by Joan Jonker
‘You’ve done well, son,’ Bill said softly. ‘I’m proud of you.’
Well, I’ll be blowed! Eileen drained the water off the fish and turned the light out under the potatoes. It looks as though our Billy’s done the trick!
She looked at the piece of fish she had to share between the six of them and shook her head. She’d do without, and give Bill her share. He needed it more than she did.
Spooning the potatoes on to the plates, Eileen’s thoughts were on Bill. Now young Billy had got him talking, perhaps he’d come out of his shell and talk to her. If he didn’t, then there was something definitely wrong. She put the empty pan in the sink and ran the water on it. All I can do is wait and hope.
Eileen picked up two plates in each hand. They say patience is a virtue, well I’m going to be very virtuous from now on.
Chapter Eight
Her wide hips swaying, Eileen walked through the door of the shell inspection department. The familiar smells and noise of the shop floor brought a smile to her face. ‘Hasn’t changed much, ’as it?’
‘Blimey! What did you expect?’ Jean Simpson asked. ‘You’ve only been away a week!’
‘Seems like a million years!’ Eileen mumbled under her breath, linking her arm through Jean’s. ‘When’s the big day, then, kid?’
‘Don’t ask me!’ Jean pulled a face. ‘If it was up to me and Ivan, we’d get married by special licence at Brougham Terrace. But the two families are at loggerheads over whether the wedding should be here or in the States! Ivan’s family wrote to say they’d like us to be married over there, but yer should have heard me mam when Ivan told her! “Over my dead body,” she said. “It’s only right and proper that a girl should be married from her own home with her own dad to give her away.”’
‘I’m on yer mam’s side, kid!’ Eileen removed her arm as they neared their machine. ‘An’ fair’s fair, yer know! Your family won’t see much of yer when yer go to live in America, so the least yer can do is give them the pleasure of seein’ yer get married.’
Sally Molloy was hopping impatiently from one foot to the other, willing Eileen forward. ‘Come on, slow coach! We have a home to go to, you know!’
‘Blimey! Anyone would think Clark Gable was in yer bed, waitin’ to ravage yer!’
‘An’ who says he isn’t?’ Sally laughed, glad the long night shift was over. ‘Who needs Clark Gable anyway? My feller’s as good as him, any day!’
With a cheery wave, Sally made a dash for the door, leaving Eileen with the moving conveyor belt and her thoughts.
The last week had been a nightmare, and no mistake. She didn’t know how she’d got through it! Bill looked so ill, his face so full of despair, every time Eileen looked at him she wanted to take him in her arms and hold him tight. But he was so withdrawn, he gave her no opportunity to show how much she cared. Most of the time he just stared at the grate, even when there was no fire lit. The only time he showed any real emotion was when there was a knock on the door, and then his eyes would fill with a look of fear that frightened Eileen. Some of the neighbours had called to see how he was, and although it went against Eileen’s hospitable nature, she’d kept them standing on the step while she explained that Bill wasn’t feeling too well.
Eileen took a suspect shell from the conveyor and placed it on the trolley standing at the side of the machine. If only Bill would tell her what was worrying him, share his fears with her, she would know what to do! As it was, she felt so helpless. That he had suffered was written all over him, but she was at a loss to know what to do. Thinking he might be in pain, she had suggested asking the doctor to call, but Bill had given her such an emphatic ‘No’, Eileen was afraid she’d do more harm than good if she went against his wishes.
An anger started to build up in Eileen. The Army had no right to send men to war, then forget about them! Surely they couldn’t just dump a sick man at home when they’d finished with him, without making a check that he was all right.
A lump formed in Eileen’s throat and she swallowed hard. Crying was one luxury she couldn’t afford, and it wouldn’t help, anyway! What she had to do was find someone who could help Bill, and quick! Otherwise he was just going to fade away before her eyes, and the whole family would disintegrate. The two girls were frightened of him and spent as much time playing in the street as they could. And at bedtime they were up those stairs without a murmur, glad to be in the safety of their own bedroom.
Eileen had followed them up one night, and had sat on the side of the bed explaining that the war had made their dad the way he was. But he was going to get better, she told them, and when he did they’d find out he was the best dad in the whole world. Two pairs of wide hazel eyes, set in two solemn faces, had nodded agreement when Eileen asked if they’d help her to get their dad better again. But as she descended the stairs, her heart heavy, Eileen had told herself she couldn’t really expect them to understand. After all, they were only kids, and you can’t put an old head on young shoulders.
Eileen caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see the labourer, Willy Turnbull, pulling the full trolley away from the machine so he could replace it with an empty one. ‘Hello there, Willy! Had any clicks while I’ve been away?’
Willy’s smirk showed yellowing teeth. ‘Ah, that would be telling!’
‘Of course it would be telling, yer silly sod! That’s why I’m askin’ yer!’
Willy Turnbull must be the only man who’s sorry the war’s over, Eileen thought. Small, thin, sickly-looking, he had a yellow complexion that matched his teeth, and a bald head that he tried to hide by growing the little he had on the sides long enough to comb over the top. He carried a comb in the top pocket of his overalls, and every hour he would disappear into the toilets to make sure the thickly plastered on Brilliantine was holding his hair in place against all the laws of gravity, and to snatch a few puffs on a Woodbine.
Before the war started Willy hadn’t had any luck with girls, but with all the young men being called up, he’d managed to catch a few the Yanks had turned their noses up at. Now he considered himself a real ladies’ man. ‘Got a date tonight, ’ave yer, Willy?’ Eileen persisted. ‘Is she blonde or brunette?’
‘Blonde, if yer must know.’
Eileen watched him struggle with the heavy trolley and was suddenly sorry for him. He couldn’t help the way he was, and when she remembered how she’d skitted him over the years she was filled with remorse. ‘You enjoy yerself tonight, Willy, d’yer hear? An’ I want to know all about it in the mornin’.’
Harry appeared by Eileen’s side. ‘Do my ears deceive me, or have I just heard you being nice to Willy Turnbull?’
‘Well, God love ’im, the poor bugger doesn’t get much out of life! An’ he’ll get even less now with all the men comin’ ’ome.’
‘Me and Mary were going to call on you, then we thought you might want to have Bill to yourself for a while.’
Eileen concentrated on the passing shells. What was she to do now? Should she tell Harry the truth, or pretend everything was fine? In the end she decided to compromise. ‘I’m glad yez didn’t come, ’cos Bill’s not strong enough yet for visitors. But in a couple of weeks he should be feelin’ better, an’ then we’ll ’ave a knees up, eh? It’ll be jars out then all right!’
‘Give him time, Eileen! It couldn’t have been a picnic being a prisoner of war, and you shouldn’t try to rush him.’
‘Oh, I’m not goin’ to rush ’im! I don’t care how long it takes, as long as he gets better!’ Eileen’s thoughts didn’t match her words. It did matter to her how long it took! It was agony to lie awake every night after Bill had turned his back on her. Feeling his body next to hers, so near and yet so far away.
Harry was eyeing her thoughtfully. He’d worked with Eileen for over five years, and he’d never seen her without a smile on her face and a joke on her lips. But there was no joke on her lips today, and her smile was hollow. ‘You let us know when Bill’s ready for visitors
, and me and Mary will be up like a shot. We can’t wait to meet this husband we’ve heard so much about.’
‘Will do, Harry!’ Still Eileen didn’t meet his eyes.
‘And if we can help in any way, you know you only have to ask.’ Harry saw one of the other machine operators beckon, and he waved to say he was on his way over. ‘I’ll see you later.’
Eileen watched him walk away. He was her friend, and right now she needed a friend to confide in. ‘Harry!’
But when Harry turned, Eileen was filled with doubt. Bill would go mad if he knew she was talking behind his back. So she grinned, and called over the noise of the machine. ‘You’re still me best mate, Harry!’
Eileen rubbed the back of her hand over her forehead, then shouted across the conveyor to Jean. ‘Can yer manage on yer own for five minutes, I’m dyin’ to go to the lavvy?’
Without waiting for an answer, Eileen walked away. She needed some time alone to think. The toilets were empty, for which Eileen was grateful. She was in no mood to answer questions, exchange gossip, or crack jokes. In fact, the way she felt now, she’d never crack another joke in her life!
The tiles on the toilet walls were nice and cool, and as Eileen rested her head against them, she tried to marshall her thoughts into some sort of order. Bill needed help, there was no doubt about that. And as his wife, it was up to her to make sure he got that help, not anyone else.
Eileen stood up and pulled hard on the lavatory chain. ‘I’ve got to stop feelin’ sorry for meself,’ she muttered, ‘an’ think of something! Come hell or high water, an’ if I kill meself into the bargain, I’m goin’ to find a way to make my Bill better.’
Eileen’s determination lasted until she got home and saw the forlorn figure of her husband. Fighting talk was all right until you were faced with the reality of the situation.
Bill was sick, mentally and physically. She could feed him up as much as she liked, and in time he would probably put some flesh back on that skeletal frame, but she couldn’t rid his mind of the fears she knew were tormenting him. What he needed was professional help, but if he refused, what could she do?
If Doctor Greenfield was back home she could go and have a word with him on the quiet, ‘cos he was a man you could let your hair down with. But the doctor who had taken over when Doctor Greenfield joined the army was a stranger to Eileen. She’d only met him once, when young Edna had the measles, and she hadn’t been very impressed with him.
‘Have yer had something to eat, love?’ Eileen slipped her coat off and folded it over her arm. Since the advent of the new furniture, the kids weren’t allowed to throw their clothes over the backs of chairs, and while Edna often cursed having to take her coat upstairs, she knew if she went back to her old habits the kids would follow suit and the place would soon look like a pig sty again.
‘Your mam made me some porridge.’ That it was an effort to even talk could be seen on Bill’s face. ‘And before you ask, yes, I did eat it.’
‘Good for you! Where is me mam, by the way?’
‘Nipped to the shops for a packet of ciggies for me.’
‘I’ll ’ave to settle up with Milly Knight, when I get the chance.’ Eileen didn’t tell Bill that most of the cigarettes he smoked came from under the counter. She’d given Milly all her sweet coupons, ’cos on your ration book you could either have sweets or cigarettes, but they didn’t cover the number of packets Bill smoked.
Eileen was in the bedroom putting her coat in the wardrobe when she heard her mother’s key turn in the lock. Then their Rene’s voice drifted up the stairs. Eileen hadn’t seen her sister or Alan since the day Bill came home, and until now she was glad they’d kept away.
Eileen bent down to pick up the folded wad of paper that was used to jam the wardrobe door shut. The key had been lost years ago, and without the paper to keep it closed the door would swing open on its hinges. She couldn’t hear a sound from downstairs, and Eileen’s heart began to sink. She’d been hoping for the sound of Alan’s voice, thinking it might do Bill good to have a man to talk to.
Eileen moved to the landing and leaned over the banister, her head cocked, listening. Yes, there it was! That low, well-modulated voice that had always inspired confidence in her. Please God, let it have some effect on Bill! At that moment a seed was sown in Eileen’s mind, and as she stepped down the first stair, she squared her shoulders, determined not to let the seed wither and die.
Chapter Nine
Eileen untied the belt of her overall with one hand, while holding her outdoor coat ready in the other. Her intention was to slip into her coat before any of the women noticed she was wearing her best dress, but she hadn’t reckoned on the sharp eyes of Maisie Phillips.
‘Well! The state of you an’ the price of fish!’ Maisie pulled Eileen’s arm aside to reveal the spotted dress which stood out in stark contrast to the drab walls of the cloakroom. ‘Where d’yer think you’re off to, me lady, all dressed up to the nines?’
‘Jealousy will get yer nowhere, Maisie Phillips.’ Eileen pulled her arm free and quickly slipped into her coat. ‘You’re a nosey bugger, but if yer must know, I’m goin’ to visit a friend.’
‘Sounds like dirty work at the cross roads.’ Ethel Hignet’s teeth clicked back into place as she added her twopenny worth. ‘Does yer ’usband know about this?’
Eileen snorted. ‘Yer’ve worked with Maisie that long, Ethel, she’s got yer as bloody nosey as she is! It’s a friend of Bill’s I’m goin’ to see, if yer that interested! An’ as it’s in your neck of the woods, yer can tell me ’ow to get there.’
‘If yer want to get to the Dingle from here, yer best bet is to go down to the Pier Head, and get another bus from there.’ Ethel tried to get more information by offering to travel with Eileen, but the big woman wasn’t having any. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and they’d have nothing to gossip about. ‘No, ta, Ethel! I’m in a hurry.’
‘Northumberland Street!’ The conductor tapped Eileen’s shoulder. ‘This is your stop, love.’
Eileen stepped off the bus in Mill Street and immediately on her left saw the street sign she was looking for. Her mission was to find Arthur Kennedy, and although she’d been able to get the name of the street off Alan by casually asking about the bloke he’d picked up at the station, she didn’t have the nerve to ask the number of the house for fear of rousing his curiosity. It had seemed a good idea at the time to find out whether Arthur was suffering the same as Bill, and if he was, how his family were coping, but now she was filled with misgivings.
The journey down on the two buses hadn’t helped her nerves, either! It was the first time she’d seen how much damage had been inflicted on the city and it added to her misery. She knew that most of Liverpool had been affected by the German bombing, especially down here near the docks, but the scale of the damage took her breath away. Everywhere you looked there were bombed-out houses and shops.
Eileen waddled up Northumberland Street looking at the names on the signs at the corner of the small side streets with their rows of two-up two-down terrace houses. She could feel the sweat running down her neck, caused by exertion and apprehension, and asked herself what she had let herself in for. Then the image of Bill came into her mind, and with it a determination to finish what she’d started.
At last she came to the corner of the street she was looking for. All she had to do now was find out which house the Kennedys lived in. She hesitated, wondering whether to knock on the first door and hope for the best, or ask at the corner shop. Then a young boy came along rolling a hoop, and she stepped in front of him. ‘D’yer live in this street, son?’
The boy brought the hoop to a stop, his eyes curious. ‘Yeah!’
‘Can yer tell me what number the Kennedys live in?’
‘I don’t know the number, Missus, but I can show yer the ’ouse!’
Eileen took a penny from her purse. ‘Here yer are, son, buy yerself something.’
The boy’s face lit up. �
�Ooh, ta, Missus!’
Eileen noticed the neat windows of the houses they passed, and the well-scrubbed steps. She smiled as she remembered how her mother was always reminding her that no matter how poor you were there was no excuse for being dirty, ’cos water costs nothing.
‘This is the ’ouse, Missus!’ The boy pointed, then fled in the direction of the corner shop to buy the catapult he’d had his eye on for weeks. Eileen’s eyes took in the shabby appearance of the house. Unlike its neighbours, the windows were dirty, the step filthy, and through the open front door Eileen could see a dark hall with peeling wallpaper and a threadbare carpet. God, I used to think my house was bad, Eileen thought, but it had nothing on this!
It took a lot of willpower to knock on the door, but Eileen urged herself on. She’d come this far, she couldn’t back out now.
It was so gloomy in the hall, Eileen didn’t see the woman until a voice came through the darkness. ‘Yeah? What d’yer want?’
‘Are you Mrs Kennedy?’
‘Who wants to know?’ The woman came nearer and Eileen’s heart sank. Bleached hair framed a face that would have been pretty but for the heavy, cheap make-up, and the purple dress she wore was far too short and tight. A cigarette dangled from the side of her mouth as she stood with her hands on her hips, eyeing Eileen up and down. ‘Well?’
‘I came to see if yer can help …’
Eileen’s words were cut off by a cynical laugh. ‘Listen to me, whoever yer are! If it’s help yer after, yer’ve come to the wrong ’ouse! I can’t help me bleedin’ self, never mind you!’
‘Are you Mrs Kennedy?’ Eileen’s dander was up, but she tried to keep her temper in check as she waited for the woman’s nod. ‘It’s really your ’usband I came to see. I think he was in the Army with my ’usband, and I wanted to have a word with ’im.’
