by Lyn Andrews
She looked out of the window as the tram trundled its way down Chapel Street and Tithebarn Street, the trolley sparking as it crossed the junctions. The sight that met her eyes only deepened her fears. Whole streets of houses, shops, churches, schools and pubs were in ruins. Was there any work to be had here at all, she wondered? Had she made the worst decision of her life? Why had she left the green fields, the wooded glens, the moorland where sheep grazed in the shadow of Snaefell, the quiet little villages, the rugged, towering cliffs at Bradda and Niarbyl, all the beauty of her small island home for an uncertain future in a strange, war-battered, crowded and noisy city? Was this wasteland of ruined buildings all she could now offer her precious daughter as ‘home’? She prayed silently for the courage to face the days and months ahead.
When they alighted from the tram they walked in the direction the conductor had pointed out. The roadway was wide and cobbled and a horse and cart slowly passed them, the clattering of the iron-shod hooves of the heavy, patient Shire muffled slightly by the dampness in the air. She shivered as they passed the bottom of a street in which there were huge gaps where houses had once stood.
‘This street is called “Woodbine” so it can’t be very far now,’ Maria surmised, looking up at the sign attached to the wall of the end house. ‘Didn’t that woman say they were called the “flower” streets? Not that there’s anything remotely “flowery” about this place!’ she added.
Sophie nodded, gazing across the road to where soot-blackened buildings and mounds of rubble obscured the view of the docks and the river beyond.
Maria followed her gaze and pursed her lips, thinking how different it was from the view from the harbour at home. There the ruined castle crowned the top of the grassy hill on St Patrick’s Isle and the gulls swooped and dived overhead.
Holding Bella’s hand tightly, Sophie turned into Harebell Street and was thankful to see that all the houses were still standing. She managed a smile. ‘Here we are, Bella. This is Harebell Street where Aunty Lizzie and Uncle Jim live. Aren’t they fine, big houses?’
The child nodded slowly, still confused and very apprehensive for everything was strange to her. The houses did seem big compared to her Granny’s cottage and the street was so much wider than the little narrow lanes she was used to, but she was determined not to cry. ‘Will I have other children to play with here, Mam?’
‘Of course you will and you’ll make lots of new friends at school too,’ Sophie replied with forced cheerfulness, wondering how Bella would settle amongst strangers.
‘All we have to do now is find number sixteen and let’s hope there’s something to eat and a warm fire waiting for us,’ Maria added as she began to count off the houses. At least they all looked fairly well cared for, she thought. Most had cotton lace curtains at the window and the doorsteps had been scrubbed and whitened. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad living here after all.
Chapter Two
THE FRONT DOOR OF number sixteen was painted dark brown but the paint was peeling and was badly scuffed at the bottom. The brass knocker and letterbox were tarnished but the curtains at the window were clean. In reply to Sophie’s knocking the door was eventually opened by a thin girl of about Maria’s age with reddish-brown hair and grey eyes that regarded the little group on the doorstep with open suspicion.
‘Is this where Mrs Quine lives, Mrs Lizzie Quine?’ Sophie asked, while Maria took in the girl’s hand-knitted, multi-coloured, striped jumper – obviously made up from odds and ends – and her brown, well-worn tweed skirt. Judging by her appearance the Quines were far from ‘well set up’, she thought, which was how her mam had described her brother’s family.
‘Who wants to know?’ was the ungracious reply.
Before Sophie could answer the voice of an older woman came from somewhere at the back of the house.
‘Katie, who’s at the front door at this hour of the morning?’
‘It’s two girls with a kid, asking do you live here, Mam! They’ve got cases with them an’ all,’ Katie yelled back.
Maria raised her eyes skywards. A nice way to describe anyone, she thought, and bad mannered too. This Katie – who was obviously their cousin – hadn’t even bothered to ask their names. Well, she could soon put that right.
‘It’s us, Aunty Lizzie. Maria, Sophie and little Bella – from the Isle of Man! Mam wrote to you about us!’ Maria yelled down the dark, narrow hallway.
Katie stared at her but before she had time to comment a door opened and a small, stout woman with greying hair twisted tightly up in curling papers, wearing a rather grubby, wrap-over pinafore over a flowered blouse and black skirt, bustled towards them, her face wreathed in smiles.
‘I’ve a memory like a sieve these days! Never been the same since the Blitz, I haven’t! You’re Sarah’s girls! Come on in with you all, you must be worn out after that journey,’ she cried, hugging them each in turn before turning to her daughter who was looking a bit mystified. ‘Katie, luv, these are your cousins – I told you they were coming. Maria, Sophia and little Isabella – named after the big wheel at Laxey, so our Jim says, isn’t that right?’
Sophie smiled with relief. ‘That’s right, Aunty Lizzie. The wheel is called the “Lady Isabella” and I always thought it was such a pretty name that I named this little one Isabella, but we call her Bella for short.’
Lizzie ushered them all down the lobby and into the kitchen which to Sophie seemed crammed full of furniture and was very untidy. The overmantel above the range was littered with bric-a-brac, while ash had fallen from the range into the hearth. The dresser held not only dishes but a great and varied collection of odds and ends, the lino on the floor had seen better days and the table, which seemed to take up most of the room, was covered with newspaper and dirty dishes. Suspended from the ceiling was a rack, operated by a pulley and cord system, which was festooned with damp clothes.
‘Well, sit yourselves down, take your coats off and tell me all about the journey and how your mam is getting on. You’ll find things a bit different here, after living in Peel. Pretty little place, I remember it well from the time we took that trip over. Katie, put the kettle on, luv, and give that pan of porridge a stir. Come here to your Aunty Lizzie, queen, and let me take your coat and hat off,’ she instructed Bella.
The child eyed her uncertainly; she’d never been called ‘queen’ before. She’d been named for the ‘Lady’ Isabella but maybe this new aunt had got it mixed up. She knew there was a real queen, Queen Elizabeth, King George’s wife, because she had seen pictures of her. She was totally unaware that it was a local term of affection, but as her mother pushed her gently forward, she assumed there was nothing odd about being called ‘queen’.
‘I hope we’re not going to put you out too much, Aunty Lizzie,’ Sophie said tentatively. She knew that as well as her aunt and uncle and Katie, there were two other cousins, John and Billy. There had been three boys but the oldest, Albert, had been killed in Italy. John had been in the Army too but had survived and had now been demobbed.
Lizzie was busying herself with the teapot and the kettle. ‘Oh, we’ll manage, luv. We’re good at managing now, we’ve had plenty of practice these last six years. We were lucky, we’ve still got our house. Some poor folk were bombed out two and even three times and there are houses with three or more families living in them. And then there’s the flaming rationing to contend with,’ she added tartly. ‘But we’ll manage, we’ll sort out the beds after you’ve had some breakfast. Katie, see if you can find some clean dishes on that dresser.’
Maria’s head was beginning to spin as she wondered if her aunt ever stopped to draw breath, but she was very grateful for the bowl of porridge and the mug of tea that were finally placed in front of her.
‘That early ferry leaves at an ungodly hour, doesn’t it? Almost the middle of the night. Your Uncle Jim and our John have gone off to work. They’re both on the docks which have been patched up and working flat out again with all those Yanks and Canadians going
home. You’ll see them both at teatime. Oh, Lord!’ Lizzie exclaimed, suddenly getting to her feet and rushing to the kitchen door.
Both girls looked startled as their aunt yanked open the door and bellowed, ‘Billy Quine, are you out of that bed yet, you lazy little hooligan!’ in a voice that belied her short stature.
Katie grinned. ‘That’s me brother Billy, he hates getting up, especially for school.’
‘Go up and drag him out, Katie, luv. If he’s late again I’ll have that Mr Thomas round here on the bounce and I’ll be mortified, then that lad will get a hiding from your da,’ Lizzie instructed, pouring herself another cup of tea.
The grin vanished from Katie’s face. ‘Ah, Mam! Do I have to? He won’t take no notice of me.’
Sophie got to her feet. ‘Then maybe he’ll take some notice of me for he certainly won’t be expecting a strange cousin to appear in his room.’
Lizzie laughed delightedly. ‘That he won’t, luv. Aye, that should certainly do the trick.’
Katie cast Sophie a grateful look and sat down beside Maria, enviously eyeing her cousin’s neat black and white checked dress and her thick curly dark hair. ‘How old are you, Maria,’ she asked hesitantly.
‘Eighteen.’
‘I’m seventeen,’ Katie informed her.
‘Don’t you have a job? Sophie and I will have to get some kind of work and as soon as we possibly can.’ Maria had finished the porridge and was now eyeing her cousin with far less hostility. It certainly couldn’t be easy living in this madhouse, she thought.
‘I work in a shop, a sort of small department store. Not like the big ones in town, of course, those that are left after all the bombing. It’s called Heaton’s, they sell all kinds of things, but it’s my day off today.’ She paused. ‘I like your frock,’ she added a little shyly.
‘Sophie made it. She makes nearly all our clothes, when we can get the material. It’s much cheaper than buying them,’ Maria replied chattily, proud of her sister’s accomplishments.
‘Did she? Well, if she can sew like that she shouldn’t have any trouble getting taken on at Marsden’s, they make overalls. They’re back in business now,’ Lizzie informed her. ‘And what are you good at, Maria?’ she probed, thinking that beside Katie, her niece looked what her son John would call a ‘real stunner’.
Maria shrugged. ‘I’m not bad at figures and my writing is neat. I’m good at baking too. Mam says I’ve the lightest touch with pastry she’s ever seen.’
‘I could ask if there are any vacancies where I work, if you like?’ Katie offered generously, wondering if Sophie would perhaps make her something to wear. It was ages since she’d had anything new and smart.
Maria beamed at her. ‘Would you? I wouldn’t mind working in a big shop. The shops at home are all small, unless you go to Douglas, of course.’
‘Not that there’s much in any of the shops these days. Still, things are bound to get better soon. At least I flaming well hope so, I was only saying to Martha Ryan next door—’
Lizzie’s flow of conversation was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a tousle-headed lad, hastily dragging a grey woollen jumper over his creased, knee-length school trousers. ‘Who’s that girl, Mam? She come into me room and dragged the quilt off me! She said ’er name is Sophie an’ that she’s me cousin!’
Lizzie glared at her eight-year-old son. ‘Would you just look at the cut of him? Tidy yourself up and comb your hair, meladdo. She is your cousin Sophie and this is your other cousin, Maria, and if you’d got up when I first called you, you’d have been introduced properly, like. And don’t think you’ve got time for much breakfast because you haven’t. A bit of bread and dripping will have to do and you can eat it on the way to school. And tomorrow morning, you’ll be up the same time as your da and John because you’ll be taking little Bella here to school with you, it’s all arranged, and we can’t have her being late on her first morning.’
Young Billy Quine looked horrified at his mother’s words. No proper breakfast and then tomorrow he’d have to be up at the same time as his da, which was almost the middle of the night! For the first time he caught sight of the girl his mam had called ‘Bella’. She was small, about four or five, with a mop of dark curly hair that fell to her shoulders and she was gazing at him with the biggest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen.
‘Is she old enough to go to school?’ he asked apprehensively.
Bella, who had so far not uttered a word, found her voice. ‘I am so! I’m five.’ She had listened in fascination to her Aunty Lizzie’s remarks, to her strange accent and way of going on and had decided she quite liked her. Having had breakfast and warmed up, she had begun to feel happier and more secure. Some of her natural self-confidence and determination had returned.
‘See! She’s got a mind of her own, has this little one. Now, get off with you and don’t go dawdling or kicking the toes out of those boots either or I swear to God you’ll go barefoot. New boots don’t grow on trees,’ Lizzie instructed firmly, getting to her feet and propelling her youngest son bodily through the door into the scullery.
Maria looked at Katie and grinned. ‘Is it always like this?’
Katie rolled her eyes and giggled. ‘It’s worse when me da and our John are in too. Me mam can certainly talk the hind leg off a donkey, can’t she?’
‘She can indeed,’ Maria laughed as Sophie returned to the kitchen.
‘I can see you two are getting on well,’ Sophie commented. ‘Right, let’s give Aunty Lizzie a hand to clear away and get these dishes washed.’
‘Oh, there’s no rush to do that, half the time Mam doesn’t bother to do them until after dinnertime,’ Katie informed her.
‘Really? Well, don’t you think it would be easier for her if we did them now? She must have a lot of housework to do.’ Sophie smiled, glancing quickly at Maria, whose eyebrows had shot up. They had been brought up to keep the house tidy and dirty dishes had always been washed, dried and put away immediately after a meal.
Katie shrugged as Sophie began to quickly stack the dishes and Maria gathered up the stained newspapers on the table top.
‘Aunty Lizzie, you sit down. We’ll clear away, it’s the least we can do. Mam told us to be sure we made ourselves useful. We’re not here to be waited on,’ Sophie said as her aunt came back into the room. She had no wish to offend her but she couldn’t sit back and leave the place in such a mess.
‘Ah, that’s good of you, luv. I’m not getting any younger and I can tell you it’s not easy clearing up after my lot. It wouldn’t enter our Katie’s head to help.’ She shot a sharp look at her daughter. ‘No, it’s her day off.’
‘Mam, I work the rest of the week! I’m on me feet all day, running here, there and everywhere!’ Katie retorted, annoyed that her mother had more or less said she was lazy, which put her in a bad light. ‘Aren’t I entitled to a day off ?’
‘And when do I ever get a day off, milady?’ Lizzie shot back indignantly.
Seeing that things were degenerating into an argument Sophie quickly sought to intervene. ‘I’m sure Katie works really hard, Aunty Lizzie, and now that we’re here, we can share all the chores, so you can take things easier.’
Katie, mollified by her words, made an effort to sweep up the ashes as Maria pushed the screwed-up newspapers into the range.
Lizzie was amazed at how quickly the kitchen was tidied, even little Bella had been given a few simple tasks to do. These two girls certainly were not afraid of housework, she thought. Life for herself would indeed be easier with them around.
When they’d finished, Lizzie took them upstairs and showed them the room they would be sharing with Katie.
‘You’ll be a bit cramped but Jim and I have one room and our John and Billy have the other and it’s smaller than this one. We got the double bed when we knew you were coming,’ Lizzie informed them.
Maria looked around in dismay. Crammed into the room were a double bed and a single bed, a small wardrobe and a chest of drawers.
Obviously Bella would have to share a bed with Sophie and she would have to share with Katie. Of course she’d shared a bed with Sophie until her sister had got married but that had been different, they’d always shared, and the room hadn’t been as cluttered as this. There was barely room to move in here.
‘Of course we’ll manage, Aunty Lizzie,’ Sophie said firmly, ignoring the look on Maria’s face but feeling rather dismayed herself.
‘Couldn’t we sleep in the parlour?’ Maria asked tentatively. There was one; she’d observed that as they’d stood on the doorstep.
‘You could if it was empty but Mr Chatsworth rents it from me, he’s been here four years now and I couldn’t put him out. He’s nowhere else to go and he’s no bother at all. Nice, quiet man he is, keeps himself to himself and always pays on time. His few bob come in very handy too,’ Lizzie informed them.
Sophie frowned. So there were now nine people living in this house; still, as her aunt had said earlier, there were many overcrowded houses in this devastated city. They’d just have to make the best of it.
