Under the Apple Tree (5 page)

before … you know what I mean.’ The old lady nodded

significantly. ‘He’ll be getting those nightmares again, you

see if he don’t.’

Polly opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again

quickly as they heard the sound of footsteps descending the

stairs. By the time Dick appeared at the staircase door in the

scullery, Polly was already at the sink, pouring water from

the kettle into the enamel bowl. She added a small lump of

washing soda and gave him a bright smile.

‘Hello, Dick, how’re you then? Sleep all right, did you? I

must say it was a treat to be allowed to stop in bed all night

instead of having to get up and go down the shelter …

D’you want another cup of tea?’

He shook his head. ‘No, thanks. Just going out to the lav.’

He opened the back door and a bitter wind scoured into the

scullery. ‘Strewth, it’s like an icebox out here.’ The door

slammed behind him and he passed the scullery window on his way to the lavatory, tacked on to the back of the lean-to.

Polly sighed. It was going to come hard to them all, not

having an indoor lavatory any more. And no bathroom

either. None of the little two-up, two-down houses in April Grove had a bathroom. They all had a tin bath hanging on a nail outside, which had to be dragged in every Friday or Saturday night and filled with kettles of hot water, or from

an Ascot if you were lucky enough to have one. It would be

hard on them all, having to go back to that.

‘Have you still got that old bath, Mum?’ she called. ‘Only

I was just thinking, you won’t be able to come up to us any

more of a Friday afternoon for your bath, will you? I

wondered if you’d got rid of it.’

‘Not got rid of it, as such,’ Alice said, coming through

and taking a tea-towel from the back door. ‘It’s still out

there - but don’t you remember, I got Terry to fill it up

with earth and plant potatoes in it. Won’t be much cop for

bathing in now!’

Polly stared at her and began to laugh. ‘Potatoes! Well,

we’d better get ‘em out. I don’t suppose you can buy tin

baths for love nor money now.’

‘Get ‘em out? They’re me earlies! I’ve been looking

forward to them for Easter. We’ll have to use the small one

- stand up and wash ourselves down. You know they’re on

at us to save water anyway.’

Dick came back indoors, shuddering with cold. ‘I could

do with that tea now, if there’s any left. Did I hear someone

talking about a bath?’

‘I was just saying, we’re going to miss having the lavvy

and everything indoors.’ Polly dried her hands and poured

him a cup of tea. ‘There you are, Dick, and don’t laugh at it,

you’ll be old and weak yourself one day … Here, guess

what, Mum’s gone and planted spuds in her old tin bath,

and says we’ll have to wait till Easter before we can have a

good soak. What’s it like outside, apart from cold?’

‘I never hung about to look. You can still smell the smoke and that. I saw that woman next door, what’s her name, the

thin scraggy one that hangs round the dockyard gates, but I

never said nothing. Wouldn’t want her to get the wrong

idea.’

Alice laughed. ‘Nancy Baxter’s all right! She wouldn’t

bother with you, Dick, she’s got her own customers. And

you won’t get past her old ma without speaking, I can tell

you that. Granny Kinch has a word for everyone that goes

along the street.’

‘I know that, nosy old faggot. What about those nippers?

They been evacuated?’

‘No such luck,’ Alice said. ‘Young Micky’s as full of

mischief as a barrel-load of monkeys; got into trouble with

young Gordon Hodges after Christmas last year, but it was

only Gordon got sent away though everyone knows it was as

much Micky as him. The other one’s just a baby - Vera,

she’s called, and she’s as scrawny as her mother.’

Cissie had come downstairs again and was sitting in the

back room making more toast over the fire. She called to her

husband to come and have some more, and he took his cup

of tea through and sat down at the table. They sat in silence,

each wrapped in thought.

‘It don’t seem possible we’ve lost everything,, does it,

Dick?’ Cissie said at last. ‘Our home, and all our furniture

and clothes, and the wireless you and Terry built, and all

Terry’s Meccano and model aeroplanes … I can’t sort of

take it in. I keep remembering things - our photos too, and

your Brownie camera…’ Her voice trembled.

‘I know, love. And they’ll never be able to give it all back.

All we’ll get is a few clothes and some cash to tide us over.

We’ll have to start all over again.’

‘But we’ll get something from the insurance, won’t we? I

mean, we’ve got all the papers — we’ve got the tin box with

everything in, that we always take down the shelter with us.

We’ll have to look it out, Dick, see what it says, and we’ll

have to let the collector know where we are too.’ She rubbed

her face. ‘There’s so much to do - so much to think about. I

don’t know how we’re going to get through it all.’

He was silent for a moment, then he said, ‘Nor do I, Cis.

It’s all too much for me. I keep remembering the last lot what

it was like out in the trenches. Blokes screaming and

crying and going off their heads, and then the gas …’ He

coughed, his thin body racked, and gazed at her with red

rimmed eyes. ‘I’ve been dreaming about it all night. I

thought I was back there. I don’t know how I’m going to

face up to it all over again, Cis, I really don’t…’ His voice trailed away to a whisper and he began to shudder.

His wife got up quickly and came round the table to put

her arm around his shoulders and draw his head down

against her breast. ‘Oh Dick,’ she said, her voice trembling.

‘It’s not fair, not when you’ve been through so much

already. But we’ll get through it together. We will, really.

Look, we’re not hurt, any of us, we’re all right, and we’ve

got somewhere to live too — we’re better off than a lot of

people. And our Judy’s still home, and we’ve got Polly too,

and Mum as bright as a button still. We’ve got a lot to be

thankful for. We’ll face it together, you and me, all of us.

And if we’ve got to start all over again, then that’s what we’ll do. We’re not going to let Hitler get the better of us. We

beat the Germans before, didn’t we? And we’ll beat ‘em

again!’

Dick stayed still, his head resting heavily against her, for

a long time. Then he drew in a deep breath, lifted his head

and gave her a shaky grin.

‘You’re right, love,’ he said. ‘We didn’t give in last time

and we won’t now. We’ll give ‘em something to remember

us by!’

She smiled down at him and he reached for her hand and

squeezed it. They looked into each other’s eyes with a

mixture of pride and defiance. But behind their eyes, each

had the same thought.

What would happen if they were wrong? What would

happen to them all if the Germans really did invade?

Despite his protests that he ought to go to the Centre with

them and do his bit, Cissie insisted that Dick should stay at

home in the warm. ‘I don’t want you in bed with your chest

again,’ she said, winding a long scarf round her neck. ‘And

you can put the kettle on a bit later so there’s a nice cup of

cocoa for us when we get back, we’ll be shrammed. Tibby’ll

keep you company.’

Dick looked at the cat, curled up in Alice’s chair. ‘I’m not

sure he doesn’t make me cough even more. All right, Cis,

I’ll stop here, but I’ll make meself useful just the same. You

can sort out some veg for dinner and I’ll set about peeling

them. I suppose we can put the saucepans on the fire?’

‘It’ll make them sooty,’ Polly said, ‘but we can scrub that

off. We’ve got to have something hot inside us.’ She pulled

on the woollen mittens Alice had knitted from an old

unpicked jumper. ‘Come on, Cis. The sooner we get there

the sooner we’ll be back.’

The two sisters went out into the street. A bitter wind

was slicing across the allotments which ran along the back of

the houses and came down to the wide part at the end of

April Grove. A pleasant-faced woman with beech-brown

hair tucked under a dark red hat was pushing a pram up the

street, and she nodded and smiled as she came up to them.

‘Hello, you’re Mrs Thomas’s daughters, aren’t you? Popped

in to see if she’s all right, have you?’

Polly shook her head. ‘Come to stay, more like. We were

bombed out, Friday night. We’re going round to the

Emergency Centre now to see what they can do for us, but

we won’t get another house, not when Mum’s got this place.

It’s going to be a bit of a squeeze, though.’

‘No! You never were!’ The woman looked at them in

dismay. ‘You poor things. None of you hurt though?’

‘No, thank goodness. I hear there was a bit of a tragedy here though. You’re Mrs Budd, aren’t you?’

The woman nodded. ‘That’s right, I live in number

fourteen. Poor young Kathy Simmons. Such a nice little

body, too, and those two little girls. They’re in with me

now, I’ve left my Rose looking after them. This little

madam’s my youngest, Maureen.’ They all peered into the

pram at the little girl sitting inside, and she beamed back at

them. She looked about eighteen months old, Polly thought.

Jess Budd went on, ‘I’m just going up to my sister’s at the

end of March Street. Her girl Olive’s not very well.’ She

stopped, folding her lips as if she didn’t want to talk about

what was wrong with Olive.

‘Mum told us,’ Polly said gently. ‘That’s a shame. I

know, I’ve been through it myself-lost two after our Sylvie

was born. Well, we’d better not keep you, Mrs Budd. I

dare say we’ll be seeing you again.’

They walked on up the street, each thinking how lucky

they had been to lose no more than their home and

possessions. There was no doubt about it, they agreed, you

could always find someone worse off than you were yourself.

Olive Harker, losing her baby, Kathy Simmons and her

baby killed, the two girls left motherless … And that was in just one street, with no other damage. What terrible

tragedies were happening in all those other streets, where

house after house had been destroyed?

‘I feel I ought to be doing something to help,’ Polly said

after a moment or two. ‘Ever since Sylvie went off to the

country, I’ve felt I should be doing more than just cutting

people’s hair. I mean, it’s not exactly vital war work, is it?’

‘Well, no, but it’s good for morale, isn’t it? That’s what

they say. Anyway, what else could you do? You’re not

thinking of joining one of the women’s services, are you?’

‘I don’t think they’d have me, not at my age. Thirty-five’s

too old. No, I was thinking of doing something voluntary. I

mean, I’ve got Johnny’s pension and if I could work part

time at the salon I’d have enough to live on, and then I could give a bit of time to something else. There must be

plenty of things to do. Look at Mum, she’s always on the

go, doing her bit, and she’s getting on for seventy. It makes

me feel ashamed.’

Cissie was silent for a minute or two, then she said, ‘I

suppose I ought to be doing a bit more, too. I mean, there’s

nothing to stop me.’

‘You’ve got Dick to look after. You know he needs you

with him if he gets one of his chests. And there’s got to be

someone at home to keep the place going, if all the rest of us

are out.’

‘I suppose so. And I could do knitting and needlework

and things.’ They were almost at the church hall. ‘Look at

that, Poll, there’s still a crowd of people inside. Looks as if they’ve been there all night, some of them, poor souls. And

those women taking their names, they look worn out, don’t

they. What a job.’

‘Yes,’ Polly said, gazing at them. ‘What a job.’

With soldiers, sailors and marines throwing themselves into

the work of helping to clear the streets, there were a few

buses able to get through and Judy managed to get to

Southsea without too much trouble. It took her over an hour

all the same, and she thought ruefully of the extra time it

would add to her working days while the Council offices

were there.

The Royal Beach was a large hotel, directly opposite

South Parade Pier. It was eight storeys high and probably

one of the grandest hotels in the city, its rooms lavishly

decorated and lit with chandeliers. At least, that was what it

had been like before the war, Judy thought when she

arrived. The chandeliers had all been removed for safety partly their own and partly because of the danger of flying

glass to people if the hotel were bombed — and some of the

furniture had been taken away to make room for the

makeshift beds and trolleys for the casualties who were

brought here after a raid.

Most of these had gone now, for the hotel was being used

as a clearing station rather than a hospital, but the big