Читать книгу Winter on the Mersey: A Heartwarming Christmas Saga - Annie Groves, Annie Groves - Страница 11

The southerly wind bore the sharp smell of the nearby sea. Kitty lifted her head automatically to catch it, as she used to do so many times when back home the westerlies would carry the scent of the River Mersey to her front door. It took her back to her childhood, to when her mother was still alive and before she had had to take on the care of the household. She’d played in the street, looking up to Rita back in those days, chasing Nancy and borrowing her skipping rope, watching Sarah learn to walk and talk. Even though times had been tough, she hadn’t known any better and had just accepted how things were. Sometimes they’d hear Pop Feeny play his accordion and they would all sing along to songs from the music hall, or ones that Pop and Dolly knew from their own childhoods over in Ireland. Kitty could just about remember her mother joining in. She’d had a fine voice. It might not have been up to Gloria Arden’s standard, but they’d all gathered round on the rare occasions Ellen Callaghan stopped her never-ending housework and started a song.

Kitty smiled to herself. Now there was another little Ellen Callaghan on Empire Street and Rita had written to say she also had a voice – a loud one, which she’d given vent to every night of her short life so far. Rita hadn’t sounded cross, simply delighted that her small daughter had such a healthy pair of lungs. She’d mentioned a date for the baby’s christening but Kitty had hardly registered it, as it was so very unlikely that she’d be able to go. Father Harding was going to do it; he’d been slightly put out that Rita and Jack hadn’t married in his church, although he’d understood that, given Jack’s brief and often unpredictable shore leaves, they hadn’t been able to arrange a ceremony in time. So they’d had a civil ceremony. But Father Harding had known both families for years and wasn’t going to turn down the chance to welcome the youngest member into his fold, Rita had written with relief.

Kitty reached the square brick building that had been requisitioned for their office, quickly checking her watch to see if she was on time. She was very rarely late and only ever because of something out of her control, such as damage to the road forcing a detour. Even that was uncommon in this small town, whereas it had been an everyday occurrence when she’d lived in north London, and you just got used to it. She took off her light scarf and tucked it into her favourite handbag, now showing a depressing amount of wear and tear.

‘Miss Callaghan, you’re wanted in the boss’s office,’ said a young clerk, hurrying towards her.

‘Oh.’ Kitty refastened her bag to buy herself a moment. She couldn’t imagine what it might be about, and racked her brains to see if she’d done anything wrong. Surely it couldn’t be about that lapse of concentration a few mornings ago? Only Lizzie had noticed it, and she wouldn’t have reported it – unless Kitty had read the girl wrong for all this time. It wasn’t as if any calls had been missed or wrongly connected. ‘Do you know what it is about?’ she asked, keeping the uncertainty out of her voice, even as she realised it would be highly unlikely a junior member of staff like the clerk would be told anything serious.

‘No, ma’am. I mean miss. I mean, Leading Wren Callaghan.’ The clerk shuffled nervously, holding a manila folder to her chest for protection, overawed at being asked a question by one of the senior Wrens she looked up to so much. She wanted to please and impress her but didn’t know how.

Kitty realised the young woman’s dilemma and instantly sought to put her at her ease. ‘Don’t worry, there’s no reason you should know,’ she said hastily. ‘Thank you for telling me. I’ll go through right now.’ She beamed at the clerk to allay any remaining nerves and the young woman’s face brightened, before she scurried back to her desk.

Kitty squared her shoulders and knocked on the old oak door separating the most senior officer from the rest of the crowd and the ever-present noise of the telephone operators.

‘Come.’

Kitty went in.

Superintendent Knowles looked up from her impressive desk, which had once graced the local bank. The deputy manager had signed up for duty with the navy even though he hadn’t needed to go, and his wife had been so upset that she could not bear to have his desk returned to their home. She had offered it to the Wrens and Superintendent Knowles had eagerly accepted. It lent the little office some dignity – and a huge amount of paperwork could be stored in its capacious drawers.

‘At ease,’ she said at once, as Kitty stood smartly before her. ‘Let’s not stand on formality, Callaghan. Kitty. Sit down and do have a biscuit.’ She pushed a beautiful rose-patterned china plate across the highly polished desktop, and Kitty was astonished to see it held a variety of biscuits such as she hadn’t seen since the beginning of the war.

‘A perk of the job,’ said Knowles.

‘Thank you very much,’ said Kitty, sitting down as instructed, and helping herself to a bourbon. If she had been slightly worried before, she was completely confused now. She had always had a good working relationship with Knowles, but nothing had ever hinted at anything closer, still less anything informal. She wondered what was coming next.

‘Oh, take two,’ said Knowles. ‘That’s the spirit. Now, Kitty, are you happy here?’

Kitty couldn’t stop her eyebrows from rising a little. ‘Well, yes. Of course,’ she said.

‘Excellent,’ said Knowles. ‘I’d expect nothing else from you. You clearly have a firm grip of your job and everything it entails, and you have also shone in your role of coaching the younger members of our unit.’

‘Thank you,’ said Kitty, still none the wiser about what was going on.

‘How do you feel about that final part of your work?’ Knowles wanted to know. ‘The training aspect, I mean?’

Kitty thought for a moment. ‘I enjoy it,’ she said. Then, ‘No, more than that, I love it. It gives me enormous pleasure to see someone come in fresh from initial training but not really knowing what to do when the pressure starts to build, and watch her change into a fully competent operator who can cope with anything. It’s more than a pleasure, it’s a privilege, ma’am.’

Knowles nodded, as if she’d anticipated nothing less. ‘That is good to know, Kitty. In fact it is exactly what I predicted you would say.’

‘Oh,’ said Kitty, at a loss for words. Predicted to whom, she wondered.

Knowles sat forward and clasped her hands on the beautiful old wooden desktop. ‘You see, Kitty, I have been asked to recommend one of my Wrens for a highly sensitive training position,’ she said. ‘It requires someone who is accurate and discreet, obviously; someone, in fact, who has immense and meticulous attention to detail. It also needs someone who can bring on others to the highest level, and to do so quickly. It is a position of great responsibility. Lives will be at stake; there can be no slip-ups.’ She paused to let her words sink in. ‘The first person I thought of was you,’ she concluded.

‘Me?’ said Kitty.

Knowles nodded gravely, all pleasant friendliness gone. ‘Yes, you, Miss Callaghan. You are one of the finest telephone operators I have worked with. Your work is impeccable, and besides that you go above and beyond what is asked of you. You work long hours and extra shifts with no complaint, you are encouraging but firm with the less experienced Wrens, and you are never, but never, known to gossip. That would be essential in this new position.’

Kitty blinked, delighted with the compliments and flattered that all her hard work had been noticed. ‘Thank you,’ she said again.

Knowles looked at her seriously. ‘So now, I need you to consider this carefully. It would require a move away from this unit.’

Kitty nodded, and a treacherous little thought formed in her head. Maybe it would be back to London. She could see more of Laura. They could go out together and she would be on hand for when Captain Cavendish went back to his ship. She could distract Laura and Laura could take her to all the places she’d known before the war …

‘I know all you girls enjoy the fresh air and less frantic pace of life here beside the sea,’ Knowles went on.

Kitty kept her face from showing her real feelings – that she would far rather be somewhere livelier with more going on.

‘I am afraid this post is in a major city,’ Knowles said, as if this was a point against it.

‘I see,’ said Kitty carefully, while trying not to build up her hopes. How good it would be to be back with Laura, if not exactly recreating the days of their training, then at least being close to someone who understood everything she’d gone through.

‘I realise it would be a disappointment to leave this beautiful countryside,’ Knowles went on, ‘and of course to be in such a city would mean being back in danger of a potential attack from the enemy. While it can never be ruled out anywhere, urban or rural, it is my duty to warn you that this place has been the target of much bombing in the past.’

Kitty’s chin went up. ‘I understand,’ she said, ‘but I have had experience of this already and I know I could continue to work under such conditions. I would be ready to do my duty wherever I am needed.’

Knowles nodded. ‘Again, exactly what I thought you’d say. That’s precisely the attitude we require. So, you would have no problem returning to the northwest?’

‘The northwest?’ Kitty’s jaw dropped.

‘Why, yes. This position is in Liverpool. I understand that is where you come from?’

Kitty struggled to respond and swallowed hard to conceal her surprise. ‘Well, yes. I mean, of course, yes, I grew up on Merseyside. In Bootle, right by the docks.’ She glanced down at her hands, which were tightly gripping each other, the knuckles white. ‘It has been very heavily bombed. But many of my family and close friends are still there, or nearby.’ She paused.

Knowles looked at her directly. ‘Kitty, it is my job to know as much as possible about my senior staff and I have to ask you this now. I am aware that you were in a relationship – am I right in thinking it was a fairly serious relationship? – with a young doctor based there, and that he was killed in one of the bombings. Would that be an impediment to you returning to the area?’

Kitty gasped. So Knowles had been investigating her background. That came as a shock, and also a clue as to the level of sensitivity of the position. She wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or offended. Realistically, she knew it must be necessary – someone of Knowles’s level wouldn’t waste time on it if it weren’t. So how would she feel, going back to where she had first met Elliott? She took a moment to consider.

‘No, ma’am,’ she said after a brief pause. ‘To tell you the truth, although that is how I came to know him, we spent most of our time together in London. I don’t believe it would affect my work. I have been back several times over the past few years, for my brother’s wedding and things like that, and it gets a little easier every time. Thank you for asking.’

‘No need for thanks,’ said Knowles briskly, ‘I can’t recommend you if I think you will fall apart every time you walk down a certain street with memories. Not that I believe for a moment that you would. So I had to ask.’ She picked up a pen and glanced at a piece of paper to one side of her desk. ‘Right, well, you don’t have to make up your mind straight away. It’s more important we get the right person for this position than rushing it, but I need you to give me your answer by tomorrow. This is not exactly routine procedure, I’m sure you realise, but I didn’t want to order you to take up the posting without giving you a chance to take on board what it means. Not a word to anyone else, obviously.’

‘No, obviously not,’ said Kitty. She rose. ‘I’m … honoured you think me capable of this, ma’am. I’ll have my answer for you tomorrow, if not sooner.’

‘Excellent, Kitty.’ Knowles rose too, and ushered her to the door.

Kitty stood in the cold little corridor, painted the same dull institutional green as the room where she usually worked, her head reeling. Back to Liverpool. How would that feel?

She could see Rita and the new baby. She might be back in time for the christening. That would be wonderful. She would see Danny, and they could work out what would be best for Tommy – his most recent letter had worried her, and she knew they would have to decide about that soon. If they were both in the same place it would be so much easier. She’d see all the other friends and neighbours, whom she’d missed with a dull ache that she rarely allowed herself to think about. She would be back in a big city, with all that had to offer, away from those aspects of country life that she knew she should relish, but which had in fact been testing her patience ever since she’d arrived.

She drew a breath. She had been chosen for this honour, and she knew she had to accept. It was what she’d sworn to do after Elliott died – to go where she was needed, where her patriotic duty lay. This alone would be enough to say yes. He would have done whatever was asked of him and it was now up to her to carry on in his wake.

Excitement and dread battled within her. She would see Frank Feeny; there would be no way of avoiding him. Frank Feeny with Sylvia. Every time she’d gone home she had wondered if she would meet his new girlfriend, but even though she’d seen him very occasionally, he’d always been on his own. She didn’t know how she’d feel about seeing them as a couple, forced to face the reality that he loved someone else.

Well, that wasn’t enough to put her off. Plenty of people were dealing with far worse things day in and day out. He would be nothing to her. If their paths crossed she would be friendly and strictly professional and that would be that. There was no reason at all to think any more of it.

Resolution made, she turned back and knocked on Knowles’s door.

‘Come.’

Kitty went in.

‘Ma’am, I don’t need until tomorrow. I’d be delighted to accept. I’ll go back to Liverpool.’

Rita pushed open the door to her mother’s kitchen with one hand as she held her baby closely to her with the other. ‘Anyone in?’ she called. She saw the teapot was on the table and she reached across to the spout. It was very warm, so that was a good sign.

Dolly came bustling through the door from the parlour, duster in hand. ‘Who’s this, then?’ she said in delight, immediately checking to see if her newest grandchild was asleep or not. ‘Will you look at the eyelashes on her, Rita. They are even darker than Michael’s, and his were gorgeous at that age, weren’t they?’

Rita smiled to herself. Even her own mother didn’t know for sure that Jack was Michael’s real father – if she had guessed, she’d never said as much. It was true; both his children had been born with eyelashes that would be the envy of many a film star. At this moment, though, Ellen was oblivious to everything, sleeping peacefully on her mother’s shoulder, rosy cheek against Rita’s rather bobbled woollen jumper in deep sea green. Rita used to think it brought out the colour in her eyes, but now she didn’t have time to consider such things.

‘Have you heard the news?’ she asked her mother.

Dolly put down her duster. ‘Depends what news you mean,’ she said briskly. ‘Sarah tells me that Danny’s had a letter from young Tommy saying he wants to come back here to live now he’s almost fourteen. Was that what you meant?’

Rita sat down at the table, carefully positioning herself so that Ellen couldn’t reach out and grab the old chenille tablecloth if she woke up. ‘No, it’s not that – though Danny did say something about it when he came in for a newspaper earlier in the week. It might make a difference to his plans, though.’ She looked up at her mother, a wide smile on her face. ‘No, it’s Kitty. She’s being posted to Liverpool. She’s coming home.’

‘Is she now!’ Dolly’s face was full of pleasure. ‘Well, sure, that’s wonderful! When’s she coming, does she say? Will she live in her own house again or will they expect her to stay in one of their billets?’

Dolly had never felt right about her son Frank’s return to the city of his birth, only to have to live with a landlady, not back in his old home with her. The fact that there wasn’t actually any room for him any more didn’t make a difference to her mother’s instinct to have him home to look after him. She’d felt hurt, even though she’d known logically he needed to be closer to the centre and Derby House. It wasn’t about logic, it was about the deep urge to take care of him, no matter how old he was and how far he’d risen through the ranks. Now she felt the same about Kitty. She was almost like another daughter to her, and she wanted nothing more than to see she was safe and well.

‘She’s not really sure,’ Rita replied, shifting a little to make Ellen more comfortable. ‘She’s told them she wants to live back at home. I suppose that would make it better for Tommy, come to think of it. Between Kitty and Danny, they should be able to keep an eye on him if he does come home. Isn’t it the best news, though? I can’t wait to have her back again; we’ve hardly seen her since she left. She says she should be back before Easter. Jack will be made up when he hears.’

Dolly poured two cups from the pot and pushed one across. ‘Here, let me hold my little granddaughter while you enjoy your tea.’ She reached out and Rita gratefully passed Ellen over, taking great care not to disturb her.

‘The thing is, I need your advice,’ Rita went on. ‘Jack’s too far away – I wouldn’t get a letter to him and a reply back in time – so I want to see if you think this is a good idea or not.’

Dolly looked up expectantly, while cradling Ellen’s head in its tiny crocheted bonnet against her shoulder. ‘What’s on your mind, Rita, love?’

Rita took a sip before explaining. ‘It’s who to have as godparents at the christening. Jack and I agreed we wanted to do this properly, seeing as our wedding wasn’t in the church. Now we’ve got time to plan everything. We want to be fair. Jack’s already said he wants to ask Danny, that’s only right, and I thought I’d ask Sarah, being as how she was the one who brought little Ellen into the world. With your help, of course.’ She grinned, glad that part of the process was over and done with.

‘Now don’t be selling yourself short,’ Dolly admonished her. ‘We just cheered you on – you did all the hard graft there.’

Rita nodded. ‘Worth it, though.’ She gazed in adoration at her little girl before carrying on. ‘So now Kitty is coming back, I would really like to ask her. She’s always been such a good friend to me, as well as being Jack’s sister. I couldn’t think of anyone better, and she’ll be a good example to Ellen too.’

‘She will that,’ said Dolly. ‘None better. She’s done well for herself, and all through her own hard work and talent. I take my hat off to her. She’d be a grand choice, Rita, and I’m sure Jack would agree if he was here. Why would you even think twice?’

Rita nodded. She had no doubts about Kitty’s suitability. That wasn’t what was troubling her. ‘I don’t want to offend Violet,’ she told her mother. ‘She might have expected to be asked. We’d have asked Eddy too, if we could have been certain he’d be back, but even though he’s due leave for Easter week, you know what it’s like – they could be delayed, or the weather could turn, or anything like that. But Violet – she’s here every day and she loves Ellen. I wouldn’t want to put her nose out of joint for anything. It’s just that it seems unfair to have two godmothers from my side and none from Jack’s.’

‘So that’s why you wouldn’t ask Nancy,’ Dolly said, more as a statement than a question. She looked at Rita.

Rita nodded. ‘Yes, we have to be fair.’ She didn’t say that she wouldn’t have asked Nancy anyway, as she didn’t think her middle sister was any kind of suitable role model. She knew full well that Dolly was thinking exactly the same, but neither of them needed to put it into words. Even though Sarah was four years younger, she was far more steady and reliable. God forbid, if anything were to happen to Rita, she knew she could safely entrust the care of Ellen to Sarah or Kitty. She wouldn’t feel nearly as happy relying on Nancy.

‘I’m sure Violet will understand,’ Dolly said. ‘She’s not one to take offence. Look what a hard time some people gave her when she first arrived and they didn’t know who she was. She ignored them and they soon stopped their carping. I wouldn’t think you’d have to worry about her.’

Rita gave a little shrug of acknowledgement. Violet had arrived out of the blue, as Eddy hadn’t told his family he’d got married, and everyone had had to get accustomed to her strong Mancunian accent and braying laugh, which could shake the walls. Her lanky frame and general resemblance to Olive Oyl from the Popeye cartoons made her an easy target for gossip to begin with, but it had soon died down, particularly when she had begun to help out in the shop. Now she was accepted by all but the most petty-minded, such as the occasional older dock worker, who pretended he couldn’t understand what she was saying.

Dolly was sure what she was saying was true, but she kept to herself her other thoughts. She knew, though she never mentioned it, just how desperate Violet was for a family of her own. Violet had never talked about it but, with her sharply honed instinct, Dolly could tell. It was the way Violet looked after little Georgie, never complaining; always ready to play with him even when she was dog-tired. Or the way she was with Michael and Megan on their rare visits, never too busy to listen to them and their stories of life on the farm. Dolly recalled how, when she’d first arrived, Violet hadn’t told them about her real background, letting it be known she was an only child, the orphan of a respectable vicar and his wife. In fact she was too ashamed of the real version, that she was one of eight. It was true her father was dead, but her mother had still been alive then, an alcoholic married to an abusive second husband. Violet had visited her mother for the final time just before a bomb had killed her. So now Violet was genuinely an orphan with nowhere else to go, but she had found her true home with the Feenys.

‘I do hope not,’ Rita said, pausing to drain the last of her tea. ‘I couldn’t do without her help, you know. I’m glad you think I’ve made the right decision.’

Dolly nodded vigorously. ‘And besides, she can be godmother next time,’ she suggested. ‘You’ll not be stopping at little Ellen here, now will you?’ She raised her eyebrows and smiled.

‘Honestly, Mam!’ Rita didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or cross or pleased. She ended up a mixture of all three. ‘I’ve barely given birth to this one; it’s far too soon to be thinking of any more.’

‘Well, you never know,’ said Dolly, who had never regretted having five children, her heart full of love for all of them, even though she couldn’t remember when she’d last had a minute’s peace. A large family was a blessing. She’d known far bigger families back in Ireland, and five seemed nothing in comparison. Her children were the centre of her world, and she wanted nothing more than for them to have the chance to feel the same.

‘We’ll see,’ said Rita, calm again. ‘First let’s see if we can come through this war, and then I can have my Jack back with me all the time. He hasn’t even seen Ellen yet. He’s counting the days until Easter – he can’t wait to meet her.’

‘Of course he is!’ said Dolly, with extra enthusiasm to hide her secret worry that Jack would have his leave cancelled at the last minute, as so often happened. If Rita was openly concerned that Eddy wouldn’t make it back on time, then the same risk must apply to Jack. She would have to keep her fingers crossed that both young men would manage to get the leave they’d been promised. ‘Anyway,’ she said with a sly note, ‘by the time you have the baby after that, Sid might be home and then he and Nancy can be godparents to that little one.’

‘Hmm. Maybe.’ Rita knew she must not speak ill of a prisoner of war, but if he was still the same old Sid, then there was no way on earth she’d entrust a child of hers to him. Then again, he would be changed by his experiences when he came home – if he came home.

Dolly patted Ellen’s back, through the layers of knitted blankets wrapped around her, at least one of which she’d made in her make-do-and-mend class. ‘So you’ve got Kitty and Sarah as godmothers,’ she said. ‘You’ve got Danny as the godfather. That’s not right, is it? Don’t you want another godfather, even if you can’t have Eddy?’

‘Oh, didn’t I say?’ Rita shook her head. ‘I must be getting forgetful with all the lack of sleep. It’s already been settled ages ago. We’ve asked Frank, of course.’