The Dover Cafe Under Fire, page 7
The man gaped at her. ‘How did you—’
Nellie tapped the side of her nose. ‘You ain’t the only one with sources, love. Do we understand each other?’ In actual fact it had been a guess, but it looked like she’d been on the money.
‘Terence Carter is a criminal black marketeer who should be in prison,’ Ron hissed at her. ‘But if your secret supplier were banged up, then where would you be?’
Nellie narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Those supplies help feed people in this town. You think the tea stand in the caves is run on thin air? And how many times have you sheltered in my basement, enjoyin’ a bun or a sarnie. Free of bloody charge!’
Ron Hames looked away guiltily.
‘I thought as much. So, do we have an agreement?’
The man nodded. ‘But in return, I want you to pass on anything you think might be of interest to me.’
Nellie snorted. ‘You’re not in a position to be making demands,’ she said, then she straightened. ‘Cup of tea, Mr Hames?’
He nodded, his expression surly.
Nellie walked back into the kitchen. ‘Everything all right?’ she asked Marianne, who was stirring the vegetable hotpot that she’d thankfully managed to prepare before the raid.
‘Back on track, Mum. Though I won’t have time to make the scones. Biscuits only for the stand tonight. But . . . like I said earlier, we’re running short,’ she whispered. ‘On everything.’
Nellie sighed. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
As she turned away she jumped as she realised that Hester was standing right behind her. ‘What you doing?’ Nellie gasped.
‘Nothin’,’ Hester said innocently. ‘But I couldn’t help overhearing. An’ you know I can help you with that.’ She raised her eyebrows knowingly.
Nellie bristled. ‘I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, love. Now, if you don’t mind, take these plates out.’
Gladys poked her head around the door of the pantry. ‘Or you could take over from me and do a bit of washin’ up!’ she said truculently.
Hester grinned. ‘Love to, Glad. But it’s mayhem out here. Soon as it quietens I’ll be right in there with you.’
Gladys glowered as Hester hastened out of the kitchen.
‘Never mind, Glad. Everyone knows you’re the best washer-upper in Dover.’ Nellie winked at her friend, before leaving hastily. When Gladys was in one of her moods, it was best to stay out of the way.
Chapter 11
Lunch service was just winding down when the bell above the door tinkled and Nellie sighed inwardly as Roger Humphries walked in, his police helmet under his arm, and paced towards her, glaring disapprovingly at the parrot sitting on the counter.
‘What can I do you for, Roger?’ Nellie asked with a tight smile.
‘Some disturbing events have come to light,’ he said.
‘Well, blow me down. Have you considered the possibility that it’s cos there’s a war on?’ Nellie said, noting that Ron Hames was watching the proceedings with interest.
The policeman’s lips twitched in annoyance. She was well aware that Roger still bore a powerful grudge against the family, not only because now Marianne was married to Alfie, he had no hope of winning her over, but also because Nellie had made him look a fool once too often. Sometimes, when she saw him loitering around, looking for anything to pull her up on, she wondered whether she should try to be nicer to him. But one look at his weaselly face and his thin brown moustache convinced her that she just didn’t have it in her.
He reached into his jacket pocket and slapped some screwed-up pieces of card onto the counter. Nellie looked at them, then back at the policeman, her eyebrows raised. ‘My, that does look disturbing.’
He smoothed one of them out. ‘Someone has been sticking these up around Dover.’
Nellie picked one of them up and holding it at arm’s length, she read, ‘Uncensored News. Hear the truth! NBBS 51m.’
Ron Hames jumped up from his seat and rushed over. ‘Let me see that!’ He grabbed the card and stared at it. ‘Where did you find these?’ he asked.
‘I have just scraped them off the wall of this very café on Church Street. And it’s not the first we’ve found. Someone’ – he gave Nellie a hard look – ‘has been goin’ around Dover, posting sedition and mayhem.’
Nellie started to laugh. ‘What? A few silly stickers! I mean, you’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but this is making me fear for His Majesty’s Constabulary if you’re the best they can do.’
‘Mrs Castle!’ Roger exclaimed. ‘This is a very serious matter! These papers are advertising an illegal radio station!’
Nellie gaped at him. ‘Wha—? What are you talking about? Do you know about this, Ron?’ she asked.
He nodded gravely. ‘I’ve heard of these sticky-backs before, but I’ve never seen them. And this is bad. Who could have been putting them up? I mean, Dover’s a protected area – they don’t let just anyone in.’
Nellie snorted. ‘That’s what they’d like you to believe. But they can hardly guard the whole town, can they? Anyway, those sentries are a waste of time. All they do is lounge about smoking and drinking tea. You can sneak past ’em no trouble, if you’ve a mind.’
‘Speaking from experience, are you, Mrs Castle?’ Roger said snidely. ‘After one of your late-night walks.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. As for this’ – she jabbed a finger at the sticky-back – ‘it’s nothing to do with me. Never heard of it in me life.’
She walked over to the kitchen door. ‘Marianne, Glad, Hester, come look at this.’
Marianne and Gladys came out and stared curiously at the card. ‘What?’ Marianne asked.
‘You seen this before?’
Both women shook their heads.
‘Where’s Hester?’ Nellie asked.
‘She just popped upstairs to the lav,’ Gladys said.
‘There you are then, Officer. No one knows what the hell this is all about, so why don’t you take your enquiries elsewhere.’
‘I intend to. But this café is a hotbed of gossip and chat, and you need to watch out. Walls have ears, Mrs Castle, and as this is your caff, it’s your responsibility.’ He slammed his helmet onto his head, then turned on his heel and marched out.
‘Café!’ Nellie shouted after him, but the policeman ignored her. As the door closed behind him, Nellie let out a huff. ‘I’ve never heard such stuff and nonsense. As if that little piece of card could harm anyone.’
Ron Hames shook his head. ‘Don’t you believe it. If someone’s sticking those things around the town, that means Dover could be harbouring dissenters. And in a place like this, they could do a lot of damage.’
‘He’s right, Mrs C,’ a soldier said. ‘My mate happened to mention that we was testing out a new type of gun in a letter, and he got pulled up and court-martialled. You can’t be too careful.’
‘What’s that Roger Humphries want, Nell?’ Lou Carter couldn’t resist coming in to see what was happening.
‘He were complaining that your whelks gave him the trots. Asked me to have a word.’
Lou grinned. ‘Is that right? Nothin’ to do with all them stickers that have been posted round town, then?’
‘What do you know about those, Mrs Carter?’ Ron asked.
‘Nothing. Just I seen ’em around, and I seen ’em being ripped down. And if they’re coming from here, Nellie, then I promise you, I won’t keep quiet about it.’
Nellie let out a roar of laughter. ‘The day you keep quiet is the day they measure you for your coffin.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong, Nell. I keep my fair share of secrets. But not for something like this.’ She left in a huff, ignoring the laughter that followed her out.
‘By the way, Mum,’ Marianne called through the hatch, ‘I almost forgot, I can’t come to the caves with you tonight.’
‘Why not?’ Nellie asked.
‘I’m fire-watching with Reenie in the Market Hall.’
‘Oh, for pity’s sake! I can’t manage on my own. Glad?’
‘Sorry, Nell. I got a prayer meeting.’
Nellie rolled her eyes. ‘Since when have you gone to prayer meetings?’
‘Some days I need it more than others,’ she said with a meaningful glare.
‘What’s so special about today?’
Gladys disappeared back into the kitchen, then returned and slammed the glass with the hyacinth stem onto the counter.
Nellie paled. ‘I hadn’t forgotten,’ she whispered. ‘Now get that away from me! I won’t have grave flowers in the café.’
Gladys stared at her, unblinking. ‘When you goin’ to face it?’ she hissed quietly in her ear.
Nellie turned away, ignoring the comment. ‘Anyone else care to volunteer?’ she asked loudly, cursing the slight tremble in her voice.
‘I’ll come, Nell.’ It was Hester, who’d crept down the stairs without her noticing.
‘Where you been?’ Nellie asked, grateful that Hester’s appearance had forced Gladys to move away from her. ‘You disappeared quick when Roger came in.’
‘Me and the police ain’t been the best of friends over the years, so I thought it best to make myself scarce.’
‘Now why don’t that surprise me?’ Gladys sneered.
‘That’s enough, Glad,’ Nellie said sharply, her anxiety turning to anger at her friend. How dare she make her feel so guilty? ‘Not all of us have had the luxury of living blameless lives full of prayer meetings.’
‘And you’ve got to ask yourself why that is,’ Gladys muttered.
‘Let he who is without sin cast the first stone,’ Hester retorted.
Gladys regarded her with surprise, then nodded. ‘It’s comforting to know you’re not a complete heathen,’ she said, picking up the glass and storming back into the kitchen.
‘Why does she hate me?’ Hester asked plaintively.
Nellie sighed. ‘Ignore her, love. You’ve just put her nose out of joint. Although, I can’t imagine why. She’s always moaning about being overworked and her bloody bunions, you’d have thought she’d be kissing your feet with gratitude.’
‘It’s all right, Hester,’ Marianne said comfortingly. It was clear that Gladys’s bad mood today was not entirely to do with Hester’s sudden appearance. And the way she’d brought out the flower from Dad’s grave . . . She didn’t understand what had got into the woman. ‘She’ll come round. She just takes a while to warm up.’
‘Hmm.’ Hester didn’t look convinced. ‘Anyway, Nell, the caves. Count me in. I’ll do whatever I can for the poor blighters, cos if it weren’t for you, that’s where I’d be right now.’
Nellie patted her arm. ‘I don’t care what Gladys thinks, you’re a good sort, Hester. But you wouldn’t mind taking over the washing-up, would you?’ She walked through to the kitchen and took off her apron. ‘Glad, love, take over out front. I’m off up the hospital. You got them mince pies ready, Marianne?’
Marianne nodded towards a tin with a picture of the king on the top that sat on the table. Nellie picked it up and put it in her voluminous black bag and shrugged into her purple coat. ‘Right then, ladies, I’m off. Try not to fight while I’m gone.’ She winked at them all, pretending not to notice that Gladys hadn’t even looked at her.
Chapter 12
Nellie walked swiftly up London Road, pulling her coat more tightly around her as the sharp wind blew directly in her face. Where once this road had been a thriving thoroughfare, now many of the buildings were either boarded up or partially demolished. It broke her heart to see her hometown being systematically destroyed like this and she was starting to realise that Dover might never be the same again. Despite this, though, the road was busy with traffic and the pavements crowded with people, many queueing outside the remaining shops.
Turning into the hospital driveway, she felt a quiver of anxiety. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but she couldn’t help wondering whether Jasper had been pretending to be too tired to speak to her in the last few days. When he’d woken on Christmas Eve, they’d wept together, but since then, he’d kept his eyes closed every time she was there. Taking a deep breath, she strode forward. She just needed to be patient with him. No one could recover overnight from the sort of injuries he’d had. Problem was, patience had never been her strong point.
As usual, the hospital was a hive of activity and somewhere she could hear someone singing ‘Stormy Weather’ and she hummed along as she went downstairs to the ward. One way or another, everything would be fine, she reassured herself. Because she and Jasper shared a bond that went far beyond sharing a daughter. And hopefully he’d forgotten the cruel words she’d spoken to him.
She cringed at the memory of how she’d sent him away, telling him he didn’t belong with their family. What had she been thinking? He’d seen the family through thick and thin ever since he’d returned from the Front in 1918, leading a bewildered and shattered Donald into the café as gently as he would a lost child.
She’d thought everything would be fine then too. That after a bit of rest and recuperation she’d get her husband back – the one she had loved unreservedly for so many years. But nothing had ever been fine again.
‘Stop it, Nellie,’ she whispered to herself. Then, as she always did when thoughts of Donald’s death threatened to engulf her, she straightened her shoulders, stuck her chin in the air and marched purposefully into the men’s ward, walking to the end of the long room where the curtains were still drawn around Jasper’s bed.
‘Afternoon, Jasper,’ she said cheerily. ‘Hope you’re more with it today. I’ve brought you some of Marianne’s mince pies and your Christmas present.’
Jasper was lying propped up on pillows with his eyes closed, but at the sound of Nellie’s voice, they flew open and he stared at her in confusion.
‘Nellie?’ He groped for her hand.
She leant down and kissed his cheek, noting the bristles were back on his chin. Briefly she inhaled his scent. Where once he’d smelt of his forge – open fires and molten metal – now he smelt of antiseptic. It would be a while before he was her Jasper again. If he ever was.
‘Well, it’s good to see you awake for once. How you feelin’, love?’
‘How d’you think I’m feelin’?’ he said truculently. ‘Lying here, day in, day out, unable to see.’
Nellie sighed. This brusqueness was new too. ‘You want to open your Christmas present?’ She took a package out of her bag and laid it on his lap.
He pushed it away. ‘What’s the point? Not as if I can see it.’
‘Open it.’
He fumbled with the paper, finally managing to tear it off. It was a sleeveless pullover in bright cherry red that Nellie had spent the last few months knitting for him, even though she wasn’t sure he’d ever get to wear it.
Jasper brought it up to his nose and sniffed, smiling briefly. ‘Smells like the café,’ he murmured. ‘Fried food and cigarettes.’ He held it close up to his face and squinted. ‘What is it? Is it red?’
‘You can see that?’ Nellie exclaimed, delighted. ‘I unravelled my favourite jumper – the red one. No sleeves, mind, there weren’t enough wool.’
He gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘Least people’ll see me coming when I wear this.’
Nellie sat down on the wooden chair beside the bed. ‘Have you eaten today?’ she asked.
He grimaced. ‘Managed a bit of porridge. Disgusting, it was. If that’s what they’ve been sticking down my throat all these months, it’s no wonder I can feel me ribs.’ He patted his middle. ‘Don’t think I’ve ever been so bony.’
‘Well, you needed to lose a couple of pounds.’
‘Pots and kettles, Nellie,’ he retorted.
Nellie tutted. ‘You’re not the only one who’s lost a bit of flesh. All the worry you’ve given me over the last months. Anyway’ – she fished out the tin of mince pies – ‘Marianne made you these.’ She opened the tin and put one in his hand. He sniffed it, then put it on the bed beside him.
‘I’m not hungry. An’ the doc says I can’t eat too much while my stomach adjusts, or something like that. As for this’ – he threw the jumper on the floor – ‘I don’t want it. And now I think you should leave.’
Nellie was speechless. She’d not expected Jasper to be full of the joys when he finally woke properly, but of all the reactions, she hadn’t anticipated this bitterness. Biting back an angry retort, she picked up the jumper and put it on the bed again.
‘Cat got your tongue, Nell? That makes a change. Well, since I woke, I’ve been lying here with nothin’ to do but think. And my head’s aching with all the rememberin’ I’ve done. And I have a question for you.’ He looked directly at her, almost as if he could see her. ‘Why are you here?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be here? You’re part of me life. Just like me and the kids are part of yours.’
Jasper shook his head. ‘Just before I got injured, I told you, Nellie – I told you that we was finished. I meant it. All I want is Lily.’
‘We’ll never be finished,’ Nellie said, trying to stop her voice from trembling. ‘After all these years living in each other’s pockets, how can we be? And when you get out of here, you’re going to need help. You can’t live at the forge on your own, so I’ve been thinking you’ll have to come and stay with us. You can have my room and I’ll—’
‘Stop it!’ Jasper interrupted her. ‘Just stop and listen to me for once in your life, woman. You told me that I weren’t part of your family. And you’re right. I’m not. Lily’s my family but you ain’t. I don’t want to end up like Donald.’
She gasped. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that when we got back from war, he were bad, but he were still human. He could still come out of himself every now and then. But the longer he was home, the worse he got.’
‘What are you implying?’ she said sharply.
