by Anna King
At her words, Danny’s face lit up with relief. Dropping down on the chair opposite, he gabbled happily, ‘Oh, that’s all right, love. We’ve all been out of sorts lately. Not surprising with all that’s happened, is it? Let’s forget about it, eh?’
Deeply ashamed, Grace patted Danny’s arm. ‘Thanks, Uncle Danny. You’re a good man.’ Much too good for the likes of that one, her inner voice added, refusing to be silenced.
When Beryl joined them later, Grace struggled to be amenable, but it was hard going, and when the woman had to return behind the bar, Grace only just stopped herself from letting out a huge sigh of relief.
At least she wouldn’t have to go through that ordeal again. Now she could concentrate on spending the rest of the night with Stanley.
Leaving Danny behind, the young couple left the pub, each one contemplating the hours left to them and praying there wouldn’t be an air raid tonight. No sooner had the thought crossed their minds than the now-familiar wail of the siren cut the air.
‘Oh, damn and blast!’ Grace cried in despair as the searchlights lit up the sky. Suddenly remembering her uncle she cried, ‘Uncle Danny. We’ll have to go back for him.’
As she turned, Stanley gripped her arm.
‘Don’t be daft. He’ll go down the cellar with the rest of them. C’mon, let’s get moving…
‘Cheer up, girl. It might just be a light raid,’ Stan said jovially as they hurried along. ‘Come on, Gracie, race you home. First one into the basement’s a—’ A bomb fell nearby, drowning out his words. Grabbing hands they raced towards home, to be met at the door by an anxious Polly, for once not safely ensconced down below stairs.
‘What are you doing out here, you silly cow?’ Grace shoved her youngest sister back inside the house roughly. ‘You stay downstairs when its safe and stand out on the doorstep in a raid. What’s the matter with you? You trying to get yourself killed?’
‘’Ere, leave the poor little mare alone. You’ve been in a right old mood tonight.’ Stanley, his lips pressed into lines of anger, wrapped his arms around the shivering Polly. Over the top of the ginger head he mouthed to Grace, ‘I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t bothered coming home… Oh, Gawd! You ain’t gonna start crying again, are you? Bleeding hell! Can’t I say anything without you bawling?’
Aghast at the cruel words, Grace could only watch as Stanley led Polly down the basement stairs, for all the world as if she were his fiancée!
‘Oh, good, you’re home.’ Aggie came bustling along the corridor, a flask under each arm and a tray of sandwiches piled high on a large platter. ‘Vi’s already downstairs with some squaddie. They were just about to go out when the siren went off. Let’s hope it’s only a short raid. I don’t fancy spending the night with a strange bloke – not at my age, though Stan’ll probably be grateful to have another soldier to keep him company… Gawd! Here the buggers come again. Here, help me with this lot, Gracie, there’s a good girl…’
Angry and frustrated at the way the evening had turned out, Grace followed her grandmother down the steep steps to the large room below. Resting the tray on the top step, she pulled the door firmly shut, took a deep breath to regain her composure, then carried on down the stairs.
The basement had been made comfortable at the start of the war, with bits and pieces added at different intervals. Two double mattresses, intended for the rag-and-bone man, lay propped up against the far wall ready to be made up into beds should the need arise, and the spare three-piece suite from the dining room was now arranged in the centre of the room for added comfort.
Placing the tray on the coffee table, Grace looked to where Vi was sitting on the arm of the armchair, a uniformed man sprawled in the chair itself. But the man with Vi was no squaddie, as Aggie had said, not according to the stripes on his arm.
Grace uttered a silent disparaging laugh. She should have known Vi wouldn’t lower herself by entertaining an ordinary man from the ranks.
As if conscious of her thoughts, the man leant forward, saying, ‘Sorry about imposing on you like this, miss. I did offer to go to the public shelter, but your grandmother kindly offered to let me share the amenities here.’
Startled, Grace handed the officer a mug of tea.
‘Oh, that’s quite all right. We often have the neighbours in if it’s a heavy raid, so we’re used to company.’
Taking the offered mug, the man winked, reached into his pocket and produced a bottle of brandy.
‘I don’t know about the rest of you, but I prefer my tea a little stronger. Anyone else like some?’
Grace shook her head, but Aggie, her face lighting up at the sight of her favourite tipple, eagerly held out her mug.
‘Cheers, mate, you’re a gentleman.’ Taking a long pull at the fortified drink, Aggie smacked her lips in appreciation. ‘Ah, that’s better. A couple more of these an’ I won’t be worrying about no bleeding bombs… Oh, thank you kindly, I don’t mind if I do,’ she added affably as another good measure was poured into her mug.
‘Did you see Uncle Danny on your travels, only he’s not come in yet?’ Vi, her long legs dangling provocatively over the side of the chair, addressed Grace.
Still smarting from the episode in the pub, and Stanley’s subsequent behaviour, Grace answered curtly, ‘Yes, we saw him in the pub, but he stayed on after we left. The siren went off when we were halfway home. I was going to go back for him, but Stan said he’d probably go down the cellar with the rest of the pub regulars. I hope he’s all right, he…’
But Vi was no longer listening, her attention consumed by the smartly dressed man lounging in the large armchair.
Embarrassed at being ignored, Grace dithered a moment before settling herself in the other armchair, the settee already being occupied by Stanley and Polly. Looking at the entwined couple, Grace felt a lump form in her throat, then she shook her head crossly. Come on, girl, get a grip on yourself, she admonished herself sternly, ashamed for feeling so weak and weepy.
Getting up again, she crossed over to the officer and, holding out her mug, said with forced gaiety, ‘I think I will have a drop, thank you. I might as well, after all there’s nothing much else to do, is there? Cheers!’
* * *
Because of the clement weather, the Luftwaffe seized the opportunity to mount a large-scale raid that evening, which meant that everyone had to bed down for the night. Polly and Grace shared one mattress, while Vi, protesting beneath her breath at being separated from her officer friend, was forced to bed down beside her nan. The two men, meanwhile, had to make do with the settee and armchairs pushed together. Altogether the sleeping arrangements were comparative luxury compared to the conditions of the ordinary public shelters, and everyone tucked up warmly in the basement was aware of their good fortune.
Grace had slept soundly, due in part to the generous helping of brandy she had imbibed. So when she felt someone pulling at her arm she didn’t awaken instantly as she usually did, but groaned and turned back over on her side. But the feel of hands on her body became more insistent, until she was finally dragged from her peaceful slumber.
Groggy with sleep, she half sat up on the mattress mumbling, ‘Wh… what… What is it? What’s the matter?’
She felt a finger press lightly on her lips, warning her to keep quiet.
‘Sshh, it’s me, Stan. Keep your voice down. We don’t wanna wake anyone up.’
Inching her way to a sitting position, Grace looked at the gloomy outline crouching on the floor, her eyes screwing up in bewilderment.
‘Stan!’ she whispered. ‘What’s going on? What do you want at this time of the night?’
In answer she felt a warm hand on her leg, then she smelt brandy-laden breath on her cheek and shrank back in disgust, with Stan moving closer until their bodies were touching.
‘C’mon, love. Let’s go over to the sofa, we’ll be more comfortable there.’ His lips were nibbling at her ear, the stink of alcohol making Grace gag. ‘Hurry up, Gracie, we ain’t got much ti
me left. I’m gonna have to leave as soon as the all-clear goes, and we ain’t had a minute to ourselves since I got here.’
Disgusted and angry, Grace shoved the heavy body away, hissing angrily, ‘Are you mad? Do you honestly expect me to… to… with all of my family in the same room? Not to mention a complete stranger who could wake up at any minute. Get away from me, Stan. Go on, clear off. You’re drunk. You stink of it.’
When the heavy body paid no heed and began to press down harder on her, Grace kicked out wildly, her legs thrashing around furiously as fear began to grow inside her at this man who had suddenly turned into a stranger. Suddenly, one of her kicks found its mark, and with a muffled groan Stanley fell back holding his stomach.
‘What’d you do that for?’ he cried piteously. ‘I only wanted a bit of a kiss and cuddle.’
Scrambling on to her knees, Grace faced him in the darkness, her whole body trembling with rage.
‘I know what you wanted, Stan, and I can’t believe you could act like this. What’s gotten into you, you…’
A low mumble came from the mattress and Grace quickly bent down to her sister, who was attempting to sit up.
‘Grace! Gracie! Is that you, Gracie? What’s the matter? Is anything wrong?’
‘No, no, nothing’s wrong, Poll,’ Grace whispered reassuringly. ‘You go back to sleep, love. That’s it. Go back to sleep.’ Tucking the blanket up around Polly’s neck, Grace moved closer to her sister as if for protection. But Stanley had already slunk away back to the sofa. Yet even when she heard his drunken snores she continued to sit bolt upright, afraid to close her eyes in case he came back.
‘Don’t worry, miss. I’ll keep an eye on him. He won’t bother you again, you have my word on it.’
Grace jumped at the sound of the strong, timbered voice that came out of the darkness, forgetting for a moment about the man who had been forced to stay the night with them. Deeply ashamed that her ordeal had been witnessed by a stranger, Grace mumbled, ‘Thank you,’ before burying herself under the blankets with Polly. But it was a long time before she managed to get back to sleep.
* * *
‘Come on, you lot, rise and shine. The all-clear went half an hour ago, you lazy buggers.’
Bustling around the room, Aggie laid down a tray filled with mugs of tea and hot, buttered toast, the heady aroma bringing the occupants of the basement awake.
Leaning up on her elbow, Grace sniffed the air then nudged the sleeping girl by her side.
‘Wake up, Poll, it’s all over for another night, and Nan’s made breakfast. Come on, lazy bones, get up.’
Mumbling and groaning, Polly sat up, her nose, like Grace’s, sniffing the delicious smell of breakfast, which overrode the heavy stench of brandy and cigarette smoke from the previous evening.
‘Ooh, Nan. Toast with butter. Where did you get that from?’ Clambering over Grace, Polly, looking more animated than anyone had seen her in a long while, scrambled to the coffee table, her eyes widening further at the sight of the four eggs perched resplendently in china egg cups. ‘Coo, eggs! Can I have one, Nan?’
Aggie, her face wreathed in pleasurable smiles, tapped at the grasping hand with a teaspoon, saying quickly, ‘Hang on, girl. We’ll have to share ’em. Half each, so don’t be so bleeding greedy. And as for where I got them, well you can thank Vi’s friend for your breakfast.’ Jerking her head over to where the officer was sitting, an amused smile on his face, Aggie explained, ‘He gave ’em to me last night when he called for Vi, but I thought I’d save ’em for breakfast. An’ that’s real butter on the toast, so get stuck in before it gets cold.’
Polly, her mouth watering in anticipation of the treat in store, looked over at the figure in the armchair and said shyly, ‘Thank you. I haven’t had an egg for ages. Where did you get them? Are you in the black market?’
A loud concerted gasp of dismay greeted this tactless remark, but the soldier grinned good naturedly.
‘Nothing so glamorous, I’m afraid, Polly. I got them from the store at the barracks. I’m only sorry I couldn’t get any more, seeing how much they’re appreciated.’
Shoving Polly aside, Aggie poured out the tea, saying happily, ‘Here, I’ll share one egg with you, an’ Grace can share with Vi. That’ll leave one each for Stan and—’ She broke off, embarrassed at not remembering the man’s name.
‘Chris,’ the man laughed. ‘My name’s Chris, and you can have my share. I can get plenty more where that came from.’ His face changing suddenly, he looked over to where the still figure of Stan lay on the sofa and added grimly, ‘I don’t suppose Stanley will deprive you ladies of an egg either, so you might as well have one each.’
Polly looked to Grace for confirmation, her face lighting up when Grace nodded in agreement.
‘Chris is right, Poll. Stan can get his breakfast when he gets back to the barracks. Go on, take one.’
The four women sat cross-legged around the table, and within minutes the tray was cleared.
Wiping her mouth, Grace rose to her feet, saying regretfully, ‘I suppose I’d better get ready for work, though after that heavy raid, it’s going to be murder getting to the City this morning.’
‘You work in the City?’ The question was tinged with surprised admiration, causing Grace to blush.
‘Yes, I’m a secretary at an office block off Leadenhall Street. We deal in stationery. It’s not a very big firm, but I like it.’ She laughed self-consciously. ‘I just hope it’s still standing when I get there. There’s always a worry that I’ll arrive to find a pile of rubble where my building used to be. Anyway, I’d best be off.’ Holding out her hand, she said, ‘It was nice meeting you, Chris, and thanks again for the breakfast.’ She smiled, indicating the remains of the breakfast tray.
‘My pleasure, Grace. It was nice to see it appreciated.’
Violet, who had been watching the scene with bored indifference, now joined Grace on her feet.
‘Speaking of work, I suppose I’d better get a move on myself, though I don’t have to leave as early, seeing as how I only work up the road.’
Once out of the basement Grace said to Vi, ‘He’s nice, Vi. How long have you been seeing him?’
Walking ahead of Grace up the stairs, Vi shrugged. ‘I only met him Friday night, but I won’t be keeping in touch. He’s all right, but not exactly a barrel of laughs. Besides, who wants to get serious these days? It’s hardly worth the effort. They’re here one minute and gone the next. Unless of course you manage to get a ring on your finger.’
Grace made a face behind Vi’s back, then, remembering Stanley still sleeping down below, exclaimed. ‘Oh, my Lord, Stanley. I forgot all about him. He’s supposed to be back at camp by nine o’clock. I’d better go and wake him up or we’ll have the military police after him.’
She was halfway down the stairs when she recalled the unpleasant scene from the early hours and felt her stomach tighten in distaste. It would be easy to blame Stanley’s outrageous behaviour on the drink he’d consumed, but she’d seen him drunk many times, and never once had he turned nasty. So why had he last night? Shuddering at the memory, she hesitated. She really didn’t want to face him, but she had no choice.
The sound of voices in the hall brought her head up, a look of relief coming to her face as Stanley, looking the worst for wear, emerged from the basement followed by the rest of the group.
Seeing Grace standing on the stairs, Stanley gave her a watery smile.
‘Morning, darlin’. Gawd! Me head’s splitting. You ain’t got any aspirin, have you? It feels like there’s a couple of German tanks moving about inside me head.’
The open, guileless smile on Stanley’s face showed he had no recollection of last night. Either that or he had suddenly developed an excellent talent for acting.
Immensely relieved she wouldn’t have to face a confrontation, Grace answered lightly, ‘There’s some in the kitchen. Ask Nan, she’ll get them for you, I have to get ready for work.’
Stan
ley’s smile faltered, his forehead creasing in befuddlement at the unmistakable frostiness in Grace’s voice. Then he remembered Danny and his new lady friend and realised why Grace was in a mood. Glumly he made for the kitchen where Aggie was busy washing up the breakfast plates. What a bleeding leave this had turned out to be. And he’d been looking forward to it so much as well. Not having to face the family’s grief over Sam and Hetty’s deaths, of course, that had been awful, but he had hoped he and Grace would have had some time to themselves, maybe even…!
‘What’s up with you?’ Aggie demanded brusquely. ‘You’ve got a face on you like a smacked arse.’ Falling on to a chair, Stanley replied dolefully, ‘I think I had a few too many last night. What with the beer at the pub and the drink Vi’s friend was handing round. I wasn’t gonna take any, not with him being an officer, but he’s all right, ain’t he? Not like some of ’em; look at you like you was something they found on the bottom of their boots, some of ’em do. Nah, Chris is all right in my book… ’Ere, got any aspirin, Aggie? Grace said there was some in here.’
Throwing Stanley an exasperated glance, Aggie took a small bottle from a cupboard under the sink and handed them to him, remarking archly, ‘Chris now, is it? I shouldn’t get too matey, if I was you, Stan. He might have been friendly enough last night, but he couldn’t’ve been otherwise in the circumstances, could he? But I doubt if he’ll be asking for your regiment so he can keep in touch. A bit out of your class, lad.’
Stanley’s face flushed at the reprimand. Of course he wasn’t going to make any assumptions about Lieutenant Green, he wasn’t that daft – though to hear Aggie talk you’d think he was a complete idiot. Swallowing two of the white tablets down with a drop of milk, he grimaced at the bitter taste they left in his mouth. Yet it wasn’t only the tablets that caused his discomfort. He had imagined a hero’s welcome, but it hadn’t turned out like that at all. Apart from the initial greeting, Grace hadn’t exactly been all over him. To be fair, she hadn’t had much chance, what with Polly following them everywhere, then the raid had put a damper on a cosy evening alone. But she could have spent some time with him during the night when everyone was sleeping. He frowned, his memory hazy at the events of the night. He could just remember trying to wake her up, but nothing after that. But seeing as he had woken up on his own, it was obvious she hadn’t broken her neck to be with him. Then there was Vi, sneering at him with that superior look of hers, and Aggie quickly reverting to treating him like a schoolboy instead of a grown man fighting for his King and Country. In fact the only people who had looked on him with any respect were Polly and Danny, and to be brutally honest, he couldn’t take much pride from those two. Poor Polly had been desperate for a man to lean on, anyone would have sufficed, and Danny… Well, it didn’t take much to impress Danny.
