The Bells of Bow (10 page)

‘Don’t worry, I won’t,’ snapped Babs. ‘Why should I?’ As soon as she’d said the words, she wished she hadn’t. Why had she said that? The last thing in the world she wanted was to fall out with her sister again; when all was said and done, Evie and her dad were the most important part of her life.

She went to the street door and watched Evie greeting Albie, smiling wryly to herself as she saw Evie look round to make sure that all the neighbours could see that she was being collected in the gleaming black motor. But Babs’s smile didn’t last; she bit her lip as she felt a red flush of shame creep over her throat. The guilty thought had crossed her mind again that she was more jealous of Evie going out every night and leaving her than she liked to admit. She took a deep breath and, hoping to make amends, called out, ‘Have a nice time, Eve. See yer later.’

But Evie was too busy to notice her sister. She was looking up at Albie from the front seat of the Riley as she flirtatiously arranged her skirt round her long, shapely legs, while Albie watched her appreciatively.

‘Bloody hell, Evie, at least I tried!’ In childish fury at what she took to be her sister’s indifference, Babs slammed the street door, sending the still unglazed photograph of her and Evie crashing to the floor. She didn’t stoop to pick it up this time; instead she kicked the wooden-backed portrait all along the passage as she strode towards the kitchen. ‘Awwww!’ she fumed, balling her fists tight to her cheeks, so frustrated that she didn’t know where to direct her fury.

‘Pull yerself together, for gawd’s sake,’ she said, her jaw aching with tension. With a final kick at the photograph, she marched over to the hearth and rested her arms on the mantelpiece. She stared hard at herself in the speckled glass of the overmantel, turning her head this way and that.

‘What’s got into you, Babs Bell?’ she demanded of her reflection. ‘Yer acting like a stupid, spoilt rotten little two-year-old brat. Yer gonna have to pull yerself together if yer don’t wanna scare Freddy off before yer even started.’

Babs pinched her cheeks, bringing a flattering pink glow to her creamy complexion. ‘See,’ she told herself, ‘yer look good when yer ain’t going mad. And it’s your turn to be out with the fellers tomorrow night, so yer wanna look yer best, not like some sour-faced old moaner.’ She laughed sceptically as she wagged her finger at her reflection in the glass. ‘And remember, it’ll be Evie’s turn then to be worried about you being out till all hours.’

She bent down and picked up the photograph. There they were, the two little girls, like two peas in a pod, arms round each other, and both with that special look that said that nothing would ever come between them. That was how they’d been and that was how Babs wanted it to be again. She knew that she would have to make some sort of an effort at least to try and understand what Evie was doing with Albie Denham or else she was sure she’d regret it in the long run. She smoothed the faded photograph with her hand and went out to the passage to hang it back in its place on the wall.

‘Come on, Evie.’ She dragged the covers off her sister. ‘Up yer get.’ Babs stood by the bedside already dressed and ready to go.

Evie pulled the bedclothes back over her head. ‘Tell Silver I’m ill, Babs. Please.’ She groaned pathetically. ‘I can’t face work this morning. I’m ill. I really am.’

‘Number one,’ Babs puffed from the exertion of trying to wrestle the covers away from her twin, ‘it’s Saturday, so there ain’t no work. And number two, it ain’t this morning, it’s nearly one o’clock, and if yer don’t shift yerself, Evie Bell, the stalls’ll all be packed in and we won’t get no pie ’n’ mash neither.’

‘Well, why didn’t yer say so before?’ Evie was suddenly sitting up, now apparently wide awake. She sprang out of bed and dashed downstairs to have a wash at the kitchen sink, leaving the bedclothes behind her all balled up in a tangle of sheets, pillows and pink satin eiderdown.

Within minutes the sisters were strolling arm in arm along Grove Road, making their way towards the Roman Road street market.

Babs lifted her chin and sighed happily. ‘Feel that sun on yer face, Evie. Don’t it make yer feel glad to be alive? And look how it makes them barrage balloons shine, like great big silver fish in the sky, ain’t they?’

‘Blimey, what’s got into you?’ Evie looked at her sister as though she’d grown another head. ‘You’ve perked up a bit, ain’t yer?’

‘How d’yer mean?’ Babs felt oddly shy with her twin.

‘Well, yer ain’t exactly been the life and soul o’ the party over the last few days, have yer? Yer’ve been a right moaner over every little thing.’

Babs didn’t answer. Just thinking about her childish behaviour the night before made her bite her tongue. She didn’t like to think what Evie would say if she knew how she had kicked the photograph along the passage. Babs forced herself to smile. ‘How can I have the hump on a day like this?’ she asked breezily. Even though Evie hadn’t actually witnessed the tantrum, Babs was determined to make amends for her sulky attitude towards Albie. ‘So what did yer do last night? Have a good time, did yer?’

Evie stared at Babs as they turned into the market. ‘Yeah,’ she said with a frown. ‘I had a great time.’

‘Good.’ Babs patted Evie’s arm and smiled – a bit easier this time. ‘So, tell me all about it.’

As the girls moved between the crowded stalls, Evie made Babs laugh out loud as she told her about being out with Albie on the first night of the blackout.

‘What a performance. I heard some bloke really swearing, not just bloody this or sodding that I don’t mean, but really having a go, ’cos he’d walked smack into a pillar box. No one had put a band round it or nothing and he’d gone crashing right into it. Bashed all his chest and shins, he did. And the roads! Yer wouldn’t believe it. All yer could hear up West was bloody car horns going. “Get out me so-and-soing way” they was all hollering. Yer should have heard ’em. They’d have made even Jim from up the Drum blush, I’m telling yer.’

Babs chuckled. ‘Not if he’d have heard our dad first. Yer should have heard him trying to get his key in the lock with no lampposts alight last night. Yer’d have known about language then. He said words I bet sailors ain’t never heard of.’

‘Oi, oi, girls! What a pair o’ little darlings.’

As one, the twins turned to see who had called out to them.

The stallholder’s mouth dropped open when he saw that it was the Bell twins. ‘What yer done to yer barnet, twin? The pair of yer look even more gorgeous than ever.’

‘Like it?’ Evie did a twirl.

‘Not half. Here, look, Arch, cop a load of this.’

‘What’s that then, Bob?’ Archie Simpkins, his mate on the opposite stall, who was also the twins’ next door neighbour, turned round to look. ‘Bloody hell.’ He sounded impressed. ‘What a sight for sore eyes you two are. Yer wanna show my Blanche, see if she’ll do hers.’

‘Yer don’t mean that,’ grinned Babs. ‘You love Blanche just the way she is.’

‘Yer right there, twin,’ said Archie proudly. ‘I wouldn’t change my old woman for the world.’

‘But these two they’re a geezer’s dreams come true.’ Bob took off his cap and scratched his head. ‘Here, girls, have these on me.’ He handed Evie an armful of cabbage and filled Babs’s basket with big soil-covered King Edwards. ‘Take them home and make the cat laugh,’ he said. ‘Now I can die a happy man. The Bell twins turned into a blonde
and
a brunette, now I ain’t gotta choose between yer. I can fancy yer both!’

The girls smiled their thanks and strolled away, the vegetable man’s compliments ringing in their ears. At ease with one another once again, they took their time looking at the stalls that caught their fancy, picking up and discarding a pair of tortoiseshell combs, refusing the offer of a tray of cracked eggs, hesitating over a pair of satin cami-knickers. Finally they decided that they’d have to sustain themselves with pie ’n’ mash before they could go another step.

Carefully balancing the deep plates piled high with pie, mash and liquor, Evie and Babs edged sideways between the wooden bench and the marble-topped table.

They both shook generous amounts of chilli vinegar and salt over their food and got stuck in with their spoons and forks.

‘Bloody handsome,’ said Babs after the first, delicious mouthful. ‘Can’t beat it, can yer?’

‘Yer right there, Babs.’ Evie used her fork to pile her spoon with another helping of pie. ‘Me and Albie was saying that when we was in some posh place he took me to the other night.’

Babs had swallowed the mouthful of food she had just taken, but she didn’t say anything.

Whether Evie noticed her sister’s silence or not, she didn’t react as though she had. ‘So, are you doing anything tonight then, Babs?’ she asked with a smile.

‘Yeah. If yer wasn’t so wound up with what you was doing all the time yer’d have remembered that I’m going with Lou to meet Freddy and his mate.’

‘Aw, yeah.’

The awkward silence that rose like a brick wall between the sisters was broken by a woman carrying two plates of pie and mash and a bowl of mash and liquor, who came to a halt by their table. With her was a boy of about nine and a toddler.

‘Hello, twins,’ she said. She sounded exhausted. ‘Let’s sit down.’

Evie and Babs slid further along the bench towards the tiled wall.

‘Watcha, Blanche,’ Babs said to the woman and reached out to the toddler. ‘Here, come on, Janey. You sit with yer Auntie Babs and let yer mum have her dinner.’

Evie ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘And you sit next to me, darling, and yer mum can sit there.’

Blanche Simpkins was the wife of Archie, the stallholder the girls had been talking to; she lived in number four Darnfield Street, between the Bells on one side and the baker’s shop on the corner. She dropped down gratefully onto the seat on the opposite side of the table and rubbed the back of her neck, appreciating the luxury of having a bit of space around her as only the mother of young children could. ‘Thank gawd for that. I’m bloody whacked out, it’s so warm out there. Right muggy and stormy it is.’ She nodded towards the front of the shop where a heap of shopping in a pushchair was tucked behind the open door. ‘And I’ve lugged all that lot from the other end of the market. My Archie did some sort of a deal with one of the other stallholders and got all that veg off him. We’ll be eating bloody carrots and cabbage for weeks.’

Babs nodded towards her basket and grinned. ‘We just saw him and all.’

‘He liked me hair,’ said Eve, flicking her waves away from her face.

‘I feel too tired to even brush me hair some mornings,’ Blanche sighed. ‘I’ve been that busy. I’ve missed our chats, Babs.’

‘Good job I’m here to help yer carry all the shopping then, ain’t it, Mum?’ piped Len.

‘Yeah, yer me little helper, ain’t yer Len.’

Len smiled angelically. ‘Not like Mary and Terry, eh, Mum?’

‘No.’ Blanche tutted. ‘I ain’t seen hide nor hair of them pair since first thing this morning. Now come on, Len. Get on with yer dinner.’

‘They’ll be out somewhere with Alice’s grandson,’ Babs said reassuringly. She shifted Janey, Blanche’s toddler, to a more comfortable position on her lap and fed her another spoon of mash and liquor. She waved the emptied spoon at Blanche. ‘I reckon Micky Clarke fancies your Mary.’

Blanche laughed. ‘Kids. They grow up so fast nowadays. Nearly fourteen, she is. Dunno where the time goes lately.’

‘Pretty girl and all,’ said Evie. ‘Lovely hair.’

‘She got a job lined up yet?’ Babs asked. ‘There might be something going at Styleways. I could ask Mr Silver for yer if yer like.’

Blanche flashed a look at her son who was contentedly tucking into his dinner. ‘Thanks, but not yet,’ she said quietly, with a nod towards Len. ‘Archie’s worried about there being a W-A-R.’ She spelt the word out almost soundlessly. ‘And he’d want me to take the kids, yer know, somewhere safe.’

‘W-A-R,’ Len repeated. ‘Dad said there’s gonna be a war when he was talking to Mr Morgan about the blackout.’

Blanche rolled her eyes. ‘Bloody kids, can’t keep nothing from ’em. Don’t you two have none, they drive yer bloody barmy.’

Babs looked at Blanche’s tired face. ‘Yer wanna make a bit of time for yerself, Blanche. Pop in for a cuppa when you get a minute, we ain’t had a good old chin-wag for ages.’

‘I’d like that Babs. Ta.’

‘Sure me and Albie can’t give yer a lift, Babs?’

‘No, it’s all right, I’m only meeting Lou at the corner of Burdett Road.’

At the sound of a car pulling up outside, Evie reached above the dressing table and lifted the net curtain. ‘It’s up to you, but it looks like it’s gonna tip down out there.’

‘I’ll be all right. See yer later.’ Babs lifted her chin so that Evie could kiss her on the cheek. ‘And don’t forget yer torch.’

When she was satisfied that Albie and Evie had gone, Babs grabbed her jacket, hat and bag from the bed, checked that all the blackout curtains had been drawn – her father would never remember when he got back from the pub – and rushed off to meet Lou.

By the time she was less than halfway along Grove Road, there was an almighty crash of thunder followed almost immediately by a brilliant streak of lightning that slashed across the darkening evening sky. And then the heavens opened. Raindrops the size of coins plopped onto the pavement. ‘Aw, blimey!’ wailed Babs and, holding her handbag over her head, she began running towards Mile End.

She was quick on her feet and within moments was dodging across the busy Mile End Road to where Lou was sheltering in a shop doorway on the corner of Burdett Road.

‘Watch out!’ yelled Babs as a cyclist skidded round her. ‘Yer’ll splash me stockings.’ She shook the rain from her sleeves and joined Lou in the doorway. ‘The roads are a bloody nightmare,’ she said dabbing the mud from her legs with her hankie. ‘Gawd knows what it’ll be like when it gets properly dark.’ She straightened up and winked at Lou. ‘Still, Freddy’ll make it all worth it, eh? And there’s always good films on at the Troxy.’

‘Er …’ Lou nibbled her bottom lip nervously. ‘Freddy’s gone and joined up, Babs.’

‘Do what? Not another one?’

‘Yeah. And his mate. Apparently they both went off yesterday afternoon.’ Lou stared down at the rain spots on the toes of her suede shoes. ‘Tiddler told me when I went down the warehouse after work. They hadn’t told no one about it before ’cos they didn’t want the governor to find out in case they didn’t get their wages, see.’ She looked cautiously at Babs before she went on, trying to gauge her response to the news that she had let her down. ‘But after Silver went on about us doing our bit and all that, they thought they’d be safe telling him.’