Queenie

Queenie laughed loudly. ‘You’re so funny. Thanks for running my bath. I’ll get ready.’

The West End was a real eye-opener for Queenie. In the first shop where she asked whether there were any vacancies, not only did the woman look at her as though she was something awful she’d stepped in, the prices were exorbitant. One of the outfits Queenie looked at probably cost more than what her home was worth.

Each shop Queenie ventured into, she could tell she and Mary were looked down upon. In one, they were even followed by a man, who Mary said thought they were thieves.

‘Told you they were all stuck-up feckers round ’ere, didn’t I?’ Mary reminded Queenie.

‘You wasn’t wrong. They all speak with plums in their mouths an’ all. Did you see the way that last woman looked me up and down? I don’t look that poor, do I?’

‘You look grand. Take no fecking notice of them, darling. I was too busy looking at her teeth. Size of ’em. She could eat an apple through a letterbox with those.’

Queenie laughed. ‘Oooh, look, Mary. This one’s a nice shop, not as poncy as the others, and there’s a vacancy note in the window, saying apply within.’

‘Shall I start talking this time?’ asked Mary. She could tell the reaction Queenie had got so far was taking a toll on the girl’s confidence. She’d stammered her words in the last shop, the poor ha’porth.

Queenie smiled. Mary had the gift of the gab. ‘Yes, please.’

Mary marched straight up to the young woman behind the till. ‘Hello. Are you the manager? My niece has come about the vacancy in the window.’

‘Oh, yes. That only went in the window this morning. No. I’m not the manager. I’ll call her for you,’ the girl smiled.

When the girl walked away, Mary nudged Queenie. ‘She seems nice. Not as stuck-up as those others.’

‘Yes. I think I’d get on OK with her. She doesn’t look much older than me.’

The manager appeared and the look of distaste on her face was clear when she heard Mary’s Irish accent as she introduced Queenie.

‘The vacancy has already been taken, I’m afraid,’ snapped the posh tall dark-haired woman.

‘It can’t have been,’ replied Mary. ‘The girl who works for you said it had only gone in the window this morning.’

‘Erm, yes. But the job went first thing.’

‘Why’s the card still in the fecking window then?’ Mary retaliated.

The look on the posh manager’s face was one of horror. Queenie wanted to laugh, but instead joined in. ‘Yeah, the card shouldn’t be in the bloody window then.’

‘Get out. Now!’

‘Come on, Queenie,’ said Mary. ‘Got a face that’d sour milk, that one. You wouldn’t want to work for her would you, darling? May she be afflicted with itching without the benefit of scratching.’

‘I should coco. She’s got a face like a smacked arse, an’ all,’ Queenie replied loudly, noticing the girl that worked there was smiling behind the manager’s back.

Once outside the shop, Queenie rolled up. ‘You were right, Mary. It ain’t for me up ’ere.’

‘Told you. ’Ere, look at this sign. That says it all about the people round here, sweetheart.’

The sign was on the door of a pub. NO DOGS, NO BLACKS, NO IRISH, it read.

‘But wouldn’t they let you in?’ Queenie asked, astonished. Mary was such a smart lady.

‘Nope. These posh feckers think all us Irish are thieves or tinkers. Come on, sweetheart. The boys insisted I treat you to a posh lunch. They’re paying, of course. How d’ya fancy a nice juicy steak?’

‘Really! You sure? I don’t wanna take liberties.’

‘You’ll be doing nothing of the kind. The boys can afford it, trust me,’ Mary winked.

The restaurant was owned by a friend of Patrick and Daniel’s, and after Mary introduced herself as the lads’ mother, saying Patrick had recommended they eat there, Queenie was amazed when the owner swiftly appeared, took them to the best table, then insisted they order whatever they wanted as the food and drinks were on the house.

‘No, love. We’re not liberty-takers,’ said Mary.

The owner was a blond, good-looking man in his late thirties, Queenie reckoned. He was immaculately dressed and unlike her father, who always smelled of cigarette smoke, booze and sweat, the owner smelled gorgeous. He smiled at Mary. ‘Your sons have done me many favours, Mrs O’Leary. Two top men you’ve raised, so well done you. No arguing. This is my treat. I recommend the fillet of steak. Melts in your mouth,’ he smiled. ‘Take your time looking at the menu and call a waiter when you’re ready to order.’

Queenie studied the menu. The poshest place she’d ever eaten before was Alice’s Cafe in Mile End. She didn’t even understand what most of the food was. There were no eels, no pie and mash or faggots on the menu.

‘Speak of the devil and two will appear,’ chuckled Mary.

Queenie was gobsmacked as Daniel and Patrick sauntered towards them, immaculately dressed in expensive suits, shirts, ties and polished leather shoes.

‘How’s our two favourite girls doing?’ grinned Daniel.

Mary beamed with pride as the manager came dashing over, shaking her sons’ hands and making a big fuss of them. ‘You didn’t say you were having lunch with us,’ Mary said to Patrick.

‘We’re not. We’ve got a meeting in Soho in an hour. I was hoping I might catch you though. I’ve seen a beautiful piece of jewellery I want you to take a look at. The shop’s only a five-minute walk away. Have you ordered food yet?’

‘No.’

‘Well, come with me now. Daniel and I will treat you if you like it.’

Mary squeezed Queenie’s hand. ‘See how good to me these sons of mine are? I won’t be long. Daniel will stay here with you.’

Daniel sat in his mother’s seat and picked up the menu. ‘The food’s lovely in here. What you having?’

‘I’m not sure,’ blushed Queenie. ‘I’ve never really eaten in a proper restaurant before.’

‘First time for everything,’ winked Daniel, before explaining to Queenie in plain Irish what each dish was.

‘I think I’ll have the steak, but not bloody.’

‘You need to ask for it to be well done. I’ll order it for you.’

‘Thanks. Can I ask you something, Daniel?’

‘Of course.’

‘I hope you don’t think I’m being nosy, but the price of the food is so expensive in here. More than the weekly rent on our house. If you can afford all this, why would you choose to live in Whitechapel?’

‘Truthfully, I only live among those I can trust. You East Enders look after each other like the Irish do. Community spirit is important and Mum’s happy in Whitechapel. People treat us like one of their own. Sod living in some poncey area where people look down their noses at us. I’d be clumping someone every other day if I lived around this neck of the woods,’ chuckled Daniel.

‘I’m so pleased you moved opposite. Your mum is like a second mum to me.’

‘And you’re like a little sister to me and Patrick. Never forget that.’ Daniel leaned closer to Queenie. ‘Any problems you ever have, you go to Mum. You can tell her anything, then if need be, me and Patrick will sort it for you.’

Queenie looked into Daniel’s eyes and in that split second, she knew who had killed Ivan Tumbleweed.

‘What do Daniel and Patrick actually do for a living?’ Queenie asked. She had no intention of mentioning to Mary the conversation she’d had with Daniel. But in a way it had made her feel good, powerful in fact. If she hadn’t opened up to Mary, that nonce would still be alive. He didn’t deserve to be. It was a good thing he was dead and unable to do what he’d done to her to any other poor girl.

‘My boys have their fingers in many pies, Queenie. I don’t ask too much ’cause I would only worry. If they ever need an alibi, I’m there for them though. I encouraged them to make something of their lives. Law-abiding citizens like us get nowhere. I urged them to take risks, now they’re reaping the rewards,’ winked Mary.

‘They look so smart, always.’

‘Yes. I drummed it into ’em at an early age that appearance is extremely important. First impressions count massively. I had ’em strutting around in suits at thirteen. Not at school, obviously. But as soon as they got home, they’d change into their suits before going out and doing odd jobs. They got in with a couple of villains, did bits and bobs for them. Their reputations have just grown from there. People know they can be trusted. They’re good men. Daniel can be a handful when he loses his temper. He’s calmed down a bit of late, mind. Patrick keeps an eye on him.’

‘Did you ever want a daughter, Mary?’

‘Daughters are a worry. Sons are a joy, if you raise ’em right. From an early age, I used to make up bedtime stories for the boys. I told ’em that one day they’d be kings with enough money to buy whatever they wanted. We were piss poor at the time, but they never forgot those stories. I believe children need moulding at an early age into what you want them to be.’

Queenie smiled. It was nice to hear Mary open up about her sons. ‘I would love to one day have sons like yours. Not sure I will though. After what happened, the thought of a man touching me fills me with panic.’ That wasn’t strictly true as Queenie often fantasized about Daniel touching her. She could hardly tell Mary that though.

Mary leaned across the table and squeezed both of Queenie’s hands. ‘I know exactly how you feel. At your age, I felt the same. But you mustn’t let what happened stop you from becoming a mother, darling. Holding your own baby in your arms is one of the greatest feelings in the world. Children are a gift from God and I just know you’d make a fantastic mum. I hate sex, have never enjoyed it. I got married because I wanted babies. You will do the same. I will make damn sure of it.’

Later that evening, Queenie lay in bed deep in thought.

Even though she hadn’t got a job, today had been amazing. The food in that restaurant was out of this world, the whole experience of being inside there was too. As for the steak, it was to die for. That conversation with Daniel had opened her eyes too. It’s not what you know in life that counts, it’s who you know.

Thinking of Mary, Queenie smiled. Not only was Mary funny, she was the kindest person she’d ever met. She’d thought it weird when Mary excused herself from the table between courses. Five minutes later, she returned with a posh bag. Inside the bag was the nicest frock Queenie had ever laid eyes on. Long, plain, emerald green, but so classy.

‘I love it, Mary. You’ll look beautiful in that.’

Mary had laughed. ‘It’s at least two sizes too small for me, darling. It’s for you. Obviously, you will need some new shoes to match. We’ll get those when we leave ’ere. Then we need to sort out your hair. I have a friend who’s a hairdresser. I know your mum cuts it for you, but you’re too old for those basin cuts now. I want you to look your best next time we go job hunting. Believe me, together we will nail this. Tomorrow, I shall give you a make-up lesson too. I know your mother doesn’t wear make-up, but you should, Queenie. You are a beautiful girl and once I have finished with you, the world will be your oyster.’

Still smiling, Queenie closed her eyes. This was the best day of her life, by miles. Mary O’Leary was not only her closest friend, she was her hero and her inspiration to forget about the past and focus on building a better future for herself.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Eight Months Later

Winter 1943

‘How do I look, Mary? Will I like it? Does the colour suit me?’ gabbled Queenie. She’d been desperate to look as pretty and sophisticated as her new work friend, hence her taking the plunge to dye her hair blonde. Daniel liked blondes too. His current girlfriend Bridie was a blonde bombshell. She looked like the actress Jean Harlow. Queenie was sixteen now and so hoped once Daniel’s latest relationship ended, he would ask her out. He’d been paying her a lot of compliments lately. Surely that was a good sign?

‘You look beautiful. Blonde really suits you. Show her the mirror, Rosemary,’ urged Mary.

‘You look gorgeous, darling,’ added Rosemary.

‘Oh my God! I look so different, but I love it! It really does suit me, doesn’t it?’

‘That was never in doubt. A pretty face like yours could get away with any colour,’ smiled Mary.

Queenie paid Rosemary, then left her house with a massive smile on her face. Not only had Mrs O’Leary taught her about fashion and how to choose things that would suit her, the job she loved so much had taught her a hell of a lot too.

Finding the job in Joseph Cohen’s shop, which sold high-end ladies’ fashion, had been a complete fluke. Queenie had been running an errand for her mum one day when she’d spotted the ‘Assistant Wanted’ card in the window. The shop was situated at the Bethnal Green end of Roman Road. Queenie had bowled inside, remembered Mary’s advice, and sold herself to the owner. She’d started work there the following Monday and had been in her element ever since. It truly was her dream job.

‘The boys are going to pop down to the pub to celebrate my birthday with us later. I hope that’s OK?’ Mary rolled her eyes. ‘They’ll insist on seeing us home, mark my words. They’re not used to me going to pubs, so they get very protective.’

‘Ahh, I think that’s really nice, Mary. Sons should be protective of their mum. Of course it’s OK. The more the merrier,’ Queenie beamed, her stomach doing somersaults.

Mary took her ration book out of her handbag. ‘I need to get some sugar. We’re nearly out of it. You can walk on if you like, show your mum your pretty new look.’

‘Mum won’t like it. When I told her I was thinking of going blonde she nearly had a cardiac,’ chuckled Queenie. ‘I’ll wait for you.’

The queue was long, but when the shop owner spotted Mary getting in line he called out, ‘Mrs O’Leary. You come to the front dear.’ All heads turned as Queenie walked to the front with Mary.

The shop owner put the sugar in Mrs O’Leary’s bag, then refused payment. ‘Give my regards to Patrick and Daniel, Mrs O’Leary. You take care of yourself.’

When Queenie and Mary walked out of the shop, both burst out laughing. ‘Did you see the look on Freda Smart’s face? If looks could kill,’ Queenie chuckled.

‘That’s the third time that’s happened in the past week, Queenie. My boys have certainly made a name for themselves, and I couldn’t be more proud of ’em,’ beamed Mary.

The Albion in Bethnal Green was where Aunt Edna now sang on a Friday night and when Queenie arrived with Mary, the pub was already heaving. ‘What would you like to drink, Mary?’

‘Just a lemonade will be fine. I’m not much of a boozer. My Paddy was enough to turn an alcoholic off the hard stuff,’ laughed Mary.

‘You must have a proper drink. It’s your birthday. I’ll have a proper drink too.’

‘Just a small Guinness then. Your aunt’s waving at us. I think she’s saved us a table.’

‘You sit down, Mary. I’ll bring the drinks over.’

Aunt Edna liked Mrs O’Leary and greeted her warmly. ‘Happy birthday, Mary.’ Edna handed her a card and a small gift.

‘Oh you shouldn’t have. You are silly.’

‘You’re my Queenie’s inspiration. She adores you and I for one am so pleased she has you in her life,’ beamed Edna.

Mary’s eyes welled up. She knew Queenie’s mum disliked her, so Edna’s approval touched her deeply. ‘Thanks, Edna. That truly means a lot.’

Queenie returned with the drinks, which included a pint of bitter for her aunt. When Aunt Edna was singing and playing the piano, she drank pints like they were going out of style. Not once had Queenie ever seen her drunk though. Unlike her father, Aunt Edna was a happy drinker, not a monster.

Mary took her coat off and Queenie gushed over the present she’d bought her. Green was very popular at present and the pretty frilly blouse she’d purchased from Cohen’s not only suited Mary, it was the same colour as her piercing green eyes.

‘I love it, Queenie. But you should never have spent all that money on me. You are naughty.’

Queenie squeezed Mary’s hand. ‘You’re worth every penny. I don’t know how I would’ve coped without your support and advice. You know, after what happened in Lincolnshire.’

Mary locked eyes with Queenie. ‘You’re a survivor, like me, sweetheart.’

Queenie smiled. Only Mary truly understood her. Both victims of rape, their bond was unique.

The evening was brilliant. Aunt Edna sang all her classics – ‘When Father Painted the Parlour’, ‘Knees Up Mother Brown’, ‘Sunny Side of the Street’, ‘The Lambeth Walk’, I’ve Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts’, ‘My Old Man’s a Dustman’ – then she called Queenie up.

Thanks to her aunt, Mary and her new job, Queenie now had much more confidence. She calmly took the mike, announced it was Mary’s birthday, sang ‘Happy Birthday’ and the whole pub joined in with her. ‘I would also like to sing my favourite song for my dear friend. Listen to the words, Mary. They were written for you.’

Queenie sang ‘You Are My Sunshine’ beautifully. Mary watched her with pride, tears streaming down her cheeks. Queenie was such a different person from that scared young girl who’d been raped. She was her own person now. A beautiful, confident, young lady with hopefully a wonderful, happy life ahead of her.

Patrick and Daniel arrived at the Albion just after ten. Both looked immaculate, as always. There was no sign of Bridie, Daniel’s girlfriend, and that pleased Queenie too.

It took the lads a while to reach their table as lots of men wanted to greet them. Their importance and aura stood out a mile.

As Patrick greeted his mother, Queenie’s heart leapt at the way Daniel looked at her. She’d made a special effort tonight, was wearing her new classy black frock from Cohen’s. ‘Bloody hell, Queenie! I didn’t recognize you at first. You look, erm, beautiful. Blonde hair suits you,’ Daniel grinned, not taking his eyes off her.

‘Thank you,’ Queenie replied meekly. She felt her cheeks burning up. He’d never looked at her like that before. She couldn’t believe her luck. Ever since their conversation in the West End, she’d thought about Daniel constantly. He was her knight in shining armour. She was sure of that.

Clocking the way her youngest was looking at Queenie, Mary piped up: ‘Don’t you be getting designs on our Queenie, son. You’re a dirty dog when it comes to women. Queenie can do far better than lumping up with a fly-by-night like you.’

The butterflies in Queenie’s stomach were fluttering enormously. If Mary had noticed it too, it could only mean one thing. Finally, she’d caught Daniel’s eye. He actually fancied her.

Queenie was in her own little bubble for the rest of the evening. She caught Daniel looking discreetly at her a few times and she felt ever so adult when he bought her a drink and she asked him for a gin and tonic. That’s what Doreen, her work friend, drank. Queenie guessed it must be pretty cool as Doreen knew all the latest fashions and trends. She didn’t particularly like the taste but found it took the edge off her nerves. Daniel’s intense gaze was making her feel all jittery.

Daniel had his posh new car outside, a black Ford Coupé super deluxe. Queenie felt like a queen as he escorted her to the car with Aunt Edna and Mary. Others leaving the pub were looking at them and the car in awe. ‘There’s no need to drop us at Aunt Edna’s. I need to pop in Mum’s to pick something up. We can walk from there. It’s only a few streets away,’ Queenie explained.

‘Pick up what you need, then I’ll drop you home,’ replied Daniel, turning to Queenie so that she got the full force of his charm. His green eyes sparkled like the Irish sea and Queenie could barely breathe. ‘A lady doesn’t make her own way home eh, Mum?’ Mary nodded approvingly beside her. ‘You and your aunt will be escorted home in style.’

Queenie and Edna both hugged Mary when they got out the car. ‘Don’t forget, it’s my birthday on Wednesday. You’re more than welcome to join us,’ Edna told Mary.

Knowing that Molly would be attending, Mary made up an excuse. She didn’t want to make things awkward.

Queenie ran indoors and picked up her old umbrella. Her new one had broken yesterday; such was the strength of the wind.

The short journey to Aunt Edna’s only took a couple of minutes by car. ‘Thank you ever so much for the lift and the drinks, Daniel,’ Aunt Edna said, as she got out the car.

‘Yes. Thanks, Daniel,’ added Queenie.

As her aunt turned her back, Daniel grabbed Queenie’s arm. ‘You seriously do look beautiful tonight. But Mum’s right: you can do so much better than me. There’s nothing I’d like more than to take you to bed right now, Queenie, but there are some girls you bed and others you marry and one day, Queenie Wade …’ Daniel pulled her small hand to his mouth and kissed it gently, ‘one day, Queenie. Hopefully you will be mine.’

Queenie’s heart exploded into a thousand pieces but no words would come out of her mouth. She was shocked, in an over-the-moon way. Daniel O’Leary would be hers, even if she had to wait until the end of the decade to have him.

Hearing her aunt calling, Queenie scrambled out of the car. ‘Goodnight, Daniel.’

The following Wednesday, Queenie rushed home to her aunt’s with a spring in her step. She’d been on cloud nine ever since Friday night. Even though she hadn’t seen Daniel in the meantime, she had barely eaten or slept for mooning over him. She didn’t feel tired, however, or hungry, just so happy.

‘Happy Birthday, Aunt Edna.’ Queenie gave her aunt a big hug. ‘I didn’t want to wake you this morning as I heard you come in really late.’

‘Oh, I had a right result last night with the cards. Wiped the floor with all the men. He weren’t happy, that Billy Timpson. Had the right hump,’ chuckled Edna.

Queenie smiled. When she wasn’t singing, Aunt Edna was gambling. Every Saturday daytime she’d run to and from the local illegal bookie, and more often than not she’d win. Lots of locals called her ‘Lucky Edna’ and the men were always asking her for tips. ‘I didn’t know what to get you, but I’m sure you’re gonna like this,’ Queenie said, handing her aunt her present. It was her very own tankard with EDNA’S PINT engraved on the front.

Edna rolled up. ‘I bleedin’ well love it, Queenie! No bastard’ll be nicking my drink any more. You’re a star, my girl. So thoughtful.’

‘What’s for dinner?’

‘The last of the lamb stew from yesterday. Dumplings are fresh though.’

‘Lovely. I’ll eat that, then get ready. Mum’ll be round at eight.’

‘Smashing. Big Al starts singing at nine, so we’ll get round there a bit beforehand. So kind of ’em to throw me a party. They didn’t have to.’ Edna sang in the Albion two nights a week and also on a Sunday lunchtime. The landlord and his wife were a lovely couple and Edna had been chuffed to bits when they told her they were celebrating her birthday with a party. Thirty-nine, she was today. Yet still felt twenty-one at heart.

‘Everyone loves you, Aunt Edna. Well, apart from the men you play cards with and the bookies,’ laughed Queenie.

‘They don’t call me Lucky Edna for nothing, ya know.’

Little did Edna know as she uttered those words, she’d used all her luck up.

‘You look nice, Mum,’ said Queenie. Her mother never made an effort as a rule, but tonight she was wearing a floral dress under her brown winter coat. She’d also applied a bit of blusher and lipstick, which was unusual.

‘Thanks, love. Happy birthday, Edna,’ Molly said, handing her sister a card, some chocolate and sweets. ‘Sorry I couldn’t afford anything more.’

‘Don’t be so daft, Moll. You know what a sweet tooth I’ve got. I wouldn’t be this bleedin’ size otherwise,’ laughed Edna.

‘You look lovely, Aunt Edna,’ Queenie said genuinely. Even though her aunt was a big lady, she had a beautiful face and smile. Queenie couldn’t imagine her thin and was sure it wouldn’t suit her.