Gladys paused. This was new. ‘What do you mean?’
Evelyn folded her arms in defiance. ‘I’m going to go on the stage.’
Gladys stood still and stared. ‘You’re going to what?’
‘Go on stage.’ Evelyn sounded more defensive now. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Glad. I’ve got a good voice, I have, and I’m going to be famous like those film stars. I could be the next Vivien Leigh.’
‘Your hair’s the wrong colour,’ Gladys pointed out. Typical, she thought. She herself had a good voice, and it wasn’t being boastful to think so, because one of the district nurses who was really musical had told her so. But she wasn’t daft enough to imagine she could go on stage with it. A few carols around the home’s piano were enough for her. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to go. There’s a bit of lamb on the cool shelf in the larder and potatoes under the sink. Make sure they all wash their hands before they eat. Oh, and by the way,’ she halted briefly before stepping out into the cold of the December evening, ‘you might have to wait before you start your stage career. The government’s just brought out a law saying that every woman who’s not married between twenty and thirty has to sign up for war work. I don’t think they count singing.’
Evelyn snorted. ‘You’re just jealous. I’m not twenty yet, anyhow.’
‘Not far off, though,’ Gladys shot back. ‘You’ve got, what, about eighteen months to become a star, then you’ll have to sign up for the Land Army or whatever.’
‘Never! I’ll break my nails.’ Evelyn looked aghast. ‘But I tell you what, I shan’t ever do what you do. I think it’s disgusting, all that blood and all. You don’t know who half those people are or anything.’
Gladys smiled, unmoved by her sister’s final comment. She carried on smiling as she made her way along the back lane and headed towards the first-aid post, which was in the nearby church hall. She didn’t care what anybody else thought. She had believed that nursing was beyond her wildest dreams and yet here she was, about to start a shift in a job she loved. It didn’t matter that she’d already done a day’s work, cleaning and cooking at the nurses’ home. She truly could not think of a better way to spend her evening.
‘You awake, Billy?’ Kathleen turned over on the narrow mattress and shook the shoulder of the man lying next to her. ‘It’s nearly time for your shift.’
Billy groaned. ‘Just two minutes’ more kip, Kath.’ He stretched, his feet pressing against the cold wall of the small room. He’d often wished he was taller, but now he realised his average height was a blessing. He wouldn’t have fitted into Kathleen’s bed otherwise. Strictly speaking he shouldn’t have been there at all.
‘It’s no good, Billy. I can’t hold back the clock. Shall I make us a cup of tea while you get ready?’ Kathleen was half out of the bed but he pulled her down to him again and stopped her.
‘Let’s wait a bit. Let’s have a cuddle, warm me up before I have to go out.’ He smiled up at her, scarcely able to credit his good fortune. Here they were, together at last. It wasn’t exactly as he had imagined it, squeezed into a tiny bedsit instead of their own home, but he didn’t care. As long as he had Kath with him, he could move mountains.
She sighed. ‘Not long now and we’ll have a proper big bed.’
‘That day can’t come soon enough,’ Billy agreed, moving his feet so they didn’t touch the freezing wall. ‘We’ll deserve it an’ all. Lord knows we’re due a bit of comfort, you and me.’
Kathleen hugged him, pressing her face into his dark hair, cut short but still with a bit of curl to it. She still had to pinch herself sometimes. Despite the disappointment of having to postpone their wedding, she counted herself lucky to be in his arms. She didn’t care about the poky room. She had never known much better, and soon they would have their own home, a real house with a separate bedroom for her little boy, and their own yard out the back which they wouldn’t have to share with anyone.
She shifted slightly, careful not to make too much noise. Her landlady lived downstairs and didn’t approve of Billy coming to visit, although she generally turned a blind eye. Sometimes Kathleen felt guilty that they had pre-empted their wedding vows. But after the horror of what had happened, she couldn’t bear the thought of never having had Billy in her arms, not knowing his love. Life could be snuffed out at any moment.
For years she had lived in a small downstairs flat on a side street in Dalston. She had moved in when she’d married her first husband, Ray, full of hope for the future. That had soon vanished when she realised what sort of man he was – mean, unreliable, violent. She’d been blinded by his good looks, although everyone had warned her. She hadn’t listened. The only good thing to come out of the marriage was her boy, Brian, who would be three in the new year. Now Ray was dead, killed down at the docks where he’d been trying to cash in on the black market.
Kathleen had tried to show some respect for him; he was her son’s father and she wanted to do the right thing. However, she had been harbouring her secret love for Billy ever since the scales had fallen from her eyes about Ray. They had been at school together and, once Ray had disappeared, supposedly to find work, she would never have managed if it hadn’t been for Billy helping her out, along with their good friends around the corner, the Banham family.
She had been overjoyed when Billy had proposed. He’d announced it at a Banham family christening and it had brought tears to her eyes when she saw how happy her closest friends were for them. Finally it looked as if their life together could begin.
Billy had always lived with his mother, who had been thrilled to hear that her son had at last become engaged to the love of his life. However, she felt she was too old to cope with a toddler around the house. Billy had understood. He had planned to move in with Kathleen after they married, even though her place was really just one big room with a back kitchen and a shared privy in the yard. He was out most of the time anyway, working down at the docks in Limehouse, or on ARP duty in the evenings.
They’d fixed the date even while the Blitz had rained down on the streets around, causing havoc, destroying houses, roads, entire families. They had been under no illusions about the danger, but one day in the summer their plans fell apart.
Kathleen had been at home with Brian when she heard the familiar wail of the air-raid siren, which had sounded practically every night for months on end. ‘Off we go, then,’ she’d said to her little boy, hurriedly bundling him into his siren suit and snatching up the bag she kept in readiness by the front door. Together they had hurried to the local church hall, set up for those who had no Anderson shelters in their gardens. At the last minute she had decided it would be quicker to push him in his old pram, and that meant she could load the shelf underneath it with his teddy bear and wooden bricks, extra food, and a few of her own essentials.
Never had she been so thankful to have acted quickly. When the all clear came the next morning, they had returned to a scene of devastation. Jeeves Place had taken a direct hit, and Kathleen’s home was nothing but a pile of smouldering bricks. She could see straight through to the yard and the houses that had backed on to it. Neighbouring properties had lost all their windows, some of their roofs and brickwork. The smell was indescribable.
‘This your place?’ a kindly policeman had said. ‘Afraid you can’t come any closer – it’s not safe.’
‘But … my things,’ she had gasped. ‘All my clothes, all my boy’s clothes, they’re in there.’ Even as she said it, she recognised that they had very little left behind worth saving.
‘You can come back later when we’ve made it secure,’ the policeman had suggested. ‘Do you have anywhere you can go in the meantime?’
Kathleen had gulped, taking in the changes to her old street. Its narrow pavements were shrouded in dust and rubble, a few residents grey-faced with shock standing at the