Coronation Day

‘Got relatives Southend way so after the heavy bombings on London I got sent off to stay with them. It was only for a couple of years. I was soon back in London working full-time.’

‘You were lucky.’

‘How did you get on in Surrey?’

Grace shrugged. ‘I remember it was quiet, and boring, and a bit smelly. I liked the animals, especially the sheep. They were nice enough people … strict though and posh with it.’

‘Thought they must’ve been,’ Christopher said with a half-smile.

‘Why’s that?’ she asked sharply.

‘They’ve taught you to speak proper,’ he teased, chuckling when she blushed and turned away. ‘Sounds nice … I like it,’ he added.

‘Why’s Matilda still live round here?’ Grace swiftly changed the subject.

‘Memories, I suppose. She’s spent most of her life in The Bunk. Friends, enemies, two husbands, four kids – not counting me dad and uncle who she sort of adopted after their mum died – she’s had ’em all right here.’ He stared into the distance but it was a lengthy road and the kink at the Biggerstaff intersection robbed him of a complete view.

‘But even so …’ Grace began, a mystified look pinching her delicate features as she glanced about at the squalor.

When she and her mother had arrived at the turning into Whadcoat Street they’d been unsure of which house was Matilda’s as Shirley had forgotten to ask for the number. So, before venturing into the bowels of The Bunk, they had stopped on the corner of Seven Sisters Road for a recce. Grace’s swift, encompassing glance had led her to conclude the road hadn’t improved. But it was different. She had been ready to turn around and head home, but her mother had been determined to visit Matilda.

As a tramp-like individual had scuttled up Grace had bravely accosted him. He’d known Matilda, right enough, and had pointed at a door and given them a gap-toothed grin, before ambling away with a bag in each fist and a shilling for his trouble.

When Grace had visited those few times over a decade ago, she’d stood gawping, transfixed, at the rotten houses, the majority of which had been people’s homes. But now, interspersed with roughly boarded up residences, business names were pinned to the front of some of the terraces indicating these were buildings in commercial use.

‘She ain’t the only one living down here now, y’know.’ Christopher was accustomed to seeing revolted interest animating the faces of people unused to the area. He pointed his cigarette at houses further along the terrace. ‘You’d be surprised how many people are kipping inside some of them.’ A sudden shriek of laughter from inside made Grace and Chris exchange a rueful smile.

‘Nice of you and yer mum to come and visit her, being as you lost touch for a long while.’

‘Didn’t want to come here, to be truthful.’ Grace pulled a little face. ‘It was mum’s idea. She’s not stopped talking about Matilda Keiver, and the old days, since we ran into your aunt by the palace gates.’ She shuffled her feet on the pavement to warm them and hunched her shoulders to her ears, tucking her long fair hair inside her collar. ‘She’d have come sooner to see her but I’ve managed to put her off.’

As a light sleet started to fall, Christopher moved further inside the hallway. He took Grace’s elbow and pulled her in to shelter so they stood face to face in semi-darkness.

‘But I couldn’t get rid of her today,’ Grace continued. ‘She just said she was coming with me when I told her I was visiting Wendy.’ Seeing his puzzlement she explained, ‘I’ve got a friend who lives off Muswell Hill. I knew when I told mum I was seeing her today, she’d want to come too just so’s we could divert here.’ She drew daintily on her cigarette and blew smoke out of her mouth at once. ‘Me mum is here ’cos she’s nosy, you see, not being kind … sorry about that.’

‘No need to be,’ Christopher replied. ‘Matilda’s obviously glad of her company …’ As though to prove his point another rumble of laughter could be heard above.

‘Just because people live like this doesn’t mean it should be treated like a bloody freak show.’ Grace glanced about at her dismal surroundings. ‘They deserve some respect. I like your aunt. I did when I was younger too. I bet all the way home on the bus me mum’ll be going on about the state of her place. Worse it is, better she’ll like it.’

‘Don’t be so sensitive,’ Chris soothed with a tinge of mockery. ‘Matilda’s the last person to feel sorry for herself, or ashamed of herself. She could move out of here tomorrow if she wanted.’

Grace avoided his eyes and stared off through the open doorway.

‘You always was a soft touch, Grace Coleman.’ He slipped a low-lidded look over her petite figure.

‘You mean I was a cry baby,’ she said tightly.

‘Didn’t say that. Don’t remember you bawling often but you was always trying to stop us tying tin cans to dogs’ tails …’

‘Well, it was bloody cruel!’

‘’Course it were, but as a boy I didn’t know no better.’

‘Your mother should’ve taught you not to torment dumb animals …’ She bit her lip, having remembered that Christopher’s mother was dead, and his father had brought him up. ‘Sorry.’ She blushed scarlet. ‘Sorry … forgot your mum passed away, didn’t she …’

‘She ain’t dead,’ Christopher said unemotionally. ‘I found out years ago that were a lie me dad told me to shut me up asking after her. They broke up when I was still a baby and me mum took off.’

‘Really?’ The information was so surprising Grace forgot to immediately exhale and she coughed and spluttered as smoke reached her lungs. ‘Where is she now?’ she squeaked.

Christopher shrugged with feigned nonchalance. ‘Who bleedin’ knows?’ He made an exaggerated gesture with his arm. ‘Mystery, ain’t it, and looks like it’ll stay that way, ’cos nobody seems to want to tell me.’

‘Perhaps they don’t want to hurt you,’ Grace suggested, having recovered her breath. ‘She might have got killed in the war or moved away and remarried.’ She gave him a kind smile.‘Your mum might have a new husband and family.’

‘Well, she didn’t want her old ones, so that’s on the cards.’

Grace bit her lip, feeling awkward in the presence of his bitterness, but she knew whatever he was feeling about his parents hadn’t stopped him studying her from beneath his long, low lashes.

‘Why didn’t you just say you don’t smoke?’

‘I do sometimes,’ she retorted, having noticed humour far back in his deep brown eyes. ‘Usually when I go out and have a drink.’ She dropped the half-smoked cigarette onto the boards and put a foot on it.

Christopher could see she was edging away from him towards the stairs to join her mother. He didn’t want to lose her company just yet. Grace Coleman had grown into a very attractive woman, and he knew he’d like to ask her out, but it was more than that. She had a sweet kindness about her and, as her presence eased more memories to the surface, he suspected he’d liked her years ago for the same reason.

‘Matilda told me you work in the City as a typist,’ Christopher said.

‘She told me you do building work.’

‘Another topic of conversation over?’ he murmured with a half-smile as she took another step towards the stairs. ‘What else did she tell you about me?’

‘Nothing. And I didn’t ask.’ Grace gave him an old-fashioned look. ‘I know it’s ages since we saw each other, but I do remember you were a little bit conceited, even then, Christopher Wild.’

He took a couple of steps after her. ‘I was sorry to hear about your dad.’

‘Thanks,’ Grace said huskily and halted by the banisters. ‘It seems he’s been gone ages, but it’s only a few years.’ She paused. ‘How about your dad? Did he go off to fight?’

‘He joined up in 1941,’ Chris answered. ‘He would’ve gone before but he didn’t want to leave me.’

‘Did you live alone when he went?’

‘Sometimes. But I was with Matilda or me Uncle Rob in London so I wasn’t really on me own. Rob was me guvnor too. I started work in his warehouse in Holloway Road before I left school.’

‘You had a lot of freedom …’ Grace sounded a little envious.

‘Yeah, it was great. I tried to join up meself when I was seventeen.’ He grinned at the memory. ‘Me and a couple of mates went down Euston Road recruiting office.’

‘And?’

‘They chucked two of us out for being too young even though we tried to blag our way in with a lot of chat about bringing our birth certificates back another day. Sammy Piper got took on though. He’d just turned nineteen. Never saw him again, but he might’ve come through alright.’