The Bells of Bow (59 page)

‘No it wasn’t. Come in the kitchen.’

He sat down at the table and Babs shut the kitchen door behind them. ‘There, we can talk normally now.’ She pointed to the teapot. ‘I’ve just made some to take up to bed. It’s a bit weak, but fancy a cup?’

‘Please.’

She handed him his tea. ‘What happened to your face?’

Harry automatically put his hand up to cover the jagged scar that ran from his ear right across his cheek. ‘I got this at Arnhem. It’s why I haven’t written to Evie for a while. And my leg got broken.’ He touched his face again.

Babs’s mouth went dry at the thought of him getting hurt. ‘Bad, was it?’

‘Bad enough. But I’m all right now. Well, apart from a bit of a limp and the scar. They’ve sent me home on extended leave, after the convalescence in the hospital.’

‘I’m glad yer all right.’

‘Is Evie in bed?’

Babs wanted to say that she probably was but she didn’t. Instead she said, ‘She’s gone to see a friend. For the weekend.’

‘Shame I’ve missed her.’

Harry reached inside his greatcoat and pulled out a little wooden duck on wheels. ‘I made this for your little girl. Hope yer don’t mind. I carved it when I was in the convalescent place.’

He smiled at her, the scar making his features look rakishly lopsided.

Babs took the toy and returned his smile and spontaneously kissed him on the cheek. The minute she’d done so, she jumped back as if she’d been scalded. ‘Sorry.’

‘What have you got to be sorry for?’

She pulled the dressing gown tighter. ‘I must look a right state.’

‘I think yer look lovely.’ He looked down at the floor. ‘Sorry, I had no right to say that. It’s being with blokes most of the time, yer forget how to behave. The nurses was always telling us off.’

‘That’s all right.’

‘Evie’s always writing to me about Betty, telling me how she’s getting on. She’s right proud of her little niece, yer know.’

Babs had no idea what to say. She gulped at her tea, almost choking herself. Harry jumped up and patted her back. She nodded her thanks.

Minutes passed without a word between them. Harry didn’t look as though it felt difficult for him, but Babs’s mind was whirling with what she had got herself into.

When Harry eventually spoke, she nearly choked on her tea again.

‘Look, Babs,’ he said, ‘I know yer a married woman and everything, but seeing as Evie’s away, can I take yer out for a drink or something tomorrow? Maybe something to eat?’

It was the last thing she had expected. ‘Well,’ she stammered, ‘it ain’t that easy.’

‘Sorry, I dunno what I’m saying. I’m making a right idiot of meself. It must be ’cos I’m tired.’

‘No. No, I’d love to. It’s just that I’ll have to make sure that Dad can look after Betty, that’s all. But I know he will. He’s off duty for the next three days and he loves being with her.’

‘Good. That’s really good.’ He stood up. ‘Look, if yer think I’ve overstepped the mark …’

‘Course not.’

‘I’d better be off now, or Mum won’t let me in. She’ll think I’m a burglar, or a German paratrooper.’

Babs saw him out and shut the door behind him. Then she leant back against the wall in the dark passage and sighed loudly, wondering to herself just how she was going to keep up the deceit that it was her and not Evie who had been writing to him, but knowing that she wanted to see him so badly, she was prepared to lie through her teeth.

‘You sure yer don’t mind having Betty, then, Dad?’

‘Course I don’t. You go and enjoy yerself. Makes a change for you to go out. But yer will watch yerself, won’t yer, darling? I’ve seen so much with these bloody rockets lately.’

‘I’ll be careful, I promise.’

When Babs got to Mile End Station, Harry was standing waiting for her.

‘I thought we could go up West.’

‘Smashing.’

‘Have something to eat. Then maybe go to the pictures. Or for a drink.’

‘D’yer mind if we go for a drink? I’d like to sit and talk.’

‘Me too. Yer know, yer real easy to talk to, Babs.’

Babs smiled up at him.

‘And you’ve got a beautiful smile.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Your husband’s a lucky man.’

Babs looked away. She felt sick.

At the end of their evening together, Harry took her back to Darnfield Street. As they stood by the street door, Babs didn’t know whether to laugh out loud with happiness or collapse into tears of despair.

‘Goodnight, Harry,’ she said brightly, trying to keep her voice from giving her away. ‘I had such a good time.’

‘I’m glad.’ Harry’s voice was husky. ‘Me too.’

‘Yer know, that scar makes yer look really handsome. Like a proper hero.’

Harry opened his mouth to say something then looked away instead. He held out his hand to her.

She shook it warmly, holding it for a brief moment longer than she needed to. ‘Night, night, Harry,’ she breathed.

Then she turned and opened the street door and, against all her body and heart were telling her, went inside alone.

She went upstairs and peered round the door of the back bedroom. Her dad was sound asleep, snoring softly on his back. Then she crept quietly into the front bedroom where Betty lay, curled in a contentedly sleeping ball, her dark curls spread on the white pillowcase.

Babs took off her shoes. She knew she had no hope of sleeping. She sat on the end of the bed and buried her face in her hands. She was in love with Harry and she didn’t know how to tell him, or even if she would ever be able to tell him. What would he think if she told him the truth, that she was the one who had been writing to him and that Evie was Betty’s mother, not her? What was worse was that it was all her own fault. Why hadn’t she explained right away? Why had she listened to Evie’s harebrained scheme? What had she done?

Babs looked at the clock. She had been sitting there for nearly two hours and was still wide awake. She stood up, made sure that Betty was settled and crept back downstairs. As she reached the bottom step, she heard someone running along the street. The sound stopped. Whoever it was was outside. She could hear their laboured breathing.

She paused for just a moment then opened the door. She squinted out into the dark. ‘Eve, is that you?’

‘No, it’s me. Harry.’

She stepped back for him to come in. As he brushed past her, she could feel that he was shaking violently. She took his hand and led him into the front room and sat him down in one of the armchairs.

When she turned on the standard lamp in the corner, she saw that his face was grey and his eyes were staring.

‘Mum’s house.’ He said it quietly in a dull monotone. ‘It’s gone. The whole street’s gone. A rocket attack while we was out. Me mum’s dead, Babs.’

He bowed his head and began weeping softly into his hands. Babs went over to him, took him in her arms and held him to her.

She held him like that, cradled in her arms, until his whole body shuddered and he stopped crying.

She got up and went over to the sideboard and took out one of Evie’s bottles of bourbon and two glasses.

Babs sipped at her one drink while Harry drank his way through the rest of the bottle and told her all about his mum and how she brought him up single-handed and what a good woman she was.

‘You’d have loved her, Babs,’ he said, staring into the hearth. ‘And she’d have loved you.’ Then he closed his eyes and the glass dropped from his hand.

Babs went upstairs and fetched a blanket.

Before she covered him over, she put a cushion under his head and pulled off his boots. As he lay there, asleep in the chair, she looked down at the little curls of hair that twisted in tight tendrils on the back of his big, strong neck. Despite his size, they made him look so vulnerable. She bent forward and kissed him softly on the scar on his cheek, wanting above everything to make him feel better, to take away all the pain.

She didn’t go up to bed; she sat in the armchair opposite and watched him sleep. He might wake up and need her.

The sky was only just beginning to lighten when she heard Blanche’s voice calling her through the letter box. She jumped up to open the door before Blanche woke the whole house up.

‘Blanche, what’s up?’ she whispered.

Blanche was grinning all over her face. ‘It might be a grey Monday morning in October, Babs, but this is the best day of my life. I’ve heard from Archie, love. He’s all right. He’s alive!’

‘I’m chuffed for yer, Blanche. Come in, but keep yer voice down, Dad and Betty are still asleep.’

Blanche could barely contain herself; she definitely couldn’t sit at the kitchen table. She paced around the little room. ‘He’s injured but he’s coming home. Look, this is the telegram from the hospital. I’ve read it two hundred times, I reckon.’ She put her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. ‘He’s in Cornwall, of all places. Not far from our Len.’ She waved the telegram form excitedly. ‘He got one of the nurses to send it. He’d been in some camp or something with these other blokes. And it was in North Africa after all.’

Babs nodded, she knew all about camps. Wasn’t she meant to have a husband in one?

‘Well, they escaped. Four of them, there was. Then they all got split up. Apparently Archie got a bash on the head somehow and the silly bugger couldn’t remember who he was.’ Blanche started crying and laughing at the same time. ‘Silly bugger. Trust him. He’s a bloody hero, and when they found him he didn’t even know his name.’ She blew her nose and then stuffed her hankie in her cardigan pocket. ‘He’s being transferred to a London hospital today.’

Babs tried a little smile, but she wasn’t very convincing.

Blanche sniffed and peered at her friend. ‘What’s up, Babs? Yer look peaky.’

‘Nothing, I’m tired that’s all.’ Babs was suddenly very alert. There was the sound of a key in the front door. Flash barked and Babs grabbed her roughly and almost hurled her out into the back yard.

Blanche frowned at her in surprise.

‘They’re asleep,’ Babs said sheepishly, pointing to the ceiling.

The kitchen door opened and Evie shimmied in; she was singing ‘Someone’s Rocking My Dreamboat’ and waving packets of nylons around as if she were a child waving flags at a street party.

Blanche greeted her with a grin. ‘You sound happy.’

‘I am, Blanche. Very. I danced at the Regent to Syd Dean and his band. I—’

‘Please, Eve, keep it down. They’re still asleep.’

Evie tossed the nylons on the table, took Babs’s face in her hands and kissed her on the tip of her nose. ‘Anything for you, Babs,’ she whispered. ‘But I am so happy. And what more could a girl ask for than that?’

‘I’ll tell yer,’ said Blanche. ‘A girl could hear how her husband’s safe and sound, that’s what.’

‘Blanche!’ Evie looked at Babs and put her finger to her lips. ‘That’s the best news!’

Babs wearily went over and closed the kitchen door then slumped down into the carver chair.

‘Yeah, I know. I’m going to see him at the hospital this afternoon, I hope.’

‘There, take them.’ Evie handed Blanche a pair of stockings. ‘Wear them when yer visit Archie. Give him a treat. Better than cold tea or gravy browning on yer legs any day, eh, Blanche?’

‘You ain’t kidding. Where d’yer get them?’

Eve giggled. ‘I won ’em in a poker game.’

‘You what? Poker?’

‘Yeah, Ray taught me. He’s me new chap. And cop a load of that.’ She held out her wrist.

‘Gawd, you smell lovely. What scent is it, Eve?’

‘That ain’t no scent, that is perfume. French perfume. Here.’ She snapped open her handbag and dabbed a spot of the fragrance behind each of Blanche’s ears. ‘That’ll perk your Archie up a bit.’

‘Just wait till I see him.’ Blanche closed her eyes and hugged herself. ‘I’m gonna cuddle him till he squeaks.’ She opened her eyes and giggled like a teenager. ‘I’d better be off, I’ve only got about six hours to get ready!’

Babs went to the door with her to make sure that she didn’t slam it. Before she went back to Evie, she peeped nervously into the front room. Harry was still out like a light.

She took a deep breath and walked, chin up, into the kitchen, making sure that the door was tightly shut behind her.

‘Sit down,’ said Evie, pulling one of the chairs from under the table. ‘I’ve got some good news too.’

Babs sat down; anything to keep her sister occupied while she tried to figure out what to do about Harry.

‘Wait there, I’m gonna call Dad so he can hear about it and all.’

‘No.’ Babs jumped up. ‘I’ll go up and get him.’

‘All right,’ said Eve. ‘Calm down. You get him. I don’t care.’

Babs glanced up at the clock. It was nearly eight. Betty would definitely be awake soon. And then there was work to think about … She ran her fingers distractedly through her hair. ‘And please, keep yer voice down, Eve, I don’t wanna wake Betty. She didn’t have a very good night.’

Babs led Georgie warily past the closed front room door as though he were a blind man needing guidance in a strange house.

‘This had better be good,’ he said menacingly as he sat himself down in the carver chair. ‘This is supposed to be one of me rest days, Eve.’

Evie stood before her dad and her twin with her hands clasped primly in front of her. ‘I,’ she announced, ‘am going to become Mrs Ray Bennington.’

‘Did I hear her right?’ Georgie looked at Babs, and raked his finger round in his ear.

‘You did,’ Eve said. ‘I’m gonna be a proper American wife and Ray’s gonna teach me to drive and everything.’

Babs and Georgie just sat there.

‘Well?’ Evie looked hurt. ‘Aren’t you gonna congratulate me? Dad? Babs?’

Georgie stood up slowly from his chair and took a single step towards her. He spoke calmly at first; he looked a bit bewildered, but that was all. ‘What exactly do you think you’re playing at, Eve?’ he asked. ‘And how about Betty? She ain’t even met this bloke yet, so far as I know.’

Evie sat down. She had a stubborn, hard expression on her face. She crossed her legs and began jiggling her foot up and down. ‘I knew yer’d try and spoil it for me.’

‘Eve. Will you use yer loaf for just one minute? I know it don’t come easy to yer but try.’ Georgie was getting louder. ‘You reckon yer gonna be an American wife, do yer? Well, I reckon he’s a moody merchant just like the rest of them Yanks. Them and their tales about big houses and flash motors. I bet he ain’t got a pot.’