Goodnight Sweetheart (23 page)

‘Now then, our June, don’t go getting yourself all upset,’ their father warned.

Molly wrapped her hands tightly round her cocoa mug. ‘When we were at the factory this morning I couldn’t help noticing how them as had had good news were all talking together, laughing and chattering, whilst them as hadn’t were holding back, not saying anything, but you could see in their faces what they were thinking and how afraid they were.’

They looked at one another in silence and then June said chokily, ‘Them poor lads … aye, and their families, an’ all.’

Phew, but it was hot! Molly lifted the heavy weight of her hair off the back of her neck to try to cool herself down. She had already taken off her WVS jacket, and she could feel the perspiration prickling on her scalp. She had walked all the way back from Lime Street station, thinking it would be quicker than waiting for a bus. The stream of men returning from Dunkirk had slowed to a trickle now.

Molly guessed that June would probably still be round at Sally’s, helping her to get ready for the journey down south to see her Ronnie. June and Frank’s mother, for once united, had insisted that she must take advantage of the Government’s
offer to provide a travel warrant for her to go and visit Ronnie, and that between them they would look after Tommy for her.

Molly walked up the narrow path that led to the back of the houses and into their small back garden, the movement of the gate wafting the scent of roses and honeysuckle towards her. She pushed open the back door and then came to an abrupt halt.

Frank was sitting at the kitchen table, holding his head in his hands.

‘Frank?’ she queried gently.

When he looked up at her, her heart ached for him. He had lost weight, his face almost gaunt, dark shadows under the blue eyes, which had lost their habitual sparkle and were bloodshot with exhaustion.

‘Oh, it’s you, Molly.’ He spoke without any emotion, as though it was an effort for him to frame the words.

Putting down her jacket, Molly walked over to the table and calmly pulled out a chair opposite him.

‘June’s over at Sally’s,’ she told him lightly, knowing now, from her experience of talking to so many returning men, that a very gentle touch was needed on such bad emotional and mental bruises. ‘I dare say she’ll be back soon but I can run over and get her for you, if you like.’

‘No, not yet. I still can’t get me head round being here. All them hours, standing waitin’ on
that bloody beach, thinkin’ that we might not be taken off.’ His voice was hoarse and harsh, and Molly suspected that he wasn’t even fully aware of who he was talking to.

‘Why don’t I make us both a cuppa?’ Molly suggested.

‘No … no, don’t go,’ Frank demanded, reaching across the table to put his hand on hers. ‘I never thought as I would mek it, Molly. Strafing us, the bloody Luftwaffe were, picking us off like we was …’ He shuddered violently. ‘One of them got them lads as was standing behind me.’ Tears filled his eyes and he tried to blink them away.

Molly got up and went to him, standing next to him and putting her arms around him in the motherly way she had held so many returning men as they had wept out the pain of what they had seen. ‘It’s all right, Frank,’ she told him softly.

‘There were a young lad …’ he said jerkily.

There was a look in his eyes that made Molly’s throat ache. He wasn’t looking directly at her but focusing on something only he could see, his disjointed words delivered in a low monotone. Molly had seen this behaviour in other men still in shock from what they had endured.

‘Only a bit of a kid, crying out for his mam, with his guts spilling out of his hands as he held his belly.’ He knuckled his damp eyes, whilst Molly fought to control her own reaction. ‘There were these lads right next to me, standing there joking
one minute and gone the next …’ Abruptly, he seemed to come to himself and realise where he was and what he was saying. ‘I shouldn’t be upsettin’ you wi’ all of this.’ His voice started to get stronger. ‘You’ve had enough to bear, what wi’ losing your Eddie.’

‘Listening and caring are the least that those of us at home can do, Frank,’ Molly told him, as she released him and went back to her chair. ‘We want to do our bit, an’ all, you know.’

‘Aye, I know that, and you do so much more than that, Molly,’ he agreed. ‘T’uniform suits you, Molly – meks you look proper grown up.’

‘I am grown up,’ she told him half indignantly.

He was smiling now, looking much more like the Frank she remembered.

‘You should have seen our lads, Molly,’ he told her warmly, reaching across the table to take hold of one of her hands. ‘They were that brave and strong. I were proud to be wi’ them.’

‘And we are proud of you, Frank – all of us, the whole country.’

‘You’re a good lass, Molly.’ He looked at her and said quietly, ‘I’m not going to say anything to June about what I was just telling you – about the other men, I mean.’

‘I won’t say a word,’ Molly assured him. He was still holding her hand and he gave it a small squeeze. It was funny to think that, a year ago, just the thought of being on her own with Frank would have sent her giddy with excitement.
Inwardly she shook her head over the foolishness of the girl she had once been.

She returned the pressure of Frank’s fingers and looked into his eyes, relieved to see that some of the old light was coming back into them.

‘You’re a good ’un, Molly,’ Frank told her emotionally. ‘I never thought I’d be able to tell anyone about that young lad, but somehow it were easy to tell you.’

Silently they looked at one another. Molly felt her heart miss a beat and then thud unevenly. There would always be a soft spot in her heart for Frank, but he was her brother-in-law now and nothing more, she told herself firmly. This was neither the time nor the man for ‘what could have beens’, she acknowledged as she gently removed her hand from Frank’s.

‘Why don’t you walk down to Sally’s, and let June know that you’re back?’ she suggested. ‘And don’t worry, what you’ve said to me is just between the two of us and it always will be.’

‘Thanks, Molly,’ Frank said gratefully. ‘There’s no sense in upsettin’ June, not in her condition, and with me going back just as soon as Mr Churchill has got us all re-equipped.’

‘The armaments factories are going to be going on seven-days-a-week working,’ Molly told him. ‘Mr Churchill says that the whole country is going to be working on the war effort. I’ll go down to the allotment and find our dad.’ She hesitated, and then said a little bit guiltily, ‘Happen it’ll be best
not to say anything about me seein’ you before our June had a chance to.’ She hated being deceitful but she knew how she would feel herself in June’s shoes.

Frank nodded and got up from the table.

Frank, in common with others who had been at Dunkirk, had been granted a fortnight’s leave. He was still at home and they were still celebrating his safe return when Sally arrived back from visiting Ronnie in hospital in the south of England, where he was recovering well from his injuries. But she brought shocking news.

‘Apparently they aren’t supposed to say anything about it, though of course it was all over the hospital,’ she told them when she came round to collect Tommy.

‘What was? What’s happened?’ June demanded.

‘There was a ship as was taking our lads off at this St-Nazaire place, wot’s bin bombed by Jerry, and according to wot we was hearin’ at the hospital, thousands of men on board have drowned. It was bringing back the RAF men from Nantes, and the Royal Engineers and all that lot. Its captain had been told to tek on as many men as ’e could and seemingly, from wot this chap my Ronnie was talking to had to say, there weren’t an inch of space left on board.

‘He were lucky,’ cos he and his mates were up on deck and saw this bomb coming for them, so he shouted to his mates to jump. Three days he were in the water before he got picked up, but,
like ’e said, he were lucky. He had me, aye, and my Ronnie as well, in tears when he told us about how them as couldn’t get off could be heard singing “Roll Out the Barrel”. Then he said they ’eard them singing “There’ll Allus Be an England” as she went down.’

Silence filled the small kitchen.

Frank was holding June’s hand, and tears were rolling down her face.

‘Poor sods,’ Frank said thickly.

‘Anne’s brother, Richard, and his friend are in the RAF and they were stationed at Nantes,’ Molly told them, white-faced. ‘I know how much she’s bin worrying because they haven’t heard anything yet.’ She turned to look at Frank. ‘Do you think I should …?’

He shook his head. ‘Best not,’ he told her quietly. ‘If he were there, she’ll be hearing soon enough, I reckon.’

‘We heard as how the families aren’t goin’ to be told properly what happened,’ Sally told them unhappily. ‘There’s to be a D-notice put on, and, like I said, them as were there have been warned not to say anything. Ronnie says one of the men told him that they reckon there was over four thousand men on board – and not just men either.’ She paused. ‘There were women and kiddies too, being brought home to safety.’

Molly bit down hard on her bottom lip, whilst June gave a small gulping sob.

Molly and Anne were on duty at Mill Road Hospital that night, and Molly knew the moment she saw her friend’s face that she had received bad news.

‘It’s Richard,’ Anne told her wretchedly. ‘We had a telegram this morning: “Missing feared lost in action.” Oh, Molly …’ Anne collapsed into her friend’s arms.

Molly felt sick inside. She desperately wanted to tell Anne what she had heard from Sally, but what if Richard had not been on board that ship? It would be wrong of her to go upsetting Anne with such a horrific story, especially if the Government were planning not to reveal the details of what had actually happened. For Anne’s own sake it was best that she didn’t say anything, Molly reasoned, even if that did leave her feeling uncomfortable and guilty. All she could do was hold her friend’s hands tightly in her own, and share her tears.

Later that evening, in the small kitchen of number 78, she stood with her father, June and Frank, Frank’s mother and Sally, as they all listened to the news.

‘Mr Churchill reported to Parliament today on future prospects,’ the newsreader announced. ‘Britain now fights on alone.’

Molly could hear her indrawn gasp echoed by those of the other women as the newsreader paused to clear his throat. Molly reached for June and Sally’s hands, holding them tightly. Frank was
holding June’s other hand and his mother’s, whilst Albert stood straight as a ramrod, listening intently. June and Doris had put aside their differences, if only for the time being, sharing the same shocked grief that had swept the whole nation.

‘In stirring words,’ the newsreader continued, ‘Mr Churchill told Members of Parliament, “Let us brace ourselves to do our duty, and so bear ourselves that if the British Commonwealth and Empire lasts a thousand years men will still say, ‘
This
was their finest hour.’”’

They all looked at one another, the men’s as well as the women’s eyes brimming with tears.

‘I just hope that hour comes soon,’ Molly sniffed, reaching for her handkerchief, ‘before more brave men have to die.’

‘That’s war, lass,’ her father told her sombrely. ‘Brave men dying.’

‘Molly, I’ve had news of Philip. I wrote to his parents to … to tell them about Richard, and I’ve had a letter back from his mother. She says that Philip is in a military hospital down south, but that she hasn’t been able to go and see him because she can’t leave his father. They live in Scotland and Philip’s father has a weak heart.’

Anne’s face showed the strain of the last few weeks. A memorial service had been held in the local church for those young men who, like Richard, had been deemed ‘lost in action’. The service had been so well attended that some people had had to stand outside, but, as Anne had confided to Molly, her parents were still refusing to accept that Richard was dead, waiting nervously each day for the postman, hoping he would bring some word of their only son’s fate.

‘Oh, Anne!’ Molly reached for her friend’s hands.

‘It’s bad news, Molly,’ Anne told her bravely.
‘Philip was very badly injured and his mother says that at first they didn’t think he was going to live. He was unconscious for over a week and even now …’ Tears filled Anne’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks to splash onto Molly’s hand. ‘They’ve had to amputate both his legs,’ she almost whispered, as if saying the words made the situation even more horribly real.

Wordlessly, Molly hugged her friend with fierce compassion.

‘I want to go and see him but when I wrote to the hospital they wrote back to say that only close family were allowed to visit. I’ve written again to tell them that I’m Philip’s fiancée. I’m not going to wait for them to write back to me, Molly. I’m going to go down and see Philip, and nothing and no one is going to stop me. I’m going down there, to Aldershot, tomorrow.’

‘Will you be all right going on your own?’ Molly asked worriedly.

‘I’ll be a lot better knowing that I’m going to be seeing him than I am stuck here worrying about him,’ Anne told her firmly.

‘I can’t believe the cheek of that Hitler, sayin’ as how he’s going to destroy London,’ Sally was announcing fiercely as Molly walked into the kitchen after going to see Anne off at Lime Street station. But Molly could hear the anxiety in Sally’s voice, and it was a worry that the rest of the country shared. ‘Hasn’t he learned anything from
our lads showin’ his blummin’ Luftwaffe what’s what?’

‘Well, it seems it hasn’t put him off doing his best to make a mess of Liverpool,’ June pointed out sharply. ‘Three times in the last week I’ve had to get up out of me bed and go down to that blummin’ air-raid shelter on account of him bombing us. It’s more than a body needs in my condition.’

Although June refused to say as much, Molly knew how relieved her sister was to know that Frank’s mother was close at hand to help her through the birth.

Buying new things for the coming baby was impossible. Every scrap of material that could be used to forward the war effort was being utilised, even if that meant melting down park and house railings, and people having to endure utility goods as well as food rationing. But neighbours had promised to lend what they could, and Molly had spent every spare minute she had knitting and sewing for the baby, using fabric and wool salvaged from old clothes.

Both Frank and Ronnie were now overseas again, fighting for their country.

‘Here, you’ll never guess who I saw the other day,’ Sally said. ‘That Johnny Everton. Seems that he’s been invalided out of the army now and he’s training up to join that Home Guard they’re going to be havin’. Asked after you most particular, he did, Molly,’ she added meaningfully.

Molly could feel herself blushing. ‘I knew he was back in Liverpool,’ she admitted.

‘Oh, you did, did you?’ June chimed in. ‘Well, you never said anything to me about that!’

‘He was at Dunkirk,’ Molly told her quietly. ‘I was on duty at Lime Street when he came off one of the trains, and then I saw him again later in hospital. He said then that he didn’t think he’d be going back to active service.’

‘Well, I reckon he’s still sweet on you, Molly,’ Sally teased her.

‘Me and every other girl in Liverpool,’ Molly laughed. ‘Are you all right, June?’ she asked worriedly, seeing her sister suddenly wince.

‘My back’s giving me some gyp,’ June complained, trying to ease herself into a more comfortable position. ‘Bin aching all night, it has.’

‘I’ve got to go,’ Molly told them both, after she had sympathised with her sister, ‘otherwise I’m going to be late for WVS. All the voluntary services for our area will be there, on account of this meeting that was held up at the Police Training School on Mather Avenue earlier in the week after the bombings.’

‘Just as well Jerry didn’t know about that, otherwise he’d have bin bombing the Training School, and killed them wot’s supposed to be sortin’ the rest of us out, and then where would we be?’ Sally said.

‘We’ve got extra air-raid training tonight,’ Molly told them, ‘and I’ve got to be there as I’ve been put on the emergency services driving list.’

‘I wish you weren’t doing that, our Molly,’ June said worriedly. ‘Not now that Jerry has bin dropping his ruddy bombs on us, damaging the overhead railway, aye, and killin’ them poor lads in Walton Prison.’

For a few seconds they were all silent.

‘That was a right shame, but the rest of the bombs didn’t hit anything, thanks to our own lads on them ack-ack guns,’ Molly reassured her. ‘Mind you, I’m not saying that I don’t wish that you and Sally would go and stay with our Auntie Violet, like she’s said that you can do,’ she added.

‘Oh, yes, that’d be a fine thing, wouldn’t it, me and Sally having our babies there, when we’ve got Doris all sorted out to deliver ’em here,’ June derided her. ‘And what if my Frank gets leave? By the time he gets out to Nantwich it will be time for him to go back again. No, Jerry can do his worst. I’m staying here in Liverpool.’

Given that the meeting Molly was attending tonight was a joint meeting b‘So you’re a etween the WVS, the Home Guard, the ARP and others, to update their combined plans of action, she was not altogether surprised to see Johnny there. He was standing with a group of men by the doorway into the hall, smoking a cigarette, and as soon as he saw Molly he came over to her, offering her one.

Shaking her head, she refused it.

‘Still no bad habits then?’ Johnny teased her. ‘Or are you keeping them as a secret?’

‘You were right first time,’ Molly told him firmly, trying not to laugh.

‘Quickly now, Molly,’ Mrs Wesley commanded, catching sight of her. ‘I want you there whilst we’re talking about the driving roster for the mobile kitchens.’

‘I’ve already been put down to drive for the emergency services,’ Molly reminded her superior.

‘Yes, I know. That is why I want to check the rosters,’ Mrs Wesley told her briskly.

‘So you’re a driver now? Well, I never.’ Johnny grinned admiringly at Molly, catching up with her as she left the hall after the meeting had finished. ‘Who would have thought it! Little Molly Dearden, a driver.’

‘That’s enough of your cheek, Johnny Everton,’ Molly told him severely.

‘I’ll walk you home,’ Johnny offered, adding before Molly could refuse, ‘Seeing as I’m going that way anyway.’

It was too dark to see the barrage balloons hanging low on the skyline down by the docks, but Molly was still acutely conscious of them and the reason they were there. The bombing raids Jerry had already made hadn’t done much damage, but they had changed the mood of the people of Liverpool, leaving everyone feeling slightly on edge.

‘How’s your hand?’ Molly asked Johnny politely
as they walked up through the city together, heading towards Mill Road Hospital.

‘See for yourself.’ He slipped his hand into her own and clasped it before she could stop him.

‘That’s enough of that, Johnny Everton,’ Molly protested, trying to tug her hand free but he was holding it too tightly for her to do so.

‘I still miss yer, Molly,’ he told her softly.

Molly couldn’t see his face in the darkness of the blackout but she didn’t need to.

‘Oh yes? Well, you didn’t look like you was missing anything the other Saturday when I saw you down at the Grafton, dancing with that redhead,’ she told him forthrightly.

‘Jealous, were yer?’ he laughed, squeezing her hand.

‘Course not,’ Molly denied truthfully.

‘Pity … Walking out wi’ anyone yerself, are yer?’

‘No.’ She had been asked out several times in the months following Eddie’s death, but she hadn’t got the heart for it.

‘What are you looking for?’ she asked him curiously as he kept pausing to glance up at the sky.

‘I’m hoping that Jerry will send them bombers of his over,’ he told her. ‘Then you and me will have to find the nearest shelter, and spend the night there.’

‘Give over, do,’ Molly chided him, but she couldn’t help listening out for the now increasingly familiar sound of the air-raid siren, even
though she knew he had only been flirting with her. He was the kind of lad who would try it on with any girl.

They had reached Edge Hill, the noise from the goods yard spilling into the darkness as they walked past.

‘Yer dad still working at the gridiron?’ Johnny asked, with a nod in the direction of the yard.

‘Yes. They’re doing twelve-hour shifts now, on account of all the munitions stuff from Napiers and the rest.’

They were almost at the turn-off for the cul-desac, but instead of leaving her there as she had expected him to, Johnny kept a firm grip on her hand and guided her across the road.

‘I can make me own way from here,’ Molly told him.

‘What’s up? Scared of being on yer own in the dark wi’ me, is that it?’

Molly’s eyes were accustomed to the darkness now and she could see the brief flash of his teeth as he grinned.

‘If I was, then I wouldn’t have walked back with you,’ she answered him smartly. ‘You’re a flirt, Johnny Everton, and no mistake,’ she added for good measure, ‘but you’re wastin’ your time flirting with me, ’cos I’m not interested in that sort of thing.’

‘Maybe it’s different wi’ you and I’m not just flirtin’,’ Johnny said softly, purposefully backing her up into a shadowy corner before she realised what he was up to.

‘Johnny …’ she started to protest, but it was already too late. He had her firmly in his arms and was kissing her before she could finish saying his name.

Funny how things could change, Molly thought dizzily. Because now, instead of disliking the knowing intimacy of Johnny’s kiss, as she had done before, she discovered that she actually did quite like it.

It was such a long time since she had felt a man’s strong arms holding her close, and a man’s lips on her own. Johnny wasn’t her dear sweet Eddie, and she felt none of the tender sweetness and longing with Johnny that she had felt with Eddie, but he was quite definitely doing something to her, Molly admitted, giving him a small push to free herself as she felt his hand moving up from her waist towards her breast.

‘There’ll be none of that, thank you very much,’ she told him primly, and meant it, even though the effect was slightly spoiled by the breathlessness in her voice.

‘I’ve allus had a bit of a fancy for you, Molly. There’s sommat about yer that’s got right under me skin,’ Johnny admitted, his own voice gruff. ‘Come out wi’ us to the Grafton on Saturday night?’

Molly shook her head. ‘Folks’d be talking fifteen to the dozen if I did that, and you know it.’

‘So what if they do? Who cares?’

‘I do, and so would me dad and our June,’ she
answered him. ‘They think you’re a right bad lot and no mistake, leaving that poor girl the way you did.’

‘I’ve told you that kiddie isn’t mine,’ Johnny protested.

‘Well, she says it is. Anyway, it isn’t just that,’ she admitted honestly as they started to walk down the cul-de-sac together. Johnny wasn’t touching her but he was walking closer to her now than he had been doing before, and yet she didn’t really feel inclined to move away.

‘So what is it, then?’ he challenged her.

‘There’s my Eddie, for one thing,’ she informed him. ‘He’s not been gone a year yet and it wouldn’t be proper for me to be walking out with anyone else.’

‘It’s different when there’s a war on,’ Johnny answered grimly. ‘We could be dead usselves ter-morrer.’

‘Johnny, don’t say that,’ Molly protested shakily.

‘You heard what we was being told tonight,’ he persisted doggedly. ‘Hitler’s already started sending them bombers of his over, and there’s a lot of ’em going to be headin’ for Liverpool on account of the docks.’

‘We’ve got the barrage balloons, though, and the army’s anti-aircraft guns, and them searchlights. And then there’s the RAF, as well, right close by Speke, never mind them at Cranage, and Tern Hill and the rest,’ Molly reminded him stoutly, refusing to be afraid.

‘Aye, well, if yer want my advice you’ll get yourself into the nearest shelter you can find when them air-raid sirens go off.’

‘We can’t do that if we’re on duty,’ Molly protested.

They had virtually reached number 78 now, and she turned to him, putting her hand on his arm as she begged him, ‘Let’s just be friends, that’s all, please, Johnny.’

He looked at her, shook his head and then said gruffly, ‘Go on then, all right, but mind, I’m not promising never ter kiss yer again,’ cos I know it’s a promise I just won’t be able to keep, not wi’ them lovely lips of yours, Molly.’

‘Cheeky blighter,’ Molly murmured to herself as she hurried up the path, but she was smiling in the darkness.

‘Gawd, it’s ’ot,’ Ruby protested. ‘Open us one of them winders, will yer, Molly?’

‘They’re jammed shut, remember?’ Molly told her as she wiped the perspiration from her own forehead, before turning back to her sewing machine.

In addition to making uniforms, they were now making parachutes as well, and the air in the workroom was stiflingly hot and smelled of fabric dye and parachute silk.

‘At least we didn’t have no ruddy air-raid siren going off last night,’ Sheila reminded them, stifling a yawn, before adding, ‘’Ere, I heard the other day
that Hitler bombed Walton Prison ’cos he thought if he freed them in there they’d start fighting for ’im.’