by June Francis
It was at that moment that someone knocked on the door and then called through the letterbox. ‘Mr Peters, are you in?’
He recognised the voice of the woman from the dairy and shouted, ‘Hang on!’ He hurried to open the front door. ‘What is it, luv?’
The woman gazed up at him with concern. ‘There was a phone call earlier from Rene in Wales but of course you weren’t in.’
Relief made him light-headed. ‘What did you tell her?’
‘That I’d seen you earlier in the day. So she said she’d phone back and she’s on the line now.’
Harry’s face lit up. ‘Thanks, luv! You don’t mind my shirt sleeves, do you? But my jacket’s filthy and … ’
‘There’s no need to say anything about that. We know the kind of work you’ve being doing.’ She patted his injured arm in a kindly manner. ‘But hurry up in case we lose the connection.’
He wasted no time following her and was led into a sitting room behind the shop. He picked up the telephone. ‘Hello! Is that you, Rene?’ he shouted.
There was a crackling down the line and then he heard Rene say, ‘Is that you, Harry? Are you OK?’
He felt a sweetness inside him at the sound of her voice, could hear the concern for him. ‘Yes, it’s me! How are you? Where are you exactly?’
‘We’re still at Llanberis. We heard about the raids and so Fred said we were to stay here. We’ve been sick with worry. Are you and Wilf OK?’
He hastened to reassure her. ‘We’re fine. No need for you to worry at all. Stay where you are! We don’t know if the raiders will be back and I can cope better knowing the three of you are safe.’ He hesitated only a moment, wanting to say more but not knowing how to put into words the way he felt. ‘Rene, I just want to say how much I … ’ He did not get a chance to finish because a terrible crackling noise drowned out his words. Then it cleared and his daughter’s voice came on the line. It sounded unnaturally high-pitched. ‘Dad, is that really you?’
‘Yes, luv! It’s me and I’m fine. You’re to stay where you are and not to worry. Now put Rene back on the phone, please? I’ve something to say to her.’
‘In a minute, Dad. We were told that Liverpool was in flames and that people were leaving. Is it true?’
Harry struggled for patience. ‘It was a bad raid but we’re fighting back.’ He changed the subject quickly. ‘Have you been having a good time?’
‘Yes! It’s lovely here but I’ve missed you. Are you sure you’re OK, Dad? Is our house still there?’
Harry laughed wearily. ‘The whole bloody street is still here.’
‘We heard there’d been a huge explosion in one of the docks.’
‘An ammunition ship! Now could you put Rene back on?’ There came the murmur of voices and then suddenly the line went dead. He shook the receiver but there was no response. ‘They’ve gone,’ he said, feeling bereft.
‘Perhaps they’ll ring again tomorrow,’ said the shopkeeper, taking the receiver from him and placing it on its cradle. ‘You told a whopper, though … you said you were OK.’ She gazed at him with understanding eyes.
‘So I am,’ said Harry, conscious of his aches and pains. ‘I don’t want them worrying about me and rushing back here until I’m sure it’s safe. Thanks, missus, for the use of your phone. Can I pay you for the … ’
‘No, no, no … they’ve paid,’ she said hastily. ‘Besides, what are neighbours for if it isn’t to help each other.’
Harry thanked her again and made his way back to the house. He closed the door behind him and walked up the lobby. His legs felt heavy and he wanted nothing more than to get to bed. For a moment he leaned against the wall at the foot of the stairs, overcome with weakness and frustration. Then he told himself that he’d get the chance to speak to Rene tomorrow. Gathering his strength, he climbed the stairs. He felt as if he was wading through cotton wool. The telephone conversation played over in his head and he thought about what Greta had said about the huge explosion down at the docks. One of the rescuers had mentioned the Huskisson, not far from where Edith Cox and her daughters lived. He frowned, hoping they were OK, and pushed open the bedroom door. He staggered over to the bed, crashed on to it and went out like a light.
*
Edith’s hand shook as she lit yet another cigarette. Winnie wiped dust from the table and slammed a plate of sandwiches in front of her mother. ‘You shouldn’t be smoking.’
Edith ignored her and drew in a lungful of smoke. ‘I thought he would have been to see us. He must know how close that bloody Malakand was to us.’
The ammunition on the ship had taken hours to tear the vessel apart. Minor explosions had carried on throughout the day before the major one that had shattered it and sent metal plates flying through the air. The blast had been so powerful that new cracks had appeared in the walls of the house, making it a dangerous place to be. The neighbours had already left.
‘There could be fractured gas mains and we could blow up,’ muttered Winnie, pouring tea into the only two undamaged cups in the house.
‘You do go on!’ snapped Edith, glanced about nervously. ‘I don’t need you telling me that we’ve got to get out.’
‘Our Joyce is the lucky one down in Leicester. I wish I was in her place,’ said Winnie.
‘She wouldn’t whine the way you do. She’d make me feel better,’ said Edith, placing the cigarette on the edge of her saucer and picking up her teacup.
‘That’s not fair!’ Winnie scowled. ‘I tell you something, Mum! She wouldn’t slave for you the way I do. Not Lady Muck who thinks herself somebody! She wouldn’t clean and sweep and cook meals.’ Winnie picked up two sandwiches and, putting them together, bit into them.
Edith looked at her in disgust. ‘Don’t eat two like that. It’s pure greed.’
Winnie flushed and swallowed. ‘I’m hungry!’ she cried. ‘And you’ve forgotten I could have been killed if I’d been on my normal tram last night … but-but maybe you’d have liked me to have been blown up.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Edith with asperity. ‘You’re my daughter! I do have some feelings for you. Anyway, we will leave here. I’m just concerned that Harry Peters won’t know where to find me once I’ve gone.’
Not taking her eyes from her mother’s face, and speaking with her mouth full, Winnie said, ‘I thought he gave you his address.’
Edith’s eyes widened and then she laughed. ‘Of course, he bloody did! Where have my wits gone? It must be the bloody bombing that’s affected my brain.’ She smiled and reached for a sandwich. ‘The piece of paper is under the runner on the sideboard.’
‘So what are we going to do?’ asked Winnie.
Edith swallowed. ‘We’ll go and visit him, of course.’
Winnie wasn’t convinced. ‘What if he doesn’t want us?’
Edith’s face was determined as she picked up her smouldering cigarette. ‘We’re homeless, girl. He won’t turn us away. When we’ve finished eating, we’ll grab a few essentials and then be off!’
‘Good God! Would you believe this?’ said Edith, her head turning from side to side as they walked down the street where Harry lived. It was gone nine o’clock and would be dark within the hour. ‘Every house is still standing and scarcely any damage.’
‘Not bad houses either, Mum,’ said Winnie, staggering under the weight of a couple of holdalls, stuffed with clothes and linen.
Edith nodded, noticed a curtain twitch in one of the parlours and knew they were being watched. Nosey neighbours! But you got them everywhere. If only she could persuade Harry into marriage then this street could suit her. She had taken to dreaming in the last few months of her lost love, her Mr Lawrence, Joyce’s father, but she decided that such dreaming wouldn’t lead her anywhere. Although, the other week, overcome by frustration and nostalgia, she had given in to impulse and taken Winnie to see the house where she had once been in service. An elderly man had been working in the garden and Edith had plucked up her courage and asked if Lawrence Maca
uley and his sister still lived there. He had told her that Mr Macauley was away at an army camp, training recruits, and that his sister had remarried but that the happy couple had chosen to live in this house, as Mr Chisholm’s in Bootle had been damaged in the bombing … but, no, the marriage hadn’t been blessed with children.
Edith sighed, glanced at the piece of paper in her hand to check the number of Harry’s house and realised they had arrived at their destination. She gazed at the green and cream painted house. The front door was closed but the curtains were still open. She hesitated, teetering on her high heels, before making up her mind and click clacking up to the front door. She rapped her knuckles on the door panel and listened for-the sound of footsteps inside. Nothing! She knocked again, but still there was no response.
Winnie moaned, ‘I knew it was too good to be true. He isn’t in! Nobody’s in and it’ll be dark soon. What if there’s a raid? We’ll have to go in a shelter. I hate shelters.’
‘Be quiet!’ muttered Edith, putting her hand through the letterbox and scrabbling around in the hope of finding a key. Her face lit up as her fingers fastened on a string and she dragged it out. Her gaze darted from side to side and across the road but she could see no sign of being watched. She inserted the key in the lock and opened the door. Swiftly, she stepped over the threshold and beckoned her daughter inside.
Edith glanced inside the darkened parlour and found it empty as she expected. The kitchen was the same but here she discovered the remains of a fire and on the floor a cap and a filthy jacket. Gingerly, Edith picked the latter up and felt in the pockets, finding some small change and a bottle of pills. She peered at the label but could not make out the instructions in the poor light.
‘We need a light and then you can get a fire going, Win, while I look around,’ said Edith, dragging out a dining chair. She took matches from her handbag and lit the gaslight. Shadows danced around the room until she stepped down. ‘That’s better,’ she murmured, gazing about her.
The furniture was well worn but good stuff. On the mantelshelf was a pottery dog, similar to one of a set she remembered dusting when in service. There was also a rather nice vase. She picked it up and looked at the base and was impressed. Lawrence had taught her a bit about pottery and she hadn’t forgotten it.
Winnie hurried to close the blackout curtains while Edith went into the back kitchen. By the remaining daylight she lit the gaslight in there and noticed that this room was clean and tidy. It was bare except for a kitchen cabinet and small drop-leaved table. On the draining board stood a clean mug, plate, knife and fork. This was promising, she thought, her spirits lifting. She drew the blackout curtains and unlocked the door and went down the yard.
When she returned to the house, she found Winnie emptying ash and cinders on to a sheet of newspaper. Leaving her daughter to her task, Edith searched in her handbag for a torch and took it out. Carefully, she climbed the stairs, its beam showing up the wooden treads. Believing that Harry’s bedroom would be the front one, she made her way along the landing to the front of the house. The room was empty and keeping the beam of her torch on the floor she went over to the window and pulled the blackout curtains across.
She retraced her steps along the landing as far as the middle bedroom and would have only glanced inside if she had not heard the sound of laboured breathing. With her heart beating jerkily, she stepped inside the room and shone her torch on the bed and caught Harry in its beam. He was lying flat on his back with his arm in a sling and scratches on his face, as well as several days’ growth of beard. He was partially covered by a bedspread but was fully dressed, even down to his boots.
What had happened to him? Poor Harry! He had been in the wars. Should she wake him or let him sleep? First things first! She closed the blackout curtains and then placed her torch on the chest of drawers, its beam directed on the bed, before sitting next to Harry.
She shook him by the shoulder. ‘Harry! Harry! Wake up, Harry!’ There was no response. She tried again. ‘Harry! Wake up, Harry!’
The rhythm of his breathing altered and he made to turn over but she was sitting in the way. She reached out a hand and pushed back the curly hair from his face. Her fingers found a swelling and he winced as she pressed it. ‘Rene?’ he muttered.
Edith was taken aback. Rene! Who the hell was Rene? Why was there another woman’s name on his lips when he was coming round from a stupor? Had he been keeping secrets from her? She didn’t want some other bloody woman spoiling her plans.
Then Winnie called up upstairs, ‘Mum, I’ve got the fire going. There doesn’t seem to be a stove in the kitchen, so will I heat water on the fire?’
Edith swore. What was the girl thinking of, shouting loud enough to disturb the neighbours! Harry opened his eyes and looked up at her. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
She was annoyed. Not a friendly welcome! Even so Edith pinned a smile on her face and snatched up his right hand and cradled it against her bosom. ‘Never mind that for now, Harry! There doesn’t appear to be anyone else in the house and you’ve broken your arm! It looks like I’ve arrived in the nick of time.’
Harry attempted to free his hand but she clung to it and he had to wrench it out of her grasp. ‘Could you get off the bed and out of the room. I need to get out of these clothes,’ he said firmly.
She bit back an angry retort and stood up. ‘I’d like to see how you’re going to do it, Harry.’ She folded her arms and tapped her foot on the linoleum, watching him get to his feet, only to fall back on the bed.
‘Damn and bloody hell!’ he muttered.
Immediately she bent over him. ‘You’re not fit, Harry! You need help! Let me help you. You’ve been so good to me in the past that it would be my way of returning a great, big favour.’
He groaned. ‘Will you bloody get out of here, Edith! I can’t have you helping me undress.’
Her eyes flashed but, with a great deal of effort, she was able to hang on to her temper. ‘Don’t be silly! You can’t manage on your own.’ She reached out and attempted to unbutton the neck of his shirt but his hand fastened over her wrist.
‘Edith, I’m sure you mean well but I’ll do it myself. As you say, there doesn’t appear to be anyone else in the house. That’s because my daughter and mother-in-law are in Wales. They’ve gone to my brother-in-law’s place along with Rene next door.’
So Rene lived next door! Edith gazed at him with a doe-like expression. ‘Poor you, Harry. You are in trouble. I had no idea I’d find you all alone.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said wearily. ‘How did you get in?’
‘Key on the string.’
‘Shades of Alex,’ he said, cradling his broken arm in his undamaged arm.
‘Pardon?’
‘I’m sure I mentioned him to you.’
‘If you did I don’t remember. Who is he?’
‘It doesn’t matter. What are you doing here?’
‘Winnie and I came looking for help.’
He looked relieved. ‘So Winnie is with you.’
‘You didn’t think I was suggesting that we stayed in the house all alone, Harry?’ she said in a teasing voice, reaching for her cigarettes and matches. Her fingers touched the pill bottle which she had dropped into her pocket and she wondered if they were sleeping pills and that was why he’d been so dead to the world when she came in. ‘It was Winnie shouting that woke you up. Our house isn’t safe anymore. The explosion from the Malakand finished it off … cracks in the wall wide enough to put your hand through and shake with the neighbours.’
‘I’m sorry about that.’
He sounded genuine, so she decided to play it for all it was worth. ‘Terrible shock! We were really happy in that house before Rodney died. Since then it’s been one thing on top of another.’ She picked a fleck of tobacco from her tongue. ‘I didn’t know what to do, Harry, then I remembered you’d given me your address. So here I am.’ Her voice came to a quivering halt.
Then Harry rasped,
‘I’m sorry. But you must see that the neighbours would have a field day if they knew you were here.’
‘But we’re not alone, Harry. Winnie can be our chaperone.’
‘No! But let’s go downstairs. She’ll be wondering what’s keeping you.’ This time Harry managed to stand up without falling and made it out of the room.
Edith hurried after him. ‘Please, Harry! We’ve got nowhere else to go!’
‘The authorities will help you.’
She was so annoyed with him that, just for a second, she was tempted to put a hand against his back and push him downstairs. Fortunately the moment passed and she regretted having had such thoughts because he really had been good visiting her in the past.
Winnie was spooning tea into a teapot and looked up quickly when Harry entered the kitchen. She put down the spoon and smiled tentatively. ‘Mr Peters! I thought I heard voices. But what have you done to yourself? You look like you’ve broken your arm.’
‘That’s because I have broken my arm,’ he said with a faint smile. ‘How are you, Winnie? Your mother tells me your house is unsafe.’
‘That’s right, Mr Peters. Huge cracks in the walls. Shall I pour you a cup of tea? And I see you’ve some bacon and potatoes. I could slice the potatoes and fry them with the bacon for you if you like?’
He hesitated and then smiled. ‘I’d appreciate that, Winnie. I know you’re a good cook.’
She flushed and said, ‘Thank you! I’ll get cracking as soon as I’ve poured you a cup of tea.’
Edith said swiftly, ‘I’ll see to that, Win. You get on with the cooking.’
Harry excused himself and went to the lavatory. Winnie hurried into the back kitchen to peel the potatoes. Quickly, Edith poured out the tea and then took the bottle of pills from her pocket and read the label. She dropped one in the cup she had delegated for Harry, put a spoonful of sugar in and stirred vigorously. She put a couple more in her handbag and returned the bottle to his jacket.
