Side-stepping puddles and piles of rubble he walked on, trying to remember where Mrs Harris used to live. As he turned into a narrow alley the sirens started screaming overhead. A warden ran along the alley towards him and yelled for him to take cover as they were coming this way. Edward asked for the nearest shelter and ran for the railway sidings.
He had forgotten the voices, the accents, and he stood huddled against the wall, remembering, as more and more people crowded under the railway arches. The planes passed overhead and as they heard the bombs dropping they were all looking skywards.
‘Bleedin’ bastard Jerries, sons of bitches, go on ya buggers, get out of it.’
The all clear sounded, and they made their way out, carrying their gas-mask cases. Edward asked a couple of people if they knew a Mrs Harris, and he was eventually directed to a rundown block of flats. The smell of cabbage and the stench of urine swamped him as he went up the stone steps — obviously many people used the stairs to live on — and he shuddered. Most of the windows were boarded up, and the flats had evidently been hit more than once, as there were holes in the roofs.
‘All right, I’m comin’, for Chrissake ‘ang on, no need to ring on an’ on.’ Dora Harris opened the door and stepped back, surprised. She didn’t recognize Edward, saw only a well-dressed gent who, when he spoke, sounded posh, upper crust.
‘Mrs Harris?’
Dora tried to close the door, thinking he might be the law, but Edward put his foot between door and post.
‘What you want ‘er for? She’s busy right now, if it’s the rent then you’ll have to come back, but you ain’t the usual rent man, is you?’
Mrs Harris shuffled out of the kitchen and asked what all the racket was about. She squinted past her daughter and stared.
‘Are you Mrs Harris? It’s Edward, Edward Stubbs.’
She stared at him then after a moment nodded to Dora to let him in. Dora went towards the lounge, but Mrs Harris moved back into the kitchen. Dora wore only a thin wraparound and fluffy slippers, her hair in curlers. She watched the smart gent as he passed by her into the stuffy, smelly kitchen.
‘I’ll be gettin’ changed, Ma, won’t be a tick.’
Mrs Harris lowered her bulk into the easy chair and looked into the fire. She was sweating with the effort, and her heart thudded in her chest. ‘So you’ve come. You took your time — well, sit down, lad, sit down.’
Uneasy, Edward sat down and wished he hadn’t bothered, the place reminded him of his old home and he felt sick.
‘You look all done up like a dog’s dinner, what you up to, then?’
Edward explained that he had not received her letter until too late, and thanked her for taking care of his mother.
‘I never did nothing, boy, she took care of herself, that one, even arranged her own funeral down to the cross, have you seen the grave? No, didn’t think you would have done. What about your brother, been to see him, have you? Our Dora used to go, but they moved ‘im, did you know that? You want a cup of something?’
Edward shook his head and stood up, he had nothing to say, he should never have come. Mrs Harris looked at him in his smart clothes. ‘She was ill, you know, cancer, but she never let on, not to me even. Yer brother took it hard, is he all right?’
Before Edward could answer, Dora swung into the kitchen, wearing a cheap perfume that filled the room, and bright red, high-heeled shoes. Her breasts were pushed up into a new type of bra, and her flowered blouse was open at the neck to display her cleavage. Her blonde hair was fluffed out into the latest fashion, and she was wearing the full war paint.
‘You off, are you? Don’t suppose you’re going up west are you, only I could do with a lift?’
Edward buttoned his coat, eager to be gone, and shook his head. Dora kissed her mother’s balding head and then opened a drawer in the untidy sideboard. ‘So you’re Eddie. Well I never, you grown up a real dandy, that’s for sure. Looks ever so nice, don’t he, Ma? Hang on, I’ll walk wiv ya. I’m almost ready.’
Edward watched her open a leather box, take out his mother’s gold and pearl necklace and clasp it around her neck, looking into the mirror above the fire. While she fixed the earrings she caught him looking at her, and she flicked her tongue over her painted lips, smiled at him with a coy, sexy pout. ‘You recognize this, do you? It was yer mother’s, she left it to me in her will, didn’t she Ma? I never have it off, do I? It’s just lovely.’
Edward’s stomach churned. Emotions he had thought himself incapable of feeling were beginning to surface and he had to get out. But Dora wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily — she caught his arm and teetered on her heels, clip-clopping beside him down the concrete stairs. ‘Stinks here, don’t it? Terrible, I’m only here ‘cause of Ma, otherwise I’d be in my own place, I got enough put by for a nice flat, but until she pops off I have to stay. Only fair really, all the others are married now, with kids, and they got their own problems... You got a girl, have you, Eddie? I bet you have, nice-looking boy like you, and yer ever so tall, taller than yer brother by a couple of inches. Oh, he’s been ever so hard done by, did me mum tell you? Poor bugger, just one of those types, isn’t he? Walks into trouble.’
Having nothing better to do, Edward went all the way into the West End with Dora. She kept up a steady flow of chatter, and as they neared Mayfair she asked Edward if he would like to have a drink at the club where she worked. ‘It’s ever so nice, and very exclusive, lots of Yanks in there, but they are really nice blokes, you know, not just servicemen but officers.’
Edward found himself sitting at a small, seedy bar in a drinking club close to Berkeley Square. The club had only one main room, fitted out with tiny, two-seater tables and a couple of booths. There was a dance floor the size of a postage stamp, and crammed into a corner was a three-piece band. Dora seemed to be the ‘head girl’, all the other ‘hostesses’ were younger by a few years. Edward watched her circulating among the tables, chatting with everyone and ordering champagne. He could see the girls were hookers, but he reckoned they were reasonably expensive ones, since they were all well dressed. Dora herself had changed into a slinky evening gown which was cut very low at the neck, and it showed off his mother’s necklace very well. She constantly checked her lipstick in the wall-to-wall mirrors.
After a couple of drinks Edward decided to call it a night. He was bored and the music annoyed him. He was just about to leave when Dora sat down with a glass of what looked like champagne. She leaned over and whispered that she was drinking ginger beer, although nobody knew it, but she had to keep sober for the clients. A swarthy gent in a flash tuxedo with red cummerbund joined them, and Dora introduced him as her manager.
Johnny Mask took a good look at Edward and smiled his flashy smile, showing two gold-capped teeth. Edward seemed familiar to Mask and he asked if they had met before, but the upper-class twang to Edward’s voice confused him.
Edward wanted to get out now, the seedy little club was beginning to grate unbearably on his nerves, and he was wary of the sly-faced Johnny Mask. Dora walked him to the exit and clung to his arm, her sickly-sweet perfume becoming even more cloying. ‘Why don’t you come back later, Eddie, place doesn’t liven up until two or three in the morning. These are just a few regulars, we get all sorts later on — types you’d more’n likely mix with these days — you know, high-class... An’ out at the back, through the mirrored doors just by the bar, there’s a private card game goes on. You come back, lovey, you’ll like it, I could show you a nice time.’