War Babies (8 page)

Mrs Davies never asked Rachel anything directly about her home life but she seemed to sense that there were things amiss, that Rachel needed a bolt-hole, and she was happy to embrace this
sweet-looking, rather solemn child who was a friend of Lilian’s.

One day, looking at one of the newest of Mrs Davies’s ornaments – a china Alsatian dog, lying down with its tongue hanging out – Rachel asked her where she had bought it.

‘Off the market, of course,’ Mrs Davies enthused.

‘’Er likes a good bargain, that one,’ Mr Davies commented, passing through the back room where they were sitting, with his boots in his hand. He rolled his eyes in affectionate
despair. ‘There’s no stopping ’er.’

‘Ooh, I like a good mooch around the market, I do,’ Mrs Davies said with relish. ‘Most Sat’d’ys we go, don’t we, Lilian?’

The market! Since they left the Rag Market, Peggy had never been back. She did her shopping locally and never felt the need to go into town. It was months since they had set foot in the place
and now Rachel realized how much she missed it: the bustle and chatter, the sights and smells.

‘Oh!’ she cried, hardly thinking. ‘Can I come with you?’

‘Can she, Mom?’ Lilian cried.

‘Doesn’t your mother ever go round the market?’ Mrs Davies said incredulously. Rachel didn’t answer. She knew Peggy didn’t like people knowing she’d been a
market trader. ‘Well, of course you can, bab. Bring a penny for the trolleybus and we’ll have a little outing. How’s that?’

Peggy handed over sixpence, only too glad to have someone else take her child off her hands for a Saturday afternoon.

Rachel stood on the packed trolleybus beside Lilian and her mother as they trundled along the Coventry Road, through Small Heath and onwards into Birmingham. She kept slipping
her hand into the pocket of her coat to feel for the sixpence and polishing it against the soft inside of the pocket. She imagined that the dull, tarnished thing might come out looking new minted
if she polished it enough. Mrs Davies had paid for her ticket, saying she could pay her back later.

She could see nothing outside. The bus was stuffy, smelly with hot bodies and old clothes. Her face was up close against the back of a woman in a black and white dog-tooth coat and it kept
tickling her nose. She wrinkled her face up at Lilian, who giggled. There were murmurs of conversation around her, about shopping and day-to-day things, about somewhere called Czechoslovakia and
how Chamberlain and that fiddling little bit of paper weren’t going to stop Hitler. A woman just behind Rachel said, ‘I can’t stand the sound of them rattle things. Makes my blood
run cold, that noise.’

‘Better than being gassed,’ another offered, close to Rachel’s right ear.

‘Hmm – I s’pose . . . But the stink of those respirators. I can’t stand the smell of rubber, makes me gag . . .’

‘My brother Sid was gassed during the last lot. Only lasted a year after the war . . . That one was s’posed to have put a stop to all this. You can’t believe anything they say,
can yer?’

There was going to be another war. It looked more and more like it. All around, people seemed to be saying so these days. They had all been allocated their black, rubbery gas masks. Fred and
Peggy had cleared out the cellar, in case there were bombs, they said. Rachel took no notice. And now all she could think of was going back to the market. She realized how much she missed it and
some of the people who worked there.

Most of all she missed Gladys Poulter, Danny’s aunt. Even when Danny left and never came back and Gladys was quieter, sadder than before, she was good to Rachel. She always had a kind word
and offered her something from her inexhaustible supply of sweets. After that afternoon when the man dragged him away, it had changed her view of Danny. His father looked so rough and cruel. But
she had not been able to take in that Danny would not be back. Week after week she went in with Peggy to set up, thinking that one day, there he would be, beside Gladys Poulter with his box of
comics, swaggering along, crying out across the market in his strong voice. But he never was. Eventually she plucked up courage to ask, approaching Gladys timidly one day during a quiet moment.
Gladys was folding up items in her clothing pile.

‘Mrs Poulter?’ she said. ‘Is Danny ever coming back again?’

To her surprise, Gladys Poulter’s face quivered and her eyes filled with tears. She wiped them away almost angrily.

‘I wish I knew, bab.’ She finished folding a pale yellow blouse with expert fingers, seemingly trying to decide whether to say any more. Then she looked round at Rachel. ‘I was
trying to look out for him, and his sisters. But Wilf – Danny’s Dad – he’s taken the four of them and . . .’ She looked down for a moment, then up at Rachel again with
tears in her eyes. ‘Oh, I’m sorry to have to say this because it shames me, but I don’t know where they are – none of them, including
him
, their father.’

Tears rose in Rachel’s eyes as well. She could see how upset Gladys Poulter was. Seeing Danny’s father had given her no confidence that whatever had happened to his children would be
kind or good.

‘I don’t know where to start even,’ Gladys went on in a desolate voice. ‘I don’t know if ’e’s gone off with ’em to Australia or summat or if
they’re still here in Birmingham.’ Rachel could see she was suffering over it every hour of the day. She reached out and patted Rachel’s head. ‘But one day I swear I’m
going to find out – somehow.’

This news sat inside Rachel like lead, the memory of Danny and all his liveliness so fresh in her mind. But weeks passed, months, and still there was no sign of him. Now and then she asked
Gladys Poulter again, but all she got was a shaken head in reply and she stopped asking. She had stopped expecting ever to see him.

The bus lumbered up Digbeth to the Bullring and they all streamed off to join the crowds already milling around the fruit and veg and flowers in Spiceal Street.

‘We’ll go to the Rag Market first,’ Mrs Davies said, to Rachel’s joy, as they struggled down past St Martin’s Church, towards Jamaica Row. ‘We’ll come
back to the Market Hall for veg – I don’t want to cart them around and we might get some bargains if we go later.’

‘Ooh look, it’s just the same!’ Rachel exclaimed as they passed through the tall gates into the Rag Market among the crowds. She breathed in the smells. Cigarette smoke made
her nostrils tingle. And she could not resist adding, ‘Mom and me used to work here!’

‘
Did
you?’ Mrs Davies’s head whipped round. ‘You never mentioned that before.’

‘You lucky thing,’ Lilian said. She coughed again. Now winter was back she had a bad chest, as usual. ‘I’d
love
to work here.’

‘Come on,’ Mrs Davies said gamely. ‘Let’s see what they’ve got for us. Hold hands, you two, and don’t get lost. I don’t want you running off –
specially you, Rachel. What would your mother say?’

Rachel had a feeling her mother would not say much, that it often felt, in fact, as if Peggy rather wished she might disappear. But she smiled vaguely back into Mrs Davies’s kindly
face.

They worked their way round all the pitches, the little tables or old prams with knick-knacks crammed on them, crocks and toys and shoes, the piles of old clothes and hats, the dresses and
men’s old jackets. There was a smell of musty cloth and mothballs tinged with sweat, all so familiar that Rachel lapped it up, happy with the memory of it all. And on the cold air, once again
she sniffed the smell of hot potatoes and chestnuts and her mouth started to water.

‘Smell that!’ Lilian said, poking her in the ribs. Lilian always seemed to be hungry. ‘Shall us get some? You’ve got some money.’

‘You’ve only just had yer dinner!’ Mrs Davies argued. ‘Wait for later and then we’ll see.’

It didn’t take Rachel long to spot Gladys Poulter’s strong features across the market, standing tall and proud, inviting people with her eyes and every now and again with her deep,
carrying voice.

‘Best quality – get your bedding here, sheets and towels!’

Gladys’s voice seemed to vibrate through Rachel. She moved towards her immediately, pulling Lilian along.

‘Let’s go here,’ she ordered.

‘But Mom said . . .’ Mrs Davies was drifting in the opposite direction. Lilian dragged reluctantly behind her.

‘Quick – we’ll go back to your mom in a tick –’ Having to hurry made Rachel bolder. Suddenly nothing mattered except reaching Gladys. Drawing nearer to her pitch
she stood on tiptoe, trying to see if Danny was there. She couldn’t hear him. There was no sign of him.

Lilian was getting cross.

‘Rach – come
on
. Mom told us not to go off –’ She broke away. ‘I’m going back to her. Come with me or you’ll get lost.’

Lilian folded herself back into the crowd, but Rachel ploughed on. When she reached the Poulters’ pitch, Gladys showed no sign of recognition at first. Speaking quickly, before the woman
sizing up a black dress could get there first, Rachel said, ‘Mrs Poulter?’

Gladys looked at her, and a smile spread over her face.

‘I’m Rachel – Peggy’s daughter,’ Rachel said.

‘Course you are. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you – you’ve grown up a bit, ain’t you, eh?’ Although it was only a few months since they had stopped
working on the market and gone to Fred Horton’s house, it felt like a lifetime to Rachel. ‘How’s your mother?’

‘She’s all right,’ Rachel said. Gladys and Peggy had never really got on. Rachel knew that her mother looked down on Gladys. And she didn’t want to talk about Mom –
there was something far more important to ask. ‘Did Danny ever come back?’

‘Our Danny? Oh – there’s a tale.’ There was angry grit in her voice. ‘He did, bab – two months ago. He’s working with me now, Sat’d’ys,
taking on more of the gents’ clothes . . . Look, there ’e is – just coming over.’

Heart racing with excitement, Rachel looked round, seeking out the bold little lad she remembered. Gradually, a tall, thin, wiry figure jostled towards them through the crowd, carrying a bundle
of dark clothing. She realized with a lurch inside her that this must be him. She was thirteen, so Danny must be getting on for fifteen now. His face was no longer round and cheeky-looking but
gaunt, so that his eyes seemed bigger than she remembered. While he looked pale and stretched tall now, there was still something of the sparking energy about him that she remembered. But as he
came closer, she could see that there was something very different about him, a hard, closed-off look. She felt immediately both excited and very shy.

‘Eh, Danny,’ Gladys Poulter said. ‘This is little Rachel – d’you remember her? Used to come and buy your comics off of you.’

Rachel felt Danny’s big blue eyes fasten on her, blankly at first, then with a slight sense of recognition. He gave the faintest nod and started to turn away again, completely aloof from
her.

‘D’you remember?’ Gladys asked. ‘You and your comics?’

‘Yeah.’ Danny nodded. He obviously didn’t want to speak to her.

‘He’s not much of a talker these days, our Danny,’ Gladys joked, but there was a sadness in the way she said it. ‘We’re trying to teach him how to do it
again!’

‘I’d better go,’ Rachel said.

‘Come and see us again when you’re about,’ Gladys said. ‘We’d like that, wouldn’t we, Danny?’

He was facing the other way, undoing the bundle. He made no response.

‘’Ere – have one of these.’ Rachel found a little bag of red cough candy held under her nose. She reached for one of the pungent sweets. ‘Take one for your little
pal as well.’ She nodded at Lilian who had turned back to find her. She was waiting, looking bewildered.

‘Thank you, Mrs Poulter,’ Rachel said.

‘Nice to see you, bab. Ta-ra-abit. See you again.’

‘Come
on
,’ Lilian urged her, her cheek bulging with cough candy. ‘We got to find Mom. Who was that?’ She sounded resentful.

‘Just someone,’ Rachel said. Her mouth was too crammed full for any explanations, and she did not feel like giving them anyway. This was hers. Suddenly it mattered more than anything
– more, even, than Lilian. She kept turning back as they jostled their way across to Mrs Davies. She saw Danny bending down, sorting through his pile of clothes. See you again, Mrs Poulter
had said. This warmed Rachel, made her feel she had a friend. She’d be back to see them. To see Danny. And one day, maybe eventually he’d look at her and speak to her.

It took a long time before Rachel managed to get more than the barest nod or half-smile out of Danny. That voice he had had on him before he was sent away still rang out when
it came to hawking his wares, but he seemed to have forgotten how to talk face to face with anyone.

Rachel’s happiest times were going to the market with Lilian and her mother. At home, she felt alone. The fact that Sidney Horton was now very deliberately ignoring her was the greatest
blessing. He came in and out and moved around her as if she was a shadow. And he seemed to be courting some girl though he was very secretive about it. But she could never feel at ease when he was
in the house. She loathed him. If he came near her the hairs on her body stood on end and she could not relax when he was around. What if he started on her again?

She could never have said she was not cared for, not in the basic things of life. Fred and her mother made sure she was fed and clothed, and Peggy was always happy to give her a few pennies to
go out with the Davies family. But now that her mother was with Fred Horton and taken up with him and his business, she had almost no time to spare for her daughter and barely more than a passing
interest in her.

‘I’ve got a proper life now,’ she said occasionally. She had the safety and comfort she deserved after all the impoverished suffering and striving of her years as a widow. And
nothing and no one, she seemed to imply, was going to get in the way of it.

Through the winter Rachel went to the market almost every Saturday with the Davieses. She would slope over to Gladys Poulter as soon as she could and Danny was always there too, looking busy and
remote. There was never much time so she could not stay and she started to resent going with Lilian and her mother. She felt disloyal for feeling that, but the pull of Danny was so strong. There
came a day when Mrs Davies and Lilian were not going to town, but Rachel told Peggy they were. The lie sat in her throat like a toad but she made it jump out just the same and received sixpence
from Peggy. She knew what to do now. She was not afraid of going into Birmingham by herself.