All Fall Down (35 page)

Through a haze, Tommy saw a flash of blue flame turning yellow, heard the explosion, covered his head. When he looked up from
behind the rolling oil drums there was no Morell, no workshop, only a fireball at the end of the arch, and the sound of glass shattering in the heat.

Chapter Twenty-One

‘Princess for a day!'

Ronnie promised Meggie anything she wanted. Was it to be Maurice Chevalier at the Tivoli, or Fred Astaire at the Regal? A touch of luxury for his girl; the chromium and gilt, the lush carpets and padded seats, the coloured flashing lights of the Wurlitzer and its booming notes to wow the audience out of its drab reality.

She
felt
like a princess; everything paid for; waited on hand and foot. Ronnie was flash with his money, and his Navy uniform inspired goodwill in the waitresses who served in the tea-room, in the cinema usherettes and in the bar staff in the pub which they visited late that evening before Ronnie finally put her in a cab and sent her home. Next day, Monday, he had half a day before he caught his train back to Plymouth.

‘Meet me,' he pleaded, running alongside the taxi as it launched into the stream of traffic on Regent Street.

‘Where?' She leaned out of the window to blow kisses.

‘Come to the Bell.'

‘What about your ma?'

‘She can lump it.' He yelled and waved. A second taxi squealed its brakes and swerved as he leapt sideways out of its path. ‘Say yes!'

‘Yes.' She mouthed the word in case he couldn't hear, waved until he was out of sight, lost among the trams and buses, then sat back in her seat with a sigh. She would call in sick at work with a summer cold, would croak a message into the phone; what good was a telephonist without a voice? Then she would get the
tube to Shaftesbury Avenue and brazen it out with Gertie. She'd given Ronnie her word.

Back home, the talk was all of Tommy O'Hagan's narrow escape. Hettie had called on Sadie with the news that Bill Morell had blown himself up in a jealous bid to finish Tommy off. The story was confused; Tommy had managed to crawl to Duke Street from one of the old archway workshops, a passer-by had found him in a terrible condition and got word to the ARPs that there was someone else inside the inferno that blazed there.

‘Morell never stood a chance,' Hettie reported as Meggie came in.

‘It sounds like he never gave Tommy much of one neither.' Sadie was dead against Morell after what he'd done to Edie.

‘Still.' Hettie's was the only charitable voice on the street. ‘No one deserves to die like that.' She sat back in an easy chair, eyes closed for a few moments, until she heard Meggie arrive. ‘Here's love's young dream.' She turned her head and smiled.

‘Don't you go encouraging her,' Sadie warned. She was back in her everyday clothes of blouse and skirt after her morning's smart excursion. Time for reflection had convinced her that she and Meggie must have another serious talk, but not until things had calmed down after Ronnie had gone back to his ship. Meggie was still buoyed up by the thrill of his proposal; her eyes were bright, a smile played across her lips, she seemed hardly to notice what went on under her nose.

‘It don't look as if she needs encouragement.' Hettie was glad that romance could still blossom, against all the odds. She'd heard that marriages were on the increase because of the war; couples were queuing up at the church doors and registry offices. Wives of twenty-four hours' standing were seeing their husbands off at railway stations up and down the country.

‘You're her godmother. Talk some sense into her.' Sadie smiled in spite of herself. ‘I'll put the kettle on and make us a cuppa.' Walter would soon be in from fire-watch. There'd been no siren so far this evening; perhaps for once they would get a night off.

Meanwhile, Hettie told Meggie the street news. ‘Edie's in a state
of shock, of course. But Annie and me can take care of her. She keeps on saying it's all her fault.'

‘Has Tommy been to see her?' Meggie curled up in a chair by the hearth. She felt for Edie and Tommy, wondered what she would have done in Edie's position.

‘He came in for a bit. But she's not in a fit state for much talking, poor thing. When you think of how she is as a rule, a tower of strength, it makes you want to cry along with her.'

‘But she'll get better?' This sounded worse than Meggie had thought.

‘The doctor says she'll mend. We'll have to wait and see. Tommy's better off, but he looks a sight too. His face is all bruised, and they think he's broken some bones in his hand. He's gone to stay with Jimmie at Rob and Amy's place, so they can look after him for a bit. Amy's threatening to feed him up. Stew and dumplings, just what the doctor ordered.'

Gradually the repercussions of Morell's violent rampage would settle and form a new pattern. Hettie had seen enough of the world not to suppose that she could predict what this might be. It would take time for Edie to calm down and decide what she wanted to do next. Tommy had risked everything for her, but it didn't follow that they would slide smoothly into living together again in Edie's flat. Hettie suspected that Edie's conscience might play her up. Poor Tommy. She sighed, while Meggie came across, put her arms around her neck and gave her a kiss.

‘What was that for?' She squeezed her niece's arm.

‘Just because . . .' She hugged her back. ‘No tea for me, ta,' she told Sadie, who had returned with the tray. She went up to bed, brought closer to earth by Hettie's all-embracing kindness, but still her dreams were full of Ronnie; the thrill of his touch, the sorrow of parting.

For once, Gertie wasn't displeased to see Meggie land on her doorstep early next morning. It was time to take things in hand and though she balked at the idea of destroying Ronnie's happiness, she was old enough to know that people got over the pangs of parting;
that feelings however intense did die down in time. What seemed like tragedy today would turn tomorrow to odd moments of quiet regret.

Sending Ronnie off to the bank with the weekend's takings, she enlisted Meggie to help stack shelves behind the bar. It gave her the opportunity she needed, beginning with a no-nonsense manner to squeeze the emotion out of the situation. She thought she could appeal to Meggie's intelligence.

‘I've been thinking. . .' She handed bottles from the crate to Meggie, who stood on a small stepladder. ‘You know you put in an appearance all them months ago looking for Richie Palmer?'

Meggie's hands clenched around the bottles at the sound of his name.

‘You asked Shankley about him, from what I gather?'

She nodded. Now she recalled the intensity of her search for her real pa as if it was a journey through a different lifetime. Since Ronnie had taken over her heart, she'd given Richie almost no space. There was room for only one obsession. But Gertie's reminder sent a flicker of guilt through her.

‘Shankley said you should leave well alone.' Gertie pressed on with lifting bottles. A slanting summer sun threw bright shafts of light across the mahogany table tops, filtered red and green through the ornate leaded windows.

‘Yes, and so did you too.' Meggie spoke not much above a whisper. The bottles clinked against one another.

‘I didn't want you getting upset. And I couldn't think what a nice girl like you would want with a type like that.'

Meggie tried to guess what was coming. Shankley and Gertie had obviously put their heads together over it. She bet that he'd gone and blabbed the connection between her and Richie.

‘That's right.' Gertie read her shifting expressions and helped her down from the steps. ‘I can see it all; you hear a story that Richie Palmer is your pa. You're dead set on tracking him down. It's only natural. You land up here, then the trail goes cold. In the end, you have to let someone in on why you want to find him.
That someone lets it drop in conversation with me. That's how I find out.'

For the first time Meggie felt some shame about her connection with the down-and-out. ‘I only wanted to see him, nothing else.'

‘And to let him get an eyeful of you?' Gertie took hold of Meggie's hand. ‘Let him see what he missed.'

‘Maybe.'

‘He threw it all away, didn't he?'

Meggie was swept away on the tide of memory. ‘I saw him once, ages ago, in the shelter down Tottenham Court Tube. I think he saw me!'

‘And knew you?' Gertie looked doubtful. ‘He never slapped eyes on you, did he?'

‘Only when I was a little baby. But I look like my ma. Everyone says we're the spitting image.'

Gertie would have confirmed this, only she knew better than to include Sadie's visit in the picture.

‘At any rate, it's no good. Everyone clams up when I mention him.' Meggie withdrew her hand and turned away. Why bring it up now? Ronnie would be back in a few minutes and she wanted to enjoy the day.

‘Like I say, I've been thinking.' Gertie took the plunge. She wanted to make a bargain. ‘I'll come clean, Meggie. It's true Richie Palmer does hang around here on and off.'

‘But you said . . .'

‘That was then, before Shankley filled me in. Now I see it different.'

‘How?'

‘Well, what right have I got to keep father and daughter apart?' Her hypocrisy shamed even her, but she went on. ‘I know you better now, and I think you've the right to know.'

Gradually Meggie began to see the size of this shift. If Gertie was sincere, and could truthfully lead her to Richie Palmer, one of her life's dreams could come true. She had visions of their meeting, of Richie coming to realize what he had thrown away, of him being brought back into the fold of respectability. Part romantic, part
zealot, she had nurtured the dream. Now it blossomed into reality as Gertie unfolded her plan.

‘Where is he? Where does he live?' It was Meggie's turn to seize Gertie's hand.

‘Steady on. I can't drop everything on the spot; it ain't that simple.'

‘But you know how to find him?'

‘I do.'

‘Well then?'

‘I want you to do something for me first.' Gertie saw the doubt creep into Meggie's shining eyes. She steeled herself. ‘You don't get something for nothing in this world. You know what I want.'

Meggie hung her head. ‘I don't.'

‘I want your promise to back off from Ronnie.'

‘No.'

‘Yes. Are you listening to me, Meggie? I'll show you where your pa is if you ease off from, my son. That's fair enough.'

‘No, it ain't.' Meggie sprang back. ‘What kind of promise is that? Where's the sense in it?'

‘All the sense in the world. Ronnie thinks he's in love with you, but he ain't seeing straight.' Gertie withstood Meggie's angry onslaught. She barred her way and tried to beat her down with Gold logic.

‘How do you know? You ain't got a clue how he feels; I do. You're jealous, you're a wicked woman to say he don't love me.'

‘And you're seeing it all through rose-coloured glasses. You're flattered because he picked you out from all the rest. You fell for the uniform, you were putty in his hands.' She resorted to cliché to make Meggie see she was no different from the crowd.

‘You don't know nothing about us!' Outrage choked her.

Gertie stared back, cold-eyed. ‘Take it or leave it.'

‘I'll tell Ronnie,' Meggie threatened.

‘What good will that do you? Ronnie knows nothing about your pa. If you go to him, you're back to square one. Think about it.' She must use all her powerful presence to knock Meggie sideways. Her face gave nothing away. She waited.

‘You're . . . wicked!' Meggie's feelings twisted and turned, came up against a dead-end.

‘Who's it to be; Ronnie or your pa? You can't have both.'

‘I can't give him up. Why do I have to?' She covered her face with her hands, began to sob.

‘Because I want you to let go of him. That's so he can see out the war and come back home without you pulling him this way and that.'

‘He won't want me to.' Meggie fought on.

‘That's why you have to be the one to do it.' She hammered it home. ‘Let him down gently and get what you can out of it for yourself.'

All her life she'd longed to know her father. Everything tilted and shifted inside her. Letting Ronnie go was unthinkable. Turning away from her father, who might need her and grow to love her, was too cruel. Once more she hid her face in her hands.

‘You'll think about it?'

Silence meant that she would.

Hooked but not landed. Gertie would have to let it drop for now. ‘Come and see me tomorrow.' Gertie left Meggie alone in the bar, vanishing upstairs as Ronnie came back from his errand, ready to whisk Meggie into town on a last flurry of treats before his leave ran out.

‘A front is what it is all right.' Charlie Ogden reckoned he could see beneath the friendly spirit of co-operation that the politicians were so keen to promote. ‘This so-called. London Front; what do they know?'

‘Better than being down in the mouth.' Dolly still preferred the party line. East Enders had played their part in seeing off the Huns in the First War with a gritty cheerfulness. Charlie's generation might scoff, but Annie and Dolly's lot believed in keeping their chins up.

‘They make us out to be fools.' His mood was bitter. The summer was slipping away and still the cinema news-reels showed the ARPs steadily shovelling sand into sandbags, while Churchill appealed
on the wireless for the tools to finish the job. ‘Who do they think they're kidding?'

‘Don't you go getting my dander up,' his mother warned.

‘No, don't do that,' Annie agreed. ‘That ain't what Mr Churchill means when he says go to it!' The long summer days slipped by, she pulled pints, listened to both sides of the endless arguments.