Free Ironmonger's Daughter by Harry Bowling Page B

proved to be fatal. Helen and Matthew watched the change taking place in their niece, but they could do little to alleviate her fears. They were also concerned that Connie insisted on staying alone in the flat.
    ‘It’s not right that she should be there all by ’erself, Matt,’ Helen remarked. ‘She’ll only brood. She should stay wiv us.’
    Matthew shrugged his shoulders. ‘She’s growin’ up, ’Elen. She prob’ly wants ter spend some time on ’er own. There’s nufink we can do, except keep an eye on ’er.’
    Helen stroked the side of her face thoughtfully. ‘It really upset me the way Kate was wiv young Connie. It was almost as though she didn’t want ter see ’er. It’s not right the way she treats the poor little mite.’
    ‘It’s what I’ve said all along,’ Matthew answered. ‘Connie’s bin an inconvenience ter yer sister. She didn’t want ’er, an’ she’s makin’ a good show of lettin’ the kid know – an’ us if it comes to it.’
    Helen did not answer. She did not want to get into an argument with Matt. He had been short tempered ever since he had lost his job, but she had to concede that he was right. Kate was ill, and so her attitude to her daughter at the hospital was, to some extent, excusable, but there had never been any show of love, only a tolerance and shallow affection. Helen worried about the long-term effects of Kate’s attitude on her daughter. Connie was a sensible girl, but the mind was a funny thing, she mused. None of the love shown by the girl to her mother was reciprocated. And, as Connie was now growing up and beginning to understand things, she might soon start to judge her mother – and blame her.
     
    The new year started cold and foggy. More factories closed, and the dole queues grew longer. In Germany the rantings of Adolf Hitler were sending shock waves across Europe. The German army marched back into the Rhineland and, when the Spanish Civil War broke out, the German air force interfered on the side of General Franco’s forces. The majority of people in England, however, still espoused the cause of pacifism. Calls to re-arm were dismissed as scaremongering, and some cartoonists portrayed the pleadings of the ‘re-armers’ as the insane ravings of evil factory bosses and avaricious arms dealers. General opinion held that another war was out of the question and few believed that Germany would ever dare to attempt another war against England.
    Joe Cooper wandered slowly amongst the crowds at Speakers’ Corner one Sunday in 1936. Occasionally there was a flicker of recognition as he passed a heavily built young man, but Joe would ignore him and walk on. Word had it that the Blackshirts were planning violence against one of the trade union speakers and the Bermondsey men were ready.
    A loud-voiced orator was urging his audience to march on Parliament and demand a re-armament programme. ‘’Ave yer fergot 1914? Well I ain’t,’ he shouted.
    ‘Nor ’ave I,’ someone replied. ‘I got gassed in France.’
    An elderly man in a grubby mackintosh took a wet stub from his mouth and called out, ‘My ole granfarvver got gassed.’
    ‘In the war?’
    ‘No, in the kitchen. ’E done ’imself in.’
    The laughter from the audience encouraged the heckler, and he rammed his hands into his coat pockets and rocked back on his heels. ‘My ole granfarvver used ter come ’ere every Sunday, listenin’ ter the likes o’ you frightened the bleedin’ life out of ’im. That’s why ’e gassed ’imself.’
    ‘I wish yer’d put a tanner in the meter an’ do yerself a favour,’ shouted the speaker, to more laughter.
    ‘I ain’t got a tanner. I’m on the bloody dole.’
    ‘If this country ’ad the sense ter re-arm there wouldn’t be any unemployment. We’d all ’ave a job ter go to,’ the speaker continued, waving his finger at the heckler.
    ‘Listen you,’ his antagonist shouted as he stepped forward a pace or two. ‘I ain’t got no intention of