Cockney Orphan (39 page)

A young man stood there. ‘Telegram for Miss Marsh.’

Pat hurried along the hall. Connie’s fingers were shaking as she tore open the envelope. She read it, then slowly handed it to Pat. ‘It says that Vic’s ship is now classed as
being lost and no word had been received of survivors.’

‘Oh, Connie!’

‘I wrote at Christmas and asked them to let me know if they heard anything. I didn’t think it would be this.’ Pat reached out and they held each other.

‘Mummy, what’s the matter?’ Doris was standing beside them.

‘Nothing, darling.’ Pat drew her close.

‘What did the letter say?’

‘It said that Uncle Vic won’t be coming home.’

Lawrence wobbled himself towards them on his bottom, dragging his outstretched leg. Connie lifted him into her arms.

‘Are you sad, Auntie Con?’

‘Just a bit.’

‘Can we still have a party tomorrow?’

‘Course we can.’ Connie nodded. ‘We’ve made a jelly, haven’t we? And we’ve got presents to wrap up.’

‘I wish Daddy could come.’

‘I wish he could too,’ smiled Pat sadly. She hugged her daughter and Connie saw her discreetly wipe away a tear. She knew that Pat had been living in hope too. They had both refused
to believe Vic was dead. Believing that Vic would come home was what had kept Connie going.

The party on Sunday consisted mainly of grown-ups. Kevin, Ebbie and Lofty were enjoying a beer in the kitchen with Albie Cross. Nan, Olive and Sylvie all sat on the couch. Pat
was talking to Eve Beale as they watched the children open the presents: a teddy bear with a big blue ribbon round its neck sent from Jenny and Len, a horse carved from wood from Lofty, an
embroidered bed cover from Olive and a set of building blocks from Connie. Now Lawrence was banging his fists on a small drum that Ada had sent in the post. He was enjoying himself with all his new
things.

The past few months had been surprisingly happy, Connie thought as she passed round the sandwiches and saw smiling faces. The rent was all up to date and Pat and the kids were thriving. Her
mother and Sylvie were on the best of terms too. Now they were deep in conversation talking about knitting patterns and baby clothes and the approach of the wedding service to be held in a
week’s time at the registry office. Connie smiled as she listened to them. Sylvie looked so happy with her nice round bump, despite the fact that a big white wedding wasn’t
possible.

‘Look, that’s your friend, isn’t it?’ Pat said as she glanced out of the window and nudged Connie’s arm.

Connie lowered the plate as Clint leaped the steps. ‘He asked after you and the kids at work last week. He must have remembered it’s Lawrence’s birthday,’ she added with
an embarrassed frown.

When Connie opened the door, Clint dazzled her with a smile. ‘Happy birthday to Lawrence.’ He held out a big, shiny parcel. ‘I have to be honest. I won it from Dalton’s
Christmas raffle. Heck, it’s been sitting in the truck ever since.’

Doris came running up. ‘Auntie Con, what’s in there?’

‘A present for Lawrence.’

She held up her arms and Clint lifted her against his chest. ‘Are you coming to our party, Uncle Clint?’

‘No. I just called by to give this to your brother.’

‘What is it?’

‘You’ll have to open it to see, honey.’

Doris giggled. ‘I’m not honey, I’m Doris.’

Laughing, Clint glanced at Connie. ‘Well, guess I’d better be on my way.’

‘Ain’t you coming in?’ Doris demanded as he lowered her to the ground. She tugged Connie’s dress. ‘Make him stay, Auntie Con.’

‘You’re welcome to.’ Connie nodded. She didn’t have the heart to refuse Doris and it was a thoughtful gesture, but Connie guessed he had something else on his mind. What
would she say if he asked her to go to the Starlight Club again?

‘Please stay!’ Doris jumped up and down.

‘Come in,’ she told him and he grinned even wider.

After saying hello to the women and Lawrence, he joined the men in the kitchen. Doris unwrapped Lawrence’s parcel. It was a big, fluffy duck, almost as big as Lawrence himself.

‘That was kind of him,’ said Pat as she helped Connie fold up the paper and string.

‘Yes.’

‘Connie, he likes you.’

‘I know. He asked me to go to the Starlight with him again.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I haven’t said anything yet.’ Connie looked into Pat’s gaze. ‘There’s only one man for me, Pat, and you know who that is.’

Pat nodded slowly. ‘I know. But even I have to accept the fact he’s not around and isn’t likely to be. And you can’t live like a widow all your life.’

‘Con?’ Ebbie’s head poked round the door. ‘Someone to see you.’

A small, well-dressed woman stood in the hall.

‘Peggy!’

‘I didn’t realize you’d moved,’ Peggy Burton said breathlessly. ‘I went to Kettle Street first but a neighbour of yours, Mrs Shutler, gave me your new
address.’

‘I’m lodging here with my fiancé’s sister, Pat,’ Connie explained as her father disappeared back into the kitchen. ‘As you can see, it’s one of the
children’s birthdays.’

‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ Peggy apologized, ‘but I wonder if I could have a quick word. It’s important, Connie.’

‘Come into the bedroom. It’s quieter there.’ Connie led the way. ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked as she gestured Peggy to sit down on the bedside chair.

Peggy lowered herself carefully, removing her leather gloves. ‘After I last saw you, I began a new kitchen at Mile End. We were so busy at the Mission Hall, you see. So many travelled long
distances. Well, as you know, we always need volunteers and, by the Good Lord’s grace, He sent a young girl of fourteen along last October. She brought her small brother, which gave me the
idea to begin a nursery. Grace is very reliable and has proved a wonderful help.’ He soft eyes looked directly into Connie’s. ‘I’ve had my suspicions for some time, but
yesterday I decided it was time to call on you. Connie, I think the little boy – her brother – is Lucky.’

Connie sat without expression as she listened to the long story that gradually unfolded. She was trying to keep calm, but emotion was welling up in her.

‘I could be wrong of course,’ Peggy ended quietly. ‘But from what you told me and from what Grace has explained, I think I am correct.’

‘But who is this girl called Grace?’ Connie asked.

‘She claims to be his sister, although that can’t be confirmed. I’ve never yet seen the parents. She says her mother is sick and unable to look after them during the day. The
father is rarely mentioned and I’ve had no proof that he is Gilbert Tucker or that the little boy is Lucky. That is, until yesterday, when we were closing the doors. For the first time he
accompanied me to the kitchen, whilst his sister tidied the nursery. He’s never spoken and sometimes doesn’t seem to hear at all. But yesterday in the kitchen when I gave him a biscuit,
he said, quite clearly, “Lucky likes this.” I asked him to repeat what he’d said. He did so, twice more. There was no mistaking he was talking about himself.’

‘It must be him, then,’ Connie breathed. ‘Has he got big blue eyes and blond hair?’

‘Just as you described.’ Peggy nodded. ‘Grace has always called him Sydney, which was why I was so astounded when he kept repeating Lucky.’

Connie gasped. ‘Sydney was going to be his new name!’

‘I questioned Grace as gently as I could,’ Peggy continued. ‘The man at home is not her father. Her real father died many years ago with her little brother in a boating
accident. Though Grace and her mother were left comfortably off, Grace’s words to me were, “Mummy never got better after Sydney and Daddy went.” Peggy linked her fingers.
‘And there is more, I’m afraid. There were bruises on her neck and arms.’

‘It was true then, that muddy brown colour,’ Connie murmured to herself as she remembered Gran’s words. ‘It linked Lucky to him . . .’

‘What was that, Connie?’

Connie blinked. ‘It’s just that I know why Rita was so scared of him now. And why I didn’t like him from the start. I should have trusted my instincts. Oh, Peggy, what can we
do?’

‘If Lucky is in danger, then it’s up to me to take action as I still have friends in the department. But until tomorrow, Monday, I can do nothing.’

‘Can I see Lucky today?’ Connie said quickly.

‘You have a party going on,’ Peggy reminded her. ‘And it’s a long journey back to Mile End.’

‘Pat will understand why I have to leave, and my friend will drive us in his truck.’

Was this little boy really Lucky? she wondered, as she went to find Clint.

Peggy opened the door of the big hall. A smell of boiled cabbage flowed out. Two elderly men passed, their smiles wide as they bid the young volunteers inside goodbye.

She led Connie and Clint through the wooden pews that were still full of people eating hungrily from bowls and chewing on large chunks of bread.

She signalled to a small room. ‘This is the nursery,’ she warned them as they stood by the door. ‘Kitty and Joseph belong to our helpers, but the others are all day visitors.
You must try to recognize Lucky amongst them.’

Peggy pushed open the door. It was noisy inside, all the smaller children playing with the toys, unaware of being watched. A young girl sat with them. She stood up, her eyes wide as Peggy
beckoned her.

‘Grace, this is Miss Marsh.’

‘Hello, Grace.’ Connie had already noted the bruises on her neck.

‘Hello,’ Grace answered quietly.

Connie’s eyes flew over the room. What if it wasn’t Lucky after all?

Then she saw a little boy playing on his own. He was holding a wooden hobby horse made of a single blue stick with a painted horse’s head. The child’s hair was blond and curly and
long. It fell in abundance over his eyes, hiding his face.

Connie moved slowly forward. The children continued to play as she stepped between them. When she was close to the little boy she stopped.

She waited for him to look up at her. Laying the horse gently on the floor, he rubbed his eyes and yawned.

‘Lucky?’ Connie whispered.

Two very blue eyes slowly met hers.

‘Con-Con!’ he cried, stretching out his arms and running towards her.

She couldn’t bear to let go of him. He sat on her lap, holding her tight.

‘I want to take him home,’ she told Peggy.

‘I’m afraid that would be unwise.’ Peggy was insistent. ‘You have no legal claim on him and we must proceed through the proper channels or you may never recover him. In
the morning,’ she continued as they sat in the small office, ‘I shall talk to my colleagues at the Welfare Office and insist that an immediate visit is made to the household.’

‘But what if he won’t let anyone in,’ Connie objected.

‘Then I shall go to the police and make an official complaint.’

‘But all this takes time,’ Connie pointed out. ‘What if he attacks Grace again, or harms Lucky?’

‘I’m afraid it’s a risk we’ll have to take.’ Peggy looked at Grace. ‘You must stay home with your mother tomorrow and look after Lucky. And when the man or
woman who comes to see you asks how you came by the bruises, you must tell them the truth. In fact, you must be very brave and tell them all you’ve told me. That your step -father has been
unkind to both you and your mother.’

Grace began to cry. Peggy held her close. ‘Grace, dear, you must trust me to help you.’

‘But I’m frightened.’

‘I know. We would help you if we could now. But surprise – and the law – must be on our side.’

Grace nodded. ‘Will you come tomorrow too?’

‘I shall try my very best.’

‘What will happen to Mummy?’

‘She will have to have proper medical help. If what you have told me about her is true, she has needed help for some time.’ Peggy stood up and smiled at Clint. ‘Young man, may
I prevail upon you for one more favour? Would you drive these children home? They’ve had a tiring day and it’s a long way to walk.’

‘Sure will, ma’am.’

Lucky began to cry. Connie couldn’t bear it. She held him against her, then, taking his little hands, she looked into his face. ‘You’ll be a good boy for Con-Con now,
won’t you? Go home with Grace just for tonight.’

‘Lucky wants Con-Con.’

‘Oh, Lucky, Con-Con wants you too.’

Clint went down on his haunches. ‘How do you fancy a ride in the jeep, son? You can sit up front with me if you like.’

Lucky nodded slowly, his eyes wide and tear-filled. Connie released him. She was holding back the tears too. What if their plan went wrong? What if she never saw him again?

She watched Clint carry him out to the truck. Grace stood up slowly. Connie hugged her. ‘Don’t worry, everything’s going to be all right,’ she told her, trying to hide
the tremble in her voice.

Peggy squeezed the girl’s shoulder. ‘God bless and keep you safe, Grace.’

As the girl followed Clint, Connie’s eyes filled with tears.

It was late when they arrived in East Ferry Road. Connie couldn’t stop worrying about Lucky. She wanted to take him away from that dreadful man, Gilbert Tucker.

Clint switched off the engine. ‘I guess this isn’t the right time to ask you about us.’

Connie gave a little start. ‘What do you mean, us? If it’s about the Starlight—’

‘No,’ he said heavily, ‘it’s not. Connie, I’m leaving London.’

She blinked. ‘Leaving?’

‘I’ve been recalled to the States. Guess my time in England is over.’

She was shocked. ‘When do you leave?’

‘At the end of the week.’

‘That’s so soon!’

He nodded slowly. ‘Connie, I’ve been wondering how to say this. Guess the only way is to ask outright. You must know the way I feel about you. Since that first day at Paddington,
I’ve not been able to get you out of my head. Darn it, I don’t
want
to get you out of my head. I want you to come back with me, you and Lucky. He’s a fine kid and
he’ll love America. No one would take him away from you there. He’ll grow up in the best country in the world, and I’ll be there to take care of you both. You’ll see where I
live, meet my sister and her kids, you’ll love them, just as you’ll love New York. We’ll take rides to Fifty-Second Street and Greenwich Village, cosy up in the clubs to Benny
Goodman and Dizzy Gillespie and oh, honey, we’ll make sweet music together. All you have to do is say yes.’ He leaned forward and, taking her in his arms, covered her surprised mouth
with his hungry lips.