When He's Gone

When He's Gone

In the early 1950s, the borders of Leyton and Walthamstow were a thriving and busy community. The buildings were generally grubby (on the outside), partly because of the War, but mainly due to more than a hundred years of uncontrolled pollution. Virtually every house used coal for heating and the chimneys all pumped smoke during the colder weather. And damp conditions led to the inevitable thick fogs that London was known for. It was estimated that 12,000 people died as a result of the great smog of 1952.

The Baker's Arms was a pub on the corner of Lea Bridge Road and Hoe Street. It was named after the Baker's Alms houses built in 1866 and sited a hundred yards further down Lea Bridge Road (or up, depending upon your viewpoint, although it runs East-West). The pub was the focal point of the local area, especially on market days when the stalls were lined up outside. Across the road was the popular art deco façade of the Woolworths store while diagonally opposite was Barclays Bank.

On the Hoe Street side was a curved parade of shops which included the ever-popular Manze's Pie and Eel shop.

Although it was essentially a crossroads, coming from Walthamstow there was a road that followed the line of the shops, but beyond it was a triangle shaped island which helped to form the crossroads proper. Within that triangle was sited the Public Conveniences.

The roads themselves were cobbled and still had the tram lines inset in them -- although the overhead cables were now used for the electric "trolley" buses. Unlike the trams, these were able to swoop in close to the kerb and the bus stop, making it much safer for passengers who, in the tram days, had to walk to the middle of the road to get on.

Not far from the Baker's Arms lived Abigail and her husband Samuel, with their two children David (12) and Adam (10). Sam worked in a small factory down in the more industrial part of Lea Bridge Road, near to the prefab houses built to accommodate the homeless who had been bombed out during the War.

The couple married in 1940, when it became obvious that Sam wasn't going to get called up due to the essential War work that he had become involved in (uniform belt buckles). Of course, he felt embarrassed to be in a reserved occupation, so he "did his bit" by joining the ARP, one of 1.4 million volunteers.

Almost within a month of getting married, Abi fell pregnant and nine months later gave birth to a son. It was a difficult pregnancy, what with the frequent air raid warnings and necessary decamping from the bedroom to the Anderson shelter in the garden. Usually damp and not very warm at the best of times, it led to many an uncomfortable night -- particularly as she was alone while Sam was out on air-raid duty.

In March 1941, during a period of dry weather, Abi gave birth to a healthy boy that they named Samuel after his father, but thenceforward known as Sammy to differentiate between the two.

Less than two years later she bore another son, who they named Douglas, after Sam's father (who had previously been killed in a bombing raid along with his wife).

The Blitz proper was over, and it was now rare to have to go down to the bomb shelter. Rationing was more of a problem and Abi had to be very inventive with the limited provisions she could lay her hands on -- Sam had made it clear that there was to be no subsidising via the black market.

For a while it was thought that the danger to London's civilians was just about over, but 1944 proved that to be untrue. That was the year that Hitler commanded the use of terror weapons, beginning with the V1, otherwise known as the "Doodlebug" or "Flying Bomb". The first was launched In June of that year and during the height of the bombings in the Summer over a hundred bombs were falling every hour. On 16^th August one fell at the junction of Hoe Street and Church Hill. Abi was fortunate to have been just far enough away not to have been affected, but in such a busy place twenty-two people died and a hundred and forty-four were injured. The dead included a bus driver, previously invalided out of the army. His conductress (or Clippy as they were known) Lillian Clarkin was trapped and injured but refused help and later went unaided for treatment.

The real terror from these weapons was not the explosion, or even the raucous buzzing, but the steady growing drone as it approached -- and then the silence. Waiting, waiting to hear where it would land, hoping and praying that it would land on someone else, someone you didn't know.

*****

The War ended and although rationing continued, things started to return to a kind of normality. Naturally, there was a lot of building work going on both to repair damaged buildings and to replace destroyed ones. Sam's employers, having profited well from the conflict, were able to return to their original work and even expanded the business. Sam, being a valued employee was rewarded with a higher wage than most of the engineers.

Five years later, Sam and Abi were able to move into a three-bedroom rented property in one of the roads off Hoe Street.

Sam became a creature of habit; leaving work on time and arriving home at 5.20pm -- except for Friday (which was pay day), when he would stop off at the pub for a half pint, before continuing home.

The boys were now 12 and 10 respectively and had been taught to do their fair share of chores around the house. There was no question of Abi returning to work, so she busied herself with needle work skills. She was able to make most of her own and the boys' clothes and had even tailored some for Sam.

Everything was good. They were a happy family in a nice home with friendly neighbours. From their wedding night onwards, they indulged in sex regularly, although twelve years later the frequency had diminished. It was never adventurous, always in bed, with the lights out and after the children were asleep. The only exception to this was when Sam had run out of protection, or it was that time of the month, in which case Abi would relieve him by hand. It certainly dealt with Sam's frustrations, but not with her own. From the first time that her husband had touched her breasts and nipples, there seemed to be a direct connection with her vagina. And long as Sam played with her a little before "making love" she was almost certain to get that incredible feeling that washed over her and left her breathless, yet content.

*****

Then, one Friday, Sam didn't come home. Abi was surprised when the clock chimed six and he hadn't appeared, but she didn't feel a need to panic. Yet.

By 7pm she was beginning to become concerned, so she told the boys to behave and read a book while she went out for a while. She put on her high heeled shoes and grabbed her handbag but didn't bother with a coat -- she wasn't going far. Abi walked swiftly and with purpose down to the bottom of the road, turned the corner by the toy shop and headed towards the Baker's Arms, all the time scanning the people for a sight of her husband.

At the pub, she went in each of the bars and looked around for him. People noticed her presence, looked up enquiringly, but then soon turned back to their preoccupation of reading the Evening News, talking about Leyton Orient's opening match of the season against Arsenal, or taking their turn at the dartboard. The last section she investigated was probably the one her husband was least likely to have gone into, sawdust on the floor and an atmosphere thick with cigarette smoke. He wasn't there either. But his foreman was.

She had never taken to Jack Quigley. Oh, he was friendly, but perhaps a little too friendly. She felt that he was imagining her undressed whenever she noticed him looking her way. And, although she hadn't dared to tell Sam, he once gave her bottom a sly little slap. She had turned to look at him in shock and surprise, but he just grinned and said, "Nice."

Taking a deep breath (not that she would be able to hold it) she pushed her way through the heavy half-door and walked across to Quigley (she couldn't ever think of him as Mister Quigley).

As she approached, he turned and mid-sip of his pint stopped and placed it down on the bar surface.

"My, my, Abi Dobson! I'm surprised to see you in this den of iniquity!" He gave her a his most charming smile.

"I...My..." Abi stuttered. "My husband. Sam. Have you seen him?"

A frown crossed Quigley's face.

"No, why? Haven't you?"

"No, he hasn't come home!"

"But he left work at five as usual. Mind you, I didn't see him going into the other bar -- you can usually see the door from here. He must have gone somewhere else. Perhaps you should try the Bill?"

Abi knew that when he said "Bill", Quigley was referring to another pub; the William the Fourth sited a hundred yards along High Road Leyton opposite. She doubted very much that Sam would have gone there, but with no other options she left the Baker's Arms and quickly made her way to the Bill.

After a desperate search of all areas of the pub and having to endure more than a few offers of drinks from lecherous drunks, she left the second pub. Outside she looked up and down the road. Now she was beginning to panic. Perhaps Sam had been somewhere and then headed home, via different route?

It's amazing how fast a woman in high heels can run; all the movement appears to be from the knees downward, but the click, click, clicking gait covers the paving stones rapidly. She arrived home, out of breath and struggled for an interminably long time before being able to insert the key into the lock. Alas, when she did, she discovered Sam wasn't home yet. And he didn't return that evening.

After a sleepless night in which she ran through all the possible scenarios that could have befallen her husband, she determined that he must have had an accident. Hurriedly getting the boys ready and sending them off to school (the Senior and Junior schools were situated next to each other in Essex Road / Canterbury Road, so they walked there together), she then headed off to Connaught Hospital. This was the closest establishment.

Having no luck in gaining information about her husband there, she then made her way back to Lea Bridge Road and caught the bus to Whipps Cross Roundabout. Normally she would walk the mile distance, but she was in a hurry and desperate for news of Sam.

The staff at Whipps Cross Hospital had been understanding and patiently explained that she should contact the police and report her husband as missing. Being too far away from Leyton, Leytonstone or Walthamstow Police Stations, and not having a telephone at home, she did the only thing she could and approached the Police Box at the junction of Lea Bridge Road and Wood Street. These boxes used to be very common and were places where policemen on their beat could take a brief respite. On the outside there was a small door behind which was a telephone that was linked to the nearest Station. Abi explained the situation and the officer recorded the details. He then preceded to tell her that they wouldn't be able to do anything until forty-eight hours had passed.

Abi arrived home, distraught, at around 10.30am. She had no idea what else to do. How would she tell the boys? More importantly, what had happened to Sam?

*****

Three weeks later, there was still no news. The police had made enquiries, but after Sam left work that Friday nobody saw him. They didn't even see what direction he took when he went out the door. He had just disappeared into thin air, leaving no clues as to his whereabouts.

Meanwhile, Abi was trying to put on a straight face for the sake of the children. Money was not an issue at first, simply because she was used to managing the family finances. Sam would come home and give her the unopened pay packet. She would then give him an allowance from it and the rest was put aside to pay the bills and buy food. She made most of their clothing herself and material was easy to come by at a cheap price in Walthamstow High Street market. She always bought wisely and as a result had been putting a little aside for some time in the hope that next year the family might be able to take a week's holiday in Bournemouth. It would be their first since their honeymoon. Now, the money helped to cover the lack of a wage packet coming home.

That Friday lunchtime, as Abi was considering what to cook for the evening meal, there was a knock at the door. It was Jack Quigley

"Hello Abi, can I come in?"

She had no idea why he was here, perhaps he had news of Sam. She stepped aside and led him down the hall, past the stairs and into the kitchen. She certainly wasn't taking him into the front parlour. When they got there, her natural instincts cut in.

"Would you like a cup of tea? The kettle has just boiled."

"Yes, I could do with a cuppa. It's been thirsty work this morning."

Abi busied herself with heating the teapot tipping in three teaspoons of tea and then pouring on the water. She placed the pot on the table and put a cosy on it while she retrieved two cups and saucers, along with teaspoons. She then went into the pantry to bring out the milk. Of course, she poured it from the original bottle into a small jug, which she then carried to the table.

Nothing more had been said until she had poured the milk and then strained the tea into the cups.

"Sugar?" she asked.

"Yeah. Two please."

Abi mentally bridled at that. In this household sugar was used sparingly and the measures were one, half or none. She put the sugar in for him and then replaced the spoon in the bowl, without taking any herself.

Quigley raised an eyebrow and said, "I assume you don't have any because you're sweet enough?"

Bristling further at his flirtatious attitude, she came straight to the point, "Why are you here Mr. Quigley?"

"Jack, please," he said. "I came round to see if you had heard any news about Sam. Or if you needed any help?"

Abi was taken aback and, knowing the way she felt about him, wondered what ulterior motive he had. She answered in a straightforward manner.

"No. Nothing. I contact the police every couple of days, but they say they'll let me know if they find anything out. If I'm honest, they seem to believe he's run off with a 'fancy woman'. But I know him. He wouldn't do that."

"No. No you're right. It's not like Sam at all. How are the kids taking it?"

"OK so far. They seem a bit confused by it, but they expect him to come home any time soon."

They continued talking while they drank their tea until Quigley looked up and saw the clock on the wall.

"I'd better be getting back. Those lazy sods will take advantage if I'm not there to make sure that they've got their noses to the wheel."

Abi showed him to the door and, as he stepped out, he turned and said, "Just remember, if you need..." he paused. "Anything. Anything at all. You know where I am."

*****

A week later Quigley turned up again. Once more, he appeared to be genuinely concerned about Sam and his family's welfare. Perhaps she had misread him after all?

By the following Friday money was extremely short. She did not yet know how she was going to pay the rent for this week and the pantry was looking sparse. Quigley turned up almost on the dot of 12.30. She led him through to the kitchen and prepared a pot of tea. They talked about anything and everything. Their conversations seemed to have a calming effect upon her, and she was beginning to look forward to his visits. For once, he didn't look at the clock and rush off and he explained that the factory was shut down for an extra half hour at lunchtime while some emergency electrical work was done.

They finished drinking their tea, talked for a while longer and then Abi stood up and took the cups and saucers over to the old porcelain kitchen sink and began washing up.

Quigley got up from his seat and said, "I guess I should be running along now."

But before Abi could turn around, he had stepped up close behind her. He leaned in close and spoke quietly into her left ear, while placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Like I said before if there's anything that you want...or need. You know where I am."

He gently touched his lips to the nape of her neck, something she loved her husband doing -- and he did it regularly -- because it got her very aroused. Momentarily his body pressed against hers and she felt his erection. She was left in no doubt as to what the "anything" was that he had in mind.

Abi saw him out of the front door and leaned her back against the wall, tears welling in her eyes as she realised how he had taken her in with his fake compassion. And yet, even now she could feel the betrayal of the reaction within her body. Her nipples were still tingling, and it was as if there was a direct connection with her vagina. As she walked back to the kitchen, she could feel just how wet she had become.

*****

Back in the earliest days of their marriage Abi had learned that she was a very sexual person. While losing her virginity had been painful at first, she had almost immediately begun to feel the passion rising within. It took very little foreplay from her husband to make her ready for penetration. Sometimes, just kissing him was enough if they were in a passionate embrace and her breasts and nipples were crushed and rubbed against him. Almost always, she experienced that moment of ecstasy, sometimes just before her husband came, but usually during his climactic thrusts. Very, very occasionally, she would not reach orgasm and would be left feeling slightly empty.

After the two children had come along, the couple agreed that they didn't want any more. So, Sam regularly purchased packets of Durex (the name was synonymous with the product, in the same way that Hoover was substituted for vacuum cleaner). Abi continued to enjoy their union this way, although it was clear to her that Sam didn't like wearing a sheath. It became more frequent for him to ask her to masturbate him instead.

Abi's Mother had taught her to sew by hand from an early age, and as wedding present she had received an antique treadle-powered sewing machine. She used her spare time to make repairs and make a lot of her own and the boy's and Sam's clothes. Material was easy to come by down at Walthamstow High Street market. It was a good way to save money -- and from time to time to subsidise the family income when neighbours needed their clothes altered.

When Jack Quigley next knocked on the door, Abi had been occupying herself with replacing some of her underwear (she hadn't bought any in a shop for ten years or more). The designs were simple and made of soft white cotton material. The brassiere had a one-inch-wide band that ran beneath the cups and secured at the back with hoops and eyes. Her breasts were not over large and remained firm -- even after the children, so the accurately shaped cups merely kept her breasts in place, while the straps that ran over her shoulders did not have adjustments simply because she measured and made them to fit her.

As for the panties, they were again made in matching white cotton. She had experimented with the fashionable full panty design, but felt constricted by them, so chose to stick with her tried and tested style of tap pants -- loose-legged and with three vertical buttons at the side to secure them in place. Over time she had adjusted the pattern, so that instead of squared legs, they curved up toward the hip. Sometimes she would try a split above where the front and back would have joined and add lace detail to the edges. It was these she was working on when the knock came.

When Quigley followed Abi towards the kitchen, he noticed the back-room door was open and he stopped to look at the sewing machine. Being an engineer, it was only natural for him to be inquisitive and want to look at the classic old machine.