The Lost Daughter of Liverpool: A heartbreaking and gritty family saga (The Mersey Trilogy Book 1)

by Pam Howes

  Thank heavens the war was finished before she and Joe brought any children into the world. God willing, their family would be welcomed into a secure home and loved, without anything bad happening to tear their young lives apart.

  ‘Big wheel?’ Joe said, breaking her thoughts and leading her over to join the queue for the Ferris wheel.

  When they took their seats the lad in charge clanged the bar shut across their thighs and the wheel rose slowly into the air, stopping at the top to let passengers off below. The view across Liverpool Bay was breathtaking and Dora could see a large ship on the horizon, belching steam from three red funnels and heading towards the Irish Sea.

  ‘That’s the Queen Mary on her way to New York,’ Joe said, squinting in the bright sunlight. ‘One day, gel, we might be doing something like that. Off to a new life in a new country.’

  The wheel started up and they had another full spin around before it was their turn to alight. After wandering around the penny arcades and taking a ride on the steam-powered swing-boats, Joe suggested fish and chips for tea. Dora clapped her hands. It was a rare treat, and they shared a wrapped parcel, sitting side by side on a lawn in the floral gardens, devouring and enjoying every last morsel of the crispy fish batter and delicious golden chips.

  Joe drew Dora into his arms and kissed her. She felt safe in his arms. It was where she belonged. He was kind and hard-working too and she knew he’d always look after her.

  She dug into her handbag for her compact and lippy. ‘I’ve had a lovely day,’ she said, pouting in front of the small mirror as she applied a slick of Tangee and smacked her lips together. She powdered her nose and then ran a comb through her hair, tangled from the sea breeze. ‘Thank you, Joe.’

  ‘Me too. It’s been great. The last free Sunday the band has got until after the wedding. So I’m glad we’ve spent it together. We’ve got full weekend bookings right through now. Still, it’s a bit more money towards our Southport honeymoon.’

  ‘Do my legs look any browner though?’ Dora laughed.

  He grinned. ‘Not really, but you’ve caught the sun on your face. You’ve got a little red nose.’ He leant over to kiss her.

  CHAPTER 4

  AUGUST 1946

  Dora lifted her arms as Joanie slipped the wedding gown over her head and supported the skirt as it fell to the floor. She did up the back zip and Dora turned towards the full-length mirror to take a look. She could see Joanie and her other bridesmaid Agnes standing behind with their hands over their mouths.

  ‘Does it look okay?’

  ‘Okay?’ Joanie said, a tremor in her voice. ‘You look fabulous, Dora. You really do.’

  ‘You look wonderful,’ Agnes agreed.

  ‘Wish I could stop shaking though.’ Dora held out her hand. ‘Look at that. I’m so nervous I feel sick. And does my hair look all right, pinned up like this?’ She patted the back of her hair into place and smoothed her fringe to one side.

  ‘Your hair looks lovely. And it’s only wedding nerves you’ve got,’ Joanie said reassuringly. ‘I’m sure every bride feels the same. Sit on the bed for a minute and relax while we finish getting you ready.’ Dora sat down and Joanie picked up the net veil with the headdress attached and placed it on top of Dora’s head, fluffing the net out and arranging it around her head and shoulders. ‘I’ll drop it over your face when you’re down the stairs. Don’t want you missing your step and falling.’

  Dora held out her right foot as Agnes slipped her white court shoes on. She got to her feet and took several deep breaths.

  ‘Feeling better now?’ Agnes asked.

  ‘I think so.’ She stared at her reflection in the mirror and chewed her lip as a little icy feeling ran down her spine. She shook herself. ‘What if he doesn’t turn up?’

  ‘Who?’ Agnes frowned.

  ‘Joe, of course. What if he’s changed his mind?’

  ‘Oh, Dora.’ Joanie rubbed her arm. ‘Don’t be silly. Of course he’ll turn up. Why wouldn’t he? He loves you and he’s waited as long as you have for today. He’ll be there, believe me.’

  ‘Thank you, for always being there for me while he was away. I couldn’t have got through it without you. And you too, Agnes.’

  Joanie smiled. ‘That’s what friends are for. And you’re always there for us.’

  Dora gave her a hug and stepped back. ‘Shall we do it then?’

  Joanie and Agnes nodded.

  ‘The flowers are in the sitting room,’ Joanie said. ‘We’ll go down first and tell your dad you’re ready. Make sure he’s not dropped ash all down his suit or your mam will give him hell.’

  Dora drew a deep breath and took a last peek in the mirror. Of course Joe would be there. What was she thinking? He’d never let her down.

  Joanie was calling for her and she walked out of her bedroom for the last time as a single girl. Her dad’s face was a picture as he stared at her from the lobby at the bottom of the narrow staircase; she’d never forget the proud look in his eyes.

  When she reached his side he took her in his arms and planted a kiss on her cheek. His voice husky with emotion, he whispered, ‘I’m feeling that made up right now, chuck.’ He led her into the sitting room where Joanie and Agnes were waiting.

  ‘I need to fix your veil,’ Joanie said and dropped the net down over Dora’s face, arranging it neatly. ‘Now Agnes and I have to go to the church with your mam, she’s waiting in the car. Here’s your bouquet.’ Joanie handed Dora the pink roses, tied up with white ribbons. ‘Mr Jones will be back for you both in a couple of minutes.’ She squeezed Dora’s arm. ‘See you very soon.’

  Joanie hurried outside, leaving Dora alone with her dad. She blinked back tears as she looked at him, all dressed up in his best suit, his grey hair neatly brushed and his blue eyes shining with pride. His tie was slightly askew. She reached out, straightened it and brushed the ash from the front of his jacket. He squeezed her hand and smiled.

  ‘You look beautiful, my little queen. I’m that proud of you.’

  Not only had Mr Jones, their neighbour, cleaned and polished his black Morris Eight so that it gleamed in the bright morning sunshine, but his lovely wife had tied white ribbons to the bonnet, and laid some pretty blue and white flowers along the back shelf. It looked like a real wedding car. Dora felt like royalty as they pulled away from the gate and drove slowly down the lane towards St Mary’s, the attractive sandstone parish church near the village hall. She waved at several neighbours, who waved back and smiled as the car passed.

  She could see Mam waiting anxiously by the entrance, looking smart in her lilac dress and jacket that she’d made herself. Her little pillbox hat, borrowed from a neighbour, had been titivated with a bow of lilac chiffon. She rushed forward as Dad helped Dora out of the car, and adjusted her veil, smoothed down the lace overlay of her dress, stepped back and smiled proudly. In a rare show of emotion, she pulled Dora into her arms and kissed her. ‘You look beautiful, my love, you really do. It’s all been worth it, all the scrimping, scraping and sewing; we’re a good team when it comes to making the pennies spin out.’ She blinked away a tear.

  ‘I couldn’t have done all this without you, Mam,’ Dora said, a catch in her voice.

  ‘Get away with you.’ Mam dabbed her eyes with a hanky. ‘Right, I’ll go and get seated and give the vicar a nod.’

  Agnes and Joanie smiled as Mam hurried away.

  ‘You two look really lovely,’ Dora told them. ‘That colour suits you so well.’ The dresses hung perfectly on their slender frames, the pale green silk complementing both Agnes’s wavy red hair and Joanie’s mousey brown curls.

  Dora linked arms with her dad as Joanie and Agnes took up position behind. Another deep breath and they crunched up the shingle church path. As they went inside the organist struck up with the wedding anthem and Dora felt her nerves fading and her spirits rising as she set off slowly down the aisle on her dad’s arm. She beamed at her seated guests, who nodded and smiled as she passed them. She looked up at t
he sunbeams dancing through the tall stained-glass windows, throwing colourful patterns onto the plain cream walls and arches.

  Dora could see Joe standing by the altar. A proud smile lit up his face, and the rush of love and relief she felt as he looked at her was overwhelming. He was there, just as Joanie had said he would be, his best man, Frank, by his side. The pair, identically dressed in their demob suits, sported white carnations from Dad’s garden in their buttonholes. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Joe looking so handsome.

  The vicar nodded as Dora took her place beside Joe. He reached out and squeezed her hand reassuringly and she squeezed his back. Dad lifted her veil and pecked her on the cheek. Feeling more relaxed now, Dora handed her bouquet of pink roses to Joanie and turned her attention back to the vicar and the solemnity of the marriage service.

  When Joe was instructed to kiss his bride, a murmur of congratulations rippled through the congregation and Joe squeezed her hand again.

  As the church bells pealed, Dora and Joe led their wedding party down the aisle. Outside she leant against her new husband and gripped his hand tightly. ‘I can’t believe we’ve done it,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so relieved it all went well.’

  ‘Me too,’ Joe said. ‘Just the photos now and then I can get a pint down my neck!’

  As Dora opened her mouth to reply, little Kenny Holt from one of the cottages across the lane came running over. He stopped in front of Dora and Joe, wiped his snotty nose on his tattered shirt sleeve and with a proud flourish produced a slightly battered silver horseshoe. He handed it to Dora with a gap-toothed smile.

  ‘Me mam’s patched it up wiv silver paper from a chocolate she saved at Christmas,’ he began, his wide smile lighting up his grubby face. ‘She sez to tell yer it was given to ’er and me dad at their wedding and it brought ’em good luck ’cos he comed ’ome safe from the war. She ’opes it brings you good luck, too.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Kenny.’ Dora bent to kiss the little lad’s cheek and Joe ruffled his hair.

  Kenny blushed and wiped the back of his hand over his face. ‘You looks just like a real princess, Dora,’ he said, and ran back across the road to his home.

  ‘And he’s right, you do,’ Joe said, a catch in his voice. ‘You look gorgeous. I can’t wait for tonight.’

  ‘Shh,’ Dora said, suppressing a giggle as the photographer, who was a pal of Frank’s, organised everyone into groups and proceeded to click away with his camera.

  ‘I got one of the little lad giving you the horseshoe,’ he told them. ‘Too good to miss, that was.’

  Laughing, the bridal pair dodged rice and confetti as they made their way across the green to the village hall. Dora looked around the room with pride. The sun blazed though the large windows, filling the room with natural light. The neatly draped swags between the beams were decorated with small bunches of scented summer flowers, tied up with white ribbon, and they filled the room with a pleasant perfume. Mam and some of her friends had laid out all the food on trestle tables and the makeshift bar was stocked with bought-in bottles of ale and sherry and the home-made brews and fruit cordials donated by kind friends and neighbours.

  Murphy’s Dance Band had dropped off their instruments yesterday and done a quick rehearsal before accompanying Joe to the pub, on his last night of freedom.

  One of the members of Murphy’s Dance Band had brought along a gramophone and records. Joe suggested he play something as the guests filed in and found seats at the tables around the room. While the boys sorted out the music, Dora and her friends helped her mam take off the wrappings from the plates of sandwiches and bowls of salad.

  Joe jumped up onto the stage and announced the refreshments were ready and for everyone to help themselves. Drinks were poured and the guests toasted the bride and groom. After much cranking of the handle, Glenn Miller’s ‘In the Mood’ crackled from the gramophone, filling the room with sound.

  When every last crumb had been devoured, and the cake cut, sliced and handed out, wrapped in paper serviettes, one of Joe’s band clapped for silence.

  ‘Would the bride and groom please take their places on the floor for the first dance, thank you.’ Everyone sang along to Vera Lynn’s ‘Anniversary Waltz’ and a few couples joined the bridal pair.

  As Dora waltzed in Joe’s arms she couldn’t stop smiling. She’d never felt happier in her whole life and this was just the start of it.

  ‘I love you so much,’ Joe whispered. ‘I’ll never let you down.’

  ‘I love you too,’ she whispered back, looking into his eyes as the song came to an end.

  ‘We’ll have a wonderful life, you and me,’ he promised.

  ‘It’s time to play a spot with the lads now,’ Joe said. ‘We’ll just do an hour and then me and you are off to Lime Street station, Mrs Rodgers.’ He dropped a kiss on Dora’s lips and hurried over to the small stage where the rest of Murphy’s Dance Band was about to start warming up.

  Joanie came dashing across to Dora. ‘You two looked so lovely on the dance floor just then,’ she said. ‘And there are loads of people asking about our dresses,’ she carried on excitedly. ‘I told them we made them, it looks like we’ve got our first order for a wedding ensemble and a couple of summer frocks for the honeymoon! I promised the bride-to-be that we’ll be ready for business in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Oh that’s wonderful, Joanie!’ Dora exclaimed. ‘What a great start.’ As Dora gave her best friend a hug, Frank tapped them on the shoulder and asked Joanie to dance.

  ‘Go on, he won’t bite you.’ Dora gave her a friendly push and she got to her feet, took his hand, and he led her onto the floor as the band struck up with The Andrew Sisters song, ‘Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree’.

  Dora winked at Agnes, who was sitting opposite with her boyfriend Alan. He’d missed the wedding due to work, but had joined them for the reception. She crossed her fingers on her lap as Frank and Joanie jitterbugged, laughing and singing along. Her brother hadn’t taken his eyes off her friend since this morning. Joanie had downed several glasses of old Mrs Hayward’s elderberry wine, which had given her rosy cheeks and an air of reckless abandon. That home-made wine had probably been fermenting since before the war and packed a punch. Judging by Joanie’s wide smile, she was really enjoying herself. Joanie and Frank looked like Knowsley’s answer to Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers tonight. Dora smiled to herself as she watched them jigging around.

  She caught Mam’s eye and waved her over, nodding at her brother and Joanie.

  ‘’Bout time eh, Mam?’

  Mam laughed. ‘I’ll say. That pair have been pussyfooting around for months. Even a blind man could see they’re sweet on each other. Don’t know what’s took them so long. Joanie’s mam just said the same.’

  ‘Well let’s hope something comes of it,’ Dora said, clapping when the song came to an end.

  As the band played a few Glenn Miller numbers and the crowd on the dance floor thinned a bit, Dora spotted two young women she didn’t recognise. They hadn’t been at the church, or here for the buffet earlier; they certainly weren’t from Palmer’s factory or the village. Dora felt a shiver run down her spine as she noticed the shorter of the two staring at Joe on the stage. Throughout ‘Pennsylvania 6-5000’ she watched his every move, swaying her hips from side to side, in time to the music. She clapped loudly, called his name and blew him a kiss as the song ended.

  As Frank brought Joanie back to the table and went to fetch her a glass of water, Dora beckoned him to one side. ‘Who are those two women who just came in?’ She nodded towards the pair, still standing near the stage, still looking at Joe.

  Frank turned to look. ‘They work in the ROF canteen. Joe must have asked them along. Ivy Bennett, the shorter one, is the cook and her mate Flo helps her. I’ve seen them around town.’

  Dora frowned. ‘He didn’t tell me he’d invited anyone else from work, other than the people I knew about.’

  Frank shrugged. ‘Does it matter? They’re not re
ally doing any harm, are they?’

  Dora sighed. ‘I suppose not. But he could have at least said something. There’s nothing left for them to eat.’

  ‘Not your problem, Sis. Joe’ll be off stage in a minute and then the pair of you will be going on your honeymoon.’

  She nodded and gave him a hug. ‘Look after Joanie, Frank. And no hanky-panky. She’s too drunk to know what she’s doing. Don’t you be taking advantage, or else!’

  ‘As if I would,’ he said, his blue eyes twinkling. ‘I’ll see she gets home safe, don’t worry. I’ll get her sobered up a bit or her mam will think it’s my fault she’s tipsy.’

  Dora gave Joanie a big hug goodbye. ‘Thank you for all the help, especially with making the dresses. You never know, yours might be next.’

  Joanie laughed, flushing bright red and looking at Frank, who was grinning broadly.

  Dora joined Joe and they made their way around the room, saying goodbye to everyone. They stopped beside the two women from the ROF, and Joe introduced her to them. ‘Thank you for coming, Flo and Ivy. May I introduce my beautiful wife, Dora?’

  ‘I love your dress, Dora,’ Flo gushed, shaking her hand. ‘And congratulations to you both.’

  ‘Thank you, Flo,’ Dora said, shaking her by the hand.

  ‘Congratulations,’ Ivy muttered and stood back, offering no handshake.

  ‘Thank you,’ Dora said, frowning as she observed the unfathomable cold look in Ivy’s pale blue eyes. There was something about her that made Dora feel uncomfortable. She was glad when they moved away to say their last goodbyes.

  ‘She’s a miserable one!’ Dora whispered to Joe.

  ‘Who is?’

  ‘That Ivy, from your works.’

  ‘Is she? Can’t say I noticed, really.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Was he blind? The woman was more than sweet on him and she wouldn’t trust her as far as she could throw her. But she wasn’t going to let her put a dampener on their lovely day, which had been everything she’d hoped it would be. Joe was hers now, and they had the rest of their lives to look forward to.