‘Wh . . . what do you want?’
‘A little chat, that’s all.’
Just then the door of number eighteen opened. Two tall figures hurried out. ‘Connie, is that you, love?’ Nan made her way slowly towards them. ‘Can’t see a foot in front of me in this muck. Lofty was just coming to look for you.’ She stopped when she saw Connie was not alone. ‘Oh, you’ve got company.’
‘Pleased to meet you.’ Gilbert Tucker touched the brim of his hat. ‘I’m er – a friend of this young lady.’
Nan stood looking puzzled. She pulled her coat around her and frowned. Connie was silent. She didn’t know what to say to Nan. Where had this man sprung from after all this time?
‘You’d better bring yourselves in sharpish,’ Lofty shouted from the doorstep as the fog thickened. ‘No sense gossiping out there.’
Nan peered into the stranger’s face. ‘If you’re a friend of Connie’s then you’re welcome to take shelter with us for a bit.’
Gilbert Tucker accepted quickly. ‘I’m much obliged.’
Reluctantly Connie followed. ‘Hello, sunshine!’ She smiled as Lucky ran along the hall and into her arms.
‘Con-Con,’ he gurgled, burrowing his face in her hair.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Lofty said once they were all in the front room. As he left the room he touched Connie’s elbow. ‘We was worried about you, love, seeing the time. I was just going to put me coat on and walk to the end of the street, see if I could see you.’
‘I’m sorry I was late,’ Connie apologized. ‘I had a letter from Vic and stopped to read it on the way.’
‘Well, you’re safe and that’s what matters.’
Connie sat stiffly on one of the dining chairs. She watched Gilbert Tucker remove his hat and make himself comfortable in front of the fire. ‘I don’t want to put you to any trouble,’ he said meekly, smiling at Nan.
‘No trouble. A friend of Connie’s is a friend of ours. I’ll see what Lofty’s doing in the kitchen.’
‘So this is my grandson,’ he muttered when they were alone. He reclined back in the chair, staring at Lucky.
‘How do I know you are who you say you are?’ Connie asked suspiciously.
‘I showed you the photo of Rita, didn’t I? Look, I’ll show you again.’ He took out his wallet. ‘See?’
‘It just shows a young girl, that’s all. You could have found it anywhere.’
‘Trusting sort, ain’t you?’
‘Do you have her birth certificate, or Lucky’s?’
He laughed. ‘I don’t even have my own, love. I lost them all in the bombing.’ He smiled curiously. ‘Is that what you call him – Lucky?’
Connie nodded slowly as Lucky wriggled in her arms and slid to the floor. Looking cautiously at the older man, he picked up his toy train and began to play with it.
‘He’s a good-looking kid. Got nice hair. Very nice hair.’
‘What to do you want, Mr Tucker?’
‘Just to see my family, that’s all.’
‘If you wanted to see him so badly why did you disappear for two years?’
He shrugged. ‘I was trying my luck up north. In my line of business you move about, see, where the trade is. With the war an’ all, there’s not a lot going for a bloke of my age. I won’t see fifty again.’
‘What work do you do?’
‘Pubs now, but it was hotels. Good ones an’ all. Doorman up West I was, had all the clobber, white gloves and topper, and the tips alone could have kept body and soul together. Now, o’ course, they want the young ones, the good-lookers and quick on their feet when the bombs drop.’
Connie observed him as he leaned close to the fire. He must have been a smart man in his day and he still wore a suit and tie. But he didn’t look quite as smart as when she saw him last. What could he want with Lucky? Was he really who he said he was? If so, he had every right to see his grandson. But without proof, he could be anyone.
‘There now, here’s a nice hot cup of rosie,’ Nan said as she entered the room holding a tray full of mugs; tea for the adults and orange juice for Lucky.
Gilbert Tucker rubbed his hands together. He drank the offered tea down in big gulps, as hot as it was.
‘Well now, Mr –?’ Lofty prompted. ‘I didn’t catch your name?’
‘Tucker. Gilbert Tucker.’
Nan folded her arms slowly. ‘So how do you know our Connie, then?’
He looked slyly at Connie. ‘We got a mutual acquaintance, haven’t we?’
Connie turned to Nan and Lofty. ‘Mr Tucker claims to be the father of Lucky’s mum.’
Nan’s jaw dropped. ‘What!’
‘She was my girl all right,’ Gilbert Tucker added quickly. ‘Her name was Rita.’
‘Your daughter?’ Lofty and Nan spluttered together.
‘She was all I had left in the world after my dear wife died. But Vera’s death upset her and she ran away from home.’
‘How old was she?’
‘Fifteen.’
‘Didn’t you try to find her?’
Gilbert Tucker nodded indignantly. ‘Course I did. And it was the shock of my life when I discovered what she was up to.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I know a tart – excuse my language – when I see one. And there was my own daughter, mixing with ’em up in the city as if they was best friends. I tried to get her to come home to Mile End, but all she wanted was money.’
‘Did you give her any?’
‘Course I did. My poor Vera must have turned in her grave listening to some of the things our daughter come out with. I lost track of her until the Blitz, when she wrote telling me she was pregnant, didn’t know who the father was and wanted to get rid of it. All I can say is, looking at the boy now, thank God she didn’t.’
Connie, Nan and Lofty stared at the man, who had tears in his eyes. They were silent until Nan said slowly, as though she didn’t understand what she had just heard, ‘So your daughter was definitely that poor girl – the one that Connie tried to help, who died in Haverick Road? Is that what you’re saying?’
Gilbert Tucker nodded. ‘Which makes this little lad my grandson, and the only member of my family that I’ve got left to turn to.’ He stood up and got out a grubby handkerchief. ‘Well, I’d better not wear out my welcome.’
Nan gave him his coat and hat.
He bent down to Lucky. ‘Goodnight, son. Your old grandad is happy now he’s found you.’
‘Did you believe him?’ Nan asked Connie when he had gone.
‘I don’t know, Nan. What do you think?’
‘Search me, love. He sounded genuine enough.’
Connie rinsed out the mugs and placed them on the wooden drainer. ‘When I first met him he said he could tell me a few things about Rita that would make my hair curl. Now, what kind of a father would say that about his daughter, even if she was doing what he said she was doing?’
‘Not a very nice one,’ Nan agreed. ‘How long ago was this?’
‘Two years.’
‘But why didn’t you tell us then?’
‘I didn’t want to upset everyone. I know it’s no excuse but I hoped he’d go away.’
Nan dried up the last mug and placed it in the cupboard beside the others. ‘I can’t see why he’d make such a claim if he wasn’t Lucky’s grandfather. What can he hope to gain? He seems to know a lot about this girl. Did you recognize her in the photo?’
Connie shrugged. ‘I thought it might be her, but I couldn’t tell for sure.’
‘He’ll have to prove it with more than a photograph.’
‘What shall I do if he wants to come round home? Mum doesn’t know about him yet.’
‘You’ll have to tell her. Let’s go and see what Lofty thinks.’
‘Could smell the drink on him,’ Lofty said as he lifted Lucky on to his knee. ‘P’raps he’s just a lonely old sod looking for company.’
‘Can’t help feeling a bit sorry,’ admitted Nan as they sat there.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Lofty. ‘The war’s crippled people in different ways.’
Nan straightened the arm covers on the recently vacated chair. ‘We won’t make any assumptions till we know the truth. He seems harmless enough. And in his state he can’t even look after himself, let alone a kiddie. Probably disappear again in a few days like he did before.’
But as Connie put on Lucky’s little red siren suit, she felt worried. Alarm bells were ringing inside her head. And, unlike two years ago, she wasn’t going to ignore them.
The following afternoon, she told her parents. Olive was upset. The questions came fast and thick, and by the time Connie had finished trying to answer them Olive had developed a headache.
‘Why didn’t you tell us two years ago?’ she demanded, pink in the face. ‘I can hardly believe you kept the man a secret. What would we have said to him if he’d knocked on our door?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Connie said miserably. ‘I didn’t want to worry you.’
‘That’s not the point,’ her father grumbled. ‘He says he’s the boy’s grandfather.’
‘We don’t know that he is.’
‘What reason has he got to lie?’
‘I don’t know, Dad.’ Connie was tired of trying to give explanations when she didn’t even know them herself. She realized that this was why she had wanted to keep Gilbert Tucker’s existence to herself. His presence was disruptive and her parents hadn’t even met him yet. Also, his story put Rita in a bad light. That was, if she was called Rita. It made no difference to Connie what she had done or been. She was still the mother of Lucky and had given her life to save him. If Gilbert Tucker had shown remorse at her death, she might have softened towards him. But the tears he had shed when telling his story had seemed to be for himself and for his lonely situation. What would Rita say now if she was sitting here and could tell her story?
As Olive took out her hanky and blew her nose, there was a knock at the door. Connie went to answer it. Len’s thin face was pale and he was breathing hard. ‘Len, what are you doing here?’
‘I’ve just been over to Ada’s.’
‘Oh, I’d almost forgotten!’ With all that had been going on, Ada’s absence from work had escaped her mind. ‘Come in.’ She opened the door wider, expecting him to enter.
‘No, I’ve got to get back to Mum. But I thought I’d let you know first.’
‘Let me know what?’ Her heart sank at the tone of his voice.
‘Ada’s left.’
Connie stared blankly. ‘Left what?’
‘Wally’s house. She’s gone away.’
Connie shook her head. ‘She wouldn’t do that!’
‘Well she has.’ Len shivered in the damp, misty afternoon that once again threatened fog. ‘Some of her clothes have gone, her shoes and personal things. She must have taken them on Saturday morning when the Wipples was all out.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ Connie gasped. ‘Where would she go?’
‘Must have had somewhere in mind.’ Len shrugged.
Connie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, Len, I wish I hadn’t rowed with her.’
‘It wasn’t your fault. Something’s been up for ages.’
‘Oh, please come in!’ Connie didn’t want him to rush off. Perhaps there was something he wasn’t telling her.
‘I can’t. I’m on me bike. And Mrs Next Door won’t wait for ever.’
Connie nodded sadly. ‘See you in the morning, then.’
‘I’ll have to tell Mr Burns if she don’t show up. Lord only knows what he’ll say. Just as we’re getting busy again too.’
Connie watched him pedal off, head down, his long back bent. She stared into the thickening mist sightlessly. She couldn’t believe that Ada had thrown in her job. They had worked together at Dalton’s since leaving school, survived the Blitz and begun a new chapter with the Americans taking over. If only they hadn’t quarrelled!
‘Con-Con play,’ Lucky gurgled as he tugged her hand. She closed the front door and lifted him into her arms. Burying her face in his soft hair she hugged him tight.
‘Con-Con’s coming,’ she sniffed, wondering where her friend was and when she would see her again.
That night Connie woke suddenly from a deep sleep. Something in the house had disturbed her. Careful not to make a noise, she climbed out of bed and listened. Lucky was fast asleep in his cot, the wooden bars of which were now missing in order for him to climb in and out. His toys were gathered neatly in the corner, and though the room was cold it was watertight after the repairs that Taffy and Billy had done.
Pulling on her dressing-gown she trod softly out of her room and stood at the top of the stairs. Both her brothers were heavy sleepers and left their door ajar. Mum and Dad’s was always closed, but tonight a crack of light showed in the hall below. As the blackout was still in force, she could see it clearly.
Halfway down the stairs she identified a tap running. Quickly she made her way to the bathroom and pushed open the door.
‘Billy?’ Her brother was bending over the basin. More than bending. He seemed to have fallen across it.
‘Shh, Con. Shut the door.’
She closed it quietly. ‘Billy, it’s half past three in the morn—’ Her mouth fell open as he looked round. ‘Oh my God, Billy! What have you done to yourself?’
His face was as large as a football, swollen and bleeding. ‘Shh. I don’t want Mum and Dad to see this.’
‘What happened?’ She went up to him. ‘No, don’t speak, sit down on the chair instead.’ Quickly she opened the cupboard and took out the box of clean rags. Tearing one in half she soaked it in water. ‘This is going to hurt, but sit still.’
In silence she bathed the hard scabs around his mouth and the cut above his eye that warranted more than bathing. ‘Billy, who did this to you?’
‘I didn’t duck quick enough.’
‘That wasn’t what I asked.’
Billy grunted as she wiped his swollen mouth. ‘My opponent was more than I could handle tonight, that’s all. I suppose it had to happen one day.’ He tried to laugh. ‘I can’t win ’em all, can I?’
‘What did Taffy say?’
Billy shrugged, then groaned. ‘Christ, me chest hurts.’
‘Is it your ribs?’
‘Yeah, I think so.’
Connie undid the buttons of his shirt. ‘Oh, Billy, you’re black and blue all over. Who did this to you? Whatever was in Taffy’s mind to set you up with such an animal?’
Billy pushed her gently away. ‘I’ll be all right tomorrow.’
‘No you won’t. You need a doctor now.’
‘I’ll go tomorrow.’
‘I’ll come with you then.’
He held on to her gently. ‘No, Con, thanks all the same. I ain’t lost the use of me gob yet.’
She looked into his bloodshot eyes. ‘Billy, is there something you’re not telling me?’
‘Course not. I just got a hiding for once. Serves me right. I was getting too big for me boots, like Mum always said I was. Look, the best thing you can do for me is forget this ever happened. I’ll go see the quack tomorrow and by the end of the week I’ll be my ’andsome self again. Now, give us another once over for good measure, eh?’
Connie washed out the rag and bathed his face again. She didn’t know where to start. It was a mess. Why had Taffy allowed this to happen?
Connie went back to the cupboard and took out the small black bottle of iodine kept for emergencies beside the bandages and bandettes. ‘This will hurt,’ she warned him.
‘Ouch,’ he yelped as she dabbed it on. ‘Go easy, Con.’
She did the best she could and when she was done Billy stood up. ‘Thanks, Con. Will you do me one more favour?’
She pulled her dressing-gown round her. Even before he spoke she knew it was something she wouldn’t like.
‘Stuff a few clothes in a bag for me will you?’
‘Why? You’re not going out again!’
He reached for her hand. ‘Look, Con, I’m going to kip at a mate’s. Don’t make a fuss, there’s a good girl. No sense in giving Mum a fright tomorrow, is there?’ He gripped her tightly. ‘Remember my first fight? I got walloped rotten then, but in a week I was right as rain.’
‘You said then you’d never let it happen again.’
‘I know. This was just a one-off.’
Connie shook her head hopelessly. ‘Billy, I was beginning to think everything was turning out all right.’
‘It is, worry guts. Now, just nip up and get me a pair of trousers and shirt will you? They’re over my chair.’
Against her better judgement Connie did as he asked. She didn’t know what was going on, but if she argued with him all night, he wasn’t going to tell her. And he was right about Mum. Seeing Billy so battered in the morning, she was likely to have one of her turns. It had been a bad day all round.
Connie crept into the boys’ bedroom and felt for the chair. She could hear Kevin snoring loudly. Gathering Billy’s clothes she tiptoed out and took them to the bathroom.
‘Ta, sis. Now, let me out quietly and go back to bed. In the morning you’ve not seen nothing, all right?’
‘When will you be back?’
‘Dunno. I’ll catch Kev at the factory and tell him to tell Mum I’m training for the next fight.’
Connie walked to the front door and opened it. Billy bent to kiss her cheek as the cold, damp air rushed in. She watched him hobble away and wanted to run after him and drag him back. ‘Oh, Billy, take care of yourself,’ she whispered as he melted like a ghost into the night.
Gran came to the door as soon as she heard Connie. ‘Hello, ducks, how are you? And my lovely boy?’ She bent down and drew Lucky into her arms. ‘Where’s your pram gone?’
‘We caught a bus to Island Gardens, then walked.’ Connie’s cheeks were flushed with cold as she stepped into the warmth of the old house. ‘It wasn’t foggy this afternoon, so we made the most of the weather.’
‘Come on in. I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘Look who’s here!’ Connie smiled as they walked into the front room. Pat pushed herself up from the chair and the two women embraced. ‘How’s the little one?’ Connie asked, laying her hand lightly on Pat’s round stomach. ‘Any movement yet?’
‘Not much.’ Pat shrugged. ‘Not like Doris. Hello, darling.’ She held out her hand to Lucky. ‘Come and give Auntie Pat a cuddle.’
When the children were sitting on the floor playing, Connie hung their coats and gas masks on the peg behind the door. She sat beside Pat. ‘Heard anything from Laurie?’
‘His battalion is in training up near Wanstead somewhere. He says he’s at last found out which end of a rifle shoots.’ She laughed sadly. ‘I just hope he points it in the right direction. You know Laurie, his face always in a book. He was never one for anything mechanical.’
‘He made a nice job of the cellar, though,’ Connie recalled. ‘At least you all had a place to go in the Blitz.’
Pat smiled thoughtfully. ‘Yes, bless his heart. We never had to endure the shelters like some.’
‘I don’t suppose he can say much about where he is,’ Connie said, wondering if it was the pregnancy or the miss of Laurie that was giving her shadows around the eyes.
‘Only that he’s training and assures me he’s not in the thick of anything more dangerous than the Three Nuns baccy I send him.’
‘At least you can write back and tell him all the news.’
‘Well, I’m not sure I can, really.’ Pat pushed back her dark hair and adjusted her maternity smock. ‘I had to give up work last week.’
‘Well, you are five and a half months, aren’t you?’
‘I’d hoped to go on longer. But the doctor said I should stop as I was spotting a bit of blood.’
Connie looked concerned. ‘Was it often?’
‘Once or twice it happened.’
‘Oh, Pat, you’ll have to take it easy. From now on me and Lucky will come over on Saturdays and do your shopping and whatever housework there is.’
Pat smiled faintly. ‘Thanks, Con.’
‘I’ll catch the bus like I did today and we’ll be over by two o’clock. I’ll call at Gran’s after.’
‘The thing is, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay at the flat.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Without my wage, I can’t really afford to keep such a large place on. We could’ve managed on Laurie’s wage, but it’s just army pay now.’
‘But where will you go?’
‘Gran’s offered to put us up.’
‘Oh, Pat, you’ll miss your lovely flat. You and Laurie worked so hard to make it nice.’
‘Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m lucky to have Gran.’
‘What will you do with your furniture?’
‘There’s only the dresser and table that are really worth anything.’
‘What about Laurie’s books and your embroideries?’
‘I’ll ask the coal man to take them on his cart. He’ll do it for a couple of bob.’
‘When are you thinking of leaving?’
‘Before Christmas. We could have stayed till after, but it will be better for Doris to be settled.’
Just then Gran brought in the tea. ‘Did Pat tell you her news?’
‘Yes, it’s a shame she has to leave the flat. But at least she’ll be with you, Gran.’
‘She can have her old room back and Vic’s is empty too. There’s plenty of space.’ Gran set the tea on the table and lowered a china cup to each saucer. She gave the two children a mug of orange juice each, then sat on the couch. ‘I’ll let you pour, Connie. Don’t use the strainer, because I’ll read our cups.’
With all that had gone wrong this week Connie wasn’t so sure she wanted to know the future. But Pat was eager to drink hers and, after twisting the cup three times in the saucer, she gave the dregs to Gran.
The old lady frowned as she examined the evidence. Then, looking up at Pat, she shrugged lightly. ‘There’s nothing there I can’t tell you that you don’t know. A move is forecast, but you don’t need the leaves to tell you that.’
Pat pouted. ‘Nothing else?’
‘Not today.’ Gran looked at Connie, her dark eyes piercing in her brown, wrinkled face. ‘Someone has come into your life and someone has gone out,’ she said as she stared at the contents of the saucer. ‘There’s two figures here, male and female, and upside down. In other words, passing.’
‘As usual, Gran, you aren’t far from the truth.’ Connie took a breath and began to tell them the story of Gilbert Tucker and how he had first appeared in her life, followed by Ada’s mysterious departure from Dalton’s.
‘One in and one out,’ Gran nodded. ‘The leaves never lie.’
Sometimes, Connie mused, she wished they did.