A Mother's Duty

by June Francis

  But Teddy’s and Jeannie’s affairs were soon banished from their minds when news came that Mick’s ship had vanished. Until they heard to the contrary it was presumed it had been sunk with all hands. Kitty could not take it in. She kept telling herself that it couldn’t possibly be true. The fortune teller had said Mick would return! But then, said the rational side of her, who believed in fortune tellers?

  John did his best to be positive. ‘Men went missing in the Great War and they turned up again.’

  ‘Not all of them,’ she said woodenly, her heart like lead inside her.

  He had to admit that was true.

  Ben was terrible upset and took to wandering. He found it soothing going down to the river and watching the balloon barrage ascend into the sky. There was something about the sight that lifted his downcast spirits. Afterwards he would walk through the streets, noting what damage the Luftwaffe had done the night before, wishing he was old enough to join up and kill more than a few Germans for his brother. He wondered what Mick would have made of the Custom House being bombed. There were other buildings of note which had also suffered from the air raids. The unfinished Anglican Cathedral had damage to its stonework and glorious stained-glass windows, and St George’s Hall had been set alight, but the blaze had been quickly brought under control. It was the bombed houses that angered Ben the most. They had been someone’s home and now it looked like a giant scythe had sliced through them.

  So the months went by without any news of Mick, and Kitty refrained from telling Teddy or Jack about his being missing. She was determined to keep her hopes alive but it was hard to do so as the days lengthened and she often wondered why she was working so hard to keep everything going. Perhaps it was for Ben, whose presence continued to be a blessing to them – so much so that she feared for him every time he was absent for any length of time, but she tried her hardest not to smother him.

  So it was that on the evening of the first of May, Ben was walking home from a mate’s house who lived not far from the river, when he saw Celia hurrying along the other side of the street. He watched her for a moment just to make sure he was not mistaken, remembering that first time he had met her with Mick. The thought of his brother made his heart sore but he crossed over to speak to her. ‘How are you, Celia? We thought you were still in that place in Cheshire.’

  He must have surprised her because she jumped before smiling and saying, ‘Hello, Ben.’ She sounded tired. ‘How is everybody?’

  He hesitated. ‘Our Mick’s missing. Ma lives in hope but—’ He shrugged his shoulders.

  Celia paled. ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘Why should you have? You haven’t been around for ages. Are you cured now?’

  ‘So they say.’ Her smile was weak.

  ‘What are you doing with yourself?’

  It was a few moments before she answered. ‘I’ve a job working shifts in the Royal Ordnance Factory in Stopgate Lane. I’m a welder. I help make Sten guns. It’s good money. I can’t believe it about Mick,’ she said in a dazed voice.

  ‘Me neither,’ he said dolefully, shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘He was a good brother.’

  ‘He was good altogether,’ she said in an uneven voice, tears shimmering in her eyes. ‘See you around maybe, Ben. Give me luv to your mam and the big fella.’ She began to walk away but at that moment the sirens began to wail.

  Ben stared after her, realising just how upset she was and how his ma would go mad if he did not find out where she was living. She had always been fond of Celia. He ran after her. ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘Does it matter?’ She sniffed back tears.

  ‘Yeah! Ma’ll want to know.’

  She waved a hand. ‘I have a room here in Grafton Street.’ She told him the number. ‘Now leave me alone, Ben, I want to get in before the bombs start falling.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to a shelter?’ he said worriedly.

  She shrugged. ‘If your number’s up, it’s up,’ she said, and carried on walking.

  Ben could not believe it and ran after her. In that moment he heard the sound of the ack-ack guns and the drone of engines. He seized her arm and dragged on it.

  ‘Don’t do that!’ she said, trying to brush off his hand. ‘Leave me alone.’

  ‘No,’ said Ben. ‘You’re gonna come with me. It’s not safe round here so close to the docks.’

  ‘I don’t care about safe,’ she said angrily. ‘Just go away and leave me alone.’

  He shook his head and dragged on her arm. ‘You’re coming home with me. Ma’s got a shelter. She’ll be pleased to see you.’

  Celia managed to free herself and came to a halt. ‘Why should she? I’m nothing to her now. I haven’t been in touch. She hasn’t been in touch.’

  He looked incredulous. ‘That’s because she’s busy as hell and grieving and worried sick most of the time. She’d be real pleased to see you.’

  ‘Why should she be pleased?’ she said with a touch of breathlessness. ‘She’s not my mother. She’s not even an aunt. Even the big fella hasn’t come looking for me.’

  ‘Where would they look?’ he demanded and then nearly jumped out of his skin as a bomb exploded further along the street.

  Celia dived into the nearest doorway but Ben seized hold of her arm. ‘Let’s make a run for it.’

  ‘No,’ she cried. ‘I’m staying here. I can’t run.’

  ‘I always thought you had sense,’ he said frankly and suddenly gave up on her and headed towards Parliament Street. Somewhere in the distance to his rear he heard another bomb explode. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Celia running up the road towards him as if all the demons from hell were after her. She caught up with him and he grabbed her hand and they ran for their lives.

  ‘Oh God, oh God,’ she kept saying,

  ‘Shut up and save your breath,’ he yelled.

  She shut up as they dashed up Parliament Street, only to cry out when they were only halfway up. He stopped and looked at her. She shook her head, her chest heaving. ‘A pain! I’ve got a pain,’ she gasped, putting a hand to her large stomach.

  ‘It’s only a stitch,’ he said.

  She shook her head again and sagged against him. He was uncertain what to do as he stared down towards Grafton Street and the docks. Already flames were leaping into the air as houses caught fire and he could see more bombs falling. If he had not been so scared he would have thought it a spectacular sight. He glanced at Celia and realised she was making some kind of recovery. ‘Can you go on?’ he said.

  ‘If we walk,’ she groaned.

  They carried on, past the Anglican Cathedral and on up Hope Street until at last they came to the Arcadia. Ben helped her down the area steps through into the basement shelter where he found his mother dispensing cocoa. Her hand stopped in mid-air as she caught sight of Ben and Celia, sweaty and out of breath and covered in dust.

  ‘Thank God,’ she said, putting down the jug and going over to Ben and hugging him.

  ‘Ma-aa!’ He pushed her away and pulled Celia forward. ‘Do you recognise her?’ he said.

  Kitty stared at the young woman and said in surprise, ‘Celia!’

  ‘Ben said you’d be pleased to see me,’ she said in a trembling voice. ‘But I’m not so sure you are.’

  ‘Of course, I’m pleased to see you,’ said Kitty, making a recovery and putting an arm round her. ‘You’re looking fit. You’ve put some weight on at last.’

  Celia’s face crumpled and she rested her head on Kitty’s shoulder. ‘I’m having a baby,’ she said on a sob.

  Kitty had guessed as much. ‘When did you get married?’

  ‘After I left Delamere. He was a sailor and he was killed. It probably wouldn’t have lasted anyway,’ she sniffed.

  Kitty, aware of the interest shown by guests and employees alike, drew Celia aside and told Ben to pour cocoa for them. She sat the girl on a lower bunk. ‘When’s the baby due?’

  ‘Next month,’ said Celia in weary tones, dragging off
her headscarf and pushing back a handful of hair. ‘I’ve been working and saving. I’ve had no one to turn to.’ There were tears in her voice again. ‘His mother – she was killed, as well. There was only him and her.’

  ‘You should have come to us,’ said Kitty, sitting beside her and squeezing her hand.

  ‘I couldn’t,’ said Celia. ‘I thought you might be angry with me. I thought Mick—’ Tears welled up in her eyes again.

  ‘Ben’s told you about Mick,’ said Kitty with difficulty.

  Celia nodded. ‘He came to see me in Delamere,’ she said, raising her face to Kitty’s. ‘Did he tell you?’

  ‘No.’ She was surprised.

  There was a silence which Kitty found difficult to fill. The all clear went and immediately the guests began to make their way upstairs. Kitty and Celia did not move.

  ‘We were very close once,’ said Celia, wiping her face with the back of her hand. ‘When we were young.’

  Kitty stared at her and could have wept herself. ‘When we were young,’ she echoed softly. ‘Love! You’re still only young! It’s just this war. It’s aging us all. It’s the fear and the worry.’

  Celia nodded and said abruptly. ‘I won’t stay. I’m only taking shelter.’

  Ben approached with the cocoa and Kitty took a cup and handed it to Celia. ‘You can stay as long as you like. You’re among friends here,’ she said firmly.

  Celia stared at her and burst into tears.

  Kitty let her cry. She felt like crying herself. ‘It’s the shock,’ said Celia a few minutes later, after she had drank her cocoa. ‘You ask your Ben. We were nearly blown up. I got an awful fright.’

  Kitty said nothing but patted her hand, convinced there was more to Celia’s tears than nearly being blown to Kingdom Come.

  ‘I’ll go home in a minute,’ added Celia. ‘I’ve got work tomorrow.’

  ‘There’s no need to rush off,’ said Kitty. ‘It’s gone midnight. Why don’t you put your feet up and have a rest. When Mr McLeod comes back he’ll see you home.’

  ‘I’d like to see him,’ said Celia in a shy voice. ‘Perhaps I will have a little rest.’

  Kitty patted her shoulder and left her.

  John arrived home an hour or so later. Kitty was waiting for him in the kitchen and as soon as he entered she stirred herself and put the kettle on. ‘Celia’s here,’ she said, and paused, her fingers curling on the edge of the table.

  He stared. ‘And?’ he murmured, taking off his tin hat and gas mask.

  ‘She’s pregnant,’ said Kitty swiftly. ‘She says she married some sailor after she left that place in Delamere and he’s dead.’

  ‘It could be true,’ said John quietly. ‘Why do you make it sound like it isn’t.’

  ‘I just don’t believe her,’ said Kitty, slipping a hand through his arm. ‘John, she says she wants to go home – that she’s got work tomorrow but I don’t want her to go. I don’t think she’s fit enough.’

  He was silent a moment, his hazel eyes holding hers. ‘Why don’t you believe in this husband?’

  ‘I didn’t say I didn’t but …’ She paused. ‘She says Mick visited her when she was ill.’

  John’s eyebrows rose. ‘He never mentioned it.’

  ‘No. Maybe it was because she had really met someone else and she was going to marry him, but perhaps she never did. Maybe he died before she could. Poor Mick, if he really cared for her,’ she said in a choking voice.

  John put his arms round her. ‘You’re only guessing it was like that. It could be that he just didn’t mention it because he thought you might worry. She did have consumption after all.’

  She wiped her eyes on John’s shoulder and lifted her head. ‘You’re probably right. She and Mick hadn’t had anything to do with each other for ages.’

  They were both silent a moment and then he said, ‘Where does she live?’

  ‘Grafton Street.’

  ‘Well, she can’t go home there then,’ he said positively. ‘There’s a whole row of houses down and the fires are still burning.’

  ‘You tell her that,’ said Kitty, looking relieved. ‘She’s still down in the basement in one of the bunks.’

  A weary John went downstairs, only to reappear a few minutes later. ‘She’s asleep so I left it. I’ll have a word with her in the morning.’

  But when they rose in the morning it was to find Celia had gone, much to Kitty’s disappointment. ‘I thought she’d have stayed around to see you,’ she said to John.

  ‘I’ll nip down to Grafton Street afterwards if you like,’ he said, ‘and see if she’s there. I’ll take Nelson for a walk.’ It was a lovely bright day with a clear sky.

  Kitty nodded. ‘And bring her back if she is.’

  But when he returned he brought only the news that where Celia had lived was now a crater half filled with rubble and charred beams. ‘So she might be back,’ said Kitty brightly.

  John looked at her. ‘Perhaps. But don’t mention Mick to her. You’ll only upset yourself. Work, Kit, that’s the panacea for what ails us.’

  Kitty agreed and got on with her tasks, remembering how seemingly carefree her husband had been when they had first met and of the fun they had shared over the years. Nothing was fun anymore, she thought sadly, with Mick missing and the other three away. It would be nice to have Celia and a baby living with them and cheering the place up.

  Celia did not return but the Luftwaffe did, and in several nights of terror they rained down destruction on Merseyside. The city centre and the docks were in chaos. Troops were drafted in to demolish buildings and the fires burned for days. All but one of Kitty’s guests deserted her but she did not blame them. If it had not been for John’s refusal to leave his post, she fancied she might have upped stakes and left herself, taking Ben and Hannah with her. She wondered what had happened to Celia. Whether she was alive or dead.

  There were a couple of nights of minor raids and people were starting to think that maybe this was the end of it, when just before midnight on Wednesday the sirens wailed again. Immediately a weary John got out of bed and Kitty, who had only been dozing, slid out after him. They went downstairs and she saw him out. They hugged and kissed each other, scared all over again that they still might lose the other.

  ‘Take care,’ she said.

  ‘And you.’

  She closed the door and made her way upstairs to rouse Ben. Hannah was already awake. Kitty knocked on the door of her one guest but, as he had done in the past few days, he told her he would stay where he was, thank you very much.

  Kitty had just put the kettle on and Ben had slid under the blankets on one of the bunks when the door to the back area burst open and Celia, carrying a brown paper bag, almost fell in.

  Kitty could hardly believe her eyes. ‘Where’ve you been?’ she asked, hurrying to close the door so that no light would show in the yard.

  ‘Work,’ she said unsteadily. ‘I’ve been staying out in Fazakerley but when the raid was only light last night I decided to come into Liverpool and see if I could get a few bits and pieces. I thought there wouldn’t be one tonight and I went the pictures to try and forget about things!’

  ‘Weren’t we all starting to think that,’ said Kitty, pressing her down into a chair and seating herself close by.

  ‘I lost the little I had,’ said Celia, visibly trembling. ‘Although luckily I had my ration and saving book and identity cards and things in my handbag but I didn’t even have a spare pair of knickers to me name.’

  ‘You should have come here,’ said Kitty.

  ‘I couldn’t! I didn’t feel right about it,’ said Celia in a low voice, her expression strained. ‘I lied to you. I was never married.’

  Kitty leaned towards her and took her hand and squeezed it. ‘It happens. You’re here now and I’m glad about that.’

  ‘Thank you,’ whispered Celia.

  There was silence in the room but for the now familiar sounds of gunfire and explosions penetrating the basement. ‘You
get to bed and have a rest,’ said Kitty. ‘I’ll bring you a cup of tea, and then I’m going to try and have a rest myself.’

  Celia did as she said and they drank their tea. Then Kitty tried to settle herself to sleep, but Celia’s return and the barrage going on overhead made that impossible. It was obvious to her that this raid was not a light one. She was aware that Celia was restless in the bunk opposite. It was not that she was jumping at every noise but she kept tensing and then breathing deeply. Occasionally she gasped. At last Kitty could bear it no longer but got off the bunk and went over to her.

  ‘Are you all right, love?’ she asked.

  ‘No!’ whispered Celia, and seized her hand. ‘I think the baby’s coming,’ she added in a panic-stricken voice.

  Kitty had begun to suspect as much. ‘Well, we can’t get you to the hospital that’s for sure, but don’t you worry. I’m sure we’ll manage,’ she said, sounding much calmer than she actually felt.

  She squeezed the girl’s hand before leaving her and going over to Hannah who was snoring. She shook her. The old woman started awake and looked up at her, immediately alert. ‘What is it, missus?’

  ‘Celia’s baby’s started. And there’s nobody to help but us.’

  ‘Us,’ said Hannah, and she shook her head. ‘Yous needs a midwife, missus. I’m not going to be much help.’

  Kitty was vexed. ‘You told me you were there when your mother gave birth several times. We should be able to manage it between us.’

  ‘I was only a kid then,’ said Hannah. ‘It’s fifty years or more.’

  Celia groaned. ‘I’m going to die!’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Kitty sharply, turning on her because she was frightened of that very thing.

  ‘Perhaps she’s had a premonition,’ said Hannah with relish.

  ‘Shut up!’ said Kitty. ‘If you can’t help I’ll – I’ll have to manage without you.’ Her heart sank at the thought but she told herself it was only a simple matter of remembering the times she had given birth. She knew the baby’s air passages had to be cleared and the cord cut carefully; tied up in two places and cut in the middle, or else the mother might bleed to death. Again her heart seemed to plunge into her stomach.