After they left Pearl Street, she still had hankerings after the young firebrand who’d been the bane of her father’s life for so many years, though gradually, as time passed, the memory faded and if she thought about him at all, she regarded him as part of a working-class past long out-grown. She married Arthur. She was happy living in Calderstones, surrounded by every luxury money could buy. Her wardrobe was stuffed with the latest fashions, they owned the latest car, the kitchen was fitted with the most modern appliances. Jessica Fleming wanted for nothing.
At least she told herself she was happy. There was always a sense of sadness that she’d never had children. At times, she felt she would have given everything, the clothes, the car, all the equipment in the kitchen, if only she could conceive a child of her own. Of course, it was her own fault. There was something wrong with her. Jessica Fleming might well be the epitome of womanhood, with her broad hips just made for childbirth, and full breasts waiting to be filled with milk, but inside she was barren …
‘Jess!’
Jessica came to. Sheila was standing over her, a cup and saucer in her hand.
‘You were miles away,’ she laughed. ‘I’ve poured you another cup of tea.’
‘Thanks. You’re right, I was miles away.’
‘With Arthur?’
‘I’m not quite sure where I was.’
Penny had been transferred to Jack Doyle’s knee while Jess was in her daydream. She was standing, exploring his face with her hands, whilst he stared at her, a curious, almost mystified expression on his craggy features. When Penny pulled his ears, he couldn’t resist it, he smiled.
The smile transformed his rather sombre face. He was still a good-looking man, Jack Doyle, thought Jessica, perhaps better looking now than when he was young, with a rugged, almost exaggerated handsomeness and eyes that were a vivid blue. Both his daughters had inherited the same colour eyes. He wore the cheap suit with a sort of rough elegance that better-dressed men might have envied. He was so very different from Arthur, who was delicately boned, much thinner, with small, almost feminine, hands. Jack’s hands were like spades, workman’s hands, rough and worn at the knuckles from the hard manual work he did every day on the docks.
Jessica shivered, remembering the way those hands had touched every part of her the night she conceived Penny. She wondered if he was having the same sort of thoughts. There’d only been the once, and neither of them had referred to it again. They’d acted as if the night had never happened, as if he’d never come into the house to get on with the electricity, thinking the place was empty. Instead, he found Jessica, naked in the bath in front of the fire.
He lifted Penny high above his head, his hands almost meeting around her small body, and she squealed in delight. ‘She’s lovely,’ he said, for the first time addressing Jessica directly. ‘But Penelope’s a daft name to give her. What made you think of that?’
‘We call her Penny.’
‘That’s better.’
‘What was the lecture like, Dad?’ Sheila turned to
Jessica
. ‘He went to a lecture earlier on with his girlfriend.’
Jack flushed a ruddy red. ‘She’s not me girlfriend, don’t be so bloody stupid.’
‘Your womanfriend, then,’ Sheila giggled. ‘Did you ever meet Kate Thomas, Jess? She was the overseer in our Eileen’s factory.’
When Jessica shook her head, Sheila continued, ‘Her and Dad get on like a house on fire – don’t you, Dad? Me and our Eileen really fancy having Kate Thomas for a stepmother.’
‘For Christ’s sake, girl, shut up your nonsense. There’s nothing like that between me and Kate.’ He grew even redder and Penny patted his cheeks curiously.
‘More’s the pity.’ Sheila sighed and winked at Jessica. ‘You’ve been a widower for a long time, Dad. It seems a shame, a man like you going to waste. I bet there’s loads of women dying to get their hands on you – and Kate Thomas is probably first in line.’
‘What was the lecture about?’ asked Jessica, who was finding the conversation irritating.
Jack looked relieved that the subject had been changed. ‘Anglo–Soviet Co-operation,’ he replied. Then his big face twisted contemptuously. ‘It makes you sick, the way the official line on our Russian comrades has changed out of all proportion since June. No-one had a good word to say about them until then. Now, Communism’s respectable, Russia’s our “Great Ally”, and Stalin can’t do a thing wrong. It’s “Uncle Joe” this, and “Uncle Joe” that, and everyone’s falling over themselves to send help, from “Tanks for Russia” week to knitting blankets. They even sent an entire wing of the RAF over there. In fact,’ he said proudly, ‘that’s where Nick is, our Eileen’s husband, Russia.’
‘I know,’ said Jessica.
‘Brenda Mahon’s making gloves and socks for the Russians,’ Sheila put in.
Jack nodded approvingly. ‘They’ll need them, what with the winter coming on.’
The Germans had thought the conquest would be easy – Hitler himself had said Russia would fall like a leaf – but the Russians, although they were retreating, were fighting like demons for every single inch of soil. Not only that, they adopted a scorched-earth policy which meant the enemy might capture a town, but there was nothing left to capture; the people had left, the buildings had been razed to the ground.
‘Did you listen to the news tonight, luv?’ Jack asked his daughter.
‘Yes, Dad,’ Sheila said obediently, ‘but there’s not much happening anywhere, at least not much worth reporting. Everything’s in the doldrums at the moment, except for Russia.’
‘I’d better be getting home,’ said Jessica. ‘Penny must be tired.’ Penny didn’t look the least bit tired. She appeared to be trying to walk up Jack’s chest. ‘Oh, I mustn’t forget the teapot, Sheila, and I’d still like to borrow a bit of milk if you’ve got some to spare, so’s I can have a cup of tea first thing in the morning. I’ll register with the milkman tomorrow.’ She got to her feet. ‘I’ll take them first and come back for Penny.’
‘That’s all right, luv. Me dad’ll take Penny. You take the other things.’
Jessica had left the gas light on low in the living room, and the fire was burning cheerfully in the grate.
‘Don’t put her on the floor,’ she said to Jack when he came in carrying Penny. ‘There’s no fireguard. I’ll take her upstairs with me and assemble the cot.’
‘I’ll do the cot for you, it’s no job for a woman,’ he mumbled. ‘Where is it?’
Jessica felt amused. Her father had taught her how to strip a lorry’s engine and put it back together. She’d
been
his chief mechanic when there’d only been the two of them trying to get the haulage business off the ground. She could have assembled the cot in a jiffy. Nevertheless, she replied, ‘It’s in the front bedroom. I thought I’d have her in with me till she gets used to things. It might all seem a bit strange at first.’ Penny was used to her own white painted nursery with teddy bear transfers on the walls.
Jack put the little girl in Jessica’s arms without a word and tramped upstairs. Jessica took her into the back kitchen, sat her on the draining board, and washed her face and hands and cleaned her teeth. ‘You can have a bath in the morning, a different bath than usual, in front of the fire.’
Penny waved her arms in delight, as if she understood every word and looked forward to the treat. ‘And Mummy will give you a nice drink of milk in a minute.’
She breastfed her daughter at least once a day, unwilling to give up the last real physical link between mother and child. There was still a sense of wonderment when she saw Penny’s rosy lips sucking greedily at her white breast that she’d actually become a mother after all those barren years – and it hadn’t been her fault, after all.
There was a shout from upstairs. ‘It’s done.’
‘Is this where you want it?’ Jack asked when Jessica entered the bedroom carrying Penny. He’d erected it on the far side of the bed, against the wall. ‘It’d have stopped you opening the wardrobe if I’d put it on the other side.’
‘That’s fine.’
The big double bed, with its tumble of blankets and sheets and the green satin eiderdown thrown carelessly on waiting to be made, seemed to loom significantly between them. Jessica wondered if it reminded him, as it reminded her, of that night,
the
night, when both of them had seemed to reach a higher plane, a sort of seventh heaven, full of delights and delicious feelings she
wasn’t
aware existed. It had been good with Arthur, but she’d never thought it possible it could be as good as it was with Jack. And to think all that tenderness and passion was hidden behind his gruff, taciturn exterior, and she, Jessica Fleming, was the only one who knew it was there!
‘When did you say Arthur was coming?’ he asked suddenly.
He’d been good friends with her husband, and he was an honourable man, Jack Doyle, as straight as a die, a man who under normal circumstances would regard sleeping with another man’s wife, let alone the wife of a friend, as little short of traitorous. But the minute he’d walked into the room across the road, events had gone completely out of control. Neither could help themselves.
‘I didn’t say he was coming. I just said he might.’
‘That was a good job he got. It’d be a shame if he gave it up.’
‘Wild horses wouldn’t drag Arthur away from the museum.’
Jack looked puzzled. ‘But …’ he began.
‘I’ve left him,’ said Jessica. There! She’d put it into words. She and Arthur had been fencing around each other rather cautiously for days. There’d been no mention of Jessica leaving permanently, not even of a proper separation; they’d behaved as if she were merely going away for a while, though both had known in their hearts she was going for good.
‘I hated it there,’ she said spiritedly. ‘I missed Liverpool. I couldn’t wait to get back.’
‘A woman’s place is beside her husband,’ Jack growled. ‘Y’should have stayed whether you liked it or not.’
Jessica stared at him angrily, and at the same time tried to discern from his expression if he was pleased she was back within his reach, but he looked sternly censorious.
‘You could say a man’s place is beside his wife,’ she said. She wasn’t going to take lectures on where her place should be from anyone. ‘I asked Arthur to come with me, but he preferred to stay.’ She tossed her head. ‘Anyway, it’s none of your business.’
‘You’re right, it’s not.’ He came towards the door where she was standing. ‘I’d better be going. I’m on firewatching duty at midnight.’
He touched Penny’s cheek briefly as he pushed past. ‘She’s a bonny little girl,’ he said, smiling briefly.
Jessica was conscious of his muscular arm brushing against hers. She almost wished Penny wasn’t there so she could grab Jack and pull him back towards the bed. But Penny
was
there, waving bye-byes as Jack made his departure.
There was no moon and it was pitch dark, blacker than she’d ever known it.
Kitty Quigley felt her way along the walls of the houses in Opal Street and nearly fell over when the wall ended and she realised she’d reached Garnet Street. She began to panic. It was like walking through thick black soup. She’d never get to and from the newsagent’s in time to catch the twenty to six bus at this rate, and if she was late on her first day, she’d die. She imagined the hospital telephoning Miss Ellis to complain.
‘Oh, God!’ she moaned as she kicked over a milk bottle and spent several precious minutes searching for it, without success.
Brisk footsteps sounded in the otherwise totally silent world, but Kitty had no way of knowing whether the steps were coming or going or which side of the street they were on. She screamed when she bumped into a figure so solidly built that she almost bounced off.
‘Who’s that?’ the figure demanded.
‘It’s Kitty Quigley from Pearl Street. Who’s that?’
‘Vera Dodds, the postwoman. I’m just on me way to
the
sorting office. What on earth are you doing, Kitty, wandering round at this time of the morning?’
‘I’m going to Ernie Robinson’s for the
Daily Herald
for me dad. He wants to read it while I’m at work,’ Kitty explained to the dark, as Vera was invisible, adding proudly, ‘I’m starting at the Royal Navy Hospital, Seaforth, this morning as an auxiliary nurse.’
‘Aye, so I heard. Well, you’re on a fruitless journey at the moment, girl. Ernie doesn’t open till six o’clock.’
‘Damn!’ muttered Kitty, cursing her stupidity for not finding out before, though she felt slightly relieved. It meant she could return home and have a bite of breakfast. ‘Me dad’ll be dead disappointed when he finds he hasn’t got a paper.’
‘I’ll get your dad his
Daily Herald
if you like,’ Vera offered. ‘I’ll pop it through the letterbox when I’m doing me round.’
‘Thanks all the same, Vera, but he’ll be in bed and he can’t manage the stairs on his own.’
‘In that case, I’ll take it up. Don’t worry about your dad, luv. I’ll see to him.’
Kitty had a feeling her dad mightn’t be too pleased if Vera Dodds suddenly appeared in the bedroom, but she found it awfully hard to turn down people’s kind offers of help and risk hurting their feelings.
She didn’t mention Vera when she got home, just as she hadn’t mentioned all the other people who had promised to see to him whilst she was at work. She merely apologised for the lack of a paper, made herself a piece of toast and left him propped up against the pillow looking hard done by.
‘I hope I don’t get one of me dizzy spells while you’re gone.’ The dizzy spells had returned in full force over the last few days.
‘Well, at least you’re safe lying down, Dad,’ Kitty said comfortably.
It was slightly lighter by the time she left for the bus;
not
much, but enough to see by as she made her way towards Rimrose Road. It was lighter still when she got off at the hospital.
Seafield House was a lonely place, fronting Seaforth Sands and reached from the road through an iron gate and along a tree-lined path. A massive five-storey grey brick building with narrow windows, some with iron bars, it had square solid turrets at either end and rows of unnaturally tall chimneys protruding like fingers into the lightening sky. Before only recently becoming a naval hospital, it had belonged to the Lancashire Asylums Board, and had a sinister, forbidding air. No-one had ever been seen going in or coming out, and people were unsure whether the place was occupied or not. Kitty felt very small as she trailed behind a handful of people who’d got off the bus at the same time towards the arched double doors, one of which was wide open.