A Wartime Christmas Page 3

  That evening Vi helped Kay to peel the vegetables and cube the last of the carrots, potatoes and onions, and rolled out a pastry top to hide the unappetizing sight. A Woolton Pie was the government’s own speciality recipe of carrots and leftovers hidden under pastry. The pie took its place in the oven and even more potatoes were crushed to death to mash with the last scrapings of marg.

  When Alan came in, he held out his arms to Vi. ‘Dunno what to say about your place, Vi. I just had a look. Don’t think there’s much I can do for you.’

  ‘After all the time you spent on me windows an’ all,’ she whimpered as he hugged her.

  ‘Any news on the Suttons?’ Kay asked, knowing before Alan shook his head silently that there was none. Kay bit her lip and turned back to the sink. For a moment she couldn’t see through the blur of tears. Then, trying to do as Alan had told her and turn off her imagination, she managed to compose herself. ‘What about Babs and Eddie?’

  ‘They’ve been taken to a hostel in Aldgate,’ Alan told them. ‘Till they get a billet.’

  ‘Oh, poor Babs! She’ll hate being away from her home.’ Kay felt very sad for her friend. Babs loved her little house and kept it spick and span. But now, with it all gone, and gone in one day, Babs must feel desperate.

  Vi sank down on a chair, wiping her hands on Kay’s apron which was tied around her middle. ‘Looks like it’ll be me next, going on what Harry said. But who’s gonna want a knackered old ’orse like me?’

  ‘The Vi I know is a long way from being knackered,’ Alan assured her.

  ‘All my adult life has been spent in that house,’ Vi murmured. ‘Me and my Pete was happy there till he popped his clogs ten years ago. We raised our boy Pete Junior, Gawd rest his soul, in Slater Street. And all me lodgers have been decent sorts, providing me with an income that I wouldn’t have got elsewhere.’ Tears filled her eyes again. ‘I s’pose I should feel grateful the bomb didn’t take me with it. But to tell you the truth I’d rather it had been me than the Suttons. In fact, I’d have volunteered meself if I’d have known what was going to happen.’

  ‘I don’t want to hear talk like that,’ Alan said firmly as he took a seat beside her. ‘Don’t know what you think, love,’ he continued as Kay placed the hot pie in the middle of the table, ‘but I reckon we could put Vi up in the spare room till something is worked out.’

  ‘I was going to suggest the same,’ Kay answered immediately. ‘What do you say, Vi? Will you give it a go?’

  ‘What!’ Vi gave a snort of disgust as she sniffed back her tears. ‘You and me might have kipped in your Anderson for eight months, Kay, but that’s a long chalk from having an old duffer round yer feet all day.’

  ‘I’d be glad of the help as I’m at work all day,’ Kay replied, then grinned. ‘After helping to churn out thousands of the army’s ball-bearings, it’s not top of me list to come home and get out the duster.’

  ‘You know you don’t have to stay at the factory, love,’ Alan put in quietly. ‘There’s other sorts of war work you can do.’

  ‘I know,’ agreed Kay, ‘but I don’t want to start changing jobs when I’ve got a son to look after – least, when he comes home I will. And please God, that will be soon.’

  Vi smiled sympathetically. ‘I understand how you feel, love.’

  ‘So,’ continued Kay, eager not to have any opposition from Alan about bringing their boy back from the country, ‘there’s a put-u-up bed and a chest of drawers in the small bedroom under all the junk. It’s about time we had a good clear-out. You won’t be uncomfortable, I’m sure.’

  But Vi shook her head firmly. ‘You are such good kids and I love you to bits. But I can’t impose.’

  Kay raised her eyebrows and glanced swiftly at Alan. ‘Well, if our home isn’t good enough for you, Vi, so be it.’

  ‘So it looks like evacuation,’ Alan continued in the same regretful tone while keeping a straight face. ‘Matter of fact I’ll walk you down the Sally Army right after we’ve eaten.’

  For a moment there was complete silence. But then Kay and Alan began to laugh and Vi pulled out her hanky to blow her nose loudly. ‘I dunno what to say. I’m speechless.’

  ‘That’s a first, then,’ said Alan, which brought another burst of laughter all round.

  After their meal, Alan helped them to clear the small room, then grabbed a few hours of sleep.

  ‘Are you sure about this, flower?’ Vi asked as she sat down on the put-u-up that Kay had furnished with two thin pillows, a sheet and an eiderdown that was faded but still had good wear in it. ‘I don’t know how to thank you.’

  ‘You’d do the same for me and Alan, I know, if the position was reversed.’

  ‘No doubt about that.’ Vi nodded vigorously. ‘And this has got to be a business arrangement. I’ll pay you a fair rent. I’ve got me savings in me bag and if I can’t use ’em now, then I don’t know when I will.’

  Kay smiled as she folded a spare nightgown into the chest drawer along with a few other items of clothing that might come in useful. She didn’t want to take any rent from Vi. But she knew how independent her friend was and decided not to argue the point. ‘It was you and Babs who welcomed us when we first moved here,’ Kay reminded Vi. ‘You brought us mugs of tea and some of your bread pudding, remember? Little did I know then that I’d be working with Babs up at Hailing House to earn a few much-needed pennies in the months before I had Alfie.’

  ‘Course,’ nodded Vi reflectively. ‘Babs got you that cleaning job, didn’t she? And a nice little earner it was for you too. The pair of you had a right old time swanning around with yer dusters.’

  Kay laughed at the memory. She had enjoyed working with Babs at the island’s charitable institution in the months before Alfie was born. The housework had been light and very enjoyable. Hailing House was one of Kay’s favourite old buildings; maintained by the aristocratic Hailing family, it still had a faded elegance about it. But the many rooms, all in use for the benefit of the island’s residents, needed quite a lot of attention. In fact, Kay had loved to clean the needlework rooms and kitchens. Here the women were encouraged to learn how to make their own garments and provide their families with economical but healthy diets. There were always scraps of material left over and Kay had been given permission to take them home and make use of them. And being pregnant, she’d quickly developed a liking for the cook’s homemade scones.

  ‘We felt sorry for you struggling with all yer stuff the day you moved in,’ Vi was saying, returning Kay to the moment. ‘I can never understand why your mum and dad gave you the cold shoulder for marrying Alan. You was dead upset about that.’

  ‘Yes, I was and still am,’ Kay admitted. ‘Mum and Dad and Len never really took to Alan.’ She sighed. ‘Alan’s different, I know that. He’s got his opinions, which can sound a bit, well, arrogant. Sometimes he even puts the wind up me with some of the things he comes out with.’ Kay hesitated. ‘It’s like . . . well, as though it’s another Alan talking.’

  Vi scowled at this. ‘What do you mean, love?’

  Kay raised her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. ‘I don’t know how to explain, Vi. Most of the time I can read him like a book. But then, well, just occasionally, it’s as if he’s got something buried – yes, that’s it. Something pushed right down inside him that he won’t let out.’

  ‘In that case, whatever it is, is better left buried, Kay. Like us all, there’s things we don’t want aired and sores that don’t need scratching, as my old mum used to say.’

  Kay grinned. ‘Your old mum certainly had a way with words. But yes, it’s true. Alan thinks things out real deeply. He won’t go along with the crowd. Did you know before he met me, Alan fought in the civil war in Spain?’

  ‘Yes, now you mention it, I think Alan did say once.’

  ‘British people frowned on all that. The freedom fighters, as they were called, were often labelled as radicals or idealists or even worse, as cranks. That’s what Mum and Dad didn’t like. Alan just d
on’t conform to what they think is normal.’

  Vi lifted her shoulder with a puzzled shrug. ‘Well, I can’t speak for the rest of the nation and I certainly don’t know nothing about politics. But I do know Alan. He’s salt of the earth, a real genuine bloke who’s stuck up for his country and works hard to keep the East End safe.’ She took in an indignant breath. ‘Now, far be it from me to say, but your mum and dad upped sticks and left Poplar as soon as war was announced in 1939. Even though they was East Enders born and bred and brought you and your brother up here, neither of ’em considered staying put when the chips were down. No matter that the East Enders that was left had nothing but brooms and rakes to stick up Jerry’s arse if he landed. But we didn’t budge. And it’s blokes like Alan we’ve got to thank for getting us through.’

  ‘To be fair, Mum was terrified at even of the mention of bombs,’ Kay recalled, reluctant to add to Vi’s outrage by saying that she too had been shocked when Lil and Bob had boarded one of the first evacuation buses out of Poplar to the safety of the countryside. ‘And with Mum’s widowed sister, Aunty Pops, living in Berkshire, it seemed the sensible thing to go and live with her.’

  ‘If you say so, gel.’ Vi’s small eyes glittered mischievously. ‘But as far as being out in the wilds goes, with all them lonely fields and mooing cows – well, it’d drive me bonkers.’

  Kay was inclined to agree. ‘Fancy not having a market on your doorstep,’ she pondered. ‘Or the river and the boats. Or the cinemas and cafes and—’ Kay paused as a siren began to wail.

  Vi looked out of the window and up at the sky. ‘I reckon we’ll back in the bunks tonight.’

  Kay nodded resignedly for she too guessed it was to be another long haul in the Anderson.

  Much to her surprise, the following morning Kay woke up in her own bed. The daylight crept in through a chink in the blackout curtains and spilled over her clothes which had been thrown haphazardly over the chair.

  Pulling on her jumper and trousers, the events of last night began to return. The warnings and all-clears had been going on and off to no pattern. The noise of aircraft had been distant and it had been impossible to tell if it was the enemy or the British fighters above. She and Vi, unable to sleep and more than curious, had left the shelter in the early hours.

  Kay hurried to the landing where she found Vi already dressed. ‘Vi, what’s going on?’ Kay said.

  ‘The Luftwaffe must’ve overlooked us,’ Vi replied, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles. ‘Either that or I slept so heavy I never heard a thing.’

  Just then the front door opened and they both leaned over the banister as Alan called out and rushed up the stairs. Before either of them could speak, a big grin spread over Alan’s dirty face. ‘They reckon there’s going to be a lull on London,’ he told them. ‘And not before time too.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Kay.

  ‘The radio and newspapers say it’s a possibility that as a result of German military strategy, Hitler’s now going for his grand plan. That is, to invade and defeat the Soviet Union.’

  ‘Do you think it’s true?’ asked Kay. ‘Or is it a trick?’

  ‘Could be,’ said Alan with a shrug. ‘On the other hand, the Luftwaffe met their match on Saturday night. The figures are coming in that despite the bright moonlight giving their bombers the advantage, it acted for our boys as well. We heard this morning that the RAF shot down at least thirty of their planes, not counting the ack-ack’s totals. I reckon Hitler has given up on London for the time being.’

  ‘Yes, and some other poor sods will be targeted,’ said Vi bitterly.

  ‘A man’s still got to eat,’ said Alan, patting his stomach and grinning. ‘Any offers?’

  Soon the smell of cooking was in the air as Vi bustled around the kitchen making breakfast. ‘In all honesty, the city couldn’t have taken much more,’ Alan confided as he sat with Kay at the kitchen table. ‘Half of our squad were sent up as reinforcements to St Paul’s. The district around it looks like a wasteland. The rest of us went to Stepney where there are still people trapped under the rubble since Saturday. All the hospitals are under pressure. Some of them, like St Thomas’s, have been damaged but are still taking casualties. There’s warehouses, blocks of flats and factories all burning.’ He scratched the dark stubble on his jaws and blinked hard. ‘Piccadilly, Soho, Holborn, Paddington and over the water to the Elephant, Bermondsey and Greenwich, you name it.’ He held his hands out. ‘Them blasted Junkers and Heinkels didn’t leave much untouched. There’s tangled pieces of metal, lumps of masonry and rubble scattered as far as the eye can see . . .’

  As Vi served up slightly burned squares of fried bread and hefty helpings of porridge, Kay felt heart-sick for the Londoners who had lost their homes and their loved ones. And perhaps even hope for a future. But most of all – and selfishly – she hoped she would never have to see her own home under piles of rubble. They had escaped so far, but with the way things had been going, she had to accept their lives were balanced on a knife’s edge.

  Chapter Four

  Kay and Vi were listening to the wireless early one evening towards the end of May. ‘The British nation has taken its revenge,’ the commentator announced proudly. ‘When Britain’s most distinguished battle cruiser HMS Hood was sunk in the Denmark Strait with the loss of all but three of her crew, the Royal Navy set out to hunt down the aggressor, Germany’s newest and fastest battleship, Bismarck. Their mission was a success. A few hours ago the Bismarck was despatched to the bottom of the Atlantic, with the recovery of over one hundred survivors, by British warships.’

  ‘My Pete might have been one of those sailors if he’d lived,’ Vi said as they waited for Alan to come home. ‘Or even your Alan. Just think how we would feel now, if they’d served on the Hood. The pride of Britain’s naval fleet an’ all.’

  ‘Like the Bismarck,’ agreed Kay. ‘Now all of those lives have been lost. You can only feel for the wives, mothers and sisters of those men too.’

  ‘Makes you wonder what war is about,’ Vi said with a nod as she took a dish of corned beef and mash from the oven. ‘One life for another. It don’t make sense.’

  Alan walked in, kissing them on their cheeks before sticking his dusty head under the cold-water tap. When he’d washed his hands and dried his face, he took his place at the table.

  ‘You look all in, love,’ Vi said softly.

  ‘Yes, I’ve had better days.’ Alan sighed as he waited for Kay to pour their drinks.

  ‘Did you hear about the Bismarck?’ Kay asked.

  ‘It was all over the wireless,’ Vi added, watching Alan stare at his dinner.

  ‘The German navy had their card marked when they sunk the Hood.’ Alan poked at his potatoes without much enthusiasm. ‘It was inevitable our fleet would take their revenge.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Vi asked. ‘Ain’t you hungry?’

  ‘Don’t think we should talk about it before dinner.’

  ‘Do you mean the sinkings?’ asked Kay.

  ‘No.’ Alan looked up at them.

  Kay put down the spoon she held in her hand. ‘You’d better tell us, Alan, whatever it is.’

  He twisted uncomfortably on the chair. ‘I’ve just spoken to the undertakers and arrangements have been made for the Suttons’ funeral. They were considering, well . . .’ He raised his dark eyes to each of them. ‘. . . having only two or three caskets.’

  ‘What!’ exclaimed Kay. ‘They can’t do that.’

  ‘You mean the tight swines won’t spend their readies on five coffins?’ Vi demanded, slapping the dish on the draining board.

  ‘It’s not that, Vi. The undertakers ain’t responsible for paying out for the dead. If they was, they’d be out of business by now.’

  ‘But how are they proposing to fit five—’ Kay stopped as the words lodged in her throat. She looked into Alan’s eyes as he answered quietly.

  ‘Space isn’t the problem, Kay.’

  Kay took a breath.

>   ‘The bomb was a high explosive,’ Alan said simply. ‘Not much survives from that kind of impact.’

  It took some time before Kay composed herself and by the time she had, Vi had turned her back and was attending to the pudding. Kay knew that Vi was also hiding the sorrow she felt.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Alan, ‘I took it upon meself to say that if they could muster up five boxes – and we agreed they couldn’t be of the best material and no metal on either, just plain and simple – I’d have a whip round at work and in the street, come up with enough to cover costs.’

  ‘I’m sure everyone would want to contribute,’ said Kay.

  ‘What about the Suttons’ family?’ asked Vi, turning round and clearing her throat. ‘Anyone shown up?’

  ‘One relative has been traced. A distant cousin who lives up north and doesn’t think he can attend.’

  ‘Who’s gonna pay for the funeral, son?’

  ‘The funeral directors have arranged for the service to take place in a chapel of rest just off the Commercial Road. There’s no charge as it’s run by volunteers. But it’s in doubt as to whether they’ll have their own graves.’

  ‘You mean they won’t go in East London Cemetery but in a common grave somewhere?’ Kay asked in dismay.

  ‘Might be the case.’

  The thought of not having a place to be buried made Kay’s appetite vanish completely. She knew what it was like to lose someone you loved and to be able to go to a special place to remember them. Each year she still visited her late first husband’s grave at the East London Cemetery. Alan sometimes came with her. They left a small bunch of flowers in front of the headstone. Norman Williams, her childhood sweetheart, had died in a road accident just before Christmas in 1933. They had shared barely two years of marriage before his death. At twenty years of age she had found herself a widow. It had been a long time before she’d recovered from the shock and it was important to her to have somewhere to go to remember him. Even though the Suttons appeared not to have any close relatives, she was sure their friends and neighbours would want a place to visit.