Christmas on the Mersey

by Annie Groves

  Dolly and the rest of the family quickly and quietly gathered all that was necessary for their evacuation.

  ‘I should have cooked earlier,’ Dolly said apologet­ically. ‘Now we’ll have to have sandwiches.’

  ‘They’d better be ready because we’ve got no time to make them now,’ Violet said, and Dolly grabbed the bread and some meat paste and then, as an afterthought, the Christmas cake, and an armful of tins, while Violet slipped baby George into his siren suit.

  ‘The bomb could have landed at this end of the street,’ Pop chuckled. ‘Then we could have sheltered in the pub.’ He chivvied them along, trying to keep everybody cheerful, without panic, while ignoring one of Dolly’s raised-eyebrow looks. Any minute now he would disappear to see if any stragglers were left in the houses on Empire Street. However, it did not take long to get everybody out and down to the street.

  The church hall was quite festive, with paper chains and Tilley lamps. Dolly took provisions of tea and sugar from the extra ration they had received for Christmas, along with some condensed milk.

  A short while later Dolly and her friend Mrs Mawdsley, who served with her in the WVS, were organising cups of tea and exchanging information with other families from Empire Street. Pop was having a pow-wow with Cyril Arden from the pub, while Violet was shushing little Georgie, who was teething and fretful. Sarah had to be back at the hospital for six and Nancy was off visiting Gloria, who she said was joining some friends from George Henry Lee for the day and needed her to help get her through losing Giles.

  It wasn’t unusual for Nancy to spend all of her time with Gloria, especially given the circumstances, but she was amazed at Nancy leaving all the babysitting to Violet. Violet didn’t mind at all – but that was not the point, Pop said.

  ‘Vi’s so good with the baby,’ Dolly quietly remarked later to Pop when they got a minute and, puffing on his pipe, he nodded.

  ‘Even if she’s not so good with his mother,’ he replied even more quietly. ‘Has our Nancy gone to meet up with Gloria at a friend’s house again? That’s the third night this week.’

  Dolly made a mental note to have a word with Nancy when she got back, and just hoped that Christmas would not be spoiled any more than it was already. Her daughter’s dramatic tantrums could be quite unnerving when Dolly broached the thorny subject of looking after her own baby for a change, instead of depending on Violet all the time.

  As the night wore on and the hands on the church hall clock ticked round to midnight, somebody started to sing a Christmas carol. All the children joined in and in no time at all, the church hall rang with the voices of Empire Street. Everybody joined in, even men who had not been to Mass for years. This was the second wartime Christmas and since last year the rest of Western Europe had been overwhelmed by the German blitzkrieg. Thousands of British troops had been killed, wounded or taken prisoner. Then there was the invasion scare and the blitz. It was a wonder anybody remembered Christmas at all! However, they were surviving. It was hard but they were doing their best.

  This was not the best time of the year for some families, not because of the shortages of food or goods, but because some of their men were not here. Nobody wanted to leave their firesides at this time of the year, remembering a time when the kids could play with their toys in peace. Now, it seemed like one long relentless slog without husbands and brothers who had not been seen for such a long time.

  ‘We must be grateful for small mercies, Doll,’ Pop said in the lull of a carol. ‘At least our house is still standing – well, it was the last time I looked.’ He gave Dolly a loving kiss on her upturned cheek.

  ‘You’re right, Pop,’ Dolly smiled. The papers and magazines encouraged a ‘Christmas as normal’ attitude and she was trying to make the best of it.

  However, a festive cheer went up when Pop and Cyril Arden braved the unexploded bomb, sneaked into the back of the pub and came back with a couple of wheelbarrows loaded with crates of stout and pale ale, which went down a treat and made everyone mellow for bygone days, as did a few schooners of sherry for the ladies.

  ‘You can settle up tomorrow, if we’re still here,’ Cyril laughed. ‘After all, it is Christmas.’

  ‘Here, Cyril,’ Vera Delaney called, sitting at a table with Mrs Kennedy, who was knocking back the sherry like there was going to be a drought – and there would be if the two of them didn’t hang fire. ‘I haven’t seen anything of your Gloria lately. I thought she was back.’

  ‘She’s staying in London for Christmas,’ Cyril answered, taking a seat next to Pop and Dolly and saying in a low voice, ‘Nosy old bag!’

  Dolly’s ears pricked up. Gloria gone away? Then where had Nancy been going recently? What was she up to? Dolly felt an anxious knot in her stomach. How many times had she told Nancy to stay out of trouble? Rita had said something about Nancy and Stan Hathaway a while ago, but she hadn’t really been listening. If Nancy was playing fast and loose with her morals …

  Mrs Arden sat beside her and put her sherry on the table. She informed Dolly that Gloria had gone to stay with one of the other singers at the Adelphi with whom she had become friends. They were doing a few shows in London too and Gloria hoped it would help her take her mind off her loss.

  ‘She didn’t half love him, you know,’ Mrs Arden said fervently, as if half loving somebody was an option. Dolly knew exactly what she meant, though, and she nodded tiredly, thinking about Nancy and Sid.

  ‘Will it take long d’you think, making the bomb safe?’

  ‘I couldn’t say,’ answered Pop. ‘Depends on the bomb disposal lads.’

  ‘I wonder what the boys are doing,’ Dolly said, thinking of her sons and the times when they were all together. They had been a happy family – they still were – if only it wasn’t for this blasted war. ‘I wonder where they would be if there was no war?’

  ‘If you “wander” any more, Doll,’ Pop laughed, ‘we’ll have to send a search party out looking for you.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Dolly laughed even though it was heartbreaking for her knowing her sons were out there somewhere, like many other women’s sons from all over the world. Nevertheless, as long as Pop was here, she knew everything would be fine. As the time wore on they found they were having a good time, singing and swapping stories they did not usually have time to tell.

  Violet told them about her family back in Man­chester. She never spoke of her parents usually, and Dolly could see why when she saw how upset she got when she talked about them. It was such a shame she was an only child, Dolly thought, and that her parents, her only relatives, had been killed. She must have been so lonely … Little Georgie was sound asleep in her arms now and Violet looked so content.

  When he was suffering with his teething, Violet seemed to be the only one who could comfort him, much to Nancy’s irritation. But what could she expect when the child had seen hardly anything of his mother lately?

  When everyone was feeling mellow, somebody opened the piano lid and Pop, ready for any occasion, had brought along his accordion, which he played with gusto. Somebody from round the corner on the dock road had brought a revolting concoction he had brewed himself. However, after a couple of glasses, it tasted quite palatable and it didn’t cost as much as Cyril Arden’s beer, although one wag said it would run his motorbike and sidecar a treat. The songs went on well into the night.

  A miniature Christmas tree with a fairy on top sat on the stage. Dolly and the rest of the Empire Street women had brought a feast between them, including sandwiches, bun-loaf and Christmas cake. It was a strange gathering, but these were not normal times.

  As the night wore on, neighbours remembered the loved ones who were still away, or the ones they had lost. Even later still, when the ale was on the wane, Vera Delaney piped up, ‘I wonder who will still be here next week!’ Luckily Pop would not allow the company to dissolve into maudlin wrecks and he opened up his squeeze-box again. In no time there was dancing in the church hall.

  ‘Well, this
is a fine how-do-you-do, I don’t think!’ a mock-stern voice boomed.

  All heads turned to the door, not in the least bit tired now, and were thrilled to see Eddy standing in the doorway. Instantly the return of one of their own raised everyone’s spirit.

  ‘Hello, playmates,’ Eddy said, doing his Arthur Askey impression. Nobody knew who screamed the loudest when Dolly and Vi each made a beeline for the door.

  ‘My boy is home!’ Dolly laugh-cried and looked at Pop as if he had done something wonderful. Violet got her husband in a stranglehold and his proud father, who shook his hand until it went numb, had to rescue Eddy.

  ‘There’ll be enough of that later, in private, Vi,’ Pop laughed.

  ‘Ay-thang-yaw!’ Eddy said breathlessly, laughing and apologising to Vi, while all the time he was being slapped on the back. A bottle of brown ale was put into his hand and in no time, he and Jack Callaghan were swapping heroic war stories until dawn. The old-timers, like Pop and Cyril Arden, joined in with their tales of the last war, and all had a jolly good time.

  Except Violet.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘you don’t see your own husband for months on end and then he goes and gets himself side-tracked by a bottle of brown ale!’

  ‘Never mind, Vi,’ Rita laughed. Suddenly the night had become much more enjoyable now that Eddy was here – and Jack, of course.

  ‘I’ll just open some of those tins that accidentally threw themselves into my kitchen cupboard when the warehouse blew up,’ Dolly said, and everybody in the shelter roared with laughter.

  ‘Let’s hope it’s not dog food, Doll,’ Pop laughed when he saw the tins without a label.

  ‘Oh, Stan, you musn’t – someone might see us … Oh!’

  A throaty giggle told Sarah she should not have stopped in the bus shelter to get out of the rain. She had walked the three and a half mile journey from the infirmary to Sandhills Station when the heavens opened and the deluge forced her to take shelter by the bus stop, only to discover she had stumbled upon a courting couple. At least she hoped they were a courting couple and she had not interrupted one of those ladies of the night with one of those foreign sailors off the dock. However, as she crept towards the exit furthest from the couple, the next thing Sarah heard made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

  Obviously thinking they were alone, owing to Sarah’s rubber-soled shoes, the woman said in a drunken, giggling slur, ‘Here! Be careful where you’re putting those hands, Stanley.’

  Sarah knew that voice. Oh my word! Her heart beat faster and she felt sick.

  ‘Come on, Nance, don’t be a tease … You know I love you … And who’d miss a slice off a cut loaf …?’ The man gave a low rumbling laugh as the woman gasped indignantly.

  ‘You cheeky devil!’ There was a pause and Sarah felt she was intruding even though the other two could not see her.

  ‘Come on Nancy, you can’t put me off for ever.’

  ‘Well, I can see you’re the persistent type,’ Nancy said teasingly.

  ‘Why don’t you come back to Gran’s? She’ll be asleep now and she won’t hear anything.’

  ‘My mother would have your guts for violin strings if she heard you talking like that!’

  ‘Go on, Nancy – just come in for five minutes.’

  ‘Maybe …’

  Sarah couldn’t quite credit what she had heard. How could Nancy even contemplate going back to Stan’s grandma’s house? Poor Sid, getting Nancy for a wife, she thought as she slipped unnoticed from the blacked-out bus shelter into the teeming rain.

  When she got back to Empire Street she was still not allowed into her own street and was directed by the warden back to the church hall.

  How was she going to face Mam and Pop? What would she say?

  Cold, tired, hungry and soaked to the skin, Sarah entered the church hall to find it was bouncing with Christmas cheer. Pop was playing his accordion and Mam was plink-plonking on the piano while Gloria’s mother was doing a pale imitation of her daughter. She wasn’t holding the crowd as well as Gloria did. Gloria would have had the entire gathering up on their feet and raising the roof by now.

  However, it looked jolly enough and everybody seemed to be having a good time, which made Sarah feel even worse. What a blooming night! ‘Sarah! Over here.’ Sarah looked over and was thrilled to see Danny Callaghan, who had been allowed out of hospital to join in the Christmas celebrations. He was sitting on a pile of bean bags the scouts used for throwing practice. ‘Come and sit over here. You look done in!’

  ‘I am, Dan. When did you come home?’ Sarah yawned.

  ‘They let me out this afternoon. Fancy that: Christmas Day in me own home; it was great! Then this happens. I was just getting stuck into the comics you brought me and had the wireless on – it was lovely.’

  ‘It’s great to just kick your shoes off and put your feet up.’

  ‘I’ve had me feet up long enough,’ Danny laughed, ‘and anyway, my big toe pokes through the hole in me sock, so I don’t think I’ll bother.’

  Sarah’s eyes twinkled. There were no sides to Danny; what you saw was what you got: down to earth, with no fancy ideas. She liked that.

  Sarah yawned again and covered her mouth with her hand.

  ‘You look beat, Sar,’ Danny said, and she nodded, folding her feet under her on the bean bags.

  ‘Wouldn’t you be after a fourteen-hour non-stop shift?’ Sarah looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry, Dan. I seem to have mislaid my sense of humour.’

  ‘What’s the matter? Come on, Sar, I can always tell when something is up,’ he coaxed. ‘Tell Uncle Danny all about it.’

  Sarah leaned her head to one side and her tired eyes narrowed. She shouldn’t say anything to anybody – not before she’d spoken to Nancy. But where would she start?

  She could not approach Nancy about her infidelity! They would never be able to look each other in the face again. But Sarah hoped she didn’t have to. She would try and stay out of her sister’s way for a few days, which wasn’t hard as she was working nights and sleeping days.

  ‘It’s obviously bothering you, Sar,’ Danny said, ‘and you know what they say about a trouble shared.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Sarah laughed, ‘it usually means shared all around the street.’ Danny looked hurt and she quickly backtracked. ‘Not that you would say anything, I’m sure.’ She had to make amends. ‘Well, it’s like this …’

  Sarah wondered if she dare tell Danny all she had seen. Could she trust him to say nothing?

  ‘Has something happened, Sarah?’ Danny was suddenly solemn. ‘Has someone done something to you?’ He sat up straight now. ‘You just tell me and I’ll—’

  ‘No, Dan, it’s nothing like that.’ Sarah shook her head, remembering the time when his sister, Kitty, was accosted on the dock road and, luckily, her brother Frank was able to help her.

  Sarah hesitated, knowing she and Danny had always told each other everything and it went no further.

  ‘I do trust you, Dan,’ she said, ‘just like you trusted me with your secret – before you nearly did yourself a mischief saving the docks.’

  She had to tell someone or she would burst. And Mam had enough to cope with.

  ‘It’s a friend of mine – well, not really a friend, more an acquaintance really …’ Sarah didn’t go into detail because she would not be able to find the words to tell a man, not even Danny.

  ‘Well, if this friend of yours is heading for trouble it might be better if you have a word – steer her in the right direction.’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t!’ Sarah gasped. ‘It’s not my place. She would never listen to me.’

  ‘Well, what about a trusted friend, then?’ Danny suggested. ‘Or maybe her mam?’

  ‘Oh, her mam is far too busy. She’d have a pink fit!’ Sarah gnawed her lower lip, trying to think of the right words. She really should tell Mam, for Nancy’s own good. No, she couldn’t! It wouldn’t be right. This was Nancy’s business and nobody else’s.

 
But what if Danny was right and somebody saw her hanging around bus shelters or shop doorways? That was no way for a respectable married woman – and a mother – to behave! It was outrageous.

  ‘Do I know this woman?’ Danny leaned over, so as not to shout over the merrymaking and wondered where these people found the energy to carry on singing and dancing until the early hours of the morning.

  ‘You might do, but I’d best not mention any names – loose lips and all that!’ After all, thought Sarah, her sister might be a trollop, but she was their trollop and she would not betray her – not even to Danny Callaghan!

  ‘Well, if this woman is prowling the bus stops and air raid shelters maybe Pop should have a word. After all, it’s not safe.’

  Sarah thought about that one. Pop had always been the more easy-going out of her parents. He mulled things over and then did the right thing, whereas Mam worked on instinct, attack first and think later. Mam’s approach didn’t always work, though.

  ‘Dad, can I tell you something?’ It was the next day and Sarah did not want to get Nancy into trouble but she had to tell someone before Nancy got herself into worse trouble. Sarah was a nurse now and knew about the sort of things that can happen to girls who weren’t careful. ‘I saw someone at the bus stop canoodling with a serviceman …’

  ‘Sarah,’ Pop’s voice held a gentle note, ‘these are different times we’re living in now. Women have much more freedom. They live their lives the way they see fit. Anyway, why does it matter?’

  ‘Well …’ Sarah hesitated.

  Pop knew all of his children well and he could see that Sarah was having trouble saying what she meant. ‘Come on, love, you can tell me.’

  ‘I didn’t get a good look, but I thought from her voice that it sounded like Nancy and that Stan Hathaway.’

  Pop looked at her sternly. ‘This is a serious thing to accuse someone of, Sarah. Are you quite sure?’