song, and as the rest of the coach party burst forth with ‘Ten Green Bottles’, Shirley slid into the seat next to Ann’s.

  ‘What’s happened to Helen? Has she been taken ill?’

  Ann turned her tear-stained face towards her. ‘Oh, Shirl, it was awful. She’s still at the police station and she has to wait for her mum and dad.’

  Shirley’s mouth gaped. ‘For buying a lipstick?’

  Ann moved a little closer. ‘Helen has been arrested for shoplifting.’

  As she said her goodbyes to Betty and Doreen, Florrie started another coughing fit. This one was worse than ever. It was impossible to stop and it was gathering momentum. She was forced to lean forward and
brace herself against the wall as she struggled to get her breath back. Her head felt as if it would explode and the blood pounded in her face. She brought up her tea before she could finally press her handkerchief to her mouth to stop it.

  Betty, who had gone inside to fetch Doreen’s coat, came running out of the shop. ‘You all right, love?’ she said, concerned. ‘Here, let’s get you back inside.’

  Florrie was aware of the two of them helping her through the door and plonking her onto the chair in front of the counter, which had been placed there for elderly customers. She was still trying to control herself when suddenly she realized she’d tiddled her pants. ‘I’ll be all right,’ she said, anxious that her friends should never know. ‘You go. You’ll miss the bus.’

  By now tears filled her eyes, and the stitch in her side was unbearable, but the minute she thought she’d stopped coughing, it would start all over again.

  ‘Shut the door, Doreen,’ said Betty, ‘and turn the sign for a minute. I’m just going out the back.’

  Florrie heard the bell jingle as Doreen closed the door, and a second or two later, Betty thrust a glass of water in front of her. ‘That cough of yours is getting much worse, Florrie,’ she said.

  ‘I think we should get Dr Pringle to call,’ said Doreen. ‘If I run along now, he might come before evening surgery.’

  ‘No need,’ Florrie rasped.

  ‘Don’t listen to her, Dor,’ said Betty. ‘I’ve been telling her for weeks to get that cough seen to, but she won’t go. I’ve never seen it as bad as this.’

  Florrie waved her arm in protest, but inside her chest, her lungs were screaming. Once the spasm had died down, she held her throbbing head with one hand and did her best to breathe normally. When she took her handkerchief away from her mouth, she heard Betty gasp. Florrie looked down at it and reeled back in horror. Now there was no denying that something was very wrong. The pretty snow-white cotton was covered in blood.

  CHAPTER 2

  Florrie was resting on the sofa when Doreen got back from the telephone box. She looked pale and exhausted, but at least she had stopped coughing.

  ‘Dr Pringle says he’ll be here within the hour.’

  Betty came downstairs with a blanket and put it over her friend. The three of them avoided each other’s eye. Nobody wanted to voice the fears they all shared, and each of them hoped against hope that she was wrong. Doreen made some tea and filled a hot-water bottle for Florrie to cuddle.

  Dr Pringle was as good as his word. He arrived at the shop twenty minutes later. A robust-looking man with greying hair and a slight paunch, he had to knock on the kitchen window because Betty had put a Closed due to illness notice on the shop door. She and Doreen waited in the shop while he did his examination.

  ‘She’ll have to go away if it is what I think it is,’ said Betty bleakly. ‘And if that’s the case, what’s going to happen to Shirley and Tom?’

  ‘I guess I’m the obvious one to take them in,’ said Doreen. They were talking in anxious whispers. ‘But I know my mother would never agree.’

  ‘And I can’t manage the shop and the children,’ said Betty, idly rearranging a couple of tins on the shelf so that the whole label showed. ‘I have my own place to run as well, and besides, my Raymond will be home on leave next week.’

  ‘There are plenty of people who will have Shirley,’ Doreen observed.

  ‘But not Tom,’ said Betty, saying the unthinkable out loud for the first time. ‘I know she wouldn’t want it, but it looks like he might end up in a home.’

  The two friends looked at each other helplessly. ‘Is that why she didn’t want them evacuated?’ said Doreen.

  Betty nodded. ‘Florrie has always been afraid that if Tom went into a home, he’d never come out again.’

  ‘Oh, what are we going to do, Betty?’ Doreen said anxiously. ‘She’s in no fit state to make proper decisions, and they start moving everybody out on Saturday.’

  ‘It’s too late for them to be evacuated now,’ said Betty. ‘She told the woman from the WI in no uncertain terms to bugger off.’

  Doreen couldn’t resist a wry smile. ‘That sounds like our Florrie.’

  Dr Pringle came into the shop. ‘I’ll make arrangements for Mrs Jenkins to have an X-ray as quickly as possible,’ he said in his usual businesslike fashion. ‘Ideally she should be in bed, but I can’t persuade her to go. One thing is absolutely certain: she can’t work in the shop any more, and I’ve told her if I catch her serving customers, I shall shut the place down immediately.’

  ‘Is it that bad, Doctor?’ asked Betty.

  ‘Coughing over the customers isn’t a good idea,’ said Dr Pringle, ‘but more importantly, she needs to rest.’

  Betty nodded sagely. ‘I’ll make sure she does, Doctor.’

  He gathered his things and headed towards the exit. ‘If my suspicions are correct,’ he said, his hand on the door handle, ‘Mrs Jenkins will have to go away for at least a year. You needn’t tell anyone or they won’t want to shop here any more, but something will have to be arranged for the children.’ He unlocked and pulled open the shop door. ‘Good afternoon, ladies.’

  ‘Looks like you were right,’ said Doreen, staring at the closed door. ‘Do you think she realizes?’

  ‘Only one way to find out,’ said Betty with a sigh.

  Back in the kitchen, Florrie had been crying. ‘What am I going to do?’ Her voice was choked with emotion. ‘The shop is my livelihood. Without that income, my kids will starve.’

  ‘Don’t you worry about that, love,’ said Betty, patting her hand. ‘We’ll soon sort something out. I’ll still be here, and I’m sure some of the neighbours will help out.’

  ‘For a day or two, perhaps,’ said Florrie. ‘Dr Pringle was talking about a whole year! I can’t be away from home that long. And who’s going to look after Shirley and Tom?’ She gave them a fiercely independent look. ‘Before you say anything, I won’t send them to a children’s home.’ Then sucking in her lips, she added, ‘No, it’s impossible. I can’t go and there’s an end to it. I just can’t.’

  Doreen perched on the edge of the sofa. ‘Florrie, be sensible. If this is what we all think it is and you refuse to go for treatment, in a year’s time you won’t even be here for Shirley and Tom.’

  Behind her, Betty took in her breath. ‘Hang on a minute, Dor—’

  ‘No, Betty, we all have to face facts. It’s no good pretending everything is going to be fine. It won’t. You need that treatment, Florrie, love. You have no choice.’ Doreen’s expression was firm.

  Florrie covered her face with her hand. She made no sound, but they knew she was crying.

  Doreen patted her shoulder. ‘If the worst comes to the worst, I’ll go and see someone from the Sally Army. They have some good contacts. I’m sure they can find someone to take them in.’

  Florrie gulped back some of her tears. ‘Maybe I could make some sort of private arrangement. I have got a bit of money put by – not a lot, but it might help to find the right person.’

  ‘You’ll need that money for yourself,’ said Doreen. ‘I don’t know how much the X-ray will cost, but the cheapest sanatoriums are at least five guineas a week.’

  ‘Five guineas!’ Florrie gasped. Her friend nodded. ‘Five guineas a week for a whole year . . .’ She burst into tears.

  Betty and Doreen looked at each other helplessly. If Florrie really did have to stay in a sanatorium for a year, it meant that she would have to find 260 guineas – an awful lot of money, and that was just for her own care. That didn’t take into account the doctor’s fees, and paying someone to look after Shirley and Tom would be on top of that.

  ‘Don’t forget you’ll have the takings from the shop . . .’ Betty added cautiously.

  ‘You’ll need to take your wages,’ said Florrie. She tried to dry her eyes with her already sodden handkerchief. ‘You must take it.’

  ‘I will, don’t you worry,’ said Betty.

  Florrie wasn’t convinced. �
��I mean it, Betty. If I let you do this, promise me you will. Promise.’ Her anxious entreaty started another fit of coughing, but fortunately, she didn’t bring up any more blood. They heard the shop door open and Shirley calling, ‘Mum, we’re home.’

  Florrie half sat up. ‘I don’t want the kids to know about this just yet,’ she said earnestly. ‘If they ask what’s wrong with me, just say I’m a bit under the weather, that’s all.’

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘In the kitchen, love.’

  Betty reached for her coat and hat. ‘Try and rest as much as possible. I’ll pop round again tomorrow.’

  The children bounded into the room. ‘Mum? There’s a note on the shop door. Are you ill?’

  ‘I’m just a bit tired, that’s all,’ said Florrie with a chuckle. ‘Auntie Betty and Auntie Doreen and I have been nattering all day and it’s worn me out. Nothing to worry about. I’ll be as right as ninepence in the morning.’

  ‘I lost Walter,’ said Tom, coming over to his mother, ‘but I’ve still got my shells.’

  ‘Who’s Walter?’ asked Doreen.

  ‘His lugworm,’ said Shirley.

  Doreen looked away quickly lest he saw her half-grin. He might be taller than her but he was still only a kid.

  ‘Did you have a nice time?’ said Florrie, and spotting the goldfish in the jam jar, she added, ‘What’s that?’

  Tom beamed. ‘I won it.’

  Everybody admired it, and after he’d told them about winning it on the hoopla stall, Betty said, ‘I think you need a bit more water in that jam jar. Looks like you’ve spilled some. Goldfish like cold water and I reckon you’ve been cuddling it so hard that the water has got a bit too warm as well.’ She took him to the sink and they put the jar under the cold-water tap. As the water cascaded in, the goldfish swam around dizzily.