Where the Heart Lies (16 page)

Determined not to think about her life in London, or to dwell too long on the rising doubts, Julie hurried on until she reached the vast bomb crater on the corner of what must be the High Street and
Camden Road. Running parallel to the seafront, Camden Road stretched before her, and she began to regret wearing her high-heeled shoes, for they really weren’t meant for walking such long distances. All she could hope for was that Eileen’s flat wasn’t at the far end.

She passed the fire station, where the bright red engines were being enthusiastically hosed down and polished to the accompaniment of dance music coming from a wireless. She reached Solomon and Goldman’s factory just as the workers poured out on their lunch break, and had to wait for an ambulance to turn into the hospital entrance. It looked like a big hospital, and would surely have a maternity ward, and she wondered fleetingly why Matron hadn’t applied for her to work there.

The Anchor pub was doing a roaring trade, the hubbub of voices almost drowning the efforts of the pianist, who seemed to have rather more enthusiasm than skill. Julie felt a deeper pang of homesickness this time, for although the Anchor bore little resemblance to the Toolmakers’, the atmosphere and memories it evoked were all too painful. She took a deep breath, blinked back the tears and took note of the house numbers. There was a row of shops on either side of the road now, with doorways leading to the flats above.

She slowed and came to a halt outside a door sandwiched between the bakery and hardware shop. It looked as if it had been freshly painted, the brass fittings were polished to a gleam, and the single
step was freshly scrubbed. Eileen might have left the East End far behind her, but she hadn’t quite lost their mother’s pride in keeping her home looking nice and neat.

Julie’s mouth was dry and her pulse was racing as she reached for the door-knocker. Eileen might not be in – and even if she was, would she welcome her, or slam the door in her face? That postcard hadn’t been at all encouraging, and she’d yet to tell Eileen about William. She banished the doubts and gave the knocker two determined raps. Having come this far, she couldn’t fail now.

She stepped back as she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. William was, thankfully, still asleep, and looked very sweet wrapped in his sling. She just had to hope that Eileen thought the same.

The door opened to reveal a small, slender, dark-haired woman in her thirties, whose welcoming smile faltered as she regarded Julie. ‘Yes?’

Julie’s breath caught as she took in the flawless make-up and freshly set hairdo, the neat blouse and skirt, the high-heeled shoes and delicate stockings. There was little doubt this was Eileen, for she looked just like their mother. ‘Hello, Eileen,’ she said. ‘It’s me, Julie.’

‘Good grief,’ Eileen muttered, her gaze flitting towards the far end of the street before returning rather coolly to her sister. ‘I wouldn’t have recognised you from Adam. What on earth are you doing here?’

Julie swallowed. ‘I start as district nurse and midwife at Cliffe surgery on Monday,’ she replied, her hand protectively cupping William’s bottom.

Eileen’s brown eyes settled on William, and her expression hardened. ‘Whose is that?’ she asked almost accusingly.

‘This is William,’ Julie replied firmly. ‘He’s Franny’s baby, and I’m looking after him until his father can get home.’ She eased back the blanket and sling from his little face. ‘Isn’t he just beautiful?’ she breathed.

‘Very nice,’ said Eileen.

Stung by her lack of admiration, Julie replaced the blanket over William’s little head. This was going to be harder than she’d thought, but she ploughed on anyway, determined to break through her sister’s frostiness. ‘Do you think I could come in?’ she asked pleasantly. ‘Only I’ve just arrived from London and had to walk from the station. Me feet are killing me in these silly shoes.’

Eileen eyed the shoes. ‘Nothing’s changed there, then,’ she muttered. She shot a glance at the bundle in Julie’s arms and then grudgingly stepped aside. ‘I’m going out later,’ she warned, ‘but I’ve got time to make a cup of tea, I suppose.’

She closed the door and led the way up a short flight of carpeted stairs to a square landing. Opening another door, she walked into a pleasant sitting room and pointed to an armchair. ‘Sit down while I see if I have enough tea,’ she ordered.

Julie sat down on the edge of the chair and held William to her heart. This had been a terrible mistake. She should never have come without thinking it through properly. Eileen was a cold fish, and although she might look like their mother, there was nothing of Flo’s warmth and compassion in her.

Julie carefully slipped off her overcoat and looked round the neat, almost impersonal room. A table and two chairs were placed beneath the window, which had been taped against bomb-blast. The plain beige velvet curtains had been lined with blackout material and matched the armchair and couch which stood in front of a gas fire. There were no ornaments or photographs about the place, just a plain clock in a polished mahogany casing which sat squarely on the mantelpiece. A wireless stood in the corner, a mirror hung above the fire, and the niches on either side of the chimney breast had been lined with crammed bookshelves. The only luxury seemed to be the lovely Indian carpet that covered the polished floorboards almost to the walls.

William stirred in her arms, his little fists emerging from the blanket in search of his mouth, and Julie hoped there was enough milk left in the flask to satisfy him until she could collect her bags from the station and retrieve the tins of formula she’d been given by the hospital. She crooned softly to him and kissed the tiny fists, praying he wouldn’t start
yelling. Eileen clearly didn’t possess a single maternal bone in her body, and it wouldn’t do to antagonise her further.

Eileen came back into the room, carrying a tray loaded with china. ‘I hope you’re not expecting more than a biscuit,’ she said. ‘I’ve already had my lunch, and as I’m being taken out to supper tonight there isn’t anything in the larder.’

Julie’s stomach rumbled at the thought of food. ‘A sandwich would be nice if you could spare it,’ she said, ‘but if it’s too much trouble . . .’

‘It is rather,’ Eileen replied flatly. She poured the tea, put a digestive biscuit on the saucer and handed the cup to Julie. ‘I’m a busy woman with little time to queue for bread, and I wasn’t expecting visitors.’

Julie held onto her temper as she gratefully gulped down the tea and ate the biscuit. ‘I’m hardly any old visitor,’ she said mildly, ‘and as your sister, I would have expected a warmer welcome.’

‘You should have written and told me you were coming. That way, you’d have saved yourself a journey.’ Eileen crossed her slender legs and tugged at the hem of her skirt as she eyed Julie and William with little emotion. ‘You can’t stay here,’ she said. ‘I only have one bedroom and I certainly don’t want the inconvenience of a squalling baby to contend with.’

Shocked by her rudeness and lack of compassion, Julie stared at her. ‘Why are you being like this,
Eileen? What’s made you so . . . so cold? This is little Franny’s precious baby, and now that Mum and Dad are gone, I thought . . .’

Eileen stared through the tape on the window at the rooftops opposite. ‘I was sorry to hear about Mum and Dad – Franny, too. But it’s been a long time, and too much water has passed under the bridge for me to get emotional over them.’ She turned back to Julie, her expression unreadable. ‘I suppose Mum told you why I had to leave?’

‘Nobody said anything,’ Julie replied. ‘Whatever happened between you that day went with them to their graves.’

‘Best it stays there then,’ said Eileen. She finished her tea and glanced at her wristwatch. ‘You said you’re starting at the surgery on Monday, so I’m assuming you have made some sort of plan regarding your accommodation?’

‘I was rather hoping we could stay with you and look after William together,’ Julie replied, ‘but obviously I was mistaken to think you might help.’

Eileen patted her neat hair, the red varnish flashing on her long nails. ‘I have an important job with the local council, which means I’m often kept very late in the office, coupled with a very pleasant social life. There is certainly no time for me to nursemaid a baby. I suggest you go to the authorities and have him fostered as soon as possible.’

‘I promised Franny I’d never do that,’ said Julie.

‘Then you’re a fool,’ snapped Eileen. ‘You can’t possibly look after a child and hold down a demanding job at the same time.’

‘I’ll find someone to look after him while I’m working,’ Julie retorted. ‘I’m willing to pay the right person.’

Eileen regarded William, who was becoming restless in Julie’s arms. ‘Was Franny actually married to the father?’ Julie shook her head. ‘In which case it would be better off adopted. You can’t risk people thinking it’s yours, and I’ve worked too long and too hard to get where I am to have my reputation sullied by my connection with you.’

‘Don’t worry, Eileen,’ snapped Julie, ‘I won’t tell anyone you’re my sister. The shame of closing your door to the only member of your family who needs you is bad enough, and I’m sure you won’t want that item of news getting about to smear your pristine reputation.’

‘There’s no need to be like that,’ said Eileen, her brown eyes narrowing.

‘I think there’s every need,’ retorted Julie. ‘In fact, after meeting you again after so many years, I’m almost ashamed to acknowledge you as a member of our family. You might think you’re grand and important, but we both come from the East End, where hospitality and family loyalty are of the utmost importance. Leaving Stepney has done you no favours at all.’

Eileen held her glare for a long moment of silence
and then she gave a deep sigh. ‘You can stay for tonight,’ she said with clear reluctance, ‘but you’ll have to go to the billeting people this afternoon and find somewhere for tomorrow. I can’t have my life disrupted like this.’

Julie didn’t want to stay with Eileen at all, but she had little choice. ‘Thank you,’ she said tightly. ‘I’ll just feed and change William first, then get out of your hair.’ She eyed her older sister thoughtfully. ‘I don’t suppose you know where I could pick up a second-hand pram, do you?’

‘The WVS centre at the Town Hall will probably have one.’ Eileen gathered the cups and saucers and placed them carefully on the tray. ‘As long as he’s fed and changed and asleep before you go out, I’ll keep an eye on him.’

Julie was startled by her sister’s change of heart. ‘Really?’ she breathed. ‘That would be such a help, because I have to go back to the station to collect me bags and—’

‘I’m due to go out at seven this evening,’ said Eileen, ‘and if you’re one minute late back, then I’m going anyway – and the baby will be left to fend for itself.’

‘I’ll be back, I promise. Thanks, Eileen.’

Eileen made no reply as she carried the tea tray out of the room and quietly closed the door behind her – but her young sister would have been shocked to see her lean heavily against that door, her cold reserve crumbling as she desperately
fought back a tide of anguish which threatened to overwhelm her.

Julie had left William fed, clean and asleep in a nest of pillows on Eileen’s couch. She hadn’t liked leaving him at all, for she doubted if Eileen could cope if he became tearful. But without him, Julie could dash to the billeting office before it closed, and then hurry back to the station to collect her bags, and perhaps buy something to eat for her supper.

She remembered passing the billeting office on her way down the High Street, but when she pushed through the door, she saw the crush and realised she had a long wait ahead of her. She settled on one of the uncomfortable chairs, fretting as the hands on the big wall-clock slowly ticked away the minutes. The shops would soon be closing and she needed to buy food for tonight – and then there was the possibility that the old porter might go off duty and close the left luggage.

Her impatience grew as the time dragged by, and it was almost an hour before she was finally called to one of the three desks.

A small wooden plaque on the desk informed Julie that she was dealing with Katherine Carter. Katherine was a pretty, fair-haired girl who couldn’t have been much older than Julie, but she was clearly harassed by the sheer number of people needing her help, and didn’t look up as Julie sat down.

Katherine shuffled the paperwork before her and
tried to bring some order to her fair hair, which seemed determined to escape her hairpins. Drawing a sheaf of papers towards her, she began to fire questions at Julie as she filled in a form. ‘Name, age, marital status, address, occupation? How many needing accommodation? Do you have small children or elderly dependants?’

Julie answered them all, and then Katherine finally looked up. ‘I thought you said you weren’t married?’

‘I’m not,’ she replied. ‘William is me sister’s child. She died six weeks ago.’

‘Oh, I am sorry.’ The blue eyes were sympathetic, the smile warm despite her obvious weariness. ‘And here you are, all the way from London with nowhere to go.’ She frowned. ‘I’m surprised Dr Sayers didn’t organise something for you. He knows how difficult it is to place very small children, especially when so many of our local residents have been bombed out. Our policy is to encourage mothers with young ones to evacuate to Wales or Somerset.’ She looked back at Julie hopefully.

‘I have to stay here,’ Julie said quietly. ‘I can’t let Dr Sayers down.’

‘Of course,’ Katherine murmured. ‘In that case, I can only offer you a bed at the Town Hall. It’s our emergency holding centre and overcrowded, but I’m sure we could squeeze you both in somehow.’ She gave Julie an apologetic smile as she again fiddled with the hairpins. ‘Don’t you have
any
friends or
relatives in Cliffehaven who might take you in for a while?’

Julie thought of Eileen and shook her head. ‘I’ve left William with someone for the afternoon, but she doesn’t have any room to spare after tonight. Aren’t there any families who would be willing to take me and the baby in? I’d pay extra for babysitting, and do all me own laundry and cooking.’

Katherine sat back in her chair with a sigh and let the drifts of fair hair settle round her pretty face. ‘The only person who might take you in is Mrs Reilly at Beach View Boarding House. But I seem to remember she’s taken her name off our books for a while.’