by Annie Groves
Kitty sighed. She loved her job here in the NAAFI but wished she saw something else except the kitchen and the serving hatch.
‘I tell you what, Kitty,’ said one of the Wrens who came in every day for their meals, ‘if we had a cook like you I wouldn’t chance this foul weather to come and get some grub.’
‘I’ve been thinking about joining something,’ Kitty answered cheerfully, ‘although I don’t fancy being stuck on one of those ships, trying to balance a pan of hot stew on a rolling wave.’
‘You wouldn’t get anywhere near a wave,’ the Wren laughed. ‘Our role is to support the naval officers, so as to free our men for the fighting.’
‘That sounds right up my street,’ said Kitty. She would love to serve her country in its hour of need instead of being stuck here on the dock road serving bangers and mash every day. The WRNS sounded so exciting, and the girls in their navy-blue uniforms always looked so smart and sophisticated.
But if she was honest, the biggest reason she wanted to join up was because quite simply, she wanted to get away. She didn’t know who Kitty Callaghan was any more, especially when she saw, day in day out, independent women who had lives of their own. They could travel the world and see wonderful places, while every day Kitty looked out at a sea of grey – be it battleships, river or sky. Her horizons never changed. She had been at her family’s beck and call all her life.
If anybody asked her who she was she would reply Jack, Danny, or Tommy’s sister. The manager of a NAAFI canteen. She needed to feel more useful; tea and sympathy just wasn’t enough any more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Danny had been told he could not do the heavy work on the docks any longer, which meant that he would always be here to look after Tommy, who had refused point blank to be sent to Ireland, but might yet be persuaded to go to the farm out Freshfield way where Rita had taken her children. She vouched for Aunty Joan personally and told Kitty that her kids could not be better looked after. Kitty was still trying to persuade Tommy to go, but without success.
‘I’m joining the scouts!’ Tommy told her, as if that was an argument against being safely evacuated from the city.
‘The scouts?’ Kitty asked, looking at his mud-stained face. Being in the scouts was better than hanging around the streets, that was for sure.
‘But what about a nice holiday in the countryside?’
‘No!’ Tommy was adamant. He folded his arms and knew he was in danger of a clout around the lug, but he was not going to leave home ever again.
‘Pop said he would vouch for me,’ Tommy said determinedly. ‘He knows I’d make a good scout.’ Kitty did not have the heart to tell them she was thinking of joining the WRNS.
‘Here you go, Kit!’ Danny said as he plonked the brown box onto the table. ‘I’m sorry it’s late, call it a New Year present.’
‘A chicken!’ Kitty and Tommy chorused.
‘You can keep your gold watches, Dan,’ Kitty beamed. ‘I can do a lot with this.’
‘Make sure you don’t open the window while it’s in the oven, or you’ll have a riot on your hands,’ Danny laughed.
‘Danny, you did get this legitimately, didn’t you?’ Kitty asked as she took the chicken out of the box. ‘I don’t want the bobbies knocking on the door while we are in the middle of our New Year dinner tomorrow.’
‘Of course,’ Danny said. ‘It could not be more legit if it jumped into the box itself.’ It had been a good day when he met up with the chicken woman. He did not know her name nor did he want to – that way he could not tell lies if asked. He used the money he had saved since working on the docks to buy a box of chickens to share around the neighbourhood at cost price, just as a little thank-you to everyone for looking after their Kitty while he was in hospital.
‘You should have seen Mrs Delaney’s face when I asked her if she wanted a chicken,’ Danny laughed. ‘She nearly bit my hand off! “I won’t ask where you got them from, Danny,” she said, as if she was doing me a favour taking one off my hands.’
‘Oh, take no notice,’ Kitty said, putting the chicken onto a large plate. ‘She wouldn’t pay you the compliment of gratitude, that one.’
‘I’m expecting their Alfie over any time to see why he wasn’t included in the deal.’
‘Tell him they were a present from your family in Ireland,’ Kitty laughed.
‘Hey, Kit, that’s not a bad idea!’ Danny gave her a huge hug, almost taking her breath away. ‘He can’t say anything about that, can he?’ Danny gleefully rubbed his hands together. ‘And I dare say he’s hardly likely to turn his nose up at a chicken dinner tomorrow,’ he murmured.
‘Me neither,’ Tommy said, causing Kitty and Danny to turn quickly in the direction of the sofa where he was sitting swaddled in a blanket.
‘When did your hearing come back so good?’ Kitty asked, thrilled but knowing she and Danny would not have spoken so freely had they known he could hear them.
‘What was that Kit?’ Tommy’s hand cupped the back of his ear.
‘Don’t you come the old soldier with us, Tommy, lad,’ Danny laughed, glad his brother was not permanently deaf. Grinning now, Tommy informed them his hearing had been improving enormously over the last day or so, causing Kitty and Danny to review any incriminating conversations they may have had.
‘Oh, you are a tinker, Tommy Callaghan,’ Kitty said hugging him. ‘You had me really worried that time.’ She was so happy for him. Being deaf had been so hard for her little brother, who always liked to know what was going on and it meant he had been cut off from them in a way that Kitty could never imagine. Tommy wriggled out of her loving grip and leaned back on his pillow, perched against the arm of the sofa. He had not intended to let them know he could hear again so soon, because while he was poorly he could get away with anything.
‘Kitty, you know when you were making goo-goo eyes at that young doctor?’
‘I was not!’ Kitty spluttered indignantly. ‘I was just talking to him, that’s all!’
‘Well,’ Tommy dismissed her explanation, ‘you know when you told me he asked you if you fancied going to the town hall dance?’
Kitty nodded, guessing what was coming next. He was going to use emotional blackmail to get his own way.
‘You went bright pink!’ Tommy threw his head back and laughed and, moments later, seeing Kitty defensively shrug, Danny laughed, too.
‘Woo, Kitty’s got a sweetheart,’ Danny cooed. ‘Are you going to the dance with him, Kit?’
‘No I am not!’ Kitty said, annoyed that her little twerp of a brother had been eavesdropping all the time and ruined her moment of joy.
‘Oh, go on, Kit,’ Tommy coaxed, knowing there was a good police drama on the wireless that Kitty wouldn’t let him listen to if she stayed in. ‘It’s been ages since you went for a night out. Our Danny will mind me, won’t you, Dan?’
‘I’ve got too much to do,’ Kitty began. ‘I’ve got to make the stuffing for that chicken and I’ve got to peel the veg and then I’ve got to—’
‘We will do it, won’t we, Tom?’ Danny answered, sitting down at the table and unfolding his meagre newspaper. ‘I was only going to go down to the Sailor’s for a few jars, anyway.’
‘I’m not well,’ Tommy whined unconvincingly, and when he saw Danny’s warning glance he relented, ‘but you do need to enjoy yourself, Kit. It’ll do you good.’
Kitty was in two minds. She would love to go dancing. She could not remember the last time. She did not count that dance with Frank Feeny at his sister’s wedding last year. Thinking of Frank now, her heart skipped a beat. No, it would not be right going to a dance with another man when she still had feelings for Frank.
‘It’s only a town hall dance, Kit, not a declaration of lifelong commitment,’ Danny said, reading her hesitation, and Kitty sighed, already warming to the idea of her first New Year dance. ‘Anyway, if you don’t like him you don’t have to see him again.’
Kitty was quiet for a moment. That was what
she was afraid of. She did like him, this Dr Fitzgerald, who was handsome in a clean-cut kind of way with his short dark hair and bright blue eyes. He was not as tall as Frank but he carried himself with an assured air. She did not like him the way she liked Frank, but then she didn’t like anybody the way she liked Frank. It would not be fair to accept his hospitality knowing she could not commit to the kind of relationship he might want.
‘I can’t go out with a doctor!’ Kitty said. What was she thinking of? ‘I wouldn’t have a clue what to talk to him about. I don’t know a thing about medicine.’
‘I imagine medicine will be the last thing he wants to talk about.’ Danny rolled his eyes to the ceiling. ‘Do you want to talk about making big pans of scouse in the NAAFI canteen? Or baking cakes for afternoon tab nabs?’
Kitty shook her head. ‘I do more than just cook, you know – I have got brains in my head.’
‘Then he won’t want to talk about lancing boils and fixing broken bones, will he?’
Kitty nodded to her brother, whose eyes were still on the newspaper, and she felt strangely relieved. Their Danny could be quite clever when he put his mind to it.
Then another thought struck her. ‘I’ve got nothing to wear.’
‘I’m sure that Nancy will have something you can borrow,’ Danny said.
If she went over and asked nicely, Kitty was sure that Nancy wouldn’t mind … Suddenly she felt little explosions of delight and her heart began to beat quickly. She was not going to get a better offer, and Danny was right, it was about time she went out and enjoyed herself. It would take her mind off the worry of Tommy, always getting himself into scrapes.
Dolly was bouncing George on her knee while waiting for Nancy to come back from another visit to one of her so called ‘friends’. It was high time that she had that chat with Nancy. Everyone was either out at work or engaged elsewhere and this was the best moment that they were likely to get. Even though she knew that Pop didn’t like to think that it was their Nancy that Sarah had heard at the bus stop with another fella, Dolly had strong suspicions that Sarah was right. She’d seen it all and she knew her daughter like the back of her hand. Dolly felt sure that Nancy had got herself tangled up in something silly and she just hoped that it wasn’t too late to nip it in the bud.
The front door went and Dolly could hear Nancy’s clip-clop heels coming up the hallway.
‘Georgie, come to your mammy!’ Nancy swooped in on George in an exaggerated show of motherly love. Dolly could see that Nancy was a bit flushed and as she took George from Dolly’s arms she even thought that she could smell drink on her breath.
‘Had a nice evening?’ Dolly asked. ‘Where did you go?’
‘Oh, I went out with a couple of the girls from George Henry Lee,’ Nancy replied, airily. ‘We had tea and a slice of carrot cake at the Lyons Tea House.’
‘And would that be tea laced with brandy, Nance?’
‘What do you mean?’ Nancy looked indignant.
‘Well, Nancy, you looked mighty dolled up for just a cuppa and to be honest, my girl, I’m not sure I believe a word you’re saying.’
Nancy bristled defensively. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She busied herself with George, but the brandy that she’d had with Stan in The Eagle on the other side of Bootle was making her feel a bit lightheaded.
‘I think you do know what I’m talking about. You’ve been seen.’
This brought Nancy up short. ‘By who?’
Dolly’s heart sank. Nancy asking who it was, rather than what or why was enough to tell her that Nancy really did have something to hide.
‘Never mind who by, it’s enough that you were seen gallivanting with a man who isn’t your husband.’
Nancy tried a different tack. She needed to think clearly and could always get round her mam. One of the local busybodies must have spotted her out with Stan and word had obviously got back to her mother. Damn and blast. Why did everyone have to stick their noses in around here?
‘Listen, Mam, it isn’t anything to worry about, I’ve just been visiting Stan’s Hathaway’s granny as he asked me to while he was away on duty. Once, he turned up there while he was on leave and he walked me home. I promise, Mam, that’s all it is.’
Dolly wasn’t in the mood to to be soft-soaped. ‘Now you listen to me, I’m proud of my kids and I intend to stay that way. Don’t you dare give me any reason to be ashamed of you, Nancy. You’ve got a husband who is holed up in some prisoner of war camp and you’ll do the decent thing by him – do you hear me?’
Nancy blushed. Sid’s predicament was something she chose not to think about but mention of it now made her very uncomfortable.
‘And while I’m at it, it is high time you and George went back to Mrs Kerrigan’s. Perhaps you’ll be less likely to get into trouble over there.’
Mention of going back to Sid’s mother forced any feelings of guilt into the background. Living there was like bloody purgatory!
‘Mam!’
‘No arguing. I’ve made my mind up.’ Nancy could see from the set of Dolly’s firm lips that she meant business.
‘Well, then, me and Goerge had better go and start packing.’
Nancy flounced off up the stairs, taking George with her. She had no intention of going back to Mrs Kerrignan’s if she could help it, or of giving up Stan Hathaway. No, Mam had her dander up but Nancy could win her round. She’d get her rollers out and do Mam’s hair tomorrow; she’d been asking for Nancy to set it and she’d been so caught up with Stan that she hadn’t time. Yes, that would do the trick. And as regards Stan, well she’d just have to be more careful from now on, wouldn’t she …
Kitty’s hair tumbled in wide S-shaped waves, lifted back off her heart-shaped face and secured with the tortoiseshell combs that had once belonged to her mam. The peacock-blue taffeta dress had once belonged to Gloria, but Nancy hadn’t worn it since before she was pregnant and it fitted perfectly after Kitty had tacked the sides in. She wore it with a little puff-sleeved bolero jacket she had made herself last summer, surprised when it perfectly matched the dress.
She recalled how her brothers whistled their admiration when she did a twirl in the kitchen, but now she was here at the town hall among the rich and confident, she was not so certain. The men, including Dr Fitzgerald, were dressed in ‘black tie’, and their shoes shone like glass in the bright lights of the town hall, while their glamorous female guests looked assured in their sparkling, low-backed evening dresses and high-heeled shoes. Kitty’s were small-heeled black leather: the only pair she owned and the ones she wore for work. Feeling dowdy in comparison she wished the lights were not so bright …
‘I’ll go and fetch us both a drink,’ Dr Fitzgerald said.
The other women looked relaxed, holding their wine glasses by the long stems and conversing and laughing easily together. Kitty felt so out of place. She had more in common with the waitresses than she did with the guests. All the practised conversations in her head disappeared. Who was she trying to fool, coming to a smart dance? She was no more sophisticated than the blackout blinds. What did she know about the world apart from the fact that after this war it would never be the same again?
Each minute was like an eternity, and when Dr Fitzgerald still had not returned with the drinks a short while later, Kitty wished she were invisible, imagining she stood out like a weed in a flower patch. Her toes were curling with embarrassment. She looked a fright and she knew it. It was all well and good making do and mending but there were certain functions a girl must make an effort for, and this was one of them.
Her toenails scraped the innersole of her shoes, she was so tense. And she desperately looked around for something interesting, something that would enable her to look relaxed. Kitty willed herself to look bright-eyed and interested, as if she came to these do’s all the time. However, when Dr Fitzgerald still had not returned, she did not even know where to put her hands. There were only so many times she could swap her handbag fro
m one arm to another so that people did not mistake her for a rather inelegant statue, while all around her, people chatted excitedly.
Kitty tried not to eavesdrop on conversations but it was impossible, and when she involuntarily happened to glance at the animated conversationalists, they moved away – but not so discreetly that she did not notice.
She did not belong here. She would have been better off staying at home.
‘Sorry I took so long,’ Dr Fitzgerald said, offering her a glass of wine. ‘Professor Wetherby always catches me, and wants to tell me all about the old days.’
‘The old days?’ Kitty asked, taking a sip and wrinkling her nose. She never cared for alcohol. Maybe it was seeing Dad rolling home blind drunk and unable to stand that put her off. But she would just sip it and hope he didn’t bring her any more.
‘Thank you, Doctor, I … I …’ Kitty said, and to her surprise he started to laugh.
When his mirthful moment was over, he said soberly, ‘I’m sorry, Kitty, but you don’t have to call me “Doctor” here. If you do, you will have a whole roomful of men answering you.’
Kitty could feel a warm flush creep up to her cheeks and when she thought about it she too started laughing.
‘Sorry! I still can’t get used to it. You’ll always be Dr Fitzgerald to me.’
Kitty never thought of him as Elliott. When she told him that, his raised eyebrows did relax her somewhat.
Moments later, they were shown to their table and Kitty was glad she could now rest her aching legs. The band struck up and, humming along to songs she recognised, she tapped her fingers on the table.
Elliott took hold of her hand and nodded to the dance floor, and something in the way he smiled encouraged her to forget her awful dress and take to the floor.
With his hands around her waist, Elliot proved to be a great dance partner as he gracefully and expertly manoeuvred her around the polished floor.
‘You dance very well,’ Kitty said, smiling as she was swept from the floor and back to her seat.
‘Bart’s Ballroom Dance Champion 1935,’ Elliott said with some pride. ‘We took the Hospital Cup.’
