The Mersey Daughter

by Annie Groves

  Mrs Fitzgerald, Elliott’s mother, had been keen for all three of them to come back to her house afterwards along with other family and friends, but Kitty had not felt able to accept. She kept remembering how she was to have gone to that very house for a celebratory lunch, and the contrast with reality was a step too far. So she had politely declined, saying that they were needed back on shift, and if Mrs Fitzgerald had detected the lie, she had been too discreet to comment on it. Kitty thought the woman was exactly how she’d imagined Elliott’s mother would be: elegant, courteous, dignified even in her grief.

  Elliott’s father was a more remote figure who had retreated into silence as a way of coping with bereavement. Kitty had exchanged a handful of words with him, the briefest of condolences, but neither of them wanted to prolong the conversation. Kitty knew there was little point. They were unlikely to meet again. She registered the physical likeness between the man and his son, from the thickness and wave of the hair to the set of the eyes, but that was no surprise. Mrs Fitzgerald had assured her she must keep in touch and Kitty had smiled and thanked her but really did not want to. If Elliott had not been killed, she had no doubt that she would have got on well with his parents, but there was no reason to continue to see them now he was dead. The only thing they had in common was the wish that he hadn’t died, and it was too painful a bond.

  Numbly she joined the others as they processed out of the church, following the crowd as they made their way to the grave site. It was almost over. She had dreaded this day, but now she was glad she had come because, just as people said would happen, it made her feel as if that chapter of her life had finished. Her grief was no less real, but she trusted that slowly it would fade – not vanish, but not invade every waking moment. Slowly her sense of self was returning. She was still Kitty Callaghan, still a Wren, still sister to Jack, Danny and Tommy. Even if she was no longer the girlfriend of Dr Elliott Fitzgerald, she would go on with her training; she had to throw herself into every opportunity that life offered, as a way of paying tribute to his loving trust and support.

  ‘Go on, it’s your turn.’ Laura touched her arm and Kitty realised she was expected to throw a little earth on to the coffin. If someone had told her even a day or two ago that she would be able to manage to do this without breaking down, while everyone looked at her – including Elliott’s former professor, father of his late fiancée – she wouldn’t have believed them. Yet she came forward and performed the necessary ritual without faltering and then returned to Laura and Marjorie’s protection. Sombrely she said a mental goodbye to Elliott, and she clutched her new handkerchief in her pocket. But she did not cry. She had finished crying. Now she would set her sights on the future – not the one she thought she would have, but a different one. She recognised that this year of knowing Elliott had changed her, and for the better. Now it was up to her to live the life he had helped to give her. Men and women like Elliott were making the ultimate sacrifice, both at home and many, many more on the front. Kitty knew it was up to her and thousands of people like her to make sure that it was a price worth paying – they’d show Hitler what they were really made of.

  ‘Oh Jack, I can’t thank you enough.’ Rita gazed at him with gratitude added to her deep love for this wonderful man. He’d done his best to dress the wound on her leg, but had realised it was too serious for him to manage alone. So he’d borrowed Pop’s horse and cart and taken her to hospital that way. She’d protested that he could just have left her at the VAD nursing station where Sarah could have looked at it, under Rita’s own instructions, but Jack would have none of it. He wanted a fully qualified, experienced doctor to see to it, and she was ultimately glad he had insisted, as the main cut was very deep and the others also continued to bleed. She’d had three separate sets of stitches in the end, and had been given the strictest instructions to rest the leg for several days to prevent any of the injuries opening up again. They’d also done what they could for the angry red mark on her face where Charlie had slapped her so hard, although she knew it would turn into a bruise that would last for ages. She’d had enough of them before from him – just not as obvious and prominent.

  Now she was propped up on one of the comfier chairs in what Winnie used to call the breakfast room, a stool next to it with her leg resting on an old cushion and a towel under it for extra padding. It didn’t feel too bad. She thought she had come off lightly, compared to what might have happened if the military police hadn’t arrived when they did. At least the ride to and from the hospital had given her a chance to explain to Jack what had gone on, and he had filled in some of the details he’d heard from Ruby.

  Ruby was now over at Dolly and Pop’s, something she would never have dared to do only a few weeks ago, but the events of the day had given her courage. Besides, Violet was there, and she trusted her, along with little Georgie, who was a constant source of delight to her. Dolly had wisely surmised that Rita needed some time alone with Jack, and had asked Ruby to stay on for a few hours, ‘to help look after Georgie’, but really to make sure Rita had her privacy. Dolly wasn’t daft; despite Rita’s efforts to play down her feelings for the young man, Dolly could tell something was up. It was the way her eldest daughter’s face lit up at the very mention of him. Dolly had very strict views on the sanctity of marriage and knew her daughter was deeply moral – but if anyone deserved some time alone with the man she so clearly adored and who adored her right back, it was Rita.

  ‘You don’t have to thank me,’ said Jack seriously. He sat in the chair next to hers and took her hand. ‘Just being with you is thanks enough. Knowing what danger you were in has made me realise just how easily I could have lost you, and I can’t even begin to think about what would have happened then. You’re the most important person in my world, Rita. I’d do anything for you, taking you on a short ride to the hospital and back is nothing. I’d walk across burning coals.’

  ‘Please don’t do that.’ Rita’s eyes were bright with love. ‘You’re the most important person to me too – well, along with Michael and Megan of course.’ She stopped, reminded of how Charlie was going to kill her son. But now he could do no more harm. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you. When your leave got cancelled it felt like the end of the world. I’d been looking forward to seeing you so much. It hurt more than my leg did this morning. It was all I’d been thinking about. It’s like a miracle, you turning up when you did.’

  ‘Just as well I did,’ he said seriously, squeezing her hand.

  ‘But imagine Ruby doing what she did. She’s scared stiff of the police or anyone in authority, but she somehow got herself out of the house on those crutches without me knowing anything about it, and then convinced the ARP warden that something bad was about to take place. I’ve completely underestimated her.’

  ‘So you didn’t think she knew what she was talking about?’

  Rita shook her head. ‘It wasn’t so much I didn’t believe her, it was more that I thought it couldn’t be anything terrible. So a bit of stock was going missing. I was angry about it, but after everything that’s happened recently, the air raid, Elliott dying, it was more of an annoying puzzle. I suppose I imagined it was just Winnie dabbling in the black market again. It was different for Ruby, she didn’t usually leave the house, so she must have overheard more than she’d let on. I knew she’d worked out the stock would probably be taken today – but not that Winnie had been giving food to Charlie, or that he was so desperate. It means Ruby was braver than ever as she was terrified of him. I don’t know what he did to her before we brought her back from Southport, but she used to go white if anyone said his name. So to think she ran the risk of bumping into him – that took a lot of courage.’

  ‘It did.’ Jack stroked her hand gently. ‘So did trying to help Winnie and Charlie when the building collapsed. I don’t think I’d have been so selfless, Rita. I’d have left them to it, if they’d done to me what they did to you. But you’re so kind, you put yourself at risk to help your enemies.’ />
  Rita looked gravely at him. ‘No you wouldn’t. You’d have tried to help, the same as I did – that’s the sort of person you are. Besides, I didn’t really think I’d be at risk. I was just doing what any nurse would have done. It wasn’t courage or kindness, it was what we are trained to do – our duty. And it turned out I couldn’t help anyway.’ She gave a deep sigh, recalling the scene: Winnie’s lifeless arm hanging down, covered in dust. The stupid horror of it. The terrible waste of lives needlessly lost.

  ‘Don’t think about it.’ Jack could tell what was going through her mind, he knew her so well. ‘Rita, we should think about something else instead. Heaven knows I wouldn’t wish anyone dead, but you know what this all means, don’t you?’

  For a moment Rita’s mind was blank. ‘What, Jack?’

  ‘Rita, you’re free,’ Jack said, holding her hand more tightly. ‘You don’t have to go against your beliefs and get divorced – you’re legally a widow. You can do what you want. You’re not tied to a husband who was never there, you’re out of limbo.’

  ‘I’m free.’ The enormity of it began to dawn on her. She hadn’t been free since she was a teenager – pregnant with Michael, with Jack abroad and not there to help her, and forced to marry Charlie in a hurry. How she had paid for that decision – although she could never have stood the shame of bearing a child out of wedlock. She stared at him in dawning astonishment. ‘It’s true, Jack. I really am free.’ Then she sighed, her eyes downcast. ‘But I’m not sure I feel that yet. Whatever I felt about Charlie, he was still my husband for all that time, and he was Megan’s father. Without him, she wouldn’t be alive.’

  Slowly, deliberately, Jack rose from his chair and got down before her on one knee. ‘Rita, this isn’t how I imagined it happening and I’m not exactly prepared, but it’s a day I sometimes thought would never come. Now it has. I don’t want to rush you into anything, and you know I’ll respect your wishes above all, but I’m only on a short shore leave. So I’m going to ask you now: will you be my wife? I love you more than words can say. I would be proud to have the most beautiful woman in Liverpool as my wife. Say you will. Say you’ll marry me.’

  Rita felt the tears well up, and for once they were of pure, undiluted happiness. She had lain awake many nights wondering if she’d done the right thing by refusing to seek a divorce, knowing how much Jack wanted her, and how much she wanted him right back, but also knowing that she would have felt it was fundamentally wrong. Was she being selfish in denying this to Jack, when he was out there every day putting his life on the line to defend his country? Or would she live to regret it if she went against her most profoundly held principles? The dilemma had eaten away at her. Now it was resolved. She didn’t have to choose between her beliefs and the man she loved. The dreadful events of the morning had brought about this wonderful truth.

  ‘Of course,’ she said simply. ‘I’d love that more than anything else in the world.’ She stared at him, this handsome, brave man who cared for her so tenderly and made her feel safe. He rose again and kissed her, gently but intensely, avoiding brushing against her so as not to move her leg.

  ‘Jack, I don’t think we should rush off for a special licence before you return to your ship. I want us to wait a little,’ she said, turning to him and then wincing as pain shot through her wound once more. ‘As long as I know we’re going to be married at last, after all these years, let’s wait just a bit longer.’ Her face grew solemn. ‘Charlie might have done some truly awful things, but I owe him some respect, for the children’s sake – we need a bit of time to let all the wounds heal a little. It’s the proper thing to do, and when they’re older I want the children to know that we both did right by him.’

  ‘You’re too kind to Charlie, even in death. But it’s why I love you so much.’ Jack encircled her as best he could with his arm. ‘I tell you what. I will be due a couple of days’ leave around Christmas or just before. Will that be long enough? Will you marry me then?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said immediately, not even having to think it over. ‘We won’t need a big do. It will be the best Christmas present ever.’

  ‘Do you mind if it isn’t in church?’ he asked. He knew how important her beliefs were, even if she didn’t attend very regularly.

  ‘No, I don’t mind if you don’t. It’ll be easier to plan if we don’t have a church wedding,’ she said decisively. ‘Father Harding will understand. It’s more important that we’re married than where the ceremony takes place. Oh Jack, it’s going to be wonderful.’ She leant into him as best she could. ‘You and me together at last. I can’t quite believe it. I’m so sorry Charlie died the way he did, but now we can start planning our future. Oh Jack, sometimes I thought it would never happen. That we’d be apart for ever. Now it’s a dream come true.’

  He shook his head and gave a little laugh. ‘I always knew,’ he said. ‘I had faith we’d manage it somehow, some day. Rita, you’ve made me the happiest man alive. I’m going to treat you as you deserve for the rest of your life. And I can’t wait to show you just how much I love you.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Laura made her way down the spotlessly clean hospital corridor as she had done many times before. It had been a few days since she had visited; she’d used up some of her free time to go to Elliott’s funeral and of course she didn’t begrudge that, but it had meant she hadn’t been able to visit the captain. Even though she knew he had been progressing well, she was never quite sure what she’d find when she went through the door to his room. Although reason told her she would have been told if he’d taken a turn for the worse, she couldn’t be certain how he would be and she bit her lip in anxiety. She hesitated as she reached the door and then told herself not to be so silly. There was nothing to worry about. She knocked softly and heard his voice call her to come in.

  ‘Oh!’ She stopped abruptly. ‘You’re up and about! Nobody said!’

  He was standing by the window, in his uniform trousers and pressed shirt. She registered how well he looked – his thick hair shining, his broad shoulders back, as if he’d never had a serious chest injury. He’d drawn himself up to his impressive full height, which she’d almost forgotten for all the time he was bedridden.

  ‘I told them not to tell you,’ he said with a wide smile. ‘It would have been too dreadful if you’d got your hopes up and then I had a relapse. But I’ve been able to stand and get around for a couple of days now.’

  ‘That’s wonderful.’ Then her eyes clouded. ‘But you mustn’t overdo it. Shouldn’t you sit down again now that you’ve proved your point? I don’t want to be the one to cause you to relapse – your uncle would never forgive me for a start.’ She came across to him and stood beside the window, through which they could see the last of the autumn leaves falling and being blown in haphazard patterns around the hospital grounds.

  ‘Oh, I think my uncle would forgive you quite a lot, as it happens,’ he said lightly, making no move away. ‘Seriously, Fawcett, you mustn’t fret. I’m quite capable of knowing if I need to sit down or not. That’s what happens when you’re promoted to captain. They acknowledge you have full control of your bodily functions.’

  ‘Well, yes, of course, sir.’ Laura didn’t know where to look. She knew he was teasing, but he was so close to her and somehow it was different to when she’d sat close to him when he’d been ill. She could feel the heat from his body.

  ‘Fawcett,’ he said, looking down at her, ‘I realise this is very informal but I have a distinct memory of you calling me Peter. We even talked about my name, if I recall rightly.’

  ‘We did, sir.’ She couldn’t tell which way this conversation was heading.

  ‘I also realise that when we are in public I am of superior rank to you and it is fitting that you call me “sir” or “captain”. However, when we are alone, I do think you should drop the formality and call me Peter. Would you do that?’

  She gazed up at him, conscious that she was only up to his shoulder. ‘As a way o
f aiding your recovery, you mean?’

  ‘Most definitely.’ He seemed to step even closer to her. ‘And maybe I should address you by your first name. Seems as though I’m always giving you orders if I call you Fawcett all the time.’

  ‘It’s Laura, sir. I mean Peter.’ She could feel her legs trembling now; she couldn’t help it.

  ‘Well, yes, I knew that, Fawcett. Laura.’ He gazed at her and suddenly that sense of close connection that had blazed between them at the police station after the fire was back, and she tipped her head back as he bent his mouth to hers and kissed her – not gently, not carefully like an invalid might, but a full-blooded kiss of barely restrained passion, such as she had never received in her life, and she found herself responding fully, brazenly, despite the nearness of the window. For a few moments she could think of nothing else. Then slowly she pulled away, catching her breath, unsure of what to say.

  ‘Laura,’ he breathed against the top of her hair, his breath hot and catching a little. ‘I’ve wanted to do that for a very, very long time. Almost since I saw you, in fact. Definitely since the first time you answered me back when I asked you to reverse into a tight spot.’

  ‘I never did!’ she objected. ‘I was always a paragon of propriety and obedience.’ Her eyes danced as she gazed up at his.

  ‘Maybe. But I had to have you with me whenever possible,’ he confessed. ‘Surely you guessed why? That I’d asked for you to be transferred from driving lorries to permanent chauffeur duties? Surely you saw I couldn’t bear to be without the sight of you for a day?’

  ‘No, I thought you hated me. You were always so silent or else so rude,’ she told him honestly. ‘You used to stare at the back of my head, I could see you in the rear-view mirror.’