Christmas on the Mersey

by Annie Groves

  ‘I wish people would stop trying not to worry me,’ Kitty said angrily. ‘I’m a big girl now; I can take it!’

  As they waited for news Sarah told her everything she knew.

  ‘I am so sorry, I really am – I didn’t mean to keep anything from you but …’

  ‘I know,’ Kitty said gently, ‘but you know what maddens me? The likes of Vera Delaney squawking about how good her Alfie is compared to a waster like Danny Callaghan!’ How dare she?

  ‘I heard that Alfie saved young Tommy,’ Sarah said, and Kitty nodded.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. She was grateful to Alfie for raising the alarm but she knew he would want some kind of reparation for his good deed. Because Alfie Delaney did not do anything for nothing.

  ‘Don’t think about it now, Kit,’ Sarah said quietly as Rita, who was on duty there, came into the corridor. Immediately she threw her arms around Kitty’s shoulders; her trouble was their trouble – they would share it equally.

  ‘I’ll go and see what I can find out,’ Rita said. ‘They’ll tell me before they tell you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Kitty murmured and resumed her wait in the cold corridor with Sarah.

  Whatever next? she wondered.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ‘Oh, Mam, it’s hell out there.’ Nancy ran into her mother’s arms. She felt five years old again and she could not utter a word without sobbing. Trembling, she buried her head in her mother’s shoulder and after a long while, her sobs lessened, leaving only small shuddering intakes of breath. ‘Gloria’s boyfriend was killed. They got engaged last night and he was killed saving her.’

  ‘Holy Mother of God!’ Dolly blessed herself and urged Nancy to a chair at the table. ‘Is Gloria all right?’ Nancy nodded as her mother poured her a hot cup of tea she’d just made after switching the gas and water back on, and then she noticed Dolly pouring a generous amount of something alcoholic into the tea. ‘For the shock,’ Dolly said, taking Nancy into her arms and clasping her bedraggled daughter to her bosom. The clock struck six a.m.

  ‘Where’s Pop?’ Nancy asked, her voice still trembling. ‘Has he gone to the Royal to see if Sarah is all right?’

  ‘Sarah? She’s fine, but Danny Callaghan collapsed after helping to save a ship from blowing up Gladstone Dock.’ The devastation of surrounding streets was so bad there were many confusing stories circulating.

  ‘And Pop?’ Nancy asked again.

  ‘He’s out there somewhere,’ Dolly answered, knowing she would not see her beloved husband until he had done what he could to help anybody in need. ‘George!’ Nancy had to hold him in her arms. ‘I have to see my baby!’

  ‘He’s all right Nance, he’s safe,’ Dolly said, filling cups, lined up like soldiers on parade. ‘Violet took him into her bed; he’s been there since we returned when the all clear went. He slept right through it.’

  ‘Maybe I should think about having him evacuated,’ Nancy said. She had not been able even to contemplate it before this latest raid.

  ‘You’re right, Nance, the raids have never been this bad before.’

  Nancy looked up to her mother now and noticed she looked more tired than usual; she was just about to comment when Sarah came into the room.

  ‘Sarah, love, you look done in!’ Dolly said as her youngest daughter dragged herself into the fireless kitchen and shivered. Dolly was just putting a match to the corkscrewed newspaper threaded through the kindling and cinders that still had some burning left in them.

  ‘I’m wiped out, but I’ll never sleep,’ Sarah said as her mother added a few select pieces of coal before balancing the shovel on the fender, then covering the whole thing with a sheet of paper. The draught drew the kindling and the fire soon cast a weak glow to the kitchen.

  ‘How’s Danny?’ Dolly asked Sarah as she busied herself.

  ‘They won’t say anything just yet – well, not to me anyway.’

  Sarah was so worried about her friend. She knew his heart was enlarged but she didn’t know he would keel over like that. What chance did she have of becoming a nurse if she couldn’t see that coming?

  ‘If he saved a whole dockyard from being blown up he deserves a medal,’ Nancy said.

  ‘You’re not the first to say that, but Danny won’t want any fuss,’ Sarah replied.

  ‘Poor Kitty.’ Dolly, in time-honoured fashion, wrung her hands in despair. ‘Poor, poor Kitty, she has it all to do now.’

  ‘The doctors said Danny will need as much rest as he can get.’

  ‘Good luck to him with that one, around here,’ Nancy said unthinkingly, and when her mother and sister glared at her through tear-filled eyes she looked away, saying petulantly, ‘I’m sorry, it’s been a terrible night and I’m tired.’

  ‘You go to bed, love,’ Dolly said with a sigh; everybody was feeling the strain now.

  Sarah got up from the ladder-backed chair. ‘Let me make you a sandwich.’

  ‘Oh, well,’ Nancy sat back down on her chair at the table, ‘if there’s a sandwich on the go I might as well take it up with me.’ She did not see her younger sister’s scornful expression or the shake of her head. If Sarah had not witnessed her sister’s absolute thoughtlessness first-hand, she would hardly believe it credible.

  Rita had always done the right thing, the decent thing, never bringing shame or worry to her mother no matter what the cost to herself. She had even married Charlie when she knew she did not love him – although, there was a huge price to pay for her ­deception and she had paid every day since. What else could she do? She had no choice but to marry Charlie. Pregnant, desperate and backed into a corner, her only option was to marry him to save her family name.

  ‘He was put on this earth to torment you,’ her mam would say, ‘as if he blamed you for his own reckless deed.’ Her mother was talking of Michael’s conception, Rita knew.

  The premature birth of her son, discussed only on the day of Michael’s delivery in Mam’s front parlour, never came up again. What would be the point in talking about it, Mam said in that rapid no-nonsense kind of way that brooked no argument, during Rita’s confinement? The Good Lord had seen fit to give her a fine healthy child, so he must have been pleased about something.

  Thinking of her mother’s illogical philosophy, Rita knew that carrying the burden of her secret was becoming more difficult now she did not have the children to occupy her.

  Turning into Empire Street, her heart raced when she saw the effects of last night’s raid, especially when she saw a large hole in the shop roof, the boarded-up windows and the scorch marks around the windowless skylight, realising how close the street had come to being devastated. Picking up her swift pace, she hurried into her mother’s house on the other side of the entry from the shop.

  ‘Mam, is everyone all right?’ she asked when she saw her mother sitting at the table, her forefinger outlining the lid of a yellow cigar box on the table, in a world of her own by the look of it. Dolly jumped visibly.

  ‘Holy Mother of God!’ she said in her inimitable Irish brogue, dramatically clutching at her buttoned-up cardigan. ‘You frightened the bejesus out of me!’

  ‘Sorry, Mam,’ Rita said, giving her mother the customary kiss on her upturned cheek. No matter how many times they came into the house during the day or night, the family never failed to greet Dolly this way. ‘I saw the scorched roof of the shop and the door still shut!’

  ‘Incendiaries … Lady Matilda’s fine,’ Dolly answered, referring to Mrs Kennedy. ‘She spent the night in the shelter, would you believe? Amazing what a few bombs can reduce a person to, isn’t it?’

  ‘Is she all right?’ Rita asked, and Dolly nodded wearily as she got up and headed to the back kitchen.

  Rita sat for a while listening to her mother bustling about, opening the tea caddy, pouring boiling water into the pot. She would have offered, but her mother would not hear of it – not after Rita had worked all night, and Dolly never thought of herself.

  The only sound in the room was the ince
ssant ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece … The quiet of the morn after the deafening roar of the night, Rita thought. Suddenly she noticed the box.

  ‘Who does this belong to?’ she asked, turning over the unfamiliar cigar box sitting next to the empty sugar bowl.

  ‘That’s her ladyship’s,’ Dolly called. ‘She was in a right pullover about that box!’

  ‘Palaver,’ Rita absent-mindedly corrected as she slowly drew the box towards her, promising herself she would not pry. Nevertheless, the lid was slightly ajar … She felt tempted to peep; it was human nature.

  ‘Ma Kennedy tried to go back inside the burning shop!’ Dolly said, coming into the kitchen carrying a fresh pot of tea, nodding her turbaned head. After donating her Dinkie curlers to the Spitfire Fund, she, like many of England’s women, regularly wore a scarf fashioned into a turban around her head now.

  ‘I wonder why it is so important.’ Rita said as Pop came into the kitchen from the privy.

  He had been out all night, and having come home to see that his family were all all right, he was keen to be off again. Fires still raged across the city. Pop knew that there were many people still buried amongst the rubble. Some of them could still be saved, though for many it was already too late. He didn’t say any of this to Dolly.

  ‘I’m off, Doll.’ Pop kissed Dolly’s cheek. He had not told his wife about the railway arch bombing either – she would only worry if she knew how close he had come to being killed. ‘Shall I take the box into Mrs Kennedy?’

  ‘No, it’s fine,’ Dolly answered innocently as she headed to the kitchen for saccharine tablets. ‘Our Rita can take it in when she’s ready.’

  While Mam was in the back kitchen, Rita could not resist a quick peep under the stiff cardboard lid. What harm could it do?

  ‘Wait until you see what’s in there,’ Dolly said as she came into the quiet kitchen, making Rita jump.

  ‘Mam!’ She let out a guilty laugh, her heart pound­ing. ‘You frightened the life out of me.’

  ‘I did so.’ Dolly gave Rita a knowing look. Then, her voice softening, she said conspiratorially, ‘Have a look. You’ll dance on a dung heap when you see what’s in there.’

  Rita, used to her mother’s quirky sayings, raised the lid a little … and then some more … until it was lying on the table exposing the contents. Her fingers itched with curiosity to delve right in. What would cause her mother-in-law to panic about a battered cigar box – to the point of endangering her own life to save it?

  ‘Mam! Have a look at this!’ Rita’s eyes widened when she saw the official documents.

  Dolly put down the teapot with a satisfied nod. ‘Didn’t I tell you!’

  ‘You didn’t tell me this, Mam!’ Rita could hardly believe her eyes. ‘Have you seen this lot?’

  ‘Not all of it …’ Dolly looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Your father came in.’

  Dolly took the papers and her eyebrows pleated while Rita urged her to read them.

  ‘Well, I’ll be!’ Dolly exclaimed, her eyes wide in amazement. ‘Of all the sneaky, two-faced trollops! That Winnie Kennedy takes the big prize, doesn’t she?’ Opening the other yellowing documents, Dolly quickly realised they were deeds! Deeds to three properties.

  ‘Deeds to the shop, with large living accommodation behind and above it …’ Dolly gasped and looked at another one. ‘Then there are premises in Southport …’

  ‘A boarding house … apparently,’ Rita added, ‘and then there is a house on the seafront at Crosby.’

  Crosby! Rita knew it was a long shot but it was possible – Could Michael and Megan be there?

  ‘Surely this doesn’t mean those big double-fronted villas?’ Dolly’s eyes widened. Rita looked at the address again and nodded. ‘Well, I never did …’

  ‘For years, Charlie and me dreamed of a place of our own.’ Rita was so angry she almost choked on the words. ‘And all the while his mother had all this fabulous property and never told anybody. While my children were cooped up in that shop she had houses and gardens … Oh, Mam, how could she be so cruel?’

  ‘Spiteful, more like,’ Dolly said, ‘but where did she get the money for such property?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ Rita said.

  ‘She didn’t want to see you two happy, never did,’ Dolly said, ‘and while Charlie was under her roof she had a say in his life, because he was spineless. He was always beholden to her, and would be while he had nowhere else to go.’

  ‘Do you think that’s why he turned out as bad as he is?’ Rita asked. It was too late to keep up pretences now. The damage was done. He had cheated her of a happy family life, a loving marriage, and now he was cheating her out of being a mother to her own kids! ‘But I’m not going to say anything just yet. If I do she will be off like a bullet from a gun to warn her beloved son.’

  ‘What’s in the cat is in the kitten, I say,’ Dolly answered, knowing Charlie had always been a sly one. The war had allowed him to show his true colours.

  ‘She could have let us live in one of the properties.’ Rita felt cheated. ‘We didn’t want them buckshee!’

  ‘I doubt the money had anything to do with it.’ Dolly poured the tea into two cups. ‘She would do anything to keep her son.’

  ‘But in the end she couldn’t keep him – nobody could,’ Rita said sadly. ‘Do you know what, though, Mam? I don’t miss him one bit, but I miss my kids so much it hurts.’

  Dolly looked at her daughter questioningly. ‘What is it, Rita? Is there something you’re not telling me?’

  Rita sighed. ‘I didn’t want to say anything, Mam, but you know Charlie has taken the kids? Well, he didn’t tell me where and I don’t know where they are. I’ve been looking for them in Southport, but now I think they might be in this house in Crosby.’

  Dolly’s lips tightened and she thought for a moment before saying, ‘Do you know what has just struck me? All the while you were missing your kids, I bet she knew exactly where they were.’ She shuddered. ‘It brings a chill to your bones just thinking about the evil in that woman.’

  ‘How could one mother do that to another?’

  ‘Aye,’ Dolly sighed. She looked down at the box and her eye caught another document, a smaller, less aged one.

  ‘What’s this, I wonder,’ she mused, unfolding the sharply folded paper. Her eyes flicked across the page. When she finished reading she looked up to her daughter, her voice solemn. ‘I think you’d better have a look at this, Rita.’

  ‘This is the birth certificate of someone called Ruby Kennedy.’ Rita remembered something the neighbour in Southport had said about a sister called Ruby although she had never heard the name mentioned in the Kennedy household. ‘So, Ruby is Mrs Kennedy’s daughter, according to this,’ Rita said after reading the birth certificate. ‘It gives the mother’s name as Mrs Winifred Kennedy.’

  ‘The girl will not be a child now,’ Dolly answered, sitting in the straight-backed chair. ‘The date on this is 1920.’

  ‘Oh my word!’ Rita gasped. ‘Mrs Kennedy has a daughter!’

  ‘There’s the proof.’ Dolly stabbed her finger on the line that said ‘Mother’s Name: Mrs Winifred Kennedy’ … ‘But look now, there! The father’s name.’

  ‘It says her husband’s name!’ Rita answered. ‘And the date is …’

  ‘Two years after he passed on.’ Dolly nodded.

  ‘The lying hypocrite – that’s what she is, Mam!’ Rita could not hold her anger in. For all the time she had been married to Charlie Kennedy, his mother had looked down her nose and treated her no better than a common servant, always casting veiled accusations and begrudging her children, especially Megan, the time of day.

  ‘Of all the rotten … she’s got the cheek to call anybody!’

  Dolly put her arm on her daughter’s.

  ‘Mam, don’t say anything, please!’ Rita begged. She knew she would cry. ‘Not yet.’

  Dolly stretched her face with both her hands and sighed. Her daughter had felt so much hea
rtache because of that family.

  ‘You know I won’t say anything, acushla,’ Dolly said, shaking her head, ‘but don’t expect me to be anything but merely civil to her – and she doesn’t even deserve that!’

  ‘Thanks, Mam. She’ll get her comeuppance one day, I’m sure.’ Rita knew that her own family might not have much, but compared to the Kennedys they were rich in something Charlie and his mother would know nothing about – being a proper family.

  ‘I know why she didn’t come for the box,’ Dolly said. ‘She’ll be too ashamed.’

  Dolly did not give in to her desire to cry later that afternoon when she saw the destruction of last night’s raids. She had finished her stint at the Red Cross shop and after a spot of dinner with Pop she was out of the door before she even had her coat on to see Tommy and Danny.

  The news had now got around that Danny had something wrong with his heart. She knew he had always had a soft heart but she never thought there was anything wrong with it really. Pop caught up with her minutes later and they made their way along Linacre Lane on his cart together.

  The Callaghans were like her own kids and Dolly had made a promise to her poor friend Ellen, Danny’s mam, that she would look out for them if ever she could. Thankfully they had all survived the awful night – but nobody had got off lightly.

  On the way to the hospital Pop relayed for a second time the tale of her sister to Dolly who wanted to hear it again now that it was just the two of them. Dolly wanted to make sure she heard it right and her sister was all right.

  ‘Your Cissie heard the sirens and made her way to the shelter, as usual,’ said Pop. ‘Everyone was rushing to the large concrete shelter in the middle of the courtyard, and two trams stopped along the road to let the passengers off.’ He sighed now as Dolly silently wiped her streaming eyes at the horror of it all. ‘The shelter was packed to bursting with people and your Cissie was turned away.’

  Dolly made the sign of the cross. ‘Glory be to God,’ she said. ‘You know what our Cissie’s like, stubborn as a mule and thank the Good Lord too …’