by Maureen Lee
She wished she was with her children so much that it hurt. She noticed Charlie’s fish and chip shop on the other side of the road, but couldn’t tell whether it was open or not, and wished Harry were still alive, even if all they did was talk. ‘If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride,’ someone used to say, almost certainly Nanny.
A tramcar passed, going slowly, the windows painted black and the headlights barely visible. It was like something out of a nightmare and she imagined it being full of ghouls and banshees behind the darkened glass. The emptiness of the road, the fact that there wasn’t another human being in sight, was getting to her.
Tomorrow, she’d go and see Agatha, cheer herself up a bit. Surely Irene wouldn’t object to her going out during the day? The trouble was that Agatha reminded Mollie of all the things she’d lost when Tom had died. Phil was now in plainclothes and a detective sergeant. In August, they’d gone on holiday to Blackpool where, Agatha said, you’d hardly believe there was a war on apart from the blackout. The fairground was still open and the kids had had a lovely time. They’d all gone to the pictures to see The Wizard of Oz. In the hotel where they’d stayed, they’d had dances and floorshows. ‘So it didn’t matter about the blackout,’ Agatha had enthused. She’d sent Mollie a box of kippers and sticks of Blackpool rock for the children.
No, she wouldn’t go and see Agatha. It would only make her more miserable than she already felt.
The children sent letters saying how happy they were living with their Auntie Hazel and Uncle Finn. Brodie drew a girl in a tutu on hers and said she was going to ballet lessons with Kerianne, and Tommy drew a lion devouring a nun. According to his letter, it was Sister Swastika whom he didn’t like. Mollie assumed he meant Sister Scholastica, who’d taught at the convent when she was there. She hadn’t liked her, either. Megan claimed she was top of the class: ‘I know all sorts of things the others don’t.’ Joe was missing his mammy badly and really looking forward to Christmas.
Hazel enclosed a note of her own:Megan’s in love with Patrick again. She insists she’s going to marry him one day. How do you feel about cousins marrying? I don’t mind if you don’t, though Finn’s not sure. Brodie has adopted Bubbles and takes him to bed with her in a blanket. He’s enjoying the fuss, as our children are inclined to torment him. Tommy’s really settled in, but Joe’s still a bit tearful. I give him a cuddle every night and feel confident he’ll soon be all right.
Mollie was upset to think that another woman was cuddling her son, even if it was Hazel. It should be her doing it. She lost her temper with Irene when she gave her letters to read and she remarked that Megan was a snooty little so-and-so: ‘And cousins can’t get married. The church wouldn’t stand for it.’
‘Then the church can go to hell.’ She recalled Harry’s caustic comments about the church, that religion was the opium of the people.
Irene took offence and disappeared into the parlour. Mollie stayed in the living room simmering with anger until it was time to leave for the theatre. When she came home, Irene was in bed. At three in the morning, the siren went and the women sat under the stairs, listening to the bombs falling. Irene clutching Mollie’s arm so tightly that she had to prise her fingers loose when her arm started to go numb.
‘I’m sorry, luv,’ Irene said humbly. ‘I didn’t mean what I said before. Megan’s a lovely kid. It was my fault we didn’t get on. And I really appreciate you staying with me, girl. I’m just a daft old woman who’s got no right to keep you from your family. I know how much you must be missing them. Go to Ireland, Mollie,’ she said stoutly. ‘Go tomorrow. I can manage on me own.’
Irene had offered her an opportunity to escape, but Mollie couldn’t bring herself to take it. It just wasn’t in her to desert her mother-in-law at such a time.
During November, the raids got worse and lasted longer, culminating in one terrible night at the end of the month when 180 people were killed in a single incident. It was a night when it seemed as if the whole of Liverpool was on fire, and the sky turned red from the flames. Ambulances and fire engines raced through the city, which resounded to the sounds of bombs exploding, buildings collapsing, and the sinister crackle of fires.
It was an unexpected relief when the first three weeks of December passed without a single raid. Mollie went to town and shopped for presents for the children - sometimes Irene came with her. Despite the worsening situation, Irene had become less clinging of late. Mollie could tell she was determined to be brave. She didn’t object to her going to Duneathly for Christmas and had agreed to stay with Brian and Pauline while she was away.
When it came to toys, there were few to be had in the shops. The country was at war and factories had turned to producing more important things. Mollie managed to get Tommy a camouflaged aeroplane and a popgun, which he would no doubt use to frighten the cat. Brodie loved clothes, so she bought her a pretty frock and a lacy cardigan. At ten, Joe had become a voracious reader and Mollie was thrilled when she found a collection of virtually new boys’ adventure books and comics in a second-hand shop. It was Irene who discovered the perfect gift for Megan: a dressing-table set comprising a hand mirror and brush with flowers painted on the backs and a matching comb.
‘She’s a young lady now and won’t want toys,’ Irene said, adding tearfully, ‘I wish we’d got on better when she was home. I scolded her too much. I know that now.’
The presents were wrapped in red and green crêpe paper and put on top of the piano ready to take to Ireland, along with bags of sweets and chocolate for Mollie’s nieces and nephews - she’d been saving her sweet coupons for months. Now all she had to get was something for Irene.
Lily had come up with the idea that they buy a present between them for their mother-in-law. ‘We could get her a nice piece of jewellery,’ she said. ‘She’d be more pleased with that than talc, posh soap, and a box of hankies from each of us.’
Mollie, Pauline, and Gladys were inclined to agree. They met in town one afternoon a few days before Christmas and toured the jewellery shops, eventually choosing a gold St Christopher medal on a chain. Feeling satisfied with their purchase, they went into the Kardomah for coffee. Everyone was in good mood; the war had brought people closer together. Lily and Pauline rarely bickered these days and had been getting on better with their mother-in-law. Gladys was far more tolerant of her husband’s family.
It was Gladys who suggested they all went to the pictures. ‘Goodbye, Mr Chips with Robert Donat is on the Forum. It’ll be a nice treat; this is the first time the four of us have been out together.’
Lily looked dubious. ‘What if there’s an air raid?’
‘There hasn’t been one for ages,’ Gladys replied. ‘Personally, I think we’ve seen the last of them.’
‘Irene will be worried if I’m late home,’ Mollie said, but Pauline argued that Mollie was a grown woman and entitled to a life of her own.
‘Anyroad, it won’t be all that late. It’s not quite four o’clock now.’ Gladys got to her feet. ‘Let’s go round to the Forum and see what time it starts.’
Minutes later, they were studying the times in the cinema foyer. The supporting picture still had half an hour to go and would be followed by the Pathé news and the interval. Goodbye, Mr Chips started at five to five and finished at quarter to seven.
‘You’ll easily be home by seven, Moll,’ Gladys pointed out.
‘Oh, all right.’ Irene would be expecting her home before it went dark. She hoped she wouldn’t be too upset. After all, Mollie wasn’t a little girl who had to answer to her mother. There was very little excitement in her life these days - in fact, none at all that she could think of - and a visit to the pictures was just what she needed.
The film was incredibly moving. Mollie’s handkerchief was soaked with tears in no time, yet she was enjoying it immensely. She’d never seen Robert Donat before; he had a kind, gentle face and the most beautiful voice she’d ever heard. The film was about three-quarters of the way through when a notic
e appeared on the screen to say a raid had started. The audience groaned and a few people stood to leave, Mollie amongst them, ignoring the pleas from her sisters-in-law to stay and see the film through to the end.
Outside, the blackout took her by surprise. It always did. She was never quite prepared for the intensity of it, of sometimes not being able to see her hand in front of her face. It was like being buried in black cotton wool.
Somehow, she managed to find her way to the tram stop where she waited, hoping and praying a tram would come soon. It was up to the driver whether or not to continue once a raid had started. Most kept on the move; it was no more or less dangerous than standing still. There were other people waiting at the stop. A man struck a match to look at his watch. A woman said, ‘Well, I can’t see any sign of a raid, can you?’
The words were hardly out of her mouth when the heavy drone of planes could be heard. Mollie felt sick to her stomach. She’d never been out in a raid before. A tram glided up and the conductor shouted cheerfully, ‘Come on, let’s be having yer.’ Everyone climbed on, the conductor rang the bell, and the tram set off.
They’d hardly gone a minute when bedlam broke out and the earth erupted, as if every plane had dropped a bomb at the very same minute. The tram swayed. ‘Looks like we’re in for a rocky ride,’ the conductor quipped. A few people laughed.
The tram continued to sway as it journeyed along Byrom Street - at least, Mollie assumed it was Byrom Street; she couldn’t see a thing through the painted windows. The conductor was calling out the names of the stops, so there was no chance she’d get off at the wrong place. She could hear the urgent clang of a fire engine as it raced by. There were explosions all around them. The tram’s brakes creaked and then it suddenly stopped. The conductor got off and went to speak to the driver. He returned within minutes.
‘Sorry, folks,’ he shouted, ‘but the lines are up ahead. I’m afraid you’ll all have to get off and walk. Either that, or stay on the tram till the all-clear goes. It’s up to you. The tram’s going nowhere, but me and Bert are off to The Grapes on the corner for a bevy.’
Mollie alighted with the other passengers, most of them grumbling about what they’d do to Hitler given half a chance. ‘Me hubby’ll moan like hell if his tea’s late,’ a woman complained.
The conductor winked. ‘Well, he knows who to blame it on, doesn’t he, missus?’ His unremitting cheerfulness was getting on Mollie’s nerves.
She stepped off the tram into a world made red by fire and bright by flares, and began to run, coming soon to the place where a bomb had fallen, leaving a crater in the middle of the road that stretched from pavement to pavement. Inside it, she could see the twisted remains of tramlines. The shops on either side had had their windows and doors blown in. She stepped over the rubble and began to run again, passing the florist’s where Megan had worked. It meant she wasn’t far away from Turnpike Street. More people were running; the raid had taken everyone by surprise. It was unusual for air raids to start so early and perhaps, like Gladys, they’d thought they’d seen the last of them. Mollie had been more hopeful than optimistic.
Turnpike Street at last! She’d actually turned into the street, was hurrying down it, breathless, when the bomb fell, the explosion threw her backwards, and she lost consciousness.
When she came to, she was lying on the ground and her eyes and nose were full of dust. She raised her head and saw that about half a dozen of the little terraced houses had been reduced to debris. One of the houses had belonged to her mother-in-law.
Two days later, the day before Christmas Eve, Lily and Mike saw her on to the Irish ferry. Finn met her at the other side and drove her back to Duneathly. Her head was bandaged and her arm in a sling - it was only a bad sprain and expected to get better soon.
Irene’s body had been found and her sons would see to the funeral. Mollie had wanted to stay, but they wouldn’t hear of it.
‘You’ve been through enough, luv,’ Enoch had said the day before when the three brothers had come to collect her from the hospital where she’d spent the night. ‘And you’ve done enough an’ all. You’ve looked after our mam for ten long years, and she wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, we all know that, though we loved her to bits, all three of us. You go back to your kids and be with them for Christmas.’
She’d spent the next night with Lily and Mike, an horrendous night during which she didn’t sleep a wink, not only because her head and arm were hurting, but because there was a raid that lasted ten hours and didn’t finish until gone five in the morning. It was just as bad, if not worse, than the one that had killed Irene.
Mollie was tormented by the thought that Irene had died alone yet, had the tram not stopped, had Mollie been there, she would be dead too, and her children would be motherless. As it was, she’d been left with only the clothes on her back and the coppers in her purse. She thought about the Christmas presents that had been stacked on the piano and the money in an old handbag in the sideboard that she’d been saving towards a holiday next year. But none of these things mattered when she was still alive.
It had been poignant saying goodbye to Tom’s brothers and their wives, not knowing when they would see each other again. She said she’d do her best to get to the wedding of Mike and Lily’s son in September, but couldn’t promise anything.
Over Christmas, Mollie wasn’t allowed to do a single thing except sit in a chair and eat - and drink the occasional sherry. They all went to early Mass on Christmas Day and since they’d returned, the house had been in chaos while the children played with their new toys. As soon as Finn had received the news from Liverpool, he’d gone to Kildare and bought extra presents for her own four, who wouldn’t let their mammy out of their sight. Megan insisted on bathing her wrist with warm water several times a day, though Mollie couldn’t imagine it doing any good. Brodie kept asking if Dandelion had gone to heaven with Grandma, and was assured, over and over, that this was certainly the case. All Joe did was sit on her knee, and Tommy couldn’t stop poking her for some reason. Perhaps he just wanted to make sure she was really there.
The months passed peacefully, without incident, apart from the miraculous return of Dandelion, who everyone had thought was dead. He’d been found wandering along Scotland Road six weeks after the bomb had fallen on Turnpike Street. He must have been out for an evening stroll when the siren went and had hidden in someone’s back yard, only to find his home destroyed when he returned.
Fortunately, because his name and address had been written on his collar and nearly everyone in the street had known Irene’s three sons, the cat was saved. Mike and Lily had been astounded when a strange man turned up with a tabby cat that looked very much the worse for wear. Dandelion had been despatched to Ireland in a secure cardboard box with holes so he could breathe - the same way, in fact, that he’d gone the other way a decade before except now the box was much bigger. Finn had driven to Dun Laoghaire to collect him. When he’d opened the box, back home, Dandelion had leapt straight into Brodie’s arms. At first, he and Bubbles hadn’t taken to each other, but the brothers were now on good terms.
Easter came and went and suddenly it was spring. Duneathly burst into life and the trees were full of buds and tiny green leaves. There was the suggestion of blossom on the apple trees in the garden.
By this time, Mollie had found herself a job, spurred on by the fact she hadn’t a penny to her name and hardly any clothes. Lily, Pauline, and Gladys, aware of her predicament, had bought her underwear for Christmas, and Hazel and Finn’s present was to ask Sinead Larkin to make her a frock. But Mollie had turned down Finn’s offer of a weekly allowance; it would have been too much like charity. As it was, Finn bought all her children’s needs.
As there wasn’t a job of any sort to be had in Duneathly, she travelled to and from Kildare on the bus to work in a bank, adding up figures and preparing statements for someone else to type. It was as boring as a job could be and she hated every minute. The time crawled by,
but at least she was paying her way and in a position to buy things for her family and herself.
Gladys and Enoch had a telephone, and Mollie called regularly to ask how everyone was. In May, there’d been a week of air raids that made them wonder if the world had come to an end. ‘Parts of town have completely disappeared, Moll,’ Gladys said soberly. Almost two thousand people have been killed and no one knew how many were seriously injured. Of all the famous buildings that had been destroyed, Mollie was most upset to learn that the Rotunda had burnt to the ground.
She couldn’t quite understand why this news made her feel restless. The very last thing she wanted to experience was another air raid but, at the same time, she felt she was missing out on something.
One morning, a letter arrived from Agatha. Mollie felt more and more guilty as she read it. It appeared her friend had thought she was dead.
‘I didn’t know Turnpike Street had been bombed until days afterwards,’ she wrote:Phil went to look and said your house had gone. I couldn’t believe it, Mollie. For some reason, I kept thinking about the day you got married and I went to the house with my plum bridesmaid’s frock, shocking your sisters-in-law no end.
Then the other day I was in Woolworth’s and I met Lily. She told me you weren’t dead after all and had gone back to live in Ireland. She gave me your address. Oh, Mollie, how could you have gone away without telling me? I know we hadn’t seen each other for a while, but we were friends!
