The Nightingale Sisters (16 page)

She wondered if she’d overplayed her hand as she lay in bed five minutes later, nervously pleating the frayed silk of her eiderdown between her fingers.

She heard the front door bang shut and her heart sank. She had been so sure he would follow her. But as she shivered in the chilly darkness, she began to feel rather foolish. She sat up, hugging her knees. So that was that. Nick obviously wasn’t interested.

‘It’s his loss,’ she said out loud, but the words had a hollow ring.

She was just wondering if she should get up and turn on the lamp when she heard the creak of her bedroom doorknob as it turned slowly. The door opened and she saw Nick’s tall, broad-shouldered shape outlined in the light from the hallway.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, and even though she couldn’t see his face she could feel his hesitation.

She lay back against the pillows and held out her arms to him.

‘Are you coming in, or what?’ she said softly.

Another moment’s hesitation, then he came in and closed the door quietly behind him, shutting out the light.

ON A DAMP,
misty Tuesday morning in late January, Dora and her family packed in with thousands of others outside Paddington Station to wait for the arrival of the King’s funeral cortège on its way to Windsor.

‘Talk about being late for your own funeral!’ Nanna Winnie mumbled through a mouthful of bread and dripping. As usual, she never went anywhere without a picnic, even a solemn state occasion. ‘It was meant to come past an hour ago. What’s keeping it, I wonder.’

‘We heard they can’t get up the streets because of all the people,’ a man close by told them. ‘The streets are packed round Hyde Park, so they say. Police can’t hold them back.’

‘Quite right, too,’ Nanna agreed piously. ‘We all have to pay our respects to His Majesty. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Even if this cold wind is doing nothing for my rheumatics,’ she grumbled, pulling her coat tighter around her.

Dora smiled. It took a lot to get Nanna Winnie out of Griffin Street, let alone all the way up west. Dora had never known her go beyond Aldgate before. And yet here she was, done up in her best coat, the one she always wore for funerals, reeking of mothballs.

‘I can’t see!’ Bea complained. ‘Why do we have to be right at the back? It’s not fair!’ She scowled at the towering head and shoulders of the man standing in front of her, as if she would have liked to knock his hat off.

‘Oh, stop moaning, Bea. It’s a funeral, not a flipping circus!’ Josie scolded her. ‘It don’t matter if you can’t get a front-row seat.’

‘It’s all right for Little Alfie. He’s sitting on Dora’s shoulders,’ Bea pouted.

‘Well, if you think I’m putting
you
on my shoulders, you’ve got another think coming!’ Dora laughed. ‘Little Alfie weighs a ton as it is.’ She tickled her little brother’s chubby leg, making him giggle.

Then she looked at her mother and her smile faded. Rose Doyle was scanning the crowd restlessly. Dora knew exactly who she was looking for.

She tugged at the sleeve of her coat. ‘I don’t think Alf will be here, Mum,’ she whispered.

Rose gave her a tired smile. ‘I know I’m being daft. I just thought with all these thousands of people . . . I mean, he’s got to be somewhere, hasn’t he? He can’t just disappear into thin air.’

‘I suppose not, Mum,’ Dora agreed wearily.

‘I know he’ll come back when he’s ready, but I wish he’d hurry up. We could do with him being home, especially now—’ She caught Nanna’s eye and stopped abruptly. Dora looked from one to the other.

‘Especially now what?’ she asked.

‘It’s nothing, love. Ooh, listen.’ Her mother looked up at the sound of a distant marching band. ‘Sounds like the King’s on his way!’

‘Here we go.’ Nanna wrapped up the remains of her bread and dripping and stuffed it back into her battered handbag. ‘About time, too, I reckon.’

‘I can’t see!’ Bea protested, jumping up and down.

They watched as the gun carriage and coffin, with the Imperial Crown glittering on top, rumbled past, pulled by a company of sailors, eight abreast and twelve deep.

‘Look at them,’ Josie whispered admiringly, her voice almost lost under the mournful strains of the Scottish regiments’ bagpipes. ‘Have you ever seen anything like it? The way they all move in perfect time. It’s like they’re a machine.’

The coffin was followed by the new King and his brothers, on foot. Dora and her sisters strained to get a glimpse of King Edward, shrouded in his overcoat, his eyes cast down as he passed.

‘He looks so sad, doesn’t he?’ Josie said.

‘It’s his father’s bleeding funeral, girl. He’s not going to be doing handstands, is he?’ Nanna hissed back. ‘Oh, look, here comes Queen Mary. Doesn’t she look dignified?’ They watched the Queen’s carriage roll slowly past, with Her Majesty in the back, dressed all in black. ‘What a shame we can’t see her face behind that thick veil, though.’

When it was finally all over Nanna smiled with satisfaction, showing off her dentures, which she’d put in for the occasion. ‘Ooh, I wouldn’t have missed that for the world. I do love a good funeral,’ she sighed. ‘Not sure about them bagpipes, though. Haven’t heard a racket like that since Mrs Peterson’s cat got its tail stuck in the mangle.’

‘I s’pose we’d better try and find a bus to get home,’ Rose said. ‘I daresay that’ll take a month of Sundays, too, with all these people.’ She looked around. ‘Where’s Bea?’

They all looked, but no one could remember seeing her since the procession started. ‘She kept saying she couldn’t see. Perhaps she’s tried to get nearer the front?’ Nanna suggested.

‘Mum, you wait here with Little Alfie in case she comes back,’ Rose said. ‘Dora and Josie and I’ll split up and start looking for her.’

‘Hang on,’ Josie said, pointing. ‘Here she comes now.’

Sure enough, there was Bea, pale with terror, being steered through the crowd towards them by a policeman. When she saw them, she broke away from his hand and, dramatic as ever, launched herself tearfully into her mother’s arms.

‘Blimey, look at her carrying on,’ Nanna whispered. ‘She’s only been missing five minutes.’

‘I take it you’re her family?’ The policeman smiled.

‘Yes, Constable, thank you—’ Dora swung round and found herself looking up into a familiar face. Those amber-flecked green eyes were shaded by his helmet, but she would have known them anywhere. ‘Mr Armstrong?’

‘Nurse Doyle?’ He looked her up and down. ‘Sorry, I didn’t recognise you out of your uniform.’

‘And I didn’t recognise you in yours!’ Dora laughed.

‘Do you two know each other, then?’ Nanna said, muscling in between them.

‘Nurse Doyle has been looking after my sister while she’s been in hospital,’ Joe Armstrong explained.

‘You can call me Dora, now Sister’s not watching.’

‘And I’m Joe. Pleased to meet you, Dora.’ He held out his hand and she shook it. ‘Seems funny to be able to talk to you without you looking over your shoulder all the time.’

‘So you’re an East End lad, then?’ Nanna Winnie butted in.

‘We live in Whitechapel.’

‘Fancy that.’ Dora didn’t like the way Nanna was staring at Joe. She’d seen that look in her eye before.

‘Anyway, we’d better be getting off home.’ She swooped down and gathered Little Alfie into her arms. His plump cheek was as cold as marble against hers. ‘We don’t want to keep Joe from his work, do we?’

‘I’m sure he doesn’t mind. Do you, son?’ Nanna flashed her false teeth at him.

‘Actually, I am meant to be on duty.’ He grinned at Dora. ‘Makes a change for me to be saying that and not you, doesn’t it?’

‘You’ll have to come round for your tea sometime,’ Nanna said, as Dora groaned inwardly. ‘Any friend of our Dora’s is always welcome. Isn’t that right, Rose?’

Dora looked imploringly at her mother, who smiled and said, ‘Come on, Mum. Let’s get you home. I think all the excitement of the day’s been too much for you.’

The bus back to Bethnal Green was crowded, so at least Dora didn’t have to endure her grandmother’s interrogation. But she could hear her whispering loudly to Rose at the back of the bus.

‘Did you see the way he looked at our Dora? He seemed very keen, didn’t he?’

‘It’s none of our business, Mum,’ Rose said patiently.

‘Well, I think there’s something going on there. You should have a word with her, Rosie, tell her to give him some encouragement. Lord knows, that girl isn’t going to get offers every day. She’s nearly twenty . . . high time she was courting, I reckon. I was married with a baby on the way by the time I was her age.’

Dora caught Josie’s eye and they grinned sheepishly at each other. ‘She never stops, does she?’ said Dora, shaking her head.

‘Remember that time she tried to pair you off with Nick Riley?’ Josie reminded her. ‘Imagine you two together!’

Dora looked away so her sister wouldn’t see her blushing face. ‘Imagine that,’ she said quietly.

‘So is there anything going on between you and Joe?’ Josie asked.

‘No! We’ve passed the time of day a couple of times, that’s all.’

‘Nanna’s right, though. I reckon he likes you.’

‘Not you, too!’ Dora rolled her eyes in exasperation. ‘For once and for all, Joe Armstrong doesn’t like me. Not in that way anyway. And even if he did, you know I wouldn’t be interested in him. And you know why, too.’

They were both silent for a moment. Josie cleared a spot with her sleeve on the steamy window and stared out at the grey city streets. Dora wished she hadn’t said anything. She knew her sister was as haunted by Alf Doyle’s memory as she was. He might be gone, but he still cast a shadow over their lives.

The house was cold when they got home.

‘I’m freezing,’ Bea complained as Nanna lit the lamps.

‘Let’s put some coal on the fire.’ Dora went over to the fireplace and picked up the scuttle. ‘Oh, this is empty.’

‘It’s all right,’ her mother said. ‘Bea can put an extra jumper on.’

‘But I might as well fill it anyway—’

‘You can’t. There’s no coal left,’ Nanna said bluntly.

‘No coal?’ Dora looked from one to the other. The atmosphere suddenly seemed charged with tension. Even Josie looked uneasy. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

An anxious glance passed between her mother and grandmother. ‘You’ll have to tell her, Rose,’ Nanna said quietly.

‘Tell me what? For God’s sake, someone tell me something!’

Her mother took a deep breath. ‘Your brother’s lost his job,’ she said.

‘It’s the Jews’ fault,’ Bea piped up. ‘That’s what our Pete says. He reckons they get rid of decent British working people like him just so they can – ow!’ she wailed, as Nanna lashed out with a stinging slap around her ear. ‘What was that for?’

‘For talking nonsense.’

‘But Pete says—’

‘Your brother doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and nor do you!’ Nanna snapped. ‘Don’t you think we’re all in enough trouble, without you going about spouting that Blackshirt rubbish? And you can stop yelling, too, or I’ll give you one on the other side!’ She lifted the back of her hand. Bea ducked.

Dora dug in her coat pocket for her purse and took out a couple of coins. ‘Josie, take this down to the coal yard and bring us some coke. And take Bea and Little Alfie with you,’ she said.

Josie took the coins but Bea folded her arms stubbornly. ‘I don’t want to go. You’re going to be talking about secrets while we’re gone and I want to hear what’s going on.’

‘Hark at you, nosy little beggar!’ Nanna glared at her.

‘We all know who I get it from, don’t we?’ Bea glared back at her from a safe distance.

‘Go on,’ Dora coaxed. ‘You can buy yourselves some sweets with the change,’ she added.

Bea looked from Dora to Josie for a moment, her green eyes gleaming greedily. Then, taking Little Alfie by the hand, she flounced out, Josie following.

‘And make sure they don’t give you no dust down at that yard!’ Nanna called after them, as the door slammed shut.

‘Right,’ Dora said when they’d gone. ‘I want you to tell me what’s been going on.’

‘It’s nothing,’ her mother replied. ‘It’s just Peter being laid off has left us a bit short, that’s all.’ She couldn’t quite meet Dora’s eye as she said it.

‘How short?’

‘We’re two weeks behind on the rent,’ Nanna filled the silence.

‘But we’ll manage,’ Rose added cheerfully. ‘Things will be all right. It’s nothing for you to worry about.’ Her smile was bright, but Dora could see the lines of strain around her eyes.

‘How will you manage?’ she asked.

Another silence. ‘You’d best tell her, Rosie,’ Nanna said heavily. ‘She’ll find out soon enough.’

‘Find out what?’ Panic fluttered in her chest.

Her mother stared down at her hands. ‘I’m going to the Public Assistance,’ she said.

Dora stared at her in horror. ‘Mum, no! You can’t!’

‘What choice do I have, love?’ Rose turned pain-filled eyes to meet hers. ‘I feel wretched about it, I really do. But the kids have got to eat, and however you look at it we haven’t got enough money coming in. Look, it might not be that bad,’ she said in a forced voice. ‘And if it means we get some help . . .’ Her voice trailed off hopelessly.

‘But the Public Assistance, Mum!’ Things must be even worse than her mother was letting on, if she was even thinking about going cap in hand to them.

All around them in the East End, people still lived in fear of the workhouse. Nanna often told stories about how she and her brothers and sisters were put there when her father died and her mother couldn’t afford to keep them. It was a harsh, cruel life. One of Nanna’s brothers had died of TB in there.

Things were supposed to be better now, of course. But asking for help still meant letting the Public Assistance Committee pry into your affairs. The Means Test man would come round with his clipboard and make notes of everything you owned and how much it was worth. Then he’d decide what had to be sold before you could claim any money.

It was a degrading process, and Dora knew there were many in Bethnal Green who would starve on the streets before they let the Means Test man over their doorstep.