Evelyne leaned over and pointed to the picture of Jack Sharkey. ‘He punched foul, that’s why, he punched low, and your Dad’s leg got paralysed. Sharkey was never world champion either, because he fouled again at his next fight. You shouldn’t run yourself down like that, Freedom! Your Dad would have won, but he had so many fights and not enough rest before the big bout… Your face had to have time to heal — there were cuts around his eyes, his ribs broken. No man in that condition should have been allowed to go into the ring. You ask your Uncle Ed about it.’
Again, Freedom reached out and held her hand. ‘I dunno, suddenly your mother’s an authority on boxing, she who hated the very thought of it, now will you listen to her?’
Evelyne laughed, and sat on his knee. ‘Ah, well, I hate it, and that’s the truth, but I’ll not hear you tell of everyone else. You were a champion, not many can say that. But neither of you two lads will ever have to go through what your Dad had to, fighting for money is a terrible way to earn a living … Have you never wondered why your father limps the way he does? That’s fighting for you …’
Edward leafed through the book and then opened a folded page of newspaper. ‘What’s this? Dad, what’s this?’
Freedom glanced at it and flushed, looked up at Evelyne. He couldn’t read it. Evelyne took it from Edward, bit her lip!
‘It’s the headline about Al Capone, Freedom.’
Freedom laughed and jigged Evelyne up and down on his knee. The boys whistled and started in amazement as Freedom told them about the St Valentine’s Day massacre. Alex started jumping up and down. ‘Dad, Dad, there’s films about him, they have guns, bab-bab-bab-b-b-b-b, real machine-guns that kill hundreds ‘n’ thousands at the same time.’
Edward continued to read the article, but Alex was beside himself. ‘Tell us more, Dad, tell us more, Ma, make him tell us more.’
Evelyne slid off Freedom’s knee and picked up the paper. Clearing her throat theatrically, she acted out her scene with the bell hop in the Chicago hotel. She did not mention that the trouble they had getting rooms was due to Freedom’s dark skin, but went on to tell how she had met the man in the lilac suit. She switched to a heavy Chicago accent,’ “Well, Ma’am,” he said …,’ and mimed smoking a huge cigar. The boys clapped their hands. They had never seen their mother behave in this way. Freedom roared with laughter and applauded. ‘We got sent flowers and fruit, and we’d never even heard of him. Then when Ed saw his name, well, he almost shit himself.’
Evelyne cuffed Freedom’s head. ‘And we’ll not use any language like that! Well, come on now, let’s clear the table. Who’s hungry?’
Edward held up a photograph of Evelyne, dressed in all her finery, on board the Aquitania, ‘Ma, is this you? This you?’
Freedom took it from him and turned to Evelyne. ‘Yes, it’s your mother, and she turned every man’s head on the ship. Wearing her real pearls, she was.’
The boys stared from the photo to Evelyne and back again. ‘Is that necklace real, Ma? The jewels, are they real?’
Evelyne ruffled Alex’s hair and said they were, and she had to get on with the tea. Edward gave her a sly look, then a hooded glance at his father. ‘You still got yer necklace, have you, Ma?’
Evelyne looked hard at Edward, but he had the masked look on his face so similar to his father’s. Edward, who pried into everything, did he know? Had he seen her frantic search for her necklace that day? She couldn’t tell. Freedom, uncomfortable, tried to change the subject, but Edward persisted, asking again and again to see his mother’s jewels. Freedom stood up. ‘Why don’t you show ‘em, Evie, go on.’ He left the room, and came back downstairs a few moments later to show the necklace to the boys.
‘Here you go, Alex, look at this. See, that was the time when I bought your Ma the very best.’
How had Freedom got it back? When? She didn’t know, but Edward’s frown told her for certain that somehow the boy had known something.
Chapter 28
3 September 1940 — England had been at war for a year and the effect was shattering as the young men enlisted and went off to fight. Not that they noticed much difference in their streets, just that many faces were missing. Times were still hard, but as so many men were employed in the forces it left opportunities for work open to women. Hundreds of children were evacuated to safety in the country, but not Edward and Alex. Evelyne was adamant. They would remain in London and at school — they were not babes in arms and she and Freedom would keep their eyes on them. Edward, nearly eighteen years old now, was in the sixth form at the grammar school, taking his entrance exams for Cambridge University.
Freedom had been turned down when he tried to, enlist, because of his age and his bad leg. He was furious and felt slighted, but he got a job as a warden patrolling the streets.
The bombs were hitting the East End and the dock areas worst of all, and blackouts every night was the rule. Buckingham Palace was hit in the same month, and the Queen announced publicly that she was glad, it made her feel she could look the East End in the face. The Royal Family committed itself to the needs of war with a zeal and conscientiousness that won the respect of the people.
Jesse made an appearance and roped Freedom into black market activities, and although Evelyne was against it from the start she had to admit that the food they obtained helped their meagre rations to go round. She still did the accounting at the bakeries and still lent money, but she also went to work in a factory on the morning shift. Planes flying overhead and bombs dropping became an everyday occurrence, which left gaps in the rows of houses like blackened skeletons. There was hardly a family that hadn’t lost a relative in the fighting, and now they were being hit themselves they lived in constant fear of air-raid warnings. The raids usually took place under cover of night. Evelyne had seen families lose everything they possessed, and, always one to take care, she carried her savings book with her at all times, strapped around her waist under her clothes.
At the factory Evelyne hemmed army blankets on a machine, and one day when the sirens sounded during work, they all ran for the shelter. As they crossed the yard, one of the foremen looked up into the sky. ‘Dear God, look at ‘em, they’re like big, black birds, the bastards. In broad daylight an’ all.’
Evelyne was in the shelter before his words struck home, and she remembered Rawnie’s words so many years ago. She screamed at one of the workers, shook the women. ‘What day is it? What day is it?’
Thursday was the boys’ half-day at school, where they had a good shelter, but on Thursdays they came home. She ran from the shelter, forcing her way past the boss, who tried to hold her back. She yelled to them that it was Thursday, then she was gone. She couldn’t get a bus, they had come to a halt, and the whole area was bedlam. The planes were coming closer and closer, and looking up she could see them like big, black birds flying she knew, towards the city, towards number twelve.
She ran until she was so exhausted that she had to lean against a wall. She looked up as the drone of the planes passed overhead. There was pandemonium as people screamed and ran. The glue factory took a direct hit, and the overpowering smell of glue and the black smoke choked the few workers who escaped, and the firemen alike. Evelyne gasped for breath but pushed herself on and on, towards home. Twice she was held back by firemen but dragged herself away. ‘My boys, my boys, lemme go.’
At long last she reached the corner of the street to find it a nightmare of flames and charred buildings. Fire engines were trying to get through the rubble. Stumbling and crying, calling her boys’ names, Evelyne stopped in horror. Ed’s brother’s house was no more than a heap of rubble, and fire gushed from next door’s wooden window frames. Screams echoed around, the thick black smoke filled the street, and Evelyne pushed her way through the dazed people wandering around calling for their loved ones. One of Freda’s lodgers, one of the tarts, was sitting on the pavement sobbing, repeating over and over in a shocked, hysterical voice, ‘Me new dress, me new dress, I just got it, me new dress.’