The shortage of oranges was the least of their problems as 1940 was ushered in with bitterly cold weather. In the countryside, snow blocked the roads and piled into drifts, rivers froze over and potatoes could not be dug out of the ground. The railways were almost at a standstill, which meant any produce that could be gathered could not be transported to the cities. In London the roads were cleared one day, only to be covered again the next; water pipes froze and milk went solid on doorsteps and even the Thames froze. The greengrocer’s shop in the Old Kent Road had very little on its shelves and the coalman ran out of coal. Julie was at her wits’ end, trying to keep the house warm and her little family fed.
She was in the queue at the greengrocer’s one day, gazing at the empty shelves, wondering how she was going to manage to cook a dinner without vegetables, when someone behind her said, ‘It’s awful, isn’t it?’
She turned to see who had spoken. She was a young woman, about the same age as Julie, warmly wrapped up in a tweed coat and a headscarf from which a few blond curls peeped. She had a pleasant smile. ‘Yes, it is,’ Julie agreed. ‘It’s bad enough with the war and all, but this weather is making it a hundred times worse.’
‘Did you hear the news this morning? Rationing is starting on Monday.’ She laughed. ‘I don’t know what good that will do, there’s nothing to buy.’
‘I heard the beginning of it but the baby woke up and started to cry, so I missed most of it.’
‘It’s butter, sugar, bacon and ham. Why those in particular, I don’t know. I’ve given my book to my landlady and she’s going to register me.’ She paused. ‘Fancy a cup of coffee or tea?’
‘Not coffee, that imitation stuff tastes awful, but a cup of tea will go down a treat.’
They went to a café just down the road. Julie picked George out of his pram and left it outside while they went in and settled themselves at a table near the window where they could see the pram.
‘He’s a darling,’ the woman said. ‘What’s his name?’
‘George.’
‘It suits him. I’m Rosemary Summers, by the way.’ She pulled off her glove and held out her right hand. ‘Rosie to my friends.’
Julie took the hand. ‘Julie Walker.’
‘Walker? My boss at Chalfont Engineering is Mr Walker. Any relation?’
‘He’s my father-in-law.’
‘Really? Then you must be Harry’s wife.’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘He’s a lovely man. You’re so lucky.’ She turned to the waitress who stood over them, pencil poised. ‘Two teas, please.’
‘Yes, I know it. How long have you been working at Chalfont’s?’
‘Only three weeks. I came down from Scotland. I was going to join up, but I failed the medical on account of childhood asthma. They said I’d do more good working in a factory on essential war work, and sent me to Chalfont’s.’
‘Do you like it?’
‘It gets a bit boring doing the same thing on the same machine day after day.’ She laughed again. ‘And night after night. I’m on nights this week which is why I was exploring. You can’t sleep all day.’
‘Exploring Bermondsey, that’s a laugh.’
‘Well, I thought I’d need to know my way about, where the shops and shelters are, things like that.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘I’ve rented a room on the Waterloo Road. It was the first place I came to when I got off the train. It’s handy for the factory. Where do you live?’
‘Just round the corner. We’ve got a nice little house with a garden.’ She laughed. ‘And an Anderson shelter. I hate it.’
‘Perhaps you’ll never have to use it.’
‘I hope not.’
They finished their tea and would have gone on talking all afternoon, if George had not reminded them of his presence and begun to grizzle. ‘I must take him home to give him his feed and put him down for his afternoon nap,’ Julie said, standing up.
They left the café and walked together along the busy road to Julie’s turn. ‘That’s our house,’ she said, pointing. ‘Come and see me, when you’ve got time off.’
‘I will, thank you. I haven’t made any friends here yet, and working such odd hours, it’s difficult to get to know people.’
‘Well, you know me now. Any time you’re passing.’
Rosie took her at her word and arrived two afternoons later bearing gifts: a tin of golden syrup, a bag of potatoes and two onions. ‘I thought these might help,’ she said.
‘Goodness, yes. Wherever did you find them?’ She busied herself putting a kettle on the gas stove.
‘There’s a chap I’ve met at work who seems to be able to get almost anything for a price …’
‘How much?’
‘Oh, it’s a gift from me to you, for taking pity on me.’
‘Taking pity. I don’t pity you, why should I?’
‘I meant being friendly when I was feeling lonely. I’d never been out of Scotland before, except for childhood holidays with my parents, and it was all rather nerve-racking.’
‘Yes, I felt like that when I left the Coram and went to work. It was such an enormous change.’
‘The Coram?’
‘An orphanage. I was left on the doorstep when I was a tiny baby.’
‘Poor you! Don’t you know who your parents were?’
‘Not a clue. The authorities were my parents. When I was old enough I went to work for Sir Bertram Chalfont as a domestic.’
‘Sir Bertram who owns the factory?’
‘Yes.’ The kettle boiled and she made tea and they settled down at the kitchen table to drink tea and talk while George slept in his pram.
‘Is that how you met your husband?’
‘No, I met him before that.’ Julie went on to recount how she had first met Harry and how she had met him again later. ‘We’ve been married two years in March.’
‘How romantic!’ Rosie said. ‘And now you have a home of your own and a darling baby.’
‘What about you? Have you left a boyfriend back in Scotland?’
‘No. Perhaps I’ll meet someone like your Harry down here.’
By the time Rosie left they were firm friends and promised to meet as often as they could. Julie never knew quite when she would turn up because of the shift system at the factory and she almost always brought supplies with her: a tin of condensed milk, a bag of sugar, a bar of chocolate. Sweets weren’t rationed, but the shortage of ingredients meant many of the factories had been turned over to producing more important things. At first she refused to take money for them but on Julie’s insistence she allowed her to pay for the items. They were more expensive than anything bought through normal channels, but if it meant she could feed Harry and George better than by sticking to the letter of the law, she was prepared to pay. She did not tell Harry about this because she had a feeling he would disapprove. It was the first time she had ever kept anything from him, and she salved her conscience by telling herself it was in a good cause.
Harry was battling with his own conscience, as more and more men left the factory bench to join up and their places were taken by women. How could he sit at home when others, including his brother and brother-in-law, were in uniform? His only uniform was an armband and a tin hat with ARP painted on it in white, which he put on to report to the warden’s post every evening when he was not at the factory, and to patrol the streets around his home, looking out for telltale chinks of light from ill-fitting blackout curtains and shouting at anyone having the temerity to light a cigarette in the street after dark. He had to know the names of everyone on his patch and where they lived so that the dead and injured could be identified in bombed buildings. The siren had wailed several times making everyone rush to the shelters, but nothing much had happened, except road traffic accidents and people walking into lamp posts in the dark.
When he was at the factory he had to take his turn on the fire-watching on the roof. They were supposed to report if a raid was getting close and give warning, so that the workers could stay at their posts until the enemy aeroplanes were overhead, then they would troop to the shelters in orderly fashion. The fire-watcher’s other task was to put out incendiaries with stirrup pumps. So far neither had occurred.
He decided to defer a decision until after their wedding anniversary, which they celebrated quietly at home. Julie managed to put on a celebration dinner, even though meat had been put on the ration that same week; he did not ask her how she did it. The dreadful winter had gone and daffodils were blooming in the garden beside the happy gnome. Looking at it through the kitchen window, he smiled, remembering their honeymoon and how perfect it had been. And now everything was being spoilt by the war and an uncertain future. He turned and sat down, taking her hand and pulling her onto his knee as she walked past him to the sink. They had just finished their evening meal and there was a pile of washing-up on the draining board.
‘Julie, my love, I have something to tell you,’ he began. ‘And I want you to listen.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘I went to the recruiting office this afternoon.’
‘You’ve been called up! Oh, no, Harry. Didn’t you tell them you were in a reserved occupation?’
‘I haven’t been called up and my being at the factory is not making a jot of difference to the war. There are plenty of women who can make radios, your friend Rosie will tell you that. I enlisted.’
She jumped up from his knee and faced him. ‘I don’t believe you. You are making a joke to frighten me.’
‘It’s not a joke, sweetheart. I couldn’t stand by and let others do the fighting for me, could I?’
‘Didn’t you think about me at all? And Georgie? It’s not fair of you, Harry.’
‘Nothing’s fair in war, my love.’ He tugged at her hand and brought her down onto his knee again and pulled her head against his chest. ‘And I was thinking about you and George. My whole life is devoted to looking after you, and if I can best do that by getting into uniform and helping to win this war, then I must do it.’
‘I don’t want you to go. Can’t you change your mind?’
‘No, I can’t. It’s done now. I’m going into the RAF like Roly. It has one advantage over the army and the navy: you get to come back to base every night. I’ll be able to come home on leave quite often. Please, Julie, don’t cry.’ He mopped her tears with his handkerchief. ‘It’s not the end of the world.’
‘It feels like it. What happens if we get invaded? You won’t be here.’
‘Hitler will never invade England,’ he said, far more confidently than he felt. ‘He’s got to cross the Channel and do you think we’ll let him do that? He’ll be bombed to smithereens before he gets halfway across. And I’ll be one of those doing it. Now cheer up and let’s get the washing-up done.’
‘When do you go?’ Her voice was still watery, as she stood up to put the kettle on for hot water to wash the dishes.
‘When they send for me. In a week or two. I’ll be sent somewhere for training, probably up north somewhere. After that I’ll be posted somewhere south, closer to home.’ He picked up the tea cloth to do the drying. ‘We’ve all got to make sacrifices in this war, Julie. You heard Churchill’s speech on the wireless about having nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat. The sooner we get stuck into it, the sooner it will be over and we can go back to normal.’ Churchill had become prime minister after the resignation of Chamberlain. Those who had branded him a loose cannon were now wholeheartedly for him.
‘I suppose so.’
He was relieved the confession was over and she appeared to have accepted it, but it had left him drained. And tomorrow he would have the arguments all over again when he told his mother of his decision. But on the other hand, he felt suddenly uplifted. Whether he could make a difference to the eventual outcome he had no idea, but if everyone pulled together they must surely win.
They made the most of the time left together and two weeks later he was summoned for a medical examination; the following week his papers arrived requiring him to report to the Recruiting Centre from where he was sent to Harrogate.
* * *
Left alone, Julie survived on Harry’s letters and Rosie’s friendship. Although they were of an age and of similar build and colouring, the girls could not have been more different in their backgrounds; Julie’s family had been the other inmates at the orphanage and the adults who ran it, all very impersonal and regimented. Only Grace Paterson had shown any affection for her and that had only really been evident after she was sacked by Lady Chalfont.
Rosie, on the other hand, had been loved and cosseted by her parents and had everything a child might need: a good education, clothes, toys, books, music and tennis lessons. Coming to London had been a nerve-racking experience in one way, but a huge adventure in another. ‘I’m glad I met you,’ she told Julie, one day when they were walking in the park with George in his pushchair. The area in which he could play was sadly depleted because of a huge ack-ack gun, pointing skywards. They had heard it firing on one or two occasions when the siren went and it made them feel safer to know it was there. ‘I might have been very lonely otherwise.’
‘Haven’t you made friends with anyone at the factory?’
‘One or two, but it’s difficult when you’re on shift work.’
‘I understand. Harry was always coming home at all sorts of strange times. I never knew quite when to expect him for his dinner.’
‘Have you heard from him?’
‘Yes, almost every day. He’s somewhere up in the north of Scotland now but he can’t tell me exactly where. When his training is done he’ll get some leave, then I’ll hear all about it and where he’s going to be stationed.’
He had been gone six weeks and in that time Hitler had overrun the whole of Europe and thrown the British Expeditionary Force out of France. The evacuation of three hundred thousand troops from the beaches of Dunkirk had been a truly heroic episode, but it could not disguise the fact that German troops were poised on the other side of the Channel, ready to strike. Julie couldn’t believe she was the only one terrified of the prospect, yet everyone else seemed to be going about their business, pretending everything was normal. She felt she had to do the same and hide her fear.
‘Do you think Hitler will invade?’ Rosie asked. ‘Everyone at the factory is talking about it and a lot of the men have joined the Local Defence Volunteers. I don’t know which is more frightening, the prospect of air raids or of being overrun by German troops.’
‘Harry is convinced they won’t come, the air force will stop them.’
Rosie laughed. ‘And as far as you are concerned Harry is always right.’
‘He has been up to now.’ They turned round and started back. ‘What time do you have to be back at work?’
‘Eight o’clock. I’m on nights.’
‘Then you have time for a bite of supper with me before you go.’
‘I don’t want to take your rations.’
‘Don’t be silly, you provide me with a lot of it. I don’t know how I’d manage without your contribution. I owe you for the last lot anyway. I’ll pay you when we get home.’
Paying Rosie was becoming a bit of a problem because the cost had gone up so much, but she didn’t know how she could manage on her rations and non-rationed goods were so hard to come by she had come to rely on what Rosie brought. Even the price of rationed goods had rocketed. Milk had doubled to fourpence a pint, though George’s was half price; butter and sugar and syrup were half as much again as they had been when war started. As for bacon, that had shot up to two shillings a pound and many poor families could not afford to buy their rations.
Her worry about this was temporarily set aside when they approached the house. There was a police van outside the Goldings’ gate and both husband and wife were being escorted none too gently towards it. Each was carrying a small suitcase. She left Rosie with the pushchair and ran to them. ‘What’s happened? What have you done?’
‘We are Austrian and we’re Jews,’ Mrs Golding said. ‘That’s enough.’
Julie turned to the policeman who had hold of the woman’s arm, as if he feared she would try and escape. ‘There must be some mistake. These people are doing no harm. They’ve lived in England for years.’
‘So they say,’ he said. ‘But we have orders to round up all enemy aliens.’
‘What will happen to them?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s up to the tribunal.’
She watched the van drive away. ‘I can’t believe that,’ she told Rosie as they went indoors. ‘She’s a harmless old woman.’
‘Maybe, but you can never tell, can you? There’s been a lot of talk about fifth columnists and reds, lately. People saying they should all be interned. If they were left free and we were invaded, they might find it safer to be on the side of the invaders and help them all they could.’ She paused, dismissing the subject. ‘Shall I peel these potatoes for you?’
‘Yes, please. I’ll cook those sausages you brought me. And there’s a cabbage in the larder. And we can have a tin of peaches.’ The peaches were also provided by Rosie. ‘This supplier of yours seems to be able to get almost anything. Do you know how he does it?’
‘No, and I don’t ask.’
‘What’s his name?’ She shredded the cabbage and put it in another saucepan.
‘I don’t think I should tell you that. He might not like it.’
‘OK. I was curious, that’s all.’ Julie laughed. ‘You haven’t got a thing about him, have you?’
‘No, course not.’
‘You’re blushing.’
‘No, I’m not. It’s the heat from the stove.’
‘If you say so.’ The frying pan went on and a tiny knob of lard was put in it to cook the sausages. ‘But you can thank him from me.’
‘What are you doing with all that stuff I’m giving you, Rosie, my love?’ Ted asked. ‘I can’t believe you’re using it all yourself.’
‘I pass some of it on.’
They were talking in undertones in the Chalfont factory canteen in their lunch hour. The canteen was not geared up for the influx of all the extra workers and they had had to queue for half an hour for their meal, leaving barely half an hour to eat it.
‘And make a tidy profit, I’ve no doubt,’ he said. He had once been Sir Bertram Chalfont’s chauffeur, he had told her, but now there was so little petrol Sir Bertram was coming to work on the Underground and he had been given a job in the factory. He hated it, telling her it was a great comedown from what he was used to, and if it hadn’t been for his little sideline, he’d have been bored to tears.
‘Only a little. A girl has to live.’
‘And do these customers of yours know where you get it from?’
‘No. I thought it best not to say.’
‘Very wise of you. How many customers have you got?’
‘Only two. My landlady and my friend, Julie Walker.’
He laughed. ‘Julie Walker, eh?’
‘Yes, do you know her?’
‘If it’s the one-time nursery maid at the Chalfont residence who married Harry Walker, yes, I do.’ Since working at the factory he had come to realise who his assailant had been and he still bore a grudge. If it were not for the fact that Donald Walker was the production manager and his immediate boss, he would have taken his revenge long before. When Harry had joined up he thought he’d lost his chance. Now he’d been handed new opportunities on a plate.
‘Yes, I’d forgotten she said she used to work for Lady Chalfont.’
‘She likes what you take her, does she?’
‘Yes, wouldn’t you?’
‘We could make it more, you know. Can’t let the little thing go short of anything, can we?’
‘No, but I’m not so sure she can pay for more, she never seems to have much money in her purse. It’d be a bit risky, don’t you think?’
‘Everything is a risk these days.’
‘Where do you get the stuff from anyway?’
He laughed. ‘Do you think I’d tell you that? I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.’
‘No, and I suppose it’s best not to know.’
‘Attagirl! Fancy the flicks tonight?’
‘Yes, if you like.’
* * *
Julie had put George to bed one warm evening in late June and was sitting in the kitchen over a cup of cocoa when the back door opened and a figure in an RAF uniform stood in its frame. ‘Harry!’ she squealed, jumping up and throwing herself into his arms. ‘You’re back.’
He hugged her and kissed her over and over again. ‘God, I’ve missed you.’
‘And I you. Sit down. I’ll make you a cup of cocoa. Are you hungry?’
‘What have you got?’
‘Bacon and an egg do you?’
‘Fine. And a slice of fried bread, if you’ve got it.’
She busied herself about the stove, glancing every now and again towards him, as if to make sure he was really there.
‘How’s George?’
‘He’s getting on a treat. Walking now, a bit wobbly and he sits down on his bottom every now and again, but if you hold your arms out he crosses the room to you. Go up and see him while I do this, but don’t wake him. It might upset him to see a man bending over his cot.’
‘I’m his dad.’
‘All the same …’
He left the room and she heard him dash up the stairs two at a time and cross the floor in the bedroom above her. She finished the cooking and went to the foot of the stairs to call him down. ‘It’s on the table.’
He ate hungrily and helped her wash up and then she sat on his knee on the sofa in the front room to tell him all that had been happening to her, about Mr and Mrs Golding being taken away, the funny little things George did and his attempts to talk, and about Rosie’s continuing friendship. But she said nothing of the black market supplies Rosie brought her. She knew it was wrong but she stifled her conscience by telling herself it was for George’s sake and telling Harry would only worry him. ‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘How long are you home for?’
‘Forty-eight hours.’
‘Forty-eight hours! Is that all?’
‘Yes, then I have to report to Manchester. We’re off to Canada.’
She sat up and stared at him. ‘Did you say Canada?’
‘Yes, as in North America.’
‘But Harry, why? Why so far?’
‘It’s all to do with the Empire Air Training Scheme. We go over there for training and when we come back we’re fully operational.’
‘How long will you be gone?’
‘Not sure. Three or four months.’
‘Oh, Harry, and I thought I’d got you back.’
‘You never lost me.’ Absent-mindedly he wound one of her blond curls round his finger. She had had it cut short to make it easier to look after. ‘You’ve managed so far, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, but it’s awful without you. I miss you so. Until now I’ve never had to be on my own and I’m not much good at it.’
‘I miss you too, but you can go and see Mum and Dad, can’t you?’
‘I do sometimes, but I always feel awkward with them when you’re not there.’
‘Why?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. They think you married beneath you.’
‘That’s nonsense. You are not beneath me. You may not have known your parents but they bequeathed you some very good traits that you could not have learnt at the Coram.’ He smiled and lifted her chin with his finger to look into her eyes. ‘You are beautiful, bright and intelligent. You care about people and you are a wonderful wife and mother. What more could I ask?’
‘Oh, Harry, you make me so happy.’
‘I’m glad, because if you were not happy, I should be miserable too, so shall we cheer up and make the most of the time I’ve got?’
She stood up and pulled on his hand. ‘Shall we go to bed?’
‘What a good idea!’
Forty-eight hours went by in a flash. They visited his parents and Millie, whose husband had a desk job at the War Office, took George to Southwark Park and watched him toddling about and trying unsuccessfully to catch the sparrows that came for the crumbs they took them. And they made love. He had vouchers for his own rations while he was on leave and Julie took them to her grocer and came away with enough to make sure he had a good breakfast, some mince for dinner and an egg for supper. He was not au fait with exactly what the rations were, nor how to make them stretch, and he did not question the fact that his bacon ration was supplemented by sausages and the mince was cooked with an onion, which were almost unobtainable and changed hands, one at a time, for an exorbitant amount.
The morning he left to catch his train, her stoicism was called on as never before. She made sure his shirt and underclothes were clean and neatly ironed, packed his bag and made him some sandwiches to eat on the train, all the time chattering brightly about nothing in particular and gulping back tears. When the moment came for him to leave, she picked George up and took him to the door to say goodbye to his father.
Harry hugged them both. ‘Be good. The time will fly by, you’ll see, and we’ll be together again.’
‘Oh, Harry.’ The tears spilt; she just could not hold them back.
He put his kitbag down to mop her eyes with his handkerchief. ‘Don’t cry, sweetheart. Let me have a smile to go away with.’
She sniffed and managed a watery smile.
‘That’s better. Now I must go. There’ll be hell to pay if I’m not back on time.’ Gently he put her from him, gave her one more searching look as if to imprint her features on his memory, then picked up his bag and strode away.
She watched until he stopped at the corner to turn and wave, then went back indoors and collapsed in a chair in a flood of tears, gripping George so tightly on her lap he wailed to be put down. She let him go and watched in a blur as he toddled over to pick up his woollen ball and throw it to her. George needed her to be strong. She mopped her eyes, played with him for a few minutes, then got on with the day’s chores, and in the afternoon she took him to see Miss Paterson.
Grace was too old for war work, but she had joined the Women’s Voluntary Service and put on the bottle-green uniform and the rather unbecoming hat in order to be useful. One of her first tasks had been to help organise the evacuation of the children in 1939 and to help provide the poorer children with clothes to take with them. The WVS were also to help the ARP when people were made homeless by air raids in her area, finding them food, clothing and shelter, though this had not yet become necessary. She did not doubt it would happen.
‘I’ve got myself in a bit of a mess,’ Julie told her as they sat over a cup of tea.
Grace looked at her over the rim of her cup with an eyebrow raised. ‘What sort of mess?’
‘I’ve been buying under-the-counter stuff and it’s costing rather a lot of money.’
‘Oh, Julie, Julie, don’t you know better than that?’
‘Yes, but I needed it for George. I can’t let him be hungry, can I? And he loves syrup on his porridge.’
‘Other people manage, my dear.’
‘I don’t think they do. Everyone buys black market stuff if they can get it.’
‘Not everyone, Julie. It’s unpatriotic.’
‘I never thought of that. But it’s only for George. It isn’t as if I buy things for myself. I wouldn’t.’
‘And now you are in debt.’
‘A bit.’
‘It’s a great pity they did not teach you how to manage your money in the Coram, but that wasn’t considered necessary for girls.’ She smiled. ‘They were expected to go into service until they married and you do not need a degree in mathematics to manage a servant’s wages, and if you married, your husband would deal with money matters. Times are changing and women must learn these things nowadays.’
‘I don’t see what I can do differently. We were comfortable and I coped all right until Harry joined up. I wish he hadn’t done that. Now all I’ve got is my married and child allowance.’
‘He did what he thought was right, Julie.’
‘He’s gone off to Canada now and I hate being alone.’
‘You have friends.’
‘Yes, there’s Millie, though it’s a bit of a trek across London to see her, and there’s Rosie, she comes now and again, and the people across the road, but I don’t have a lot to do with them. Their two children were evacuated but they came back and now they’re getting into mischief because there’s no school for them to go to. I was friendly with the Goldings, but they have been deported and their house is boarded up. It’s creepy at night, knowing it’s empty.’
‘I doubt the landlord will let it stand empty for long. Count your blessings. Now, about these debts of yours.’
‘It’s mostly the rent and what I owe Rosie. I’ve been out the last two weeks when the rent man’s called but I can’t keep doing that.’
‘No, you certainly cannot. I can let you have a little money, but that’s not really the answer, is it?’
‘No, and I can’t take money from you.’
‘It would be a loan.’
Julie listened to Grace’s advice, which mirrored the advice Harry had given her before he left, promised to put it into practice and came away with five pounds, which would pay Rosie and the rent and then she must try and manage on her allowance and what she could buy legally. At the same time she must save up to repay Miss Paterson. She did not expect Rosie to have other ideas.
‘Why don’t you want any more?’ she demanded when Julie handed over the money she owed. ‘It’s not doing anyone any harm and you really need things. Look at Georgie, how plump and happy he is. It’s more than can be said for the other children round here. That lot across the road are in rags and skinny as skeletons. Do you want your son to look like that?’
‘No, of course not. But they were skinny and in rags before the war started. It’s nothing new for them. In fact, I gave Mrs Jenkins a tin of syrup the other day. She was ever so grateful.’
‘Did she pay you?’
‘She offered but I couldn’t take it.’
Rosie laughed. ‘You’re a fool, Julie – a generous fool, but a fool all the same. I’ll get you more to make up for it. And I can get you some silk stockings.’
‘Silk stockings!’ Julie echoed. ‘Oh, Rosie, can you? I’m so fed up with ankle socks.’
‘Next time I see you, you shall have them.’
But when Rosie brought the stockings she told her to take them away again. She could not afford the enormous amount being asked for them. ‘Five shillings!’ she exclaimed. ‘I can’t afford that or anything like it.’
‘You can owe me. I don’t mind.’
‘No.’ She was adamant. ‘I’ll take things for George, but not for my own vanity.’
‘OK.’ The stockings went back into Rosie’s bag. ‘Do you need anything else?’
Julie was beginning to realise that her friend was running a nice little business and wondered again where everything was coming from. ‘No.’
‘You’re being silly, Julie. Everyone’s out for what they can get. We’d all starve otherwise. If the shops didn’t put everything under the counter for their favourites, it wouldn’t be necessary. Here.’ She delved into her bag and brought out two tomatoes, an onion and two small tins of condensed milk. ‘Have these for your dinner.’
‘All right, but it’s the last.’ She dug into her purse and handed over some coins, knowing she was being weak. The trouble was she was afraid Rosie would take umbrage if she refused and wouldn’t come again. Then she really would be lonely.
‘Don’t you want me to come again?’ Rosie asked.
‘Of course I do. I value your friendship, you know I do. And George is very fond of you. His little face always lights up when he sees you.’
Rosie laughed. ‘That’s because he knows I’m the one who brings chocolate.’
‘All the same, we both love you. Please don’t stop coming.’
‘Good. I start day shift again next week, so I’ve got the weekend off. I’ll come over on Saturday if you like, air raids permitting, of course.’
If there was one good thing about Harry’s absence, apart from the fact that he did not know the muddle she had got herself into, it was that he was a long way away when the Luftwaffe began bombing airfields all over the south and east. It reminded Julie of his assertion that the air force would prevent an invasion. Hitler obviously thought the same thing and was determined to destroy it first. The air-raid siren was going off at more and more frequent intervals, with bombs falling on airfields and ports, though only a few had so far dropped on London.
Julie delayed going to the Anderson shelter until she could hear the planes going over and left it the minute the all-clear sounded. If it hadn’t been for keeping George safe she would not have gone anywhere near it. With the door shut it was more like the prison cupboard of her childhood than a place of refuge. But the raids were getting nearer. Croydon, Dulwich, Richmond and Kensington had been hit. She had heard the drone of aeroplanes, the distant crump of explosions and the boom of the ack-ack guns as she crouched in the bottom of the shelter, holding George close to her chest and uttering soothing noises so that he wouldn’t be frightened and also to help herself overcome her claustrophobia. Coming out after the all-clear, she was relieved to find her house still standing. There were fires in the distance but most of them seemed to be north of the river, and during the day she heard tales of how people had been killed or had lucky escapes, or had been bombed out and were camping out in reception centres waiting to be found somewhere to live. She knew it could not be long before Southwark and Bermondsey had a visit from the Luftwaffe.
As soon as Rosie had gone, Julie tipped all her money out on the table and counted it carefully. Where had it all gone? There was not enough there to pay the rent and nothing at all in the jar reserved for repaying Miss Paterson’s loan. She could not go back to her for more. She sat looking at the little pile for a long time, but nothing could make it bigger. Putting it all back in the rent jar, she fetched George from his cot where he had been having his afternoon nap, put him in his pushchair and set off to visit her parents-in-law.
As usual, Hilda made a great fuss of George and found a custard cream for him. ‘How is it over your way?’ she asked Julie, referring to the bombing.
‘Nothing too near, so far.’
‘It won’t last.’ She filled a kettle and put it on the stove, lit the gas under it and set out a teapot, cups and saucers and milk in a jug.
‘Chalfont’s is moving the factory.’
‘Moving it? How can you move a factory?’
Hilda laughed. ‘The same way you move a house. They’re taking over a pram factory in Hertfordshire. Production must be kept up and it won’t be if the place is bombed. We’re going to rent a house nearby.’
‘You mean you’re leaving London?’ In spite of her wariness of her mother-in-law, this piece of news dismayed Julie.
‘Yes, lock, stock, and barrel. I suggest you and George come too. You can live with us.’
Julie’s dismay deepened. ‘But I can’t leave my home.’
‘Don’t be so stubborn, Julie. It’s better to lose your home than your life and it’s not fair on George to put him through it. I’m sure that’s what Harry would want you to do.’
‘Has he asked you to persuade me?’ Harry had been urging her in almost every letter to go to the country.
Hilda hesitated. ‘Well, he did mention it. I’m sure he’s said the same thing to you, hasn’t he?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘But I want to have his home there when he comes back.’
‘That’s all very well, but suppose there’s no home. And no wife and son either.’
‘Don’t say things like that, please.’
‘Then come to Letchworth with us. Millie and Dorothy are coming.’
‘What about Ian?’
‘He has to stay in London, naturally, but he’ll come down to see them whenever he can.’ She paused, as Julie hesitated. ‘Think about it, Julie, and let us know. We’ll help you with the move.’
‘All right, I’ll think about it.’
All the way back from Islington to Bermondsey she turned over in her mind the pros and cons of a move. It would mean she would not have to go into the dreaded Anderson shelter, a great plus as far as she was concerned. Could she and Hilda get on in the same house and would Hilda take over her life and dictate how George was looked after? When Harry came home, they would have no privacy. And she would miss Rosie, but on the other hand, if the factory was moving, Rosie would go too. It began to look very much as if she were going to say yes.
One thing she could not do was ask her in-laws for money, and Miss Paterson would have to be paid. She had to pass a pawnbroker’s shop on the way home and decided to turn in there. She had nothing to pawn but her wedding ring, but as soon as her next allowance was due she could get it back. No one need ever know what she had done. She came out of the shop feeling naked without the ring, though it had not been on her finger long enough to make a lasting impression. She felt dreadful about it and almost went back into the shop to redeem it straight away but the five pounds she had in her purse was needed urgently. ‘Forgive me, Harry,’ she murmured. ‘It doesn’t mean I don’t love you and don’t want to be married to you anymore. I’ll get it back, I promise.’