Lights Out Liverpool

by Maureen Lee

  ‘He asked me to go in and sign some forms. He’s writing to Francis to see if he wants to appoint a solicitor of his own,’ Eileen told her. ‘At this rate, it’s going to take forever.’

  ‘Solicitors like to stretch things out,’ Miss Thomas said dryly. ‘They seem to think the longer it takes, the more it justifies their horrendous fees. Keep me informed, won’t you, Eileen? I feel as if I have a personal interest in your case. If you succeed, I might even have another try myself.’

  ‘I will,’ Eileen promised.

  The afternoon had never passed more slowly. Eileen could scarcely take her eyes off the clock above the door. She willed the hands to move, to bring nearer the time when she would speak to Nick! It didn’t seem possible that, very soon, she would actually hear his voice.

  At last, the hooter sounded and she sprinted out the door and down the High Street towards the cottage. Once inside, she sat staring at the telephone, willing it to ring with as much intensity as she’d willed the clock to move.

  Quarter past six, twenty past. ‘Hurry up, Nick,’ she prayed.

  It was nearly half past when shrill tones sounded, and despite the fact she was expecting it, Eileen nearly shot through the ceiling. She snatched the receiver up.

  ‘Nick?’

  ‘I’m sorry I’m late. There was a queue for the phone.’ He spoke faintly, in a monotone. She could hardly hear for the crackling on the line.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. How are you, luv? You sound tired.’ If only she could reach out somehow and touch him!

  ‘I’m always tired.’ He gave a funny, little dry laugh that didn’t sound like Nick at all. ‘I’d almost forgotten what a Liverpool accent sounds like. It seems terribly strong over the phone.’

  ‘Is that why you rang? To tell me about my accent?’ The conversation wasn’t going quite the way she’d imagined. She’d expected to be told how much he missed her, not comments on her voice.

  ‘Of course, not! Look, darling, I’ve got to ring off now. There’s people waiting to use this damned phone.’

  ‘But Nick,’ she cried. ‘Why did you ring?’

  There was a pause. ‘Oh, Christ! I forgot. I’ve got a forty-eight-hour pass. I’ll see you in the cottage first thing Sunday morning. Goodbye, darling. Goodbye, I’ve got to go …’

  The receiver went dead and she was left to stare at it vacantly until the realisation dawned. Nick was coming home!

  Annie insisted on having Tony for the day. ‘Chris and I will take him to New Brighton,’ she offered. ‘You won’t have much time with Nick. Put yourself first for once, luv.’

  ‘I don’t suppose it’d hurt, but he’s dying to see Nick almost as much as I am.’

  Tony managed to be persuaded that he’d have a far better time in New Brighton than in Melling, by the promise of plentiful ice cream and a visit to the fairground.

  Early on Sunday morning, Eileen packed a bag with food and set off in her next-to-best blue dress for the cottage. She arrived just before eight o’clock. There was no sign of Nick. She left a note on the door to say she’d gone to Mass.

  It was peaceful in the tiny, surprisingly crowded Catholic church at the end of the High Street. Eileen knelt at the back. Throughout the service, the trees outside rustled gently in the breeze, and as the sun began to creep through the windows, shadows of dancing leaves appeared on the bare cream walls. It was difficult to realise, in such blessed tranquillity, that a war was taking place outside.

  When the priest suggested they pray for peace, Eileen bowed her head and prayed, as she had never prayed before, that the conflict would be over soon. ‘Please, God. Please!’

  She’d been back at the cottage only a few minutes when she heard the sound of a motorbike in the distance. A bubble of happiness rose in her throat, and she went outside and stood on the step, waiting.

  A few seconds later, Nick drew up. Eileen stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. He was here! She watched him remove his goggles and leather helmet. When he saw her waiting, he flung open his arms.

  ‘Don’t I get a kiss?’ he called.

  She flew down the path. He caught her and hugged her so tightly she could scarcely breathe. Her feet left the ground as they rocked together wordlessly for what seemed like an age.

  At last, he released her. ‘You’re a sight for the sorest eyes.’

  Dear God, she thought, he looks dreadful. His mouth was drawn with tiredness, and there were deep lines down his cheeks that hadn’t been there before. And his eyes! At first, she thought the dark shadows were dirt from the journey, but when she rubbed them with her fingers, the shadows were real.

  ‘Come in. I’ve got the kettle on – and the water’s hot. I bet you could do with a cup of tea and a wash.’

  She took his hand and dragged him indoors and was conscious of his weight, as if he was too weary to walk without her help.

  ‘Sit down,’ she urged, as soon as he’d removed his blue greatcoat. ‘You don’t half look handsome in your uniform.’

  ‘I still haven’t had that kiss.’

  She kissed the drawn lips softly. They felt dry and hard. ‘There!’

  Minutes later, when Eileen returned with the tea, Nick was fast asleep in the armchair. She drank both cups and waited for him to wake up naturally. It was mid-day before he opened his eyes.

  ‘Christ!’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’ve wasted three whole hours!’

  ‘They weren’t wasted,’ she said stoutly. ‘Not if you needed the sleep. You must be dead tired.’

  ‘Let’s go to bed and you can wake me up!’

  Halfway upstairs, he stopped and swayed and Eileen reached and caught him before he fell. Somehow, with her help, he managed to remove his clothes and the minute his head touched the pillow, he was asleep again.

  Eileen sat on the chair in the corner of the bedroom and watched him. Although his body was as motionless as a log, nevertheless he seemed restless. His eyes never stopped twitching and he kept making little moaning noises that tore at her heart.

  But as she watched, Eileen felt sympathy give way to anger. There was no need for this. He could have stayed safely at home. Today, it could have been them going to New Brighton with Tony. Instead, due to his stubborn insistence on behaving like a man, doing his bit, he was lying there, more dead than alive. It was all his own fault, she thought bitterly.

  A moan, louder than the others, woke him up. When he came to, he saw her watching from across the room.

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘I don’t know, the clock’s downstairs.’

  He struggled to sit up. ‘I have a feeling I bought you a watch once.’

  ‘I don’t like to wear it in case it breaks.’

  ‘Sensible girl!’ For the first time, his eyes twinkled at her.

  ‘More sensible than you!’

  ‘Do I detect a hint of irritation in your voice?’ he asked flippantly. ‘I’m sorry I keep falling asleep.’ He glanced at his watch and groaned. ‘Another four hours wasted. It’s four o’clock.’

  ‘Yes, you do detect irritation,’ she snapped. ‘And it’s nowt to do with you falling asleep. It’s to do with you joining up when you didn’t need to.’

  ‘Ah!’

  ‘Ah, my foot!’

  ‘Did you just make that up, or is it Shakespeare?’

  ‘Oh, sod off!’

  She left the room, went downstairs and made more tea, half expecting him to follow. After a few minutes, when he hadn’t appeared, she thought, ‘I bet he’s fallen asleep again,’ so went back, ready to glare at him from the corner again.

  He was still sitting up, wide awake. ‘I’d still do it,’ he said simply, ‘even knowing what I do now.’

  ‘I know you would, because you’re a bloody idiot.’

  ‘I have to live with myself for the rest of my life,’ he countered.

  ‘If there’s a life for you to live the rest of.’ She frowned at the rather garbled sentence.

  Nick shrugged expressively. ‘I’m
still here, aren’t I?’

  ‘Barely.’

  He patted the bed and winked. ‘Get in!’

  ‘Nick! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but I hate seeing you like this.’ She threw herself onto the bed and he sank down beside her. She began to stroke his body, but after a while, they both realised it was hopeless.

  ‘I’m sorry, too,’ he muttered. ‘I’m bone weary. Just let me hold you.’

  She lay in his arms for a long time. Inevitably, he fell asleep, his body heavy on hers. Eileen slipped out of bed when she felt herself grow numb from his weight. For something to do, she took his uniform downstairs and pressed it, then cleaned his shoes, brushed his greatcoat and hung it carefully on a hook in the hall.

  The nights were drawing in and she left the curtains open and sat by the window as the sun began to set and darkness fell in the little low ceilinged room. The cottage was so quiet, you could have heard a pin drop. At about nine o’clock, there was an air raid over Liverpool and she saw searchlights crisscross the sky like giant swords and the brilliant flash of ack ack fire. She hoped Tony was all right with Annie, who was keeping him all night. Nick was leaving at midnight, and Eileen would sleep in the cottage and go straight to Dunnings for the early shift in the morning.

  As she watched the activity in the sky, she was sure she had never felt so lonely in her life. She began to weep, because everything was so tragic. What had they done to her darling Nick? The day, which she had been looking forward to so much, had been a nightmare. All she’d done was look at the clock, whilst he slept and slept and slept. They hadn’t even had the opportunity to talk, let alone make …

  ‘Eileen?’

  She jumped. ‘Nick! I didn’t hear you come down.’

  He was only half dressed and in his bare feet. ‘Someone’s taken most of my clothes,’ he said accusingly. ‘It can only be you.’

  ‘I pressed them and cleaned your shoes.’

  ‘You haven’t pressed my socks!’

  ‘I straightened them up a bit.’

  ‘Oh, my dearest girl! Are you crying? What are you doing sitting in the dark? Come here!’ He pulled her out of the chair, and sat her on his knee. ‘There’s a raid on!’ he remarked in surprise.

  ‘We have them nearly every night now.’

  ‘Do you, now?’ He turned Eileen’s face towards him. ‘Darling,’ he said urgently, ‘why don’t you and Tony move out here?’

  When she didn’t reply, he went on, ‘If you stay in Pearl Street, you’ll be doing what you accuse me of, taking risks you don’t have to.’

  ‘I don’t like to leave me family.’

  ‘Your family are important, Eileen, but it’s us that matters more than anything in the world; you and me and Tony. Don’t you see that?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  His voice rose exultantly. ‘Then you’ll move?’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’ Something had to be done about Tony. With Annie leaving as soon as she got married, there was no-one to look after him, particularly when there was a raid. Sheila couldn’t have him, not with all six of them already crushed together under the stairs, and her dad was determined to ignore the raids and slept through every one, or so he claimed. Sean was out every night with the Civil Defence Messenger Service. Perhaps coming to Melling, where Dunnings was only a short walk away and she could come to an arrangement with a local woman with children, would be a good idea. She’d tell Pearl Street she was moving to avoid the raids, though she supposed a few tongues would still wag when they heard the news.

  ‘I’d better start getting ready to go back.’ Nick gave her a push. ‘Did you say there’s hot water?’

  ‘The tank’s full. Shall I make something to eat? You’ve not had a bite all day. There’s bacon and eggs and a bit of cheese and some cream crackers …’

  ‘I’ll have the lot. I’m starving.’

  ‘Well, at least you’ve got an appetite, if nothing else!’ she said smiling as she drew the curtains and switched on the light.

  ‘I’ll have the “nothing else” next time I come.’ He grinned and put his hand over his heart. ‘Promise, on my honour.’

  ‘Nick,’ she said seriously. ‘You mustn’t come all this way again, not when you’ve only got forty-eight hours. You should have stayed on the base and rested. I’d come to you, but what with Tony and me job …’ Although he looked better than when he arrived, he’d be dead on his feet again after the long drive back to Kent. And tomorrow? What would he be doing tomorrow? She dreaded to think.

  ‘It wasn’t a very good idea, was it? It’s just that I was longing to see you again.’

  ‘Well, you’ve seen me.’ Eileen tried to sound practical. ‘I’ll start running the bath. The food’ll be ready by the time you’re out.’

  She busied herself in the kitchen, calling to Nick from time to time in case he fell asleep in the bath. If only he had another day, she thought wistfully.

  Suddenly, Nick shouted urgently. ‘Hey! Something’s happened! Take your clothes off and get in here. Quick!’

  Chapter 16

  Arthur Fleming stopped the lorry in a lay-by on the crest of the hill so he could take a proper look at the view. The scenery was so spectacular, he was having difficulty keeping his eyes on the road. He leant on the wheel and took in the wild undulant moorland on either side – who would have thought there could be so many shades of green? Olive, emerald, jade – too many to identify. There was one patch almost yellow, another almost blue. The trees had an almost uncivilised look; unlopped and un-pruned, they’d been left to grow as they pleased. In the far distance, a glassy lake sparkled.

  It was the first time he’d been to the Lake District, and he was impressed. It was so peaceful. He felt himself drawn towards the natural, almost heartstopping, beauty of the landscape. This was how God had made the world. There were no ugly factories belching smoke, no multi-storey buildings, just little houses here and there, nestling comfortably within a clump of trees, as if they’d grown there.

  ‘Oh, well,’ he sighed. ‘This won’t do. I’d better get a move on.’ There was one more load to deliver in Kendal, a few miles away, then he could go home to Jess. He veered the lorry out into the deserted road and drove on.

  He found his destination in the small town quite easily – a large grey-stone building at the furthest end of the main road. Arthur alighted from the lorry, went round the back and removed the last remaining item, a wooden crate marked FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE. It was surprisingly light, considering its size.

  With the crate hoisted on his shoulder, he rang the bell beside the large double doors of the building and noticed, underneath the bell, a brass plate engraved THE HIGGINBOTHAM MUSEUM OF PREHISTORIC EGYPTIAN AND GREEK ART. Arthur felt a stir of excitement as he waited for what seemed like an age. He was about to ring again, when one half of the door was opened by a young man in an open-necked shirt and shorts. He wore spectacles and was surprisingly bald, considering his obvious youth.

  ‘I’m sorry, we’re closed Mondays,’ he said crisply. ‘Oh, I see you’ve got something for us. Bring it in, won’t you?’

  Arthur followed, interest rising. He was led through another set of doors into a large room lined with glass cases full of restored objects of ancient Greek art, the sight of which sent the blood pounding through his head. Down the centre of the room were several statues of such disreputable appearance that any decent gardener would have consigned them to the dustbin long ago; earth-stained and crumbling and quite obviously pieced together from their original broken fragments, they were still minus many important anatomical parts.

  ‘Oh, I say!’ Arthur breathed reverently, when his eyes fell on this veritable feast of antiquity.

  Mistaking his reverence for disdain, the young man said condescendingly, ‘I suppose it looks rubbish to the uninitiated, but I can assure you, these items are of enormous historical importance to archaeologists.’

  ‘You can say that again!’ said Arthur. He pointed to one of the statues, �
��That’s Minoan, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is.’ The young man gaped.

  ‘Rhea, mother of Zeus. I did my thesis on the early Minoan civilisation.’

  The young man gaped again at the lorry driver in his collarless shirt and braces showing underneath his unbuttoned waistcoat. Who would have thought? Well, it took all sorts …

  ‘Of course!’ Arthur slapped his knee. ‘Higginbotham! Professor Ernest Higginbotham, the Egyptologist. He was one of my heroes.’

  ‘And mine!’ the young man said enthusiastically, Arthur’s appearance forgotten. ‘Did you know he entered Tutankhamen’s tomb with Lord Carnarvon in 1922?’

  ‘And died soon afterwards from the curse,’ Arthur said knowingly, ‘as they all did. But, on the other hand, he was eighty-four!’

  They both laughed.

  ‘This is all his stuff, then?’ Arthur began to wander around the room.

  ‘It’s been added to considerably over the years. Old Ernest’s collection came mainly from Egypt, Old and New Kingdom. That’s on the first floor.’

  ‘Fascinating! Absolutely fascinating. What’s in the crate?’

  ‘It’s a bequest, mainly Mycenean tiles, so I’m given to understand.’

  ‘Really? Should be interesting.’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t think I shall bother to unpack it.’

  ‘Why not?’

  The young man made a face. ‘The museum’s closing down for the duration. I’ve been called up. I thought my sight would rule me out, but it appears to be not as bad as I thought.’

  ‘Oh, I say, that’s a shame.’ Arthur shook his head in sympathy. ‘Do you get many visitors?’

  ‘A few tourists drop in now and again, but primarily, our visitors are experts like … well, like yourself,’ the young man explained. ‘They come from all over the world and the correspondence we receive has to be seen to be believed. People wanting photographs, mainly, or just a general chat, as it were, by letter.’

  ‘It sounds like the most interesting job in the world!’ Arthur said in awe.

  ‘Actually, there are times when it can get a bit boring. I was beginning to think I’d sooner be in at the deep end, digging things up, not cataloguing and showing them off. But then the war started and put paid to any thoughts of going abroad.’