Read Online The Bells of Bow by Gilda O'Neill - Free Book Online Page B

thing worth listening to was the dance band programmes. But what with all the talk about Germany, she decided maybe she would have a little look this evening, just to see what all the fuss was about.
    She spread the paper out on the table and slowly turned the pages. Dad was right, she thought, it was full of talk of war; she really hadn’t realised how serious it all was. Why hadn’t she? she wondered. There’d been plenty of talk, of course, but she’d dismissed most of it as scaremongering only worthy of the likes of the more gossipy of the elderly neighbours. But perhaps it was time she did start taking it seriously. Almost everything in the paper seemed to be about gas attacks and air raids. And the pictures, nearly every one was of men in uniform.
    Babs swallowed hard as she looked closely at the grainy black and white photographs; some of the men were so young, not much older than Micky Clarke by the look of them, just like the boys from the streets around Grove Road who’d all rushed to join up, most of them boys that she and Evie had been out with at one time or another. Maybe Evie was right as well, she thought. Maybe it did make sense just to go out and enjoy yourself, no matter what. Say there was no tomorrow, what would it matter then if she went out with Chas, or even Albie Denham himself? What was the point in behaving yourself if the whole bloody country was going to be blown to bits or gassed to death?
    Now even more depressed than she’d been after rowing with Evie, Babs closed the paper and went over to refill the kettle. That was always the answer, she laughed humourlessly to herself. ‘Have a cup o’ tea – that’ll save you from Hitler’s bombs.’
    Babs made a full pot and poured two cups.
    ‘There’s a cup o’ tea for yer there, Dad,’ she said touching him on the arm. She soon wished she’d let him go without; almost the moment he opened his eyes he was back to moaning about the Denhams.
    ‘I don’t know what’s got into her,’ he complained. ‘What’s she wanna get herself hiked up with that moody bastard for?’
    ‘He might not be moody, Dad. Yer don’t know for sure.’
    ‘What, coming from that family? I know I ain’t been much of a dad, but I have got some feelings, and I’m worried about Evie, Babs. Right worried.’
    She crouched down by his chair. ‘Listen to me, Dad. Evie’s always been a bit wild, we both have at times. But she ain’t daft. She knows how to look after herself. Anyway, she’s only having a good time. What’s the matter with that?’
    ‘I suppose yer think yer mother was only having a good time and all.’
    Babs stood up. She went over to the sink and grabbed its cold, hard stone edge. Keeping her head bowed and her back to Georgie she said quietly, ‘That was spiteful, Dad. There was no need to say that.’
    ‘Yer right, I’m sorry.’ Georgie ran his hand through his thick, greying, though still glossy dark brown hair and down over his unshaven chin. ‘I’m a bit out o’ sorts, that’s all, girl.’
    ‘Yeah. Course.’ Babs went to say something, then hesitated. She stood silently for a minute. ‘Well,’ she said briskly, the moment past, ‘I’ll be going up now. I’ve gotta put me hair in pins for work in the morning.’ She turned to face him. ‘Don’t fall asleep in the chair again, will yer? Yer’ll give yerself a bad back.’
    ‘No, I won’t,’ he said smiling weakly. ‘Yer a good kid for worrying about yer old dad.’
    Babs smiled back at him, her own effort even fainter than his.
    Georgie grasped the arms of the chair and stood up. ‘I thought I might have a walk down the Drum for a quick half before I get meself up to bed.’
    ‘I ain’t got no money for yer, Dad,’ Babs said quickly, knowing that she had her bus fare for the week, the shopping money for food and very little else.
    ‘Don’t need none,’ said Georgie, inspecting his unshaven chin in the overmantel. ‘Jim and Nellie said to pop down and clear