Made in Myrtle Street (Prequel) (22 page)

I am getting excited because we have got a Christmas party at Central Mission in two weeks time. We all get a present and I used to think that they came from Father Christmas but our Edward said there isn’t one but not to tell the others. He said that the presents come from the posh people and from Americans. Our Edward said last year it was Mr Hillman dressed as Father Christmas because he kept wiping his nose on his sleeve.

Mam said not to expect too much in our stockings this Christmas and it might be just a bite of the cupboard knob for Christmas dinner. Our Edward told me that he’s got a surprise for Mam but I mustn’t open my mouth or else. If I tell you, though, I am only writing words so that should be alright. He has been saving money every week at the greengrocers where he works doing deliveries and he is going to bring a goose and some oranges home on Christmas Eve. I can’t wait to see Mam’s face. She will be really excited.

The best present of all, though, would be if you could come home Dad and then I wouldn’t even go to the party at the Mission. Please, Dad. Can’t you come? Is it not nearly finished yet?

Love

Laura

PS I told teacher about those bird machines and she said that she doesn’t think that they are very safe, so you had better tell Mr Murphy.

***

Bir-el-Mazar

Egypt

25thDecember 1916

Dear Pippin,

Happy Christmas Darling and I hope that the New Year will be a lot better for all of us. I received your letter and card this morning and I thought that it was lovely. Our Edward is not being very fair because I could tell straight away that it was the three Kings with their camels. I also got the cake that you and your Mam had baked and we shared it out after our Christmas dinner. We all stood up with our mugs of beer and said ‘A special Happy Christmas to big Laura and little Laura.’ We gave some to the two Gyppies who cooked the dinner and they said ‘More please, Miss Laura.’ They are smashing fellas and never stop singing when they are working. I wish that we could all feel so happy.

We have been clearing the area of Turkish soldiers whilst our engineers are building a railway and water pipeline along the coast. They have been using a lot of Arabs to help with this work. They are like our cooks – they sing all the time. Now, the British soldiers have started doing the same, so you can imagine, we hear some very strange noises when they all get going. They are frightened to death of the flying machines, though, and they run like mad when they see one.

I hope that you all enjoyed your Christmas dinner. I have told our Edward in his letter that I am very proud of him for working so hard and saving up for that goose. I will take him to watch United for a treat when I get back.

Please don’t worry about me, my little Darling. I am sure that your prayers will keep me safe and when I do get back we will do lots of things to make up for the time that I have been away. The main problem that I have at the moment is some big sores that don’t heal up properly. Nearly everybody has them. We think that they are caused by the lice and dirty sand but hopefully they will soon be gone.

I hope that you had a good time at the Christmas party. Mam told me that last year our Sadie cried when she sat on Father Christmas’s knee and she tried to pull his beard off. I hope that she was better behaved this time.

I enjoyed the break that we had in Alexandria. I got leave at the same time as Mr Murphy so that was good. We did a lot of swimming and walking around the town. There are some lovely parks and lots of beautiful old buildings. We used to go down to the docks sometimes and watch all the ships coming and going. We couldn’t believe the amount of railway line that they are still bringing in. We have already built about 80 miles of it but they say that they want to push it right along the coast and into Palestine.

I remember Barney’s Books. He must be getting on a bit. Your Mam and me used to look in his window when we were courting. Your Mam always liked a good read but she says that she doesn’t have much time now, what with one thing and another. I will buy her some brand new books when I come back so that she can have a nice long read and a good rest. She told me that you had been helping to darn the lads’ socks. That was really nice. It’s a big help for her if you can share some of the work like that.

‘Bye for now my little Pippin. Take good care of yourself.

Love

Dad

Chapter 11

France March 1917

‘By the left. I could have managed another ten minutes on parade with that one.’

Edward looked up from the corner of the train carriage where he sat huddled inside his greatcoat to see Liam leaning against the door with a slightly vague, beatific grin on his face. He looked like their cat had done after it had found Laura’s carefully hoarded half block of chocolate.

‘I’ve not had a kiss like that since I gave Beattie Bountiful that toffee apple,’ said Liam sighing as he revelled in the rapturous memory of his more recent encounter.

‘Whose Beattie Bountiful when she’s at home, then?’ queried Edward.

‘You know. That girl with the er …’ Liam gestured with his hands to indicate the ample curves of the girl in question. ‘Lived off Ellor Street. Round the corner from the tripe shop.’

‘Oh. You mean Beatrice Brown. What were you doing with her then? She was three years older than you.’

‘She was a girl of a well known generous nature and I thought that she might appreciate my thoughtful gift’ Liam replied, hurt by his friend’s slightly hectoring tone. He sat back down next to Edward with the inane grin still fixed on his face. He looked up at the ceiling of the train and sighed.

‘And did she?’ Edward demanded.

‘Did she what?’ asked Liam, emerging briefly from his reverie.

‘Did she appreciate the sodding toffee apple?’ Edward was now beginning to feel a little exasperated by the whole conversation.

Liam seemed to be determined to fuel his friend’s growing frustration. ‘Mmmmm,’ he said enraptured as his head sank down within the embracing collar of his greatcoat.

The train jerked as it moved out of the station and Edward pushed his hands deep inside his pockets and pulled the coat round him. It was bitterly cold now and he stared at the grey sky through the train window and wondered whether he really wanted to pursue this discussion any further. It was encouraging to see these small, familiar signs of the old Liam emerging. Since he’d had the letter from Bridget telling him that Lizzie had died, Liam had become withdrawn and reclusive. When they had gone on leave to Alexandria he had walked around the bazaars, swum in the sea and sat in the bars with the rest of them, but he had barely spoken. He had been offered compassionate leave but he had refused it saying that, by the time that he got there, it would be all over bar the shouting. Instead, he had immersed himself into the routine of the job, working hard, but mechanically, and barely communicating.

By the end of the year the railway along the Egyptian north coast had reached Bir-el-Mazar where Liam had remarked at the Christmas dinner that the only one good thing about the place was that they were not stopping there. They had eventually reached El Arish, having pushed the Turks back over the border into Palestine. There, the desert sands were the best that they had encountered for playing football and rugby. Challenges had been thrown out, training resumed and fixtures arranged. Apart from two nights that they had camped at El Burj – seven miles further east – they had stayed in El Arish for over two weeks. The 8th Lancashire’s rugby team had struggled again against opposition that they should have defeated. Liam had seemed distracted and distant and failed to give his players the structure in their play or the possession that they needed from his position at scrum half. Playing outside him at stand off, Edward had tried cajoling, pleading and finally cursing but nothing had shaken his friend out of the rigid despondency that gripped him.

In early February they had started the journey back to Alexandria and there, on the 23
^rd
, they had boarded HMT ‘Transylvania.’ For weeks there had been rumours that a posting was in the offing and finally it had been confirmed that they were heading for the Western Front. Despite the reports that they had heard about the heavy casualties suffered in the summer offensive, particularly around the Somme, they felt that this was not a bad option. The Salford soldiers were battle hardened and had given a good account of themselves when called upon to fight. They were keen to have a go at the Germans and to help to push them back to where they had come from. They were also going to be a lot nearer to home than they had been for the last two years.

There had been various items of news that had encouraged them to the belief that something different was about to happen, that they might be approaching something of a turning point. The brutal German commander von Falkenhayven had been replaced on the Western Front by Hindenburg and, at home, the Liberal leader, Asquith, had been replaced by Lloyd George heading up a coalition Government. It was known that Lloyd George was not particularly impressed by the unimaginative British Commander, Haig, and many believed that a change there could herald a breakthrough.

Liam, however, had failed to be enthused by all this and he had persisted in his dogged, grey gloom. Now, after two days on this cold and draughty train heading up through France, watching the weather outside getting progressively worse, the humour of all of them was wearing very thin. For men who had spent the last twelve months acclimatizing to the searing temperatures of Egypt, the sleet and snow of this French March weather felt like an Arctic wasteland. The glowing smile that was now fixed on Liam’s face, therefore, was not only unexpected after his months of tortured misery, it was also totally at odds with the numbed faces that stared at him through narrowed eyes peering out  of the slits between the pulled down hats and the elevated collars. Sitting in the V shape formed by the greatcoat lapels, the tips of the brightly coloured noses were like a string of baubles hung round the carriage.

Edward’s irritation lay not only in his friend’s enjoyment of this teasing game, which he was used to, anyway, after all these years, even though it was a surprise considering the mood he had been in for so long. It was this revelation of Liam’s perfidy that had slightly shocked him. As fifteen year olds their focus had been on playing and watching football and rugby. Their wage packets were handed directly to their mothers and a small amount was given back as spends. If they got the chance to earn a bit of extra they might go and watch United or Salford and, if not, they would go fishing on the Cut Canal or go swimming at Regent Road baths. Apart from Laura, who lived down their street and was, when she could come out, really just one of the gang, girls were a different species that you rarely came into contact with. In moments of false bravado, and following the example of older mates, you sometimes shouted remarks to passing girls that were probably slightly improper but without really understanding the sense of what you were shouting.

Girls went to different schools, they went to the swimming baths on different days, they had cookery lessons whereas lads did woodwork and the only time that you came near them was at Church or at some mate’s house if he had sisters. At fifteen, the frightening thought plagued you that you would soon have to find a way of bridging the gulf between yourself and this increasingly fascinating species and you created little stories of conquests to impress your pals. You were primed with an endless supply of usually less than helpful suggestions from workmates and older brothers about how you should approach girls. Then, just to make sure that you felt totally inadequate to the task anyway, they taunted you about your unimpressive facial hair.

Now Liam, who, Edward remembered, at the time of the toffee apple incident had excused himself because of an alleged bad stomach, was implying that his worldly education had taken a great leap forward at the hands of this older and, it was generally believed, more experienced girl. There had been no inference beforehand that he had been planning such an initiative, no sniggering discussions and, from what he could recall, no signs of nervous anticipation on the day. How had he managed to carry off the whole operation with such outward calm and then kept it a dark secret for almost twenty years?  This escapade wasn’t the serious and, essentially private, sort of relationship that you formed when you were older and that eventually led to marriage. No, this was more on a par to challenging the widely feared Crusher Hawkins from Tatton Street to a bare knuckle fight.

Liam’s smug silence and inane smile was clearly inviting further probing both on the subject of the benevolent Beattie and also on his recent encounter on the station. Edward, however, was not going to be easily drawn. He knew his friend’s mischievous humour could quickly pull you into a bewildering maze of repartee where the joke invariably finished being on you.

‘I knew that Beattie Brown once,’ rumbled Big Charlie’s voice out of the large untidy pile of khaki material stacked in the corner of the carriage. He clearly wasn’t in quite as deep a sleep as they had thought. ‘She was a big lass, she was. How you managed to do owt with her I don’t know.’

Liam was stung by this oblique reference to his stature. ‘It’s quality that counts, mate. Anyway, what were you doing chasing after her? You’d have got nowhere there, her being a Catholic and you being in the Honorary Order of Big Daft Sods.’

The large pile of material became animated and Big Charlie’s face appeared above it. ‘What’s that got to do with it? Dot was brought up as a Catholic. Anyroad, I never said that I was chasing after her,’ he retorted. ‘And if I had been I’d have given her something better than a bloody sticky toffee apple.’ Having assessed, wrongly, that his riposte couldn’t be bettered, he withdrew into his coat.