Birmingham Blitz (40 page)

Joe squeezed me. ‘Be nice if everything could always be safe.’

‘I feel safe with you.’

Talking and staying silent in snatches we held each other until we heard the rain stop, then dressed, shivering, back in our wet clothes. When we climbed down from the barn on the sodden grass mingled with loose straw, a movement caught Joe’s eye.

‘Look, Genie!’

From across the field a long, ungainly bird pulled itself into flight, huge wings beating with what looked like an enormous effort, and long, thin legs trailing. It looked like an old man in a panic.

‘Heron,’ Joe said, eyes following the slow path of its flight until it disappeared over the bushes into another field. ‘Wasn’t it lovely? Marvellous they are, I think. What bit of luck spotting one today.’

I put my hand in his, sighing. ‘I don’t know about so many things. You’ll have to teach me.’

Joe turned and took me in his arms again. ‘With pleasure. Genie?’ His face was serious. ‘What we just did. I wouldn’t want you to think it didn’t mean anything more to me. One day I want to be able to wake up with you in a bed in our own home. Our marriage bed.’

On his last day, I asked Joe to come to my nan’s. It was Sunday afternoon and everyone was there: Nan, Lil and the kids, Frank, Mom, Len and Molly. Mom was deadpan but in control, although I kept eyeing her to make sure. I wanted Joe to meet my family properly now because I trusted he’d accept us for what we were, even though going there meant taking him to a slum house, however clean.

‘Hope you’ll take us as you find us,’ were Nan’s first words to him when we arrived. She was smiling, had met him before of course, and was impressed. And he did just what she asked.

One thing was worrying me though. I didn’t want Joe having too many shocks at once. In a moment’s opportunity I took Lil aside. ‘Any sign of him up there?’ I rolled my eyes at Morgan’s ceiling.

‘No, and there shouldn’t be with any luck. I hear he’s got back trouble.’

‘Ah, now I wonder why.’

‘Cheeky girl,’ Lil dimpled at me. ‘But it’s all right. I think you’re safe.’

With everyone there it was a tight squeeze of course, but we all fitted in. Joe talked to Mom and managed to get some joy in reply and he seemed to cheer her up a bit.

It was a wonderful afternoon. Cups of tea and cake, sing-songs led by Nan which had Molly and Len rocking from side to side putting the chairs in danger, Len yelling out bits of song. Lil made me sing solo, and Joe, who was obviously thoroughly enjoying himself, egged me on too.

‘You know you can do it – and I want to hear you.’

I liked the old songs – ‘Apple Blossom Time’ again and ‘Maid of the Mountains’, and Joe led everyone clapping me.

‘Come on, let’s hear you now!’ I challenged him, and after protesting he couldn’t sing, in the end he and Frank clowned about together singing ‘Some Day I’ll Find You’ and ‘The Little Dutch Mill’.

Seeing the two of them together, Frank with his dark Hollywood looks and Joe’s fair, handsome face, Lil linked her arm through mine and squeezed it, giving me a wink as if to say, ‘We’ve done all right there, kid.’

The two of them finished, bowing from side to side as if they were in the Albert Hall, then Frank snuck up behind Lil. ‘Here, I want to show you summat.’

He stood at the back of her and laid his hands on her head, feeling around.

Lil squealed. ‘What the hell are you playing at? That feels really funny. Eh, pack it in!’

‘You can tell a lot from feeling the shape of someone’s head,’ Frank said, kneading Lil’s skull. ‘I’ve learned a bit about it from a pal. It’s a branch of science, you know.’

‘Oh ah,’ Nan said, rubbing her bandage. ‘So’s flying to the moon on a magic carpet.’

‘Gerroff will you!’ Lil stood up, poking him in the tummy.

‘Awright.’ Frank gave in. ‘C’mere Joe, boys. Who knows some tricks?’

Patsy and Tom crowded round, keen, and Joe sat watching Frank dealing cards with a flourish, a fag hanging jauntily from the side of his mouth. Even Mom laughed at his antics and Lil stood at his shoulder. Only Nanny Rawson was giving him sceptical looks and sniffing over her teacup as if to say ‘Huh!’

Some time in the afternoon we heard planes, and we all stiffened and went quiet except for Joe and Frank, who rushed out to see, looking for the formation, but they’d already passed.

‘No siren anyhow,’ Lil said. ‘Must’ve been ours.’

But it seemed to remind Frank of something. He looked at his watch. ‘Got to go.’

Lil frowned. ‘Where’re you off to?’

‘Couple of things to see to, that’s all.’ He gathered up his cards, then leaned forward and kissed her. Our nan scowled so you could almost hear it. ‘See you tomorrow.’

Lil looked disappointed, but there wasn’t a lot she could do about it. I suppose she wanted things settled, wanted married life again.

Later in the afternoon we had a visitor. A little black and white terrier with tan eyebrows and bright liquid eyes was peeping in at us. Joe, sat by the open door, was the first to notice.

‘Who’s this then?’ he said. ‘Hello Mister!’

‘Never seen him before.’ Lil snapped her fingers at him. ‘C’m’ere!’

The small, wiry body came in, wagging a stump of black tail so hard its whole body snaked from side to side, face turning fast from one to the other of us. Then it launched itself into Len’s lap.

‘Oi!’ Len laughed as the terrier pushed its wet nose against his ear and Molly leaned over and rubbed at him roughly with her big meaty hands.

‘Well where did he come from?’ Lil said, bending over to stroke the rough, fidgeting back. ‘Not from round here, is he, Mom?’

‘Not as I know of,’ Nan said. ‘’Ere – get ’im off the table!’

There were shrieks of laughter as the dog leapt skidding off the table and went round the room sniffing at everyone’s legs.

‘Ooh, he’s tickling me!’ Mom giggled. ‘He’s a proper livewire, ain’t he?’

Then he was in my lap, scratchy tongue on my face, and I cuddled him. He felt warm and comforting. Joe reached round and stroked him and looked into the dog’s face and I saw a kind of communication there that he seemed to have with all creatures. Patsy, Tom and Cathleen gathered round, squabbling about who could stroke him next.

‘Wish we could keep him,’ I said.

‘I s’pect he belongs to someone,’ Lil said. ‘But he’s nice, isn’t he?’

‘Could be a stray.’ Joe was still making a fuss of him. ‘If you haven’t seen him before.’

Our nan got up to put another kettle on. ‘Looks well enough fed, doesn’t ’e? We’ll just ’ave to see. Really and truly we need ’im round here like an ’ole in the ’ead.’

I didn’t want that afternoon to finish. I kept shutting my mind to the terrible thought that not only would it have to end but that Joe was leaving today. We’d come so close and now we’d have to be torn apart again. All afternoon we were close to each other, nearly always touching, legs, shoulders, hands, or Joe’s arm round me.

As we all left Nan’s, the dog followed.

‘He likes you, Genie!’ Lil called from the door.

‘He’s got good taste,’ Joe whispered.

‘You’re not going to get rid of him in a hurry.’

‘Go on – go home!’ Mom turned and swished at him with her hand. He stopped for a moment, puzzled, then followed again as soon as we started walking. ‘Shoo!’ she tried again, but it was pretty half-hearted. I could see she’d taken a shine to him. And there was no stopping Molly turning round, chuckling and calling to him, giving him every encouragement.

When we got to Brunswick Road he was still there like our shadow.

‘Oh, can we keep him, Mom? Please? He’d be company.’

‘Well . . . I s’pose if he belongs to someone he’ll take off home later.’

But he ran into our garden at the back, sniffed around and cocked his leg as if he owned the place.

‘He staying then?’ Len asked.

‘Dunno.’ Mom’s eyes followed him as he did a tour of the Anderson’s roof. ‘But he looks as if he might have it in mind.’

I couldn’t face the railway station with Joe this time, so we said our goodbyes more privately, on the way to his house, where he had to go and change and get his kit. But it was even more terrible than before. Hard as I tried not to I cried this time, just wanted to hold on to him and drink him in, make up for all the time I wouldn’t be able to touch him or have him close. The nearer the moment came for us to part the less we spoke, but this time it was not fraught and unsure, just full of longing for things to be different. And I still had my feeling of not deserving him, a sense of doom, that this was too good to last.

When we said goodbye Joe held me close, chin resting on my head, and my arms were tight round his waist. He kissed the top of my head, and I could tell from his silence he was as emotional as I was.

‘Ssh,’ he said after a while. ‘Don’t cry, Genie. I’ll be back soon, you’ll see. We’ll be together. And one day we’ll be able just to stay together without all this.’

I reached up and put my arms round his neck so our cheeks were pressed together. Then we kissed as if it was the last kiss in the world.

‘You’re everything to me, Joe.’

He smiled down at me and I loved that smile so much my tears started falling again. ‘You’re part of me, Genie, you always will be. I love you.’

When at last I had to watch him walk off it was with a terrible tearing feeling, as if a piece of me was being snatched away and taken into the hands of an evil force that might not let me have him back.

The leaves started to crisp and fall and Mister was still with us. From the day he followed us home he was a fixture. Now and then he used to wander off and we thought we’d lost him, but sooner or later we’d hear him bark out the front and Mom’d say, ‘Oh-oh, here comes trouble,’ and she was nearly as glad as I was to see him back.

I called him Mister because that was the way Joe greeted him that day and when I thought of Joe holding and stroking him it was like some contact with him apart from his letters, which were what I lived for these days.

Whenever I got home from work, Mister was there, jumping to greet me like a mad thing, panting and licking, on the teeter for food. I’d try and find him some scraps, telling him about my day almost as if he was Joe.

The bombing started gradually at first. They were taking more of an interest in us up in the Midlands, but it was like the lull, that early part of October. Mom was calm for a bit then. It was as if she’d put herself through so much agonizing and worry that her mind had blanked out. She was quiet, moved round the house doing odd jobs, went shopping in a loose dress she’d knocked up, slept and wrote letters to Eric. She smoked and drank, but for the moment, not as much as she’d done before.

She knew there was talk about her, bitching on the street, and they didn’t trouble themselves to keep their voices down either. Mrs Marshall, Mrs Terry, Mrs Smith. You’d’ve thought they had enough to do with themselves without poking their noses into other people’s lives. They got a thrill out of calculating the length of a pregnancy and talking about it loudly as we went past. We just looked hard faced and ignored them. But it was horrible, and you got to dread going out.

Teresa’s Carlo came home on leave and one Saturday night they came over to see us. I liked Carlo, warmed to him. He was a year younger than Joe. His wiry black hair was cut shorter now, he had those striking blue eyes and a loud infectious laugh. He told us about some of the ragging he’d had as an Eyetie in the British army, though he seemed to be able to throw it off. Teresa, who was looking as beautiful as I’d ever seen her, sat close to him, and it was obvious she was just plain crazy about him. She kept turning, smiling into his eyes, and there were moments when the rest of us might as well not have been there. I was so happy for her, for them both.

Len and Molly were with us, Molly looking even more enormous already, although she still had four months or so to go with the pregnancy. Len sat between her chair and Gloria on the table, alternating between fondling each of them.

‘Ssh!’ Mom said, holding a hand up. ‘Listen!’

A tiny, nervous voice was coming out of Gloria.

‘It’s Princess Elizabeth!’ Teresa said. ‘Ah – listen to that.’

We listened in wonder. We’d never heard her voice before. She was broadcasting a message to the evacuees.

‘My sister Margaret Rose and I feel so much for you,’ the high, cut-glass little voice was saying.

Mom scowled heavily as the Princess talked about the ‘kind people who have welcomed you to their homes in the country’. By the end, as the little girls said their goodnights, she was dabbing her eyes with a hanky. ‘Oh my poor Eric!’

‘Oh, don’t upset yourself, Mrs Watkins.’ Teresa leaned forward and took her hand. ‘Eric’s safe as houses, ain’t he? And it looks as if they were right about the bombing now, don’t it? So he’s probably well out of it.’

Mom tried to smile back. It was hard to resist Teresa. She could deal with my mom far better than I ever could.

‘I know,’ she sniffed. ‘It’s just hard to feel someone else’s bringing up your son.’ She rallied herself. ‘Any more news of your dad, Teresa? And Stevie?’