As she walked to Central Station she thought of the many tourists visiting Blackpool who had been killed when a Botha plane had crashed into the station on 27 August 1941. The plane had collided with another over the sea and was duly wrecked. Debris and fuselage had fallen onto the station and over parts of Albert Road, South King Street and Central Drive here in the town centre. Many heroes and soldiers had saved people’s lives but many were killed, including two military personnel and a passenger in the planes, plus station staff. Others were badly injured, failing to escape the aviation fuel that set a fire burning everywhere. Manchester too had suffered similar problems. Central Station was still in operation and with the war thankfully over Joanne felt in no danger. Once on-board the train, she sat in silence throughout the journey to her hometown, speaking to no one, tears rolling down her cheeks at the thought of leaving her sister behind. As well as the issues of bombing and aircraft accidents, there’d been other issues for them over the years, being evacuees. Not at all easy to deal with, particularly regarding what Megan had been through. She prayed that she would remain safe.
Chapter Thirteen
Over the coming weeks Joanne found herself working hard at the hotel as a waitress. She spent most of her time rushing back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, taking orders from guests, the pressure of that much greater than she was used to, finding it somewhat confusing. Carrying hot bowls of soup would sometimes fill her with nervous anxiety. At first she would sometimes forget what they’d ordered or misunderstand and order the wrong thing. Eventually she was kindly instructed by the pleasant woman in charge to attach a pad to the waistband of her pinafore and write the details on that, talking to her as if she were an idiot, which maybe she was. Joanne was also instructed to know how each dish was prepared so that she could make recommendations to customers. It was necessary to be knowledgeable, polite and charming, even to rude customers, screaming children and people who declined to give her a tip.
Clearing and resetting each table after guests departed was a task she had no problem with, having done a great deal of that at the boarding house. In this posh hotel everything had to be laid out very smartly. There was a great deal of sparkling silver cutlery, china cups and plates, pretty napkins and also a small vase of flowers on each table. Not simply basic pottery, a load of sauce and tomato ketchup bottles, as there’d been in Jubilee House.
There were times when she longed to be back there, a much jollier place with sun often sparkling over the beach. Today, a grey chill seemed to hang about everywhere. She occupied a small room at the top of the building and even after a few months still felt very mixed up and dreadfully lonely. Had she made the right decision to come here?
Fortunately, she was granted a few hours off each afternoon and one full day a week, which varied from time to time, certain days and weekends being either quiet or very busy. Joanne spent her spare time roaming around looking for her mother and anyone she knew. This hotel being situated fairly close to Victoria Station, she would stroll down Deansgate through central Manchester to Castlefield. Watching the barges come up the canal basin filled with sand, coal, grain, oil, gravel, timber and other items was always interesting, the distant sounds of the city washing over her and the wind whistling under the canal bridge. When the sand was tipped out it made some of the land around look like a part of the beach in Blackpool. Oh, how Joanne missed that.
She would explore areas close to the River Irwell, the grimy old Medlock littered with old prams, boots and rubber tyres. The river had dye works, cotton mills and printworks close by and she visited those too, seeing no one she recognized. Other days she’d take a bus to Salford, Ancoats or Collyhurst. Not places she felt certain Evie would be living, but having failed to find her anywhere in Castlefield, she felt the need to spread her search.
At the end of each day her feet would hurt and her back ache and she’d thankfully retire to her room to read a magazine such as People’s Friend, or a book she’d borrowed from the Central Library. As she relaxed in bed, she made a note of all the places she’d visited, marking them on the map of the city she’d bought, then write out a list of other possible areas. Having spent weeks on this task, Joanne was slowly losing all hope of success. It could be that her mother had died when their home or the mill where she’d worked were bombed. But just in case she was still alive, she’d keep on looking for her.
Joanne hadn’t yet taken the trouble to become too friendly with any of the other members of staff apart from a young girl, Shirley Nuttall, the waitress she worked with. She didn’t know a soul. She was sitting in the hotel kitchen enjoying a soft-boiled egg and toast for her breakfast when the chef came over to sit with her. ‘Hi, there, I’m Andy, hope you’re feeling settled in and are enjoying the food.’
‘Thank you, yes, it’s delicious,’ she politely told him.
‘You look pretty delicious too. I wonder if we could meet up for a date sometime, mebbe going to the pictures or a dance, whatever you fancy?’
Joanne stared at him in astonishment, recalling how little she trusted men having been dropped by Teddy, the GI she thought loved her, and that Wing Commander Ramsbotham turning out to be a real pervert. ‘Sorry, I’m rather busy doing other things, so don’t have time for a date with anyone right now.’
‘Oh, come on, you aren’t in heaven wi’ the door locked so can surely find time for a bit of fun? How about going to the Palais on Rochdale Road, or if you’re a bit posh the Opera House on Quay Street? Just name where you’d like to go. I’d love to take you anywhere.’
Having finished eating her breakfast, Joanne got to her feet and gave him a dismissive smile. ‘Dream on, I’ve no wish to go anywhere with you or any other man just now. I prefer to remain free of such demands,’ she said and, lifting her head high, walked away.
Thankfully he didn’t bother her again, which was a huge relief. Her chief concern was to find her mother, not a new boyfriend. The change in her life felt quite interesting but not easy. At least this was a job that supplied her with reasonably good pay, and being very caring of guests and having efficient serving skills she did receive a surprising number of tips. Joanne carefully saved every penny she possibly could, intending to take a day off to visit Megan a couple of times a month. Fortunately, Bernie was generally absent whenever she informed those dear ladies that she was coming.
It was one of those strangely cool summer days that brought a scent of anticlimax echoing within Evie, as if the loss of a bright blue sun-filled sky had clouded over her, installing a feeling of dread about her future. She was sitting with her niece in their favourite café at Campfield Market, striving not to admit that Donald was largely uninterested in her, his wife of some twenty-odd years. He was no doubt grieving for the loss of his mates, some of whom were dead, and he sorely missed them, which she could well understand. She’d lost a few friends too. Donald had endured a tough war about which he refused to say a word, so she’d strived to be tolerant of his anxiety and sense of insecurity. At least Davie had told her that he enjoyed spending some time with him, though didn’t always find him easy to talk to either. Such was reality.
‘I fear Donald might never fully recover or return to his former self, regardless of the treatment he’s been given,’ she told Cathie, happily giving baby Heather a cuddle on her lap. ‘I believe his aspiration to reveal the issues he had to deal with during the war and any emotion he feels for his children, let alone consideration for others, has completely disappeared. Nor is he willing to help me find our daughters.’ Tears spilled out of her velvet brown eyes as Evie felt they no longer seemed to be of any interest to him.
‘Why do you think that is?’
‘He’s locked in his own personal anguish,’ Evie said, recalling the conversation she’d had with him that morning over breakfast when she’d confessed how she still sorely missed her daughters, having struggled for months to find them. Donald’s reaction had been completely dismissive. ‘Why bother to search for them g
irls? They must be quite content wherever they are so that’s where they should stay, otherwise they’d have come back home by now. Trouble is, I’m not at all happy about where I’m living.’
This comment had made Evie feel utterly devastated, the indifference in him towards his daughters making it appear that he was not as caring or loving as he used to be. She felt as if her family was falling into ruins. Donald tenaciously objected to the fact she kept worrying about her children, rationing, loss of her job and the difficulties she’d experienced in finding them a home. He would constantly moan about everything she failed to do for him, not convinced she kept things as tidy as she should. He spent some of his time fussing over tidying his own belongings, which were very precious to him. Each day he walked for miles, showing no interest in finding a job, but hated staying indoors for too long. Evie did once persuade him to do some shopping for her while she was busy working, but he strongly objected to the queue he was stuck in and refused to do that ever again.
It was true that like hundreds and thousands of other women she’d suffered many sleepless nights in a damp air raid shelter, endless restrictions, queuing and bombing, etc. Danny had been absolutely correct to say that having fought hard in a war for years, his father saw himself as the only one in need of care.
‘My son too is finding it hard to accept this apparent stranger as his father, constantly complaining about his lack of interest in him, once his precious son. We worry it may never be possible to improve Donald’s temper or achieve a happy family life, something I’ve dreamed of for years. Perhaps I shouldn’t be telling you this, Cathie, but with my girls living in some remote place, who else is there for me to turn to for sympathy and support except you, love? I hope you don’t mind.’
Cathie gently squeezed her hand. ‘Of course I don’t, Aunty. You certainly have my complete attention and love. Have you, by any chance, spoken to those teachers who escorted my cousins when they were evacuated?’
Evie shook her head. ‘I never could find any, as they’re no longer working at that old school. Not even sure they were around when Joanne and Megan were evacuated that second time, once the bombing started.’
Giving a small frown of consideration, Cathie said, ‘I think I know where one of them lives, so I’ll go and have a chat with her, if you like, and see if she remembers where they were taken.’
‘Oh, thanks, love, that would be wonderful. I’ve spoken countless times to the billeting officer but he seems to have disappeared too now, the war being long over. What a mess I seem to be in.’
The next time Joanne visited Jubilee House, to her amazement she found it largely closed, only a few regular guests staying there, perhaps because summer was over. Megan came running along the passage to welcome her with a burst of joy and a warm hug. ‘So good to see you, sis.’
‘And you, lovey. You look very fit and well.’ Then noticing the dusty state of the staircase with bits of plaster and rubble lying around on the steps and a ladder going up to the loft, she asked what on earth was happening.
‘Take a look,’ Megan said, and pushed her up the stairs where she surprisingly saw Bernie’s face suddenly appear in the loft entrance hatch, grinning down at her.
‘Hello, I’m putting in a new bedroom,’ he said.
‘Oh, my goodness, that can’t be easy but what a good idea.’
‘He’s a very clever man,’ Megan proudly remarked. ‘Pop up the ladder to take a look at it while I finish off my homework. Then we could go for a walk on the beach or along the pier if you like.’
When her sister scampered off, Joanne climbed up the ladder and peeped into the loft, hugely impressed by its size and appearance. What had once been a fairly scrubby storage area had now been cleaned out. ‘Heavens, it looks much bigger and more classy than I remember.’
Bernie was clearly busily engaged in painting the walls. He put down his brush, rubbed his hands on his work trousers then helped her in. ‘You’re welcome to give me your opinion on the plan of this room.’
Looking at it in more detail, Joanne was amazed to see that a bathroom had been added, a fitted wardrobe built into the far wall and a bright window installed with a view of the sea. ‘Did you do all this work?’
‘I did, with quite a bit of help and training from a friend,’ he said. ‘What do you think?’
‘Oh, it’s wonderful. Megan is right, you are indeed a clever and most practical man.’
Glancing at him, she thought how Bernie seemed to be even taller, fitter and better looking than when she’d last seen and worked with him some months ago, let alone last year when they’d supposedly been courting. His thick brown hair still flopped over his brow but his square face was clear of the spots and rashes that had bothered him when he was a young boy. He appeared quite friendly towards her now, obviously no longer concerned about her refusal to marry him. Maybe he’d found himself a new girlfriend, a thought that brought a strange flicker of gloom within her, not having the possibility or desire to find anyone for herself. Had she made the right decision to leave here when she couldn’t find her mother, relative or any old friend in Castlefield? It felt a most lonely place to live. She then became aware that Bernie was explaining his next task.
‘Once I’ve finished painting the walls and woodwork, the last job will be to make the entrance much wider and build up a small staircase. My mate Johnny, who lives down the road, has promised to help with that too. He’s training me on how to do this building work, claiming an extra pair of hands to hold and hammer things and offer instructions is most useful,’ he said with a grin.
‘Good for you. I assume that set of steps will need to be quite small. Presumably it’s then just a case of putting in new furniture. Whose room will this be?’ she asked, returning his smile with one of respect.
‘My aunts’. I’ll then update and improve the room I occupy on the floor below, which makes sense. I have plans and ideas for other parts of the house too, not least putting in more bathrooms, which I’ll work on bit by bit.’
‘Excellent. I admire this ability in you. You’re clearly good at this job.’
‘The training takes quite a bit of time,’ he said with a chuckle. The expression in his grey eyes then changed to one of concern. ‘So how about you, Joanne? I hope your new job is working for you. And have you managed to find any news of your mother?’
‘Not yet, but being a waitress at this hotel is fine,’ she brightly remarked, having no wish to complain about the sense of despair and loneliness she felt.
Reaching over, he tapped his hand gently on her shoulder, as if recognizing some distress in her. ‘It can’t be easy,’ he murmured and, to her stunned amazement, Joanne experienced a strange wish to fall into his arms. If she’d stayed on here and accepted Bernie’s proposal, this could have been their bedroom as a married couple. Would that have been a good thing or not? She’d dismissed this young man and clearly put her life into something of a muddled mess. Would she ever calm down and find anyone to love and care for her whom she was willing to accept? Joanne thought she no longer had any wish to see that GI ever again. From now on she must stop fretting about the mistakes she’d made in the past. But if and when she’d find happiness was very much open to question. She certainly had no intention of ever attaching herself to Bernie Flynn. It was really time she found herself a friend and life of her own, as well as caring for her beloved sister.
Having spent the entire summer searching for her mother to no avail, Joanne came to the decision to ease off the time she spent looking for her, which had proved to be utterly useless. Much as she loved and missed Mam, she felt worn out and riddled with a sense of depression so resolved to freshen herself up. As a consequence, she started visiting the cinemas and theatres, sometimes with Shirley or other members of staff who generally welcomed her presence. On occasions, Joanne would find herself agreeing to accompany a young man, there being quite a few who worked here. These alleged dates were always a little disappointing, perhaps because these men
were rather boring or wrapped up in themselves. Still carrying the memory of Teddy in her heart, she desperately attempted to banish it, but whenever they tried to give her a kiss or a cuddle, it never appealed to her and she’d tactfully resist.
Recalling the request she’d received from that young man working as a chef here at the hotel, which she’d firmly declined, she thought that maybe that had been a mistake and he could be a better possibility. When next she saw Andy the chef in the kitchen, she went over to say hello and give him a smile. ‘That offer you made for you and I to have a date, I’m thinking I might now agree to give it a go.’
Looking at her in amazement, he gave a shrug. ‘Too late, love, I’ve found somebody else, a gorgeous friendly girl called Shirley Nuttall, your waitress partner.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, not to worry, it was just a thought. Shirley is a lovely girl, I do hope you get on well.’
‘’Course we will. She’s most adoring. I gave you the chance to get to know me better but you weren’t interested and obstinately refused. She didn’t, so you’ve missed the chance.’
Hearing him start to laugh filled her with embarrassment as she quickly walked away. Dear Lord, what an idiot girl she was to be trying to resolve her sense of loneliness by finding herself a boyfriend. Her so-called friend hadn’t even mentioned her own success. Joanne now came to the decision to remain single and ignore all men.
Chapter Fourteen
Autumn 1946
Autumn had arrived and, as Evie sat huddled on the wall down by the canal breathing in the smell of tar and coal dust, of cold damp water, mud and grass, she came to the decision it was time for her to visit Cumberland, her husband feeling a little better. Hopefully her niece had found out the information she needed from that teacher she’d offered to speak to.
Peace In My Heart Page 11