by June Francis
‘I know that,’ said Vera, with a smirk. ‘There’s nothing much I don’t know about what goes on in this neighbourhood.’
‘Mrs Waters been gossiping again, has she?’ said Rene dryly.
Vera smiled sweetly. ‘It keeps me in touch with things, Rene dear. Now pour me a cup of tea, I’m dead parched.’
Rene bit hard on her lip to prevent herself from saying something she might regret and poured the tea.
A few days later the capture of the masked man was reported in the local press. Even so, her mother grumbled so much when Rene said that she was going to the Paramount with Cissie and Greta, to see Bob Hope and Paula Goddard in the black comedy The Cat and the Canary, that she almost changed her mind. It was Wilf who insisted that she go. ‘I’ll look after her, luv, don’t you worry.’ So she allowed herself to be persuaded.
She had mixed feelings about it, though, when she discovered Harry was joining them. He smiled down at her as the four of them gathered on the pavement outside the houses. ‘I know he’s been caught,’ said Harry, ‘but I thought I’d come along anyway. The Echo gave the film a good review.’
‘So I noticed,’ said Rene, as the two of them fell behind as Greta linked her arm through her grandmother’s and led the way, torches blazing a trail on the pavement.
‘How’s your head after that blow? I haven’t seen you to ask,’ said Harry. ‘I did ask your mother and could tell she wished me anywhere but on her doorstep.’
Rene said impatiently, ‘You shouldn’t let Mother put you off. She didn’t want me to come out tonight but I have to get out now and again or I’d go mad. I do feel sorry for her but sometimes I-I … ’
Harry took her hand in his and squeezed it. ‘You need to get things off your chest sometimes, luv.’
She swallowed and her fingers quivered against his. ‘I know but I hate feeling I’m being disloyal. She’s my mother. Forget what I said. Tell me instead, how are things going with the ARP?’
‘We’ve more volunteers. Although some of them look on what we’re doing as a game. How about you?’
She shrugged. ‘I can’t see me being able to do much. If the air raid sirens ever go Mother will expect me to help her to the shelter … which is only right.’
They both fell silent. He was still holding her hand. Despite the guilt she felt when thoughts of Sally came into her mind, how she wished he would kiss her again. Could imagine the feel of his lips on hers and his hands caressing her body. She longed to be loved by him. Had even read Marie Stopes on married love. How she yearned to put what she had read into practice. Rene wanted to ask whether he was still seeing the widow but told herself that it was really none of her business. She must have misread that expression in his eyes in the past. He was just being kind, listening to her concerns, and right now he had probably forgotten that he was holding her hand.
The film was good, witty, humorous and slightly spine chilling at the same time. They all agreed that they should go out like this again.
Despite the daily photographs of British and German aircraft appearing in the Echo and news of tensions on the Dutch and Belgian borders, of British and neutral ships being sunk in the North Sea, of Russia bombing Finland, and Norway feeling threatened by Germany, the war seemed unreal to Greta. It was as if it scarcely involved those on the home front. A lot of the children had not returned to the countryside after Christmas, and towards the end of January they could be seen having fun building snowmen and igloos, having snowball fights and making slides. While the grown-ups worried about the pipes being frozen, which meant carrying buckets of water down the yard to flush the lavatory. By the time the thaw came, the Government was speeding up armaments and insisting on the need for even more shelters. They had heard nothing from Alex and Greta was worried.
Spring arrived and so did meat rationing, and on the continent, Hitler and Mussolini talked on a train while the French government resigned and Germany poured more troops into their lines. There was talk of more city schools reopening as there were now air raid shelters for schools in place. But everyone knew the Germans were on the move.
In May, while a Merseyside council debated whether the jitterbug should be banned from their dance halls and Liverpudlians were warned that they still needed to take their torches with them and heed the blackout despite the daylight evenings and moonlit nights, the Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, resigned and Winston Churchill took his place.
During the days that followed the Germans swept through Holland, Belgium and Luxembourg and by the 24th May, they had taken Amiens and Arras in France and the British army was in retreat. A few days later Alex arrived in Liverpool but had only time to tell Cissie that he was sailing immediately on the Lancastria, a ship of the Cunard White Star line. It was off to France to help rescue British and French troops.
Greta was upset to have missed him but a few days later, she arrived home from work to find Alex sitting at the table in full battledress. He had a bandage about his head and a bruise on his cheek, but that didn’t seem to be affecting his appetite as he was digging in to a plate of sausages, liver and eggs.
‘What happened to you?’ she asked, delighted to see him.
He returned her smile. ‘The Lancastria’s at the bottom of a bay off St Nazaire.’
She gasped. ‘You were bombed.’
He nodded. ‘We were in the thick of it straight away, taking on troops. There were thousands of them on the beaches and in the water. It was bedlam but bloody marvellous, if you’ll excuse my language,’ he added hastily, glancing across at Cissie. ‘There were craft of all shapes and sizes that had crossed the Channel. The smaller ones were ferrying the soldiers out to us bigger ships and all the time the Luftwaffe were overhead strafing those on the beaches, in the water, and climbing into the boats and ships.’
‘That’s terrible,’ said Greta. ‘You could have been killed.’
He nodded, and suddenly his expression sobered and he pushed his plate away. When he spoke, his voice shook. ‘We had thousands of soldiers aboard when a couple of Jerries decided to concentrate on us and dropped several bombs. The boat began to list and the master told us to abandon ship.’
Greta gulped and gripped her hands tightly together. ‘Can you swim?’
‘Fortunately.’ He rubbed the back of his neck as if it hurt. ‘I was on deck, too, which was handy. I went straight into the water, me and this young kid. We were picked up by a destroyer and brought back to Portsmouth. That’s where we were given the battledress and told to go home.’
‘So you came here,’ she said, her voice quivering.
He said awkwardly, ‘It’s the nearest place I’ve got to a home. You don’t mind, do you?’ He sounded unsure of himself.
‘Of course I don’t! I’m glad to see you safe! I’m sorry I was so horrible to you before you left. I don’t know what got into me!’
He grinned. ‘We all get peculiar moods on us, sometimes.’
She was happy that he could think like that and she wanted to hug him but was too shy. ‘Are you going to stay on land now? You don’t have to go back to sea, do you? It’s not as if you were eighteen and had to go,’ she babbled.
‘I’m due some shore leave, so I’m taking that and it’ll give me some time to think.’ He drew his plate towards him again and picked up his knife and fork.
‘If I was you, I’d stay home until you have to go. It’s much safer!’ Relieved to have him in the house, she left him eating his meal and went to wash her face and hands.
Part Two
9
The battle for Britain in the air began almost immediately. Some in Liverpool believed that the Luftwaffe would never get over the Pennines but the bombers arrived over Merseyside towards the end of July and began perfecting their targeting; the dockyards, shipping, oil depots and timber yards were hit. The Customs House was set ablaze and even the unfinished Anglican cathedral was damaged.
Alex had decided to stay in Liverpool and join the ARP, so Greta gave up her
back bedroom and moved into the front double bedroom with her grandmother. Harry found him a job as a brickie’s labourer. Both were kept very busy so had little free time.
Harry still wanted Greta to leave Liverpool, but while her grandmother was refusing to go and she considered her father and Alex in danger, Greta dug in her heels. ‘I’d only worry about you both.’
At first she had gone alone to the surface shelter in their street but as the raids continued and the nights drew in she did what the Millers and Wilf did next door after one of the wheels came off Vera’s wheeled chair, and went down into the cellar.
Harry had not been pleased but even so he had reinforced the roof and walls and helped Wilf do similar work next door. Rene had been grateful and had kissed him on the cheek, saying how much she appreciated having him as a neighbour. He would have seized her and returned her kiss if Wilf had not been there. The bombing had somehow heightened his senses and he was overwhelmingly aware that death could come suddenly to any of them, and that moments of happiness should be grasped and life lived to its limits.
Edith had said a similar kind of thing after a bomb destroyed a church and couple of houses on Great Mersey Street. Harry had not visited her for some time but had felt compelled to call on Edith when he heard about the bombing. The blast from the explosion had caused cracks to appear in the walls of the Coxes’ house. Living so close to the docks they were at much more risk than either his family or Rene’s. He felt sorry for Edith and her girls but could imagine Rene’s reaction if she set eyes on the widow. On his last visit, Edith had told him that she had managed to find a part time job working in a canteen but said it didn’t pay very well and that she felt tired all the time. Didn’t they all! he had felt like saying.
Just over a week ago he had helped dig out the bodies of four young children and their grandmother. He had been torn between weeping and wanting to get a gun to shoot every German plane out of the sky. Instead, he’d had to ram down the lid on his feelings. Alex had been with him and, even through the filth on his face, Harry could see how sick the young man felt. Ranting and raving would not have done either of them any good. There were times when he wanted Alex out of it. He was seeing sights that no one of his age should see, but he was young, fit and wiry, and could get into places that Harry and the other men couldn’t. But if anything happened to Alex he knew just how upset his daughter would be. The two youngsters squabbled, laughed and made up, just like many a brother and sister would. He still thought of his daughter as a child although she was now fifteen, holding down a job, helping run the household and coping with the blitz.
So far their street had escaped bomb damage, but how long could that last? Harry frowned, thinking of the numbers of people who were homeless or making do in houses that they really should have moved out of. Again he was reminded of Edith and decided that he must visit and see if she and her girls were OK. He hurried downstairs, hoping to get there and back quickly, so he could catch some shut-eye later as he was on duty that night.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Cissie, looking at him as he adjusted the brim of his trilby in front of the mirror. She was sitting near the fire, warming her feet on the fender. Greta had gone with Alex to the park that Sunday morning to watch him play football. ‘I’ll be going to Mick’s later on so I’d like yer in handy for yer dinner.’
Harry turned on his heel. ‘I don’t know why you don’t ask him to come here. It’s much safer than down by the docks.’
‘We’re attending his church this evening,’ she said, with an air of satisfaction. ‘Besides, when yer number’s up, yer number’s up!’
‘There’s no point in going looking for trouble,’ he said exasperated. ‘What would happen to Greta if both of us were killed?’
‘The lad would look after her,’ said Cissie confidently.
‘She needs a woman to give her advice,’ snapped Harry. ‘Besides, Alex works alongside me and it’s dangerous.’
Cissie’s mouth worked and she pushed herself up out of her chair. ‘Would she listen to me if I did give her advice? She’s more likely to take notice of Rene.’
Harry guessed that was true, knowing how fond the two were of each other. If only things could be different. He sighed. ‘Rene has enough on her plate with her mother. You heard Greta say that Mrs Miller’s turned even nastier since the wheel buckled on that chair Wilf rigged up and she can’t get to the shelter. Anyhow, I’ve got to go out.’ He headed for the door.
‘Are you going to that widow’s again?’ shouted Cissie.
He did not answer but slammed the door.
Edith stood in the doorway, one hand resting on the doorjamb and the other holding a cigarette. ‘Hello, stranger! I thought you’d given up on us.’ She took Harry in from the jauntily angled trilby, white shirt, tie and brown suit, to his highly polished brown shoes.
Harry said calmly, ‘You know how I’m fixed. I’ve a daughter, mother-in-law, young lodger, my job and my duties with the ARP.’
Immediately she was contrite and stretched out a hand to him. ‘I’m a selfish cow! You must hardly have a minute to yourself. Do come in.’
‘Thanks.’ He wiped his feet on the coconut mat and followed her indoors. Once in the kitchen, he immediately went over to the wall to check the props were still doing their job. ‘Any trouble?’ He turned to face her and only then did he notice that she had discarded her widow’s weeds and was wearing a plum skirt and twin set. The colour made her skin look creamy.
She smiled. ‘A bit of dust! Nothing worth mentioning.’ She waved him to the sofa in front of the fire and sat down herself. ‘Cup of tea?’
‘Thanks! How have things been?’
She pulled a face and then called out, ‘Winnie, put the kettle on! Mr Peters is here.’
The girl popped her head round the door. Fizzy brown hair framed her plump face. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she muttered, and withdrew her head.
‘What would you do with her?’ Edith’s laugh had an edge to it. ‘Her manners have got worse since her father died … and what with the bombing all our nerves are in shreds.’ She took a drag on the cigarette and then flicked ash into the fire. ‘I’ve changed my job. Gone into munitions. It pays better, only thing is it’s shift work. Still, we’re managing. Winnie is working shifts, too, so between us we cope with the housework and shopping. Joyce has made up her mind that she’s going in one of the Forces as soon as she turns eighteen. That’s if we haven’t joined the angels by then,’ she said brightly, drawing comfort from her cigarette again. She paused and called, ‘Is that tea ready yet? How about a couple of those scones you made for Mr Peters?’
‘Which service is Joyce thinking about?’ asked Harry.
‘The most glamorous she says.’ Edith smiled. ‘I don’t doubt she’ll soon find herself a husband.’
‘I suppose he’ll be a fighter pilot then. The air force is the one that seems to have the glamour attached to it. Greta vows she’ll join the Wrens if the war hasn’t ended by the time she’s eighteen.’
Edith’s brow puckered. ‘She and Winnie are about the same age, so if my arithmetic’s right, I make it 1943 when it’ll be their turn to go. What do you think, Harry, will it be over by then?’
He hesitated. ‘I don’t think that far ahead.’
Her bottom lip trembled and then she said brightly, ‘How wise! That’s how I think. Eat, drink and be merry because, who knows, we mightn’t be here tomorrow.’
‘I didn’t mean to sound depressing,’ he said hastily, reaching out a hand to her.
She took it and held it tightly and he noticed her eyes were luminous with tears. ‘I do try to be brave for my girls, Harry, but it isn’t easy being a parent on one’s own when such dreadful things are happening.’
‘I know, luv. I do understand.’
‘I know you do,’ she whispered, and leaned closer to him.
She looked so sad and beautiful that Harry found the temptation to kiss her was overwhelming. He was about to give in to the im
pulse when the door to the back kitchen crashed against the wall, startling them apart.
‘Your tea and scones,’ said Winnie, carrying in a loaded tray. She placed it on the gate-legged table with a bang that caused the cups on the saucers to rattle. She scowled at her mother. ‘I’d best pour for you.’
‘There’s no need for that,’ said Edith sounding cross. ‘Get on with cooking the dinner.’ Winnie hesitated but when her mother picked up the teapot, she stomped out of the room.
‘I can guess what you’re thinking,’ said Edith wryly, handing a steaming cup to Harry. ‘She’s put on weight, stuffing her face with bread and the like when I’m not around. She misses her father terribly.’
Harry said, ‘Poor kid!’
‘Don’t stick up for her,’ chided Edith. ‘She’s just plain greedy! Although, I suppose it could have something to do with her glands.’ Putting a couple of scones on a plate Edith placed it handy for him on the arm of the sofa before pouring her own tea. She sat down next to him. ‘So where were we, Harry?’ she said softly.
Harry had control of himself now. ‘You were being brave. Keeping your chin up like so many women on the home front. I admire you women.’ He bit into a scone and a surprised expression came over his face. ‘Hey, these are good.’
‘One of Winnie’s few talents,’ muttered her mother.
Several minutes passed without a word being exchanged. Then, Edith dusted crumbs from her fingers and began telling him about the dangers she thought rife in the munitions factory. She offered him another cup of tea but he glanced at the clock and said, ‘Sorry, but I’ll have to go.’
‘Really, Harry,’ she said in a mocking voice. ‘I think I’ll have to make a date if I’m to spend more than half an hour in your company.’
He couldn’t help feeling guilty. ‘Sorry,’ he repeated. ‘But I’m expected home for lunch and I’m on duty tonight.’
She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s OK. I understand. But perhaps we could go to the pictures one evening next week. I’m on early shift.’