Lover (22 page)

In the end I thought perhaps I should go home. I couldn't face working, and there was no sense in moping about the street. Then it struck me that I might go by the warden's post and see if Harry was there. I don't know why I thought of him, except that I just wanted a bit of comfort, and he'd been so nice.

When I got to the post he wasn't there, but one of the others told me he'd be back soon, so I sat down and waited. When he came in he had a big smile, seeing it was me, then he took another look and said, ‘What's happened?'

‘Oh, Harry, I'm sorry to bother you, but—'

‘No bother. And no sorry, either. Just forget all that and tell me what's up.'

‘It's Lily. My friend Lily. She's been killed.'

‘When?'

‘Last night. I only found out just now.'

‘Come on. You don't want to talk about this here. Upsy-daisy.'

He gave me his arm, like before, and we went out and down the road. After a while, I said to him, ‘Where are we going?'

‘My flat. It's just across here. Don't worry, no funny business.'

‘It's all right, Harry, I trust you.'

‘Now you do—but you weren't so sure when we first met, were you?'

‘No. I'm sorry I thought you—'

‘Hey! Stop saying you're sorry. I was only pulling your leg. Now then, it's just up here.'

It was one of the old LCC flats in Bedfordbury, a big, grey tenement block in a yard with wash-houses and a surface shelter. We climbed the stairs—Harry's on the top floor. He opened the front door and we stepped straight into his living room. The first thing I saw was a great big old-fashioned range, all polished up smart with black lead. I didn't take in much, except how tidy it was. No ornaments, but a nice rag rug in front of the sofa, and a wireless on a wooden table.

In spite of Harry being so kind to me, it felt like a bad dream. He sat me down on the sofa and I tried to tell him about Lily—well, as much as I knew—but it came out all jumbled up and nothing seemed to make sense at all. I remember saying, halfway through, that perhaps I'd just imagined it or it was a horrible joke, because it didn't seem real, somehow, but then it suddenly came back to me like a slap in the face that it was real, and Ted had killed her, and I couldn't help it, I started to cry.

I was sort of perching near the edge of the sofa, and he was next to me, and he moved up so our knees were touching. Then he took my hand and held it. I only cried a little bit—not enough to mess up my face because I hardly ever do, except at the pictures. I felt dreadful about it, but when I apologised, he said, ‘You're not allowed to say sorry, remember? Come here.' And he put his arm round me.

‘How could he do it, Harry? Lily was good, she looked after him, and he just—'

‘Sssh…'

‘How could he?'

Harry patted my hand. ‘I don't know. Sometimes people just lose their temper, or… I really don't know. It's dangerous, Rene. A dangerous world.'

‘I never liked him, Harry. That's why I feel so bad. He knew I didn't—used to keep well clear of me. But I never said anything to Lily, because…well, you don't interfere, do you? And she'd never said anything to me about any trouble; not more than the usual, so…but I should have warned her.'

Harry said, ‘Warned her about what? You didn't think he was going to kill her, did you?'

‘No, nothing like that, I just didn't like him.'

‘Well then. You can't warn somebody about something if you've no idea it's going to happen, can you?'

I shook my head. ‘It must have been an accident. Ted must have been drunk—wouldn't have been the first time. It's just, coming after that horrible business with Edie…'

‘Like I said, Rene, it's a dangerous world.'

‘Lily thought she was keeping herself safe living with Ted, and look what happened.'

Harry got up. ‘I thought you said you trusted me. Look, Rene, I know what you're thinking, and I'll say it again. I'm not interested in anything like that. I'm worried about you, that's all. We can be friends, can't we?'

‘Yes…yes, of course we can, Harry. I'd like that.'

Then he said he'd make us a cup of tea, so he went out with the kettle. He's not got his own tap like I have; there's a sink and lav outside he shares with the neighbours. I sat and touched up my powder and that made me feel a bit better, so I took a look round. I could just see into the other room because the door was a little bit open, and there was some sort of divan affair for a bed and a shelf with books on it. Quite a lot of them, by the look of it. I was just wondering if I could get up and see what they were—not go into the room, just stand in the doorway and look from there—when I heard this little rustly noise coming from beside the sofa, so I look down and there's this cardboard box like a shoe box, with holes punched in the top. I was bending over it when Harry came back and said, ‘Shall I show you?'

‘It's not a spider in there, is it?'

‘No. Look. You don't have to stand back, it's not going to bite you.' He picked up the box and took the top off, and at first all I could see was cotton wool, but then Harry pulled some of it away and there, right in the middle, was a little baby bird. It must have been very young, because it was all naked and folded up, but its eyes were open. ‘I found it in the street. Must have fallen out of a nest.'

‘It's sweet. Are you going to keep it as a pet?'

Harry shook his head. ‘It can fly away when it's strong enough. Been feeding it with a fountain-pen filler. Have to get it some worms, soon.'

‘Ooh, I don't fancy that much. But it's so kind, looking after it like that. Most people wouldn't bother.'

Harry looked embarrassed. ‘I don't know why I did it, really. I just thought it deserved a chance.'

‘Everyone deserves that.'

We stood there for a moment, looking at this tiny thing, and then Harry said, ‘Now, I've got to get back to the post, but first I'm going to take you home.'

When we got to my door, he said, ‘Look, I know it's none of my business, but I don't think you should go out tonight.'

‘Don't worry, I'm stopping at home. I'm all in.'

‘I'll be dropping by the shelter, later. See how you're getting on.'

‘Thanks. For the tea and…everything.'

I went in and lay down on my bed, but I couldn't settle. Tried to listen to the wireless but they might as well have been talking Japanese for all I understood of it. I kept thinking how I'd have to go back out there tomorrow or there wouldn't be the money for Tommy, or the rent, or anything, but each time I tried to imagine myself talking to the men and bringing them back and all of it, I had this terrible panic come over me, like someone had put a black hood over my face so I couldn't breathe, and my chest got tight. I tried to look at it coldly, I kept telling myself it's just a business like any other, but I felt sick thinking about Lily and I didn't want to be on my own—I hadn't heard the warning but I thought, there's no point to staying here, I'll get down to the shelter now and make myself comfortable.

I took a magazine with me, but I couldn't get interested in it. I sat and watched the people come into the shelter with their blankets and bits and pieces, one pale face after another, all dogtired, and I thought, it's so hard, and everyone's cold and dirty and frightened, but they're still hanging on like grim death—we all are—and for what? What's the
point
? Why does anyone go on with it? I thought, I bet there's a load of people in Germany right now, all doing the same as us, and they're thinking the exact same thing, except they'd be thinking it in German, not English. You struggle on and you get bombed or you end up like Lily. Oh, I had the blues all right.

Even little Tommy, when I thought of him—well, that usually cheers me up no end, but I thought, Dora's his mum, and she and Joe would manage somehow if anything happened to me, and I suddenly imagined him as a grown man, saying, ‘Oh, Aunt Rene, I don't really remember her, she died when I was a kid, and I never realised till years later that she was on the streets…' and that would be that. And then remembering that moment when the midwife put him into my arms that first time and I held him, and what it felt like… I wasn't going into one of those places for unmarried mothers where they treat you like dirt and work you half to death, not likely, so Dora said I could have the baby at their flat and she'd tell the midwife I was a widow, which she did. But all the way through, she kept coming to the bedroom door and saying, ‘Keep the noise down or we'll have the neighbours up,' and I did my best, but it took a long time and the pain was terrible. I thought I'd never get through it. But then when it was over and the midwife gave him to me, and I sat there holding this little thing in a shawl and I thought, now I know what it's all about: love. So much love—overwhelming. But then you forget that, and life goes on, and you don't really know the reason for any of it. So that made it worse, getting sentimental like that, and then the raid started and I thought, I might as well just walk out into the middle of this and have done with it.

I was thinking about it when I heard a noise in front of me, someone clearing their throat, and I looked up and the first thing I saw was Mrs McIver's alarm clock hanging in front of my nose, and her little birdy hand clutching it like a claw. Do you know what my first thought was? Blimey, it's the grim reaper. Like the pictures I've seen in church, except this was a she not a he and it was an alarm clock instead of an hour-glass, and Death's wearing a black hood, not a battered old hat that would disgrace a seaside donkey. Of course, now I say it, it doesn't sound anything like, but that's what I thought at the time.

‘Hello, dear.' I was astonished because she'd never spoken to me before, ever. ‘I'm sorry about your friend.' I said it was nice of her to say so, and she said, ‘It's a terrible business.' Then she pulled this packet out of her bag, wrapped in newspaper, and said, ‘Here you are,' and put it down on my lap. ‘Go on, open it.' So I unfold the paper, and blow me if it isn't a lamb chop.

I said, ‘I can't take this, it's half your meat ration.'

‘You have it. Keep your strength up.'

‘It's very kind—'

‘Oh, don't thank me, dear, it isn't much. You enjoy it. Now then, I've got a message from Harry. He says to tell you he's been called away but he'll be coming round as soon as he can.' Then she went off to her place, just as usual, pulled her pencil out of her hat, licked the end, and got stuck into her crossword.

You could have knocked me down with a feather, and I wasn't the only one. I could see all the old girls' faces, the whole row—I had the parcel with the chop in my lap and they never once took their eyes off it. Like being watched by a lot of hawks. In the end I felt so uncomfortable that I picked it up and shoved it into my handbag. I swear I heard a whimper when I snapped it shut.

I must have dozed off some time after that, because a loud noise woke me up with a jerk, and I saw Harry was there, dealing with a couple of troublemakers—drunks, I think. Seeing as he was occupied, I took the chance to powder my nose and give my hair a bit of a pat, and when he'd sorted out the nuisance he came over and sat down by me. That gave the old girls more to gawp at because they'd all woken up with the racket, except for Ale Mary who was snoring fit to beat the band. I was starting to feel like an animal in a zoo, so I said, ‘Would you mind if we went outside? I could do with stretching my legs.'

‘Why not? It's been pretty quiet for a while.'

He walked me round to the mobile canteen and got us both mugs of tea. ‘It was nice of you to come by, Harry.'

‘I said I would, remember? How are you feeling?'

‘Oh, I just needed to get away from that lot. Mind you, though…' I told him about Mrs McIver and the chop and I opened my handbag to show him. ‘Can't let it out of my sight for a minute. But it just shows you, you can't tell what people will do, can you?'

‘Oh, she's a good sort,' said Harry. ‘She was friends with my mum, way back. Anyone in trouble, she'd be straight round there.'

‘With her alarm clock?'

‘No, but she had this set of Apostle spoons. Very fancy. Always had them in her bag, and when she came to our house she'd take them out and put them on the table and give them a little polish, and they'd sit there till it was time for her to go home. Never went anywhere without them, not even the shops. She was worried they'd get stolen. First night I saw her in the shelter, I said, ‘Got your spoons?' and she was ever so flustered, telling me she'd never had any spoons worth the name and she didn't know what I was talking about, and the next day she came by the wardens' shelter and gave me a right ticking off about how I wasn't to mention them because you don't know who's listening.'

‘You're having me on!'

Harry shook his head. ‘Honestly. But she's right really, because we have had robberies—poor old girl last week, over in Marylebone, she lost all her savings. Had it in her bag and someone walked off with it, so you be careful, won't you? Now, I'd better get off to the post, but I'll walk you back.'

On the way, he told me he'd been to the Black Horse on the excuse of checking the blackout, but they didn't know anything more than I'd told him, except that there were some swearing blind they'd heard Ted tell everyone he'd done away with Lily, and others saying he hadn't said anything of the sort, and nobody knew what to think. But he did tell me that it was Walt, the barman, who'd gone back with Ted and called the police.

‘Was he there?'

‘No. The police might want to talk to you, Rene.'

‘Me? Why?'

‘Well, you must have been one of the last people to see her—I mean, that they know about.'