Tuppence to Tooley Street by Harry Bowling

Alison had forgotten all about him. With lots of patients to tend and all the chatting-up from homesick young soldiers, it would be understandable for her to have put him out of her mind. Three weeks had passed since he had seen her, and already the picture of her in his memory had faded. Could he hope that Alison would be interested in seeing him again? He wanted it to be so. He had to make the decision to forget all about Kathy. She was in his past now. Alison could figure very much in his future . . . In any case, it would only mean the cost of a stamp to find out, and he put the letter in his coat pocket.
    Alice Sutton had a serious expression on her face as she cleared away the breakfast things. She had had words with Frank that morning before he set off to work. It was bad enough him getting into a fight, without ruining his only suit as well. Alice would be able to sew up the shoulder, but Frank had also put his knee through the trousers. When the rain stopped she would go around to see if Mrs Simpson could do one of her invisible mending jobs. It would probably mean a patch, but he would just have to put up with it. There were enough worries without Frank adding to them. There was Lucy, who had most likely got herself soaking wet on her way round to Ben. She had insisted on going with him to the tribunal this morning and would not wait for the rain to stop. Then there was Danny. He had only been home for a couple of days and already he had come home drunk on two occasions. Maggie’s children looked like they were both coming down with something, and the front bedroom ceiling was dripping water. Alice Sutton sighed to herself and shook the tablecloth into the hearth. She was also concerned about the wagging tongues on the street. There had been the odd remark directed towards her about Ben, but she had shaken her head and walked on by when neighbours asked if her daughter’s young man had received his call-up papers yet. There was another occasion when two neighbours who were chatting together at the greengrocer’s shop raised their voices, saying that in ther opinion all ‘conchies’ should be sent to prison with hard labour. Alice had ignored the remark, which angered the two paragons even more. As she pottered about waiting for the rain to ease Alice Sutton felt worried. It was Lucy she was most concerned for. There would be much anger directed towards her daughter as time went on, and it would be bound to upset her. For herself she didn’t worry. If the neighbours chose to adopt that attitude then they could all go and get stuffed. There were other more important things to worry about.
    At nine-thirty the rain stopped and Danny walked up to the tiny post office in Tooley Street to get a stamp. It was not quite so oppressive after the downpour and the street looked clean. As he left the post office he saw a number 70 tram approaching and he ran up to the stop just as the tram shuddered to a halt. Danny climbed aboard and sat down on the lower deck. The short run had made him breathless and he realised with a pang of anger that he was far from being fully fit. He sorted out tuppence from a fistful of coppers and handed it to the bored-looking conductor who flipped off a ticket from a clip-board and slipped it into a ticket punch before handing it to Danny. The tram swayed and rocked its way along towards Dockhead and jerked to a stop once more. Danny could see The Crown public house lying back from the road and it made him think of that Saturday evening with Kathy. The tram moved off and swung around a sharp bend into Jamaica Road. Danny was brought out of his reveries by the conductor shouting ‘Rovverhive Tunnel’ in a sing-song voice.
    The young cockney walked along Brunel Road, which ran alongside the approach to the road tunnel. At the end of the turning was the Labour Exchange building and Danny could see a small queue waiting outside. There was an entrance at the side of the building which Danny was