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Authors: Maggie Joel
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though he knew her and had run into her unexpectedly, which was strange as they had never met before. He stared at her with an odd, dazed expression.
‘I’m Joe,’ he said, even though they had done all that already, the introductions. But he wasn’t introducing himself to them all, he was saying it to her. And the way he said it, it was as thoughhe had said, It’s me, here I am , though why he would say that or why she would think it, Nancy couldn’t say.
She made no reply. Instead, she turned and walked away.
Afterwards, she thought, why had she walked away like that? She didn’t know then and she didn’t know now. She only knew that she had looked at him and something had lurched within her.
Milly made some excuse; there was some prior engagement, some pressing reason why she and her fiancé must depart at once. No one tried to prevent them leaving and in another moment Milly and her fiancé had gone.
The day ended right then and there, though it was still mid-afternoon. The sun slid behind a cloud and the laughing, shouting, excited voices around her sounded muffled in Nancy’s ears. Her head felt clouded and choked and confused and she hardly attended to the words of her two friends. The trek back to the station took an eternity, and when they arrived the London train had just left and it was an hour till the next one, so they sat on a bench and Miriam chattered and Lily ate a bun and Nancy could not speak.
That was all. Nothing had happened, yet everything had happened.
That night, Nancy sat up late filled with a thrilling despair. He was Milly’s fiancé.
She went to work the next day and it was like any other day, but it was not like any other day. She could not look at Milly. At the end of the day she came out of the shop and there he was, Milly’s young man—Joe—standing outside, and Nancy was not surprised. She knew he was not there to see Milly.
‘I had to see you,’ was all he said. And Nancy understood because she had to see him too.
A few weeks later Milly’s engagement was called off. Milly did not say why and no one asked. She moved about the shop with a pinched look, her movements rigid, jerky, her fingers fidgeting constantly. She looked at no one. She spent most of her time in the room at the back of the shop and some days she did not come in at all. Then one morning the pinched look had gone. Milly emerged from the back of the shop. A month later she married a policeman named Wainwright and left Mme Vivant’s employ to take up residence in Old Ford Road in a house that overlooked the park. And when, a short time later, Nancy married Milly’s young man, Joe, no one questioned it.
They were married the final weekend in August, just a week before war was declared and the same day Joe had been scheduled to marry Milly—the registry office had already been booked and Joe said, Well, they held the Coronation on the same day, didn’t they, even though it was a different king who was crowned? And Nancy, who had stood in the crowd at Westminster and watched the new king pass in his gold state coach on the way to the Abbey, agreed.
Nancy sat up with a start. Her neck and legs were stiff and numb. She had been dreaming of Joe, of their wedding at the registry office at the town hall. Joe’s two older brothers and his mother had come and, even though they lived only the other side of Whitechapel Road, the way they carried on Nancy had got the feeling none of them had ever set foot in Bethnal Greenbefore. Joe’s older brother had worn a flashy suit to the wedding like some American film star and had a girl on his arm who looked like a tart. His other brother had looked bad-tempered and clearly hadn’t wanted to be there at all. As for his ancient mum, she looked like she hadn’t left her own house since Queen Victoria died. All the girls from the hat shop had come—except for Milly, of course. And it had rained. That was all she remembered, really. After the wedding Joe said there
‘I’m Joe,’ he said, even though they had done all that already, the introductions. But he wasn’t introducing himself to them all, he was saying it to her. And the way he said it, it was as thoughhe had said, It’s me, here I am , though why he would say that or why she would think it, Nancy couldn’t say.
She made no reply. Instead, she turned and walked away.
Afterwards, she thought, why had she walked away like that? She didn’t know then and she didn’t know now. She only knew that she had looked at him and something had lurched within her.
Milly made some excuse; there was some prior engagement, some pressing reason why she and her fiancé must depart at once. No one tried to prevent them leaving and in another moment Milly and her fiancé had gone.
The day ended right then and there, though it was still mid-afternoon. The sun slid behind a cloud and the laughing, shouting, excited voices around her sounded muffled in Nancy’s ears. Her head felt clouded and choked and confused and she hardly attended to the words of her two friends. The trek back to the station took an eternity, and when they arrived the London train had just left and it was an hour till the next one, so they sat on a bench and Miriam chattered and Lily ate a bun and Nancy could not speak.
That was all. Nothing had happened, yet everything had happened.
That night, Nancy sat up late filled with a thrilling despair. He was Milly’s fiancé.
She went to work the next day and it was like any other day, but it was not like any other day. She could not look at Milly. At the end of the day she came out of the shop and there he was, Milly’s young man—Joe—standing outside, and Nancy was not surprised. She knew he was not there to see Milly.
‘I had to see you,’ was all he said. And Nancy understood because she had to see him too.
A few weeks later Milly’s engagement was called off. Milly did not say why and no one asked. She moved about the shop with a pinched look, her movements rigid, jerky, her fingers fidgeting constantly. She looked at no one. She spent most of her time in the room at the back of the shop and some days she did not come in at all. Then one morning the pinched look had gone. Milly emerged from the back of the shop. A month later she married a policeman named Wainwright and left Mme Vivant’s employ to take up residence in Old Ford Road in a house that overlooked the park. And when, a short time later, Nancy married Milly’s young man, Joe, no one questioned it.
They were married the final weekend in August, just a week before war was declared and the same day Joe had been scheduled to marry Milly—the registry office had already been booked and Joe said, Well, they held the Coronation on the same day, didn’t they, even though it was a different king who was crowned? And Nancy, who had stood in the crowd at Westminster and watched the new king pass in his gold state coach on the way to the Abbey, agreed.
Nancy sat up with a start. Her neck and legs were stiff and numb. She had been dreaming of Joe, of their wedding at the registry office at the town hall. Joe’s two older brothers and his mother had come and, even though they lived only the other side of Whitechapel Road, the way they carried on Nancy had got the feeling none of them had ever set foot in Bethnal Greenbefore. Joe’s older brother had worn a flashy suit to the wedding like some American film star and had a girl on his arm who looked like a tart. His other brother had looked bad-tempered and clearly hadn’t wanted to be there at all. As for his ancient mum, she looked like she hadn’t left her own house since Queen Victoria died. All the girls from the hat shop had come—except for Milly, of course. And it had rained. That was all she remembered, really. After the wedding Joe said there
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