Ellen looked out of the window. They were on the last leg of their journey, sitting on the bus that would take them to Clapham. She had thought London looked awful when they returned from Somerset, but it was even worse now. They had already passed through areas that looked totally destroyed, great swathes of rubble with hardly a building left standing.
As they reached the north side of Clapham, Ellen saw that a row of houses had been flattened opposite the underground station, and others, along with a church, severely damaged. Worse, as they neared Clapham South, it was no longer untouched and she saw ruin after ruin where homes had once stood.
‘Doug, the whole of London looks awful and rebuilding is going to take years,’ Ellen heard her mother say.
‘Yes, but though Hitler may have crushed property, I doubt he’s crushed Londoners’ spirits.’
‘But so many thousands have died.’
Ellen closed her eyes against her mother’s words, yet knew they were true, her grandparents among the dead. She had never known her father’s parents. They had died in a house fire before she was born, and it suddenly struck Ellen that they were a tiny family, just the three of them now.
Still, Ellen thought, trying to cheer herself up, her dad had come home, he was alive, and once again she recalled the woman who had spoken to her mother about a vision. It still amazed her that anyone could foresee the future, and Ellen wished she had that ability too. If she could, she would know if Billy was going to return to Hampshire, something she was desperate for him not to do.
Hilda rose to her feet to follow Doug along the aisle between the seats, saying impatiently, ‘Come on, Ellen, buck yourself up. We’re here.’
Doug winced as he pulled out the two suitcases that were stowed behind the conductor. Hilda could see that he was in pain and blamed the long journey. They were all tired, jolted on trains and buses, so it wasn’t surprising that Doug’s back was playing him up.
Hilda pulled out another case, urged Ellen to take the last one, and as they got off the bus she paused to take in their surroundings. She hadn’t wanted to come back to London and now saw
nothing to make her change her mind. It had once been a place she loved, where she had been born and bred, yet it brought her nothing but bad memories now.
Mum, keep us safe, please don’t let there be any more bad luck,
she inwardly begged, her hand automatically going to her neck to clutch the necklace, but it was under her coat and out of reach.
‘Are you coming or what?’ Doug said impatiently.
It was unusual for Doug to be snappy, and a sure sign that he was in pain, so, picking up her case again, Hilda forced a smile.
‘Yes, let’s go, and thank goodness our place is only around the corner.’
Hilda wrinkled her nose as they walked into the downstairs flat. It was dark with the blackout curtains drawn, the smell damp and musty. Doug put the cases down and walked over to the window, pulling the curtains back before throwing it open. Able to see clearly now, Hilda took in the room – the ancient furniture, the yellowing wallpaper – and though the flat had been shut up, there was a thin layer of dust over everything. It looked dismal, depressing, but seeing the pain etched on Doug’s face she forced her voice to sound light.
‘Right, let’s get ourselves sorted out. Ellen, you’ll need to run to the shops. We’ll need to get some stuff in, but before you do that, pop up to Mabel’s
and see if she can lend us a bit of tea and milk. A cup of Rosie Lee will perk us all up.’
‘I’ll just comb my hair.’
‘Your hair looks fine. Now scat!’
Ellen pulled a face, but did as she was told while Doug sank onto a chair, saying, ‘I’m bushed. I’ll have a bit of a rest and then give you a hand.’
‘There’s no need. Once this place has been aired and dusted it’ll be fine.’
‘If you say so,’ he said, looking around the room doubtfully.
Hilda knew it was the first time he’d been inside, and to his eyes it must look awful. Somehow, though, they had to make the best of it.
‘As you said, Doug, there’s worse off than us and at least we’ve got a roof over our heads.’
‘I suppose so,’ he agreed, but Hilda could see that Doug was far from his usual cheery self.
She picked up two cases and heaved them through to their bedroom, knowing that another job would be to air the linen for their beds. Once again there was a musty smell, so she drew back the blackout curtains, opened the window, and stood grimly looking out onto the street for a moment.
‘Hello, it’s only me.’
It hadn’t been long since she’d seen her, but Hilda had missed Mabel. With a smile on her face at last, she hurried back to the living room.
‘Hilda, why didn’t you write and tell me you were coming? I’d have aired this place for you and got you in a bit of shopping.’
‘It all happened so quickly and we’d have got here before a letter.’
‘I wish you’d been here on VE day to join in the knees-up. You should have seen the celebrations.’
‘They went a bit mad in the village, too, and even old Mrs Jones had a little bit of a dance.’
‘Did she? I’d wish I’d seen that.’
‘It wasn’t a pretty sight,’ Doug said. ‘She even lifted her skirt showing off her knee-length bloomers. Talk about passion killers.’
Hilda was glad to see that his humour seemed restored, but he still looked drained and there were dark circles under his eyes. She frowned, asking, ‘Where’s Ellen? I need her to go to the shops.’
‘Billy came home a bit early today and she’s still chatting to him, but don’t worry, shopping can wait till the morning. I’ve got enough in for you to have dinner with me, but in the meantime here’s some tea, milk and a packet of biscuits.’
‘Biscuits?’ Hilda said, her brow rising.
‘Thanks to Harry.’
‘He’s still up to his old tricks then?’
‘Yes, but he’s getting a bit worried. With the war more or less over, he said he’ll have to find a new line of business. I told him he’s jumping the gun; that the men my Jack served with in Burma are
still fighting, let alone our troops in other places outside of Europe. Since VE day they seem to have been forgotten.’
‘Thanks for writing to tell me about Jack. How’s he doing?’
‘He’s fine, though as I said in my letter, he lost a few intestines. He’s applied to go back on the buses, but we’re still waiting to hear. It’s all women now, drivers and conductors, so we’re not sure how things stand.’
‘Once their husbands come home, they’ll soon pack the jobs in.’
‘That’s true,’ Mabel agreed and then grinned widely. ‘It’s good to have you back in London. I know it hasn’t been long, but I’ve missed you.’
‘What, even our spats?’ Hilda asked.
‘Yeah, even them.’
‘Thanks for the tea. I could do with a cup and so could Doug.’
‘Well, if you’re making one,’ Mabel said as she sat down. ‘I’ll have a cup too.’
Hilda walked through to the kitchen, another room that would need a good clean, she thought, lifting the blackout blind over the small window and at the same time thinking that it was about time Ellen showed her face again. Mabel had said she was chatting to Billy, and now Hilda worried that her daughter’s interest in the boy would be rekindled.
Ellen was listening to Billy, gazing at his face as he talked about a job he had found locally.
‘I’m a van boy for a department store. It ain’t a bad job and it’s nice to be out and about, but I’d rather be back in Hampshire working with the horses.’
‘Will your mum let you go back?’ Ellen asked worriedly.
‘She might, but my dad’s dead against it. I was gonna run off, go back without telling them, but they’d come after me.’
‘What a shame,’ Ellen said, trying to sound sincere. ‘Why is your dad so against it?’
‘He says there’s no future in being a stable boy. I told him there’s no future in being a van boy either, but that just earned me a clip round the ear. I’d forgotten how strict he is. I’m fourteen, out earning a few bob, but he still treats me like a kid.’
‘My parents are the same, especially my mum. Sometimes she treats me like a ten-year-old.’
‘With you looking like that, she must be blind.’
Ellen flushed, but covered her embarrassment by saying, ‘I won’t miss working in the dairy.’
‘I think you’re mad coming back here.’
‘It wasn’t my idea.’
‘I miss the place, the stables.’
‘What about Sheila?’ Ellen asked, cursing herself for not being able to hold back the thought.
‘She was a bit of all right, but what I really miss are the horses. I suppose I could write to Sheila, and I expect you know her address, but what’s the point? Mr Dunning won’t keep the job open until I’m old enough to leave home without permission, so I doubt I’ll ever see her again.’
Ellen held back a sigh of relief. ‘No, I don’t suppose I will either.’
‘Ellen, your mum wants you,’ Mabel said as she walked in. ‘There’s a lot to do and she needs a hand.’
With reluctance, Ellen stood up. She would rather stay and chat to Billy, but still, they were back now, living downstairs, and she was sure to see lots of him. She smiled at the thought, saying, ‘See you later, Billy.’
‘Yeah, see you,’ he said, giving her a little wink.
Ellen’s stomach fluttered. Could that little wink have been a sign that he liked her; that he had noticed her at last?
It’s funny, Billy thought, but he’d never really noticed Ellen before. She had just been the girl who had come to live downstairs and who had gone to the same school. Like him, she’d been just a gangly kid, and even in Hampshire he’d hardly clocked that she was growing up. Now, though, seeing her again, he realised that she was a bit tasty – thin, but pretty. Not that he was interested.
He had better things to do than to chase girls, and, anyway, he preferred blondes.
He glanced at the clock. He was meeting Harry later, the two of them off to buy a bit of gear. As he’d suspected, fresh eggs were in big demand, and only a few days after coming back to London he’d made a beeline for Harry. He hadn’t been keen on the idea at first, but Billy had talked him round and they now had a few suppliers, blokes who kept chickens on allotments around Wimbledon way who were willing to sell them their eggs for a decent price. They wouldn’t make a fortune, but Billy was always on the lookout for other opportunities, finding a good mentor in Harry.
‘It’s nice to have Hilda back,’ his mother said, smiling happily. ‘I said they could join us for dinner so I’d best get on with it. Percy will be home soon, and it’s about time your dad showed his face.’
‘Don’t do any dinner for me, Mum. I’m off out soon.’
‘Where to?’
‘I’m just meeting a mate, that’s all.’
‘Now that we’re back in London, I hope you ain’t up to mischief again. If you are, your dad will skin you alive.’
‘Mum, I ain’t a kid.’
‘You’re still only fourteen.’
‘Yeah, but I’ll be fifteen in October and surely that’s old enough to leave home?’
‘Of course it isn’t and if you’re going to go on about those stables again, forget it.’
Billy hung his head. He felt an affinity to horses, loved them, and felt a surge of determination. No matter what his mum and dad said, one day he’d go to live in the country again. He’d find a job in a stable and whether there was a future in it or not, it was what he wanted to do.
Ellen’s hopes were dashed. They had been back in London for over six weeks, but she’d seen little of Billy. She was always finding excuses to go up to Mabel’s flat, but Billy was rarely in and, if he was, he hardly spoke to her. She hadn’t found a job in a flower shop either, and had wanted to go on looking, but with her mother constantly nagging her to find a job, she had reluctantly found work in a local grocer’s shop, taking over from a woman who had given up the job when her husband had been demobilised. He was one of the first to come home when the mass demobilisation of British troops had begun two weeks ago, and, though they had victory in Europe, the war wasn’t over yet.
Mabel had said lots of women would give up work when their men came home and she was proved to be right, though many of them were doing so reluctantly. Ellen would stand at the counter,
listening to their complaints, and the little food on offer was another thing for them to moan about.
It was nearly midday on Sunday morning, the sun shining through the window when Mabel called through the door, ‘It’s only me.’
Ellen saw her father fold his newspaper, one passed on to him by Mabel’s husband, saying as he struggled to stand up, ‘I’m going down the pub.’
‘Doug, we haven’t got the money for pubs,’ her mum complained.
‘I was only going to have a half.’
‘We need food, not beer.’
‘Yeah, yeah, all right, there’s no need to nag. Is Jack in, Mabel?’
‘Yes, love.’
‘Right, I’ll go and have a chat with him. At least that costs nothing.’
Ellen felt sorry for her dad. He had hoped to find work, but since their return his back had been so painful that he could hardly move. Bent at the waist, he shuffled slowly out as Ellen looked on sadly.
‘He looks rough, Hilda.’
‘Don’t you think I know that?’
‘There’s no need to snap.’
‘I’m sorry, Mabel, it’s just that I’m worried sick. With Doug unable to work and our savings all but gone, money is going to be really tight.’
‘When is he due to go before the medical board for reassessment?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Maybe you should push it. When they see how bad he is now, surely they’ll grant him a full pension?’
‘I hope so, but in the meantime I’m going to have to tell him that I’ll have to get a job.’
‘I can lend you a few bob.’
‘No, Mabel, though thanks for the offer. If I can get a job, we’ll be all right.’
‘You’re not the only one with worries. Billy was out until all hours last night and I don’t know what the little sod was up to. If he’s gone back to his old ways and his dad finds out, there’ll be murder. Sometimes I wonder if I should have left him in Hampshire.’
‘If the job’s still open, he could go back.’
‘Jack won’t allow it, though perhaps I should have a go at persuading him to change his mind.’
Ellen stared aghast at Mabel. No, no, that was the last thing she wanted. If Billy went back to Hampshire, she might never see him again.
When Mabel left to go back upstairs, Hilda sat deep in thought. She dreaded putting her idea to Doug, but if she could find a decent-paying job it would solve their financial problems. Anyway, she decided, it was his fault that they’d been forced to this. He should have told her before – should have said that their lovemaking had made his back
worse. Instead he had waited until it was too late and the damage irreparable. Hilda knew she was often short-tempered now, taking her worry out on both Doug and Ellen, but when she thought about their future, it looked so bleak.
‘Mum, I’m going to do a bit of work in the garden,’ said Ellen.
‘If you ask me, it’s a waste of time.’
‘I’ve given up on vegetables, but while we were away someone at the factory gave Percy some flower seeds. He sowed them, but didn’t thin them out and they won’t survive unless some are pulled up. He’s a bit heavy-handed so I said I’d show him how to do it.’
Alone now, Hilda looked around the room. There was housework to do, but the old second-hand furniture hardly looked any better, no matter what she did. She’d once hoped to replace it, to re-decorate, but that was impossible now, with even the price of a pot of paint out of reach.
She heard voices, recognising Doug’s, and soon after he shuffled in.
‘Ellen’s in the garden.’
‘I know that, Doug,’ she said shortly.
‘Still stroppy, I see.’
Hilda felt a flare of anger, but took a deep breath. She needed to keep calm, and now said, ‘Doug, we can’t go on like this. Soon we won’t be able to pay the rent, and if we don’t want to find ourselves
chucked out on the street, I’m going to have to find a job.’
‘I don’t want my wife working.’
‘Talk sense. We haven’t any choice.’
‘I might get a full pension when I go before the board again.’
‘Yes, but that could be months away.’
‘We’ll just have to manage until then.’
It was no good, she had tried to stay calm, but now Hilda’s temper flamed again and she reared to her feet, hands on hips as she yelled, ‘Manage on what? The few quid you get barely pays the rent and with our savings nearly gone, it leaves nothing for food.’
‘My back might ease and then
I’ll
find a job, not you.’
‘Might! We can’t live on might! Like it or not, there’s only one thing for it. Until we find out one way or the other if you’re going to get a full pension, I’m going to get a job!’
And on that note Hilda marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Unaware that her parents were rowing, Ellen walked in Mabel’s back door.
‘Percy, if you’re ready, I’ll show you how to thin out the seedlings.’
‘Yeah, great,’ he said eagerly.
‘I never thought you’d take to gardening, son.’
‘I enjoy it, Dad.’
‘It’s something he’s got in common with Ellen,’ Mabel told him. ‘She was always in the garden in Hampshire and you should have seen the smashing vegetables she grew.’
‘There’s not much chance of that here,’ Ellen said ruefully. ‘The soil’s no good, but it might improve if we had a decent bit of fertiliser.’
‘Yeah, like horse manure,’ Billy said.
Ellen was unable to take her eyes off Billy and fumbled for something to say.
‘There isn’t much chance of getting horse manure around here.’
‘You could always follow behind the brewery dray horses and wait for them to dump a nice pile of shit.’
‘Billy!’
‘Sorry, Dad.’
‘I’m not having you using language like that in front of your mother, or Ellen. You were out late last night. Where were you?’
‘Just knocking about, you know, here and there.’
‘Who with?’
‘A mate and we met a couple of girls.’
‘You lying little toad! Girls, my foot. When I came out of the pub I saw you with Harry.’
‘That’s right, as I said, he’s a mate.’
‘I won’t have you mixing with the likes of him,’ Mabel cried.
‘I don’t know why. We weren’t up to anything illegal, and, anyway, Harry’s a laugh.’
‘A laugh! He’s a bleedin’ tea leaf.’
‘He’s not, Mum. He’s more a sort of entrepreneur.’
‘Entrepreneur, blimey, Billy, where did you get that word from?’ Percy asked.
‘It’s what Harry calls himself and I reckon I can learn a lot from him.’
‘That’s it!’ Mabel yelled. ‘I’ve had enough! Jack, before he gets up to Gawd knows what, I reckon he should go back to Hampshire.’
Ellen’s stomach lurched, waiting for Jack’s reply.
‘Can’t you see that’s just what he’s after? Well, it ain’t going to work, son, so you’re wasting your time.’
‘I don’t know what you mean, Dad.’
‘The innocent face doesn’t wash with me, Billy. You think worrying the life out of your mother is a way to make me give in, but you can think again. You’re not helping your case, you’re hindering it. All you’re doing is showing that you can’t be trusted, and until I think you can be, I’m not letting you out of my sight.’
‘I didn’t mean to worry Mum, honest. It’s just that I miss Hampshire, the horses, and I want to go back.’
‘Jack, at least let’s talk about it,’ Mabel urged. ‘My mind’s made up and it’ll be a waste of time.’ Ellen felt a touch on her arm, Percy saying,
‘Come on, let’s go and get those seedlings sorted out.’
‘Yes, go on, Ellen, you don’t want to hear all this,’ Mabel urged.
Ellen reluctantly followed Percy from the room, hoping Mabel wouldn’t be able to persuade her husband to change his mind.
Percy went down the back stairs, thinking that with shortages for manufacturing during the war and so many railings taken to be melted down, it was a wonder the staircase, along with the rest in the street, had remained.
He looked down at the emerging seedlings and saw how crammed in they were. It was just as well Ellen was going to show him how to thin them out or he’d probably have killed the lot. She was a nice girl and it was obvious that she had a huge crush on Billy. Not that his brother had noticed and that was just as well. Billy was no good, causing his mother nothing but worry, and if his dad could be persuaded to let him go back to the stables, Percy would be glad to see the back of him.
‘I reckon my mum will talk my dad round and he’ll let Billy go back to Hampshire.’
‘What! No!’
‘It’s the best place for him.’
Ellen knelt on the ground, her neck bent and face hidden as she said, ‘We’ll need to water them
first to avoid too much root damage. It would’ve been better if you’d started the seeds off in trays and then thinned them out, but we should be able to get out the weak-looking ones, leaving room for the others to grow.’
‘I’ll ask your mum if I can fill a bucket with water.’
Ellen nodded and then stood up, her head still down, but Percy saw a tear running down her cheek and asked softly, ‘Are you all right?’
‘Oh, Percy, I don’t want Billy to go back to Hampshire.’
She looked so unhappy, so vulnerable, and, without thinking, Percy wrapped his arms around her.
‘Listen, if Billy stays here and carries on the way he is, he could end up in jail.’
It didn’t seem to console Ellen, her head on his chest as she cried. It was the first time Percy had held a girl in his arms, and, feeling her small breasts against him, he felt something happen that had him flushing with embarrassment. Bloody hell, what if Ellen felt it? Abruptly he pushed her away, saying gruffly, ‘I’ll get that water.’
Thankfully Ellen didn’t follow him as he walked into Hilda’s kitchen, pausing as he fought to pull himself together, then calling, ‘Hilda, can I fill this bucket with water?’
It was Doug who answered, ‘Help yourself.’
Percy held the pail under the tap. He’d never thought of Ellen in that way before, seeing her as just a kid, but now knew he’d never be able to look at her in the same light again. How old was she? Yes, fourteen, and it appalled Percy that he now actually fancied someone so young. Yet she would be fifteen soon, in November, and in reality he was only a year older. She was still too young though – too young to even think about for now – but there would come a time when Ellen would be old enough for him to ask her out.
Ellen stayed where she was. If her mother saw her in tears, she’d want to know what was wrong, and Ellen couldn’t face her questions. She knew what her mum would say – that this was just a childish crush – but it wasn’t. It wasn’t! She liked Billy, really liked him, and had hoped that, with Sheila out of the picture, he’d notice her. All right, so far it hadn’t happened, but given time, it might.
If Billy went back to Hampshire, Sheila would be there waiting with open arms and Ellen couldn’t bear the thought of that. She sniffed, running her forefinger under her nose. She wanted to be the one who was held in Billy’s arms, wanted him to kiss
her –
not Sheila.
Percy was gone only a short while, returning with a bucket of water.
‘Are you feeling better now?’ he asked gruffly, as he began to pour water over the plants.
Ellen nodded, sniffed, and then seeing what he was doing, she said quickly, ‘No, don’t do it like that or you’ll flatten them. Just trickle it.’
‘Right,’ he said.
Ellen knew they needed a watering can, but they had little in the way of gardening equipment. She wanted to get on with it, to bury her worries by concentrating on the task in hand. Working on her knees with the plants would soothe her raging thoughts, but the water would have to soak in first and that would take a while.
She absentmindedly watched Percy as he now carefully trickled the water, her mind on Billy. His dad had been adamant, and maybe he’d still insist that Billy stayed in London…that thought brought her a glimmer of hope.
Later that day, Mabel came downstairs, saying as she walked in, ‘I’m sorry about the racket, but it’s all sorted now.’
Ellen looked up from the book she was reading as her mother asked, ‘What racket?’
‘I can’t believe you didn’t hear us. We’ve been rowing for hours, but at last Jack’s given in. If the job’s still open, Billy’s going back to Hampshire.’
Ellen’s throat constricting, she croaked, ‘When?’
‘I’ll have to write to the head groom, Mr Dunning,
first. Even if the job’s still going, there’ll be accommodation to sort out. He once said he could find something for Billy.’
‘I envy the lad. It was nice in Hampshire.’
‘It was, Doug,’ agreed Mabel, ‘and Billy’s so keen to go back that he isn’t worried about having anywhere to stay. He said he’d be happy to kip in the stables, but I’m not standing for that. He’ll be on tenterhooks now until we get a reply.’
‘I don’t think he’s got anything to worry about. From what I saw, Mr Dunning seemed to think a lot of Billy and I should think he’ll welcome him back.’
Ellen wanted to deny her dad’s words, her only hope now that he was wrong: that the job had been filled and Billy would have to stay in London.
‘If he can’t fit him in, Billy’s talking about trying other stables,’ Mabel said. ‘He doesn’t care where as long as he can work with horses again.’
It was no good; Ellen couldn’t sit there any longer.
‘I…I’m just going to my room for a minute.’
She saw her mother’s questioning look, but ignored it and hurried to her bedroom where she flung herself onto the bed. Ellen’s eyes closed, the image of Billy in her mind, his handsome face, dark hair, cheeky grin and green eyes that sparked
with mischief. The thought of never seeing him again was unbearable, and Ellen clutched her pillow, fearing that her dream of being held in Billy’s arms was over.