Queenie, page 1
QUEENIE
Kimberley Chambers
Copyright
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020
Copyright © Kimberley Chambers 2020
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020
Jacket photographs © Richard Jenkins Photography (woman), Shutterstock.com (street scene)
Kimberley Chambers asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008144821
Ebook Edition © January 2020 ISBN: 9780008144838
Version: 2019-12-18
Dedication
In loving memory of
Joyce Pauline Darling
July 1941—November 2017
Epigraph
‘We know what we are,
But know not what we may be’
William Shakespeare
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Part Two
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Part Three
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Part Four
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Part Five
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Keep Reading …
About the Author
Also by Kimberley Chambers
About the Publisher
PROLOGUE
From what I can recall, my early childhood was a happy one. I lived with me mum, Molly, dad, Eric, and younger sister, Vivian, in the East End of London. Whitechapel, to be precise.
My dad worked long hours down at the docks and it was Mum’s job to cook, clean and look after me and Viv. Like most East End families, we didn’t have much dough. But compared to those that lived in the slums, we were reasonably well off. We had a two-bedroom house all to ourselves and a hot meal on the table every evening.
Vivvy wasn’t just my sister; she was my best mate too. When we weren’t at school, we’d be outside playing from dawn to dusk. Marbles, rounders, release, conker fights and even cricket with the boys. It was warmer running around the streets than it was indoors at times.
Once every summer, Mum and Dad would take us to Southend for the day. We’d collect shells, fish for crabs and go paddling in the sea before eating a handsome fish-and-chip supper.
Hop-picking in Kent was another annual family outing. Aunt Edna, me mum’s sister, would come with us too. A funny lady, she would sing all the way there and all the way home. Viv and I loved Aunt Edna dearly.
But in life, things can change in an instant. That’s certainly what happened to me. One minute I was this carefree teenager, the next I had to batten down the hatches as life as I’d known it smacked me in the chops over and over again.
Anyway, enough of me waffling on. Not for the faint hearted this, so put on your seatbelts and prepare for a rollercoaster.
My name is Queenie and this is my story.
PART ONE
‘One might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb’
Proverb
CHAPTER ONE
Summer 1939
Eric Wade chucked the newspaper to one side. ‘It’s gonna happen, Molly, I’m telling you. Now Hitler’s invaded Poland, we’re bound to get involved. Expect an announcement soon, my love. We’re going to war.’
Molly squeezed her husband’s hand. Eric was thirty-four, a medium height, broad-shouldered man who currently had the weight of the world on his shoulders. His own father had been killed in action during the Great War and Eric was petrified of being called up as he feared the same would happen to him.
‘I was talking to Mr Ricketts yesterday and he said if the worst happens, it’ll be the younger lads they call up, Eric. The ones without families. Try not to worry too much, lovey.’
Eric stood up. He wasn’t a big boozer any more, but the thought of going to war was enough to turn any man to drink. ‘I’m off to the pub. I’ll see you later, love.’
Molly walked into the lounge to see her two daughters glued to the window. ‘Queenie, Viv, come away from there. You don’t want the new neighbours to think we’re a family of nosy parkers, do you?’
Viv obeyed her mother’s orders while Queenie stayed put. She couldn’t take her eyes off the boy she presumed was the youngest son. He was tall with a mop of wavy jet-black hair. At twelve, Queenie had boy mates but was yet to have a proper boyfriend. She decided there and then that when she was old enough she wanted a boyfriend just like this one. She’d never seen anyone so handsome before, but he was far too old for her she feared.
‘Queenie, I won’t tell you again. Move.’
Queenie reluctantly did so and was lunged at by her mother. Molly spat on her handkerchief and wiped the remains of her daughter’s breakfast off her face. ‘If you’re going over the road to ask the new neighbours if they’d like a cup of tea, you need to look your best,’ smiled Molly.
Queenie grabbed Viv’s hand. ‘Come on. Let’s go meet them.’
The previous tenant of the house had been Nutty Nora. She’d died in hospital recently and wouldn’t be sorely missed. She used to wake half the street up by dancing and singing in the middle of the night. Many a time, Queenie’s dad had got up and led the senile old woman back inside her house, only for her to reappear in the street ten minutes later.
Queenie approached the woman who was standing on the doorstep. The two lads had disappeared. ‘Hello. We live opposite you at number thirty-one. My mum sent us over to ask if you’d like a cup of tea?’
The woman was of medium build, smartly dressed and had beautiful thick wavy black hair that shone in the sunlight. She smiled. A kind smile that lit up the whole of her face. ‘Patrick, Daniel,’ she shouted in an Irish accent.
The two lads reappeared, and Queenie felt herself blush. The younger one was even more handsome up close. He had piercing bright green eyes, full lips and a cheeky grin.
‘These lovely young ladies live over the road and have asked would we like a cup of tea.’
‘Does the Pope pray?’ the older lad chuckled.
Not knowing what that meant, Queenie and Viv glanced at one another.
The woman held out her right hand. ‘I’m Mary. Mary O’Leary, and these two ragamuffins are my sons, Patrick and Daniel. We would absolutely love a cup of tea,’ Mary smiled. ‘And please do thank your mum.’
‘OK. We’ll be back soon,’ said Queenie.
Daniel gently grabbed Queenie’s arm. ‘Not until you tell us your names, you won’t. My mum’s always told me and my brother we aren’t to accept things off strangers.’
Realizing her sister was unusually lost for words, Viv stepped in. ‘I’m Vivian and this is my sister, Queenie.’
Daniel winked. ‘A pleasure to meet you both. Three sugars each for me and Patrick and two for Mum. Oh and don’t forget the biscuits.’
Mary chuckled and playfully punched her youngest on the arm. ‘You take no notice of this one, girls. He’s a terrible wind-up merchant. I’ve got sugar and biscuits.’
When Daniel grinned at her, Queenie felt her insides flutter, a feeling she’d never experienced before.
Viv linked arms with her sister and led her back to their house. ‘Why did ya act all weird?’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Yes, you did. You stood there like a stuffed dummy.’
‘You’re talking rubbish.’
Vivian might only be nine, but she was astute for her age. ‘Queenie and Daniel sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g,’ giggled Viv.
‘Shut your big mouth, else Mum will hear ya,’ ordered Queenie.
‘Are they nice people? Would they like tea?’ asked Molly.
‘They’re very nice, Mum,’ Viv replied. ‘Oh, and Queenie fancies Daniel.’
‘No. I don’t,’ Queenie glared at her sister, face turning a shade of beetroot. ‘I’m going to lie down; I got a headache. You can take the tea over by yourself.’
‘Whatever’s a matter with her?’ asked Molly, as her eldest flew up the stairs.
Vivian shrugged. ‘Search me, Mum.’
The following morning, having recovered from the previous day’s embarrassment, Queenie happily tucked into her breakfast. Kippers soaked in vinegar with a thick slice of bread was her favourite. ‘You look nice, Mum. You going out somewhere?’
At thirty-one, Molly was plumper than she’d been when she’d married Eric. A five-foot-three brunette, she had a kind smile, big brown eyes and was wearing a floral dress. ‘I’m popping down the Lane with Mabel. You two need new school shoes.’ Mabel Brown lived next door. Queenie and Viv often played with her daughters, Aggie and Nelly.
‘You’re quiet, Dad. You OK?’ asked Queenie.
‘No. I’m not OK. It’s only a matter of time now before Chamberlain sends in the troops. I couldn’t sleep a wink last night.’
‘Don’t worry the girls please, Eric. Put that newspaper down and eat your kippers. They’re getting cold,’ ordered Molly.
Queenie and Viv glanced at one another. Both were thinking the same thing. What had happened to their once jolly dad? Lately, all he did was go on about the war and it was tiresome, to say the least.
Queenie was sitting on a kerb outside Derek Lewis’s house swapping cigarette cards when Derek’s mum bellowed, ‘Kids, get in ’ere. The Prime Minister is about to make an announcement.’
Even though the small front room was packed with people, you could have heard a pin drop. ‘I am speaking to you from the cabinet room at 10 Downing Street,’ boomed Neville Chamberlain’s voice. The radio was turned up to full volume.
Queenie squeezed her sister’s hand. Had her dad been right all along about a war, she wondered? The Prime Minister’s voice certainly sounded serious.
‘This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that unless we heard from them by eleven o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us,’ explained the Prime Minister. ‘I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany.’
‘Flipping hell! Hitler’s coming to get us. We’re doomed,’ cried Derek Lewis.
Derek’s mum smacked him around the head. ‘Shut it you, ya bleedin’ bock.’
Confused and not really knowing what to do next, Queenie took Viv’s hand and set off home.
The atmosphere walking a few streets from Derek’s house to their own was strange. Everyone seemed to be outside their houses having a chinwag, but there was none of the usual hoots of laughter or happy faces, just solemn expressions and looks of concern.
‘We ain’t all gonna die, are we, Queenie?’
Queenie put a protective arm around her nine-year-old sister’s shoulders. Everybody said how alike she and Vivian were. They ate well but were both skinny as rakes. They had the same mousy brown hair too that their mum made them wear shoulder length as she said it was too fine and looked straggly if they grew it any longer. ‘Don’t you worry,’ Mum had told them. ‘Dad’ll look after us. We’re gonna be fine.’
Nobody was at home, so Queenie and Viv sat on the kerb outside rather than sit inside alone. They had no idea where their dad was, but their mum would most certainly have got wind of the news down the Lane and was probably rushing home to them at this minute.
‘Are your ma and da not in?’ shouted a voice. It was Daniel O’Leary.
‘No. But they’ll be back soon,’ Queenie managed to reply.
‘Ma said come in for a cup of tea. You can wait for your ma and da with us.’
Queenie leaned towards Viv. ‘You show me up and say I fancy him, I’ll never speak to you again.’
Within twenty minutes of sitting inside Mrs O’Leary’s house, Queenie had temporarily forgotten England was at war. Mary made them sweet tea to help with the shock and cut them each a slice of Irish apple cake, which was gorgeous. Then she told funny stories, mainly about her sons, to make them laugh. Daniel was eighteen, Patrick twenty-two, and Queenie could not stop smiling. The lads joined in with the fun too, telling stories about their mother and the rest of their family back in County Cork.
‘Have you not got a husband?’ Vivian asked bluntly.
Queenie nudged her sister. ‘You don’t ask people such questions. Apologize to Mrs O’Leary at once.’
Mrs O’Leary waved her hand. ‘It’s fine, honestly. Yes, I do have a husband. Paddy. I kicked his useless backside out years ago, mind, the drunken old goat. Good for nothing, that man. Well, apart from giving me three gorgeous sons.’
‘Our dad used to drink too much when Viv and me were little. My mum made him stop,’ exclaimed Queenie.
‘I don’t ever remember Dad being drunk,’ queried Viv.
‘Neither do I. But that’s what Mum told me. He was drunk when he registered your birth, Viv, that’s why your name’s spelt wrong.’
‘What do you mean it’s spelt wrong?’
Seeing the look of indignation on her sister’s face, Queenie pretended she was joking and decided to change the subject. Their mum had nearly died giving birth to Viv, had been ill for ages afterwards. The spelling of her sister’s name was meant to be Vivienne, but their dad had made a cock-up and registered it as Vivian, which was usually the man’s version of the same name. ‘Is your other son married, Mrs O’Leary?’ enquired Queenie.
‘Call me Mary. All my friends call me Mary. Seamus died, my love, back in Ireland. He would’ve been twenty now, God rest his soul.’ She solemnly made the sign of the cross across her heart.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Queenie mumbled.
‘Me too,’ added Viv. She craned her neck. ‘Aunt Edna’s just turned up at ours, Queenie.’
‘We better go now. Thank you so much for the tea and cake, Mary. It was very kind of you.’
Mary O’Leary smiled. ‘You’re very welcome, girls. The boys go to work all week, so if you’re ever bored, you’re always welcome to pop in. That’s if it’s OK with your mum, of course.’
‘Bye, girls,’ said Patrick. ‘And don’t you be worrying about no war. Daniel and I will look out for you.’
‘Too right we will,’ Daniel added with a wink, and Queenie felt herself blush again.
Aunt Edna was the only other relation Queenie and Viv had that they knew of. A big lady with an even bigger singing voice, Aunt Edna had short dark curly hair and was the life and soul of any party. She loved to sing and could play the piano without even looking at the keys.
At thirty-five, Aunt Edna was four years older than their mum. She’d had her heart broken by a cheating fiancé in her younger years and had been single ever since. She treated Queenie and Vivian more like daughters than nieces.
Edna put an arm around both girls and held them close to her ample bosoms. ‘I brought you some sweeties. Where’s your mum and dad? I take it you’ve heard the news?’
Molly Wade arrived home at that very minute and joined in the hug. ‘It’ll be OK. We’ll all be OK. Where’s your father?’
‘Dunno, Mum. Will we have to go to school tomorrow?’ asked Queenie.
‘I don’t know yet, love. It’s all been such a shock; I can’t think straight.’
‘Will Hitler bomb us, Mum? Derek Lewis says we’re all doomed,’ said Viv.
‘Take no notice of Derek Lewis,’ replied Aunt Edna. ‘His mother talks rubbish an’ all.’
Molly was worried, extremely worried. The war was obviously her main concern, but Eric was another. He’d rolled home drunk last night, for the first time in years. The girls were in bed and thankfully hadn’t witnessed it, but Molly’s guess was he was down the pub again now and she couldn’t go back to those dark days. She’d given Eric an ultimatum when Vivvy was three months old. He either gave up the booze or she was leaving him and she and the girls were moving in with her sister.
