Cockney Orphan (37 page)

‘Guess we can try.’ Clint turned and talked to the rest of the musicians. The piano tinkled and Clint played a few notes before lowering his trumpet as the lights dimmed. Soon the
music filled the room and Connie closed her eyes. She wasn’t in the Starlight any longer but on the dance floor at Valentino’s. Vic was holding her tight and she was overwhelmed with
feelings that brought back every moment. When the music faded away, everyone was clapping. Connie swallowed on the lump in her throat and added her applause.

‘They’re bloody brilliant,’ Len said, nudging her arm.

‘Did you all have a good time?’ Clint asked when he rejoined them. He looked Connie directly in the eye. Everyone said they had, as reluctantly they walked out to the foyer to find
their coats.

‘Would you like to do this again, sometime?’ Clint asked Connie when they were alone for a few seconds.

‘I dunno why I’m off to Kent,’ Ada cried before Connie could answer. ‘I’ll be missing out on all the fun again.’

‘You’ll have fun wherever you are,’ Clint told her, still looking at Connie as Ada linked her arms through theirs.

‘I hope you’re right, Clint. As long as I can drink the beer as well as picking bloody hops, I’ll be all right.’

They left the Starlight laughing. But when they climbed into the truck Connie sat with Len and Jenny, leaving Ada to take the seat next to Clint. She was troubled by what had happened on the
dance floor and the question he had asked her afterwards.

The only man she loved was Vic. When she’d heard ‘Dancing In the Dark’ it had brought back everything he meant to her. She thought Clint had understood that she wasn’t
interested in an affair. But now she wasn’t certain.

Connie caught the bus into work the next morning. Although she hadn’t drunk very much the previous night, just the one port and lemon, she slept in late, having fallen
asleep at half past four in the morning. She’d tossed and turned, thinking back on all that had gone on. Her emotions were confused and she didn’t like the feeling. She knew her body
craved love and affection. It would be easy to fall for a handsome man like Clint but her heart belonged to Vic and always would. Clint had even given her fresh hope by the story he had told her.
But was that just a way of making her trust him?

When she arrived home the following afternoon, Ada couldn’t stop talking about the wonderful time they’d had at the Starlight.

‘I wish I was staying here now,’ Ada confessed.

‘Why don’t you, then?’

‘I can’t disappoint Mum. She was really upset when I went off with Freddie. She never told Dad anything about it. He’d probably kill me if he knew the truth.’

‘Is he still working up north?’

‘Yes, but he travels to Kent once a month to see everyone. He’s coming home for a family Christmas and I want to give him a big hug.’

‘Well, Ada, for what it’s worth I think you’re doing the right thing going to live in Kent.’

‘Why’s that then?’ Ada demanded.

‘Because your family keeps you in line. Without them you were all over the place.’

Ada frowned. ‘I can’t live at home for ever. I’m an East Ender born and bred. I love the docks and the river. If it wasn’t for my conscience pricking then I’d be
staying put.’

Connie smiled. ‘What conscience?’

‘You mare!’

Connie laughed. ‘What time are you leaving tomorrow?’

Ada’s face went pink. ‘Clint offered to take me up to Victoria in the truck. You will come, won’t you?’

Connie shook her head. ‘I’ll say goodbye here if you don’t mind.’

‘But why?’ Ada wailed.

‘Stations are too much of a reminder of people coming home as well as going away.’

Ada’s jaw dropped. ‘Oh, Con, I’m sorry. I only ever think about what I want.’

‘You understand, don’t you?’

‘Course I do.’ She wrapped her arms around Connie. ‘I’m gonna miss you so much.’

‘Me too. Send me a card at Christmas, won’t you?’

‘Like one of old Burnsy’s, eh? With something dopey written inside.’

They laughed and drew apart. Ada sat down on the bed. ‘P’raps you could come up to Kent and stay for a couple of days?’

Connie nodded. ‘P’raps I could.’

‘Give my love to Billy when you see him. I miss the little sod.’

‘I will.’

‘Con?’

‘What?’

‘You’re my best mate.’

When Clint arrived in the truck the next day, Ada was waiting on the doorstep. Her make-up was all in place and her case in hand. Ebbie, Olive, Kevin and Sylvie, Nan and Lofty
were all there to say goodbye.

‘I wish you were coming,’ Clint said, looking disappointed when he discovered Connie wasn’t travelling with them. ‘Did you think over what I said about the Starlight?
I’d sure like to take you there again.’

Before she could answer, Ada was hugging her hard. ‘Bye, Connie.’

‘Look after yourself.’

Ada giggled. ‘Don’t I always?’

When the truck drove away, Clint looked through the window and smiled at her. He was a handsome young GI who was lonely and a long way from home. And she was well aware, in view of what had
happened at the Starlight, that he might be looking for more than friendship.

T
he champion of El Alamein, Britain’s General Montgomery, and America’s newly appointed General Dwight Eisenhower were the talk of
every Christmas dinner table in Britain at the close of 1943. Between the two warlords, it was hoped that the full-scale invasion of Western Europe would drive the Nazis from occupied Italy.

In the Marsh household, over the thinly carved chicken, the celebrations had been modest. Although Sylvie sat beside Kevin this year, Billy’s presence was missed. His letter, read out by
Olive after the last helping of more-carrot-than-fruit Christmas pudding, was brief but in true Billy style. ‘It’s just been square bashing till now, but once our training’s
done,’ he wrote enthusiastically, ‘we’ll be kitted up and moved out soon. I’ll be home for a weekend’s leave in the New Year. So, what about sinking a few pints, Dad
and Kev? I’ll be eighteen, old enough to buy a round or two. And a nice Sunday roast after, Mum? Connie, Ada, what about going to the flicks on Saturday night?’

Olive wept a little. ‘He’s not coming home for his birthday on the twenty-ninth.’

Ebbie laughed. ‘Don’t think the army cater for birthdays, love. Just thank your lucky stars he can make it at all.’

Olive tucked the letter in her apron pocket. Connie knew she would read it ten times over by the time she went to bed. After dinner they all sat round the fire and opened their presents. As
Connie took the tray of tea into the front room afterwards, Kevin looked up at her. ‘Connie, sit down a minute, Sylvie and me have an announcement to make.’

‘What is it?’ Olive asked as she clutched her cup tightly.

Kevin glanced at Sylvie. ‘We want to tie the knot.’

The cup clattered into the saucer. ‘What did you just say?’

‘We want to get married. Her mum and dad have given us their blessing.’ Kevin held Sylvie’s hand.

‘You’ve asked them already?’

‘We had to, Mum.’

Olive stared at the two young people sitting on the couch. ‘You mean – you’re – you’re – expecting!’

Sylvie burst into tears.

‘Oh, Christ,’ Ebbie muttered, glancing at his wife.

Connie put her arm around Sylvie. She was very upset and Connie patted her back gently. ‘Don’t cry, Sylvie. It’ll be all right.’

Olive rose to her feet. ‘How could you both be so irresponsible?’

Kevin went to his mother. He tried to put his arm around her but she shrugged him off. ‘I’m sorry, Mum—’

‘It’s too late for apologies,’ she broke in angrily. ‘How are you going to manage? Where are you going to live? How do you propose to keep a family on your
wage?’

‘Lots of our friends are married,’ Kevin protested. ‘Why not us?’

‘Because I expected something better of you, Kevin.’ Olive’s face was filled with disappointment. ‘You’ve locked shackles on your ankles, young man, and
you’ll never lose them again.’

‘Now, Mother.’ Ebbie tried to calm his wife. ‘What’s done is done. We’ll just have to make the best of it.’

‘How do you make the best of nothing?’ she retorted, her lips trembling. ‘You’ve not got a penny saved between you.’

‘It doesn’t all boil down to money, Mum.’

‘Doesn’t it?’ Olive’s face tightened. ‘So tell me, where are you going to live? Here?’

Kevin looked embarrassed. ‘Billy’s not here now so me and Sylvie thought we could use the bedroom.’

Olive looked shocked. ‘There will be three of you very soon, plus your sister and me and Dad, and just because Billy’s in the army it doesn’t mean he won’t want a bed to
sleep on when he comes home. What do you propose he should do then? Sleep with the baby?’ She turned her attention to Sylvie. ‘And what do your parents have to say on the subject of
accommodation?’

Sylvie flushed. ‘We’ve only got two bedrooms.’

Olive looked back at her son. ‘You don’t know how disappointed I am in you, Kevin.’ She turned and left the room.

They all sat in silence until Sylvie began to cry again softly. Kevin put his arm around her as she laid her head on his shoulder. Connie sighed. A baby in the family again. It was the most
wonderful thing she could imagine. Once she might have agreed with her mother but after having Lucky in her life her ambition to become a career girl had vanished. All she wanted was to hold Lucky
in her arms again. Where was he now? Was he loved and cherished? Did he miss her?

If only Sylvie knew how blessed she was!

Predictably, Christmas Day ended on a low note. Olive refused to resume the topic and turned on the radio as she began her knitting. Ebbie hid behind an old newspaper and finally Kevin walked
Sylvie home.

When everyone was in bed, Connie sat by the embers of the fire. Christmas night and she was alone. She took out her pencil and paper and began to write in the soft glow of the room. The first
letter was to the Admiralty. She requested that, as Vic’s fiancée, she be informed of any developments in his case. The second letter was to Vic. She told him how much she missed him
and that tomorrow, Boxing Day, she was going to spend with Pat and the children. When she had finished, she sealed both envelopes and addressed them.

The following day she walked over to Pat’s. There was not a great selection in the larder and as there were no shops open Connie made bread and butter pudding accompanied by layers of
spam. She cleaned the place from top to bottom, dragged in the tin bath and washed the children. Afterwards she played with them in front of the fire. Connie gave Lawrence a teddy bear for his cot
and Doris a Hans Christian Andersen picture book. They sat reading after tea and it wasn’t until eight o’clock that Connie finally took her leave.

Pat had been very quiet all day. What was going through her mind? she wondered as she walked back to Kettle Street. It was the first time that Connie had found the house and children in a
neglected state. And even though Laurie’s Christmas letter had arrived, Pat had seemed oddly detached.

Connie knew there was something wrong but she didn’t know what. She would call again soon and try to find out.

Peggy Burton finally closed the doors of the Mile End soup kitchen. She let out a long sigh. Her feet were aching to the point of screaming. It was four o’clock on a
Friday, the last Friday of 1943. She had fed and watered the world, it felt like, and now all she needed was to spoil herself with a cup of tea and feet up beside her husband as the New Year
dawned.

She removed her apron and went into the small room. All the decks were clear thanks to Eileen, Ginny and Fay, who had gone home. Only Grace and her brother remained on the premises.

She watched the young girl and little boy as they played together on the floor. More bruises on the girl’s arms, though she had pulled down her sleeves now. Peggy’s suspicions were
growing by the day. But, alas, now she had to send them home.

‘Grace, it’s time to go, dear.’

The young girl nodded but the boy didn’t look up. He seemed to be in a world of his own, though he liked playing with the other small children.

‘Grace?’

‘Yes, Mrs Burton?’

‘How is your mother?’ As eager as Peggy was to go home to her nice warm fire and somewhat neglected husband, her instinct told her that her work wasn’t yet finished.

‘Resting.’

Ah! That word again. What did resting really mean? Peggy sat down on one of the wooden chairs and patted the seat beside her. Grace walked slowly over and lowered her tiny bottom, tucked her
black patent shoes underneath her and sat contentedly.

‘Well, now, before you go, shall I see if there’s a biscuit or two left?’ Peggy asked.

‘Yes please!’

The little boy looked up eagerly. Peggy knew how bright he really was. She’d wondered if his hearing was at fault when often he refused to respond. So she’d made her own
investigations, rattling spoons to his right and left, and caught his attention immediately. No, the child was neither deaf nor dim. On the contrary, this child was as healthy as the next.

Peggy smiled and stood up. In the New Year she would make more enquiries regarding this curious pair. It was strange the mother had never arrived to see where her children were going each day.
And where did those marks on Grace’s arms come from? Or, possibly, from whom?

The mild, unseasonable January confused everyone. But just in case Jack Frost arrived Connie wore warm woollen gloves, a scarf and a heavy coat as she left work and went
straight to Pat’s. All the chimneys were belching smoke. There was talk again of a new and deadly weapon that Germany was testing out. The rumours circulated every so often; people still did
their stint of fire-watching or Home Guard duties, but with all the talk of the European invasion nerves were on edge at what would happen next.

When Connie arrived at Pat’s, a man dressed in a dark coat stood on the doorstep. Pat was staring out from her dark-rimmed eyes, trying to console a screaming Lawrence.

‘This is unacceptable, I’m afraid,’ he was shouting above the baby’s cries. ‘The matter must be settled at once.’