A Ration Book Childhood

by Jean Fullerton

  ‘Well, he didn’t,’ Jerimiah barked. ‘And while you’ve been out having a rare old time and enjoying “grand company”, me and Ida have traipsed around every hospital this side of the Roding River searching for your corpse and—’

  ‘You weren’t to know the telephone exchange was out of action,’ cut in Ida. ‘Or that Paddy Leary didn’t do as he said he would.’

  ‘I’ll skin him alive, so I will, when I catch up with him,’ said Queenie.

  ‘Anyway, we’re just thankful you’re safe and well, aren’t we?’ she asked, giving her husband a meaningful look.

  Pressing his lips together, Jerimiah’s nostrils flared for a second then he let out a long breath.

  ‘Yes, we are, Ma. We’re mighty thankful you’re back with us and not in heaven giving St Peter a headache,’ he said. ‘But tell me, why the hell were you chasing all over Essex after Red Colin in the first place?’

  ‘To fetch himself.’

  She dragged the threadbare quilt off the pram to reveal an old budgie cage in which was a brightly coloured cockerel, who seeing the world revealed around him, threw back his head and let out a couple of cock-a-doodle-doos to herald his arrival.

  ‘Eggs is all fine and fair for supper, but,’ Queenie winked, ‘to my mind a leg of chicken is better.’ She threw the blanket back over the bird. ‘Now, I don’t know about you grand folk, but as I’ve had to walk all the way back from Forest Gate I’d thank you if we could start making our way home.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Ida.

  ‘But before we do,’ Queenie unhooked something dangling from the pram’s handle, ‘as that swindler Harris has probably done you out of the joint you were after, I thought you might find these useful.’

  Queenie handed her two brace of large fat rabbits, still in their fur.

  Ida stared at her Christmas dinner saviours for a moment then looked back at her mother-in-law. ‘Where on earth did you get them, Ma?’

  Queenie’s face lifted into a wrinkled smile and she winked once more. ‘I found them.’

  Chapter Twenty-one

  ‘WELL, THAT’S THE last one, I think,’ said Jerimiah, dressed in his best suit and sporting the new sky-blue neckerchief Cathy had bought him for Christmas at his throat. ‘And it’s for Gran.’

  It was just before two thirty on Christmas afternoon and the whole family was gathered in the back parlour. Well, squashed would probably be a better way of describing it because with eight adults and two boys and three toddlers squeezed into the fifteen-by-twenty back living room, you could barely see the rug covering the floor.

  Ida had tried to make the family’s main room as festive as possible, which, given the shortages of practically everything, had been a struggle this year. Especially as when she brought the cardboard box of decorations down from the loft she found the mice had munched their way through all the Chinese paper lanterns. Luckily, the concertina bell had escaped their teeth and was now hanging from the central light. What with that and the paperchains made from strips of her Woman and Home magazine draped across the room and the milk bottle tops cut into stars thumb-tacked to the ceiling it looked very festive. Even having Mr Frosty, as Michael and Billy had christened her cotton-wool snowman, sitting in the corner instead of a tree didn’t mar the Christmassy feel.

  Because they were intent on keeping an eye out for Father Christmas, Billy and Michael hadn’t actually gone to sleep until well after one on Christmas Eve, so there had been a hope amongst the adults that they might sleep in, but no such luck: both boys were up before the sun. They’d devoured their oranges and read the comics Ida had stuffed into their socks hung up on the bedpost then they started jumping about. Jerimiah had gone into them at six and agreed that they could open one present each as long as they played quietly after that.

  Not fully awake, Jerimiah had crashed back into bed and gone straight back to sleep, so he didn’t hear Queenie getting up to feed and water the lads then taken them out in the yard while she tended to the chickens and checked the new addition to their number.

  Ida must have fallen back to sleep at this point too because the next thing she heard was Mattie and Alicia arriving at nine o’clock.

  Hurrying downstairs, Ida found Queenie had already skinned and jointed the rabbits and had put them in their largest pot to simmer on a low gas along with diced carrots, pearl barley and two chopped onions that she’d also ‘found’ in her travels.

  After a mad scramble to get ready and having made Ellen comfortable, Ida and the rest of the family headed off for the ten o’clock Christmas service, arriving with a few minutes to spare to find Jo and Cathy already in their usual pew.

  On coming out of church Jerimiah had disappeared to the Catholic Club to meet Tommy for a pint but much to Ida’s surprise instead of having to wait on their return before dishing up the meal as they had last year, the two men strolled back in just after Workers’ Playtime started at twelve thirty.

  Ten minutes later, the table had been pulled out and covered with two freshly laundered sheets. While the girls had laid the table, Tommy brought in half a dozen bottles of beer from the cold keep they’d been saving for the day and Jerimiah carried in the chairs. Ida and Queenie drained the vegetables and put them in the tureens and as the one o’clock news started Ida carried through the rabbit stew. That was an hour and a half ago and while they waited for the King’s speech at 3 p.m. they had been handing out the presents.

  Jerimiah handed the soft package Ida had wrapped in the back page of Woman and Home to his mother. She was sitting on her chair, with her dentures in and her feet dangling. Taking it, she read the inscription written on the paper before opening her present and holding up a pair of ivory-coloured long drawers.

  Billy and Michael, who were sitting cross-legged in front of the bookcase, put their hands over their mouths and started sniggering but after a severe look from Jerimiah they contented themselves with just grinning at each other.

  ‘I used number-two needles with two ply,’ said Ida, more than a little pleased with her work. ‘They’ll keep you nice and snug in this cold weather.’

  ‘That they will,’ said Queenie, admiring her new bloomers.

  To be honest, most of the gifts had been knitted, like Billy and Michael’s scarves and gloves and Tommy’s long socks, or sewn, as with the palm-sized lavender pillow with lace around the edges that Mattie made her sisters for their underwear drawers.

  As Pearl was in some funk hole in the country quaffing champagne and eating black-market turkey and would be none the wiser, Ida had split the money she’d given for Billy between the two boys. After scouring every shop down Roman Road, the Waste and Stratford she’d finally found two sets of die-cast knights in armour to go in the castle Jerimiah had knocked up out of an old fruit crate at his yard.

  Her mother-in-law gave her a sweet smile, which Ida, sitting in the fireside chair opposite, returned.

  Well, when all’s said and done, it was supposed to be a time for peace on earth, wasn’t it?

  She caught sight of her two eldest daughters on the sofa and frowned.

  As there was a lack of places to sit Jo said she was quite happy to share the easy chair with Tommy to save space. She was now perched on her fiancé’s lap with her legs draped over the arm of the chair, leaving Mattie and Cathy to share the sofa. They were sitting, with their babies on their knees and their nephew Patrick, who seemed to have been abandoned by his mother, between them.

  Although Mattie who was amusing her daughter with the soft-bodied doll Jo had bought her looked happy and relaxed, the same couldn’t be said of Cathy, who had wedged herself as far as she could away from her elder sister.

  Given that Cathy was stuck in a miserable marriage and lumbered with Stan’s shrew of a mother, Ida could forgive her middle daughter’s sour face but perhaps next year she might try to recall the angel’s tidings.

  Out of the corner of her eyes Ida caught a movement and she looked around.

  ‘Are you all right
, Ellen?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Yes . . . I’m fine, Ida,’ she whispered. ‘It was good . . . of you . . . to ask me . . . to join you.’

  Ellen, almost swamped by the dressing gown she was wearing, was sitting in the low armchair just behind Ida in the corner with her feet up on the pouffe and a knitted shawl draped across her legs.

  ‘It is Christmas,’ Ida replied. ‘And I’m sure Michael’s happy you’re down here with him.’

  Ellen forced a smile that stretched the tissue-like skin across her cheeks to its limits.

  She was no more than a bag of bones now and so breathless she could barely move without collapsing. Although you could never say with any certainty, Ida would be surprised if her old friend saw January out.

  When the family had returned from church Ida had popped up to check on Ellen and it was then she asked if she’d like to come down for dinner. Ellen didn’t feel able but after Ida had helped her with a bowl of rabbit stew Ellen said she’d like to watch Michael open his presents, so Jerimiah had carried her down.

  To be honest, she’d only thought to ask Ellen to join them for Michael’s sake. After all, it wasn’t fair for him to have his last Christmas memory of his mother be one of her gasping for breath on her death bed. However, once Jerimiah had settled Ellen in the corner it seemed right somehow to have her with them.

  ‘Oops, I nearly forgot,’ said Jerimiah, bringing Ida’s mind back from its sombre thoughts.

  He drew a small box wrapped up in pink tissue paper from the inside pocket of his waistcoat and surveyed his family. ‘Santa left one more gift.’

  His gaze shifted to Ida and his eyes grew tender.

  ‘It’s for a woman worth more than all the gold in Solomon’s mine, the biggest diamond ever found and every pearl in the ocean.’ He offered her the gift. ‘Me darling girl, Ida.’

  There was a collective ahh while Tommy let out a loud wolf whistle.

  Although Ida’s lips were threatening to curl into a smile, she rolled her eyes. ‘You and your old blarney, Jerry!’

  He smiled and then his eyes locked with Ida’s for a couple of heartbeats before she lowered them.

  Unpicking the wrapping paper to save it, Ida took out a small navy box with ‘R&S Garrard’ stamped in gold across the top. She opened it and her eyes stretched wide. There sitting in the centre of the velvet backing was an enamel four-leaf clover with diamantes around the leaves and a pearl in the centre.

  ‘Oh, Jerimiah,’ she said breathlessly. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘Pin it on, Mum,’ said Mattie.

  Ida fixed it on the left side of her best dress and gazed down at it in admiration for a moment then back at her husband. ‘It’s lovely. Really lovely.’

  ‘You’ll have to take Mum out somewhere special now, Dad, so she can show it off,’ said Jo.

  ‘And so I shall, don’t you worry,’ he replied. ‘But perhaps she might want to wear it first at yours and Tommy’s wedding.’

  Jo stared at him for a moment then leaping from Tommy’s lap she dashed across and threw herself into her father’s arms.

  ‘Oh, Dad, you’re the best,’ she said, hugging him.

  Tommy rose to his feet and offered Jerimiah his hand. ‘Thanks, Mr Brogan.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ Jerimiah replied, shaking his hand. ‘And I’ve told you before, son, it’s Jerry. And, Jo me luv,’ he said, patting her back, ‘if you’re after me walking you down the aisle I’d be obliged if you’d stop strangling me.’

  Jo let him go and then turned to her sisters who had also risen to their feet to congratulate her and Tommy.

  ‘Dad?’ said Billy.

  ‘Yes, son,’ said Jerimiah, looking down at the lad.

  ‘Why didn’t Father Christmas leave Mum’s present with Mr Frosty with all the others?’ he asked.

  Everyone laughed.

  Queenie caught Ida’s eyes and looked pointedly to the left. She glanced around to see Ellen with her eyes closed and her lips drawn. Standing up Ida went over to her and gently put her hand on her old friend’s arm.

  Ellen opened her eyes.

  ‘Do you need your medicine?’ Ida asked quietly.

  Ellen nodded. ‘If it’s not too much trouble.’

  Giving her arm a gentle squeeze Ida looked across at Jerimiah, who was enjoying a glass of Scotch with Tommy.

  She caught his eyes and he swallowed his drink down.

  ‘Ellen needs to go back upstairs,’ she told him as he joined them.

  Seeing his mother in some distress, Michael came over, too. ‘Mum?’ he asked, looking anxiously at her.

  ‘It’s all right, sweetheart,’ Ellen said, forcing a smile. ‘I’m just a bit tired, that’s all.’

  ‘Shall I come up and keep you company?’ he asked.

  Ellen shook her head. ‘No, you stay and enjoy the fun with Billy. I’ll be fine once I’ve have a little snooze.’

  ‘We’re going to listen to the King’s speech, Michael. Do you want to sit with me by the wireless, so you can hear?’ asked Mattie, reaching out her hand.

  ‘Go on,’ mouthed Ellen.

  Michael hovered for a second or two and then went to join the rest of the family.

  ‘Ready?’ asked Jerimiah.

  Ellen nodded.

  In one swift movement he scooped her effortlessly into his strong arms and her brittle ones wound around his neck. As he settled her in his arms Ellen gazed up at him with pure adoration. Raw emotions burst through Ida, but instead of the soul-destroying jealousy and fury that had shredded her heart for the past three months it was pity that brought a lump to her throat.

  As the BBC announcer drew the whole country and Commonwealth together in readiness for the King’s Christmas Broadcast, Ida opened the door and Jerimiah carried her dying friend upstairs.

  Half an hour later, having given Ellen a dose of painkiller and helped her back to bed, Ida draped the shawl back over the commode and then turned back to the woman lying peacefully.

  ‘Better?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, much,’ Ellen whispered.

  A raucous shout came up from below followed by the deep rumble of Jerimiah’s laugh.

  A ghost of a smile lifted Ellen’s colourless lips. ‘They sound like they’re having a good time,’ she said softly.

  Ida nodded.

  Ellen’s eyes shifted downwards from Ida’s face. ‘It’s a lovely brooch.’

  ‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’ Ida replied. Glancing down, she studied the diamantes as they twinkled in the bedside light for a moment. Then, with tears pinching the corners of her eyes, she looked up. ‘Now, if you need any—’

  The morphine had done its job and Ellen was asleep. Ida watched her for a few seconds then smoothing out a wrinkle in the counterpane she turned and quietly left the room.

  Another roar came up from downstairs and Ida smiled, but instead of making her way downstairs to join the family she crossed the landing and went into her bedroom.

  The fog from the night before had returned so although it was only just before four it was already dark outside. Ida closed the curtains and switched on the bedside light on her side of the bed. Taking the stool in front of her dressing table she went and set it down in front of the wardrobe. Stepping up on it she rummaged around amongst the boxes full of family mementoes and documents on top until she found what she was searching for.

  Taking down a battered oval tin, Ida put it on the bed and then sat down beside it. After studying the faded image of a country hunt taking refreshments at a thatched inn for a moment she flipped off the lid.

  She took out the tiny lawn cap no bigger than her clenched fist. It had yellowed with the passing years, but she could still make out the whitework daisies she’d embroidered over a decade ago around the edge. She held it for a moment then set it aside and took out the lemon matinee coat with duck buttons and the matching leggings and bootees.

  Placing the newborn’s jacket in one hand, Ida smoothed it with another for a moment then laid that with
the bonnet then picked up the six-inch strip of gauze ribbon. It was crinkled in the middle where the knot had been tied and as her gaze ran over it her heart ached with a pain that would be part of her for ever.

  A tear she hadn’t realised was there escaped and dropped on to the frayed slither of cotton tape and as it spread in the weave the door opened.

  Ida looked around and saw Jerimiah.

  ‘I came to see if you’re all right, luv,’ he said, giving her a concerned smile.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she replied.

  His gaze flicked to the contents of the tin on the bedspread and then back to Ida.

  ‘You sure?’

  Brushing her cheek with her finger, Ida gave him an open smile. ‘Yes, I’m fine, but,’ she patted the quilted bedspread next to her, ‘you can keep me company for a bit if you like.’

  Shutting the door Jerimiah came and sat next to her. He picked up the bonnet.

  ‘I never got over how small the children were when they were born,’ he said, the satin ties dangling around his wrist as he turned the cap on his fingers.

  ‘You wouldn’t say that if you’d been pushing them out,’ said Ida.

  ‘I don’t suppose I would, especially not Charlie.’ A wry smile lifted the corner of his mouth. ‘What was he again?’

  ‘Nine two,’ Ida replied. ‘And almost a day arriving.’