Magnolia Square (27 page)

‘’Ere, Vicar! Is it true you’re collecting people from funny farms to live in Magnolia Square?’ A lout he had never seen before in his life shouted from the vantage point
of St Mark’s grassy island. ‘Do you ’ave to be bonkers to get an ’ome round ’ere?’

Bob’s face tightened. If he didn’t abandon his stand-off on number eight’s doorstep, there was every chance of an ugly public incident erupting. ‘I’m going,’
he said to Kate tersely. ‘Give it five minutes and if Anna still won’t open the door to you, abandon the attempt. Meanwhile, I’ll try and disperse this growing crowd of
onlookers.’ He turned away from her, trusting her sensitivity and judgement utterly. ‘I don’t know where you’re from, young man,’ he said seconds later to the lounging
youth. ‘But your remarks show a great lack of Christian charity.’

‘I ain’t from round ’ere,’ the youth smirked, enjoying the high feeling he was creating. ‘An’ I’m glad of it. I wouldn’t live ’ere. Not with
all these barmies. It ain’t safe.’

‘There are no “barmies”, as you so ignorantly put it, living in Magnolia Square,’ Bob began stiffly and was broken off by the sound of a door being flung hard back on its
hinges. He swung his head round, certain he was about to be met with the sight of a violently agitated Anna. Instead he saw that it was the Sharkeys’ front door that was swinging open, and
that the person cumbersomely propelling himself down the front steps was Wilfred, placards swinging. Never in his life had Bob Giles blasphemed, but the present temptation was nearly
overpowering.

‘See!’ the youth shouted, pointing triumphantly towards Wilfred. ‘’E’s a barmy! See wot’s written on ’is placard! “THE END OF THE WORLD IS
NIGH”! An’ the war only just over. If that ain’t barmy, I don’t know wot is!’

It was Charlie who saved Bob Giles the extremely awkward task of shepherding Wilfred on his attention-getting procession down Magnolia Hill and into Lewisham. ‘I’ll
take care of ’im,’ he had said, aware that the Vicar’s dog collar would only draw more attention to Wilfred’s bizarre behaviour. ‘’E likes to stand outside
Lewisham clock-tower when ’e’s in this kind of a mood. I dunno why. No-one takes a ha’porth of notice of ’im.’

Bob wasn’t at all convinced that Charlie’s summing up of the situation was accurate. Lewisham clock-tower, standing on what had become a traffic-island at the confluence of three
major roads, was the best-known landmark for miles around. Every autumn a gypsy woman appropriated the site, selling lavender from it at sixpence a bunch. To local people, she was as much an
indication of the passing of summer and the drawing-in of winter as the change in weather, and Bob couldn’t help feeling that Wilfred might very speedily become another such fixture.

Dragging his thoughts away from his mentally troubled churchwarden, deeply thankful that neither Doris nor Prudence were adding to the free show by trailing into Lewisham in their
patriarch’s wake, he concentrated once more on the tragic problem of Anna Radcynska. Why on earth hadn’t he realized just how deeply disturbed she would be? How was he to integrate her
into the community? What plan of action could he possibly take that would have a happy outcome? With a relief so intense, he groaned aloud in thankfulness, he saw that Kate was no longer standing
on number eight’s doorstep. At some moment when his, and everyone else’s attention, had been focused on Wilfred, she had obviously been invited inside, no matter how reluctantly. And
once inside, Kate would do a magnificent job of winning Anna’s confidence, of that he didn’t have a second’s doubt. He began to breathe a little more easily. He would go back to
the vicarage and wait for Kate there, and he would call in at her house on the way in order to let Carrie know that Joss Harvey had agreed to her and Danny tenanting number seventeen.

‘Did you ever visit England before the war?’ Kate asked Anna as she filled a kettle of water for a pot of tea.

‘Many times,’ Anna responded gruffly, sitting full-square on a kitchen chair that the Binnses had conveniently left behind. ‘My mother was English. She came from
Vandsworth.’

‘Wandsworth?’ Kate flashed her a wide, sunny smile. ‘Wandsworth is only seven or eight miles away. Do you still have relatives there?’

‘No.’ A closed, shuttered look came down over Anna’s large-boned features. ‘No relatives. No children. No dogs. No men.’

Kate searched for cups or mugs and found them in a cupboard above the sink. Bob Giles, or most likely Ruth, had done a good job of scratch furnishing number eight, though there was still room for vast improvement. She had already mentally
ticked off lots of things she could spare from her own home which would make number eight cosier and more comfortable. She poured milk into two mugs, reflecting that the mug of tea she had made for
herself a little earlier was still standing on her kitchen table.

‘The fact that your English is so good will make it easier for you to feel at home here,’ she said, her slightly husky voice full of warmth and sincere friendliness. ‘And
people
are
friendly here, Anna.’

Anna shook her head vehemently. ‘Not to Anna. People are afraid of Anna. People shout and laugh.’

Kate hesitated. She didn’t know just how self-aware Anna was of her own condition, yet it had to be spoken of. Only by frankly accepting that it was her appearance and manner that caused
the name-calling and cruel laughter, could steps be taken to mitigate it.

In her own mind, Kate had already decided what those first steps should be. Top of the list was suitable clothing. As far as Kate was concerned, the person responsible for dressing Anna so
unsuitably from a ragbag of charitable cast-offs, deserved to be shot. The obscenely skimpy dress only emphasized her masculine physique and ungainliness. Her lack of stockings, or even socks, was
a cruel oversight when her legs were as muscular and hairy as a navvy’s. As for the monstrosity of her gaping boots . . . Kate intended burning them and replacing them with a pair of light
brogues, or sandals, at her first opportunity. The dress would be added to the flames also, replaced by a tie-neck blouse and a skirt that reached well below the knees.

Taking the bull by the horns, she said gently, ‘People are often unkind about what they don’t understand, Anna. What happened to you during the war shouldn’t be kept a secret.
Your neighbours in Magnolia Square should be told, not in order to pity you, but so that they can understand and come to terms with you as you are, as
you
are going to have to come to terms
with the person you now are.’

There was a long, long silence. Kate waited, taut with nervous tension. The expected violent outburst didn’t come. Instead, tears glinted on Anna’s sparse eyelashes and slowly began
to trickle down her ravaged face. In vast relief, Kate closed the couple of feet separating them and, while Anna remained sitting on the chair, put her arms around her. Anna leaned her head against
Kate, who cradled her as if she were a distressed child.

‘It’s going to be all right, Anna,’ she said soothingly, her voice cracking with emotion. ‘Just trust me and you’ll see. You’ll be happy here. You’ll
make friends. You’ll belong.’

An hour later she was saying fiercely to Bob Giles, ‘I don’t care what advice the Red Cross gave. People
have
to know what Anna suffered in order to be able to understand why
she looks and behaves as she does. And they have to be told quickly, before they form judgements they’ll be reluctant to abandon.’

‘But the Red Cross thought it would awaken an interest entirely prurient—’

‘Not here,’ Kate said, her eyes ablaze with conviction. ‘Not in Magnolia Square.’

His eyes held hers, and then he nodded his head in agreement. ‘And what else?’ he asked, knowing she was burning to say far, far more.

‘We have to treat Anna as if there was nothing odd about her. And the less outwardly odd she looks the better. She shouldn’t step over the doorstep of number eight in that
monstrosity of a frock! Nothing I have will fit her, but Harriet is Junoesquely built. I’m sure Harriet will be only too happy to give Anna some blouses and skirts. I think Anna’s feet
will be far bigger than Harriet’s, but a pair of men’s sandals will be a million times better than the boots some oaf thought fit for her to wear! And then there is her hair . .
.’

Bob sent a silent prayer of gratitude heavenwards. With Kate as her champion, Anna was as good as integrated already.

‘. . . Carrie is quite a good amateur hairdresser. A trim and a home perm will transform Anna just as it transforms any woman. And Anna must have stockings. The kind of lisle stockings
Miriam and Hettie wear. And she needs far more creature comforts in her house. If everyone in the Square made a search of their attics for things in good condition that they have no further use
for, we could have her comfy and cosy in no time.’

Feeling like a new man, Bob rose to his feet. ‘I’ll take the left-hand side of the Square,’ he said, picking up his pipe, ‘you take the right. We’ll knock at every
door and state Anna’s case to everyone we find at home.’

As they walked out of the vicarage, it occurred to him that he could do worse than to ask Kate’s advice where Wilfred was concerned. Once put in the picture about the situation at number
ten, her compassionate nature would be invaluable in giving Doris and Prudence the kind of support they so desperately needed.

‘. . . and so if you have any spare suitable clothes, Anna is in great need of them,’ Kate finished saying to Harriet Godfrey.

Harriet, who had listened to Kate’s explanation of Anna Radcynska’s history in grim-faced silence, said, ‘I have two dirndl cotton skirts I bought when going for a holiday in
Eastbourne last year. They’re elastic-waisted, so there’ll be no problem about fit. And I have several blouses going spare, both long-sleeved and short-sleeved. And a cardigan. And a
capacious raincoat.’

Fifteen minutes later Kate staggered through her own front doorway hardly able to see where she was going for the mound of clothing she was carrying.

‘What’s this? Jumble sale time?’ Carrie asked equably.

‘They’re Harriet Godfrey’s cast-offs,’ Kate said, dropping her cargo on to the nearest available chair, ‘so “jumble” is certainly not the right word.
The skirts have Harrods labels on them, and at least one of the blouses is silk.’

‘They’re going to be a little on the large size for you, aren’t they?’ Carrie asked teasingly, knowing full well that Kate hadn’t purloined them for herself.
‘Or are you thinking of growing?’

‘They’re for our new neighbour, Anna Radcynska.’ With gratitude Kate saw that Carrie had not only finished baking the treacle tarts but had made a batch of scones as well.
‘When I’ve told you a little about her, I’ll take you round to meet her. I’ll take my treacle tart and the scones around as well. And this afternoon, when you go and collect
Rose from school, could you stop off at the shops and buy a home perm kit?’

‘I think I could do that,’ Carrie said incuriously, bursting with her good news. ‘In fact, I think I could pop in for a home perm kit just as soon as I’ve picked up the
keys for number seventeen!’

Though Kate urgently wanted to tell Carrie Anna’s story, in order that she could continue with her task of telling Anna’s other neighbours, she shared in Carrie’s relief and
joy first and then, her eyes darkening, said, ‘I’ve something to tell you, Carrie. Something almost beyond words.’

Carrie’s reaction was just as intense as Kate had known it would be. She had been sick, and hadn’t blamed her physical reaction on her pregnancy. Next she had been furiously,
ragingly angry. Then she had said, ‘Let’s take these clothes round to her now, then I’ll stay with her while you finish calling in at the rest of the houses on this side of the
Square. And make sure Mavis knows to have a word with Billy. She won’t be able to explain fully to him, but if she tells him Anna is ill, it’ll be enough to make him mind his
manners.’

Leaving Carrie cheerily displaying Harriet Godfrey’s largesse to a bewildered Anna, Kate continued on her errand. Outside the Sharkeys’ house she paused. Doris
would undoubtedly be at home as, if rumour was correct, would Prudence. The front room curtains were, however, forbiddingly closed. The charitable said this new habit of Doris’s was
occasioned by Wilfred’s illness; that he had a virus infection, that he hadn’t been able to work since just before VJ Day and that his eyes were susceptible to light. The less
charitable said it was because Doris didn’t want anyone seeing the kind of shenanigans now taking place in her home.

‘I’ve seen ’im myself dahn Lewisham High Street,’ Albert had said, shaking his head in disbelief, ‘wearing “THE END OF THE WORLD IS NIGH” placards and
shouting at people to repent.’

Kate hadn’t seen Wilfred wearing his placards, but she did know that something was very, very wrong in the Sharkey house, and that the inmates might very well not want anyone calling on
them. Instead, she called on Charlie, leaving a quarter of an hour later with a pair of nearly new sandals that he vowed he’d never wear, ‘’Cos ’Arriet don’t like to
see me in ’em. She says they make me look like a spiv.’