Daughters of the Mersey

by Anne Baker

  ‘I do have milk but I’ll have to use water. I need the milk to make a pint of custard. I have some stewed apple left over and the remains of a plain cake and that will give us some sort of a pudding.’

  ‘Are we going to have a main course?’

  Elaine sighed. ‘The best I can do is sardines on toast. What is the world coming to?’

  ‘None of us will go to bed hungry,’ June said, ‘and it’s good of you to feed us all in these difficult times.’ She set the table and helped to open the tins.

  Milo appeared at the table with his newly washed hair slicked back. ‘I’m all ready for bed,’ he said. He was wearing the siren suit Leonie had made for him. If they hadn’t all been so tired, Elaine’s scratch meal would have been quite a jolly occasion.

  ‘I would never have believed mixing tomato soup with chicken soup would turn out to be so tasty,’ June told her.

  Milo thanked Elaine as soon as they’d finished eating and was on his way out to the Anderson shelter in the garden when he turned back.

  ‘What a clot I am,’ he said. ‘I’ve forgotten to feed the hens. I’ll walk down and do it now.’

  ‘No,’ Leonie said. ‘You’ve hardly slept in the past twenty-four hours. Go and lie down, I’ll see to it.’

  They all protested that in the blackout she mustn’t walk all that way alone. Tom offered to drive her down.

  In the end, Elaine said, ‘No need, I’m going to take June back to the hospital, we can run down there first and see to the chicks together.’

  ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ Milo said. ‘I salvaged the hen food and put it in the gardener’s shed with all those other things we took out of the house. It’s a dry meal and I’ve been adding a bit of water to it and any household scraps we had. And because they were turning off the water, I filled a bucket and some bottles and put them in the shed for the hens too. Will you top up their drinking water while you’re at it?’

  ‘We’ll do everything,’ June said and Elaine wrapped up a dry crust of bread she thought the hens might like.

  ‘Looking after them isn’t going to be easy now the water is shut off and we aren’t living there,’ Milo worried.

  ‘Don’t be long,’ Tom said. ‘Perhaps I should take June. I don’t like to think of you driving about in a raid.’

  ‘No,’ Elaine said. ‘We hardly ever get a raid before ten o’clock. Are you ready, June?’

  ‘Goodnight, Mum.’ She kissed Leonie’s cheek. ‘We’ll get through this. Things can only get better.’

  ‘Yes, at least I don’t have to worry about Amy. It’s a comfort to know she’s being well looked after and in a safe place.’

  It was another clear moonlit night, so they knew the Luftwaffe was more than likely to come again. June had no difficulty seeing her way round the garden and led the way to the big shed to find and mix the hen food. They’d all looked at the chicks earlier in the day and now when they opened the door of their shed they came scurrying out of the nest behind Hetty. Polly fluttered down from the perch to feed too. Elaine found two fresh eggs in the nesting boxes.

  ‘That gives me four, we’ll be able to have eggs for breakfast,’ she said. ‘All is well here, but there’s that pile of clean bedlinen still here.’

  ‘Yes, it’s what I salvaged from Mum’s blanket chest.’

  ‘She’s going to need it to make up the beds. Let’s take it up now. We almost have to pass the shop and tomorrow Tom and I will probably go to Chester to see the twins so for your mother that would mean Shanks’s pony and carrying it up. I do miss not having my car. This petrol shortage is a real pain.’

  June helped her pack the boot and the back seat, and five minutes later they were up at the shop. Elaine unlocked the door while June carried all she could straight upstairs, so that when the shop opened in the morning, all would be ready to carry on the business.

  Upstairs, she divided the bedding between the three beds. ‘Good job we got the frames put together this afternoon,’ she said. ‘Are we going to make them up?’

  ‘No, I’m shattered. That can be done tomorrow now we’ve got this far.’ Elaine was passing the phone in the sitting room when it began to ring.

  ‘Who could it be at this time of night?’ she said as she picked the receiver up. June watched her. Elaine looked perplexed and answered in monosyllables.

  ‘No,’ she said at last. ‘She isn’t here but she’s staying at my house. You can ring her there,’ and she gave her own phone number.

  ‘Who was that?’ June asked.

  ‘It was the police wanting your mother. They wouldn’t tell me what it was about.’

  ‘Probably about being bombed out.’ June sighed.

  ‘Yes, come on. Let’s get you back to the hospital.’

  When Elaine returned home, she was taken aback to find Leonie in tears and Tom pacing the sitting-room floor. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘It’s Amy,’ Tom said. ‘The police have rung up; the people she’s billeted with have reported her missing. They think she’s come here to find her mother.’

  ‘Oh my God!’

  ‘It seems Amy spoke to her friend Pat on the phone this afternoon. Pat told her about the house being bombed.’

  Elaine shivered. Leonie’s tearful eyes looked up to meet hers. ‘That’s the only place she’d be likely to go. I hoped you’d find her down there. She wasn’t . . .?’

  ‘No, there was no sign of her.’

  ‘The police said she’ll almost certainly make for her home.’

  ‘If she’d been there . . . Well, we’d have seen her and she’d have seen us.’

  ‘Perhaps she went inside the house,’ Leonie said faintly. ‘Perhaps she fell through the floor. Perhaps . . .’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Elaine said firmly. ‘She would have heard us and called out. We spent some time there seeing to the hens and we heard nothing, and nothing seemed to have changed since we left there earlier on. We took some more of your stuff up to the shop. She wasn’t there either.’

  ‘She wouldn’t be there.’ Leonie dabbed at her eyes. ‘She wouldn’t be able to get in, she doesn’t have a key.’

  ‘Well, it seems she hasn’t reached home yet,’ Elaine said. ‘Unless she went to her friend’s house, the one that lives a few doors further along the Esplanade.’

  ‘I thought of that,’ Leonie said. ‘And as the phones are working again I tried to phone Colleen Greenway. There was no answer but I heard it ring and ring. I seem to remember her saying they’d at last found a cottage to rent so the whole family could get away from here. I think they were going today.’

  ‘Would Amy be able to find her way back home?’ Elaine asked.

  ‘I don’t think she would.’ Leonie couldn’t stop the tears running down her cheeks. ‘She’s never travelled on her own. She knows nothing about trains and buses. It frightens me to think of it. Amy could be anywhere.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  LEONIE HAD NEVER FELT so low, she was exhausted mentally and physically. After seeing what had happened to her home it had taken all her strength to keep her mind on practicalities – what she urgently needed to do. Everybody had rallied round to help and she was just beginning to believe she could survive when the police had informed her that Amy was missing.

  She felt she could take no more and couldn’t stop her tears. Elaine wanted her to go to bed, but she’d not be able to sleep until she knew Amy was safe. Almost anybody out in a raid would be scared stiff, and Amy hadn’t experienced one before. If they had a raid tonight she’d be absolutely terrified.

  ‘She could be there by now,’ Leonie sobbed. ‘She could have got home after you and June left. There’s nowhere else she’s likely to go.’

  Tom was looking at her sympathetically. ‘I’ll go down and take another look in case she’s there.’

  ‘Thank you. Tom, I’ll come with you, I want to see for myself.’

  ‘All right,’ he said and waited while she pulled a coat on over her siren suit.

&
nbsp; When they got to Mersey Reach the moon had disappeared behind a heavy cloud and it seemed ominously dark. Everything should have been familiar, she’d lived here for nearly thirty years, but it wasn’t. She could just make out the change in the shape of the roof, and the smell was alarmingly different. Now there was the stench of old plaster and soot instead of the fresh scent of the river.

  ‘Amy,’ she called. ‘Amy, are you here?’

  Tom echoed her words in a louder voice. ‘Amy?’

  They listened but the only sound came from the front where the full Mersey tide was hurling waves against the Esplanade.

  ‘If Amy has come, where would she be? Where would we be likely to find her?’ Tom asked.

  Leonie had to think. ‘She’d find the hens. They are what she knows.’ She led the way with glass splintering beneath her feet. She opened the henhouse door and shone the torch inside – they all carried on these days. It caused Polly to flutter down from her perch and cackle a welcome. Leonie had hoped to find Amy curled up inside with them.

  ‘She’s not here,’ she said sadly, backing out and only just managing to close the door before Polly escaped. She was close against the house here and it was darker than ever. She stubbed her toe against something but couldn’t see what. Supporting herself against the rough brick wall of the house, she felt round with her foot. One flash from Tom’s dimmed torch showed debris of every sort had blown to clutter the path.

  He switched his torch off, the public were advised not to show a light outside, it was against blackout regulations. ‘It’s dangerous to try and walk down here in the dark,’ he said. ‘Amy? Amy, are you here?’ When there was no answer, he said, ‘Let’s go back.’

  ‘I hope she didn’t try to get in the house.’ Leonie was striding up the garden to check inside the other sheds.

  ‘She isn’t here.’ Tom was heading back to his car. ‘I think we should go home and try to get some sleep.’

  Leonie was agonised. ‘But the police think she’s on her way here, she could reach here as soon as we’ve gone.’

  ‘Amy won’t be able to get here in the middle of the night. The buses stop running shortly after ten, and it has gone that.’

  ‘I hate to think of her being here by herself.’ Leonie tried to see her watch and failed. ‘To come all this way and find the place deserted. She’d be terrified, especially if we have a raid.’

  ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  As soon as Leonie entered Elaine’s kitchen, she was given a hot drink and urged to go to bed. ‘I’ll go straight to the shelter,’ she said. ‘Then I don’t have to get up if there’s a raid.’

  For Nick, Friday had been busy but it was now half three and he liked to leave early when he was expecting Tom and Elaine to come for the weekend. He was in his office with a client who was involved in a complicated case, when fifteen-year-old Maisie Beggs, Heather’s replacement, rang through to tell him there was a policeman asking to see him about a personal matter.

  ‘Does he have an appointment?’

  ‘No, he’s says he’s prepared to wait but he must see you today.’

  ‘All right.’ Nick assumed he was a new client and he was taken aback when twenty minutes later Miss Beggs ushered in a uniformed police constable who stood by the door riffling through his notebook.

  Nick felt his heart begin to race. He didn’t look like a client and if it was a personal matter surely he wouldn’t have come in full uniform? For the first time Nick wondered if the matter was personal to him. ‘Have a seat,’ he said. ‘Has something happened?’

  The police officer remained standing. ‘Yes, sir, I’m afraid it has. We believe your wife . . .’ He began to read from his notebook. ‘Mrs Heather Mary Bailey was a passenger on the train bound for London that was derailed outside Birmingham last night. You heard about that?’

  Nick’s mouth felt suddenly dry. He’d heard a passing reference to it on the BBC’s eight o’clock news while he’d been eating his breakfast, but he hadn’t known Heather intended to visit London. ‘No, no. Tell me please.’

  ‘Well, last night there was an air raid in the Birmingham area that damaged the railway tracks. The Great Western overnight sleeper via Crewe was travelling on the line at the time and four of its front carriages were derailed. There have been fatalities, sir, and I’m afraid it’s my duty to inform you that . . .’

  ‘Fatalities?’ Nick shuddered with icy anticipation. ‘You’ve come to tell me Heather has been killed?’

  ‘We believe, sir, that it’s possible she has. Ration cards, identity card etcetera were found in a handbag we believe to be hers.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ The police officer scribbled in his book. ‘I have to ask if you would be willing to identify the body. We could arrange for it to be brought to the morgue in Chester.’

  ‘Yes,’ Nick said. The room was beginning to eddy round him. Heather, so full of life and energy, always full of new plans, it didn’t seem possible that she was dead.

  ‘There appears to have been a gentleman with her. We think it could be a Mr Charles Brody. Would you also be prepared to identify him?’

  ‘No, I can’t do that. You’ll have to get someone from the Cavanagh Hotel.’

  ‘Yes, that was the address on his papers.’

  Nick made himself ask. ‘How many were killed?’

  ‘Six on the train but many more injured, some badly.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘We’ll let you know when we have it arranged.’

  When he left, Nick threw himself back into his chair and stared into space. He’d had such high hopes when he’d married Heather. She was . . . She had been, a very beautiful girl and once he’d felt love for her and been close, but it had all gone wrong. All the same, he hated to think she’d suffered such a violent death.

  He felt cold with the shock. He couldn’t think straight, his mind was whirling; he’d not be able to do any more work this afternoon, there was no point in trying. He put on his mac and trilby and told his senior clerk he was leaving. Usually he caught a bus at ten past five to carry him the three stops to his home but he had no idea of its timetable. He walked, hoping it would clear his head and stop him shaking.

  He needed to call in at the local shops. He was a good customer and the fishmonger there had promised to keep him three trout if at all possible. He fetched them from a back room, holding them out for him to see, plump and gleaming with freshness.

  ‘Lovely,’ Nick said. He’d also asked him to keep a small piece of cod for the twins.

  ‘I couldn’t get much cod this morning,’ the fishmonger said. ‘It’ll have to be whiting.’

  ‘Thank you. That will do very nicely.’ Olive had always bought whiting for her cat, but the twins wouldn’t know the difference. He was relieved to have tonight’s dinner organised and bought a loaf at the baker’s shop before going on.

  His house was cold but clean and tidy, he was glad Lily Bales who cleaned for him had been today to tidy up before Elaine and Tom arrived. He poured himself a whisky and sat down, feeling low, to meditate on the premature end that had been Heather’s lot.

  He must have dozed in his armchair because it was getting dark now and felt colder than ever. He’d been a fool not to light his fire when he’d first come home to have the room warm for when the twins arrived. It had been laid ready so he put a match to it and watched the flames flare greedily through the newspaper. He was hungry and looking forward to his dinner. He couldn’t get Heather out of his mind and shuddered. Thank goodness Tom and Elaine would be here tonight. He needed company.

  The phone rang and it amazed him to hear Tom’s voice just when he’d been thinking of him. He told him about Heather because it was in the forefront of his mind.

  ‘I’m sorry, Nick. But it’s going to make things easier for you, isn’t it? You won’t have to worry about a divorce.’

  ‘No, I won’t.’ He’d realised that, but what was the matter with him that he hadn
’t got round to ringing William Lomax about it? ‘I’m a widower now but—’

  ‘Nick, we’ve got big problems here,’ Tom cut in. ‘I don’t think Elaine and I will be able to come tonight. Leonie’s house has been badly damaged by the bombs, half the roof has gone and she and Milo won’t be able to go on living there.’

  Nick shivered as icy fingers seemed to clutch his stomach. ‘Was Leonie hurt? It must have been terrifying for her. Has she lost everything?’

  ‘Not everything. Elaine has been helping her all day to salvage what she can. But there’s—’

  ‘Where will she live now?’ Why had he been worrying about Heather when this had happened to Leonie? It would turn her world upside down. ‘She’s got the shop premises, hasn’t she? Will there be room for her and her son to live there? Was Milo hurt?’

  ‘Nick, listen to me, will you? The bombing isn’t her only problem, there’s worse.’

  ‘What could be worse than having no roof over your head?’

  ‘Amy has run away.’

  He couldn’t get his breath and the pause dragged on.

  ‘Nick, are you there?’

  ‘Yes . . . What do you mean, run away? From Wales where she was evacuated? I thought she was happy there.’ He couldn’t get the words out quickly enough. ‘Leonie wrote that she was glad she’d made the decision to let her go.’

  ‘Apparently Amy just upped and left. She ran off before they could stop her. She spoke to her friend Pat on the phone and they think she told her about her home being bombed and the roof caving in, that Pat frightened her. They understood that Amy meant to come home to her mother but Elaine and June went to Mersey Reach to feed the hens and they found no sign of her.’

  Nick cleared his throat. ‘She’d be worried about her mother and brother, wouldn’t she? Leonie wasn’t hurt?’

  ‘No, she stayed with us last night. She was in our shelter and Milo was out fire-watching, so neither were anywhere near at the time of the raid. They’re fine except that Leonie’s worried stiff about Amy. She’s left Wales but she hasn’t come home and nobody knows where she is.’