The Leaving Of Liverpool

by Maureen Lee

  She told this to Mike Bradley in her next letter. She wrote to him every other Monday and he wrote back the Monday in between. Their letters were getting more and more affectionate. She was beginning to wonder if you could fall in love with someone by post. He wrote to say he’d had lots of experience with children, ‘but only teaching them. I’d always wanted some of my own. Maybe one day you’ll marry again and have more. Think about it, Mollie, and let me know how you feel.’

  To please Hazel, she’d joined the sewing circle, a group of ten women who met fortnightly in each other’s houses. She’d always liked making things and quite enjoyed the meetings. It was amazing how quickly you became involved in other people’s lives. She was soon eager to know if Carmel’s daughter was still going out with the disreputable young man from the garage who had tattoos on his arms, or how on earth Theresa’s mother-in-law could be persuaded to keep her nose out of the family’s business without Theresa killing her in cold blood.

  No one talked about the war. A few young men from the poorer families had gone to England to join up, but the war was rarely a topic of conversation in Duneathly. Mollie gleaned most of the news from the BBC. She ordered the Sunday Times from the post office, though it often arrived days late. It didn’t seem to have crossed anyone’s mind that, if Britain lost the war, Ireland wouldn’t be left to continue on its own, that it would become as much a part of Hitler’s empire as the rest of Europe.

  Summer came and went, and once again autumn was upon them. The nights got darker and the air colder. Thaddy married Ellen and they went to live in Dublin. Megan brought home a young man called Richard for Sunday tea. Hazel’s second son, Kieran, who was seventeen, very quiet, and had never done anything remarkable in his entire life, announced his intention of joining the British Army on his next birthday. Finn wrote again to ask if he could see the children at Christmas. This time, Kerianne condescended to see her father, but only on a day when there was not much happening at home.

  She went the day after Boxing Day and came back to report that Yvonne was very ill: ‘She collapsed in the middle of our dinner and Dad had to call the doctor.’

  Hazel worked herself up in a dither. In the New Year, she telephoned Finn to ask if there was anything she could do. Finn burst into tears and said all anyone could do was pray because Yvonne had an incurable brain tumour.

  May 1945

  It was a beautiful morning. The last of the children had just left for school and the sun poured through the windows of the Doctor’s house, making the roses on the parlour carpet look almost real. In the kitchen, the wireless was on very loud and a woman was singing. She had a lovely voice: soft and whispery. ‘Oh, Danny boy, the pipes the pipes are calling, from glen to glen and down the mountain side . . . ’ she sang. Her voice drifted throughout the house. There was something comforting about it. Mollie imagined it floating up the stairs like a whiff of smoke, curling against the walls and the ceilings.

  She was shaking the cushions on the settee in the parlour. It was used by so many courting couples that Hazel had had to draw up a rota. Last night had been Megan and Richard’s turn. They were engaged and getting married next year on Megan’s nineteenth birthday.

  ‘ . . . the summer’s gone and all the flowers are dying, ’tis you ’tis you must go and I must bide . . . ’

  Glancing in the mirror over the fireplace, she wished she’d washed her hair before leaving for Liverpool in an hour’s time to stay with Agatha, but it was too late now.

  ‘ . . . But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow . . . ’

  The door squeaked when Finn came out of his office and she wondered how many times he’d have to be reminded before he oiled it. Yvonne had died in his arms a year ago and he’d returned to live with his family a few months later. Hazel’s heart was the biggest and kindest in the world. Mollie wasn’t sure if she would have had him back.

  ‘Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow . . . ’

  She sat on the settee clutching a cushion to her chest. The other day, Hitler had killed himself. The day after, Berlin had fallen. Any minute now, an official announcement was expected to say the war was over at last. It was the reason the wireless was on so loud, so they wouldn’t miss it. Finn and Hazel were anxious to know because Kieran was serving in Burma. Mollie would celebrate Victory in Europe in Liverpool with Agatha and the Ryans. She wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

  In her pocket was the latest letter from Mike Bradley. He’d managed to persuade ‘the top brass’, as he called them, to send him to Italy where he’d fought with the Army all the way to Berlin. Pretty soon, they would see each other again and decide if they wanted to marry. Mollie wasn’t sure how she felt.

  ‘ . . . ’tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow . . . ’

  She went into the kitchen. Hazel was sitting at the table looking thoughtful. Finn leaned against the sink, his chin sunk into his chest. No one spoke or looked at each other.

  ‘Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.’

  The song finished and the announcer said, ‘That delightful voice belonged to the great American Broadway star, Anne Murray, who has just arrived in London from Berlin where she has been entertaining the troops. The next record . . . ’

  Finn turned the wireless off. He’d gone very pale and his voice shook slightly. ‘That was Annemarie. I recognized her voice straight away.’

  ‘So did I.’ Mollie put her hands to her cheeks as if that would somehow lessen the beating of her heart. So, it hadn’t just been her imagination.

  Hazel nodded. ‘Anne Murray - Annemarie; they’re very similar. “The great American Broadway star,” the man said.’

  They looked at each other. Could it really be their Annemarie?

  Finn said, ‘How can we get in touch with her? Where will she be staying, I wonder?’

  ‘At one of the best hotels, I expect,’ said Hazel. ‘ “The great American Broadway star”, if you please! You could ring them, one by one, and ask if she’s there, except we don’t know the names and we haven’t got an English directory.’

  ‘There’s the Ritz, the Savoy, the Dorchester.’ Mollie ticked them off on her fingers - the names were sometimes mentioned in the Sunday Times. They were the only ones she knew. All three went into Finn’s office where the cats lay fast asleep on the window-sill; they did little else but sleep nowadays. ‘Nona in the post office will have an English directory. I’ll ask her to find the number of the Ritz first. If Annemarie’s not there, we’ll try the others. As a last resort, we could always ask the BBC if they know where she is.’

  Nona promised to look for the number and call them back when she got through, leaving them to sit around the desk staring at the telephone and willing it to ring. No one spoke. Dandelion woke and lazily stretched his front legs, purring briefly, before going to sleep again. The sounds outside - the occasional car, a bicycle bell, people talking - seemed exceptionally loud and the sun exceptionally hot. Finn tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk, Hazel twiddled her thumbs. Mollie listened to the beating of her heart.

  The telephone rang, making them jump: it was the Ritz. Mollie’s voice shook as she explained what she wanted to a woman who said she was only on the switchboard and would transfer the call to the desk. Mollie explained again.

  ‘We are not allowed to give out information concerning our guests,’ she was coldly informed. Did that mean that Annemarie was actually there?

  ‘But I’m Anne Murray’s sister and I’m calling from Ireland,’ she protested. ‘I only want to know if she’s staying with you.’

  ‘Not until Thursday.’ The owner of the voice must have relented and his voice was less cold. ‘Until then, she’s entertaining at American bases, I’ve no idea where. Her family are already staying with us: her husband and children and an older woman we take to be her mother or mother-in-law.’

  Mollie thanked him fulsomely. She put down the phone. ‘First time lucky,’ she said before giving Finn and Hazel the g
ist of the conversation.

  ‘Her family! We’re her family,’ Finn spluttered. ‘What day is it today?’

  ‘Tuesday.’

  ‘Will she come and see us, do you think?’ Hazel asked.

  ‘I doubt it, not if she thinks the Doctor will be here,’ Mollie said. ‘I think we should go and see her. I’m off to Liverpool any minute. I can get a train to London first thing on Thursday morning.’

  ‘I’ll go to Liverpool tomorrow and stay in a hotel and we’ll go to London together,’ Finn said. ‘She must have realized the worry she caused us, yet all she had to do was write and say she was safe. The first thing I’ll do when we meet is give her a piece of my mind.’

  Hazel’s eyes blazed. ‘You will do no such thing, Finn Kenny,’ she shouted - it was rare for Hazel to shout. ‘We haven’t the faintest idea what happened to Annemarie when she got to New York. She was ill, we already knew that: she might not have known who or where she was, the poor wee girl. She might have been worried the Doctor would come searching for her. She doesn’t know the bastard’s dead, does she? If you are thick enough and stupid enough to give her a piece of your mind, Finn, then I shall never speak to you again for as long as I live.’

  At this, a shocked Finn mumbled something about it being a mad idea and he was surprised he’d ever thought of it.

  Mollie would far sooner have met Annemarie on her own - after all, she’d lost her and she’d have liked to be the first to find her - but Annemarie was as much Finn’s sister as she was hers.

  The boat docked in Liverpool at three o’clock and she went straight to Agatha’s house. ‘Has there been an announcement that the war is officially over?’ she asked as she embraced her friend. Although Agatha was, like Mollie, approaching thirty-seven, her frizzy hair was already beginning to turn grey at the front.

  ‘Not yet.’ She grimaced. ‘I don’t know why. After all, we know it’s over, but it won’t feel over until the government confirms it.’

  The children, Donnie, now thirteen, and Pamela, eleven, came home from school, both wanting to know if the war had ended. ‘Our teacher said it has,’ Donnie claimed.

  ‘It has.’ Agatha grimaced again. ‘We’re just waiting to hear it from the horse’s mouth.’

  After they’d had their tea, Mollie asked Agatha if she would mind if she went for a walk. ‘I feel restless,’ she explained. ‘It’s because of Annemarie.’ She’d already told Agatha of hearing her sister sing on the wireless that morning and going with Finn to London on Thursday to meet her face to face. ‘It’s over twenty years since we last saw her. The man on the wireless said she was a great Broadway star.’ She was half dreading the meeting. What would Annemarie be like after all this time? She might not want anything to do with her old family again.

  Agatha said she didn’t mind at all, so Mollie walked a little way along West Derby Road, still feeling restless. Impulsively, she jumped on a tram and returned to the Pier Head, where she sat on a bench staring at the waters of the Mersey that shone like polished pewter under the warm May sun. It made her feel a little calmer, though didn’t stop her re-living, as she had done a thousand times before, the sight of the Queen Maia sailing away with her sister on board.

  ‘Whereabouts on this map are we?’ Anne enquired.

  ‘Here.’ Major Murphy, the entertainments officer, pointed to a red dot on the left of the map. He was a handsome man, thirtyish, with a thick thatch of red hair. ‘Burtonwood. I must say,’ he added in an awed voice, ‘I really appreciate you coming all this way to entertain us. We’ve had stars come before, but none as famous as you, Miss Murray. The big stars usually visit the American bases on the east coast.’ He indicated the area on the right of the map that was littered with red dots. ‘They’re not too far from London. As you can see, we’re what the English call “out in the sticks”.’

  Anne gave him a dazzling smile. ‘I have an ulterior motive, Major. My son is stationed at this base, Lieutenant John Zarian. He’s a pilot. I would very much like to see him.’

  The Major’s jaw dropped. ‘If you don’t mind my saying, you don’t look old enough to have a son in the forces, Miss Murray.’

  ‘I must be older than I look, Major - oh, and please call me Anne.’

  ‘Only if you call me Sean.’

  ‘Agreed. Sean Murphy is a good old Irish name.’

  ‘My late grandparents emigrated from Ireland towards the end of the last century. Since I’ve been here, I’ve gone to Liverpool a few times to see where they sailed from. It’s a funny feeling, treading the same ground as they did half a century ago.’ He picked up the telephone. ‘Pardon me, while I get someone to fetch your son. Does he know you’re here?’

  ‘We spoke on the telephone last night.’ Anne studied the map while he barked out an order.

  ‘Liverpool isn’t far from here?’ she asked when he’d finished.

  ‘Hardly any distance at all.’

  ‘I sailed from Liverpool,’ she said, ‘but it was only twenty years ago.’

  ‘Are you English?’ She’d surprised him again.

  ‘Irish. My name then was Annemarie Kenny. Would it be possible for John to take me to Liverpool today?’

  ‘Of course. There’s plenty of time. He can borrow a jeep. Tonight’s concert doesn’t start until eight, you’re on last.’ He studied his watch. ‘It’s only four o’clock. There’s a party afterwards. All the top brass will be there. General Glazer is anxious to meet you; apparently he saw you dance on Broadway once when he visited New York.’

  ‘I won’t be dancing tonight, just singing,’ she warned him. ‘I’ve had two children and I’m not exactly in tip-top condition.’

  ‘You look in tip-top condition to me,’ he said, blushing slightly.

  ‘Well, I’m not,’ Anne said bluntly.

  There was a knock on the door and a soldier in urgent need of a shave entered. ‘Lieutenant Zarian to see you, Major.’

  ‘Send him in, Petrov. Oh, and arrange for a jeep outside my office pronto, please.’

  ‘Yes, Major.’

  Anne watched, smiling, as John marched in, looking incredibly smart in his khaki uniform, and saluted the Major, who said, ‘You’ve got a visitor, Zarian. I don’t suppose it’s a surprise.’

  ‘No, sir.’ He grinned. ‘Hiya, Mom.’

  ‘Hello, John.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘You’re going to drive me to Liverpool. Major Murphy has given us permission.’

  ‘Do you know which dock you sailed from, ma’am?’ the Major enquired.

  ‘I’ve no idea. I was seasick on the ferry from Ireland and the time I spent in Liverpool is a complete blur, as is the journey to New York.’

  ‘Take your mom to the Pier Head, son, let her see the River Mersey. It’s the next best thing.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  There was a knock and Petrov came in to announce there was a jeep on its way.

  ‘Thank you. Have you shaved today, Petrov?’

  ‘Yes, Major, but I’ve told you before, I need to shave two or three times a day. I have a very heavy growth, sir.’

  ‘You have my permission to desert your post, return to your billet, and shave again. That’s a disgraceful way to present yourself in front of a lady.’

  ‘I’m deeply apologetic, Major.’ Petrov saluted.

  ‘I don’t mind a bit,’ Anne said when the door closed.

  ‘I didn’t think you would. It’s just a joke Petrov and I have between us. Ah, I think I hear a jeep outside.’

  Minutes later, the Major watched through the window and saw Anne Murray laugh and fling her arms around her son. He picked her up and swung her around a few times, before setting her down and kissing her on both cheeks. Jeez! She sure was a looker. Those eyes! He’d never seen eyes like them before or such creamy skin and luscious hair. She wore a pale lemon frock that really showed off her neatly curvaceous figure. He tried to imagine having a mom like that, but found it was impossible.

  ‘Less of the “Mom”, if you don’t mind,’ Ann
e said when they set off.

  ‘I didn’t like calling you Anne in front of the Major.’

  ‘I didn’t like calling him Sean in front of you. Has peace broken out yet?’ she asked.

  ‘Not officially, but the guys have been celebrating all day. The Brits have what’s called a Ministry of Information, but it prefers to keep all the information to itself.’ He ruffled her hair. ‘I’ve missed you.’

  ‘And I’ve missed you - terribly, awfully, horribly.’ As if words weren’t enough, she put her hands over her heart to emphasize them.

  ‘How’s my baby brother and sister?’

  ‘Frankie and Eleanor are fine. Bobby and I think we’ll start calling her Ellie.’

  ‘Ellie’s swell,’ John said with a happy sigh. Anne could tell he was as pleased to see her as she was him.

  ‘Are you likely to get time off to come to London?’ she asked. ‘Bobby’s moved into the hotel with the children and Lizzie. Everyone’s aching to see you. Lizzie’s going to visit her relatives in Manchester at the weekend.’ She still looked upon Lizzie as her mother-in-law.

  ‘Ask the Major for me if I can have leave. If the soppy look on his face is anything to go by, I reckon you charmed his socks off and he’ll let me have a whole week.’

  ‘I’ll ask him tonight.’ Anne stared at the rather featureless countryside. ‘Where are we? Do you know the way to Liverpool?’

  ‘No, I’ll just follow the road signs,’ he said confidently.

  ‘I’ve been looking and there aren’t any.’

  ‘Damn!’ He slapped the steering wheel. ‘I’ve just remembered, the Brits took them down for some reason. I’ll just have to stop and ask people.’