Free Cockney Orphan by Carol Rivers Page B

fascinated. ‘Why is that?’
    ‘I suppose because she’s not often wrong.’
    ‘Does she tell you bad things, then?’
    ‘Oh no.’ He shrugged, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘It’s not bad or anything, but you get a sort of warning and you’re obliged to take notice of it,
whether you like it or not. Anyway, one of the things she went on about was not to go up West today, stay local, as she reckons we might get a raid.’
    ‘What, in daylight?’
    He nodded. ‘I shouldn’t take no notice really. I don’t know why I’m hesitating.’
    Connie nodded thoughtfully. ‘Well, perhaps we could just go up to Cox Street? See if they’ve put out the stalls.’
    Vic rubbed his jaw. ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘Of course. I like a bit of mystery.’ She giggled.
    Vic grinned as he glanced at her. ‘I’ll have to polish up on my mysterious skills, then.’
    ‘You’re doing quite well as it is.’ Connie gazed into his beautiful eyes, so dark and dreamy, with little orange flecks in the centre of the brown that she hadn’t noticed
before. His smiling lips were full and smooth and set in the middle of a strong, square jaw that seemed to be just the right shape for his long, aquiline nose. He dressed so nicely too, the collar
of his overcoat turned up, his shirt and tie just showing beneath, even driving gloves on the dashboard, though she hadn’t seen him wearing them.
    ‘So . . .’ he said, taking a deep swallow, ‘the market it is.’ He stretched across to take Lucky’s tiny hand in his big fingers. His palm covered the back of her
hand briefly and their eyes met. Never before had she felt like this. Now she actually knew the meaning of the words weak at the knees, and the world for one breathtaking moment seemed to stand
still. He gazed deeply into her eyes and very slowly leaned towards her. ‘Connie, I—’
    ‘What’s all this?’ a deep voice boomed through the open window. Connie saw a policeman standing there. ‘We don’t want no argey bargey in broad daylight, do we?
Plenty of time for all that sort of stuff in the blackout.’ He gave a little grin. ‘Now, ’oppit!’
    Looking embarrassed, Vic started the car again quickly. He drove off, the engine revving noisily over their suppressed laughter.
    Everyone seemed to be defying the Luftwaffe to turn up. A fruit and veg barrow with a notice inscribed ‘Hitler’s bombs can’t beat us’ hanging from its
canvas awning was surrounded by women opening their purses and shopping bags. People bustled to and fro as if it was quite normal to step over girders and deep craters. A piano had been pushed into
the open and an old lady was sitting in front of it, bashing away at the keys. All the kids had gathered round and were singing whilst people carried furniture and possessions from the remains of
one house into another. Even the demolished buildings were part of the scenery now. The islanders were out in force, searching for replacements for their losses, or simply to cheer themselves
up.
    Vic took Lucky in his arms as they strolled down the street. Connie noted the curious glances cast their way. What were people thinking, she wondered? What would it be like to have a husband and
child of her own?
    ‘Gran used to bring me and Pat here to the market, get us out of the way like, when Mum was ill and needed a bit of peace,’ Vic said as they walked. ‘She knew everyone.
We’d tag along, playing with other kids, and help to bring back what she bought. Mostly it was fruit and veg and a bit of meat, all dead cheap.’
    ‘How long ago was that?’
    ‘I must have been six or seven and Pat a year younger. We lived up Poplar in two rooms then, but when Dad died of TB we came to stay with Gran. Mum lasted two years without him. Gran said
she just wasted away. I don’t remember much, but what I do remember, though, is Mum’s smile. It was lovely, like a ray of sunshine.’
    Connie felt sad. She was so lucky to have a family. ‘Have