The Mersey Daughter

by Annie Groves

  ‘So what have you seen of the city so far?’ he said now. ‘I’m afraid you’ve missed the chance of visiting our cathedral or St Luke’s Church, or even our best department stores. Hitler decided we had too many beautiful buildings and set about destroying them. But you must have seen the Liver Birds at least.’

  Sylvia laughed, a little shame-faced. ‘Do you know, I haven’t been down there yet. Everyone says I must see them – that they’re the symbol of the city, and as long as they are there then Liverpool will never be defeated. But I’ve been so busy settling into my billet and starting at Derby House that I haven’t had a moment.’

  The sun came out from behind a cloud and shone down on them, turning Frank’s hair the colour of warm molasses sugar. Sylvia smiled up at him and he couldn’t resist taking the next step.

  ‘Well then, Wren Hemsley,’ he said, ‘would you let me have the honour of escorting you to see our fine birds? You can’t really say you’ve been to Liverpool without that sight. It’s not far, just down there and across to the river. Can I persuade you to accompany me?’ Until recently he would have added, ‘If you don’t mind being seen with a cripple with one leg.’ But he held his tongue – it was her who had approached him to begin with, after all.

  She looked up directly into his eyes and smiled with pleasure. ‘Thank you very much, sir. I’d be delighted.’ A sunbeam caught on her shining curls and he smiled back. The sharp poignancy of his thoughts about Kitty eased a little. He decided Wren Sylvia Hemsley was somebody well worth getting to know.

  Laura and Kitty walked swiftly down one corridor after another in the almost silent hospital, attempting to find the right ward from the directions a nervous receptionist had given them. Laura hadn’t exactly lied to get them past the front door, but she’d let the young woman assume that they were family. She made sure her accent was at its cut-glass best, had instructed Kitty to let her do the talking, and was behaving according to one of her brother’s favourite maxims: act like you belong and nobody questions your right to be there. She didn’t know how far this would get them, but she was going to give it her best shot.

  ‘This must be it. She told us to look out for the big painting of Winston Churchill.’ Kitty pointed to a portrait in a heavily carved gold frame. ‘It’ll be one of the doors at the end.’

  Laura looked to where her friend meant. French windows at the far end of the corridor gave on to a rose garden, by the looks of it, and she thought what a beautiful sight that would have been under different circumstances. She couldn’t dwell on that now, though. Every minute counted, as they could be turned back at any moment. She began to march smartly towards the doors near the full-length windows, but before she’d got far, two people emerged from one of the doorways, one in a matron’s uniform and one clearly extremely senior in the navy. His gold braid shone in the light from the French windows and Laura was momentarily dazzled.

  The matron did not look best pleased. She didn’t shout, presumably so that her patients would not be disturbed, but she swept towards Laura and Kitty with a look of ill-disguised fury on her face. ‘What do you think you are doing here?’ she demanded. ‘This area is not open to the public and you need security clearance to be anywhere remotely close to this corridor. You must leave here at once.’

  Laura refused to be intimidated by the angry nurse. She drew herself up to her full height and made sure her shoulders were back. She didn’t intend to leave the premises without finding out what had happened to Peter. ‘We are here to see Captain Cavendish,’ she said, steadily but utterly firmly. ‘Please tell him that Wren Laura Fawcett is here.’ She could sense Kitty’s nervousness but she would not back down.

  ‘You will do no such thing,’ the matron replied immediately. ‘Captain Cavendish is in no state for visits, and certainly not from the likes of chits like you.’ She pointed back the way they had come. ‘Now leave this instant, or I shall report you to your commanding officer.’

  Laura had expected that but she still wasn’t going to turn around. She was more desperate than ever to discover what had happened to the captain. What would Freddy have done in such a situation? He’d have brazened it out, probably used his considerable charm to win the furious matron over. Laura knew she would stand little chance of that, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t try with the naval officer – an admiral no less, she realised, as she noticed the detail of his uniform. Well, nothing like going straight to the top.

  ‘I wonder if you can tell me how he’s doing, sir?’ she said, as winsomely as she could.

  The man had deep lines etched into his brow and he regarded her with the utmost seriousness. For a moment Laura thought he was going to echo the matron’s command for them to leave. Then his expression changed a fraction. ‘My dear young lady, did you say your name was Fawcett?’ he asked.

  ‘That’s right, sir.’ Laura saluted smartly.

  The admiral turned to the matron. ‘While it is highly irregular, and usually I would concur that this is a breach of security, I can vouch for this young lady,’ he said with a sigh. ‘You were Captain Cavendish’s driver on the fateful evening of the UXB blast, were you not?’ Laura nodded, not trusting herself to speak. ‘Then I must thank you for saving my nephew’s life.’ The man paused and drew breath, and before he could go on Laura leapt into the gap.

  ‘So he is still alive?’ she said, hoping against hope that this was what he meant.

  Wearily the admiral drew her down the corridor, the impatient matron at his side, Kitty following in consternation. When they were well out of listening distance of the far doors, he halted.

  ‘Yes, at the moment he is still alive,’ he said slowly. ‘He has been gravely ill, however, and has been unconscious for some days now. Even I have been permitted to see him only for short bursts at a time, and only from a distance. I am afraid there is no question of you being allowed to visit him. He wouldn’t know you were there—’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ the matron broke in. ‘We cannot risk transmission of any further infections. He has enough to cope with as things stand.’ She bit her lip, as if she had given away more than she intended to.

  ‘Is he not out of danger?’ Laura asked, controlling her voice with difficulty. She knew she must not reveal her true feelings, or they would tell her nothing.

  The admiral’s face took on an expression of deep sadness. ‘I’m afraid not, my dear. All we can do is wait, and trust in the fact that before the fire he was a very healthy young man with everything to live for. Often that is what helps cases such as this pull through – that, and excellent nursing,’ he added, turning to the matron. ‘I appreciate you coming here. I feel all of this is rather my fault, you see. It was I who summoned him to an urgent meeting that night, and I know that meant you were forced to forgo your free evening to drive him there and back.’

  Laura realised that this was the figure she had caught sight of from a distance in the doorway of the Reform Club. So the admiral was Peter’s uncle, and from the tone of his voice it hadn’t been a family gathering but something far more important. Had Peter had time to act upon the information he’d been given that night? How tragic if he’d been given a special mission and was now unable to complete it, all because she had chosen that particular route back to base.

  ‘If I hadn’t gone via Camden …’ she began, horrified as the significance began to hit her.

  ‘Hush, my dear.’ The admiral laid his hand on her arm. ‘It will do you no good to think like that. You did what you considered best, and by doing so you saved a small child. You are to be praised, not blamed. You and my nephew acted selflessly and with the utmost bravery, which cannot be wrong under any circumstances. He would have it no other way. Please do not tell yourself that you are at fault.’

  Laura stared at her feet in their sensible uniform shoes, unable to meet his eyes. She’d clung to the idea that she’d be able to come to the hospital and find that all the rumours had been exaggerated, that Peter would be sitting up in bed, fit as a fid
dle, and that they’d share a joke about the whole thing – how everyone was making a fuss over nothing and mollycoddling him. Now it seemed that was far from the case. She didn’t think she could bear it – to lose him just as she was beginning to discover what he meant to her. First Freddy, now Peter. She gulped and held back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her.

  The matron had softened slightly but was still keen for them to leave. ‘Come,’ she said, ‘you can’t stand around here. There are patients all about and we can’t have them caused additional distress. Now you know what the situation is, you must go back to your base.’

  Kitty stepped forward and took Laura’s arm. ‘Let’s go,’ she whispered. ‘We’re doing no good here. At least we know now.’

  Every cell in Laura’s body urged her to stay, to be close to Peter in his hour of need, but she knew that would be impossible. She couldn’t even tell anyone how she felt – she barely knew herself. All she knew for certain was that she didn’t want him to die. She didn’t care if he barked at her to reverse in unfeasibly narrow alleys, to drive him for hours in the middle of the night, to take him to ridiculously out-of-the-way locations and back again while scarcely uttering a word. All that mattered was that he recovered.

  ‘Would you like to be kept informed of his progress, my dear?’ asked the admiral. ‘I can arrange it if that is what you want.’

  Laura gave herself a mental shake, recognising that this was a considerable kindness. Of course the admiral didn’t know what she was thinking, but he must assume she had a keen professional interest at least.

  ‘Yes, sir. Thank you,’ she breathed. ‘I would appreciate that very much. All manner of rumours have been going round and one can’t help but imagine the worst.’ She attempted a smile.

  ‘Indeed. Never listen to the rumour mill, that’s my advice.’ He held out his hand. ‘Goodbye, Wren Fawcett, and good show.’ He nodded to her and to Kitty. It was a clear dismissal, and this time they did as they were bid, making their way back through the labyrinth of silent corridors until they were out in the autumnal sunshine and dry leaves blew about their feet.

  ‘We can get the bus,’ Kitty suggested, then stopped as she saw how wretched Laura was looking. ‘Are you all right, Laura? You look a bit pale. Would you rather try to find somewhere that’s open where we can have a cup of tea?’

  Laura shook her head. ‘I think I need something a little stronger than tea, to tell the truth.’ She kicked at the leaves, despair and frustration filling her heart. ‘Oh Kitty, there were scores of routes I could have taken that night and I go and pick the one that could have got us killed, and now he’s in there and we don’t know if he’ll make it.’

  Impulsively Kitty gave her friend a tight hug. ‘You can’t blame yourself, Laura. You heard what the admiral said – gosh, imagine Killjoy Cavendish having an uncle who’s an admiral. After all, if you hadn’t been there, then that baby would have died – and maybe the mother too, if she was going to go back in after it like you told us. You’re both heroes. Captain Cavendish would have known the risk he was taking. He’s probably done all sorts of training for that sort of thing.’

  ‘Probably,’ Laura agreed, but she knew it had been an instinctive reaction that had driven him into that burning building. All the training in the world wouldn’t have changed the essential facts. The image of him throwing the baby to her and then how he teetered for those awful few seconds on the windowsill came back into her mind and she could have screamed. She’d thought that was when he was in greatest danger, but she’d been wrong. Now he was in that silent wing of the hospital with the formidable matron, no doubt receiving the best possible care, but fighting for his life all the same. She remembered how he had touched her nose, and a groan rose to her throat. Now she would never know what was behind his expression when he’d done that; if it was a joke, or if he’d sensed some deeper, more vital connection between them. Had she imagined it? The prospect of going through the rest of her life not knowing would be unbearable. Yet that was what she was faced with. She didn’t know if she could do it.

  ‘Come on, then,’ Kitty urged her, breaking away and then linking her arm through her friend’s. ‘We should be back at base in time for tea. Let’s not hang about. At least now we can put anyone right about the captain. We should tell Marjorie; she’ll want to know. She rather liked him.’

  ‘Likes him,’ said Laura fiercely. ‘Not liked. He’s not dead yet.’

  ‘Likes him,’ Kitty corrected herself, not reacting to her friend’s abruptness. ‘Anyway, she’ll want to hear what we’ve been up to. Funny that you feel this way now, considering he was your very worst passenger, isn’t it? It’s such a coincidence that both of you were in the car when the bomb went off. Anyway, it makes a change from you always complaining about him.’

  Laura felt her heart contract with sorrow. Kitty had no way of knowing how her words were twisting the knife, and there was little point in confessing why it hurt so much. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said instead. ‘It’s all I ever did. He was a confounded nuisance and made my life hell day in day out, but I don’t want him to die. I really, really don’t.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  ‘There’s absolutely nothing in it, Winnie, and nobody will convince me any different,’ Vera Delaney assured her friend as she drained her cup of tea. ‘I just thought you should know what folk are saying so you can be prepared next time you go out and bump into them. Some people will do anything to spread a bit of gossip, you know that.’

  Winnie nodded glumly.

  ‘Not that you’ve been out and about much recently,’ Vera added, snapping shut her battered handbag and getting up to leave Winnie’s cramped table. ‘Not that I blame you. I always tell them as says you’re hiding away from them that you’ve got enough on your plate what with managing a shop when there’s a war on and taking in that girl out of the goodness of your heart. Just because she was left homeless when the house where your Charlie was staying got bombed. They should be praising you for doing a good deed, not casting aspersions about you and her.’ She stopped to snatch a breath. ‘Talking of which,’ she said slyly, ‘heard anything from him lately, have you? Your Charlie?’ She turned her gimlet eyes on her friend. ‘Only my Alfie was asking about him. Alfie’s working ever so hard down the docks now half of the men have joined up, and it’s wearing him out; sometimes I hardly see him from one end of the week to the next. It’s no soft option having a reserved occupation, no matter what anyone says to the contrary. He’s doing his bit for king and country and almost dropping dead of exhaustion, and I won’t hear a word said against him. Do let Charlie know he was asking after him if you hear from him, won’t you?’ She waited eagerly for an answer. She’d give her ration book to know the whereabouts of Charlie Kennedy. Alfie had dropped several hints that his associates – Vera didn’t question him too closely about who they might be – would love to find him, and might even be prepared to give a reward to anyone who could say where he was likely to be. Then of course the military police were after him as a deserter – plenty of people had seen them come knocking more than once on Winnie’s door, for all that she denied it.

  Winnie made a noise that could have meant anything, and then got to her feet. ‘Don’t let me keep you, Vera,’ she said, a touch of the old firmness in her voice. ‘I know how busy you are, what with your boy still being at home.’ She waited until the other woman had left and then sank back on to her favourite seat in the breakfast room behind the shop. She could imagine Vera walking down the street, head held high, turning to look around her, no doubt keeping an eye out for anyone else she could pass her malicious tales on to.

  The sound of the door to the back yard made her jump. ‘Rita? Is that you?’

  Rita poked her head around the breakfast room door. ‘I thought you still had company or I’d have come in,’ she said. She was in her nurse’s cloak, ready to go out. ‘Vera’s gone, has she?’

  ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish,’ said Winnie v
iciously, with more energy than Rita had heard from her for ages. ‘No, don’t go, I want a word with you.’

  Rita obliged, wondering what it was this time. It had been so long since Winnie had used that tone of voice with her that she’d almost forgotten how unpleasant the old woman could be. ‘Can you make it quick, Winnie? Only I’m running late already.’

  ‘Late for that hospital where you never should have got a job in the first place, do you mean?’ Winnie spat, her long-held grudge resurfacing. ‘Let them wait for once. I need looking after too, you know.’

  ‘You’re fitter than many your age,’ Rita began firmly, but that wasn’t what Winnie was after.

  ‘Who’ve you been talking to?’ she demanded. ‘Vera said people know about Ruby, where she came from. They’re all out there saying she’s my bastard and it can only have come from you. What do you mean by it, blackening my good name like that?’

  Rita had to stop the reply that first came into her mind, that it wasn’t blackening Winnie’s name to repeat what was simply the truth: she was Ruby’s biological mother, and had conceived the child out of wedlock and then palmed her off on the loathsome Elsie Lowe. But that wouldn’t help the situation, and besides, she hadn’t breathed a word since the night they’d found Winnie’s secret box of documents during the raid. It suited Winnie to blame Rita, when really it was as clear as the nose on her face to anyone that Ruby was related to her. Winnie’s sullen silence on the matter had fanned the flames of the local tittle-tattlers and she only had herself to blame. However, Rita didn’t want to become entangled in an argument when her patients were waiting. Instead she took a deep breath and replied calmly.