Child of the Mersey

by Annie Groves

  ‘They’ll want as many nurses as they can get,’ Rita answered.

  ‘I hope you’re not thinking of applying,’ Charlie said dismissively.

  Tears burned the backs of Rita’s eyes. She so wanted to return to her chosen profession and had hoped that by introducing the subject casually, she could prepare Charlie to support her if her application was successful. She quickly headed out to the scullery where the kettle was boiling on the gas stove Mrs Kennedy had just had installed, and through tear-filled eyes she looked around her. Nothing in this room, in these premises, belonged to her. For seven years she had been cooking, washing and cleaning another woman’s possessions. All she had to call her own were her children. When she returned to the table, they ate in silence.

  Mrs Kennedy took her place at the head of the table while misery tore painfully at Rita’s throat. She knew she had made the biggest mistake of her life when she married Charlie Kennedy. What chance did they ever have of making a normal life together while they were living under his mother’s roof?

  The only time they were ever alone was when they were in bed. Mrs Kennedy frowned upon a show of any form of intimacy or lovingness. Brought up in an era that purported that to spare the rod was to spoil the child, she ruled this place with contempt for everyone. Nothing Rita did was good enough for her.

  ‘The children will want their breakfast,’ Charlie said, still not looking at Rita. ‘I’ll call them.’ His abrupt manner told her their conversation was at an end. He no longer wanted to discuss the matter of their marriage or their children or their life in general.

  Rita, like the well-trained wife she was, collected the teapot from the table and went out into the scullery to refill it. She shouldn’t still feel awkward talking to her husband about their hopes for the future in front of her mother-in-law, but she did.

  There was a lot to do today. The first job after breakfast was to go into the shop before it opened and slice that ham for Kitty. Just then, she noticed Jack Callaghan heading to his former home across the road. There was always something about the sight of him that cheered her. She remembered his offer to help her over with the ham. She could manage it herself, but there was so much to do … She hurried to open the shop door and called him over.

  ‘Jack!’

  The beaming sunshine promised another hot day. Leaning against the shop doorframe, Rita watched as Jack turned, smiling. The tall, dark and handsome man walked straight-backed towards her and a small fizz of excitement shot through her. Jack was straight-talking, worked hard to provide for his family and took no nonsense from anybody. In other words, he was everything that Charlie was not. When they were kids, Jack used to call for her elder brother, Frank. They were best friends and as they grew older she fancied Jack like mad on the quiet, never daring to imagine what it would be like if he asked her on a date. She could hardly believe it when he asked her to come to the pictures with him. That was how it started.

  On their first night out she remembered the thrill of sitting so closely to him in the back of the Regent Cinema. It seemed incredible that he felt the same way about her as she did about him. They watched The Public Enemy with James Cagney. Rita, being only sixteen at the time was quite terrified by some of the violence and when Jack placed his arm around her protectively, she leaned into him, feeling like his arms were the place that she’d always meant to be. Rita didn’t think she would ever forget that first kiss.

  ‘Jack, will you tell Kitty I’ll be over with the ham in about ten minutes? I’m late this morning, of all days.’

  ‘Do you want me to take it?’ Jack asked, and Rita sighed with relief. If Jack took the meat she could get on with serving the early customers. Then she had to bathe the children in the tin bath. Mentally she ticked off her chores before she could even think about getting ready for the wedding.

  ‘Jack, you’re a godsend. That would be a great help.’ Rita stepped back inside the small vestibule leading to the shop door. ‘I won’t keep you long.’

  ‘Keep me as long as you like,’ Jack said, laughing, as Rita led him into the shop. She turned the key in the lock and pulled down the blind. The shop would not be open for another half-hour. ‘I’d best keep out of our Kitty’s road this morning; she’ll be running around that kitchen like a headless chicken getting everything done.’ His laugh was an attractive low rumble, which made Rita’s heartbeat quicken. She felt unable to get that first kiss out of her mind today. All of this business with Charlie and his mother was unsettling her.

  ‘I won’t be a minute,’ she said as she went into the little back room to fetch the joint and to take a deep breath to try to calm her racing heart. Jack Callaghan always had that effect on her. Rita tried to push unwanted thoughts from her mind. The smell of Jack and the taste of him as his lips met hers, their bodies so close and the heat that came off him. With Jack in the room, Rita felt that familiar thrill now.

  ‘Shall I put the kettle on while you slice?’ Jack’s softly spoken words came from behind her and made Rita jump. He was one of the few men around here who was beholden to nobody. Since he had finished his training in Belfast he’d returned to finish his apprenticeship in engineering at Harland and Wolff in Bootle, working alongside other skilled working-class men, enjoying more security than the dockworkers. His job at the foundry and marine repair works had enabled him and Kitty to keep the family together and reasonably well fed. Scrupulously honest and less exuberant than his cocky younger brother, Jack liked to keep himself to himself. He had never married although many of the local girls would have given their eyeteeth to be seen on Jack’s arm. Rita silently dreaded that day.

  Rita and Jack were always friendly with each other but Rita knew, deep down in her heart of hearts, that there was unfinished business between them. There were so many unanswered questions. It wasn’t often that she allowed herself these thoughts but Nancy’s wedding and the claustrophobia at home were starting get to her. Why didn’t you answer my letter, Jack? Why …?

  Hoping to quell the hot colour she knew had flooded her face, Rita nodded before going to fetch the ham from the fridge. The room was tiny and held two people only just comfortably. It contained a two-ring gas burner connected to a rubber hose sitting on a small table. There was just one chair, the other being in the front shop, and the brass cold-water tap was opposite the door next to the refrigerator Mrs Kennedy had bought cheaply from ‘someone off the docks’.

  ‘I’ll just get out of your way,’ Rita said as she took the ham from the fridge, to see Jack with the kettle in his hand, ready to fill it. The space between the table and the wall was so narrow they were going to have a job getting past each other without touching.

  ‘Whoops!’ Rita laughed self-consciously, raising her hands to make more room. His lips on hers, their arms entwined …

  Jack’s heart thundered in his chest. What a bloody fool he was! He should have waited outside until Rita had collected the joint. Jack tried to keep his distance from Rita but that was impossible given that they all lived on top of each other around here. He could still remember the shock when he came back from Belfast and found Rita married to Charlie Kennedy, with two young children. Charlie Kennedy of all people! But he could never stop loving Rita. That would be like asking the sun to stop shining. He knew Rita like the back of his hand and Jack could tell from her eyes that she wasn’t happy. How could anyone be happy with Charlie Kennedy as a husband and with his battle-axe of a mother thrown in to boot? He had heard the rumours about Charlie, of the late night deals in the back alleys, swapping bets for money with the bookie’s runner.

  Jack could never be Rita’s husband now, like he had once dreamed of being, but he vowed he would always be her friend, no matter what. Why didn’t you wait for me, Rita? Why …?

  But here they were, almost nose to nose. They hadn’t been in this close proximity for many years. Jack liked to think that he had got Rita out of his system but on days like this he knew he was kidding himself. He felt flustered in that cramped s
pace, almost as if all of his feelings could now been seen on his face in close up. He had not deliberately set out to pin her against the wall like that.

  ‘Sorry, Rita, I thought there was more room.’ That sounded even worse! Now she was going to think he was criticising her shapely figure! He thought she had a lovely figure, although he really should not be looking. She was a married woman now.

  ‘I should eat less pies,’ Jack laughed, trying to cover up his awkwardness.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with you, Jack, you have a fine physique.’ Shut up, Rita, you are making it worse. She took a deep breath and hurried back to the shop.

  She could not help the way she felt though she knew it was wrong. Was she mad to be thinking about Jack’s kind, dark eyes, which always seemed to be on the verge of laughter? If it were true what people said about eyes being the windows to the soul then Jack must have goodness right through him.

  Moments later Jack came back into the shop with two cups of tea and Rita suddenly realised that in all the years she had been with Charlie he had never once made her a cup of tea.

  ‘Here you go, Rita,’ Jack said with his usual, dazzling smile. ‘No sugar for you, if I recall, because you once said you are sweet enough,’ he laughed as he laid the cup on the wooden counter.

  ‘Are you being sarky, Jack Callaghan?’ Rita was glad he had said something she could react to and amazed that he remembered the time, years ago, when she had said that same thing.

  ‘Not at all.’ Jack took out his tobacco tin and papers and began to roll a cigarette for later, while his eyes travelled the line of glass jars behind the shop counter. After much pondering he said, ‘I’ll have two ounces of mint humbugs when you’re ready, Rita.’ He took a sip of the hot tea. ‘Our Kitty loves a sweet when she’s listening to the wireless of a night.’

  ‘Oh, I think she’ll be over at me mam’s until late today.’ Rita wrapped the ham in paper before taking the heavy glass jar down from the shelf and went over to the scales to weigh a handful of humbugs in the shiny metal tray.

  ‘Aye, she is, me and our Tommy will save her a few. She needs all the energy she can get with our Tommy. He can be a right handful.’

  ‘Kitty puts him in his place,’ Rita said, twisting the triangular paper bag.

  ‘She puts us all in our place,’ Jack laughed. ‘Have you seen our Kitty when she’s got a cob on? Even Dad has to look out.’ Aware now that Jack’s eyes were focused on her own as if he could see right into the depth of her being, Rita could feel a hot flush rise to her cheeks. There was an intense tenderness in his gaze and she suddenly felt the weight of their past coming down to bear on her. Perhaps now was the time to ask him all of those questions?

  Just then the deliveryman who brought the morning newspapers knocked on the shop door, breaking the spell.

  The moment had passed. Rita was relieved. What possible good could it do raking over old bones?

  ‘She has to, being one woman in a house of three men,’ Rita said, keeping her voice light as she went to open the door for the deliveryman, who brought in the papers and then waited at the counter while Rita paid him from the till.

  ‘I’d better take the Dandy for our Tommy,’ Jack said, smiling. ‘He’ll be excited after the wedding, but it will help to calm him down to have a little read before he goes to bed.’

  He has a good heart, Rita thought, handing Jack the weekly comic, which he wrapped inside his morning newspaper.

  ‘I’ll let you in on a secret,’ Jack leaned forward, ‘we all read it. Even our Danny and me dad, one after the other.’ He laughed when Rita flicked him with a duster, showing perfectly straight white teeth.

  ‘Is there anything else I can get for you, Jack?’ Rita asked, knowing she had taken up a lot of his time this morning.

  Suddenly his expression changed. He was quiet for a moment and then he said in a low, barely audible voice, ‘I haven’t told anybody yet, I only sent the letter this morning … I’m joining up.’

  ‘Joining up?’ A shard of shock pierced Rita’s heart. ‘What about Kitty?’ She knew Jack was the only full-time breadwinner in the Callaghan household.

  ‘Yes, the RAF. I’ll make sure everybody’s looked after. I’ll set up an allowance in Kitty’s name so she can collect it each week so Dad can’t spend it all in the boozer.’

  The country is on the brink of war. The words were going round and round in Rita’s head so that nothing else would register. ‘Why, Jack? Surely you are in a reserved occupation?’ He was a good man. Decent. Not like … There was a moment’s silence. There had been so much talk of war recently and everyone agreed that it was almost inevitable but it wasn’t until this moment that Rita felt that it was really happening. The thought that Jack was certain to face battle was a terrible jolt. Rita felt her emotions starting to well up. First Jack and next it would be the children being sent away. It all suddenly felt horribly real. ‘I’ll be sorry to see you go, Jack.’ Her voice was a whisper.

  ‘Will you, Rita?’ Unable to meet her eyes, he looked out of one of the large glass windows onto Empire Street. ‘Better to be in the thick of it than worrying from the outside.’

  ‘When are you going?’ Rita could not hide the tremor that laced her words. Soon all of them would be going off to fight. Her brothers, Frank and Eddy, off to sea … Poor Kitty.

  ‘You won’t say anything to our Kitty, will you?’ Jack asked, as if reading her thoughts. ‘I haven’t told her yet.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of saying anything. It’s not my place.’

  ‘I will tell her, but not until the last minute.’ He lowered his head, looking contrite. ‘I’m a bit of a coward in that respect …’

  ‘You are not a coward,’ Rita answered. ‘I’ve never met a braver man.’ She could feel the tight stretch hurt her throat muscles and she swallowed hard. Don’t cry, Rita!

  ‘Any chance of being served here?’ asked a woman from Strand Road. ‘Me breakfast is going cold.’

  ‘I’m holding you up.’ Jack, not wanting his time with Rita to end, tapped the peak of his cap with the rolled-up newspaper and turned to the customer. ‘Sorry about that, missus.’

  He scooped up the joint and turned back to Rita with a smile. ‘See you at the wedding.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  After the morning rush, Rita remembered the letter that had been delivered for her earlier and which she’d picked up discreetly and hidden in her pocket. Quickly she took it out and sliced the envelope with her thumbnail.

  A small gasp escaped from her lips when she read the news that she had been waiting for for so long. She had an interview for a nursing post at the General Hospital on the dock road next week. A current of excitement shot through her. She had not expected to hear from Matron so soon. This must mean that war was nearer than anybody had thought.

  Shoving the letter deep into her pocket Rita shivered. If war was so close, then that would mean the children could be sent away very soon. A leaflet distributed by the infants’ school gave instructions about what would happen and why in the event of war, and Rita had already been instructed by the school to register the children for the evacuation scheme as all of the other mothers had been. Children under five must be accompanied by their mothers. Rita thought of Megan, only just five. How could such a small child be expected to manage without a mother’s love? Please God let the children at least be billeted together with a kind and loving family like her own.

  The wording was matter-of-fact. Mothers must try not to be emotional. The children must not be upset. It would be better if mothers said goodbye from home and did not come to see their children off. If war with Germany were declared, bombing raids were expected to begin at once. It was imperative to get the children away as quickly as possible, the leaflet said.

  The whole country was preparing for war with gusto. The signs were all around: sandbags, air raid shelters, those huge silver balloons tethered to metal cables. Rita felt a fresh sting of tears behind her eyes. She had to be str
ong, but how on earth could she ever hide her anguish? She read the leaflet again. The Government was right. Taking the children away from the danger of the cities was the right thing to do. She just prayed to God that she would be strong enough to go through with it and not show the children that she was utterly devastated they would be going away.

  Michael and Megan were her life. Everything she did, she did for them. If war broke out Rita knew she would lay down her life for her children. She would protect them any way she could … but if they had to go through this terrible thing, why could they not go through it together?

  The shop was empty now the morning rush was over. It was time for Rita to start getting the children ready for Nancy’s wedding this afternoon. It was a good thing Sid was in a reserved occupation on the docks; but he was in the Territorials and some of them were being called up for more training.

  At the breakfast table, Charlie’s face was set into a determined scowl. His mother was already sitting in her usual chair at the head of the table. Rita noticed that she was having an animated conversation with Michael and completely ignoring Megan.

  Rita gave her daughter a tight smile and, after making a fresh pot of tea, she poured out three cups. It was not right the way Charlie’s mother favoured her grandson and all but ignored her granddaughter. It had always been this way. Rita knew Megan felt it keenly, as would any child, and she made a special effort to include Megan in everything, knowing that if they had a place of their own, both her children would receive equal treatment.

  ‘When you have finished your breakfast we will take your dress into Nanny Feeny’s and hang it up with Aunty Nancy’s,’ Rita told her daughter with a smile. Megan looked so pretty in the beautiful taffeta bridesmaid dress Nancy had chosen for her.

  ‘Leave her be,’ Charlie said, barely lifting his head from the Daily Mirror, and Rita could tell he was going to be awkward today, just by the thrust of his jaw. He did not like family get-togethers – her family especially.