Ironmonger's Daughter Read online

  It was around nine o’clock when the pub door opened and a tall, fair-haired young man in airforce uniform moved the blackout curtain aside and stepped into the smoky interior. He looked around the bar sheepishly and was immediately spotted by two old ladies who were sitting near the door.

  ‘’Ere, May. Who’s ’e?’

  ‘’Ow the bleedin’ ’ell should I know, Nora.’

  ‘’E’s a nice-lookin’ bloke, May. Makes me wish I was twenty years younger.’ May Sanders watched as he squeezed through towards the bar counter. ‘’E’s an orficer by the looks of ’im. I wish it was me ’e was lookin’ for.’

  Nora Matthews chuckled. ‘We’re gettin’ ter be dirty ole cows, May, ain’t we?’

  ‘Dirty nufink. It’s only natural ter notice a bit o’ prime beef when you’ve ’ad ter put up wiv scrags o’ mutton.’

  ‘I know what yer mean, May. It does seem strange in ’ere now all the young men ’ave bin called up. Poor ole Tubby looks worried out of ’is life. ’E dotes on that son of ’is. Then there’s Mrs Argrieves. She looks terrible. Mind you though, that son of ’ers don’t fink nufink of ’er. All the time I’ve bin comin’ in ’ere I ain’t never seen ’im buy ’er a drink.’

  ‘Still, blood’s thicker than water, Nora. It’s only natural fer’er ter be worried, even though ’e is a bit of a cow-son.’

  Connie had just finished serving a customer when she spotted Robert. He had reached the counter and was watching her, a wide smile on his handsome features. Connie gasped and ignored another customer as she hurried over to him. She noticed how his cap was pushed back from his forehead and how his blue eyes lit up as he smiled.

  ‘What yer doin’ ’ere, Robert?’ she said joyfully. ‘Yer didn’t say yer was comin’ on leave.’

  ‘I didn’t know myself until a few hours ago. I’ve been given a forty-eight-hour pass. I thought I’d look in and surprise you.’

  ‘C’mon, Con, I’m dyin’ o’ thirst,’ one of the customers called out.

  Robert grinned as he put a ten shilling note down on the counter. ‘I’d like a Scotch, if you’ve any left.’

  ‘C’mon, Connie girl, don’t eat ’im,’ the waiting customer said to roars of laughter.

  Connie felt her face redden and she quickly poured Robert a whisky.

  Jennie came over and touched her arm. ‘Don’t your fella look smashin’ in that uniform. I could fancy ’im meself.’

  Connie smiled as she handed over the drink and watched as he took a sip. ‘I was gettin’ worried, not ’earin’ from yer,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Sorry, Con,’ he said, pushing his cap farther back on his head. ‘I’ve got an operational posting. First thing Monday morning.’

  ‘Is it near London?’ Connie asked, her eyes studying his pale features.

  He put his finger to his lips and made an exaggerated movement with his eyes left to right. ‘It’s classified, I can’t say.’

  Jennie had been hovering nearby and she nudged her friend. ‘Ain’t yer gonna introduce me prop’ly, or are yer keepin’ ’im all ter yerself?’ she asked finally.

  Connie giggled and before she could speak Jennie held out her hand. ‘I’m Jennie. I used ter see yer when yer met Connie at the factory. Trouble was she wouldn’t let any of us get near yer. If yer ever get fed up wiv our Con I’m always available.’

  They all laughed, to the chagrin of the still waiting customer. ‘’Ere you two. If yer don’t serve me soon I’m gonna climb over the bleedin’ counter an’ ’elp meself.’

  Jennie raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘All right, all right. I’ll serve yer. Jus’ give yerself a chance.’

  ‘Give meself a chance? I’m dyin’ o’ thirst an’ there’s you two natterin’ away wiv Flash ’Arry over there. Who is ’e anyway?’

  ‘That’s Connie’s fiancé. ’E’s a pilot,’ Jennie said, glancing in Robert’s direction.

  The customer’s face relaxed. ‘’Ere, Jen. See if the lad wants a drink.’

  Jennie pinched the old man’s cheek playfully. ‘Leave ’em alone, Jerry. Yer can buy me one instead.’

  Robert had struck up a conversation with some of the regular customers as Connie continued serving, occasionally glancing coyly in his direction.

  At ten o’ clock Jennie caught Connie’s eye. ‘You’d better get yer fella out of ’ere before ole Benny bores ’im ter death. Go on, I can manage.’

  Connie squeezed Jennie’s arm. ‘Fanks a lot, Jen. It’s one I owe yer.’

  She put on her coat and beckoned to Robert, whose hand was being furiously pumped by the inebriated Benny, and he nodded back. The two lovers walked out into the chill night air, Connie gripping his arm tightly and resting her head against his shoulder as they came out from the backstreet into the Old Kent Road. No lights shone out as they made their way along the street. A pale moon shone down wanly, its beams catching the tramlines and making them glow eerily. At the junction they passed the white stone library building and continued into Great Dover Street. Very few people were about, and as they neared Robert’s flat the moon had become obscured behind heavy clouds. Large spots of rain stained the pavement as they hurried up the stairs to the front door and let themselves into the dark passage. They climbed the flight of stairs and entered the first-floor flat just as the first roll of thunder sounded. Lightning flashed across the dark sky and rain beat against the window panes. Connie pulled the blinds while Robert lit the gas fire and then turned on the light. He looked around, his eyes taking stock.

  ‘You’ve been busy I see. It’s very nice.’

  Connie smiled. ‘I come up ’ere now an’ again. I like ter keep it nice an’ tidy.’

  They looked at each other, searching for something to say. The long period apart had made them both feel awkward. He suddenly held out his arms and the barrier between them disappeared as she rushed forward and kissed him. It was nice to feel his body against hers again and for a time no words were spoken. Slowly he reached his hands up to her face and then gently stroked her white neck. His fingers found the buttons of her coat and soon she could feel his cool hands slipping around her slim waist. He pulled her to him in a strong embrace and their bodies moulded together.

  ‘God! I’ve missed you, Connie,’ he gasped, his lips moving against her tiny ears.

  ‘I’ve missed you, too, Robert. I’ve missed your love an’ your touch. I’ve dreamed about yer lots an’ lots.’

  They moved away from the heat of the fire and Connie slipped off her unbuttoned coat. He threw his cap into a chair and took off his topcoat. She saw the white cotton wings sewn above his breast pocket as she returned to him. They settled down in the comfortable settee and he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. Her fingers followed the raised shape on his chest and she sighed.

  ‘Will yer be flyin’ straightaway, Robert?’

  ‘I’m to report to Tangmere,’ he answered. ‘I’ll be flying Hurricanes.’

  ‘Where’s Tangmere?’

  ‘It’s in Sussex. I’m not supposed to say anything, so keep it to yourself, Con.’

  ‘Mum’s the word,’ she grinned, her lips brushing his cheek.

  The room was warm and cosy and the heavy curtains deadened the sound of the rain as it beat against the windows. They sat in front of the hissing gas fire as the mantleshelf clock chimed the hour of midnight. Connie noticed how serious Robert looked as his finger traced a circle on the back of her hand.

  ‘Are yer worried about the postin’?’ she asked.

  His face relaxed slightly as he smiled. ‘No, angel. As a matter of fact I was thinking about you.’

  ‘Oh, an’ what about me?’

  ‘Connie. How long have we known each other?’

  ‘Forever,’ she laughed, moving her head from his shoulder and looking into his soft blue eyes.

  He sighed deeply and squeezed her hand. ‘Do you believe I really love you?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ she whispered. ‘What’s troublin’ yer, Robert?’<
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  He sat up straight and looked directly at her. ‘Listen, Con. We share this flat and you know that one day we’ll be married. In the time we’ve been together you’ve only met my mother on that one occasion, the Christmas before last. I’ve never taken you back, and you’ve never mentioned it or asked me why. I’ve wondered about that.’

  Connie looked down at her hands. ‘Let’s face it. We both know your mum don’t see me as an ideal choice for a daughter-in-law. We come from different sides of the street. It’s never worried you, an’ ter be honest I don’t fink your dad worries too much eivver, but your mum can’t accept it. That time I met ’er I could tell. It was written all over ’er face. It doesn’t worry me, but what does worry me is the upset it’s causin’ you.’

  He lifted her head gently and gazed into her sad eyes. ‘There’s something else, too, isn’t there?’ he said quietly.

  She looked away. ‘There’s nufink else, Robert.’

  He leaned back heavily in the settee and sighed. ‘Before I met you this evening I went to see my parents. I told my mother I couldn’t go on holding things from you if we were going to be married.’

  ‘What fings, Robert?’

  ‘The real reason why your mother was paid that money.’

  Connie’s eyes hardened. ‘You’ve known all along?’ she asked, raising her voice.

  He reached out and took her firmly by the shoulders. ‘You’ve got to understand, Con. I was trying to save you from being hurt. My father told me before we both went down for the Christmas. He asked me to promise not to say anything to you. I kept that promise because of the way I feel about you. You did the same for me. You promised my mother you wouldn’t say anything to me, remember?’

  ‘Yer mean yer know what your muvver told me that Christmas?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He saw the puzzlement in Connie’s eyes as he relaxed his hold on her. ‘Let me explain,’ he began. ‘When I told my parents I was going to tell you what I knew there was a blazing row. My mother told me what she had said to you when you were alone with her. It seems she was protecting Gerald. She told me that you were intending to meet someone who might well be able to tell you why your mother received those payments and she said she had concocted the story to protect the family name. Those were the words she used.’

  A distant roll of thunder sounded and the rain continued to beat faintly against the window as the two sat before the fire. Connie looked at Robert anxiously.

  ‘You were only two years old when it all happened,’ he went on. ‘It was at the firm’s outing to Southend. My uncle Gerald was told to organise the event by my grandfather who was running the company then. Apparently there was a lot of discontent amongst the workers at the time and grandfather thought it might help to calm the atmosphere. Anyway, the outing went off well until the charabanc stopped at a pub on the way home. Everyone was pretty drunk by that time, including Gerald. He saw your mother sitting alone in a corner of the pub and she was crying. From what I understand she had recently broken off a relationship and was feeling pretty low. Uncle Gerald took advantage of the situation by plying her with drinks. Later he followed your mother out of the pub and when she was in a secluded spot he forced himself on her. At first your mother thought he was joking, but when it started to get out of hand she asked him to take her back to the pub. It was then that my Uncle Gerald raped your mother.’

  Connie gasped and her hand came up to her mouth. ‘My mum was raped!?’

  He nodded slowly. ‘Afterwards he warned her not to say anything or he’d make it bad, not only for her but for a few other workers he was out to get. He also said that he would deny everything and that his word would be taken before that of a slut. I’m sorry, Con. That was what he said. Most of the workers were drunk and none of them knew what had happened. The next Monday morning your mother saw my grandfather and she told him everything. She told him that she was going to the police and under the circumstances she would have to leave the firm immediately. Of course Uncle Gerald was confronted by the old man and he finally broke down and admitted everything.

  ‘My uncle already had a reputation for being a womaniser. There was some scandal at the time about him and another woman, and that was the reason for his marriage being in a bad way. My grandfather knew all about his reputation and wasn’t going to have the wool pulled over his eyes. Uncle Gerald knew that, too. He knew he couldn’t get away with lying to his father, and so he confessed everything. It was exactly as your mother told it. Grandfather George was a persuasive man as well as being very shrewd. He could see the harm it might do to the company should there be a court case. He was also worried about his son, even though what he had done was inexcusable, and he wanted him to get his marriage sorted out. He begged your mother not to go to the police. He reminded her of the duty she had to you and that if she kept quiet he would pay her a regular sum for the rest of her life. Father told me that your mother was a proud woman. Grandfather George knew that, so he agreed to her demand that an agreement be drawn up with a special condition. The firm would pay a regular sum for your mother’s silence, and would guarantee continued employment to a certain worker who was facing dismissal because of his trade-union activities. The old man knew that it allowed her to feel she had retained her self-respect. Your mother kept that silence. My grandfather knew she would honour the agreement. So did my father. The ironic thing is, if only my mother had listened to them she wouldn’t have worried about you finding out, and she wouldn’t have needed to slander your mother’s name. It was a terrible thing to do.’

  For a while Connie found it difficult to talk. Finally she looked at Robert, her eyes wet with tears of sadness and relief. ‘Fanks fer tellin’ me, Robert.’

  He looked down at his feet in embarrassment. ‘I’m glad I did. Your mother must have been some woman. I’m sorry I never knew her.’

  Connie smiled wanly. ‘Yes, she was, Robert. By the way, did the firm keep their promise?’

  ‘You mean about keeping the worker on? Yes they did. You know Joe Cooper who lives in your street? Well he’s still working for the firm, thanks to your mother.’

  The storm had abated and the rain was now a steady drizzle. In the little flat in Great Dover Street the two lovers lay contentedly in each others’ arms. Connie felt that a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. At last she knew the truth, thanks to Robert. She was also very much aware how the same fierce pride which had kept the silence about Gerald had kept another silence too. It was going to be virtually impossible to find out who her father was. Maybe one day, somehow, she told herself as sleep overtook her.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  During the first week in June the last of the British and French soldiers had been taken from the Dunkirk beaches. The weather was now sunny and warm and early summer flowers were in bloom. Around the coastline the incoming tide lapped against concrete tank traps and flowed over buried mines. Along the length of the south coast people walked along the promenades beside fences of barbed wire, pill boxes and sandbagged fortifications, while the opposing armies gazed towards each other across the narrow English Channel. On the tenth of June Italy joined the war on the side of Germany and immediately there were assaults made on the Italian community and their properties. In Bermondsey a group of young men broke into Tony Armeda’s premises and smashed his barrow before setting light to the shed where Tony made his ice-cream. The young Italian narrowly escaped death by jumping from his bedroom window after the fire spread to his house. Shops owned by the Italian families were smashed and one or two owners were badly beaten up.

  Great Britain had now become an island under siege and folk stared up at the sky, fearing an airborne invasion at any minute. Wireless broadcasts gave out depressing bulletins as more ships were reported sunk. Casualty lists got longer, and the government warned everyone to be prepared for air raids.

  In Jubilee Dwellings the neighbours got together and decided to use the ground-floor flats as shelters should there be an
attack. Some of the folk were against the idea and made up their minds to use the factory shelter, even though it would be overcrowded. Annie and Alf Riley said that they would never be able to stand the factory basement and they would take their chances in the buildings. But others disagreed, including the Bartletts.

  Matthew had been adamant. ‘If a bomb caught these dwellin’s they’d collapse like a pack o’ cards. Let’s face it,’Elen, they’re fallin’ down as it is.’

  Alf Riley put up a different argument. ‘What about that bleedin’ factory? Look at all that machinery over yer ’ead. What chance would yer stand over there?’

  A few of the older folk in the dwellings were fatalistic in their approach to the dilemma. Mrs Hawkins summed it up by saying, ‘If yer gotta go, then yer gotta go, no matter where yer are. I’m gonna stay in me bed, an’ if the good Lord wants me’E knows where ter find me.’

  In the summer of that year Bank Holidays were cancelled. Factories on war work extended their hours and many work places were operating seven days a week. Cinemas, dance halls and other places of entertainment had been closed at the outbreak of war, but they were soon re-opened. During the summer of 1940 they were all very crowded as people sought an escape from the ugly reality that surrounded them.

  In Ironmonger Street the folk were constantly reminded of the war as sandbags were stacked against the rag shop and telephones were installed. Toby’s secret storehouse had now become an ARP post. The little oilshop opposite remained closed. It had been shut since Jerry Martin went into the mental hospital and, for the street folk, it had become a memorial to the grumpy old character. The paint had peeled from the shutters and the name over the door had faded. Some of the street kids said the place was haunted and they frightened each other with tales of demons and ghouls.