Chapter 5 Elsie #2
I didn’t have a chance to think about the messages during my shift because it was another awful night of raids but when I was walking home from the station – alone because poor Nelly had been held back to aid in the operating theatre and very slowly because my legs were aching after another night on my feet – I wondered if it was even possible to help these men.
I popped the letter to the children into the pillar box and walked on.
They all wanted different things, I thought.
Messages to their wives or their girlfriends, memories recorded, final thoughts before they went back to fight.
It just didn’t seem like something we could do.
I shook my head, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.
I was so tired the pavement was swimming in front of my eyes and I was desperate to get to bed.
I couldn’t think about this now. Once I’d had some sleep and some food, I’d be in a better position to come up with a plan. Perhaps.
I turned the corner into our street and almost cried to see Jackson sitting on the wall outside our house. I didn’t want to see him now. Didn’t want to deal with his inane chat when all I could think about was climbing into bed.
I wondered wearily if I could avoid him somehow, but my legs were still carrying me towards him and I couldn’t stop.
‘Elsie,’ he said, spotting me and jumping to his feet. ‘I’ve been so worried about you. I didn’t see you leaving yesterday, so I knocked on your door and you didn’t answer.’
I looked at him through drooping eyes. ‘I was at work.’
‘I know that, silly. Did you change your shifts?’
I shook my head, feeling my hair coming loose from its pins. I must look a right state, I thought. Dusty smudges on my face and arms, mucky uniform, a ladder in my stocking. But Jackson was looking at me fondly.
‘You look so tired,’ he said. ‘Are you getting enough rest?’ He reached out and tucked the loose strand of hair behind my ear, letting his fingers brush my cheek as he did. I froze. I didn’t want him to touch me. I didn’t want him near me. But how could I say that? He was just looking out for me.
‘You’re so pretty, Elsie,’ he cooed. ‘You’d be even prettier if you smiled more.’
‘I have to go to bed,’ I said. My mouth was dry with discomfort.
‘I could come with you,’ Jackson said, then he gasped and put his hand over his mouth in an overexaggerated fashion. ‘Not like that, Elsie. I meant to check you get in all right. I didn’t mean anything untoward.’
But the way he looked at me suggested he meant exactly that. My heart began to beat a little bit faster because I wanted rid of him and I didn’t have the energy to tell him to leave.
‘I’m very tired, Jackson,’ I said weakly.
‘Elsie! Oh, thank goodness!’
I looked round to see Mrs Gold hanging out of her living-room window on the ground floor of our maisonette. She was wearing a dressing gown and she had a headscarf covering her hair. ‘Elsie, could you help me?’
Next to me, Jackson stood up straighter, his chest puffed out. He had heard a woman ask for help, and he was ready to answer the call. I wanted to cry because I knew he was getting ready to go inside and then I’d never get rid of him.
‘What can I do?’ he said in a slightly deeper voice than he usually used.
‘Oh, thank you, darling,’ said Mrs Gold. ‘But it’s Elsie I need.’ She bit her lip and gave Jackson a meaningful look. ‘It’s women’s troubles.’
Jackson stepped back like she’d hit him.
‘I’m coming,’ I said. I darted round the side of Jackson and up the path before he could stop me, then I let myself into the front door and slammed it shut, leaning against it to catch my breath. Mrs Gold appeared in the hallway, next to her own front door.
‘Are you all right?’ she said.
I made a face. ‘Yes, are you? You said you needed help?’
‘I’m absolutely fine.’ She took off her dressing gown revealing she was fully dressed underneath, and then peeled off her headscarf too. ‘I thought you needed an excuse.’
I stared at her in astonishment. ‘I really did.’
She draped the dressing gown over her arm and smiled at me in a conspiratorial fashion. ‘Men like that are terribly scared of the workings of women,’ she said. ‘I knew if I looked like I’d just come out of the bathroom, he’d scarper.’
‘You’re amazing,’ I said in awe.
‘You’re tired. Off to bed.’
I nodded. ‘Thank you.’
She waved a hand like it was nothing and I started climbing the stairs to our flat, pulling myself up on the bannister.
‘Mrs Gold,’ I said, turning to her. ‘Do you think it’s important for people to say things? Before they die?’
She looked up at me, her blonde hair shining in the light of the hallway. ‘I suppose it depends who they are, and what they want to say.’
‘My brother Billy died,’ I said suddenly. The Golds hadn’t yet lived downstairs when I got the telegram and I’d never mentioned it. ‘And Jackson – the chap outside – he says Billy asked him to look after me.’
‘Did he?’
I sat down on the middle step with a thump. ‘Not really. I think Jackson offered and Billy just said yes in a kind of jokey way. But then he died and now Jackson seems to have this idea that he’s my guardian angel.’
Mrs Gold rolled her eyes.
‘I’m angry that Jackson spoke to Billy after I did,’ I admitted. ‘And these men at work – airmen – they want me to keep messages for them, for their families in case they don’t come back. And I know how much that would mean to them, but I feel a bit …’
‘Resentful?’
‘That’s exactly it. I didn’t get a message from Billy – I just got Jackson. And I know I’m being petty but I feel rotten about helping other people.’ I leaned back against the worn stair carpet. ‘Gosh, that’s awful. I’m awful.’
Mrs Gold came round to the staircase and sat down on the bottom tread. ‘I don’t think you’re awful; I think you’re sad.’
I nodded. ‘I’m so very sad.’
‘Maybe writing these messages for your men would help you feel less sad?’
I gave her a tiny smile. ‘They’re not my men.’
‘It might help.’
‘It might.’
She reached up and patted my leg. ‘But for now, you have to sleep. Go on. Up to bed with you.’ She sounded so much like my mum that for a second I was dizzy with sadness and loss, but then I heaved myself to my feet and smiled.
‘Thanks,’ I said.