The Girl With No Name (62 page)

Billy left them all to their joyful celebrations and rode his bike down the hill to the station. He didn’t know how long it would take him to get to London, but he didn’t care. He was determined to get there, to see Charlotte, and now that the war was over, to take the plunge and suggest they might have a future together.

Since the night of the V1 that had come so near to killing them, Charlotte had allowed him to draw a little closer. Billy knew he still needed to proceed slowly and gently. As Margaret had said once, when they had touched on the subject of Charlotte, ‘You can’t blame the girl for holding back, Billy. Think about it, son. Almost everyone she’s loved has disappeared or died. She’s afraid, so take things steady.’

Billy understood the wisdom of her words and on the two occasions since that he’d managed to snatch a couple of days at Livingston Road, he had held back. It was a V1 that had propelled her into his arms and he hoped there wouldn’t have to be another of those before he could hold her that closely again, but as he sat on the train that wandered cross-country to take him to her, he wondered, since there would be no more V1s or V2s, if it was at last time to remind her how much he loved her.

He got off the train and found himself in a joyful crowd, swinging its way through the streets, celebrating and singing as it went. Captured by the mood, Billy found he was beaming, being clapped on the back by total strangers. The whole capital was swamped with people, gathering anywhere there was room for a crowd, many well-oiled, but mostly good-natured as they crammed together in Trafalgar Square, dancing the conga along Piccadilly and calling for the king outside Buckingham Palace. With some difficulty Billy managed to make his way to Livingston Road, walking much of it as buses were few and far between and those that did run were filled with celebrating Londoners.

When he turned into Livingston Road he found a street party there was just breaking up. The tables and chairs stood empty, surrounded by the debris of the feast. Further up the road families were still sitting outside their houses, glasses of alcohol clasped in their hands as they swapped and reswapped stories of what had happened to them ‘in the war’. As Billy walked along the road more than one man pressed a glass into his hand and insisted that he drank a toast to the king and to victory.

When at last he reached the children’s home dusk was beginning to fall. He went up to the front door and, finding it open, he went inside. The first person he saw was little Mary.

‘Uncle Billy!’ she shrieked with delight. ‘Miss Charlotte said you weren’t coming! You missed the party.’

‘Oh, no! Did I? Was it a good party?’

‘We had cake and balloons,’ Mary informed him.

‘Then it certainly was a good one,’ Billy said. ‘Is Miss Charlotte upstairs, Mary?’

‘No,’ replied the child. ‘She’s gone out. She’s gone out with her friend, Harry.’

‘Harry?’ Billy felt as though he’d been douched with cold water. Who the hell was Harry?

‘He came to the party,’ Mary said. ‘I didn’t like him.’

Billy didn’t like the
sound
of him. Harry? Was he about to lose Charlotte to someone he’d never even heard of?

At that moment Caroline Morrison emerged from her office. ‘What are you doing still downstairs, Mary?’ she scolded. ‘Upstairs with you. We’ve had a lovely day, but now it’s bedtime.’

Mary scuttled off up the stairs and Caroline held out her hand to Billy. ‘Isn’t it wonderful,’ she said with a smile. ‘I can’t believe it’s all over.’

‘Over for us,’ Billy agreed. ‘All we have to do now is see off the Japanese.’

‘I know,’ said Caroline sombrely, ‘but at least the bombing’s stopped here, so these children aren’t in danger of being annihilated.’

‘Is Charlotte here?’ Billy asked, although he already knew the answer. Mary had supplied that, but not the answers to the other questions that now filled his mind.

‘No,’ replied Caroline. ‘She’s gone up to town to join in the celebrations.’

‘By herself?’ Billy imbued his question with surprise.

‘No, with an old friend. Look, Billy, you’d better come into my office and I’ll explain.’ She led the way back into her office and closed the door behind them. Waving him to a chair she sat behind her desk. For a moment neither of them said anything, then Caroline said, ‘When Charlotte first arrived in London, she was fostered with a couple in Shoreditch.’

‘Yes, I know all that.’

‘Well, as you might guess, as a German she wasn’t popular with all her classmates at school and she was subjected to quite a lot of bullying.’ Billy nodded – he’d seen the same happen to her in Wynsdown.

‘But a lad who’d come from the same town as she had, on the same train I think, took on the bullies and after that they left her alone. His name was Heinrich Schwarz, but he soon changed it to Harry, Harry Black.’

‘And she’s gone into town with him?’

‘There’s a bit more to this story than that,’ Caroline said and she outlined what had happened to Harry since. ‘He came to see her soon after she moved up here,’ she said. ‘I think they met up at the house where Charlotte used to live with her foster parents. It was damaged in a raid.’

‘Yes, I know, she told me all about that.’

‘About meeting with Harry?’

‘No, about the house being destroyed and how she’s found her foster parents again, since.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ Caroline said. ‘Well, after that one visit, Harry disappeared again and it turns out he’s been in prison.’

‘And you let him take Charlotte into town?’ Billy was horrified. ‘A gaol-bird?’

‘I don’t know the ins and outs of it,’ Caroline said defensively. ‘He only turned up again today and it was hardly a day for asking his intentions. Charlotte is fond of him and he’s the only link with her life before the war, with her family. She was surprised to see him after so long, but she was pleased as well. If I’d known you were coming, Billy... if
she’d
known you were coming, I’m sure she’d have waited for you, so you could all three have gone together. But I didn’t and she didn’t, and I thought she’d earned herself the chance to celebrate the end of the war with everyone else.’

‘And she didn’t know where he was all that time when he didn’t show up?’ demanded Billy.

‘No. Though I have to admit that I had a pretty good idea.’

‘Why?’

Caroline sighed and told him about the letter from Brixton prison. ‘I have to say that I don’t like him and I don’t trust him, but I felt if I tried to turn her against him, I’d be doing just the opposite and pushing her into his arms.’

‘Have you still got the letter?’ asked Billy

‘No,’ lied Caroline. ‘I burned it.’

‘Did you read it?’

‘No, but I didn’t want Charlotte to know I’d kept it from her.’

‘You’ve told me about it,’ Billy pointed out. ‘I can tell her.’

‘Of course you can,’ conceded Caroline, ‘but it won’t change things. She now knows Harry has been in prison, and all it will do is stir things up.’

Billy sat and considered what Caroline had told him. ‘Is she in love with him?’ he asked at last.

‘I don’t know. I don’t think so, but she does feel something for him; gratitude maybe, friendship, the bond of a shared past?’

‘Has he got a some sort of hold over her?’

Caroline shrugged. ‘Who can say? Not a hold as such, but I’d say he’s a manipulator and perhaps he puts emotional pressure on her. He’s certainly a survivor, and survivors have to be very good at looking after number one. He may not be too choosy about how he tries to get his own way.’

‘And you’ve let her go into London with a man like that?’ Billy’s disgust was barely suppressed.

‘Billy, I couldn’t have stopped her. She’s nineteen next month. She has to make her own decisions. I’ll admit I wasn’t keen on her going, but I couldn’t stand in her way.’

‘When’ll she be back?’

‘I don’t know, Billy. Late, I imagine, with all the festivities the BBC tell us are going on in the West End. I don’t think you need to worry about her safety. I don’t think Harry’ll harm her.’ She got to her feet and said, ‘Come on, you must be starving. Let me find you something to eat.’ She smiled across at him. She was fond of Billy and hoped that one day he and Charlotte might make a go of it.

‘At least you haven’t got to sleep in the scullery this time,’ she said as she led the way into the kitchen. ‘Several of the children have moved on recently and we’re all back in our own rooms for now. You can have the camp bed in the sitting room.’

Darkness fell and most of those in the home went to bed. Caroline and Billy sat in the sitting room and waited for Charlotte and Harry to come home. They could hear the sounds of continued celebration echoing in through the open window, the revellers’ singing becoming increasingly tuneless as the beer still flowed.

It was past midnight when they heard the front door open and the sound of whispers in the hallway. Billy went straight out and saw Charlotte creeping in, shushing Harry who was hard on her heels. When she saw Billy she gave a little cry, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle the sound.

‘Billy,’ she whispered in delight and stepped towards him. Without a second’s hesitation he enfolded her in his arms. All earlier caution gone, Billy bent his head and kissed her, long and deep. He was claiming her as his, determined to leave this Harry bloke in no doubt as to his claim.

‘Billy,’ she said, when she could say anything at all, ‘I didn’t know you were coming.’

Still with his arms round her, he smiled down at her. ‘So I see,’ he said. ‘Never mind. I thought we should celebrate together and here I am.’ He glanced across at Harry who stood in the door, his face like thunder. ‘Who’s this?’ Billy asked, as if he didn’t know already.

Before she could answer, Harry stepped forward and said, ‘I’m Harry Black, an old friend of Lisa’s. We go a long way back.’

‘Lisa?’

‘Lieselotte Becker, from Hanau... like me.’

Their voices had been getting louder and Caroline, who had followed Billy into the hall, said, ‘Keep your voices down, or you’ll wake the whole house. Come into the sitting room.’ She led the way, closing the door firmly behind them. Harry glanced at the camp bed that was made up in one corner. Charlotte followed his gaze.

‘Billy has a camp bed in a corner somewhere when the home is very full,’ she said in explanation.

Harry grunted. ‘Here a lot, is he? Surprised he ain’t in the army.’

‘It’s late,’ Caroline said, ignoring this remark. ‘We’ve got to be up early in the morning as usual, so it’s time you went now, Harry.’ She turned back and opened the door.

Harry didn’t move. ‘Went?’ he said. ‘Went where? I haven’t got anywhere to go.’

‘Well, I’m sorry, Harry,’ Caroline said firmly, ‘but you can’t stay here. We haven’t any room.’

‘You got room for him.’ Harry jerked his head towards Billy. ‘He don’t live here, neither.’

If Caroline noticed the East End creeping into Harry’s voice, she ignored it. ‘Billy comes here from time to time,’ she said. ‘He’s great with the children and we all love to have him.’

She walked into the hall and opened the front door. The sounds of revelry drifted in from further down the road, where for the first time in nearly six years the street lamps were on, casting pale green pools of light on the pavement. For the first time in nearly six years Caroline was able to stand in a lighted, open front door, a true sign that there was no more danger from the sky.

Harry stared, stony-faced, at Charlotte and Billy as they stood together, Billy’s arm still round Charlotte’s shoulders. No one spoke and then, with an exaggerated shrug he said, ‘I’ll be back in the morning, Lisa. We can make our plans then.’ With that he slouched out of the room. He paused in the hallway where Caroline stood beside the open door.

‘I’ll be back tomorrow,’ he said, ‘and I’ll be telling Lisa that you stole her letter. I know you did. I could see it in your face. You could be regretting that before too long, Miss High-and-Mighty Morrison. She’d never have given that bloke the time of day if she’d knowed I was coming back for her.’

‘Goodnight, Harry,’ said Caroline, and she closed the door behind him.

For a long moment Harry stared at the closed door. He wondered if Lisa would come after him and so he waited a little further down the street, but the front door remained closed and in the end he gave up and strode away. Since he’d come out of prison he’d actually been dossing down at a rescue centre, pretending to have been bombed out, with nowhere to stay. At least it had meant he had somewhere dry and warm to sleep. He’d been back to Kemble Street once, thinking he might be able to use the cellar again as temporary accommodation, but he found that the houses had been bulldozed. All that was left of number sixty-five and its neighbours was a cleared site waiting for the end of hostilities.

With his change of name, he’d had to move shelters and for the first time offered his new papers. He held his breath as the WVS volunteer glanced at them and looking at the address said, ‘That block went weeks ago. Where’ve you been since then?’

Harry smiled at her sadly. ‘Just got back,’ he said. ‘I was at sea at the time. Came home to find it gone, my home. Just a hole in the ground now.’

‘Oh, poor you!’ cried the woman, her eyes full of sympathy for this brave young man who’d lost his home while serving at sea. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll find you somewhere very soon. In the meantime, Mr Merritt, you can stay here. There’s only a men’s dormitory, but I can find you a space in there.’

‘That’ll be fine,’ Harry assured her. ‘It’s only till my leave’s up.’

He wasn’t the last to return to the centre that night. Although there was normally a curfew so that late comers didn’t disturb those already in bed, tonight, VE night, no one cared and many of the beds in the dormitory remained empty as their occupants stayed out celebrating.

*

When Caroline closed the door behind Harry she went back into the sitting room. Billy was at the window, looking out into the street, but Charlotte was standing beside the cold fireplace. When she saw her expression on the girl’s face Caroline knew that Harry’s parting comments had been overheard.