by Maureen Lee
“I don’t know. We’d had no contact for years.”
“Nor me.” He sighed. “Now, I shall go to bed, though first I must go to the lavatory. My old waterworks aren’t what they used to be.”
“Can you see all right in the dark?”
“My dear, I have been going to the lavatory in the yard for over fifty years. I have gone through mists and fog, through thunderstorms and snowdrifts. I could find my way blindfolded.”
He returned, minutes later, sounding slightly alarmed.
“There’s someone crying in the yard!”
“In our yard?”
“No, next door’s. It sounds like Dilys.”
“Oh dear!” Ruth bit her lip. “You go to bed, Dad. I’ll see to her.” He’d had enough excitement for tonight.
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure,” she said firmly.
As soon as he’d gone, Ruth went outside. A curious stillness hung over the Bootle night air, as if the dust was settling from the raid and suffocating the small town into silence. The sky over the docks was a brilliant pink from the fires burning below.
At first, Ruth could hear nothing from next door, but after a while she became aware of a dull, miserable snuffling sound which was interrupted by an occasional sob.
“Is that you, Dilys?” she called.
The snuffling stopped. After a while, a hoarse voice said, “Yes.”
“What’s the matter, dear?”
There was another pause before the girl replied, The mam’s thrown me out.”
It was Ruth’s turn to pause. She couldn’t very well conduct a conversation through a six-foot brick wall in the middle of the night. “You’d better come in a minute.”
She half expected the girl to refuse. Instead, the latch was lifted on the Evans’ back gate. Ruth opened her own gate to let the girl in.
Once inside the house, she lit the gas mantle and told the girl to sit down. “Oh, you poor thing!” she exclaimed when she turned round. Dilys’s podgy face was black and blue and there was a cut under one eye.
“Did your mother do that?” she asked, shocked.
The girl nodded. “She hit me with a coat hanger.”
“But why?”
Dilys frowned. Already plain, her injuries only added to her unattractive appearance. Her face was covered in spots and there was a suppurating boil on her chin.
“She says I’m having a baby.”
Ruth swallowed hard. “She says!”
“I haven’t had a period for ages and I’m getting fat.” The girl frowned again and looked down at her stomach. She pulled her black skirt smooth. She was already plump, but under the skirt there showed a definitely pregnant bulge.
“But, Dilys,” Ruth said reasonably, “women don’t just have babies out of thin air. You have to . . . ” She stopped, unable to find the words. “I mean, you have to have been with a man to have a baby.”
Dilys looked vacantly at Ruth. “What do you mean?”
Ruth felt completely out of her depth. “Has your mother ever told you the facts of life, dear?” she asked wildly.
The girl shook her head. She looked quite stupid, as if the entire situation were beyond her comprehension. Her eyes glazed over, and she appeared to concentrate hard as if trying to remember. “There was a man,” she said eventually.
“But even so, I can’t possibly be having a baby.”
Ruth blinked. “Who was this man? What did he do?”
“He was a guest. I thought the room was empty, but when I went in to clean, he was still in bed. He asked me to get in with him.”
“So you did?”
“Well, I had to, didn’t I?” Dilys answered, faintly indignant.
“You must never argue with the guests. The guests are always right, according to Mrs Haywood. She’s the Domestic Supervisor,” the girl added by way of explanation.
“I doubt if Mrs Haywood meant you to go that far, Dilys,” Ruth said faintly. “When did this happen?”
“Last summer some time,” the girl said vaguely.
“Did you tell your mother this?”
“She didn’t want to listen. She called me a whore and threw me out.” Dilys glanced around the room. “I like your hearthrug. Is it new?”
Ruth glanced at the girl in astonishment. She’d stopped snuffling as soon as she came in, and had seemed more sullen than upset to begin with. Now, she appeared quite calm and entirely unfazed by the whole episode. Perhaps, Ruth reasoned, she was so used to her mother’s hysterical tantrums that they’d ceased to have any effect. She appeared unable to realise the seriousness of the fact she was almost certainly expecting a baby.
“I’ll go and have a word with your mother,” Ruth sighed.
“She won’t take any notice,” Dilys called as Ruth went down the hall.
Dilys was right. Ellis opened the front door, a huge bulky figure in a tattered nightdress, her red face even redder in the glow of the vermilion night sky.
“Dilys is next door,” Ruth began, but was rudely interrupted before she could say another word.
“Well, she can stay there,” Ellis said brutally.
“May I speak to Dai?” Ruth, realising the situation was hopeless from the start, decided to try another tack.
“I sent Dai and Myfanwy to bed. It’s nothing to do with them and Dilys is nothing to do with me. I’ve disowned her. She’s a sinful girl expecting a sinful baby. I won’t even pray for her when I go to chapel on Sunday.”
“But, Ellis
The door was slammed in Ruth’s face, shaking Pearl Street to its foundations for the second time that night.
Oh, God! What on earth was she supposed to do? Ruth was about to return home when a figure came hurrying around the corner. Eileen Costello!
“Eileen?” Ruth called urgently. “Can I have a word with you?”
The woman jumped. “You gave me a fright! What on earth are you doing, wandering around in your dressing gown? What’s up?”
“Can you come into the house a minute?”
To Ruth’s relief, Eileen didn’t hesitate. “I’ll just pop indoors and tell me husband I’m home, else he’ll be worried,” she said breathlessly. “I’m terrible late, it must be gone midnight, but the bus was held up in Walton Vale, then it had to go on a detour to avoid a crater. I won’t be long.”
She was only in the house a minute before she came out again. “Is your dad all right?” she asked in a voice full of concern.
“He’s fine, it’s Dilys Evans.” Before going inside, Ruth quickly explained the situation, finishing, “I don’t know what to do with her.”
“Poor kid,” Eileen said sympathetically. “I expect she’s in a right ould state.”
“Not really. She’s far calmer than I am.”
“I’ll have a word with her.”
“Mrs Costello!” Dilys’s podgy face lit up when Eileen entered the room.
“Hallo, luv,” Eileen said gently. She knelt in front of the girl and took her hands. “I understand you’ve got yourself in a bit of a mess?”
Dilys nodded earnestly. “So me mam says.”
“How d’you feel, luv? Have you been sick, like?”
“Oh, no. I feel fine. Fact, everyone at work has been saying how well I look lately.”
Ruth dreaded to think what she must have looked like before.
“You mean, no-one at work has guessed about the baby?” Eileen asked.
The girl merely looked confused. “How could they? I don’t understand what me mam’s on about. She just took one look at me when I got out the bath, then made me get dressed so she could throw me out.”
Eileen and Ruth exchanged worried glances.
“You’ll understand soon enough, luv,” Eileen said. “Is it all right for you to go to work tomorrer?”
“Oh, yes,”
Eileen looked up at Ruth. “I think that’s best, don’t you? She can say she just walked into a door or some thing to explain away the bruises.”
“I suppose so.
” Ruth had no idea what was best. “But where’s she going to live? Is Ellis likely to take her back?”
Eileen shook her head. “I doubt it.” She patted the girl’s hand. “We’ll have to find somewhere for you to live, won’t we?”
Quite out of the blue, Dilys said childishly, “I want to join the Navy.”
“The Navy!” exclaimed Ruth.
“She’s always wanted to be a WREN,” Eileen explained.
“But she’s not nearly old enough!”
“She’s old enough to dream,” Eileen said. She got to her feet with a sigh. “Anyroad, I’d best be going. Can you put Dilys up for tonight, Ruth? Perhaps the two of us can sort things out tomorrer morning. In the meantime, I want to go round to me dad’s and see if him and our Sean are home yet. They weren’t there when I called on me way home, and I’m worried about the pair of them, what with me dad firewatching, the docks up in flames, and our Sean riding all over the place on his bike during the raids.”
Ruth nodded and hoped Eileen didn’t notice her reluctance.
She wasn’t very keen on having to give up her bed for Dilys, but she couldn’t very well put an expectant mother on the lumpy, overstuffed sofa in the parlour—nor could she expect Eileen Costello to take complete charge of the situation, as she’d rather hoped she would.
“The Jerries got Costigan’s in Stanley Road tonight,”
Eileen was saying, “and a woman told me the public shelter in Garfield Street was hit, but she didn’t know if anyone was killed. It’s like a horrible game, isn’t it? Like Tick, except you can’t run away. Oh, well!” She chucked Dilys under the chin. “Tara, luv. Don’t worry now. Ruth and me will see you’re all right.”
After Eileen had gone, Ruth took Dilys upstairs, gave her a nightdress and showed her where to sleep. The girl bounced up and down on the edge of the bed. “This feels nice and comfortable.”
“It is,” Ruth said dryly, thinking about the sofa. She stared at the girl, noting her red chapped hands and thick legs. She had scarcely any ankles. If she was going to help the girl, she wished she were more attractive with a more appealing personality. Someone, for instance, like her own daughter, Leah.
On the other hand, she thought as she carried the only spare blanket downstairs, there was absolutely no chance of becoming fond of Dilys, which was a good thing, because Ruth had no wish to become fond of anyone, man, woman or child, again.
“I’ve been thinking,” Ruth said when she called on Eileen next morning. “The most sensible thing is to find Dilys a place in a home for unmarried mothers.” She’d thought of little else all night as she’d struggled to get to sleep on the sofa. It was a way of shifting the onus for Dilys entirely onto other people - people who were trained to do it, she thought virtuously.
But to Ruth’s dismay, Eileen Costello dismissed the suggestion entirely out of hand. “Absolutely not!” She shook her head vehemently, as she ironed a small grey flannel shirt on the living room table. Her sister, Sheila, was there with two toddlers, and a white kitten slept peacefully, perched somewhat precariously on the back of an easy chair. “They’re dead awful those places. They treat the girls like fallen women and have them praying for forgiveness all the time. No, we’ll find her somewhere to live, like we promised. If Francis wasn’t home, I’d put the kid up here.”
Ruth felt she might be exaggerating about the homes, but didn’t argue. Nor did she remind Eileen that she had promised nothing. It was all Eileen’s idea that Dilys be looked after, but she seemed to take for granted that Ruth felt the same as she did, and Ruth was too ashamed to admit she didn’t. “What about the rent?” she asked.
“Dilys can pay the rent herself for the time being and she’ll have to put every spare penny aside for when she stops working. I’ll have a word with Dai on the quiet and ask him if he can contribute a few bob—I mustn’t forget to get her ration book.”
Sheila handed Ruth a cup of insipid tea.
“If necessary,” Eileen finished, “I’ll pay any shortfall meself
“You can count on me,” Ruth felt bound to add. She couldn’t help but feel a sneaking admiration for Eileen.
There hadn’t been any suggestion that Dilys should be left to get on with things alone, nor any criticism of the girl’s actions or apportioning of blame, merely an instant, positive response to help. Eileen Costello, Ruth decided, would be a good person to have as a friend if you were in trouble.
“You do realise,” Sheila said, “that Dilys Evans is a penny short of a shilling?”
“I didn’t until last night.” That morning, Dilys had gone off to work at six o’clock quite happily as if nothing untoward had happened and she’d always lived in Number 3 and not the house next door.
The back door opened and five children came pouring into the house, arguing fiercely. Tony Costello was amongst them.
“Our Caitlin’s found a big piece of shrapnel and she won’t give it to us,” one of the boys said hotly.
“I wish you wouldn’t play on bomb sites,” Sheila said fretfully. “It’s dangerous. There might be unexploded bombs.”
“But, Mam, our Caitlin’s found . . . ”
“I heard you the first time. Why should Caitlin give you the shrapnel if it was her that found it?”
“Girls aren’t supposed to have shrapnel. Shrapnel’s for boys.”
“Oh, sod off, the lot o’yis,” Sheila said irritably.
Caitlin stuck her tongue out at her brothers, and the children left. Sheila shouted, “And keep your clothes clean for school!”
Eileen had gone into the back kitchen to change the iron. Ruth noticed the way she ruffled Tony’s hair affectionately as he passed by. The two seemed to share a special rapport, Ruth thought wistfully, feeling suddenly lost without her own children.
There was a yelp from the yard and a girl’s voice screamed, The mam said it was mine!”
“Jaysus!” Sheila groaned as she went outside. There was a note approaching hysteria in her voice as she scolded her sons.
I?”
“She’s not normally so bad-tempered,” Eileen whispered as she came back with the fresh iron, “but she’s out of her mind with worry about Cal, her husband. She never normally shows it, but Aggie Donovan was round first thing this morning to say two of his ould shipmates had died when the Mayberry was sunk.”
Sheila returned, looking harassed. “I’ll be glad when they’re back at school full time.”
“They’ve closed St Joan of Arc’s down, with it being so close to the docks, like,” Eileen explained to Ruth. “The kids have to go all the way to St Monica’s, and then only for a half a day.”
Ruth, anxious for the subject to return to Dilys, listened impatiently whilst the sisters complained to each other about the inconvenience this arrangement caused.
“About Dilys,” she said after a while.
“I’m sorry, luv,” Eileen said penitently. “Here we are, yacking away, and you’ll be wanting to get to work this awy, won’t you, same as me? I think the best thing is for me to have a word with this woman at work, Miss Thomas. I reckon she’ll have a list of rooms to let, because some of the girls come from far afield and she has to find them accommodation. So, if you wouldn’t mind putting Dilys up for one more night, Ruth, we can sort something out tomorrer. Is that all right with you, luv?”
Ruth’s heart sank as she thought about another night on the sofa. “Of course it is,” she said firmly. How could she possibly refuse?
Chapter 7
By the end of November the war seemed to be poised at a particularly cruel stalemate, with no battles won, no battles lost, merely an orgy of death and destruction on either side, the main targets being innocent civilians, both British and German alike. Whilst the RAF pounded Berlin, the Luftwaffe meted out similar punishment to Britain.
“It seems daft,” Eileen Costello said bitterly. “Why don’t we just agree to bomb ourselves, at least it’d save the fuel?
We’re going nowhere at this rate.”<
br />
“Everyone says we’ve turned the corner,” Francis remarked.
“So you said before, but what bloody corner?” Eileen demanded. “The Italians have attacked Greece, our ships are being sunk like nobody’s business, and the other night the Jerries virtually wiped Coventry off the face of the earth!” Bombs had dropped every two minutes for five whole hours and the city had been reduced to rubble.
“Seems to me we’re going round in circles, not turning corners.”
“The raids can’t last forever,” Francis muttered, more to comfort himself than his wife. George Ransome kept hinting he should join the ARP, but Francis was too frightened.
“Here we go again,” Eileen groaned one Thursday night when the siren went at twenty past seven. Francis was out.
He seemed to be out a lot lately, she thought. She saw little of him, even during the weeks she was on morning shift.
Some nights she’d gone to bed by the time he arrived home, but at least he was always sober, so she didn’t mind in the slightest how long he spent away.
“Tony,” she called, “come on, under the stairs.”
Tony went in search of Snowy. “I wonder what Nick’s doing?” he said as they settled down on the mattress. The kitten hated the raids and was already curled up, shivering, on Tony’s knee.
“I’ve no idea, luv.” It was ages since he’d mentioned Nick.
“Spitfires fly over to France and strife the enemy.”
“Strafe, luv, not strife. Then I expect that’s what Nick’s doing,” she said in a tight voice.
She did her best not to think of Nick. There were times when she wondered if he was still alive—he could die and she’d never know. It would be his next-of-kin who would be informed, in other words, his mother in the USA, not Eileen. It was hard to put him out of her mind for a while, but soon awareness came that tonight’s raid was like no raid before and Nick was forgotten. It sounded as if the entire Luftwaffe had been sent to bomb the living daylights out of Liverpool.
In wave after wave they came, for hour after hour.
Eileen thanked God she was on mornings and could be with her son. She did her utmost not to show her fear, though every now and then she ducked and clutched him in her arms whenever a bomb screamed to earth close by.
