Gateways Grind
Shady Lady Julie
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“Come on Elsie it will be fun.”
I had known Maggie since we had been evacuated as kids towards the end of the Second World War. We lived in the same block of flats and our fathers were away at war serving in the same regiment. When the sirens sounded our mothers would herd us into bomb shelters where we would huddle together in the tube station. Maggie would tell me stories of magical kingdoms and fairy princesses to distract me from the thuds of bombs dropping above our heads.
My mother always used to call me a proper war baby as I was born on the same day as World War 2 started in Europe in September 1939. Maggie was a couple of years older than me and became the big sister I never had.
The stress of the blitz became too much, so when the opportunity for us to be evacuated presented itself, our mothers shipped us out of the city; off to the country. Devon was like another world, a lifetime away from the grime of London with its bombed-out buildings and the constant air raid sirens. The adults welcomed us with open arms but the local kids resented us. This meant there were constant battles between ’them’ and ‘us’.
If the local children teased me for being a ‘shrimp’ due to my diminutive stature it was Maggie who would protect me, wading in with fists flying. Maggie was big for her age and had no fear, as many a boy had found out when they had underestimated her battling prowess.
After the war, we returned to London to find things very different. In some ways I was lucky in that my father had returned from the front. Though the happy boisterous man I kind of remembered had gone; replaced by a man with a haunted look in his tearful eyes. Years after the carnage that devastated Europe had passed, he still jumped at loud bangs or burst into tears for no reason.
Some of his sadness will have been due to what he went through, but a lot will have stemmed from the loss of my mother. A few weeks after I had been evacuated, she had taken shelter in the tube station which took a direct hit. They never found her body, instead, they simply sealed the entrance as a mass grave.
Maggie’s father didn’t return and her mother never really got over his loss, sinking deeper and deeper into a sea of gin and self-pity. This meant that I ended up becoming the woman of the house to both households as Maggie’s mother became less and less capable of looking after herself and her daughter. Maggie was too busy ‘having fun’ to get involved in chores such as cleaning and cooking.
“Will there be boys there?” I said playing for time, “You know my Dad will go mad if there are boys.”
Maggie threw her head back and roared with laughter, “Your Dad won’t have to worry about boys pestering you at the Gateways club…anyway you will be with me and you know I always protect you.”
She was right about protecting me and she always seemed to be there for me at the right moments. I remembered the Saturday night after my 18th birthday when we went to the local pub and I had perhaps a glass too many. I had gone outside for some fresh air and one of the local ‘Teddy boys’ decided to try his luck.
At first, it had been OK snogging someone who was smart and mature though his hands seemed to be everywhere, despite my protests. He was touching my breasts and then roving under my skirt. I could feel my pale pink silk panties, a gift from Maggie, cutting into my body as he forced his hand inside them. Then as his finger pushed into my pussy he let out a low whistle as he leered, “Seems you are a tight one., bet you are still a virgin…well it’s time to change that.”
He pushed me to the ground and lay on top of me between my thighs. I cried out as he tore my panties off me as he unbuckled himself with his other hand. I was crying and knew there was nothing I could do to stop him raping me.
Then suddenly there was freedom from his weight as he rolled off me grunting in pain. Towering over him was Maggie, her eyes aflame with anger as she waved the lump of wood she just used to hit him. He must have said something as Maggie swung the wood again connecting with a dull thud and he collapsed to the floor.
Dropping the plank she pulled me to my feet and helped me rearrange my dress. Then she knelt and picked up the scrap of pink silk that was once my undergarment. Holding it out in her hand she laughed as she said, “Looks like these are ruined so I better buy you another pair,” and with that, she tucked them into her bag.
“So are you coming or not?”
Maggie’s words jerked me back to the present as she held out her hand to hail a cab. Perhaps if I had gone with her that night my life would have taken a different course, as it was, cold feet got the better of me and Maggie vanished off in a taxi. Her parting shot rang in my ears, “It’s 1960 Elsie, you are 21, time to live a little.”