Lights Out Liverpool (51 page)

‘You’re right!’ Jess squared her shoulders. ‘I’m glad I came. I already feel better about everything.’ The photograph of Jack Doyle and his family stared up at her from underneath the sideboard. Perhaps it would be no bad thing to move away before her child began to grow. What if people, particularly Arthur, noticed a similarity?

‘I hope my advice was as good as Eileen would have given.’

‘It wasn’t advice I needed,’ said Jess, managing a smile, ‘more a shoulder to cry on. I’d already decided Arthur would never know I’m not as excited as he is – I put on a really good performance last night. He gave up twenty years for me. Now it’s my turn to do something for him.’

Eileen stood in the doorway and regarded the living
room
of the cottage with satisfaction. The wooden floor, the scratched table and equally shabby sideboard gleamed after the good polishing she’d just given them. Of course the ceiling, which was more grey than white, would be improved by a lick of white distemper, but that was for the future. In the meantime, she’d washed the beams and they’d come up a treat. The long room only caught the sun in the mornings, and it looked cool and fresh, the windows wide open, the flowered curtains billowing outwards. Once there were a few ornaments scattered round and a picture hung over the attractive brick fireplace, it would look like home.

Nick had rented the cottage furnished. The owners must have considered the contents worthless, because they hadn’t bothered to remove them once the place was sold, and Eileen thought longingly of the green velvet three-piece in Pearl Street. She was rather fond of that suite, and it was a million times better than Nick’s threadbare collection of armchairs that didn’t match. But the suite belonged to Francis, and she’d no intention of removing a thing that wasn’t hers; she’d just take Tony’s stuff and her own personal possessions.

After a last satisfied look, she went into the back kitchen, which looked equally smart, with fresh paper on the shelves of the old dresser and the cheap crockery she’d bought on display.

Jack Doyle shouted across the garden, ‘This looks as though it might have been a vegetable patch once.’

Eileen wandered over to the overgrown strip of land behind the hedge at the bottom of the garden which she hadn’t even realised was part of the property, until her dad investigated and decided it was.

‘See!’ he said when she reached him. ‘The soil’s been dug in furrows for ’taters.’

‘Fancy you knowing that!’ she said admiringly.

He jerked the cigarette hanging from his bottom lip upwards, took a puff without using his hands and said modestly, ‘It’s the sort of thing you pick up.’

‘You’re welcome to use it, Dad,’ Eileen said eagerly. ‘You could come and tend to it at weekends. It’d be lovely to see you.’

She was overjoyed when he replied, ‘It’d be a shame to see it go to waste. We need all the food we can get at the moment. Y’could even have a few hens out here for your own eggs.’

‘Eggs!’ Eggs were proving more and more difficult to get lately. It seemed little short of bliss to imagine coming out each morning and collecting them fresh for breakfast.

‘And you wouldn’t be short of a chicken when it comes to Christmas.’

‘I couldn’t possibly eat the chickens, Dad. I’d grow too fond of them, and Nick could never bring himself to kill one.’

Jack glanced at her, amused. Nick had probably killed quite a few Germans in his time, yet she didn’t think he could turn his hand to a chicken. ‘You just give their necks a quick twist, that’s all,’ he said ghoulishly.

‘Shut up, Dad! I’ll settle for the eggs. Anyroad, I’ll go and get on with the bedrooms. Where’s our Tony?’

‘He’s up that apple tree.’

Apparently the apple tree behind the hedge belonged to the cottage, and she espied her son struggling through the leafy branches which were laden with fruit.

‘They look like cookers,’ she remarked. ‘I might take a few home for our Sheila and Annie.’

‘I’d leave them a while if I were you. They ain’t properly ripe yet, though you can take the rhubarb. I’ve
never
seen stalks that big before, they must be a good two inches thick.’

‘Okay, Dad,’ she said contentedly.

She’d been thrilled to bits when he’d offered to come with her when she announced her intention of spending Sunday cleaning the cottage. ‘I’d better take a look at this Melling place where you’re going to live,’ he said grumpily, though he’d enjoyed himself in the garden. She felt sure he and Nick would get on once they got to know each other.

Once inside, she went upstairs and began to polish the floors which she’d washed earlier. She sang to herself as she worked and made a mental list of things that still had to be bought; a couple of little rattan mats for beside the beds, an alarm clock, because she’d never wake up of her own accord, and some new curtains for Tony’s room – the ones already there had faded to holes. One good thing, the previous owners must have provided new bedding when Nick moved in, as there were plenty of new sheets and pillow cases.

Both beds were bare at the moment, rusty springs exposed; the palliasses were airing on the grass outside. The blankets and covers had been washed and were drying on the new line which her dad had put up as soon as he arrived.

‘Eileen!’

She went across to the open window and leaned on the sill. ‘What, Dad?’

‘Did you say there was a pub close by? I’m parched for a pint.’

‘It’s just down the road.’

Tony must have heard. He came clambering down the tree, shouting, ‘Can I come, too, Grandad? We can sit outside, like we did with Nick.’

Jack Doyle looked pleased. ‘I reckon so.’

‘Go and wash your face and hands first, Tony,’ Eileen said. ‘They’re filthy.’

‘Rightio, Mam.’

As Tony scooted into the kitchen, Jack asked, ‘Have you got a school sorted out for the lad?’

‘The Catholic church acts as a school during the week,’ Eileen told him. ‘I’ve already put Tony’s name down with the priest. When it comes to after school, Miss Thomas says there’s quite a few local women with young kids working at Dunnings. She’s going to sort something out for me and promises to turn a blind eye if I disappear at about half past eight when I’m on the morning shift to make sure he has his breakfast. Miss Thomas says if the Government want women to work, they should provide “facilities”, I think she called it, for their children.’

‘This Miss Thomas sounds like a right old stirrer,’ he said approvingly.

‘Oh, by the way, Dad,’ Eileen hissed. ‘If anyone in the pub asks who you are, say you’re Nick’s father-in-law. They think we’re married down there.’

‘Oh, they do, do they?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’

‘All I know is I’ve never felt so happy in me life,’ she sang blithely.

He shrugged. ‘That’s all right, then.’

Tony emerged from the kitchen, his face shining, and the two of them disappeared round the side of the house, hand in hand. As soon as they’d gone, Eileen sank down on the bed. The springs creaked mightily, and she thought, ‘I’d better do something about
that
before Nick comes back.’

The thought of Nick coming back to the cottage, which was now a proper home with a proper family
living
in it, so overwhelmed her, that she got up and twirled around the room and nearly fell headlong when she slipped on the newly polished floor. She laughed out loud and wondered if you could go mad with happiness.

She’d sobered up somewhat by the time she began on Tony’s room. In order to achieve this happiness, she was leaving much behind. She hated the idea of her sister not being just across the road, though Sheila had promised to come to the cottage if the bombing got worse. ‘Even if it means you all sleeping on the floor,’ Eileen had insisted.

Once here, in this isolated place, there’d be no neighbours to call on if she needed to borrow a cup of sugar or a ciggie, no Jacob Singerman or Paddy O’Hara dropping in for a chat. She reckoned she’d miss Pearl Street more than she thought possible when the time came to leave, but in her heart she knew that even if the worst happened and Nick didn’t survive, this was the place she wanted to be; this was where they’d made love and lived together, even though it had only been for a little while. His spirit was everywhere, and that would see her through.

She sighed. On Monday, the country would have been at war a whole year. Winston Churchill had said it might last another two. Two years! It seemed a lifetime away, but if you said it quick, it seemed to take no time at all.

The place wouldn’t be so bad, the young medical orderly thought, if it wasn’t for the sand. The sand, a fine golden dust, which looked grand in its proper place, in other words, the desert, seemed to get in every orifice, particularly the eyes. Of course, there was also the heat. You hadn’t had your shirt on a minute before it was soaked with sweat, and the thought of a long cool bath was little short of paradise. Then there were the insects; flies as big as rabbits, and other unspeakable things he couldn’t put a
name
to, but which made his flesh crawl.

In other words, he thought, grinning, if it weren’t for the sand, the heat, and the flies, Alexandria wouldn’t be so bad, except he was bored out of his bleeding mind, stuck in this little hospital, miles away from the action in Mersa Metruh, where the lads were really getting stuck into the Eyeties, even though they were outnumbered five to one. He idly drew a picture of a tank on the pad in front of him, though soon threw the pencil down. The little cubicle at the end of the single ward was like an oven, despite the fan whirring away in the corner. He got up, stretching, and went outside. The heat from the midday sun was so oppressive that he realised inside was cool in comparison, and was about to return when a jeep came roaring into the compound, raising clouds of sand in its wake.

It drew to a halt outside the hospital and an officer stepped out of the back. The medical orderly stood to attention and saluted.

‘Captain Donnelly, sir!’ he barked. The captain was the unit’s MO, and had been up at the front for over a month.

‘At ease, man.’

The younger man relaxed as Captain Donnelly mounted the wooden steps into the building. ‘What’s the situation here?’ he asked. ‘How many spare beds do we have?’

‘Two patients, four spare beds, sir,’ the orderly replied briskly, adding anxiously, ‘I hope this doesn’t mean we’ve had some injuries, sir?’

‘Well, there’s bound to be
some
injuries, man,’ the captain replied patiently. ‘There’s a battle going on out there, but compared to the Eyeties, our losses are small. No, it’s just that I’d like to get the worst cases out of the
tents
and under a proper roof, where
you
can look after them, can’t you, Jones?’

‘Oh, yes, sir,’ the young man said eagerly. He was longing to do his bit.

‘What’s wrong with these two men?’ Captain Donnelly asked as he entered the ward. A man sitting up in bed, reading a paperback book, hastily laid it down and tried to look ill.

‘That’s Cooper, sir. He had a fever, pretty bad, but I reckon he could be discharged any minute now.’

‘And how do you feel about that, Cooper?’ Captain Donnelly asked pleasantly.

‘Any minute now would do me fine, sir,’ Cooper replied bravely.

‘Good man!’ The captain pointed to the next bed, where a figure lay prone, eyes closed, and head swathed in bandages. ‘And this chap?’

‘That’s Costello, sir. Normally, he’s up and about, but he’s just had his injection and it’s sent him off to sleep. He had, well, he had an accident.’

‘What sort of accident?’

‘He went into town one night and got beaten up pretty bad. According to Lieutenant Morgan, he’s lost the sight in his left eye.’ Lieutenant Morgan was the junior MO.’

Captain Donnelly winced. ‘When did this happen?’

‘A few weeks ago, sir.’

‘I see.’ The captain picked up the notes hooked over the foot of the metal bed frame and began to read; ‘Costello, Francis, Lance Corporal.’ He vaguely remembered the chap from the Paymaster’s office; a good-looking fellow, though not young. He searched for the age on the notes – thirty-seven, which meant he’d been a regular or in the Territorials – a courageous man, ready to do his bit for
his
country. It was a shame, ending up like this. He read further; the man had a wife and child.

‘Bloody wogs!’ he swore aloud.

‘Well, actually, sir,’ the orderly said, slightly embarrassed, ‘it weren’t the wogs what done it. It were two of our own chaps.’

‘For Christ’s sake, man,’ the Captain said angrily. ‘We came out to fight the enemy, not each other. What happened? Do you know?’

‘Well, sir, I only heard it on the grapevine, like. There weren’t no names mentioned, but from what I can gather, Costello made an unseemly suggestion to a couple of young ’uns, who took umbrage and gave him a good going over.’

‘He made
what
?’

‘An unseemly suggestion, sir.’

Captain Donnelly’s face grew so red, the young orderly was worried he was about to explode. Without a word, the older man marched out of the hospital. On the steps outside, he paused and said, ‘Have this place ready to receive six wounded men by tomorrow night.’

‘But what about Costello, sir?’

Captain Donnelly replied contemptuously, ‘Have him sent home on the first available transport!’

As the Saturday before the wedding would be Annie and Eileen’s last opportunity to go out together, they thought they should do something special.

‘It won’t
really
be our last night out,’ Annie said, ‘but from now on, it’ll be entirely different, what with me married and living in Fazakerley, and you in Melling. What shall we do?’

The decision wasn’t very hard to make. They decided to go and see
Gone With The Wind
, which was on at the
Odeon
in town. ‘Most of the women at work have been, and they’ve raved about it ever since,’ said Eileen. ‘The thing is, Jess Fleming’s dying to go, but Arthur always gets a headache in the pictures.’

‘Well, invite her too,’ Annie said generously.