by Mary Gibson
Nellie had decided not to go into the details of Ted’s past activities. Eliza was already nervous enough about him.
‘He’s drawing so much attention to himself, giving out Absolutist leaflets, stirring things up at the Arsenal, it’s almost like he wants to be arrested,’ Eliza went on. ‘And I dread to think what he got up to in Russia.’
Nellie could tell her a thing or two about his bomb-making skills but now wasn’t the time. The annoying thing was that she agreed with her wholeheartedly; she just knew this wasn’t the way to convince Matty.
‘All we can do is advise Matty,’ Nellie said pointedly. ‘She’s old enough now to earn her living and make her own decisions, and she’s not so stupid as to put herself – or her family – in danger because of a bloke!’
Matty responded with a warm smile for Nellie and a scowl for Eliza. At that moment Alice came in with a tray of tea things, which effectively ended the conversation. They called the boys in and squeezed round the table, for what Nellie hoped passed for a splendid tea in these austere days. It consisted of a loaf of Mo the baker’s ‘real bread’, a tiny amount of butter, two pots of fish paste from a cache that Freddie had ‘found’ in a bombed-out shop, a tin of corned beef, from the same source, and a pink blancmange, courtesy of Pearce Duff’s. The allotment owners often paid Freddie in kind and this week he’d brought home a bag of tomatoes and a cucumber. Nellie surveyed the table and thought they hadn’t done a bad job between them.
Charlie turned the conversation to Sam, arguing with the other boys about his brother’s actual whereabouts, always difficult to guess from Sam’s censored letters.
‘He’s been in the thick of it, the Somme, I’m telling you!’ said Freddie.
‘Yes, but their division’s moved on by now!’ Charlie countered.
The boys regularly plotted Sam’s movements on a map pinned to their bedroom wall, but Charlie was the most avid follower of the war. Patiently gathering every piece of information, he scoured newspaper reports and gleaned stories from soldiers on leave till he could predict the next battle with surprising accuracy.
After tea, Nellie read the shareable parts of Sam’s letters to Eliza. He always sent his love to the whole family and this now included Eliza and William, which Nellie could see pleased her.
‘Is he due more leave?’ Eliza asked.
‘I shouldn’t think we’ll see him this side of Christmas,’ said Nellie sadly. ‘Please God, it’ll be over by then!’
‘Not the way things are going, it won’t,’ Charlie said, then added, ‘but he might get a Blighty.’
‘How can you say that?’ Matty shoved her brother.
‘They all want one!’
Alice, ever the peacemaker, intervened. ‘Don’t squabble, you two, there’s enough fighting in the world without bringing it home. What about a song, Matty?’
This was a request the little canary could never resist and the evening ended with them all joining in to the chorus of ‘Pack Up Your troubles in Your Old Kit Bag’. When they came to the last line, Nellie thought of Sam and defiantly sang the loudest, ‘Smile, Smile, Smile!’
Nellie was pleased the evening had ended on a good note, but the next day brought some worrying news. That Monday afternoon, Matty came home looking troubled. After tea, she and Nellie were washing up the dinner things in the scullery when Matty suddenly blurted out, ‘Nellie, I think Ted’s up to something really bad at the Arsenal.’
Nellie studied the girl’s strained white face – she looked almost nauseous. Nellie immediately thought of the young, impressionable munitionettes: if anyone could persuade them to break the moratorium on strikes, Ted could. Most of them probably wouldn’t understand that they could be arrested for it.
‘Has he got them to agree to a strike?’ Nellie asked fearfully.
Matty put down the teacloth and looked nervously back towards the kitchen, where the others still sat round the table chatting. She pulled Nellie out into the back yard. ‘No, it’s much worse!’ she whispered.
Matty hung on to her hand and Nellie felt her strive to control her trembling. Now Nellie began to panic. The girl seemed badly frightened, but what could be so bad that she was frightened the others might hear?
‘What is it? Tell me.’ Nellie was dreading the answer.
‘I think they’re planning to blow it up!’
‘Blow up the Arsenal?’
Matty nodded, squeezing Nellie’s hand till it hurt. Nellie felt sick. She should have known Ted would be up to his old tricks, and if it didn’t go wrong this time, half of south London would be blown to pieces, to say nothing of her own dear Matty.
‘I couldn’t believe anybody would be so wicked,’ Matty said, ashen-faced.
‘That bastard would be.’ Nellie shook her head grimly. ‘He’s tried something like it before. Oh, I blame myself, Matty. I should have shopped him years ago.’
Now Matty wanted to know exactly what Ted had done and Nellie told her the whole truth this time.
‘Well, then, it’s true. I didn’t want to believe it; I thought it was his fantasy,’ Matty said, when Nellie had finished.
Nellie sat down on the penny-farthing trailer, pulling Matty in close next to her. She put her arm round the shivering girl. ‘But when did he tell you? Did he give you the details?’
‘No, it was about a week ago. He just asked me not to work night shifts, especially not Zeppelin nights. And I said we didn’t get to pick and choose our shifts, and he told me he didn’t want me getting hurt and to make an excuse not to be there. Anyway, one of the girls got ill and today they asked me if I could stay on for the night shift tonight. I met him in the pub at dinner time and he went nuts when I told him. He grabbed me, look!’ Matty rolled up her sleeve to show Nellie a red weal, encircling her arm. ‘Then he went pale as a ghost and said that because he thinks a lot of me he had to warn me, but I wasn’t to breathe a word or we’d both end up dead!’ Matty’s trembling was now uncontrollable and Nellie soothed her till her limbs were still.
‘Go on, what did he say next?’ she asked, trying to keep the urgency out of her voice.
‘He said there’s a group want to smash the profiteers and tomorrow there’d be nowhere left for me to work, because tonight they’re going to get into the Arsenal and blow it sky high. He said he wasn’t going in himself, but they’d made him get the information for them. Then he called me a stupid little cow and hadn’t he told me not to work Zeppelin nights and it was going to be one tonight. He wouldn’t let me go till I promised not to stay for the night shift.’
On moonless nights, Nellie, like everyone else, would listen out for the Zeppelins’ sickening hum, their pale cigar shapes heralding an explosion of flame along the Thames as they bombed the docks. She was used to the raids and the anxiety, but not inured to them; any one of those bombs could miss their target and land on nearby Vauban Street. But Woolwich Arsenal was another matter altogether: a direct hit on it would ignite hundreds of tons of TNT. Nothing would survive for miles around. But a bomb, strategically placed there, might well have the same effect. And now Nellie began to realize why Ted’s friends had chosen a Zeppelin night. An air raid would be the perfect cover, and what’s more, the explosion might lure in the Zeppelins to finish off the job.
‘Matty, you said Ted had given them information. Did you ever tell him anything he could use?’ she asked gently.
The young girl paused to think and then put her head in her hands. ‘Oh, God.’ Her voice was small, strangulated, not Matty’s voice at all.
‘What sort of things?’ asked Nellie.
‘He used to ask me in such a natural way, Nell, like he was worried about my safety. I didn’t know. He asked about where I worked, where the exits were, how many coppers guarding the TNT store… Oh, Nellie, what are we going to do? If we don’t do something, think of all the people that could die!’ Matty began rocking back and forth, repeating over and over, ‘What can we do?’
They were both almost paralysed with fear
, but Nellie had been in this position before and was determined not to make the same mistake again. This time there would be no covering up for Ted, no misplaced loyalty or excuses. He had to be stopped.
‘Come on, Matty, we need some help.’
When they got to the house in Reverdy Road, Ruth Morgan answered the door. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Nellie, Eliza’s not in. She’s giving a speech at the NCF.’
‘Did she say what time she’d be home?’
‘Soon, I hope. She said she wouldn’t be late, she’s left the little one with me.’ Just then there was a piercing cry from inside the house. Mrs Morgan looked anxiously behind her. She looked frazzled. ‘That’s little William, he hasn’t settled since Eliza went out. Poor mite, I’m a bit of a stranger to him.’
‘He knows us,’ offered Nellie.
Ruth Morgan smiled gratefully. ‘Follow me!’
William’s screams had grown frantic.
‘He’s in a right two an’ eight,’ said Matty. ‘I better see to him.’ Mrs Morgan led her upstairs, while Nellie went to wait in the front parlour. Soon the sweet strains of Matty singing a lullaby floated downstairs, and William’s cries ceased almost immediately. Mrs Morgan came back into the parlour, smiling at Nellie. ‘Thank God you two arrived, he was set to go on for hours!’
Nellie smiled. ‘He’ll never give in, that one.’
Mrs Morgan cocked her head, listening. ‘Well, Matty’s certainly got the touch. I’ll make you some tea, you might as well wait here for Eliza. She won’t be long now. Besides,’ she said, ‘if he wakes up and Matty’s not here, there’ll be hell to pay!’
Nellie was glad of the distraction; it had calmed Matty down and given her time to think what she would say to Eliza. She was still shocked to the core that Ted could even think of putting Matty in danger. True, he’d warned the girl, but what about all the other innocent canaries who might be working tonight, to say nothing of the families who lived around the Arsenal? No doubt Ted would class them as casualties of the class war, and the arms manufacturers a legitimate target.
Soon Matty joined her and Ruth Morgan, and Nellie tried to keep up chatter to distract Matty, who looked anxiously at the mantelpiece clock every few minutes. They both started up when Eliza’s knock came. As she walked into the parlour, Eliza’s first worried question was: ‘Is it Sam?’
They put her at her ease and Mrs Morgan praised Matty’s lullaby skills. ‘I’ll take myself off upstairs now and leave you three, if you don’t mind,’ she said tactfully.
Eliza thanked the woman and apologized for her son’s tantrums. When they were alone she turned a worried face to Nellie. ‘If it’s not Sam, it’s got to be something serious to bring you here. What’s happened?’
She listened intently as Matty repeated her story, then Nellie added what she knew of Ted’s past activities. It felt unreal to Nellie to be sitting in this respectable room, full of heavy furniture, antimacassars and dainty ornaments, discussing anarchist plots.
‘The only thing I don’t understand,’ Eliza said eventually, ‘is the timing. Why choose a Zeppelin night, when security is highest?’
‘Where will everyone be looking?’ asked Nellie.
Matty and Eliza replied as one. ‘At the sky!’
‘And I reckon the bombers will try to slip into the Arsenal while everyone’s distracted by the Zeppelins! We’ve got to tell the police. He’s not getting away with it this time,’ Nellie said, with finality.
‘I’m responsible for this,’ Eliza said hollowly, looking up at Matty. ‘I put you in harm’s way. I sent him here.’
Nellie knew how she felt. ‘It’s not your fault, Eliza. If it’s anybody’s, it’s mine. I should’ve given him up five years ago. Sam would’ve done, if it weren’t for me.’
Matty looked impatiently from one to the other. ‘Oh, stop wallowing, you two,’ she said fiercely. ‘I could say the same. I was the silly cow give him all that information! It’s nobody’s fault but Ted’s, and all that matters is how we stop this!’
Eliza got up. ‘It’s ironic, I’ve seen him tonight. I’ve just been talking to a room full of gentle Quakers and pacifists, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, and there he was sitting in the front row, smiling at me and no doubt despising the lot of us. At least he has his alibi. I’ll telephone the police, but I don’t want Matty involved.’
Nellie agreed.
‘And I don’t want Nellie involved,’ Matty quickly jumped in.
‘None of us need be involved,’ Eliza said firmly.
She walked determinedly to the telephone on the side table and pulled aside the heavy curtain. She peered out.
‘It’s a dark moon,’ she said.
Nellie and Matty listened in silence as Eliza got through, after many attempts, to the right police officer.
‘Yes, I believe it will happen tonight. They plan to get in under cover of a Zeppelin raid… No, I don’t know how many bombs… no, I don’t have more details, but I do know that unless you take this seriously, Officer, the Arsenal and everyone in it will be blown up… No, I don’t wish to give my name.’
The telephone clicked as she rested it back in its cradle. The three women looked silently at each other. It was left to Matty to voice their remaining concern.
‘What shall we do about Ted?’
‘I have an idea,’ Eliza said. ‘He’ll be handing out anti-conscription leaflets in Bermondsey Square tomorrow evening. It only needs for the police to come along at the right time and…’ Eliza shrugged.
‘Can they arrest him for that?’ asked Nellie.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Eliza, ‘and once they find out he’s an Absolutist, he’ll be drafted…’
‘But Ted’s not going to serve,’ Nellie added, following Eliza’s reasoning, ‘so what happens then?
‘He’ll go to prison… for a long time,’ said Eliza. ‘Hard labour, it won’t be pleasant.’
‘Give me that phone,’ Nellie said.
32
Till the Boys Come Home
Nellie stood, shielded by an old square tomb of pale stone. The curly inscription, eroded by time, was picked out by lumps of grey lichen. The tomb was almost as tall as she was and she had to stand on tiptoe, peering over it towards Bermondsey Square. Behind her, the squat form of Old Bermondsey Church stood comfortingly ancient, solid and reassuring. She had chosen the churchyard as the perfect vantage point; she needed to witness this, but did not necessarily want to be seen. A small crowd had already begun to gather in the square, some holding placards, others handfuls of leaflets. Then she saw him, flinging himself through the crowd, his striking tall figure standing out above the others, his smile flashing. He leaped up on to a soapbox and began brandishing one of the leaflets. He’d just begun his speech when Nellie caught sight of the Black Maria careering round the corner of Tower Bridge Road, screeching to a halt in the square. Ted was immediately surrounded by policemen, grabbing his arms and pulling him down off the soapbox. She crept forward to the churchyard’s black iron railings. He was struggling, but not so fiercely as to get away. He threw back his head, bright hair flying from his forehead. He was shouting something about ‘oppression’ and ‘freedom’, but she only heard snatches. She stood very still as he was bundled towards the Black Maria, studying his face. He was enjoying it, playing up to his dwindling audience. She almost felt sorry that she’d handed him the stage to play upon, but to have him safely locked up was worth the trade. Just before they pushed him into the van, he looked up and their eyes met between the black iron bars of the railings. Nellie nodded once, just to let him know, and she was satisfied. Behind bars, that was the only place for Ted Bosher.
The evening before had been a nightmare of waiting. She and Matty had left Reverdy Road straight after her phone call to the police. They didn’t want to be caught in the Zeppelin raid themselves. They hurried through the darkening streets and, as soon as they arrived home, insisted that Alice and Bobby join them in the brick shed in the back yard. Nellie would be taking no chances toni
ght. The boys had already packed sandbags round the brick shed as soon as the air raids began, but it was only on these dark, clear nights that they ever bothered to shelter there. Mostly, they chanced to luck. Charlie and Freddie were both still out, but at least she could gather the rest of the family around her in safety. They kept up their spirits, joining in with Matty’s songs until the dreaded drone announced the Zeppelin’s arrival – it would be making its way up the Thames. Nellie could only pray that the police were already in position at Woolwich.
The explosion, when it came, was massive; they all started violently, clinging to each other in terror.
‘But that’s too close, isn’t it?’ Matty asked Nellie.
‘Too close for comfort, I’d say!’ Bobby said.
But Nellie knew what Matty meant. It had been too loud. The ground beneath them shook; even the shed roof rattled. No, that wasn’t at Woolwich. Nellie shook her head at Matty.
‘Sounded like it was over by Butler’s Wharf,’ Alice said.
They gripped each other’s hands, their eyes lifted to the roof of the shed, as if they could see through it. After what seemed like hours of silence, they heard a rumbling and a rat-a-tat, very close, almost as though it were in the street.
‘Strafing?’ whispered Bobby. Sometimes the Zeppelin would come so low it was able to strafe the streets with gunfire. They held their breath until the clattering got so close it seemed to burst through right into their back yard.
‘Oh, my gawd!’ shouted Alice. ‘The Germans are in the yard!’
But it didn’t sound like strafing to Nellie. She crept to the door, fearing Ted and anarchists coming for Matty more than she feared Germans. Easing the door open, for a moment she couldn’t believe her ears. Was that giggling she could hear? Yes, someone was giggling uncontrollably and someone else was snorting with laughter, in their back yard! She flung open the door.
‘Who’s there?’ she said, more boldly than she felt, and was greeted by the sight of Freddie and Charlie collapsed over an enormous barrel.
