Short story

Nobody could tell a story with such a twinkle in her eye quite like my Granny Nell

My London granny, Granny Nell, lived in the same two-up, two-down house in Bermondsey that she had grown up in during the war. Their terrace had been lucky to escape the bombs that destroyed so many other houses in that area during the Blitz. When she grew up and married Grandpa Albert, they had been able to buy the rented house from the landlord and brought up their own family there. A true East Ender, Granny Nell never wanted to move away from the neighbourhood where all her friends were. When I was a little boy, I adored visiting her because she always told me long stories about her happy childhood. Many of my favourite ones were about her youngest brother, Billy. One drizzly Sunday afternoon in January when I was aged around six, the two of us were sitting snugly by the coal fire when she began her story in the usual way... “As you know, Billy Nutkin was your great-uncle William – and he was a lad was our Billy. He had curly ginger hair and was full of freckles. The other kids called him Squirrel because of our unusual surname, but Billy was a tough kid and didn’t care a hoot about that. “One day when the war was still on and Billy was the same age as you are now, he came rushing into this very room calling out for our mother. (Our father was away in the army, ‘fighting the Jerries’.) “Billy announced: ‘I’ve lost my tooth, Mum!’

Before leaving for school, Billy rushed round to tell Elsie the good news. She told him that you got one penny for every tooth you lost and that set Billy thinking…

He was very excited because Elsie, the girl next door, had told him about fairies leaving money for the tooth if he put it under his pillow. ‘Elsie showed me the penny she got for her tooth, Mother. Do you think a fairy will do that for me?’ “Mother had been busy kneading dough in the scullery. There were loaves baking in the oven. I can smell that lovely aroma of freshly baked bread even now,” Granny sighed gently, lost for a moment in her memories of long ago. Eager to hear more, I nudged her back to the story. “Go on, Gran. What happened to Billy’s tooth? Did he get a penny for it?” “Well, that was the only evening our mother ever saw Billy so anxious to go off to the Land of Nod. For once in his life, he couldn’t wait for his seven o’clock bedtime. My older brother, Jack, who was 14, teased him by saying, ‘You don’t believe in fairies, do you, our Billy? They’re just makebelieve. They don’t live in our back yard, that’s for sure.’ He ruffled Billy’s ginger curls. “Mother said, ‘Let him be. You believed in fairies when you were his age – don’t go telling me you didn’t.’ “Billy went up to the bedroom he shared with Jack and put his tooth under the pillow. He was a bit worried that the fairies might not visit boys as well as girls who lost their teeth, but Elsie next-door seemed to know everything that was worth knowing so she must be right. “He got into bed fully dressed in case there was an air-raid warning during the night. He read his Beano comic until Mother put her head round the door and told him to go to sleep, but to come straight down if he heard the

air-raid siren going. “Being quite a lot older than Billy, Jack and I were allowed to stay up later to play cards or listen to the radio. Jack was in his last month at school and would soon be going to work in the local factory. He was too young to sign up for the forces, but wanted to do what he could to help the war effort. “The following morning, Billy shouted joyfully, ‘Mother! Mother! Elsie was right, the tooth fairy has been. I got a penny!’ “Our granddad, who was sitting in this very same rocking chair by the fire, smiled to himself. He was an air-raid warden and had been on duty the night before, but our mother had told him all about Billy’s tooth and it was he who had supplied the necessary penny. “Before leaving for school, Billy rushed round to tell Elsie the good news. She told him that you got one penny for every tooth you lost and that set Billy thinking. He tugged hopefully at his remaining teeth to see if any of them were at all loose, but they were all disappointingly firm. “Then he had an idea. He remembered seeing Grandpa’s dentures in a jar on the cabinet in his bedroom. If he put those under his pillow, the tooth fairy might leave him as much as halfa-crown. With half-a-crown he could afford to buy lots of sweets and also go to Saturday morning cinema with his mates to see The Lone Ranger. “When Grandpa woke the next morning to find his teeth weren’t in the jar as usual, he shouted down the stairs, ‘Ethel, my teeth have gone!’ Jack and I said at once that we hadn’t seen them, but Mother clearly had her own suspicions. Frowning, she marched up to the bedroom to find Billy gazing at the dentures still lying where he had left them under his pillow. ‘I thought the fairies would bring me lots of pennies for them,’ he wailed sadly. “Mother said, ‘Well, greedy little boys who steal things don’t get rewards. How do you think your poor grandpa would manage to eat his breakfast without his teeth? Are you listening to me, Billy?’ “Billy gazed up at her and thought how pretty his mum looked when she was flushed pink with anger, but he replied meekly, ‘Yes, Mother. I am really sorry but I just thought about buying sweets and being able to go to see the second half of The Lone Ranger on Saturday morning.’ “Grandpa, who was standing behind me at the bedroom door, intervened, ‘Don’t be too hard on the boy, Ethel. He’s only a nipper and we were all a bit selfish at that age.’ “But with no father at home to keep him in line, Mother was determined not to let Billy off the hook too easily. ‘From now on the only teeth that go under your pillow, my boy, will be the ones that come out of your own mouth.’ ‘Yes, Mother,’ Billy replied solemnly. “As she turned round to face me and Grandpa, I could see that Mother was struggling to stifle her own laughter. She scolded us for giggling at Billy’s antics but none of us could keep a straight face as we trooped back down the stairs.” Seated on the worn leather pouffe that was pulled up close to Granny Nell’s rocking chair, I asked anxiously: “Did Billy ever get to see the other half of The Lone Ranger film?” “Well, as it happens he did. Our Jack managed to sneak him in the back entrance of the Bug Hutch – that was what us kids called our local cinema – but of course they never told Mother.”

Billy remembered seeing Grandpa’s dentures in a jar on the cabinet in his bedroom – if he put those under his pillow, the tooth fairy might leave him half-a-crown…