When the Clouds Go Rolling By

by June Francis

  * * *

  As Alice crossed the bridge she was aware of the sound of laughter coming from those trippers enjoying themselves boating on the river. Before the war, it had been a popular sight, but these days there were few young men dressed in white flannels and blazers, wearing boaters, and rowing their lady-loves. She wondered how many of those young men were alive today. Those who returned would be scarred, physically, mentally or emotionally. She grieved for all those who had lost loved ones and for the young women who would never know the joy of marriage. She had been so blessed, for she and Seb had shared so many joyful moments.

  Thinking of how she had felt when he had laughed before, she was now horrified by her reaction. How could she have possibly thought he could be in any way like her father? It was she that was the mad one for even considering it for a moment. Seb had suffered and was still suffering, so it was no wonder if, for a short while, he had appeared a little crazy.

  She had reached the far side of the Queen’s Park bridge. She paused and considered whether she should return home. What must Seb have felt with her fleeing from him the way she had done? She gazed towards the Groves, where people were strolling beneath the trees, and unexpectedly remembered strolling beside the river with Bert in the days when she had believed, just like Bert’s mother, that he was an ideal man. Hannah and Kenny had warned her that he had a nasty side to him but she had refused to listen and had paid for her mistake. He was one young man she was glad would never be returning home from the war.

  After her experiences with Bert and her father, she had vowed never to get herself into a position where she was terrified of a man again. Yet here she was, going down that road, fearing her husband just because of the way he had laughed. She must not allow her fears from the past affect her relationship with Seb and spoil her marriage. She had changed so much since they first met. Marriage and motherhood had strengthened her. She had a good husband and fine children, and she knew she must go back and apologise to Seb for behaving so foolishly.

  Yet having made that decision, she still lingered on the bridge for a few minutes longer, wishing the war had never been and that life could return to the way it had been in those happy days before the Germans marched into Belgium.

  When Alice did return to the house, it was to find Seb in the drawing room, kneeling on the floor, watching Georgie build a tower with his wooden bricks. She stood in the doorway, thinking that already she felt differently about the scars on his face. Studying the damage to his cheek and his ruined eye, she no longer felt shocked, she just wanted to comfort him.

  Suddenly he looked up. ‘I’m sorry, love,’ she said.

  His smile was one of relief. ‘It should be me apologising. I was wrong; Donald was right. I should have told you. But I looked worse than this a few months ago before they operated. I didn’t want you seeing me and I didn’t want you worrying.’

  ‘I worried anyway. I knew from your letters that you were hiding something.’

  ‘Women’s intuition?’ He cocked a dark eyebrow and looked her straight in the face before turning his head, so that he presented his undamaged profile towards her.

  ‘No. The you I knew would have been longing to see me.’

  ‘So you knew I wasn’t the you that you knew?’

  ‘That’s a bit of a tongue twister.’ She knelt beside him and kissed him. It was not a long kiss because Georgie butted his head against Alice, and when she drew back, he wriggled between them.

  Seb ruffled his son’s hair and said gruffly, ‘He’s a good boy.’

  ‘He’s more easygoing than the other two were at his age.’ She hesitated, wanting to say to him that she needed him to look directly at her – that she would do what he said and get used to his face as it was now – but something held her back.

  ‘He’s got my curls, though there’s a touch of red in his hair,’ said Seb. ‘James’s hair is completely black like mine.’ His voice was unsteady.

  Alice said, ‘I wrote to you about Georgie’s hair after he was born and sent you a photograph.’

  ‘I remember.’ He sighed deeply and several moments passed before he added, ‘Thinking of babies, it’s great news about Hanny and Kenny. But I’ve forgotten when you said the baby is due.’

  ‘December or January.’ Alice hugged Georgie, so glad that he and Seb seemed to be getting along. ‘It’ll be good for them to have one of their own. They’ve made Tilly a substitute daughter and given her too much attention. She has an old head on her shoulders.’

  ‘She’s a bright girl. Hopefully Tilly’s generation of women will have more opportunities to make life better for themselves… to be paid decent wages so that widows and single women can support themselves and have a say in how this country is run. We don’t want another war.’

  Alice agreed, then changed the subject. ‘I suppose I’d best get a room ready for your friend, Mr Pierce.’

  ‘Yes, do that,’ said Seb, putting his good arm round Georgie as Alice rose to her feet. ‘I don’t know where I’d be without him.’

  She gazed down at her husband. ‘Tilly said he saved your life.’

  Seb nodded. Alice waited a moment, wondering whether he would tell her more about what had happened to him, but all he said was, ‘Ma wrote to me. Said that you’d written to her about my being found.’

  A look of annoyance crossed Alice’s face. ‘I’m still waiting for a visit. The children ask about her and wonder why she doesn’t come and see them.’ She paused. ‘Which reminds me…’

  He looked up at her. ‘Reminds you of what?’

  ‘I had a letter from your cousin.’

  Seb looked bemused. ‘I don’t have a cousin.’

  Alice smiled. ‘You do. Her name’s Clara O’Toole and her father was your mother’s brother. He was killed in the war. She wants to meet your mother. Apparently your grandmother is ailing and wants to make her peace with her daughter, Gertie.’

  Seb’s expression changed to one of disbelief. ‘My Liverpool grandmother is still alive? Ma was convinced she was dead. How did this Clara get our address?’

  ‘Joy gave it to her. Your cousin and grandmother attended one of those meetings Mrs Black held in a hall over in Liverpool.’

  ‘How odd.’ Seb got up from the floor and sat on the sofa. He drummed his fingers on one of its arms. ‘How come they made the connection with me and Ma?’

  ‘Jiggery-pokery, in my opinion. Your uncle was killed in the war and your grandmother wanted to get in touch with him,’ said Alice disparagingly.

  ‘And did she?’ There was a hopeful expression in his face.

  Alice rolled her eyes. ‘I doubt it. Anyway, it turns out that Mrs Black saw a likeness to you and your mother in your cousin. Of course, she might have recognised your grandmother, come to that; Mrs Black and your mother were friends when they were young, after all.’

  Seb rubbed his face.

  Silence.

  ‘So what do you want to do? Do you want me to write back? Do you want to see your cousin? Should I give her your mother’s address?’

  He closed his eye. ‘I need time to think about it. I’ve only just come home. As for Ma, she didn’t have a good thing to say about her mother so I can’t see her wanting to meet up with her again.’

  Alice thought he looked exhausted. ‘You’re tired. Perhaps you should go to bed and rest.’

  He nodded and said drowsily, ‘I used to dream of being in bed with you. I never thought of it when I was awake, thought it would be unlucky to do so.’

  ‘Well, you’re back and everything’s going to be fine,’ said Alice, touching his damaged cheek.

  He pressed her hand against his face a moment and then drew her to her feet. He glanced down at Georgie, who had resumed building a tower with his bricks. ‘Will he be OK on his own for a short while?’

  ‘I’ll tell Tilly we’re just going upstairs for a few minutes and for her to keep her eye on him.’

  Seb hesitated. ‘What about the other two?’

&n
bsp; ‘Tilly will see to them.’

  Seb nodded and the pair of them left the room.

  * * *

  Don settled himself in a pink-painted wicker chair, his painfully throbbing foot stretched out in front of him. He gazed at James and Flora, who were sitting on the bed. The boy held a protective arm about his sister’s shoulders. Tilly had left the room a few minutes ago, after introducing him to the children as the man who had saved their daddy’s life. Back home in the States, Don had several nieces and nephews but he’d never had to dredge up the right words in a situation like this before. But he believed in giving it to kids straight, so here goes, he thought.

  ‘D’you love your daddy, kids?’ he asked. It was a relief that they barely hesitated before nodding. ‘Then you’d rather have him alive than dead?’

  They nodded again. But this time Flora accompanied her nod with the words, ‘Mummy worried about him being dead when he was missing but she said, “We mustn’t give up hope.’”

  ‘And you didn’t,’ he said.

  Her pretty little face looked pensive. ‘I tried not to, but he seemed to be gone a long, long time. And there was a girl in school whose daddy has been missing for ages and he’s still not been found.’ Flora heaved a sigh and plucked at her navy blue skirt. ‘Mummy cried when Daddy was found. I did, too.’ Tears welled up in her eyes.

  James cleared his throat. ‘That’s because they were happy, Mr Pierce,’ he explained in a strained voice. ‘I didn’t cry. I just wanted him to come home. I wanted to see for myself that he was really alive and…’ He stopped abruptly, a muscle in his throat constricting.

  Don was tempted to reach out a hand and pat the boy and tell him to take it easy, but instead he said, ‘If you’d seen your daddy then, his face would have been swathed in bandages and you wouldn’t have recognised him at all. Your daddy’s a hero, you know. When I found him he was in an even worse mess from his fighting with the enemy. He was half buried and covered in dirt and…’ Don shook his head. ‘You don’t really want to hear about that but let me tell you, kids, that your daddy is gonna need your help now he is home.’

  ‘We want to help him,’ put in Flora hastily, leaning towards Don.

  ‘Good.’ He smiled. ‘I know the way he looks might have frightened you…’

  ‘I wasn’t frightened exactly,’ said James hesitantly, ‘But…’ He bit down on his lip.

  ‘Excellent! Good man!’ said Don bracingly, patting the boy’s shoulder. ‘He might get bad-tempered at times, you know, but that’ll be due to his being in pain – and, besides, he has lots to sort out now he’s back home. At the moment he can’t use his damaged arm, so you’ll have to help him with little jobs about the house, James, until it improves.’

  The boy nodded and squared his shoulders.

  ‘What about Daddy’s face, will that get better?’ asked Flora, heaving a sigh. ‘He was so handsome, my daddy.’ Don’s heart sank and he said gravely, ‘He’ll always bear the scars, Flora, and he’ll never get his sight back in that eye – but what you mustn’t forget is that he’s still your daddy and it’s what we’re like inside that’s important. He’s still a kind, thoughtful, brave and generous man. When he was away from you, he never stopped talking about you. He really missed you. Now he’s back, you’ve got to behave yourselves and be good.’ He gave them a rueful smile. ‘Now I want you to promise that you’ll do your darndest to do that.’

  ‘We promise,’ said James, his youthful face serious.

  Flora nodded. Then she reached for her teddy bear and hugged it against her.

  Don pushed himself out of the chair and limped from the room, knowing that the coming months were not going to be easy for the family. He really wished he could help them more, but knew it was out of his hands now.

  Chapter Seven

  November, 1918

  ‘Still no news of that daughter of mine. It was summer when you sent that letter,’ wheezed Bernie, glancing up from the newspaper.

  ‘So you said earlier, Gran,’ said Clara, putting on her coat. She was disappointed that Seb’s wife had not replied to her letter, but life had dealt her enough blows to know that things did not always go the way you wanted them to. ‘I’m off to the picture house. I won’t be late.’

  ‘You be careful about breathing in any germs,’ warned her grandmother. ‘I don’t want you dead yet. Neither do I want you bringing them home here.’

  ‘I love you, too, Gran,’ said Clara sarcastically. ‘I’ve my scarf so I’ll cover my nose and mouth with it.’

  ‘What about my tonic? When are you going to get some more?’

  ‘I’ll get some when I have the chance. It gets dark early these evenings and the weather hasn’t been good enough on Sundays for me to go traipsing off to Wirral.’

  ‘Well, that tonic did me good. I might even give you sixpence towards the cost of it if yer feeling short.’

  ‘Now there’s an offer I can’t resist,’ said Clara dryly. ‘I’ll keep you to that.’

  She left the house, thinking she would write to Mrs Black during the week. Keeping healthy was vital at the moment. She thought about Liverpool’s medical officer, Dr Hope, recommending that places of entertainment be emptied between performances so that auditoriums could be ventilated. The idea was to get rid of any influenza germs that might linger in the air. Protecting children under fourteen was considered so important that they were not allowed in picture houses, theatres or music halls at all. She knew that if she was utterly sensible she would not risk going to the pictures, but she was in need of cheering up, so was meeting Jean outside the picture house on Daulby Street, near the city centre. Charlie Chaplin was starring and he was well worth watching, so most likely they would have to queue up. There was also an orchestra providing music and they would probably play several numbers before the film began.

  Clara was annoyed for letting herself get miserable over Alice not getting in touch with her. It looked like the war was coming to an end. Just over a week ago, Turkey had surrendered and the armistice had been signed in Dardanelle and Bosporus. The news from France was also good. During the last few weeks, Britain and its Allies had advanced over a huge front and, only yesterday, America’s President Wilson had told the German Armistice Party to apply to Marshall Foch of France, the Allied Supreme Commander, for peace terms. Today’s news was that the Kaiser had abdicated because revolution had broken out in Berlin and in the German fleet. She hoped Freddie Kirk was still surviving.

  Of course, when the guns fell silent at the Front, it meant that the demand for armaments would drop drastically. The munitions factories would close, and that would mean an end to a decent wage. How was she going to manage? She did have a few savings but her little nest egg would soon go if she had to keep delving into it. There would be other jobs, of course, but they wouldn’t pay what she had become accustomed to and most likely she would need to find two jobs to manage. It wasn’t going to be easy because there would be women who had lost their men folk needing work, as well as the men returned from the war and wanting their jobs back.

  Realising that she was getting in a tizzy over the future, she pulled herself up short. She had come out to forget her worries, not to wallow in them. There were thousands worse off than her.

  She arrived at the cinema to find Jean, already in the queue, saving a place for her. A one-legged man was playing an accordion and singing ‘Keep the Home Fires Burning’. Clara dropped a penny in his cap, wondering how many more like him were trying to scrape a living throughout the length and breadth of the country. If only attitudes and laws could be changed to make provision for those suffering so badly. She thought of her cousin and wondered if he had left the hospital in the south yet. She hoped he was all right. She so wanted to meet him and her Aunt Gertie. Perhaps her letter had gone missing in the post and that was why she had not received a reply. Perhaps she should write again, but she did not want to appear a nuisance to them.

  Clara enjoyed the film and the music, and she and
Jean came out of the cinema singing. They were greeted by fog but it was not so dense that they could not see where they were going and it did not dampen their spirits. ‘That was marvellous,’ said Clara, linking arms with Jean. ‘He really does make me laugh does Charlie… and he’s one of our own.’

  ‘That girl in the film, I wish I had her looks,’ said Jean with a sigh. ‘At least once we finish with munitions our skin should improve. Although…’ She glanced at Clara. ‘I think you must have a magic potion because yours isn’t as bad as mine.’

  ‘I do have one actually,’ said Clara, smiling. ‘And I’ve no idea what’s in it. I’ve just about used it all but I’ll try and get some more and let you have some.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Jean, looking pleased.

  ‘So, what job will you try for once we get the push?’ asked Clara.

  ‘I’m not sure. I have heard a rumour that the Government might give us some kind of severance pay to tide us over until we find other jobs.’

  Clara’s brown eyes shone. ‘Where d’you hear these rumours? I hope it’s true.’

  ‘I keep me ears open. I wouldn’t mind working in another factory. The pay will probably beat that in a shop or in service. Trouble is, it’ll take some time before the factories adapt to peace-time work.’

  ‘I know what I’m going to do,’ said Clara firmly. ‘I’d like to work in a picture house. In the Palladium, if I can.’ She paused as they reached the stop where Jean needed to catch the tram home.

  ‘Good luck to yer,’ said Jean. ‘I’ll see yer in work on Monday.’

  ‘Bye. Enjoy your Sunday.’ Clara raised a hand in farewell and then hurried in the direction of her own tram, praying that the rumour Jean had heard about severance pay was true. Hopefully it would be enough to tide them over Christmas and she would not have to delve into her savings. But she was not going to say a word to her gran about it just yet.