Ironmonger's Daughter (32 page)

Later, as the moon climbed high in the sky and the night owls hooted, the lovers lay in each other’s arms. Connie was aware of the token band around her finger as he took her to him and loved her. She felt pleasure and deep satisfaction, and with it the knowledge that whatever happened in the future, however tortuous and twisted their fate would be, she would always remember the glorious week they had spent together in that romantic Cornish cove.

 

In August in the markets and pubs and workplaces the only real topic of conversation was the coming war.

The Dolphin in Salter Street was busy one Tuesday evening. It was darts night and the visiting team from the Horse and Groom had brought quite a few supporters. Connie and Jennie were serving drinks in the public bar and during the matches the two were kept very busy. Bill French the landlord usually took Tuesday nights off and his wife Dora served alone in the saloon bar. As the evening wore on and the two teams became more excited the barmaids found little time to talk to the customers. It had grown very noisy, with cheers ringing out every time a winning dart was thrown. Regular customers got irritated as the visiting team and their supporters elbowed their way to the counter and impatiently shouted for service. Jennie was used to the hustle and bustle but Connie found it very nerve-wracking and she was glad when Dora looked in on her and suggested she should do a spell in the saloon bar where it was much quieter.

It was nearing closing time when Connie resumed serving in the public bar. The visiting team had lost the match and most of them had left to get a last drink back at the Horse and Groom. A few remained, and one of them, an elderly man with grey hair and a thick moustache was leaning on the counter, sipping his pint of ale. Connie had become aware of his interest in her. He seemed to be watching her closely and, when she went to serve a customer next to him, he smiled at her. Connie became uneasy. He was studying her every action, and when he finished his drink and beckoned to her she felt her face flush. As she took the empty glass and pulled on the beer pump she could feel his eyes on her.

‘I bin watchin’ yer, luv,’ he said as Connie put down the filled glass and picked up the half crown. ‘Yer ain’t Kate Morgan’s kid, are yer?’

‘Yes, I am,’ she replied with surprise, looking into the man’s faded blue eyes.

‘I knew it!’ he exclaimed, slapping the top of the counter with a bony hand. ‘I bin clockin’ yer fer a while now. Yer the spittin’ image of yer muvver. ’Ow is she? I ain’t seen ’er fer ages.’

‘Me mum died two years ago,’ Connie said quietly.

The old man’s face showed shock and he sucked his lips. ‘I’m ever so sorry, luv. I didn’t know.’

‘It’s okay,’ Connie said, passing over his change. ‘Was you a friend of ’ers?’

‘I worked wiv yer mum at Armitage’s years ago,’ he said, looking down at his pint.

‘It must ’ave bin a long time ago. Me mum left there in 1923.’

‘I know,’ the man replied, taking a swig from his glass. ‘’Ow time flies. We used ter ’ave some good ole laughs at that factory.’

‘Did yer go on the firm’s outin’?’ Connie asked.

‘Yeah. What a day that was!’

Connie leaned her elbows on the counter. ‘I remember me mum tellin’ me there was some sort o’ trouble on that outin’.’

The old man stroked his stubbly chin. ‘I did ’ear of a bit o’ bovver, but ter tell yer the trufe I was too pissed ter remember much after dinnertime.’

Dora called for last orders and Connie found herself busy once again. When time was called and Dora rang the bell, Connie managed to pick up her conversation with the grey-haired old man as he finished his drink.

‘Did yer know that woman who was me mum’s best friend?’ she asked. ‘They was always tergevver.’

‘Yer talkin’ about Norma Cantwell? Yeah, that was ’er name. ’Er an yer muvver was like two peas in a pod. I fink they left the firm tergevver as well.’

Connie looked hard at the man. ‘Yer don’t know what’appened to ’er I s’pose? I fink it’s only right she should know about me mum dyin’.’

The old man stroked his chin again. ‘Well as fer as I know, she used ter live in Birdcage Lane orf the Old Kent Road. Mind you, they’ve pulled a lot o’ that turnin’ down now.’

‘Fanks fer the info,’ Connie said, smiling at him. ‘If yer do get any news of ’er whereabouts, give us a look in, will yer?’

‘Sure fing, luv,’ he replied, buttoning up his overcoat.

Connie watched him leave as she began to collect the empty glasses. It was a chance meeting, she thought, but somehow she must have been meant to bump into him. Now she had a lead to follow, however. She wondered whether it was time she confided in her Aunt Helen. She would be angry at being kept in the dark for so long, but the story Claudette had told her last Christmas had been something she could not bear to talk about, not even to her aunt. She hoped desperately that somehow she would be able to find this Norma Cantwell first, for she might be able to tell her what had really happened.

 

Towards the end of August army reserves were being called up and an alliance pact was signed with Poland. On the first of September Warsaw was bombed as German troops marched into Poland. In the Bermondsey backstreets people took the news with calmness, even relief that the uncertainty was now over. They knew it meant war. At the Armitage factory the word went round that as they were engaged on war work the factory would be evacuated to the country.

‘I can’t go ter the bleedin’ country,’ Lizzie Conroy moaned. ‘Who’s gonna get me ole man’s food?’

‘’E’ll find somebody ter feed ’im an’ wash ’is dirty socks, I’m sure,’ Mary Brown quipped.

Joyce Spinks shed a few tears as she confided in Mary. ‘We ain’t gonna be ’vacuated, are we? I’d be worried about Arfur.’E can’t do a fing fer ’imself.’

‘Don’t worry, Joyce. They can’t ’vacuate the factory, an’ we won’t be able ter go neivver. We’ll be stuck ’ere same as usual wiv all this bloody war work ter do, you mark my words.’

Lizzie spotted Joe Cooper coming down between the machines. ‘Oi, Joe. What’s the latest?’ she called out.

‘I dunno, Liz, ’cept that they’re evacuatin’ children, accordin’ ter the wireless.’

‘Oh my Gawd!’ Lizzie gasped, putting a hand up to her mouth.

As Friday wore on slowly the rumours were spreading fast and furiously. The sound of the pounding machines played on the workers’ frayed nerves and finally one of the machinists found it all too much. She suddenly let out a piercing scream and dashed along the gangway, her hands help up to her ashen face. Joe Cooper made a grab at her but she dodged past him and ran screaming from the factory and out along the little turning. George Baker was standing at his front door, leaning heavily on his walking-stick and he saw her dash past. The tallyman who had just reached George’s door watched her run off down the street and he looked back enquiringly at the old man.

‘It’s the factory,’ George said, with mock seriousness. ‘It sends ’em all that way in time.’

‘Good God!’

‘Yeah, it’s true,’ George went on. ‘They’ve bin known ter crack up wiv the noise an’ put their ’eads under the presses before now. They come out lookin’ like flat red lollipops. It don’t ’alf make a mess!’

The tallyman was beginning to feel queasy and with a shiver he turned and left the turning in rather a hurry.

George smiled to himself. The collector had forgotten to ask for the weekly payment.

Later, when Mary came in from work on that Friday evening, the family had an urgent discussion.

‘What about yer two kids, Mary? Yer gonna send ’em out o’ London?’ her father enquired.

‘What yer reckon, Frank?’ Mary asked, looking anxiously at her husband.

‘I dunno, girl. I don’t like the idea of sendin’ ’em away. Yer know what young Jimmy’s like. ’E’s only six. It’s a dead cert’e’ll pine. June’s that bit older but she’s gonna fret too, it’s only natural.’

They both looked at George, who raised his gnarled hands helplessly. ‘Don’t ask me. It’s your decision. If it was me though, I’d keep ’em roun’ me. What’s ter be will be.’

‘I fink we’ll wait,’ Mary said finally. ‘We’ll see ’ow fings turn out. Okay, Frank?’

George settled down in his chair and filled his pipe. He could hear the children’s laughter coming from upstairs and he grinned to himself. It would be miserable without the kids about the place, he thought.

‘’Ere, Dad,’ Mary said with her hands on her hips. ‘What’s this money doin’ on the mantelshelf? Ain’t the tallyman bin?’

‘Yeah. We was ’avin’ a chat an’ ’e must ’ave fergot all about the money.’

Mary shook her head slowly. ‘All this talk of war seems to ’ave turned everybody upside down. We ’ad one o’ the girls go berserk terday. She run out o’ the factory screamin’ ’er’ead off. Joe Cooper said she run up the street like the devil was after ’er.’

George Baker puffed on his pipe. ‘Did she?’ he asked innocently.

 

There had been little work done that day in the leather factory. Everyone was preoccupied, including the management. Some of the girls discussed the possibility of going along to the recruiting office to join one of the women’s services. Connie could think only of her coming weekend with Robert. Unless he had changed his mind, he would be volunteering for the airforce, she thought. This would be the last weekend together for some time, and she wanted it to be very special.

When she got home that evening Connie went straight to the Bartletts’ home and found her aunt alone.

Helen had a worried look on her pale face. ‘Ain’t it terrible? I’ve jus’ bin listenin’ ter the wireless. There’s fousands o’ kids gettin’ ’vacuated, Con. It’s made me feel ill jus’ ’earin’ it all.’

Connie slumped down in the armchair. ‘It was the same at work terday. It’s all everybody talked about.’

Helen walked out to the kitchen. ‘I’ll get yer a cuppa. I’ve got one made. Molly an’ Matt’ll be in soon.’

The dark day had worked strangely on Connie and she had decided to unburden herself while she was alone with Helen. She had kept the story Claudette had told her to herself for almost nine months now and she needed to confide in her aunt, now that her recent attempt to find Norma Cantwell had come to nothing.

The two women sat facing each other in the armchairs, their cups of tea held in their laps. Helen listened intently while Connie related what Claudette had told her and when the girl had finished she shook her head slowly.

‘I wish you’d ’ave told me sooner, Con. You shouldn’t leave us out in the cold. We’re family. We’re the only family yer’ve got, girl. Don’t shut us out. Yer mum used ter do that an’ it stopped us bein’ really close.’

Connie looked into her aunt’s tired eyes. ‘I know I should’ave told yer long ago, Aunt ’Elen, but I was ’opin’ ter get ter the bottom of fings before I worried yer all. Yer’ve got enough on yer plate. Trouble is, when I went round ter find this Norma an’ saw the street ’ad bin pulled down I knew I was at a dead end. I wanted ter prove that Robert’s muvver was lyin’.’

‘Listen, Connie. Yer don’t ’ave ter convince me,’ Helen said sharply, anger showing in her eyes. ‘Kate was me sister. She would never do what that woman said she done. All right, we know the firm was payin’ ’er fer some reason, an’ it might ’ave bin ter keep ’er quiet, but whatever ’appened it must ’ave bin somefink bad. Yer mum wouldn’t ’ave invented it.’

‘What do we do next, Aunt? ’Ow do we find this Norma Cantwell?’

‘Yer gotta be patient, girl. All right, nobody knows where she’s gorn to, but we’ve got a photo of ’er. Then there’s that old man yer said yer talked to. ’E might come back wiv some news.’

‘That’s pretty unlikely, Aunt.’

‘Yer never know, Con. It was only fate ’e saw yer in the pub. If yer meant ter get ter the bottom of it all it’ll ’appen, you’ll see.’

‘I ’ope you’re right, Aunt. I always hoped the money me mum got was really from me dad. Now I know it wasn’t. I don’t s’pose I’ll ever find out about ’im, but I’m determined ter get ter the truth, about the money at least.’

Helen pursed her lips. She felt a great sadness at having to bear the burden her sister had placed upon her. She wanted to shout out the man’s name and put Connie’s mind at rest. It was so unfair, but it was Kate’s wish. Even when she had been very ill and knew that she would not recover, Kate had still insisted that the secret should be kept.

Footsteps on the landing interrupted her thoughts and she got up from her chair as Molly and Matthew walked in together.

‘News is bad, luv,’ Matt said as he took off his coat and hung it behind the door.

Molly sat down heavily in the armchair, her breathing coming quickly. She smiled wanly at Connie and when she had recovered she kicked off her shoes and sighed deeply.

‘Is there really gonna be a war, Dad?’ Molly asked.

‘Seems it’s certain now, luv. It’s no good pretendin’.’

‘Will yer ’ave ter join up, Dad?’

‘No. I’m too old. I might ’ave ter do war work though. Our firm’s talkin’ about gettin’ exemptions fer us, ’cause o’ the gover’ment contract we’re on. I jus’ gotta wait an’ see.’

Molly glanced at her cousin and then looked back at her father. ‘The girls at work were talkin’ about London gettin’ bombed. Couldn’t we all go away somewhere safe, Dad?’

Matthew ran his fingers through his greying hair. ‘I wish we could,’ he said quietly. ‘Trouble is, there’ll be nowhere ter go. We might escape the bombin’, but we can’t leave the country. In any case, people like us ain’t got nowhere ter go. All we can do is grin an’ bear it, like always.’

Helen came into the room with the teapot. ‘Now wash yer’ands, Molly. You, too, Matt. War or no war, yer gotta eat. What about you, Con? Wanna stop fer tea? It’s saveloys an’ pease pudden.’

It had been a special weekend. On Saturday evening Connie cooked a meal and Robert opened a bottle of red wine. They sat together in the quietness of the flat and talked casually and light-heartedly, avoiding the thing that worried them most. They lay in each other’s arms and, as Robert stroked her long blond hair and she felt his hands gently caressing her body, she tried to stifle the ache that welled up from deep within her. Soon he would be gone, she knew. The thought of being without him was hard to bear. He was her whole life, and without his strong arms around her and his gentle words of love, life would not be worth living. Somehow she had to bear it, however painful. She must wait for him to return to her. She had to be strong, like her mother must have been. He must carry her love with him so that wherever he went, whatever dangers he faced, the knowledge would sustain him and bring him back safely.