For Better, For Worse

by June Francis

  ‘I could speak to her now,’ said Milly thoughtfully, ‘but she might want some time to mull it over – and she might not like us sticking our noses into her business.’

  As it was, Alice said that she would need to send a wire to her son as it was his house, but confessed that a lodger was something that she had been thinking about.

  ‘In the meantime,’ she said, indicating to Simon with a nod of her head, ‘maybe, this young man could stay and that way he could also keep an eye on Kyle and Jane’s place.’

  ‘Now there’s a thought,’ said Simon. ‘Can I bring our dog, Fergie? He could come with me and I could take him for runs in the park as it’s just across the way!’

  Ben and Grace agreed to think about it, and came to an agreement together overnight that Simon should go; so things were set in motion. It was with a heavy heart that Grace watched Simon pack his things, but there was no question that helping others came first, a lesson that Grace had had drummed into her from a young girl.

  Grace saw little of Ben, and even less of Simon during that autumn, as Simon settled into living with Alice as a permanent lodger. He seemed happy enough from what Grace could tell from her regular visits.

  Meanwhile, Grace continued in her daily household routine, but often found her spirits flagging – it seemed to her that bombing raid followed bombing raid, with just the odd day’s reprieve. Of course, she knew that London was being severely targeted, but at the close of November, Merseyside underwent a real baptism of fire as Hitler’s forces attempted to destroy the city’s docks. Wave after wave of bombers attacked. Grace huddled in the shelter at night with Irene, frantic with worry, as Ben and Jimmy went out on fire-watching duty to face the destruction. Luckily, both men returned home. They were exhausted, eyes red-rimmed from smoke and dust, but unhurt. Grace again counted her blessings as Ben reported that intense fires still burnt on the docks and hundreds of Liverpudlians were made homeless as their homes were destroyed overnight.

  Later that afternoon, Grace was sitting at home with Milly knitting socks for the troops and discussing the bomb attack, when Beryl surprised them with a visit. Beryl had Sammy and little Elizabeth with her, and as Grace opened the door, she was taken aback by the sight of her cousin’s dishevelled and filthy appearance. Beryl was normally so careful about her appearance.

  ‘Whatever’s happened?’ Grace asked, dragging her cousin inside quickly with the children.

  ‘Davy’s ship has been torpedoed and he’s missing, presumed dead!’ wailed Beryl in a tight voice, pale beneath the dirt streaked over her face. ‘It seemed unreal after what happened last night as well!’

  Grace pushed her down into a chair in front of the fire and took the baby from her. Immediately, Sammy climbed onto his mother’s lap. Grace sent the twins into the parlour with some toys, and then said, ‘Milly, make a pot of tea, please?’

  Milly hurried into the back kitchen and put on the kettle. She got out cups and milk and sugar before hurrying back into the kitchen in time to hear Beryl say, ‘—Mam’s in the Royal Infirmary now. She was taken to Smithdown Road hospital first, but it was full.’ She paused. ‘Dad had just helped me to get the kids out and was holding us back on the other side of the street. We were staying overnight with them – the raid started and we knew it was going to be a big one. We didn’t have a chance to get to the shelter before we heard the bombs going off—’ She gulped back her tears and it was several minutes before she was able to carry on. ‘Mam was stupid. She ignored what Dad was saying, and ran across the street back into the house, saying she must fetch something. Dad was going to go after her, but a fire engine had just managed to get through and a fire bobby dragged him back. Dad was talking away at him, nineteen to the dozen, frantic like, but…’

  Grace felt sick, able to see the horrible scene in her mind’s eye. ‘I presume a fire bobby went in and rescued Aunt Polly?’ she whispered.

  ‘Not immediately! The chief wouldn’t let him because gas pipes had been damaged in the nearby blast and he couldn’t enter until he was wearing the right clothing and had the right equipment.’

  ‘But he managed to rescue her?’ said Milly.

  Beryl nodded. ‘But I don’t think she’ll recover.’ She closed her eyes.

  ‘Is there any more tea?’ asked Grace, at a loss for what to do.

  Milly rushed into the kitchen and topped up the teapot with hot water. When she returned to the room it was to find Grace and Beryl in tears. The boy was howling, and Grace was rocking the baby. Milly took charge and told Grace to sit down. She then asked the boy kindly to shut up making that nonsense. He stuttered to a stop and asked for his daddy.

  Milly handed a cup of tea to Beryl and then to Grace. She gave Sammy a drink of milk with an encouraging smile. ‘So, where’s your dad now, Beryl?’

  ‘Still at the hospital, I should imagine.’ Beryl rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘He told me I was to come straight here and let Grace know. He thought she might need to see Mam.’

  Grace gulped her tea too quickly and burnt her mouth. After a few minutes she said, ‘Where’s Marion?’

  ‘She wasn’t home. She and her best friend have been called up and have joined the WAAF,’ Beryl said. ‘Dad said she’s stationed at an airfield near Southport.’

  ‘That’s probably Woodvale. Does he have a number he can phone the base on in emergencies?’

  ‘I think so. What about Dougie being told?’ Grace said hesitantly.

  ‘Dad’s going to telephone his commanding officer.’

  ‘Most likely he’ll be given compassionate leave,’ said Milly, who had been all ears.

  ‘Is your dad going to stay with you at your house while he sorts things out?’ asked Grace.

  ‘I don’t know what he’s going to do yet,’ said Beryl. ‘And, as you know, our house is only small…’

  ‘Anyway, first things first,’ said Milly, taking charge again. ‘You’ll want to go to the hospital, Grace.’

  Grace nodded. ‘I’ll probably have to walk. How did you get here, Beryl?’

  ‘I walked. It’s the only way, unless you have a bike.’

  ‘You must be exhausted,’ said Grace. ‘You stay here with the kids. I don’t know what time Ben will get in, but if he’s in before me, can you explain what’s happened and where I’ve gone? Listen out for Irene in case she wakes. She’s having a nap upstairs.’

  Milly stayed with Beryl, thinking she might be glad of the company, and Grace hurried off to the hospital, hoping her aunt would still be alive when she arrived. The closer she got to the city centre, the thicker the air seemed with dust and the smell of smoke and charred wood. The roads were littered with debris, but she guessed it would be even worse nearer the docks.

  Grace felt uneasy as she entered the hospital grounds, as not only were there injured people wandering around in a daze, but several ambulances were coming and going. She spotted Douglas standing in the entrance and ran towards him. Grace placed her arms around her uncle and hugged him hard.

  ‘I’m not too late, am I?’ she cried.

  ‘She was still alive when I left her, muttering away to herself,’ he said. ‘Earlier on, she pulled off the oxygen mask suddenly and gasped at me, “Douglas, you have to let Dougie know.” Then before I could say a word, she’d stopped, and her head flopped against the pillow. I thought that was it, Grace, so I called a nurse, but before she arrived, Polly had gathered her strength again and whispered, “I must see Grace before I go.”’

  ‘Have you managed to get through to Dougie’s commanding officer?’ asked Grace.

  ‘A doctor did it for me,’ said Douglas. ‘He was from Edinburgh and said he’d make himself understood quicker than I would. Real kind of him considering how busy he was.’

  ‘Did the doctor manage to speak to Dougie as well?’ Grace asked, moving aside to allow several people to pass into the hospital.

  ‘No, but the officer told him that Dougie would be on his way in no time. He was going to send hi
m by car with a driver as there are delays on the railway due to raids further south that have damaged the tracks.’

  ‘How kind some people are,’ agreed Grace, despite knowing she would rather not have to see Dougie in the days ahead. But first things first, she had to make things right with her aunt Polly. Hand in hand with her uncle, he led her into the hospital and past reception and along passages and through doorways until they came to the room where Polly was lying in bed with an oxygen mask covering her mouth and nose. Her hands were swathed in bandages, but Grace could see where her hair had been singed by the heat of the fire and ointment smeared on the burns on her forehead. Tears ran down Grace’s face and she threw herself down beside her aunt and cried, ‘Oh, Aunt Polly, please forgive me. I’m sorry I hurt you and I’ve missed you so much.’ Polly’s eyelashes fluttered and her eyelids opened, and she attempted to focus on her niece’s face. ‘Hope, is that you?’ she whispered.

  Grace glanced at her uncle and he shook his head and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

  ‘No, it’s me Grace,’ she said.

  ‘Grace,’ Polly’s moth moved as if she was tasting the name. Then she reached out one of her bandaged hands. ‘You came. I’m sorry too. I let your mother down. Forgive me.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Grace. ‘I love you.’

  ‘Dougie, I was wrong…’ Her voice trailed away.

  There was the sound of a door closing, Grace glanced over her shoulder and saw a woman in uniform. ‘Marion!’ she uttered, struggling to her feet to make way for her cousin.

  Marion helped her up and said, ‘I’m sorry too for all the times I was horrible to you in the past. Please forgive me?’

  Grace’s emotions were running high and all she could do was to squeeze her cousin’s hand. Then she left the room, desperately in need of Ben’s arms around her.

  Chapter 29

  Liverpool: December 1940

  Grace was woken by Ben on the morning of 6th December as he put a cup of tea and a slice of jam toast gently down by her bedside. She gazed up into his clean-shaven face and smiled.

  ‘You are good,’ she said. ‘Does this mean that you’re attending the funeral with me?’

  ‘I wouldn’t let you go alone,’ he said.

  ‘I’m glad,’ she said, placing her arms about his neck as he carefully moved the breakfast tray on the bed beside her. She brought down his head and kissed him. He returned her kiss and then freed himself and stepped away from the bed. Going over to the wardrobe he removed the only black dress from its interior and placed it softly on a chair. She thanked him and reached for the cup of tea.

  ‘At least Dougie’ll be going back to Scotland this evening and we’ve found Uncle Douglas, Beryl and the children a place to live together.’

  Grace thought thankfully how there had not been an air raid on Merseyside since the beginning of December. Most of the citizens on Merseyside had been able to sleep through the night, although the trials of the November bombing had been great, especially for her family – when Beryl had returned to her street after informing Grace about her aunt Polly’s condition and Davy’s presumed death, it had been to discover that several houses, including her own, had been near-destroyed by the blast of an incendiary. Beryl and the children had returned to Grace’s house in a state of total despair. Not only had she lost her husband in a day, but also her home and her mother.

  When Grace had returned from the hospital accompanied by her uncle Douglas, she had found Beryl in pieces, being comforted by Milly. Instantly, Grace had thought of Kyle and had hurried to Milly’s house with her friend. A phone call was put through to the relocated orphanage up in Lancashire and Grace was able to speak to Kyle and explain the situation. Without hesitation he agreed to his house being used by her uncle, cousin and children, as they were now all homeless. Grace had thanked him profusely, grateful that her family didn’t have to squeeze into her small house or take refuge in the local church with the other bombed-out families. She returned home to make the arrangements with her cousin and uncle.

  * * *

  Again this morning, thinking back to that terrible night, Grace mouthed silent thanks that Ben and her children had survived and for the kindness of friends. She prayed for the bereaved and injured, and her heart was heavy as she dressed for her aunt’s funeral. Her aunt was to be buried in the plot that held Grace’s maternal grandparents and her mother and father. Milly was looking after Irene and Beryl’s children while the funeral was taking place at Anfield Cemetery Chapel.

  Grace thought back to the day her aunt had died. It had been several days after the bombing attack. Polly had rallied for some time, but had not been able to overcome the extent of her burns. Dougie had eventually arrived and spent a few minutes with his mother before she passed. He was in tears but pulled himself together. Douglas was also at his wife’s bedside and he was able to tell them that Grace had managed to find him and Beryl and the children somewhere to live.

  ‘Where is this place?’ Dougie asked.

  ‘It overlooks Newsham Park and belongs to a friend of hers. They know her friend Milly really well. He and his wife are up Lancashire assisting with the children from the Seaman’s Orphanage.’

  ‘Oh, I know who you mean,’ said Marion. ‘They’re called Kyle and Jane.’

  ‘That’s handy for Grace, isn’t it?’ sneered Dougie. ‘She lands on her feet all right – first she rejects me, as we’re not good enough for her, now she gets to play saviour to our family, and after all the trouble she’s caused.’

  ‘Ben’s son is lodging next door with an elderly neighbour whose son is away with the Royal Navy. Helping her out and such,’ said Douglas, ignoring his son’s remarks.

  ‘How old is the son?’ asked Dougie pointedly.

  ‘I think he’s coming up to sixteen,’ said his father. ‘But that’s all I know. Anyway, I’ve matters to see to, so I’ll see you later.’ He walked away.

  Grace knew this because her uncle had told her, she had only seen Dougie once since his return and for that she was relieved; although she did feel sorry for him, knowing how dear he had been to his mother.

  Grace tried to put these thoughts out of her head as she linked her arm through Ben’s as they walked along Belmont Road in the direction of the cemetery. She could not help but think of her father and his funeral. Ben suddenly squeezed her arm against his side.

  ‘You’re thinking of your dad,’ he said.

  She nodded, feeling too emotional to speak. She wondered how he would have coped with another war if he had lived to see it. Would he have joined the Home Guard, wanting to do his bit? It would have been tough having him to worry about as well during the bombing. Worrying about Ben was enough, let alone what Simon was up to… She forced herself to think of something else.

  The funeral service was short, but Dougie embarrassed the family by making as if to throw himself in the grave after his mother’s coffin had been lowered. It was Marion who pulled him back, hissing, ‘Silly boy, that’s the last thing Mam would want you to do. She would want you to make something of yourself, to make her proud.’

  ‘She was always proud of me,’ sniffled Dougie. ‘I failed her by not giving her a grandson.’ He threw daggers at Grace across the grave. She pretended not to hear, not wanting to argue at a graveside in front of others. She was aware of his eyes fixated on her as she stood alone, while Ben spoke to her uncle and the vicar after the service. He seemed about to approach her, only for Ben to shake hands abruptly with her uncle and the vicar and step towards her.

  He gripped Grace’s hand and said in a low voice, ‘We’re going now. I’ve explained to your uncle that I need to get home. I’m wanted this evening in case there’s a raid.’

  ‘You think there will be?’ she asked, a tremor in her voice.

  ‘I hope not, but I don’t believe Hitler’s finished with us just yet,’ he said grimly.

  There was no raid that evening and neither in the weeks approaching Simon’s sixteenth birthda
y. Simon had voiced a desire to go to the flicks, but the film he wanted to see, The Thief of Bagdad, which starred Sabu, was not to be shown until Christmas. A promise was made for him to see it later, and in the meantime, on his birthday Ben and Grace would take him to Busman’s Honeymoon, as they had all missed it the first time and it was now being re-released. That evening, they remembered to take gasmasks and torches with them and hoped there would not be an air raid to spoil the show. They were happy, as they came out of the cinema, having enjoyed the film, to find the sky clear. They returned home for a birthday celebration of cocoa and homemade Victoria sponge. Simon then returned to his lodgings, laden with half of the Victoria sponge to share with his landlady, Alice, and his extended family next door.

  * * *

  Four evenings later, just before six o’clock, Ben, having received word that a heavy raid was on its way and fearful that the local shelter would be overcrowded, decided to escort Grace and Irene to Alice’s house through the blackout. Ben told Simon that a raid was on its way and that he should report for duty as a messenger. Simon scrambled to gather his uniform and Grace kissed and hugged them and told them to be sensible as she waved them off. She fought back tears as she watched them until they were out of sight, Simon wheeling his bicycle alongside his dad.

  As she knocked on her uncle’s door, the air-raid siren started up. Her uncle opened the door and started in surprise at the sight of her. Before he could speak, she told him that she would be next door with Alice in the cellar.

  ‘I’d join you and Beryl, only Alice won’t shift, she has hers just as she likes it. See you in the morning.’

  She wasted no time hurrying back to Alice in the cellar just as she heard the drone of planes and then the thud of an incendiary landing nearby. Alice already had the kettle on her primus stove in the cellar and soon they were enjoying a cuppa and a broken biscuit each, while Irene enjoyed a rusk in milk out of a mug. For a while the raid didn’t give them much cause to set their teeth on edge, but just after eight o’clock the noise grew almost unbearable. Alice began to sing the 23rd Psalm and they continued singing until eleven o’clock. The noise outside lessened, but did not die away completely and continued until four in the morning when the All Clear finally sounded.