Gunner Girls and Fighter Boys (2 page)

‘Oh, you know what Mum’s like. She’d rather have us there than eating dinner on our own indoors. If we had a family it’d be different, I suppose.’

She felt George stiffen. ‘You back on that? There’s more to marriage than kids, you know.’

‘I know that, George. Don’t get upset with me.’

She could have kicked herself. This was a subject she normally steered clear of; it was guaranteed to turn George’s habitual cheery expression to stone. She looked up at him, trying to gauge his mood. His trilby hat shadowed his eyes, but his mouth was set in a way she knew meant a miserable evening ahead unless she could distract him.

‘Talking of marriage, I reckon our Jack and Joycie will be next. You were having a good old chat today. Has he said anything to you about it?’

‘No, he never said nothing, only that he needed some cash for something – might be an engagement ring?’

‘He never asked you for the money?’

‘You know I don’t mind helping out. Anyway, he’s going to do a few little jobs for me.’

Now it was Peggy’s turn to stiffen. She knew her brother’s weaknesses. As the only boy, their mother had spoiled him and, in a house where money was tight, she’d always made sure that Jack had the best. If she only had a shilling left in her purse, it would be spent on Jack. She and her sister were just as bad. May might have occasional tussles with him, but neither of them could deny Jack anything.

‘What sort of jobs?’

‘Oh, this and that down the lock-up. Nothing you need worry about.’

His smile dared her to ask more. But their tacit agreement was that she delved as little as possible into how George came by his money.

‘Don’t you get him into trouble, George. It’d kill Mum and Dad.’

Now they’d reached the entrance to their block of flats on the Purbrook Estate. George disengaged his arm from hers and leaned against the entrance arch. He paused to catch his breath, beads of sweat dotting his forehead.

‘Chrissake, Peg, grow up.’ His breath rattled in his chest. ‘Jack’s been doing bits and pieces for me ever since you and me got married. Where d’ye think he gets the money for his expensive suits? Not as a lockman down the docks!’

She hadn’t known, but perhaps she’d never wanted to. ‘George! You know Mum and Dad wouldn’t like it.’

‘Don’t tell ’em then.’

Her mother always boasted to friends that George would do anything for Peggy and her family. And it was true, he was generous, but only in the ways he chose. Peggy gave up trying to sway him and turned towards the stone staircase. When he didn’t follow she looked back.

‘Got some business with Ronnie. I’ll see you later.’

‘What time will you be home?’

But he was already walking away, and it was a stupid question anyway. George’s business was best conducted after dark and she had grown used to spending most of her evenings alone. He might love her, he certainly wanted to be seen with her, called her his princess, yet sometimes she wondered if he actually liked her company. Why he was making such a fuss about spending Sunday dinner at home with her she couldn’t fathom.

She paused a moment, listening, as his harsh, rattling wheeze faded away and he disappeared into Tower Bridge Road. She wouldn’t say anything about Jack. Her parents might turn a blind eye to George’s thieving, but involving their son would be a different matter. If George put Jack in danger they would never forgive him, and neither would she.

*

May had rarely seen her mother cry, but in the two months since that first false alarm Mrs Lloyd did little else. It had come as a surprise to May, people’s reactions to the war. Those she thought would be weak often turned out to be the strongest. And now it was shocking to see her capable mother in such distress. Carrie Lloyd had always been the lynchpin of the family, but now May’s throat tightened at the thought that her mother might not be as strong as she’d always appeared. Mrs Lloyd believed they would either be gassed in their beds or overrun by Germans any day. Her mother’s fear seemed to permeate the very walls of the old house in Southwark Park Road, but it wasn’t primarily fear for herself or even her daughters – it was for Jack. May saw her mother jump every time a letter dropped through the letterbox. As a young lockman, Jack’s job wasn’t reserved and though he hadn’t yet got his call-up papers, he would soon, and then May feared Mrs Lloyd’s world really would fall apart.

It was Saturday evening and her mother had taken herself upstairs for ‘a nap’, which meant she’d been crying and didn’t want her red eyes to give her away. May was in the kitchen with Jack.

‘You should get your nose out of that book and go out a bit more,’ Jack said as he stood in front of the kitchen sink, carefully swiping the long blade of the razor up under his chin. Four years her senior, he felt himself entitled to pronounce upon her life.

She was sitting in the corner, and he had perhaps noticed that her book was not holding her. In fact she’d been mesmerized by the razor ploughing its way through the white lather on her brother’s chin. She looked up and met his clear blue eyes in the small mirror tacked above the sink. It was true that as the world grew grumpier and sadder around May, she’d felt herself yearning for a glimpse of light-heartedness.

‘And you should watch you don’t cut yourself getting that bum fluff off.’

‘Keep your hair on. I was only thinking of you! There’s always Garner’s girls up the Red Cow, and they’ve got this new piano player – he’s pretty good. You can come with me and Norman tonight, if you want.’

Garner’s was the leather factory where May worked, and she would probably know a couple of the girls drinking at the Red Cow tonight. She hesitated, feeling guilty for snapping at him.

‘Thanks, but… you know me and pubs.’

But her shyness had nothing to do with pubs. She’d always been the quietest of their large family, with nothing remarkable to make her stand out apart from a useless bookishness, which they found puzzling rather than praiseworthy. She preferred to watch family life from the sidelines. Peggy, the princess, and Jack, the golden boy, always took centre stage in their family dramas. And though May had learned to make herself indispensable around the home, she had also learned to be a great hider. It seemed to her that she’d spent her childhood searching out hidey-holes, spending hours, sometimes whole days, immersed in her own world, perhaps with a book from Spa Road Library, or engaged in imaginary games.

Jack raised his eyes as he wiped soap off his neck and proceeded to slick back his hair with Brylcreem, till the golden curls were tamed and darkened.

‘It’s only Norman! He don’t bite!’

Norman Carter was Jack’s best friend and he was nice enough, but whenever he came to the house he insisted on teasing her till she blushed. As if on cue there was a knock at the front door, which she ignored. ‘Your hair looks better without that stuff on it.’

‘Joycie don’t mind it.’ He chuckled. ‘Go and get that, will you, sis?’

‘No!’

He pulled on his clean shirt and smiled. ‘I’m getting ready!’

Reluctantly she put down the book and went to answer the door. Norman smelled of Brylcreem and cigarettes. He was a gangly, skinny young man and his wide-lapelled, new brown suit was too big in the shoulders. His long chin bore the signs of an inexpert close shave. He gave her a crooked-toothed grin.

‘Hello, gorgeous, got yourself a chap yet? I’m free.’

A blush began to creep up from her neck, and she was glad of the dimly lit passage.

‘Jack’s in the kitchen.’ She let Norman pass her, but didn’t follow. She went into the front room and waited, listening to the two boys laughing. She wished she’d brought her book. But then Jack stuck his head through the door.

‘Take no notice of him. You coming?’

She shook her head. ‘Next time perhaps.’

The front door slammed as the boys went off for their night at the pub and May watched them walk past the front window. Norman suffered by comparison, for Jack had filled out since joining his father at the docks and his new suit jacket sat snugly across his shoulders. His confidence had grown along with his muscles and as he strode off, hands in pockets, leaning forward, eager for the night ahead, May realized that her brother was no longer a boy.

She went back to the kitchen to retrieve her book, annoyed with herself that she could be shy around an idiot like Norman Carter. She flung the book on to the kitchen table just as her mother came in.

‘Oi, oi, what’s going on? Has Jack been teasing you?’

‘Jack? No, Mum!’

The truth was her big brother, with his winning smile and affectionate ways, had only ever been her champion. It wasn’t his fault that he was the only boy she could be herself with.

‘You busy tonight?’

‘I’m washing my hair.’

‘When you’re done, you can help me sew them new blackout curtains. Your eyes are better than mine. I can’t see the stitches in this light.’

It was always the way. If she made herself visible, there was sure to be a job for her to do. Mother’s helper, that was her. And although she loved her home, she sometimes longed to be more than just ‘the quiet one’ in the midst of so many other clamouring voices.

Her mother was right about her keen eyesight, though. Ironic, really, as there was a time when she’d been quite blind. A case of childhood measles had left her with ulcers behind her eyes. It had been a strange, frightening time, sunk in an unseeing world for almost three months, the most unsettling period of her life – to see nothing in a world where she was so seen, on show to every pair of curious eyes that cared to stop and stare and yet not to know she was being stared at. Perhaps that was the cause of her shyness, and why, ever after, she’d chosen to make herself invisible whenever possible.

May sighed. ‘All right, you start cutting up the material and then my eagle eyes are all yours!’

She left her mother to get on with it while she washed her long fair hair in the big enamel sink in the kitchen. It took many jugs of water before the soap was fully rinsed. Her parents, in the back room, must have forgotten she was still there, and May’s ears pricked up as she heard them talking about Jack.

‘I can’t help it, Albert, I’m so worried about him. What if he gets called up?’

‘Well, it’s not happened yet, has it? And you can’t wrap him in cotton wool, Carrie. I’m more worried about where he’s getting his money from. He gets less hours than me at the docks, but I ain’t got no money for new suits like he has.’

She could tell that her father had his pipe clenched tight between his teeth.

‘Don’t tell me that. If he’s nicking stuff from the docks, he’ll go inside,’ Mrs Lloyd said. ‘Still, at least he’d be safe in there.’

There followed sounds of muffled sobs and May knew her mother’s tears had returned. She decided it was time to make her presence known. Her parents fell silent as she came in and kneeled in front of the fire. Mrs Lloyd brushed away her tears, took the towel from her and began gently rubbing May’s long fair hair.

‘At least I’ll be able to keep me daughters with me,’ she whispered.

Her father smiled fondly and said, ‘Just look at my golden-haired girl, ain’t she beautiful, Carrie? I feel like that miller in
Rumpelstilstkin
.’

‘Me, beautiful?’ May gave a small snort, uncomfortable with compliments, even coming from her father.

‘What you blushing for? It’s true!’

‘It’s the fire – I’m hot.’

She stood up quickly and caught sight of herself in the mirror above the fireplace. Beautiful? She couldn’t see it, but perhaps someone might one day think her pretty enough, with her wide blue eyes and high cheekbones. She was slim and straight-backed, and Peggy was always telling May she had a good figure. ‘
And
you’ll never need to worry about getting fat!’ Peggy had joked. ‘You do everything at a run!’

‘Come on then, Mum, let’s get these blackout curtains done,’ she said.

She gave her mother a quick kiss, and thought of Jack, walking through the cold November night in search of a good time and who knew what else.

*

‘Look at the state of yer!’

Jack attempted to pull Norman’s jacket up on to his shoulders. ‘No wonder you can’t get no girls to look at you!’

Norman shoved Jack off. ‘I’m only interested in one girl… your sister!’

Jack looked genuinely shocked. ‘Our May? I thought you were joking! No, mate, you’re on a loser there. May’s a home bird. If even I can’t get her to come out to the pub, you’ve got no chance!’

Norman gave his crooked-toothed grin. ‘I think she likes me.’

‘You really interested then?’

‘Why not?’

Jack shrugged. ‘She’s me little sister. I still think she’s about twelve, I suppose.’

Norman sniggered. ‘Jack, you ain’t looked lately – she’s not twelve no more!’

They had reached the John Bull pub when Jack stopped.

‘Hold up, Norm, I’ve just got to pop in here, have a word with me brother-in-law – family business.’ Jack winked at Norman. ‘You wait here.’

When Jack emerged from the pub with a blast of warm, smoke-filled air he waved a handful of notes under Norman’s nose.

‘Gawd, Jack, how much you got there?

Jack laughed. ‘Five quid. Not bad for a couple of nights’ work.’

‘What d’you have to do?’

‘I turn up tonight at Wide’oh’s lock-up, move a load of tea chests from one lorry to another, then go home to bed. So instead of ending up at Lipton’s tonight, that finest Darjeeling goes straight in your old mum’s teapot! Wide’oh says it’s just cutting out the middle man.’

Norman’s long face took on a worried look. ‘But you could get in bad trouble, Jack.’

Jack sighed. He went on as if talking to a child. ‘Everyone’s at it. Your mum gets cheap tea under the counter, don’t she?’

Norman nodded.

‘Well, I just work for the supplier, mate!’

By the time they reached the Red Cow, the piano player was in full swing and the Garner’s girls had made a little space in the small interior to practise their dance steps.

‘Don’t suppose we’ll be doing any dancing tonight. I’ve got Joycie now and you’re saving yourself for our May, ain’t you, Norm?’ Jack said mischievously.