‘Middle floor left.’ Kezzie read the instructions on her note.
The door in front of her had no name or number on it. It needed repair and a coat of paint, but the handle and surrounds had been washed down and the little mat, although worn, was clean. Kezzie knocked on the wooden panelling. From inside she heard a baby begin to cry. Someone yelled out, ‘Shut that wean up, can’t you? I’m trying to sleep.’
The door swung open violently. A man stood there. He was swaying on his feet.
‘What d’ye want?’ he demanded roughly.
‘Johnnie?’ said Kezzie. She took a step back in order to see him better. ‘It is Johnnie McKinnon, isn’t it?’ She smiled at him, overcome with an unexpected feeling of affection. Despite his aggressive manner and his unshaven face, she recognised him immediately. Where Peg’s hair was golden like her dad’s, he favoured his mother, with thick carroty red curls. And his voice too placed him at once. He hadn’t lost the country lilt, the soft vowel sounds which were at odds with the flatter tones of the city.
‘Johnnie,’ laughed Kezzie, ‘don’t tell me you don’t know me. After all the times you pushed me off the top of the coal bings!’
He narrowed his eyes and said gruffly, ‘Who are you?’
‘Kezzie Munro. You used to pull my hair and tease me until I cried.’ And without being able to help herself Kezzie reached up and kissed him on the cheek. They had strong links of friendship, the McKinnons and the Munros. Having no brother herself, it had been Peg’s two brothers who looked out for Kezzie in childhood scraps. They had all grown up together, Peg and she sharing everything: their secrets, life at school and at home, and eventually death too. Kezzie’s father had died beside Peg’s in the local mine. Peg’s other brother had perished in the same disaster.
‘Come away in.’ Johnnie McKinnon grabbed Kezzie’s arm and shouted out loud, as he pulled her into the house. ‘Look who is here after all these months! Peg! Look who has come to visit us!’
Peg McKinnon was sitting by the fireside, holding her brother’s baby on her lap. The little boy was gurgling happily as she crooned to him and stroked his back. She turned and placed him in his crib and stood up to greet Kezzie.
Again Kezzie felt this great rush of love and fondness, and she could see that Peg was experiencing the same. The two girls hugged each other for several minutes.
‘Gosh, Kezzie,’ said Peg at last, ‘you are so much taller and browner. Canada must have treated you well. I’d heard of your trouble with Lucy, and I’m sorry I never tried to get in touch.’ She shook her head. ‘But our circumstances are such that we can hardly get by ourselves, far less help anyone else.’
‘Yes,’ said Kezzie awkwardly as they sat down. ‘I heard things weren’t very good for you.’
Peg wiped her hand wearily across her face, tucking some hair back behind her ears. ‘I remember reading a newspaper notice at the time Daddy and Sandy were killed,’ she said. ‘It gave details of the fall at Stonevale pit. “Not a major disaster” were the words they used. Well, it was for us. That one accident killed not only my father and one brother,’ Peg sighed. ‘It also killed my mother. She just pined away. And it’s ruined Johnnie’s life.’ She glanced at the door of the room where her brother had gone to lie down again. ‘He can’t stay away from the drink.’
Kezzie looked at her friend. She wasn’t many months older than Kezzie herself but her face had an altogether sadder set to it: her big eyes grey and melancholy, her soft mouth turned down.
Kezzie glanced around the kitchen. Despite her friend’s best efforts, the room was drab and bare. Kezzie guessed that most of their possessions had gone the same road as her own once had. Pawning household goods and personal belongings became a way of life for many people struggling to live.
‘Have you tried to look for work?’ she asked Peg. ‘It would get you out of here for a bit, and bring in some money.’
‘I’m terrified to leave baby Alec for any length of time.’ Peg lowered her voice. ‘Johnnie’s wife … she doesn’t always come home, and when she does she often brings drinking friends. I don’t think she feeds him properly. And … I think she hits him sometimes.’
Suddenly Peg started to weep. Kezzie put her hands around her friend’s shoulders. She was thinking furiously. ‘I may know a place where you can get a few hours’ work,’ she said. ‘And we’ll figure out something for the baby. There are these new crèches and day nurseries now for mothers who are working to help the war effort.’
Kezzie decided to go straight back to the café and ask them to employ Peg. She wondered if Mary Price, who sometimes collected Lucy from school, would mind the baby. Mary seemed to enjoy any company, and Peg could give her a few shillings from her wages. Knowing how much Italians loved children, perhaps Peg could even bring the baby with her to the café. Called for his grandfather, baby Alec seemed to be a contented wee soul. She would check with Ricardo. They knew that they could do with some extra help in the café, even another pair of hands to wash the dishes would be of use.
When she returned to the café she found Ricardo in the tiny back garden. He was erecting an Anderson shelter. He had already dug a large hole and set in the end wall and the side pieces of curved corrugated steel. She watched him as he bolted them together at the top and then began to shovel earth on the roof. They said it could withstand a five-hundred pound bomb going off less than fifty feet away.
Kezzie tried to imagine what it would be like, a whole family crouching down in the small space for hours on end, listening for the all-clear to sound. Would they hear the noise of the dropping bombs, as they sat there with their gas masks on, wondering and waiting, without knowing what was happening above them?
Lucy and Signora Biagi came out of the back door of the café. Ricardo’s mother shuddered. ‘Please God we never have to use that. I’m too old to stoop down to get in there.’
Kezzie smiled as she thought of Signora Biagi, who was always so perfectly turned out, hurrying to the shelter in the middle of the night.
Lucy was waiting impatiently for Ricardo to complete his work. She already had cushions and an assortment of books and toys ready to furnish the shelter.
‘I think it’ll be great fun,’ she said.
Signora Biagi smiled sadly and murmured, ‘Such are the days now that children think of war as fun.’
As she had guessed, Ricardo and his aunt readily agreed to employ ‘Kezzie’s friend’. What Kezzie had not anticipated was how apprehensive Peg was about the prospect of going out to work again. She brushed and redid her hair several times and complained to Kezzie about the state of her clothes.
‘Look,’ she wailed, pointing to her elbow. ‘I’ve darned this cardigan twice already, and the wool doesn’t even match properly.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Kezzie. ‘Everyone is doing the same now. Mending and patching things. Only the other day I cut down one of Grandad’s shirts, worn at the collar and cuffs, to make a perfectly good nightie for Lucy.’
They approached the café from the other side of the road. Kezzie could see Ricardo leaning on the counter reading a newspaper which was spread out in front of him. Beside him his father was packing boxes.
Peg dragged Kezzie to a stop. ‘I’m so nervous,’ she said. She fiddled with her hair for a moment and adjusted the belt of her coat.
‘You look trig,’ said Kezzie.
And she was being truthful. Peg had long legs and her coat with its cinched in waist showed off her slim figure. She had pleated her dark golden hair into a single plait which hung over one shoulder, and had pulled her beret down on the other side.
‘Very smart,’ Kezzie repeated, and propelled her across the street.
Kezzie was right behind her as they entered the shop so she did not see Peg’s expression when her friend first caught sight of Ricardo. But she did see Ricardo’s face quite clearly. He glanced up as the café door opened. He recognised Kezzie, had been expecting her in fact, but was so engrossed in his newspaper that his e
yes flicked away from her again, back to study the article he was interested in. Kezzie saw his head start to bend … and then stop.
Ricardo looked back at once to the two girls, but it wasn’t Kezzie he was staring at. It was Peg. Peg who had his whole attention.
Signor Biagi also witnessed the scene. He followed his son’s gaze to the young woman who stood just inside their café. Then he turned his head and gazed fondly at his son. He clicked his tongue between his teeth, and Kezzie heard him say something in Italian.
‘Colpo di fulmine!’ he murmured.
CHAPTER 10
Love at first sight
KEZZIE LOOKED AT Peg, then she looked at Ricardo. Her friend’s cheeks were flushed pink and Ricardo’s usual radiant smile was not in evidence. His face was very solemn.
‘We have met before, I think,’ he said to Peg.
Peg stared at him without replying. Kezzie nudged her.
‘What?’ Peg turned to Kezzie.
‘It isn’t me that’s speaking to you, Peg,’ said Kezzie. ‘Ricardo is asking if you’ve met him before.’
‘I …’ Peg hesitated. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said.
‘No?’ said Ricardo. ‘I was so sure …’
He stared very hard at Peg’s face. In return she lowered her head and then glanced at him sideways.
‘I don’t think we’ve met,’ she murmured.
Kezzie regarded the two of them in amusement. They could hardly drag their gaze away from each other, yet didn’t seem able to conduct a coherent conversation.
‘I’m going through to the kitchen to make some fresh coffee,’ she said loudly.
Neither of them appeared to hear her.
‘Un colpo di fuliuine,’ Ricardo’s father said again as he followed Kezzie into the kitchen.
I can say buona sera and I know what ciao means,’ Kezzie laughed, ‘but colpo di whatever is too much for me.’
Signor Biagi made a gesture with his arm and placed his hand theatrically on his chest. ‘It means a thunderbolt. Struck by lightning. Just here,’ and he pointed to where his heart would be. ‘Love at first sight is the translation you might use. And there is no cure,’ he added. He opened the kitchen door a crack and peeked through. Then he turned to Kezzie and winked at her. ‘Nor would it seem that those who are thus afflicted wish there to be,’ he said.
Peg’s nephew was an immediate hit with Ricardo and his family. They had agreed that Peg could bring him along for the few hours she worked each day, and he thrived in their warm loving care. Signora Casella found her own son’s high chair from when he was a baby, and Alec would sit, propped up with pillows, watching everything that happened in the kitchen. Lucy adored him and he would turn his head at the sound of her voice when she sometimes dropped in on her way home from school in the afternoons.
Kezzie wondered about his natural mother.
‘Doesn’t she miss him at all?’ she asked Peg one day.
Peg wiped a dribble of food from the baby’s chin. ‘I don’t think she notices that he’s not there,’ she said. ‘Johnnie shows him more affection than she does.’
The café shut earlier now in the winter months. Custom had fallen off in the evening anyway and the streets were much quieter at night. There had been so many road accidents that the blackout regulations had been relaxed slightly. People were allowed a small torch with a dim light when walking home after dark, and the shop van could use lights if they were properly shaded. White lines were painted on kerbs, tree trunks and lampposts.
Everyone had a gas mask, in case the enemy dropped containers of poison gas. Even baby Alec had a Mickey Mouse one. He hated it and used to yell and scream when Peg tried it on him.
‘There, there.’ Ricardo picked him up and cradled him in his arms. He rested the small golden head on his shoulder and walked up and down for a few minutes, rocking the little boy gently and crooning to him in Italian.
‘You have no idea at all how to treat a baby? Do you?’ he scolded Peg.
‘Of course I have!’ she replied indignantly. ‘I’ve taken care of him since he was born.’
Ricardo placed his finger on his lips. ‘Shh!’ he said severely. ‘You mustn’t raise your voice. It will alarm the child. This boy and I have a great simpatico. We are not well treated by Miss Peg McKinnon. All we require is a small amount of affection, and do we receive this? Do we?’ He pretended to ask the now sleeping child, then he shook his own head sadly. ‘No, we do not.’
Peg looked at him, her face going pink.
Ricardo’s eyes gleamed. ‘Just a tiny piece of kindness occasionally would do,’ he went on. ‘A fond look, a sweet smile, perhaps, would make us so very happy.’
Kezzie saw Ricardo hand the sleeping tot back to Peg who smiled up at him. His hand brushed Peg’s bare arm and she blushed. As she watched them flirting with each other, Kezzie suddenly thought of Michael Donohoe and a terrible loneliness came over her. He had written again and she’d replied at once. But it wasn’t the same. Nor anything like it.
She didn’t know whether to be glad that Michael’s battalion was in the Middle East and not on mainland Europe. The Argyll and Sutherland 51st had now gone off to France. There was talk that they were guarding the Maginot Line, and would be the first to see action, yet the weeks went by and nothing much seemed to be happening. People had relaxed to such an extent that many of the children who had been evacuated all over Britain came home again.
At the end of that year, and the beginning of 1940, it was as if Christmas came twice for Lucy and baby Alec. The Italians celebrated the visit of the three kings on January 6th. So, in addition to having Santa Claus bringing presents to their own homes, the two children also had the Befana, or the good witch, who brought gifts to well behaved children. Little packets of sugared almonds and pieces of marzipan cake were hidden around the café for Lucy to find.
The very same month the Government decided to ration some food items, and, as sugar was one of the first chosen, it wasn’t long before the café had to stop selling ice-cream. It only made a small difference to the café’s business, but many Italians, who sold mainly ice-cream, were badly affected. Kezzie knew that Ricardo and his family were worried, not only from the commercial side, in that suppliers were becoming difficult to obtain, but also the political aspect of the war frightened them. Mussolini was obviously prepared to collude with Hitler in his territorial ambitions. What position would they be in if Italy openly allied itself to Germany? The war had seeped in to all parts of ordinary existence. Everywhere now people were in uniform, of one kind or another, or rushing to join the volunteer services. Grandad was firewatching most nights, and Peg and Ricardo went to first aid classes. Everybody wanted to help, ‘to do their bit’.
In the early spring Kezzie received a letter postmarked Derby in England. It was from William James Fitzwilliam, the young man she had become friendly with when she’d been on her way out to Canada to search for Lucy. He told her that he’d been accepted by the RAF. He finished his letter with the words, ‘If Douglas Bader can do it, then so can I.’
He was referring to his leg which suffered muscle deterioration below the knee. The doctors he’d consulted in America had given him exercises and therapy to try to stop the wasting process. Kezzie wondered about William’s mother, and how she felt about him enlisting in the armed forces. He would be sure to see active service against the Luftwaffe, who were a powerful and skilled fighting unit. When Kezzie had met the Fitzwilliams on the boat crossing the Atlantic to Canada, Lady Fitzwilliam had barely been able to let William out of her sight. But perhaps she felt it a great honour for him to be in the Air Force.
And then the war news became more grim.
In April German troups invaded Denmark and Norway. A few weeks later they overran Belgium and Holland. The main body of troops, including the Highland Regiment, were sent forward to halt the enemy advance through the forest of Ardennes. The German Army proved unstoppable. By the end of May, the British Expeditionary Force ha
d been driven back to the sea on the northern coast of mainland Europe. They were exhausted, outnumbered, and completely encircled. In and around the small French town of Dunkirk they were fighting for their lives.
Signor Biagi turned the knob on their wireless set. The voice of the broadcaster crackled through from London, sending out the call for the little boats to come and bring the soldiers home. And they responded, streaming out from every port, along the South Coast, and from further north they came, river cruisers, fishing smacks, anything that could float.
‘This is crazy,’ said one of the apprentice boys standing at the counter. ‘These are ordinary sailors they’re asking to do this, just civilians. Some of their boats are no bigger than dinghies. You can’t expect them to go over there and face shells and bombs just to pick up half a dozen men.’
‘They’ll have to get them off any road they can,’ said Kezzie’s grandad, who was in the café. ‘That’s the most experienced troops we’ve got. We can’t let them be rounded up.’
They looked at each other, each one with their own thoughts. It could be Michael, Robert Price, Signora Casella’s son, and any one of all the rest, brothers, lovers, husbands, fathers, waiting on the shoreline to be rescued. Being pounded by artillery and rifle fire, hoping that help would arrive.
Kezzie’s grandad spoke heavily. ‘We’re taking a beating today. Now their U-boats will control the Channel. We might have to fight an invasion … The only thing that stands between us and them now are the boys in the Air Force.’
In the next few weeks Britain waited … and prepared itself. The Home Guard was formed and 250,000 men volunteered for this citizen’s army. On Kezzie’s last visit to Bella the road signs had been removed. No church bells were to be rung. The country knew that when next they heard the peal of bells it would signal that the enemy had arrived.
Just after Dunkirk, on the 11th of June, Mussolini declared war on the Allies. One late afternoon when Kezzie was at home ironing, there came a tremendous pounding on the front door. She ran quickly to open it. Peg stood there. Her hair was wildly uncombed and her face was streaked with tears.
Kezzie at War Page 18
