Perseverance Street (3 page)

‘Pity it doesn’t purge the brain of foolishness,’ said Edith. ‘As far as I’m concerned you can’t be too careful as far as babies are concerned. We were never blessed, as you know.’

‘Do you mind if I –?’ asked Bernard, holding a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in the other.

‘Not at all. I’ll get you an ashtray.’

‘I don’t indulge,’ said Edith piously. ‘I don’t think smoking does anyone any good. His fags cost half a crown for twenty and he smokes forty a day. Every four days it’s a pound note gone up in smoke. Daylight robbery if you ask me.’

‘Nay, lass, it’s the only vice I’ve got,’ grinned Oldroyd. ‘I’m not a big drinker and I don’t gamble, apart from a few bob on t’ Grand National once a year.’ He lit his cigarette and looked down at Michael, giving the boy an avuncular smile. ‘Now then young feller, you look to me like a lad who likes Dinky Toys. Am I right, Michael?’

Michael, who didn’t know
what a Dinky Toy was, stared up at him, saying nothing, just clutching his wooden giraffe. Bernard stuck his cigarette in the side of his mouth and patted either side of his coat with both hands before reaching inside the right-hand pocket. He brought out a model car, which he placed in the boy’s hand.

‘It an American Cadillac. I thought you might like it. All the Hollywood film stars have ’em so I thought you might as well have one.’

Michael’s eyes widened in wonder as he took the gift and examined it closely.

‘Say, “Thank You”,’ said Lily.

‘Thank you,’ Michael said, without taking his eyes off the car.

‘We’ve got a lot more of those at home,’ the man said. ‘If you ever come to visit me you can play with them as long as you like.’ He winked at Lily and added, ‘I never did grow up.’

‘Like a big kid sometimes,’ confirmed Edith, smiling. She reached out and placed a hand on Lily’s. ‘How’re you coping, love – honestly?’

Lily felt Bernard’s eyes on her as well. She ran her hands through her hair and began to cry.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, love,’ said Edith. ‘I didn’t mean to set you off.’

‘No, it’s not you – it’s
just that … well, apart from neighbours I really haven’t got anybody.’

‘What about Larry’s family?’ asked Bernard.

Lily shook her head. ‘Them? I might as well be dead as well as far as they’re concerned. I was never good enough for their Larry. They probably blame me for him being killed, knowing them.’ There was unashamed bitterness in her voice.

‘Oh dear,’ said Edith. ‘I wish we lived nearer so we could help.’

‘Maybe we can,’ said Bernard.

Edith looked at him querulously.

‘I do have a car, Edith. We can pop over from time to time. Tell you what, here’s an idea. Why don’t we take Michael off your hands for a couple of days? Give him a bit of a treat and give you a bit of a breather.’

Edith answered for Lily. ‘No, Bernard. She’ll want the lad with her at a time like this. You men, you just don’t understand stuff.’

‘Sorry. It was just an idea.’

‘It was a very nice idea, Bernard,’ said Lily, ‘but Edith’s right. Michael’s a great comfort to me right now.’

‘Of course there’s all that stuff about the bombing,’ Edith said. ‘I couldn’t help but notice the barrage balloons are all up, so there must be some truth in it.’

‘What stuff about bombs?’ said Lily.

Bernard gave his wife a reproachful glance that Lily noticed. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘we don’t want to scare you, Lily, but there’s been stuff in the papers recently saying that the Luftwaffe’s going to make one last big effort to come up to Leeds here and bomb our munitions factories.’

‘But I thought
the war was nearly over.’

‘Try telling that to them daft German beggars. Fight to the last man, some of ’em. Bloody fanatics!’

‘When’s all this supposed to happen?’

‘I don’t know, love,’ Bernard said. ‘Probably never, but the papers say any time now. They evidently invented some new type of planes called jets – Messerschmitts or something. They’re supposed to be twice as fast as anything we’ve got. It could be that Edith’s right about the barrage balloons.’

‘What? But they’re always up … aren’t they?’

Edith jabbed a thumb in the direction of the window. ‘Are they really? As many as that?’

‘Oh, I don’t really know. I never look up at them, nowadays.’

‘They’re after that Royal Ordnance Factory at Barnbow,’ said Bernard, ‘and all them engineering works down in Hunslet. It what they were after when they bombed Leeds in 1941 – and you know where the bombs landed then.’

Lily nodded. ‘Not far from here. There were bombs two streets away, quite a few killed.’

‘I know – that’s what bothers us. The problem is when they fly up to Yorkshire they’ve only got just enough fuel left to get back to Germany, and there’s always a mucky cloud over Leeds from all these factory chimneys and they can’t see where to drop their bombs so they just drop ’em anywhere to get rid and bugger off back home. Yer all targets, love.’

Edith looked at Lily
and shrugged. ‘We’ve already got my sister from Hunslet and her two boys living with us but we could squeeze another small boy in at a pinch.’ She looked down at Michael, now running his new toy across the lino and making a car engine noise, then back up at Lily. ‘Anyway, it’s up to you, love. I fully understand if you can’t bear to be parted from him, it’s just that he’d probably be a bit safer with us – if only over the weekend. I’d ask you to come as well, but I expect you don’t want to be too far from the hospital right now.’

Lily patted her stomach and nodded ruefully. ‘How old are your sister’s boys?’ she asked Edith.

‘One’s six, the other’s younger – about Michael’s age. Nice lads, although they’re a bit lively at times. Most boys are. I expect Michael’d get along with them like a house on fire. This is very nice tea, I must say. Is it Rington’s?’

‘Yes, a man comes in a van round every week.’

‘What, a little Rington’s van pulled by a pony?’

‘No, it’s just a van.’

‘Ours is pulled by a pony. You’re obviously much more up to date in the big city.’

The conversation stuttered along with Lily not in the mood for polite chat, nor conversation of any kind. After a while Bernard got to his feet.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘I think we might have jumped the gun a bit here about having young Michael come over for a couple of days because you might get bombed. We’re scaremongering where we shouldn’t be. I blame Edith, I’m afraid.’

‘What!’ exclaimed his
wife angrily. ‘It was you who was doing all the damned scaremongering!’

Bernard ignored her and turned his attention to Lily. ‘She would insist that I come straight here and mention the bombing. It wasn’t my idea. You know what she’s like. Prone to exaggeration is my Edith. To listen to her you’d think Hitler was going to bomb us all this very minute.’

‘I am not prone to exaggeration!’ protested Edith. ‘I was only thinking of Lily. She’s a young widow woman on her own who needs a bit of respite – and they
are
going to be bombing Leeds, according to you! You’ve been prattling on about it all the way here!’ She turned to Lily. ‘I’m sorry love but he gets me so mad at times.’

‘It’s all right,’ said Lily. ‘His heart’s in the right place, so’s yours.’

‘Well, you know where we are, Lily,’ said Bernard.

‘I do,’ said Lily. ‘I noticed you have a phone in your house, could you let me have the number?’

Oldroyd looked questioningly at his wife who raised her eyebrows at him. He turned and smiled at Lily.

‘Course I can, love. Have you got a pen or something?’

Lily produced a pen and a writing pad for Bernard to write down his number. He showed it to Edith for her to check.

‘That’s it, isn’t it, love?’

‘If you say so,’ she snapped.

Lily felt slightly guilty at being the indirect cause of bad feeling between these two friends of hers. On top of which the threat of more bombs was a bit worrying.

‘Do they actually say
when
the
Germans are going to bomb us?’ she asked.

Bernard shrugged. ‘Well, I don’t suppose Mr Hitler telephones Mr Churchill to let him know these things. It could be tonight for all I know. Maybe never. Maybe it’s all propaganda. But I couldn’t help notice there’s a lot of barrage balloons up there, despite Leeds not being bombed for four years. Is there an air raid shelter handy?’

‘My Larry reinforced the cellar ceiling. There’s a proper one in the next street.’

‘Anyway, it’s all a question of whether you want to take the risk,’ Oldroyd said. ‘I do know that children tend to be more vulnerable to bombs than adults. It’s frightening how many kiddies’ve been killed compared to adults.’

‘Really?’

He nodded, sadly. ‘I’m afraid so.’ He looked down at Michael, still playing with his new toy. ‘If you change your mind I can come and pick him up. If he gets homesick I’ll run him straight back here. And when you ring you must tell the operator to reverse charges, then you’re not forever sticking pennies in.’

‘That’s very kind of you.’

‘Lily, it’s the least I can do. We all need to do our bit during these troubled times and you’ve done more than your share.’

Lily walked to the window and remembered the view from the Oldroyds’ house up in the Dales. Green hills, peppered with grazing sheep and a paddock backing on to the huge garden, with three horses in it. The paddock dipped down into a shallow stream where Michael had paddled and tried to catch tiny
fish with his bare hands. The memory had her smiling. The foul weather outside helped to emphasise the contrast between here and the beautiful Yorkshire Dales village. How much fun would her son have with two friends to share it with, and no bombs threatening to end his life before it had really begun?

‘The weather forecast’s good for the weekend,’ said Bernard. ‘This rain’s supposed to clear up overnight.’

‘Are the horses still in the field at the back?’ asked Lily, without taking her gaze from the dismal street.

‘They are, lass,’ said Oldroyd, ‘and there’s a couple o’ ponies come ter join ’em. Cute little beggars.’

‘I think they’re Shetlands,’ added Edith.

Lily smiled at the image as a rag-and-bone cart passed the window accompanied by a familiar cry.

‘Raggabone!’

The horse looked as miserable as Lily felt. Its master was huddled under a cheap raincoat. Not much on his cart to have made it worthwhile coming out today. He had little enthusiasm for his job as he called out.

‘Any owd rags?’

‘It should be nice weather to be out and about in the Dales,’ said Oldroyd. ‘They’ll have a right old time, playing with the horses and ponies and mucking about in that stream.’ He laughed. ‘It’ll be a struggle to get the young devils in for their meals. There’s a fair in t’ village on Sunday as well. We could take him to that.’

‘What, with roundabouts and things?’ Lily asked.

‘Well, it’s a proper country fair,’ said Edith. ‘All sorts goes on, but there’ll be roundabouts, coconuts shies, helter skelter and all that stuff.
It’d be like a little holiday for the lad.’

‘Hook-a-Duck?’ asked Lily. ‘I always liked Hook-a-Duck because you always win.’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Oldfield. ‘It’s not a proper fair without Hook-a-Duck.’

Lily stared out at the street trying to make up her mind. If she was able to go with Michael she’d jump at the offer, but at her late stage in her pregnancy she didn’t want to be too far away from her midwife, who only lived in the next street. Eventually she looked down at her son.

‘Michael, would you like to go for a ride in Mr Oldroyd’s car out to the house where you fed the horses and played in the stream? There are two boys living with him about your age who you’d be able to play with.’

Michael looked up and studied her intently. The offer was enormously tempting. He’d never been in Oldroyd’s car.

‘Will you be coming, Mam?’

‘No, love. I have to stay here because of the baby.’

Michael gave the matter more thought, then asked, ‘Will I be allowed to sleep there?’

‘If you like.’

‘How many sleeps?’

It was Michael’s way of measuring time.

‘Two, if you’re good.’ She looked at Oldroyd. ‘Would you be able to bring him back after the fair on Sunday?’

‘Not a problem, love. I bet he’ll be so tired he’ll sleep all the way back.’

Lily smiled down
at her son, one of the two most precious things in her life, and she knew it was her duty to protect him to the best of her ability. ‘It depends how good a boy you are.’

‘Can I sit in the front of the car?’

‘So long as you don’t want to drive,’ laughed Bernard.

And so it was settled that Michael would go that very evening to stay at the Oldroyds’ for a couple of days while Hitler dropped the last of his bombs.

Saturday 28th April

‘Is your Mickey playin’ out,
Mrs Robinson? We’re playin’ ’opscotch an’ I thowt he’d like ter learn how ter play like.’

Lily looked down at the boy standing on her step. His hair was shaved way up past his ears in a basin cut. His nose was running and there were many holes in his grey pullover. His short trousers were torn and his socks flopped around the tops of his black pumps, each of which had a hole in the toe to give his feet room to grow. Michael was turned out better, but not much. It crossed her mind to tell young Tony Lafferty that her son’s name was Michael. He’d been named after Michael Wilding, not Mickey Rooney.

‘He’s not here, Tony. He’s gone to stay with his er, his uncle and auntie over the weekend.’

Tony hesitated, then galloped away at full speed, slapping his backside with his hand in the manner of all five-year-old Yorkshire cowboys. Lily watched him leave and, not for the first time, wondered if she’d done the right thing in letting Michael go off with the Oldroyds. It was four days since she’d heard the news about Larry. Her heart was still leaden, her tears not far away, but she knew she had to get through it. She wasn’t the only war widow in Perseverance Street. Ethel Baskind from number 38 had lost her husband at Dunkirk, leaving her with three children to bring up and Joyce Allison from number 7 had a husband who’d been in a POW camp in Burma since 1939; she wasn’t sure if he was still alive.