Farewell To The East End

children off to school at two o’ clock, she had to get some grub in for the evening. She went to the corner shop, the one she’d known since childhood, the one her mother got tick from when there was no money and no food in the place and a brood of half-starved kids. Well at least she wasn’t always living on the breadline, not like her poor mum – at least she could feed her kids and not do without herself. Bill earned a good wage, and his job was secure, thanks to the Trade Union. She bought some more bread and half a pound of bacon. They could have fried bread and bacon this evening, then on reflection she added a large tin of beans. Well, at least they get some good food, bacon’s more than she ever got when she was a kid, she mused. The two toddlers were restive and excited to be out, so she took them for a bit of a walk, not too far because she was tired, and she didn’t want to go past the bomb site where the meths drinkers hung out. They scared her. She went down the street where she had played as a child, but it depressed her – all the windows boarded up, signs of demolition at the far end. Wearily she made her way back home.
    Four o’ clock and the brood would be home. She steeled herself for the rush and the noise. She prepared a large quantity of beans and bacon and fried bread. ‘Now get that inside yer, an’ go out an’ play. An’ take ve babies with you. I’ve had ’em all day, an’ I’m just about up to here with ’em.’ She raised her hand to her neck to indicate how high. The children gobbled down their food, and rushed out.
    Hilda settled down to a quiet cup of tea and Woman magazine. It was the only time of day she got any peace – when the bigger children took the little ones off her hands. An hour later she thought, it’s getting dark. The kids’d better be in. She went to the window and yelled down the street. No children in sight. They’ll be on that bomb site, I’ll be bound. I’ve told ’em not to. It’s not safe. You wait till I get my hands on ’em, little devils. Muttering and grumbling, Hilda trudged off to the bomb site and gathered up her brood, cuffing each of the bigger ones round the ear as she did so. ‘You jes’ wait till I tells yer dad you’ve been down ’ere,’ she shouted. The boys grinned and made rude faces and dodged out of her reach.
    It was nine o’clock by the time they were all in bed, the four little ones in the bedroom, the two older ones in the cupboard – a decent-sized cupboard, she and Bill had agreed when they took the room shortly after the war, almost as big as another room. We can put all our junk in there, they had said, laughing.
    Now it was full of kids! Still no Bill. What’s happened to him? She sat down with another cup of tea and another fag.
    At 10.45 she heard the front door bang and heard Bill singing down below. Her heart leaped – he’s got good news – she jumped up to get another cup for him. He’d like a cup of tea before his meal, and then he could tell her the news. The door opened slowly, with Bill clinging to it. He swung into the room and leaned heavily against the wall, staring vacantly at her. Oh no, not drunk, she’d have to be careful, treat him gently, no questions, no chatter, she didn’t want his fist in her face. Mrs Hatterton had got her nose broken only last week. But Bill’s not like that, not really. She sat him down and took off his boots.
    ‘Like some bacon and beans, eh, ducks?’
    ‘Nope.’
    ‘Cup o’ tea?’
    ‘Nope.’
    ‘’Ow about a nice bacon sandwich, ven?’
    ‘Vat’s more like it.’ His eyes brightened a little.
    She went to the gas stove on the landing, made two rounds and brought them to him. He hadn’t eaten all day and devoured the first ravenously.
    ‘Nice cup of tea to wash it down?’
    He nodded. He was beginning to look more like himself.
    He’ll be all right after a good night’s sleep. No trouble. You just need to know how to handle a drunk man, then you get no trouble. But her Bill wasn’t like that anyway, wouldn’t hurt a fly, but still you never knew, when the drink was on them. She went into the bedroom and pushed two children over to the far side of the bed so that there would be space for their father to lie down. She led Bill into the bedroom, quietly undressed him and held the chamber-pot for him to have a jimmy riddle. The pot was so full she had to go downstairs to empty it, and when she returned he was sprawled sideways across the bed,