by Annie Groves
‘Courtin’ with him, are you?’ June had asked her one evening when he had dropped her home.
‘He’s just a friend,’ Molly had told her sister firmly, and that was quite truthfully how she thought of him. It was, after all, only just over a year since she had lost Eddie, and she couldn’t imagine any man taking his place in her heart.
She had got up early on the anniversary of Eddie’s death and had gone first to church to say a prayer for him, and then to the cemetery where, to her delight, the bulbs she and her father had planted at the back end had been in flower. She had viewed their dancing golden heads through a haze of tears, which had flowed more heavily when she had lifted her head to see how many new graves had extended the perimeter of the cemetery since Eddie’s death.
She had felt hesitant and even guilty at first, quietly telling him about her year, and promising him that she had not and would not ever forget him, but then a sense of peace had filled her as though an unseen hand were gently lifting those feelings from her shoulders and freeing her to speak honestly and openly to the young man she had loved, and who now belonged to a place that seemed so very far removed from her.
The news reported in the Echo in March, that a baby girl had been found alive under bomb debris in Wallasey after being trapped there for three and a half days, had plunged June back into a mood of dark foreboding and anxiety. Trying to coax her sister into a happier frame of mind had pushed Molly’s own most private feelings and concerns to one side. June had been furious when she had been told by the doctor that baby Lillibet was underweight for her age, and to Molly’s concern, June’s phobias about the safety of air-raid shelters had grown worse rather than better.
‘I wish June would go out and stay with Auntie Violet in Nantwich,’ Molly had confided to her father. ‘She wouldn’t have to worry about the shelters out there, and there might be some extra food to spare for Lillibet.’
‘Aye, I wish she would go, as well, lass, but June’s like me sister and they’re as stubborn as mules. Think on, Molly, you can tek a horse to water as often as yer like, but you canna make it drink.’
‘Pity it isn’t dark,’ Johnny whispered in Molly’s ear now as she stopped at the kerb to head off across the road and home. ‘Not going to ask me why?’ he teased her.
Molly dismissed him with a shrug, but he refused to be quelled.
‘Then I’ll just have ter tell you, won’t I?’ he whispered. ‘If it were dark I could put me arms around you and then I could kiss you …’
Molly pursed her lips into a firm line. ‘There’s going to be none of that going on between us, Johnny,’ she told him. ‘My Eddie’s only bin dead a year and …’ She stopped speaking when he reached for her hand and held it tightly in his own.
‘I’m being as patient as I know how, Molly, but it isn’t easy. I want you to be my girl and I want to start courtin’ yer proper, like. I made a mistake letting you go once – I’m not doing it again.’
Molly didn’t know what to say. She liked Johnny and she enjoyed his company. Her childish sexual fear of his maleness was long gone and she couldn’t pretend to herself that she hadn’t enjoyed his lovemaking because she had. So why was she holding back? The war had brought the best out in Johnny, changing him as it had done all of them. He relished the danger of the rescue work he did, and was well thought of by the others on the team. So much so that he had now been officially put in charge. Any girl would be proud now to claim Johnny as hers. No one would blame her or look askance at her if they were to start courting, and given what had happened between them she ought to accept. So why did she feel so reluctant to do so? She was a woman now, not a foolish girl any more, and she had seen enough of how the separation caused by war and the different experiences of it could drive couples apart. She and Johnny were sharing their experience of it and she had seen too how that could bond a couple and how, indeed, it could foster a dangerous intimacy between couples who were already committed elsewhere.
‘I—’
I need more time, she had been about to say, but before she could do so, Johnny grabbed hold of her and kissed her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Pearl coming towards them.
‘Oh, thank you very much,’ Molly reproached Johnny, but he refused to be abashed, simply grinning at her instead, and keeping hold of her hand.
‘Nice to see someone is looking happy,’ Pearl commented, eyeing them both up with interest.
‘Well, if you really want to do that,’ Johnny answered, giving her a teasing wink, ‘then you want ter find someone who has bought some of them tinned peaches from your hubby that have actually got peaches inside ’em.’
Molly had told Johnny the story about the carrots and he loved nothing better than to tease people.
‘It weren’t my hubby’s fault that there was a bit of a mix-up,’ Pearl defended her husband crossly. ‘He sold on them tins in good faith.’
‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Molly objected, once Pearl was out of earshot.
‘Why not? It wasn’t my fault either that them tins—’
‘No, not that about the peaches. I mean that you shouldn’t have kissed me like that in front of her. She’ll have it all over Liverpool by tea time.’
‘So what if she does?’ Johnny asked her softly. ‘I’d be very happy to have folk think of you and me as a couple, Molly.’
‘I’ve just told you, Johnny, it’s too soon. And besides, folks round here have long memories. There was all that fuss about that lass and me and you.’ Molly could see from his face that she wasn’t convincing him.
‘Look, I’ve got to go. Sally’s invited our June round tonight to make amends and I’ve promised I’ll make our dad’s tea.’
‘So them two have finally made up, have they? Last I heard was that your June weren’t speaking to Sally Walker.’
‘That was just a bit of sommat and nothing, Johnny, and I’ll thank you not to go saying anything about it. Sally reckons that her Ronnie and June’s Frank should be getting some leave soon. I hope they do. It will do our June a power of good to have Frank home. Do you think we’ll see anything tonight?’ she asked uncertainly, glancing up towards the cloud-brushed May sky. April had been an unusually quiet month for bombing raids and some people had started to hope that the end of the war was in sight. Molly knew better than that and worried it was the calm before the storm.
‘I dunno,’ Johnny answered her. ‘If Jerry knows that Churchill has had the Western Approaches Command HQ moved from Plymouth to Liverpool we’re bound to see some action.’
They exchanged sober looks. The central command for all the shipping approaching England from Canada and North America was now operating from a large secure underground headquarters in Liverpool, and everyone was concerned that it would draw more bombing raids to the city. The occupants of the close had three new residents billeted amongst them, all of them working at the new HQ, and Molly had already exchanged tentative hellos with one of the young women, having seen her on her way to work whilst she was on her own way to the factory.
‘Fancy coming for a walk wi’ us this next Sunday?’ Johnny asked.
‘A walk? Where to?’ Molly asked cautiously.
‘I dunno. Somewhere as I can have you to myself.’
Molly smiled again and shook her head. ‘Get away with you!’ she laughed, and headed for home.
She reached number 78 just as June was about to leave, Lillibet already strapped into her pram. Molly paused to blow her niece some kisses and watch her rosebud mouth widen into a delighted smile. She itched to take her out of the pram and cuddle her, but she knew how June was likely to react about her interfering with Lillibet’s routine if she did. Her duties with the WVS plus her job at Hardings meant that Molly had very little free time, but she still managed to make enough to sing nursery rhymes to Lillibet from the books she and June had shared as children. Molly adored her niece, and couldn’t have loved her more if she had been her own.
Over Christmas Molly and Sally, gi
ggly after a glass of Elsie’s homemade wine, had whispered together about claiming Dr Truby King’s book for the war effort.
‘We’re allus being told how much we need fuel,’ Sally had said virtuously, slightly spoiling the effect by hiccuping loudly.
‘I reckon he’d go up in flames right well.’
‘You mean our June will when she finds out.’
‘I dare you,’ Sally had giggled.
Molly looked wistfully at the book, where it lay ready to hand on the sideboard. It had caused so much trouble she’d be pleased to see the wretched thing destroyed.
‘Isn’t our June back from Sally’s yet?’
‘No, but it’s still light,’ Molly pointed out to her father, taking from him the vegetables he had brought back from the allotment.
‘Aye but it’s gone ten o’clock. What time did she go out?’
‘About six.’ Molly reached for the kettle and started to fill it, then broke off as she heard the familiar squeak of the pram’s wheels, to tell her father, ‘That sounds like June now.
‘Dad was just asking where you were,’ she told her sister, as she helped to unstrap Lillibet from her pram harness, picking up her niece and giving her a loving cuddle. She was crawling now and giving everyone she knew big loving smiles that showed off her newly cut teeth. Despite June’s strict routine, she had a sparkle and spirit that gladdened Molly’s heart to see.
‘Don’t go getting her all excited, Molly,’ June protested. ‘It’s gone ten and she should be asleep.’
‘Do you want me to do her a bottle?’ Molly offered.
‘No, thanks. I gave her one at Sally’s and she’s not due another now for four hours. She were a bit grizzly earlier on. I hope she’s not starting up with cutting another tooth. I still haven’t made up me lost sleep from them last two.’
Molly laughed to see the dimples appear in her niece’s cheeks as she smiled up at her. Tenderly she stroked the dark tousled curls off Lillibet’s face. She was such a pretty baby. Everyone said so, and a loving little thing as well, always holding up her arms to be picked up. Molly knew that June would have something to say if she knew how often Molly did just that, when June’s back was turned.
‘One of the lads down the allotments was sayin’ that he’s heard that one of them conchies has moved in on Mabel Street.’ Everyone knew about the conscientious objectors, who were exempted from fighting because of their beliefs, but Molly had not actually met one. ‘Works up at the hospital, so Ted Hargreaves were saying.’
Dusk had fallen whilst they had been talking, its twilight fading into darkness. June was just reaching out to take Elizabeth Rose from Molly when they heard the warning wail of the air-raid siren. Briefly, all three of them stiffened into silence.
‘Quick, let’s get down to the shelter,’ said Molly, retaining her hold on Elizabeth Rose, and resisting June’s attempts to take the baby from her. ‘You first, June,’ she insisted firmly. ‘Dad’ll bring the bags.’
Doors were opening up and down the close, as people hurried towards the shelter.
Daisy caught up with Molly, shooing her two sons in front of her. ‘Ruddy Jerry. I thought he’d realised over Christmas that he’s wasting ’is time trying to bomb Liverpool, because we won’t give in to him.’ She was having to raise her voice to be heard above the wail of the sirens.
‘You not on duty tonight then, Molly?’ another neighbour called out as she caught up with them.
Molly shook her head, hurrying into the shelter. As always its sour smell caught at the back of her throat and made her wrinkle her nose.
‘Lord, but it stinks in here,’ Daisy complained.
‘P’rhaps we ought to try leaving the doors open during the day now the weather’s warming up a bit,’ Elsie suggested. ‘Get a bit of fresh air inside.’
‘Wot, and have the place stripped out by thieves? Don’t be daft, Elsie.’
‘Molly, give Elizabeth Rose to me,’ June demanded.
‘You get yourself settled first, June,’ Molly told her calmly, discreetly putting herself between June and the exit. Molly didn’t want to risk anything spooking her into trying to leave before the all clear had gone.
They heard the first wave of bombers coming over within minutes of the final arrivals squashing into the shelter and the door being closed.
Everyone started to settle himself or herself down for the night, unrolling sleeping bags and punching them into shape with weary resignation.
‘I were ’oping as how we’d seen the last of these ruddy air raids,’ one of the men commented grimly.
Molly, who had counted the seconds of the first wave of bombers, wondered if anyone else in the shelter had realised just how many of them there were flying overhead. Far more, surely, than there’d been during the Christmas air raids. The crack and rat-a-tat-tat of the AA batteries exploded like fireworks, followed by the ominous sound of the bombs. Some of the docks were still damaged and unable to be used from the Christmas bombing raids, and by the sound of it they were being targeted again.
A second wave of bombers followed the first, and then a third. The whistling sound of bombs falling, followed by the stomach-gripping silence before they exploded, filled the shelter with a nerve-straining tension. A child started to wail in shocked fear as a bomb exploded somewhere close enough to the shelter to send pieces of debris thudding down on top of it.
‘That were close,’ one of the men commented uneasily.
June whimpered deep in her throat. She had refused to unroll her sleeping bag, and instead was sitting tensely staring at the door. If June wouldn’t try to sleep then she could not do so, Molly acknowledged.
‘I don’t see why we couldn’t have stayed at home,’ June told her, panicking. ‘There’s plenty as does.’
‘Yes, and I’ve seen what happens to them,’ said Molly tersely, thinking again of the two children she had pulled out of the wreckage of their own home. The shelter might be cramped and oppressive but it had to be better than staying at home, leaving yourself at the mercy of the German bombers.
‘Quick, Molly, this way.’
Johnny had grabbed hold of her hand and was running so fast with her that Molly was afraid she might lose her footing on the slippery cobblestones and fall. Up above them the early May night sky was crisscrossed with the beam of searchlights and the speeding molten silver tracery of the gunfire from the AA batteries. Round after round of ammunition was being fired in an attempt to stem the relentless flood of German bombers blanket-bombing the whole city, determined to destroy Liverpool’s docks and the British people’s desperately needed lifeline to North America.
Above them, bombers released their cargo of death. Crouching down beside Johnny in the protective shadow of their van, Molly shivered as they watched them explode so close that she could feel the air rushing past her as it was sucked into the explosion and then expelled again. Both she and Johnny were covered with dust.
They were supposed to be on their way down to the docks, but they had become trapped down one of the narrow streets, unable to leave for the bombs going off all around them.
‘Looks like the end of the street’s had a direct hit. We’ll have to turn round and go down Dukerman Street,’ Molly told Johnny worriedly.
This was the third night in a row that the city had been blitzed by night-time bombing raids. Yesterday Mr Harding had told Molly not to bother coming into work but to concentrate on her voluntary services duties. He had taken on extra staff to meet the increased demands from the War Office. But with the city being bombed, and families having to be rehomed – many living in the community of tents that had been set up in the fields just outside the city – some girls looked for jobs closer to where they were now living, resulting in a constant turnover of workers.
‘I thought the last two nights were bad enough but they were nowt compared to this,’ Johnny admitted, checking the sky before urging Molly towards the van.
May wasn’t even a week old yet but, for three night
s solid, the city had been subjected to a relentless attack from German bombs. As fast as everyone worked during the daytime to deal with the damage of the night before, the bombers returned again at nightfall to begin another round of death and destruction.
‘I just hope that our June’s all right,’ Molly said.
Johnny could hear the anxiety in her voice. ‘She’ll be fine,’ he tried to comfort her. ‘Your dad will see to it that she gets into the shelter.’
Molly gave him a wan smile.
‘Everyone OK?’ Johnny called out as the rest of their small group, who had also taken cover where they could, made their cautious way back to the waiting van.
They had been on their way to Huskisson Dock in response to an emergency call-out, and after Molly had reversed the van back up the narrow street, she drove as quickly as she could towards the fires illuminating the night sky. All around them lay the evidence of the devastating effect the blitz was having on Liverpool and its people. Not that Molly needed to see any evidence. The queues of people forming every night in the buildings where the WVS worked to provide blankets, warm food and what other help and advice they could were proof enough of the growing number of homeless Liverpudlians.
‘Hellfire and buckets of blood,’ one of the men – a First World War veteran with a bad leg – swore as Molly brought the van to a halt and they all stared at the inferno in front of them.
Opening his door, Johnny called out to a passing ARP warden, ‘What’s happening, mate?’
‘Barrage balloon’s bin hit and deflated. It’s fell onto a steamer berthed in number two dock,’ he told him tersely. ‘Steamer’s loaded with a thousand tons of shells and bombs, and the ruddy thing’s on fire. Port Authority’s got every fire crew they can spare trying to put it out. Of course, bloody Jerry’s scented blood and he’s using the light from the fire to bomb the rest of the dock.’ He swore under his breath and ducked as an incendiary bomb exploded, igniting one of the nearby dock sheds, showering everything with burning shards of timber and fiery red sparks. Fresh flames leaped hungrily towards the steamer trapped inside the dock.