Tuppence To Spend (10 page)

She saw a series of thoughts pass across his face. He did
half
want to go, she thought. He missed the other kiddies, even if he didn’t know them very well; there was no school now, and only Micky Baxter for him to play with, and anyway Micky’d been more Gordon’s friend – for what good that had done them. But almost as soon as the longing had been there, it passed and he leant his head on her knee.

‘I’d rather stay here, Mum. I’d rather help you.’

Poor little nipper, there wasn’t much he could do. Nora was too tired out to bother much about the house, which had already been in a poor state when they’d moved in. She couldn’t find the strength to brush the threadbare carpet
every day, or wash the step like most of the other women in the street did. She knew they thought she was letting April Grove down – she’d seen the look on Annie Chapman’s face one morning, as she went by on her way to see her sister, Jess Budd.

Well, you try it, she thought, you try being chucked out of the pub you’ve lived in all your life; you try sorting out all the stuff your mum and dad had before they died and haggling a price for it out of the rag and bone man; you try shifting the few bits you’ve got left on a handcart all the way up to Copnor because you couldn’t find anywhere else to rent; you try coping with a boy like Gordon who was always into mischief and getting worse, and a man like Dan who was tormented by his own past … you try doing all that, when you’ve had four miscarriages, two of them in the past two years and feel like death warmed up, and
then
see if you still feel like whitening a doorstep or cleaning windows so the neighbours can see in easier!

She’d done her best, and Sammy did his best too, but he was only eight, for cripes’ sake, you couldn’t expect him to do much. And he was getting more and more scared of his father.

‘I want you here,’ she said to the little boy. ‘But not if you’d be better off out in the country. If the bombs come …’

‘I’d rather stay here with you and Tibby,’ he repeated and she didn’t urge him. I know I’m being selfish, she thought. If the bombs come he could be killed. We could all be killed. For herself, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t going to make any difference either way. But for little Sammy …

She tightened her fingers in his fair, matted curls. I can’t let him go, she thought. I can’t. If I do I might never see him again …

Gordon came in at about ten o’clock. He was looking excited and pleased with himself, and there was something
under his coat. Nora, who would have gone to bed hours ago if he’d been home, roused herself from her chair to ask where he’d been.

‘Working,’ he said, and gave her a sly look. ‘Didn’t Dad tell you I was on overtime?’

‘Yes, but I didn’t think you’d be this late. Your stew’s gone cold hours ago.’

‘Don’t want it,’ he said carelessly, sliding towards the scullery door. ‘Had a couple of pies down the dock.’

‘What’s that you’ve got under your coat?’ she asked. ‘You haven’t been pinching again, I hope.’

‘I was give it,’ Gordon said in an injured voice. ‘Bloke gave it me, down the dock, said he didn’t want it no more.’ He produced an object from under his jacket and Nora stared at it.

‘That’s a silver cup!’

‘It’s a goblet,’ he said. ‘That’s what they call it, a goblet. I can get a good price for this in the junk shop.’

‘Let me see it.’ She held out a thin hand. ‘That’s not junk. That’s new and it’s real silver. You
have
been thieving.’

‘I never! I told you, this bloke
give
it me. I done a bit of work for him, see – bit of extra. It’s not down the dock, it’s a shop. I do a bit of heavy work for him sometimes of an evening or in me dinner time. He give me this instead of money. Straight up, Mum.’

Nora stared at him. He was making it all up, she was sure. ‘You’ve never mentioned this bloke before.’

‘No, well, I didn’t think you’d like me working extra hours. Look, what’s it matter? We need the dosh, don’t we? You’re always saying that. I can get a good price for it and I was going to give you half, what about that?’

Nora wanted very much to believe him. She looked at the goblet again. ‘Is that all you got? Or has he been “giving” you other things?’

Gordon shrugged. ‘Bits and pieces. Coupla bits of silver,
few trinkets – rings and stuff like that.’ He felt in his pockets, unable to resist the urge to show off, and dragged out a handful of jewellery.

Nora caught her breath. ‘Gordon, I don’t believe you! Nobody would give a boy things like this for a few hours’ work. What have you been up to? Tell me!’

‘I have told you –’ he was beginning sulkily, when they heard Dan’s key in the door. He stumbled in and glowered at them.

‘Whass goin’ on here?’

‘It’s Gordon—’ Nora began, speaking at the same moment as her son but falling silent under his loud voice.

‘It’s our mum. She won’t believe me. I told her, Dad, I told her I been doing jobs for a bloke on Spice Island and he give me these things ’stead of money, but she won’t believe me, says I’ve been thieving.’

Dan stared at his son, then at the pile of gleaming rings and necklaces and the silver goblet on the table. He put out an unsteady hand and lifted them, letting a necklace pass through his fingers. He looked again at Gordon.

‘She’s bleeding right, too, ain’t she? You
have
been thieving.’ He advanced on his son and cuffed him sharply over the ear. ‘You little sod! D’you want to get sent to prison?’ He dealt another blow, which sent Gordon spinning across the room. He came up hard against the table and yelled out. Dan advanced again, his fist raised, but Nora caught his arm and, weak though her grip was, it was enough to make him pause for a moment. He glared at his son and subsided, glowering.

‘Well, what if I have helped meself to a few things that were left lying about?’ Gordon said sulkily. ‘How else is people like us ever going to get anything decent? Seven and six a week, that’s all I’m getting down the docks, and Mum has five bob for me keep. I want a motorbike. I’m saving up for it. There’s a bloke I know got one he’ll let me have for three quid. I could get that for this lot, easy.’ He slid a
glance at his mother. ‘I could get enough to buy Christmas presents and all, better’n socks and gloves.’

‘Not with stolen money, you won’t!’ Nora said sharply, surprising all three of them with the sudden strength in her voice. ‘And you won’t be buying no motorbike with it, neither. You’ll take it all straight back, Gordon, first thing in the morning.’

He stared at her. ‘Don’t talk daft, Mum, I can’t do that. They’d have me down the nick before you could say Jack Robinson.’

‘They would, too,’ Dan said, sitting down heavily. He seemed to have sobered up a bit. ‘And you know what the magistrate said last time. It’ll be an approved school for you. Or Borstal. That’s prison, as good as, and you’ll have it against your name for life.’

‘Gordon, how could you be so blooming silly?’ Nora asked. ‘We might be hard up, but we’ve never had that sort of trouble in the family. I know my dad’s pub was in a rough area, but we never got the wrong side of the law. I thought when we came to April Grove we were going to better ourselves a bit, but it just seems to have got worse.’ She stared at the glittering heap on the table. ‘It would kill me if either of you boys ever got sent to prison, it would straight, it’d
kill
me.’

‘I’m not getting sent to prison. And it’s the war that’s making it worse, not me,’ Gordon said truculently. ‘Bloody rationing and restrictions. Blackout. Can’t get this, can’t do that. I tell you, I’m fed up with it already and it hasn’t even started yet, not properly.’

‘That’s nothing to do with it. You’re just taking advantage of the blackout to get up to mischief. Well, if you won’t take these things back, I will.’ Nora stared at them, her blue eyes almost black in her white face. ‘Tell me where you got them.’

Dan gave her an irritated look. ‘Don’t talk stupid, Nora. You’re not fit to go anywhere. And all you’d do is get the
police round here anyway. The boy’s right, he can’t take them back so we might as well get a bit of good out of them.’ His eyes returned to the glittering heap on the table and he stretched out a hand.

‘No!’ Nora cried and tried to struggle out of her chair. ‘No, I’ll not have it! They got to go back. If you won’t take them open and above board, then at least wrap ’em up and leave them in the doorway. You can do it on your way to work in the morning; nobody’ll be about then. Just bundle them up in a bit of sacking. And make sure you put it all in, every bit. I won’t have no stolen goods coming to this house.’ She sank back, ashen-faced, struggling for breath. A harsh, wheezing sound came from her chest and she flailed an arm, her eyes suddenly frightened.

Dan left the table and flung himself to his knees beside her. ‘Nora! Nora, what’s the matter?’ He threw his son a swift glance. ‘Look what you done now, made your mother ill … Nora, what is it? Don’t just stand there like a dummy, boy, get her some water …
Nora
!’

He stared at her, his hands moving uncertainly over her body. What did you do when someone couldn’t breathe? Artificial respiration, as if they were drowning? But he didn’t even know how to do that, not properly … Gordon shoved a cup of water under his nose and he took it and held it to her lips. They were almost blue, he noticed with alarm. ‘
Nora
!’

She managed a sip and drew a shuddering breath. The blueness began to fade, but her face was still as white as Annie Chapman’s front step. She lay, breathing now but still very shallowly, and her eyes met his. Her eyelids flickered and her tongue moved tremulously over her lips. She’s dying, he thought in panic and pulled her half out of her chair against him.
Don’t die, Nora, don’t die
. He put the cup to her mouth again, trying to ease the water through her shaking lips.

‘I feel so queer,’ she whispered. ‘I feel—’ She slumped
suddenly to one side, her eyelids flickering down over her eyes, so blue that they seemed transparent. Gordon and his father stared at her in dismay and then, hearing a sound behind them, turned to see Sammy standing in the doorway, his shirt unbuttoned, the brown paper vest showing underneath.

‘I heard Mum shouting.’ His eyes went past them to the slumped figure and he started forward in terror. ‘What’s the matter with her? What’s the matter with my mum?’ His voice rose to a shriek of fear. ‘She’s
dead
! You’ve
killed
her!
My mummy’s dead
!’

Joe Sellers’s funeral was held amid deep snow. All the village was there, for he’d been a well-liked man and everyone had known him. He’d worked as a stockman on the farm where George worked now, and when he retired he’d helped out in busy times and done gardening jobs all over the village. You could always be sure of spotting him, trimming a hedge or clearing out a neglected garden, whenever you walked along the lanes.

Even after his stroke he’d still kept in touch with the neighbours by sitting at the window and lifting his good hand in a wave whenever anyone went past, and he’d insisted that Ruth kept up his tradition of carrying a few broken dog biscuits in one pocket and toffees in the other for distributing as appropriate when she went out.

Ruth, following the coffin into the church with Jane and George at her side and Lizzie and Ben just behind, felt her eyes brim over at the sight of the packed church. We’ll miss him so much, she thought, kneeling in her pew. The whole village will miss him. But I’ll miss him more than anyone else.

Even with Silver to keep her company, the cottage was going to seem emptier than it had ever done before.

While most of the village was at the funeral, the evacuee children were left to their own devices. With the village children at school that afternoon, they were free to roam unmolested and Tim and Keith set out into the snow-covered
fields, feeling like birds let out of cages. They met Brian Collins in the lane and stood discussing what to do.

‘I’m Scott of the Antarctic,’ Tim Budd announced. He had brought Moss, the Corners’ sheepdog, with him, a bit of washing line tied to his collar. ‘I’ve got a husky dog with me and a sledge –’ he brandished Edna Corner’s tin tea tray ‘– and we’re going to the South Pole.’

‘Well, you can go on your own, then,’ Brian Collins said. ‘He never come back, did he? Died of cold.’

‘
I
shan’t,’ Tim said, only momentarily disconcerted by this fact, which he had forgotten. ‘I’ll find the South Pole and come back and be the winner. Let’s have an expedition.’

Moss, who wasn’t used to being on a lead, barked suddenly and Keith looked at him.

‘He shouldn’t be barking like that. He’s supposed to be husky, isn’t he?’

‘It’s not that sort of husky, dopy,’ Brian said scornfully. ‘It’s the name for dogs that pull sledges. Anyway, expeditions are boring. I think we ought to have a snowball fight.’

‘We did that yesterday.’ Tim was determined to remain in charge. ‘We won’t be able to have Moss again because Mr Corner has him on the farm. I’ve only got him today because he’s at the funeral. And we can’t go to the South Pole without a husky, so this is our only chance.’

‘Well, where is this South Pole, then?’

‘It’s Mrs Corner’s washing pole,’ Tim decided. ‘We’ll tie Moss to the tray and go through the woods and over Top Field. That’ll be far enough. Keith can ride on the tray, ’cause he’s smallest, and I’ll drive and shout “Mush”.’

Brian looked grumpy. He and Tim always vied to be in charge and now he could see his chance of leadership slipping away from him. He cast about for a better idea.

‘I wanted to go and watch the funeral. I’ve never seen a dead body being buried before.’

The others, already starting to tie Moss’ lead to the tray, stopped and looked at him. Keith saw an expression of longing on his brother’s face, mixed with jealousy that Brian Collins should have thought of it. He hesitated, glancing at the tray and Moss, waiting to become a husky.

‘We’ll never get the chance to see a funeral again,’ Brian said cunningly.

Tim bit his lip, then made up his mind. ‘Tell you what. Mr Sellers can be Scott and we’re the rescue party, going to find him, only we’re too late. That’s what really happened. And they had to take huskies and sledges and things, so we can still use Mossy. And we’ll still go over Top Field because it goes right down to the churchyard and they’ll all be in church singing.’