The Bells of Bow (24 page)

As she and Babs hurried along to the surface shelter at the end of the road, Blanche said, ‘I wouldn’t bother if it wasn’t for these two little’uns.’

‘I ain’t a little’un,’ said Len indignantly.

‘But you’ve gotta come with us, Len, ’cos you have to look after Flash for me,’ said Babs, ushering him inside.

‘Ta, Babs,’ whispered Blanche. ‘I just hope Archie and them other two are all right.’

‘Course they will be,’ said Babs, settling herself down as best she could on the uncomfortable wooden bench. ‘It’ll all be another waste of time, you see. Still, better than getting in the washing, eh? And it’s definitely better than having to do the rotten ironing. All them sheets and pillow cases.’

‘I hope yer right,’ said Clara.

Minnie patted her hand. ‘I wanted to stay indoors, but Clara thought it best to be on the safe side.’

Blanche smiled reassuringly. ‘Not worth the risk, eh, Clara?’

The siren faded, but it was immediately replaced by another sound that had everyone who wasn’t in the shelter rushing to their doors to see what was going on. It wasn’t the familiar droning of the aircraft that made them curious, they’d heard that nearly every day, it was the number of planes that had everyone looking up into the clear afternoon sky.

Blanche’s fourteen-year-old son Terry, his sister Mary and Micky Clarke were hanging around chatting and smoking on the corner by the baker’s shop.

Terry put up his hand to shade his eyes. ‘Here, will yer just look at them.’

Mary copied her brother. ‘I ain’t never seen so many planes in one go before. And all in lines. Wonder what that’s in aid of.’

‘Sodding hell,’ gasped Micky. ‘There’s flipping hundreds of ’em. Here, hang on.’ He squinted up at the aircraft and gulped. ‘Shit, they’re only Jerries, ain’t they. And look at that,’ he pointed to a group of planes flying in the opposite direction. ‘There’s our planes heading right for ’em.’

Micky’s words were immediately followed by the sound of a hail of empty bullet cases bouncing around on the cobbled street right where they were standing.

Terry stared down at them with his mouth open. ‘Blimey.’ Then he bent down and picked one up. ‘Len’ll like this,’ he said, holding it out for Micky to look at.

‘For gawd’s sake, Terry, just take Mary and run for it! I’m gonna get me nan and grandad.’

As Micky raced across the street, he shouted at the top of voice for everyone to take cover, then threw himself into the passage of number five where Alice and Nobby were standing, trying to decide what to do. He grabbed his nan by the arm. ‘Come on, quick!’ he yelled. ‘And you, Grandad, Yer’ve gotta get in the shelter.’

As they got to the street door there was a massive explosion that shook the house. It sounded and felt as though it was right on top of them.

Alice’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘We’ve been hit,’ she shrieked.

‘No, Nan, it’s just the blast. Come on.’

Micky was right, the bomb had fallen several streets away, on the other side of Grove Road. But even so, there was still some damage – the big front window of the baker’s, where only seconds before he, Mary and Terry had been standing chatting had been completely shattered. Alice went to rush over there.

‘Ne’mind that,’ said Micky, pulling her along. ‘You’re going in the shelter.’

‘But Rita and Bert—.’

‘Don’t worry, Nan, they’ll be down in the bakehouse.’

Ethel Morgan, Maudie Peters, Terry and Mary Simpkins and the whole Jenner brood all got to the shelter together, just as the baker’s window shattered.

‘Gawd above!’ gasped Ethel as they all hurled themselves inside.

Everyone sat where they could, while Terry and Mary huddled round Blanche, fussing over Janey and annoying Len with their concern.

Blanche shook her head with relief. ‘Am I glad to see you two.’

‘Micky’ll be here in a minute,’ Mary said to her mum. ‘He’s gone to fetch his nan and grandad.’

‘Let’s hope they hurry up,’ said Minnie. ‘It sounds nasty out there.’

Maudie looked across to Babs. ‘How about Evie and your dad?’

Babs nibbled her bottom lip. ‘Both out, Miss Peters,’ she said.

Maudie nodded. She looked concerned; they all did. The continual drone of the waves of planes going over and the sound of guns firing could be heard all too clearly inside what now seemed a ridiculously fragile building.

The planes might have been loud but they all heard Micky and Frankie Morgan rowing outside the shelter.

‘I’m enforcing the regulations,’ Frankie shouted, barring the way to the door and pointing to a small blackboard that he’d fixed to it. ‘Can’t you read? That says that this shelter is full. And that’s what it means. There’s too many liberties been taken round here. And now people from other streets thinking they can—’

‘Are you gonna move?’ Micky said calmly.

‘Yer supposed to go to the shelter shown on the sign when this one’s full.’

Micky ripped the board from the door, and rubbed out the chalk writing. ‘Now, get out of me way.’ He took his nan’s arm, forced Frankie to one side and led Alice and Nobby inside, letting the door swing shut behind him in Frankie’s face.

But Frankie was having none of it. He immediately slammed it open, straight back on its hinges, and stood there in the doorway, hands on hips.

‘Yer meant to be the bloody warden, yer silly sod. Shut that flaming door,’ snarled Ethel at her husband. ‘Ain’t you got no brains?’

Still fuming, Frankie did as he was told but when he turned back round to confront Micky, he was furious to see that Nobby and Alice had already sat themselves down next to his wife and that Micky had squeezed in on the bench next to Mary Simpkins.

Micky looked up at Frankie and sneered, ‘I thought yer said the shelter was full.’ Then he said to Alice, ‘You all right, Nan?’

‘Yes, thank you, darling,’ answered Alice, glaring at Frankie as though she’d like to wring his neck for him.

Ethel was still furious with her husband. ‘How could yer think about turning ’em away?’ she demanded, glowering at him. ‘You just wait till I get you home.’

‘I thought it was full,’ Frankie said pathetically. ‘I thought all the street was in here. And if the other twin and Ringer had been in, it would have been.’

‘And how about Nellie and Jim, and Rita and Bert?’ demanded Minnie.

‘I was only doing me duty.’ Frankie looked about him, miserably seeking some sort of support for what he had done.

Alice wasn’t going to give it him. ‘My grandson’s entitled to come in here if he wants,’ she insisted, her eyes hard with anger. ‘And I’ll make sure he does and all, whenever he feels like it.’

Ethel nodded in agreement. ‘I’ll make sure and all, Alice. You just see if I don’t.’

Frankie knew when he was on to a loser. Crestfallen he turned round in the cramped shelter, nearly falling over Janey who was playing on the floor with her dolly. ‘I better get back to me duty out in—’ A gigantic crash drowned out the rest of his words.

Alice screamed and Blanche grabbed Janey. The vibration loosened the hook in the wall where the Tilly lamp had hung. It went clanging to the ground and the shelter was suddenly plunged into pitch darkness.

‘Grab that lamp!’ yelled Micky.

‘I’m in charge here,’ Frankie bellowed at the top of his voice. ‘Now everyone calm down. We don’t need a light.’

‘Yer silly old bastard,’ shouted Micky, feeling round on the floor for the lamp. ‘We don’t wanna have a bloody fire in here, do we?’

‘Don’t you talk to me like that, young man,’ said Frankie indignantly, but his anger was quickly replaced by fear as another loud crash sounded and the floor began to quake beneath them.

‘Aw my good gawd,’ groaned Alice.

Clara grabbed Minnie’s hand, and the Jenner baby started to scream.

Liz Jenner stared into the darkness. ‘I dunno why I let you persuade me to come in here, Ted,’ she whimpered. ‘I knew we should have stayed indoors.’

‘There.’ Micky hung the relit lamp on the hook he had screwed tightly back into the wall, then he sat back down and slipped his arm round Mary who, with a defiant stare at Alice, cuddled into his shoulder and looked adoringly up into his eyes.

Everyone except Frankie sighed with relief, but the shelter was soon rocking again. Flash howled, cement dust rose from the floor making everyone cough and their eyes sting, and one of the younger Jenners wet herself.

Babs closed her eyes and took a deep, choking breath of dust-filled air, then, with a quiet, quavering warble, she started singing, ‘Pack up all my cares and woe, here I go, singing low, bye, bye, blackbird …’ She felt someone grab her hand; it was Len.

‘I’ll sing with yer, twin,’ he said.

‘Good boy,’ croaked Babs, squeezing his hand. ‘Come on, you lot, join in with us. Like yer did the other night.’

‘This ain’t like the other night.’ Nobby could barely speak for coughing.

Another crash came, louder this time. Liz Jenner cringed in the corner, her fingers digging hard into Ted’s arm as she clung on to him desperately.

‘All right, Liz,’ he whispered to her. ‘Come on, don’t let the kids or Gran see yer scared.’

‘Christ, that was near.’ Frankie sounded close to panic. ‘Wonder what poor bugger got that one.’

‘Shut up, can’t yer?’ Ted said as evenly as he could, forcing himself not to get up and punch Frankie on the nose. ‘Yer scaring the kids.’ Another one of his youngsters started crying. ‘It’s only God having his coal delivered,’ Ted Jenner said gently.

‘No it’s not,’ Len piped up. ‘That’s when it’s thunder and lightning.’

‘No. It thunders when God moves his furniture,’ said Minnie. Her voice, like her legs, was shaking but she was doing her best to cheer up the kids.

There was a sudden, enormous cracking sound; it felt as if the whole world was being ripped apart from under them as the brick building shuddered on its foundations.

Blanche held Janey close to her. ‘What have I done, Babs,’ she said flatly, ‘bringing the kids back to this? I just hope my Archie’s all right.’

When the all clear sounded at six o’clock that evening, they felt as though they had been in the shelter for days.

When they stepped outside, the sky was dotted with thick dark plumes of smoke from the fires that had started all over the East End.

Blanche looked dazed and exhausted but she soon came to when Janey shouted, ‘Daddy!’

‘Thank gawd, Babs,’ she said, holding Janey tightly to her. ‘It’s Archie.’ She paused then said, ‘I’m going to wait and think about it a bit before I talk to him about going to work. You understand, don’t yer?’

Babs nodded. ‘Course, that’s the last thing yer wanna worry about. Listen, Blanche, I’ll talk to yer about it later. I’ve gotta go, I’m gonna check that Dad’s in the Drum.’

‘He will be, love.’

‘I know, but I just wanna make sure. Then I’ll see to Flash and get straight over to Lou’s. I’ll get ready over there.’ Babs shook her head wearily. ‘I could do with getting out.’

‘You get off soon as yer like, Babs. Len’ll look after Flash for yer.’

Babs hurried away just as Archie came puffing up to Blanche. He folded his arms round her and Janey. ‘I can’t tell yer what a relief this is, darling.’ He and Blanche stood there not needing to say anything more, just glad to be holding each other.

Mary came up behind them and tapped Archie on the shoulder. ‘If yer in such a good mood, Dad,’ she said with a cheeky smile, ‘yer won’t say no to me going to the pictures with Micky tonight, will yer?’

‘You go and enjoy yerselves,’ said Archie before Blanche had the chance to object.

‘Say there’s another raid?’ Blanche sounded alarmed.

‘Don’t worry yerself, they can’t have any more bloody bombs left after that little lot,’ he reassured her.

But Blanche didn’t look convinced as she watched Mary and Micky walk off down the street hand in hand.

‘Archie?’ Blanche looked fraught.

He had to do something to comfort her. ‘Hang on!’ he called after them. ‘Micky, make sure you get Mary safe into a shelter somewhere if that warning goes. D’you hear me?’

Micky responded with a quick thumbs up and a grin and they were on their way again.

At half past eight that evening, just as Archie and Bert had finished patching up the window of the baker’s with plywood sheets, proof came that there were plenty of bombs left to drop over the East End. There was no hesitation this time; the siren had hardly got going before the shelter in Darnfield Street was packed.

‘Tell yer what, Blanche,’ whispered Archie. ‘If this carries on we’ll have to find somewhere better than this surface shelter. It can’t be much use, the way it’s shaking. Perhaps we should have taken up Bert’s offer of going down into his bakehouse.’

‘It’s cramped and hot enough in here as it is,’ said Blanche, frowning. ‘I dunno how the kids’d rest in all that heat down there from the ovens.’

‘Perhaps when the weather gets a bit colder.’

‘Don’t even think that this is gonna last, Archie. Please,’ Blanche pleaded.

‘Only kidding,’ he said, as another loud crash shook the walls. ‘Come on, rest yer head on me, yer gonna have to try and get some kip.’

‘I just hope that Micky did as he was told and looked after Mary,’ fretted Blanche. ‘They could be anywhere, the pair of them.’

Alice sat opposite Blanche, her chest rising and falling as she breathed rapidly in and out. ‘If anything happens to my Micky,’ she muttered menacingly, ‘then we’ll all know who’s to blame, won’t we?’

‘I’ll ignore that, Alice,’ Blanche said through tightly-pursed lips. ‘But if I didn’t have my kids here …’

‘All right, Blanche,’ Archie pacified his wife. ‘Just try and relax, you’re worn out.’

It was the early hours before everyone managed to doze off, albeit fitfully. Young Terry Simpkins woke with a start, not sure where he was. ‘Dad?’

‘It’s all right, son, you go back to sleep.’ Archie pulled his pullover off, rolled it up and tucked it under his son’s head. ‘Come on now, yer all right, yer dad’s here.’ Satisfied that Terry had dropped off again, Archie leant back against the rough brick wall of the shelter and closed his own eyes. ‘At least we won five nil this afternoon,’ he said to himself with a grin. ‘I’d hate to die knowing we’d lost to Fulham.’