25

‘This is so exciting, and much better than camping outdoors,’ Georgina Gilbert said as she helped her great-grandmother, Ruby, lay out cushions and blankets in the front room for the children. ‘Do you think we should string a blanket between the chairs to make a tent, or perhaps some of us could sleep in the air-raid shelter in the garden?’

Ruby felt tired and was worried about Bob and George, as she’d not heard from them. ‘The shelter is full of Bob’s bits and pieces, and no one in their right mind would want to sleep in there,’ she said, her mind going back to when Sarah gave birth to the child in the shelter during an air raid and became trapped. If it wasn’t their dog, Nelson, making a commotion, they could have been there still. Her heart lurched at the thought of Nelson, as she missed him still; abandoned during the air raids, he had become her constant companion and there had never been a dog like him since.

‘Nanny Ruby, I’m talking to you.’ Georgie tugged on Ruby’s sleeve from where she sat on the floor.

‘Sorry, my love, I was away with the fairies for a minute there. Now, how many beds do we need to make up for the children? The babies have their prams and can stay in the other room with the adults. Is it warm enough in here?’ she asked, looking at the embers glowing in the fire as they heard a gust of wind sweep down the road between the terraced houses. ‘I’ll add a few lumps of coal and fix the fireguard in place.’ She was doing just that as the telephone started to ring.

‘I can answer that; we learnt about it in the Brownies,’ Georgie said, getting up quickly and rushing to the sideboard where the black Bakelite telephone sat on a cream crocheted table mat. ‘Erith four-five-five, Nanny Ruby’s house,’ she answered politely. ‘Hello, Granddad Bob. Nanny Ruby is right here, if you will wait a minute while I get her.’

Ruby smiled, not only because of Georgie’s impeccable manners, but because of the way the children all referred to her and Bob as ‘Nanny Ruby’ and ‘Granddad Bob’, even though they were their great-grandparents.

‘Thank you, darling. Would you fetch your Nanny Maureen, as she may want to speak to your Granddad George?’ she asked, thinking how many grandparents the children had – even she felt confused. ‘Hello, Bob. How are you getting on? Have you finished painting the room?’ she asked, noticing how her heavy curtains were moving slightly as the wind worked its way through the sash windows; she’d get some newspaper and force it between the gaps to stop the draught. ‘What’s that, Clemmie didn’t give you the paint? I thought Freda was driving her down with it. Oh, she’s there now, thank goodness! The silly girl has her head in the clouds over her wedding. Are you coming home?’

‘No, we’ve decided to put in a few hours to see if we can get the room finished. George reckons it can be done, with the girls’ help. Can you let Tony know that Freda is staying to help us? She will be back soon.’

‘Back from where?’ Ruby was getting confused and pulled a face at Maureen as she entered the room. ‘Maureen’s here, can you let George speak to her. I’ll see you later,’ she said, placing the receiver onto the crocheted mat and stepping aside for Maureen. ‘Try to find out who is there and how long they’ll be, as I’m getting confused,’ she said as she left Maureen to speak to George in peace.

Back in the living room, Sarah and Mike’s wife Gwyneth were clearing the table of cups and saucers, while Alan and Mike were twiddling with the knobs on the wireless. Bessie was keeping an eye on the sleeping babies.

‘You need a new one of these,’ Alan said, shaking his head, ‘the reception is terrible.’

‘It suits me fine, lad,’ Ruby said as she joined them. ‘What’s your problem with it?’ she asked as she started to help the girls.

‘Nan, we thought we could make sausage and mash for the children’s tea, and I’ve put diced shin of beef in the oven, along with carrots and onions for the adults. We can eat after the kids have been put to bed. Gwyneth brought sausages over, and Freda gave me a pound of beef before she went over to Belvedere.’

‘That sounds good to me, and you’ll find a treacle tart in the pantry for afters.’

‘Not for me,’ Mike called. ‘I’m on duty shortly and it is going to be a long night, I reckon. Thanks for having Gwyneth and the children here. I like to think they are in safe hands during this bad weather.’

‘Any time, there’s no need to ask. I’ll pack up some sandwiches and a flask of tea for you,’ Ruby said to her stepson. ‘What makes you think you are in for a long night? Surely a police sergeant doesn’t have to go out walking the beat at night?’

‘It’s all hands to the pumps in this kind of weather. We are bound to be a few men down, if they can’t get into the station due to the bad storm. ‘I may be late home in the morning,’ he said, turning to his wife, who was nursing their youngest child.

‘Gwyneth will be all right here with me.’

‘I don’t want to be any trouble. The children and I can go home to sleep,’ she insisted.

‘Let’s see how the evening progresses,’ Ruby said. ‘I’d rather have my family close by and know they are safe. I’ve not known wind like this,’ she went on, knowing from the look on Mike’s face that he was concerned. ‘I’ll be happier when Bob, George and the girls are back home. Sarah, can you put a telephone call through to Betty to let her know about Clemmie?’

‘There’s no need,’ Maureen said as she joined them. ‘Clemmie has just rung her, and Betty will let Jimmy know; he’s with his children at his mother’s house.’

‘Gosh, it’s like calling a school register,’ Sarah grinned.

‘I can go up to my mum’s to stay the night, so that’s one adult and a baby out of your hair,’ Bessie said.

‘No, you stay here with us. You’ll get blown to kingdom come and most definitely won’t be able to control your pram,’ Sarah replied. ‘Why not call Maisie and let her know?’

‘I’ll do that,’ Bessie said, checking that Jenny was still asleep in her pram as she walked through the hall to the front room, where Georgie, aided by Myfi Jackson, was busy repairing the tents, where Buster had pulled them down. He’d been made to sit in an armchair, out of harm’s way. Bessie went to make her call and hurried back to the living room. ‘The telephone isn’t working.’

‘The wireless has lost its signal as well,’ Alan said.

Freda drove carefully down the unmade Boars Manorway towards the turn-off for the funfair winter grounds. She’d never experienced so many holes in the road, with many of them being filled with rainwater. They’d already passed glasshouses and several nurseries, and on the left allotments led to the Belvedere football ground. There wasn’t a soul to be seen, and already the afternoon had turned dark and brooding. ‘I can’t see any lights on. Are you sure your relatives are home?’

Jessie peered through the windscreen. ‘They don’t have electric lights and use oil lamps in the caravans. There is a generator, but that’s more for the rides and machinery.’

‘Are the rides set up?’ Freda asked, thinking how strange it would be to see a fairground in action during such violent weather.

‘No, it only comes out to be painted and repaired ready for the spring.’

‘How do people earn a living?’ she asked, swerving as a small branch flew in front of them.

‘They can all put their hands to other work. Some of my uncles are chimneysweeps; it’s another of the family businesses. I have cousins who are casual labourers. There’s a strong work ethic in the showman’s world.’

‘What about all the other caravans over towards the banks of the Thames, are they related to you?’

‘No, they are Romany Gypsies. I know some of them and they are a decent sort. Sadly, the council is trying to move them on, and they’ve lived on this land for many years and are no trouble to man or beast. I went hop-picking with a family of them once; it was great fun for a kid, but again they worked hard for the little money they earnt. It was like a holiday. I’d do it again in a flash, if my kids didn’t have school to go to.’

Freda was just about to ask about living conditions at the hop fields when the car’s headlamps picked up an entrance between the trees.

‘Here we are,’ Jessie said. ‘Go slowly and bear to the left once you’ve passed the big tree. Be careful of the guard dogs, in case they’ve been let loose to protect the yard.’

Freda gripped the steering wheel, wondering if she could stay in the car while Jessie collected her children. She was wary of large dogs at the best of times.

‘It’s all right, the dogs are still chained up in their kennels,’ Jessie said as the headlamps picked up several pairs of glowing eyes, followed by the clanking of chains and loud barking. ‘You can stop here. Come in and meet my nan,’ she said, getting out of the car while holding onto the door as the wind tried to tug it away.

Freda followed, unsure of where she was going until a door opened, shining a light out into the dark night. ‘Get yourself inside, ducks, before you’re blown away,’ a woman called out.

Freda quickly climbed a few wooden steps and found herself standing with Jessie inside a warm caravan, filled with light from an ornate oil lamp. On a side table a grey parrot sat inside an iron cage, quietly muttering swear words.

‘Don’t be minding Polly; she can cuss with the best of them, but keep your fingers away from the bars or she’ll take off your finger,’ the woman laughed, holding up a gnarled hand with the tip of one finger missing. ‘Sit yourself down and warm your bones while I get the kiddies ready for home,’ she continued, waving towards a small armchair next to a wood-burning stove, before disappearing behind a heavy brocade curtain.

Freda could hear Jessie speaking, along with the cheerful chatter of young children. Reaching out, she warmed her hands close to the stove before gazing around the caravan. This must be the living room, she thought, looking at a glass cabinet full of floral-patterned crockery; the stove was used for cooking, and she could see a small sink in one corner. There’s everything here you would want, she thought to herself. The parrot was looking intently at her and, as she stared back, it swore at her, before dancing back and forth on its perch.

‘Are we going to your house?’ a small boy asked, appearing from behind the curtain.

‘We are going to my friend’s home, as soon as you have buttoned up your coat,’ Freda said, helping him fasten his duffel coat securely and pulling a knitted balaclava over his head. ‘Do you have gloves?’ she asked.

He held up his arms for her to see a pair of matching knitted mittens hanging from each sleeve.

‘So they don’t get lost,’ he said, showing gaps in his teeth.

‘He’s always losing clothes,’ Jessie replied as she joined them with her two daughters, all dressed identically in gabardine rain-macs and knitted hats. ‘Thank goodness Nan’s a good knitter.’

‘That’s what nans are for,’ Freda smiled, thinking of Ruby and her plentiful supply of knitted clothes for the youngsters. ‘Are we all ready?’

‘Take them to high ground, as the night will become worse,’ Jessie’s nan said as she entered the room.

‘Would you like to come with us?’ Freda asked, as a sense of foreboding came over her. Was the woman a Romany who could see into the future?

‘Don’t mind Nan; she has a way with her,’ Jessie said with a grin. ‘I have family in the other caravans, so they will all be safe.’

Freda went first, hurrying to open the doors of the car and helping the children into the back while Jessie climbed into the front. The engine started after a little complaining, and they set off into the night, with the children huddled together, not speaking a word.

‘We are going to a house that belongs to one of the ladies from Woolworths,’ Jessie called over her shoulder. ‘We will be going home later,’ she added, as Freda wondered if she was up to driving far in the worsening weather.

‘This looks like Freda coming back,’ Clemmie said as she peered between her net curtains.

‘I’ll bring them inside while you finish lighting the candles,’ George said as he pulled on his already-wet raincoat. He wanted to add that just before the lights went out, the telephone had died. He’d been talking to Betty at the time, assuring her that he would look after her daughter; he’d keep quiet about that for now, in case Clemmie panicked. Opening the door and bending his body against the gale-force wind, he reached the car and picked up the youngest of the children, while Jessie and Freda helped the others between them. They staggered inside, where Bob and Clemmie helped the children out of their coats and led them to one of the settees that had been uncovered.

‘I’ve lit a fire in the grate and it won’t take long to warm you up,’ Bob smiled before joining Freda. ‘What’s it like to drive out there?’

‘Horrendous and getting worse; my car just about got us here and then gave up out the front; we coasted the last couple of yards. Do you think we can all squeeze into George’s to get back home?’

‘We will have to do the best we can, even if we turn into sardines in the process,’ he grinned. ‘Now, shall we eat that food and give the children a hot drink before we set off?’

‘It will calm our nerves for the journey back to Erith,’ Freda replied, going to join Clemmie in the kitchen, where she had put the kettle on her new stove and was turning knobs back and forth.

‘It’s not working,’ she said, getting irritated. ‘It’s brand-new. Jimmy won’t be impressed, as it cost an arm and a leg.’

‘It’s electric and won’t work as the power has gone down,’ Freda replied, trying not to smile.

‘Oh, silly me. At least we have the Thermos flasks.’ She laughed at her own mistake. ‘Look at us, laughing while it feels as though it’s the end of the world. Everything will look much better in the morning.’