Women on the Home Front (107 page)

‘Didn't need this holding the job up …' Chris had just opened the front door to peer along the garden path, while covering his nose and mouth with his fingers to prevent the freezing air abrading his throat and lungs. He squinted but couldn't make out the shape of his van parked at the kerb, so solid was the sulphurous atmosphere. On the holly bush close to the house droplets of icy water sparkled incongruously like pretty crystals.

‘Never mind the job, son,' Stevie said, peering over his shoulder. ‘Ain't worth risking travelling on the roads even short distances in this sort of pea-souper.' Stevie couldn't remember the last time he'd seen such dense, choking fog. ‘I'm hoping Pearl's got the sense to stop home today. Bloomin' nuisance it is, just as we get to December and put our special teas on the menu. But then again nobody's gonna be out and about in this so no customers as such …' Stevie stood looking morose, mentally calculating his losses.

‘Better hope the lads know to hold fire till it clears tomorrow.' Chris gladly shut the door against the freezing damp that in just a few minutes had seemed to seep into his bones.

‘Better hope too Grace knows you'll see her later in the week,' Stevie said. ‘Don't want to be doing that sort of journey at night time, do you.'

‘It might clear by this evening. Anyhow, Tottenham's not that far,' Chris said with a smile for his father's motherly clucking.

‘If Shirley's got any sense she won't let her daughter out of the house till it lifts. Give you bronchitis easy as anything, you stay out too long breathing in that muck.'

Chris knew his father's advice was sound. It was the worst fog he'd ever seen and he didn't relish going to the end of the road again for a loaf of bread, let alone setting out for work. He'd been to the local shop early that morning for milk and tea and even with a scarf wound about his lower face as protection he'd felt his chest aching as his lungs made an effort to pump air. When he'd got back he'd been amused and astonished in equal part to discover his skin, above the scarf, had been flecked with black soot.

The following day Chris woke to see the same yellow haze beyond the windows of his bedroom. But he was determined not to lose another day's work, and had managed to get messages to the others that he expected them to turn up no matter what this morning brought in the way of weather. So he set off early, at a crawl, towards Whadcoat Street, glad that a bus was immediately in front of him for most of the way so he could follow its taillights into Seven Sisters Road.

It took him close to an hour to do a journey that usually lasted a matter of minutes. When he got to the site, Ted and Billy were already there. It was their custom to travel to work together in Billy's old jalopy as they lived close to one another. The car was parked at the kerb and there were four others parked behind in a street that was usually deserted.

‘What's going on?' Chris gestured at the strange vehicles.

Ted rubbed his gloved palms together and hunched his shoulders to his ears. He came close to Chris to squint at his face through the filthy mist. ‘Bleedin' lark this is!' He appeared torn between amusement and amazement. ‘You'll never guess …' He nodded in the direction Chris had moments ago pointed. ‘They've all followed us here, one behind the other, like sheep. They'd been using Billy's lights to guide 'em. Now none of 'em knows where they are and Billy's been trying to tell 'em how to get back to Holloway Road where we must've got the convoy going.'

‘Got a torch?' Billy had materialised beside them. ‘Bleedin' battery's gone in mine. I'll have to lead 'em down to the bottom of the road. The two in the middle have already had a prang.'

Chris went to the van and pulled out a heavy rubber torch and immediately switched it on.

‘You two get started inside …' Chris instructed. ‘I'll walk in front of them and get them down to Seven Sisters, after that they're on their own.'

‘Got some juice fer the generator? We ain't gonna get much done in there today without a bit of light.'

Chris swore beneath his breath. He'd completely forgotten that the generator was out of fuel, and the can on the van was empty. He had meant to fill it yesterday but had stayed inside all day rather than venture out in the fetid air. He knew by the time he got to a filling station, and got back here, it would be dinnertime. In a way he was wishing he'd not bothered setting out this morning at all. Dejectedly, he realised that nothing much was going to get done.

‘Is Vic turning up?' Billy asked.

‘Deirdre probably won't let him out in this, in case he accidentally on purpose gets lost and she don't see him fer a month,' Ted quipped.

As though to prove him wrong Vic's stooped figure loomed into view.

‘Bus driver took a wrong turning. Stupid sod was following a milk float 'n' we ended up outside the dairy.'

‘Just get done what you can till I get back,' Chris said and walked tentatively, hands outstretched to detect obstacles, towards the first vehicle parked behind Billy's car. He swung the torch to and fro to ease his path but the beam seemed to bounce off a solid wall of smog.

He peered in the first car to see a man and woman with a child of about six huddled on the back seat, wearing school uniform.

‘We were taking her to school,' the woman said in agitation. ‘Now all we want to do is get home again.'

Chris could tell from her nice accent that they were well out of their area. ‘Where you from?'

‘Hampstead,' the fellow announced. ‘You should have let her have a day off,' he said to his wife. ‘And I should have just gone into work on time, as usual, on the train,' he added cuttingly, making his wife shoot him a glare.

‘Wouldn't have got far, mate,' Chris said. ‘I heard on the wireless that nothing much is running. Even the underground is out.'

He turned about as a fellow from another car approached him, feeling his way along the vehicle's coachwork.

‘What's down the bottom there?' The man pointed vaguely while squinting a frown at the boarded-up houses he could just make out lining the street.

‘Seven Sisters Road,' Chris answered. ‘I'll guide you down there with the torch and out into the road. With any luck you can find a bus to follow that might be going your way.'

By the time he got back to the house – led there by the sound of Billy coughing so violently he was in danger of bringing his guts up – Chris realised they might just as well pack up and go home. In winter, the interiors of these properties were dingy in normal conditions. Without doors, or glass in the windows, the foul atmosphere that had descended was swirling everywhere.

Once Vic had joined Ted in clearing his chest every five minutes, and Billy had tripped over the toolbox for the umpteenth time, Chris had had enough. ‘That's it … let's go … wasting time staying …'

‘Waste o' time coming in the first place,' Vic grumbled.

‘Alright with getting a day's pay docked, are you?' Chris shot back.

‘Ain't our fault we can't do no work.'

‘Ain't the guvnor's fault neither, is it? And he's gotta take the losses.'

‘Give us a lift?' Vic meekly asked Chris, after that spiky exchange. ‘Be bleedin' midnight time I get home if I wait fer a bus. Be better off walking …'

‘Yeah, make him walk, Chris, after givin' you lip,' Billy called with a wink at Ted.

‘You can shut up 'n' all …' Vic snapped narkily. ‘You ain't offered to give me a lift, have yer, selfish git.'

‘Just get packed up, all of yers, and I'll drop Vic off home,' Chris said with a sigh.

Chris was coaxing the old girl's damp engine to start when he saw, through the van's window, a woman coming towards him, head down and hand over her nose and mouth. As she got closer and looked up he realised it was Noreen Murphy. Considering the lack of visibility Chris realised she was moving quickly. He immediately wound down the window to speak to her.

‘Have you seen Kieran?' she burst out, looking anxiously up at him.

Chris could see she was very agitated and on the point of tears. ‘Haven't seen him this morning. Has he gone out to work?'

‘He hasn't found proper work, just a day here and there. Yesterday he bumped into one of O'Connor's men and made him tell him where that cheating divil is now. Kieran set out early to catch him in Camden Town to make him hand over his wages. He says he won't wait a day longer, and he won't come back empty handed either.'

‘He hasn't paid Kieran yet?' Chris's voice rose in astonishment. The pikeys had been gone from the street a long while.

Noreen Murphy shook her head and swung a look to and fro. ‘O'Connor gave him some, but not all what he was owed. We need it badly. Kieran wouldn't have gone out in this otherwise.' Her teeth started to chatter and she cleared a wet film from her cheeks with shaking fingers.

‘He'll be alright, luv, don't worry,' Chris soothed. ‘Just take him a while to get himself back here; everything's slowed right up and there's no transport running …'

‘It's not him I'm worrying over.' She raised her glistening eyes to Chris's face. ‘Little Rosie's chest is so bad.' She took a look back the way she'd come as though fretting about leaving the children to come out searching for her husband. ‘She's struggling to get her breath, the poor little soul. She needs a doctor … where is Kieran? He'll have to take her to hospital, so he will. I can't keep dosing her with linctus. It's no use …' She twisted around, muttering about having left the children alone for too long.

With a sigh Chris turned off the engine and jumped out of the van. Noreen was again striding so swiftly towards home that she was already lost to view. As he followed her he almost collided with Vic coming towards him, pulling his balaclava down over his head.

‘We off then … ?' Vic mumbled through the wool.

‘You'll have to get Billy to drop you off,' Chris told Vic as his face appeared. ‘I'm gonna offer to give Mrs Murphy a lift to the hospital. Her youngest has got a bad chest. I know she ain't exaggerating 'cos I've heard the little mite coughing all week. Now this fog's come down …' Chris's words tailed off as he shook his head.

He caught up with Noreen as she was running up the stairs. The sound of a child's whimpering could be heard.

‘I'll give you a lift to the hospital if you want,' Chris called after her.

Noreen came down a few steps and gave him a grateful look. ‘Will you? Thank you … I'll bring them down. Kathleen will have to come too I suppose … not that I want her out in this, but I can't leave her on her own …'

‘Me aunt'll watch her while I get you to the hospital,' Chris said. He knew Matilda was a diamond at giving assistance when it was needed – especially where children's welfare was concerned. And he knew she was very fond of little Kathleen.

Chris didn't bother bawling up to Matilda to announce himself today. He went straight in and up the stairs with Kathleen in his arms to bang on his aunt's door.

Matilda opened up and gawped at him. ‘Where you found her?' she asked. ‘Under a gooseberry bush?'

‘Can you look after Kathleen for a bit for Mrs Murphy?' Chris asked without preamble but with an appreciative little chuckle for his aunt's drollery. ‘The baby needs to go to hospital and Kieran ain't about to take her.'

Even if Noreen's husband had returned from tackling O'Connor over his wages, Kieran hadn't any transport, and would have needed to beg a lift rather than carry the child through the streets to the hospital.

‘'Course I can.' Matilda held out her arms and Chris handed the child over.

‘Cor, you're getting a big girl, ain't yer, Kathleen,' Matilda said with a huff and a grimace at the cold, slight figure in her arms. ‘See if we can find a few biscuits, shall we, and a nice hot cup of tea to warm you up.'

Kathleen nodded and, as Matilda put her to the floor, she scampered to where she knew the biscuit box was kept on a shelf and gazed at it expectantly.

‘How's little Rosie, did you say?' Matilda whispered when sure Kathleen was out of earshot. The tot might only just have turned four years old but she was bright as a button and Matilda didn't want to make her fret over her baby sister. ‘I know the poor little mite's chest's been rattling for weeks. Thought it might be Rosie's teeth worrying her 'cos I know Noreen said she teeths with bronchitis.' Her nephew's bleak expression made Matilda give a heavy sigh.

‘She's coughing all the time and is as white as a ghost,' Chris said. ‘Can see why Noreen's anxious to get her to the hospital as soon as she can.'

‘You'd best get off then.' Matilda shooed him on his way.

‘Kieran's got a nice welcome home, ain't he.' Chris shook his head. ‘I hope the poor sod has at least managed to get his wages out of that thieving git, O'Connor.'

‘I'll keep an eye out for him and give him a shout out me window if I manage to spot him through the fog.'

‘Right; won't be too long, I hope,' Chris said, moving towards the door. ‘But can't see a hand in front of your face out there. D'you want anything brought in today, Auntie? Bread? Milk? Save you going out later.'

‘Could do with a loaf and a bottle of milk, Chris.' Matilda spoke while getting the lid off the biscuit box. ‘You get going and make sure you drive carefully. Kathleen's gonna be fine here with me so make sure you tell Noreen that 'cos it sounds as though she's got more'n enough on her plate to worry about.'

Chris reckoned Noreen
did
have enough to worry about too. As the van crept along slowly through the fog he could hear Rosie's laboured breathing interspersed with pathetic little mewing sounds. It seemed the baby was too weak even to cry properly and Chris felt anxious and frustrated as the bus in front braked, forcing him again to a stop. He turned his head and squinted through the misty half-light at Noreen. Her face was dipped close to the precious bundle in her arms and Chris glimpsed the tears dripping from the end of her nose as she wept silently. Cursing beneath his breath at their snail-like progress, he took a chance and pulled out to overtake the bus in front. The road ahead seemed empty of vehicles so he put his foot down, praying for a clear run the remainder of the way to the hospital.