Queenie

As the monster led her towards his truck, Queenie was too scared to make a run for it. His grip on her arm was too tight and if she made him angry he might violate her again or even kill her. Instead, her whole body trembling, she focused her thoughts on seeing her family again.

The journey seemed to last for ever, with Queenie sitting rigid in the passenger seat, sensing his eyes on her. She knew she would never be able to tell the Briggs about this, or even Vivvy – it was far too disgusting to tell anybody. Besides, Ivan was right: it was her word against his, and Betty and John were bound to believe him over her, given that he’d worked for them so long. Betty obviously thought the world of Ivan. She fed him every day and talked about him as if he were part of the family.

As Queenie went to open the truck door and run to the safety of the farmhouse, Ivan grabbed her arm. ‘No. I will open the door for you and I will bring your shopping to the front door. You won’t say anything, will you?’

The engine was still running, so Queenie knew she had to say the right thing. If she didn’t, she was petrified he might drive off with her. ‘I won’t say anything, I promise.’

Ivan smiled and stroked Queenie’s cheek. ‘Good. Our little secret. You’re very beautiful, Miss Queenie. I will always love you, you know.’

Somehow, Queenie managed to force a smile. ‘Will you get my shopping out for me, please?’

‘Of course. Miss Queenie’s wish is my command,’ grinned Ivan. ‘Hopefully, I see you tomorrow, yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ Queenie mumbled, before bolting to the Briggs’ front door.

‘Hello, Queenie. You all right? You look ever so pale,’ said Betty. ‘And you’re shaking – look at your hands.’

‘I’m not well. Got my thingy again and those awful pains in my stomach. Ivan’s bringing my shopping in. I must go straight to bed. The pain is far worse than last time. That’s why I’m shaking.’

‘Oh dearie me. Poor you. I’ll bring you up some painkillers and a cup of tea in a minute.’

Hearing Ivan’s thick country accent greeting Betty behind her, Queenie flew up the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her. She never wanted to lay eyes on that monstrous pervert ever again. She needed to get away from here and back to the East End where she’d be safe.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘Queenie, please, tell me what’s wrong,’ pleaded Viv. ‘I know something is. You’ve not been right since you went to the shops with Ivan. Did something happen while you were out with him?’

‘No. Don’t be stupid,’ spat Queenie. ‘I’ve told you fifty bloody times what’s wrong. I still got bad stomach pains and I’ve caught your mumps.’

‘But your face isn’t swollen like mine was, and you said you’d already had mumps and couldn’t catch them again,’ said Viv, clearly unconvinced. Apart from using the bathroom, Queenie had not left the bedroom for four whole days now, not even to eat. Viv knew Betty was worried about her too. ‘Why don’t you let Betty call the doctor in like she offered to? You might need some proper medicine, Queenie.’

‘I don’t need a doctor, OK? Please just stop going on at me, Viv. Go and have your breakfast and when Betty asks you, tell her I’ve started to feel a bit better, but I’m still tired. Got that?’

Shocked at her sister shouting at her, Vivian did as she was told.

When Viv left the bedroom, Queenie breathed a sigh of relief. It was so hard trying to act normal. She couldn’t sleep or eat, her nerves were in tatters. Thankfully, the Briggs had a proper bath inside the farmhouse which she had loved when she’d first moved here. She’d thought of it as a luxury. Now she just saw it as a way to scrub his rancid smell off her, but no matter how much she scrubbed herself, she could still smell that awful reek of stale sweat and rancid breath. It had obviously left an imprint on her brain, just like he had. The vile, disgusting pervert.

Queenie shut her eyes. She’d written a letter to Mrs O’Leary, begging for help. She’d kept it short and sweet, telling her that something had happened and she would explain when she got home. In the meantime she asked Mary not to say anything to her family.

Viv had posted the letter on Sunday and Queenie knew by the other letters she’d written and received that Mary should have received it by now. Thank God the O’Learys were back in Whitechapel, because if they’d still been in Ireland, Queenie wouldn’t have known who to turn to. Aunt Edna would have been the only other option, but Queenie couldn’t tell her what had happened. She would die of shame if her parents ever found out. It was all too shameful for words. She wasn’t even sure she could tell Mary, but knew she ought to tell someone. Say she’d caught something off the dirty unwashed nonce? She’d caught nits at school twice in the past because some of the other kids were so unclean. None of those kids were as dirty as him – the monster!

The tap at the door startled Queenie. ‘OK to come in, Queenie? I’ve made you some breakfast and tea.’

‘Yes. Come in, Betty.’

‘Vivian informs me you’re feeling a bit better. I’m so pleased. I’ve done you two boiled eggs, toast, and put a sausage on the side. I know how you like our sausages, but don’t worry if you can’t finish it all. Just eat what you can.’

‘I will. Thank you.’

Betty put the tray on Queenie’s lap. ‘We’ve all been worried about you, duck. John insisted I send for a doctor, but I told him you were adamant you didn’t need one. Ivan sends his love too. He’s left you a present downstairs. I’ll bring it up later. Oh, and he said to tell Miss Queenie the dart flights you bought him brought him luck. He won last night,’ smiled Betty.

Feeling the bile rise in her throat, Queenie put her hand over her mouth. ‘Take the tray. Gonna be sick.’

Hearing the girl run from the room, retching, Betty made her mind up. Like it or not, Queenie was going to see a doctor.

A couple of days later, Queenie was lying on her bed reading Oliver Twist when Betty called up the stairs: ‘Queenie, you have a telegram.’

Queenie dashed down to collect it. It must be from Mary. It had to be.

Thanking a rather bemused-looking Betty and the man who’d delivered it, Queenie ran back up the stairs before ripping it open. For the first time since her horrendous ordeal, she managed a smile.

‘Who’s it from Queenie? Mum?’ asked Viv.

‘No. It’s from Mrs O’Leary. We’re going home tomorrow, Viv, but you mustn’t say anything to the Briggs. I will do the talking just before we leave, OK?’

Viv was stunned. ‘What! How come? I thought Mum said we weren’t allowed home yet?’

‘We’re going to surprise Mum. There’s been no more bombs, so we’ll be fine.’

‘But we should tell Betty as soon as possible. Her and John have been ever so kind to us. It’s rude to wait until just before we leave to tell them. And what about Ivan? He’s been kind to us too. He even let me drive his tractor yesterday.’

‘You what! When?’

‘Yesterday afternoon, while you were sleeping.’

Queenie grabbed her sister by the shoulders. ‘You say nothing and you go nowhere near Ivan again, d’ya hear me?’

‘But why?’

‘Because I bloody said so. He was looking at me funny that day I went shopping alone with him and he said some odd things. I don’t trust him, Viv. Not as far as I can throw him.’

‘Is that why you’ve been acting strange?’

‘I’ve been ill, Viv. You know I have. You heard what the doctor said. There’s a bug been going round the village.’

‘Yeah, but you’ve still been acting weird.’

‘I’m bored, that’s all. Bored out of my brains. I can’t wait to get home, see Mum, Dad, Aunt Edna, Mary and all our friends.’

‘Neither can I.’

‘Well, start packing your bits then and not a word to anyone. OK?’

‘OK.’

Betty Briggs was stunned the following morning when Queenie announced at 11.45 a.m. that she and Viv were being picked up at noon and would be returning to London. ‘I’m so upset you didn’t tell me beforehand, girls. I would’ve cooked you a lovely farewell dinner last night had I known. I take it that’s why you received a telegram?’

‘Yes, Betty, and I’m sorry I never told you beforehand, but one of our family is really sick, and we didn’t want any fuss,’ lied Queenie. ‘Thank you so, so much for taking Viv and me into your home and looking after us. This is for you, and I would like you to give this to John. It’s just a little thank you gift, something to remember us by.’

Betty’s eyes filled with tears. Since her sons had left home the farmhouse had felt very empty and it had been lovely having the girls around. She’d spent hours teaching them maths and English, and had given them numerous cooking and baking lessons. ‘You must say goodbye to John and give him his present yourself. He’s out the back. I’ll call him. Ivan will want to say goodbye to you too.’

Queenie felt the colour drain from her face. ‘No, please don’t call them. We really don’t want any fuss. It’s our Aunt Edna. She’s dying you see.’

Viv looked at her sister in astonishment. Their mum had always taught them never to tell such wicked lies in case they came true.

At that very moment, John walked through the back door. ‘Any chance of a cuppa, love? I’m parched.’

Tears rolled down Betty’s cheeks as she told her husband the girls were going home at short notice because a family member was seriously ill.

‘Why didn’t you tell us yesterday? Betty said you had a telegram, so we guessed it must be important. We would’ve loved to have given you a proper send-off,’ John said, in his thick country drawl.

Queenie looked at her shoes. ‘Viv and I were too upset to want any fuss. We’re very close to Aunt Edna. She’s the only aunt we have.’ It was nearly noon now and she hoped Patrick wouldn’t be long. Mary had said Patrick would pick them up in his car.

Betty opened her present and cried even more. ‘They’re beautiful slippers, girls. They’ll keep my feet lovely and warm in the winter months and whenever I wear them, I will think of you.’

‘Ahh, bless ya. You shouldn’t have,’ John said, as he put the new pipe to his mouth. ‘It’s been a pleasure having you stay with us and I know my Betty will miss your company. She always wanted a daughter,’ winked John.

Betty hugged Queenie and Viv close to her chest. ‘Please write to us. I would hate to lose touch with you.’

‘As soon as we are settled at home, I’ll write to you,’ said Viv. She felt awkward and rude that they were leaving at such short notice. As for Queenie’s lies about Aunt Edna, she’d be having strong words with her later.

Queenie was uncomfortable about lying to the Briggs and leaving them this way, so it came as a huge relief when their farewells were interrupted by the sound of a car horn outside. ‘That’s our lift home. Thank you so much for having us. We will never forget you.’

‘Hang on. I’ll bring your cases out,’ said John. ‘I must call Ivan too. He will want to say goodbye to you both.’

When John opened the back door and yelled ‘Ivan’, Queenie knew she had to get out of the house. ‘I’ll let Patrick know we’re ready,’ she mumbled, bolting for the front door.

She made it no further than the doorstep before colliding with Patrick, who was just about to knock. ‘You all right, darling?’ he asked, giving her a hug.

‘I just wanna sit in the car. I’ve had a bug.’ Queenie’s legs were like jelly at the thought of seeing Ivan again.

John brought the cases out and Queenie froze as she heard Ivan’s voice.

‘Get out the car, Queenie. Don’t be so rude,’ hissed Viv.

Queenie couldn’t move. Her legs were temporarily paralysed. She opened the car window instead. The monster was standing there, between Betty and John. ‘Thank you for all you have done for us, Betty and John. We won’t forget you.’ Queenie could hear the fear in her voice.

Ivan approached the car. ‘Bye, Miss Queenie. I’m going to miss you,’ he grinned, showing his rotting teeth. ‘And you, Viv.’

Queenie managed to swallow the bile that entered her mouth. ‘Yeah, bye.’

Patrick watched the scene with interest. His mother had told him to. He earned his living by being an illegal bookie and would bet his car on Ivan being a problem. The geezer looked like a nonce. He started the engine. ‘Ready, girls?’

‘Yes,’ Queenie said, putting her hands under her legs, so Viv wouldn’t see them trembling. But Patrick didn’t miss a thing.

‘Bye Betty, bye John, bye Ivan,’ Viv smiled. ‘I’ll write to you very soon, Betty. I promise.’

‘Bye, girls,’ said Betty and John in unison.

As the car pulled away, the last thing Queenie heard was the monster shouting, ‘Bye, Miss Queenie.’

Pretending she was tired, Queenie closed her eyes on the journey home. She was so relieved to have got away from the farmhouse, yet was dreading seeing family and friends in case they guessed something was wrong with her.

Patrick and Viv were chatting away happily. Queenie’s ears pricked up when she heard Daniel had a new girlfriend. But she wasn’t that bothered. Not now. She could never imagine herself wanting a lad to touch her again, even Daniel.

Knowing she had to pull herself together, Queenie yawned and pretended to wake up as they neared home. The sight that greeted her eyes as they entered London was shocking and dismal. Houses, buildings, shops, pubs, all reduced to piles of rubble. ‘Jesus wept!’ Queenie mumbled.

‘Oh my God, Queenie! Thank God Mum sent us away,’ said Viv.

Patrick looked in the interior mirror to size up Queenie’s reaction.

Queenie flinched. She would rather have been blown up by a bomb than being forced to endure what she had.

Molly Wade was elated yet stunned when she walked into her home to see her two daughters sitting on the sofa. ‘Oh, my babies! What you doing ’ere?’ she squealed with delight.

Viv cried and hugged her mother for dear life. ‘It’s so good to see you, Mum. We missed you so much.’

‘We couldn’t stay there no longer. Betty and John were lovely to us, but we were so bored. There’s nothing to do there. Both of us have been ill recently too. Viv had mumps, I caught a bug and we just wanted to be ’ere, with you,’ explained Queenie.

Queenie felt her eyes well up as her mother hugged her. She wished she was still the same carefree girl who’d hugged her mum goodbye eight months ago. ‘Is Dad at work?’

‘Sit down, girls. I’ll make us a cuppa. There’s lots I have to tell you.’

Molly Wade reappeared with a tray of tea and biscuits, sat in between her two daughters on the sofa and held their hands. ‘How did you get home by the way?’

‘Patrick O’Leary picked us up in his car. We wanted to surprise you,’ said Queenie.

‘Ahh, that was nice of him. I’m not sure it’s safe for you to stay here though. More bombs could be dropped at any time.’

‘We don’t care,’ snapped Queenie. ‘No way are we being sent away again.’

‘Is Dad OK, Mum?’ asked Viv.

‘Erm, yes. I didn’t want to worry you two, but Dad got called up not long after you left. He was in North Africa, last I heard. He’s OK though.’

‘When will he come home?’ asked Viv.

‘I don’t know, lovey. But fingers crossed it won’t be too long.’

‘We got a shock when we saw the state of the area. When did the row of shops where the butcher’s is get blown up?’ asked Queenie.

‘Around Christmas time. Lots of people you know have lost their lives too. Joe Brown was killed in action, so was Tim Lewis. Your school friend Linda Ruttle perished with the rest of her family when a bomb fell, Viv.’

Tears pricked Vivian’s eyes. ‘I don’t think Nelly knows her brother is dead. She never mentioned it in her letters.’

‘Mabel isn’t going to tell the girls until they come home. She wants to be there to comfort them. She’s been in a terrible state has Mabel, bless her. There’s other families you know that have been wiped out, but let’s not talk about that today. Let’s celebrate you being home. Shall we go and surprise, Aunt Edna?’ smiled Molly.

‘Not yet. I want to know who has died first. You should have told us by letter,’ snapped Queenie. ‘I need to visit Mrs O’Leary too. We have her to thank for getting us away from that hellhole of a farmhouse. If it wasn’t for Mary, we’d still be stuck there.’

‘It wasn’t that bad, Queenie. I know it was boring, but at least the people were nice,’ Viv replied.

‘I thought you were happy there,’ Molly said dismally.

‘I wasn’t. But then, I begged you not to send me away in the first place, didn’t I?’ Queenie reminded her mother. ‘It’s just a shame you didn’t bloody listen.’

CHAPTER FIVE

I tried to put what had happened to the back of my mind, but it was nigh on impossible. The nights were the worst. That monster would appear in my dreams, lunging towards me, and I would wake up terrified.

I went back to school and did my best to act normal. But the East End had changed beyond recognition and I was no longer that happy carefree girl I’d once been. I was irritable, snappy, bitter and downright rude at times, especially to Mum. Though I knew what had happened wasn’t her fault, I couldn’t help but blame her for sending me away.

Both Mum and Aunt Edna had heart-to-hearts with me, tried to get me to open up, but I couldn’t. I blamed my period, how I thought I was dying at the time, and had ruined Betty’s lovely mattress. ‘I’ve never felt so embarrassed in my life,’ I told them.

I told the same story to Mrs O’Leary. I could tell she knew there was more to it, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth. I felt far too ashamed to tell anybody. I never felt clean any more, not even after a trip to the public baths. I felt dirty, like a tramp.

Then I heard the news my dad had been shot in the leg, was in the army hospital, and would be returning home once he was well enough to travel.

I looked forward to Dad’s homecoming. It helped to take my mind off things. Viv and I made him a big banner welcoming him home. Mum and Aunt Edna baked cakes and made sandwiches, but Dad never showed. He arrived home the following morning, paralytic, and after that things went from bad to worse.

Things got to the point where I no longer had a father as far as I was concerned. Instead, there was a stranger living in our house. A nasty, evil, wicked bully who I totally despised.

It was no wonder I began to spend more and more time at Mrs O’Leary’s. Her house was the only place I felt safe and loved.

The war was changing everything.

Three Months Later

Summer 1941

‘Queenie, wake up. I think Dad’s hurting Mum again.’

Queenie was already wide awake ‘Mum’s told us not to get involved. Go back to sleep. The noises’ll stop soon.’

Putting her arms around Viv’s back to comfort her, Queenie lay deep in thought. She knew what was happening all right. The drunken stranger who was once her father was forcing her mum to have sex with him again.

Hearing their mum begging their dad to stop, Viv started to cry.

‘It’s OK. They’re just trying to make us a little brother or sister,’ Queenie lied. She knew that wasn’t the case. She’d seen the bruises on her mother’s body, knew what was happening was no act of love.

As Queenie heard her father grunt and groan, she felt ill. The monster.

Finally all was quiet, but still Queenie couldn’t sleep. She would speak to Aunt Edna later; ask if she and Viv could stay with her this weekend.

The next morning, Queenie was in a foul mood as she took her seat in the classroom. She’d lain awake most of the night, and felt groggy and ratty. She was also dreading breaking up for the summer holidays on Friday. These days she had little interest in playing outdoors amongst the rats and the rubble, she would rather be at school, or losing herself in a book. There was no quiet indoors any more, so perhaps she’d go over the park and read alone? Books were the only thing that would temporarily help her to forget. She was currently engrossed in Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House in the Big Woods. It was a world away from London and the Blitz.

‘Good morning.’

‘Good morning, sir,’ Queenie responded in unison with the other kids.

Mr Archer pointed a finger in the air and silently began counting heads. ‘Thirteen,’ he said out loud. ‘OK, today I have a special assignment for you. For the handful of you who were not evacuees, I want you to write a story pretending you were. How would you feel leaving your parents? Your pets? Use your imagination. As for the thirteen of you who were evacuated and have since returned, I want to hear every detail about your experiences. Where did you stay? What was the area and family like? Describe them in detail. Did you make any new friends?’

An image of Ivan flashing through her mind, Queenie was mortified as her breakfast flew out of her mouth with such force, some landed on Kenneth Holmes’s back.

Kenneth leapt up. ‘Urgh, ya dirty moo.’

As other classmates held their noses in disgust and murmured noises and words of distaste, an embarrassed Queenie knew she had to get out of there.

Yelling ‘Sorry’, she ran from the classroom in tears.

Mary O’Leary was chatting to her hairdresser Rosemary when she saw Queenie running hell for leather on the other side of the road. ‘Queenie! You all right?’

Stopping in her tracks, Queenie burst into tears. She couldn’t stand it any longer, the shame was burning inside her and she felt as though she didn’t want to live.

Excusing herself to Rosemary, Mary ran across the road. ‘Whatever’s wrong?’

‘Everything. I can’t go on, Mary. Just leave me. Leave me alone.’

Seeing Queenie was shaking, Mary gathered her firmly into her arms. ‘You’ve not been yourself since you returned from the Briggs’. What happened there? You know you can trust me, Queenie.’

‘Nothing. Nothing happened,’ wept Queenie.

Remembering what Patrick had told her, Mary held Queenie’s cheeks and looked her in the eyes. ‘It’s that Ivan, isn’t it? What did he do to you, darling?’

‘He—’ Queenie sobbed.

‘Did he touch you inappropriately? You must tell me, lovey. A trouble shared is a trouble halved.’

Queenie nodded furiously. ‘Yes. He touched me.’

Once inside the O’Learys’ house, a tot of brandy in her hand, and urged on by Mary, Queenie found it a relief to finally spill her guts. She explained what had happened with Ivan, how she’d tried to get away from him and how dirty and horrible she’d felt ever since.

The news didn’t come as a shock to Mary. Patrick had reported back that Ivan was a weirdo and he reckoned he was the problem. However, Mary’s heart broke as she made Queenie endless cups of sweet tea, held her in her arms and reassured her that none of this was her fault, she would help her through it.

‘You won’t tell anybody, will you? I don’t want Daniel to know, or Patrick – or anyone. I’d feel too embarrassed. Oh, the shame of what he did to me Mary, please—’

Mary stroked Queenie’s hair. ‘Of course not, angel. But you did right telling me. I can help you. I know it doesn’t feel like it at the moment, but in time, things will get better for you.’

‘It doesn’t feel like that.’

‘I know, but you have to trust me. Now I need to ask you some questions. Important ones.’

Queenie managed a half-smile. Mrs O’Leary was so kind. She’d washed her, rinsed out her sick-stained top, given her a fresh one to wear while her own dried in the garden.

Not wanting to worry Queenie unnecessarily, Mary chose her words carefully. ‘You know I got you those Kotex pads? Have you had to use any yet?’