Lover (39 page)

I was worried about Minnie coming up and finding me reading Tom's letter, so I put it back in its envelope and pushed it under my pillow, but a minute later I felt I just had to get it out again for another look, to reassure myself that it
was
real and I hadn't just imagined the whole thing. In the end I simply lay there on my back with the letter pressed flat against my heart and only went back downstairs when I heard the siren.

I've told Mums and Minnie about my escapade at the bomb site last week, but I didn't mention it to anyone at work. Everyone's heartily sick of bomb stories, and besides, Phyllis and Vi keep going into huddles and whispering about Mr Bridges, which is very off-putting, especially as they keep glancing at me while they're doing it. I still haven't plucked up the courage to say anything to Phyll, and probably won't—the atmosphere is quite bad enough without my adding to it. As Mums would undoubtedly say, Don't make trouble for yourself. Not that I've told her, of course!

At the centre this afternoon, Mrs L and I were loading up the van when the woman in charge appeared and said, ‘Somebody's been asking for you,' and handed me a note. Then she pursed her lips and said, ‘I hope you're not going to make a habit of this,'— obviously thinking it was a boyfriend—and I was so flustered I didn't know what to say. Mrs L obviously had the same thought, because she just laughed when I said I'd got no idea who it was from and said, ‘It's all right, dear, I shan't pry,' and tactfully removed herself to the front of the van while I opened it.

Dear Miss Armitage,

I hope you will not mind if I take the liberty of writing to say thank you for helping me. I would like it if you could come and see me soonest, I would like to thank you properly and give back the hanky that you were so kind as to lend to me. I do hope that you will be able to call on me at my address which is 14B Frith Street, Soho, WI. I am usually at home in the afternoon.

Yours sincerely,

Rene Tate (Miss)

Well! I was astonished, and showed the note to Mrs L. ‘It's the lady from those bombed flats in Wild Street, last week, the one in the tunnel. Saying thank you.'

‘That's nice.'

‘She wants me to go and see her. Look.'

Mrs L read the letter, and her eyebrows went up. ‘Soho. And, judging by the address, a
flat
.' She gave me a meaningful look.

‘Yes, I suppose so.'

‘Well, I don't think you ought to go on your own, dear. I'm sure this Miss…Tate…is a perfectly nice person, but there's a lot of nasty business in that area, and you do hear these dreadful stories about the white slave trade. I do think it would be a good idea if you took somebody with you, just in case.'

‘I'm meeting a friend later, near Piccadilly, and I'm sure he'd come along if I asked him.'

‘I suppose you'll be all right if there's a man there, but you will be careful, won't you? I mean, with the blackout and everything, I'm sure they—'

‘Don't worry, Mrs L. Tom'll look after me.'

‘Tom…is that your young man, then?'

‘Well, yes.' It was funny hearing him described like that, especially when I haven't even told Minnie or Mums. ‘Yes, I suppose he is.'

I thought about it on and off during the shift, and by the time we were finished and I'd smartened myself up, I'd decided that Mrs L is right and it's a good idea not to be on my own. I read in the paper last week that the police have caught the West End murderer—as the press call him—but nevertheless, one does hear of awful things happening to girls in those sorts of places. I'm sure Tom won't mind, not once I've explained, anyway.

I can't wait to see him!

T
his last week's not been so bad, except that I didn't see Harry at all and I went nearly mad wondering what was happening. The other warden kept coming to the shelter instead of him, and I thought, well, Harry can't have any news, or he'd have told me. At least wondering if Harry'd found the right centre to leave my note for Lucy helped to keep my mind off other things. When he finally did come into the shelter, on Friday, I fairly flew at him. He said, ‘Sssh, you'll wake everyone,' and took me outside. He said he'd spent his afternoons off trudging round to all the local centres to find the right one, and eventually he'd managed it. I threw my arms round his neck and gave him a big kiss. He said; ‘I can't stay long, Rene, but just remember—
be careful
.'

‘I've promised, haven't I?'

‘Yes, but all the same… How are you, anyway?'

I found myself telling him about the silly business with the cinema, and not wanting to go in, and he said, ‘I suppose it's natural. It's bound to be a bit difficult for a while. I tell you what, why don't I take you to the pictures next week?'

‘It's sweet of you, but you'll never get the time.'

Harry shrugged. ‘Depends on Hitler, but I can try. I can always have a snooze while you watch the picture.'

‘Charming.'

‘Well, you know… But apart from that…'

‘I'm not having nightmares, if that's what you mean. I told you, Harry, I'm tough that way.'

‘I know. How's your sister?'

‘Not very good, really. I'm worried about her, Harry. The neighbour—the one she's staying with—she says Tommy's doing all right, which is something, I suppose.'

‘Rene… About Tommy. You're very fond of him, aren't you?'

‘Well, yes, he's—'

‘He looks a lot like you, Rene.'

‘That's because, you know, family resemblance… Can't see it myself, though.'

‘He's yours, isn't he?'

You could have knocked me down with a feather. I meant to say ‘no', but what came out was, ‘How did you know?'

‘Watching you with him…something about how you were, how you looked at him. And when you said you'd got no choice but to carry on working… I was thinking about it yesterday, and I put two and two together, that's all.' Harry paused, then said, ‘He's a nice little boy, Rene. You must be very proud of him.'

‘He doesn't know. No one does, except Dora. And Joe, of course, he knew.'

‘I won't tell anyone.'

‘Please don't. I want him to have the best chance, and… Please, Harry. It's important—for both of us.'

‘I know. It's all right, Rene. I understand.'

‘Good. How's Albert?'

‘Getting greedier by the day. Be time to let him go, soon.'

We had another nice kiss after that, and then Harry had to go. Sitting in the shelter afterwards, I thought, maybe he does understand. I suppose I shouldn't have said I'd go to the pictures with him, but he's so nice… Mind you, I might not be able to get into the cinema, even with Harry there. Gives me the shivers just thinking about it. Silly, really, but there you are. I got quite a decent night's sleep after that. It's easier with other people there, I think. I never thought I'd get used to it, with all the snoring, and people coming and going, and the smell, but you do. It's better than spending the night in a bomb crater with a house on top of you, anyway.

I'd no idea if Lucy would come. I thought the address might put her off, for one thing, because with a nice girl like that, well, they hear all these stories, don't they? It was in my mind all through today that she might just ignore my letter, or write and tell me to keep the handkerchief, and of course I didn't know if she'd actually got the letter or not, or when she might get it, or anything, and it was getting on my nerves something rotten, so when the knock on the door came at about seven o'clock I fairly jumped out of my skin. And when I saw her standing there, well, that was marvellous—at least, it was for a second, until I saw
him
.

That was like…as if everything suddenly went into jerks, like one of those old pictures, where they walk funny, and I heard her say, ‘I hope you don't mind, but I've brought a friend. This is Tom,' but it came all in snatches, and I heard myself say, ‘Oh, yes, how do you do?' as if it wasn't me at all, because I recognised him immediately, the one from the shelter, the handsome one, and I'm thinking,
is it you?

Because you don't know what they'll look like, do you? There's no reason why a murderer should be an ugly man, and that's all going round in my mind, and at the same time I'm thinking, don't be ridiculous, it can't be him, a man who looks like that would never… I mean, why should he? He can get a girl any time he likes, and I told myself not to be so stupid, because he seemed nice enough, but standing there with his face coming at me in flashes—eyes, hair, mouth, cheekbones—I didn't know what to think. Normally, I can judge a man—well, with my experience, I ought to be able to—but this was like lots of little pieces, and I couldn't make them fit together. All the time I'm remembering when I've had men who couldn't satisfy themselves, and how some of them get nasty. I've never had one I couldn't deal with, but this is a different thing all together, knives and pokers…you don't expect it with a young man, or a man who looks like that—and a fighter pilot, too—but that doesn't mean it never happens, and a nice girl like Lucy wouldn't have a clue about that sort of thing.

My mind was whirling, and the girl was talking away but I wasn't hearing half of it. It crossed my mind just to bring out the hanky and give it to her and say thank you, and then they'd go away and that'd be the end of it, but at the same time I was thinking of Lily and Edie and Annie and I just couldn't do it, because I had to know. That makes it sound noble, but it wasn't; it was all happening so fast I didn't know what I was doing at all, really, and I heard myself say, ‘Oh, do come in,' and there I was, taking them through to my big room, and the minute we've got past the curtain in the doorway I see the blue felt case where I've left it on the mantelpiece, in front of the clock. But they're right behind me and it's too late to go over and hide it, because they'd notice, and I'm thinking, what am I going to do, oh dear God, what am I going to do?

Then the girl, Lucy, sits down in front of the mantelpiece and I'm thinking, that's all right, she can't see it, but he's not sitting down, he's looking around, and I'm thinking, any minute, he'll see it, and if it's him… Then I think, I've got to distract them, and I'm talking about tea and all sorts, but when the girl says yes, that means I've got to go through to the kitchen. And I'm standing there waiting for the kettle to boil with my heart going like the clappers and I'm praying, praying it isn't him. So then I'm making this tea, thinking,
calm down, Rene, get hold of yourself,
and trying to think about what I'm doing: now I'm getting the cups, now I'm opening a tin of milk, now I'm filling the teapot, but it's like a nightmare, and I can hear them in the other room, whispering, and then I think, maybe it's a trick, they're in this together, they're going to kill me. But at the same time I know it can't be true, and if it's either of them it must be him, but I can't be sure…

I go in with the tray, and there's the girl sitting there with the blue coat, and for a moment I think,
she's wearing my coat
, but then I remember, we've got the same model, and she's talking and I'm talking and he's looking round, looking round, and then he says he'd like a glass of water so I go back to the kitchen because I've got a cold tap, and he follows me, and of course I have to stand with my back to him, filling the glass. I'm chattering away—God knows what I'm saying—but I can feel his eyes on me, and I've got my shoulders hunched up and I'm thinking, he's going to come for me any minute now, if I can only smash this glass in time and get it in his face, I've got a chance, at least… Then I hear a movement behind me and I whip round and the glass crashes against the edge of the sink and breaks. There's shards of it all over and blood trickling down my arm, and he's there by the door still, staring at me. We look at each other and then I notice his eyes on the jagged bit of glass that's in my hand and the blood, and that's when I know for sure. I'm certain it's him from his eyes, the look in his eyes…and he takes a step towards me, and I take a step back, but there's nowhere to go because the sink is in the way and I'm pressed right up against it, and he opens his mouth to speak and a voice behind him says, ‘Oh, you've cut your hand! Are you all right? Can I help?' and it's Lucy. She sounds so normal and relaxed that I know she's nothing to do with it and she's a good kid, so I tell her not to worry and I'll sort it out myself. She goes back out again, but he's still in the doorway, watching me, so I say, ‘
Yes
?'

‘The water.'

‘Oh, yes. Water, of course.' I take another glass off the shelf and fill it and hand it to him and he says, ‘Thank you,' and follows Lucy into the other room. I run my cut hand under the tap and when I turn round for a tea-cloth to dry it, I catch sight of the table and it looks different, somehow, not the table itself but the things on it. For a moment I can't think why, but then I realise it's the tin-opener that I used for the milk, it's gone, and I think, no, that's mad, I'm going mad, I must have put it back in the drawer. But when I look it isn't there, and my hands are shaking, going through all this cutlery, and there's blood falling on it, from my hand, but the tin-opener's not there, and it's not on the floor, either, or in the sink, and I'm thinking, no, you're imagining it, you're dreaming, pull yourself together… I rinse my hand again and put a plaster on it, then take a deep breath and go through to the other room.

I glance at the tea tray, but the tin-opener isn't there, either. Lucy's still in the chair in front of the mantelpiece, but he's standing up, and the other armchair is facing the mantelpiece, so I sit down quickly, and the girl is talking away and I'm talking back, and I hear myself telling her all about the cat called George that they thought was a he-cat and turned out a she-cat and I'm thinking, for God's sake, Rene, these could be your last words, and you're talking about some bloody old fleabag of a cat. She's smiling and nodding, and I can see him out of the corner of my eye, standing there watching us, and when the siren goes I nearly jump out of my skin, but it's a relief because it's the perfect excuse to get them out and then I'll go straight round to Harry. Without thinking I look over at the clock and make some silly remark about how it's late tonight… Even as I'm saying it I realise I've made a terrible mistake because now he's looking at the clock and she's looking at the clock but I know they're not seeing it, they're seeing the blue felt case underneath, Lily's case, and the siren's going and he looks at her and sees where she's looking, and then she looks at him and looks at me and then
he
looks at me and the siren stops. There's silence and I know it's him, I can see it from his face, and I'm trying to work out if she knows and if she knows I know, and I'm trying to think what to do, but it's as if my brain has got stuck. Then she opens her mouth to speak and he cuts across her and says, ‘Where's the lavatory?'