The Bells of Bow (34 page)

Even when the siren went the party continued; they all trooped down to the cellar and, because they couldn’t carry the piano downstairs, Babs and Evie sang instead, bringing tears to their dad’s eyes.

But as soon as the all clear sounded, they were back up in the bar and the dancing began, with Maudie surprising them by playing all the latest dance tunes as well as the old favourites.

Rather than cause a scene, Babs agreed to take to the floor with Albie when he made a show of asking her, as the bridesmaid, to dance with him.

She wasn’t too happy when Maudie began playing the slow opening bars of ‘Night and Day’. ‘Remember that first night when we all went to the club?’ Albie breathed into her ear. ‘Yer sister sang it to me. D’you wanna sing it to me?’

Babs squirmed in his arms. She felt like kneeing him in the groin, but she knew she couldn’t even walk away from him what with everyone watching. But she didn’t have to put up with him holding her so close.

‘What’s up, darling? Gutted that it’s not you what’s gonna be in me bed tonight? If you play yer cards right …’ His voice trailed off, his sickening meaning left dangling in the air between them.

‘You pig,’ she hissed under her breath. ‘Just get away from me.’

Albie laughed at her. ‘Keep smiling, girl, we’ve got quite an audience.’

‘Chas!’ Babs called as she looked round Albie’s massive shoulders. She smiled seductively at Albie’s handsome but dim mate who was standing propping up the bar. ‘Ain’t yer gonna cut in?’

‘Stupid bitch,’ sneered Albie as Chas, surprised but delighted, took Babs in his arms and waltzed her away, leaving Albie standing there.

By the time Evie and Albie were ready to leave for their honeymoon – in the rooms in the Mile End Road that Bernie had taken as part pay-off for a gambling debt and had then given them as a wedding present – Babs had danced with Chas a dozen times and she was uneasily aware he was getting quite the wrong impression.

As the guests threw handfuls of homemade confetti at the departing Riley which Frankie, in his role as ARP warden, had threatened to confiscate because of the noise made by the tin cans tied to the back bumper, Chas slipped his arm round Babs’s shoulders.

‘Yer must be freezing in that flimsy little frock,’ he leered at her. ‘I could keep yer warm if yer like, darling.’ Before Babs realised what he was up to, he was trying to shove his hand down the front of her dress.

‘Yer lucky, Chas, ’cos I’m putting that down to yer being pissed,’ Babs snarled, pushing him away from her. ‘And yer can bugger off now that bastard’s gone.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘No, I don’t suppose you do,’ said Babs and went over to Georgie who was standing on the edge of the kerb still waving into the pitch dark of the blacked-out street.

‘I think they’ve gone, Dad,’ she said gently.

‘Yeah.’ Georgie sighed.

‘Ready to go home?’

Georgie nodded in the dark. ‘I said I’d walk Maudie home but that lot in there won’t let her go.’ He took off his jacket and draped it round Babs’s shoulders.

‘Just me and you now, eh, Dad?’

They walked slowly across the road back towards number six. The sounds of the party still going strong in the Drum echoed through the empty street.

‘Never knew Minnie could dance like that,’ Georgie said with a quiet, muted laugh.

‘No. Nor did I.’

They stopped by the street door.

‘I hope I’m wrong about Albie, Dad.’

‘Yeah. Me too.’

‘She looked lovely though, didn’t she?’

‘Beautiful.’

‘You’re ever so quiet, Dad. But it’s no good upsetting yerself, she’s gone and done it now.’

Georgie took the key out of his pocket. As he put it in the lock he said almost to himself, ‘It’s not that. I was just wondering where Maudie got that frock.’

It was now mid-December, just a month after her wedding day and Evie’s life had changed completely. But not for the better. Instead of the glamorous life she had imagined, based on ideas she had got from seeing the Thin Man films with Myrna Loy and William Powell at the Troxy, her life was miserable, boring and lonely. In fact, the only similarity between the lives of the movie characters and her own was that she too had a dog. But even that wasn’t a cute little terrier like the one who slept on the satin covers in Myrna Loy’s swanky bedroom; it was a great lolloping greyhound that wanted walking every five minutes and howled every time the air raid warnings went off.

Being Albie Denham’s missus was definitely not measuring up to the life of wedded bliss that she had expected. Not only was he out till all hours nearly every night of the week, either with Chas or on yet another ‘bit of business’ that he had to see to, he had taken it into his head that he didn’t like being seen in public with a pregnant woman, which meant that Evie had no choice but to stay indoors night after night with only Flash for company. Most days Albie went out some time during the morning and didn’t get back home until way past midnight. So it was with some surprise that she heard the knock on the door at half past five in the afternoon.

‘Hello, Babs, what you doing here?’ Evie smoothed back her unbrushed hair and pulled her dressing gown round her – she hadn’t bothered to get dressed yet, there seemed no point when there was no one there to see her.

‘Yer don’t mind me coming, do yer?’ Babs stepped inside, careful to pull the blackout curtain down behind her. ‘I didn’t wanna stick me nose in and disturb you two honeymooners but I couldn’t help wondering how yer were. It’s been such a long time.’

‘Come in.’

Babs followed Evie along the dark passage to the front room of the flat that took up the ground floor of the three-storey house on the Mile End Road.

‘This is nice,’ Babs said, looking round at the jumble of ill-matched furniture with its tatty, worn upholstery that Queenie had given them.

‘Don’t tell lies,’ said Evie, lowering herself into a battered armchair by the gas fire.

‘You all right?’

‘Yeah, fine. You know me.’

Babs stood by Evie’s armchair. ‘Shall I make us a cuppa?’

‘Have one if yer like. But don’t do nothing for me. Everything I have makes me feel sick.’

‘I won’t bother either then. I’ve gotta get home soon anyway, to get Dad’s tea. He’s on shift later tonight.’

Evie didn’t say anything.

Babs sat down in the wobbly armchair opposite Evie.

A silence fell between them but it wasn’t like the comfortable, companionable times when they’d been at home in Darnfield Street, when it didn’t matter if neither of them spoke for hours on end; this was different, uneasy, as though there were things that were being left unsaid, making a barrier between them.

‘So long as you’re all right, then,’ Babs said eventually, standing up. ‘I’d better be off.’

‘Yeah.’ Evie stretched out her hand and absentmindedly stroked Flash’s sleek back. ‘I won’t get up. I need me rest, see.’

‘Course, you stay where you are. I’ll let meself out.’

As Babs ran along the Mile End Road, the tears streamed down her cheeks. What had happened to them? What was going to happen to Evie? And as for the baby when it was born, she couldn’t bring herself to think about it.

Back in the flat, Evie stayed where she was in the armchair until the first of the evening’s air raid warnings went, then she heaved herself up from the armchair and went into the kitchen, pulling Flash behind her. She still wasn’t that big – she might have been nearly six months pregnant but she was hardly eating anything – but her body felt unbalanced somehow, as though it wasn’t anything to do with her any more, and she couldn’t control how it moved.

‘Come on, Flash,’ she urged the reluctant dog, pulling its lead, trying to make it join her in the steel-framed Morrison shelter that Chas had brought round for them as his idea of a wedding present. ‘I know yer don’t like it, nor do I, but we’ve gotta get in here ’cos of the bombs.’ She shook her head. ‘You daft cow,’ she admonished herself, ‘just listen to yerself, yer talking to a bloody dog.’ She gave Flash one last tug and got her safely inside. ‘Still, if it wasn’t for you, Flash, I’d wind up talking to meself and we can’t have that, can we? Me going bonkers.’

The raid was long and loud but Evie must have eventually fallen asleep because the next thing she knew was Flash licking her face and the sound of heavy footsteps stumbling along the passage towards the kitchen. She hauled herself up onto her knees and pushed open the heavy netting door of the shelter. Flash bounded out and went straight over to her water bowl in the corner.

As Evie pulled herself upright, Albie came staggering into the kitchen. His eyes looked out of focus and his clothes were rumpled.

‘Where’ve you been again?’ Evie asked, going over to the sink to fill the kettle. She looked at the little clock on the shelf by the sink. It was nearly half past eight. She lifted the corner of the window curtain; the thin wintery sunlight made her blink. So, it was morning.

‘Shut up, can’t yer?’ Albie slurred. ‘Where’s me tea?’

‘Flash had it last night. Baked up to hell it was.’

Albie opened the food cupboard. ‘Where’s all the grub?’ He turned on her. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. ‘What d’yer do with all the dough I give yer if yer don’t buy any grub?’

‘It’s been hard. You ain’t gimme much money this week.’

Albie grabbed the cupboard door to steady himself. ‘Ain’t I?’

‘No.’ Evie set the kettle down on the stove and took a step towards him. ‘Albie, where yer been?’ She spoke softly, not wanting to antagonise him. ‘I ain’t moaning or nothing, but I’m lonely, stuck in here all day. Yer don’t seem to care no more.’

Albie curled his lip in distaste. ‘Shut up and pull that dressing gown round yer. What do you look like?’

‘Albie.’ Evie moved closer and reached out to kiss him, but then she lurched backwards. ‘You rotten bastard. You stink of scent. Where’ve yer been, eh? Albie? You answer me. Where yer been?’

Evie didn’t see him raise his hand to her; she just felt the impact of the blow and the sting of his palm swiping across her cheek.

Flash leapt forward at Albie, snarling and snapping. Albie lashed out at her with his boot but lost his balance and went crashing sideways into the stone sink. Evie grabbed at Flash’s collar, dragging her away from him.

‘Don’t you ever raise yer hand to me again.’ Her breath was coming in short, shuddering gasps. ‘Or touch that dog. ’Cos if yer do, I swear, I’ll kill yer stone dead.’

Albie steadied himself against the sink. ‘Aw yeah?’ he sneered. ‘You and whose army?’ He looked her up and down with disgust. ‘Look at yer. Look at the state of yer.’ He turned his head and did his best to focus on the door and then staggered out to the passage.

‘Look at the state of me?’ she screamed after him. ‘How about this place? Where’s the lovely home you promised me, Albie? Albie?’ There was the sound of the front door opening. ‘Albie, don’t you walk out on me. Albie. Albie.’ She ran out into the passage just as he slammed the door behind him. ‘Come back. It’ll all be all right again. I promise.’ Evie fell to her knees and covered her face with her hands. ‘I promise,’ she sobbed.

Flash nuzzled into her neck, whining softly.

Evie spent the rest of the day frantically cleaning, scrubbing and tidying the flat, doing what she could to make the rooms more homely. Then she washed and made herself up, careful to put a thick layer of powder over the ugly bruise that was spreading across her cheekbone. It didn’t actually hide it but she convinced herself that it made it look less obvious. Next she did her thick blonde hair as painstakingly as if she were going out for a night on the town, and then took off her dressing gown and slipped into one of the loose floral maternity dresses that she had sworn she would never use, but was now glad that Blanche had insisted she borrow ‘just in case’. Eve looked at herself in the mirror over the fireplace in the front room, standing on tiptoes to try and get the full effect. She looked almost like she used to.

There was a knock on the door. She smiled at her reflection in the glass. ‘That’ll be Babs come to see us again,’ she said, bending down to fondle Flash’s ears. ‘Wait till she sees how nice it all looks.’

As Evie opened the front door, the smile froze on her face. It wasn’t Babs standing there at all, it was Albie’s mum.

Queenie barged her way past Evie and marched through to the kitchen where she sat down and made herself comfortable at the Morrison shelter that doubled as a table.

Evie followed her into the kitchen and stood by the old but now sparklingly clean stove. ‘Can I make yer a cup o’ tea?’ she asked flatly.

Queenie stared at the bruising on Evie’s face. ‘You ain’t keeping this place very nice,’ she said, her lips pursed to show her disapproval. ‘My boy’s used to a clean home and decent things round him. He won’t be very pleased with all this.’

Evie could scarcely find the words. ‘Your boy’s used to a clean home and decent things?’ She scratched her head in disbelief. ‘For a start, you give us most of this old junk. And for another thing, your house is—’

‘My house is
what
?’ Queenie narrowed her eyes and fixed Evie with a stare that made her look just like Albie when he was in one of his tempers.

‘Nothing.’ Evie felt her heart racing as she busied herself with the kettle.

‘I dunno what yer complaining about. Way that boy looks after you.’ Queenie thumped the table top, making her bosom and her chins shake. ‘He got you this Morrison shelter and everything.’

‘He didn’t actually.’ Evie tried to keep her voice calm as she spooned two measures of tea into the cracked earthenware pot. ‘Chas got us that, but I hate the bloody thing anyway, like being in a cage.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ Queenie said sarcastically. ‘I forgot you was used to so much better.’

‘At least I saw a bit of life when I sheltered in the Drum.’

‘Aw yeah, yer’ve always liked a bit of life, haven’t yer? All you Bells are the same.’

Evie spun round to face her, the kettle full of boiling water shaking in her hand. ‘You old …’

Queenie stood up. She towered over Evie. ‘Now you listen to me.’ She jabbed her finger hard into Evie’s shoulder, making her flinch with pain. ‘My Albie come round my house this morning, before nine o’clock it was. And he was hungry. D’you hear me? Hungry. He’d been out all night, working hard to bring you in yer wages and there wasn’t even a bit o’ grub for him. I’m just here to warn yer that yer’d better sort yerself out and start behaving like a proper wife or—’