Eve of the Isle (3 page)

Eve nodded. ‘Let's roll up the rugs and put them high too.'

When all was complete, Peg pushed back her bush of hair. Wiping her hands down her thin face, she frowned. ‘We'd better turn off the lamp for safety's sake.'

Eve did so, leaving the room in darkness. Only the lamps upstairs reflected a glow as they paddled through the wet passage and ascended the stairs.

‘Oh, me flamin' rheumatics!' exclaimed Peg as she paused half way. ‘Me pins are creaking like trees.'

‘Give me your hand,' Eve extended her arm, ‘and I'll help you up.'

‘The bugger you will!' exclaimed Peg, waving her off. ‘I might be old and slow, but I ain't dead yet.'

As Peg shuffled one stair at a time, Eve heard more gurgling outside. Was it about to force open the door?

‘I never thought this could happen,' she said as Peg joined her on the landing.

‘Me neither,' agreed Peg wearily, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead. ‘We've had a bit of spillage
from the docks over the years, but nothing we can't manage. Are the boys still kipping?'

Eve nodded. ‘They were a minute ago.'

‘Where the bloody 'ell has Jimmy got to?' demanded Peg, frowning at the closed door to their left. ‘He should be here now, helping us out.'

‘P'raps he got cut off by the river,' shrugged Eve. ‘Or the paint factory needs help.'

‘More like he's onto a fiddle,' grumbled Peg irritably.

Jimmy's no angel, but it's unusual for him to be absent this late at night, thought Eve worriedly. Or was it now the early hours of the morning?

A resounding crack came from downstairs. They both jumped as the cottage seemed to shudder.

‘The front door's gone!' whispered Peg. ‘Gawd help us.'

It was as they stood waiting for the next eruption that Eve realized the next few hours were going to be crucial. The cottage was old and already in a state of disrepair. Would it simply fall apart at its seams? Just how high would the river rise? What would they do if it came up the stairs?

It was dark; the lamps had finally burned out and the four small bodies were huddled together on the mattresses for warmth. They had drawn Peg's eiderdown over them, unable to sleep as they listened to the sucking and swirling noises below.

‘Will Old Father Thames come in?' said Albert in a small, frightened voice.

‘No, chic,' Peg assured him. ‘Not whilst me and your mum have a say in it.'

‘Morning ain't long now.' Samuel's little croak was a brave one. Eve knew he was frightened like his brother, but wouldn't show it.

‘Yes, the daylight will cheer us up.' Peg's husky voice was coarse and deep, and she coughed and cursed herself for leaving her tobacco on the scullery windowsill.

‘But the water could come upstairs,' persisted Albert. ‘And wash us away.'

Peg chuckled. ‘No chance of that love, 'cos Peg Riggs would tell it to sling its 'ook.'

Eve and the boys laughed, despite or perhaps because of their fear. Peg's light-hearted defiance throughout the night had kept them going but when would the morning come? How high was the water? No one knew.

‘Is it going to be like the Great Stink again?' asked Samuel, touching on Eve's own concerns. ‘Has everyone's lavs gone in the river?'

‘I ain't done a poo in our lav today,' giggled Albert. ‘But I done one at school.'

‘It don't matter what goes down a lav, son,' replied Peg with a chuckle, ‘it's what's comes up that's the problem. And it won't be just us, but every other poor sod who gets flooded out.'

‘Wonder what's happened to the Higgins?' Eve's thoughts were with their rough and ready neighbours.

‘And what about Mr Petrovsky at number seven?' said Samuel.

‘The authorities will send out the fire engines no doubt,' suggested Eve. ‘With their pumps and long hoses.'

‘Yeah, but unless it's the ones with horses, none of them motorized vehicles could get near us,' Peg reflected.

‘They might send a ship,' said Albert, ‘like our Dad's, the
Star of Bengal
. It sailed all the way from India across seven seas. Tell us about it, Mum.'

Eve smiled in the darkness; the boys loved to hear the stories of their father over and over again.

‘Your dad was born in India,' Eve's voice was filled with a soft longing. ‘A beautiful paradise.'

‘Where the palm trees sway on the sand,' Albert prompted, eager for her to continue.

‘Yes, and where it's always hot even in the monsoon.'

‘That's the big rains, ain't it?' Samuel said.

‘It rains for months solid,' nodded Eve, ‘as I've described to you hundreds of times.'

‘We was going there,' Samuel continued, taking up the story. ‘To meet our grandparents who was still alive when we was born.'

‘Was they all black?' This interruption from Albert, his favourite question.

‘Your granddad was Indian, your grandma, Portuguese.'

‘What's that then?'

‘A mixture. A bit like we are on the Isle of Dogs. People settle on the island from all over the world, since Queen Elizabeth's time when the Mudchute was used as a hunting ground for her dogs. Your father came here
not to live, but work for a big shipping company. They employ men from all over the world, called lascars. As I've told you many times, he started as a just “boy” but soon became “topman”. And you both know what “topman” means in English, don't you?'

‘Able Seaman,' shouted Samuel and Albert together.

‘Very good. And, of course, you know it was your father who brought us the watercress seeds and gave us our livelihood. You were only babies when we planted them in the stream and from that day forward they've grown there in abundance.' She didn't add that by now the delicate plants might have perished.

‘Tell us about our other granny,' went on Samuel, eager not to fall asleep, but yawning loudly.

‘Aren't you tired yet?'

‘No,' said both boys sleepily.

Eve smiled. ‘Your other granny – the one called Sarah Flynn – was my mother and came from Ireland and sold flowers like us.'

‘She's gone to heaven, ain't she?'

‘Yes,' replied Eve wistfully. ‘She died in the flu epidemic of 1918, just after the war.'

‘And Granddad is dead too, ain't he?'

Before Eve could reply Albert interrupted. ‘Yeah, but he didn't get the flu. He died from bein' coloured yellow in the war.'

‘Will we get the flu or the yellow?' asked Samuel knowing the answer already.

‘No and you're not likely to,' interrupted Peg with
a nod to the shelf. ‘What with all your mother's medicines up there.'

Silence descended at last as Albert snuggled down on the pillow. ‘Tell us about our granny, Peg. How she was your best friend.'

Peg gave a deep sigh. ‘Well, your gran was one in a million and I was proud to call her me best pal. She was the prettiest flower-seller in all of London and to be honest we had the time of our lives. Selling at all the theatre doors, we'd meet lots of 'andsome gents, who'd give us the eye and pay us a pretty penny for our posies. Like your mum, your granny had long brown hair when she was a girl and eyes of sparkling amber. But no man matched up to your granddad, of Irish descent too, but a true Cockney at heart. 'Course, like a prince and princess, they fell in love and got married. They had your mum, followed by a little boy but he didn't survive, sad to say. Soon after, came the war. Now, you know all about that from school, how all the blokes were 'eroes and your granddad went off to fight for king and country. But he got the yella', a bugger it was an' all. They sent him 'ome on one of them 'ospital ships, but it was too late.' Peg sighed again, her eyes sad and far away. ‘And as if the war weren't enough with all its dead, then came the flu. I done all I could for your gran when she caught it, but she had no resistance. I reckon she missed your granddad so much that she decided to walk up heaven's stairs to join him.'

‘The same stairs we'll walk up one day,' said Samuel as he too wriggled down into the warmth.

‘Yes, ducks, the same stairs.'

‘And we'll see Tommy Higgins too. We can ask him what Old Father Thames looks like layin' under all that water.'

Albert was silent. Eve knew he had fallen asleep. Within minutes Samuel also began to snore.

In the quietness, Eve felt a pang of deep regret for her sons. They had stories instead of real people to remember. The other kids at school took for granted their aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents. Even their fathers and mothers. But there was no family left for Albert and Samuel, only her and Peg. And Peg wasn't even blood related, although they considered her and Jimmy family, nonetheless. Eve had brought her boys up to believe in the hereafter, where one day they would join their father, family and friends again.

A slow, coarse chuckle came from Peg. ‘These kids don't need no telling, they could repeat their family 'istory word for word. And heaven's stairs – I ask you! It's as real to them as Piccadilly Circus is to us. Though to tell you the truth, last night when I saw that water coming in, I would have gladly climbed up them stairs meself!'

‘Don't say that Peg.'

‘Oh, I'm only having a laugh, gel. We've all got to go one day, and it don't worry me in the least.'

Eve didn't like to joke about losing Peg. She was all
the family they had and the mainstay of their lives, the cog around which the family wheel turned. She had welcomed Raj into the household and loved him like a son.

Resting her head on the thin pillow, Eve thought of Raj, the tall, willowy young man she had met at the market whilst he was on shore leave from the
Star of Bengal
. Wearing a brightly coloured tarboosh on his head, pyjama like trousers on his long legs and heelless flat sandals, he had made a dashing and elegant figure. It was just after her mother's death and to make her smile, he had bought her a bunch of carnations, coals to Newcastle was Peg's expression. The handsome young sailor with skin the colour of dark gold had visited her again on his next leave. They had fallen in love and married, despite the prejudice against Asiatic seamen. Ten months later, their twins had been born. Eve knew that if Raj hadn't fallen overboard, they would have been blissfully happy. Raj was the light of her life and she had their two beautiful boys to prove it.

Eve woke with a start. A grey light was streaming through the large holes in the lace curtains. There was an eerie silence, no dripping or gurgling or creaking. But the silence seemed worse.

Samuel and Albert lay fast asleep, but the space beyond them was empty. Peg was nowhere to be seen. Aware of a thumping headache that was beating inside her skull, Eve gently rolled back the covers. Easing herself
from the mattress, she put on her boots and shawl, careful not to make a noise. The cottage was freezing, the door to their room closed. Opening it a fraction, Eve peered along the landing. Peg was sitting on the top stair. She was dressed in her heavy coat, her arms wrapped round herself against the cold.

She glanced up as Eve approached. ‘Hello, gel. I had to do a pee but didn't want to disturb you. There was no point. See?' She lifted a crooked finger to indicate downstairs.

Eve rubbed the tiredness from her eyes, pulling her shawl close round her shoulders. She gasped.

‘High, ain't it?'

They gazed down at the filthy water that had covered the bottom stairs. ‘We're marooned!'

‘That's about the size of it.'

Eve rushed to the bedroom window as though it would present her with another picture. But as she moved the lace to one side, all she could see in the grim light of dawn was muddy brown water. A movement came from where the road used to be. A dog was swimming along. It only just kept its head above water. Soon it was out of sight. Eve pressed her nose against the glass.

To the right she could see nothing, only water, though numbers two and four opposite were visible, their derelict remains now deluged by water. It was such an incredible sight that Eve stood motionless.

Peg touched her shoulder. ‘At least the rain's eased.'

‘How long has it been like this?'

Peg nodded to the black and blue sky. ‘Gawd only knows.'

‘No sign of the Higgins.'

‘They'd be luckier than us. They're all sitting high.'

Eve turned to Peg and shook her head. ‘How are we going to get out?'

‘Dunno, ducks. We'll have to wait and see.'

‘I can't believe we're surrounded. Do you think the walls will hold?'

Peg shrugged. ‘They did a fair bit of complaining last night.'

‘The noises have stopped now.'

‘Yeah and it's this silence I don't like. Feels like there's no other bugger left on earth.' Peg coughed and looked round the small room filled with their salvaged belongings. Her lined face broke into a thousand creases as she smiled at the sight of the sleeping children. ‘Bless 'em. We'll let them kip until it's really light. Then we'll have something to eat. See what to do afterwards.'

‘Someone will help, won't they?'

Again Peg smiled. ‘'Course they will. The king's sent out the royal yacht for us. It'll be sailing up Isle Street in just a minute or two.'

The irony of Peg's words was not lost on Eve. She couldn't imagine the king having to retreat upstairs in Buckingham Palace as all the posh furniture and carpets were ruined below. The Palace Guard would be out in their dozens blocking up every inch of space. She sighed
as she reflected on the two derelict cottages across the road. Families had lived there once, before the walls crumbled. Who were they and what were they like? Would someone one day ask that question of number three?

Time wore on and the rain continued to fall. Eve had no idea what time it was; no one had a watch and Peg's clock was downstairs on the mantel.