Secrets of the Singer Girls (36 page)

Baby Hope was in her thoughts every single minute of every single day. Daisy supposed this must be what it felt like to experience grief. She felt almost as if she was suffocating like one of
the poor souls who had perished. She couldn’t eat or sleep, and her arms literally ached to hold Hope. She walked about on the periphery of life, haunted by her loss.

It had been just over three weeks now since she had left the home and she was still no closer to working out how it was she was simply supposed to forget such an utterly life-changing event. She
had brought a tiny person into the world and loved her with a fierce maternal passion, and now she was supposed to just forget that she was a mother? Daisy knew that she could never truly forget
her loss, but like everyone else in Bethnal Green, she would somehow have to find a way to keep moving forward.

Just then Archie poked his head round the door.

‘Hello, darlin’. I got you a nice cup of tea downstairs.’

Thank goodness for Archie. Vera finally admitting her love for him was the only good thing to come out of this whole traumatic ordeal. In the ten days since their father’s return from
prison, on the fateful morning of the Tube disaster, he had barely been seen about the place. Vera was convinced he was up to his old tricks, and when he was home, he watched them both like a hawk.
Daisy loathed their father and found herself wondering, yet again, how he managed to pull the wool over her eyes for so long.

She turned to Archie now with a grateful smile. ‘Thanks, Archie. But should you be here? You know what our dad’s like, and he seems to have it in for you. If he comes home and finds
you here, he’ll make no end of trouble.’

Archie’s smile slipped. ‘Your father is nothing but a nasty little bully, just like Reggie Fowler was, and the only way to treat bullies is to stand up to them. I’m not scared
of him. I’m marrying your sister and I don’t give a fig what your father makes of it. Now, come on downstairs and wet your whistle before your tea goes cold.’

Daisy followed Archie downstairs to find Sal and her boys and Vera sitting sombrely at the kitchen table, all dressed in black.

All those people killed and not a single mention of it in the news or on the wireless. I should know – I’ve been scouring the papers every day,’ snapped Sal.

‘There was a small piece on it in the paper two days after, but there was no mention of where it was in the country or the true extent of the casualties,’ piped up Vera.

‘Simple.’ Archie shrugged. ‘It’s been hushed up, kept under lock and key. Bad for morale, ain’t it? Churchill don’t want this sort of news spilling out.
Imagine the propaganda. The Nazis would have a field day with it.’

‘So what,’ fumed Sal, ‘we say nothing? Just keep our mouths shut as if nothing ever happened? Do the lives of all those poor people count for nothing?

‘Do you know, the day after the disaster, some fellas from the council were down at the station painting white lines on the steps and installing handrails. A little too late for that,
wouldn’t you say?’

Vera nodded. ‘Do they imagine they can just patch over all that death like we do a jacket filled with bullet holes?’ she said.

Sal shook her head in despair. ‘Well, I won’t forget, or forgive.’

Without saying a word, Daisy placed her arms around her friend’s trembling shoulders and a heavy silence descended on the room. She guessed that Sal was deeply traumatized by all that she
had seen, but that didn’t mean that every word out of her lips wasn’t true. The East End was paying a heavy price for this war, and their suffering on the home front seemed destined to
be forgotten.

At the funeral, each and every one of them stood ramrod straight and sang their lungs out. Betty’s mother had chosen ‘Jerusalem’ as the hymn for her
daughter’s final send-off and the Singer Girls’ voices soared loud and proud. They wanted God to know He had a good ‘un coming His way.

Betty had been just fourteen, and a more merry-eyed scamp you’d be hard pressed to find. Daisy smiled to herself as she thought of the time Betty had written to a serviceman passing
herself off as a twenty-one-year-old. Trout’s wouldn’t be the same without her quick tongue and infectious giggles filling the place. By the time the pallbearers got ready to transport
her coffin outside for the burial, Daisy was unable to stem her tears. They weren’t just for Betty but for the daughter she too had been forced to say goodbye to. Glancing over at
Betty’s mother as she bent down to kiss her daughter’s coffin, she felt every ounce of that pain as if it were her own.

As they trooped out of the church afterwards, bowing their heads, she noticed how weary the vicar looked. Little wonder. Vera had said this was his thirteenth funeral of the day, and Ivy’s
was in half an hour. The group went to pay their respects to Betty’s mother, who was stood on the church porch.

‘God bless you, girls,’ she whispered, after they had all uttered their condolences. Before they went to move away, Betty’s mum called after them. ‘Sal, I’ve been
meaning to ask. Betty was wearing her favourite amber brooch. It was her nan’s. But by the time I found her in the crypt, it was missing. You didn’t happen to see it, did you, when you
were in there? It’s just that I so wanted her to be buried wearing it. I felt she should have something bright and pretty in her coffin, just like she was.’

‘I’m so sorry, but no,’ Sal replied. ‘Try asking some of the wardens. They removed jewellery from the poor souls too bruised to be able to identify, to help their
families find them. They should be able to help you.’

‘Thanks, Sal. I’ll do that,’ she whispered.

By the time Ivy’s funeral ended, Daisy felt quite drained. As the congregation spilled out once again, she spotted Poppy and her new beau, Freddie. His appearance on the scene was really
quite mysterious. He was a pen pal apparently, but that was the first Daisy had heard of Poppy even having a friend in the forces. Daisy was sure Sal knew more than she was letting on; in fact, the
two of them had seemed to be in cahoots ever since the night of the disaster. She had often found them huddled in mysterious little chats that tailed off whenever she came near, but no matter. At
least Poppy seemed happy. In fact, it was as if there had been a light switched on in her beautiful blue eyes. She walked over to where the pair stood under an old yew tree in the graveyard,
Poppy’s arm linked through Freddie’s, and his hand placed protectively over hers.

‘Hello, you two.’ Daisy smiled, extending her hand towards Freddie. ‘I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.’

‘So thrilled to meet you at last, Daisy,’ he replied, shaking her hand firmly. ‘Though what a pity it has to be under such sad circumstances.’

‘Indeed,’ she murmured. ‘Just you make sure you look after this one. She’s very special.’

‘I promise,’ Freddie vowed.

‘Stop it, you two,’ blushed Poppy. ‘Freddie and I have only just started courting.’

But Daisy could tell by the way the young serviceman was gazing down at Poppy that he was smitten, and she could see the feeling was reciprocated. Daisy thought suddenly of her own handsome
soldier, Robert, and the love she felt in her heart for him still. He would have made a terrific father, she realized with a sharp pang of loss, but society would never accept their relationship in
the way it would Poppy and Freddie’s. The awful fact of the matter was she didn’t know whether she
could
  be with Robert now, even if that were an option. Looking at
Robert’s face would always remind her of their daughter. She feared they had simply lost too much ever to find true and lasting happiness together. Robert had written to her again and again
pledging his love, but as he had no idea when he would next get leave, the words somehow seemed meaningless.

Daisy had started at least five letters to him explaining how she felt, but somehow she couldn’t seem to find the words that summed up either her searing loss or how she had changed since
Hope’s birth. But she owed it to him to at least try, and Daisy vowed that tomorrow she would write that letter. As for their long-term future . . . who knew? She cast her mind back to what
Robert had told her when they had first met, and his words echoed in her ears:
This war is going to change the future for the likes of me and you . . . Anything is possible.
She had so
desperately wanted to share in that belief, but from where she was standing right now, in a battle-weary graveyard, his prediction sounded hollow. It didn’t even begin to cut through her
pain.

‘I believe we owe you a great deal for rescuing our Poppy,’ she said, forcing herself not to dwell on her own agony.

‘It was nothing really.’ Freddie blushed modestly.

‘Nonsense,’ Daisy replied. ‘Poppy’s one of our own now and we treasure her. Thank goodness you were on the scene when you were.’

‘Come on, then,’ said Poppy, slipping her arm through Daisy’s. ‘Alfie’s putting on a memorial tea at the Dog and Duck. Shall we all walk together? I think Vera and
Sal have gone on already to help set it up.’

Daisy nodded and they all moved off through the graveyard, out into a dazzling spring afternoon, where shattered Bethnal Green was doing what it did best: putting one foot in front of the other
and simply getting on with things. Daisy knew that few words would be said on the subject of that dreadful night, but she doubted that anyone would forget. They would carry the memories with them
always in their hearts and minds. But at least love was blossoming along with the cherry trees: Poppy and Freddie courting, Vera and Archie a proper couple at last.

This time last year, she and her sister had been at loggerheads, unable to see reason or sense and both too stubborn to admit when they were in the wrong. Now her sister was experiencing the
love she had hoped for herself, and Daisy felt nothing but happiness for her.

The memorial party at the pub had been subdued by East End standards. Poppy thought back to her first night in Bethnal Green and what a baptism of fire that had been for her.
She had been scared out of her wits back then and haunted by her secrets. A lot had happened in a year, but one thing remained the same and now she was determined finally to lay her past to
rest.

She reached up on her tiptoes and whispered in Freddie’s ear, ‘Shall we leave now?’

‘Of course, Poppy.’ He smiled down tenderly at her. ‘I’ll go and fetch your coat.’

As he rushed off, Sal, Vera and Archie exchanged knowing looks.

‘Well, I’ll say this, love,’ remarked Vera. ‘I don’t know where you found him, but he’s a keeper all right.’

A proper gent,’ agreed Archie. ‘How did you two meet, then?’

‘She sent a message in a bottle,’ Sal said with a wink.

‘Something like that,’ Poppy giggled.

Fond farewells were exchanged before Poppy and Freddie walked out into the warm spring evening and strolled down the road that hugged the park. GIs whizzed past in jeeps and hordes of factory
workers were spilling out onto the street, relieved to be outside in the fresh air. At a bench, Freddie paused.

‘Shall we sit for a while?’ he suggested. ‘I know I should be getting you home and me back to my lodgings in Earls Court but I can’t bear to leave you.’

Together they sat down and Poppy took a deep breath, but Freddie beat her to it. In dismay, she realized he was standing, and then sinking down onto the pavement on one knee.

‘Freddie, whatever are you doing?’ she asked, flabbergasted.

‘Please, Poppy, just hear me out,’ he begged. His hands were shaking as he reached forward and clutched hers. ‘I know our meeting like that on the night of the Tube disaster
was tragic, but it made me realize how much I truly adore you. To come so close to losing you when I’d only just met you was unthinkable, and since then, I haven’t wanted to be apart
from you for a moment. I believe you’re my soul-mate. I know you have your life here, but I hope that once this war is over, you will move back to Devon with me.

‘What I’m trying to say, in the most terribly clumsy fashion, is that I love you, Poppy Percival, and I want you for my wife. So will you? Marry me, that is?’

Poppy’s hands flew to her mouth in surprise. ‘Oh, Freddie, nothing would make me happier! Except—’ she broke off, her voice faltering. ‘I need you to hear what I
have to say and then I shan’t mind in the slightest if you wish to retract your offer. Do you remember when I wrote to you and told you I wasn’t who I seemed?’

Squeezing her eyes shut, she blurted out the whole story, of that night in the scullery, of the months of shame and guilt that had torn her apart piece by piece, her mother’s rejection of
her and how she honestly doubted she would have survived any of it were it not for the love and support of her new friends.

‘So there you have it,’ she said at last, opening her blue eyes and staring at the pavement. ‘I understand that I must be a disappointment to you, and I won’t blame you
if you walk away right now.’

She could hardly bring herself to look at Freddie’s face. She knew he would be reeling from her confession. But when at last she summoned the courage to look up, the expression he wore was
not one of disgust or even pity. It was pure, undiluted love, etched with a deep compassion.

‘It doesn’t matter, not to me at any rate,’ he said simply. ‘Nothing can stop me wanting to look after you. I can’t pretend it will be easy to hide my anger, not at
you, but at the brute who did those terrible things, but it doesn’t change my feelings towards you one bit. You are still the woman I want to end my days with. So I pledge my love to you and
ask again, will you marry me?’

This time Poppy nodded, and tears of relief splashed down her face as Freddie gathered her in his arms and kissed her. His kiss was the most delicious of sensations on her lips, as soft as silk
and as sweet as cherry jam. After his lips broke away from hers, she nestled into the crook of his arm and snuggled in close to her fiancé’s chest. Poppy pulled Freddie’s love
and acceptance around her like a soft wool blanket and let out a long, slow sigh of relief. It would still take time to erase the pain of her past, but thanks to Freddie, she did at least have a
future to look forward to.