Page 50

Chapter 50

April 1951

Census weekend

Georgia sat beside Keith in the Second Class compartment of the train.

Although she felt quite grown up at almost twelve years old, she had seized the opportunity to sit beside the window on the long journey from Waverley station to King’s Cross, and had watched the countryside change from Arthur’s Seat and the coast, to the open fields of the Ouse plain, to the industry of Darlington and the steel country before rushing on to fertile fields in Cambridgeshire.

And now they were almost at their destination.

If she could have done the entire journey without blinking once, she would have.

The engine pulled into the station’s long platform with a blast of its steam whistle, welcoming them to the capital.

Keith gathered their bags from the racks above the bench seats and opened the sliding door onto the corridor that ran the length of the carriage.

This is a different country, thought Georgia as she jumped down onto the platform.

It’s like being abroad.

She bent down to tie her shoelace and her blonde plaits fell forward, almost touching the ground.

‘Are we nearly there?’ She had been saying this ever since they had passed through York, trying not to let her increasing excitement show.

‘Not far now,’ replied Annie.

She took Georgia’s hand despite her almost grown-up status and neatly shifted the responsibility for her safety onto the child.

‘Just hold onto me in case I get lost.’

Keith stepped off the train last, carrying the two canvas haversacks in one hand before slinging one of them over his shoulders.

‘Annie, you’ll need to let go of her while you put this on.

’

Georgia sighed. She had her own small bag with two dresses and clean socks and underwear and a book and a raincoat just in case.

What else could anyone possibly need on a four-day trip to London?

They threaded their way through the crowds of hurrying passengers, ignoring disappointed porters looking for bags to carry, and headed out past the ticket collectors and into the street.

‘Where are we staying?’ Georgia squinted in the sudden brightness.

‘We have lodgings in a guest house near the Old Street tube station,’ replied Keith.

‘It’s about two miles away and quite easy to find.

’ He glanced across at Annie.

‘We could walk there or we could take the Northern line on the Underground.’

‘I think we should take the Underground,’ said Annie firmly, over the head of Georgia who had bent down to tie her other shoelace.

‘I’m tired after such a long journey and I need to freshen up.

’

‘I’m not tired at all,’ proclaimed Georgia, ‘so I don’t mind what we do.

’

Keith smiled at the young girl he thought of as his own granddaughter and turned back into the station.

‘Very well. But the Northern line is the deepest line, so the escalators are very long and it may be rather warm.’

No stairs to count, thought Annie.

*

‘You’re a bit early for the Festival of Britain,’ said the landlady as she handed them their room key.

‘We know,’ said Keith.

‘I hear the preparations are well under way.’

‘They’ve started building the Skylon,’ she replied.

‘I think it’s going to be quite something when it’s finished.

’

‘We have come to see Whitehall and the Cenotaph,’ Georgia butted in.

‘My parents worked there in 1941, when I was rather small.’

The woman smiled, and then froze as Georgia continued.

‘They were killed in the Blitz, which was very sad, but I don’t remember them at all so it’s sad for other people more than it’s sad for me.

’

‘It’s what one might call a rite of passage,’ explained Keith apologetically to the landlady as the two women in his life headed up the stairs to the bedrooms. ‘She has wanted to see where they worked in Whitehall for years and the Festival preparations are such a good reason to come to London. We’re killing two birds with one stone, so to speak.

’

She winced.

‘Sorry,’ he shrugged, ‘but you know what I mean.’

‘Breakfast is at seven-thirty sharp and I stop serving at eight. It’s vegetarian, of course.

Would you like mushrooms with your potato cakes and tomatoes?

’

‘Thank you, that would be wonderful. I expect the lass will be awake with the dawn chorus anyway, so you may find her in your kitchen.’

‘It wouldn’t be the first time.

’ The landlady tapped a folded paper on her reception desk.

‘It’s the census tomorrow night.

’

‘I know. We would have preferred to be counted in Edinburgh, but rules are rules, as they say.’

‘I’ll check your details in the morning, and make sure everything is correct.

’

*

‘I thought it would look more interesting,’ said Georgia as they walked past the entrance to Downing Street before coming to a stop at the Cenotaph.

‘You’ve seen it in photographs, though?

’

‘I know. It’s just a bit .

.?. I don’t know. A bit plain.

’

Keith laid his hand gently on her shoulder.

‘I think that is rather the point, Georgia. It represents all the ordinary people who died. Everyone is ordinary but at the same time we are all special. Usually, it’s only the generals and kings who get statues that look like them.

Keeping it simple like this means that I can look at it and remember my brothers who were killed in the Great War, and Mr Simpson from across the road, who was lost at sea.

And Annie can remember her brother Finlay, and you can think about Mummy and Daddy.

It lets us all have our own thoughts.

’

‘I see.’ Georgia was not at all sure.

‘As soon as it’s made to look like a person or a symbol, like a cross, for example, it stops being for everyone and it belongs to only a few.

’

Georgia shrugged his hand away.

‘If you say so. I preferred seeing the grand office where they worked. I could imagine them going up the steps and through the doors. This is just a lump of stone.’

Annie took a breath, ready to interrupt, but Keith shook his head at her and took Georgia’s hand.

‘Georgia, why don’t we walk along the road a bit and we can take a look at the Houses of Parliament?

’

Annie dropped her handkerchief purposely on the ground.

‘I’ll be right behind you, just carry on.

’ She bent down to pick it up.

‘I won’t be a minute.

’

She watched them for a moment before turning back to look up at the huge block of Portland stone; the same white stone that had been placed in cemeteries all over Europe, and beyond.

She bowed her head and remembered the far-from-ordinary brother who had saved her on the night of the Empire Palace Theatre fire, and who had bought her ice cream on Sunday afternoons and teased her endlessly about this or that.

In particular, she remembered the day he had left 25 Library Terrace for the last time.

She could see him shaking Father’s hand and finding himself pulled unexpectedly into a great embrace.

And she had squeezed Finlay as tightly as she possibly could and whispered, ‘Remember, your stick and your signature’ in his ear, unaware that, although he didn’t know it, the former had already got him into trouble.

She remembered him saying, ‘I love you, Annie Bee. You’re the best sister, ever.

I promise I’ll be home as soon as I can.

’ And she remembered how Ursula had held back until the last minute before hugging him and had then handed him a tin box.

‘Parkin,’ she had said.

‘It’s well wrapped and should last for at least a week.

Isobel and I made it for you yesterday.

’ Isobel had simply nodded at him from the kitchen door before disappearing back beside the warmth of the range, leaving the family to take their leave without her.

And that had been it.

*

They were at King’s Cross in plenty of time, and when the train allowed passengers to get on, Keith spent some time trying and failing to find an empty six-seat compartment.

He knew Georgia was tired and, with a bit of luck, she might sleep on the journey home.

In the end, their fellow travellers didn’t get off the train until Newcastle, finally leaving the three of them alone.

As the evening light began to fall, Georgia dozed off, and he covered her with his jacket.

Annie stretched her legs out on the seat, against all the railway regulations, and leaned into Keith so they could watch the day fade across the North Sea together.

‘I’ve been wondering about something,’ he said.

‘What’s that, love?’

‘A long time ago, you said you had a proposal for me. You were asking me if I wanted to live at number 25. I’ve been wondering if it’s worked out the way you intended.

’

‘I remember it very well. I don’t think any day in my life has ever gone quite so spectacularly badly as that one.

’

He stroked her hair, feeling the curls under his fingers.

‘You were just being kind, and I was filled with so much stupid pride I couldn’t say yes.

’

‘It’s a long time ago now.

Twenty years, almost.’

He smiled.

‘Gregor’s tools saved us.

’

Annie snuggled in closer.

He felt his heart quicken.

‘I wasn’t joking, you know.

’

‘Joking about what?’

‘I said it was a pity you didn’t mean a different sort of proposal.

’ He sat up a bit straighter.

‘It’s just, well, standing at the Cenotaph reminded me how short life is.

We don’t know how long we’ve got.

’

Annie frowned, sat up straight and put her feet back on the ground.

She turned to face him.

‘Are you alright, Keith? You’re not telling me you’re poorly, are you?

’

‘There’s nothing to worry about.

’ He could feel his heart beating even faster.

‘But after all our years together, I’ve decided it’s about time I offered you a proposal of my own.

’ He paused. ‘I’m asking you to marry me, Annie.

’

She studied his face, age-lined, bespectacled, familiar.

Keith felt as though time was standing still.

‘Or do you need me to hide a screwdriver in the shrubbery before you decide?’

Annie smiled.

‘I think it was a chisel, not a screwdriver.’ She leaned forward and kissed his lips gently, as she had the first time, all those years ago.

‘And my answer is yes, I will.’