East End Jubilee (2 page)

‘You both look lovely.’

‘I couldn’t find me—’ Marlene began but Cissy turned round and glared.

‘Look, the coach is on its way,’ Rose whispered, grasping their little arms and bringing them towards her.

‘I can’t see nothing,’ Marlene strained to see through the heads in front.

‘Well, sit on my knee.’

‘I still can’t see.’

‘Shush!’ This time a cross voice trumpeted, ‘If you girls want to wee you know where the lav is.’

‘I don’t want to wee,’ shouted Marlene indignantly. ‘I said I can’t—’

‘Crawl round to the front,’ Rose interrupted quickly as Marlene slid off her lap. ‘Don’t disturb anyone and don’t talk when you’re there.’

‘Do I have to go too?’ Donnie held back.

‘Yes, you’d better, love.’ Rose gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Keep an eye on her.’

Donnie followed obediently, holding her clean frock out of harm’s way. Rose thought her girls were good enough to eat. How she and Eddie had ever managed to make such lovely productions,
she’d never know. They never stopped being proud of their family and even though Eddie was a bad timekeeper, he never failed to attend their Friday night session of Snakes and Ladders, the
highlight of their week.

The coach drew up to Victoria Embankment. Rose wondered what had happened to keep Eddie so busy that on the one day of the year that was so special, he would miss the best part of the
celebrations. Just a few jobs to do, he’d insisted, a few Coronation souvenirs to trade to the right people ahead of the ceremony.

‘Listen to all that cheering!’ Cissy sat back in her chair with a heavy sigh. ‘Old Berkeley Smith can’t get a word in edgeways.’

‘It ain’t Berkeley Smith,’ Fanny contested, folding her arms across her chest. ‘It’s Chester Wilmot. Said so in the
Radio Times
.’

‘Since when do you read the
Radio Times
?’

‘Well, how would I know, if I hadn’t read it?’ Cissy snapped and Len Silverman threw up his arms in disgust.

‘It is both Berkeley Smith and Chester Wilmot,’ the old man informed them patiently. ‘Now, can we please listen in peace?’

‘Oiy, you! Watch your tongue, my lad.’ Cissy wagged a nicotine-stained finger in the air. Len Silverman was about to respond when Olga’s high-pitched voice echoed round the
room. ‘Quiet, please! We can’t hear what’s going on.’

‘Then turn the sound up!’

‘I can’t. It’s on full volume.’

‘Bloody lot of good that is then,’ Fanny spluttered. ‘Thought it was supposed to be new.’

‘It is,’ Olga said indignantly. ‘It’s the latest model.’

‘Probably on tick,’ another troublemaker whispered loud enough for their host to hear. ‘Or second-hand.’

‘My husband doesn’t agree with hire purchase,’ Olga declared and looked meaningfully at Rose. ‘The television came from somebody very reliable. Very reliable indeed.
Didn’t it, Rose?’

Rose was speechless. Eddie had said he’d told Olga to keep the details under her hat. But it was clear Olga had no intention of keeping anything to herself; it would be much more
interesting to drop a bombshell and she’d found just the right moment to drop it.

‘Eddie sold it to Leslie,’ Olga said looking straight at Rose. ‘It was a bargain, too.’

Olga’s clear, clipped pronunciation brought the room to a standstill. Every eye in the room swivelled to gaze at Rose. The fact that the crowd crescendo on television was at fever pitch as
the golden coach rolled past the high, covered stands opposite the specially built annexe to Westminster Abbey, was lost on the assembled throng.

Rose had lived on the Isle of Dogs all her life. She knew what her friends and neighbours were thinking. What could be more newsworthy than the fact Eddie Weaver had sold a brand new television
to a resident of the street at a knockdown price.
And
kept it quiet.

Fred Dixon nearly choked on his Woodbine. Dora Lovell, the street mouse, cried, ‘Oh my God, did you hear that?’ Cissy’s grey frizzy hair trembled round her plump face.
Fanny’s toothless bottom jaw sucked noisily.

Rose knew every eye was on her. The images of the coach, cheering crowds and soldiers, statesmen and dignitaries, the Queen Mother and Princess Margaret in their big hats and silk dresses, were
ignored. The audience was hypnotized, waiting for the next revelation.

It came from the least expected area, the door. Rose’s heart lurched as Eddie strolled jauntily in. ‘Blimey,’ he said softly, ‘I thought it was Coronation Day, not
someone’s funeral.’

Even though Rose was annoyed with him it was a relief to see his smiling face. He looked as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His thick, black hair was brushed back over his head and
his white shirt gleamed below a striped tie. Rose had spent all last night pressing his suit with a damp cloth and now it hung smartly from his tall, lean frame

He grinned at Olga. ‘Not a cup of Jenny Lee going, is there?’

Silence.

The only noise was from the television where the cameras were inside the Abbey and Richard Dimbleby was giving the commentary. Rose knew this was the moment the nation was waiting for. But not
one head in the room turned to see the view recorded from the camera set high in the Abbey’s Triforium. Every eye was on her husband.

‘Of course, Eddie,’ Olga said, breaking the silence at last. ‘Or we have beer.’

‘Now you’re talking. A nice glass of Christmas cheer would set me up fine.’

When their host had gone, Eddie looked cheerfully round. ‘Good, is it? Missed much, have I?’

‘Not as much as we have,’ someone muttered.

‘Well, better late than never.’ Rose knew that Eddie had chosen to ignore the sarcasm, giving her a wink as he came to sit beside her. She felt as though she had just fallen into a
deep well and landed on a feather bed at the bottom. She didn’t have any broken bones, but she’d left her stomach behind.

‘Hello, my lovely,’ he whispered, snaking an arm round her waist.

She kept her voice low. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Rushing to get here of course.’

‘Well, you didn’t rush quick enough.’

‘Yes, I did. She ain’t crowned yet, is she?’

‘And that’s exactly what I’d like to do to you, Eddie Weaver!’

He looked all innocence. ‘Now what have I done?’

‘Olga told them about the television. That you sold it to Leslie.’

Her husband shrugged. ‘Well, no one’s walking out in disgust, are they?’

‘You said she was going to keep it under her hat.’

‘You ain’t half got a good memory,’ he teased.

‘Eddie, this isn’t funny.’

‘She must have forgotten.’ He tried to take her hand but she pulled it back. ‘Anyway, what does it matter?’

Rose glared at him. ‘It matters to me.’

‘Well, it shouldn’t,’ he returned, his smile fading. ‘I’m the only one who should matter to you. Me and the dustbin lids. Talking of which, where are
they?’

‘Up the front,’ Rose replied tersely.

Eddie sighed. ‘Well, this is a nice welcome, I must say. All I’ve done is try to make a few bob and this is the thanks I get. Charming.’

Rose didn’t want to admit it, but she realized there might be a grain of truth in what Eddie said. There usually was, if she took the time to dig deep enough to find it. He always told her
she worried too much about what people thought. Perhaps she did.

She glanced at him sideways. He was staring at her with those lovely misty grey eyes and even though she was angry, she was melting inside. She couldn’t be angry with him for long, but
when they got home, she’d have a few choice words to say.

‘Miss me?’ He nudged her knee.

‘No.’

‘Go on. You did.’

‘Keep your voice down. They’re in the Abbey.’

‘She ain’t as beautiful as you,’ he whispered, blowing on her hair.

‘Eddie. Shush.’

‘She’s not, you know.’

Rose found herself smiling as his fingers tickled her side. His strong, hard thigh moved up against hers. He was certainly one in a million, her Eddie.

‘Dad?’

Rose and Eddie both jumped guiltily. ‘Hello, Toots.’ Eddie held out his arms to his youngest daughter. ‘Come and sit on me knee.’

‘Can we have one of them?’ Marlene pointed to the television.

‘What, a custard and jelly?’

Marlene giggled. ‘No you silly, a telly!’

‘That’s what I said. A custard and jelly.’ Marlene and Eddie went into smothered hysterics.

‘Don’t you Weavers ever stop gassing?’ Cissy yelled over her shoulder. ‘Have a bit of respect, will you? She’s getting bloody crowned!’

Eddie grinned. ‘Sorry, love. Just taking a deep breath that’s all.’

‘Yeah, a bloody loud one an’ all.’

Rose smiled. It didn’t take long for normality to resume when Eddie was around.

‘’Bye, Dad,’ Marlene whispered, all smiles and laughing brown eyes as she slid off her father’s lap.

‘’Bye Toots.’ Eddie patted her bottom as she went.

Rose felt his strong shoulder pressed against hers. She looked sideways and saw him smiling at her. He gave her such a wonderful feeling inside and she couldn’t resist him when he blew her
a kiss. Once again they shook with suppressed laughter and only stopped when Olga appeared.

‘I hope it’s cold enough, Eddie.’

‘I ain’t fussy, gel, thanks.’

Olga stared down at them. A chill went through Rose’s bones and she didn’t let out a breath until Olga walked away.

The mantel clock chimed eleven and Rose gazed at the small square picture that was transporting them into another world. Eddie’s hand folded over hers as the commentator’s smooth
commentary described a world hitherto unknown to the public. A fairytale land where Rose felt what it was like to be a queen.

Multinational guests had been assembling at the Abbey since early morning. The whole of the British Royal Family, the Maids of Honour and the Ladies of the Bedchamber had arrived.

The royal procession set the stage for the main event and the magnificent splendour sparkled and glittered in front of them. Everyone moved an inch forward to get a better view of the
fourteen-inch screen. It seemed of no consequence that the screen was small, the universe inside it was huge. Rose felt the power and presence of majesty flow out and light up their lives so
different now to the dark days of the wartime years. The deprivation and fear of those times had passed and reconstruction of the East End had started to lift people’s spirits. The Coronation
heralded a new era full of hope and prosperity.

Princess Elizabeth moved towards the High Altar. Every ear in the room now listened intently to the description the commentator gave, describing the six Maids of Honour, each wearing white satin
embroidered with pearl blossoms and trails of small golden leaves. Carefully they supported the six-yard-long robe of state made of crimson velvet and edged with ermine and gold lace, which was
attached to the Princess’s young shoulders.

‘Ain’t she brave, Eddie?’ Rose whispered hoarsely.

‘Who wouldn’t be with all them sparklers? Enough to sink a battleship.’

‘She’s only two years older than me.’

‘Blimey. She’s done well for herself.’

‘She must be terrified with all them people watching.’

Eddie was silent as his fingers squeezed hers.

Rose sighed. ‘She’s got two kids like me, a husband and a home like me, yet . . .’

‘You’re my princess, love.’

Rose gazed into her husband’s face and what she saw there captured her heart. He was so handsome with his dark good looks and warm, open smile. She had loved him for as long as she could
remember. They’d grown up together in the poverty ridden streets of the East End and she knew she would go on loving him till the day she died.

‘And you’re my prince. Even though I’m gonna kill you when we get back home.’

‘I can’t wait,’ her husband grinned.

Rose smiled as she turned back to watch the crowning. A big lump filled her throat when the six royal maids began to disrobe the Princess and remove her jewellery, a process that continued
throughout the ceremony according to ancient custom. Her abiding memory of the service would be the new Queen’s pale and beautiful face as the cry of ‘
Vivat Regina!
’ went
up.

As she replied ‘I am willing,’ to the Archbishop’s query, ‘Madam, is Your Majesty willing to take the oath?’ Rose thought she saw a tear glisten in the royal
eye.

Her own eyes were moist. So too, she realized was everyone else’s. The world was transfixed.

Rose thought how every head seemed to bow as the Archbishop of Canterbury lowered the heavy, glinting crown studded with precious jewels on the new sovereign’s head. As if each person was
sharing some of the reputed seven-pound weight.

Elizabeth looked so fragile, her neck so slim and delicate. But she bore the crown with pride and elegance and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when it remained in place. Never before had Rose
experienced such a feeling of loyalty or respect for her country. The ceremony had made it clear to her just who she was. A citizen of the British Empire. And this was her Queen.

Eddie nudged her. He was handing her a big, neatly ironed white handkerchief. Rose took it gratefully to dab her eyes.

‘Bet she couldn’t half do with a cuppa.’

Rose sighed. ‘You never take anything seriously.’

‘I do. You, my beloved.’

‘Yes, well, and so you should.’

‘When does it all finish?’

‘What, you’re not going out again, are you?’ Rose demanded suspiciously. Trust Eddie to bring her back to earth with a bump.

‘No. Well yes, but just for an hour. I’ll be back for the old Moriarty.’

‘Oh, Eddie!’

He silenced her with a big, warm kiss full on the mouth. Luckily no one noticed as the musical fanfare filled every square inch of the Abbey. Everyone in the room jumped to their feet laughing
and clapping.

‘I won’t be long, love. Promise.’

‘You always say that.’ She knew his promise to return for the street party was only to keep her happy and she would be lucky to see him again until much later tonight.

‘Don’t I keep me promises?’

‘Not always. You broke one last week. Selling that television to the Parkers.’