Goodnight Sweetheart

by Annie Groves

  Two fire engines came racing past the parked van, followed by a boy on a bicycle, pedalling furiously.

  ‘Hey, you, lad, where do you think you’re going?’ the ARP man demanded.

  ‘Mill Road Hospital’s bin bombed,’ the boy told him breathlessly. ‘Bomb’s fell right into one of the operating theatres. I’ve bin sent to see if there’s any fire engines to spare down here.’

  Molly was about to ask Johnny if they were needed more at Mill Road than they were here at the dock, when a port official came hurrying towards them, calling out tersely, ‘Out. Out … now. We’re clearing the dock of everyone apart from the fire fighters. The ruddy ship’s loaded to the gunwales with explosives.’

  ‘Let’s head for Mill Road and the hospital,’ Johnny suggested, following the same line of thought as Molly. He added, ‘If it’s bin hit then they’re going to need as much help as they can get tekkin’ patients out.’

  ‘Eh, Molly, it makes me blood run cold just thinking about it, a bomb dropping right onto the operating theatre, and killing everyone excepting for the patient,’ Doris Brookes told Molly soberly as they stood together outside her front gate.

  ‘I was on one of the Nightingale wards when we heard about it. We all rushed out to see what we could do to help, and blow me if the ward I’d been in didn’t take a direct hit itself.’ She spoke with the bemused shell-shocked air that had become so familiar to Molly.

  She had been at the hospital herself, after it had been bombed, helping to ferry patients away from the danger. In some cases this had meant taking them on stretchers to church halls to await medical attention because the other hospitals were too full.

  The Malakand, the steamer in Huskisson number two dock, which Molly and the crew had originally been summoned to help with, had ultimately exploded, showering debris for over two and a half miles, and blowing a hole in the overhead railway. How only five people had been killed, Molly did not know. Lewis’s store in Ranelagh Street, the place where June had bought her wedding dress pattern all that time ago, had gone, along with the Customs House and St Luke’s Church, down in the city centre. Fires burned everywhere in the wrecked buildings, and with bombs hitting the water mains, it was often impossible to get sufficient water pressure to put them out. Molly didn’t think there was a sight more dreadful than a church in flames. Whole streets had been demolished and fire fighters had been coming in from all over the country to do what they could to help. At night Jerry wreaked destruction, and at daybreak, Liverpool’s weary citizens dragged themselves back to the heart of their city to start clearing up and doing what they could to keep the trains, buses and trams running. Their spirits were flagging but they wouldn’t give in. It made Molly proud to see her neighbours rallying round each other.

  But most important of all were the docks. The man responsible for them, Captain F. J. ‘Johnny’ Walker, had become a hero to those who knew him and all that he was doing to protect the vessels crossing the Atlantic, bringing into Liverpool the supplies the country so desperately needed.

  ‘How’s your June doing?’ Doris Brookes asked Molly.

  Molly had grown to like Frank’s mother over the last few months and admired her fortitude and strength, but her loyalty to her sister made her cautious.

  ‘Elizabeth Rose is cutting some new teeth, so, what with that and the bombs, our June hasn’t bin getting much sleep this last week. She’s had a letter from Frank to say he’ll be coming home on leave soon, though, so she’s got that to look forward to.’

  ‘Aye, well, let’s hope this time she treats my Frank a sight better than she did last time he were home,’ Doris told Molly forcefully.

  Molly could only hope so too.

  ‘How much longer is it going to go on for?’ June’s voice was high-pitched and querulous as she looked almost accusingly at Molly in the dull blue light of the air-raid shelter. It was two o’clock in the morning, and the seventh night of the blitz. Molly had spent the earlier part of the evening helping out at one of the temporary shelters, before hurrying home, dodging falling bombs herself.

  To her relief their father had managed to persuade June to take refuge in the shelter, but it was plain to Molly that her sister’s nerves were being increasingly badly affected by the constant bombing raids. Molly wondered how long it would be before she broke. She had seen it happen to others; frightened despairing people unable to cope with what was happening to their city and their lives.

  A loud explosion close at hand shook the sides of the shelter. June gave Molly a wild-eyed look of terror.

  ‘It’s all right, they aren’t interested in us,’ Molly tried to calm her. ‘It’s the gridiron they’ll be after. Give me Lillibet,’ she offered, holding out her arms and smiling at the baby, who had been crying with the pain of her new teeth.

  ‘’Ere, June, why don’t you try rubbing a bit of me elderberry wine on her gums?’ Elsie suggested.

  ‘I’m not risking poisoning my baby, giving her stuff like that,’ June refused.

  ‘Suit yourself,’ Elsie sniffed, offended. ‘But it never did either of mine any harm. Nor you two neither, seeing as yer own mam weren’t too proud to use it.’

  ‘Aye, do as she says, June. Then we might all get a bit o’ peace. Little ’un’s mekkin’ more noise than bloody Jerry,’ one of the men chipped in, causing June to glare angrily at him, and then swing back to face the door as they all heard the whining dive of one of the small fighter planes that came in with the bombers.

  ‘Ruddy hell, sounds like it’s right overhead,’ another man commented uneasily, his voice almost drowned out by the sharp staccato sound of the fighter’s machine guns.

  ‘I reckon you’re right and he’ll be after the drivers of one of them ammo trains going through the gridiron. Let’s tek a butcher’s, Stan, and see what he were after,’ Pearl’s husband, George, demanded of the man nearest the door, who obligingly started to open it.

  ‘We’re going to die! We’re all going to die in here!’ June suddenly screamed frantically. ‘Let me out. I want to get out …’

  ‘June, no!’ Molly protested, but to her horror June was already on her feet, clutching Elizabeth Rose as she ran to the now open door.

  Molly struggled up, crying out desperately, ‘Dad, Stan, stop her!’ Immediately both men reached for June, trying to hold her back, but somehow she managed to slip through their hands, and run into the street. They could all see the fighter plane banking and turning its machine gun, spewing bullets into the darkness above the bottom of the close and Edge Hill station, and then banking to take another run at its target, so that it was directly over June.

  ‘Shut the ruddy door,’ someone called out in panic, ‘otherwise he’ll get the lot of us.’

  They could all hear the fierce staccato noise of the machine-gun fire, and through the still open door Molly watched in horror as June flung herself to the ground in an attempt to protect herself. Oblivious to her own safety, Molly pushed past her father and ran after her sister.

  ‘June!’ she screamed.

  June lay motionless in the street in front of her. Molly dropped to her sister’s side, whilst the fighter sped away.

  ‘June …’ Molly whispered her sister’s name, distantly aware of other people coming to her side and her father’s choked voice, as he told her thickly, ‘She’s gone, lass. She’s gone.’

  ‘No!’ Molly wasn’t going to accept that June could be dead, even though her hands were wet with June’s blood; even though she could see where the row of bullet holes punctured her back, as neat as a piece of riveting, her blood glistening black in the moonlight. Molly could hear a thin small cry.

  ‘Ruddy hell, the kiddie’s still alive,’ George Lawson called out.

  Eager hands lifted June and reached beneath her to remove the crying Elizabeth Rose.

  ‘Give her to me.’ Molly was still crouching down beside her sister, but she refused to let anyone else take Elizabeth Rose. Miraculously, not a single bullet had touched June’s baby
but still Molly clutched her to her breast as if she were in mortal danger.

  ‘I’ve got her, Junie,’ Molly whispered to her sister. ‘I’ve got her and I’ll keep her safe wi’ me, just like you made me promise.’

  TEN

  ‘She was always a good sister to me.’

  Frank could hear the defensive tension in Molly’s voice.

  ‘And a good wife to me,’ he told her quietly.

  It was June, the month in which June had been born and for which she had been named. They had come here together to June’s grave to lay flowers on it. Frank’s leave had not come through in time for him to attend her funeral.

  ‘Me and Dad thought it was best that she should be laid to rest here with our mam.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have wanted anything else,’ Frank assured her huskily. ‘She used to talk a lot about her mam. Missed her badly, she did. She was a lovely girl, so kind and warm. A lot of people couldn’t see that – only saw her tough exterior. But I could. I saw it right away. That’s what made me fall in love with her.’

  It was the most Frank had said since his arrival home earlier that day and Molly kept quiet, letting him unleash all his pent-up emotions. Held tightly in Molly’s arms, Lillibet gave a contented gurgle. Molly dreaded having the conversation she knew they must have – about the fate of baby Elizabeth. But she had to tell him sooner rather than later what her sister’s wishes had been.

  ‘Frank,’ Molly started tremulously, ‘a week or so before she … before she died, our June started talking about what would happen to the baby if she were gone. It was almost as if she knew, as if she’d had a premonition something was going to happen to her.’

  Molly shuddered at the thought. Ever since June’s death, she’d thought endlessly of that conversation and wished she’d allowed June to talk about her fears properly rather than hurriedly dismissing them as morbid words.

  ‘She said that she wanted me to take Lillibet and bring her up as my own if anything were to happen to her. She told me so herself.’

  Here was the cause of her anxiety and tension: her fear that Frank would insist that Lillibet was to be brought up by his mother. She was, after all, his child.

  Molly couldn’t bring herself to look at him as she waited for the blow to fall. She could feel his breath against the exposed flesh of her neck as he leaned towards her, his hand a heavy weight on her arm. What was she going to do? How was she going to persuade him that he must leave Lillibet with her? It was only natural that he should want his own mother to raise her but if she let him take Lillibet from her then she would be breaking her promise to June. And besides … Molly’s eyes blurred with more tears as she looked down into the face of her niece.

  ‘She’s all I’ve got left of June now.’

  ‘I know that, Molly, and I know too that June would want you to be Elizabeth Rose’s mother.’ Frank’s voice was quiet and calm, helping her to take a deep, steadying breath that banished some of her panic. ‘She always said you’d be a wonderful mother when you had your own. It’s just going to be a bit sooner than you thought,’ he smiled sadly.

  ‘But what about you, Frank?’ she managed to ask him. ‘What do you want? She is your daughter, after all.’ It was easier to be magnanimous now that he had acknowledged June’s wishes, but Molly feared Frank’s emotions were in turmoil and that he might change his mind when he regained control of them.

  ‘I want what’s best for Elizabeth Rose, Molly. Me mam is after me to let her mother her.’ Molly stiffened and held the baby more tightly. ‘And I don’t deny that she’s got the experience. After all, she brought me up single-handed from a young age, and wi’ her nursing on top o’ that.’

  ‘I do not want to say anything against your mam, Frank, but she and our June never hit it off and I won’t have Lillibet growing up not knowing anything about her mam, or even worse, having it made out to her that she wasn’t a good mother.’

  Frank made no comment. He knew that June had loved their daughter but he also knew from what his mother and Sally Walker had both told him earlier that morning that Elizabeth Rose was thriving in Molly’s care in a way she had not been doing in June’s.

  ‘It were that ruddy book that were the trouble, Frank,’ Sally had told him in private, not mincing her words. ‘You’d have thought it were the bloomin’ Bible from the way June carried on about it. But if you ask me, it weren’t doing poor little Lillibet any good – all that wakin’ her up when she wanted to sleep and then lettin’ her cry when she were hungry. I know your mam wants to take on looking after Lillibet, but if you was to ask my opinion I’d say straight off that Molly is doing a grand job. The little ’un knows Molly, Frank. Of course, she knows your mam as well, but – well, if I had bin June then I’d have wanted someone who loved me to be bringing up my baby and not a mother-in-law who didn’t.’ Sally had flushed bright red as she delivered this statement but she had still looked him in the eye, Frank remembered, and he had understood immediately what she was trying to say to him. His marriage to June might not have worked out as he had hoped – he had felt the last time he had been home as though he were an interloper in her life, whom she simply didn’t want to be there rather than a much-loved and missed husband – but he couldn’t fault her choice in wanting Molly to bring up little Elizabeth Rose.

  It hadn’t been easy, though, getting the opportunity to talk to Molly about it. The kitchen at number 78 always seemed to be full of neighbours. Either that, or Johnny was round visiting. The thought of Johnny and his evident desire to court Molly brought a small frown to Frank’s face. Johnny had let Molly down once. Frank felt very protective towards Molly. He wasn’t going to stand by while Johnny let Molly down a second time, especially if she was going to look after his daughter on a permanent basis.

  ‘I don’t have any quarrel with what June wanted for Elizabeth Rose, Molly,’ he said to her gently, ‘but I’d like to think that you’ll remember that me mam is me mam and the little ’un’s granny.’

  ‘Of course I will. In fact, I was thinking of asking your mam if she would have Lillibet for me when I’m on duty – if you agree to me looking after her, that is. Mrs Wesley was saying that I could give up me voluntary work now, but I’d like to keep on with it if I can. I like to think I’m doing me bit …’

  Frank gave Molly’s arm a firm squeeze. ‘From what I’ve bin hearing, you’ve done more than just your bit, Molly. I know for a fact there’s two little ’uns have good cause to thank you for saving their lives.’

  ‘Oh, that were nothing,’ Molly denied bashfully. ‘Can you hold her for a minute?’ she asked him, handing his daughter to him before kneeling down to rearrange the flowers on June’s grave.

  ‘Me and Dad will come here in the autumn and plant some bulbs like we did for Eddie.’ Her voice started to wobble. ‘Nearly two thousand killed, there were, during the May blitz, Frank, but when one of them’s your own sister …’ She stood up, her eyes bright with tears. ‘If only she hadn’t run out into the street like that. We tried to stop her … she were allus that scared of being in the shelter. I just wish …’ Molly’s bottom lip started to tremble. Shifting Elizabeth Rose into one arm, Frank reached out with his free hand and drew Molly close to him. He could smell the fresh sun-warmed scent of her hair as she cried against his shirt, her whole body trembling with her grief and loss.

  ‘I still can’t believe she’s gone,’ she wept. ‘Every morning I wake up and think she’s going to be there, and then I remember. It were bad enough losing Eddie, but losing our June as well …’

  Frank’s own eyes glistened with tears as he held Molly as tightly and protectively as he was holding his own daughter. To anyone watching, they would have looked like a young husband and wife, united in grief but lucky to have each other for support. And, Frank reasoned, so they were.

  ‘I can’t believe you mean that, Frank. It’s me as should be bringing her up, not young Molly.’

  Frank had a tender heart and he hated hurting anyone, never
mind his mother, but his mind was made up and he wasn’t going to change it.

  ‘It’s what June wanted.’ He ignored the grim look his mother was giving him. ‘And it’s what I want as well.’

  ‘Aye, well, you know my opinion of June.’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ he agreed, ‘but she were me wife. I’ll thank you not to speak ill of her now she’s dead, Mam. She thought the world of Elizabeth Rose and I couldn’t live wi’ meself if I went against her wishes in that regard. Besides,’ his face softened, ‘you only have to see Molly with the little ’un to know how much she loves her. While there’s a war on, I can’t be here and I need to know that Lillibet is safe and well. I trust Molly, Mam, and I know you do too.’

  ‘I’ll give you that,’ Doris agreed unwillingly. ‘I’ve nothing against Molly. She’s a good enough girl, and better than most, like I told you before you wed June. Of the two of them I’d rather it had been Molly you’d set your heart on. But have you thought about what would happen if Molly decided to get wed herself and have her own babies?’

  Frank frowned and his mother pressed home her advantage.

  ‘Talk is that that Johnny is after courtin’ her. And what’s going to happen to our Elizabeth Rose if Molly were to marry him? That’s what I want to know. Molly might love Elizabeth Rose now like she’s her own, but it will be different when she’s got kiddies of her own, you mark my words. And besides, you might want to remarry yourself one day.’

  His mother’s words made him feel uncomfortable. ‘That’s enough of that, Mam. June’s not bin in her grave a month yet,’ he reminded her quietly, adding, ‘Me mind’s made up and I’m not going to change it.’

  But the truth was that he was more disturbed than he wanted his mother to see at the thought of Molly marrying Johnny, and not just on Elizabeth Rose’s account either.

  It was only natural that he should have protective feelings towards Molly, he told himself defensively later. But it still made him feel uncomfortable and guilty to admit just how strong those feelings actually were, and how clearly he could remember how it had felt to hold Molly in his arms, her body soft and warm against his own, in the graveyard. He was a straightforward, honest man, who had remained true to his marriage vows, even when June had denied him her bed and her comfort, but now suddenly and shockingly, to him at least, his body ached with need.