Cockney Orphan (19 page)

‘Oh dear.’

‘Well, he can lump it. I’m going to enjoy myself tonight. What time does the fight start?’

‘Seven o’clock. So Billy said.’

‘Good. I fancy a drink.’

‘The Queens is rough, Ada,’ Connie warned. ‘Not many women go there. It’s all dockers.’

‘I don’t care where I drink,’ Ada retorted sharply. ‘It’s my one and only night off from misery guts.’

Connie wished for the hundredth time that evening that she’d never opened her mouth about the forthcoming event. She had guessed from the second Ada appeared on her own, she was looking
for trouble. All dollied up in a summer dress and high heels with her make-up carefully applied for the first time in months, she looked very pretty. No wonder Wally was sulking.

The Queens, as expected, was noisy and crowded. Connie’s heart sank as they hovered on the doorstep. Waves of stale beer wafted out along with the saucy comments. Ada giggled, returning
smiles from the men, one in particular, Connie noticed. He was tall and dark, with a dangerous smile, just the type Ada was attracted to.

‘Ada, let’s wait on the pavement till seven.’

‘Why? I want to go in.’

‘Only because that bloke smiled at you.’

‘It was just a smile.’

‘You don’t know him and he looks—’

‘A bit of all right,’ Ada supplied, fluttering her eyelashes.

Before Connie could reply a man wearing a red, white and blue waistcoat approached them. ‘Hello, Connie, it’s me, Taffy.’ He smiled.

Connie had only seen him wearing cap and dungarees before as he climbed the ladder to help Billy mend the hole in the roof. Now he looked smart with his hair smoothed across his head.

Connie was about to introduce Ada when Taffy grinned. ‘You’re mate’s done a bunk over to the bar.’

Connie looked round. Ada was standing at the bar flirting with the stranger.

‘Want me to go after her?’

Connie sighed. ‘Not in the mood she’s in. She’ll find us if she wants us.’

‘Oh well, Billy will be pleased to see you anyway.’

Connie stuck to Taffy’s heels as they walked into the back room. From here they entered a passage and were halted at the end by a huge man with no hair and tattoos on his arms.

‘Open up, you daft bugger,’ Taffy ordered.

‘Who’s this?’ the man demanded, nodding at Connie.

‘She’s family. Now let us in.’

‘Who was he?’ Connie asked as they walked through.

‘The pub’s muscle. Need it to keep out the riff-raff.’

Connie hoped there wasn’t going to be any trouble. Thirty or forty people were assembled around a square patch of sawdust in the pub’s backyard. Billy was standing by a bale of
straw, swinging punches in the air and trying for all the world to look dangerous. Naked above the waist he wore baggy trousers that were rolled up to his knees. With an arrogant swagger he
sauntered towards Taffy and raised his hands above his head. Smiling at Connie, he gave her a confident wink.

She forced herself to smile back, then gasped as she saw his opponent, a mountain of a man with muscular arms, a hairy chest and bright red hair. He snarled at Billy and spat noisily on the
ground.

For the first two rounds, Connie listened to Taffy urging Billy to protect himself from the the Ginger Giant. But Billy was using his mouth more than his feet.

‘Go on, Billy, move your arse!’ Taffy threw back his head in exasperation. The Giant was living up to his reputation as a hard nut to crack.

Billy was trapped in a corner. His breathing was heavy, his thin chest bathed in sweat. Connie could see by the red welts on his cheeks that he was losing his temper, but unable to vent it on
the bigger, stronger man.

A loud cheer went up as Billy landed a blow. He hurled himself at the enemy but was punched in the groin. A slap to the head followed and Billy was down.

‘That’s not fair!’ Connie cried, only to see Billy kicked as he tried to stand up. She turned to Taffy. ‘Did you see what he did?’

Taffy shrugged and turned his attention back to the fight. Connie listened to the boos and cheers echoing through the pub’s backyard as the Giant set about Billy once more.

‘The man he’s fighting is twice Billy’s size,’ Connie complained, as a tiny man wearing a cloth cap signalled the round was over.

‘But he’s got a weakness,’ Taffy whispered out of the side of his mouth.

‘What’s that?’

‘A glass jaw.’

Connie didn’t stop to ask what it meant. ‘Does Billy know that?’

‘Course he does. We sussed this fight out between us, got all the moves in place.’

‘What’s happening then?’

‘The Giant deliberately verballed him before the fight, made Billy lose his temper. It’s an old trick and a good one. You need to stay cool in the ring, keep your wits about you and
dance.’

‘Your boy can’t fight his own shadow,’ a man shouted to Taffy. ‘I want me money back.’

Connie wondered if everyone in the yard was blind to the fact that it was an unfair fight. Billy had been kicked when he was down and even if the bigger man did have a weakness, Billy
hadn’t been able to get close enough to find it. Even she could see the match was not equal.

The bell rang and Billy stumbled back to his corner. Connie rushed up to him. ‘Billy, what’s wrong?’

He tried to smile. His lips were so swollen it came out like a grimace. ‘Where’s Ada and Wally?’

‘You’ll have to put up with me. Billy, why are you letting him hit you like that?’

‘I lost me rag,’ Billy muttered as he spat blood from his mouth. ‘And he took advantage.’

‘Taffy says he’s got a glass jaw.’

Billy’s bruised eyebrows rose. ‘Blimey, the girl knows what she’s on about.’

‘Don’t let him make you angry. And –
dance
– whatever that is.’

Billy laughed again. ‘Yes, ma’am.’ He stood up. When the bell rang he bounced lightly forward and dodged the swing of a massive fist.

Connie went back to Taffy. ‘I don’t think I can watch much more.’

‘Whatever you said is having an effect.’

Billy was ducking and diving. Connie held her breath as he landed a punch on the Giant’s nose. A roar of delight erupted from the crowd.

‘Credit where credit’s due,’ Taffy breathed in her ear. ‘Billy can give punishment as well as take it.’

‘You weren’t saying that five minutes ago.’

‘Five minutes ago I was thinking of going in there meself.’ Taffy grinned at her. ‘He’s just broke the bugger’s nose.’

‘I thought it was his jaw that was suspect?’

Taffy shrugged. ‘Nose, jaw, eyes – what does it matter? He’s down and that’s all that matters.’

Connie felt sick at the sight of so much blood covering the sawdust. A thick red stream flowed between the Giant’s fingers as he rolled on the ground in pain. The crowd were jumping up and
down, calling Billy’s name. Two men hoisted him on their shoulders. Battered, bruised and bloody, he was hailed the winner.

Connie stared up at her little brother. He threw her a kiss. She couldn’t help jumping up and down too.

Connie stood with her hands on her hips, outside the Queens. ‘You missed Billy’s fight.’

‘I know,’ Ada said repentantly. ‘And I’m sorry.’

‘You don’t look sorry at all. You look—’ Connie forgot her annoyance as she stared into her friend’s excited face. Her smile was soft and her skin flushed. The old
twinkle was back in her eyes.

‘Connie, it was my only chance to have some fun. Oh, I ain’t had such a nice time in ages.’

They began to walk home and Connie sighed. ‘Go on then, tell me all about it.’

‘No, tell me about Billy first.’

‘He won.’

Ada smiled. ‘You must be ever so proud.’

‘Yes, but I’ve had enough fighting to last me a lifetime.’

‘Well, he won and that’s the main thing. Now, shall I tell you what I’ve been up to?’

Connie knew that Ada had lost interest in what she had to say. Her friend had something more important on her mind and Connie had the sinking feeling she knew what it was. ‘Whatever
you’ve done I hope you remembered you have a boyfriend already.’

Even in the dusk, Connie saw Ada blush. ‘It was just fun, that’s all. This bloke called Freddie Smith bought me a gin and lime. He said would I like a quick one and I said yes. I
just couldn’t help myself. He had these lovely blue eyes that made me go shivery all over.’

‘Oh, Ada. What would Wally say?’

‘He won’t know, will he?’ Ada shrugged indifferently.

‘Are you seeing this Freddie again?’

‘Course not.’

Connie glanced out of the corner of her eye at Ada, who tossed back her head and hummed a little tune, swaying her hips as they went. She guessed Ada wasn’t telling the truth. It was on
her lips to question her more, when she thought better of it. In this case, ignorance might be bliss.

‘Connie?’

‘What?’

‘Are you angry with me?’

Connie smiled. ‘I’d be a rich woman, Ada Freeman, if I had a penny for the times you ask me that.’

They laughed then, just like the old days, as they strolled in the soft evening, their voices echoing along the streets. The island air smelled tangy, with the whiff of beer coming from the pubs
on every street corner. Underlying it all was the river’s saltiness, the water’s scent that seeped into the heart of the night and seemed to stretch up to the full yellow moon.

‘It’s a lovely evening,’ Ada breathed, squeezing Connie’s arm as her voice trembled softly. ‘I wish we didn’t have to go home. I could stay out all
night.’

‘You used to once,’ Connie reminded her friend dryly.

‘Yeah,’ Ada agreed wistfully. ‘A lifetime ago.’

With full military honours the two British sailors were buried at sea from the hangar deck. The conditions were calm after yesterday’s sortie. Town-class light cruiser
HMS
Oxford
rocked gently on the surface of the blue Mediterranean water. Both coffins slipped silently away, leaving no trace behind.

Vic swallowed hard as he beat down the shock and grief for his brother at arms. Sammy Kite had boarded
Oxford
with Georgie at Rosyth. They were the only three to have come through from
Glendower. Sammy was too young to die and would be sadly missed.

As the naval officers and their ratings began to sing ‘Abide With Me’, Vic closed his eyes in respect. Next to him stood George Mullen, also with head bowed. This was the first loss
they had encountered and it had devastated them.

Vic guessed that more of the same lay ahead before they reached safe harbour. For the three cruisers that were part of a convoy bound for Malta, the going was tough. Battleships
Rodney
and
Prince of Wales
were to join them, part of a vast force of British naval ships, as they encountered the enemy, in this case the Italians. But after the last vitriolic attack the mood
of optimism had faded.

The last foray with the Italian torpedo bombers had claimed Sammy’s life and injured another five. All the crew were shaken, but Captain Chamberlain had shown no weakness, and that was the
way his men needed it to be. Chamberlain was a good captain, a role model. One day, Vic told himself each morning as he climbed out of his hammock, he would lead men too. His first wavy gold band
was a dream no longer. He was going to get something good out of this bloody war if it—

A droll smile touched his lips. No, he wasn’t going to die. At least, not yet.

‘Action stations! Action stations!’

The alarm sounded, men scattered everywhere.

‘Here we go again!’ Georgie exclaimed as two aircraft appeared on the horizon, their low drone coming closer. Gunfire cracked across their heads. Vic threw himself down as a plane
dived, bullets carving water and metal alike. He dragged himself to the side and looked over the bow. A deadly arrow of white below the surface missed
Oxford
by inches. Heart in mouth he
jumped to his feet and ran past ‘A’ turret. Above him the six-inch gun was already in operation. The noise was deafening him.

‘They’re reforming,’ someone shouted. ‘Get your arse into action, mate. They mean business.’

Vic ran to the forward funnel. He wondered if Georgie was ahead of him. The vessel’s small folded-wing Walrus aircraft were stationed dead centre of the ship. They were the spine, the
backbone of
Oxford
, overlooked by the crane that was used to recover aircraft when they misjudged their landing and fell into the sea. But the crane was also a marker for enemy pilots.

How long before
Ark Royal
’s Swordfish torpedo bombers arrived? Our lads would give those bastards a run for their money. The evening was clear and perfect for a scrap. Vic felt a
sudden prickle of excitement. Then, to his dismay, heard a loud explosion.

‘Direct hit!’ Georgie shouted, poking his head out from behind the four-inch gun turret. Vic swivelled on his heel. To the east, a tail of black smoke crawled ominously into the
air.

‘Who is it? Can you see?’

‘One of our chicks,’ Georgie yelled. ‘Going up like a bonfire.’

Vic felt his legs go weak. A merchant ship on its way to the bottom. He thought of the mighty
Hood
and
Bismarck
, and of the men who had already been lost and were lying on the
ocean bed. Then he pulled himself together, in time to notice the moving cloud on the horizon. It was dissolving into countless small specks.

The Italians were returning.

They were flying in from the sun!

August 1942

C
onnie made her way carefully along the platform. It was crowded with couples, some embracing, some laughing, some crying. The GIs were in town,
creating a new kind of excitement. Since the Japanese attack on the American fleet in Pearl Harbour last year, tailored uniforms and smooth accents abounded. The Yanks were an everyday sight now,
since December ’41, all part and parcel of the Allied force.

British soldiers, sailors and airmen mingled with their new comrades. Girlfriends, wives and children were swept into their loved ones’ arms, ecstatically happy or filled with confusion.
So many emotions, hopes and dreams poured into one brief, blissful reunion.