Child of the Mersey

by Annie Groves

  ‘Yes, Matron,’ Rita answered, knowing, after a word from Sister Brown, that those who could not be discharged were to be sent up to the Corporation Hospital for Infectious Diseases in Linacre Lane.

  ‘Kitty, you’ve got to come quick!’ Danny called up the lobby. ‘Dad’s had an accident on the dock!’

  Terrified, Kitty threw on her coat even though the hospital was only along Derby Road.

  She rushed after Danny but her footsteps grew increasingly heavy the more she tried to hurry. She needed to whip along the busy main road unheeded but her feet refused to move with the same speed she was used to. As they rushed, Danny told her what had happened at the docks. ‘Dad was offered an afternoon’s work unloading a Yankee boat, but by then he had already had a dinnertime session drinking in the Sailor’s Rest. He didn’t see the open hatchway as he was moving backwards. He stepped right back and fell.’ Kitty, panting now, listened carefully. The docks were dangerous at the best of times. She knew her father would have had to be extra vigilant after a skinful.

  Kitty felt the stab of a stitch shooting through her ribcage and taking her breath away. She had to slow down.

  ‘You go ahead of me, Danny. I’ll be there as fast as I can.’

  She watched as he raced off and she trotted, panting, in the same direction, thinking of her father. She knew he never did do things the way he was expected to. But he was built like a brick outhouse and was strong as a bull. He was going to be fine. She was being dramatic again! He would call her Bette Davis and say she made a scene out of everything.

  He wasn’t really a bad father, she thought. Just a haphazard one who sometimes forgot that his kids needed the money that he drank for food and rent. However, he could also be a loving dad; there were no two ways about that. He would sing daft songs and make them feel like laughing. He would croon old love songs and make them feel sad. He would sing ‘Rose of Tralee’ and make them want Mam. He had his moments.

  The large, soot-blackened sandstone hospital came into view and Kitty gasped through the pain in her side as a voice suddenly popped into her head, though why, she could not fathom. Today was a goodbye day, it said. Kitty got a second wind and put on a spurt. The winter sun was shining. The cloudless sky was calm and blue.

  ‘I’m nearly there, Dad!’

  When Kitty entered the hospital she could see Danny already pacing up and down the highly polished corridor. The air was thick with the pungent smell of disinfectant. His expression was grim.

  When he caught sight of her, Danny made a little motion with his head, an almost imperceptible shake. Looking at his colourless face Kitty could see he was in shock. Her heart lurched. She could not face him! As long as she didn’t talk to Danny, everything would be fine. She did not want to hear what he had to say. If she left the hospital, she could be home in five minutes. She could not bear the thought of losing her father, too. Please don’t tell me!

  But Danny was coming closer. He didn’t have to say the words. The sadness in his eyes told her what she already knew. Slowly he shook his head and then said the words anyway.

  ‘He’s gone, Kit.’ His voice fractured. ‘I got here just before …’

  ‘He’s gone?’ Kitty didn’t want to hear it. She certainly did not want to believe it. ‘He was fine this morning. He was up, talking, making plans for when he came home. He said he would change his ways, and leave the drink alone … He was looking so much better …’

  ‘He wasn’t on his own.’ Danny put his arms around her now and held Kitty close. She should cry, if only to make Dan feel better. However, she could not. For some unfathomable reason the tears did not come even though the burning sting of pain was behind her eyes.

  ‘I want to see him,’ Kitty said in a low whisper and vaguely registered that Rita was standing with them. She was in uniform.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Kit.’ Rita had been trained to give bad news without emotion, but these people were her friends. This was different. Compassion and concern took over now. ‘If there is anything I can do, just say.’

  ‘Thanks, Rita.’ Kitty stood plucking at the skin on her fingers. ‘What am I going to tell Tommy?’ she cried.

  ‘We’ll talk about it later. I’ll have to get in touch with Jack, but I don’t know how,’ Danny said.

  ‘Leave it with me,’ Rita said. ‘I’ll sort it all out.’

  Danny thanked her; he didn’t have the first clue where to start. He had never had to deal with anything like this before. The important stuff was usually dealt with by Kitty or Jack. Jack wasn’t here now and Kitty was in no fit state.

  ‘Soon there’ll be nobody,’ Kitty said quietly. ‘Tommy’s evacuated, Jack’s in the air force, and you …’ Kitty looked at Danny, ‘… what about you? When will it be your turn to go and leave me?’

  ‘I’m going nowhere, Kit. I’ll look after you,’ Danny answered. He had told nobody but Sarah that he had been turned down for the Forces. There was no way on earth he was going to worry Kitty now with news about having a faulty heart.

  ‘He’ll be safe in Mam’s arms now, Kit.’ Danny put his arm round her shoulders and the thought gave Kitty comfort.

  She reached up and took his hand. ‘Tommy doesn’t need to be disrupted.’ Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  ‘Come on, Kit, let’s get a nice hot cup of tea inside you,’ Rita said, linking Kitty’s arm.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘I hope you won’t be offended, Kit,’ Rita said when she called into number two after the rosary, which was said by Father Harding from St Mary’s Catholic church the night before the funeral.

  ‘What is it?’ Kitty asked, taking the package wrapped in brown paper and unwrapping it carefully to save the paper for the paper drive. When she opened it out she was surprised and thrilled to see a plain black, square-necked woollen dress with long sleeves. ‘It’s perfect,’ she gasped. She had not given much thought to what she would wear tomorrow. The only provision she had made was a few coppers from the funeral money, which Rita had lent her, to buy a black lace mantilla to cover her head.

  ‘Don’t say another word,’ Rita said.

  When Kitty took hold of her hands in gratitude she gave a small, self-conscious laugh. ‘Mine are always freezing cold lately,’ she said.

  ‘Cold hands, warm heart, Kit,’ Rita said, ‘and in your case it’s true. I’ve never known anybody go through as much heartache and still keep going.’

  ‘What else can I do?’ Kitty asked. ‘It’s not like I have a choice.’

  The following day was a Friday, four weeks before Christmas. Kitty was up early to put on the dress Rita had given her. She had taken in the side seams so it fitted properly. Even though it was black, the neckline flattered her slim neck and the puffed sleeves made her shoulders look wider and more robust than they really were.

  Almost the whole street came to pay their respects and Kitty was humbled by their community spirit. It was a shame Jack could not make it. The official Danny had spoken to on the telephone said he would pass the message on and Jack would be in touch, but Kitty had heard nothing since.

  She felt Jack’s absence keenly. He was her mainstay and she missed the calm, assured way he had about him when there was a crisis. He might even have stayed away on purpose, if he was still in this country. Jack and Dad had never hit it off since Mam had died nine years earlier. Jack had felt their mother’s death deeply and thought that, for as much as he loved his wife dearly, Dad was useless as a husband and could barely provide for his family above subsistence level.

  There were times when Mam went without food to give it to her children. She would stand by the range and make sure they were all fed, but Kitty rarely saw her eat. Was it any wonder she did not have the energy she needed to sustain her throughout a healthy pregnancy? Was it any wonder she did not survive? Was it any wonder Jack stayed away?

  It had been a simple ceremony without fuss. It was almost dark when Kitty and Danny buried their father three miles away at Ford Cemetery. With th
em were Rita, Dolly and Pop, the people who had done the most to keep the Callaghan children fed and warm when Sonny’s behaviour was at it’s worst. They were family too. The tranquil surroundings of trees and fields reminded Kitty of a peaceful haven in the heart of the countryside and, in spite of everything, it was the perfect reunion for him with their mother.

  Tommy had not been told about his father’s death. He was unsettled enough with living away from home and Kitty did not want him any more upset. She hoped she had done the right thing.

  ‘Hello, Kit,’ Jack said, standing in the doorway of her home after the ceremony. Kitty had been filling cups with tea and she turned to see her older brother standing there, kitbag over his shoulder, looking a little sheepish. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.’

  ‘Jack!’ Kitty put down the pot and she flew into his arms. For the first time since her father had died the floodgates opened and she cried until she was too exhausted and too empty to carry on.

  Later, when they had all mopped their eyes and regained their composure, they agreed that what Dad would have wanted was a good old knees-up in the Sailor’s Rest.

  ‘He’ll turn in his grave if he knows you’re drinking tea!’ Jack said, and as they closed the front door to make their way down to the bottom of the street a huge rumble of thunder rolled across the sky. Many people ran for cover, thinking the Germans were here.

  ‘That’s Mam giving him what for,’ Jack said, saluting the sky. ‘Goodbye, old man. God bless.’

  ‘Is Charlie working today?’ Kitty asked Rita a short while later. She’d noticed that neither Charlie nor his mother had been at the funeral, but she was grateful she had her friend to support her.

  ‘He is always late home on Fridays. It’s one of his collection nights. Sometimes it has gone midnight when he gets in,’ said Rita. It sounded plausible when she said it, but deep down, since the discovery of the missing Post Office money, Rita was never really sure what Charlie was doing any more.

  Charlie met Amanda Smallfield at the crowded Central Station in Liverpool, where she told him she had a little Christmas shopping to start while she was in town. That meant that instead of dinner at the Adelphi and then up to a room, as he had planned, the evening would be cut short. Charlie was not pleased, especially when she expected him to carry the myriad of Christmas shopping bags around Liverpool and she continually bemoaned the fact that there were no lights on in Church Street because of the blackout. Charlie could not care less about Christmas lights although he agreed, not wanting to sound churlish. He was also calculating how much time he would have to finish his rounds.

  ‘After I’ve finished shopping we can get the train back to Southport,’ Amanda said. ‘My husband is away on business until tomorrow.’

  Charlie smiled. Her palatial Edwardian villa would save him the cost of a hotel room. All thoughts of doing any more collecting today went right out of his head.

  ‘I am enjoying this war so far, Charles, are you?’

  Dressed in a black satin négligée Amanda Smallfield was a feast for the eyes of a starving man. Charlie knew she had brains as well as beauty.

  ‘Come back to bed, my darling.’ He sprawled naked on top of the silk eiderdown, with one hand behind his head, resting on the silk pillow. He blew lazy smoke rings to the ceiling while Amanda smiled at him seductively reflected in the looking-glass of her dressing table. Charlie was spellbound by the way her breasts strained against the silk of her gown and the way the contour of her shapely hips and tiny waist were accentuated by the wide satin belt.

  He was thrilled at the clandestine afternoons. He had pleasured many women over the years, usually rich, bored housewives whose businessmen husbands were away a lot. But Amanda was different. The anticipation was always there. He never tired of Amanda as he did some other women. She was not needy like the others. She made him feel as if he was being rewarded. Sometimes the telephone would ring in the office, and he would be summoned with the promise of an afternoon of unbridled lust. How could he possibly refuse? Since he had had a promotion a few weeks ago he was freer to come and go as he pleased.

  Turning from the mirror, Amanda moved like a sensually stretching cat and slid onto the silk-covered bed beside him. Taking the cigarette from his lips, she placed it between her own freshly painted lips, inhaling deeply. Then she threw her head back and exhaled a long stream of smoke before grinding the cigarette into the ashtray. Charlie’s fingertips outlined the sensual curves of her silken breasts, his breath coming in short bursts now. He must have her one more time.

  ‘Isn’t it ironic, darling,’ she said in a low, sixty-a-day gravelled voice, ‘we actually need this war to be free?’ Her elbow on the pillow, she supported her beautiful oval face with the palm of her left hand, looking down at him now. ‘Do you think we are destined to be lovers for always?’ she asked as her crimson talons zigzagged down his chest and circled the tip of his rigid manhood.

  Charlie gasped and grabbed her hand.

  ‘I promise you, my love,’ he murmured, ‘we will be together soon.’

  Her tone changed. ‘I think not. I’m leaving for the country tomorrow. You have left it too late.’

  Charlie did not know this. Surely, one didn’t just up and leave at a moment’s notice? He grabbed her hand and she pulled it free, daring him to try again. He relented. They had been lovers since the day he had come for the first payment on the premium. And what a payment it was. She was all he ever needed. He had no need of Rita from that day on. Amanda taught him more that day than he would have thought possible.

  Charlie gently brushed a wisp of blonde hair from her face. She was perfect in every way. He caressed her cheek as she nuzzled the palm of his hand. The aftermath of their lovemaking was always the same. She would threaten to end the affair, he would pacify her, undress her, make love to her again, reassure her again …

  However, this time was different, he knew. His fears were confirmed when he saw the expensive-looking leather suitcases standing in line at the other side of the room.

  ‘Kitty is made up you managed to get home, Jack.’ Rita took his empty teacup and refilled it from the large teapot at the end of the table. The others had all stayed on at the Sailor’s Rest but Rita had told Kitty she would go back and wash the cups and tidy up a bit, as Kitty herself had done many times for Dolly. Kitty and Jack had gone with her. When something like this happened, everybody mucked in together. Kitty took a tray of used crockery out to the kitchen to wash while Rita poured milk into Jack’s cup.

  ‘She didn’t tell Tommy,’ Jack said quietly, ‘and rightly so, I think.’

  ‘It would unsettle him,’ Rita agreed, ‘and your dad wouldn’t have wanted that.’

  ‘I didn’t come home for Dad,’ Jack said, taking the fresh tea from Rita. The cup looked tiny in his hands. ‘I’m here for Kitty. Dad’s better off out of it, by the look of things.’ Jack hesitated. ‘And …’

  ‘And …?’ Rita felt her heart pounding in her chest. She felt that she and Jack were on the verge of something, but it was madness for her to think that there could be something between them. She was a married woman, for heaven’s sake. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so nosy! Ignore me.’ Rita quickly apologised and began to clear the table.

  ‘How could I ever ignore you, Rita?’ Jack said it in a way that only increased the pounding of her heart. Don’t speak, she silently willed Jack. Whatever he was about to say, it couldn’t be unsaid. Rita shifted and for a moment there was a heavy silence between them.

  ‘You know how I feel about you?’ Jack’s deep, gentle voice was barely audible and Rita was not sure she had heard him properly. ‘I have never cared for anybody the way I care about you, Rita.’

  ‘Don’t say that, Jack. You’re grieving.’ Rita could hardly believe what she was hearing. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’

  ‘I know exactly what I am saying, Rita.’ Jack put the cup down on the table and he looked at Rita in a way that had once been familiar
to her. He did not say another word and for a few anxious moments Rita thought he was going to come over to where she was standing and take her in his arms. She doubted she would have the strength to resist. Instead, with a great effort, he turned and, with his hands in his pockets, he looked out of the small sash window overlooking the back yard.

  ‘I was a fool to ever leave Empire Street,’ he said, staring down the yard, ‘and an even bigger one to let you marry Charlie Kennedy.’ Jack said her husband’s name as if it caused a bad taste in his mouth. ‘He might be your husband –’ Jack’s voice was barely above a whisper, as if talking to himself – ‘but you will never be his wife in the same way you would have been mine.’

  Rita could only stare at the man who had been her sweetheart.

  ‘Why didn’t you wait for me, Rita?’ Jack said, and Rita shook her head, not sure what she should say.

  ‘I tried to wait for you, Jack. Truly. After you left, I wrote you a letter …’

  It was Jack’s turn to blush. Rita thought it only made him more desirable, to see that bashful and modest side of him.

  ‘Rita, I never told you this at the time, because I was ashamed. I never learned to read and write. I always seemed to spend more time out of school than in it, looking after Mam.’

  Rita thought back to their time together and things fell into place. Jack always let Rita choose for him if they went for a bite to eat in a café or if they chose a film to watch at the flicks. It was all starting to make sense.

  ‘Oh, Jack, if only I’d known. But I can’t believe my letter didn’t reach you. In it I explained …’

  ‘I lived with the foreman, Bob, and his wife. They were so good to me, Rita. Bob’s wife taught me my letters. They believed in me and wanted me to make something more of myself – to succeed. And I have, but it means nothing without you, Reet.’ Jack looked at her; his eyes full of love for her.

  Rita thought back to the contents of her letter and what it said. She had sent it care of Harland and Woolf and she could well imagine it passing eventually to Bob or his wife; of them opening the letter and reading its contents. Who could blame them if they kept it from Jack? The truth it held could have spoiled Jack’s future for ever. Rita was suddenly struck by the emotion of his words, but also by the cruel twist of fate that had kept them apart.