by Mary Gibson
This was not what she wanted to hear, but she smiled back encouragingly. ‘Maybe you’ll just be driving carts and not even have to go near a gun!’
‘I doubt that, Nell, but anyway I wanted to talk to you about arrangements for the kids and the money side of things. Let’s walk round the churchyard a bit.’
St James was an imposing ‘Waterloo’ church, with a front that looked like a Greek temple. Steps led up to the pillared portico and four massive doors formed the entrance. Decades of Bermondsey soot and smoke had blackened the church’s honey-coloured stone, so that now it had a sombre, heavy air. It was a church born out of a historic battle and it had seen many more in its time; now here it stood awaiting another great conflict.
Sam pointed up to the bell tower. ‘Did you know the bells are made of melted-down cannons from the battle of Waterloo?’
She hadn’t, though the great bells of St James were a familiar part of her life. Their pealing punctuated her Sundays. Often she cursed them, as they put paid to any hope of a brief lie-in. But she had never once considered the connection between that house of prayer and the bloody carnage of a long-forgotten war. She shuddered as she peered at the bells high above them, just visible within the tower.
‘So anyway,’ Sam went on, ‘the kids seem happy enough to come to you. I’ll have to get rid of our few bits of furniture, not that there’s much.’
‘Except the beds,’ she said, her mind turning to practicalities. ‘We’ll have to squeeze them in somehow and you’ll want to keep mementos, your mum and dad’s things. We’ll find room, Sam.’
‘I’m so grateful, Nellie. I can’t tell you how much easier this makes it for me. Dad would never forgive me if I didn’t keep the family Bible. It’s big, though!’ he said, indicating something about the size of the penny-farthing cart. Nellie laughed at his exaggeration.
‘Now we’ve got to work out the money side of things, Nell. Soldier’s pay’s about seven bob a week, but I’ll get an extra four bob for working with horses, and ’course I’ll send most of it home to you. Then there’s the separation allowance.’
‘What’s that for?’ she asked
‘If you’ve got kids depending on you, they give you five shillings a child every week, so that’ll be another ten bob.’
She knew that these were practicalities they had to speak about; certainly she could barely afford to keep her own family fed and clothed, let alone another two. But the simple way that Sam put their welfare above all other considerations tugged at her heart. His own possible death in the war was not in the forefront of his mind; his main concern was simply how many extra shillings he could send home to Nellie.
‘Do you think you’ll be able to manage on that and what you’ve got coming in at the moment?’ he asked.
‘To be honest, I think we’ll be better off,’ she said a little guiltily, ‘but you make sure you keep enough of your wages for what you need out there!’
‘You get your food and clothes supplied, Nell, and I don’t reckon I’ll get much time for fancy French shopping, though I might find something nice to send home to you. Wouldn’t you like a pretty French hat, blue… same as your eyes?’
She realized this was the nearest he had ever got to talking like a sweetheart. She looked up into his kind, dark brown eyes and thought she saw the old devotion still there. She waited for him to say more, but instead he hesitated and said, ‘You’re the best of girls, Nellie, for taking on my family, but I want you to know it doesn’t mean you have to take on me as well.’
She went to speak, but he wouldn’t be interrupted.
‘What I mean is that I couldn’t ask that of you, not now. I couldn’t bear it if you were just being kind to me, because you thought I might be going out to die.’
‘Sam, I wouldn’t be doing anything out of kindness or pity. I’ve changed.’ She wanted to explain, but he stopped her, taking both her hands, holding them between his palms as though in prayer. They stood facing each other in front of St James’s portico.
‘I know what you’re saying, Nellie, and nothing would make me happier, but I can’t ask it of you. If it’s meant to be, then I’ll come home safe and sound and we’ll see how you feel then.’
‘All right, Sam, if that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.’ Her throat closed with emotion and her breath raked her lungs; she knew she had to match his bravery with her own. She stood looking up into his eyes, wanting to fix him in her mind as he was just at this moment. Nineteen now, he was a man in body, and five years outdoor labour had given him a sinewy, hard-muscled frame, but his face, as she studied it, still showed much of that expectant boy she had so scorned as he’d waited for her patiently every day outside Pearce Duff’s. Now it was she who would wait for him. They had come to an understanding.
24
The Power of a Promise
Sam had given her the photograph just before he left for training camp in September. Nellie took it out of her bag for the tenth time that day. Sam, Jock and four other young recruits were posing beneath trees on a sun-dappled common near the RFA base. They were all wearing new khaki uniforms, with leather pouched bandoliers across their chests. Their legs were wrapped in khaki webbing, spurs adorned their boots, and each one carried a riding crop. She scrutinized Sam’s face, looking for any clue as to what he might be feeling. His eyes were shaded by the cap’s peak, but his full mouth was set in what seemed gritty determination, his strong chin thrust slightly forward, as if to convince the world that he was ready to fight and to prevail. The pose was carefully arranged. He lay resting on his elbow on the left of the group and Jock mirrored his position on the right. Behind them, their mates stood in suitably firm stances, crops held at their sides, hands on hips.
Nellie was not fooled for an instant. These were not warriors; they were boys playing at soldiers, who knew no more of war than she did. She sighed and put the photo away in her bag. She couldn’t believe it had been three long months since Sam had enlisted. After the wrench of him leaving for training camp, she’d expected him to sail immediately for France. But it seemed that the overwhelming number of volunteers for Kitchener’s Army had taken everyone by surprise and it was taking months to get them kitted out. Sam had written her tales of shortages, not just of uniforms but of guns to practise with. They were even running low on horses, so many had been mown down in the early months of the war. The weeks of waiting had turned into months and Christmas now shone like a bright light of hope for her. If his training was prolonged till then, perhaps it would all be over by the time his division was ready to embark for France.
Lily carried around that same photograph of Sam and Jock, her copy covered in creases and smudges where she had kissed it each night. She and Nellie had become even closer since Sam and Jock had left, drawn together by a need to talk endlessly of the boys’ whereabouts and to tell each other the meagre scraps of news that filtered through from training camp. They shared the agonizing wait, neither feeling they could live properly until the boys came home.
Lily was now heavily pregnant and today would be her last at Duff’s. Nellie and the other custard tarts had been planning a celebration for weeks and had been gathering together a layette for Lily to take home with her. Nellie left Vauban Street early, to be sure of getting to Duff’s before Lily. She carried a wicker baby basket that her mother had used for all her children. With Alice’s help she had re-lined it, and the plan was to meet Maggie Tyrell in the cloakroom to put together all the gifts. She hurried down to the basement and found Maggie already at work. She was folding a blanket and had a pile of handknitted baby clothes beside her.
‘Look at this, Nell!’ She held up a cardigan and bonnet. ‘Shy Annie knitted ’em, ain’t they sweet!’ Nellie came over to inspect them, holding their softness to her cheek. Maggie looked up, her bony careworn face softening. ‘You’ll have one of your own some day, Nell. Almost makes me want another one…’ Maggie paused, then shuddered. ‘Perhaps not. Once they get to my Lenny’s age t
hey’re terrors!’
Nellie laughed and knelt beside Maggie, glad of the warmth from the boiler room next door. The women had been as generous as they could, and though most of the baby clothes were hand-me-downs, all were spotlessly clean.
‘Do you think Albert would let us give it to her on the factory floor?’ Nellie laid some booties on top of the other things and began tying a length of satin ribbon round the whole basket.
‘Him? Miserable git, you know what he’s like where women with kids are concerned. We’ll just have to do it down here after work.’
Just then Ethel came clattering down the stairs, puffing with exertion. She was carrying a crate of beer. ‘Sod me if I didn’t bump into Albert as I was coming in with this lot!’ she gasped, dropping the crate with a crash on to the nearest bench. ‘Don’t know what’s come over him, he never batted an eyelid!’
Nellie rushed to help Ethel with the crate, which they quickly hid under some old sacking.
‘Better hide this now too.’ Nellie stowed the basket in a store cupboard, and as the cloakroom began to get crowded the three women made their way up to the packing room. Nellie felt an odd mixture of joy and sadness. She was happy for Lily and looking forward to the arrival of the baby, but it would be strange not to have her friend standing next to her each day. Although real conversations were impossible at work, with all the clatter and clamour, to say nothing of the watchful eyes of Albert, they hardly needed to speak. For what made the work bearable were the sympathetic looks when one of them felt down or the muttered jokes and insults directed at Albert; these oiled the machinery of all their long days. She would miss Lily, but for her sake she kept her face bright and her banter flowing all day.
When the hooter finally sounded all the custard tarts turned off the machines and downed packets even more speedily than usual. They surrounded Lily, who looked gratifyingly surprised, and made to sweep her off to the basement. But they were all stopped in their tracks by the intervention of none other than Albert himself.
‘Excuse me, ladies!’ He had to shout through their chatter. ‘Can I have some quiet, please!’
Nellie looked at Ethel in alarm; perhaps he had noticed the beer after all.
‘If he spoils this, I swear I’ll knock his block off!’ Ethel muttered, and Nellie saw her push her sleeves up. Some of the women groaned, fearing the end of their festivities for the day, and Lily, seeing Nellie’s disappointment, squeezed her hand.
‘Never mind, Nell, we’ll go to the Green Ginger later on.’
Nellie smiled weakly back.
‘I’ve got an announcement to make,’ Albert went on. ‘I’m proud to tell you that I have answered the call and I will be leaving to serve King and Country tomorrow!’
There was stunned silence. Albert looked encouragingly around the room – perhaps he expected a fanfare – and Sally from the White Feather League started to clap, which resulted in desultory applause. Albert held up his hand. ‘As you know, the men of Duff’s have been among the first to sign up, which means we are running short and will have to rely on you women to struggle as best you can without us!’ Albert smirked.
‘Is he joking?’ Nellie whispered to Lily.
‘So I’m pleased to announce that your new foreman will, in fact, be a forelady, Ethel Brown!’
All eyes flew to Ethel.
‘Sod me!’ Ethel blurted out, as surprised as all the rest of them. Albert gave her a disapproving look, but said nothing other than, ‘You’ll find the ledgers all in order, Ethel. Good luck to you all.’ And he stood at the double doors, nodding goodbye to each of them. Nellie felt she ought to salute, but instead shook his hand and wished him good luck. For all his faults, she could not send him off with bad feeling; after all, he might never be coming back.
They kept their delight under control until they reached the basement, but once in the cloakroom their celebrations were less than clandestine. There were cries of congratulations for Ethel, laughter at Albert’s expense, and delight at the crate of beer sequestered beneath the sacking. Lily sat smiling on a bench, calm and radiant, with her hand on her stomach.
‘Oh, Nell, you couldn’t have planned a better send-off. I felt a bit guilty leaving you here on your own, but at least you’ll be rid of Albert!’
It was Saturday afternoon. Lily had been gone for over a week and although it had been strange without her, Ethel soon made it clear things would run very differently in the packing room from now on. At the end of each day they had all fulfilled their quotas, without once being terrorized or humiliated. Nellie had to smile at Albert’s idea of them ‘struggling on’ without him; in fact, they were doing very well indeed.
Nellie put on her coat and set off on the penny-farthing for her delivery round. The discounted Co-op bread and groceries were in even greater demand these days; the war had sent food prices rocketing and the Labour Institute could barely cope. They’d asked Nellie to do more hours, but with her growing family she was already stretched to the limits of her time and endurance. She pedalled determinedly through her round and with relief turned the bicycle towards Rotherhithe to make her last delivery at Jock’s father’s shop, above which Lily was still living.
When Nellie arrived at the chandler’s shop, out of breath and chilled to the bone, she stowed the penny-farthing in the back yard and mounted an outside flight of wooden steps which led up to Lily’s rooms above the shop. She knocked and called out, ‘Lil, it’s only me, don’t rush!’ She waited patiently, her breath pluming in the cold December air.
Lily, with only a month left of her pregnancy, was beginning to look as wide as she was tall. Nellie privately believed there had to be more than one baby in there, but she didn’t dare mention it to her friend. Her nerves were raw enough and her once ready smile came less often since Jock had gone. She answered the door after a few minutes and threw her arms round Nellie, as though she hadn’t seen her for months.
‘Come in out the cold, love, you’re perishing. Oh, it’s so nice to see a friendly face!’ She rolled her eyes dramatically. ‘His mum and dad are driving me potty over this baby. Sooner Jock gets back, the better!’
The friends buoyed each other up with hopes that the boys would be home before the baby was born in January.
‘What’s happened now?’ asked Nellie, as she began putting Lily’s groceries away in her kitchen cupboard.
‘They say the back stairs is too dangerous for me and they want me to live downstairs with them!’ Jock’s parents’ home on the ground floor sprawled out behind the shop and round the yard. ‘I know it’s their first grandchild but, gawd, you’d think I was carrying Bonnie Prince Charlie, the way they go on!’
Nellie had been careful herself as she’d negotiated the steep back steps, coated as they were with a rime of frost. She could see the McBrides might have a point.
‘I suppose they’re only being kind, Lil.’
‘Don’t you start taking their side. I’ve had enough of it with Jock saying I should live with them till he gets back.’
Lily sat down heavily on the wooden kitchen chair and Nellie set about making them tea.‘Have you heard from Jock? I didn’t get anything from Sam.’
‘A postcard yesterday.’ She seemed to hesitate. ‘I expect yours’ll come soon, love.’ Lily pulled her shawl closer around her and shivered, in spite of the fire burning in the little grate.‘They’ve had their marching orders, they’re shipping out next week.’
Nellie carefully put the two cups of tea on the table, but they rattled in the saucers as she tried to steady her hands. She sat down at the table next to her friend, feeling as though Lily had punched all the air out of her lungs. How could they comfort each other now? The threads that held Sam and Jock to them had just stretched as taut as an anchor chain on a full tide.
‘Next week?’ she said weakly. ‘Why no warning?’
Lily shrugged. ‘Suppose they needed to keep it hush-hush. We’ll have to get used to being the last to know anything.’ Lily put a protective
hand on to her swollen stomach, as though shielding her child from the news. Nellie noticed the gesture and took her friend’s hand.
‘He’ll be home soon and till then you’re not on your own, love. There’s your mum and dad, and you know you can call on me any time.’
‘Thanks, Nell, but you’ve got your hands full, with that brood of yours. Anyway, how are they all getting on?’
‘Oh, Charlie’s fitted in fine with the boys. Freddie puts his nose out of joint sometimes, trying to boss him. You know our Fred, he’s always got to be the one in charge, but Charlie can stand up to him. Bobby’s so easygoing, he just lets them get on with it.’
‘What about the little canary?’
The family nickname had stuck. It suited Matty’s quick bright ways. She seemed like a flitting ray of sunshine about the house and her songs could always lift Nellie’s spirits.
‘Oh, she’s missing Sam, but she can be a little madam sometimes! She got used to ruling the roost, with her mum being so ill, and Sam spoils her rotten. Mind you, she’s sharp as ninepence… and she’s got a good heart, like Sam.’
Nellie’s voice faltered at the mention of his name and then it was Lily’s turn to comfort her. After they had both finished shedding tears and drinking tea, the subject turned to Lily’s family. Her brother Ginger had also enlisted and their mother Betty had taken it particularly badly.
‘I swear to you, Nell, if she could have tied him to the kitchen table to stop him going, she would’ve. She’s shed enough tears over our Ted, but it’s hard to lose two sons.’
The subject of Ted wasn’t an awkward one for them any longer. Nellie had often tried to fathom how it was that such an inconstant, volatile man had so captivated her; in the end she settled in her mind that he was simply a painful mistake, the memory of which she preferred not to resurrect. But sometimes, as now, she would be ambushed by him and whenever that happened she was flooded with unease. Her deepest fear was that if she ever met him again, she would still feel the old draw. She didn’t want to ask about Ted, didn’t want to know where he was, or what he was doing, but he was, after all, Lily’s brother.
