by Annie Groves
Vicky stood up and went to a little bureau. ‘Last I heard of Pam she was living in Bexleyheath with her husband. But that was before the war, so it’s a while and they might have moved on.’
‘Husband?’ Grace echoed.
‘Yeah … second husband, name of Stanley Riley. Your mum would know she got divorced when she was young, but probably not that she’d remarried. When we all lived around Islington, Pam got involved with a rough family. She married one of them, worse for her, and lived to regret it.’ Vicky pursed her lips in thought. ‘I remember she had a son, but her ex-husband brought the boy up. God knows what sort of tyke he turned into. You should ask your mum about the Wilds, she’ll remember them, I’m sure, and tell you there wasn’t a good one amongst them.’
Grace lowered her eyes and sipped from her tea but she felt her indignation burning. Her mum had told her that this woman had very much hoped to marry into that rough family. ‘I think I’ve heard of Rob Wild,’ she said. ‘He’s done well for himself, hasn’t he?’
Vicky swung about to give her a hard stare. ‘He’s done well alright … by treading on other people. He was a horrible, selfish man; the worst of the lot of ’em.’ She opened the small address book she’d fished out of the bureau. ‘Shall I write down the address for you?’
‘Oh, I can remember it, thanks …’
It seemed that twenty-five years on, Vicky Watson, as she’d been, still hadn’t got over her pique at being dropped by Rob Wild. Grace felt relieved she’d not mentioned the Keivers or the Wilds when talking about Coronation Day street parties moments ago.
‘Pam might have a telephone number, I suppose, but I haven’t got it listed here,’ Vicky said, turning the pages back and forth.
‘Don’t worry, the address will do; thanks a lot for helping out with that,’ Grace said, standing up. ‘Thanks for tea.’
As Grace was leaving the house Vicky muttered, ‘Oh, my husband’s home early.’
Grace glanced over a shoulder and saw a soberly dressed, balding gentleman marching along on the opposite pavement. He appeared to be close to retirement age and wore spectacles and a pinched expression. She turned to smile farewell and understood the sour look on Vicky’s face. She’d not yet met Chris’s uncle but if what her mother had said about him were true, Mr Green would have been a very poor substitute for Robert Wild.
CHAPTER TEN
‘Will you work in your dad’s business, when you finish school?’
‘He wants me to, so does Mum.’ Daisy Wild had tilted her dark head towards Grace to whisper her reply. ‘Mum always wanted to be a secretary before she got married. They think I should do a commercial course so I can do the firm’s books.’ She dismissed it with a hand flick. ‘I’d rather do hairdressing for a while then find a rich husband to look after me.’
‘You’ve got a nice lot of qualifications and can get yourself a good job, young lady,’ the birthday girl’s mother told her from across the dining table. Despite her mild reprimand, Faye allowed her husband to pour their daughter a glass of Sauternes.
Daisy wrinkled her nose and continued attacking her roast potatoes. ‘You’ve got lovely hair; it’s an unusual colour … sort of caramel blonde, isn’t it,’ she chattered. ‘I bet it’d look good in a bun. Do you wear it up much? I could do it for you later. I like to practise on my friends at school.’
‘Leave poor Grace alone.’ Faye smiled in wry apology. ‘She’s trying to eat.’
‘Sometimes I put it in a bun,’ Grace told Daisy as she tucked into her lamb. The meal was delicious and she’d already complimented their hostess on an excellent roast. Grace had been immediately made to feel welcome by the members of Chris’s family she’d not previously met.
‘You work in an office, don’t you, Grace?’ Faye sounded interested. ‘Do you like secretarial work?’
‘Yes, I do. I’m in a typing pool so it’s a bit hectic but we’re lucky to have a good boss. The work gets shared out fairly and we’re paid for overtime.’
Faye gave her daughter a significant look.
‘You listen to your mum, and to Grace, and you won’t go far wrong.’ Rob pointed his fork at Daisy in emphasis. ‘And I don’t want to hear talk of husbands, rich or otherwise, for a good while yet.’
‘Mum wasn’t much older than me when she married you,’ Daisy chipped in with a saucy smile.
‘That’s enough backchat, young lady,’ her father told her. ‘You just concentrate on finishing your schooling. Eat your dinner.’
‘Leave the girl alone,’ Matilda growled, putting down her knife and fork. ‘If she likes doing hair, let her do hair. It’s a job. Ain’t as if she’s telling you she’s planning to sit around on her backside and sponge off you.’
‘Thanks, Auntie,’ Daisy muttered with a glimmering look for her parents and a subtle smile for Matilda.
It made a refreshing change for Grace to listen to people airing their opinions without an atmosphere ensuing. At home, a prolonged silence would have been the result of a difference with her mother, not that Shirley would ever allow anything so common to occur while they had company.
‘Well, this is nice,’ Faye said contentedly as there was a lull in conversation and only the chink of busy cutlery, and a stifled burp from Matilda, was heard. ‘It’s been a long time since we had a little get-together on a Sunday. Of course, it’s a shame Stevie can’t be here.’
It had been inevitable that talk would turn to the invalid.
‘I went in to see him last night,’ Rob informed them. ‘He told me an Irish family have moved into the street.’ He’d addressed the remark to his nephew but his aunt came back with an answer.
‘They’re called Murphy. Nice people,’ was Matilda’s succinct opinion. ‘Noreen was in the shop getting a bit of bread and tea on the strap yesterday. Poor sods have got two little gels ’n’ all to feed.’
‘Causing any trouble?’ Again Rob’s question was directed at Chris.
‘Told you they’re nice people,’ Matilda replied bluntly.
‘They are nice enough.’ Chris endorsed his aunt’s view. ‘Feel sorry for ’em if anything, having to make do with a dump like that … no offence, Auntie.’
‘None taken,’ Matilda grunted, and continued her conversation with Pearl.
‘The fellow’s called Kieran and he’s started working with O’Connor’s crew. He asked me for a job first but I knew you’d say nuthin’ doing.’ Chris realised it wasn’t the time or place for a discussion about work so he simply let the subject drop.
He had guessed that Kieran would eventually be forced to take any offer of employment that came his way. But he hadn’t caused Wild Brothers any problems. He didn’t join in any catcalling that came from the rival gang, and seemed to want to keep his distance from his colleagues. Chris could tell he was the sort of man who simply wanted to keep his nose clean and provide for his family.
‘Have you been in to visit Stevie today, Pearl?’ Matilda asked, in between trying to dislodge something from her teeth.
Pearl shook her head, thrusting plump fingers through her hair in a gesture of exasperation. ‘Popping in this evening. Driving me mad now, he is, going on about coming home. I reckon the doctor’ll chuck him out in the end just for a quiet life.’
‘He’s been whingeing at me as well about it,’ Chris said, spearing another roast potato from the bowl in the centre of the table. ‘I reckon he’s about to discharge himself.’ He’d done justice to Faye’s superb cooking. Even after second helpings, and a few extras, he’d cleared his plate. ‘That’s the best dinner I’ve had in a long while.’
‘I know your dad can pull off a decent roast,’ Faye remarked. ‘I’ve tasted a few of his dinners and they’re not half bad.’
‘He can cook actually.’ Chris praised his dad while Pearl endorsed the fact her boyfriend was a bit of a chef, by nodding. ‘Got to admit I’ve been missing him in that respect,’ Chris added.
‘Shouldn’t have brought that up, Faye,’ Rob jokily complain
ed. ‘Chris’ll be up the hospital with Stevie’s clothes next time he’s feeling peckish.’
‘Better feed him up a bit more then. Who’s for pudding?’ Faye had noticed empty plates all round.
Rob got up and helped his wife clear the table of used crockery and cutlery.
‘Stevie is a dab hand at a bit of catering. When we have our Coronation Day party he can be in charge of the food,’ Matilda announced. She did a little drum roll on the table with her fingers. ‘And I’ve managed to already stash away a nice bit of booze. Old man Turner who works down the docks got me a case of Irish whiskey on the sly.’ She put a finger to her lips. ‘Don’t go tellin’ Faye though, ’cos you know she don’t like any duckin’ ’n’ divin’ and stuff wot falls off the back of lorries.’
Chris grinned at his aunt. ‘You should know better at your age,’ he ribbed her, glancing at Grace for her reaction to his aunt’s confession to doing a bit of receiving. Behind a hand, raised to cover her mock outrage, she was laughing.
‘And don’t forget, Grace …’ Matilda wagged a finger at her nephew’s girlfriend. ‘You’re on me planning committee and soon we’ll need to get things underway.’
‘’Course, be pleased to help out.’ The mention of the Coronation Day street party reminded Grace of her meeting with Vicky Watson. She slid a glance at Chris … time enough later to think about owning up to that …
‘And you’re me second in command as far as table laying goes,’ Matilda told Daisy.
‘I’m going to bring me boyfriend to the street party,’ Daisy whispered to Grace. ‘But don’t tell me dad …’
A moment later Rob came in, wearing a proud smile and carrying a huge glass bowl of sherry trifle.
‘Perhaps I’m not as stuffed as I thought,’ Chris said. Through the sparkling glass could be seen sumptuous layers of jam sponge and fruit and custard.
‘You just might find your eyes are bigger than your belly, Christopher,’ Daisy rebuked him, playfully whacking her cousin’s abdomen and making him wince.
‘Well, you can’t have none ’cos you’re watching yer figure,’ Chris retaliated and moved the glass bowl along the tablecloth, out of her reach.
Grace was enjoying seeing a family so at ease with each other. Whenever her mother had family over everybody seemed to stand on ceremony. Not that they entertained often: Shirley had never liked any of her in-laws, so they rarely saw the Coleman side now her father had passed away. Her mother’s lot were a bit thin on the ground: Shirley’s younger brother had been killed during the Second World War, leaving his widow childless. Grace now felt quite sad that she’d never had an opportunity to grow close to any cousins. She rarely saw her older brother, Paul, so she hardly knew her young nephews. Their visits were limited to Christmas and birthday trips.
But Grace had her beloved nan to visit. Her maternal grandmother had lived in Tottenham all her life, and being close to Nan Jackson was the main reason she and her mother had chosen to settle there on returning from Surrey after her dad passed away.
Once the trifle bowl was empty, but for creamy smears, people began lazily stirring in their chairs.
‘Well, off you all go and relax in the front room,’ Faye said. ‘Rob’ll put on the wireless for a bit of light music and I’ll bring in a nice cup of tea in a while.’ She moved back her chair and started clearing the table.
Grace got up too. ‘You must let me help,’ she insisted. ‘It’s the least I can do after that wonderful meal.’
‘Thanks,’ Faye said with a smile. ‘That’s kind.’
Pearl and Matilda also started stacking dirty crockery.
‘How about you giving a hand, young lady?’ Faye suggested to her daughter.
‘I’m sorting out records ’cos Chris wants to listen to the new one I bought this week.’ Daisy squinted meaningfully at her cousin.
‘Oh … right … yeah, that’s it,’ he replied gamely, while an almost imperceptible shrug indicated he had no part in it.
‘You’ve got him well-trained.’ Pearl directed that at Faye, while watching Rob roll up his sleeves and fill a large bowl with hot water. ‘Stevie might be able to cook but he ain’t keen on doing a bit of washing-up.’
Rob gave the women assembled in the kitchen a smile of studied charm. ‘I can be hired out very cheap, you know, ladies.’
‘Don’t take no notice of him,’ Matilda warned them with a wink. ‘Won’t be yer washing-up he’ll be wanting to do …’
‘Matilda!’ Faye exclaimed with mock indignation. ‘You know he’s a reformed character and has been for a long time.’
‘A rogue’s a rogue,’ Matilda stated with a twinkling smile for her nephew.
At forty-eight years old, Rob Wild was still a handsome man despite his dark hair having silvered at the temples, and a tracery of faint lines being visible on his close-shaven jaw. The scars were the result of a fight he’d had with gangsters almost twenty-five years ago. The facial marks didn’t worry him, neither had his leg injury until his slight limp had prevented him being able to join up to fight for his country in 1939.
‘If Matilda reckons I might have a relapse and start flirting perhaps I’d better leave you girls to it.’ Rob shook his soapy hands and dropped a kiss on his wife’s fair head of hair before leaving the kitchen.
‘Any excuse to skive! Right, you’re on washing-up duty at Matilda’s Coronation Day party,’ Faye called after him.
‘Makes yer sick, don’t it.’ Matilda wiped furiously at a plate with her cloth. ‘Been married how long? And still turtle doves, the two of ’em.’
‘You have a lovely house,’ Grace said a few minutes later, when the washing and wiping was well under way. She glanced around the large, well-equipped kitchen.
When Chris had pulled up in the van outside his uncle and aunt’s house Grace had felt her jaw drop. The imposing stucco-fronted villa was situated in a very nice part of Tufnell Park and the sleek Wolseley car parked on the driveway at the side had obviously cost a lot of money.
‘I know we’re lucky to live here,’ Faye readily admitted. She pushed her damp hair back from her brow with the back of her wrist then set to scrubbing plates again. ‘Rob used to rent this house when he was quite young. Then, as Matilda knows, things went sour for a while and we moved to a smaller place in Islington. But he always wanted to move back here, although I quite liked our cosy little cottage. When the freehold came up for sale, he was fortunate enough to snap it up.’
‘I want to move in with Stevie,’ Pearl suddenly announced.
Three pairs of eyes swivelled towards her.
‘But whenever I bring the subject up, he cocks a deaf ‘un,’ she added with a grimace of disappointment.
‘Well, could be things’ll be changing soon,’ Matilda said with a deliberate flick of a glance Grace’s way. ‘When Chris settles himself down, you might find Stevie won’t be keen to be living on his own.’
‘Let’s get that tea made.’ Faye noticed that Grace was looking bashful. She took the wet cloths and hung them on the cooking range rail to dry. ‘Leave that lot on the kitchen table.’ She nodded at the clean, stacked crockery. ‘We’ll need it again teatime anyway.’
‘Fancy a stroll in the garden?’ Chris asked Grace as they sat side-by-side, sipping tea, in the elegant front room.
She nodded enthusiastically, and put down her cup. She was keen to explore outside. Having followed Chris towards the French doors she stepped out onto a paved area that ran the width of the house, beyond which was an expanse of well-tended lawn. They strolled arm-in-arm down some steps and on to springy turf.
‘Crikey, I’m full,’ Grace murmured with a satiated sigh.
Chris slanted a smile down at her. ‘Better not bring you here again in case you start getting fat,’ he teased with an appreciative look at her figure. She was dressed in a sleeveless floral print dress that was skimpy enough to show off a little bit of creamy cleavage and her shapely legs.
She pinched his arm in response, making him
give an exaggerated howl. In retaliation he lifted her up and carried her, squealing, a few feet before allowing her sandaled feet back onto the lawn.
‘Wish I had a house like this,’ Grace said dreamily, turning around to look at the back aspect of the handsome property.
‘Me too,’ Chris said with a wry chuckle. ‘Don’t come cheap, places like this.’
‘It’s a big house for just the three of them.’
‘Oh, Adam comes home sometimes. Daisy’s got a brother,’ he explained. ‘He’s quite a bit older than her: about twenty-seven or so. Adam’s an officer in the RAF.’
‘Is he really?’ Grace said, surprised.
‘He was a bit of an ace towards the end of the war, and he was only twenty.’ Chris sounded proud of his heroic cousin. ‘At the moment he’s stationed in Germany with his fiancée.’
‘Must tell my mum,’ Grace giggled. ‘She’ll be impressed.’
‘Glad one of us impresses her ’cos I know I don’t, do I?’ Chris returned dryly.
‘Don’t mind her; she’s a snob and I’ve told her so.’ Grace patted his arm, consolingly. ‘I hadn’t realised your Aunt Matilda could be such a card.’
‘Oh, Matilda’s a character alright.’ Chris took her hand and led her to a bench set under a weeping willow tree. ‘I tend to think of her as my nan rather than my auntie. When I was younger I used to think of her as me mum. She’s been everything to me, really …’ Chris gazed off into the sunlit summer afternoon.
Grace hadn’t been sure when to tell Chris she’d got some information from Vicky Green. He still didn’t know she’d gone to Clapham and found his uncle Rob’s old flame. He’d been avoiding talking about his mother and whenever she tried to bring the subject up he’d get quite sharp with her.
