by Anne Baker
‘We’ll both have to buckle down and learn how to earn a living, especially me, but we’ll have as much fun as we can while we do it.’ Milo laughed. ‘When it comes to marriage,
I want you to promise you’ll give me first refusal.’
Alison doubled up with the giggles. ‘I promise,’ she said.
The following week, Milo received a reply to his job application to Cammell Laird’s, inviting him to come for an interview in three days’ time. He was nervous because such a lot was riding on this. He looked at his suits, he had three that he used to wear on a three-week rota to work in the family antique shop and he could still get into them. Mum had had one cleaned for him to wear to his father’s funeral, so it would be that one.
He felt he was received in a friendly fashion and assured he’d be given every opportunity to learn to be a ship’s architect, though he’d need to do a basic engineering course first. ‘You’ll have to attend night school classes from this autumn – and pass the relevant examinations, of course.’
‘Of course.’
He was told that Henry Jenkins had given him an outstanding reference but that he’d need to get another. He thought perhaps he’d go straight over to Liverpool and see George at the shop. He’d probably be willing to provide one and it was arranged that he would start work next Monday.
Milo was thrilled, at last he was making a start on his career. Alison reported that her mother had agreed that she should apply for a place in the secretarial college Charlotte had attended for the autumn term. ‘So we’ve both made a start,’ she said.
The night the chicks were due to hatch was fine and clear, with the moon almost full. Everybody dreaded that combination because it meant that somewhere on Merseyside they were going to have another visit from enemy planes. Milo hoped it wasn’t going to be their area tonight, but he had to stand by in case it was.
Milo and Alison were keeping a close eye on Hetty’s nest. It all happened as they’d expected, but no sooner had the first chick emerged from its shell than the air-raid siren sounded. Milo was aghast. ‘I’ll have to go. It’s my turn for fire-watching.’
‘So will I,’ Alison said. Milo knew she had strict instructions to return home whenever an air-raid warning sounded.
It fell to Leonie to look after the chicks and she was fascinated. Hetty pulled the skin from around each chick in turn and helped them out of their shells while Polly charged round the henhouse instead of going up on the perch, as though she wanted to help too.
One egg appeared addled and one chick somehow got trodden on and survived only one day, but within a week Milo had eight healthy chicks and Polly had taken over the mothering of two of them.
He went round to ask Alison if she’d like to come and see them, and all the Greenway sisters, Aileen, Joan and Pat, came with her and billed and cooed over the chicks for ages. Pat couldn’t get over the fact that the hens had come from the farm where Amy was evacuated and she’d chosen their names.
‘The next time Amy rings,’ she said, ‘I shall tell her that I’ve seen them and they’re lovely. Milo, would you bring us a broody hen back next time you go?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I can’t keep asking Auntie Bessie for her hens. She’s very kind to Amy and to us, but her hens are her livelihood.’
‘I’ll ask Amy to do it when I speak to her.’
‘No Pat,’ Alison said firmly. ‘Don’t be a pest.’
‘Dad will buy a hen for me, especially as it will lay—’
‘No! Dad is trying to evacuate you all to somewhere safer. The last thing he’ll need is to have chickens to evacuate as well.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
MARCH THE 15TH WAS Elaine and Tom’s wedding anniversary and Milo was delighted when he and his mother were invited to have dinner at their home. June was expected too and so were the couple who lived next door. He was looking forward to getting to know Elaine and her husband better because he knew they were important to his mother and sister. He hoped fervently that the Luftwaffe would allow them peace to enjoy the evening.
If all went well, he and his family would walk home afterwards. If not, the Cliffords had an Anderson shelter in their back garden with four bunk beds in it so Mum and June could spend the rest of the night with them. It was his turn to fire-watch so if the air-raid warning sounded, he would have to leave them.
He fed the chicks and shut them up for the night before getting ready. His mother came home from work to wash and change into a red dress she’d made for herself recently. In case she had to spend the night in Elaine’s shelter, she packed her siren suit in a bag to take with her. She never went anywhere without this warm, one-piece outfit of trousers and jacket with a zip up the front. It was proving very popular because it was so practical, even the Prime Minister Winston Churchill and his wife wore siren suits. Mum had made one for Milo as well as for countless customers.
He felt he was made very welcome. Tom had managed to get some wine and Elaine provided an excellent spread in the circumstances. His mother had contributed a pint of milk, four fresh eggs and a large tin of peaches she’d been hoarding for months. He understood the neighbours had done something similar. He liked them, they turned out to be good company and the first part of the evening was very jolly.
But it was a fine night and the moon was full, and they were all expecting another raid. The last two nights had been quiet, London and Birmingham had received the enemy’s attention, and they couldn’t believe they’d be left in peace for a third night.
In the event, the Luftwaffe came earlier than usual. Elaine was apologising for the drink she was about to make to finish off the meal. ‘Sorry, we are reduced to Camp Coffee or tea,’ when the air-raid warning blared across the town, sending shivers down Milo’s spine.
‘Oh, blast,’ Elaine cried in frustration. ‘I hoped they’d take a night off tonight. Why do they have to spoil everything?’
‘It might be a false alarm,’ Tom said, trying to soothe her. ‘Or they may be heading somewhere else. Let’s sit tight and carry on for a while. More dessert, June?’
Milo hurriedly scraped up the last of his trifle and stood up. ‘Thank you for a lovely meal. It’s been a great evening but I have to go.’
‘You did warn us it was your turn to fire-watch,’ Elaine said sadly.
He could see that the warning had put them all on edge. As he pulled on his warm coat and the balaclava helmet June had knitted for him, they were listening for further ominous sounds. ‘Goodnight,’ he said. ‘See you later, Mum.’
‘Hope you have a quiet night,’ she called after him.
Milo jogged up to the church and climbed to the top of the tower. Britain’s newest radar system meant they were given earlier warnings that enemy aircraft were approaching. But tonight he barely had time to survey the river glistening in the moonlight with the barrage balloons floating in the sky and every ship clearly visible before the first bombs began to fall.
He was watching for the spurt of orange flames against the grey background and was thankful to see nothing like that but he was aware of bombs bursting all round him and was afraid that one had fallen very close to his home. He kept looking in that direction and from the distance of three-quarters of a mile or so he thought it looked different. It seemed hazier down there than it had, and had the roof changed?
Another wave of enemy planes was overhead and he saw a fire spring to life and gather strength. He leapt to the phone to report its position. Another fire was clearly visible on the docks. He could see as well as hear the anti-aircraft guns firing from the Shore Fields.
As soon as there was a lull, his gaze went towards his own home. There was more cloud about than there had been and when one passed in front of the moon it was quite dark. He wasn’t sure but he had a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach that their house had been damaged. It worried him and he had to fight the urge to rush home to find out, but his duty was to stay here in case another wave of bombers came over. He was glad nobody h
ad been at home tonight.
At last the all-clear sounded and he was free to go. He ran most of the way home. When he reached the back garden he was so shocked he had to hold on to the gate until he got his breath back. Part of the roof had indeed gone. A road of terraced houses backed along the side wall of their garden and he thought that the two closest had also been damaged. He could hear the wail of an ambulance from that road but could see nothing.
Fortunately nobody had been here to get hurt. Their bungalow was L-shaped, and one gable end now seemed to be just a wall so their main living rooms were without a roof. He heard a few more slates slide down to crash and splinter in front of the house. All the windows and most of the frames had gone from the bedroom wing. He felt appalled, paralysed with horror. Where would they live?
His own shed, the old summer house by the back gate, was still intact, even the window glass was in place. He thought of the hens and baby chicks then and was relieved to find that shed intact too. He opened the door and heard Hetty’s soft motherly clucks. There was a panic-stricken fluttering of feathers but he could make out that the other hen was all right. He blessed the fact that they had two acres of garden.
He walked round to the front, glass splintering under his feet. He could see roof timbers and slates scattered over the front garden and some down on the Esplanade and even on the shore. The tide was full in and lapping gently on the sand, sounding exactly as it always had. Suddenly, all his strength seemed to desert him and he felt absolutely whacked. He told himself this was not surprising since he’d worked all day and been on his feet for half the night. He felt a desperate need to lie down and sleep, but where was the best place?
He tried to get inside the house but the front door was in place and still locked. He went round to the back. They had beds in the cellar but it was very dark on this side of the building. Like everybody else he kept a small torch in his pocket with the glass half blanked out to limit the light. He shone it down the stone steps and saw the way down was almost blocked with glass, slates and general debris. Also, the roof had gone from this part of the building, what if there was no floor either? He couldn’t see well enough to find out one way or the other.
A couple more slates crashed down inside the building. It wouldn’t be safe to go in until daylight when he’d be able to see what the damage was. He went to the bedroom wing and walked through the ceiling-to-floor Victorian sash window straight into his bedroom. Half the heavily moulded ceiling was down and there was glass everywhere, sometimes quite big pieces because he’d glued paper in a criss-cross pattern to prevent it splintering.
He snatched the eiderdown from his bed. Glass from it tinkled down so he shook off all he could, grabbed his pillows and as many of his blankets as he could and retreated to his shed. By the dim light of his torch he made a nest of his bedding on the floor and took off his shoes and his heavy coat. He lay down and pulled his coat over him and nothing could have stopped him falling asleep.
Milo woke up in the grey of dawn feeling stiff and cold. He put on his shoes to take another look at the damage to his home. It confirmed his worst fears. It would not be possible to live in it now. Pots, pans and broken crockery he didn’t recognise had been blown across their garden. All that must have come from the houses in the next road. The sight of such destruction made him feel sick but he knew now what he must do. He set off to walk to Elaine’s house and break the news to his mother.
Tom was up in his dressing gown making morning tea. Milo felt depressed and near to tears as he blurted out the news. He was pushed towards a chair at the kitchen table and a cup of tea put in front of him. Within moments Mum was sitting opposite to him and then June and Elaine were pulling out chairs to join them. He tried to tell them what he’d seen but he couldn’t stop the tears rolling down his face. ‘Where are we going to live?’ he wailed.
‘There’s the flat over the shop,’ his mother said quietly. ‘It’s a roof over our heads, isn’t it?’ He was surprised at her stoic attitude. ‘We need to salvage the beds because we have none there. Were the beds all right?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’
Tom said, ‘I’ll drive you down to see for yourselves.’
‘Thank you,’ Mum said. ‘The sooner we sort this out, the better.’ Milo stood up to go with them.
‘Not you,’ Leonie said. ‘Milo, you’re out on your feet. You need more sleep.’
‘I’m coming,’ he told her. ‘I can’t sleep now.’
Milo thought the damage looked worse than ever now the sun was getting up.
‘It doesn’t look safe to go inside,’ Tom warned. ‘That wall could collapse at any minute.’
‘It’s now or never,’ his mother said grimly. ‘We’ve got to have beds and bedding.’
‘Yours first then,’ Milo said. ‘Let’s get out what we can.’
‘Mine’s too big for the small rooms over the shop,’ she said. ‘Single beds would be better. We’ll take them all, yours, June’s and Amy’s.’
Milo found himself in his bedroom shaking the dusk and dirt from a paperback he’d only half read, and picking up his alarm clock. He could see June was bringing out the same sorts of things from her room.
‘We should concentrate on getting the valuables and essentials,’ he told her.
‘I want these.’
He found two suitcases and gave her one. ‘Put your beads and other trinkets in here,’ he advised.
They worked hard dragging out all they could into the garden and then had to collapse the beds while Elaine loaded whatever would fit into the car. Soon they were all covered with the grey dust that smelled so horrible.
Ida had opened up the shop by the time they got there and was surprised to see both them and the growing pile of domestic goods and utensils being unloaded on the pavement outside.
‘I thought we got off quite lightly last night,’ she said, aghast as she helped wipe everything down before it was carried upstairs.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to stand in for me today,’ Leonie told her.
‘I’ll be glad to. Everyone will understand if I tell them why. But I can’t work all day, I’ll have to leave in time to collect my grandchildren from school.’
‘I know, I’ll be grateful for any extra hours you can do.’
Milo telephoned his boss at Cammell Laird’s to explain why he hadn’t shown up for work, and then he asked to speak to Henry Jenkins.
‘Don’t think of coming in today,’ Mr Jenkins told him, ‘and if you need any help, come round and see us tonight.’
Milo thought it amazing that the phone still worked and while his family’s life had been savaged, so little seemed to have changed in the rest of the world.
Elaine wanted to move her desk out from the larger bedroom.
‘No,’ Leonie said. ‘Milo’s bed can go against the far wall and you can continue to work at this end.’
‘After all,’ Milo said, ‘you only use it in the daytime.’
‘Milo, are you sure you won’t mind doubling up?’ Elaine said.
‘He won’t,’ his mother assured her. ‘Milo can be pretty messy but no doubt you’ll both manage once you get used to it.’
‘I’ll have to go to the office,’ Tom said, ‘but I’ll run you back to Mersey Reach. Elaine will want to stay and help you sort things out.’
Before she left, Leonie rang George Courtney at the shop and asked him to come down to see if any antiques could be salvaged. Back on the Esplanade they found the wardens and police had taken charge and were telling them it was too dangerous to go inside the house again.
‘We have to,’ his mother insisted, ‘if we are to salvage any more from our home of thirty years. We need the stuff, we can’t buy replacements.’
Milo thought of what had happened to Pa when he’d ignored that advice. But he had to go in too, he couldn’t leave that to the women of the family. They carried on.
‘We have officially requested that gas, water and electricity s
upplies be cut off,’ a warden told them, ‘and what remains of the building be made safe.’
‘You think it’s a write-off?’
‘Almost certainly,’ he said.
‘I’ve lived here all my married life.’ Milo heard the agony in his mother’s voice.
‘I’m sorry, it’s official policy. I understand there’s government compensation you can apply for.’
‘All the same, we’ll salvage all we can now,’ she said in her usual stoic manner.
Milo saw George Courtney and one of his assistants arrive in the firm’s van to help. They, too, crunched through the broken glass to climb inside and assess what remained.
‘Careful,’ Milo warned. ‘The floor isn’t safe in the dining room, part of it has fallen in.’ He carried out several of the heavy ship pictures of which his father had been so proud.
‘I’ll have them all cleaned up and sell them in the shop,’ George said. ‘A few of them need to have their frames repaired and at least two have scratch marks on the painting itself, but I think they’ll sell.’
‘Do your best with them, George.’
‘I will.’
Milo helped him pick out the best of the antiques to go to the shop and George arranged for a considerable collection of household bric-a-brac to be sent to auction.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ON THAT SAME FRIDAY, AMY was also having a difficult time. Her examination was getting close and she was doing homework every night. She felt she had very little time to herself but in addition, last month Mrs Roberts had decided that all her pupils should learn a craft. ‘Would you like to learn to knit, Amy? Or do embroidery?’
She didn’t want to do either at the moment, she wanted to relax and read when she’d finished her homework. But June was good at knitting so she picked that.
Mrs Roberts had loaned her a simple pattern for gloves that would fit her, Auntie Bessie had provided her with some blue wool and she’d painstakingly begun to knit. Now every evening, in addition to homework, she had to knit enough for Mrs Roberts to appreciate that her glove was growing.
