by Maureen Lee
The children were almost delirious with excitement when they reached Kirkdale and discovered a steam train took them to Kirkby. It had little narrow compartments, when meant the party could have one all to themselves.
They flung themselves backwards and forwards against the plush seats, but their grandad put his foot down when Dominic and Niall began to swing from the luggage rack.
“Sit down, the pair o’yis,” he snapped. “Behave yourselves.
You’ll have people next door complaining the way you’re carrying on.”
“But there isn’t anyone next door, Grandad. The train’s almost empty,” Niall pointed out.
“Do what your grandad says,” Sheila said sharply, “else you’ll have us all thrown off.”
Ruth Singerman sat in the corner, keeping Michael’s head safely shielded from the boisterous children, determined that he would never behave so badly when he grew up, entirely forgetting that Simon had been much worse when he was Dominic and Niall’s age. Jacob, wide awake—it was one of his good days—stared out of the window, fascinated.
“Countryside! See, Mary.” He picked up Sheila’s youngest child and sat her on his knee. “See, green fields and cows. I never dreamt there was countryside so close to home. In all the years I’ve lived in Bootle, I’ve never been this far out before.”
The cottage looked neglected and unlived-in. Ivy had begun to creep over the front door and the downstairs windows, and the inside smelt damp. Eileen lit the fire, whilst Sheila put the kettle on, and the children poured out of the back door, whooping with joy, closely followed by Jack Doyle, who couldn’t wait to get started on the garden. When Eileen went into the back kitchen, he was already turning over the earth with an ancient spade from the outhouse, and Jacob was watching with interest.
“It might be warm enough to sit outside later on,” she said.
“I feel awful about Dai,” Ruth said when Eileen took her a cup of tea. “I really overreacted, didn’t I? Perhaps I should have put a note through the door telling him we’d already arranged to go out.”
“He’ll be taking advantage of Ellis being away and having a good lie-in to sleep off last night’s beer. You never know, he might have forgotten all about New Brighton.”
“I hope so. He really loves Michael. I know I’m being selfish, but at the same time, I’m terrified he’ll take him away.”
“Stop worrying!” Eileen chided. “Where’s Michael’s bottle? I’ll make it before we leave for Mass.”
“It’s all right, I’ll do it,” Ruth said quickly. “I know exactly how much evap and water to put in.” If Eileen made Michael’s bottle, she might want to feed him.
“There’s plenty of water in the kettle. It’s already boiled.”
“Will your father be going to church?” Ruth wanted a word in private with Jack Doyle.
Eileen burst out laughing. “Not likely! Me dad’s an atheist. He can only be persuaded to set foot inside a church for a wedding or a funeral. Soon after me mam died, he tried to talk our Sheila and me out of going, but it was too late by then. We’d already been brainwashed, as he put it.”
Later, Michael asleep in the single bed upstairs, and Eileen and Sheila and the children having left for Mass, Ruth went down the garden to see Jack Doyle. Jacob was standing in the middle of the garden, his hands in his pockets, staring around in wonder.
Jack had already turned over a great expanse of earth, and numerous worms were frantically wriggling their way back into the darkness underneath. He nodded as Ruth approached, and said breathlessly, “I think I’ll have a row of beansticks by the wall, and the ‘taters in that corner over there. Have you noticed the blossom on the apple tree? It’s as pretty as a picture.’
“It’s lovely,” agreed Ruth.
“I’ve wanted a garden all me life.” He pushed the spade into the earth with his foot and upturned a great clod of black earth. “It’s good soil this, rich, you can tell by the colour. That’s ‘cos it hasn’t been used in a long time. It’s not worn out like soil can get when it’s been sown year after year.’ He paused and leaned on the spade. There was sweat dripping from his brow, but he appeared to be in his element, and his rugged, usually rather dour face shone with enthusiasm. He glanced around the wild overgrown patch of ground with an air of satisfaction—there must have been at least an acre, Ruth thought, perhaps more.
“Oh, yes, I’ve always wanted a garden.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course you can, luv. Ask away.”
“I need to get in touch with Matt Smith.”
He paused, before shoving the spade into the soil. “Do you now!”
“I don’t know where he lives.” Her rejection of his entirely unexpected proposal had seemed so final at the time, there’d seemed no need to ask for his address. But now, with Dai . . .
“His lodgings are in Southey Street, but I don’t know the number. Next time I see him, I’ll give him a message, shall I?”
“Please.”
Just then, the children came hurtling back into the garden. Having such a large space in which to play seemed to have sent them all a little wild.
Ruth went indoors, where, to her annoyance, she found Sheila Reilly nursing Michael.
“He was bawling his head off when we came in,” Sheila explained. “I can never bear to hear a baby crying, so I picked him up.” She stood Michael on her knee and jogged him up and down. “But you’re all right, now, aren’t you, you little bugger?”
“Here, let me take him.” Ruth almost snatched the baby away. Eileen and Sheila exchanged glances.
“She’s too possessive by a mile,” Sheila whispered to her sister when they were in the back kitchen making dinner.
“I don’t suppose she can help it. After all, she lost her other children. It must have seemed like a miracle, Michael turning up like that.”
“Even so,” Sheila wrinkled her nose, “I’m good enough to look after him while she’s at work, but not good enough to so much as touch him when she’s not.”
Eileen nudged her sister sharply with her elbow. “Stop moaning and get on with the dinner—and don’t put any beetroot on mine, if you don’t mind. I’ve had enough beetroot to last me the rest of me life.”
Dinner eaten, they sat in the sunny garden, though after a while, Sheila and Ruth decided it was too cold and went indoors. Jacob had found a large pair of kitchen scissors and under Jack’s direction was busy pruning the thick bushes. Eileen began to break down the overturned earth with a hoe.
“You shouldn’t be doing that in your condition!” her dad said sharply when she joined him at the bottom of the garden.
“Don’t be silly, Dad,” she snorted. “There’s some women who’ve got to scrub and clean till they’re virtually in labour. A little bit of hoeing won’t do me any harm.
Anyroad, I can’t stand doing nothing. I used to hate it when Francis wouldn’t let me go out to work and I was stuck at home all day once Tony went to school.” She could talk about Tony now, actually mention his name without a lump coming to her throat. “In fact, I’ve joined the WVS.”
Jack Doyle grunted as he wiped his brow with his sleeve. “The what?”
“The WVS, the Women’s Voluntary Service. I was helping out a bit in Norfolk, now I’ve joined proper.
After all, the baby’s not due for five months. I’ve got to do something with meself till then.” She hadn’t told them she was expecting - you could hardly tell, particularly if she wore her old tweed swagger coat. Anyroad, she couldn’t see why it should make any difference. Everyone was entitled to help with the war effort, pregnant or not!
“You’re nowt but a bloody idiot, you!” Despite the insult, Jack found it difficult to keep the pride out of his voice. His girl seemed determined to do her bit.
“Eileen!” Sheila had come to the back door. She looked agitated. “The telephone’s ringing.”
“Well, pick it up and answer it,” Eileen called. She walked towards the h
ouse, her stomach churning. There was only one person it could be.
“Not likely! I’m too scared to touch it.”
“You’re nowt but a bloody idiot, you!” Eileen said as she pushed past her sister.
“Ta, very much!” Sheila said tartly.
“That’s all right. It’s what our dad just called me.”
Sheila followed her into the hallway, where the telephone shrilled away. She watched as Eileen reached for the receiver. “What are you waiting for?” Eileen hissed.
“I just wanted to see how it was done.”
“I’m not going to pick it up until you scarper.”
Sheila stuck out her tongue and disappeared into the living room, and Eileen picked up the receiver and said, “Hallo.”
“Eileen! I had a feeling you’d be there. I called yesterday, just in case.” There was crackling on the line and his voice sounded very far away.
“Hallo, Nick.” She leaned against the wall, her mind a turmoil of emotions.
“Are you there alone?”
“No, there’s all sorts of people with me; me Dad’s busy in the garden. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Why should I mind? I’ve said before, as far as I’m concerned, the cottage is yours.” He paused. “Darling, it wasn’t final, was it, you -walking out on me like that?”
“Of course it wasn’t,” she said tiredly. It would never be final between her and Nick. She’d always known he’d call or write, or she would contact him.
“It was my fault,” he cried passionately. “It’s always my fault. We see each other so rarely, and when we do I want everything to be perfect . . . ”
“It was perfect, Nick, until you . . . until you said what you did.” She couldn’t bring herself to put his accusation into words.
“Oh, God!” he groaned. “That was a terrible thing to say, but I wish you’d stayed long enough to let me apologise, put things right. You know, darling,” his voice lightened, “perhaps what we should do is spend all our time making love. We’ve never had a single difference of opinion in bed.”
She imagined him grinning into the telephone at his end. “But that’s not possible, luv,” she reasoned. “We’ve got to be able to live in the real world. Everything was fine when it was just the two of us—and Tony—but the minute Francis came back, it all fell apart, and it’s never been the same since. I never thought it possible, Nick, but you don’t trust me.”
“But I do, I do,” he moaned. “I think we expect too much of each other. Christ, darling, if only you hadn’t gone rushing off . . . ”
“I should have stayed,” she grudgingly agreed. They would have had a blazing row, but at least everything would have been sorted out, instead of being left in a sort of limbo. He was right, she realised as a terrible feeling of guilt swept over her. She expected far too much of him. For nearly a year he’d lived on a knife’s edge, seeing his comrades killed or burnt beyond recognition.
It was a miracle he was still alive, yet when they’d met, instead of providing the little interlude of love which he so richly deserved, she’d stalked out just because he’d said something she didn’t like. If he ever said anything like that again, she’d merely laugh and make a joke of it.
Nick said eagerly, “Am I forgiven?”
She put her left hand on the receiver and cradled it against her cheek as if it was his head. “Only if you forgive me,” she said huskily.
There was distinct relief in his voice as he replied, “Of course I do.”
Eileen heard a sharp rapping noise at his end of the line.
“What’s that?”
“Someone wants to use the telephone. There’s a great queue outside the box, so I’d better hurry.” His voice became urgent. “How are you? I’ve written a million letters over the last few weeks and torn them up; they all seemed wrong.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
“Oh, darling! Did you really? You know, I even contemplated pretending to get lost and landing my plane near Liverpool so we could talk, but it wouldn’t have washed.” He laughed nervously, “I can’t believe I’m going to be a father. We really should get married before the baby’s born.”
Eileen didn’t answer. If only she hadn’t been so thin skinned they would already be married. She closed her eyes and slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. If only, if only . . .
“The trouble is,” Nick was saying, “I’ve no idea when I shall see you again. The squadron’s being sent abroad, to North Africa. We’re leaving tonight.”
“Oh, dear God, no!” she sobbed. “I hate this bloody war.
It mucks up everybody’s lives.”
“If it hadn’t been for the war, we would never have met,” he reminded her.
“Even so . . . ” There was more rapping at his end, longer and louder than the time before.
“I’ll have to ring off now, my dearest girl, else the queue will lynch me. Look after yourself-and our baby. I shall post you a big fat cheque tonight to buy everything you need—and book yourself into a first-class nursing home.”
His voice broke, “I love you, Eileen.”
There was a click at the other end and the line began to buzz.
“And I love you, Nick,” Eileen whispered. “I really do.”
Kate Thomas turned up just as everyone had sat down to their tea. “I had some work to catch up with at Dunnings, so I thought I’d take a chance on finding you here!”
“Come in the garden!” Eileen cried, delighted to see her.
“It’ll be nice and peaceful out there for a while.”
It was too chilly to sit down, so they began to stroll around the edge of the lawn. “I was so pleased when I got your letter telling me about the baby,” Kate said. “You must be thrilled.”
“I am. It’s like a miracle and the last thing I expected. The trouble is . . . ” Eileen told her about Nick’s phone call.
“I’ve been trying to act normally ever since, but me head’s been buzzing, wondering when we’ll see each other again.”
Kate squeezed her arm. “Still, I’m glad things have turned out the way they have. One of these days you and Nick will be together. You know, you’re terribly brave, Eileen, a real fighter. You deserve happiness, you really do.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“I can think of a few names!”
Eileen laughed. “How’s everyone at Dunnings?”
“Fine. Doris is a brunette at the moment, Pauline is courting, but apart from that, it’s just the same.” Her little face beamed. “I have some wonderful news of my own.
Remember I told you I had a Christmas card from my eldest daughter, Celia? Well, she’s joined the WAAF, and has just been sent to Chester, of all places. We met yesterday for the first time in six years!”
“Kate, I’m so glad,” Eileen said warmly. “Y’know, if anyone’s a fighter, it’s you.”
“Most women are, I’ve found. It’s only their physical strength that holds them back when compared to men.”
“How did you get on with Celia?”
Kate’s brow creased. “Things were a bit strained at first.
I tried to explain, as tactfully as I could, why I’d left, but she loves her father and I didn’t want to demolish him in her eyes. He has a mistress and Celia hinted he treats her rather badly. I just hope my girls will work things out for themselves in time.”
They paused in front of a freshly dug patch of earth in which a spade had been left jammed upright. “Someone’s been busy,” Kate remarked.
“It’s me dad. Oh, by the way, Ruth’s here, if you’d like a word.”
“How is she?”
Eileen paused before answering. “A bit tense. I tell you what, come and have a cup of tea. I reckon they’ll be finished their meal by now.”
“Thanks, though I can only stay a minute. I’d love to see your father. I’ve only met him the once, but I really liked him.”
“Did you now!” Eileen raised her eyebrows suggestively.<
br />
“You realise he’s a widower, don’t you? I wouldn’t mind having you for a stepmother, Kate!”
“Get away with you!” Kate laughed, but, to Eileen’s great surprise, her face turned bright red.
Kate stayed for much longer than a minute, talking mainly to Jack Doyle outside. Eileen hadn’t realised she was a keen gardener. As soon as she’d gone, Sheila decided it was time they too left for home and Jacob said he would go with them. He was already worried Snowy had been left alone too long. “It’s been a lovely day and a real nice change,”
Sheila said happily. “The kids have really enjoyed themselves.”
Jacob nodded. “And so have I, Eileen.”
“We must do it more often once the summer comes,”
Eileen suggested.
Jack Doyle had to be dragged away from the garden.
“Don’t forget you’re firewatching tonight,” his younger daughter told him.
“I might come tomorrer after work,” he mused. “In feet, I can come mornings, too, when I’m on late shift.” He rubbed his hands together. “Just think, we can grow all our own vegetables—that Kate woman is going to let me have some tomato plants—and even have our own fresh fruit. There’s already strawberries and a couple of goosegog bushes . . . ”
“C’mon, Dad.” Sheila grinned at her sister as she pushed him out of the door. “At least a garden’s a better place to spend your time than the King’s Arms.”
“It seems a shame,” Eileen said to Ruth when she returned to the living room. “He’s fifty-two years old, yet all he’s ever had is a window box till now. It’s not much for a man to want, is it, a garden?”
But Ruth hadn’t heard. Her entire attention seemed to be taken up with Michael as she nursed him to sleep. She’d scarcely had the baby out of her arms all day. When she became aware of Eileen’s presence, she looked up and frowned. “I hope they don’t tell Dai Evans where we are.
You never know, he might turn up.”
Eileen shook her head, annoyed. “None of them would be so foolish. Anyroad, Dai could never find his way out here and Ellis is home tomorrer.” She began to fiddle with the wireless. “I wonder if the batteries are all right? I’d like to know the latest news.” The wireless spluttered as she turned the knob. She eventually found some music. “I think this is the Home Service.”
