‘Sharp as a perishin’ needle,’ Sarah said cheerfully. ‘No sense in trying to pull the wool over that young busybody’s eyes! What do you say, Billy? Would you like to spend a night in the country, with me and Kathy, too, so if there are any more bangs and flashes you won’t have to hear them?’
Billy’s eyes grew round. ‘Would it be like a – a – sort o’ holiday?’ he asked, his face lighting up. ‘There’s fellers at school what’ve had holidays. They goes to the sea, so they does, and has a great time. I wouldn’t mind that – I’d like it.’
This put a very different complexion on things so Sarah decided that they would give it a go. She packed a bag with their night things, two bottles of cold tea and some jam sandwiches wrapped in greaseproof paper, and they set off for the playground at Daisy Street School, where Kathy had been told that vehicles would pick up families with young children who didn’t want to face another bombardment.
Billy knew a great many of the children waiting there and very soon they began to play Relievio, using one end of the playground as ‘home’. But though they waited for more than an hour, no vehicles arrived and no one in authority either and Kathy, looking apprehensively up at the clear sky, told her mother that she thought they ought to make for the nearest shelter instead.
‘Something’s gone wrong – it always does,’ she said gloomily. ‘But you never know, the Jerries may give us a break, let us have a night off, so to speak. I guess we all sleep much better in our own beds, but on the other hand, if we get down the shelter early, we’ll be able to pick our places and might even sleep through the night if nothing happens.’
Sarah agreed that going to the shelter was the wisest thing, and presently they were joined by the O’Briens and various other neighbours. Kathy had the feeling that everyone was in the same boat and they were all prepared to help one another in any way they could. They must have been in the shelter for at least an hour when the alert sounded. By the time the terrible reverberating rhythm of enemy aircraft was heard overhead and the first appalling crashes of falling bombs came to their ears, Billy and the other children were beginning to whimper and cling to their mothers. Sarah picked Billy out of the bunk and sat him on her knee and the three of them swigged cold tea from the bottle and tried to eat jam sandwiches, although no one had much appetite. A heavy blanket hung at the door of the shelter and Kathy and Jane were unable to resist nipping out once or twice to take a look at what was happening. They came back white-faced and appalled.
‘There’s fires wherever you look; the whole city’s burning,’ Kathy muttered to her mother as Billy seemed likely to go off to sleep from sheer exhaustion. ‘There won’t be anything left tomorrow, and they’ve not even started on the docks yet, by the look of it. Mam, you and Billy
must
get out of it! Nothing could be worse for him than this.’ And indeed, by three in the morning, when the terrible noise outside had not abated by one iota, Kathy was proved right. Billy began to have a fit of terrifying proportions, rolling his eyes back in his head, whimpering and frothing at the mouth.
‘We’ve got to get him to hospital,’ Sarah gasped, lifting Billy in her arms. ‘Give me a hand, Kathy. He’s a big boy now and I’ll never get him all the way to the Stanley without your help.’ The two of them, holding Billy between them, somehow got themselves out of the shelter. Outside, it was like a scene from hell. As Kathy had reported earlier, fires were blazing everywhere and the shrill whistle of descending bombs, followed by the
crump
of their impact, seemed ceaseless. Kathy was sure it was madness to try to reach the hospital in such conditions, but the noise was too appalling for any remarks to be heard, so they rushed the unconscious Billy into the hospital, only to find the staff far too busy to give them the attention they needed. There were casualties everywhere; children with heads gashed open by flying shrapnel, women nursing what looked like broken limbs, and figures on stretchers, some ominously still. Sarah took one quick, comprehensive look around her and turned back to look for the entrance once more. ‘No point in staying here. They’ve got their hands full,’ she said briefly. ‘By the time he’s seen, he’ll be out of it – he’s beginning to stir already. I were wrong to bring him but it’s really taught me a lesson. We’ll leave the city tomorrer. I’ll find a job somewhere; I don’t care what I do, but I won’t stay here to see Billy lose his chance of outgrowing these fits.’
‘Shall we go back to the shelter, Mam?’ Kathy asked as they left the hospital. ‘Or shall we go home? Surely it’ll stop soon.’
Outside, their faces were lit by the flickering fires and it seemed no more foolish to go back to their own home than it had seemed to try to reach the hospital. Sarah, however, shook her head. ‘We’ll go back to the shelter,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s nearer and young Billy won’t know a thing’s happened if he comes round where he passed out, so to speak.’
For the rest of the night, they stayed in the shelter, too weary to leave even when they heard the sweet notes of the all clear sound. But, eventually, they began to believe that the raiders really had gone and straggled up into the daylight of an unseasonably cold but bright May morning. Billy had come round, apparently unaware that he had been ill, and the O’Briens and the Kellings separated and went to their own homes almost in silence, too shattered and shocked by the night’s events to want to talk. Indoors once more, Kathy made the breakfast porridge while Sarah wrapped Billy in blankets and tucked him up on the sofa, with a pillow behind his head. ‘It’s Sunday, so there’s no work to go. Besides, I’ve got arrangements to make,’ she said firmly. ‘We’re all going to need to catch up on a night’s sleep so as soon as young Billy’s finished his porridge he can cuddle down on the sofa and get a few hours in.’ She turned to her daughter. ‘You keep an eye on him, queen.’
Kathy agreed to do so, but in actual fact she did not keep an eye on anyone. She sat down in one of the shabby old armchairs with a bag of potatoes on her lap, meaning to scrape them for the pan, and fell deeply and immediately asleep, not waking until her mother returned, very much later in the day. Since Billy had also slept, it did not matter, but Kathy felt deeply ashamed and kept trying to apologise until Sarah put an arm round her and gave her an affectionate shake. ‘You’re only human, Kathy me love,’ she said robustly. ‘We’re all dead beat an’ I’m sure the moment I sit down I’ll nod off meself. But oh, Kathy, the sights I’ve seen! I walked right across the city to reach Mrs McNab – there were no trams running and precious few buses – and the devastation is terrible. I feel real worried about Mr O’Brien, because the market in Cazneau Street just – just ain’t there and it’s still black and smouldering. Paddy’s market was the same – the Scottie has taken the brunt of it, if you ask me – and no end of the shops are just rubble.’
‘I wonder how the factory is?’ Kathy said, round eyed. ‘Oh, Mam, if the factory’s been hit, what’ll we do? Only you did say that the tearooms might not be open for weeks, and that was before last night’s little lot.’
‘I dunno what we’re goin’ to do, except that Mrs McNab was a real brick and repeated the offer she made me when the tearooms was hit. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to take it up, but Mrs McNab – she’s Miss really, you know, because she’s never been married – has a sister in the same line of business, what lives in Rhyl. She’s closed her little tearoom and moved into the country, being mortal afraid of an attack by sea. But she told Mrs McNab that if she wanted to open up the place and use the flat – and the tearoom, of course – for the duration, then she was welcome to do so. Mrs McNab says it’s a good little business and if I don’t mind the work of the café then we’re welcome to it. Mrs McNab won’t leave Liverpool herself, but she’s happy for me an’ Billy to go.’ She turned anxious eyes on her daughter. ‘What d’you think, Kathy? Things here is in a rare terrible state and I dare say we won’t find a bus or a train to take us to the North Wales coast on a Sunday, but I reckon we can get there tomorrow. Will you come?’
‘I think it’s wonderful of Mrs McNab,’ Kathy said at once. ‘It’s a grand opportunity and you’d be mad to turn it down. I’d love to come with you just to take a look at the place, but I can’t do it, Mam. I know I’ve said a lot of rude things about the factory, but we are producing munitions for the war effort. I can’t just turn my back on it and not go in tomorrow – well, you wouldn’t want me to, would you?’
‘No, I suppose you’re right,’ Sarah said grudgingly. ‘But when Billy and I leave, what’ll you do? You can’t stay in this house all by yourself, queen!’
‘I guess I could move in with the O’Briens, share Jane’s bed,’ Kathy said, after a moment’s thought. ‘You’re quite right, Mam, I wouldn’t want to stay in the house alone. But Mrs O’Brien’s ever so kind in her way and Gran is awful good. She gets the meals, you know, now that Mrs O’Brien is working full time, and keeps an eye on the kids and so on. I’m sure they’d let me stay with them until – until I’ve worked something out.’
In normal circumstances, Kathy knew her mother would have been immediately suspicious, would have asked just exactly what her daughter meant by ‘working something out’, but she was far too involved in her own plans. Indeed, had she asked, Kathy would not have been able to tell her precisely what she meant. It had irked her for some time that she had such a long and complicated journey to reach the factory and she thought, once her mother and Billy had left, she might try to get herself lodgings in one of the many small streets surrounding the factory. However, there was still the possibility that her workplace might have been bombed . . . in which case, I shall join one of the services, Kathy told herself resolutely now, beginning to fetch food from the pantry to make a meal. I should have done it long ago but I felt if I did I would be abandoning Billy and Mam to their fate. I can’t say I thought that the Jerries would ever bomb Liverpool the way they have, but I did think that Mam needed my support. But all that’s a thing of the past; now she’s the one who’s leaving, and a good job too. I’m sure she’ll find an excellent hospital in Rhyl and I’m equally sure that she will make a real go of the tearoom. What’s more, it’ll be so much better for Billy. There’s sea air and quietness, because I don’t suppose that trippers will be going there the way they did before the war. Yes, the more I think of it, the more sure I am that Mam’s doing the right thing.
‘You’re very quiet, Kath,’ Sarah remarked presently, bending to wake Billy so that he might share their meal. ‘Come along, old chap. I’ve got some exciting news for you – and there’s a sultana fruit cake for tea!’
‘Sorry, Mam,’ Kathy said contritely. ‘It’s just that there’s so much to think about. Do you mind if I nip out to the O’Briens’ after? I’ll only be gone half an hour.’
Sarah said that was fine and, after the meal, settled down in the armchair to have a nap while Billy spread out his troops of lead soldiers on the tabletop and began to arrange them in battle formation. Kathy could not help smiling at the speed with which her mother fell asleep. Then she hurried along to the O’Briens’, where a considerable shock awaited her. Jane answered her knock, her face very pale. ‘Dad’s in hospital,’ she said in a small, shocked voice. ‘He were fire watching at the fruit and veg market when it were hit. He’s lucky to be alive but he’s broke his arm and several ribs. Poor Mr McCabe was halfway down the stairs and he were crushed by falling masonry. He’s in the bed next to our dad and Mrs McCabe has sent for Jimmy because they think – they think mebbe he’s goin’ to die.’
‘Oh, Jane, how dreadful! I’m so sorry,’ Kathy said. ‘Your poor dad – and poor Mr McCabe too. I remember you said he were awful kind to you when you and Jimmy first took up with each other. I really am
so
sorry.’
‘You’d best come in,’ Jane said, belatedly remembering that one did not keep one’s best friend standing on the doorstep. She conjured up a wan smile. ‘At least they’re both in the Stanley, so it won’t be difficult to visit them. And though it’s for a horrible reason, it’ll be grand to have Jimmy home again.’
Alec and Jimmy heard about the raid on Liverpool as they sat in the cookhouse on Sunday morning, eating their dinner.
‘Sounds bad,’ Jimmy said, through a mouthful of overcooked potato. ‘Hope my mam’s all right, and the rest of the family. Hope Jane’s all right, come to that. The trouble with the news is they’re so scared some Jerry spy might be listening that they only give you the bare bones. Well, pal? Have you decided whether to go home for this seventy-two-hour leave of ours? Only I know it’s difficult for you because it’s an awkward cross-country journey, an’ then there are the land girls that your mam’s housin’.’
‘Yes, I think I’ll go home; the kitchen floor isn’t a lot harder than my bed . . .’ Alec was beginning, when a warrant officer stopped beside their table, a yellow telegram in one hand.
‘It’s for you, McCabe. Hope it’s not bad news,’ the man said brusquely, and moved away as Jimmy tore the envelope open. He scanned the small sheet, then shoved it into Alec’s hand.
‘Well, that’s made up me mind for me,’ he said huskily. ‘I meant to go home anyroad, but now I’ve got no choice. If our dad’s so bad Mam has to send a telegram . . .’ He pulled a face and Alec saw that his lip was trembling and remembered how close a family the McCabes had always seemed. ‘I – I suppose you wouldn’t consider coming with me, old feller? Only if me dad’s real bad, I may have to stay for a while and – and it would be easier if you was with me.’
‘Of course I’ll come, only won’t your mam feel that she wants the family around her and not strangers?’ Alec asked uneasily. It sounded as though the bombing raid on Liverpool the previous night had been pretty bad, though he realised that a man could be severely injured in any sort of attack, and he imagined that the last thing Mrs McCabe would want would be an uninvited guest. Jimmy, however, waved his fears aside. ‘There’s plenty of folk wi’ spare rooms in Crocus Street . . . and in Daisy Street for that matter, where me young lady lives,’ he said grandly. ‘Besides, you’ve never been to Liverpool, have you? It’s a grand city wi’ lots o’ cinemas, theatres, markets, big stores . . . why, you’ll be out o’ the house mostly, having a gay old time.’