by Tania Crosse
‘Well, move out me way and let me see how the spuds are doing,’ Eva chided, breaking her train of thought as she bustled out to the stove in the scullery. ‘And we can leave a note for Milly.’
‘Notice how your mum said we’ll have to clear away before we go,’ Stan winked at his son when Eva was out of earshot. ‘She wouldn’t have worried until recently. Reckon she wants to impress our new neighbours if they call round unexpectedly.’
Jake tossed up his head with a light laugh. ‘Hasn’t improved her cooking, mind, has it? Well, at least this is a meal she can’t spoil. The spuds won’t be ready yet I don’t suppose, so I’m going to have a play while I’m waiting.’
‘Leave the door open, son. You know we like to hear you. Put us in the mood for celebrating.’
‘Yes, OK, Dad,’ Jake said, disappearing into the front room that had been his alone since he’d returned from his sister, Gert’s. Once upon a time, as a little boy, he’d shared it with his grandmother and younger sister, Trudy, while then-baby Primrose had still slept in her cot in her parents’ bedroom upstairs. But nowadays it was strictly his own male territory, and his most precious possession, his prized guitar, was propped in the corner.
‘What d’you fancy, Dad?’ he called through the two open doors. ‘“White Cliffs of Dover”? A lot of our brave lads should be seeing those again before too long.’
‘Nah, something a bit brighter than that,’ Stan called back.
‘OK.’ Jake perched on the stool he’d managed to buy. It was ‘Utility’ of course, stamped boldly on the underside of the seat. Plain and simple and requiring minimum materials. But that didn’t matter. It was perfect for sitting on and playing his guitar, and he was grateful to have been able to acquire one at all.
He bit his lip thoughtfully as he tuned the strings. Something jolly. He’d been introduced to playing guitar on folk and Irish music but had developed a natural ear for picking up all sorts of tunes, and now his repertoire was broad and varied.
Ah, I know, he thought to himself. And strumming a couple of chords, he broke into ‘Would you like to Swing on a Star?’ from the film of the previous year, Going My Way, singing his way happily through all the verses. By the time he came to the end, it had certainly put him in a light-hearted mood for the trip up to Westminster. He heard his parents clapping from the next room, and decided to regale them with his lively and comical rendition of ‘When I see an Elephant Fly’ from Disney’s Dumbo, a film he knew his mum had loved. But after that, he went on to one of his favourite, more mournful songs, the traditional Irish ‘Last Rose of Summer’, his voice rising and falling in gentle waves.
Half an hour later, there was movement in the kitchen and Eva announced that dinner was ready. Potatoes and beans were indeed served out on the table, with a pot of tea to wash them down. They ate hungrily, since it was the last food they’d get until morning, chatting as they munched.
‘What time d’you think we need to leave?’ Stan asked between mouthfuls. ‘Gets dark about half nine, don’t it, with this double British Summer Time? Pretty parky outside, mind. Bit like winter again, and after that glorious weather we had a few weeks ago.’
‘Depends if we’re gonna walk or try to catch a bus,’ Eva said hopefully.
‘Let’s walk going, anyway,’ Jake suggested, ‘and see for coming back.’
‘You could do with the exercise, Eva, love,’ Stan observed with a teasing wink. Although in fact, after five years or so of rationing, his plump wife had lost a considerable amount of weight, reminding him more of the slim figure she’d possessed before her six pregnancies.
‘You can go off people, you know!’ Eva grinned back. ‘For that, you can wash up. And while I get ready, Jake, why don’t you pop along to Bridie’s and see if any of them want to come with us? It’d be a nice gesture.’
‘Oh.’ Jake tried to disguise the fall in his voice. That would mean asking Cissie, wouldn’t it? Well, she was really attractive, but he’d been a bit put off by her cold attitude when they’d taken the key round and he wasn’t in any hurry to see her again. But he knew better than to try and dissuade his mum when she had her heart set on something, so he gave as casual a shrug as he could. ‘OK, if you really want,’ he answered and, retrieving his work jacket from the back of the chair, made his way to the front door.
He sucked in his cheeks as he stepped along the pavement and, knocking at Number Twelve, waited patiently for an answer, praying nobody would come. But it was only a few moments before Bridie opened the door and her face creased into a welcoming smile.
‘Ah, you’re Eva’s son, Jake, aren’t you?’ she beamed as if greeting a long-lost son. ‘I recognise you from the photo on your mammy’s mantelpiece. Won’t you be coming in?’ she invited him, walking back down the hallway and making him feel obliged to follow her into the kitchen, where the two men and Cissie were sitting at the table. They had evidently just finished their meal, too, although Cissie was dandling baby Jane on her lap – not that she looked too happy about it.
‘Look if it isn’t Eva’s Jake,’ Bridie announced. ‘Jake, this is my husband, Ron, and our son, Zac. So what can we be doing for you?’ she went on as the men nodded at him in greeting. He noticed that Cissie barely glanced his way.
‘Oh, well, expect you’ve heard they’re lighting up Big Ben tonight,’ Jake said, trying to hide his reluctance. ‘Milly’s on lates, but Mum and Dad and me are going up to see it, and Mum wondered if you’d like to come with us.’
He stood for a second or two, mentally crossing his fingers that the unseasonably cold weather might put them off. But his heart tumbled when Bridie’s face lit up.
‘Sure, that’s kind of her,’ she declared with a broad smile. ‘But there’ll be big crowds so it’d be difficult for Ron, and then there’s the babby. But I’m sure Zac and Cissie would love to go, wouldn’t you now?’ she prompted, turning to them.
‘Oh, yes – please!’ Zac’s handsome face bubbled with excitement.
But Jake saw Cissie’s expression cloud over. ‘Oh, Mum, we shouldn’t leave you,’ she protested. ‘It wouldn’t be fair.’
‘Nonsense,’ Bridie replied. ‘You don’t want to disappoint your brother, and you couldn’t expect them to take him on their own. So, when are you leaving, Jake?’
‘In about half an hour. But are you sure you want to come? It’s turned bitterly cold.’
‘Sure they do,’ Bridie insisted, and Jake inwardly sighed.
‘We’ll wait for you to call, then,’ he said, hoping Cissie might protest further. But she didn’t, so forcing a smile to his lips, he made for the door. ‘See you later, then. I’ll see myself out. I know the way.’
The Cresswell family all smiled and nodded and watched him go. But the moment they heard the front door close, Cissie turned on her mother, exasperation burning on her face.
‘Why did you say that, Mum?’ she demanded. ‘I really don’t want to go.’
‘No, you really need to start getting out again,’ Bridie insisted. ‘Doesn’t she, Ron? And you’ll be in good company, so you will. Jake seems a nice young man, and you’ll come to no harm with his parents there as well.’
‘But what about Jane?’
‘Sure, you’ve never bothered much about her before, so don’t try using her as an excuse now. Can’t I be managing her on me own for a few hours? Now go and tidy yourself up a bit while I get Zac ready. Put on those nice slacks you used to wear and your best Fair Isle cardigan. And you’ll need your winter coat. I’ve moved the buttons back.’
‘Yes, Mum.’ Cissie gave a deep, reluctant sigh, lifting her eyes to the ceiling as she laid the baby down in the drawer that was serving as a cot. She adored her mother, but there were times when she could throttle her. Like now. For what had Bridie let her in for?
Eight
‘Are you all right walking all this way? With your ankle, I mean?’ Jake enquired, grateful to have some topic of conversation to cling to, since somehow he and Cissie had fallen behin
d Stan and Eva, who, not surprisingly, was mothering Zac in her own inimitable way.
‘Yes, I’m fine, thank you.’ Cissie’s tone, Jake noted, was polite and calmer as she spoke. ‘It’s a lot better than it was. The walk will probably help strengthen it up.’
Jake glanced sideways at her. He sensed she was more relaxed now and that the walk was doing her good in more ways than one.
‘So does that mean you’ll be going back to work soon?’ he asked.
‘I sincerely hope so,’ she snorted, and Jake detected bitterness returning to her voice. ‘Mum can’t work because of the baby, obviously. Which means Dad’s the only one with an income and that’s his war disablement pension, which is pitiful. So we really need my wages as well. I’m working on my ankle every day, so hopefully it shouldn’t be long now.’
‘And what about Zac?’ Jake dared to suggest. ‘I can see he seems… to have problems, if you don’t mind my saying so. Is he able to work at all?’
‘Oh, yes. If it’s the right job. Give him something repetitive to do and he’ll do it to perfection. For hours. It suits his condition. And no, we don’t mind talking about it.’ Cissie surprised Jake with her sudden openness. ‘Not to people who understand. It’s those who don’t and mock him for it who make us angry. He can’t help being how he is.’ Cissie glanced up at Jake and he caught the flash in her eyes. He had the impression she could be quite the tigress, despite her petite size, and he was thankful when she gave him a grateful smile. ‘But I can see you and your family seem to understand,’ she said, jerking her head to the three adults walking in front of them.
‘Yes, Mum’s a born carer,’ Jake agreed somewhat proudly as Eva evidently said something that made Zac laugh. ‘She should’ve trained to be a nurse like your mum, but she had no chance of a decent education, and besides, she met Dad and had Kit quite young. That’s my elder brother. He’s married and lives in Kent. His wife used to live in your house many moons ago.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Cissie sounded genuinely interested and Jake felt he was beginning to break the ice with her.
‘It’s a long story. I’ll tell you some time,’ he promised. ‘But you were saying about Zac. Was he… born like it, or was it an accident or an illness or something?’
Cissie shook her head sadly. ‘Poor thing was born like it. Mum says he seemed OK, placid, developing fine physically. As you can see. But he still wasn’t showing any signs of talking by the time he was three. Mum and Dad just thought he was a bit slow and would suddenly catch up. But he never did. Not properly. And I was already on the way. I sometimes wonder if I hadn’t been and they’d realised then that Zac had a problem, whether they’d have ever had another child in case it turned out the same. And then Jane wasn’t planned, of course.’
There was something wistful in her voice and when Jake caught her eye, he said with a shy smile, ‘Well, I’m glad they had you.’ He held her gaze for a moment and then wished he’d kept his big mouth shut at the expression that came over her face. Oh, Lord, what had he said? Perhaps it was because she was already spoken for and, like Mildred, had someone in the forces she was worried about. ‘So, d’you have a sweetheart somewhere?’ he asked nervously as he didn’t want to upset her.
She faltered in her step and literally shrank back from him, eyes wide in a face that had instantly drained of its colour, making Jake think that maybe she’d lost a young man in the fighting. But then she virtually spat, ‘No!’ her voice trembling with something – was it fear? Jake blinked at her in astonishment, quite taken aback with her reaction. But before he could think of anything to say, she appeared to recover herself and went on, ‘I’ve never had time. And I’ve only ever been in love with my dancing.’
‘Oh. Oh, I see,’ Jake stammered, since he didn’t know how to respond to her odd behaviour. And then his own creative nature came to his rescue. ‘I can understand that. Especially doing it professionally. I play the guitar and sing. That’s my passion. I could do it for hours on end. It must be the same for you with your dancing. Tell me, how did you get into it?’
They’d crossed over Albert Bridge and were making their way towards Westminster along the Chelsea Embankment. The light was rapidly fading from the sky and already the Victorian lamps were beginning to glow like misty haloes in the dusk. Jake couldn’t help thinking how pretty and romantic it looked, all the more so because it was an unfamiliar sight, it being only the last few days that the government had considered it safe enough to turn the street lights back on. What a feeling of release, of unfettered joy, was just waiting to burst out the minute they had the word the war was definitely over. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to share the unsurpassed elation, Jake considered, with a girl in his arms?
Glancing at Cissie, he had the most overwhelming desire to take her hand, to feel a tingle as his fingers met with hers. But he knew it was a stupid idea and crushed it from his mind. There was something about Cissie he couldn’t fathom and he sensed that any physical contact would be the last thing she wanted.
She did, however, seem happy to engage in conversation. ‘Oh, I’ve danced all my life,’ she answered with a shrug. ‘I went to a little ballet school in a hall when I was four and I loved it. And then when I was about seven, I used to stay on to watch the tap class after mine. I begged Mum to let me go to that as well, but she could barely scrape the money for the ballet classes. And then, one day, the teacher got me to join in the tap for free. Mum was mortified, but the teacher said – oh, dear, this sounds a bit boastful – but she said I had real talent for dance and should be given every opportunity. Mum just had to pay for the one ballet class, but the teacher gave me two private ballet lessons a week for free, and the tap. She said if she could train me well enough to get a scholarship to the Sadler’s Wells Ballet School, it’d be reward enough. But then the war came along, and that was that.’
‘Oh, that was a pity. But you must’ve kept on dancing somehow.’
‘Oh, yes. I was evacuated to a town in Devon called Tavistock and I went to a dance school there. Hardly Sadler’s Wells, but it was good, and I learnt all sorts of different types of dance, just as I would have done at the Sadler’s Wells School. It wasn’t free, though, and Mum had to find the money. But by then Zac was more reliable – for various reasons, he wasn’t evacuated, you see – and Mum was able to go back to work. I came back to London when I was fifteen, when the Blitz seemed to be over, and I could have auditioned for Sadler’s Wells then. But they were being sent all over the place, entertaining troops and factory workers and the like, living in digs, having to sleep on trains. Well, I didn’t fancy all that. But then I found out about the company I’m with now. They do move around a bit, but only in London, in town halls or small theatres. So…’ She appeared to hesitate slightly before continuing, ‘I can usually get home to Mum and Dad at night. So here I am. Apart from my ankle, of course,’ she seemed to finish as an afterthought, almost as if she’d forgotten about it.
Jake had been listening patiently to Cissie’s story, quite enthralled if the truth be told, imagining what it would have been like for him if he’d been a professional performer with his guitar. When she came to the end, he, too, had more or less forgotten about her ankle.
‘And are you sure it’s OK walking so far? Say if it’s not and we’ll catch a bus or a tram or something.’
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ She appeared to force a reassuring smile to her lips. ‘Just a few more weeks and I should be back. I might have to start back in the chorus till it’s fully strong again, though.’
Jake raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise. He still sensed Cissie was holding something back, but he was definitely warming to her – and she to him, he’d like to think. Maybe the reticence that had quashed his initial attraction to her was melting and they could get to know each other better.
‘Were you one of the main dancers, then?’ he asked in awestruck admiration.
Even in the deepening dusk, he saw a dark hue flush into her cheeks as she blushed and ga
ve an embarrassed nod. She must be good, then, but too modest to say so.
‘I’d love to come and see you,’ he said, but at that moment, Zac stopped and turned round to them.
‘Cissie!’ he called nervously, his eyes wide.
‘Yes, it’s all right, Zac, I’m here,’ she reassured him, stepping forward to take her brother’s hand. ‘Right behind you. I’d better stay with him now it’s dark,’ she said briefly to Jake.
Jake nodded and hurried to catch up with his parents instead. The streets were getting crowded as they approached Westminster, the distinctive shape of the Houses of Parliament a massive shadow against the murky, cloud-covered sky. It seemed that thousands of people had come to witness the reillumination of the iconic symbol of the British spirit that had seen them through the most horrific of times. There were both men and women in uniform, but hundreds of civilians, too, all jostling to get a view, and Jake was glad the tower of Big Ben was of such a height that everyone would be able to see. The mass of people was becoming so dense that it was difficult to keep their little group together. And when a wave of movement surged through the multitude, Jake wasn’t the only one to become separated.
