by Annie Groves
‘I reminded her to write this morning but she just shrugged,’ Dolly whispered, hearing Nancy coming into the kitchen.
‘I don’t know if Sid will receive the actual parcel we send,’ Sarah said in a cheery voice so as not to let Nancy know they were talking about her, ‘but I have it on good authority he will receive something.’ Germany was bound by the Geneva Convention in the same way as England. Nancy sighed; she knew they had been talking about her – their Sarah was trying too hard to include her in the conversation.
‘D’you remember our Rita telling us about that young German pilot who died in the hospital?’ Dolly asked, and the two girls nodded. ‘She mentioned him again yesterday. He was just a bit of a lad.’ War was a terrible thing, especially at this time of year.
‘A bit of a lad who came to kill as many of us as he could,’ Nancy said, her mind on other things now. ‘I’m going to see if Georgie’s awake.’ With that she flounced out of the room with her letter and into the parlour where she could read it again.
‘She could have given us a hand with this lot!’ Sarah stared at the closed kitchen door. Dolly patted her hand and gave a gentle shake of her head.
‘We all know our Nancy’s a bit scatty, love,’ she said, ‘but she’s not a bad girl.’ Dolly would hear no criticism of any of her offspring, no matter how unruly they appeared to be. It was her prerogative as a loving mother to pass judgement, and nobody else’s. She said so – often.
‘Has she heard from Gloria lately?’ Sarah asked. She had been so busy at the Royal Infirmary she hardly had time to catch up on what was going on in Empire Street.
‘She’s gone to see her aunt in London,’ Dolly said. ‘I did think she might write to Nancy, but there’s time yet.’ Dolly picked up a roll of brown tape left over from the time she and Pop put Xs on every window, and sealed the cardboard box of comforts for the troops.
‘She took Giles’s death very badly. It must have been devastating for her,’ Sarah said.
‘A few weeks away from this place will do her good,’ Dolly answered, opening the lid of another cardboard box and putting in things that might bring a bit of relief to some poor soul. ‘Though she might need more than a few weeks,’ Dolly said as if to herself. ‘That kind of thing can have a terrible effect on a girl’s mind.’ She paused and leaned on her box. ‘I remember a girl back in Cashalree Bay; she threw herself into the River Shannon and was never seen again.’
‘Gloria wouldn’t do that, surely, Mam!’ Sarah gasped, and Dolly reassuringly patted her arm.
‘No, my darling, Gloria would never do such a thing – it would ruin her hair!’
‘Mam! That’s terrible!’ Sarah’s eyes widened; her mother said some very inappropriate things sometimes. ‘Now I know where our Nancy gets it from.’
‘I know,’ Dolly said with contrition. ‘I’ll confess to Father Harding when I see him – although he’s a bit busy. A barrage balloon snapped, caught fire and set the church alight.’ There had been so many buildings destroyed around the dockside, it was a wonder there were any standing. ‘We’ll have to go to Midnight Mass at St Winnie’s.’
Sarah’s chin rested on her chest in an effort to hide her face. She’d seen the devastated, skeletal remains of the church and thanked God that there was nobody in it at the time. But however hard she tried she could not stop smiling. Her mother said some daft things, but sometimes a little levity was called for in the grimmest of situations just to keep sane – they did it all the time at the hospital. She knew that most people around here, no matter how bad the circumstances, found solace in dark humour.
‘So you will be going to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve as usual, Mam?’
‘We all will if God spares us,’ Dolly said stoutly, ‘including your father!’
‘Once a year whether he likes it or not,’ Sarah laughed. Her father was a good man with a heart so big he would give you his last penny. However, not a regular churchgoer, he told Mam he could talk to the Big Man upstairs anywhere. Sarah thought about people like Vera Delaney and Mrs Kennedy, wearing their knees out at eight o’clock mass every morning, but who would not give a body a push off the pavement if it meant they would not benefit. Pop was right, as always.
Picking up the post from the sideboard, Dolly’s brow creased in puzzlement.
‘Did Violet say she had any family back in Manchester?’
‘No, she said there was only her and her parents before they were killed,’ Sarah answered, looking up from the box she was filling. ‘You remember, that’s why she came here; she has nobody left to call family. It’s so sad to have nobody, isn’t it, Mam?’
‘Well, there must be somebody because she’s got a letter here.’
‘It might be from a friend,’ Sarah answered, ‘although she did say they were a very quiet family who did not mix much.’
‘Aye, you might be right,’ Dolly said, putting the letter into the cut-glass bowl on the sideboard, which was where she put all of Violet’s mail.
Kitty was pleased to see that Danny’s colour was a lot better than the last time she had seen him. Danny was confined to complete bed rest for now and there was no chance that he would be home for Christmas, but the doctors had said that he was doing well, despite it being a very close shave.
‘Why didn’t you tell me that there was something wrong with your heart, Danny?’
Danny’s voice was still a little weak and Kitty had to get nearer to him to hear properly what he said.
‘I don’t want to be treated like an invalid, Kit. All I’ve got is my pride.’
‘Oh, Danny. I couldn’t be prouder of you. Look at what you’ve done – saved the lives of all of those dockers and nearly killed yourself in the process.’ Kitty took his hand. ‘I’d rather have an invalid brother than a dead one.’
Danny squeezed her hand and looked at her intently. ‘And I’d rather be dead than stuck in an armchair for the rest of my life.’
Despite her own fears, Kitty understood what he meant. Danny was more ‘alive’ than anyone she knew and he would never take this illness lying down.
‘Anyway, I’ve made a friend in here, Kitty.’
‘Really, who is it?’
‘Well, I’ve been going out of my mind with boredom, but there’s this army officer chap who’s in here too. He’s been bringing me crossword puzzles and the like to do. He’s been keeping me company.’
‘That’s good, Danny. You’ve always been good at that sort of thing.’
‘It’s stopping me going mad, Kitty.’
‘Going mad is the least of your problems.’ Kitty looked at the clock on the wall. ‘I’d better get a move on if I’m to see Tommy before visiting hours are over. Anyone would think you two had cooked this up between you!’
‘Maybe we did, our Kit.’ And Kitty was pleased to see Danny’s cheeky grin spread across his face.
‘Danny, what shall I do about our Tommy?’ Kitty chewed on her nails. The vexing question of her little brother had been preying constantly on her mind. ‘We can’t keep him here anymore, it’s just too dangerous, but I’m worried about what will happen if we send him away.’
‘What about sending him to Ireland? He could stay with Mam’s family.’
Kitty thought for a moment. ‘It’s an awfully long way.’
Danny nodded. ‘It is. But they’ll think the sun will shine out of his posterior and, more to the point, he’ll be safe and there’ll be no running away.’
The idea that Tommy would be so far away tugged at her conscience. She’d have to think about it, but Danny was right – being safe was the most important thing for Tommy now, and it was her duty to make sure that happened.
‘They might not send you home today, Tommy.’ Kitty didn’t know what she would do if the hospital did discharge him today. She knew she could not let Tommy freely roam the streets. And every time she mentioned evacuation he was adamant he wasn’t going again.
‘It was bad enough being in hospital last Christmas,’ he said. ‘I missed the p
arty last year, as well.’ Tommy’s mouth was downturned.
‘So you heard me talking to Dr Fitzgerald then?’ Kitty asked, knowing their Tommy was trying to stay at the hospital long enough for the Christmas party.
‘He said he’d see what he could do.’ Tommy gave her a sheepish smile and she ruffled his thick mane of dark hair. It would be easier for her if Tommy was in hospital over Christmas, she thought, feeling guilty. With Danny being in hospital too there was nobody at home to look after Tommy as she was on an early shift – and she didn’t like leaving him on his own.
‘Aunty Dolly could mind me,’ Tommy said, ‘but I’d rather wait until after the Christmas party.’
Kitty nodded. She didn’t like putting Aunty Dolly out, especially at this time of year – she was busy enough and would probably have a houseful. There had been talk of Eddy coming home at one time.
‘What are you doing on Christmas Day, Kit?’ Tommy asked. He looked all clean and shiny, for a change, sitting up in bed in his striped pyjamas with his hair neatly combed and still wet from his bath before visiting time.
‘I’ll be working in the morning and I’ll come and see you a bit later, then Danny.’ Kitty didn’t want to sound self-pitying. ‘Then I’ll get dolled up and go dancing.’
Tommy gave her a sidelong, disbelieving smile. He knew their Kitty never went dancing. She was too busy working or looking after him and Danny. Just then a nurse came onto the ward and rang one of those huge hand bells Tommy had seen in the school playground.
‘I’ll have to go, sunshine,’ Kitty said, giving him a hug and ruffling his hair again. ‘There, you look more like your old self now. See you later.’
‘Aye,’ Tommy said with a quiet smile. They both hated this time, when she had to go. ‘See you later.’ They never ever said ‘goodbye’.
She was just leaving the hospital by the Fernhill Road gate as Dr Fitzgerald was coming off duty. He caught up with her rapid pace and walked alongside her now.
‘He’s a fine little chap, your Tommy.’
‘He’s got a family who love him,’ Kitty answered, ‘and I know he’s a little tinker at times, but he doesn’t mean any harm.’
‘Everybody is so busy doing war work, it can’t be easy.’
‘Oh, I know it. If there is a scrape our Tommy will find a way into it.’
‘You can come in and see him later if you like.’ Dr Fitzgerald gave her a warm smile. ‘I’m back on duty this afternoon.’
‘Thank you, I’ll be there.’
They chatted and walked, and the half-hour walk from Linacre Lane to the dock road flew past.
‘I’m sorry, my chatter means you’ve missed your lift back to your lodgings.’
He had told her he moved from London just before the war when he was offered the job at the general infirmary known locally as the dockers’ hospital.
‘You can keep me talking anytime.’ Dr Fitzgerald was as different from the rough-and-ready men of Bootle as it was possible to be, Kitty thought, taking in his fresh, clean-shaven complexion, which now looked so much better than the last time she had seen him, tired and careworn. He had a healthy glow as the west wind whipped around them, giving her cause to shiver.
‘Here, have my scarf,’ Dr Fitzgerald said, but Kitty shook her head.
‘I couldn’t possibly take your scarf!’ she declared, knowing what people would say if they saw her walking down Strand Road in a fancy woollen scarf.
‘I’ll soon be home,’ she assured him as they crossed the canal bridge. Just then his hat flew off in the gusty wind. They scrambled to retrieve it from an icy puddle before it blew into the canal, both bending at the same time and almost knocking heads. The doctor looked sheepish as he slicked down his unruly hair before replacing his hat.
‘I really don’t mind,’ he said as he wound the scarf around her neck, and the instant warmth caused her to snuggle into the luxurious comfort.
Kitty suppressed the urge to giggle, although not unkindly as the heat of embarrassment crept from her throat to her cheeks and she hoped the fog from the smoke-filled chimneys was enough to hide her blushes.
Dressed in a navy-blue bib and brace overall, and looking like something the moggy dragged in, Kitty wondered what he must think of her. Then she wondered why she thought that. Surely, he meant nothing at all by the kind gesture. He was just being considerate.
‘I’ll try and get something sorted about Tommy being evacuated, but I can’t promise anything. He’s really not keen.’
‘We don’t want him coming to any more harm.’
What he meant, Kitty thought, was he didn’t want Tommy turning into one of those latchkey kids. Kitty experienced that sinking feeling of dread. Tommy was already one of those latchkey kids. He went over to Aunty Dolly’s every day, but she could not know for certain that he would stay there. Aunty Doll had a lot to do, too. There was her family to take care of, little George to look after, as well as her WVS work. Kitty could not expect her to take Tommy on indefinitely.
‘I’m not surprised he doesn’t want to go, given the last place. But there are good people, too.’ Dr Fitzgerald liked this beautiful girl, whom he recognised had worries beyond her years. He would like to ease her burden.
‘We have relations in Ireland … Mam’s family.’ Kitty knew her maternal grandparents would be glad to look after Tommy, the final link to their beautiful daughter who had died giving birth to him.
‘I was wondering …’ Dr Fitzgerald said as Kitty turned to go. She stopped and waited for him to continue. ‘I was wondering … if, er … if you …’ He hesitated and then in one breath the jumble of words tumbled from his lips. ‘I was wondering if you would like to go to the New Year dance at the town hall?’
‘Oh!’ Kitty didn’t know what to say. She had never been anywhere as posh as the town hall before, especially with a doctor. What would they talk about? She was a girl from the backstreets of dockside Bootle and he was a doctor who came from a privileged background. They were worlds apart.
‘I’m sorry, I sprung that on you. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.’
‘Does that mean you are withdrawing your invitation?’ Kitty felt bold all of a sudden, perhaps because she was tired to the point of dropping. She was off duty at New Year and it had been such a long time since she had gone anywhere that wasn’t the NAAFI. She was tired of the war, tired of rationing, tired of falling into bed only to wake up what felt like moments later and have to start all over again. Why shouldn’t she have a night out? The doctor was just asking her to be friendly, wasn’t he? Where could be the harm in saying yes? As she reached the broken kerb, before crossing the road, she stopped and turned to where he was standing.
‘I’d love to,’ she said, and a smile broke out across his handsome face.
What did women wear to go to dances at the town hall, she thought as she wound her way through the horse and carts, wagons and trams across the cobbled road, heading for her home. But before she put her foot on the first stair to go up for a nap there was a knock at the front door.
After night duty at the hospital, Rita returned to Empire Street tired although too unsettled to sleep. It was after 7 a.m. and as she passed by the family home, she couldn’t resist popping in despite being dead on her feet. The hearth was blazing and the prospect of a slice of toast with jam and a hot cup of her mam’s freshly brewed tea, strong enough to stand a spoon in, was just too hard to resist.
‘I’m glad you popped in love,’ Dolly poured Rita a cup of hot tea as she warmed her cold legs by the fire. ‘Something arrived for you this morning which I’m sure will put a smile on your face.’
‘What is it?’ Rita asked, intrigued by her mother’s barely suppressed grin.
‘Look at this! It arrived with the post this morning.’ Rita took a small grubby little envelope from her mother, which was addressed in a tidy but childish scrawl to: Mrs Rita Kennedy, Empire Street, Liverpool.
‘Mam!! This is from Michael! How did it get
into your hands rather than Ma Kennedy’s?’
‘Well, I think the postman must have decided that you were still living here. It’s got no number on it and he must have decided to drop it in with our post rather than hers. Perhaps he owes her a bit of tick or something? You never know around here.’
Rita was barely listening to her mother as she tore open the letter. Her heart was in her mouth and tears immediately sprang to her eyes as she read the words written on the page.
Dear Mam
We hope that you and Nanny and Pop are OK and not getting bombed. We are not, it is mostly quiet here but sometimes you can hear the planes. Dad says that we will both get a present from Father Christmas if we don’t make too much noise and are good. We wish we were with you at Christmas and hope that you will come to see us very soon. Megan has drawn you a picture.
Love from Michael and Megan xxxx.
PS. Ruby helped us to post this.
PPS. We have chickens in the back yard and we will be eating one on Christmas Day.
Tears streamed freely down Rita’s face as she looked at the little flower which her beloved daughter had drawn.
‘That’s it, Mam,’ Rita said through her tears. ‘My children need me and I’m going to get them back.’
Somehow, Rita didn’t care how, she was going to get to Southport. She would walk if she had to. She desperately needed to see her children, and now it was clear that they really needed her too.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
‘I agree we should give as much as possible to the war effort,’ Mrs Kennedy said to Vera Delaney while the shop was full. However, a short while later, when it emptied out to just the two of them she said in hushed tones, ‘I think it’s a bloody disgrace we should have to give up so much of our household stuff.’
‘I know,’ said Vera. ‘Only the other day that busybody Violet Feeny came round and asked if I could possibly spare another pan for the Spitfire Fund. I said to her, “Look, I could build a spare Spitfire for the amount of pans I’ve handed over.”’
‘The chandlers are full of them and they don’t come cheap, yet they want ours for nothing!’