The Girl With No Name (61 page)

‘Harry! Stop!’

‘Stop what? It’ll be you and me, doll, just like we always thought.’

‘We didn’t always think—’ Charlotte broke in, but it was as if she hadn’t spoken.

‘We’ve survived it all, Lisa. Now we’re entitled. You and me.’

‘But I don’t want to go to Australia, Harry.’ Charlotte tried to keep her voice soft and reasonable, not allow the rising panic she felt to sound in her words.

‘You do, you will, when you think about it. Look, forget it for now, eh? Let’s just celebrate the end of the war. You and me. We’ve defeated Hitler because we’ve survived!’

Charlotte wasn’t going to get into any discussions about what she was going to do now that Germany’d surrendered. Her first priority would be to find news of her family. She looked at her watch and, managing a smile for Harry said, ‘We’d better get back.’ She called to the children, scattered in the playground. ‘Come on, everyone, time to go home for the party.’

‘Is Uncle Billy coming?’ asked Mary Beale. She was one of the children who’d been in the home for well over a year and always looked forward to Billy’s occasional visits.

‘No, not today,’ replied Charlotte.

‘Oh!’ cried Mary. ‘I wanted him to come to the party, didn’t you, Miss Charlotte?’

‘It would have been nice if he could have,’ agreed Charlotte carefully, ‘but he can’t today.’

‘Who’s this Uncle Billy, then?’ demanded Harry as the children paired up for the walk back to Livingston Road.

‘Just a friend,’ Charlotte said. ‘Someone who comes and helps at the home sometimes.’ She wondered, even as she said it, why she was lying, or at least concealing the truth from Harry. All she knew was that she didn’t want him to know about Billy.

She hurried the children along and, as they reached the home, Caroline came out to meet them. When she saw Harry her heart sank. She recognised him at once and she didn’t like the way he had a proprietorial hand on Charlotte’s arm as they walked up the road. She schooled her face, however, and came towards them, extending a hand. ‘Harry, isn’t it?’

‘He found us in the park,’ Charlotte said by way of explanation. ‘He’s coming to the party.’

‘Lovely,’ said Caroline. ‘You’re more than welcome, Harry. We haven’t seen you for some time. Now, Charlotte, will you take the children indoors to wash their hands and then we’ll sit them down.’

Tables had been pushed together to form one long one, straight down the middle of the road, with places laid for the children down either side. Covered with white sheets, they were decorated with red, white and blue ribbons and there was a balloon tied to the back of each chair. The children stared in amazement at the food spread out, waiting for them. Few of them had ever seen so much. Other houses in the street had laid out tables as well and everyone seemed to joining in to one huge party. While Charlotte hurried the children inside, Harry spoke to Caroline.

‘Lisa and I are going up west to join in all the celebrations, later,’ he told her. ‘When you don’t need her here any more. It’s a great day, isn’t it?’ Harry knew instinctively that Caroline didn’t like him, or didn’t trust him, or both. When he spoke to her he was very careful of his language and his accent. Thanks to Alfred he could speak fluent English, with perhaps the hint of a Birmingham accent, and Harry, being Harry, always spoke to suit his listener; he made sure there was nothing of East London in his voice now.

Caroline wasn’t very happy about the outing, but felt she couldn’t say no. Once the party was over and the children were back indoors, she could hardly pretend she needed Charlotte’s help. And anyway, she thought, it can’t do any harm. It would do Charlotte good to get away for a few hours and join in the celebrations.

‘That sounds fun,’ was all she said. She was about to turn away when Harry said, ‘I didn’t just do a bunk, you know. I was arrested again, some mix-up about still being an enemy alien. I did write to explain to Lisa, but she says she didn’t get my letter.’

Caroline tried to keep her face neutral, but she could feel the colour creeping into her cheeks. She thought of the letter with the Brixton postmark still tucked into a drawer in her bureau. She had never given it to Charlotte. She’d hoped Harry was gone for good.

‘I expect it got lost along the way,’ she said rather weakly. ‘So much post went astray, didn’t it? Especially in London, what with the raids.’

‘Yeah, probably.’ Harry gave her a knowing look. Clearly he didn’t believe her. Then his expression changed and he said brightly, ‘Still, I’m back now, so it doesn’t matter.’

The street party was a great success; the amount of food that had been conjured out of store cupboards and collected from the backs of larders and gathered from allotments was amazing. Mrs Downs had managed to make two cakes from precious stores she’d been saving and other families in the street all contributed preserved foods and hoarded stores, so that it was a feast worthy of the name. One man, further down the street, home on leave when the peace had been declared, produced an accordion and started to play. Someone started to sing and soon everyone joined in. Someone else produced a fiddle and, climbing on to a chair, began playing exuberant jigs and flings, so that grown-ups and children alike were tapping their feet and many of them jumped up to dance. Harry grabbed Charlotte into his arms and was soon spinning her around in a victory dance, while other couples did the same. The drink flowed, the merriment increased and the austerities of the war were forgotten as they celebrated the peace.

‘Told your Miss Morrison we were going up west when this party’s over,’ Harry murmured as he held close for a moment or two.

‘You asked her?’

‘Nah,’ Harry grinned. ‘Told her!’

‘Oh.’ Charlotte tried to hide her dismay. She did want to go up to town and celebrate with the hundreds of others that were flocking to Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square, Piccadilly Circus, of course she did, but she didn’t like the way Harry was taking charge.

‘Go on, you two,’ Caroline said as the tired children were shepherded indoors. ‘Off you go and have a lovely time. Give my love to the king if you see him... and Mr Churchill!’

Charlotte collected her handbag and checked she had her purse with her. At least she had money of her own now and didn’t have to rely on Harry. They took a bus to the West End and then joined the crowds in Trafalgar Square. People were singing and dancing. The gaiety was infectious and several times Charlotte found herself being spun round, arms linked with those of a laughing soldier or sailor, before Harry grabbed her back again, swinging her through the crowds that had gathered everywhere.

‘I want to see the king,’ Charlotte called to Harry.

‘Whatever for?’

‘Because he’s the king!’ she shouted, and pulled him towards The Mall. Harry shrugged and followed her, keeping a tight grip on her hand. It would be so easy to get separated in such a crush. Gradually they eased their way up The Mall until at last they were in the multitude crammed into the space around the Victoria Memorial. The crowd was heaving from side to side, those at the front almost crushed against the railings that protected the courtyard.

‘We want the king! We want the king!’ The chant was incessant, growing in volume. Charlotte chanted along with the rest. She longed to see the king and the queen. High above them she could see the balcony where they might appear. It was draped in red and gold ready for the king and his family to make another appearance.

‘They come out earlier,’ said the man beside her, a child perched on his shoulders. ‘We didn’t half cheer!’

‘Do you think he’ll come out again?’ Charlotte asked.

The man laughed. ‘Don’t know, do I? ’Spect so.’

‘We want the king!’ Even Harry was shouting.

Suddenly the long windows to the balcony opened and the king and queen stepped out. They were greeted by a roar as the crowd cheered them and the princesses who followed them, cheered until they were hoarse. Moments later there was another movement behind them and Winston Churchill appeared on the balcony, standing between the king and queen. He waved and gave his famous V for victory salute and the massed crowds below called his name and cheered him to the skies.

When they’d all gone back into the palace, the long windows closing behind them, Harry pulled at Charlotte’s hand and said, ‘Come on, Lisa. You’ve seen the king now. Let’s go somewhere else.’

A warm dusk was falling, but there were lights everywhere. They moved slowly through the sea of people and managed to get into Green Park where there was a little more space. Charlotte sat down on a grassy bank, kicked off her shoes and sighed.

‘That was so exciting, seeing the king and queen... and Mr Churchill.’

‘Yeah.’ Harry sounded less than enthusiastic.

‘Oh come on, Harry!’ cried Charlotte. ‘You were cheering like everyone else.’

‘They mean nothing to me,’ Harry said. ‘Kings and queens. We don’t need them.’

Charlotte was annoyed. ‘Well, remember he’s king of Australia, too. If you’re going there.’

‘What d’you mean
if
I’m going there,’ Harry said. ‘Course I’m going there. With you. You and me together.’

‘Harry, I can’t.’

‘Why ever not? It’ll be a great life out there.’ He waved his hand expansively. ‘A new, young country. A place with a future.’

‘Firstly, I can’t go anywhere yet. I have to discover what happened to my family.’

‘Lisa,’ Harry spoke gently, ‘you know what happened to your family.’

‘No,’ she snapped, ‘no, I don’t. They may not be dead. They may just have had to move. They may have been kept prisoner somewhere and now they’ll be released.’

‘Oh come on, Lisa, you’ve heard what they’ve been finding over there, these camps. God, we even heard about them in Gloucester.’

‘They may not have been in one of those.’ Charlotte was almost shouting now. ‘They may not have been in any camp. Harry, I have to find out. Don’t you understand?’

‘No, I don’t. You have to be a realist, Lisa. You’re on your own, now. Just like me. We have to stick together, and there’s no point in staying in this godforsaken country. They aren’t going to get over this war for years, and I don’t intend to stay in such a grey, miserable place for a day longer than I have to.’

‘It’s the country that gave you safe haven,’ Charlotte reminded him.

‘It’s the country that’s locked me up for four of the six years I’ve been here,’ Harry replied bitterly. ‘It’s got nothing to offer me. I can’t wait to get out.’

‘But I don’t want to leave,’ Charlotte said. ‘I’ve got a home here.’

‘What,’ scoffed Harry, ‘a bedroom in a children’s home?’

‘No,’ answered Charlotte. ‘In the country, where I was evacuated.’

‘What with those Federman people? Did you trace them?’

‘Yes, I did and I see them from time to time, but I didn’t mean them. You know when I lost my memory I was evacuated to a village in Somerset.’

‘Yeah. So you spent a couple of years in a village. Doesn’t make it your home, does it? Just because you lived there for a bit. And anyway, you told me the old bird you lived with there died.’

‘She did,’ replied Charlotte, ‘but she left me her house in her will, so you see I really do have a home here in England.’

‘Left you her house?’

If Caroline had been with them, her worst fears about Harry would have been realised; she could almost have watched the pound signs whirling in his eyes.

‘Yes.’

‘But Lisa, that’s fantastic,’ Harry cried and flung his arms around her. ‘You can sell it and then we’ll have money to start our life together in Australia!’

‘Harry, I told you, I’m not going to Australia. I have to find—’

‘You have to find out about your family first, I quite understand that, Lisa, course I do, but when you have...’ He cocked his head at her and grinned, but she didn’t meet his eye.

‘Come on, Lisa,’ he protested, ‘you owe it to me, the way I stood up for you, fought for you. I’ll always be there to look after you, promise.’

‘Like you’ve been these last two years?’ Charlotte said, sarcasm in her voice.

‘That’s different,’ Harry snapped. ‘I couldn’t help that, could I? An’ I came to find you again the minute I could, didn’t I?’ He reached out and took her hand. ‘Don’t let’s quarrel,’ he said in a more conciliatory tone. ‘You’re my girl, Lisa. We belong together, you and me.’

Billy and his parents had listened to the news of the German surrender on the wireless the previous night and they had hugged each other with joy. Now they were all safe. Jane was still in Bristol, nursing, but in no more danger from the bombs.

‘I’m going up to see Charlotte,’ Billy cried. ‘She’s safe at last.’ He thought of the V2 rockets that had been raining down on London and the south-east of England for the last nine months. Billy had seen what a V1 could do, but the anti-aircraft gunners had got quite good at shooting those down. As they had no pilot, once they were pinned by a searchlight, they could take no evasive action. But the V2s were an entirely different matter. Travelling faster than the speed of sound, they hurtled through space before nose-diving without warning on to an unsuspecting target below. Thousands of civilians in the last few months had been killed by these horrific weapons, rockets that exploded their destruction before the sound of their arrival caught up with them.

Every time Billy had left Charlotte in London, he had been terrified that she would become the victim of one of these attacks, the death throes of the Nazi regime. London was the target, fear and misery was the aim and the attacks had been successful in both.

‘I’ll go first thing in the morning,’ Billy said.

John looked across at him. ‘Cows still need milking even if Hitler’s dead,’ he said, smothering a smile. ‘Not sure I can spare you at such short notice.’

‘Oh, Dad, come on—’ began Billy, but his mother interrupted.

‘Take no notice of him, Billy,’ she said. ‘He’s codding you. I’ll do the milking with him. Anyway, if I know Wynsdown, there’ll be no work done tomorrow. The whole place’ll be one huge party.’

Margaret Shepherd was quite right. Wynsdown was celebrating VE day in typical Wynsdown style. Within minutes of the broadcast, Marjorie Bellinger was on the phone to Avril Swanson and they were planning the village jollifications. From dawn on the following morning people were up and about, stringing bunting across the trees, moving tables and more importantly preparing food for a feast. Jack Barrett set up a bar outside the Magpie. No one was thinking about licensing laws on such a wonderful day, and he’d started pulling pints for those who’d come to help set up before most people had had their breakfast.