Queenie stood up. Mrs O’Leary was right. She’d run out of tears anyway, had none left to cry.

PART TWO

‘From the end spring new beginnings’

Pliny the Elder

CHAPTER EIGHT

When you think of the dead at war, you think of boys in the trenches or in the fields, not of my Aunt Edna who died needlessly. There were no bombs dropped that night. The blackout, sirens, weird whirring noises were all part of new anti-aircraft rockets, supposedly being launched for our own protection by the government. I was furious. Why hadn’t anyone informed us of what was going on? As if us East Enders hadn’t been through enough already.

There was a total media blackout of the truth. No mention in the newspapers or on radio stations. Twenty-seven men, eighty-four women and sixty-two children was the final death toll, the youngest being a five-month-old baby. We only learned the actual death toll via neighbours, nurses and local bobbies. I heard rumours that those in authority had tried to bribe young children, offering five-pound notes to them if they’d keep their trap shut. My aunt’s body had been taken from that church and chucked on the back of a lorry like a bag of bloody coal. I couldn’t forgive our government and neither would I be able to forget.

Mrs O’Leary helped me clear out Aunt Edna’s home and it was Mary who found just over two hundred quid stuffed in an envelope under the mattress. That enabled me to give my aunt the send-off she deserved. I chose a smart coffin and abided by my aunt’s wishes. Even though I’d have loved to have chosen a nice headstone and been able to visit her grave, Aunt Edna had a terrible phobia of creepy crawlies, especially worms, and she’d told me and Mum numerous times that, if she were to die during the war, her wish was to be cremated.

I took Mary’s advice and never told anyone else about the small fortune we’d found. ‘I’ll keep it safe at mine for you, Queenie. Don’t be giving your mum the money if she’s not thinking straight. Your father’s bound to get his mucky hands on it if you do,’ warned Mary.

I knew Mary was right. I guessed it must be gambling winnings and I knew Aunt Edna wouldn’t want my father to waste it. She’d hated him. So I decided whenever Mum needed anything, I would give her the money in dribs and drabs and pretend it was wages I’d saved. I paid housekeeping money now anyway, to help out with the rent and bills.

Aunt Edna’s funeral was very sad, yet it showed her popularity. Hundreds of people turned up – so many that most of them couldn’t find room inside the church. Mum and Viv were in bits, but I managed to hold it together and read a eulogy. My aunt had been so good to me. It was the least I could do for her.