Anna had come to London by ferry and rail, popped in to see her aunt in the London flat to cadge the bits and pieces necessary for a night on the pavement, and set off again at four in the afternoon to find herself a suitable spot from which to watch. Elderly relatives, she had been informed by Aunt Ella, would get all the excitement they needed from listening to the commentary on the wireless and possibly watching part of the procession from a friend’s flat.
So here she was at last, with an umbrella, two flasks of hot coffee, a paper bag full of sandwiches, her uncle’s old naval binoculars, a rubber ground-sheet, a blow-up pillow and a tartan car rug. She and her possessions had got themselves a good little pitch among the crowds assembled outside the abbey and she had just been settling down for a long and lonely wait when two things happened. The first was that it began to rain; the second was that she spotted another girl, also by herself.
As the first drops began to spatter down the other
girl looked up at the sky and moaned softly. ‘Oh damn, I never should have come!’
As an introduction it wasn’t much, but it was all Anna needed. She shoved her blanket and ground-sheet a couple of inches along the pavement, tugged at the other girl’s sleeve, and said, ‘Didn’t you bring a ground-sheet? If you want, you can share mine; it’s quite big, with plenty of room under it for us both.’
The other girl smiled gratefully. As far as Anna could judge, for her companion was still sitting down, she was small and rounded with black, shiny hair cut in a sort of Dutch bob, dark eyes and a sweet, three-cornered smile.
‘Oh, that’s awfully kind of you – I didn’t really bring anything much because I left home in a great hurry. Well, I brought an umbrella, a rug and some food, but that’s about it. Look, if we put both umbrellas up and sort of drape your ground-sheet over them …’
Kneeling up, laughing, struggling, the two of them made themselves a neat little shelter with the two umbrellas, the ground-sheet and the dark girl’s blanket.
‘We can wrap my car rug around us as it gets colder,’ Anna said, sitting well back in the shelter and watching the rain get into its stride. ‘Someone farther up has got a gramophone, so we’ll have a sing-song later, I expect. It’s fun, isn’t it? Did you go to the wedding?’
No need to say which wedding, that was taken as read.
‘Yes, I certainly did. The Princess and I were born on the same day, you see, so I’ve …’
‘You mean you were twenty-seven on the twenty-first of April? Well, if that isn’t the oddest coincidence – me too!’
The two girls stared at each other, round-eyed.
‘Gosh! Oh, my name’s Nell Morris … Helen, really, but everyone calls me Nell.’
‘I’m Anna Radwell. Nice to meet you, Nell. To tell you the truth, I felt the most enormous sense of relief when I
realised you were alone too. I work abroad, you see, and it was touch and go whether I got away for the coronation or not, so I didn’t have time to make plans with friends. It’s not much fun to be alone in a huge crowd, so I was tickled pink when I saw you cursing the rain, obviously by yourself.’
‘Nice to meet you too, Anna. I’m by myself because I’ve got a – a small business which ought not to be left, so my parents stayed at home to look after it for me. We live in the back of beyond, up in north Wales, in a very tiny village. It didn’t occur to me to ask anyone else to come up to London with me; usually my – my husband and I do everything together, but he couldn’t manage to get away this time.’
‘I noticed the wedding ring,’ Anna said. ‘I’m still unattached and fancy free. I suppose you could say I was a career girl, at any rate I haven’t married. Now, when shall we start on our sandwiches? I wonder if we ought to save them, because at the wedding people came round selling things to eat; it was only when the processions started that you would have gone hungry if you’d not provided your own.’
‘There were hot chestnut sellers, because it was November, and everything else was rationed,’ Nell said reminiscently. ‘We had some, Snip and I – they were delicious. I say, you weren’t around here then, were you? We were almost on this very spot.’
‘Really? Then we must have been within a few feet of each other,’ Anna said at once. ‘Isn’t it the strangest thing? Were you at King George’s coronation? We were only kids then, of course, and I wasn’t allowed to sleep on the pavement or anything like that, but I stayed with my aunt and my cousins and afterwards we fought our way through the streets so we could see them come out on to the balcony. It was a wonderful experience, I’ll never forget it.’
‘I came up for it. Actually, my mother was working just outside London at the time and we came up in a family party, Jack, Mum, little Fleur and me. I remember Snip, who was always a little devil, climbing up Eros and waving to the coach with Queen Mary and the little Princesses in it, and they waved back. He was very cock-a-hoop over that next day, you can imagine.’
‘The boy who climbed Eros? Gosh, my cousin Nancy and I saw him and were so envious, though Nancy, of course, said she could have done it easily if she’d thought of it. And you actually knew him – what fame!’
‘Knew him? I married him,’ Nell said. ‘His name is Snip Morris and I’m Nell Morris. So now you’re famous too.’
They began to laugh, giggling helplessly in their odd little shelter, warm side against warm side as they continued to gaze out at the steadily falling rain. But it wasn’t the rain they were seeing, it was that other coronation sixteen years ago, when they had been so young, so carefree, so full of hope.
‘So we’ve already discovered that we have at least one mutual acquaintance,’ Anna said when their giggles had subsided. ‘By the time morning comes, we’ll probably know each other’s life history. But I spy a chip van. If I uproot my brolly can you hold half our ceiling up while I rush over there and buy us sixpennorth? Hot food would be nice, don’t you think?’
‘Wizard,’ Nell said approvingly. ‘Take my brolly, it’s bigger. Only give it a good shake before you shove it back in, we don’t want it widdling over our legs.’
‘How right you are.’ Anna heaved carefully at Nell’s umbrella and Nell held up the roof. ‘Shan’t be a mo – if he’s selling fish as well, shall I get some of that, or would you rather just chips?’
‘Chips will be fine. I’m not starving hungry, just peckish,’ Nell said. ‘Oh, don’t forget the salt and vinegar on mine!’
*
It continued to rain; puddles formed. The valiant ground-sheet was found to be gathering a lake above their heads which had to be dealt with before it overflowed and soaked them both. Nell went out and guided the stream away from them while Anna, inside, pushed a careful palm against the fat, water-filled curve.
Nell, returning to their warm nest, was happier than she had been for weeks. She had been so desperately lonely, so totally miserable at the castle without Snip, so when her mother had suggested she go to the coronation anyway, her first instinct had been to refuse.
‘I don’t care about it any more,’ she had said dully. ‘It doesn’t mean anything to me. Besides, there’s no fun in going alone and you can’t come; you’ve got too much on your plate right now.’
Hester was expecting a baby and no one was more surprised than she. But she was delighted too, though she kept telling anyone who would listen that forty-three was too old to become a mother for the second time, and sixty far too old to become a father.
‘What does age matter?’ Matthew had said, prodding her bump. ‘Littl’un don’t give a damn, you may be sure of that. I’ve got a quid on that it’s a boy, too, so don’t go lettin’ me down, woman.’
But Nell knew he would be delighted with any child.
‘Just because I’m expecting a baby, Nell, that doesn’t mean you have to be around to coddle me; Matthew does a very good job of coddling,’ Hester had said. ‘Just you go, love. It’ll take your mind off things. And remember Snip’s note; he said he wasn’t going for good and he meant it. He’ll be back. We came back, didn’t we?’
‘Oh God, Mum, I can’t wait twelve years,’ Nell had cried. ‘I want him now. I want to put my arms round him and give him a hard hug and tell him I love him. And I want us to have a baby, too … think how nice
it would be for your little boy and my little boy to be chums!’
‘It’ll all be fine, he’ll come home soon,’ Hester said. ‘He’ll be with a fair somewhere, even if he wasn’t with Gullivers. Come to think, he might have joined up with his father again, now that he’s older and more capable. Why not put word around for the Morris family?’
‘It’s been two whole
months
– a lifetime,’ Nell moaned. ‘And it’s all the fault of my stupid, spiteful tongue. Yes, I’ll try the Morrises.’
She had, without success so far. So on the second of June, having spent most of the night in miserable wakefulness, she had got out of bed as day dawned, glanced out of the window, and decided to go to London. At least I’ll be doing something, she told herself, getting together the things she thought she would need. At least I shan’t be sitting here, missing Snip and cursing myself. On Coronation Day all the shops will be closed, all the old biddies will be gathered round their wireless sets, and I’ll be unhappy and bored and unable to do a thing about it. So I’ll go to London and see what’s going on with my own eyes … see my dear little Princess become Queen.’
So she had come to London and now she was glad.
‘I think the time has come for me to broach my first flask,’ Anna said, as they settled themselves once more. ‘Have you noticed that fat woman under the enormous fishing umbrella, right opposite us? I think she came to the wedding too. If it’s the same one, she got uproariously drunk and kept offering people drinks – look, she keeps taking a swig out of that big bottle. She’ll start singing presently.’
‘I bet it’s only cold tea,’ Nell observed. ‘I don’t think she was drunk last time, either, I think she’s a natural show-off. Would you rather open my flask first, though? What’s in yours?’
‘Coffee. What’s in yours?’
‘Coffee, but with a tot of brandy,’ Nell said proudly. ‘My Dad insisted on putting some in because he said it would be a wet night. He’s a great believer in a tot of brandy against the cold, my Dad.’
‘Wonderful! That’s the sort of thing my father would have thought of if he’d been around when I was packing my things. We’ll save yours for a last tot before we try to snatch some sleep, then,’ Anna said. ‘I wonder how many of the people gathered here tonight were here last time? Quite a lot, I bet. You get sort of attached to a person like Princess Eliz … I mean the Queen, don’t you? I remember when I was little I envied the Princesses their mother, she was so – so
motherly
, somehow, not like my own mother. My mother’s very nice,’ she added hastily, ‘but she was too wrapped up in my father to be a very cuddly mother when I was young. Now, of course, it’s different. She lives by herself in a really super flat and she’s got a marvellous job and lots of friends. I really enjoy going to see her, now.’
‘Is your father dead, then?’ Nell asked. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘No, he’s not dead, mother left him quite a few years ago. To tell you the truth he was not a good husband at all. He likes women, you see, and …’
The story intrigued Nell. She asked Anna where she lived and Anna told her about Goldenstone and Nell told her that their fair had been set up in Blofield, on the recreation ground alongside the Margaret Harker Hall, a few years before the war. ‘I didn’t know it at the time, but a friend of mine lived in Blofield,’ she said, suddenly remembering. ‘Dan Clifton – I don’t suppose you know him?’
‘None better. I went out with him for a while, he taught me to sail a boat,’ Anna said, carefully tipping steaming coffee from her flask into Nell’s cup. To her surprise her hand stayed steady and she didn’t spill a drop. ‘Fascinating he was, awfully good looking. I really
fell for him when I was in my teens. How did you come to meet him, then?’
‘It’s a long story,’ Nell said. ‘Do you want to hear it?’
‘Might as well. It’ll pass the time and, besides, I’m rather intrigued. Dan and I both work in Paris now, so we see quite a lot of each other. To tell you the truth, he’s asked me to marry him, but … oh, I don’t know. I suspect he’s the sort to chase after girls if he gets bored and I don’t think I could ever learn to live with that. What did you think of him when you knew him? Did you know his parents? I met him when he’d been left with his grandmother, Mrs Lucas, and after they took him away from boarding school we caught the same bus into the city each morning during term time. He was headed for the Grammar school in the Cathedral Close and I went to the High School, on Newmarket Road, but we sat next to each other as far as Tombland. He must have been about twelve when we first met, I suppose.’
‘I adored him when I was a kid,’ Nell said frankly. ‘Let me tell you the whole story though, and then you can tell me why you didn’t snap him up when he offered.’ She paused, looking thoughtfully before her, at the relentless rain. ‘And I’ll tell you why I didn’t marry him, either,’ she finished.
‘So you didn’t marry him because your mother said he was your brother, and I didn’t marry him because I could see a certain resemblance to my father,’ Anna said at midnight, when they had both told their stories and been temporarily silenced by the chimes of Big Ben, striking the hour. ‘Poor old Dan! Nell, do you think he really is a bit of a bounder? Only from what you’ve said, his whole family are black sheep, at least where women are concerned.’
‘No, I don’t think Dan’s like that, I think he’s just very nice-looking,’ Nell said after a moment’s thought.
‘Mr Geraint, who’s his uncle, said that Dan’s father was shy and bookish, not a bit like the rest of the family. When he came back into my life during the war he was kind and sensitive … I really did like him. But I only knew him briefly, you’ve known him for years.’
‘Yes, I have,’ Anna admitted. ‘Well, I’m not going to marry anyone anyway, so it doesn’t really matter whether Dan’s a positive bluebeard! But you did marry; you said so. Is it nice, being married?’
‘I did get married and I loved it. But two months ago he left me, indirectly because of Dan. That’s another long story, but it would help me a lot to tell it to you, if you could bear it.’