The Lost Daughter of Liverpool: A heartbreaking and gritty family saga (The Mersey Trilogy Book 1)

by Pam Howes

  Once served, the men took to the tables and Flo pushed the tea trolley around while Ivy got more plates out ready for the day shift. The two sausages were still hidden away and she fried more eggs and sliced her last loaf, ready for toast. Her nerves were getting the better of her now that it was nearly time for Joe to dash in for his hurried breakfast. He’d been coming in for his dinner lately as well, after a spell of bringing sarnies from home. Likely as not Dora had got fed up of fussing around him like most wives seemed to do after a few months of marriage. He’d be even more neglected when she had two babies to care for. That’s when Ivy planned to step up her campaign of making sure he was properly fed while he was at work.

  Flo brought the tea trolley back laden with dirty pots and cutlery and started to fill the sink with hot water and soap suds.

  The night workers called their goodbyes as the day shift arrived. Ivy’s heart sank when she couldn’t see Joe amongst them. She’d just about given up hope when he dashed in and hurried straight across to the counter, his brown hair flopping into his eyes.

  ‘I bet you’ve nothing left,’ he gasped as Ivy produced a plate with two sausages and two slices of toast and a fried egg.

  ‘I made sure I saved you something.’

  ‘Oh, Ivy, you’re an absolute doll, do you know that?’ Joe said with a broad grin, and handed her some money. ‘Bloody motorbike broke down. I had to run for the bus and then the connecting tram was late. Something I could do without now Dora’s so close to dropping the babies. Thank you.’ He hurried away with his meal and Flo took him a mug of tea over to the table where his mates were just finishing eating.

  Ivy preened behind the counter. He’d called her a doll. What a nice compliment. She watched as the other men left the canteen. Joe was sitting alone now, wolfing down his breakfast in-between slurps of hot tea. She poured herself a mug of tea while Flo started washing up behind the screens at the back of the kitchen area.

  ‘Mind if I sit here for my break?’ Ivy said, sidling over to Joe’s table.

  ‘Feel free, I’m nearly done now.’ He shoved the last bit of toast into his mouth. ‘You’ve no idea how welcome that was. I was starving.’

  ‘Doesn’t your wife make you any breakfast?’

  He laughed, his hazel eyes twinkling. ‘No, I make hers though. Don’t have time for my own. Besides, she needs to rest. She can hardly move with the babies at the moment. I’m just thankful we’ve got this canteen, or I’d probably starve to death.’ He got to his feet. ‘Right, I’ll love you and leave you. What’s for dinner, by the way?’

  ‘Lamb stew with dumplings; apple pie and custard.’ Ivy smiled as his eyes lit up. This was definitely one fella whose way to his heart was through his stomach.

  ‘Smashing. Look forward to it. See ya later, chuck.’

  ‘You will.’ He dashed away, leaving Ivy basking in a warm glow and feeling pleased with herself.

  CHAPTER 15

  Dora finished the toast and tea Joe had left her and heaved herself out of bed. She drew back the curtains and opened the window. It was another lovely, sunny day with blue skies and just the occasional fluffy white cloud. Her dad had planted seeds in the borders at the front in the spring and they were now a colourful mass of assorted flowers. Sweet williams and pinks nodded their heads alongside marigolds and night-scented stock. The lawn looked neat and trim and she pictured how it would look in a very short time with the twin pram that Joe’s mother had bought them standing in the middle, her two sleeping babies inside.

  Little Freddie Parker was riding up and down the pavement and Dolly waved as she pushed Alice in her trolley.

  ‘Do you need owt from the shops, Dora?’ Dolly called.

  ‘No thanks, Dolly. Mam will be here soon and she was getting some shopping in for us.’

  ‘Okay, if you need me, I’ll be back in a bit.’

  Dora had a quick strip-wash; she couldn’t manage the bath when she was alone in the house in case she got stuck. In the bedroom she gazed at the dress she’d laid out on the bed and shook her head. Yet another huge tent, this time navy and white spotted, but it would have to do. It wasn’t for much longer anyway and then she could cut them all up and make herself some nice summer dresses and skirts. No point in wasting good material. She was sick of wearing giant size clothes and huge knickers that looked like parachutes. God knows what Joe thought of her appearance at the moment, although he was nothing but loving and kind. She slipped the dress on over her head and checked her appearance in the mirror. She looked pale, with shadows under her eyes, but no wonder; she’d hardly slept a wink for the last week. The babies had quietened down a little in the last day or so, but prior to that they’d been on the move night and day. The midwife had called in yesterday to check her over, and everything had been okay. It could be any day now, she’d said, and Dora was ready and waiting.

  She waddled into the sewing room, now taken over by baby paraphernalia. Her dad and Frank had made another cradle on Friday, painted it Saturday and brought it round last night. She could still smell the fresh paint. Joanie had made two pretty patchwork coverlets and matching pillowcases for the cradles. The cupboards and drawers that had held her sewing equipment were stocked with neatly folded nappies, sheets and blankets, tiny vests and nighties. Her mam had brought a wicker basket round that she’d lined in yellow and white gingham and the members of her WI group from the village hall had filled with useful items: Johnson’s baby powder and soap, nappy pins, Fuller’s Earth Cream and fluffy white flannels and matching towels. Joe’s mother had kept the twin pram up at her house for now. It was standing covered with a sheet in the morning room. Mam had said it was bad luck to bring a pram into the house until the babies had arrived. Dora was certain it was an old wives’ tale, but she was taking no chances.

  She pottered into the kitchen and swung the back door open to let some air in. The bungalow felt stifling as she drew the sitting room curtains back and opened the window in there. She switched on the radio: Bing Crosby was singing ‘Swinging on a Star’ and she joined in. She really missed going out with Joe at the weekends and dancing to his band. As the announcer read out the next request for ‘Five Minutes More’ by Frank Sinatra, Dora sank down onto the sofa and put her swollen feet up on the coffee table. Her mam had offered to babysit occasionally once the babies were old enough and Joe said he’d get a single bed for the spare room, so that she could stay over.

  She hated not being with him and was sure that Ivy woman would be making the most of her being out of action. Joe had been eating in the canteen since she’d been unable to get up early and make his sarnies. He had laughed at her when she’d had a grumble last week. Said she was imagining things that were never going to happen. And that yes, Ivy was always in the canteen when he went in for food, as she was in charge, but there was nothing he could do about that and she mustn’t get worked up about it. She knew it was those hormone things at work again, making her feel jealous, but she couldn’t help it.

  The babies did their usual wriggle just as she’d got herself comfy, dancing on her bladder and getting their feet caught in her ribs. Christ, she needed a wee again. She banged her mug down onto the table, slopping tea onto last night’s Echo, and heaved herself to her feet. She lumbered to the bathroom and let out a yelp as warm liquid trickled down her legs and pooled by her bare feet on the lino floor. ‘Damn it, now you’ve made me wet myself, you little buggers.’ She yanked off her soggy underwear and filled the sink with water for another wash. But the liquid continued to trickle and then a tightening sensation around her middle, followed by a breath-taking abdominal pain, made her call out in fright. She hadn’t wet herself after all; the liquid was her waters breaking. Oh God and her mam hadn’t arrived yet. Dora hurriedly dried her legs and bent to wipe the floor with the towel, but she couldn’t reach and another pain shot through her. She caught hold of the sink to steady herself. If she moved there’d be a trail of water over the carpets, but she couldn’t stay in the bathroom; she needed
to get to the phone and then onto her bed.

  She grabbed another hand towel off the rail, folded it and held it between her legs while she shuffled to the hall. The numbers for the midwife, Joe’s works and one of her mam’s neighbours were written on a pad on the small telephone table and she called the midwife first. She was assured that someone would be with her as soon as possible and to make sure they were able to obtain access to the house. Dora made sure the front door was already unlocked, then called the number for Joe. The ROF workforce had a telephone in a small alcove in the canteen, and was allowed to take personal calls for emergencies only. The message was passed to the worker, who was expected to use their discretion about returning the call. Dora held onto the doorframe and tried to cross her legs to stop another wave of pain from taking her breath away. The call was answered by a woman but with music playing in the canteen background she didn’t recognise the voice.

  ‘This is Dora Rodgers,’ she gasped. ‘Can you get a message to my husband Joe Rodgers on the factory floor, please? Tell him I’ve gone into labour. Thank you.’ There was a sharp intake of breath from the person on the end of the line, but before Dora could say anything more the phone went dead.

  She hung up, hoping the message would be passed on, and made her way into the bedroom where everything was ready and waiting. The delivery packs were on top of the chest of drawers alongside several old towels that her mam had boiled, so they were sterilised. They would be disposed of after the birth. A plastic sheet was already on the bed, under the cotton sheet, to protect the mattress, just in case her waters broke during the night. There was nothing to do now other than wait for the midwife, her mam and Joe. Not that he’d be much use, and as her mam had said, birthing wasn’t a man’s place, but she just needed to know that he was close by and could hold her in his arms when it was all over. She folded back the green candlewick bedspread and blankets, spread a couple of the old towels on top of the sheet and hoisted herself up onto the bed to wait.

  Ivy slammed down the phone, took a deep breath and went back to making a large pan of custard. That’s one message she wasn’t passing on to anyone. If Joe went dashing off now he’d miss the dinner he was looking forward to. Dora could lump it. She didn’t need him there; she’d have her mother and the midwife and probably a doctor too, with it being twins. Joe would only get in the way. Better he stayed here for the time being.

  Flo came back into the kitchen and started to sort out the cutlery and plates.

  ‘Right. Get ready for the onslaught,’ Ivy said as the bell signalled the first dinnertime shift. Joe was usually amongst the second lot of workers at one o’clock. She’d make sure he got two dumplings to keep him going. The doors swung open and the hungry workers surged towards the counter, picking up trays from the end to carry their hot plates to the tables.

  ‘A good scoop of stew and one dumpling each,’ Ivy called to Flo, who was ladling the stew onto plates.

  The hungry workforce tucked in. The time flew by as it always did on the dinnertime shift and the next lot of workers came hurrying in, Joe one of the last, as usual.

  His face lit up as Ivy passed him his laden plate and she watched as he carried it back to the table and joined his workmates. She heard them ribbing him about the double dumplings, threatening to tell his missus. He didn’t rise to the bait, just got stuck in. His neighbour, Eric, seated opposite him, lit a cigarette and asked him how Dora was doing.

  ‘She’s weary, mate. Can hardly move, poor love. Still, she could start any day now. I’ll try and ring her before I go back upstairs if the phone’s free. Otherwise it’ll have to wait until the afternoon break. Her mam was coming over again today to look after her, and your Dolly always knocks on to see if she needs anything. Still can’t believe we’re having two.’

  ‘Aye, I’ll bet,’ Eric said with a grin. ‘You’ll enjoy them.’

  Ivy was keeping one ear on Joe and Eric’s conversation while she cleared the table behind them. Joe had finished his stew and she fetched his pudding over.

  ‘Bloody hell, we have to queue up and get our own,’ another pal shouted from the top of the table. ‘Stop mollycoddling him, Ivy. It’s his missus that’s carrying the babbies, not him.’

  Ivy could feel her cheeks warming. Was she making her favouritism a bit too obvious? ‘I could see he’d finished his stew and I was going to the counter anyway,’ she blustered. ‘If you lot were a bit more polite to me you might get treated with a bit of respect, too.’ She swung the trolley round with such force it hit Eric’s chair leg and he dropped his ciggie on the table. ‘Oops, hit a nerve, have they?’ he teased as Ivy flounced away.

  She busied herself behind the counter and glanced across at Joe, who was shovelling his pudding away like he was starving. When he’d finished he got to his feet and carried his empty dish over.

  ‘To save your lovely legs,’ he said. ‘Thank you, that was delicious. Ignore that lot. I’m sorry if they embarrassed you. They don’t mean any harm.’

  She half-smiled and took his dish. Lovely legs, eh? ‘See you later at tea break,’ she said as he nodded and went back to join his mates, who were getting ready to go back upstairs to the factory floor.

  CHAPTER 16

  Dora cried out in agony as the midwife knocked on the front door, pushed it open and called out that she was here.

  ‘I’m in the bedroom,’ Dora shouted. ‘Oh thank goodness you’re here. I was getting really frightened.’

  ‘Oh, you’re on your own.’ Nurse Dawson hurried to her side and took charge. ‘Where’s your mother?’

  ‘She’s not here yet, and I’ve called for Joe. His bike broke down earlier, so he’ll have to get the bus and tram home. He shouldn’t be too long now, though.’ Dora took another deep breath and let out a yell.

  ‘I’m just going to get unpacked and make sure we’ve got everything we need. Doctor Owens will be here later.’

  As Nurse Dawson laid out the contents of the delivery packs the front door opened again and Dora’s mam called out that it was only her. ‘Is the midwife here, chuck? There’s a bicycle near the front door.’

  ‘We’re in the bedroom, Mrs Evans. Dora’s gone into labour, but she’s doing very well. I need some boiled water, so if you want to get the kettle on the go, I’ll examine her and see how we’re doing.’

  ‘Oh my lord, I’m sorry I’m late, today of all days,’ Mam said. ‘Have you let Joe know?’

  Dora nodded. ‘Ages ago,’ she grunted as a spasm of pain hit her. She lay back on the pillows and grimaced as the midwife wiped her face with a cool flannel and then listened to the babies’ heartbeats with the ear trumpet pressed close to Dora’s tummy.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ Dora asked anxiously. ‘I can’t feel them moving very much at all now.’

  ‘Movement usually slows down in labour. Everything is fine, both heartbeats are loud and clear, that’s what I like to hear,’ the midwife reassured her. ‘Try and relax a little in-between your contractions. Take some deep breaths. Have you thought of any names for the babies?’

  Dora nodded. ‘They’re written on the pad on the bedside table. In order as they come out. But if it’s one of each, it’s the first names. Owwweee,’ she gasped. She’d never felt such pain. Surely that couldn’t be right? But the midwife didn’t seem unduly worried. She closed her eyes and tried to relax and do the deep breathing she’d been told about at the antenatal clinic. It was supposed to help, though God knew how. She groaned. ‘I wish Joe was here. I need to know he’s close by.’

  ‘He won’t be long now,’ the midwife said, patting her hand reassuringly.

  At three o’clock Joe went into the canteen for his afternoon tea break, hoping to get a chance to use the phone to call Dora. It hadn’t been free at dinnertime, but no news was good news and there’d been no messages brought up to him. He looked across to see Eric waving frantically and holding the phone out.

  ‘What’s up?’ he called hurrying over.

  ‘It’s my missus, yo
u’d best get home. Dora’s been in labour since this morning, apparently. Dolly popped in and Dora’s mam was worried because you’d not shown up yet. I was just coming upstairs to get you.’

  ‘I’d no idea,’ Joe said, snatching the phone. ‘Dolly, tell them I’ll be with them as soon as I can. I’ll get a taxi. Hang the expense.’

  He handed the phone to Eric, who told him Dora had rung ages ago and spoken to a woman.

  ‘No one gave me the message. Bet it was that dozy bloody Flo.’ He yelled across to where Flo was pouring tea and Ivy was slicing seed cake. ‘Who took a call from my wife this morning?’

  Both looked up and Ivy shrugged and carried on slicing cake. Flo shook her head. ‘Not me, Joe. It’s not rung all day as far as I know.’

  ‘Really? Well that’s odd.’

  Eric called across that he’d got a number from Dolly and had booked him a taxi for as soon as possible. ‘Thanks, mate,’ Joe called back. ‘Dolly said Dora spoke to a woman,’ he told Ivy and Flo. ‘No one gave me the message. She’s in labour and needs me.’ He hurried away and out of the canteen to collect his things from upstairs and to wait in the foyer for his taxi.

  He was home within fifteen minutes and dashed indoors to be met by his mother-in-law wringing her hands in the hallway as his wife screamed in pain in their bedroom. He flung his working things onto the hall floor and hurried to wash his hands at the kitchen sink. Before he could say anything a baby’s cry rent the air and Dora’s mam burst into tears and flung her arms around him.

  ‘Oh, thank the lord for that,’ she cried. ‘Doctor’s in with her now. She’s having a hard time, Joe. I really wish she was in the maternity home with all its facilities.’

  ‘I didn’t get the message,’ Joe said, tears running down his cheeks. ‘I’d have been here hours ago if I’d known.’

  ‘You’re here now, that’s all that matters. They sent me out while they delivered the baby. I’ll pop in and see what it is. It’s got a good pair of lungs anyway. She’s been crying for Joanie but the midwife said she couldn’t go in with her, so there was no point in getting her back from work.’