East End Jubilee (37 page)

‘Olga Parker. No, I tell a lie.’ Eddie creased his brow as he tried to recall what Rose had told him a few hours previously. ‘Her real name was Sarah something or other. Nem .
. . no, Nimitz, I think Rose said it was. You know, my old lady is one in a million, Solly, and the trouble is, I never appreciated the fact till now.’

Solly nodded thoughtfully. He forgot all about the beauty of the summer evening as his interest was kindled in Eddie Weaver’s domestic affairs. For to hear of a gentile going to such
extraordinary lengths on behalf of a Jew aroused his curiosity. His own life on this earth had been tested from the moment he had drawn breath. He had risen to the top of the tree entirely by his
own efforts; no one had lifted a finger to help the ugly little Jewish boy from an East End ghetto.

Solly frowned. What ulterior motive could this young woman have in burying a Jew – and at the cost of her own possessions? ‘Come my friend,’ he murmured, laying his hand on
Eddie’s shoulder as a fresh breeze stirred the air. ‘Tell me more as we walk.’

‘Blimey,’ Eddie said with a grin, ‘how long have you got?’

Solly laughed underneath the huge beacon of his nose. ‘According to my solicitor, another month at the most.’

Eddie roared with laughter and Solly did too.

‘Happy birthday, Benny, love. From Em and me and the kids.’ Rose gave her friend a hug and pushed the parcel into his chest. ‘I know Neet won’t approve,
so you’ll have to find somewhere to enjoy it in peace.’ They had bought him a soft leather tobacco pouch that was second-hand from the market but real leather and looked as good as new.
Inside she had tucked a finger of medium Navy Cut, Benny’s preferred tobacco, and a packet of papers. The present was tied up in brown paper and a pink thread of Em’s embroidery
silk.

‘I’ll make meself scarce and indulge.’ Benny winked. ‘Thanks, Rose.’

‘Happy birthday, Uncle Benny.’ Marlene waved a handwritten birthday card. ‘I done it meself.’

‘Blimey, ain’t you clever.’ Benny lifted Marlene in his strong arms and gave her a peck on the head. He landed her quickly. ‘Struth, are you putting on weight or am I
getting weak in me old age?’

Marlene giggled, running off in search of food. Benny’s fortieth birthday was being celebrated in style. Rose and Em had been helping to prepare the party. Their efforts had taken them
from nine in the morning to four in the afternoon. Most of the time had been used to chinwag whilst slapping filling into the bread rolls and whipping the custard. Rose wanted to talk to Benny
before everyone arrived. Anita had described the event as open house. They were preparing for an onslaught.

‘And this is from me and Will.’ Donnie and Will stood in their best clothes holding a long, striped, woollen creation, the ends dangling over their hands. ‘It’s to cover
your seat in the lorry. We knitted it. Marlene was supposed to help too, but she got fed up and left us to do it all. Auntie Em showed us how to stitch it together.’

Rose smiled as she met Benny’s eyes. The kids had been knitting furiously for weeks and had only finished it last night. Benny looked impressed as he held it out at arm’s length.
‘Well, that’ll keep me bum warm, won’t it?’

‘You’ve got it upside down,’ Will said, scuffing back his unruly blond hair with grubby fingers.

‘It doesn’t really matter which way it is,’ Marlene contradicted, nudging him.

‘I’ll have enough to wrap round me neck and all,’ Benny grinned as he folded it carefully and laid it on the couch. ‘Ain’t I lucky to have you lot to look after
me?’

‘Can we play outside for a bit?’ Donnie asked Rose.

‘Yes, but don’t get dirty. And take Marlene with you too.’

Benny and Rose watched them through the front window, admiring their new party frocks that Em had made from a yard of pink organza. They looked like little ballerinas in their clean ankle socks
and white crêpe-soled sandals. The shoes were new, Rose had bought them from Dol’s stall at the market, luckily the right size for Donnie but a shade large for Marlene so she’d
stuffed newspaper in the toes to make them fit. Will wore a white short-sleeved shirt that Em had run up on the machine and a pair of grey school shorts. His hair had started out with a parting and
a wet comb. However a morning in Marlene’s company had put paid to all that and it now stuck out from his head and he had a button missing from his collar.

‘How’s work?’ Benny adjusted his tie as he turned to look at Rose. She knew he hated getting dressed up but Anita had left orders. A fresh shirt, waistcoat and trousers, and a
tie that seemed like it was about to strangle him.

‘Busy, thanks, Benny.’ Rose had been back at Kirkwood’s for a month now. She was still washing up and making sandwiches. ‘The money’s good, four pounds ten a week
plus overtime. How’s the haulage business?’

‘I got another account this week,’ Benny said modestly. ‘Shifting part-worn tyres from Pinner to Middlesbrough. Two trips a month and maybe more. I just found a new lock-up
near East India dock at a quarter of the rent. I told the bloke I’d take his bananas up to Covent Garden no charge if we could do the deal.’ He smiled shyly. ‘How’s me old
mate doing down in Hewis then?’

‘Not bad,’ Rose shrugged.

‘A year’s up already,’ Benny said with forced enthusiasm. ‘He’s on the home straight now.’

The first year of the new Queen’s reign was over. Twelve months ago Rose had been waiting for Eddie to join her at the Parkers’. ‘I saw him last week,’ she continued
quietly. ‘Bobby Morton drove me down on Wednesday.’

‘You only had to ask,’ Benny frowned, ‘and I’d have taken you.’

‘I know, but he offered, so I took him up on it. Gwen gave me the day off.’

Rose was well aware that Bobby was doing all he could to impress Em even though he had very little encouragement. He had suggested they all go in the shooting brake as before, but Eddie refused
to have his girls step inside prison walls again. Rose had considered the coach but it would have meant a very long day.

‘Eddie said to wish you a happy birthday,’ Rose added quickly.

‘Is that millionaire bloke still banged up?’ Benny asked curiously.

‘No, he was released last week. But I have me doubts as to the millionaire part, Benny.’

‘What was he doing in nick, then?’

‘The tax man was after him. But in the end, they couldn’t prove anything. He told Eddie he had the best accountant breathing.’

‘Pity the same couldn’t be said about Eddie’s counsel.’ Benny shook his head glumly. ‘That little squirt Charles Herring had no interest in Eddie’s case, if
you ask me. And the QC was no better. I reckon he turned a deaf ear to Eddie’s version of events.’

Rose wished Benny hadn’t said that. It reminded her of things she didn’t want to think about. She too had always felt Eddie’s case had been handled badly, as had his appeal for
bail and yet, deep down inside, a little voice warned her that much worse could have resulted from the past five years of her husband’s dubious activity. And despite Eddie swearing black was
blue that running for bookies was no great sin, she knew that British justice would never see it that way.

‘I’d better go and help Neet,’ she said brightly, not wanting to return to the depressing subject. ‘We’re eating in the yard. It’s such a lovely day. And the
clearing up will be easier.’ She looked around Benny’s front room, at the decorations pinned to the walls, the balloons and paper chains, the odd assortment of Union Flags that had been
resurrected from Coronation Day. Only the sign painted in Red Cardinal polish with an old toothbrush announcing Benny’s fortieth was new.

‘I won’t get under your feet,’ Benny nodded as he took his chair and lifted the newspaper.

Rose knew he would be asleep in five minutes, with his head rolled on to his shoulder and the paper fallen on his chest. She closed the door and went into the kitchen. Em, wearing her green
turban and Neet, in slippers and loose pinny, were laughing together at the sink. The kitchen table was extended to support a dozen plates all full of savoury snacks and, in the middle, was the
birthday cake. Made entirely of sponge and covered in blue butter icing, forty white and blue candles were placed in a circle around the edge; ‘Happy Birthday Benny’ was written in
large blue looped icing and a tiny picture of a lorry was glued to a knitting needle and stuck in the middle. Em and Anita had been decorating it all morning whilst Rose had made the sandwiches, at
which she was now expert.

‘Rosy, you look lovely!’

‘Do I?’ Rose blushed as her friend and sister turned to stare at her.

‘I haven’t seen that dress in ages,’ Anita frowned.

‘You should wear it more, it suits you.’ Smiling approvingly, Em wiped her hands on the towel.

‘It’s me Brixton dress. I wore it the first time I saw Eddie.’ The plain, dark green dress with the full skirt had been hidden at the back of the big wardrobe where it
wouldn’t remind her of that awful place. But, for some reason, today she had brought it out and tried it on together with the light brown court shoes that had nearly killed her as she walked
from home through the foot tunnel to Greenwich and searched for a bus.

‘I suppose I’d better try to do something with my hair,’ Em said suddenly, touching her turban. ‘Is there anything more to do, Neet?’

‘No, ta, love. We’ve got an hour or so yet before the gannets arrive.’

‘The food looks lovely,’ Rose said after her sister had gone.

Anita whipped off her apron, pulled out a chair and sank down on it. ‘Make a cup, love, would you? I don’t half fancy a fag, you know.’

‘How long is it this time?’ Rose put on the kettle and set out two cups. Benny wouldn’t want one, he’d be in the land of nod by now.

‘Three months. And bloody killing me.’

‘Have something to eat instead.’

‘I have.’

‘What about a drink then? Something stronger than tea.’

‘That’s not a bad idea. I’ll pour a sherry. Take the kettle off the boil, will you? The sherry’s in the cupboard by the sink.’

Rose replaced the cups in the cupboard and took out the bottle of cream sherry. The glasses were already on the draining board along with a dozen bottles of beer, a bottle of gin and a big
bottle of lemonade and cream soda.

‘Pour one for yourself and all.’

‘It’s a bit early.’

‘Yeah, well, it’s a special treat,’ Anita grinned as she took the glass and sipped, smacking her lips enthusiastically. ‘Fortieth birthdays only come round
once.’

‘And fiftieths.’

‘Yeah, and sixtieths.’

Rose giggled. ‘All right then.’

For a little while Rose and Anita sat in the sunny summer atmosphere of the kitchen with the back door thrown wide open and the soft breeze drifting in. The children’s voices could be
heard over the rooftops and the lazy drone of a bee rumbled not far away. Rose smiled as she sipped her sweet, rich sherry. The bee must have lost its way since there were very few flowers in the
neighbourhood to settle on. The Mendozas’ backyard was as barren as her own despite the kudos of the Heath Robinson bathroom extension that Benny had thrown together years ago. But no one
would notice this afternoon as the house admitted all and sundry to enjoy the celebration.

‘Cheers,’ Anita murmured, suddenly leaning forward to clink the rim of her glass with Rose’s.

‘Here’s to Benny,’ Rose nodded.

‘And Eddie, bless his cotton socks.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘You ain’t seen that car around lately, I suppose?’

‘No. But I keep me eyes peeled all the time.’

‘Well, whatever you do, don’t go charging at it with a broom again!’

Rose grinned. ‘I wished I’d broken their windscreen.’

‘They nearly broke your neck, you daft cow,’ Anita said, suddenly serious. ‘If Benny hadn’t bowled you over first they might have succeeded.’

Rose didn’t like to think of what might have happened if Benny had not taken lightning action. In fact, she’d never seen him move so fast. But she still didn’t regret what
she’d done. And maybe it had frightened them off, seeing as how most of the street had turned out to see what was going on.

Anita’s eyes mellowed then and she raised her glass. ‘Anyway, here’s to Olga.’

Rose took another sip. ‘Yes, to Olga.’

‘I’m still trying to fathom out what happened at the funeral,’ Anita sighed contentedly as she stretched her back against the chair. ‘What with Len wearing that bloody
great shawl and going off at a tangent. To be honest, I didn’t understand a word he said.’

‘It was a special prayer,’ Rose explained as Len had explained to her. ‘Olga didn’t have any family, so he delegated himself to say it. Apparently Olga would consider it
a privilege to have it said for her.’

‘Well, for sure she ain’t gonna come back to thank us,’ Anita commented dryly, ‘and what was all that ripping up of her dress about?’

‘It’s a sign of mourning,’ Rose answered. ‘Usually a blouse or shirt is used. A parent would tear the left side to denote a deep loss, others tear the right side. Then
their dead are buried in white shrouds with no pockets because everyone comes into this world with nothing and goes out with nothing.’

‘Well, that makes sense,’ Anita nodded. ‘But there wasn’t any flowers and to my mind, flowers make a funeral.’

‘I know, but Jews feel that the bereaved families shouldn’t have to spend more than they can afford. I think that’s very sensible meself.’

‘So you’d consider packing Eddie off in a cardboard box and a sheet?’ Anita posed with a smirk.

Rose grinned. ‘He’d kill me if I did that. Eddie’s a smart dresser as well you know.’

‘Yeah – and he’s always got something in his pocket.’

Rose’s smile faded and all traces of humour left her face. ‘No doubt a betting slip or two if the truth be known.’

Anita smiled kindly. ‘Don’t take it to heart, love. Floating ain’t the crime of the century, you know.’

Rose took a long sip of sherry. ‘It isn’t so much what Eddie did but that he didn’t tell me.’

Anita reached out for the sherry on the draining board and poured herself another. ‘I’ll top you up.’

Rose watched as her glass was refilled. ‘I still can’t believe it,’ she repeated vaguely. ‘That for five years my husband was off every day running for the
bookies.’