March 1941
‘She’s at it again.’ A middle-aged woman wearing a green headscarf tied tightly under her chin stood in front of the counter of Turners’ Grocery Store and nodded towards the boarded-up window, which had once provided a clear view on to Dover’s market square.
‘Who’s at what?’ Reenie Turner asked distractedly, blowing a lock of curly blonde hair out of her eyes as she reached up take down a couple of tins of meat.
‘Nellie Castle.’
Reenie put the tins down and peered through the strip of celluloid that allowed a modicum of light to shine into the shop. It was early morning on a cold, grey day and even though they’d only just opened, a queue of women already snaked up towards Cannon Street. And every one of them was looking across the square.
The view through the celluloid was blurry, but it wasn’t hard to see what they were looking at. Kneeling on the pavement beneath the window of Castle’s Café, Nellie Castle was scrubbing at the pavement, her bright red skirt stretched tight across her ample backside. Every so often she’d stop to dip her brush into a bucket of water beside her, then she’d start again.
The woman sniffed. ‘Word is she’s gone a bit doolally,’ she declared. ‘And it don’t matter how much she scrubs, it’s not gonna clean her conscience. Poor Gladys. That woman had a heart of gold, and look where it got her. Murdered right outside the café.’
Reenie’s heart sank. She hadn’t seen Nellie doing that for some weeks and she’d hoped the worst of her grief at the death of her friend had passed.
‘I hope you’re not trying to imply that Nellie had anything to do with Gladys’s death, Mrs Grantham,’ Reenie said.
The woman’s bushy eyebrows rose. ‘Course I’m not. But she’s clearly gone loopy. If we all spent our lives scrubbin’ at every bloodstain in Dover, we’d none of us get anything done. Anyway, Gladys died weeks ago, there’s no stain there. But I’ll tell you where there is one.’ She pointed at her head.
‘Mrs Castle’s taken Gladys’s death badly, that’s all. And if doing that makes her feel a bit better, then it’s not harming anyone, is it?’ Reenie said.
‘She’s making a bloody spectacle of herself,’ Mrs Grantham exclaimed. ‘An’ I’ll tell you somethin’ else: you won’t catch me in the café no more. An’ it’s not just cos of poor old Gladys. Nellie was harbourin’ a spy all them weeks, how could she not have known what that woman were up to? I used to see her, you know – Hester bloody Erskine – out and about at all hours, walkin’ around town with young Donny Castle and Freddie Perkins. What woman of a certain age seeks out the company of kids, eh? I said to my Bernard at the time, I said, “That woman’s up to something, you mark my words.”’ She folded her arms across her chest and nodded sagely. ‘Turns out I were right. And if you ask me, Nellie should be banged up right alongside Hester.’
Reenie opened her mouth to protest, but Mrs Grantham hadn’t finished. ‘And look at that big plastic winder over there. The rest of us has to put up with what the council’ll give us, but that’s not good enough for Nellie Castle. She has to go buy her own. Where’d she get the money from? That’s what I want to know.’
‘I don’t think that’s any of your business,’ Reenie said through gritted teeth.
‘I’m not surprised you’re defendin’ her. You don’t want to go offendin’ your future mother-in-law, do you?’
Reenie scowled. ‘Who says she’s my future mother-in-law?’
‘Oops, Jimmy Castle a bit slow off the mark, is he? Or maybe he’s just out for what he can get, like his no-good brother. If anyone’s to blame for Gladys’s death, it’s Bert Castle. Imagine messin’ a girl around so badly, she tries to shoot you! Poor Gladys never hurt a fly, but she’s the one what paid the price for Bert’s philanderin’. She saved his life that day, but is he grateful? Is he heck. Every time I see the lad, he’s got a different girl on his arm.’ She shook her head. ‘I told my Lizzy, I said, “You go anywhere near that man he’ll have your dad to deal with. And mark my words, your dad won’t miss.”’ She chortled.
Reenie gasped. ‘That’s not funny! Gladys died! And it wasn’t Bert’s fault. That was all down to Susan Blake. She was delusional.’
‘You’re not wrong there, love. Any girl what thinks Bert’ll make an honest woman of her needs their head examinin’. In fact, gettin’ mixed up with any of ’em is probably a bad idea, so maybe it’s just as well Jimmy ain’t proposed. The family’s a scandal! Look at Marianne – pregnant at seventeen and no sign of the dad. Then there’s Edie, sauntering around in slacks and working at the garage like a common grease monkey. Was up the garage the other day, an’ imagine my surprise when I noticed she were getting a bit round, if you know what I mean.’ She winked suggestively. ‘And her not married more than a couple of months!’
Reenie pursed her lips. Marianne had confided to her that Edie was pregnant and she couldn’t deny she’d been shocked. Especially as the baby wasn’t her new husband Bill’s. She presumed the flashy Canadian airman, who Edie had been seeing before Christmas, was responsible. The poor girl had had a run of bad luck with men, but in her new husband, it looked like she’d found someone who really cared for her.
‘Ten to one she’s foistin’ someone else’s kid on to poor Bill Penfold. And him a pilot! He could have had any woman he wanted. I’m surprised Clive Pearson’s not sent her packing from the garage, given she’s takin’ his nephew for a fool.’ She leant over the counter. ‘Speaking of other men’s kids, I saw Donny Castle up near the station the other day. Up to no good by the look of him. Marianne needs to get that boy under control before he gets into real mischief. But I don’t see that happenin’, what with her bein’ as big as a house. Still, at least she’s married fair and square this time. That Alfie’s a saint, takin’ on another man’s bastard like that. Seems to be a habit with the Castle girls, don’t it?’
Biting back a sharp retort, Reenie slammed down a tin of fish on top the packet of margarine at the bottom of the woman’s basket, feeling no remorse when the greaseproof paper split and the marge oozed out. And I hope it’s full of grit when you scrape it off, you nasty old witch, she thought, holding out her hand for the ration book.
Mrs Grantham handed it over. ‘You might not like it but you know I’m right. Them Castles are nothin’ but trouble. And then there’s the youngest, Lily. Lovely girl, but a little birdie told me she were born on the wrong side of the blanket.’ She winked. ‘So who’s her dad, eh? Well, you don’t have to look far to figure that one out. Which means Jasper Cane and Nellie were at it right under her husband’s nose – and him not in his right mind. Poor blighter. Take my advice and steer clear of them or you might end up like Gladys – dead on the pavement, a bullet through your heart.’
‘Or she might end up happily married to a lovely young man.’ Reenie’s Aunt Ethel had been stacking shelves, but now she came to stand beside her niece. ‘If I were you, Hilda, I’d take your shopping and get out before I throw you out. None of what happened was Nellie’s fault.’
‘You can stick up for her all you like, but it don’t change the fact she were harbouring a traitor in her house for weeks! We could all have been killed in our beds!’
‘Every night we could all be killed in our beds, and it ain’t got nothin’ to do with Nellie,’ Ethel responded.
‘Or so you believe. And I tell you another thing: I heard that Susan’s gonna be on trial for murder in a couple of months, and she’ll hang for sure. Poor Mary Guthrie, as if she don’t have enough to deal with, what with her Colin dead and now her niece facin’ the noose. Funny how just about every scandal that happens in this town has a Castle at the centre of it.’ She nodded towards the window again. ‘That lot have always thought they’re above the rest of us, but I’ve got my eye on them.’
‘Oh, is that why you were sheltering over in their café basement the other day, scoffing down Marianne’s biscuits?’ Ethel responded heatedly. ‘You’re a hypocrite, and if I had my way I’d ask you to shop elsewhere.’
‘And if I had a choice I’d do it.’ She picked up her basket and headed for the door.
‘By the way,’ Ethel said, ‘saw your Bernard with Terence Carter up Providence House the other day when I made a delivery.’
Mrs Grantham turned to face her. ‘So? He goes up regular to do odd jobs.’
‘Is that what it’s called now? Looked more like a smoky room full of men gambling to me, but what do I know?’
Colour rushed into Mrs Grantham’s face. ‘What are you suggestin’?’ she asked.
‘All I’m saying is people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. And if you want to keep your eye on anything, maybe you ought to start with your husband.’
With a scowl, Mrs Grantham hurried out of the door, ignoring the chortles from some of the women who were standing in line.
‘Nasty old cow,’ Reenie muttered to her aunt.
‘She is. But she’s had a hard life, married to that no-good Bernard, and the only pleasure she gets is bad-mouthing others.’
‘Lots of people have a hard life, it doesn’t mean they go around spreading gossip,’ one of the other women said. ‘And I wish you joy with Jimmy Castle, love. I always liked the lad. Nothing’s ever too much trouble for him.’
Reenie smiled. ‘Thank you, Mrs Abel. I think he’s charming too. Now, what can I get you?’
‘What time you off to the match, Reenie?’ Ethel asked as Reenie set about filling Mrs Abel’s basket.
‘Soon.’ She checked her watch. ‘The team’s stopping for breakfast at the café; Jim said he’d come fetch me. You sure you don’t mind me going to watch?’
Ethel smiled. ‘If your uncle weren’t out on delivery, I’d come meself. Reckon I could show them lads a thing or two. Star winger I was for Dover Ladies during the last war.’
‘Here we go,’ Reenie teased. ‘Please tell us all about how you were top scorer in 1916, cos I’m sure you’ve never mentioned it before.’
Ethel elbowed her in the ribs. ‘Cheeky mare,’ she grumbled. ‘Is Jimmy playing?’
‘No. Just a fun thing to do on his day off.’
‘Maybe today will be the day.’ Ethel winked at Reenie.
Reenie frowned, refusing to show that she hoped it would be too. After Gladys had died, she and Jimmy had grown closer than she’d thought possible. But as yet he’d not mentioned marriage.
‘Tell him to get his skates on before someone steals you away from him.’
Reenie snorted. ‘Don’t think there’s much chance of that, Aunt Ethel. I’m thirty years old, and no one’s tried to snap me up in all these years.’
Her aunt patted her cheek affectionately. ‘Then they’re fools,’ she said. ‘You’re a diamond, and the fact that Jimmy’s recognised it makes me love him that little bit more.’
‘If he don’t ask you soon, maybe I can reserve you for my Wallace,’ Mrs Abel said. ‘He could do with a lovely down-to-earth girl like you when he gets back from war.’
‘Over my dead body,’ Ethel whispered to Reenie, forcing her to stifle a giggle.
Reenie adored her aunt for being so supportive, but no one could ever call her a beauty. Her face was too freckly, her hair too curly, and despite rationing, she still felt she was too plump. But Jimmy didn’t care about any of that. He seemed to love her for who she was.
There had been moments when they’d first started walking out when she’d doubted his feelings; she’d even called things off with him a few weeks ago. At the time, she’d felt he was only with her because she was a comfort after the death of his best friend Colin at Dunkirk.
But then Gladys had died, and they’d found themselves together again. And this time it was different. He’d confided that losing Gladys had jolted him out of his self-pity. He’d always grieve for his best friend, but he had to move forward and find happiness where he could – if only for Colin’s sake.
Life was for living and loving, he’d said, kissing her soundly. And it was time he gave himself the permission to do both.
The memory of that kiss, and the many that had followed, sent a little fizz of excitement through her as she thought of what the day might have in store.