All Fall Down (25 page)

There was a silence. Bill came in and nodded to Rob, cap in hand. The gold braid at his cuffs, the crisp white shirt and dark tie set off his sallow features. Although balding and heavy, he carried himself with authority. He accepted the drink with perfunctory politeness and downed it in one.

‘Edie never said you had a spot of leave due.' Dorothy kept her voice raised, clinging onto the impact of their unexpected entrance.

Dolly muttered under her breath, ready to do battle on Charlie's behalf if Dorothy so much as sidled up to Morell. But Annie put a hand on her arm and warned her to listen.

‘I don't suppose Edie tells you all her business.' His lack of courtesy made it plain that it was the drink, not Dorothy's company, that had waylaid him en route to the flat.

‘No, but word usually gets round.' She perched on a stool next to him, crossing her legs and waiting until he produced a light for her cigarette.

‘It came up; just twenty-four hours.' He remained surly, monosyllabic, but he obliged with the match.

‘Hardly worth it, I would've thought.'

‘That depends.' A knowing smile crossed his lips.

‘So Edie don't know you're here?' She sounded amused and looked round for back-up, making sure to shoot a sharp glance at Jimmie.

‘No, it's a nice surprise for her.' The smile vanished. ‘Or does that depend too?'

‘She'll be thrilled.' Dorothy played along. At last Jimmie had the sense to slope out of the bar. Annie stared grim-faced at Bill, while Hettie vanished quietly upstairs. Even Dolly was lost for words.

‘Well, you have to grab your chance.' He accepted another drink, which Annie poured smartly, then stepped back. The second whisky went the way of the first, he reached for his hat and pat it on. ‘Thanks for the welcoming committee, Dorothy.'

‘It's a pleasure, Bill.' They held their breath as they watched him go.

‘Stone the crows!' Dolly was the first to jump in. ‘Where's Tommy and Edie now, does anyone know?'

They didn't, not for sure. But it was a fair bet that since it was a cold, foggy evening, they would be sitting pretty, or worse, behind the closed doors of Edie's flat.

‘I hope Jimmie gets there double-quick.' Annie shook herself back into action.

‘Have a whisky yourself, Dorothy.' Rob stepped up to volunteer. ‘And don't go stirring up trouble with Amy,' he warned his mother-in-law. ‘This is one pal buying another a drink, that's all. And if anyone ever deserved it, it's Dot!'

Chapter Fifteen

Edie struggled for calm. She imagined she could stop the nightmare; that she could will herself to wake up and begin the whole sequence again. She would be sitting by the wireless with Tommy, Jimmie wouldn't come knocking at the door and Bill wouldn't be treading nearer with every step.

‘I ain't moving a muscle!' Tommy had insisted.

Jimmie's burst of swearing had forced her into action. ‘No. You go, I'll stay here and face him.'

‘I ain't leaving you here by yourself.'

‘You are, Tommy. It's up to me. I've got to break it to him. Jimmie, you take Tommy with you and thanks for the tip-off.'

Jimmie picked up his brother's jacket and flung it at him. ‘Get a move on, for God's sake!'

‘It ain't right,' Tommy had protested time and again. ‘I ain't used to sneaking off. Let me stay and face the music.'

‘Yes, and get your head ripped off while you're at it,' Jimmie said. ‘Come on, let's beat it.'

‘Go!' Edie's panic rose as she pictured the scene. ‘I know how to handle him. Leave it to me.'

‘If he lays a finger on you—'

‘He won't.'

‘I'll be at the Duke if you need me.'

At last she'd managed to convince him. After he'd gone with Jimmie, she ran round the flat hiding all signs of his presence, amazed at her own cool eye for detail; the toothbrush in the tooth-glass, Tommy's shaving-kit. She threw his shirts into the laundry basket, moved his brand of cigarettes from the mantelpiece.

Now Bill stood outside the door. She put her hand across her mouth to stifle a whimpering cry. Could she trust herself to carry it off, to come out with the truth fair and square?
Bill, it's all over between us
.

His key turned and he stepped inside. ‘Surprise!'

A cry escaped her. Her eyes widened, she backed away from the door.

‘Jesus, Edie, I ain't a bleeding ghost.' He took off his hat, flung it onto a chair and stared round the room. ‘Looks like you got off pretty light.'

‘What?'

‘You're in apple-pie order compared with some poor blighters down the corridor.'

‘Yes, I am.' She tried to compose herself, taking a deep breath and smoothing the sides of her skirt with her palms. ‘I never expected you, Bill.'

‘I never expected me neither.' His gaze rested on her. ‘My leave came up at the last minute, so I hopped on the train and here I am. Come here.'

As he moved towards her, unbuttoning his jacket, she smelt the whisky on his breath. She needed to speak up this minute, this second, but he overwhelmed her. He moved in and held her tight, looking dispassionately at the way she had her hair pinned up, smudging his thumb over her lipstick.

‘You must be hungry.' She stepped back, careful to keep her eyes fixed on his face.

He refused to let go, but allowed her to keep her distance. ‘You smell nice, Edie.'

She pulled away.

‘And you look nice.' He appraised her white blouse with its neat Peter Pan collar, her short, slim black skirt.

‘It's what I wore for work today.' She put up a hand to tidy her hair.

‘No, let it down.' He moved around the back of her and circled her waist. ‘Go on, you know I like you with your hair down.'

Reluctantly she bent her head forward and took out the pins.
She shook it loose, knowing that this was a preliminary to Bill taking her into the bedroom. She must speak out. ‘Listen – let me fix you something to eat first.' She unfurled his interlocking fingers from her waist and managed to twist free. ‘I got some bacon in the pantry saved from last week's ration, as it happens.'

He looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘Bacon?'

‘I'll fry it up for you, shall I?'

The obscene reply, muttered through clenched teeth, made her close her eyes. Then she opened them in an effort to outstare him. ‘Does that mean you don't want nothing to eat?'

‘Bingo.' Instead he pulled out a crushed packet of cigarettes and lit one. ‘What's up with you? Why are you acting all jumpy?'

‘I'm not. I just got a bit of a shock when you walked in. I don't get many callers as a rule.' Now, she thought; now was the time to tell him about Tommy.

He sank into an easy-chair, legs sprawled, inhaling deeply. ‘Is that why you ain't given me much of a welcome?'

‘I wish you'd telephoned me at work.'

‘Hoity-toity. Well, I didn't. Have I gone and ruined your plans for the evening?'

‘It's not that.' She gathered herself together and began to rearrange her hair. The action seemed to annoy him. He stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette. ‘It's a mystery to me why they can't give you more notice when you get shore-leave.'

‘What, and tell the whole bleeding U-boat fleet when the ship's due in dock?' Still he followed her with suspicious eyes.

‘I suppose.' She would be normal. She would wait until her nerves had settled, then she would make a clean breast.

‘Where are you off to?'

She paused in the kitchen doorway. ‘To make you a cup of tea.'

‘Ain't you got nothing stronger in the house?' He went to the sideboard, to the cupboard where any liquor would be kept. He found whisky, gin and port; presents from Tommy. ‘Proper little distillery.' He dragged down the corners of his mouth.

‘Left over from Christmas. I got it in for you in case you got home on leave.'

‘But I didn't, did I?'

She shook her head, mesmerized by his actions. He moved with exaggerated fatigue, rolling his head to ease a stiff neck, pouring a refill into his glass to chase the first swig of whisky.

‘Worse luck.' He drank again. ‘I said, worse luck.'

‘Yes.'

‘Sound as if you mean it for once.' As he moved in this time, the bottle swinging from his hand, it was obvious that he didn't intend to let her go. ‘I want to hear you say how much you missed me, Edie. What sort of Christmas was it, all on your ownio? No one to hang up your stocking with.' He breathed over her, pawing her with his free hand.

‘Bill!'

‘What?' He pushed her against the back of the sofa, making her arch away from him. Overbalancing, his weight tipped against her and they both fell over the back of the seat onto the cushions. Edie lay crushed beneath him. At first she struggled, but knew this would only make him worse. He fumbled and wrenched at the pearl buttons on her blouse.

‘Careful, you'll spill the whisky!' She tried to slide sideways onto the floor, but he was too heavy.

‘Have some.' He put the neck of the bottle against her lips. ‘Go on, relax. Have a drink and keep me company.'

If she kept her lips closed he would have let the whisky spill and trickle down onto her chin and neck. So she took a gulp, felt it burn her throat, glad that at least he then had the sense to put the bottle to one side.

But it was only to free his hand so that he could tear at her clothes, pulling her blouse up, roughly rubbing his mouth against her skin. She was sickened by his lips, the coarse scrape of his bristled chin.

He took her without consent, without affection, as a right a husband might exercise over an unwilling wife, eyes closed and pushing towards the climax that would evade him if he once stopped to treat Edie as a person in her own right. Her distress excited him, and he answered it with brute force, leaving her with only
one option; to submit in order to get it over with. She felt sick and full of loathing; this heavy man pressing down on her, the buckle of his belt scraping against her hip, not caring, and herself too cowardly to tell him the truth, that she didn't and never would want him any more. Words choked and died in her throat. She could only sob and turn her face to one side and wait.

Bill had no interest in what made her cry. Satisfied, he slumped to one side. Now she needed to judge things and make sure that he was oblivious of her before easing herself from the sofa onto the floor, helpless and undignified, scrambling to rescue her clothes. Once in the bathroom, she locked herself in, ran the water, hung over the sink and retched, feeling her hot skin turn cold and clammy. She rinsed her face, steadied herself and sobbed again. Her whole body shook, her hair was dark with perspiration. In the mirror she saw that her face was blotched, her features blurred.

‘Edie!' Hours later he roused himself and came to rattle the door handle.

‘I'll be out in a sec.'

‘What the bleeding hell you up to?'

‘I'm washing my hair.'

‘Is there a clean shirt for me in the airing-cupboard?'

‘I'll bring one out.'

‘Get your skates on. I want to go down the Duke.'

‘It's too late. They're closed.'

‘So?' Servicemen could often obtain after hours drinks from a friendly landlord.

She wrapped a towel round her head, put on her dressing gown and opened the door. He stood there without his shirt, braces unhitched. ‘You go by yourself, Bill. I don't feel like it.'

‘I don't want to go by myself. I want you to come with me.'

She sighed.

‘No use saying you're too tired. It ain't every night I get home on leave, is it? Come on, chop-chop, find something to wear. I want to catch up on what's been going on round here while I've been away. I already seen Dorothy O'Hagan on my way down
here. She was a sight for sore eyes, as usual.' He talked on, trailing after her for his shirt, demanding hot water for a shave.

Edie was on tenterhooks lest he find something belonging to Tommy. Never in her worst nightmare had she imagined this. She still trembled and felt sick as she dried her hair by the fire and put on her make-up.

‘About bleeding time.' Bill was back in uniform, standing by the door.

She buttoned her coat over a dark red dress.

He looked on in sarcastic amusement. ‘I'd like to know what's been eating you tonight.'

‘Nothing's eating me.' She brushed it off, having given up all hope of being able to confront him. Reluctantly she followed him downstairs. Then, when the air-raid siren started and the white beams of searchlights swung skywards, she nearly cried with relief. The street was suddenly full of families, elderly couples, women carrying blankets and thermos flasks, all heading for Nelson Gardens.

Bill swore heavily. ‘Take no notice.' He scanned the dark sky, listened for aircraft. ‘False alarm.' He wondered that there wasn't more urgency; no one ran or shouted.

‘I don't think so.' Edie stopped in the middle of the street. ‘Listen.'

In the distance there was a thud followed by a burst of yellow light on the skyline. Another thud. The siren wailed on.

‘It's across the river,' she told him. ‘But there's more coming over, listen!'

Nearer this time, an engine droned, then another. There was the whistle of a bomb as it hurtled overhead. It missed them by perhaps a mile.

‘Bleeding marvellous.' Bill turned to join the band of Londoners heading for shelter. ‘I come home to get away from it all and look what happens.'

They shuffled along, Edie counting her blessings. They might get blown sky-high by the Germans, but at least she wouldn't have to face going into the Duke, and all the curious, knowing looks, and a shocked Tommy propping up the bar, realizing in a split second that she'd betrayed him.

She couldn't have taken that. Silently she traipsed after her husband between the sandbagged walls at the entrance to the shelter. They and several hundred refugees from the reality of the people's war.