Daughters of the Mersey

by Anne Baker

  Gradually the number of military vehicles was reduced as one by one they broke down, ran out of fuel or were blown up. The last order they received was to head for the Channel port of Dunkirk and by then it seemed it was every man for himself. It was no longer a matter of falling back, or of evacuation; they were fleeing for their lives.

  It went on day after day, and night after night. There wasn’t enough room for them to lie down in the lorry; they slept on their hard seats slumped against each other. Milo felt dirty, hungry and exhausted, but so far they’d been lucky, they’d been able to siphon fuel from vehicles that had broken down.

  They were relying on each other and forging stronger links as they all sought survival. Two of their group were killed by bullets from a Stuka and had to be left behind, but it drew those remaining even closer.

  On the fifth day they stopped by a canal, stripped off their clothes for the first time in almost a week, and swam. They came across a herd of cows and John, who had been a farm worker, milked them. The drink and the swim revived them all for a time, but fuel for the lorry finally gave out. They blew it up so the enemy wouldn’t benefit from it and continued on foot.

  They were too large a group to stay together. Not all could agree on the best route and some could move more quickly than others. Milo cricked his ankle jumping into a ditch to take cover from yet another Stuka attack and was reduced to hobbling, but one of their companions broke his leg. Some received gunshot wounds and were wounded by shrapnel, and many were too weary to keep going. Milo, Duggie and two others, John and Derek, continued on their way but found their route barred by the many canals on the outskirts of Dunkirk.

  They were afraid the bridges would be manned by German troops so the only way to cross was to wade waist deep and if necessary swim. They fastened what ammunition they had left on their heads and held their rifles high.

  Milo’s relief at arriving at Dunkirk was short-lived. His first sight of the port horrified him. There were legions of Allied troops swarming across the beach; some were wading out into the sea, attempting to reach the small boats bobbing there. The sky was filled with planes that were dropping bombs on some larger ships that were berthed in the docks. As he watched, one that was half loaded received a direct hit and went up in flames.

  There was no shelter for the troops on the beach. Bullets were whistling into the sand all around them, but to leave might mean they’d not get a passage home on a boat.

  A group from a Welsh regiment was singing hymns and that reminded Milo of a last stand on a sinking ship and frightened him more than anything else. He was shocked into action when another Stuka dived across the beach and Derek dropped dead at his feet with a series of bullet holes in his chest.

  The three remaining men turned and sprinted towards some bombed buildings that offered shelter. As Milo ran he felt a huge blow to his left side, which lifted him off his feet and flung him to the ground. An agonising pain shot through him.

  Duggie and John turned back to pull him into what was left of a building, where they felt safer.

  ‘Don’t black out.’ Duggie’s voice sounded a long way away.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ John asked.

  ‘I’m not leaving him.’

  ‘He’s bleeding like a stuck pig.’

  ‘Didn’t we see a first-aid post on the edge of the beach?’

  ‘But will it still be manned?’

  ‘I’ll go and see,’ Duggie said. ‘You stay with him.’

  The next thing Milo knew he was being half carried, half dragged. Somehow they managed to avoid the gunfire and flying bullets. He couldn’t stand and he couldn’t sit. He knew they’d reached the first-aid post when he was at last allowed to collapse and lie down.

  ‘You’ll be all right now,’ Duggie said.

  ‘No, I’m done for,’ he gasped. Another pain made him wince. ‘I’ve had it. You go while you still can.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ON FRIDAYS, AMY LOOKED FORWARD to ringing Pat as well her mother on her way home from school. She missed her a lot, and when Amy heard her voice, it always transported her back to her old life. She had a lot to tell Pat about the school she went to now. ‘I’m ink monitor this week and I have to mix the ink powder and water and fill all the inkwells.’

  There was no sign of Pat’s familiar giggle, she sounded oddly strained. ‘I thought you’d be worried.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Dunkirk, haven’t you heard? It’s on the wireless. They’ve been going on about it for days. Don’t you have a wireless there?’

  ‘Yes, I have Children’s Hour on sometimes, but people don’t listen to the news like they do back home.’

  ‘Everybody’s biting their nails about Dunkirk.’

  ‘What’s happened there?’

  ‘All our soldiers are trapped in France. They’ve been caught by the Germans and they won’t let them come home. Your Milo was sent to France, wasn’t he?’

  Amy suddenly realised what Pat was trying to tell her. She shivered. ‘Yes, but I think he’s all right, I had a letter from him last week.’

  ‘I don’t think he is. My mum says your family’s worried stiff because he’s missing.’

  ‘What d’you mean, missing?’ Amy was suddenly afraid and had a vision of German soldiers firing machine guns at her brother.

  ‘Well, some of the soldiers have managed to escape and come home but there’s no sign of Milo.’

  ‘Then where is he?’

  She heard Pat say, ‘I thought you might know,’ but the pips were sounding to indicate that time was up. The phone went dead and Amy burst into tears.

  If the Germans had caught Milo, that meant he was a prisoner. What if they’d shot him already? Her heart was thumping like a machine as she groped in her pocket for more pennies to phone her mother’s shop.

  It was Elaine’s voice that answered. ‘I want my mum,’ Amy wailed urgently. She could hear the sounds of the shop, the doorbell pinged and then Mum said, ‘Amy love, is something the matter?’

  ‘Pat says the Germans have trapped the British Army and might have caught Milo. Is this true?’

  ‘We don’t really know, darling. Not for sure.’

  ‘He’s missing, that’s what she said. He’s not come home with the other soldiers.’

  ‘We don’t know. They’re not all home yet. Probably more will come.’ She heard the anguish in her mother’s voice and knew just how upset she was. ‘Of course we’re all worried because we don’t know what is happening.’

  Amy choked out, ‘Milo could be hurt and not able to get home.’

  ‘We haven’t given up hope and you mustn’t. He could still come back safe and sound. Perhaps all he needs is more time. We must be patient and hope that all is well.’

  ‘Mum,’ Amy said, desperate now, ‘I want to come home to be with you. I want to be there when Milo comes. I never get to know anything here.’

  ‘Darling, you will. I will let you know. Have you any more pennies?’

  ‘No, I only brought four.’

  ‘Is there a number on the phone in front of you? Tell me quickly what it is.’

  Amy managed to choke it out.

  ‘Right.’ The pips were sounding and almost drowned out Mum’s voice. ‘Put the phone down and wait. I’ll ring you back.’

  Leonie silently berated Pat for telling Amy that Milo was missing. Why hadn’t she foreseen that something like this might happen? She’d thought it a good idea for them to talk but it wasn’t. She rang Amy back and did her best to comfort her, but it was hard when they were far apart like this. She could only say that they must wait and hope that Milo would get home.

  Leonie’s big fear was that Milo would come home with some dreadful injury that would ruin his life before he’d had time to enjoy any of it. She dreaded him ending up like his father.

  She could feel tears stinging her eyes. When she finally put the phone down, she rushed upstairs to Elaine who did her best to comfort her, making her
a cup of tea and repeating almost exactly the same words of comfort she’d used to Amy.

  Amy was glad to find the other girls had walked on without her. She wanted to be alone because she couldn’t stop the tears running down her cheeks.

  If Mum was worried about Milo, and clearly she was, then he was in grave danger. Mum had been trying to comfort her but Amy doubted there was much hope left.

  Poor Milo, sometimes he’d teased her and when he had his own friends he hadn’t wanted her near him but most of the time he’d been very good to her. She would miss him if he didn’t come back.

  She told Bessie about Milo being missing when she got home, and she said, ‘We’ll put the wireless on at six o’clock to hear what is happening at Dunkirk.’ Today there were stewed pears with banana junket and cream for tea.

  ‘We have a pear tree at the top of the garden at home,’ Amy told Bessie. ‘But they’re yellow pears not green like yours. Milo fixed a swing on it for me. It’s a very tall tree with a main branch sticking out high up. He got some chains and a piece of thin rope and attached one end of the rope to the chain and a stone to the other. Then he threw the stone over the branch and pulled on the rope and that dragged the chain over the branch after it.’

  ‘Your brother is clever,’ Bessie said. ‘He’d make a good farmer.’

  ‘Yes, my swing has a red seat and much longer chains than the swings in the park, so it goes much higher. It’s the best swing in the world. Sometimes Milo pushed me, but even if he didn’t I can swing it high myself. It isn’t a swing for babies; both he and June like to have a go on it.’

  ‘How do you like these pears? I bottled them in the autumn but I think I should have stewed them for longer.’

  ‘They’re lovely. We don’t stew our pears, just eat them raw. When I left, I could see them turning yellow amongst the leaves. I used to stand on the seat and jump hard to bring them down. There were always a lot and when they were ripe they’d come raining down and sometimes hit me. Milo liked to make the pears fall down so he could eat them too.’ Amy was almost blinded by tears again.

  ‘Come on, bach,’ Bessie said. ‘It’s time for milking and the cows don’t like waiting. You come and help me. Sunshine is getting used to you milking her.’

  Leonie was in the kitchen fighting her tears as she made cauliflower cheese for supper. She knew her eyes were red and wasn’t pleased to hear the doorbell ring as Steve would wait for her to answer it. She wiped her face on a tea towel and was still wiping her hands as she went to the door.

  ‘Good evening Mrs Dransfield.’ She didn’t at first recognise the man on her doorstep.

  ‘Henry Jenkins,’ he said. ‘Duggie’s father.’

  ‘Oh yes!’ Her heart somersaulted. ‘Duggie was with Milo in France, have you heard from him?’

  ‘Yes, he rang to tell me he’s in Southampton.’ Mr Jenkins was smiling. ‘He and Milo came back in a fishing smack.’

  ‘He did? Thank God for that. I’ve been so worried. Come in, come and tell us what you know.’ She led him down the passage towards their living room, then stopped to throw open Steve’s study door.

  ‘Whatever is the matter?’ Steve lowered his evening paper. ‘Who is this?’

  Leone laughed outright. ‘Good news at last. This is Henry Jenkins – you know, Duggie’s father.’

  He stared at them irritably.

  ‘He and Milo were in the same unit. He came to tell us they’re both safely back in Southampton. Have a seat, Mr Jenkins.’ She ushered him towards the only other chair in the room. ‘How is Milo?’

  ‘He’s not very well, that’s what I’ve come to tell you. I expect you’re wondering why Milo hasn’t phoned you himself. Duggie said they’ve taken him to the military hospital and he needs an operation. He’s got a piece of shrapnel in his side, in his abdomen, and there’s also a bullet lodged in his thigh.’

  Leonie felt her head spinning. Was this really good news? His injuries sounded very like those Steve had suffered.

  Steve said, ‘But he’s going to be all right?’

  ‘They hope so.’

  Leonie swallowed hard. It didn’t seem all that hopeful. ‘What happened to him? How was he hurt?’

  ‘You’ve heard that it wasn’t an orderly retreat through France? It took them a week and when they finally reached the beach at Dunkirk they were hungry, exhausted and had run out of ammunition for their rifles. There were plenty of soldiers left on the beach but very few boats to take them off and the evacuation was running out of time. The enemy was bombing and strafing the boats and the beach, and that was where Milo copped it. Those left were fighting for survival as well as for places on the few boats that remained. You’ve heard Milo mention John, another man from the same unit?’

  Leonie shook her head. She felt sick.

  ‘They took Milo to a first-aid post on the beach where they bandaged him up and put him to lie on a stretcher. But then they heard they wouldn’t take any more stretcher cases on the boats because a stretcher takes up enough space for two or three men. So Duggie and John half carried Milo between them, waded out into the sea, heaved him on board, and bagged the last few places on this fishing smack. I understand it was chaotic.’

  ‘It sounds it,’ Steve said. ‘So Milo must thank his friends for getting him back.’

  Leonie was afraid for her son. She tried to pull herself together. ‘How is Duggie?’

  ‘He can’t believe his luck. He has no injuries and expects to be home on leave in a few days, but he says he hasn’t slept properly for a week, he’s exhausted. He was going to have a meal and go to bed and have his sleep out. John has a problem with his eyes. He’s in the hospital with Milo.’ Henry Jenkins took a piece of paper from his pocket. ‘This is the name and address of the hospital, also the ward Milo is on and the phone number. It’s a big military hospital and has all the expertise of dealing with war wounds. It’s the best place for him.’

  Leonie felt limp with relief. Milo was alive, she must be positive. It could so easily have been much worse for him. ‘I’m so grateful to Duggie and his other friend.’

  ‘We’re both delighted and relieved,’ Steve said. ‘Thank you for coming round to tell us like this.’ Steve got up and shook his hand. ‘We’re very grateful. Will you join us in a celebratory drink?’

  He ushered them into the living room where the table was already set for an everyday supper for two. ‘We have no champagne I’m afraid, but there’s whisky or sherry.’

  Henry Jenkins no longer seemed at ease. Leonie sipped her sherry and hoped the news about Milo was as good as Steve was assuming. She had a cold feeling in her stomach that his injuries might alter his life in the way Steve’s injuries had altered his.

  After supper, she put in a long-distance call to Netley Hospital to inquire how Milo was. She thought it was the ward sister who picked up the phone. ‘He’s had a large piece of shrapnel removed from his abdomen and damage to both his large and small bowel repaired.’

  ‘And there’s no damage to his other organs?’ Leonie asked.

  ‘Erm . . . Let me see.’ Leonie could hear pages being turned. ‘A little minor damage perhaps, but that is expected to heal naturally. The operation went well but he hasn’t yet come round from the anaesthetic.’

  Leonie put the phone down feeling that Milo wasn’t out of the woods yet. Nevertheless, she made herself write a long comforting letter to Amy letting her know he was back in England.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  JUNE WAS GETTING USED to being called Nurse Dransfield but she didn’t care much for the job. The bedpan round was absolutely disgusting but there were compensations. She’d got away from Pa and Mum and all that fuss every time she wanted an evening out and it was fun living with a lot of girls.

  They were quite envious that she had a boyfriend with a home of his own where she could go at any time, and where she could be alone with him. They thought him handsome and very much a man of the world and were envious, too, that he kept taking her to
such lovely places. Well, perhaps she had bragged about Ralph but they counted it quite a feather in her cap to have him waiting for her outside in his smart two-seater.

  June worked long hours but she enjoyed her days off in the middle of the week when everybody else was either at school or at work. Today, she was going to the shop because Mum had promised to make her a party dress and June knew her mother wouldn’t expect to be paid for it. She was hoping to persuade her to use one of Elaine’s patterns. She wanted a dress that made her look a little older and more sophisticated than she was. She wanted something new to wear to the smart restaurants to which Ralph took her. He was always happy to buy dresses for her, but clothes rationing had become a perennial problem. A dress length took fewer coupons and Mum might give up some of her own, or persuade Pa to give up his.

  ‘Come early,’ Mum had said, ‘before we get busy.’

  Last evening, June had gone out with Ralph and spent the rest of the night with him in his house. He had brought her a cup of tea in bed before going to work and she’d snoozed on for another hour.

  The shop was busy when she got there and Ida’s sewing machine was positively racing while Mum dealt with customers. June picked up the folder containing Elaine’s patterns and sat down to make her choice.

  Mum looked tired, but then she always did. Putting up with Pa would take a lot out of anybody. He expected to be waited on hand and foot. She shouldn’t let him get away with sitting about and doing nothing all day.

  Mum pushed a pattern book into her hands and said before turning to another customer, ‘These would be more suitable for your age group, pet. Go up to the flat and make us all a cup of tea, I’m dying for a drink.’

  June did so and her mother joined her there ten minutes later. ‘I’ve seen a pattern that I like,’ June told her. It was one of Elaine’s.

  ‘That would look good on me,’ Mum was pursing her lips, ‘or any middle-aged woman. I don’t think for you . . .’