Backstreet Child (9 page)

‘Yeah, but it wasn’t frew the door, yer see,’ Dolly explained. ‘It was frew the winder.’

Alice was beginning to get worried. Her new neighbour’s husband sounded like a lunatic. What was more, her crazy son Wallace had been left alone next door for some time now. If he got a little restless he might well start playing with matches again. All the turning could go up in flames.

‘’Ere, do yer believe in readin’ the tea leaves?’ Dolly said.

‘D’yer do it?’ Alice asked.

‘Yeah, give us yer cup over.’ Dolly straightened her tight dress.

Alice sat down facing her neighbour. ‘I ’ope it’s good news,’ she said quickly, holding out her cup. ‘I fink I’m due fer a change o’ luck.’

Dolly took the cup and moved it round slowly in her hand, her forehead furrowing as she concentrated. ‘Yeah, yer seem ter be due fer some good news o’ sorts,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I can see some money too. It looks like a lot o’ money. ’Ave yer bin worried lately?’

Alice nodded. ‘I bin worried over my Bill.’

‘What exactly? Yer must tell me the trufe, mind,’ Dolly said searchingly.

‘Well, yer see, my Bill’s always bin in the buyin’ an’ sellin’ game. ’E was known as Broom’ead Smith. Yer might ’ave ’eard of ’im. Well respected, ’e’s retired now an’ all ’e does is sit round the ’ouse an’ get under me feet all the time.’

‘It must be nice to ’ave ’im wiv yer all the time,’ Dolly said. ‘I wish my Josiah was sittin’ under my feet all day instead o’ that’orrible place ’e’s in.’

‘Yeah, but it’s the mumblin’,’ Alice went on. ‘ ’E jus’ sits there mumblin’ all the time, unless ’e’s in the back yard wiv ’is chickens an’ the rabbits. The only time my Bill’s ’appy is when’e’s out the back.’

‘Where’s ’e now?’ Dolly asked.

‘’E’s gone ter see ’is youngest sister in the country,’ Alice told her. ‘I’m expectin’ ’im in soon.’

‘Well, I shouldn’t worry no more,’ Dolly said, smiling. ‘Fings are gonna look up for yer. It all looks bright an’ there’s a warm feelin’, but I can’t quite get a clear picture in the leaves so I can’t say no more.’

Alice suddenly raised her head and sniffed loudly. ‘Can yer smell anyfing?’ she asked anxiously.

Dolly sniffed the air and suddenly panic showed in her eyes. ‘It’s Wallace!’ she blurted out. ‘’E’s found the matches!’

Dolly rushed out back to her house and Alice hurried after her, standing on her doorstep waiting anxiously. She could hear screaming and shouting coming from next door, then Dolly reappeared, her eyes wide with fright. ‘It’s your yard!’ she yelled.

Alice ran down the passage into the scullery and as she opened the yard door, smoke billowed in. She could see the pile of old sacking glowing and she heard a loud clucking coming from the small hen coop. The rabbits too were scratching and rushing around in panic in their cages. She grabbed a pail and quickly filled it, cursing loudly as she doused the smouldering bundle.

‘I’m ever so sorry, luv,’ Dolly said, her head peering over the yard wall.

Alice saw the idiotic expression on the flat face of a boy next to her before he quickly disappeared. She took a freshly washed towel from the clothesline and waved it about to disperse the smoke while Dolly watched anxiously.

‘I do ’ope it ain’t ’urt yer pets,’ she said.

‘So do I,’ Alice growled, fearing the aftermath of this little episode when her husband got home. ‘So do I.’

Rachel had mixed feelings as she waited at the tram stop for Derek. She was excited at the prospect of spending the night with him but there was also an angry feeling simmering inside her at his decision to volunteer for the navy. She understood his reasons but still she wished he hadn’t been quite so eager.

She adjusted her silk scarf and smoothed down the lapels of her green costume coat which she wore over a matching pleated skirt. Her blond hair hung loose, apart from a marcasite hair slide which she wore on the left side of her forehead; her eyes were bright with good health and her complexion was clear, with two small flushes of colour on her cheeks. She carried a small suitcase, shoulder bag and white cotton gloves and she stood upright with her shoulders thrown back. Her figure was shapely beneath her loose-fitting clothes, and the high heels she was wearing accentuated the firm, round muscles of her calves.

Rachel’s heart beat faster as the tram approached and then he was there beside her, looking smart in his blue serge, single-breasted suit and white shirt with a grey striped tie. His shoes were brightly polished and his dark hair was brushed back from his forehead. He looked very tall in his well-cut suit and as he leaned down to give Rachel a quick peck of a kiss he smiled widely, showing his white even teeth.

It had been difficult for Rachel to arrange this night together without arousing her mother’s suspicions. She hated to be deceitful, but she had had no choice. Derek was leaving for the Chatham Naval Depot on Thursday morning, which gave them only two more days together.

‘Yer don’t fink yer mum suspects, do yer?’ Derek asked as he fell into step beside her.

‘I don’t fink so,’ she replied smiling, ‘but she gave me a funny look as I left.’

The two young lovers climbed the long flight of steps that led up onto London Bridge Station and made their way to the platform. Rachel remembered how she had crossed her fingers behind her back when she casually mentioned that Derek was going down to Brighton for a couple of days to see his favourite aunt before he joined up and he wanted to take her with him to meet the old lady. She smiled to herself as she recalled her mother’s raised eyebrows and her sharp enquiry about sleeping arrangements. The fictitious aunt was promptly described as a regular church-goer, who would not condone any impropriety. That, and a feigned look of horror at what her mother might be thinking, was good enough to get the permission needed.

‘Yer still only nineteen, remember,’ Carrie had told her. ‘I don’t want yer gettin’ in trouble an’ ruinin’ yer life.’

The train was standing ready and the two lovers found a compartment to themselves. Derek stowed the luggage on the rack above their heads and then slipped down beside Rachel and slid his arm round her waist.

‘Derek, somebody might see us,’ she protested as he pulled her to him.

‘I don’t care, I love you,’ he said in his Charles Boyer voice.

Rachel giggled and snuggled against him, feeling his strong arm round her. What would her mother say, she wondered, if she knew that they were lovers, and had been since that delicious night at Derek’s home. She had needed him, desired him so much, and he had been almost overwhelmed by her passionate demonstration of love for him. Derek had tried hard to control his natural urge but she had not let him. She had climbed on top of him and borne her weight down upon him, her long fair hair brushing his face, her small firm breasts jutting forward as she arched herself and threw her head back, her hair flying round her. She had surprised herself by her lack of maidenly reserve and her determination to reach fulfilment at the first attempt. The pain and discomfort had quickly disappeared as she felt the torrent rising and Derek was sweating, his eyes wide and his mouth set firm as he desperately sought time. It was soon over, but every tiny moment was etched in Rachel’s mind as she nestled her head on his shoulder.

Joe Maitland walked into the scullery and peeled off his sweaty shirt, cupping his hands under the running tap. He had been hard at it all day in the stables. He reached for the towel and rubbed his stubbled face, feeling fit and content. The urge for a drink was very rarely with him now, and on the odd occasions he found himself licking his lips he was able to sate his thirst with cold, sparkling water. He sensed, too, that Carrie was coming round to the idea of getting married sooner rather than later, and he had been happy to hear Nellie speak to her daughter about their delayed marriage only a day or two ago.

‘Maybe yer should get it over an’ done wiv,’ she had said in her matter-of-fact voice. ‘What wiv yer change-over an’ the work yer’ve got ter do, yer won’t find the time. Don’t ferget yer gonna need a few days ter yerselves.’

Joe whistled noisily as he put on a clean cotton shirt and tucked the ends into his trousers. He could hear the strains of a brass band coming from the wireless in the parlour and the sounds of the table being laid. As he walked into the small room Carrie gave him a warm smile. He looked handsome in a rugged way, she thought. His dark hair was greying at the sides and his stubbled jaw was square and firm-set. His eyes were bright as they appraised her and a little ripple travelled down her spine. She always got that feeling when Joe looked at her in that way. It was the unspoken word, the sign of his need, and she looked away, pretending to concentrate on a chore she could have performed with her eyes shut.

Three places were laid for tea, which was always the main meal of the day for them. The evening was chilly for the time of year and a low fire was burning in the grate. Nellie was sitting in her favourite chair and looking down through her iron-rimmed glasses which were perched on the end of her nose as she patiently set about unpicking an old cardigan and rolling the frizzy wool round her first two fingers.

‘What’s fer tea, Nellie?’ Joe asked in an exaggerated whisper.

‘It’s plaice an’ new potaters,’ Nellie told him. ‘I got the fish meself at Israel’s. ’E always does a nice bit o’ plaice, does Sammy.’

Carrie gave Joe a quick glance. ‘Mum made the parsley sauce. She knows yer like ’er sauce.’

Joe took down a packet of cigarettes and then reached down into the fire with a taper. ‘I was lookin’ at that stable terday,’ he said, puffing a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling. ‘It’s gonna be a job fer a demolition firm. It’s a double fickness o’ solid stone.’

‘We’ll need ter make some enquiries this week,’ Carrie replied. ‘Once the ’orses ’ave gone I want that stable pulled down.’

‘I wonder what yer farvver would ’ave made of it all?’ Nellie remarked without looking up from her unravelling.

‘’E would ’ave understood, Mum,’ Carrie said softly. ‘Yer know ’ow much ’e loved the ’orses.’

Joe eased himself back in his fireside chair facing Nellie and watched her deft fingers working away at the wool. As soon as Carrie left the room to get the food, he leaned forward. ‘I’m gonna ask Carrie to agree ter bring the marriage forward, Nell. Would yer mind?’ he asked in an attempt to make her feel fully involved.

The ageing woman looked up at him without stopping what she was doing. ‘I fink it’s the right fing ter do, as I’ve already told Carrie,’ she replied. ‘After all, yer man an’ wife in every respect now, ’cept in the eyes of the Lord. Yer should get the blessin’.’

Carrie came into the parlour at that moment carrying a steaming dish which she set down on the chintz tablecoth. ‘Come on, sit yerselves down,’ she ordered. ‘It’ll soon get cold.’

The meal was eaten with little conversation and when Nellie was finished she pushed her plate back and folded her arms. ‘I’ope that daughter o’ yours is all right,’ she said, looking at Carrie reprovingly.

‘She’ll be fine, Mum,’ Carrie replied. ‘Derek’s a very nice young man an’ ’e’ll look after ’er.’

‘I wouldn’t ’ave let you go at that age,’ Nellie said firmly. ‘Not all the way ter Brighton on a train, an’ certainly not wiv a young man.’

Carrie gave her mother a patient smile. ‘Times are different now. Besides, Rachel’s a sensible gel. She wouldn’t let any boy take advantage of ’er. They’re stayin’ wiv Derek’s aunt an’ Rachel said she’s very proper. She wouldn’t stand any nonsense.’

Nellie sniffed contemptuously and Joe and Carrie exchanged brief glances. They had both talked about it the previous night and Carrie had told him that she was convinced the two young people had become lovers. ‘She’s my daughter, remember, Joe,’ she had said. ‘I know ’ow I felt when I first came ter you. It was as though I was walkin’ on air. I’ve sensed a change in Rachel this past few weeks. I can’t explain it, it’s jus’ somefing I can feel.’

Joe nodded. He had been certain, too, by the change in Rachel’s attitude towards him. She had always shown him her affection in an innocent, childish way, her eyes eagerly seeking his praise or approval. Lately, however, she had kept a distance, becoming almost shy on meeting his gaze. Joe knew that her love for him had not lessened in any way, but her manner was different now that she had experienced an all-embracing love with her handsome young man.

The meal had been delicious and the pleasant feeling of tiredness played at his eyelids as Joe resumed his place beside the fire. He felt happier now than he had felt for a long time. He had the love of a very attractive woman in his middle age, a home, and a life that was beginning to mean something again. The only cloud on the horizon was the dark threat of war, and at that particular moment he did not have the inclination to dwell on his fears.

Carrie came into the room and switched on the wireless. As he let his tired eyes close, Joe heard the chimes of Big Ben and then the deep voice of the news announcer. ‘This is the nine o’clock news and this is Frank Phillips reading it. In Parliament today the Government announced a trial run of the blackout. It will take place some time in August . . .’

Sleep overtook Joe and he slipped into a troubled slumber.

Chapter Six

During the summer of ’39 Page Street said goodbye to some of its long-time dwellers. First to leave were the Smiths. Bill ‘Broomhead’ Smith and his wife Alice did not bother to say farewell to their next-door neighbours when they left in June to go to live near Broomhead’s sister in Kent. The ex-totter had effectively heightened his yard wall with corrugated sheeting after Wallace’s attempt to burn the house down and from that day on no word was exchanged by the two families. Whenever they saw each other on the street they would cross over, or walk on by without a glimmer of recognition. Now, as Dolly Dawson watched the removal van leaving from next door, she prayed that her next neighbours would be a little more sympathetic towards her problems than the Smiths had been. Broomhead had often growled and pulled faces at Wallace over the yard wall, and on one occasion he had so terrified the backward young man by waving a hammer at him that he would not venture into the yard if he knew Broomhead was at home, which was exactly what the ex-totter had intended to happen.