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Authors: Carol Rivers

East End Angel (42 page)

BOOK: East End Angel
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Ruby’s eyes filled with fear. ‘Promise me you will?’

‘Of course.’

After Pearl had kissed Ruby goodbye, and Amy and Syd had gone in to say a final farewell, Ricky took Pearl aside. ‘Tomorrow we’ll see Ruby for the last time. So you’d better be ready to say your goodbyes.’

‘Goodbyes?’ Pearl repeated in alarm.

‘I told you, we’re leaving. And don’t make a fuss. Not if you don’t want me to tell Ruby all about us.’

‘You wouldn’t, not with Ruby in this condition.’

‘Are you willing to take that chance?’

‘But she’s just lost her baby!’

‘Then you’ll do as I say, won’t you? Believe me, once we’re away you’ll thank me for what I’m doing.’

‘A-away where?’ Pearl stammered.

‘We’re going up to the north of England to someone who can get us papers to slip quietly out of Britain.’

Pearl could only stare at him. Was he serious? Did he mean to force her to go? How could he?

‘It’s in your best interests to do as I say. Don’t forget, apart from Ruby, your father is an old man. He has enough to contend with and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to add to his burden. And then of course there is Cynthia. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to her, would you?’

Pearl felt sick. She looked up and down the corridor for help. But who could she tell? Who would believe her?

‘Pearl, be sensible,’ Ricky whispered in her ear. ‘If you cause a scene, it will upset your parents. And, of course, if I’m put in a position, then I will have to explain how their daughter so willing threw herself into my arms and deliberately deceived them.’

She said nothing, as the feeling of shame spread over her.

He put his arm around her. ‘Now, tomorrow, have your bag ready for the hospital. You can tell your mother you have some clothes for Ruby. I’ve arranged that we’ll make the afternoon visit and your parents will go in the evening. I said that after our visit we shall be taking Cynthia for a tea somewhere as she will have been cooped up here. That will give us plenty of time to be on our way.’

Pearl couldn’t believe that he had planned this.

‘I’ve also told Amy that I’m happy to sleep on the Put-u-up tonight whilst you and Cynthia have our room. I sleep lightly, so if you have any questions about the future, you can come and talk to me. In fact, I would welcome that. I’ve missed you, Pearl. And I know when you’ve given this some thought—’

Just then Syd and Amy came out of Ruby’s room. ‘I’m afraid Pearl is upset,’ Ricky told them, drawing his arm away.

Amy nodded, wiping her eyes. ‘We all are.’

‘I’m going to collect Cynthia,’ Pearl said as she stepped away from the little group. If this was her only chance to escape, she had to take it.

‘I’ll come with you,’ Ricky said, quickly following her.

‘See you all at the bus stop,’ called her father.

Pearl’s heart plummeted. She knew Ricky wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. What was she to do?

Fitz Hemsley woke with a start. It was just past eleven by the clock. He’d only been asleep half an hour. Why had he woken? He could hear loud thumping and crashing, and even though VE day had come and gone, for a split second he thought it was a V2 landing. It was difficult to get out of the old habits. After he had found his spectacles and put on his dressing gown, he looked down at Gwen and pulled the tangled bedclothes up over her shoulder. He was thankful that when she slept, it was for England. If there was a punch-up outside he would switch on the shop lights and knock on the window. No sense in disturbing his wife. Pushing open the door that led into the living room, he paused, tilting his head. The banging had stopped, but there was an isolated crash. It didn’t sound like the street, but he hurried along the passage to the door that opened to the shop. All was quiet. He went to the window, feeling his way along the counter. For the first time he looked out without the hindrance of the blackout. Not that it made much difference. The street was as black as Newgate’s knocker. Pressing his face up to the glass, he frowned. Nothing. Not a squeak.

Perhaps it had come from across the road? They had a new set of noisy neighbours, a big family with three strapping great sons and a loud-mouthed father who drank like the proverbial fish.

Just as Fitz was making his way back, a crash sent his heart racing. He turned on the passage light and stepped outside. There was light coming from Pearl’s kitchen. But she’d gone away this morning. Who was there?

A tap on his shoulder made him jump. He turned to the figure beside him. ‘Christ Almighty, Gwen, you gave me a fright.’

‘What’s going on?’

‘You tell me. Someone’s up there.’

Gwen pushed an escaping clip under her turban. Although it was a warm, starlit night, she pulled up the woollen collar of her dressing gown.

‘Well, it ain’t Pearl. Not making that racket. And anyway, she only went off this morning.’

‘I’d better go up and see.’

‘Fitz, be careful. It could be a looter.’

‘Fetch my bat then.’

Gwen was gone for a few seconds, then returned with the cricket bat that dated back to the Ark. But it was a solid piece of wood and kept under the counter in case of emergencies.

Fitz crept slowly up the stairs. He could hear more smashes, which sounded like china breaking. Who would be doing such a thing? He stood on the landing, listening, the bat clenched firmly in his hand. He hoped there weren’t two of them. But looters wouldn’t make a racket like that.

As he waited, he heard talking from inside. Not exactly talking, but mumbling, and when he heard Pearl’s name he knew instantly who it was. Opening the door, he peered into the kitchen.

‘Struth, Jim, what are you doing?’

A figure stood in the kitchen. Around him there was chaos. Fitz could smell the booze from where he stood. The table and chairs were on their sides, the china on the floor. Even the yellow gingham curtains had been torn down. Jim stared at him, blinking and muttering. Then he leaped forward. Fitz raised the bat and it collided with Jim’s head.

‘Fitz, you’ve knocked him out,’ Gwen gasped as Jim lay on the floor.

‘I never touched him.’

‘Well, the bat did.’

‘What shall we do? We can’t leave him up here.’

‘S’pose we’ll have to get him downstairs.’

‘Just look at the mess!’

‘We can’t do nothing about that tonight.’ Gwen bent down. ‘I’ll take his feet.’

Fitz put aside the bat and helped Gwen. They slid Jim down the stairs and dragged him into the back room.

‘He’s no lightweight,’ said Gwen, puffing loudly as they heaved him onto the couch.

‘And I’m not getting any younger.’

‘Out of the way, love, I’ll take a look at his head.’

‘I thought he was coming at me. It was self-defence.’

His wife examined the bump. ‘He’ll live. Now go and fetch the brandy and smelling salts.’

‘He’s had enough to drink already.’

‘The brandy is for you, daft ’aporth.’

Fitz took himself off to the kitchen. He found the smelling salts and had a whiff himself. He was shaking after the shock of hitting Jim like that. The fine and dandy was in the shop. They’d last had a drop after the birth of Cynthia. Fitz went to the counter, poured a small measure into the mug and downed it.

‘Should we get the doctor?’ Fitz asked when he returned.

‘No. He opened his eyes just now.’

‘Did he say anything?’

‘Nothing a lady can repeat.’

Fitz sat down on the painted wooden chair and leaned his arm on the table. ‘I didn’t mean to hit you, old son,’ he murmured as he watched Gwen apply the iodine.

‘Give us them salts.’ Gwen took the brown bottle, undid the top and passed it under Jim’s nose. The effect was to have Jim’s arm come up and knock Gwen flying.

‘Take it easy, chum,’ Fitz warned, as he helped his wife up. ‘You’ve caused enough ’avoc in one night.’

‘Christ, what happened?’ He held his head.

Fitz gently pushed him back. ‘You’ve had one over the eight, chum.’

‘I told her it was him or me,’ Jim mumbled looking up with difficulty. ‘I didn’t think she’d go. I thought . . . I thought . . . when it came to it . . .’ His eyes closed and he slumped back.

‘Best put them salts away,’ Fitz advised. ‘We’ll leave him to sleep it off.’

‘Did you hear what he said?’

‘Yes, and I didn’t like it.’

Gwen sighed. ‘We’ve done all we can. I’ll put a blanket over him and leave on the light.’

‘What about upstairs?’

His wife shrugged. ‘We’ll see about that in the morning.’ She went off to bed and Fitz unlaced Jim’s boots. He was breathing regular and the bump on his head was no bigger. The poor sod hadn’t been right since he’d come home from Italy. But Pearl had never complained. Is that why she’d gone away? Because of the drinking? Or was it what Jim had muttered?

I told her, it was him or me. I didn’t think she’d go.

What did that mean? Pearl wasn’t the type to play away. But when Fitz was climbing into bed again and trying to sleep, he couldn’t forget what Jim had said. Had she found someone else? Was this the reason for Jim’s drinking?

Pearl was awake and listening to Cynthia’s soft breathing. She hadn’t slept all night, worried about the door with no lock on it. Now, it was dawn. How could she escape him?

Ricky had told her to pack her bag and say it was clothes for Ruby. Pearl looked at the window. Could they climb out of it? She would have to wake Cynthia. But what could she tell her? What would her parents think? Was Ricky just trying to frighten her? Tears filled her eyes.

‘Oh, Jim, I’ve been a fool,’ she whispered. ‘I should have listened to you.’

Pearl brushed her wet cheeks with trembling fingers. She had lived in fear of the past for so long. Was it the end of all the pretending? Her tears dripped on the eiderdown.

Just then the bedroom door opened. Pearl was filled with fear as the tall figure crept in. Ricky closed the door without a sound and, glancing briefly at Cynthia, came softly towards her.

Chapter 27
 

Jim woke with a headache and found a lump the size of a hen’s egg. What had happened? Where had he been? Where was he? Easing himself up, he closed his eyes at the pain that stretched from his temples and over the bump on his head. He lowered his feet carefully and stared at the floorboards. They weren’t any that he recognized. He certainly wasn’t with Barney in the stable. Raising his head carefully, he looked around him. It took him a while to recognize Gwen and Fitz’s back room.

Just then Fitz walked in, a mug in his hands. He wasn’t wearing his brown overall, but a pair of dark trousers and a sweater with a V neck.

‘The top of the morning to you, sunshine.’ He placed the mug of steaming tea in Jim’s hands. ‘And before you ask what happened last night, you had a fight with me cricket bat.’

Jim tried to steady his hands. ‘I don’t remember.’

‘Not anything?’

‘I was at the pub.’

‘You don’t say.’

Jim looked up. It was too painful even to smile. His stomach felt as though it was about to come up. He couldn’t even look at the tea, let alone drink it.

‘You must have a blinder.’

‘How did I get here?’

Fitz sat beside him. ‘Gwen and me brought you down from your gaff. You was smashing it up. The devil was in you last night, old son.’

Jim lowered the mug to the floor and put his head in his hands. What had he done?

‘Sorry, mate.’

‘Sorry I clobbered you.’

‘You should have finished the job.’

Fitz jabbed his arm. ‘What kind of talk is that? Look, whatever your problem is, it can’t be as bad as you being blown up and your leg nearly torn off. Just look at you now, no crutch and you don’t need your stick half the time. You can get around most anywhere. You’ve come out of that blood bath, whilst millions of others have perished. Life should taste good to you.’

Jim sighed heavily. ‘It would, if it was like it was before I joined up.’

Just then Gwen came in. She stood in her paisley pinafore with her hands on her hips. He met her kind eyes. ‘Sorry about last night, Gwen.’

‘What happened, Jim?’

‘I had one too many at the Nelson.’

‘Your place is a bomb site.’

‘I’ll clear it up.’

‘Don’t know what Pearl’s going to say.’

Jim was beginning to have flashes of memory, slowly, like pulling a tooth: his journey back from the pub, his hopes that Pearl would be home. Then he’d found that note saying she’d gone to Abingley. Her words of love had sent him crazy. If she loved him, she would be there.

‘You’d better nip the booze in the bud,’ said Fitz in a softer tone. ‘It’s doing you no favours. Nor Pearl.’

Jim rose to his feet. The room swam, his head felt as though it was about to explode. ‘Got to go,’ he mumbled, falling against the couch and staggering into the passage. He burst through the back door and sprinted for the lav. As he retched, he could hear Sunday bells tolling. The war had ended, churches all over the land were allowed to ring their bells. But Jim knew that for him, another war had begun. Last night, as he’d looked into his empty home, he knew he had already lost it.

BOOK: East End Angel
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