sleety rain started to fall. Pulling up the collar of her coat, Alice speeded up her pace and urged Geoff to keep up and trot with her.
It was an icy afternoon in April and they’d been out for the afternoon browsing with friends in Chapel Street Market. Sarah Whitton had been with them but Sarah and Herbert Banks had decided to go somewhere dry and warm when the weather took a turn for the worse. They’d headed off to the flicks for the matinee while Geoff and Alice dodged the showers and continued looking at what was on offer on the stalls. Finally having decided there was nothing she liked enough to pay good money for – apart from a toffee apple for each of them – they had been on their way to the café for a nice hot drink when the widow had accosted Geoff.
As Alice turned to look over her shoulder she saw in the distance the widow stoop and collect the feather from the wet pavement then wander off, darting looks here and there as though seeking another young fellow to embarrass with it.
Alice knew the attitude of the people to the war was changing. Christmas had come and gone months ago and still there was no sign of the Germans being defeated. Every evening she sat at the table with her dad and they scanned the paper to find out what was happening over there … and over here. She remembered reading over and over again, open-mouthed, the article about something called a Zeppelin that had flown over the Norfolk coast to carry out a raid. That had been a long while ago – back in January. Then just last month the allied fleet had lost two ships and thousands of sailors and retreated from the Hun around a place called Constantinople. The allies were struggling and people at home were not now so confident as they’d once been of a fast, easy victory. Feelings were beginning to run high over it all as the casualties increased.
A swift glance at Geoff told Alice he was still looking a bit morose after being unfairly called a coward. ‘Gasping for a cuppa,’ she said cheerily. ‘Let’s get in there and have a warm-up.’
They entered Kenny’s café and found seats. While Geoff went off to fetch the drinks Alice fished in her pocket and pulled out Sophy’s letter. She spread it on the table and smoothed her fingers gently over her sister’s spidery writing.
After warming her cold palms on the hot cup and taking a few sips Alice picked up the note.
‘Sophy’s having a grand old time of it. She says she might get promoted from the kitchen and be a proper housemaid in a month or so when one of the women leaves to get married. Then she gets to stay upstairs and polish all the lovely furniture. She says here,’ Alice pointed at a place on the letter, ‘she’d like to eventually train up to be a lady’s maid and do hair stylin’ and sewing. The pay’s better, of course, and like that, when her mistress or her daughters go here ‘n’ there on visits, the lady’s maid sometimes gets to go too to keep them all neat ‘n’ tidy.’ Alice gave Geoff a twinkling smile. ‘If she manages to pull that off, I bet she’ll get to see some smashing places. Might even get took on holidays abroad.’ Her eyes swooped back to Sophy’s letter. ‘And listen to this, what they had for dinner last week when guests come up from London and stayed over at the Manor.’ Alice cleared her throat to recite, ‘“We had a sheep butchered for that weekend and also a goose and lots of chickens. Even us servants got to have a three-course dinner in the evening with puddings and cheeses. Oh, Al, you should’ve been here, it was wonderful grub.”’ Alice’s wide eyes met Geoff’s. ‘Coo, she’s lucky …’ Alice had already read the letter several times since it arrived in the post yesterday but the part about the delicious food her sister was enjoying, she could feast her eyes on time and time again.
Once in a blue moon in The Bunk, they might, when times were good, have a joint of beef or lamb roasted with potatoes on a Sunday dinnertime. She was usually the one to rush up to the baker’s with the tin containing their dinner. Along with most Bunk families lucky enough to occasionally have a Sunday roast they paid the baker to cook it to perfection in his big oven. The hob grate at home wasn’t adequate to do justice to such a fine meal. The last time Alice could recall having such a lovely feed was about the same time as the piano turned up. It had been ages ago: the weekend when her dad first got good work doing up Basher’s houses to satisfy the sanitary inspector. Alice tore her mind from the memory of more bountiful days and back to the letter in her hand. ‘Then Sophy just says that the housekeeper’s alright and lets her and Dan sit close together at the big table in the servants’ hall ’cos they’re sweethearts.’
Alice folded the paper and put it away. ‘You had any letters from Dan yet?’
‘Nah!’ Geoff said and gulped his tea. ‘Think me mum got something from him on her birthday earlier in the month. Weren’t expecting him to keep in touch with me in particular.’
‘Perhaps when the summer gets here … if we save up the fare … we could go on a trip and see them. I’d like that,’ Alice added dreamily. ‘It’d be nice to go to the seaside.’
‘Yeah … p’raps,’ Geoff said quietly. He knew full well the expense of such an outing was beyond him now Dan had gone and he was the main breadwinner at home. ‘Anyhow,’ he said roughly, ‘the amount of food the two of ’em are tuckin’ away we probably won’t recognise them. They’ve probably turned into a right couple of fatsos.’
Alice’s gurgle of laughter was soon fading away. ‘Oh no! Not him!’ she muttered in a dejected tone.
Geoff turned to glance over his shoulder to see who had entered and upset Alice with his presence.
Jimmy Wild was brushing rain from his coat and shutting the door with a clatter of the bell that hung on the back of it. He was with another man who Geoff recognised. He’d seen the fellow hanging around on the corner on Paddington Street when gambling schools were out. He believed his name to be Benny.
Jimmy caught sight of the young couple and with a grin he immediately sauntered over to their table. ‘Alright, young Alice?’ he greeted her cheerily.
Alice dredged up a smile, hoping he’d then go away again. She hadn’t seen her uncle Jimmy for very many months. Nor had she wanted to. Now she was older she understood much more about him and his mean, selfish ways. She knew he’d gone off with a fancy woman and abandoned her aunt Fran when she was very ill from giving birth to their dead daughter. He’d left Bobbie and Stevie for Tilly to deal with, for he must have known that Fran couldn’t cope with them considering the state she’d been in. Alice understood too that her uncle wasn’t really a happy chappie who blew his top once in a while and found it necessary to chastise his kids, or return the slap his wife had given him. And Alice knew that husbands and wives did come to blows. She’d seen her mum and dad go at it like cat and dog on occasions. She’d seen her old Nan try and separate them with a broom. As she brooded on those occasions the song that her dear departed Nan would croon came in to her mind and refused to budge:
Sally, roll your sleeves up, Take your mother’s part, Father’s come home drunk again And he’s broke your mother’s heart. They’re fighting one another And he’s give her two black eyes, But he’ll tell her he still loves her in the morning.
‘So, how’ve you been, Alice?’ Jimmy’s loud enquiry brought an abrupt finale to the ditty rotating infuriatingly in Alice’s mind. ‘Ain’t seen you in a good while. Gettin’ big now, ain’t you?’
He slowly inspected her in a way that made Alice feel uneasy and unpleasantly hot.
‘You gotta be fifteen now, ain’t you?’
‘Fourteen,’ Alice told him quickly and picked up her cup and drank from it.
‘I know you too, mate.’ Jimmy turned
