Cockney Orphan (26 page)

‘No rush, love. I’ll have the kettle on.’

They kissed her goodbye and she watched them walk out into the dark afternoon. Gran closed the door and went back to the front room. Sitting down in the chair, she thought about Gilbert Tucker.
There was no doubt in her mind she had seen him for herself, once when she was at the shops and then in the café with Albie. He was the child’s relative she had no doubt of it. The
lights matched and always would until Lucky was free.

Nature could be cruel at times. She didn’t understand the workings of the universe, but it was so. She was getting older sadly, but none the wiser!

It was a murky December morning when the new girl started at Dalton’s. Jenny Beam wore sensible shoes and pinned her mouse-coloured hair into a bun.

‘She doesn’t say boo to a goose,’ Len confided to Connie as they made their way up to the office. ‘But she comes with excellent references. Mr Burns is very pleased.
Especially as we’ve struggled in Ada’s absence.’

‘I miss Ada,’ Connie agreed as they ascended the stairs to the office. ‘I wonder why she left.’

‘At Christmas, too,’ Len agreed in a mystified tone. ‘She was the life and soul of the canteen party.’

‘For weeks before it she’d drag me round the market looking for something to wear. I haven’t had the heart to go shopping without her.’ She paused as they stood outside
the office. ‘Len, I’m going to give the party a miss this year.’

‘But I’ll be there.’

‘Even so . . .’

Len lifted his eyes. ‘Women! I just don’t understand them.’

‘That’s why you’re still single.’ Connie grinned.

He pushed open the door. ‘Look there’s Jenny, in already. Must have been here at the crack of dawn.’

Connie studied the unfamiliar figure perched on Ada’s tall stool. One hand rested demurely on her long plaid skirt, the other was busy turning the page of the ledger in front of her.

Len heaved a sigh as he walked over. ‘Hello, Jenny.’

Connie had never seen someone blush so deeply. ‘Oh, er, good morning, Mr English.’

‘This is Connie and she’ll show you the ropes.’

Jenny smiled nervously. ‘Hello.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Jenny.’ Connie gave her a big smile.

In the absence of further comment, Len coughed. ‘Well, I’ll leave you two to it.’

Connie sat on her stool. ‘Have you done this sort of work before, Jenny?’ she asked in a friendly fashion.

‘Yes,’ came the slight nod. ‘At Masterson’s.’

‘The oil blenders? Didn’t they move out to Essex recently?’

‘Yes.’

Connie waited for more, but nothing was forthcoming. ‘Well, I’m sure you’ll like it here. Everyone’s very nice. All the girls from the typing pool and other offices meet
in the canteen at one o’clock. I’ll introduce you, if you like.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Did you find the cloakrooms all right this morning?’

‘Yes.’

Connie nodded slowly. It was, she could tell, going to be an uphill struggle. Ada never let you get a word in edgeways. She’d make a joke of anything when she was on form – Connie
stopped herself there. If she was honest, Ada hadn’t been on form for weeks, months even. More often than not she’d bitten off someone’s head before the day was out.

Connie glanced at the little figure beside her. Who was to say, underneath those thick spectacles and pink hamster cheeks, there mightn’t be another Ada waiting to get out? But, as Jenny
silently studied the book in front of her with deep concentration, Connie doubted it.

It was half past four when the office door opened. Clint Hershey’s tall figure appeared. The sergeant’s blue gaze swept towards her and with a soft smile he removed
his cap. Then, striding past her, he approached Mr Burns.

Connie strained her neck to see what was happening. The next moment Len was following Clint Hershey from the room, a worried look on his face. Under normal circumstances, Connie and Ada would
have begun whispering furtively as they speculated on what could have happened. But Jenny had her nose in the ledger, her pen going at top speed as she wrote, unaware of the interruption.

Ten minutes later Len returned. Mr Burns’s eyebrows rose higher and higher as Len talked to him.

‘Connie, something awful’s happened,’ Len gasped as he came towards her. ‘Mother must have escaped from Mrs Next Door. She’s downstairs, saying she’s lost her
way to the theatre and needs to change into her costume.’

‘You mean she’s here at Dalton’s?’ Connie gasped.

‘Yes. She was wandering around the warehouse when Sergeant Hershey found her. He managed to persuade her into the W.C. Now she won’t come out.’

‘Why didn’t he just bring her up here?’

‘Because she hasn’t got hardly anything on.’ Len was so upset he could hardly speak. ‘Just her underwear.’

‘Oh dear, she must be frozen,’ Connie gasped.

‘You haven’t got any spare clothes at work, have you?’

‘No, but there’s an old coat hanging in the cloakroom. It’s been there years and doesn’t belong to anyone.’

‘Could you come and help us? Mr Burns has given his permission.’

Connie slipped off her stool immediately. ‘There’s a bit of an emergency downstairs, Jenny. Will you be all right on your own?’

The girl nodded silently.

‘Thanks, just put my books away if I’m not back, would you? I’ll stay late tomorrow to finish my work.’

Sergeant Hershey was standing beside the green wooden door of the outside lavatory. ‘Gee, Len, she says she won’t come out till her costume’s arrived.’

‘This will have to do,’ Len stammered as he pushed Connie forward.

Clint smiled. ‘Okay, we’ll give it a go.’ He opened the door slightly. ‘Okay, ma’am, uh . . . Miss Betty Grable is here with your costume.’

The door opened slowly. A tall woman wearing a long silk petticoat and very old, discoloured slippers smiled graciously at them.

‘How nice it is to meet you, Miss Grable.’ Mrs English smiled. ‘Do come in.’

Connie heard Len groan beside her. She stepped inside the dark, damp-smelling toilet. An audible sigh of relief came from the two men as Connie closed the door behind her.

Once dressed in the ownerless coat, Len’s mother finally consented to being driven home in Clint’s ‘limousine’. Connie sat beside her in the rear seat
of the truck as the elderly woman recalled the past in glowing terms. Len made several attempts to quieten her but all to no avail.

‘You will come in,’ she insisted when they arrived at the tiny terraced house in Cubitt Town. ‘We’ll have cocktails.’

Both Connie and Clint accepted and Len made tea in the absence of alcohol but was clearly distraught at his mother’s eccentric behaviour.

‘I think you’d better escape while you can,’ he whispered as they sat in the small modestly furnished front room. ‘Thank you both for your trouble.’

‘No trouble,’ Clint assured him as they listened with one ear to his mother’s ramblings. ‘She’s a great gal,’ he added kindly.

‘You know none of it’s true,’ he said sadly when at last they left. ‘Mother worked in a cinema for years. It was her whole life. Now she seems to think she’s a film
star. As you know our neighbour comes in to keep an eye on her in the day. It’s not usually a problem as Mother doesn’t like going out. Which was why I was so shocked at her appearance
at work this afternoon.’ He walked out with them to the truck. ‘I’ll bring the coat in tomorrow, Con.’

‘Was it the Blitz that made her like it?’ Clint asked as he drove Connie home.

‘No, but it made her worse.’

‘Isn’t there somewhere she could go?’ He frowned through the truck’s dirty window. ‘I mean like a hotel for retired actresses, that kinda thing?’

Connie smiled softly. ‘Do you have them in America?’

‘Honey, we have
everything
in America.’ He grinned.

They drove on in silence until Connie said quietly, ‘Thank you for helping Len’s mother today.’

He laughed. ‘You mean I shut her in the rest room!’

Connie nodded. ‘She thought you were Douglas Fairbanks.’

He roared with laughter. ‘First time I’ve been called that.’

‘And I’ve not been called Betty Grable before.’

‘You sure do look like her.’

Connie laughed to cover her embarrassment. ‘I think I’ve had enough of Hollywood for one day. Could you turn down the next street, please?’

‘Sure.’

‘It’s number eighteen, just there.’

He pulled up at the kerb. ‘Is that your house?’

‘No, I live at number thirty-three with my parents and two brothers. Our neighbours Nan and Lofty take care of Lucky when I’m at work.’

Clint Hershey frowned. ‘Lucky? Is that a dog?’

Connie laughed. ‘No, he’s a little boy.’

‘Yours?’ he asked in surprise.

‘No, not mine. He was orphaned in the Blitz. I’ve cared for him ever since.’

‘Gee, that’s swell.’ He rested his arm across the wheel. ‘Connie – can I call you Connie?’

‘If you want.’

‘You know, I’m real sorry if I upset you before.’

‘I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression, that’s all,’ Connie replied quickly. ‘If you see what I mean.’

‘Understood. But I hope we can be friends.’

‘I hope so too.’

He nodded to the house. ‘There’s a little boy waiting for you.’

Connie turned round. ‘That’s Lucky,’ she said proudly.

‘Looks just like you.’

‘It’s a coincidence isn’t it?’ She pushed open the door. ‘Thanks for the lift.’

‘Any time.’

‘Who was that?’ Nan asked as she hovered on the doorstep, holding Lucky’s hand.

‘Douglas Fairbanks, would you believe?’ Connie lifted Lucky into her arms as he waved to the smiling sergeant.

Nan nodded sagely. ‘Now, would that be senior or junior?’

Connie smiled to herself as the truck roared off. It was nice being told she was like Betty Grable even though she knew it was flattery!

That night, Connie was washing the kitchen floor when Olive appeared. ‘Oh, Constance, you shouldn’t be doing that after a hard day’s work.’

‘It gives me something to do.’

‘Why don’t you come and listen to the radio with Dad and me?’

Connie leaned back on her heels. ‘I’ll be in when I’ve finished this.’

Her mother paused. ‘Was it good news from Vic?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I left a letter on your bed this morning. Didn’t you see it?’

‘No.’ She dropped the rag. ‘Lucky must have knocked it off.’

Her mother pulled her up. ‘Well, you’d better go and find it, hadn’t you?’

Connie took the stairs two at a time. Lucky lay fast asleep in his cot, his breathing soft and gentle. Connie found the letter on the floor. ‘Oh, darling!’ she gasped as she hurried
downstairs to read it.

A letter before Christmas! Was there a card inside, or just a few lines? She didn’t care, as long as it was from him.

Unfolding the blue sheet of paper she began to read. The smile slowly disappeared from her face as she read it over again and again.

‘Connie, whatever is wrong?’ her mother gasped when she walked into the kitchen. ‘It’s not bad news is it?’

‘No, I suppose not.’

‘What does that mean?’

Connie couldn’t stop a tear escaping. Irritably she brushed it away. ‘He’s staying at a hotel, a really wonderful one. Last night there was a dance to welcome the British
navy.’ Connie recalled what Clint had said about the Americans having everything. She wondered if that included beautiful dance partners.

Olive sat down beside her. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘I thought he’d be missing me.’

‘And
that
’s what’s upset you.’

‘I couldn’t think of enjoying myself without him. I even told Len I wasn’t going to the Christmas party. I didn’t know my fiancé was going to be dancing the night
away.’ Connie looked miserable. ‘Oh, Mum, I’ve got this ache inside me and it won’t stop.’

‘You’re lonely, love,’ her mother said gently. ‘And if you’re not careful a bit of green-eye will creep in and make it much worse.’

‘I can’t help it.’

‘That’s no excuse,’ her mother said sharply. ‘You’ve got a good man in Victor Champion, a man who could have stayed home and played it safe. But his conscience
wouldn’t let him and off he went to war. You should be relieved he’s fetched up in America for a while. I expect he’s not telling you about the dangerous part and is just trying
to put your mind at rest.’

‘Well he hasn’t. I’m dead worried now.’

Her mother sniffed noisily. ‘Constance, I’ve worried all my life and look where it’s got me. A bundle of nerves. And, yes, I’ve been jealous too, though I wouldn’t
admit it to your father’s face.’

Connie looked surprised. ‘You’ve never told me that before.’

‘I’m not too old to forget what jealousy feels like.’

Connie looked down at the letter and Vic’s bold writing. She knew she was being unreasonable and imagining things that hadn’t happened. Vic would be faithful, she was sure of that.
But she still couldn’t stop feeling this way.

Olive stood up. ‘Now let’s have a nice cup of tea and listen to the radio.’

But Connie didn’t want a cup of tea or to listen to the radio. All she could think of was Vic.

In bed that night, she gave way to tears. She didn’t know what a swanky hotel like the Barbizon Plaza on 6th Avenue looked like, or the women inside it, but imagining was bad enough.

‘Come to the party tonight,’ Len said when Connie told him about Vic on Saturday morning.

‘No, I don’t want to.’

‘You’re being daft now.’

‘Mum said that.’

‘Well, she’s right. When did you last go out?’

Connie shrugged. ‘With Vic, in August.’

‘And now it’s Christmas!’ Len wagged his finger in her face. ‘You might as well be a nun. You should try and break the habit.’

Connie glanced at her friend. They burst out laughing. Len could always bring a smile to her face, just like Ada.

‘Listen, Con, odds on Jenny won’t say a word, and she don’t dance either. I’ll be sitting there all night like a blooming great wallflower!’

Connie knew that Jenny hadn’t mixed with any of the staff, despite all hers and Len’s encouragement. To cap it all, yesterday she had informed them she didn’t drink or dance
and was quite content to sit and ‘watch’ at the Christmas party.