by Annie Groves
‘Honestly, Winnie, what a thing to say.’ Rita wanted to scream in frustration. ‘You know darn well that this shop would have ground to a halt if it wasn’t for Violet. She keeps the place together so you can lie in your bed.’
‘Well, you should be working here, not gallivanting off,’ Winnie protested, going back to her favourite theme of the past eighteen months or so.
‘Hardly gallivanting.’ Rita wiped her hands on her faded cotton printed apron. ‘Right, I can’t spend any more time looking for it. I’ll try again later. Excuse me, I’m going back to the shop.’ She had to brush against Winnie, who was slow to move from the doorway, and caught the unmistakable smell of sherry on the old woman’s breath. Involuntarily she gasped and drew back, it was so unpleasant. She’d suspected for some time that Winnie had been hitting the bottle, but never had she smelt it so strongly.
‘What?’ demanded Winnie belligerently.
Rita turned to face her. ‘You need to go steady on that sherry, Winnie. It’s not even lunchtime.’
‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Winnie insisted, straightening up, but still holding on to the doorframe. ‘Don’t you go spreading rumours about me. I won’t have it.’
As if, thought Rita. What would be the point? Still, she couldn’t help wondering where Winnie was getting the extra money. In the old days she’d have been selling her black-market goods to her specially selected group of customers, but that had all changed now. Or had she found some way of palming off the corned beef in exchange for sherry? Rita shook her head. She was being ridiculous. Violet would have noticed something if that had been the case. There had to be another explanation.
‘Why don’t you go back upstairs and have a nice wash, Winnie?’ she suggested, unable to stop herself wrinkling her nose.
Winnie glared at her malevolently through red-veined eyes. ‘Don’t you imply anything about me, young lady,’ she hissed. ‘I shall go upstairs, but only because I don’t care to be in the same room as you. That’s all.’ She tottered unsteadily along the dim corridor and headed up the steps.
Rita stared after her for a moment but then forced her mind back to the job in hand, restocking the shelves so that Violet wouldn’t have to. Violet would forget to record which items had been moved from the storeroom to the shop itself, and then the whole system would break down. It was precarious enough at the best of times as more and more goods became hard to obtain, but Rita made an effort to keep some semblance of order. They needed to keep the shop going; her nurse’s wages weren’t enough to get by on. There had still been no word from Charlie, let alone any money, and now it looked as if they had Winnie’s sherry habit to support as well.
A noise from the living quarters made her turn. Ruby was there, smiling shyly. ‘Would you like a cup of tea, Rita? I can boil the kettle.’
Rita smiled back. ‘I’d love one.’ It was only recently that Ruby had plucked up the courage to do this, even though it was coming up for six months since she’d arrived. Rita hadn’t wanted to let her near the kettle or anything hot to begin with, as she seemed completely incapable of working out what was dangerous and what wasn’t. It was a slow process, getting her to adjust to normal life – or as normal as it got these days. For the hundredth time Rita wondered what Ruby’s existence had been like before she came here. Now she nodded encouragingly as the young woman brought through a tray with a teapot, two cups and saucers and a small jug of milk.
‘There you are,’ she said seriously, setting them on the counter. ‘See, I know how to do this now.’
Rita grinned in gratitude. ‘And very welcome it is, Ruby. Tell you what. Do you mind standing here behind the counter while I take out the empty cardboard boxes? I’m going to keep them in the back yard until Mam can collect them. She can tear them up and put them on the victory garden compost heap.’
‘What … what if someone comes in?’ Ruby asked nervously.
‘Then you ask them nicely to wait a minute and call me,’ explained Rita. ‘I won’t be a moment.’
Ruby’s face became determined. ‘All right.’
‘Good girl,’ said Rita, thinking that although Ruby was only a few years younger than herself, the age difference seemed much greater. Still, the girl was improving. She would never have agreed to mind the shop until recently. Rita went to the corner where she’d left the boxes, bent to pick them up and pushed through the back door to the tiny courtyard. She’d propped up a makeshift roof of old galvanised metal across the corner of two walls, so that she could stack the cardboard out of the way where it could keep dry until Dolly could fetch it.
Rita noticed with a groan that the back wall could do with repairing. It must have been all the explosions shaking it; several bricks had been dislodged. She didn’t have time to do anything about it now, but she’d add it to her list of chores. Maybe Pop or Danny could help her, or at least ask someone who was handy. She wouldn’t know how to start.
Turning from her improvised shelter, she felt a prickling at the back of her neck, as if she was being watched. She straightened up and gazed around, but there was nothing out of the ordinary, just the same old back yard. Don’t be daft, she told herself. It must have been a breeze. That, or you’ve spooked yourself by thinking of what Winnie is doing to get her sherry money. Don’t let yourself imagine something when there isn’t anything there.
She was about to go back inside when she heard a faint noise, a slight scuffling, maybe like a stone being struck along the paving. Again she turned anxiously and gazed around.
Suddenly there was a flash of movement to her left and she wheeled about, catching sight of the culprit. It was a tortoiseshell cat, leaping from the side wall on to the galvanised roof. Insolently it came to a halt and sat there, watching her intently with its big hazel eyes.
Rita breathed out heavily. It was the creature that usually hung around the end of the road by the Sailor’s Rest. Obviously it had decided to broaden its territory. Well, not a lot she could do about that, and as long as it didn’t try to get into the dustbins or come inside after scraps it wasn’t really doing any harm. ‘Go on with you, puss,’ she said half-heartedly, clapping her hands at it. It didn’t move, and then stretched before settling down in a patch of sunlight.
It’s all right for some, muttered Rita to herself, returning to the shop to relieve Ruby. What I wouldn’t give for a nice morning nap in the warmth. Fat chance of that.
Danny groaned as his supervisor down at the Gladstone Dock gave him yet another tedious list of crates to check. He’d done nothing but check crates in the warehouse all week. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that this was vital for the war effort, he was bored out of his mind. The supervisor didn’t help. The man had done the same job for years and was self-important and petty. Nothing was ever right for him. Even if Danny completed his latest task in double-quick time, the man would find fault with the exact angle of his ticks on the form.
Gritting his teeth, he picked up the detested clipboard and made his way to the doorway of the warehouse to begin at the first aisle.
‘All right, Dan?’
Danny spun round and saw a figure silhouetted against the brightness of the sun’s glare. For a moment he struggled to make out who it was, but it didn’t take long to work it out.
‘What do you want, Alfie?’ he asked wearily. ‘I’m working, as you can see.’
‘So am I, Dan, so am I,’ Alfie said easily, taking a long drag on his cigarette. ‘Just thought I’d pop by and see how you were getting along. A little bird told me you were back at work. Does that mean you’re feeling better? Not too much better, I hope. That’d spoil our little arrangement.’
‘Thanks for your concern, Alfie,’ Danny said, his voice heavy with sarcasm, ‘but, as you damn well know, we have no arrangement, little or otherwise. So you can sling your hook and get back to wherever you’re pretending to work.’
‘Danny, Danny.’ Alfie held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘That’s no way to trea
t an old friend. I was just enquiring after your health. And making sure exactly where you were.’
‘What’s it to you?’
‘So I know how to find you if I need to,’ said Alfie. ‘Just in case anything urgent should arise, if you know what I mean.’ He ground his cigarette butt into the ground with precise aggression.
Danny briefly shut his eyes. As long as he worked on the docks, Alfie would have an excuse to come and find him at any time. Was there to be no escape from the man?
‘Oh aye, here comes trouble,’ Alfie said brightly. ‘That’s your boss, isn’t it? Looks as if someone’s shoved a bee up his arse, I’ve never seen him move so fast. What you been up to then, Dan? He’s got a face like thunder. And look over there, that’s top brass, that is. Oh Danny, have you been a naughty boy? Time I wasn’t here.’ He turned lightly on his foot and sped off, not waiting to see what the supervisor wanted.
Danny drew himself up straight. He couldn’t imagine what this might be about, but it must be serious. He squinted towards the uniformed man in the distance, and could make out a gleam of gold on his jacket. Not your average naval officer, then.
‘Mr Callaghan, come with me,’ the supervisor ordered, slightly out of breath and red in the face. His face betrayed controlled fury. ‘I don’t know what you’ve been doing but you’ve been summoned to go immediately with Lieutenant Commander Sykes here. You’ve left me in the lurch good and proper, and you’d better come back with a bloody marvellous excuse.’ He held out his hand. ‘Give me that clipboard.’
Utterly baffled, Danny did as he was asked. His heart sank. Had Alfie set him up? What on earth was going on?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘Kitty, you look lovelier than ever.’ Elliott’s warm eyes met Kitty’s as they came to a halt outside the famous old pub near Hampstead Heath. The sun had just set over the treeline and the last of the birds were calling their cries at dusk. The warmth rose off the pavement and it seemed for an instant that all was at peace with the world.
‘Elliott! You do say some funny things.’ But Kitty was pleased. She had almost surprised herself at how happy she’d been to see the doctor, who’d turned up at her billet to escort her out for the evening. Kitty had worried that she didn’t know anywhere smart to go, or that he’d expect a night of dancing in the West End, but he hadn’t. He confessed he’d had to work right up to the time he’d had to leave to catch his train, and then had had to stand most of the way, so even his enthusiasm for dancing had been curbed. ‘Tomorrow, maybe,’ he’d said when she’d voiced her anxiety. ‘But for tonight, may I take you to somewhere where I used to go when I was a student? It’s near my parents’ house in Hampstead. I think you’ll like it. Don’t worry, it’s not too far from where you are, and of course I’ll see you home.’
Kitty had never doubted that he would; he was the perfect gentleman in every way. She felt shy as he pushed open the heavy old door and held it for her as she stepped inside, worrying that everyone would recognise him and stare at her, but people carried on their conversations without a pause. There were plenty of young men and women in uniform, as well as those in civvies, marking the start of the weekend or simply taking advantage of a night without an air raid.
‘Shall I get you a glass of wine?’ he offered.
Kitty hesitated. When they had gone out together at home, to the prestigious New Year’s Dance at the Town Hall, he had brought her wine and she had sipped it, but honestly hadn’t enjoyed it. Then, she’d felt too unsure of herself to admit it. The pressure of being among so many elegant, wealthy people had rendered her almost speechless. But here it was different. She didn’t have to pretend, to avoid hurting his feelings.
‘If you don’t mind, I’ll just have shandy,’ she said.
‘Shandy? Is that what the newly trained Wren about town has these days?’ he asked with a broad grin. ‘Very refreshing, a good choice. Here, you sit down and I’ll fetch it for you.’ He pulled out a comfort-able-looking chair by a small table and gestured for her to sit down on its faded velvet cushion. It was next to a window; she could see the Heath beyond, gathering its shadows in the fading light.
Kitty laughed inwardly at the idea she was an ‘anything’ about town; she hadn’t dared venture too far yet, except for a few forays with Laura and Marjorie into the city centre to go to the cinema. There simply hadn’t been the time, or they were too tired even when they did have evenings off. But it was fun to think Elliott imagined that’s what she was.
‘Here you are,’ he said, pushing his way through a group of young men in RAF uniform. ‘I decided I’d join you in a shandy. Cheers.’ He sat down opposite her and they clinked glasses. ‘I don’t mind telling you, I’m glad to sit down. And in such beautiful company.’
‘Elliott, you can’t mean that,’ Kitty protested, aware she was blushing and wishing she wasn’t. ‘And you must be exhausted. It’s good of you to have come out, and to have fetched me on top of that. You must have wanted nothing other than to curl up at home with your mother’s good cooking.’
‘Actually I had some of that before I left,’ he smiled. ‘They’d love to meet you, you know.’
Kitty leant back in her seat, her face falling. ‘Oh no, I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t know what to say.’
Elliott’s expression grew concerned. ‘I’m so sorry, that was very presumptuous of me, wasn’t it? I don’t want to rush you, Kitty. That was a silly thing to say. It’s just that I told them I was meeting a very lovely young Wren and they were delighted.’
Kitty fidgeted nervously. ‘It’s not that … well, that’s not all it is,’ she said hesitantly. ‘All right, I hope you don’t mind me saying … I’d feel that I was being compared to your fiancée. That’s what it is.’
‘Oh, Kitty.’ Elliott’s eyes were bright. ‘I do understand. I can’t pretend I wasn’t devastated when Penelope died, and yes, my parents were very fond of her. But I have put all that behind me now. It happened before the war broke out, before I moved to Liverpool. Life has changed tremendously in every way. I was sad for a long time, but,’ he reached across the table for her hand, ‘now I’ve met you. I’m not going to jump to any conclusions, and we haven’t known each other for long, but they can see I’m happy. Therefore they’re happy. One day, when the time is right, it would be wonderful if you would like to meet them – but there’s no hurry.’ He squeezed her hand tenderly. ‘As long as you’re happy too, Kitty. That’s the most important thing.’
Kitty squeezed his hand back. She knew she’d moved on too. She was no longer the uncertain young woman on the verge of leaving home. She was in the heart of things, absorbing her demanding training, mastering the technicalities and making new friends. It didn’t matter that she’d had a drunkard for a father who’d driven her mother to an early grave, or that she’d had to miss out on much of her schooling to help bring up Tommy. She’d thought she was stupid; now she knew she wasn’t. She had a friend who had a teaching certificate, another who could drive a big lorry and hold her cocktails with the best of them. And she was holding hands with a doctor who thought she was beautiful.
‘I am, Elliott,’ she said, her eyes shining in the light from the many lamps adorned with pretty chintz shades. ‘It’s lovely here, isn’t it? I’m so glad we didn’t go dancing; it gives us a chance to talk properly. I love to get your letters but it isn’t quite the same.’
‘I’ll say.’ Elliott raised his glass and took a sip. ‘Every time I read yours, I imagine you writing it, and can’t wait until I see you again. Now we’re here. I’ve missed you, Kitty.’
‘I think about you too,’ Kitty said. ‘I know you don’t have much time to write, so that makes your letters extra-special. I’m so glad to get them.’ Their eyes met, and for a moment she thought he was going to lean forward and kiss her. Then from the bar came a roar from the RAF men, and a figure emerged from behind their group.
‘Fitzgerald! You never said you were coming back, how sly!’ A man of Elliott’s age with fair
skin and red hair came up to their table. ‘I saw your folks the other day and they didn’t say a dickie bird. Good to see you, old chap.’
Elliott rose and shook the man’s had warmly. ‘Smedley, I had no idea you were still here.’
‘I’m at the Royal Free these days, specialist unit,’ the man said. ‘Didn’t you go up north? Up to the wilds somewhere?’
Kitty tried not to flinch; she was getting used to all southerners assuming civilisation didn’t reach very far past London.
‘Hardly the wilds,’ said Elliott. ‘But we’ve had a bit of a rum do up there recently, you could say. We’ve been kept busy, no doubt about it.’ He turned to include Kitty in the conversation. ‘Kitty, may I introduce you to Dr Bill Smedley, scourge of the operating theatre and my very good friend from when we trained at Barts. Bill, this is Kitty Callaghan of the WRNS.’
‘Very pleased to meet you,’ the red-haired man said, shaking her hand easily. ‘Elliott, you lucky man. A Wren, eh? And how do you like London, Miss Callaghan?’
Kitty brought herself back down to earth after the uncertainty of not knowing if Elliott was going to kiss her or not, but soon fell into relaxed conversation with the man. He obviously thought a lot of Elliott, and she found herself glowing with pride for him. She’d known he was a good doctor from his time treating Tommy and Danny – and besides, Rita always knew what the nurses thought of the doctors, and the ones who were all mouth got little sympathy from them. But to hear it from an old friend was immensely satisfying. It wasn’t until he’d made his way back to his friends – ‘Mustn’t outstay my welcome’, but said with a wink – that she took a moment to realise that she was actually sitting in a pub in the capital city making conversation with two doctors, neither of whom were looking down on her. In fact, one was looking at her in a very special way indeed.