Authors: Carol Rivers
T
he party was over. All the dishes had been washed and put away and Pat was asleep in Gran’s chair.
‘Oh, it’s you, Con.’ Pat yawned as she woke up. ‘What happened? Did you find Lucky?’
Connie sat on one of the hard-backed chairs. ‘Yes, I did.’
Pat blinked the sleep from her eyes. ‘Is he all right?’
‘I don’t know if he is or not. I wanted to bring him home, but Peggy said that nothing can be done till tomorrow. And even then, I don’t know what will happen.’ She told
Pat the story of Grace and Lucky and Peggy’s plan of action. ‘I’ll just have to wait.’ She swallowed. ‘He didn’t want to leave me.’
‘Well, at least you’ve found him.’
‘But what good will it do if they can’t prove anything against Gilbert Tucker? They could say Grace got the bruises from someone else, even her mother.’
‘But won’t Grace tell them what’s happened?’
‘The trouble is she’s frightened.’
‘What’s wrong with her mother?’
‘I don’t know. She didn’t look right when she came to Kettle Street. I think the death of her husband and little boy might have affected her.’
‘But what did Gilbert Tucker want to take Lucky for if his wife was ill?’
‘I know. None of it makes sense.’
‘I’m sure Peggy will sort it all out. Try not to worry.’
Connie nodded, but what would happen tomorrow? What if she didn’t hear from Peggy? And would the children be safe in the meantime?
‘Where’s your friend?’ Pat asked curiously.
‘Clint? He gave me a lift back and had to get off. He’s leaving for America at the end of this week.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame. He’s a really nice young man.’
Connie felt confused as she thought about what had happened between them. Her hand went up to touch her mouth. Had he really kissed her? She had been shocked when he’d asked her and Lucky
to go back to America with him. Did he really mean it? Pat was staring at her, a deep frown over her forehead.
‘Are you feeling all right, Con?’
‘I’m just worried about Lucky.’ Clint had promised her that if they took Lucky to America she would never have to fret about losing him again. Was that true? If it was,
accepting Clint’s offer would be a solution to her problem.
Pat stood up. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘That’d be nice.’
Connie let her head rest against the wall. Clint had made America sound appealing. He’d promised her all she could ever dream of – that is, if she didn’t have dreams of her own
already. What were her dreams now that she didn’t have Vic? Was she attracted to Clint?
Pat grasped her hand as she walked by. ‘Connie, just think, when Lucky is home, he’ll be the brother for Lawrence that I always wanted. Won’t that be wonderful? Just think of
the big family we’ll all be. Our kids will grow up with Sylvie and Kevin’s kids – and Billy’s kids, too, when he finds a nice girl and gets married – and we’ll
all be one big happy family, won’t we?’
Connie felt a shiver along her spine. It was uncanny, the whisper of fate; it came when you least expected it and perhaps when you needed it most. The island was her home, the place where her
heart was and where she was destined to be. She liked Clint but she didn’t love him. If ever she’d had a moment’s indecision, that moment had passed. It was here on the Isle of
Dogs that her future lay.
The hours crawled by. Connie looked at the clock, wishing time away. This morning she had been tempted to board a bus to Mile End instead of Dalton’s. But common sense
had prevailed. Peggy had said she would find some way of letting Connie know any news and she must be satisfied with that.
But when the warning sounded at two o’clock and everyone ran down into the cellars, she imagined the worst. Lucky was out there somewhere. She wanted to protect him and take care of
him.
When the all clear went and they resumed their working stations, Jenny looked at her in concern.
‘Is something wrong, Connie?’
Mr Burns was out of the office and Connie told her about yesterday. ‘I can’t wait to go home,’ she ended as Len approached.
‘My sentiments entirely,’ he agreed as he indicated the accounts they had to catch up on.
‘No, it’s to do with Lucky,’ Jenny said, nudging his arm.
‘What’s happened?’ Len said in surprise.
Connie repeated what she had told Jenny and they both looked startled.
‘What that Tucker fellow has done is as good as kidnapping,’ Len remarked angrily.
Jenny nodded. ‘Except he’s the grandfather.’
‘And a rotten one at that.’
Connie nodded. ‘I was even thinking about running off with Lucky while I had him. I might have if it hadn’t been for Peggy telling me it was best for Lucky to do it the proper
way.’
‘Where would you have gone?’
‘Somewhere they couldn’t find me. Lots of people disappear in wartime.’
Len frowned. ‘You need money for that sort of thing.’
‘I would have pawned my engagement ring.’
‘What!’ Len frowned as he stared at her. ‘Vic would have something to say about that.’
Connie felt tears well up in her eyes. ‘I had a telegram on Saturday to say his ship is confirmed as lost and no survivors were found.’
Len and Jenny glanced at one another. Connie blinked hard. She had been in control of her emotions until now, when a sob caught in her throat. ‘I know what you’re both thinking. That
you could have told me it was hopeless six months ago.’
Len sighed softly. ‘It’s you we worry about, Con.’
‘Well you needn’t.’
‘Connie—’
‘I’m going to the cloakroom.’ She pushed back her stool. Jenny followed her a few minutes later. ‘Connie, are you in there?’
Connie was sitting on the toilet seat in the cubicle listening to the noisy plumbing. She wiped her wet cheeks with her hanky. ‘Go back to the office, Jenny, or you’ll get into
trouble.’
‘I don’t care about that. Len and me want to help.’ When Connie didn’t reply she added in a quiet voice, ‘I’ll just wait quietly out here, then.’
After a while Connie opened the lavatory door. Jenny hugged her tight. ‘Have a good cry, Connie. It’ll do you good.’
Connie released the anguish inside her. She let the tears fall and used her own hanky and then Jenny’s to mop up the flow. When deep sobs came up from her chest she felt empty, as though
nothing was left inside her.
‘I have to accept Vic’s dead, don’t I?’
‘Take a day at a time. Be patient with yourself.’
They waited until Connie felt calmer then went back to work. Len gave her a wink and when Mr Burns noted Connie’s red eyes he refrained from asking them where they had been. Jenny touched
her arm as they sat on the stools. Connie realized what a good friend she had turned out to be. The sort of friend that would always be around when times were tough.
The end of the day came and Connie put on her coat. ‘We’ll walk home with you,’ Jenny said as she tied on her headscarf.
‘No, it’s out of your way.’
‘Me and Len were saying we need more exercise.’
Suddenly Connie saw the funny side. ‘Oh, Jenny, you can say it with a straight face, too.’
Jenny giggled. Her serious features wrinkled as they both ended up laughing.
‘As you can see, I’m fully recovered,’ Connie assured them both as they stood at the gates. ‘So don’t go worrying about me.’
Len raised an eyebrow. ‘What are friends for, but to watch out for their mates?’
Just then a tall figure appeared. ‘Well if it isn’t old twinkle teeth himself,’ Len chuckled.
‘Hi, Len.’ Clint grinned. ‘Jenny . . . Connie.’
Connie’s cheeks went red. She looked at Len. ‘Clint is leaving at the end of the week.’
‘You’re joking!’ exclaimed Len. ‘Why’s that?’
‘We gotta whole heap of trouble brewing in the Pacific. Our bombers raided Guam for the first time since Pearl Harbour. We need personnel at home to shift troops and planes from the States
the same way we did to Europe.’
‘Now that’s spoiled me day,’ Len said sadly. ‘Will I see you for a pint before you go?’
‘Sure will.’
They stood a little awkwardly until Jenny took Len’s arm. ‘Well, if you’re sure you’re all right, Connie?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘See you tomorrow then.’
Len punched Clint’s arm. ‘Don’t forget. We’ll have one up the Queens, eh?’
When they had gone, Clint frowned. ‘Is there any news on the boy?’
Connie shook her head.
‘You’d both be safe with me. We could have a good life together, Connie.’
‘You don’t really know us,’ she said gently. ‘It’s wartime and when you’re home with your people you’ll forget all about us.’
‘I’ll never forget you.’
‘Thank you for all you’ve done. And good luck with your music.’
He nodded slowly. Then, looking into her eyes, he chuckled. ‘Gee, you Brits are always so polite.’
Connie smiled. She was relieved their friendship had ended this way. She watched him walk back to his truck and jump in. With a little salute he touched his cap and drove out of the gates.
She knew she would never see him again.
‘I’m sorry, Con. I thought I’d have something to tell you,’ Pat said when Connie walked in that night.
‘I thought so too.’
Connie tried not to look too disappointed. But as each hour passed and there was no knock at the door her hopes of recovering Lucky faded. As she lay in bed, regrets filled her. She should have
taken action even if it was against the law. What kind of law was it, anyway, that could not prevent a person like Gilbert Tucker from doing the bad things he had done?
When she finally slept it was only to wake up with a start. A new day had dawned. The first thought that came to mind was where was Lucky? And why hadn’t she heard from Peggy?
Connie couldn’t concentrate on the ledgers spread before her. The rows of figures that she was accustomed to seeing jumbled together. Instead she saw Lucky’s face
and remembered the way he had held tight to her, not wanting to let her go. Why had she allowed Peggy to convince her to give him up?
She walked home, her steps heavy even though spring seemed to be in the air. Blackbirds fluttered from the plane trees and perched on roofs, making loud clicking noises at the neighbourhood
cats. Children played in the streets and on the demolished houses that now grew green grass and weeds over them. No one bothered about unexploded bombs or gas masks any more. There was too much to
do without watching your every step and carrying a cumbersome contraption around with you.
Connie took a deep breath as she entered East Ferry Road. She wanted Pat and the children to be sitting on the steps as they did sometimes. Their happy smiles would tell her all she was
desperate to hear.
Instead she saw Albie Cross and Eve Beale, each carrying their shopping baskets. They stood in conversation, glancing towards her as she approached.
‘Nice evening, ain’t it, gel?’ Albie lifted his shoulders under his old coat, removing the roll-up from his mouth.
‘Could do with a bit of sunshine, though.’ Eve smiled as Connie looked up at the house. ‘Just seen your Pat. You’ve got a nice bit of stew for tea.’
Connie walked up the steps. She didn’t want to go in. She didn’t want to face another long night. The smell of boiling cabbage and a hint of meat trickled out from the kitchen. She
could hear Doris’s high-pitched voice over the music coming from the radio. Pat would be standing at the stove, the two children positioned at the table waiting eagerly for their meal.
Somehow she would have to disguise the sad feelings inside her that yet again she was to be denied Lucky.
She hung up her coat and pushed her hair gently into place. Pat appeared at the kitchen door. Another figure followed and Connie saw it was Peggy. She held a small child in her arms.
‘Con-Con!’ Lucky screamed. And, wriggling from Peggy’s grasp, he ran into her arms.
June 1944
D-Day
F
our hundred and fifty Allied aircraft had dropped 2,500 tons of bombs on French earth, but that hadn’t made much difference to Billy’s
division. In fact, it made things worse. The planes had released their loads well back from the forward line, avoiding their own men. This meant the German defences went almost unscathed. Caen,
Monty’s prime target, remained occupied territory. And thousands of good men lost already.
Billy threw himself on the ground. He pushed back his helmet as he surveyed the burned, scarred
territory in front of him. He wouldn’t want to see these last few days again. The landings had been a carve-up. Most of the troops had been buffeted by the tide, many drowned as they
struggled ashore. No one knew the result on Omaha beach, only that the 1st Corps were to take Juno and Sword, whilst Billy’s infantry division was headed for Caen.
The sky was still raining shells. Men fell and died where they lay. Only he and Spike had survived the beach, it seemed. Their uniforms were bloody from corpses. They must have eaten half a
beach and digested it with seawater as they’d scrambled to safety. Thank God he knew how to swim.
‘Lucky we bumped into the Canadians,’ Billy muttered as he squinted through the sights of his rifle. ‘Gave them panzers something to think about.’
‘Yeah, where was our anti-tank support for Christ’s sake?’
Billy narrowed his eyes at the concrete hill unsuccessfully camouflaged by nets and greenery. ‘What do you reckon on the bunker?’
‘Dunno,’ Spike whispered beside him. They were on their bellies and only a few burned bushes shielded them.
‘It looks quiet.’ Billy jerked his head precariously upward. As it wasn’t blown off, he decided there might be a chance. ‘Who goes first?’
Spike adjusted his helmet strap. Nervously he licked the dirt from his blackened lips. ‘Toss for it?’
Billy got out his lucky penny. He had no idea if it was lucky or not, but who cared? ‘Heads, I go first. And you give me cover.’
Spike nodded again, the whites of his eyes huge.
Billy flipped the coin. ‘Heads.’
‘Bad luck, mate.’
Billy grinned. ‘Wait till I get over that ridge, then give it all you’ve got. And don’t let up till you see me handsome mug grinning out that hole.’