by Annie Groves
Rita remembered her engagement tea in Charlie’s mother’s sitting room behind the shop. Rita had got drunk on the port and lemons Charlie kept pushing into her nervous hands. Rita had seen the look on her parents’ faces and knew that they were baffled by this sudden turn of events. Her mother and father knew that she was expecting. Her mother had even offered to take the babe on as her own. To send Rita away so that no one would know and Rita wouldn’t have to marry Charlie Kennedy. But Rita declined, knowing that in Empire Street the gossips would have the last word. It was better this way. The banns were read and Rita and Charlie were married three weeks after that. How Rita wished she had taken her mother up on the offer.
Now Charlie was ducking and diving, trying to avoid the conscription, and here was Jack willing to give his life for his country.
‘When did you get home? Have you seen Kitty?’ Rita hardly knew where to begin.
‘I’m only passing through,’ Jack said, and Rita felt her heart slump with disappointment. ‘I can’t tell you where we are going, but now basic training is finished we can be posted anywhere in the world.’
‘Shall we go and have a cup of tea in that little café by the hospital?’ Rita asked, surprising herself for being so forward. She would never normally do such a thing. However, these were not normal times … and Jack was a family friend. There was no harm in it.
‘I can’t think of anything I’d like more,’ Jack answered, ‘but my train leaves at ten. If I miss it they’ll have my guts for violin strings.’ He gave a short laugh but there was no humour in it. His eyes locked into hers. ‘I just wanted to come and say … well, you know, as I told you first, I thought it was right that I should let you know I …’ He took a deep breath. ‘What I’m trying to say is, look after yourself, Rita.’
‘Aye, Jack, and you.’ There was that awkward silence between them now as he looked around him, as if trying to memorise the place for later.
‘Right, well, I’ll be off then.’ Jack smiled but he did not move.
‘Me an’ all,’ Rita replied. ‘I’ve got a job at the Infirmary. It’s my first day. Wish me luck.’
‘You’ll walk it, Rita,’ Jack said.
‘Thank you, Jack,’ she said, smiling.
‘Right,’ said Jack briskly, ‘time for me to go.’ He leaned over and kissed her cheek as he would his own sister, and Rita managed to stem a little gasp of excitement. ‘Take care, Jack, and come back safe, promise?’
He nodded and hurried to board an oncoming tram. Rita was glad he did not hang around otherwise he would surely have noticed the tears in her eyes.
Saturday dinnertime, the dock road was heaving with vehicles of all shapes and sizes. Men and women in every kind of uniform could be seen on foot and hanging out of the back of khaki-coloured lorries heading towards the ships harboured in the dock.
‘Mrs Wetherby sent this over,’ Pop said, glad to have got his horses off the busy roads and stabled for an hour or two, handing Dolly a bolt of heavy white material. ‘She asked if you can do something with it on your sewing machine.’ Pop looked a little embarrassed. He was a fully fledged member of the Air Raid Precautions now, but although there had been air raid warnings there had been no raids. People were beginning to ignore the ARP warnings, seeing them as a bit of a joke. Even the black and white diamond shape painted at the side of the front door, telling people that this was the home of a warden, got Dolly all of a dither.
‘What does she want me to do with that?’ Dolly asked. Mrs Wetherby was part of the Women’s Voluntary Service. Things were changing so fast around here, with men coming and going, women joining this and joining that – going out to work! That was the latest thing. They, being the wives of serving men, said it was their duty. Dolly thought they were having a fine old time while the cat was away.
‘She wants you to make shrouds,’ Pop said quickly, and hurried out to the back kitchen.
‘Shrouds! Oh, my giddy aunt!’ Dolly could not believe her ears. ‘What do they want shrouds for?’ She refused to believe that the Germans would have the audacity to fly over Empire Street and drop bombs. ‘This war’s an excuse to go a bit doolally, if you ask me,’ Dolly said, putting the extra sugar, flour and tinned stuff she’d purchased earlier in the chest she had set aside especially. ‘I don’t know what the world’s coming to, I really don’t.’ She locked the chest and put the key in her pocket. ‘Mrs Kennedy said Vera Delaney had been in the shop six times this morning and each time she went out with an extra quarter-pound of tea and a two-pound bag of sugar. Now that is just pure greed, if you ask me. Something has to be done.’
‘You helped me deliver the leaflets about rationing last night, Doll,’ Pop said, and was amused to see the outraged look of surprise on Dolly face.
‘Rationing?’ she asked, as if she had not quite heard. ‘Is that what they were for? We’ve got ration books already and we have to register with certain shops. Winnie Kennedy is thrilled to bits.’
‘That’s right. You said yourself something had to be done. Some foods will start to be rationed after Christmas.’
‘Well, that’s a fine how-do-you-do, I must say.’ Dolly could hardly believe her ears. ‘How are we going to manage on two ounces of butter and half a pound of sugar a week?’
‘We will have to get used to it, Doll.’ There was the sound of running feet on the linoleum in the long narrow passageway and moments later Nancy, breathless and with a tear-stained face, ran into her father’s arms and began to sob.
‘Oh, Pop! Sid got a telegram!’ she cried. ‘He’s got to report for duty immediately.’
‘He’s part of the Territorials, Nance,’ Pop said as gently as he could. ‘We knew this was going to happen at some time.’ He produced his handkerchief and wiped her tears, as he did when she was a little girl.
‘But, Pop, he’s doing work of national importance; he’s in a reserved occupation. Why didn’t someone do something to stop him?’
‘When he joined the Territorials he knew he could be called up to fight. Only certain key skilled workers are exempt from conscription for now.’
‘But they need men to load and unload the ships!’ Nancy cried. ‘Surely that’s a key job.’
‘It is, love, but Sid signed that piece of paper saying he would fight if needed and it looks like he’s needed now.’
‘Oh, Mam!’ Nancy wailed, as tears flowed down her cheeks. ‘What am I going to do?’
‘We’ve all got to be brave, love,’ Dolly said. ‘We’ll always be here for you, Nance, and you’re only in the next street.’
Sid had only a few days to settle his affairs and ready himself for being sent off for basic training. The speed with which he was called up and sent away was astonishing. Nancy had dealt with the news in her usual way and had spent most of the intervening time crying and wailing in the arms of her mother while it fell to Mrs Kerrigan to make sure that Sid had everything he needed. The time for tearful goodbyes arrived in no time.
Sid had gone round to say goodbye to his in-laws. Dolly’s heart went out to both Nancy and Sid. It was such an uncertain, terrible time for everybody.
‘Well, ta-ra, Sid.’ Dolly gave him a hug and Pop shook his hand.
Sid nodded as if too full to say anything.
‘Come on, love, let them go now.’ Nancy was going to Lime Street Station with Sid to see him off. ‘You look after yourself, Sid,’ Pop said, and then to lighten the sombre mood a little he added, ‘And don’t get in the way of anything sharp or explosive.’
Not one of life’s natural heroes, Sid definitely looked paler than usual.
‘I won’t lie, Pop,’ he said. ‘I’m not looking forward to whatever’s in store for me.’
‘You will be fine, Sid,’ Pop said. ‘You’ll come back a different man.’
‘That’s if I come back at all,’ said Sid, which sent Nancy into a fresh flood of tears.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Just inside the double doors of Bootle Infirmary, Rita took a deep breath, d
rawing in the overpowering smell of disinfectant, which permeated the whole building. To the left of her were winding stone steps that led up to the wards, on the right-hand side was a closed door with an opaque window. She stood looking at it for a moment. Should she knock or should she wait until someone came to her aid?
She was early and the senior member of staff who was supposed to meet her had not arrived yet. The long shiny corridor ahead of her was swarming with nurses in stiff, rustling uniforms, pulling beds or pushing wheelchairs. The place was a hive of activity. Porters were wheeling patients in bath chairs while other patients were being helped by young St John Ambulance volunteers.
Turning quickly as the entrance door catapulted into the wall inches from where she was standing, Rita saw a slight, delicate-looking girl with busy freckles and complicated tendrils of red hair escaping from a navy-blue tam-o’-shanter. The girl, huffing and puffing, proceeded to drag a heavy suitcase across the immaculately polished floor.
‘Cheeky bugger!’ she said loudly, allowing the door to close behind her.
‘I beg your pardon?’ An astonished porter about the same age as Pop stopped pushing an empty iron bed to see what the commotion was.
‘Not you, mister.’ The girl had an Irish accent, a wide-awake look and a cheeky smile, Rita noticed. ‘That eejit of a cab driver watched me drag this audacious thing from the cab.’ She nodded to the suitcase. ‘He did not even try to help me, but his choice of vocabulary was not that of a gentleman when he did not get a tip!’
‘Well!’ exclaimed the porter drily. ‘Have you ever heard the likes?’
The impervious window quickly slid to one side.
‘Who is making that racket?’ A stern-looking sister in a navy-blue dress and frilled cap leaned forward, glaring disapprovingly at the Irish girl’s heavy-looking suitcase. ‘And I would advise you to try to carry that thing,’ she said. ‘Matron will not be pleased if you mark her clean floor.’ With a thud, the window shut tight. The girl made a face, as if she had a bad smell under her nose. Then she let out the most raucous laugh. Rita’s eyes widened. It would be difficult to miss a laugh like that.
‘Hello,’ the girl said, thrusting a gloved hand towards the nurse who, carrying a list, had just come from the office. She refused to shake the girl’s hand.
‘It wouldn’t hurt her to crack a smile, would it, now? Apparently unfazed, she turned her smile to Rita, her voice low. ‘Would you be starting today too?’
Rita could not help but smile. This girl was like a breath of fresh air and caused her anxiety to disappear when she took her hand and gave it a hefty shake.
‘How’re ya? I’m Mary-Josephine Kerrigan,’ she said, passing a letter to Sister, ‘but everyone calls me Maeve.’ She turned her attention to Sister now. ‘Did Matron not tell you I was coming?’
‘It must have slipped her mind, but that might be because there are ten of you starting today,’ Sister said as her eyes scanned the letter. Then, without another word, she began to walk down the corridor. ‘Follow me.’
Rita was relieved. However, she soon realised Maeve, who was valiantly trying to hold on to the heavy suitcase, would probably receive more than her fair share of attention from the senior staff if she didn’t tone down her vibrant personality a little. She looked and sounded more suited to being on the stage of the Metropole than here in a place of recovery.
‘You two are the first,’ said the nurse.
‘Well, aren’t we the lucky ones?’ Maeve whispered, dropping her suitcase on the floor with a thump. The nurse gave her a withering glance before telling them to wait in the dining hall.
‘I am sorry, Sister, it’s just me way,’ Maeve said. ‘You’ll get used to me.’
‘And you might even get used to me,’ said Sister, ‘but I doubt it.’
‘I bet you expected a heifer of a girl from the back of beyond?’
‘I did not, and certainly not in a coat like that,’ Sister said. Rita tried hard not to laugh now.
‘D’ya like it?’ Maeve twirled unashamedly in the middle of the room where the smell of boiling cabbage and potatoes filled the air. ‘My dad said when I take it off there will be a tiny body inside, because I’ll have shrunk with the heat!’ She gave a burst of effervescent laughter. ‘It belongs to me sister … She lent it to me for the summer.’
‘That was kind of her,’ the nurse said as Maeve took off the coat and slung it over the back of a chair. Rita thought the nurse a bit sour, knowing it cost nothing to be civil. But it didn’t seem to bother Maeve in the least when she replied, ‘I have to admit it is a bugger when you’re running for the bus …’
‘Young ladies do not run, especially in this hospital,’ replied Sister primly. ‘And they certainly do not use bad language.’
‘Do they not?’ asked Maeve, her brows meeting in a disbelieving crease.
‘Matron would cut you off at the knees if she caught you running.’
‘I’d better practise walking then, hadn’t I?’ said Maeve. ‘I run everywhere at home.’
‘You are no longer at home. And I don’t want to hear any more swearing coming from your lips, or there will be consequences.’ Sister went to fetch a straight-backed chair to sit on.
‘Isn’t she the tetchy one?’ Maeve whispered out of earshot. ‘I bet she’ll ask to borrow me coat one o’ these fine days or my name’s not Precious O’Toole!’
‘But you said your name was Mary-Josephine Kerrigan,’ Rita said.
‘So I did,’ Maeve sighed theatrically. ‘Precious O’Toole is me stage name.’
‘You entertain?’ Rita asked, wondering if this girl really was a nurse or if she was a patient who had escaped from the psychiatric ward. Kerrigan? Rita wondered if she was any relation to Sid. However, she did not have time to ask.
‘You will call me Sister Brown,’ said the efficient senior nurse carrying the list of names. ‘I am very busy this morning, and I do not want to waste time here. Patients are being discharged or moved to safer hospitals. I’ll tick you off my list as present.’
‘That’s nice,’ Maeve said brightly.
Rita was increasingly bewildered at this young woman, who hurtled into the hospital, turning it into something resembling the stage of a low-grade music hall. Maeve, with hand on hip, leaning on the table, waited for the nurse to finish examining the list.
‘Ahh, there you are: Mary-Josephine Kerrigan. I wonder how long it will be before we are striking your name off this list altogether. Nursing is not for everyone, you know. It takes a certain sort of strength.’
‘I come from a long line of nurses,’ said Maeve, ‘going right back to Florence Nightingale.’
‘I’ll go and see if Matron is ready to see you,’ Sister Brown said, raising her eyebrows and giving Maeve a tight smile.
‘That smile didn’t suit her,’ Maeve said, watching her leave the hall. ‘She looked like she was practising for a photograph.’ She winked at Rita, who could not help but laugh.
‘You’ll get yourself into trouble,’ Rita said, feeling Maeve was instantly likeable as long as you were not Sister Brown.
‘Jaysus, if she was a bar of chocolate she’d eat herself!’ Maeve declared.
‘Ahh, you’ve arrived, I see,’ Matron said smiling, meeting Sister at the door. Matron had a natural authority which brooked no nonsense and Rita noticed that Maeve quietened somewhat. She could behave herself when she had to.
‘Tell me, why do they call you “Maeve”?’ Matron asked.
‘Sure, wouldn’t I have a hump on me back carrying a name like Mary-Josephine around with me all day?’ Maeve gave the matron what she hoped was a winning smile but Matron was stony-faced in return.
‘Well, now,’ said Sister as a horde of chattering girls entered the room, ‘in Bootle Infirmary you will be known as Kerrigan. I hardly think anybody will even know your Christian name.’
‘Ah, here’s the rest now.’ Matron waited until everybody was seated at the long wooden forms along the tables before comm
encing. They were told that their normal day’s work started at seven thirty a.m. and finished at eight p.m. They would get three hours off sometime during the day, and they were allowed a half-day off every week.
‘That’s grand,’ Maeve said in a voice barely above a whisper.
‘I’m glad you approve, Kerrigan,’ Sister said in a sharp tone. Maeve sunk visibly into her seat.
‘Your main duties today will be moving patients,’ Matron continued, ‘and you will be wherever you are needed.’
‘I wanted to bandage people up; I can do that,’ the irrepressible Maeve whispered to Rita, who imagined she and Maeve would become firm friends.
‘D’ya think we’ll get a chance to nurse on the male ward any time soon?’ Maeve said with a gleam in her eye. ‘Sure, wouldn’t I be thrilled if I had a male bed-bath to look forward to?’
‘Nurse Kerrigan,’ Sister’s strident voice echoed across the room, ‘your duties are in the sluice room today.’
‘Yes, Sister.’ She sat quietly next to Rita and there was a few moments’ silence.
‘Are you waiting for a special invitation to the sluice room, Kerrigan?’ Matron asked in a quiet voice and Maeve jumped out of her seat as if it was hot. ‘Would you look at me sitting here like pith on a rock bun?’
Rita watched as her new friend then dragged all her belongings out of the dining hall and clattered down the long corridor outside.
‘Go and help her, Nurse Kennedy,’ Matron said in a tortured tone. ‘When you have done that I want you to help mobilise as many patients as possible into ambulances, buses, or anything that will transport them as far away from the docks as possible. We’ve had word that there could be raids and we’re moving as many out as we can as a precautionary measure, in case of an influx of servicemen.’