Tin Hats and Gas Masks (13 page)

London was stimulating. Annie had a room to herself in the hostel. It was small, very small, but it was hers. Better than a dormitory, she thought, which was fine at boarding-school when you were younger, but since her time at Winchurch she had become used to her privacy.

‘No boys in your room and indoors by ten o’clock unless you have special permission,’ the warden said.

‘Later, when I’m earning more money I expect I’ll move into something more comfortable and with less restrictions,’ she told Johnny.

They met several nights a week and went to the theatre or pictures, or simply walked the streets hand-in-hand and talked. Always there was something to talk about, some subject to probe and explore, a dream to visualize together. Annie was content.

Johnny was happy, and sometimes Annie’s nearness
roused him to ecstatic heights and he’d push her from him when they were saying good-night.

The first time they made love was after a visit to the Piccadilly Theatre to see
Panama Hattie
. They walked back to the hostel and Annie said softly, ‘Wouldn’t it be marvellous if you didn’t have to go home, Johnny? If you lived here too?’

‘It’s an all-girls hostel,’ he said.

Annie laughed. ‘I know, silly. I’m only dreaming. Just suppose you could get in. I’d make you a cup of coffee and we’d sit and drink it, and talk, and kiss good-night in warmth and comfort instead of in a murky old doorway where anyone can disturb us.’

‘Don’t Annie, don’t,’ he whispered agonizedly. ‘Do you think I don’t want to – oh Annie, Annie.’ He held her close and his kisses were suddenly a man’s and not a boy’s.

‘Listen, Johnny, I could sneak you in. Some of the girls do. And someone was going to open the window for me tonight because I hate asking for late-night passes.

‘You
do
want to, Annie?’ His eyes tried to probe the darkness and see her expression.

‘Yes Johnny. Just as much as you, my love.’

The window at the back was on the catch as her friend had promised it would be. ‘I’ll do it as soon as the warden has been round,’ she’d said, ‘but don’t make a noise getting through because she’ll know it had to be one of us and I’m the most likely culprit.’

They went round the back of the building and Annie gently pushed the sash-corded window upwards sufficiently for her to climb in. Swiftly she looked along the
corridor. All was quiet. With finger to her lips she beckoned to Johnny, and seconds later he was standing beside her. The window squeaked a little as they closed it, and Annie took hold of his hand and led him upstairs to her little room which was furnished with a chair, a chest of drawers, a small wardrobe and a bed.

He left half an hour later by the same window, which Annie secured with its brass bolt afterwards. She met no one as, barefooted and in her dressing-gown, she fled back upstairs. Bouncing on to her bed she laid on her back with her arms wrapped across her breasts and her eyes closed.

Johnny was waiting outside her office when she left work the following evening. His dark eyes searched her face tenderly.

‘Are you all right, Annie?’ he asked softly as she came up to him.

‘Why yes.’

‘I didn’t hurt you?’

‘No Johnny.’

He held both her hands. ‘I do love you Annie,’ he said.

Buses screeched to a halt at the stop outside her office; people jostled by on the pavement while they stood there together, oblivious to everything except their feelings for each other.

After that Annie knew she must find somewhere to live where she and Johnny could be together sometimes. Johnny still wanted her to lodge with them, but now more than ever Annie was against the idea.

‘I couldn’t look your mum in the face if I was living there, Johnny. I know that probably sounds silly to you,’
she went on as he looked surprised, ‘but she wouldn’t like it, and we’d be forever on the jump.’

‘She wouldn’t know.’

‘That’s why I couldn’t do it.’

The second time Johnny climbed in through the hostel window the sash-cord broke and he just missed having his neck severed. He was actually through when it came crashing down before he had time to turn round to close it.

‘Quick,’ Annie said, and they both raced upstairs to her room, until they could hear no more sounds downstairs. Then, with Annie’s old coat and hood on as a flimsy disguise, he waited at the bend in the stairs while Annie knocked up the warden to say she felt ill. Peering over the banisters he saw her clutch the doorjamb and almost fall in. That was his cue to get away. There were two windows on the ground floor at the back, the broken sash-cord one and another that was identical and it was this second one, which was nearest to the warden’s flat, that he had to unlock and escape through, while Annie kept the warden inside.

Of course he had missed the last bus home now, so he set off to walk, hoping his mother and father weren’t out roaming the streets for him. He had told them he’d be late, so if luck was with him they would be asleep and would not realize what time he eventually arrived.

He was almost home when he heard planes overhead. Not the sound of British ones but the deeper noise and rhythm of the
Luftwaffe
. He hadn’t heard the siren and thought it might have gone before he reached the area. In that case his mum would almost certainly be awake, so
absolute quiet was called for. No noise or fumbling by the door. With this in mind he felt in his trouser-pocket for his key as he hurried along. It wasn’t there. The planes had gone over now, leaving the echo of the throb of their engines in his whole body. Frantically he searched the other pocket, then the first one again. It had definitely gone. Must have fallen out when he climbed either in or out of one of the hostel windows tonight. At least they couldn’t identify him from a key. It would only prove that someone had been in. And they wouldn’t be able to connect that with Annie either, because there were at least six rooms on that floor. It did however, leave him with the problem of entering his own house. Well, there was nothing for it but to admit he’d lost his key. Wearily now he walked on. Better get into the vicinity, then he could say with truth that when he discovered he had lost it, he thought it was too late to knock them up. He needn’t say just how late.

Johnny hurried down the narrow alley to the back gate, leant over it, and as silently as he could manage he unlatched it and went inside. The yard offered no comfort but with luck the shed wouldn’t be locked. It seldom was. Carefully he tried it and the door opened. Johnny lay down on the floor, grateful to be back, and went fast asleep.

He woke early, conscious only of hearing planes overhead again during what was left of the night. He stretched himself a few times, then took off Annie’s coat. It had certainly kept him warm in the night, but now was the time for planning. His mother would know it wasn’t his, so it must be hidden. Looking around, he saw a bucket in the
corner and stuffed the coat inside. Hope I remember to grab it and take it indoors later on, he thought.

All set now to explain his absence by the lost key, he suddenly had the most incredible slice of luck. The back kitchen door opened and his mother shook a cloth or duster or something, he couldn’t make out what. As she was going back someone yoo-hooed from the side of the house, and she went down the narrow path connecting back and front to see who it was.

Johnny took full advantage. He pulled the coat from the bucket and dashed in through the still open back door, up the stairs and into his bedroom. As he leaned against the door he heard his mother’s voice downstairs. It must be seven o’clock, and any minute now she would be up to make sure he was awake. He pulled back the bedcovers and rumpled them a bit, before hastily donning his pyjamas. Then he went to the bathroom to wash. Mrs Bookman was climbing the stairs. ‘Goodness, Johnny, you startled me. I didn’t hear you get up.’

Later, over breakfast she said, ‘What time did you get in, Johnny? I was awake until after midnight listening.’

‘Whatever for? I told you I wouldn’t be early, Mum. We went to the pictures, then had a meal out.’

The lost key presented a problem, but he decided to say nothing until he was going out this evening. Then it would seem as though he’d lost it at work during the day.

At the bus-stop someone said, ‘Bad do up the West End last night, then?’

‘Where?’

‘Trad Street. Early hours of the morning. Killed everyone
in the hostel there, and the blast damaged some of the others in the area too.’

Oh God. Annie
. She was close to Trad Street.

When Johnny reached the area most of it was cordoned off. Men were working amongst the ruins of the Trad Street hostel. He spoke to the ARP warden there. ‘The girls’ hostel round the corner – were there any casualties there?’

‘No one killed,’ said the warden, ‘not at any of the others. Blast damage, though, that’s why you can’t get round there. Who are you looking for?’

‘Annie Evesham. She – she lives there.’

The warden consulted his list. ‘She’s not down here, son. They evacuated everyone from the houses and the girls’ hostel afterwards, building not safe. Took ’em to St George’s church hall, four – no five streets away. Try there.’

Johnny ran all the way. There was a woman in charge there, buxom, jolly-faced … but no Annie. ‘What does she look like, son?’

‘Bit taller than me, not much. Long dark-brown hair, very pretty.’

‘Evesham.’ She too looked at her list. ‘Ah, here she is. She’s gone to work. Left about half an hour ago. She your sister, son?’

Annie returned home to her parents after the hostel was damaged in what the papers began calling the little blitz.

‘It’s only temporary,’ she told Johnny, ‘but it’s the best thing. Later I can say it’s too far from my job and try for another hostel, but it isn’t easy. I was lucky to get into that one. And even if I do manage to find a place I doubt if it
will be a room on my own. So many of them are just dormitories. Maybe Mummy and Daddy will help with the rent of a small flat later on.’

‘What, on your own, Annie?’

‘Well no, they’ll probably insist I share, but you see they don’t want me home any more than I want to be there. You once said that you were ‘an accident’, Johnny. I hadn’t thought about it before, but I think I really must have been too. They couldn’t wait to push me off to boarding-school, and then later evacuation. I was lucky that it wasn’t to America – Daddy stopped that. He likes to see me sometimes.’

‘Will I still be able to see you, Annie?’

‘Of course you will, silly. But we’ll have to be careful. You know, with me being watched all the time. But don’t worry, Johnny, I’ll think of something, and with spring and summer coming it should be easier.’

It was. Annie invented a friend with whom she worked. Rosanna, she called her, because one of her favourite songs at that time was Rosanna,
My Lovely Russian Rose
. Rosanna had more freedom than anyone Mrs Evesham knew.

‘Well, she is a year older than me,’ Annie explained, ‘and she loves classical music so much. You can’t leave before the end of a concert, but if I had a door-key it wouldn’t disturb you both if I came in late after a concert or show.’ For Rosanna also liked to keep up with the latest shows on in town.

It wasn’t easy. Mr Evesham came up with the suggestion that she might like to bring Rosanna home with her one weekend, but, she was sure to her mother’s great relief,
Annie found many reasons why it was impractical.

Rosanna had an invalid mother whom she helped to look after, so she couldn’t stay away overnight. Her invalid mother also happened to be a widow, which meant she relied totally on Rosanna’s support.

The fuss over giving her a key highlighted again the differences between her and Johnny’s life styles. Johnny had a key so that he could let himself in should his mother be out any time.

Annie’s father came to the rescue, saying what a good idea it was. ‘Of course she can’t leave before the end, Eunice,’ he said. ‘It makes sense for her to have a key. Anita is a sensible girl and not likely to hand it over to a burglar, after all.’

Smiling at his wife now he added, ‘I seem to remember you were given a key when we were engaged because your parents went to bed early.’

Annie held her breath. Dear Dad, he didn’t know how close to the truth he was, she thought. The reference to those days seem to have a softening effect on his wife, however, and after a moment or two of silence she said, ‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. I do deplore the manners of those people who rush out before the national anthem is played.’

Turning to her daughter she said, ‘All right, you may have a key but it isn’t a licence to be late every evening. Only when you go to a late-night concert. Otherwise we expect you to leave your friend’s house and be back here at a reasonable time.’

Rosanna could not, however, solve the problem of where
Annie and Johnny could go to do their courting. Strolling hand in hand through the streets of London they were well content, and as the evenings grew warmer they found secluded spots beneath the trees.

Jim and Ron, although brothers, had not ‘claimed’ each other, the Bookmans explained to Annie.

‘It’s a thing they
could
do, the older one ‘claiming’ the younger one to serve in his unit so they would be together, sort of looking after each other, but we’re glad they decided against it. Too dodgy,’ Charlie Bookman said. ‘Best to be in different regiments, fighting different battles, they both stand a chance then, we reckoned, didn’t we, duck?’ He looked across to his wife and they gave each other the sort of intimate smile Annie had come to recognize as a signal of their love for each other.

When Italy surrendered in September 1943 Charlie said with fervour, ‘Winnie’s right, we’re well on the way.’

Annie, looking towards Maggie Bookman, saw her press her hands together as though in prayer, and kept back the words she had been going to say.