The Street of Broken Dreams

by Tania Crosse

  *

  Eva drew in a sharp breath. ‘Ah, there’s a knock at the door. Probably them. Now, do we look tidy enough?’ she asked, eyes sweeping over the hastily cleared and wiped table.

  ‘Cleanest I’ve seen it in years,’ Mildred assured her with a deep chuckle. ‘Now don’t keep them waiting on the doorstep.’

  ‘Would I do that?’

  Nevertheless, Eva paused to pull off her dirty apron and stuff it in a drawer before she strutted off down the hallway. Mildred watched her go, shaking her head in amusement. Without her two youngest to mother, her mum relished taking under her wing those less fortunate than herself, and it certainly sounded as if this new family came into that category.

  Mildred could hear muted voices along the passage and, a few moments later, her mum came back into the kitchen, holding open the door for her guests.

  ‘Do come in,’ Eva invited them. ‘There’s just about enough seats for everybody.’

  Mildred’s face blossomed into a brilliant smile as the visitors sidled around the table. ‘Hello, I’m Mildred, Milly for short,’ she introduced herself, beaming at a short, well-set woman with striking green eyes and thick black hair wound into a victory roll. In her arms she carried a tiny baby whose starfish hands patted its mother’s chest as its eyes wandered vacuously over its new surroundings.

  With the woman’s arms occupied, Mildred didn’t offer her hand in greeting but continued to smile broadly instead. Then she nodded at the tall young man following his mother. Mildred felt her heart dance a little jig, for just as Eva had described, he was incredibly handsome and his generous mouth broke into a glorious grin as he gazed at her.

  ‘And I’m – Zac,’ he drawled, confirming Eva’s opinion that he wasn’t quite ‘all there’, but pumping Mildred’s hand up and down nonetheless. ‘Pleased to – meet you. And this is – my sister – Cissie.’

  Mildred turned her eyes on the young girl bringing up the rear and paused to take in what she could only describe as a vision of loveliness. Her slight frame filled Mildred with envy, and she moved with such grace, head held high on her long neck, that she appeared to be floating. She was as beautiful as her brother was handsome, yet a smile barely flickered across her lips as she acknowledged Mildred’s welcome.

  ‘Ron sends his apologies.’ Bridie’s Irish brogue broke over Mildred’s thoughts like summer rain on a drought. ‘It’s been a bit tiring for him, so it has. I’m Bridie, by the way,’ she said, turning to Mildred. ‘It was so kind of your mammy to invite us for a cup of tay. Can’t stay long, mind. Got a lot to do, so we have.’

  ‘Yeah, I understand,’ Eva beamed. ‘Can I have another hold of the baby? Give your arms a rest. Cor, she’s awake this time,’ she crooned, taking little Jane from Bridie. ‘Mildred’ll make the tea, won’t you, love? Hello, little one,’ she cooed down at the infant. ‘I’m your new Auntie Eva. So how old are we?’

  ‘Seven weeks,’ Bridie told her proudly. ‘And such a good little soul.’

  ‘Ah, hear what your mummy says about you?’ And then, turning to her new friend, Eva prompted subtly, ‘A big gap between her and your others.’

  She noticed Bridie flick a furtive glance towards her elder daughter, probably because she didn’t like talking about such things in front of her, Eva assumed. But then the Irishwoman seemed perfectly happy to answer the question Eva had hinted at. ‘Sure, she came as a bit of a surprise,’ she admitted with an open smile.

  ‘That’s the best way. Six I had altogether. But your husband told me you was bombed out by that doodlebug what fell on Islington. You could’ve done without that, you being preggers and all, on top of everything else.’

  ‘You couldn’t have spoken a truer word. But we survived and here we are.’

  Eva and Bridie appeared to be hitting it off, so Mildred left them to talk and stepped into the scullery to light the gas under the kettle. It had already boiled once so it wouldn’t take long. Mildred wasn’t sure whether to use fresh tea leaves for their guests but decided to compromise by using the same ones as earlier, plus just half a spoon of new ones from the week’s ration.

  Everything was already set on the table, and as she carried through the teapot – being careful to shut the door and keep the smell of her dad’s simmering trotter to the minimum – Mildred considered how she could break the ice with Cissie Cresswell. She wasn’t quite sure if the girl was painfully shy or just utterly aloof. Or maybe she was so fed up with all that had befallen her family that she simply felt cut off from what was going on around her.

  ‘Shall I pour?’ Mildred offered as jauntily as she could. ‘Does everyone want tea?’

  To her amazement, Zac picked up one of the mugs from the table and scrutinised it thoroughly.

  ‘Is this – mug clean?’ he demanded, his frown deepening as he almost lowered his nose into said object.

  Mildred blinked in astonishment. What a cheek! She had actually picked out the best of her mum’s crockery and made sure it was far cleaner than normal! She glanced sharply across at her mum to catch her eye, but it was Bridie who came to her rescue.

  ‘Of course it is, Zac,’ she told her son with a half-reassuring, half-chastising smile. ‘Doesn’t he have this thing about cleanliness,’ she explained, with a look in her eyes that pleaded for understanding. ‘Sure, we’re used to his ways, but they can be a bit embarrassing, if you know what I mean. Loves to keep everything as clean as a whistle, so he does.’

  ‘Well, you can come and clean my house whenever you want, lad!’ Eva laughed, her chins wobbling up and down. ‘Never seem to have time for housework, me. What with all the queuing for food, and I do me shifts with the WVS. And what about you, Bridie? Was you able to do anything before this little one came along?’ she asked, stroking baby Jane’s button nose.

  ‘I’m a fully trained nurse, so I am,’ Bridie replied, nodding her thanks as Mildred handed her a mug of tea. ‘That’s how I met Ron. Lost his limbs at Passchendaele in the first war, and I was working at one of the army hospitals in Calais. I travelled back to Blighty with him when he was well enough, and, well, one thing led to another.’

  ‘Oh, saints alive, you must’ve seen some terrible things out there,’ Eva gasped, sincerity trembling in her voice. ‘I was at home with our eldest, Kit. Just a nipper then. And our Gert came along in the spring of 1915, so I didn’t do nothing in the first war. And I was lucky. My Stan came home in one piece. So that’s why I wanted to do me bit this time round.’

  ‘So did I,’ Bridie told her, sipping her tea. ‘I gave up nursing to marry Ron. You have to if you get married, and he still needed nursing at home for some while anyway. And then I had Zac and Cissie, so it was years before I could go back to work. Couldn’t work in a proper hospital, of course, being an old married woman, so haven’t I been working in an old people’s nursing home instead. Until Jane was well on the way, of course,’ she added hastily.

  Mildred had been listening intently, as eager to learn as much about their new neighbours as possible. But her mum and Bridie were getting on like a house on fire and it felt awkward listening in on their conversation. So as Zac seemed to be content inspecting everything around them, she turned her attention to Cissie, who was sitting as still as a rock, eyes riveted on her hands which were clasped in her lap.

  ‘What work d’you do, then, Cissie?’ Mildred asked brightly, praying she’d get an answer from the taciturn girl. She was relieved when Cissie looked up and met her gaze with large, hazel-coloured eyes.

  ‘None. Not at the moment, that is,’ she admitted sharply, as if daring Mildred not to question her.

  ‘Oh?’ Mildred, surprised again by another member of this strange family, was not to be put off, however. ‘How old are you, then?’

  ‘I’ll be nineteen in August.’

  ‘Oh, well, I’ll be twenty in October, so not much different from me. Only you look younger, you lucky thing. But…’ Mildred hesitated as she wondered whether she should ask or not, but decided she would an
yway. ‘Ain’t you been conscripted, then? I’ve been on the buses ever since I turned eighteen.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Well, not exactly conscripted, but it’s still part of the war effort. The work I do is partly funded by CEMA.’

  ‘CEMA? What’s that?’

  ‘It stands for Council for the Encouragement of Music and the Arts,’ Cissie explained almost curtly as if Mildred ought to know. ‘A bit like ENSA. You know, entertaining the troops. Only this is for civilians. It’s mainly for taking culture into factories and so forth. Poetry, art, music, plays. To keep up morale at home, that sort of thing. But I work for a rep company and our producer wangled some sponsorship from them.’

  ‘Oh, I see. So you’re an actress or a singer or something?’ Mildred’s blue-green eyes widened with excitement. ‘Cor, our Jake’ll be interested in that. Loves singing, he does, and he plays the guitar.’

  Cissie’s face seemed to close up like a clam. ‘No. I’m a dancer,’ she said, and Mildred thought she detected bitterness in her voice, although she had no idea why she should feel aggrieved. ‘Only I damaged my ankle a while ago and it’s not strong enough to go back yet.’

  ‘Oh, Gawd, I’m sorry,’ Mildred answered with genuine feeling. Poor girl. That explained it. That was the last thing you’d want as a dancer. No wonder Cissie was so down in the mouth. ‘But d’you think you’ll get back to it soon?’ she asked, hoping that by showing an interest, she could draw the other girl out of her shell. And she was interested. She could see how Cissie would be a natural dancer with her slight and elegant physique. ‘What sort of dancing d’you do, then?’

  ‘Oh, all sorts. It’s a variety theatre, so it can be almost anything. A lot of tap and chorus line. Character stuff. To things like Gershwin’s “Fascinating Rhythm” or “I’ve got Rhythm”. Audiences love Spanish flamenco, the tarantella. Tango. The can-can—’

  ‘Oh, I know that one!’ Mildred butted in with enthusiasm, since she had no idea who Gersh-whatever-his name-was might be. But at least Cissie seemed to be opening up as she spoke about what was evidently her passion. ‘All high kicks, ain’t it?’

  ‘Well, yes, sort of,’ Cissie actually chuckled. ‘But we have great singers, too. And sometimes we dance to them. Semi balletic. To some of Vera Lynn’s songs sometimes, or maybe something like “S’Wonderful, S’Marvellous”—’

  ‘Suppose that’s Gersh-thingy, too, is it?’

  ‘Gershwin. And yes, it is,’ Cissie smiled, making Mildred feel like top dog for having guessed correctly. ‘But my real love is pure classical ballet. Our dance master choreographs to mainly popular classical music, but he sometimes puts a more modern interpretation on it. A bit like the Ballet Rambert. So people who think ballet is just soppy with girls in tutus and men prancing about in tights can see it’s not like that at all.’

  ‘It sounds flipping amazing,’ Mildred breathed.

  ‘Oh, it is. You’ll have to come along one evening.’

  ‘Cor, I’d like that. But I’ll wait till you’re back performing yourself.’

  Mildred bit her lip as she saw Cissie’s face cloud over. Idiot. That was the wrong thing to say. They were getting along so well and now she’d put her bleeding foot in it. Of course the girl would be upset if she couldn’t be performing because of an injury. But before Mildred could think of anything to rescue the conversation, Bridie stood up, taking the baby back from Eva.

  ‘Well, we must be getting back,’ she announced with an appreciative smile. ‘Lots to do before we can crawl into bed tonight. Thank you so much for the tay. Very kind of you, so it was.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Eva beamed in reply as she began showing her visitors to the front door. ‘We hope you’ll be very happy here, even if you are a long way from home.’

  ‘Well, it’s the best place we could find, and we felt we wanted an entirely fresh start.’

  ‘Yeah, I can understand that. And remember, if you need anything, a bit of babysitting maybe, you know where we are.’

  ‘Sure, I can see you’re going to be a good neighbour to us. Thank you so much. Zac, say goodbye now.’

  ‘Good – bye,’ the young man said obediently, and as they all stepped onto the pavement, he began heading in the wrong direction.

  Mildred noticed that Cissie caught her brother’s arm and gently turned him round. ‘No, this way, Zac,’ she said softly.

  ‘Oh, silly me,’ he grinned. ‘It’s because – it’s new.’

  ‘Come on then.’ Cissie waved to Mildred as they walked down the street. ‘See you again soon,’ she called.

  ‘Well, I’m thinking that went well,’ Bridie said to her daughter in a low voice once they were out of earshot. ‘We stuck to our story and I reckon they believed every word.’

  ‘Yes, I believe they did,’ Cissie mumbled under her breath.

  ‘And I reckon if Eva believes us, she’ll make sure the whole street does, too. So don’t you worry. Everything’s going to work out fine, so it is.’

  Cissie drew her prettily bowed mouth into a knot as they went inside their new home. She prayed her mother was right. And she had warmed to Eva and Mildred Parker, despite herself. But she’d need to keep her distance if she wanted to keep the secret. For some while, at least. Pity. But that’s what everything – the whole family’s sacrifice – had been about. And she couldn’t risk ruining it all.

  It was all because of her, after all.

  Five

  ‘We’re home, love!’ a male voice called from the hallway, and a moment later, the door to the back room was flung wide and two men in working clothes walked in.

  Eva had propped open the scullery door and glanced across from stirring a pan of vegetables simmering on the stove. ‘Hello, Stan, love!’ she beamed, lifting her face for the daily evening ritual of receiving her husband’s kiss on her cheek. ‘Jake, love,’ she greeted her son as well. ‘Had a good day, both of you?’

  ‘Yeah, fine, ta. Same as usual, anyhow,’ Stan answered, pouring two mugs of tea from the pot Mildred had just placed on the table and handing one to Jake. ‘What about you two? Shift OK, Milly?’

  Mildred, though, scarcely had time to nod before Eva abandoned the dinner preparations and plodded into the kitchen.

  ‘Interesting day, anyway,’ she declared. ‘Queued all morning for food, but then there was a letter from Gert. And then, later on in the afternoon, a new family moved into Number Twelve.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ Stan lifted an eyebrow as he sat down. ‘And no doubt you went straight round to introduce yourself?’ he teased.

  ‘Course she did,’ Mildred laughed, watching her mum colour. But Eva’s embarrassment didn’t last long.

  ‘You’ll be relieved to know they’re a real nice family,’ she informed her menfolk. ‘We won’t get no trouble from them.’

  ‘I can see Mum wanting to help them.’ Mildred now took over the conversation. ‘She’s already had them in here, giving them a cup of cha. The dad didn’t come, mind, so I ain’t met him yet. Mum did, though.’

  ‘Yeah, nice fella. Bit of a cut above us, I’d say. But let me tell you all about them.’

  Eva plonked herself down in one of the kitchen chairs and proceeded to relate all she had learnt about the Cresswell family in an uninterrupted stream. When she finally stopped to draw breath, she gazed at her husband and son with a look of satisfaction at her knowledge glowing proudly on her face. But they all knew she was the kindest person on earth. To others she might appear a bit nosey, but she only had other people’s best interests at heart and if anyone had a secret to hide, Eva’s lips would be sealed as if stuck together with glue. The past had proved that beyond a doubt. And if this new family needed any help, Eva would certainly be the one to give it to them.

  ‘Well, I’ll look forward to meeting them all in due course,’ Stan announced. ‘Maybe I can have a good chat with, what did you say his name was, Ron, poor sod? ’Cos I was in the first war meself, he might want to talk about it, and I always think talking about things helps. But jus
t now, me stomach thinks me throat’s been cut, so how long’s this dinner gonna be?’

  ‘Bout quarter of an hour. Not long enough for you to read the sports section of your blooming paper,’ Eva chided as Stan glanced longingly at the scanty newspaper he’d dropped on the table.

  ‘What about our Gert’s letter, then? Have I got time for that?’

  ‘Yeah, all right. It’s behind the clock on the mantelpiece. Don’t say a lot, mind. But they’re all OK.’

  Stan reached up to retrieve the envelope and then, sitting back down at the table, pulled a battered packet of Player’s from his pocket and lit up a cigarette.

  ‘Mum wouldn’t let me have a fag once she knew the new family might be coming round,’ Mildred complained. ‘Had to open the window wide and then keep the scullery door shut to keep out the pong of your trotter.’

  ‘Mmm, yeah, thought I could smell it. My favourite!’

  ‘Huh, you can keep it,’ Jake finally managed to get a word in edgeways. ‘If that’s all that’s on offer, I’d rather go without any meat altogether and just have veg.’

  ‘What, like Woolton pie?’ Mildred joked, taking the mickey out of the famous recipe put out by the wartime government. ‘Can you really enjoy a pie what don’t have no meat in it?’

  ‘Yes, and why not?’ Jake wanted to know. ‘Doesn’t bother me too much, does meat. And neither of you should be smoking indoors anyway. It’s a fire hazard.’

  ‘Oo-oo-oo,’ Mildred mocked. ‘Just ’cos you don’t smoke. Yet, little brother.’

  ‘No, well, I’ve seen enough fires never to want to start one by smoking some silly little white stick,’ Jake pouted defensively.

  ‘Good job you ain’t never been in the forces, then,’ Mildred pointed out. ‘Gary says they hand fags out like sweets in the Navy. Or like sweets used to be before they was put on ration.’

  ‘Wonder how long it’ll be before we start getting rid of rationing when the war’s all over?’ Jake considered grimly. ‘Going to take some time for things to get back to normal, I reckon.’