‘Please believe me, I’ve grown very fond of Ellie,’ Amos pleaded with her. ‘I liked Mrs Forester too. Only yesterday I was discussing with Ellie the possibility of getting her down here for a holiday. I even hoped Ellie would persuade her to leave London.’
Marleen heard the sincerity in his words, but her grief at losing her best friend made her want to lash out. ‘You’re a pompous, stupid bastard. That’s what you are!’ she screamed at him, eyes sparking with fury. ‘I’ve met some bleedin’ twerps in my life, but no one to equal you. I’d say dead bodies were the best pals for you. If you liked our Ellie so much why didn’t you make sure you found ’er a nice billet? Was it the fucking ten bob a week you wanted?’
‘Please, Miss Hathersley.’ Amos felt weak at such a verbal onslaught; he’d never heard a woman use such terrible language. ‘Speak to Ellie before you pass judgement on me.’
‘I will, make no mistake about that,’ Marleen said, then sagged suddenly, sitting down and covering her face with her hands. ‘Oh God,’ she sobbed. ‘I can ’ardly bear to face Ellie. She and ’er mum loved each other so much. ‘Ow’s the poor kid gonna cope with this?’
‘Whatcha gonna do then, honey?’ the airman drawled. It was clear he’d been press-ganged into driving Marleen to Suffolk. He’d chain-smoked from the moment he walked through the door and the arrogant way he sprawled silently on the settee suggested he cared little about Marleen and even less for her dead friend and her child.
‘Take her home with me, of course.’ Marleen frowned at Kurt as if he was stupid too. ‘You don’t think I’d leave her here with a mad woman, do you?’
‘Come on, honey,’ Kurt said impatiently. ‘London ain’t no place to take a kid, not now with bombing every night. She ain’t your responsibilty.’
Marleen leaped out of her chair, eyes blazing. ‘Bloody men,’ she roared. ‘Ain’t my responsibility? Polly was my best mate. Do you really think I’d walk away from her kid at a time like this?’
Amos felt ashamed of himself for doubting that such a woman would be a true friend to Polly. She obviously cared deeply. But at the same time he could see Marleen was swept away with emotion, and hadn’t given herself time to think things through.
‘I know my opinion must mean little to you after what’s happened,’ Amos said gingerly. ‘But Mr Vorster’s right in saying that London’s unsafe. And we must think of Ellie’s future. She’s been doing well at school here and has many friends. Why don’t you take her home for a few days, and in the meanwhile I’ll talk to her teacher and find her a new home in the town?’
‘I don’t ever want to come back here.’ Ellie’s voice came from the doorway behind them, and all three adults turned in shocked surprise.
She was dressed in her school gym-slip, her hair loose on her shoulders, but she didn’t look like a child. Her expression was too adult and strained.
‘Ellie!’ Marleen moved quickly across the room, arms opening to enfold the girl. ‘Oh baby. I’m so sorry.’
As they embraced fiercely, both faces streaming with tears, Amos sat still in his chair, head bowed, humbled by their grief. Kurt insolently picked up a piece of porcelain and studied it, the gesture implying he regretted being dragged into this.
‘I’ll look after you, Ellie,’ Marleen said stoutly. ‘You can stay with me for as long as you like.’
Amos slipped away upstairs to check on Grace, leaving Marleen to talk to Ellie alone. The airman also went out, saying he’d be back in half an hour.
Grace was sitting in a chair by her bedroom window. ‘So dear “Auntie Marleen’s” another foul-mouthed strumpet,’ she said as Amos came in. ‘Such language!’
‘She’s a far better human being than you are,’ Amos snapped. ‘Just be glad I haven’t dragged you down to meet her. She’d have torn you to pieces. Where’s Ellie’s suitcase and the clothes you confiscated when she arrived?’
Grace pointed to a cupboard. ‘If you tell the doctor anything about me I’ll make you suffer,’ she said slyly.
Amos pulled out the suitcase and turned back to his sister, an expression of utter disgust on his face. ‘You’ve made me suffer most of my life,’ he said coolly. ‘But it’s over now, Grace. You are going where you belong.’
He left quickly, slamming the door and locking it, and then went into Ellie’s room to pack her few belongings.
It was dusk as the airman started up the jeep. Marleen was sitting beside him, Ellie hesitating on the pavement. It had grown very chilly. Amos had put a thick blanket in the back for Ellie to wrap round her, but it would be a long, cold, uncomfortable ride.
‘Write to me?’ he asked bleakly. ‘If you need any help, any time, I’ll be there.’
The long day had taken its toll on Amos: all colour had drained from his normally ruddy face and he looked old. Ellie too was very pale, her eyes enormous, sad pools. She had left her hair loose on her shoulders, a brave attempt at defying Miss Gilbert one last time – in fact she’d made a point of going out to the workshop just so his sister would see her from her bedroom window. Her coat was too short, the cuffs and collar worn thin, and her school gymslip hung down beneath it. But even with the angry red weal on her forehead and her schoolgirl clothes, she held herself with dignity.
‘I’ll miss you,’ she said simply, looking right into his eyes. ‘I don’t blame you for anything. Please say goodbye to Miss Wilkins for me.’
Amos watched until the jeep roared off round the corner, one hand raised in farewell. There was so much more he wished he’d managed to say to her, but it was too late now.
‘Let’s hope my place is still standing,’ Marleen said grimly as they came up the steps from Holborn tube station. ‘At least the rain puts out a few fires.’
It was mid-morning and judging by the leaden sky, driving rain and cold wind, autumn was finally here in earnest.
Kurt had left them late last night at a pub in Essex as he had to get back to his base. Marleen and Ellie had spent an uncomfortable night sharing a single bed in a room with another woman and her two small children. They were glad of the bed, however, and a hot meal, as they had seen dozens of what Marleen called ‘trekkers’ looking for barns or thick hedges to give them shelter away from the bombs. Marleen had explained that hundreds of people did this nightly, rather than stay in the city, most of them too poor even to think of the luxury of a real bed.
Ellie hardly slept at all. Aside from the other woman snoring and Marleen hogging most of the bed, the noise of planes, ack-ack guns and bombing in the distance was scary. It had been a cold, miserable drive from Suffolk. Icy wind blasted through the sides of the jeep and with the headlights taped up Kurt could barely see the road. Marleen kept asking him to slow down, but he took no notice. The night sky first grew pink, and then red as they reached Essex. Marleen said that was how it was most nights, but she thought the docks had been hit yet again.
But now, as Ellie stood with Marleen in High Holborn, she saw for herself the carnage left from the night before. Opposite the tube, a huge building she remembered as having been offices was now just a smoking shell. Desks and filing cabinets, grotesquely twisted and mangled, lay below on a mountain of rubble. Someone’s blue coat still hung on a peg on what had once been the top floor; on another a calendar fluttered in the wind. Three fire-engines stood by, and dozens of firemen were still working, their faces black with soot, some re-coiling hoses, others clambering over fallen masonry checking all the fires were now out.
‘They’re the real ’eroes of this war,’ Marleen said reflectively. She had made up her face this morning and with a side-tilted felt hat hiding her untidy hair, she looked much more like her old self. ‘’Ow they do it night after night defeats me. You can bet not one of ’em’s ’ad a proper night’s sleep since the Blitz began, risking their lives each time they get a shout.’
More men were clearing rubble from the street, sweeping to one side a sea of broken glass, but while Ellie stared open-mouthed in shock, everyone else was walking
past without so much as breaking their stride to look.
‘How can people be so calm?’ Ellie asked as Marleen began to walk away. Aside from that building, things were relatively normal. Men with briefcases and office girls were all going about their business. A small café had its windows blown right out, but it was still trading, with a blackboard propped outside saying ‘More open than usual’.
‘That’s the way it ’as to be.’ Marleen shrugged her shoulders. ‘Industry and business gotta keep going. People ’ave to work to feed their families. We’ve all got a bit casual about it really. Those pot-’oles in the road will be filled by tonight, the glass and rubble cleared up. Chances are there’ll be another lot tomorrow, but the milk and post will be delivered, and the typists will turn up to see if their chair’s still in place.’
It was dark in Marleen’s flat and very dusty.
‘The winders went last week.’ Marleen pulled back the curtains to show Ellie the boards. ‘Look what ’appened to the couch!’
There were tiny jagged cuts all along its back, the stuffing peeping out in places. Elsewhere there were more signs of damage: a burn on the carpet which Marleen said was from a piece of shrapnel, and several deep gouges in the highly polished table, caused by more flying glass.
‘It used to be so smart an’ all,’ Marleen said wistfully. ‘Still, I’m luckier than most.’
Ellie broke down when she saw her mother’s pitifully small collection of belongings in the spare room. The blue cardigan Polly had retrieved from the bombed house in Alder Street, a couple of dresses and some underwear. An old chocolate box held all of Ellie’s letters and an envelope stuffed with photographs.
‘She dug and dug down in Alder Street till she found those,’ Marleen said of the photographs. ‘They’re nearly all of you as a nipper. I said, “never mind the snaps, Poll, what about finding a few tins of corned beef?” Know what she said?’
Ellie smiled glumly.
‘She said, “My sugarplum’s face is worth more than a whole crate of soddin’ corned beef.”’
Marleen had intentionally avoided talking about Polly all the way home. She sensed once the floodgates of grief were opened she wouldn’t be able to control herself. But she knew now that Ellie had to grieve, and that here amongst her mother’s things was the right place.
Ellie lay down on the bed, hugging the pillow which still smelt faintly of her mother, and sobbed.
Marleen lay down beside her and took her in her arms. ‘My poor lamb,’ she said. ‘Wish I could take the ’urt away, luv. God knows what either of us will do without her, but we got one another, ain’t we?’
They spent the afternoon sobbing and holding each other, reminiscing about Polly.
‘She was so proud of you, Ellie,’ Marleen said through her tears. ‘Last time she come back from seein’ you she was on about ’ow well you spoke now and ’ow beautiful you were. She really wanted you to be a famous actress one day.’
‘She wasn’t just my mum,’ Ellie sniffed. ‘She was my best friend too. I can’t believe she’s gone for ever.’
‘I can’t be all she was to you. But I know she’d want me to try,’ Marleen said. Tears had coursed through her make-up, giving her a clown-like look. ‘Right now I don’t know what to do for the best. Should I try and find you another home safe in the country?’
‘No. I’m staying here, if you’ll have me, and I’ll get a job.’ Ellie tried to sound brave but her voice wobbled. She had already realised that her mother had paid half the rent here, and Marleen’s job in a West End club couldn’t bring in much. ‘I’ll be fourteen soon, so there’s no point in going to school.’
Marleen sat up and wiped her eyes. She hadn’t seen Ellie since back in early June when she’d visited London. She’d been stunned then by her slim, womanly shape, the way she spoke and her new maturity. But now, perhaps because of her mother’s death, Ellie seemed to have dropped the last traces of childhood.
‘You’re so like Polly sometimes,’ Marleen sniffed. ‘She was always so practical and worked so ’ard. I wish I was more like ’er.’
‘We always liked you just the way you are.’ Ellie smiled weakly. ‘Don’t worry, Auntie, we’ll get along all right.’
They had only just finished eating their tea when the air-raid warning blasted out.
‘Come on, love.’ Marleen jumped up and grabbed her coat. ‘Down the tube.’
Ellie’s heart pounded with fear as Marleen handed her a rolled-up blanket and a cushion. The siren’s wail seemed to be right inside her head, but still Marleen ran about the kitchen putting things into a basket. Finally she was satisfied and grabbing Ellie’s arm, ran down the stairs, out into the street.
Searchlights sweeping across the dark sky gave enough light to see clearly but added more menace to the sirens. Dozens of people were going the same way as Ellie and Marleen – women pushing prams, old ladies and men hobbling arm in arm, children clutching their parents’ hands. All looked remarkably unperturbed.
They heard the throb of the bombers long before they reached the tube steps, but Ellie could see nothing above her but the dark shape of a barrage balloon caught in the strobe of the searchlight.
‘What’s that?’ Ellie asked as she heard a sound like the tearing of a sheet.
‘’Igh explosive bombs,’ Marleen said breathlessly. ‘Now come on, we can’t stand up ’ere and watch.’
People were converging towards the tube from every direction as incendiaries rattled down. Ellie caught hold of the belt on Marleen’s coat for fear of being separated and they were swept down the steps by the sheer force of numbers behind them.
Polly had described scenes in the tube to Ellie in her letters, making it sound great fun. But Ellie’s first reaction as they reached platform level was horror. People were jammed together like sardines and a hot blast of air from the tunnel brought a terrible smell of excrement.
‘Pongs, don’t it?’ Marleen looked over her shoulder and smiled wanly. ‘They go in the tunnel after the electric rail’s turned off.’
Ellie felt quite ill as Marleen dragged her along the edge of the platform. She had forgotten in her time in the country how sharp and pale Londoners’ faces were. Now they looked sinister in the yellowy lights as they prepared for the night ahead of them. All human life was here: the very old, the very young. Servicemen, a few people in evening dress, businessmen in smart suits, office girls and messenger boys. A woman with a baby at her breast, another trying to change her baby’s nappy while yelling at her small children to sit down. An entire family picnicking as calmly as if they were in a park, and workmen, still plastered in mud, trying vainly to sleep.
A train came in and disgorged more people, adding to the confusion. Two nuns put down a mat each and, folding their legs beneath their habits and their hands into their sleeves, sat like a couple of statues.
The noise was deafening. Chatter, laughter, babies screaming, mouth organs, someone playing a fiddle.
‘Marleen!’ someone yelled. ‘Over ’ere!’
It was Marleen’s friend, Patsy, who’d saved a place. It was barely large enough for one person, but with a hurried explanation that Ellie was Polly’s daughter, suddenly another twelve inches or so were added to it.
‘I’m so sorry, love.’ Patsy reached up and took Ellie’s hands. ‘Your ma was one of the best and we’ll all miss her.’
Patsy was perhaps thirty, but she looked older, her skin a sulphurous yellow, and a scarf tied turban-style round her head with just a few greasy-looking coils of black hair escaping from it.
She reminded Ellie very much of women she knew back in Alder Street, their bodies made shapeless by childbearing, a poor diet robbing them of their looks too soon. But she had that warmth in her eyes Ellie remembered, and in some way it soothed a little of the grief inside her.
Ellie lay down later. Marleen had spread newspaper under one blanket and with the other one over her and her head on the cushion she was reasonably comfortable. It was easier to
pretend she was asleep than answer questions, and once Marleen and Patsy were convinced she had nodded off, their conversation became less guarded.
Patsy told Marleen where she needed to go to sort out being guardian to Ellie and possibly get some financial help. It seemed that Marleen’s job was a problem area, because she was worried about leaving Ellie at night.
‘She can come down ’ere wiv me,’ Patsy said. ‘She ain’t no trouble. I expected her to be more of a live wire from wot Polly said.’
‘Leave it out,’ Marleen said. ‘The poor kid’s still in a state of shock. She’s a funny little bugger usually, brilliant at takin’ off people, and she can sing like a bleedin’ canary. But you gotta remember her and her ma were real close, it’s gonna take some time for ’er to get over it.’
Patsy asked Marleen about Kurt. ‘Any future in it?’ she said, with a gust of ribald laughter that showed she knew a great deal about the Yank.
‘I don’t knows that I want a future with ’im, not after yesterday. Talk about insensitive!’ Marleen said pointedly. ‘I’m okay when I keep ’em at bay, know what I mean? A few nights out, a bit of fun. But soon as I starts to want more it all gets nasty.’
‘I like my Sid better now ’e’s out my ’air,’ Patsy said. ‘On ’is last leave it was the best we’ve ever known, wiv the kids away an’ all. But when ’e comes back it’ll all start up again, knocking me around, banging me up every year. Sometimes I wonder if there’s a man alive that ain’t a monster once ’e’s got you loving ’im.’
The sound of the two women’s voices was soothing. Ellie heard Marleen tell Patsy all about Grace Gilbert and Amos.
‘’E weren’t a bad geezer,’ Marleen said reflectively. ‘I reckon ’e’d got real fond of our Ellie. Course I tore ’im off a strip, blamed ’im like, but when we was leaving ’e looked real sad. He gave me ten quid to ’elp out, an’ all.’
‘Good job Poll never knew what ’is sister were like,’ Patsy said. ‘Funny Ellie never let on!’