Now the War Is Over (10 page)

Melly watched her father sit back and light up, blowing whorls of smoke towards the ceiling.

‘That’s all very well. But how do they think we’re going to go carting over to Harborne? Stick him on the back of my pushbike or summat?’ His uncertainty came out as
sarcasm.

‘No, I
told
you, she said they’d fetch him. In a car.’

‘A car!’ Danny took a drag on his Woodbine and his mocking laugh was an outbreath of smoke. ‘You really think they’re gonna send a
car
all the way over here
–’ he nodded at Tommy – ‘for ’im!’

Melly cringed inside at the way he spoke. She couldn’t look at Tommy.

‘Yes,’ Rachel said. Melly could hear her anger and determination. ‘That’s what she said, dain’t she, Tommy?’

‘Seems peculiar to me,’ Gladys cut in.

Melly watched her mother try not to lose her temper.

‘It may seem
peculiar
,’ she said. ‘But this is how it is – and he’s going. They’re trying to find children all over Birmingham with, with . .
.’ She tried to remember the term again. ‘With
cerebral palsy
, that’s what she called it. And help them get some schooling.’

Gladys looked uncertain and pursed her lips. Melly could see that behind her suspiciousness, Auntie looked a bit lost in all this. It was outside her ken – beyond the world of Alma Street
and the markets. She seemed vulnerable suddenly.

‘Well, I’ve never heard of anything like it,’ she said.

‘Nor me,’ Danny added.

‘Well, aren’t you glad for him?’ Rachel stood over them, blazing at them both. ‘Just because something’s new and different doesn’t make it bad, does it?
They’ve set up a school specially. And Tommy wants to go. It’s a chance for him – so we’re going.’

Normally Rachel deferred to Gladys, but not this time.

‘Well . . .’ Gladys clasped her teacup between both hands. ‘I s’pose if that’s what they think best . . . What about you, Tommy, eh?’ She reached round and
stroked his cheek. ‘What d’you think about going to this place?’

‘I – I . . .’ He was agitated, gasping for words.

‘Take it slow, Tommy,’ Melly said, leaning towards him. ‘One word at a time.’ She felt she needed to remind him and everyone that
she
had been Tommy’s
teacher up until now.
She
was the one who had helped him learn all the things he knew. She had a horrible shrinking feeling as if she was about to lose something very important and no one
else was going to notice.

Struggling for each word, Tommy brought out, ‘The lady – was – nice. I want – to – go – and – see.’

‘What’s it cost?’ Danny asked, still hostile. ‘There’s got to be a catch somewhere.’

‘You don’t pay. It’s some kind of charity thing,’ Rachel said hurriedly. ‘He’s not in yet, not for sure – they have to look at him and then
decide.’

‘Oh, ar – I see,’ Danny said, sitting back as if to say, well, that’s the end of all that then. What’s all the fuss about? Tommy wouldn’t be going anyway.

‘But she said she thought he has a very good chance,’ Rachel insisted. ‘And if they take him, they want me to go and help a bit – every so often, like. You know, with the
kiddies.’

‘Well.’ Gladys sat back. It was all taking a while to sink in, but she knew, as Danny’s aunt and the oldest there, that she had the authority in this house and she asserted
herself. She looked round the table. ‘It sounds to me like a good thing for the lad to try. If it’s what they’re making it out to be, any road.’ She gave her nephew a sharp
look. ‘No need to stand in the lad’s way if there’s summat for him. If you’re happy, Rach, we’d better let him.’

Rachel folded her arms. ‘Oh, he’s going.’

Danny didn’t reply. He nudged Kevin. ‘Come on, soldier – want to kick that ball around for a bit? And you, Ricky?’

Kevin leapt down from the table, full of energy as ever. The two boys went out, with Kevin’s ball. Melly saw her mother frown, her eyes following Danny, and the expression in them was full
of hurt and disappointment.

People who were out on Alma Street that morning stopped and turned uneasily to watch. A large Austin hearse rumbled along the cobbles at an unhurried pace, the driver craning
his neck as if in search of the right address. He braked the heavy black vehicle at the kerb, wound down the window and called to a woman in a headscarf for directions. She straightened up,
pointing, her face sober at the thought of a death nearby.

The driver, a rotund man with a remaining ring of black hair round a bald patch, switched off the engine and made his way along the entry, buttoning his jacket as he went. He searched out number
three on the yard and the Mrs Booker he was looking for. He found her ready and waiting, her son with her in his chair.

Rachel pushed Tommy out along the entry, stopped and stared with incredulity at the car.

‘Are you having me on?’

‘No, I’m not,’ the driver said, huffily. ‘Sometimes they use our cars when the taxis are busy. They use cars from the Electric Garage and they’ve only got so many
to spare.’ As they got in he added, ‘Any road, you’re best off with me. Theirs’re forever breaking down.’

A curious crowd gathered. The absence of any sign of a coffin or black funeral garb made the situation even more interesting for the Alma Street bystanders. Rachel felt hysterical giggles rising
up in her. This would make Danny laugh when she told him later on.

‘Off somewhere nice, are yer, bab?’ some joker called from behind her.

‘Come on,’ the driver said, with an air of someone weary of merry comments about his vehicle. ‘Let’s get you inside.’

Rachel settled beside Tommy on the seat, his chair stowed safely in the boot. Tommy looked suddenly very small in the grand car, like a rag doll slumped on the seat. His face was solemn, his
left arm seeming stiffer and more clenched than usual. He told her he had hardly slept. He was awed and nervous about the whole experience. Rachel worried suddenly that something might happen, that
he’d wet the seat or something.

‘You don’t need to go, do you, Tommy?’ she whispered as the car pulled away from the kerb. He’d been just before they left, but how awful it would be if . . .

He shook his head and managed a tiny smile. Rachel was filled with tenderness looking at him. Her poor little boy – he had hardly been anywhere in his life and now this. What a thing! She
took his hand and squeezed it.

‘I feel like a film star,’ she said, letting some of her giggles out. ‘Look, people’re waving!’

And then they set off at a dignified, almost regal pace, along Alma Street, past the Salutation pub and the Crocodile works and into Summer Lane, before gliding into Birmingham. She looked out
at the centre of town which still felt like one big building site. As they crawled through, she stared out at the blitzed city trying to recover, at the jagged gaps between the buildings, the
cranes, the scaffolding and dust and mess of it all and then they were out the other side and heading south towards the greener suburb of Harborne village.

As soon as Danny came home that night, she flung herself at him.

‘They say he can go – he can go to the school! Oh, it’s such a nice place – and I’m going to go and help!’ She was so excited she hadn’t been able to
sit still since the car brought them back – a normal taxi this time, which had still caused a bit of a stir when they arrived home. ‘They said it’s the only school like it in the
whole country. Oh, and everyone was so nice and they know just how to look after him!’

When they’d got to the school in Victoria Road and saw the buildings, the classrooms and garden and all the kind people working with the children she couldn’t help it – again,
she broke down and wept. That all this existed, that there could be such a place, all arranged specially for children like Tommy – it was a miracle! And as she looked round, seeing the
children in their classes, the way everything was done to try and help each of them learn, even with all their varying difficulties, she was filled with astonishment.

‘All right, all right, calm down, wench!’ Danny said, trying to put down the bags he was carrying as she hung round his neck. But he was laughing at her enthusiasm.

‘I just never knew there were people like that, Danny.’ She was tearful again now. ‘It feels as if . . .’ How to say it, that everything felt different, that the whole
world seemed to have changed when you could find all this help and kindness in it?

Danny looked round. ‘Where is the lad then?’

‘Upstairs having a kip,’ Rachel said. ‘He was worn out after all the excitement, poor little lamb. Oh, Danny –’ She went to him again. ‘I’m so pleased
for him. I can hardly believe it.’

Tommy sat in the back of the taxi as he did every afternoon now. They turned up Alma Street and parked in the usual place. It was Friday, the end of his first week at school
and he was so tired he had almost fallen asleep on the comfortable car seat on the drive home.

‘I’ll just go and get your mother,’ the driver said.

Tommy waited. He was always waiting for something. He could feel people peering into the car and he shrank down in the seat. If only he could jump out and run along the entry out of sight! He
knew that later he’d go to Mo and Dolly’s house to watch their television. He loved telly with a passion. It could take you anywhere. At school he had made a friend called Simon who
loved telly as well and they talked about
The Quatermass Experiment.
Even though it ended months ago it still gave him churning, excited, terrified feelings when he thought about it. There
was a new series on now called
Fabian of the Yard
, which was all about policemen and crimes. Tommy had seen one episode and was itching to see more of it . . .

Knuckles rapped the window. ‘Tommy! Wakey-wakey!’

His mother opened the door. Her face looked white and tired. Tommy wriggled and slithered out of the car and into his chair.

‘Thanks very much,’ Rachel said to the driver.

‘All right. Ta-ra,’ he muttered, through his cigarette.

‘How was it today?’ She leaned down and he felt her breath on his neck and heard the anxiety in her voice. ‘Taxi all right?’ The driver of the hearse had been right
– the old taxis which ferried the children around often coughed bronchially into silence on the way.

‘Yeah. All right.’

It
was
all right. It was more than all right, sitting in the classroom with other boys and girls the same as him but each different in their own way. Some had far worse difficulties
than his. They were trying him out doing all sorts of things. He showed them that he could write his letters as long as the paper was fixed down. People seemed to be pleased. Tommy felt happy but
limp with exhaustion. So many things happening all day – it wore him out.

As soon as they got into the yard, Melly appeared. She came and helped Mom push the chair, although Mom didn’t need help.

‘Did you like your school today?’ she asked, babying him.

He didn’t say anything. Melly had always given him lessons when she got home from school. When he had been sitting not doing much all day, he had waited for her, wanting her to come home.
But now when he got back he had been on the go all day and he was tired out.

In the house, Mom had cut him a piece with jam on it.

‘When you’ve had that, shall I play a game with you?’ Melly said.

Tommy was deep in one of Dad’s comics. He shook his head. ‘No – don’t wan’oo.’

He didn’t look at Melly. He knew she was good with games and lessons but he had proper teachers now. She took over everything. He wished she would leave him alone.

‘Don’t you want to do some letters?’ Melly persisted. Tommy could hear the hurt in her voice but he carried on staring at the comic.

‘Leave him, Melly,’ Mom snapped. ‘He’s had enough. And that telly programme he likes is on soon anyhow. Why don’t you go and see Cissy while she’s here?
It’s not as if she gets herself over here often these days.’

Peering out into the yard in Cissy’s direction, she added, to Gladys, ‘We’re gonna have to watch that one. She’s up there by the works with Dolly’s Fred
again.’

Tommy could feel Melly standing by his chair, looking down at him. He didn’t look up and after a minute she went to the door and slipped outside. No one called her back.

Melly stood at the side of the yard, in the dying light. She leaned against the wall, arms clenched across her chest. Cissy had come over after work to stay with them, but
Cissy’s idea of fun these days was hanging around with Freddie Morrison.

Cissy had left school now and was fulfilling Nanna Peggy’s dream of having a daughter working in a big store. Well, almost. Peggy really wanted a daughter selling clothes or perfume at
Lewis’s or Rackham’s. Cissy was working at Woolworth’s, but at least it was Woolworth’s in the Bull Ring and Peggy was sure it would lead to higher things.

Now she had left school, with a sigh and a flounce of relief, Cissy considered herself a Woman and Melly still to be a Child. Melly was fed up with her. Cissy used to come over to play with
her,
but she knew that these days, Alma Street was the main place where Cissy could meet boys. Cissy was full of new words these days. Everything was ‘cool’ or
‘hip’. She wore full, swinging skirts and hoiked her ginger hair into a high ponytail.

Freddie, the youngest of the five Morrison lads, was fifteen, only a few months older than Cissy. Cissy had previously had a crush on Jonny, his older brother, but that hadn’t lasted
long.

‘Jonny’s boring,’ she’d announced last year. Jonny, of all the Morrison boys, was the studious one. The others had left school and worked for various firms in the area,
but Jonny wanted to be a teacher. Now that there were enough wages coming into the house from all the others, Mo and Dolly had said he could stay on at school. Jonny, at seventeen, had his nose
constantly in a book and this was not good-time-girl Cissy’s cup of tea at all.

So she had set her sights on Freddie instead. He was a jolly, uncomplicated lad who worked for a firm turning out brass pressings and stampings. As soon as he was finished at work, he was
looking for fun and Cissy was eager to provide it. The two of them had lengthy, secretive chats in which Cissy did a lot of giggling. One of these chats was going on right now, by the wall of the
wire works. Freddie, blonde and muscular, though not much taller than Cissy, was leaning one elbow against the wall, one leg nonchalantly bent. Cissy was laughing at everything he said even if it
wasn’t funny
.