Mates


Chapter 1 - April 1947

Martha Taylor was a small, thin woman, standing 5 foot 2 inches in her bare feet. Her features were quite plain save for her green eyes that had a soft, kind look about them. Her hair was full and generous with a fair amount of grey among the dark brown. It was tied up in a bun at the back in an old fashioned way that made her look all of her 50 years. She was the kind of woman that went unnoticed in the street. Indeed, if she was noticed at all it was probably because of the way she moved, for she didn’t so much walk as scurry, like a friendly but nervous hamster. Martha’s diminutive stature gave her an air of vulnerability but in reality she had a steely spirit beneath the shy exterior that was locked away from view most of the time. Normally she was very calm but today, at 5.30 in the afternoon, she sat in her back room, fiddling nervously with the hem of her apron as she stared blankly at the floor. She had been sitting there for about 10 minutes waiting for the sound of her husband’s key in the street door. It came at 5.33.

“I’M HOME LOVE,” came the familiar voice from the passage and seconds later Dick appeared, filling the open doorway with his broad frame and smiling his huge smile. “This hot weather seems to be going on forever; it was unbearable at the factory today.” He walked over and stooped to give his wife a kiss but stopped short, sensing that something was wrong. “You all right Martha?”

Martha looked up at him, and he immediately saw the tell-tale redness of her dark eyes. Her face was pale and drawn. Dick pulled one of the chairs away from the table and sat down close to her. “Martha, what’s wrong? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost. Have you been crying?”

“I have………..I have seen a ghost,” she spluttered. She was wringing her hands in her lap, and Dick could see she was fighting back more tears.

He reached across and laid his hand gently on hers. “Tell me what’s happened,” he said quietly.

His wife opened her mouth and tried to speak but she could contain the tears no longer, and her head jerked back and forth as she began to sob.

Her husband said nothing for a few moments but squeezed her hand lovingly until she began to get control of herself. She took a hankie from her apron and dabbed her eyes dry.

“That’s better, sweetheart; now come on, it can’t be that bad surely?”

“Oh Dick…… we……. we’re going to have to move again.” As the words came out, the sobs threatened to begin again but this time she managed to hold them back and she blew her nose determinedly.

“What do you mean? Why should we have to move? Aren’t you happy here any more?”

“Yes darling, yes…….. of course I’m happy; I love it here. I didn’t think I would, as you well know. I hated leaving our friends in Hackney, but at the time it seemed………no…it was the right thing to do. But now I’m frightened we’ll have to move again.”

“Now come on Martha, out with it; what’s upset you like this? Tell me what’s happened.”

The mere fact that Dick was now in the room had a calming effect on Martha. She stood up saying, “Dick, you must be gasping for a cup of tea; I’ll put the kettle……”

“Tell you what,” Dick interrupted, taking hold of her arm and standing beside her, his tall, athletic build immediately dwarfing her, “Why don’t I put the kettle on and you tell me all about it?” He turned and made for the door, “Keep talking, I can still hear you. Now, what’s so terrible that we’ve got to move?”

“It’s the family that moved into number 62 on Friday,” said Martha, her voice raised to reach her husband along the short passage to the scullery at the back of the house.

Dick was filling the kettle; Martha was right, he was gasping for a cuppa. “Oh yes, you said you were going to give them a chance to settle in and pop across and introduce yourself today; did you see them?”

“Yes – well, I saw her. Her husband was at work.”

“What’s she like?”

“Dick – she knows us.”

“She knows us – what do you mean she knows us – where from?”

“From Hackney….she knows us from Hackney.”

Dick stopped in his tracks. Without lighting the gas under the kettle, he turned, retraced the half dozen or so steps to the back room and stood in the doorway. “Hang on, you say she knows us?”

“Yes.”

“Well, do you….do we, know her?”

“I don’t think you would know her, but I met her a few times. She lived round the corner from us in Harper Road. She was a relative of the Cooper’s - a big woman.”

Dick came back into the room and sat down again. “What did you say……what did she say, when you realised you knew each other?”

“She recognised me straight away,” said Martha, “but she meant nothing to me until she started to speak – then I remembered her.”

“Did she say anything about….?”

“Straight away - straight away she said what an awful business it all was and how she often wondered where we moved to. Dick, how can we stay here, with her living across the street?”

“Did she say anything else?”

“I didn’t give her much of a chance. I told her what’s past is past and that’s how we’d like to keep it and would she please not mention it to anyone as we didn’t want it getting back to Alec.”

“Do you think she will tell anyone?”

“Yes I do,” answered Martha. “I never did like the woman; she was always gossiping. I’m sure she’ll be bursting to tell someone.”

“You don’t know that – she might not. She’s got kids hasn’t she? I saw a couple over there at the weekend.”

“She’s got a boy, Danny, about the same age as our Alec and a girl, Jean, about a year younger I think.”

“I can’t believe she would go out of her way to hurt a boy of Alec’s age. Surely she wouldn’t wish it on her own son if the boot was on the other foot?”

“I just don’t trust the woman, Dick. I thought after 5 years we could put it all behind us, but it’s never going to go away, is it?”

“Let’s not get things out of proportion Martha; it may not come to anything. It wouldn’t be easy for us to move, not at the moment anyway. There’s my job for a start; it’s steady and better money since they made me foreman, and who knows when the good times will be back? Then there’s Alec. He was the reason we moved here in the first place. I know this woman………..what’s her name by the way?”

“Toomey - Eileen Toomey. Her husband’s name is Eric.”

“I know this Toomey woman could be a fly in the ointment but if she is then maybe we have to make a stand and meet her head-on - right here if we have to. After all, Alec is older now and maybe one day he will have to know, but at the moment he’s doing really well at school and I think it would be a sin to uproot him at this stage. And what about Mary? It wouldn’t be very fair on her either. She’s got a good job at Woolies, and all her friends are here.”

“I know – she’s been a fantastic kid over all this.”

“Let’s not panic, eh love? The Toomey woman might just let it go and never mention it again.”

“Let’s hope she does. Let’s pray she does,” said Martha without any real confidence. “Now, let me make that cup of tea; we’ll die of thirst if we wait for you to do it.”


Chapter 2 - July 1947

Pete, Alec, Freddie and Danny ambled towards Belmont Street on their way home from Saturday morning picture club. The boys were in no particular hurry, finding time to climb lamp posts, balance on low walls and generally look for things to do along the way to make their journey more interesting. It has to be said that if it had been nearer lunchtime, their progress would have been much swifter. Pete Atkins at 9 years old was the eldest and also the tallest – just. He was a strong looking lad, broad and heavy but not fat. His black, slightly wavy hair was short with no parting and never looked as though it needed combing, which was just as well because Pete never combed it.

“Has anybody got any comics to swap when we get back?” asked Alec, kicking a stone into the road towards an on-coming tram.

“I’ve got two new ‘Captain Marvels’,” replied Freddie, a gangling lad whose looks belied his age, for although he was the youngest of the group, he was only a fraction shorter than Pete and possessed a magnificent shock of blonde hair that sat on top of his head in tight curls. You certainly wouldn’t lose Freddie in a crowd.

“I’ll give you a couple of ‘Film Funs’ for them,” said Danny, getting his bid in quick.

“You are feeling generous today, ain’t yer Toomey,” Pete cut in. “You know one American comic is worth two ‘Film Funs’. Don’t listen to ’im Wisdom.”

Danny Toomey was an outgoing kind of boy, inclined to be a bit cocky but sociable with it and although he had only moved into the street 3 months before, he’d settled in quickly and had already made a number of friends. He was a spiv in the making – your jovial barrow boy of the future. At the age of 8, Danny’s path in life had already been mapped out. He was hell bent on parting his friends and anyone else for that matter, from their money and when his friends had no money he would take it in kind – in this case, comics.

“Mind yer own business, Atkins,” said Danny, “I wasn’t talkin’ to you.”

“I’ll give you a ‘Dandy’ and a ‘Radio Fun’ for one of the ‘Captain Marvels’,” said Alec, eager to get his hands on a copy of his favourite American comic hero.

“Okay,” concurred Freddie, “as long as I ’aven’t read ’em.” This statement was a verbal handshake as far as the friends were concerned, which only left one of Freddie’s ‘Captain Marvels’ up for grabs.

“And I’ll bring my pile of ‘Beanos’ and swap you the other one,” said Pete. “I must have a couple you ’aven’t read.”

The comic swap bargaining verbally complete subject to viewing, the quartet continued their almost reluctant journey homewards. As they passed a transport depot with about a dozen vans parked up for the weekend, Alec spotted something shiny about 6 feet inside the railings which ran round the perimeter of the premises. The gate had a hefty padlock and chain hanging from it, preventing access to the yard, so Alec carefully put his head through the railings to get a closer look and immediately saw that it was in fact a milk bottle top. Disappointed to learn that he wasn’t going to be suddenly rich after all, he proceeded to disengage his head from the railings. This proved easier said than done, for although it had gone through quite easily, bringing it back out again was a different matter. He quickly realised that the reason for this was his ears. Going forward they had just about brushed through the bars, but coming back the other way, because of their shape they acted like the barbs on a fishing hook or arrowhead and made the transition somewhat difficult, if not impossible.

He panicked. “MY HEAD’S STUCK!” he shouted to the others, who had been walking slightly ahead of him and hadn’t even noticed him put his head through the bars in the first place.

They all turned round, and when confronted with the sight of Alec bent forward with his head through the railings, and trying desperately to pull it back to join the rest of his body stationed on the other side, they fell about laughing.

“It’s not funny you lot; I really am stuck.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Taylor,” spluttered Danny. “You pushed it through didn’t yer; you must be able to pull it back again.”

“What d’yer think I’m tryin’ to do?”

The laughter continued even louder until Pete realised that Alec’s head around his ears was beginning to look very red. “You really are stuck, ain’t yer?” he said, at last bringing his laughter under control.

“I told you I was.”

“Well, we’d better get you out, ’adn’t we?” said Pete, coming to the conclusion that this might not be as straightforward as he first thought.

The others gradually calmed down and gathered round, offering various solutions to the problem which pretty much all boiled down to the same thing; that was, to pull Alec backwards as hard as they could. This they tried several times, which only resulted in making Alec’s ears red raw and causing him a lot of pain. After about five or six minutes of pushing and pulling, Freddie announced he just remembered his mum told him she needed him to run an errand when he got home, so he’d better get going if he wanted to avoid a telling off. And Danny, who Alec knew was getting bored with the whole thing, said he would go with Freddie. Danny said he couldn’t do much good here, and anyway, he reckoned that when the swelling went down around Alec’s ears, his head would come back through okay, but there was no point in him waiting around for that was there? Alec wasn’t convinced; he needed all the help he could get.

As Alec twisted his head and watched his so called friends walking away leaving him and Pete behind, he was near to tears. He wasn’t too bothered about Freddie – he was all right. Freddie got on with everyone – mainly because he never argued about anything and usually went along with anything that was happening. Danny on the other hand, was a different kettle of fish; he and Alec were often at loggerheads. Danny was a newcomer who seemed to have it in for Alec and would have a dig at him at any opportunity. This incident would give Danny plenty of ammunition to make fun of him in front of the others, making his life miserable for months – maybe years. His neck was beginning to ache as he stood there with it poked through the bars, pretty much at right angles to his body. “You won’t leave me, will you, Pete?” he said in a whimper.

“I can’t leave yer can I? We’ve got to get you out. You can’t stay there all day, can yer?”

Alec didn’t know how Pete was going to do it, but he knew he would do it. They had been mates as long as he could remember and Alec’s trust in his friend was unshakable.

Pete sat down on the pavement. “Now, there must be a way,” he said slowly.

“Hurry up Pete, my necks really aching,” pleaded Alec.

“Give me a chance – I’m thinking.” Pete gazed unseeing into the distance, rubbing his nose. Rubbing perhaps was too strong a word; stroking his nose would describe the action more accurately. He always did this when he was trying to solve a problem. He was completely unaware of the habit of course, although those close to him, like his parents and a few friends, were acutely aware of this trait and Alec, being one of the afore-mentioned waited in patient silence for Pete to come up with a solution to his predicament, for Pete, if nothing else, was a problem solver. He said nothing for a whole minute, and then suddenly jumped to his feet. “Yeh – it should work!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “Right Alec - get down on yer knees.”

“What for?” answered Alec, “the gap between the bars is the same down there as it is up ’ere.”

“Trust me – just kneel down.”

Alec couldn’t see the logic but did as Pete said.

“Now, can you turn yourself over on yer back so that you’re looking up to the sky?”

“Suppose so,” answered Alec, and struggled to turn over so that he ended up lying on his back with his head still through the bars, looking skywards. “Now what?” he said, thinking how stupid he must look to passers by.

“Now – give us yer ’ands; I’m gonna pull you up to a sitting position. All you’ve got to do is keep yer ’ead straight. Come on – let’s ’ave a go.”

Pete pulled and Alec looked stiffly ahead. His face started to go through between the bars easily enough, but when it got to his ears things got a bit tight. However, he was now facing the bars the same way as when he put his head through them in the first place, so his ears were now in the ‘streamlined’ position. “’Ang on Pete, this ’urts, I don’t think it will go.”

“Of course it will, it’s the same way that it went in, so it must come out,” said Pete, full of confidence. “But just a minute,” he went on, “I’ve got an idea. You sit there and I’m gonna let go of yer hands and push yer ’ead from the back, okay?”

Alec didn’t think he had much choice. “Yeh, okay,” he said, fearing the worst. What if it didn’t go through? They would have to get the Fire Brigade or something. What would his parents say? And he dreaded to think what the kids in the street would call him; he would be ridiculed for the rest of his life.

“Ready?” Pete had positioned his hand at the back of Alec’s head. “I’ll count to three and push.” Alec braced himself on the count, and then felt a firm push from behind. His ears had swollen up as Danny had suggested and it was a tight fit, but slowly and painfully his head started to move. Pete gave one last push and Alec’s head popped out like a cork from a bottle of wine. Pete looked at Alec and began to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Alec asked, overwhelmed with relief.

“Yer ears – you should see yer ears,” chuckled Pete. “They’re like two beetroots stuck on the side of yer ’ead.”

Alec, now feeling rather stupid but a whole lot happier even though his ears were stinging, saw the funny side and joined in the laughter and the two friends marched off and on turning the next corner, broke into a spontaneous race for Belmont Street.

- - - - - - - - - -

Tom came up quietly behind his wife as she was making the bed and put his arms round her waist. “That looks inviting,” he said mischievously, giving Jane a squeeze.

“Where did you spring from Tom Atkins? You frightened the life out of me. No, don’t bother to answer that; I’ve got far too much to do. And don’t start getting any ideas, Peter will be back from the pictures any time now, and Harry’s around somewhere.”

“Don’t I get even a kiss?”

Jane wriggled free of Tom’s arms and turned to face him. “Well, maybe there’s just about time for a kiss,” Then putting her arms round his neck and moving her face towards his, she added, “or two.”

After the third kiss, Jane disengaged herself from the embrace and said, “Now, what did you really come up here for?”

“What better reason would I have for coming into the bedroom?” answered Tom, with that wicked, gorgeous look in his eyes that Jane was only too familiar with.

Jane placed her hands on her hips in defiant fashion. “Thomas Atkins, out with it – what do you want, you irritating man? I’ve got loads to do.” Her stance was chastising but the smile on her face did nothing for her cause.

“One more kiss and I’ll tell you,” said Tom, looking deep into Jane’s eyes, flirting with her for all his worth. Jane melted and after another kiss, albeit a much longer and lingering one, Tom announced, “You haven’t forgotten I’m taking Peter to football this afternoon have you. Only……”

“I haven’t forgotten. You want your lunch by 1 o’clock I suppose?”

“Please. I’ll get Peter to ask Alec if he wants to come as well.”

“If you’re taking Peter you’ll have to take Alec as well – haven’t you noticed – those two are joined at the hip? And is that all you wanted?”

“What were you expecting?”

“I can never tell with you. I thought you might be trying to get round me or something.”

“Get round you - why, what have I done wrong?”

“Do you mean apart from coming in here and getting me all excited when you know full well you can’t deliver at that moment?”

“Ah well, maybe later.”

Jane placed her hands round Tom’s neck once more. “Certainly later,” she said, then turning back to her bed making, went on, “seriously darling, I think that’s a great idea.”

“What, making love?”

“Taking Alec with you to football. In fact, I’ve got Martha coming over this afternoon for a cup of tea and a chat.”

“Talk about the boys being joined at the hip, I reckon you two take some beating. Us men will be well out of it if you ask me.”

“At least we’ll be able to chat in peace, if the boys are going to be with you.”

“That’s if they want to come,” said Tom.

“Why shouldn’t they? They love football and they know they’ll get a treat like a drink and a cake or something. So I reckon you should at least be able to deliver on that.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll deliver all right,” said Tom as he swaggered out of the door. Then poking his head back in again added, “on both counts.”

Jane resumed her chore, wearing a broad smile.

Later, Jane and Martha were sitting in Jane’s back yard with their chairs facing the sun, sipping their second cup of tea. “Are you too hot, Martha – would you rather go inside?”

“No, I’m fine, Jane – unless you’d rather?”

“No, I love the sun. Would you like another piece of cake?”

“I shouldn’t really but why not?”

“Yes, let’s treat ourselves. If your house is anything like ours, you probably don’t get a look in with the cake, what with the children and those big, ugly husbands of ours.” Jane handed Martha a slice of her homemade sponge cake. You certainly don’t have to watch your weight, Martha; there’s nothing of you.”

“I envy you this yard; it’s so sunny out here,” said Martha. “We don’t get any sun at all in the back over the road. Plus, we’ve got the chicken run and rabbit hutches of course – not to mention the mangle. All in all it’s not built for sun worshipping. If I want to sit in the sun, it’s a case of the kitchen chair outside the street door.”

“I know what you mean,” concurred Jane. “I suppose we are lucky really – not having any houses at the back of us,” she continued, tipping her head towards the bottom of the yard. A five-foot high wall stood at the end, beyond which lay an open plot of ground where once stood a row of houses. Four houses in a terrace had been blasted in the war and had to be demolished, leaving a convenient gap, affording the Atkins family an uninterrupted view across to the next street which ran parallel with their own and access to more sunshine than most other residents in the street. “I suppose someone else’s loss was our gain,” she said, wistfully, referring to the people that had been injured and lost their homes in the blast. There was a moment’s silence between the two women.

“I wonder how the boys are enjoying the football,” said Jane.

“Tom’s probably enjoying it more than the two boys put together,” laughed Martha. “He’s like my Dick, they’re just big kids themselves really.”

“You’re right there. I can’t get any sense at all out of Tom when he’s in one of his silly moods. And the time he spends in that shed of his making his model aeroplanes - well, it’s a wonder he’s not still in short trousers.”

“Now that would be a sight to see,” said Martha, and the two friends laughed out loud at the vision it conjured up.

“Do you ever miss the country, Jane?” ventured Martha, when they had finally got control of their mirth.

“Well, I certainly had a better view from my bedroom window,” Jane said, and after a short pause, went on, “the most important thing for me – the only thing for me, is to be where Tom is – and the children of course – wherever that is. I’m sure you’d say the same about your family.”

“You’re right. I think we’re very lucky to have two wonderful husbands and a bunch of great kids. Let’s drink a toast to them with our tea,” said a smiling Martha, raising her cup to meet Jane’s. She sipped her tea and went on, “ Mind you, you do have three children – I’ve always thought two was enough for me. Did you find them a handful when they where younger – I mean, you and Tom were outnumbered for a start?”

“Not at all; in fact, I think it made it easier having them quite close together. There’s only five years between the three of them, and we seemed to get over the trickiest times, much quicker. I think it might have been harder for you – having such a big gap between your Mary and Alec. What is it, 10---11 years?”

“Just over 10.”

“10 years – Mary must have been pretty much off your hands by then. Did it come as a shock when Alec came along?” As soon as the last word fell from her lips, Jane realised what she had said and put her hand to her mouth in horror. “Oh Martha, I’m sorry – I didn’t mean…..well, I didn’t mea….”

“That’s all right,” Martha cut in quickly, “I know what you meant – no, Alec wasn’t an accident.” There was an awkward silence as Martha drained the last drop of tea from her cup. “This has been lovely, Jane,” she said, standing up, “but I’d better get back otherwise Dick will think I’ve emigrated.”

“Yes……yes, I suppose we’d…..we’d better prepare for the home-coming,” stuttered Jane. “You know what they’re like; they’ll want something to eat and drink the moment they walk in the door.” The two women went through to the front of the house and stepped into the street. “It was nice to have you over, Martha, we must do it again soon. There’s still plenty of the summer left and the sunshine looks as though it’s going to last forever.”

“Thanks for the tea and that delicious cake. I shall be nagging you for the recipe.”

“I’ll write it down and pop it over to you later in the week,” said Jane. She watched Martha step across the street, and gave her a final, friendly wave as she disappeared into her own house.

- - - - - - - - - -

Tom settled into his favourite chair with a cup of tea that his wife had produced almost the moment he walked in the door; so in tune was Jane to her husband’s needs.

“Did you enjoy your woman to woman stuff this afternoon, sweetheart?” Tom called through to the scullery.

Jane was preparing tea and there was a short pause before her head appeared round the door. “It was really nice. I do like Martha, except…..”

“Except what?”

“I think I upset her.”

“How did you manage to do that?”

“It was funny really. We were talking about the kids and I mentioned there was a big gap between Mary and Alec. Somehow I managed to make it sound as though Alec had been a mistake.”

“Is that all?”

“Well – it seemed to unsettle her somehow.”

“So what if Alec was a mistake? He’s certainly none the worse for it. There’s nobody loves both their kids more than Dick and Martha – except us of course.”

“No Tom, there was something not quite right.”

“You’ve got it out of proportion. Are you still friends?”

“Yes, of course we are. I’m popping a recipe over to her later in the week.”

“That’s all right then. It wouldn’t do for you two to fall out when the boys are such good friends. Honestly, those two – do you know, I think their voices are even beginning to sound the same.”

“It’s nothing like that, Tom…..I wouldn’t fall out with Martha – at least I hope not – she’s absolutely lovely. It was just a feeling I got today. I hope nothing’s wrong over there.”

Tom shrugged his shoulders in a gesture that suggested a mere misunderstanding between the two women, but Jane returned to her chores in a rather more thoughtful frame of mind.

- - - - - - - - - -

“Did you enjoy your afternoon with Jane?” said Dick.

“It was lovely; I like Jane very much. You can see why Peter is such a nice boy.”

“Put the world to rights over a cuppa, did you?”

“We did our share of talking, that’s for sure. We ought to see more of each other; we get on so well.”

“It’s just as well, seeing as Peter and our Alec practically live in each other’s pockets.”

Martha started laying the table for tea. “I did do something rather silly when I was with Jane though.”

“Oh, what was that then?”

“Well, she happened to mention there was a big age gap between Alec and Mary.”

“So?”

“Don’t you see, Dick? It occurred to me that Eileen Toomey had been talking to her. Anyway, I sort of panicked a bit and cut the conversation short. And I’m thinking now it might have seemed a bit strange.”

“I see,” said Dick. “Do you think that’s likely? I mean, her talking to Jane. She’s not particularly friendly with her, is she?”

“No, you’re probably right. And come to think of it, I don’t think Jane is the sort of person who would pry into other people’s private affairs.”

“There you are then,” said Dick, smiling. “Why shouldn’t Jane mention the big age difference in our children, anyway? I would have thought that would be just the sort of thing you women would talk about.”

“You’re right of course, Dick. It’s just me being paranoid.”

“If you ask me, Eileen Toomey has decided to keep her adequate mouth shut on the subject of what she knows about our family. Let’s face it, the Atkins moved in months ago and there haven’t been any waves yet; not even a ripple. So I say, let’s forget the woman and get on with our lives. Now, is there any more tea in the pot?”


Chapter 3 - August 1949

The five boys stood in silence for what seemed a long moment. Each was hoping one of the others would make the first move. Alec was scared. He was a quiet, thoughtful boy who, although being just as much of a street urchin as the other four, didn’t quite have their daring at times and on occasions was sucked along in their slip stream and found himself doing things that he wasn’t at all sure about – like now, but he didn’t want to be called a wimp by the others so he had to go through with it. He was slightly built but a good height for his age – a friendly soul with large, dark eyes and a wide, generous mouth. His dark hair was cut in a ‘short back and sides’ but it was long on top and being absolutely dead straight and unmanageable always hung across one side of his face, to Alec’s constant annoyance.

What they were about to do was extremely dangerous. It hadn’t seemed so when they were just talking about it, but now it had to be done it was very different. At last, Georgie, being the eldest of the group and weighing in at 11 years and 9 months, felt obliged to step forward to the window. Georgie Bull was known as ‘Bulldog’ to the others; this was partly because of his name, but mainly because he looked like a bulldog. He leant out of the window and looked down. At ground level, some 30 feet below, were piles of bricks, broken glass, bits of old timber and an array of debris in keeping with the bombsite they were playing on. Georgie looked to the left of the window and saw the drainpipe about 18 inches away, running down the wall. His eyes followed the pipe on its downward journey and noted that it ended abruptly and jaggedly about 2 feet past the window on the next floor down.

He turned and faced the others. “Right, I’ll go first,” he said, “And remember, anyone who doesn’t go down the pipe can’t be in the gang.” Nobody said a word as Georgie turned again to the window.

The boys had discovered the bombed out ruin of the shop some weeks before. It was typical of dozens of others in this little corner of South East London, left derelict in the years immediately following the war. The building wasn’t much more than a shell, with all the window glass shattered and half the stairs missing. The plaster had fallen off the walls in places, leaving the wooden slats beneath exposed. These slats had proved excellent material for making good, straight arrows and swords for the kids and firewood for the adults. Further chunks of plaster could easily be broken off, and when thrown would ‘explode’ into a white dust on impact, making it a fantasy hand-grenade for the boys playing war games and an ideal weapon for defending the ‘camp’ against any rival gang that might think of moving in on their territory.

The gang of five had climbed to the top floor of the shop with some difficulty as some of the stairs were missing, and now faced the job of getting down again. However, they had set themselves the task of descending one floor via the outside drainpipe; the drainpipe that Bulldog was now contemplating. The assignment had been set to prove each individual’s courage and daring. Once accomplished, they would be able to hold their head up among their friends and fellow gang members.

Bulldog was on the window ledge now and manoeuvring himself to get a hold on the pipe. This was the tricky bit as the window frame was edged with jagged glass embedded in the wood. He reached out and gripped the pipe with his right hand and followed this with his right leg, resting his foot on a collar running round a join in the pipe. His left arm and leg quickly followed and he hung there like a lizard on the round metalwork which itself clung precariously to the old, crumbling wall of the building. Slowly, he began the tricky descent until he was opposite the window below. He was now faced with the problem of transferring himself from the drainpipe to the window. Reaching out with his left hand, he gripped the window frame firmly, and swung his left leg over the window ledge so that it hung inside the room. Pulling hard with his left hand, Bulldog eased his bottom onto the ledge. When he was seated securely, he let go of the pipe and heaved himself inside the building.

“COME ON YOU LOT!” he shouted, his voice full of pride, “IT’S A PIECE OF CAKE.”

The others looked at each other. “Who’s going next? ’Ow ’bout you, Danny?” said Freddie.

At the age of 10, Danny already exuded an incredible amount of self-belief and there was a cockiness about him that said ‘I know where I’m going’. He had a ready wit and laughed a lot (albeit sometimes at other people’s expense) and was good company, that is if you could put up with him constantly doing things like tripping you up from behind and thinking it was extremely funny. Danny was quite small, the shortest of the five in fact and this probably contributed to his trait of always trying to act big when he had an audience. He was a show-off by nature but there was something about him that you couldn’t help liking; it was his face, probably. It was small and round with laughing eyes. His fair, wispy hair although cut short, always looked untidy as it blew about at the mercy of the least breath of wind.

Danny looked at Freddie and swaggered to the open window. “Yeh, I’ll go next, seein’ as ’ow you’re probably too scared Wisdom,” he said in his cocky voice. Having watched Bulldog lead the way, he climbed out onto the pipe and pretty soon was levering himself through the window of the floor below to join his mate, without a trace of any fear he may have harboured on the way down and only a slightly grazed hand to show for his bravado.

Next to go was Freddie Wisdom who was the youngest of the group by a couple of months. Pretty much everyone agreed that Freddie was a bit on the simple side. He sort of limped through life just copying what everyone else did. Everyone seemed to like Freddie; well, there was nothing much to dislike really. He was no trouble and could always be relied upon to make up the numbers in a game of football or cricket. Anyway, he now did what the others expected him to do; he climbed down the drainpipe. He probably hadn’t even considered the danger as he clambered down like a monkey to the lower floor in record time.

That just left Pete and Alec. The two had always been good friends and Alec looked upon Pete as his hero. The fact that Pete was just over a year older than himself and a good bit taller and much stronger, gave Alec a safe, comfortable feeling when they were together. They didn’t see each other during the day because Pete attended a Catholic school and Alec went to a small C of E school, but outside of school hours and at weekends and holidays the boys were inseparable. To Alec, Pete was all the things he himself would like to be. He was confident, outgoing, strong and good at sports. He was also good with his hands. Pete could make things. If ever a piece of equipment was needed for a game, like a cricket bat or something, he would disappear into his dad’s shed for about 10 minutes and after a certain amount of sawing and banging, he would re-appear waving the perfect bat – or whatever. Everyone liked Pete; even the grown-ups.

“COME ON YOU TWO,” came a shout from below.

“KEEP YER ‘AIR ON,” yelled back Pete, “WE’RE COMIN’.”

“I can’t do this Pete – I’m scared,” said Alec. Somehow he could say this to his friend, knowing that Pete wouldn’t think any the worse of him for it, but he wouldn’t have dreamt of saying it while the others were around because he knew they would call him names and not want him with them anymore. He didn’t want that to happen because he wanted to be where Pete was, and that was with the gang.

Pete was quick to reassure his friend, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “You’ll be okay. You saw ’ow easy the others did it. Just go down nice and slowly and ’old on tight. You’re not gonna let go of the bloomin’ pipe, are yer?”

Alec felt his courage coming back. After all, if Pete was going to do it, it must be all right. He wouldn’t do anything really stupid.

“Come on mate, you can do it,” encouraged Pete. “Tell yer what, I’ll hang on to you until you get a good hold on the pipe.”

Alec said nothing but began to climb onto the window ledge. Pete steadied him as he got his right arm and leg out of the window with his bottom on the ledge. As he gripped the pipe and positioned his right foot, he felt Pete’s reassuring hold on his other arm.

“Okay Alec – ready?”

Alec wasn’t ready, but he would have to go now, wouldn’t he? There was no turning back.

“COME ON TAYLOR, YOU OLD WOMAN.” The shout from below came from Danny Toomey. Danny was inclined to have a snipe at Alec at times for no apparent reason and he and Alec had been at loggerheads on a number of occasions. If Alec didn’t climb down the pipe, Danny would never let him forget it. This thought gave Alec just enough courage to do what he knew he had to do.

“You can let go now, Pete, I’m going.”

Pete released his grip and Alec swung the rest of his body onto the pipe. As he did so he felt the pipe move; not much, in fact it was barely noticeable, but it did move. Alec froze. Panic gripped his whole body like a vice. His knuckles turned white as he held on to the metal with every ounce of strength he had.

He felt the tears welling up as he whimpered, “Help me Pete – help me!….I’m gonna fall.”

“’ang on Al’ – ’ang on.” Keeping his feet firmly on the floor, Pete leant out as far as he could and put his arm round Alec. “You’re okay Al’ – you’re okay. You ain’t gonna fall – you ain’t. Listen, all you ’ave to do is edge down slowly. Just move one arm or one leg at a time. Take it easy – not too fast, okay?”

“Okay,” repeated Alec, holding back a sob.

“YOU COMING DOWN OR NOT, TAYLOR, YOU BIG TART.” It was Danny again.

“KEEP YER MOUTH SHUT TOOMEY, YOU IDIOT,” Pete yelled back, “CAN’T YER SEE ’E NEEDS A BIT OF ’ELP?” Then in a quieter, calmer voice to Alec, “Come on Al’, down you go – I’ll be right behind you; nice and slowly remember.”

Alec loosened his grip with one hand and finding a lower hold began his slow descent of the drainpipe. By the time he was level with the lower window his overpowering fear was beginning to evaporate and he was actually beginning to feel quite exhilarated. He would show Danny Toomey and the rest of them that he was good enough to be in the gang. He let go one hand and reached for the window frame. As he gripped it, he felt a sharp, stinging pain shoot through his hand as a slither of glass embedded itself in his palm. Instinctively he jerked it away, shifting his weight on the pipe causing it to move slightly. This time there was no mistaking the movement and Alec panicked again and tried to wrap himself round the pipe like a giant snake would it’s prey. Fearing for his life, the tears came and he was more frightened than he had ever been.

Pete looked down from the floor above with alarm. “’OLD ON AL’,” he shouted, “I’LL BE THERE – JUST ’OLD ON.”

Pete had to get down to the next floor quickly. There were no stairs down to the next floor in this part of the building – they had been burnt on somebody’s fire long ago. He ran over to a large hole in the floor. He lowered himself down between the floorboards and hung momentarily before dropping to the floor below. As he landed he twisted his foot badly and pain shot up his leg. He got up and hobbled to the window where Bulldog was leaning out. Pete pushed past the others and looked out of the window next to him.

“Give us yer ’and yer big baby,” Bulldodog was saying. Alec was too petrified to move a muscle and his gaze was fixed firmly on the wall in front of him.

“Get out the way,” said Pete, pulling Bulldog away from the window.

“What’s yer game?” exclaimed Bulldog, but Pete wasn’t listening. He positioned his body firmly against the ledge and leant out as far as he could towards Alec and placed his arm round his waist.

“Don’t worry – I won’t let you fall – okay?”

Alec looked at Pete, the tears now streaming down his face and Pete saw the terror in his eyes. “I’m gonna get you onto this ledge – okay?”

Alec answered by just nodding his head slightly.

“I’ve got a good ’old of you, so all you need to do is reach over ’ere and ’old onto the window frame. Can you do that?”

Alec nodded once more. He felt better now that Pete was here.

“FER GAWD SAKE, WHAT YOU TWO PLAYIN’ AT?” Danny’s voice boomed out.

“BELT UP, TOOMEY OR I’LL GIVE YOU A PUNCH ON THE BLEEDIN’ NOSE,” was Pete’s angry reply.

“OH YEH – YOU AN’ WHO’S ARMY?”

Pete wasn’t listening. Alec had managed to get hold of the frame, but his hand was bleeding badly. Pete said, “You’re doing great. Now I want you to get your foot over ’ere - inside the window. Do you think you can do that?”

The more Pete spoke in his calm voice, the more Alec’s fear receded. “Yes, I can do that Pete, but hold on tight won’t you?”

“Course…. Now, come on, give us yer leg.”

Alec reached out with his leg and managed to get it to the inside of the ledge. “Right,” said Pete, “When I count to 3, I want you to let go your other hand and pull yourself over here as hard as you can. I’ll pull at the same time – okay?”

“Okay Pete,” said Alec with much more confidence now. He just knew that his mate would never let him down. Pete did the count and they both pulled hard. In a few more seconds Alec was safely inside. The relief he felt was overwhelming and it was all he could do to hold back more tears. He wiped the cuff of his shirt across his face, removing any evidence of the tears that had already fallen.

“What a big baby you really are,” spouted Danny.

Pete turned round and stood face to face with Danny. “I’m warning you, Toomey, if you don’t belt up I’ll smash yer face in.”

“I wasn’t talking to you Atkins; I was talking to ’im over there.”

“Well I’m talking to you, Danny boy. Lay off Alec or you’ll ’ave me to deal with….get it?”

“The little twit won’t always ’ave you to fight ’is battles,” said Danny. Then added, “He can’t be a member of the gang anyway – he didn’t come down the drainpipe on ’is own – ’e ’ad to be ’elped. An’ anyway, my mum says I’m not to mix with him ’cos of his family.”

Pete suddenly swung a punch at Danny and caught him on the side of the face, causing him to reel backwards against what was left of an old tiled fireplace. Danny was taken completely by surprise and didn’t feel inclined to fight back at that moment. “He still can’t be in the gang,” he said defiantly, pulling himself upright and rubbing the side of his face.

Pete went and stood beside Alec. “Well I didn’t climb down the pipe either so that lets me out as well I suppose.”

“Yeh, but you would ’ave done it if you ’adn’t ’elped Alec,” Bulldog intervened.

“Why can’t we all just be in the gang?” chirped up Freddie, who seemed to be wondering what all the fuss was about.

“There’s no reason for you not to be one of the gang Pete,” said Bulldog. “We know that you’d do anything the rest of us would do. It’s just that Alec…..well, Alec always seems to be scared of doing things. You know what I mean.”

“You mean ’e ain’t a big tough guy like you an’ Danny – is that it?”

“He might just as well be a girl,” said Danny.

Pete scowled at Danny. “You’re looking for another one, you are.”

“Why don’t we go home and have a game of cricket?” said Freddie.

Pete turned to Alec and cocked his head towards the rickety staircase. “Come on, Al’, let’s go; it’ll soon be my tea-time anyway.”

Alec followed Pete towards the stairs, saying nothing to the others as he went. Sometimes he felt he didn’t fit in at all with his friends. There had been other days like this when he had been treated like the odd one out. He felt like an outsider – except with Pete.

The two boys ambled home in the late afternoon sunshine kicking stones along the ground as they went, with Pete limping slightly and Alec with a bacteria laden hankie acting as a temporary bandage wrapped tightly around his hand. It had been another hot day and there were still three weeks of the holidays left. Alec had recovered somewhat from the earlier fracas and was looking forward to his tea. It would probably be egg and something. Eggs were one thing that were fairly plentiful in the Taylor household on account of the chickens mum and dad kept in the back yard along with the rabbits. Alec always enjoyed scrambling about in the chicken run, collecting the eggs. And there would be jam of course – there was loads of that, seeing as how Alec’s father worked in the factory that made the stuff.

Pete’s earlier anger had ebbed away now and he and Alec chatted away happily as they went on their way. They both knew that the falling out with the others wouldn’t last long. They would probably all be out after tea playing cricket or cannon or something, their differences forgotten. One or two of the mums and dads might grab a kitchen chair and sit at their street doors, enjoying the last of the day’s sunshine while they watched the children play. Sometimes, an older brother or sister might even join in.

“What did Danny mean when he said that about my family?” said Alec as they rounded the corner into Belmont Street. “What was he talking about?”

“Search me; I wouldn’t take any notice of Danny, yer know what ’e’s like; ’e talks a load of rubbish. ’E just shows off to try an’ prove ‘e’s one of us. Anyway,” he continued, changing the subject, “what about cricket tonight; we could probably get 8 or 10 of us together for a decent game?”

“Yeh – we’ll round everyone up after tea,” agreed Alec.

“Yeh – after ‘Dick Barton’,” concluded Pete.

- - - - - - - - - -

“Where ’av those bloomin’ kids got to?” Eileen Toomey was stood, gossiping to her next-door neighbour, Val Wisdom.

“They’re probably playing on the ruins again,” Val replied.

“Well I tell you, if my Danny’s gone through ’is trousers again he’ll feel the back of my ’and when ’e gets ’ome.” Eileen Toomey was a stout lady – not one to be trifled with and pretty much the whole neighbourhood was aware of how Eric, her husband, suffered under her iron hand. “Two pairs of trousers last term – and shoes, well, I don’t know what ’e does wiv ’em.”

“Oh I know,” sympathised Val, “Our Freddie’s the same, but that’s boys for you; they’re all the same. Still, you can’t keep them on a lead, can you?”

“I’d keep the ’ole male population on a lead if I ’ad my way; the best place for ’em,” boomed Eileen, folding her arms across her more than ample bosom, defying anyone, especially any man, to disagree with her.

“Here they come now by the look of it,” observed Val, as she spotted Pete and Alec.

“Can’t see our two,” said Eileen.

“They’re bound to be behind them; where one goes, the others seem to follow,” ventured Val. Even as she uttered the words, their two sons and Georgie Bull rounded the corner. “Told you so,” she went on, “You can spot my Freddie’s top-knot a mile off. I knew he wouldn’t be far away.”

“The times I’ve told my Danny not to ’ang around with that Taylor lad,” Eileen sighed, “’E takes no notice.”

“I think you’re a bit hard on young Alec,” said Val, “after all, if what you told me is true, what happened isn’t the boy’s fault.”

“What do you mean if it’s true? I tell you I was there – it was all in the local paper. Anyway, you know what they say – like father, like son,” argued Eileen. “It’s my Jean I’m worried about; I don’t want ’er mixing with ’im.”

“But he’s only 10 years old,” said Val.

Eileen Toomey resumed her defiant ‘folded arms across her chest’ pose. “And next year ’e’ll be eleven, then pretty soon, sixteen - then what - who knows what then?”

“Well, whatever’s happened in the past I reckon young Alec’s in good hands now,” replied her neighbour.

“That’s as maybe,” came the firm retort from Eileen, stepping forward as Danny approached. “And where d’yer think you’ve been…………look at the state of yer?”

“Wiv some of me mates….what’s for tea, mum?”

“I’ll give you ‘what’s for tea’….get indoors and wash those ’ands – they’re as black as Newgate’s knocker.” Eileen turned to Val. “I’ll see you later, Valerie. I’ll pop that magazine in you wanted,” she said as she followed her son into the house.

- - - - - - - - - -

Alec pulled the string on the street door and let himself in. “I’M HOME MUM……WHAT’S FOR TEA?” he shouted.

Martha Taylor emerged from the scullery wiping her hands on a cloth. “Egg and chips if you’re lucky so you’d better wash your….oh my goodness, what have you done to yourself?” She took hold of Alec’s hand and carefully unwrapped the blood-stained handkerchief. “You’ve been playing on the ruins again, haven’t you?” She said angrily. “What have I told you? And what’s all this white all over your trousers?”

“We were just ‘aving a game,” replied Alec, with ‘perfect innocence’ written all over his face.

His mother led him into the scullery and proceeded to dab the wound with a clean, damp cloth. “Just having a game were you? What were you playing with – broken milk bottles?”

“No mum, we was throwing stones at tin cans and I cut my ’and on a stone,” Alec lied.

Martha gently dried Alec’s hand and found a plaster from a drawer. “I don’t know what your father would say if he knew where you’d been.”

Alec loved his parents dearly. He knew just where he was with them and what they expected of him and even though he occasionally overstepped the mark, they never ranted or raved like Danny’s mum. His house was opposite Danny’s on the other side of the street, but he had often heard Mrs. Toomey shouting at Danny and his sister. Alec was sure his mum wouldn’t say anything to dad about where he had been playing. As his mother finished fixing the plaster, he felt the softness of her hands and smelt that special smell - his mother’s smell. The pain in his hand was forgotten and he felt completely safe and happy. Like Pete, he knew with certainty that his mother, or father for that matter, would never let him down, which made him wonder just for a moment what possible reason Mrs. Toomey could have for trying to stop Danny playing with him; what did she think was wrong with his family? Alec had always thought that his mother was the kindest person he knew. She was always helping people or lending something to a neighbour, like old Mrs. Harris next door; in fact, especially old Mrs. Harris from next door. Just today, Alec had been there when she had popped in to borrow an Oxo cube and a pair of mum’s knickers. Alec couldn’t begin to think of any reason why Danny should say that about his family, no reason at all.

“Can I go out after ‘Dick Barton’?”

“I suppose so,” replied his mother. “We only seem to see you in the house when you want something to eat. Go on……go and put some knives and forks on the table; your dad and Mary will be home soon. Tea will be about half an hour.” Alec felt a warm glow as he made his way to the back room with a handful of cutlery and tried to remember where he’d left his comic.

Later, after the tea things had been cleared away, Dick and Martha Taylor sat in the two easy chairs in their back room enjoying each other’s quiet company. Martha was knitting and Dick was reading ‘The Star’. They had left the street door open, trying to encourage at least a little movement of air through the house after such a hot and sultry day. They had the house to themselves. Mary had gone dancing with her boyfriend with strict instructions to be home by midnight. She didn’t think much of this arrangement of course. ‘I am nearly 20 you know’, she had told them in no uncertain terms. Alec was in the street with his pals as usual, playing cricket or some such. Anyway, there was plenty of noise coming from that direction. Mr. Wiggs would probably be out soon, complaining.

“Mary seems very keen on Simon,” said Martha as she paused to look at her pattern.

“Hmm?” was her husband’s response.

“I really think he might be the one she’s been looking for.”

“Hmm?”

After a few minutes of silence Martha said thoughtfully, “Dick, when do you think we should tell Alec?”

There was no response from her husband. “Dick,” she repeated rather more pressingly.

“What?” Dick lowered ‘The Star’ to his lap, revealing his round, friendly face.

“I said, when do you think we should tell Alec?”

“Tell Alec what?”

“Tell him…. you know, tell him....about everything.”

“Plenty of time for that later,” said Dick firmly, raising his paper to his face once more.

“Dick, he’s 10 years old; he should be told……before he finds out from someone else.”

‘The Star’ was lowered again, this time revealing Dick’s round face showing signs of irritation. “Who’s going to tell him?”

“You know what people are like; they talk. Especially people like Eileen Toomey. I can’t stand that woman – the nosey old…..whatsit.”

“Martha, we’ve been through all this before; we’ll tell him when the time is right, okay?”

“That’s what you keep saying, but when is the time going to be right?”

“Look, the only people in the street that know the truth about Alec and what happened seven years ago are the Toomeys and they’ve been here 2 years now and so far she hasn’t said a word to anybody; at least, she doesn’t appear to have. Surely if she was going to let the cat out of the bag she would have done it by now?”

“I think she may have told her children something.”

“Don’t be daft Martha; is it the sort of thing you would tell Alec if the boot was on the other foot?”

“I’m not saying she would have told them everything but I have noticed she’s tried to keep Danny and Jean away from Alec. Alec’s bound to wonder why she doesn’t want them to play with him, Dick. He might start asking questions.”

“Martha, we agreed we’d tell him when he got a bit older, and we will, okay?” Dick turned his eyes to ‘The Star’ once more, “Now… can I finish my paper please?”

- - - - - - - - - - -

Jane Atkins sat outside her street door on a rickety kitchen chair, watching the boys playing cricket. There were about eight or nine of them, counting her Peter, and they were having a great time. There was the usual bit of arguing now and then, but she knew it was all part of the game. That’s what boys did. Arnold Wigg, or Wiggy, as the kids called him, had appeared and voiced his disapproval at the noise of course, but as hardly a day went by without him complaining about something, nobody took any notice.

Watching the children at play no doubt reminded Jane of her own childhood. She had been brought up in a farming community, living in a small village in East Anglia surrounded by open fields. It was a place very different from where she now sat. If the youngsters from ‘Belmont Street’ wanted to play on grass, they either had to catch a bus or face a half-hour walk. However, one advantage the children enjoyed in this street over most of the others in the area was that it was a cul-de-sac with an eight foot high wall running across the end of the road, on the other side of which was a school. This meant there was no through traffic and they could play in the road in safety. Mind you, there was an awful lot of glass around. Eighty-two terraced houses added up to a lot of windows, and with all the ball games that went on, it was a toss-up who would have to call in the glazier next.

It would be true to say that most of the residents of the street liked the fact that they lived in a ‘dead-end road’, (cul-de-sac seemed too posh a term for the area). It isolated them somewhat from the surrounding roads and created a much closer community. Jane had been happy living here and some of her neighbours had become very good friends.

She’d had a good life with Tom. She first laid eyes on him at the village dance when he was a private in the army and his unit was stationed near her village. When he asked her onto the floor, she’d taken one look into his gorgeous dark eyes that were full of fun and mischief and from that moment there was no way back for her; she had to be where Tom was, and he lived in London. It had been hard getting used to life in a big city at first, but now she sat in the evening sun with a contented smile on her face, watching her son playing his part – rather noisily - in the fun and games along the street.


Chapter 4 - September 1950

The first term at grammar school was a daunting experience for the painfully shy 11 year old, but at the same time Alec found it exciting. The world was a much bigger place suddenly and he enjoyed making new friends in new surroundings. The school was 4 miles from his home, so his friends here were a completely different crowd from those in Belmont Street and although the street was his home and he loved it, somehow, at school he felt more at one with the other boys. At school he felt more equal. At home there were always adults about and they were a constant reminder to Alec that his parents were so much older than those of his friends. Pete’s mum and dad were much younger than his. Alec wasn’t sure why this bothered him so much, but it did. At school there were no parents, only teachers, and they

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 07.04.2010
ISBN: 978-3-86479-547-3

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