Blood Line: Sometimes Tragedy Is in Your Blood. Julie Shaw

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СКАЧАТЬ when you’re in my condition, eh?’ She turned to grin at Agnes. ‘I sometimes wish my Reggie would find himself a scarlet woman. Give someone else a belly full of arms and legs for a change.’

      The two women laughed and spent a companionable ten minutes reminiscing. That was a safer place, Annie thought, the past. She was eight months gone and before she knew it there would be another mouth to feed. Another nipper to care for in an increasingly uncertain world.

      Times were changing and Annie really didn’t like it. A lot of the local men had already been called up to fight in the war and she was afraid Charlie might be called next. He was almost 18 now, after all, so there’d be nothing to be done about it – and no chance of talking him out of it if he was called – but he was still her baby and she was frightened she might lose him.

      There was danger at home too; Bradford had already seen more than one air raid; this new kind of war was being brought right to their doorsteps. Rawson Market had taken a hit, and though it hadn’t been that serious, it was enough to put the frighteners on people. And it looked like the powers that be were expecting worse. Thousands of kiddies in other cities were in the process of being evacuated to safer areas. Would that be happening in Bradford too? They kept saying not – kept saying the bombs in Bradford were just off-target, but Annie didn’t think she could bear it if they took her kids away.

      But better be safe than sorry anyway. The best thing about moving to the new estate, as far as Annie was concerned, was that because they had one of the bigger houses on the end of a street they had an Anderson shelter in their garden.

      ‘You’ll have to come down to ours, Agnes,’ Annie said, ‘if you hear the sirens. Just come straight down to us. You’ll be safe in our bomb shelter.’

      Agnes wiped her face with a corner of her pinny. Annie squeezed her arm. Were those tears in the old girl’s eyes? ‘Bless you, Annie,’ Agnes said, ‘that’s kind. But the ruddy Germans won’t have me running. If the good Lord sees fit to blow me to smithereens, then that’s what’ll happen.’

      Annie believed her, too. She was going to miss her old friend.

      Annie had just hauled herself back up onto her feet when a sound from down the road heralded the arrival of a cart.

      She waved. Reggie, Charlie and young Reggie were back from having taken round the last cartload of possessions, dragging the now empty cart behind them. They all looked hot and sweaty in the late August sun. Agnes stood up too. ‘Will I get you some water, lads?’ she called. ‘I’ll go tell Stan that you’re back with the cart.’

      The cart had been a gift for the house move. Without it, the two-mile trips back and forth would have been interminable. Stan had made it himself, toiling away for long hours the previous year. It had been part of a plan he’d formed with a friend called Tinker Mick, who lived in a gypsy wagon on some spare land by Peel Park. Being a Romany, he also had a horse – a big black mare called Ebony, who’d seen better days. But she was still a strong working horse, even so. So the two of them had decided to pool their resources and see if they could get into the coal business.

      But that was before the war. Everything, coal included, was in very short supply now, so though the horse still had her uses the cart had been made redundant. Handy, though, Annie thought, for the business of moving house, as long as you had men strong enough to drag it about.

      The cart parked up, Reggie leaned against the wall to get his breath back. He was still as fit as a butcher’s dog, and still had the same twinkle in his eye, but it had been a hard job hauling so much stuff all that way, and Annie could see he was knackered.

      ‘Been better if the lazy bum had seen fit to give us a hand,’ he grumbled, as he and Annie stepped back inside for a last look around. She couldn’t quite believe the whole street was being demolished, but that was all it was probably fit for, even so.

      ‘You about ready to make a move, woman of mine?’ Reggie asked Annie.

      ‘I am that,’ Annie said, taking a last lingering look. Seeing it empty now seemed to bring about a change in her. No sense in looking back, she thought, the empty room already closing in on her – she had to look forwards. And the thought of that fixed-in bath dragged her out of her melancholy. ‘Yes,’ she said, meaning it. ‘Yes, I’m good and ready. Can’t wait to get out of this place, truth be told.’

      Back out front, Agnes had returned with jam jars full of water for the lads, and Annie looked on proudly as Charlie took one from her and downed it in one. He was a fine lad, was her Charlie. He’d be a fine man as well.

      ‘Thanks, auntie Aggie,’ he said, winking. ‘I’ll miss you when we’re gone.’

      Agnes blushed. She was soft on him. Always had been. Always would be. The son she’d never had, perhaps? Though she’d never let on. ‘Ah, go on, lad,’ she said, ‘an’ you be sure to watch over them young ’uns for your ma, hear me?’ She gestured towards Annie’s belly. ‘Specially when she’s pushing that latest one out.’

      Young Reggie winced, which made Annie smile. He was at that age when anything to do with women having babies made him do that. Not so slow when it came to girls, though, she thought, smiling to herself.

      ‘Come on, then,’ his father ordered – now he’d been that age for ever. ‘Let’s be off, then. We’ve still a day’s work to do down at the other place.’

      In half a day, Annie thought, gathering her bag and a stray baby’s rattle she’d retrieved from the hedge earlier. Then she took Charlie’s arm and they set off in the warm August sunshine, the thought of that bath, and having a soak in it, making the walk just that little easier.

      But today? Yes, she thought to herself, already knowing the answer. And some say pigs fly, Annie Hudson.

      Charlie was glad to get to the new place and to know his day was over. He’d been hard at it since early morning, and as far as he was concerned had done his bit. He had somewhere to be now – a meet with old Mr Cappovanni. To discuss a boxing match he was taking part in the following month.

      Mr Cappovanni was more of his manager now, whenever the opportunity arose – something that tickled Charlie no end. It made him feel like more of a professional, and had changed the dynamic between them. He even fought under the new name of Tucker Hudson. He had no idea why, but that was the name his grandfather had been known by and, according to Mr Cappovanni, it was a proper boxer’s name.

      And Charlie, more than anything, wanted to be a proper boxer. And he’d made a good start as well; though he’d not yet had many serious fights, he’d won every one that he’d had.

      Which was good, but, from the financial point of view, it wasn’t that good, because it didn’t really leave much of an opportunity for the bookies taking bets on an outcome. Charlie wondered what Mr Cappovanni might have in mind for his next fight. For him to throw it? It was possible. He’d already talked about it. The question was, was it something Charlie should agree to? He’d have to see. Money was always in such chronically short supply. He decided he might consider it – for a price.

      Right now, though, standing in the doorway of one of the three upstairs bedrooms, Charlie’s thoughts were on more workaday things – such as the mess in the bedroom before him. It felt strange having a new house – everything gleaming and perfect – and then filling it with all their grimy, battered possessions. But it could have been worse. They at least had a bit of space now. And having three bedrooms made one extremely important difference. It meant that, at long last, the СКАЧАТЬ