Christmas on Coronation Street

by Maggie Sullivan

  Rationing was really biting and Elsie’s thoughts took her back to her childhood and her days of foraging for food and clothes. Sugar rations were cut and more and more food items were in short supply. Rows broke out every day in Elsie Foyle’s shop when people accused her of favouring some customers above others. Some accused her of running a black market racket in fruit and other items she was always running out of, even though it wasn’t true. They would constantly argue with poor Mrs Foyle that such things should have been kept by for regular customers with sufficient coupons.

  Air-raid sirens sounded more frequently now, though they were still mostly false alarms and Elsie refused to be dragged down to the Mission every time they went off. When they sounded during the night, either she or Fay would grab the baby and they would scramble together under the kitchen table. But the news was getting worse as France fell and the threat of German invasion into Britain increased, and the mood in Coronation Street became heavier and more wretched, like the rest of the country.

  Shortly after the collapse of French opposition, the Germans began to drop incendiary bombs all over Britain and there seemed to be a constant chain of firefighters in almost every city trying to stop the flames and the ensuing panic spreading. Elsie saw the dreadful pictures for herself whenever she ventured to the cinema, though she no longer enjoyed going as often as she once had for it was impossible to avoid the newsreels. Watching London and smaller cities such as Coventry and Southampton being bombed spoilt her appetite for whatever light-hearted film was the main attraction. The mood in the cinema was very sombre these days. Audiences were stunned into silence by the images of communities being devastated and scores of innocent victims losing their homes. It seemed that many people had disappeared following the bombings, leaving their families in limbo, not knowing whether they were alive or dead. It was as though everyone was wondering when the Germans would turn their attention northwards to industrial cities like Manchester and consequently Weatherfield.

  As the year went on and the weather got colder, no one seemed to notice that Christmas was approaching. It was hard to feel like celebrating anything and few houses in the street had put up any decorations. Even Annie Walker seemed to be letting her standards slip, for the bar no longer looked bright or cheerful.

  The Sunday before Christmas began as any other day. Elsie was enjoying a lie-in and recalling the annual display in the newsagent’s window near Back Gas Street. Would it be there again this year? Damnit, that’s what we need, she thought: decorations. Linda’s too young but Fay and I will enjoy them.

  So she decided to spend the morning making up some paper chains and hanging them in the back room and kitchen. Fay had gone to Back Gas Street, as she did every Sunday, to check that everything was all right. It would be a lovely surprise for her when she got back. We could all do with something to cheer us up, Elsie thought.

  For the next couple of hours, she forgot all about the war as she busied herself with paper, glue and scissors.

  Early in the afternoon she wrapped Linda up warmly and went out for a walk in the local park. She was surprised to find how bare and neglected it looked. All the railings had been removed, no doubt to be melted down to make guns or planes, and the bandstand too had suffered a similar fate. But she gathered some twigs and leaves, deciding she could make her own little Christmas tree. Some holly leaves had fallen on to the grass and she even found a sprig of mistletoe. She put it on her head and that made Linda gurgle with laughter. ‘Let’s hope it won’t have to go to waste,’ she said, chucking her daughter under the chin.

  Once the small bits of foliage had been carefully arranged in the corner of the room in an old plant pot Elsie thought they really did look like a tree – if you squinted. Elsie wrapped some tiny boxes in the remaining bits of coloured paper and arranged them around the branches on the floor. Knowing the boxes were empty suddenly made her wonder if the boxes in the newsagent’s window had been empty too. The thought of how longingly she’d looked at those make-believe gifts made her smile.

  She was pleased with her handiwork and was sure Fay would like it as well. When she had finished, she left Linda asleep and, with a word to Vi to keep an ear out for her daughter, popped out to the Rovers for an hour. She was glad to see Annie Walker had also decided at the last minute to bring some Christmas cheer to her customers, for the bar was now bedecked with paper chains and decorations, even if they did look as if they had been dragged up from the cellar.

  ‘’Appen the place tooks a bit more cheery, Mrs Walker,’ commented Elsie as Annie bustled about behind the bar.

  ‘Mr Churchill has told us all to do our bit, and if that means giving Hitler one in the eye by showing him his bombs won’t stop us celebrating Christmas, then that’s what the Rovers will do.’

  ‘Hear, hear!’ said Elsie, sentiments that were echoed by the other regulars. There were bombs falling all over England and there were times when it felt as if the world was coming to an end. But tonight, here in the Rovers, Elsie thought she was part of something … something that Hitler and his bloody Luftwaffe could never destroy.

  Despite the grim news, the rationing and the biting cold, Elsie could sense a change in the atmosphere tonight. There was a sense of purpose; of pulling together. They might be down, but they weren’t out.

  It had been quiet in the public bar when Elsie first arrived but as time wore on there was a growing buzz of conversation. People were beginning to smile and she felt cheered when Elsie Foyle whispered that tomorrow she would have a few oranges hidden under the counter that she would sell to her regular customers.

  ‘Bugger the coupons,’ she said with a wink. ‘I may as well do what I’m always being accused of.’

  The customers sang cheery versions of ‘There’ll Always be an England’ and ‘Wish me Luck as You Wave me Goodbye’, Mrs Foyle doing her best Gracie Fields impression which Elsie though wasn’t half bad. When the whole pub joined in to sing Vera Lynn’s ‘We’ll Meet Again’ Elsie was surprised to feel a few tears trickling down her cheeks. Looking across at the snug even Ena Sharples seemed to be moved by the sentiments of the song. I’m going soft, thought Elsie, either that or it’s the gin.

  It wasn’t until they started singing carols that Elsie felt it was time to go home. Ena Sharples seemed determined everyone should join in.

  ‘Not for me,’ Elsie said. ‘My daughter might have been baptized but that doesn’t make me a God-botherer. I like the tunes but that’s as far as it goes, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Well,’ Mrs Sharples said, ‘I know our good Lord died to save us, but with you I’m not sure there’s owt that could be saved.’

  ‘Charming, so much for goodwill to all men – and women!’ But Elsie wasn’t really offended this time.

  On the way home, she popped in to see Ida Barlow to give her a tiny present she’d wrapped up. ‘It’s to say thank you for all you’ve done for Linda,’ Elsie explained.

  Ida was delighted. ‘You didn’t need to bother. It’s been my pleasure. And she’s been company for my Kenneth too.’ Ida smiled but then she slipped into her own thoughts. She was always worrying about her husband Frank in France, tormenting herself that he’d been killed.

  Elsie had bought a bit of minced meat for their supper. She always liked to make something for Fay’s return. She looked at it and wondered what unfortunate animal had been trapped and minced up like that. Better that she didn’t know. She seasoned it and prepared it in her special saucepan and hung it over the fire so that it would be ready when Fay got back. She also prepared her sister’s present, looking at it one more time before she wrapped it up. It was a cotton handkerchief she’d bought specially and Vi had embroidered a lace border. She thought she would give it to Fay before Christmas, probably tonight.

  Chapter 36

  Night had descended and it was pitch-black by the time the first siren whined its warning into the street. For some reason, Elsie thought it sounded more urgent than usual. Fay wasn’t back yet so she ign
ored the kitchen table, and gathering Linda ran directly to the shelter at the Mission. It was as though everyone felt the same way, for the street was packed with people making their way to the Mission basement. She could already hear the steady drone of the distant bombers and knew she had done the right thing. She hoped Fay would insist the family in Back Gas Street ran for shelter and that she was safely with them too.

  ‘Where’s Annie Walker?’ Ena Sharples demanded. She was wearing her warden’s hat with a large W painted on the front and was checking names off a list.

  ‘She wouldn’t leave the Rovers while her Jack’s away,’ Sally Todd answered. ‘She’s taken Billy with her and gone down to the Rovers’ cellar.’

  ‘Right then. Everyone I expect to be here is accounted for,’ Mrs Sharples said with satisfaction.

  There were several wardens from the surrounding neighbourhood all directing people to the Mission and it seemed like they were just in time. For the drone of engines that filled the air was getting nearer, and people were rushing to get down the stairs.

  Elsie was trying to decide whether it was safe to go into the shelter as more people than ever seemed to be packing in the doors. She stood for a moment, hypnotized by the sky that was ablaze with searchlights and the leaping flames from fires ignited by distant bombs. But then she realized as the throbbing engines grew louder that the bombing was getting closer too and she stood uncertainly, hanging on to Linda, trapped by the milling crowd that was mobbing the entrance.

  When she heard someone scream for Mrs Sharples’ help, she turned and watched in horror as Marjorie Barlow, who’d been desperately pleading with her sister-in-law Ida to leave her house for the safety of the shelter came into view, holding what looked like a parcel, with Ida right behind her. Both women were keeping close to the wall and moving as fast as they could in the direction of the Mission. Ida seemed to be shouting something, but her words were drowned out as the planes were almost overhead now. Realizing she had no time to get down the stairs to the basement, Elsie clutched Linda to her as tightly as she could and lay down on the floor, trying to protect her head while shielding the baby’s body with her own.

  Suddenly the street shook, there was blinding flash of light followed by a roar and a deafening noise echoed all around. Then there was the thunderous sound of bricks crashing to the ground and bouncing on the cobbles. In the momentary silence that followed, Elsie lifted her head gingerly but regretted it immediately as there was another crash and a boom and the whole of the factory wall disappeared, along with those trying to reach the safety of the Mission. She couldn’t believe what she had seen in that brief moment. It was as if the street itself had been lifted, shaken about and then fallen back in different order.

  Those who had witnessed the dreadful scene gave up all attempts to enter the shelter, risking their lives to run to where the wall had collapsed. As word spread, the shelter emptied and others joined them, scrabbling at the bricks with their bare hands to free whoever had been caught underneath. A combination of sirens, bells and shouting filled the streets, mingling with the screams of those who had been injured. Thankfully, the noise of the bombs was getting ever more distant.

  To Elsie’s relief, Linda seemed unharmed. Apart from having torn her coat when she flattened herself to the floor, Elsie too was untouched. Not knowing what else to do, she ran to the main road and despite the risk of being knocked down in the darkness, she attempted to flag down an ambulance on its way into town.

  ‘We need your help here. Please,’ she begged when the ambulance pulled up a few feet away from her. ‘People have been badly hurt in the air raid on Coronation Street. I think they may need emergency treatment.’ To her huge relief, the crew turned their ambulance round and joined in the hunt for Ida and whoever else had been with her. It was several hours later that they found her, injured but alive. Kenneth too was safe, thanks to the quick thinking of his Aunt Marjorie, who had been with them. But she had not been so lucky. Marjorie Barlow had protected him at the cost of her own life.

  Fires burned in Weatherfield well into the early hours and continued to burn in the city too. Many of the city’s firefighters had been sent to help out in Liverpool earlier, and had not yet returned. Those who remained fought valiantly, putting out fires even while bombs were still falling during a bombardment that lasted more than twelve hours.

  In the morning, the residents surveyed the damage. Not everything was intact but Coronation Street had survived. The corner shop had been hit and most of the stock ruined by the shattering glass if not by the blast of the bomb itself. The main gas pipe to the street had been cut off, the water pipe had been fractured by the force of the explosion and they were informed that electricity would have to be rationed. When Annie Walker emerged from the cellar, she found the shelves had been looted by rescuers who must have been desperate for refreshment.

  Amazingly the only fatality on the street was poor Marjorie. Ida was released from hospital after a night’s stay to make room for more urgent cases that were coming in from all over the city. The city centre was in ruins and there had been many severe casualties during the night. When she went down to the hospital, Elsie found Ida looking so bewildered that she offered her a bed at number 11, and later that morning she took Ida home to look after her. It helped to keep her mind off her sister.

  Fay hadn’t come home the previous night and when she hadn’t appeared by morning Elsie didn’t know what to think or do. She wanted to go out looking for her but she didn’t know where to go. News had travelled fast about the devastation of the city centre, but so many people were killed or missing and there was no news yet about a single young girl lost somewhere between Coronation Street and Back Gas Street.

  The next night the raids began again at about the same time and went on throughout the night as the Germans tried to dislocate networks and transport links and to terrorize the people. But this time there were no planes directly over Weatherfield. When the alarm sounded, Elsie was content for them to hide under the table once more where they felt safe enough listening to the bombs blasting in the distance.

  If the Germans hoped to destroy the morale of Manchester, they had miscalculated. The blanket bombing had had the opposite effect. For while many buildings had been destroyed in the city centre, the heart of the people and their spirit of cooperation had not been touched. Everyone, young and old, pulled together, helping to drag the injured from the burning and flattened buildings. The Women’s Voluntary Service arrived with their trucks on street corners distributing spare clothing and much-needed strong tea. If Hitler thought the people of Manchester — or anywhere else in the country — were going to crumble, then he clearly had another thing coming.

  On Christmas Day Weatherfield enjoyed a rest from all the air raids and it seemed like the blitz on Manchester was over, for the time being at least. No one was in a mood to celebrate, but a small crowd gathered at the Rovers, and people tried to pool their meagre resources to help them get through what should have been a festive day.

  When Elsie heard a knock at the front door, she ran to open it, thinking it was Fay at last. Instead, a wild-looking man she didn’t recognize stood on her doorstep. He was wearing a dishevelled uniform and had several days’ growth of beard.

  ‘Elsie?’ a local-sounding voice said. ‘I hear my Ida’s with you.’

  Elsie gasped. ‘Frank Barlow? Is it really you? You’re a sight for sore eyes!’ And she pulled back the door to let him through.

  Ida, despite her bad leg, came rushing out as quickly as she could. ‘Frank! I thought you were dead. And I was convinced I was a goner too.’ Ida sobbed and told him about his sister Marjorie and how she had saved Kenneth’s life.

  Elsie left them together while she went up to the Rovers, hoping she might hear some news of Fay. But she was greeted with the kind of information she didn’t want to hear.

  ‘Don’t you come from Back Gas Street way?’ someone asked her as soon as she set foot inside the door.


  ‘What of it?’ She was used to defending her home from the snooty types who liked to look down on anyone who came from the slums.

  ‘Rumour has it they didn’t fare so well the other night.’ Ena Sharples always liked to be in first. ‘I was going to nip over and tell you, if you hadn’t come in.’

  Elsie gave a shiver and a sudden hush fell in the room.

  ‘How do you mean, “not fared well”?’ Elsie tried to keep her voice steady.

  Someone pushed a chair towards her. ‘Here, you best sit down.’

  Vi put a glass of gin in her hand, but Elsie ignored it. She was looking straight at Mrs Sharples, who as usual didn’t mince her words: ‘They bore the brunt of one of the explosions. A shelter took a direct hit. Incendiary bombs started fires all over the place. They spread quickly because those flimsy houses in the terraces were all so close together. And then they couldn’t get to the pumps.’

  She looked as though she would go on, but Elsie had heard enough. As if suddenly realizing what Vi had put in her hand, she downed the gin in one gulp and ran out of the pub.

  She went the way she always went, past the newsagent’s, which was still standing though with empty, glassless windows. But when she got to the Field she had to stop. Suddenly she didn’t recognize anything and lost all sense of where she was. Where there had once been streets and houses, all she could see were piles of rubble and the shattered remains of what had once been people’s homes. Several fires were still burning, she could feel the heat. Even now there was frenzied movement and activity as emergency workers and volunteers continued to pick through the debris, looking for the injured and the dead. Here and there she saw a chair leg, a kitchen drawer with a melted tangle of knives and forks. She nearly stumbled over a window frame, and skirted round a mattress that was still smouldering. Everything was covered in a film of masonry dust as fine as powder.