Lights Out Liverpool (41 page)

‘You’ve been with another woman, but let’s not start all that again.’

‘I’ll never forgive you, Jess,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Never!’

She took his arm and led him gently to the settee. He sat down, still dazed, unable to believe what she’d just told him. To his surprise, she sat on his knee, but he left his arms stiff beside him. Somewhat unwillingly, he let her take his hand and place it on her stomach. ‘There’s a baby in here,’ she whispered. ‘And it’ll be ours. You know how much I’ve always wanted a child, don’t you, Arthur?’

A baby! He glanced down. There was a real, live child under his hand. With a shock that almost made him cry out loud, he realised the implication of her words. Some other man had given her a baby, which meant it was
his
fault she’d never conceived in the past, not hers! Yet she hadn’t uttered a word of blame.

‘Does he know, the father?’

She shook her head. ‘No, and he never will. It’s
our
baby.
You’re
the father, dear.’

‘Where did you meet him?’

Jess put her fingers over his lips. ‘Don’t ask questions. I don’t want to know anything about Mavis.’

‘At least you know her name,’ he said sulkily.

‘Oh, Arthur!’ she chided. ‘Don’t be childish.’

‘Do you love him?’

‘No. Do you love Mavis?’

‘Of course not! I told you, I felt lonely and she just
happened
to be there …’

‘It was the same for me,’ said Jess.

Despite everything, his doubts, his jealousy, his fears, it was difficult to resist, with her lovely, curvaceous body tucked into his, putting his other arm around her.

‘Say something nice to me,’ she whispered. ‘
Please
, Arthur!’

He closed his eyes briefly. He knew that in the years to come, he would never stop wondering who the man was and what it had been like for her. Yet common sense told him it was time to forgive and forget. He had no choice, otherwise it meant losing Jess and he couldn’t visualise life without her. She’d forgiven him, now it was his turn.

‘I love you, Jess. I’ve never stopped loving you,’ he said simply. Looking deep into her green eyes, he could tell she believed him. Her lips curved into a delicious smile as she cuddled even further into his arms, and he rubbed his hand over her belly. ‘Is there really a baby in there?’

‘Our baby, yes.’

‘Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?’

‘Who cares?’

‘I’d quite like a son.’ His heart quickened. He was going to be a father!

‘But you won’t be disappointed if it’s a girl?’

‘No, of course, not! I’d quite like a daughter, too.’ Suddenly, it was too much. He wanted to weep. To his shame, he felt tears course down his cheeks. ‘I’m sorry, Jess,’ he sobbed.

Jess clasped his face fiercely. ‘Don’t be sorry, darling. Cry all you want and I’ll cry with you. We’ve had a terrible year – no, a terrible twenty years. But let’s forget the past. From this moment on, we’ll start again, just you, me and our baby.’

It was Miss Thomas who broke the news. She came into the workshop during the tea break one morning in the second week of April and shouted, ‘Can I have your attention a minute, girls.’

The women looked at her, wondering why she appeared so agitated and upset.

‘What’s the matter, Miss Thomas?’ Carmel shouted.

‘I’m afraid something quite awful has happened. As you know, we have a wireless in the staff room. It’s just been announced that Hitler has invaded Norway and Denmark. Denmark has already fallen. God knows what will happen to the brave Norwegians. They’re fighting back.’

She left. The stunned women struggled to digest the news.

‘What does it mean, Eileen?’ Doris asked nervously. Eileen was the acknowledged expert on all matters concerning the war.

‘It means the phoney war is over,’ Eileen said, thinking of Nick, ‘and the proper one has begun.’

‘But it was only a few days ago,’ she said bitterly to Nick later on in his cottage, ‘that Chamberlain said Hitler had “missed the bus”. I thought that meant there’d be no war, that it’d just fade away.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t let yourself get so upset.’ Nick tried to kiss her, but she avoided him.

‘Upset! Who wouldn’t be upset?’ she cried angrily. ‘How many people died in the fighting last night? Oh, it’s such a bloody, stupid waste!’

‘Personally, I think he, Hitler, has bitten off more than he can chew,’ Nick said.

‘I hope so, but if he has, even more lives will be lost proving it.’

Nick sighed. ‘Eileen, the dinner hour is almost over and all you’ve done is rant and rave about the damn war. I desperately want to make love to you, but there’s scarcely any time left.’

‘I don’t feel in the mood,’ she said stubbornly.

‘In that case, would you like a cup of tea?’

‘Please.’

‘I’m glad you’re not in the War Cabinet,’ he shouted from the back kitchen, ‘otherwise I’d never get my hands on you at all.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said penitently. Ever since they’d been to London, she hadn’t bothered with dinner, but spent the entire hour in his home a short distance from Dunnings. His cottage was the sort you read about in novels. On its own down a path off the High Street, it had roses around the door and black beams crisscrossing the low, white ceilings. The two bedrooms and the single living room were sparsely furnished, but it had a simple charm all of its own. And it was theirs! The place where she and Nick made love.

Except today, she thought guiltily. She’d been cross that he didn’t appear nearly as upset as she was. He might even be glad; glad, because now there was a greater chance he’d be called up.

‘I suppose you’re pleased,’ she said crossly when he came in with the tea things. ‘You’ll be expecting to hear from your Air Force bigwig any minute now.’

His lovely sensitive face split into a wide smile. ‘So, that’s it! You’re worried about me!’

‘Not just you,’ she confessed. ‘Though you were the first person who passed through my mind when Miss Thomas broke the news.’

He knelt on the floor in front of the chair and put his arms around her waist. ‘Can I have at least
a
kiss, if nothing else?’

‘I suppose so.’ She slipped off the chair into his arms. Immediately his lips touched hers, the magic began to work and her head swam. He twisted her around until she was on the rug beneath him.

‘Nick! There’s no time,’ she protested, praying there would be.

‘I can be quick when necessary,’ he said, pushing at her skirt.

‘What about the tea?’

‘Damn the bloody tea!’

In the days that followed, it seemed that Nick was right and Hider had indeed bitten off more than he could chew. The Royal Navy sank ten German destroyers off the coast of Norway and the British were cock-a-hoop, convinced they had the enemy on the run.

Gradually, though, as April progressed, and people stayed glued to their wirelesses, anxious for the latest bulletin, disillusionment set in. Victory, it seemed, was not to be theirs. British aircraft were shot out of the skies; the Navy, after their initial triumph, were driven back into the sea. Troops sent to help the Norwegians in their battle against the invaders found themselves attacked from the air by Luftwaffe planes and, to the dismay of the entire country, it was Britain who was on the run, as thousands of men were hurriedly evacuated back to their own country.

‘It’s the old, old story,’ Jack Doyle railed in the King’s Arms. ‘Retreat and defeat!’

‘Did you hear Lord Haw-Haw last night?’ someone asked acidly. ‘Going on and on about, “the British defeat in Norway”.’

A serviceman from Ruby Street, one of those who’d
taken
part in the fighting, came home injured and embittered, and described how the shells he’d been provided with were the wrong calibre for his gun.

For the first time, it dawned on everyone that there was a possibility they might lose the fight against Hitler. The idea of being invaded, of life thereafter spent under the heel of the Nazi jackboot, seemed a prospect so horrifying as barely to be contemplated.

Feeling against Chamberlain, who seemed content to sit back and let this appalling thing happen, turned from contempt to hatred. The newspapers led the attack.
Is this another case
, thundered one,
of lions being led by donkeys?

At the beginning of May, a debate began in the House of Commons on a motion of confidence in the Government. After several days of heated argument, the vote was taken, and the Labour and Liberal opposition parties voted solidly against the motion. They were accompanied into the ‘No’ lobby, by thirty Conservative MPs. A further sixty abstained, to the accompaniment of shouts of ‘rats’ and ‘quislings’ from their fellow Tories.

Chamberlain had no alternative but to resign, and on 10 May, 1940, Winston Churchill became Prime Minister of Great Britain, and leader of a coalition government.

The country had found its soul!

Also on 10 May, Hitler invaded Holland and Belgium and began to proceed through the Maginot Line, previously thought impregnable, towards France.

It was, thought Eileen Costello, as if the entire country had taken a deep breath and been renewed. Despite the setbacks overseas, the effect of having a new leader was almost tangible. There seemed a spring in the step of
people
she saw in the street, and new hope in their faces. Even to
consider
defeat now seemed traitorous. She conceded sadly that, though the whole idea of war was sickening, there was no alternative. Britain and France couldn’t just sit back and see Europe swallowed up by a dictator, nor not fight back when their own freedom was threatened. She remembered the words of the solicitor, ‘When rape is inevitable …’ Well, she had no intention of lying back and enjoying it, whether it be Francis or Hitler.

She went to work at Dunnings with renewed enthusiasm, as did all the girls. According to Alfie, output soared throughout the entire factory after Churchill came to power.

Miss Thomas called Eileen into her office one day. ‘I’ve come across a solicitor who will treat your case sympathetically, Eileen. What time would be most convenient for me to make an appointment?’

Eileen shifted uneasily in the chair. ‘Somehow, this doesn’t seem the right moment to think about divorce.’ It made her feel she was putting her own selfish affairs before the war effort. Even as they spoke, a terrible battle was being waged as the Germans fought the Allies for every inch of French soil – and it seemed as if the enemy were winning.

‘I know exactly what you mean,’ Miss Thomas said understandingly, ‘but life must go on. We still have to eat and sleep and try to act as normally as possible. Who knows, it seems unlikely, but now Hitler is up against a proper army he might beat a hasty retreat, the war will be over, and your husband will be home again.’

Faced with the prospect of Francis Costello back in Bootle and still her husband, Eileen said reluctantly, ‘I suppose you’re right. Mornings would be best. Will you
please
make an appointment for the week after next, when I’ll be on the late shift again?’

This time, Nick accompanied Eileen to see the solicitor. The new man had a far less pleasant manner than the first. His questions were clipped, almost rude. Yet when she finished, he said, ‘You do indeed have grounds for divorce on the basis of cruelty, Mrs Costello. Your husband has behaved abominably. Nevertheless, I would advise against it at the present time. When the case eventually comes to court, you would lose a great deal of sympathy when it was shown the defendant was sued whilst engaged on the field of battle, no matter what the grounds.’

‘What if he could be persuaded a divorce was in his best interests?’ asked Nick.

The solicitor frowned. ‘I don’t understand?’

Nick turned to Eileen. ‘Tell him about the letter your father offered to write.’

She explained Francis’s political ambitions which needed the co-operation of Jack Doyle. ‘That’s why he married me, you see. One of the reasons he was so violent when he last came home, was he realised me dad knew all about him. But, if he got a letter promising to go ahead with the nomination as planned …’ She left the sentence hanging in mid-air when she saw the solicitor give a little shudder.

‘Thank God I don’t vote Labour,’ he said, allowing a smile at last. Then he slowly shook his head. ‘A man, however stupid, who hopes to become a Member of Parliament, would hardly agree to being divorced for cruelty, would he?’

Eileen hadn’t thought of that. ‘I don’t suppose so.’

‘What if
he
could be persuaded to divorce
her
?’
suggested
Nick.

‘On what grounds?’

‘Adultery.’

‘And has adultery taken place?’ The solicitor looked at them over his half-moon glasses.

‘It has,’ said Nick calmly. Eileen hung her head in embarrassment and envied his confident manner. Whilst she had felt unsure of herself throughout the interview, he had probed and queried, even argued from time to time, not the least inhibited by the fact the man was a solicitor. I suppose, she thought ruefully, that’s what a good education does for you.

The solicitor tapped his teeth with his pen. ‘I think that particular path holds out a great deal of hope,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘To sum up, a letter will be written to Mr Costello suggesting the political shenanigans continue, so long as he promises to divorce you on the grounds of your adultery.’

‘And that I keep my little boy,’ prompted Eileen.

The solicitor nodded. ‘And that you keep the child,’ he agreed. Then he added, somewhat grimly, ‘I trust you are prepared for the public odium that will ensue?’

‘I am,’ said Eileen, just as grimly.

On the stairs outside the office, Nick and Eileen flung their arms around each other.

‘This time next year we might be married!’ Eileen crowed.

‘Will your father definitely write the letter?’ Nick asked anxiously.

‘Of course, it was all his idea.’

‘What happens if it all goes wrong? We’ll still be together, won’t we?’

‘It won’t go wrong,’ she said confidently. ‘Not if I know Francis. But even if it does, yes, Nick, we’ll still be
together
. I’d sooner we were married, but if we can’t be, then it’s just too bad.’