Lights Out Liverpool (45 page)

Suddenly, the mist lifted, simply disappeared, as if someone had waved a wand and ordered it to go. A little slice of brilliant sun appeared over the crumbling brick
wall
on her right, like a section of an orange. Gradually, as she watched, the slice grew bigger and she felt a welcome warmth on her face.

Then Nick called to her from the back door.

She stared at him, the man she loved, across the long untidy lawn, dotted with daisies and yellow dandelions. Roses had begun to uncurl their velvet leaves from within the tangle of shrubs and ivy clinging to the walls, and a tractor chugged in the distance. There were strange scents in the air; the earthy smell of soil, of flowers, grass, and things that she, from town, didn’t recognise.

‘Nick!’

She hurried towards him, wondering if this would be the last time she would run to her lover across the wet grass, the sun on her face? Perhaps they would never know another morning together.

‘There’s my girl.’ He caught her in his arms. ‘Have I ever told you how much I love you?’

‘No, not once, but there’s still time,’ she cried.

But not much time. In another five hours, he would be gone.

Nick left on his motorbike at midday. He had to report in at an Air Force base near Ipswich by nine o’clock next morning. The journey would be hazardous without signposts to guide him.

‘I’ve got my identity card handy, in case anyone thinks I’m a spy when I ask for directions,’ he joked.

‘Take care,’ Eileen whispered.

‘You, too.’ He lifted Tony up and gave him a vigorous hug. ‘Keep an eye on your mam for me, won’t you, son?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after her,’ Tony promised stoutly.

‘Bye, love.’ It was little more than a peck on the cheek
he
gave her, but Eileen knew there were tears in his eyes he didn’t want her to see.

He climbed on the bike, started it up, and, with a wave, was gone. Eileen watched until the bike rounded a bend, Nick still waving. She still watched, even when it had disappeared from sight and the sound of the engine had faded.

‘Oh, well,’ she said, sighing. ‘That’s it, then.’

‘Are we going home, now, Mam?’

She came down to earth at the sound of her son’s voice. ‘Not just yet, luv. I’ll tidy up a bit first.’

‘Can I play outside?’

‘If you like.’ He trotted beside her as they went down the path. ‘Do you like it here, Tony?’

‘It’s the gear. You can’t half play football in the garden.’

‘Would you like to live here all the time?’ she asked cautiously. She was glad he was with her as they entered the house, which would have seemed so empty otherwise, without Nick.

‘You mean sleep here every night?’

‘That’s right.’

He wrinkled his nose. ‘I’m not sure. Would I still see Dominic and Grandad?’

‘Not every day, like you do now, only at weekends.’ She began to collect the dishes and take them into the kitchen.

‘I suppose it depends,’ Tony said in a funny voice.

Eileen looked at him as she ran water into the washing-up bowl. It was important to keep busy at the present time. ‘Depends on what?’ she asked.

‘On whether Nick will be here, too.’

Eileen pursed her lips. ‘Nick will be here,’ she said, wondering why she sounded so angry.

‘In that case, I’d quite like it.’ Tony began to kick the ball against the wall.

‘Don’t do that in here, luv. Do it in the garden.’

‘Mam?’

‘Yes, luv?’ She tried not to sound irritable, knowing she was being unreasonable. She wanted him there, but the thud of the ball was getting on her nerves.

‘What’s going to happen to me dad?’ Tony knew there was something strange going on between his parents, something he didn’t understand.

‘Oh, luv!’ Eileen withdrew her hands from the sink and dried them on the teatowel. ‘I suppose it’s about time you knew. Come on, let’s sit in the garden and I’ll try and explain.’

The next day at work, Doris expressed surprise when Eileen joined them in the canteen queue for dinner.

‘Have you and Nick had a row?’ she asked, grinning broadly.

‘No. I didn’t tell you, but he’s been called up. He’s joined the RAF. By now, he should have arrived in Ipswich.’ Eileen tried to imagine him in the blue uniform, but it was too much. She burst into tears.

‘Eileen! Oh, luv, why didn’t you tell us before?’

The women crowded round protectively. Hands reached out to comfort her. Carmel provided a hankie to mop her wet face.

‘Here, girl, have a fag.’ Theresa thrust the pack under Eileen’s nose, whilst Lil stroked her hair.

‘I’ll get you a cup of tea,’ said Pauline, as Eileen was led, sobbing, to an empty table.

At the receiving end of such sincere and heartfelt sympathy, Eileen only cried more. After months spent working together, the girls had become as close as a
family
and were fiercely loyal to each other. They might say a few words behind another’s back, but let someone from outside the workshop utter a word of criticism of one of their mates and they’d receive short shrift. Eileen Costello may well have been rather quiet for their liking and never joined in the often ribald conversation. She was also married yet having a bit on the side, and many a coarse joke was cracked when she waltzed off at dinner time for a quickie with her boyfriend. Even so, she was one of
theirs
! Her tragedy was shared by them all.

In fact Doris, overcome, joined in the weeping. ‘It’s so romantic,’ she sobbed. ‘I can’t wait to fall in love.’

‘I queue jumped,’ Pauline said, returning with a mug of tea. ‘I told them it was an emergency.’

‘I don’t know what I’d do without youse lot,’ sniffed Eileen. No-one at home knew Nick had gone. Annie was on tenterhooks, expecting the boys to leave any minute, and how could she go crying to Sheila, who bore Cal’s absence with such quiet fortitude?

After they’d eaten their meal, the women went outside to enjoy the sunshine, sitting in a row on the edge of the stream where Eileen had first seen Nick. Doris rolled up her overalls and began to apply leg tan with a piece of cotton wool, to a chorus of wolf whistles from the men sitting on the bridge.

‘What does it look like?’ she asked when she’d finished and her legs were as unnaturally orange as her hair.

‘Well,’ Lil said dubiously. ‘You look like you’ve got yellow jaundice.’

‘Yeh, but does it look all right?’ insisted Doris.

Eileen returned to work when the break was over, feeling much better. As someone said, you couldn’t cry forever. In no time, the women, who had the knack of turning their own personal misfortunes into jokes against
themselves
, began to suggest what Eileen could do in her dinner hour, seeing as Nick was no longer there. Most of the suggestions were so outrageous that she got a stitch in her side from laughing. She was glad when Alfie arrived and attention was deflected from her for a while.

Eileen actually felt quite happy when she walked home down Marsh Lane later. The girls had cheered her up no end. Somehow, they’d managed to convince her that Nick would come home, safe and sound. Tonight, she’d begin writing him a letter, though she couldn’t post it until he sent a definite address.

She turned into Pearl Street, where four women were standing outside Aggie Donovan’s, gossiping, and she waved hello as she crossed over to her side.

‘Been having it off with your fancy man, have you, Eileen?’ Aggie shouted.

Eileen stopped dead, wondering if she’d heard right. Her heart began to race, as she stammered back, ‘I’ve been to work.’

‘Aye, but there’s work and work. From what we’ve heard, they serve a particularly tasty dinner over at Dunnings.’

The women laughed, and Eileen stared at them across the little street, feeling her face grow bright red. Everything that had gone on between her and Nick seemed suddenly sordid. Two of the women weren’t from Pearl Street, she only vaguely recognised them, but Ellis Evans was one. Their faces were vivid with excitement, as if they were really enjoying themselves.

‘You always thought you were a cut above us, didn’t you, Eileen?’ Ellis shouted in the lovely Welsh sing-song voice that Eileen had always so admired. ‘But you’re no better than the rest of us at heart.’

‘I never thought I was better than anyone,’ Eileen mumbled, though doubted if her tormentors heard.

‘She’s worse! There’s no way a decent woman’d go behind her husband’s back when he’s away fighting for his country,’ one of the other women yelled scornfully.

Eileen felt rooted to the spot, unable to move, wanting to die, as the women shook their fists and continued to scream insults. They hated her!

Then Jess appeared out of Number 5, heavy and cumbersome with child. She’d been treating herself to an afternoon nap of late and the noise had woken her. Looking through the window, she saw Eileen Costello with her back against the wall like a hunted animal, and immediately came to the rescue.

‘What’s going on?’ she called as she made her awkward way towards the stricken Eileen. Sometimes she wondered if, the rate her belly was swelling, she was expecting half a dozen babies, not just one.

‘It’s nowt to do with you,’ Aggie Donovan said rudely.

‘Isn’t it, now? I’ll decide what’s to do with me.’ Jess’s temper was beginning to rise. She put her arm around Eileen and, as if the touch had brought her back to life, Eileen burst into tears for the second time that day.

‘Go indoors, love,’ Jess urged. ‘Put the kettle on and I’ll join you in a minute.’

After helping the distraught Eileen with her key, Jess turned on the women, green eyes blazing, ‘Are you happy now?’ she screamed. ‘You’ve reduced her to tears. Is that what you wanted?’ The thirty years away from Pearl Street might never have happened, she thought ruefully. Underneath, she was no different from the rest.

‘She deserves more than tears,’ Aggie screamed back. ‘She deserves horse-whipping. Mrs Casey here’s got a
cousin
at Dunnings, and the whole factory knows what Eileen Costello’s been up to.’

The woman beside Aggie nodded virtuously. This, presumed Jess, was the said Mrs Casey. The woman had a thick pink hairnet over her metal curlers and was wielding a yardbrush like Boadicea. ‘It’s a scandal,’ she said disgustedly. ‘An absolute scandal.’

‘Whatever she’s been up to, it’s none of your bleeding business,’ countered Jess, who was beginning to feel slightly dizzy. She must have got up too quickly. She clutched the door frame for support, adding weakly, ‘I’m surprised the factory hasn’t got more important things to do.’

‘You never knew her husband,’ Ellis Evans yelled. ‘Francis Costello’s a fine chap altogether, a councillor, who deserves better than a bitch who goes with another man the minute his back’s turned.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ Jess managed to sneer. ‘I’ve met Francis Costello, and he didn’t seem much of a fine chap to me, considering he’d just finished trying to strangle Eileen to death …’

She felt too dizzy to continue and with some difficulty, managed to lower herself until she was sitting in Eileen’s doorway.

The faces of the watching women displayed a quick changing range of emotions; from contempt for Eileen Costello, to shock at Jess Fleming’s surprising announcement, then concern as the realisation dawned that this was a pregnant woman they were fighting with, a none-too-young pregnant woman having her first child, a woman who should be treated with kid gloves.

Aggie Donovan darted across the street, ‘’Ere, are you all right, luv?’ she cried solicitously.

‘Come on, Mrs Fleming, let’s get you inside.’ Ellis
Evans
helped Jess to her feet.

In Number 16, Eileen Costello blinked in astonishment as Jess was helped into the house by two of the women who’d just been shouting abuse from across the street.

‘Fetch a wet cloth,’ ordered Aggie, ‘and lay it over her forehead. Is the kettle boiled yet? What she really needs is a cup of tea.’

Somehow, Eileen wasn’t quite sure how it happened, a few minutes later, all four were sitting in the living room drinking tea and chatting amicably as if the last fifteen minutes had never occurred. Aggie deftly brought the subject round to violent husbands and Ellis confided she and Dai had had a ‘right old barney,’ the night before, but it had been Dai who’d ended up the worse for wear.

Then Aggie turned her eager gaze on Eileen, who realised Jess must have revealed something outside and it was now her turn to bare her soul. She resisted, easily, as she had no intention of discussing her private affairs with Agnes Donovan, because they’d be public before the day was out, though she was glad in a way that a chink had been made in Francis Costello’s armour. It might prove useful in time to come.

That same week, just after midnight, the menacing wail of an air raid siren was heard for the first time in Liverpool.

Eileen, fast asleep, was awoken by the almost unearthly shrieking noise and felt herself break out in goose pimples as she lay waiting for the sound of enemy aircraft overhead. After a while, the siren faded and there was an ominous, dead silence. She slipped out of bed carefully, so as not to wake Tony who’d kick himself tomorrow when he found out what he’d missed, put on her dressing gown and went out into the street.

There were already several people there, staring upwards. The sharp yellow beams of searchlights crisscrossed the black sky.

‘Can you hear anything?’ Jacob Singerman came up. ‘My ears aren’t what they used to be.’

There was a repeated popping sound in the distance, like fireworks going off. ‘Yes, I can hear something,’ Eileen said, wondering if she should take Tony to the public shelter, or at least bring him down and put him under the stairs. She also felt worried for Sheila, who wasn’t at all well and had six little ones to get to safety.

‘That’s anti-aircraft guns,’ Mr Harrison declared. ‘I’d better see to Nelson. He doesn’t like strange noises.’

Not long afterwards the All Clear sounded, a long high-pitched drone.

‘It must have been a false alarm,’ someone suggested, and they all went back indoors.

But it wasn’t a false alarm when the siren sounded again the following two nights and the drone of aircraft could be heard in the distance. Each time bombs were dropped, and although they landed harmlessly in fields on the outskirts of the city, the raids seemed like a portent of terrible things to come.