Cockney Orphan (10 page)

‘Nothing. But I’m going to learn. Taffy says he’ll teach me. This is just the beginning of what could be a very lucrative career. I could even be a proper boxer at the end of
it.’

‘I thought you wanted to be a roofer.’

‘I’m doing that as well.’

‘Is it legal?’

‘What, fighting? Course it is. I don’t say that the betting is kosher, but I don’t have nothing to do with all that. I just get ten per cent of the purse.’

‘What purse?’

‘It’s what they call a fighter’s wage when it’s all added up.’

Connie didn’t know what to say. Billy’s bright ideas always sounded wonderful. She didn’t want to throw cold water on his enthusiasm, but would this idea be any different from
all the others that had failed?

‘Connie, I’ve got a paddy on me and I’ve never known what to do with it. Now I can use me fists for a purpose. It was amazing. All these blokes came round afterwards and patted
me on the back, said I had what it took to be a real scrapper, that all I needed was a bit of building up.’

‘But Billy—’

‘Look what I got.’ He dug into his pocket. ‘Three quid, Connie, look! A genuine, honest to goodness three quid for doing sod all.’ He thrust a pound note into her hand.
‘Here’s that three bob I owe you, with interest. Buy Lucky something nice from Uncle Billy.’

She tried to give it back again. ‘I don’t want this. Take it back.’

He shook his head firmly. ‘That’s me good deed for the day.’

‘But you earned it.’

Billy took her by the shoulders. ‘I don’t intend to get clobbered like this again, Con, that’s a mug’s game. I’m gonna learn proper how to fight. Taffy’s
teaching me.’

Connie closed her eyes. ‘Oh, Billy! I give up.’

He laughed aloud. ‘Don’t do that, gel. Things have turned out all right, haven’t they?’

She gazed at him sadly. ‘Not for the old man in Stepney, they didn’t. He was shot and died.’

Billy’s bloodshot eyes gazed out from their swollen sockets. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Lofty was reading the
Gazette
tonight. That gun never worked, so it must have been Reg that was doing the shooting.’

Billy looked as though he didn’t believe her. ‘Christ, Con, I swear I never knew about any guns. I just went along with it all.’

‘Have you met up with them since?’ Connie demanded. Was he really as shocked as he looked or was this just another act?

‘No. Course I haven’t.’

‘Do you intend to?’

‘What do you think?’

‘To be honest, Billy, I don’t know. I’m frightened you’ll get into trouble again.’

‘Didn’t I give you my promise I’m a changed man?’

‘Yes,’ Connie said on a whisper, wanting to believe him. ‘It was such a shock hearing what Lofty read out.’

‘Did the paper give a description of anyone?’

‘No, I don’t think so, otherwise Lofty would have said.’

‘And nothing about the car?’

‘No.’

‘Then I might be in the clear.’

‘Except that one man is dead when he shouldn’t be.’

He dragged his hands through his hair. ‘If I could turn the clock back I would. But as there’s nothing I can do about it now, I’ll just have to live with it, won’t
I?’

Connie knew that Billy had a good heart or else he wouldn’t show remorse like this. And he was right. There was nothing they could do to change the past. But what did the future hold for
her brother? If she advised him to resist what sounded like yet another dodgy deal, he would only go and do it anyway. Nagging him would make him more determined than ever.

Connie sighed and went to the cupboard. She had hidden five Woodbines and a box of matches behind the tin of tea. She gave them to her brother. To her surprise he laid them down on the bench.
Then he put his arms around her, sniffing noisily into her ear. ‘You’re my best mate, Con.’

‘Please do something sensible for once. Find a job that won’t get you into trouble.’

‘Trouble finds me, Con. Wherever I am, it seeks me out.’

‘Don’t say that. You’re frightening me again.’

‘I frighten meself, sis. But it’s the truth.’

The explosions began, softly at first then gradually drawing closer. What a crazy world they were living in!

O
n Sunday, according to Gran’s prediction although one day late, the Luftwaffe arrived in daylight. Connie was feeding Lucky and quickly put
his bottle away.

‘Billy’s not home,’ her father shouted as they prepared to leave for the shelter. ‘Come with us, Connie.’

‘He’ll turn up. He knows I don’t like being on my own.’

Her mother was tearful and although Connie kissed her quickly goodbye, Olive gazed at the baby in her arms with anxious eyes. ‘The poor little mite should be evacuated somewhere
safe.’

‘We’re used to the Anderson now, Mum. Don’t worry about us.’

‘Well, you’re old enough to decide for yourself, but don’t forget you’re taking responsibility for another life now.’

Connie watched her parents join the small crowd of neighbours leaving Kettle Street for the public shelters. Was her mother right about Lucky? She held him close, receiving one of his lovely
smiles as he looked up at her. She would never forgive herself if anything happened to him.

Ten minutes later Billy joined her in the Anderson. ‘Sorry I left it a bit late. Kept out the way so as Mum didn’t see me face.’

‘You can’t stay out of the way for ever.’

‘No, but I’ll look better tomorrow. If she asks, I’ll say I fell off a roof.’

‘Are the bruises still painful?’ Connie asked.

‘Nah. Only my lips when I move ’em.’

‘You’d better stop talking then,’ she grinned as they laughed beside each other on the bench.

The Luftwaffe didn’t let up all night. She managed to doze but jumped awake each time the bombs dropped close. Her nerves felt frayed and the next morning even her ‘quiet time’
with Lucky at dawn failed to revive her spirits.

After leaving him with Nan, she made her way tiredly to work. A Green Goddess was blocking the end of the street. She could hear the lumps of masonry falling as the firemen hosed the smouldering
building. The water spilled through the rafters on to the flames in the heart of the ruin.

‘What happened to the Parkers?’ Connie asked one of the firemen.

‘We dug ’em out from the Anderson. Took ’em down the Sally Army for breakfast.’

‘Was anyone hurt?’

‘No, but the poor sods were in shock.’

‘What will happen to them now?’

‘Well, they can’t come back here, can they?’

Connie hadn’t known the newly arrived family very well, only old Mrs Parker, who had died six months ago and had been a resident for years. Her son, his wife and three daughters from the
east coast had come to live in her house. They’d had a lorry to move in all their furniture and Lofty and Dad had gone along to help them. Connie stared at the charred remains of the
Parkers’ new home. Nothing to say it was once a house, just embers.

She walked on in a subdued mood. All along the roads one by one the houses were being picked off. Perhaps she should give some serious thought to what her mother had said about Lucky. What would
she do if something happened to him?

‘What a terrible night!’ Ada yawned that morning as they sat on their stools and tried to concentrate on work. ‘A bomb landed just over the back of us. Our next door neighbours
came home to find all their windows gone and their karzy blown right away. The top of our chimney landed in their yard. Me Dad’s fed up with bits falling off the house. So Mum says
she’s going to evacuate the girls.’

‘But she didn’t want to let them go last year.’ Connie was getting worried. Everyone was talking of evacuation again.

‘Yeah, well, nothing really happened in the Phoney War, did it? But after last night, she’s changed her mind. ’Specially as Dad’s being transferred to another port.
Millwall docks have been damaged so bad that it’s disrupted all the trade.’

‘But you’ll all be split up.’ Connie was shocked.

Ada nodded miserably. ‘It’s what’s happening to everyone. Some poor souls who are bombed out have nowhere to go except public buildings or churches or the Sally Army. Mum says
it’s best to leave before it comes to that.’

‘But where will they go?’

‘Dunno. You just have to go where you’re sent.’

‘What about you, Ada? Would you leave the island?’

‘I wouldn’t without Wally!’ Ada cried, drawing Mr Burns’s attention.

‘All right over there, girls?’

‘Yes, Mr Burns.’

‘What are you going to do then?’ Connie whispered a little later.

‘Find digs, I suppose.’

Connie felt sad for her friend and although they managed a few laughs in the canteen, things didn’t seem the same. That night, Connie was thinking about the Freemans as she sat in the
light of the candle, holding Lucky tightly. Would Mum allow Ada to come and live here? But Mum was already upset about Lucky’s presence in the house. Connie knew she couldn’t ask for
yet another waif and stray to be taken in.

The bombing began and Billy didn’t show up. The vibration seemed to jar all her bones even though Dad had placed more sandbags over the roof. Lucky began to cry and she rolled little balls
of cotton wool into his ears, covering his head with two bonnets and then a blanket. She cuddled him tight.

By ten o’clock, they were still alone. Where was Billy? Had he got into trouble with this new brainwave of his? She was very frightened. The candle flickered and a judder went through the
ground. The next second an explosion knocked them off the bench. They fell on the hard floor. Dust tumbled from the ceiling and the shelf crashed down. With her eyes tightly closed, she covered
Lucky with her body. Was this it? Was this the end? Noise roared all around them.

‘Keep us safe, please,’ she prayed between little sobs. She was too scared to move.

‘Connie!’ A voice was calling. She cried to call back but nothing came out. She could hear someone banging at the shelter door.

‘It’s me, Vic. I’m digging you out. The door’s blocked with sandbags.’

‘Vic?’ She scrambled to her knees. The door finally swung open. ‘Oh, Vic!’

He rushed in and grabbed them. ‘Oh thank God you’re safe!’

‘There was a terrible bang.’

‘It was in the next road. But when I saw the smoke I thought it was Kettle Street.’

‘Oh, Vic,’ she sobbed as he held her tight.

‘Are you both okay?’

‘Yes, but I fell on top of him.’ They both looked into the shawl. A dirty little face gazed up at them. She pressed him against her chest as he began to cry. Automatically she rocked
him. ‘It’s a wonder he isn’t squashed and deaf.’

‘That was very close.’

‘I know. But why are you here?’

‘I bumped into Billy today on my way home from work. He said he had to go across the water with this new boss of his and didn’t know if he’d get back before nightfall. I
intended to be here earlier but I had to report in first and it was bedlam. I just couldn’t get away.’ He held her face in his hands. ‘Connie, I was so worried about you being on
your own.’

‘You’re here now, that’s all that matters.’

Gently he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you, sweetheart – to either of you.’

He had called her sweetheart! Her heart fluttered as he hugged her. ‘Come on, sit on the bench.’ He righted the seat and helped her to get comfortable.

‘Have the planes gone?’

‘For the moment. But they’ll be back again.’

‘I don’t want to be on my own.’

He put his arm around her. ‘You won’t have to. I’ll stay until morning.’

‘Oh, I wish I was braver.’ She rested her head on his shoulder. ‘I get so scared.’

‘Just like everyone else,’ he soothed, stoking her head. ‘And you are brave. Very brave indeed. Now, Lucky seems to have gone off. Why don’t you close your
eyes.’

‘I don’t want to let go of him.’

‘All right. I’ll put my arms round you both.’

And they were the last words she remembered before sleep claimed her.

When she woke, she was lying on the bench where Billy usually slept. A blanket was draped across her. The Tilley lamp was on and Vic was slumped in the corner, snoring softly. His arms were
folded across his chest, his long legs stretched out in front. Lucky was asleep in his cart. He was getting used to the bombs. And so, it seemed, was she.

Connie’s heart tightened with joy. Vic had called her sweetheart!

The following week the BBC broadcast that already over one hundred and eighty-five enemy planes had been shot down and the raids were expected to continue. Connie saw pictures
in the newspaper of a changed Oxford Street. Peter Robinson’s department store and John Lewis’s both had their ornate facades ripped away, almost every window shattered. It was reported
that Londoners now enjoyed less than four hours sleep at night, a fact to which Connie herself could testify. She was only half awake at work and sometimes found herself dozing on her stool. Not
that she hadn’t noticed Mr Burns stifling a yawn, as he removed his spectacles and cleaned the lenses methodically. Ada, once a self-confessed night bird, now replenished her make-up so
frequently that her eyes resembled a panda’s. Even Len’s jokes about his mother were fewer. But life continued in a haphazard way and Connie was relieved to discover that Lucky was none
the worse for his nocturnal trials.

Nan’s joy was the pram in which she wheeled Lucky out, either to the shops or the park. Connie couldn’t wait for the weekends, when it was her turn. Vic had taken to meeting her
after work on Saturdays. They would dare to stroll out, rarely using the car. Petrol was scarce. Few private vehicles used the roads.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Vic mused one late September Saturday as they pushed the pram to Island Gardens and sat down on the bench by the big domed entrance to the foot tunnel.
‘It’s odd that no one has claimed him. Do you think his mother took lodgings in Haverick Street quite recently?’

‘It would explain why the neighbours didn’t know her.’

They were silent for a moment as they gazed out across the Thames. They could see Greenwich clearly, the shape of the Wren buildings and, on top of the hill, the Royal Observatory. The scene was
majestic and peaceful.