The Street (27 page)

‘How much was her booze?’ Sarah drew her money out again.

‘You don’t owe me,’ Alice speedily said. ‘Ginny paid for it straight off.’

‘’Spose she called me a few choice names. She went bonkers when I told her I was leaving.’

‘She’s missing you,’ Alice repeated. ‘She’s worried too, I expect, that she’ll end up in the workhouse. She seemed a bit doddery on her feet . . .’

‘Ain’t only my problem!’ Sarah howled in anguish. ‘Ain’t fair! Those two don’t give a toss about her, why should I?’

‘I knew you was gonna cause trouble soon as I opened the door and saw you standing there,’ Louisa bawled from the doorway of the room. Connie was hovering in the aperture too, trying to peer over her sister’s meaty shoulder and discover what the commotion was about. Louisa started towards Alice with her fists raised. ‘Now get yourself off out of here, Keiver, or I’m gonna kick yer down them stairs.’

Sarah jumped in front of Alice as though to protect her from her sister’s temper. ‘She’s going . . . she’s going right now.’

Alice received a sharp dig in the ribs from Sarah to hurry her on her way. Still she hesitated. She didn’t want to cause a ruckus but neither did she want to go and leave Sarah behind.

‘Get going, Al,’ Sarah hissed urgently. ‘Con’s gent’ll be turning up soon anyhow. You won’t want to be around when he comes in. Dirty ol’ sod might like the look of you ‘n’ think you’re new here.’

Shaking her head in defeat Alice turned and went down stairs and let herself out into the night. She was walking briskly and almost home when she heard a faint voice calling her. She whipped around and frowned into the darkness. Out of the gloom Sarah suddenly appeared, huffing and puffing, struggling to carry the carpetbag in her hand. Alice stopped and let Sarah catch her up then catch her breath.

‘Ain’t saying I’m gonna be back with me mum fer long,’ Sarah gasped. She dumped the bag on the floor and sucked in air. ‘Might only stay for a couple of weeks, I dunno yet. Soon as I can’t stand it no more, I’m off.’ She shoved her straggly, matted hair behind her ears. ‘Lost me job in the restaurant now. Should’ve turned in half an hour ago. So if I can’t get back me job in the factory, I’m gonna be in Queer Street in any case.’

Alice hugged Sarah to her, tears prickling at the back of her eyes. ‘We’ll sort it out,’ she promised gruffly. ‘Kemp’s isn’t the only factory around. I’ll have a go getting you in Turner’s and if that doesn’t work . . . well . . . there’s other munitions factories taking on.’

Breathing more easily now Sarah picked up the bag that contained her few possessions. ‘D’you reckon Banksie might’ve calmed down a bit and might take me back? Or d’you reckon he might’ve guessed what I’ve been up to while I’ve been away?’ Pessimism was apparent in Sarah’s tone.

Alice linked arms with her friend and they began to walk on towards The Bunk. ‘So what if he has?’ she said breezily. ‘He was never good enough for you anyhow.’

‘You takin’ the night shift next week, Alice? Only one’s wanted from our section.’

‘Do you want it?’

Bert Lovat nodded vigorously. ‘Could do with it . . . if you don’t mind, that is.’ He stepped closer and used the workbench as a prop to ease his bad foot. Bert was still deeply grateful to Alice for helping him get a job at Turner’s. As soon as a vacancy had turned up that would suit him she’d made sure he was first in line for an interview. To show his appreciation he continued, after many months in the job, to ask her permission before he put himself forward for the plum shifts.

‘I don’t want it,’ Alice lied. ‘You help yourself.’ She nodded towards the supervisor’s office. ‘You’d best get in quick and see Mr Chaplin ’cos I know Annie Foster spoke about applying for it.’

Night work was sought after despite the fact that factories, lit up at night, were targets for German bombs. That was considered a paltry deterrent to people trying to earn enough to keep a large brood fed. Most people were conscious too that millions of fathers, sons and brothers were facing untold peril on foreign soil. They therefore considered keeping the munitions and engineering works going round the clock to be the least they could do to demonstrate support for those brave souls.

Alice watched Bert hobbling away towards the super-visor’s station, grim determination etched on his features. She had wanted next week’s night shift. Christmas was almost on them and she could have done with the extra money. But she’d promised Geoff she’d do what she could for his family. She and her mother and aunt owed him so much. Letting his father take the pick of the shifts was next to nothing in return. In protecting them all, and braving Jimmy’s vicious attack, he’d risked his life and his future. Alice always grew cold when pondering what would happen if Margaret and Bert Lovat discovered the hideous truth about why their son had so suddenly decided to enlist. But they mustn’t ever know. Nobody must ever know.

‘Mr Chaplin’s son’s come to see him. He looks nice, don’t he?’

Alice whipped about, startled. She’d been so lost in guilty thoughts she’d not heard Annie Foster come up behind her. She continued unbuttoning her overall with unsteady fingers while blood thundered in her ears.

‘Look . . . over there . . .’ Annie nodded sideways, nudging Alice to gain her attention. So interested was Annie in the young soldiers that she’d not noticed how unsettled Alice seemed.

Alice glanced obligingly at the young men talking to their supervisor. Their blue flannel suits and red ties made it obvious they were home on convalescence.

‘Mr Chaplin’s son’s the taller one,’ Annie whispered.

He
did
look nice. If he were like his father he probably was very nice. Mr Chaplin was a good boss, well-liked and respected. You could have a laugh and a joke with him but not take liberties, if you knew what was good for you.

‘Let’s go over and say hello,’ Annie hissed. ‘The son’s quite a looker, ain’t he? Better-looking than his pal.’

Alice gave Mr Chaplin Junior a closer inspection. He was probably only a few years older than she was. He wasn’t as dark, or as tall and stocky as Geoff. But he was tall and broad enough. His hair and complexion were fair, like his father’s, and his profile promised pleasing features.

He turned and looked their way. Immediately he smiled and Alice was struck by the gentle friendliness in his expression.

‘Come on,’ Annie hissed. ‘Don’t need no more invitation than that. I reckon he’d like to get to know us too.’

Alice, for a reason she didn’t understand, shrugged away from Annie’s grip. ‘No. I told Mum I’d get straight home. Besides, I want to write a letter to Geoff.’

Annie shrugged and walked over to the group of men as Alice negotiated a maze of workbenches until finally she got to the factory exit. Before she left she glanced over her shoulder. Annie was chatting to the soldier she hadn’t thought that good-looking. Mr Chaplin’s son was watching her leaving. Alice received another mild smile, perhaps tinged this time with a little disappointment.

Quickly she slipped out of the door and set off home.

‘Keep away, yer bastard . . . keep away, yer bastard . . . keep away, yer bastard . . .’

The peculiar chanting was undoubtedly in her mother’s voice and it prompted Alice to speed down the remaining stairs. She burst out of the hallway and onto the pavement where she spied Tilly straight away. Her mother hadn’t got very far in her trip to the shop. In fact she was retreating backwards towards her own doorway as though to seek its shelter. Alice peered beyond Tilly in search of an explanation for her odd behaviour. When she found it she felt her knees weaken and she gripped at the iron railing to one side of her for support.

Cycling towards them was a telegraph boy, or a messenger of death, as they were known, for they delivered news of those fallen in the war. They were the most alarming sight to people with men in the armed forces.

Tilly dropped her head and stared at her shoes as though praying that if she didn’t look, he wouldn’t be there. Alice watched him, transfixed, as he drew nearer and nearer then pedalled past. Obliquely she realised she felt sorry for him. He looked as nervous as she felt. People came only reluctantly to Campbell Road at the best of times. This lad was hated simply for doing his job. As Alice exhaled her pent-up breath he creaked to a stop at a house on the opposite side of the road.

‘It’s the Forbes’ . . . he’s knocked at the Forbes’.’ Tilly audibly gasped in a relieved sob. She crossed herself muttering an oath of thanksgiving. ‘Poor Dolly. Could be Walter or Gregory.’ She named the woman’s sons, both of whom had joined up. ‘I’ll go across and see her later. Don’t suppose she’ll feel like company now.’

Other women in the street had been dawdling; watching and waiting in trepidation. A fellow removed his cap and bowed his head in anticipation of a bereavement being made public. A wail of anguish sounded and the telegraph boy was seen to skitter back and quickly mount his bike. He sped off down the road while the women dotted about shook their heads, cuffed at their eyes then went solemnly about their business.

Tilly started off to the shop again then cast a glance back over a shoulder at her daughter. Alice hadn’t moved; her sad blue gaze was resting on the woman who had sunk to her knees on her doorstep.

‘Going to work now, Mum,’ Alice finally murmured and trudged off in the opposite direction.

‘I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself the other day.’

Alice swung about. She’d been on the point of hurrying, head down, through the factory gate when that greeting made her snap up her chin and draw to a halt.

Mr Chaplin’s son strolled up and leaned a shoulder on the black iron. His easy smile, very like the one she remembered from his previous visit to the factory, warmed her upturned face. Close to he was more handsome than she’d thought. His grey-blue eyes twinkled at her.

‘Can’t stop now,’ she said quickly. ‘Don’t want your dad telling me off for being late for me shift.’

‘Won’t keep you more than a minute. I’d just like to properly introduce myself. I’m Joshua Chaplin.’

His fingers, as they closed around hers, felt long and firm. Her hand remained cradled in his for a moment before he gave it a businesslike shake.

‘Well . . . nice to meet you. I’m Alice Keiver, but I reckon you might already know that.’

‘I confess I do.’ He grimaced apology. ‘I asked my dad your name. Hope you don’t mind.’

‘No . . . I don’t mind,’ Alice said with unusual shyness. He was again in his hospital uniform so she added politely, ‘Hope you soon get better. Is it bad?’

Joshua shook his head on glancing down. ‘Leg wound.’ He started to walk with her as she approached the entrance to the factory. ‘It got infected. If it heals properly this time I expect I’ll be sent back.’

Alice noticed then that he had a slightly awkward gait. She stopped, not because of his limp but because he had an air of restfulness about him that she found appealing. She realised she’d like nothing better than to linger in his company and talk. The idea that he might soon rejoin the fighting, and she might never see or speak to him again, saddened her. ‘Well, in that case, I hope it takes a good while before it’s right,’ she blurted.

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’d sooner stop here too now I know what’s waiting over there.’

‘It’s dreadful, isn’t it?’ Alice said and angled an earnest look up at his profile.

Joshua nodded but his affable smile remained unaffected by whatever harrowing memories he had.

‘Me dad and me friend, me best friend that is, are in France,’ Alice gruffly told him.

‘I hope they’ll both be safe and back soon.’

‘I pray for it every day,’ she replied vehemently.

The door to the factory beckoned but still Alice didn’t yet want to use it. She wanted to stay with Joshua a while longer. And that’s what he wanted. She could read from his steady grey gaze that he liked her. She knew it would be easy to flirt with this fellow yet felt ashamed of even thinking it when Geoff was in France fighting, risking his life, because of her. The last time she’d seen Geoff had been right here. He’d come to see her at work, in her dinner break, to take a walk with her and say goodbye. They’d kissed. She’d offered him more than that. A less worthy man than Geoff would’ve taken what she’d offered. She’d known for a long while that Geoff loved her. And she loved him dearly; but she wasn’t sure it was in the way he wanted. Now she was standing here with another man and she knew that, if he asked, she’d like to take a walk with him. But she mustn’t.

A short while ago her mind had been filled with the memory of the telegraph boy. He might have brought news today that her dear dad or Geoff had been killed in the fighting. She’d set off to work with her heart still thumping and a sense of momentous relief trembling her limbs that some other poor soul had got the news she’d dreaded. Now that feeling was lost to a sense of guilt and shame. ‘Got to go in. I’m late,’ she mumbled and hurried into the building, leaving Joshua standing quite still, watching her.

When Alice emerged into midday sunshine she immediately glanced about. Joshua Chaplin was nowhere to be seen. A sense of disappointment washed over her despite that she tried to convince herself she was glad.

‘Going round the caff?’ Annie Foster had strolled up beside her.

Alice nodded. They started to walk along Blackstock Road in the direction of Kenny’s café.

‘I saw Joshua Chaplin hangin’ around by the gate this morning,’ Annie said with a sly glance at her friend. ‘He seemed keen to find out off his dad what your name was. Reckon he took a shine to you straight off. Did he ask you to the dance?’

‘Dance?’ Alice looked sharply at Annie.

‘He didn’t ask you, then.’

‘What dance?’

‘Dance being arranged next month over the Wood Green Empire for the servicemen home on sick leave. I wished he’d asked me. His pal asked me instead. D’you remember the one was here with Joshua last week? Paul O’Connor is his pal’s name.’

‘Are you going with him?’ Alice asked. She knew that Annie and Tommy Greenfield were sweethearts. She knew too that Tommy had enlisted over a year ago.

‘Might do,’ Annie said. ‘Can’t sit about moping forever. Tommy wouldn’t want me to, I reckon.’ She slid Alice an astute look. ‘Geoff wouldn’t want you to neither.’ She stuck her hands in her coat pockets and shivered. Although it was sunny it was January and very cold. ‘Just a dance anyhow,’ Annie added with a shrug. ‘That’s all it is. And I reckon we owe the poor blighters a bit of lighthearted fun before they get shipped off again.’

‘Well, I’ve not been asked,’ Alice said flatly. ‘So that’s that.’ They’d reached the café and she pushed at the door. ‘Let’s get something to eat.’

‘Off to a dance, are yer! That’s nice! Geoff’s fightin’ in France and you’re out gallivanting with a feller.’

‘He’s not a feller. Not the way you mean anyhow.’ Alice continued brushing her hair then pinned it neatly to frame her face. She turned her head to inspect her reflection in the mirror and tidy a few wisps. ‘It’s a works outing, that’s what it is. Annie’s going and so are some others from Turner’s. Mr Chaplin and his wife and son are going too.’ Joshua had asked her to the dance the next time she’d seen him. After a little gentle persuading Alice had accepted. She was looking forward to it because she’d realised that what Annie had said was true. It was just a dance, and heaven only knew the poor souls who were invalided home deserved a little bit of enjoyment before they were sent back to the trenches.
They can’t hardly dance with themselves, poor sods,
one married woman on Alice’s section had declared. A moment later she had volunteered to make up the numbers, saying her sailor husband wouldn’t mind a bit.

‘But it’s Mr Chaplin’s son you’re interested in, ain’t it?’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Alice told her mother crossly. ‘Don’t you think these fellows have earned a little bit of enjoyment before they get sent back to the fighting?’

‘He asked you to go, didn’t he?’ Tilly ignored Alice’s reasonable enquiry.

‘How do you know that?’ Alice asked sharply. She knew her mother wasn’t above checking up on her.

Tilly tapped her nose. ‘Got me spies, don’t you worry about that.’ She slanted a shrewd look at her daughter. ‘I know a fellow in hospital blues has been hangin’ around the factory gate waiting for you at dinnertimes. I know you’ve been several times down the caff with him.’

‘Well, as you know all that, you should also know that Annie’s been coming too. And you should know that what we talk about most is Geoff and Dad and Tommy Greenfield and all the men we know who are serving out there, and how much we miss them and want them back in one piece,’ Alice rattled off angrily. ‘And it’s usually a big party of us meet up. Some of Joshua’s friends join us at the caff . . .’

‘Oh . . .
Joshua
, is it?’ Tilly interrupted triumphantly.

Alice shrugged and rolled her eyes.

It was inevitable that sooner or later her mother would get wind that a man was showing an interest in her. A lot of people from The Bunk worked at Turner’s. And her mother collected rent from many of those families.