The Leaving Of Liverpool

by Maureen Lee

  ‘Give us a ring if it’s today and we’ll meet for lunch,’ Finn said, and Mollie promised that she would.

  Quinlan’s had had a cancellation at midday and could fit Hazel in then, so the women hurriedly caught the little bus that trundled merrily along the narrow lanes and up and down the hills on its way to Kildare. It was a sunny, icy-cold day and the fields and the bare trees glittered with frost.

  After Hazel had bought two well-boned brassieres and Mollie a bagful of cosmetics, Hazel disappeared into the hairdresser’s and Mollie made her way to her brother’s office to arrange meeting for lunch. She hadn’t phoned as promised, but couldn’t see that it mattered.

  So far, she hadn’t seen the new office. It was situated over a smart dress shop in Silken Street. Finn must be doing well, she thought, when she entered the reception area with its white walls, thick grey carpet, and comfortable black chairs. A low table held an assortment of magazines, an ashtray, and a little gold bell. Typewriters clattered in the neighbouring room. Mollie jingled the bell and a girl emerged.

  ‘I’d like to see Finn Kenny, please,’ Mollie said. ‘Say it’s his sister.’

  ‘He’s gone to lunch, I’m afraid. You’ll find him in The Moon and Sixpence or Jock’s Place. They’re just around the corner from here.’

  Mollie thanked her and the girl returned to her office. Before she left she heard a voice, not that of the girl she’d just spoken to, say, ‘You eejit, you shouldn’t have told her that. You should’ve said you had no idea where Finn had gone.’

  ‘I didn’t think.’

  She was still puzzling over the words when she arrived at The Moon and Sixpence, a creaky old pub with the menu written in chalk on a board outside. She went in, did a quick inspection, but there was no sign of her brother. She remembered eating in Jock’s Place with Mammy and Annemarie once when they’d come to Kildare to do their Christmas shopping. She was twelve and Annemarie ten, and it had seemed desperately exciting. They’d sat at the back in a booth only big enough for four people. Annemarie had remarked how private it was. ‘We could get up to all sorts here and no one would know,’ she’d said.

  And now, twenty years later, her brother, Finn was getting up to something or other in the same place, possibly in the very same booth, where he was sitting opposite a dark-haired woman, holding both her hands across the table. What worried Mollie more than anything was that the woman wasn’t young or more than averagely good-looking, and was modestly dressed in a plain black frock. This wasn’t just an office fling, a moment of madness, with Finn, who was going on for forty and more handsome than ever, having his head turned by some young girl. From the way the pair were looking at each other, she could tell that this was serious.

  ‘Hello,’ she said loudly to Finn. Then to the woman, even more loudly, ‘Hello, I’m Mollie, Finn’s sister. I’m in Kildare with Hazel, she’s Finn’s wife, but she’s just gone to get her hair done. We’re meeting up in about an hour for lunch and I came to ask Finn if he’d like to have his with us.’

  The woman immediately got to her feet. ‘I’ll be seeing you, Finn.’ She gave Mollie a little nod and hurried away. Mollie sat in the seat she’d just vacated. ‘What’s her name?’ she asked.

  ‘Yvonne.’ Finn licked his lips. The expression on his face was a mixture of shame and annoyance. ‘I thought I asked you to telephone if you were coming today?’

  ‘I forgot. We left the house in a rush to catch the bus. I didn’t think it was all that important. Where did you meet her?’

  ‘She manages the dress shop below the office,’ he replied sullenly.

  ‘How convenient. Is she married? Has she got children?’

  ‘She had a husband once, but they didn’t have children.’ He had the nerve to glare at her, as if she was in the wrong! ‘Are you going to tell Hazel?’

  The question irritated her. ‘Do you really think I would?’

  ‘I suppose not.’ He refused to meet her eyes.

  Mollie had never had a reason to be so cross with her brother before and the situation felt very odd. ‘And I suppose you’re going to tell me it’s not serious and that Hazel doesn’t understand you?’

  His reply shocked her. ‘It is serious and Hazel is the best wife in the world. I love her dearly, but not as much as I love Yvonne.’

  A waiter came with steak and chips for Finn and chicken salad for Yvonne. Mollie absentmindedly picked up a piece of chicken and began to eat. Finn didn’t touch his food.

  ‘What’s brought this on, Finn?’ Mollie asked. ‘You and Hazel always seemed the happiest couple in the world. You’ve got eight children, for God’s sake.’

  ‘We are happy, we were . . . ’ He stumbled over the words. ‘I didn’t mean for this to happen, Moll. I wasn’t looking for an affair, but it just did - happen, that is.’

  An affair! She took it for granted they’d slept together. The idea of her prim and proper brother having a mistress made her feel funny inside. She did her best to dismiss images of him and Yvonne in bed together. ‘Do you realize everyone in your office knows what’s going on?’ Finn groaned and hid his head in his hands. ‘Let’s hope none of them sees fit to pass on the news to Hazel because it would kill her.’

  ‘Nothing would kill Hazel. She’s as strong as an ox.’

  This was said so flippantly that she lost her temper. ‘Don’t you dare say things like that, Finn Kenny. Hazel’s had eight kids and she had to be strong for that, but that doesn’t mean she won’t crumble to pieces if she finds out you’re having an affair.’

  ‘I’m not having an affair,’ Finn said flatly.

  ‘But you just said—’

  ‘From this moment on, I’m not having an affair. I’ll tell Yvonne I can’t see her any more. It’s over. I’ve been meaning to finish it for months and now I will.’ As he and Yvonne worked in the same building, there was little chance of them not seeing each other again, but Mollie sensed he’d meant what he said and felt relieved.

  ‘That’s the best way, Finn,’ she said. ‘You owe it to Hazel.’

  ‘I know.’ He appeared close to tears.

  Because he was her brother and she loved him, Mollie wanted to cry, too. She couldn’t bear anyone she loved to be unhappy. She leaned across the table and took his face in her hands. ‘You’ll soon get over her, darlin’. Hazel and the children are the only ones that matter, never forget that.’

  She’d collect her sister-in-law from the hairdresser’s and tell her Finn was lunching with a client.

  Mollie left. Minutes later, Yvonne returned to the table. ‘I saw her leave,’ she said. ‘She seems very nice.’

  ‘She is nice,’ Finn mumbled. ‘Hazel’s nice, my children are nice. The only person who isn’t nice is me.’

  ‘And me,’ Yvonne said sadly. ‘We’re sinners, Finn, the worst sort. I wish we had the will to give each other up, but I’ll never do it. The only way I’ll leave you is if you tell me to go.’

  ‘That I’ll never do, my darling girl.’ He almost choked on the words. She was older than Hazel, plainer, but there weren’t the words in the dictionary to describe how much he loved her. He’d just lied through his teeth to his sister. Yvonne hadn’t carried his seed inside her for nine whole months to produce his child, but if she went away he’d die.

  Chapter 16

  1942

  On Christmas Day, the Japanese captured Hong Kong. Esme’s husband was taken prisoner. It was a terrible and unexpected defeat for the British. Horrific rumours were beginning to circulate about the cruel and inhuman way the Japanese treated their prisoners of war.

  Mollie had no idea what to say to Esme. ‘He’ll be all right, darlin’,’ didn’t seem enough, and was unlikely to be the truth. She just hugged the girl and didn’t say a word.

  ‘We had a gear Christmas,’ Esme said tearfully; she lived in Wavertree with her parents and two brothers. ‘None of us realized what was going on in Hong Kong. I felt dead ashamed afterwards that I hadn’t sensed Peter was in danger.’ />
  ‘You’d need second sight for that, darlin’. I felt nothing when my own husband was killed.’ She’d walked into the house in Allerton expecting Tom to be there, yet he’d been dead for hours.

  Esme sniffed. ‘Did you have a nice Christmas, Mollie?’ she asked politely.

  ‘Lovely,’ Mollie replied automatically. But watching Finn being the jovial father and loving husband, wondering if it was nothing but an act, had spoiled what should have been a wonderful holiday. She had genuinely believed her brother when he promised to end his affair with Yvonne, but on the day of the shopping trip to Kildare, she’d come out of Jock’s Place and discovered she had mislaid a glove. When she went back to retrieve it, Yvonne was at the table again with Finn. They didn’t notice her and she could tell from the expressions on their faces that they only had eyes for each other.

  Her glove was lying under the table. It was only an old woollen one. Mollie had left it there.

  On New Year’s Eve, she stayed in to look after the children while Agatha and Phil went to a party. At first, Agatha wouldn’t hear of it. Mollie could come to the party with them and she’d find someone else to babysit the children, but Mollie had insisted she didn’t want to go. ‘I honestly don’t feel like a party,’ she said wanly.

  ‘Are you still worried about your brother?’ She’d told Agatha about Finn.

  ‘I’ll probably never stop worrying.’ It wasn’t just that: she couldn’t stop thinking about Esme and all the other wives whose husbands had been killed or taken prisoner, not just in Hong Kong, but in many other places. It brought back the memory of Tom’s death and the anguish and emptiness she’d felt afterwards, and still felt on occasions like New Year’s Eve.

  Agatha put Pamela to bed before she left, but Donnie, who was ten, stayed up, and he and Mollie played cards, followed by Snakes and Ladders and Ludo. He was a lovely little boy, very smart: Mollie lost more games than she won.

  The games over, she made tea for herself and a cup of warm milk for Donnie, who was beginning to look tired. He was almost asleep by the time the milk was finished, so she took him to bed.

  ‘I won’t see Mam and Dad until next year,’ he chuckled when she tucked him in.

  ‘I know, darlin’. It’ll be nineteen forty-two by the time you wake up.’ She’d be relieved when the festivities were over and life returned to normal.

  The world seemed exceptionally quiet when she returned downstairs. She lifted the curtain a fraction. It was snowing quite heavily. A car passed the house, travelling so slowly it hardly made a sound, the headlights barely showing. The roofs of the houses opposite already had a coating of snow. Shuddering, she let the curtain fall and switched on the wireless. Vera Lynn was singing ‘We’ll Meet Again’. She hurriedly switched it off, knowing the song would only make her cry.

  Impulsively, she went to the telephone in the hall and called the house in Duneathly. She’d spoken to the children earlier and had promised to telephone after midnight to wish everyone who was awake a Happy New Year.

  ‘It’s me,’ she said when Hazel answered. ‘It sounds like bedlam there. What’s going on?’

  ‘Aidan found a fiddler in the pub and brought him home: your Joe and Tommy are playing “Chopsticks” on the piano. There’s a game of hide and seek going on upstairs. Not one of the children is in bed, not even Bernadette.’ Despite this, Hazel sounded happy. ‘Oh, and you know what happened, Moll? Finn took the office staff for a drink in Kildare and was awful late home - he’s hardly been back a minute - but he’d bought me a lovely brooch. It’s a gold bird with a diamond for an eye. Isn’t your brother a marvellous husband?’

  ‘Marvellous,’ Mollie agreed. And also one with a guilty conscience. She’d like to bet it was Yvonne he’d been with, not the staff from his office. She rang off, wishing she hadn’t rung in the first place. It had only made her feel worse.

  She put the light off in the hall and opened the front door. The snow was falling steadily, the flakes as big as golf balls. Someone was trudging along the road towards her. She was about to close the door, when a voice called, ‘Is that you, Agatha?’ The figure had stopped and was opening the little garden gate. It was a man, she saw when he came closer, a soldier, his khaki uniform made white with snow.

  ‘Agatha and Phil are at a party,’ she told him. ‘I’m babysitting the children.’

  ‘Ah, it doesn’t matter, then. I just thought I’d wish them a Happy New Year.’ He turned and walked back towards the gate.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she called when he opened the gate to leave.

  ‘Don’t know,’ he said, shrugging. ‘A pub, I suppose. At least it’ll be warm.’

  ‘It’s warm here and I’ll make you some tea, if you like.’ She couldn’t turn a soldier away on a night like this, particularly not on New Year’s Eve. ‘Have you come far?’ she asked when he entered the house and stamped his boots on the doormat. The snow came off in clumps. ‘Take your greatcoat off.’

  ‘It’ll make a mess on the floor,’ he warned.

  ‘It doesn’t matter, it’s only lino.’ She took the coat into the kitchen and hung it beside the boiler. It had two stripes on the arms meaning he was a corporal. Only the outside felt damp, inside was dry. She put the kettle on and returned to the hall where he was shaking his cap. ‘Hang it on that empty hook,’ she advised, ‘then come and sit by the fire. The kettle won’t be long boiling.’

  He went into the sitting room and held his hands in front of the fire. ‘This looks cosy,’ he remarked. He was a tall man, very slim, with dark-blue eyes and brown hair. His lean face had a hungry look and she wondered if it was always like that or because he hadn’t had a decent meal in days.

  ‘Agatha and Phil had a delivery of coal just over a week ago and we’ve had big fires all over Christmas. As from tomorrow, they’ll be little ones again.’ Fuel was in very short supply. ‘How come you know Agatha?’ she enquired.

  ‘Phil and I have been friends since we were at school together. My name is Mike Bradley.’ His blue eyes narrowed. ‘I was best man at their wedding and I’m pretty certain you were there. Your name is Mollie, but I can’t remember your surname.’

  ‘Ryan, Mollie Ryan. Agatha wanted me to be matron-of-honour, but I refused. I was eight months pregnant at the time and would have looked ridiculous. I’m afraid I can’t remember you. I didn’t feel very well that day, but Phil often talks about his friend Mike - you were the first person at his school to go to university.’ She could hear the kettle boiling and went to make the tea. ‘Have you come far?’ she asked again when she brought his tea in the giant mug that Phil used.

  ‘The north of Scotland. We were allowed five days and, like a fool, I decided to come home and see my wife.’ He rolled his eyes as if to emphasize how foolish he’d been. ‘It’s taken two days to get here. I’ve travelled by train and bus, hitched lifts in lorries and cars, walked a bit. Last night I slept in a station waiting room, but when I arrived home, my wife was out.’ There was a pause and he continued in a bleak voice, ‘I knocked next door in case they knew where she’d gone. There’s new people living there and the woman who answered said my wife was out with her husband.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Mollie said gently. ‘You should have let her know you were coming.’

  ‘I thought about that, but decided not to.’ He smiled and the smile was as bleak as his voice. ‘You see, I don’t trust my wife - she’s been unfaithful before - and I was setting her a test: I was a teacher in civvy life, so I suppose I’m used to setting tests. I didn’t expect her to be waiting patiently for me to turn up, not on New Year’s Eve. I thought she might be at her mother’s or with a friend, in which case I intended going to bed and seeing her in the morning.’ He paused again and drank some tea. ‘I also thought it quite likely she’d be out with another man, though not for him to be actually living there. After I’d spoken to the neighbour, I went upstairs and his clothes were all over the place.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

/>   He stared into the fire. ‘I’ve asked myself that same question quite a few times since I married Gillian and the answer is always the same - I have no idea.’

  ‘It depends on how much you love her,’ Mollie said awkwardly.

  He must have been aware of the awkwardness in her voice, because he rolled his eyes again and said, ‘I’m sorry. I expect you were having a nice, quiet evening, and I’ve come bursting in and laid my sad life bare. The truth is, I had a couple of whiskies on the way. I’m usually regarded as taciturn rather than talkative - ask Phil, he’ll tell you.’

  Mollie laughed. ‘I’m actually glad you’re here, though for your sake I wish it were for a different reason. Since Donnie went to bed, it’s been much too quiet. I was beginning to wish I’d gone to the party with Agatha and Phil.’

  ‘Why didn’t you?’

  ‘I wasn’t in the mood to have a good time. I’m still not. I’d’ve gone to the party and made everyone cry with my miserable face.’ She made a miserable face and he smiled, a genuine smile this time. ‘Are you hungry?’ she enquired. ‘You look hungry. If so, I can put together a meal. There’s bits of chicken, half a tin of baked beans, some sprouts already cooked and cold roast potatoes - I’ve no idea what Agatha was keeping them for. If I put everything in the frying pan we can call it something foreign that you’ve never had before.’

  ‘My mouth’s already watering.’ He seemed much less fraught than he’d done at first. ‘As my old dad used to say, “Me stomach thinks me throat’s been cut.” I’ve had nothing but the odd sandwich since I left Scotland yesterday morning.’

  ‘I won’t be long. Put the wireless on, if you want, but keep it low in case it wakes the children.’

  ‘I’d sooner listen to the fire hiss and crackle; it’s very soothing.’