East End Jubilee (6 page)

‘
. . . As this day draws to its close, I know that my abiding memory of it will be, not only the solemnity and beauty of the ceremony, but the inspiration of your loyalty and affection.
I thank you all from a full heart. God bless you all . . .
’

‘And you, love,’ Anita said quietly.

‘Yes.’ Rose swallowed. ‘God bless.’

The National Anthem played and the two women rose, their hands linked. When it was over, they hugged. Rose thanked God for her friends and for what she had been given in her life when so many
millions were starving and had miserable, unhappy existences.

Tomorrow she wasn’t going to shed one tear of self-pity. With a bit of luck the Wrights who owned the corner shop would let her use their new phone and she could find out when Eddie was
coming home.

Mrs Wright was cleaning the shop step when Rose arrived. Her turban bobbed up and down and her muscular forearms went this way and that, the dirty lather rolling over the
pavement.

‘Joan?’

The shopkeeper sat back on her heels. ‘Oh, it’s you, love.’

Rose pulled her cardigan round her. ‘Do you have a telephone yet?’ she asked quickly.

‘Yes. It came last week. Our eldest son, Gerry, works for the telephone company and pulled some strings. Do you know, half of London is waiting for a telephone and some of the people have
been waiting not months, but years. It’s a bloody scandal if you ask me. My Charlie thinks it’s the old supply and demand ploy, where they get everyone wanting something so badly
they’ll pay a fortune to—’ She stopped as she saw the expression on Rose’s face. ‘Not anything wrong love, is there?’

‘I’ve got a favour to ask.’

‘What is it?’

‘Could I use your telephone? I wouldn’t ask normally but it is an emergency.’

‘Not the kids, is it?’

‘No, Eddie. Didn’t you hear the news?’

‘No. We’ve been over at Gerry’s. What’s up?’

‘It’s a long story. Eddie was taken to Bow Street police station yesterday and I’ve got to find out what’s happened to him.’

‘Oh, you’d better come in, dear.’ Joan climbed to her feet with difficulty. She was a big woman and her stockings were always wrinkled at the ankles. Joan and Charlie Wright
were in their sixties and talked endlessly of their retirement. Wright’s Grocery Store was one of the few corner shops that hadn’t been flattened by a bomb or shuttered up after the
war. All round it there was debris and boarding erected to keep out the children. She threw her scrubbing brush into the bucket with a splash and Rose followed her in the shop.

It was dark and gloomy inside, with the blinds pulled down on both windows. The bread was always under a plastic cover, as were all the perishables that got stowed in the cabinet under the
counter.

‘We ain’t got anything fresh today,’ Joan said as she closed the door behind them and the bell tinkled. ‘People will take a week to get over yesterday. Come along to the
back room where the phone is.’

The storeroom was filled with boxes and crates all piled on top of one another. A strong smell of rancid cheese, pickles, bacon and old vegetables hung in the air. The big wooden table in the
middle was filled with newspapers and brown bags, beside which lay a scruffy accounts book and a big black telephone.

‘Gerry said we was really lucky to get the phone,’ Joan told her proudly. ‘Apparently ten thousand of them are going to be installed this year in London alone and we’re
one of the first. Now sit yourself down and find out what’s happened to that husband of yours.’

Rose perched on the edge of the hard seat by the table. ‘How much do I owe you?’ She opened her bag.

‘It’s on the house. I’ve known your family long enough to know you wouldn’t ask a favour if you didn’t need it.’

Rose smiled gratefully. ‘How do I find the number?’

‘Just ask the operator. It ain’t half funny hearing a voice on the other end. But you’ll be all right. They’re very helpful. Now I’ll leave you to it and finish me
step.’

Rose summoned up courage. She didn’t want bad news; she needed to hear that Eddie had been mistaken for someone else or the television wasn’t stolen. When she had to repeat herself
to the operator her voice became as shaky as her fingers. After a series of loud clicks she was eventually put through. ‘I’m Mrs Rose Weaver from number forty-six Ruby Street and
I’d like to know what’s happening to my husband,’ she said clearly. ‘His name is Eddie Weaver and he’s helping Inspector Williams with some enquiries.’

There was a long pause before the man spoke again. ‘What was the name again?’

‘Eddie Weaver.’

She could hear strange noises on the other end as she waited. Finally the news came.

‘Edward John Weaver has been formally charged. His hearing is at central London magistrates’ court tomorrow morning, nine sharp.’

Rose gasped. ‘What’s he been charged with?’

‘Obstructing police in the line of duty, assault and handling stolen goods.’

‘But that’s ridiculous!’ Rose exclaimed trying to take in what she’d been told. ‘He was only trying to defend himself. And he didn’t steal
anything.’

‘Then he hasn’t got anything to worry about, has he?’ The policeman’s unhelpful attitude was like a brick wall.

‘What happens now?’ Rose asked in bewilderment. ‘Will they let him come home?’

‘Depends if he gets bail,’ was the impatient reply.

‘What does bail mean?’ Rose asked, only ever having heard the term once or twice before and not really understanding what it meant.

‘Bail is money guaranteed to a court to make sure the person who has been charged with a crime returns for the next hearing – or trial.’

‘Trial?’ Rose felt her blood run cold.

‘I’ve no idea what will happen to your husband,’ the voice continued. ‘You’ll have to ask his solicitor.’

‘But we haven’t got a solicitor. We couldn’t afford one,’ Rose protested in a hoarse voice.

‘Everyone is entitled to a defence, no matter what your status,’ the policeman said shortly as if he were talking to a child. ‘Now, if that’s all, I wish you good
day.’ And before she could think of another question a long burring sound rang in her ear.

‘Joan, I think they’ve cut me off,’ she said to the shopkeeper who had just come in.

‘Yes, I’m afraid so,’ Joan nodded as she took the phone and listened. ‘Did you get the information you wanted?’

‘I . . . I think so.’

‘What exactly did Eddie do?’ Joan asked curiously.

‘Nothing really, that’s just it. There’s been some kind of mistake.’

‘Is he coming home?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Didn’t you ask?’

‘Yes, but it’s not easy to take it all in over the phone. I’d better get back to the girls,’ Rose evaded, fearing more questions that she couldn’t answer.
‘Thanks, Joan.’

‘Anytime. And if you want some groceries, we’ll put them on the slate. Just till you know how you stand.’

Rose walked back over the rubbish of the night before, the strewn bunting and the food and paper still lying in the road. A few women were cleaning their windows and brushing the dirt from the
doorsteps. At eight-thirty in the morning they were the only ones up. The men and the kids were treating Wednesday as a holiday.

Out in the fresh air, Rose went over in her mind what the policeman had said, wondering how could she get to central London whilst the girls were at home? Would Eddie get bail? And how much
money did that involve? She would have to wait until tomorrow to find out the answer to that. Rose could hear the girls as she opened the front door. ‘I’m back!’ she called,
hoping they didn’t ask dozens of questions all at once. And more to the point, what answers could she give them?

They came tumbling down the stairs still wearing their nightgowns. ‘We washed, look!’ They held out their hands and lifted their chins. Faces, necks and fingers were spotlessly
clean.

‘Very good, both of you,’ she smiled, hoping for some sort of inspiration in the next few minutes.

‘When’s Daddy coming home?’ Marlene was the first to ask.

‘Soon.’ She couldn’t say otherwise.

‘But when?’

‘I don’t know exactly, pet. The policemen still want Daddy to help them with their enquiries.’

‘Can we go and see him?’

‘No, we’ll just have to be a little patient and wait for him to come home.’

‘But we miss him.’ Marlene was almost in tears.

‘Yes, so do I. But it’s no use getting upset. Daddy wouldn’t want that. He’d tell us to do just like we always do and look after each other while he’s away.’
Rose recalled Eddie’s last words to her before the police car had driven off and her spirits lifted a little. ‘Now, what shall we have for breakfast?’

‘Soldiers,’ Marlene replied at once. ‘But I don’t want me egg all drippy.’

Rose smiled and patted her bottom. ‘Off you go and get dressed, then. I’ll be in the kitchen.’

But Donnie hesitated. ‘Is Daddy really coming home?’

Rose hugged her little girl. ‘’Course he is, love. We just have to be patient. Now, do you want soldiers, too?’

Donnie nodded but went slowly up the stairs, her small shoulders sagging. Dragging the kids through such an ordeal was unforgivable, Rose thought unhappily. She wanted all the good things in
life for her family. She was suddenly so angry with that Inspector Williams she could have cheerfully strangled him. But by the time she got to the kitchen, the anger had disappeared and her heart
was aching for her husband and the feel of his strong arms around her again.

The sunlight crept through the kitchen window as Rose finished her letter. As she had been writing to Em she had come to the conclusion that if she hadn’t given in on her
rule not to sell to the street Eddie would be at home right now. But she’d let him have his own way and Eddie being Eddie, he’d needed no encouragement to sell that bloody
television.

Rose was just licking the stamp when the back door opened. Anita’s face was red from riding her bike. ‘Crikey, I’m done in.’ She sank down on a chair and pushed her damp
fringe from her eyes.

‘You work too hard.’ Rose lit the gas.

‘Tell me about it. But we’re trying to save for a holiday at Butlin’s and there’s no way we could if I didn’t char. Cleaning’s good money even if it is
backbreaking sometimes. And Mrs H has got a lovely house. It’s nice surroundings. So I count me chickens really.’ She frowned at Rose. ‘Heard anything from Eddie?’

‘I phoned the police station. He’s been charged with obstructing the police in the line of duty, assault and handling stolen goods.’

‘You’re joking!’

‘He’s up before central London magistrates’ court tomorrow at nine.’

Anita swallowed. ‘Are you going?’

‘I don’t see how I can, not with the girls.’

‘If I wasn’t at work I’d have them for you.’

Rose shook her head slowly. ‘I don’t suppose they’d let me speak to Eddie anyway. The policeman wasn’t very helpful, he just said Eddie might get bail until the next
hearing. He even said the word trial. Oh, Neet, I can’t begin to imagine what that would involve.’

‘Trial?’ Anita repeated in a confused voice. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Nor do I,’ Rose shrugged gloomily. ‘I was told that Eddie will have a solicitor though. The policeman said everyone gets one of those, rich or poor.’

‘What else did he say?’

‘Nothing. Before I could ask any more I got cut off and I didn’t want to ring again because Joan was asking questions.’

‘So there’s a chance he might get this bail, then?’

Rose nodded. ‘A chance yes, and it’s one I’m banking on. I don’t want to think of him not walking through that door tomorrow.’

‘Did Eddie have any money on him?’

‘I don’t know. It depends what business he’d done.’

Anita was silent again. Then, resting her arms on the table, she looked at Rose. ‘You know, you can always borrow the Butlin’s money if you need it.’

‘Oh, Anita, I don’t know what to say.’

‘Well, it’s there if you want. The best part of thirty quid.’

Rose swallowed on the lump in her throat. Anita was so generous. Joan Wright had been kind too. And Len Silverman. But when people were nice it was even worse than when they weren’t.

‘I hope it won’t be necessary to ask,’ Rose said quietly, wondering if she would find herself in such a position tomorrow.

‘Enough said, love. You know you can.’

‘I’ve just written to Em to tell her what’s happened,’ Rose said as they sat there thinking.

‘It’ll be a bloody shock for her, I can tell you that.’

‘I know. But perhaps Arthur can help.’

‘Her hubbie? What makes you think that?’

‘He works in Eastbourne Town Hall. Em says he’s very high up in his job. I just thought he might know something about legal procedures.’

‘Yes, I remember him,’ Anita said with narrowed eyes. ‘From when they lived here with you before they moved to Eastbourne. Personally I couldn’t see what your sister saw
in him. Sorry if I’m speaking out of turn again.’

‘He’s all right really.’

‘He never said so much as a hello to us in all the time they lived here.’ Anita sniffed.

‘Oh, he didn’t mean any harm,’ Rose shrugged. ‘Arthur isn’t very talkative.’

‘He’s bloody mute if you ask me.’ Anita glanced at Rose quickly. ‘They haven’t come to visit you much since they moved to Eastbourne, have they?’

‘No. It’s a long way.’ Rose knew it wasn’t because of the distance they didn’t visit. It was because of the two men’s dislike for one another. Eddie was chalk
to Arthur’s cheese. Luckily the four of them hadn’t been forced to share the house for very long, just a few months, as she and Eddie had married in the June and Em and Arthur moved to
Eastbourne in the December. But it was long enough.

‘Maybe they’ll come down and visit soon.’

‘Yes, I hope so.’ Rose missed her sister. They were very close after their parents had been killed in the early part of the war. Em had been twenty and Rose almost fifteen. The
authorities had tried to evacuate Rose, but she’d found a job at Horton’s munitions factory where her sister worked.

‘How old is their boy now?’

‘Will is ten. Eleven in September, I think.’