12

15 February 1952

Ruby surveyed the friends and family sitting in George’s living room. ‘I don’t know if it is right to be eating while the King’s funeral is in progress,’ she said as she bit into a ham sandwich. ‘You’ve put on a lovely spread, Maureen. I don’t know how you found the time, what with having Georgie and Buster all day yesterday. I’d have helped more if I’d known you were doing all this.’

Maureen looked slightly harassed. ‘The problem was not knowing how many people would turn up to watch the service and procession on our television. I asked George to stop handing out invitations willy-nilly, but you know what he’s like.’

‘Generous to a fault,’ Ruby beamed proudly. ‘That’s my son all over.’

Maureen grimaced. ‘But when he offered to help me, and then disappeared because Alan needed his assistance delivering televisions to their new customers, I didn’t see him until midnight. Then he wanted to tell me all about the customers, and how he helped people unpack the televisions and stand them in the optimum viewing place, when all I wanted to do was go to bed, I was that exhausted.’

‘He’s a good lad,’ Ruby said, ‘but you should have picked up your telephone and called me. Bob and I would have been round like a shot. Bob’s a fair hand at buttering bread.’

‘You’ve already done enough to help. How you managed to make so many sausage rolls, I don’t know.’

Ruby gave her a wink. ‘It was a lesson I learnt during the war. I padded out the sausage meat with breadcrumbs and added a pinch of mustard for flavour.’

‘No one seems to have noticed, as the plate is almost empty. I thought I would hold back on the fairy cakes, and people can have them with a cup of tea once the proceedings are over.’

Both women fell silent as the funeral cortège appeared on the small screen. George had managed to fit almost every seat they owned into the large front room, while Maureen had scattered cushions on the floor for the youngsters to sit on. Already Buster had been packed off into the garden because he wouldn’t stop fighting with his sister, who was now fidgeting and looking bored.

‘Why don’t you put your coat on and join Buster in the garden?’ Maureen suggested. ‘Don’t forget to wipe your feet, so you don’t tread in mud on my carpets.’

‘I won’t,’ Georgie said glumly, before joining her brother in the back garden.

Maureen settled next to Ruby on the settee in front of the television. ‘Have I missed anything?’

‘They’ve just been showing the coffin being pulled by the sailors; the lads look so young and so solemn.’

‘It’s something that will stay with them forever,’ Maureen said, pulling her handkerchief from the sleeve of her cardigan and sniffing into it. ‘Somehow it doesn’t seem quite respectable to be watching a funeral on a television set. Do you agree, David?’

David Carlisle moved closer to where Maureen was sitting, leaning on the arm of the settee. ‘Speaking as someone in the funeral industry, I don’t feel the likes of us will ever see our final journey and interment filmed and kept for posterity. However, I do envisage state occasions becoming popular. Think how the generations to come will be able to watch historical events. Why, it could be quite educational for our children.’

‘If anyone should consider broadcasting my funeral, I’m telling you now, David, I’ll have something to say about it,’ Ruby huffed.

Bob, who was sitting close to the table where Maureen had laid out the food, stopped loading his plate and turned to grin at the people in the room. ‘I don’t think you’d have much say in it, my love.’ To which the room erupted with laughter, before quickly falling into silence as Ruby scolded them.

‘For all intents and purposes, we are attending this funeral. Show some respect, all of you.’

They all kept quiet, although Maisie, who was sitting with Freda and Sarah, nudged her friends, who then had to fight hard not to giggle at Ruby’s comment. ‘Blimey, it’s like being back at school,’ she whispered as Ruby looked over at them and shook her head in warning.

‘You look all in,’ Bob said to Alan, who seemed to be dropping off to sleep while trying to prop his head up, with one elbow on the edge of the dining table. ‘I take it the shop has done well out of this?’

Alan blinked and ran a hand through his fair hair. ‘Sorry, I was about to drop off. Yes, you are right. I don’t know the final figures yet, as George is still working on them, but we’ve done well, although I hate to think we’ve had to lose our monarch for the shop to turn a profit.’

‘It’s a rum world,’ Bob said, ‘but I’m pleased your business is doing well. Don’t feel bad about profiting because somebody died, as it’s no different from all the businesses that not only survived but expanded, due to supplying essential equipment for the war effort.’

‘I suppose you’re right, but all the same it does make me feel uncomfortable.’

‘Don’t feel like that,’ George echoed, as he joined the two men. ‘If you didn’t sell somebody a television or wireless set, someone else would jump in. At least you are providing for your family and, with all the plans we have, I can see that in a year or two you will be competing with David and Douglas, with business premises in most of our local high streets.’

‘Now that would be something to be proud of,’ Bob said, patting his son-in-law on the back, ‘and at least you wouldn’t be treading on each other’s toes, as both businesses couldn’t be more different from each other.’

‘Not unless Alan started filming funerals,’ George said in a hushed voice, in case his mother overheard.

Bob stifled a laugh. George could be a bit of a wag and had a way to him that was rather like his mum; in fact he had Ruby’s facial features, although his nose was larger and his jaw squarer.

‘God forbid!’ Alan chuckled. ‘That’s something we don’t plan to do. However, George has a good idea.’

Bob was agog as the men explained how they were planning to hire out television sets, as well as washing machines, to people who couldn’t afford to purchase an item outright. ‘That does sound like a good idea, although I can see you having a few problems. What would happen if, say, a television set broke down? From what I’ve heard down the Prince of Wales, sometimes they can be temperamental.’

‘That thought had crossed my mind too,’ David Carlisle joined in. ‘I’m already wondering if the television set at home will still be working when we get back. I’ve told the girls not to twiddle the knobs, but I’m not sure they were listening. We should have stayed at home with them, but Maisie was adamant she wanted to spend the day with you lot, so when Bessie and Clemmie offered to babysit, we jumped at the chance.’

‘They are good girls; you won’t have any problems there,’ Bob said. ‘However, you’ve not answered my question about what will happen if a television set you’ve rented out goes wrong. I’ve been told there are all kinds of things inside these sets that can break down. Does it mean you’ll have to stock spare parts, and will you be able to fit them?’

Alan chuckled quietly. ‘You aren’t saying anything that we’ve not discussed. Although I’ve been on several training courses with manufacturers, I’m not qualified or confident enough to repair the television sets. We’ve already set up a small workshop at the back of the premises, where we can fix things.’

Bob thought for a moment. ‘From what I remember, that room isn’t very large; you’ll be falling over those television sets, if many turn up for repair,’ he said, nudging the others as Ruby gave him a glare for talking.

Alan lowered his voice. And kept an eye on Ruby. ‘I’ve also rented an outbuilding of the shop next door that we can use as storage. It may mean hiring an engineer specifically to deal with televisions and wirelesses, if I don’t learn enough.’

‘It is certainly a growing industry,’ David said thoughtfully. ‘Do you envisage creating apprenticeships for your engineers?’

‘Now that is a thought,’ Alan said, as George agreed.

George was thoughtful. ‘It’s certainly worth thinking about. I’ll start making enquiries.’

‘Don’t go making any plans for tomorrow, George, or you, Bob, as I want you to go up the bowls club for me, on that little matter we chatted about,’ Ruby butted in.

‘That woman has eyes and ears in the back of her head,’ Bob muttered quietly. ‘I reckon she heard every word we’ve said. Yes, dear,’ he called over to where Ruby was still watching the television, while the other men grinned good-naturedly. ‘The bowls season doesn’t start until April, so I’m not sure how Ruby expects us to find this chap, simply because someone said he has played there.’

George rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘I know a few of the members drink at the Wheatley Hotel. I reckon we could walk up to the bowls club and enquire, in case someone is there, and then move on to the Wheatley. What do you say?’

‘That’s sounds like a plan, but let’s keep it to ourselves for now, shall we?’

Freda wriggled uncomfortably on the sofa. ‘I’m glad we decided not to go up to London to watch the funeral procession. My legs still ache from standing so long, waiting to pay our respects the other day. If only we’d taken William, I could have leant on his pram.’

‘I told you we should have asked somebody for a seat for you,’ Maisie hissed, aware that Bob had been told off by Ruby for talking.

‘I couldn’t do that, when there were so many older folk queuing with us. Why, Ruby was a real trooper: she hardly complained at all.’

‘Nan was telling me how she’d been up to London in her younger days to pay her respects when monarchs passed away. The only time she missed one was when my dad, George, was very young.’

‘It makes you proud to be British,’ Freda said, with a hint of a tear in her eye.

‘Here she goes again,’ Maisie said, passing a clean handkerchief to Freda. ‘I think our Freda cries more than you do these days,’ she said to Sarah.

‘At least I have an excuse, with this baby,’ Freda replied, gently stroking her stomach. ‘The baby is not only making me tearful, but giving me strange eating habits. I found myself nibbling on a piece of coal this morning as I made up the fire. People will think I’m bonkers! I did nothing like that with William.’

‘It’s completely natural,’ Maisie said. ‘It’ll go away, once the baby comes along. Just check your face in the mirror before you go out, in case you have coal dust on your lips. I craved pickled onions all the time and often carried a jarful with me in case I fancied one.’

Freda giggled. ‘I do remember you and your pickles. How about you?’ she asked Sarah.

‘Raw pig’s liver. Alan said he would divorce me for having such a strange craving. I would drool when we passed a butcher’s shop. Although offal wasn’t rationed, I did try to fight it, as my fancies could have been denying someone their dinner. Mind you, I would kill for a plate of liver, bacon and onions right now.’

‘You’re not . . .?’ Maisie asked.

‘I’m not expecting, if that is what you are inferring. However, it would be lovely,’ she added, gazing at Freda’s happy face. ‘Talking of children, I’d best check what mine are up to.’

‘I’ll come with you, as I could do with stretching my legs,’ Maisie said. ‘I’m not used to sitting on my bum for so long.’

‘And I’ll check on my boy. It was good of Maureen to let me park the pram in her kitchen; I was worried he’d be in the way.’

The three women left the room, glad to be in the natural light once more.

‘My Alan’s got all these big plans about the television business,’ Sarah went on. ‘I told him to sort something out, so we don’t have to close the curtains to be able to see the screen. The kids can get up to all sorts outside while he’s got his eyes glued to the television. Why, the other day the pair had escaped and were halfway to the park before we caught up with them. I was so angry I packed them off to bed without their supper. Anything could have happened to them,’ she said as she started to look up and down the garden, calling their names.

George and Maureen’s house, set just off Avenue Road, was on a new estate and as it had once been farmland, the builders had made provision for large gardens, which George had made good use of. Close to the house there was an area for sitting and enjoying the flower borders, while a wooden fence with a gate separated off a small vegetable plot. Sarah adored the house, with its light rooms and large windows, and was a little jealous of the three bedrooms, something she dreamt of, as her house in Crayford Road was so small.

‘If they are digging about amongst the vegetable patch, I’ll kill them,’ she huffed. ‘They’re in their Sunday best, what with it being an important occasion. It is not really the kind of day for them to be playing outside.’ She ran to the gate and flung it open, still calling their names. There was no indication they’d even been there, although she did check the shed, in case they were playing inside. ‘There’s no sign of them,’ she said as Maisie joined her.

‘Perhaps they’ve walked up to my house to join the other kids, or even gone to Mike and Gwyneth’s. You know how much Georgie looks up to Myfi.’

‘Let’s walk up and down the streets,’ Freda suggested. ‘How long do you think they’ve been missing?’

‘It can’t be more than half an hour,’ Maisie said, checking her wristwatch. ‘But I don’t think you should be marching about the streets. Why not go inside and use the telephone? Check with my house first and then try Mike and Gwyneth’s. Thank goodness Mike has a telephone, what with him needing to be on call with the police.’

‘Whatever the news, get my Alan to come out and find us, as the last thing I want is you overexerting yourself.’

Freda saluted them. ‘Mission understood,’ she said, before hurrying back into the house.

Maisie gave Sarah a concerned look. ‘I didn’t want to worry the kid,’ she said, using Freda’s nickname. ‘But I did wonder if they’d gone back to your house. I take it they know where the key is to get in?’

‘Yes, they are still too young to have their own front-door key, but I do have one hidden near the back door under a plant pot. Only Georgie is allowed to use it, if she gets home before me or Alan. You don’t think she’s messing about cooking, do you? She’s got such a bee in her bonnet these days . . .’

‘Probably not, but let’s check, to be on the safe side,’ Maisie replied as they both started to hurry. It took them no more than ten minutes to head down Avenue Road, over the railway bridge and past the Prince of Wales pub. Alan and Sarah’s house was just around the corner and as they turned into Crayford Road, they heard a fire engine approaching, with its bells ringing.

‘Oh my God, no,’ Sarah gasped, thinking straight away of the time somebody had set Alan’s workshop on fire and he almost didn’t escape with his life.

‘Don’t start to panic,’ Maisie said, grasping Sarah’s arm. ‘It may not even be going to your road,’ she said, although she had her doubts.

As she spoke, the fire engine pulled up in front of them, blocking their view. They hurried round the vehicle as firemen jumped down and headed up the short path towards the house.

‘It’s all right, Officer, I have both the children,’ Sarah’s neighbour called from her doorstep, while a sheepish-looking Georgie and Buster peered out from behind the woman’s skirt. ‘My husband put out the fire,’ she said as she spotted Sarah.

Sarah couldn’t speak as she ran towards her children and hugged them close, all three of them bursting into tears. After several minutes she looked up at her neighbour. ‘Whatever happened? We were at my dad’s house, watching the funeral on his television set, and the children were playing in the garden – they were told to stay there,’ she explained as Buster started to cry once more.

‘She made me eat her cake, Mum, even though I said I didn’t like it as it wasn’t cooked properly. I didn’t mean to catch the tea towel on fire,’ Buster explained, putting the blame on his sister.

Georgie reached out and pinched him. ‘Don’t tell lies,’ she spat at him, diverting her eyes from her mum, who shook her arm to silence her.

They watched quietly, waiting for news of the damage, as more neighbours appeared, looking on from across the road.

‘That’ll give ’em all something to gossip about,’ Maisie said as she glared back at them.

‘I don’t recognize any of them,’ Sarah said, looking away. ‘I feel so guilty.’

‘Don’t be daft; it’s not your fault, and I’ll tell them so if they as much as whisper a word about you.’

Sarah was relieved that Maisie was with her, as Alan would have been shouting the odds and causing her so much stress.

One of the firemen came out of the front door. ‘You did a good job, sir,’ he said to the neighbour’s husband as he walked over to join Sarah and Maisie. ‘It could have been much worse. Children should never be left alone in the house, let alone the kitchen,’ he said sternly, looking towards Sarah.

‘It’s not what it seems, Officer. Sarah is a very good mother; it’s her children who are naughty,’ Maisie said, making it clear that she was talking about Georgina, who backed away and hid behind her mum.

‘She’s got this bee in her bonnet about wanting to cook all the time, and she must have grabbed the opportunity to sneak away while we were watching the King’s funeral.’

‘So you like working in the kitchen, do you?’ he asked, bending down so that he was face-to-face with the girl.

Georgina nodded her head enthusiastically, seeing that the fireman was sympathetic. ‘I do, but she won’t let me do it very often, and neither will my Nanny Ruby.’

‘I see,’ he nodded thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps you need some lessons. I can help you there.’

‘Oh yes, please,’ Georgina beamed. ‘I can make cakes.’

The firemen stood up. ‘If someone would like to walk her down to the fire station tomorrow afternoon, we can give the young lady a lesson in how to work in a kitchen. If she likes it, perhaps she could come back another time.’

Sarah could see, from the sparkle in his eye, that he had a plan of some kind. ‘Thank you very much. I can certainly bring her tomorrow afternoon. Is there much damage in my kitchen?’

‘Nothing a bowl of hot, soapy water and a scrubbing brush won’t cure for now, although you will need to think about a new cooker and decorating the room. The upstairs rooms smell of smoke, but you shouldn’t need to redecorate. Oh, and you will need a new tea towel. Thankfully your neighbours were home, otherwise it could have been so different. I suggest that perhaps you don’t allow the children access to a door key.’

‘I never thought . . .’ she started to say as he patted her on the shoulder.

‘Madam, it has been my experience that children can be like burglars; if they want to get inside the house, they will. I’ll leave you now to start your clearing up.’