The September Girls (63 page)

The prospective mothers-in-law seemed quite happy with the situation, Tyrone looked more content than he’d done in years, Sybil had sent Cara some nice letters from Bombay implying she’d been forgiven for marrying her father and Cara was very much looking forward to another Caffrey wedding later in the year.

After a second glass of wine, she left the children with Mam and returned, a little unsteadily, to Parliament Terrace to see how Harry was getting on. The sun was cooler now, but there was still magic in the air and she could hear singing whichever way she turned.

She paused in front of the gap in the terrace where two houses had once stood until they’d been demolished by a bomb. The rubble had been cleared and thick planks of wood supported the properties on either side. Two people had been killed, but Cara hadn’t recognized their names. People in the terrace kept very much to themselves. As soon as the war’s over, she thought, then corrected herself,
now
that the war’s over, I’ll sell the house and buy one with a garden for the children to play in. I’ll take Nancy with me, naturally, although she’ll miss her little basement flat.

There was no sign of Nancy when she went in, but her father was in the throes of putting the kettle on and said she must have gone for a walk. ‘Maybe to see the decorations in town.’ If so, she must have taken Rover with her, as there was no sign of him either.

Dad had been terribly disappointed when he’d volunteered for war work. He’d been sent to work for the railways, which were desperately short of manpower. He maintained lines, repaired signals and hadn’t set foot outside Lancashire in the two years since he’d joined up.

‘I’m on the early shift this week, so I came to see how Harry was before going home,’ he said. He still lived in Kirkby in the flat above the bank. ‘I’m just making our Fergus and Fielding a cup of tea, they’ve hardly been out the bedroom since they got up this morning. Not much of a way to spend VE day, is it, luv?’

Cara shook her head. ‘That’s why I came, to see Harry. I’ll just pop upstairs a minute.’

Harry lay in his cot and Fielding and Fergus were sitting on the bed watching. The baby’s face, so red that morning, was now as white as snow. At first, a horrified Cara thought that he’d passed away, but could just discern the slight movement of the sheet when he breathed in and out.

When she saw Cara, Fielding came out on to the landing, closing the door quietly behind her. ‘The doctor’s been again,’ she whispered. ‘He said he couldn’t get Harry out of his mind and tomorrow, first thing, he’s going to ring Great Ormond Street Hospital in London to ask if they’ll take him - it’s a special hospital for children, and if they can’t find out what’s wrong, then no one can.’

‘That’s marvellous news, luv!’

‘Isn’t it?’ Fielding beamed. ‘He said our doctor’s an old stick-in-the-mud and he’ll probably raise objections, but we’re not to take any notice. Anyway, Harry’s been peacefully asleep for hours. I think it’s the longest sleep he’s ever had.’

‘Why don’t you come round to Shaw Street later?’ Cara suggested. ‘I know you don’t want to leave Harry, but you can come first, then go home and relieve Fergus. Our Tyrone’s home, Eleanor’s there and Hector’s due any minute.’

‘No thanks, Cara, I’d sooner stay with Fergus and I’m sure he’ll feel the same. We might go downstairs and have something proper to eat in a while, but that’s as far as it goes.’

‘Ok, Fielding. I’ll see you later.’ Cara was about to leave when Fielding grabbed her arm.

‘Will you do me a favour? Now the war’s over, d’you think you could start calling me by my proper name? It’s all right for you, but I’m fed up being Fielding to all and sundry.’

Cara kissed her friend on both cheeks. ‘OK - Juliette!’

Dad could be heard coming with the tea. ‘You’re to call her Juliette from now on,’ Cara told him when he arrived. Fielding - Juliette - took the tray and returned to the bedroom, and Cara and her father went downstairs together. He’d made them both a drink, he said.

‘Are you coming back to Shaw Street with us?’ she asked when they were seated at the big table where she’d sat so many times before, although it felt strange without Nancy being present.

‘No, luv. I don’t think so.’

She thought he looked rather uncomfortable. ‘Why not? Bernard’s your son, don’t you want to see him?’

‘Of course, I do.’ He squirmed. ‘It’s just that your mam . . .’

‘What about Mam?’ He seemed stuck for words.

‘Well, I think she wants me to come back, keeps dropping hints, like.’ He ran his finger around the collar of his shirt, as if he found it too tight. His time with the railways hadn’t done him much good. He looked much older and greyer these days. ‘The thing is, luv, I don’t want to go back. I’m fond of your mam, I always will be, but I seem to have fallen out of love with her. I can’t think why, but I have.’

‘She desperately wants you back, Dad,’ Cara said soberly. Mam had always hoped it would happen one day. ‘Have you heard from Lizzie Phelan lately?’

‘Not for a while.’ He refused to meet her eyes. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if I never heard from her again. Lizzie only sees the big picture: she has no time for the little ones. She’s probably forgotten all about me and Bernard.’

‘What’s going to happen to Bernard?’

‘Well, I’d sooner he was with your mam than anyone else on earth, Lizzie included.’ He managed a smile. ‘Once I’ve done with the railways, I shall make me way to London. There’ll be a big election shortly and Churchill’s going to get the surprise of his life when he finds himself chucked out. I’ve belonged to the Labour Party since I was a young man and I’d like to play a part right at the heart of things - if they’ll let me.’

People walked past the house, dragging a stick against the railings and singing, ‘When the lights go on again, all over the world . . .’

‘When I was little,’ Cara mused, ‘I used to feel dead lucky I had a mam and dad like you two. Oh, I knew you used to row occasionally, least Mam did, but the house was always full of love and I felt safe there. And it was cosy and snug, not like some other people’s houses. I’d imagined it always staying like that.’ She sniffed and suppressed a sob. ‘I can’t stand you and Mam being separated.’

‘Do you think I should go back to her, luv?’ He looked at her keenly.

‘No, of course not.’ She violently shook her head. ‘You must do as you wish, Dad.
I
did when I came back from Malta. I don’t think we should run our lives to suit other people. I’d do it for the children,’ she added quickly, ‘but that’s all.’ She put the cup back in the saucer, the tea had gone cold. ‘I’d better run. I told Mam I’d only be a few minutes and she’ll be worried there’s something wrong with Harry if I take too long.’

Dad reluctantly pushed himself to his feet. ‘I’d better come with you. I should go and see Bernard, any road, today of all days. I worry that one of these times your Mam’ll ask straight out if I’ll come back and I’ll just have to tell her no.’

 

Hector had just arrived in Shaw Street bringing the most remarkable news: Anthony had telephoned from America. He’d lived in Canada during the war and had returned to Gaudulet College for some reason and found dozens of letters waiting for him, all from Liverpool and several years old.

‘Did he say why he never wrote to his family?’ Eleanor demanded angrily, at the same time looking pleased as well as astonished that her long-lost son had at last been in touch.

‘No, El, and I didn’t ask him either,’ Hector said gruffly. ‘He’s going to ring again tomorrow and you can ask him anything you like.’

‘Could he hear you? Remember I told you he’s deaf.’

‘Well, he seemed to understand when I said you were at a party. Perhaps he’s got a hearing aid. I think they can make them very small these days.’ Hector clamped his mouth shut and looked unprepared to open it again. He and Eleanor got on exceptionally well and appeared to love each other very much, but he was a most taciturn individual.

‘Mam, Dad’s outside,’ Cara said. ‘He’s giving Bernard a piggyback. ’

‘Is he? Oh, is he now?’ Her mother patted her hair and straightened her frock. ‘I’ll go and have a word with him.’ She glanced in the mirror on her way out.

Tyrone invited Hector for a drink and they both left, leaving Eleanor and Cara alone.

‘Anthony always said he’d marry you when he grew up,’ Eleanor remarked.

Cara was about to shriek with laughter, but realized just in time that it would look rude. ‘Once Tyrone and Sybil are wed,’ she said, ‘I think there’ll have been enough marriages between the Caffreys and the Allardyces, don’t you?’ Had Eleanor forgotten she had married her ex-husband, Anthony’s father?

‘Probably. Anyway, I suppose Anthony could have a wife and family by now. If only Hector had asked him more questions!’

‘He’s phoning again tomorrow.’

‘I shall make a list. Wouldn’t it be lovely if he could come to Sybil’s wedding?’ Eleanor’s face softened. ‘It sounds awful, but I’d far prefer it if it had been Jonathan who’d phoned out of the blue. Sometimes, I wonder if it was all a big mistake or that I dreamt it. I’m still not used to him being gone.’

‘I used to feel the same about Kit, but I’ve managed to accept the fact that I’ll never see him again, although it took a long time.’ She visualized Kit’s body with his lovely face blown away.

‘You’re a beautiful girl, Cara,’ Eleanor said softly. ‘I really hope that one day you fall in love again and get married.’

‘I don’t think that’s very likely.’ She was twenty-five, a widow with two children: falling in love was something she never thought about.

‘If I can do it, Cara, then so can you. Oh, listen! There’s music outside - it sounds like a harmonium.’

‘They’re playing “Knees Up Mother Brown”. Shall we go and see what’s happening?’

Eleanor made a face. ‘We’ll go and see, but I’ve no intention of doing “Knees Up, Mother Brown”, not in these shoes and this skirt.’

 

The night wore on. The sun disappeared altogether and dusk fell on the narrow streets. People went indoors and turned on the lights, upstairs and down, so that every window was illuminated, a sight so unusual that everyone just stopped and stared in wonder. The blackout had been one of the hardest things for civilians over the last six years.

The mood became quieter and the harmonium player adjusted his music to the more sombre atmosphere. The war was over and for most it would become just a memory. For others, it meant a lifetime of sorrow as they remembered the loved ones they had lost: the husbands and sons who’d died overseas, the men, women and children killed in the blitz. Eleanor’s son, Tyrone’s wife and child, and Cara’s lover were just a few casualties of the brutal conflict.

Cara sat on the step, watching her mother and father dance together: ‘Who’s Taking You Home Tonight’, a slow dreamy waltz. She’d like to bet Mam had asked Dad up and he hadn’t liked to refuse. Poor Mam! She was wasting her time trying to get him back. One of these days the penny would drop and she’d be devastated.

The smaller children had gone to bed. Kitty, the youngest left and a bundle of energy, was playing hopscotch on the pavement. Joey clung to his dad; Tyrone had to return to Harwich in the morning. Joey would stay with Mam when Tyrone married Sybil. The lad had already had two mothers and it didn’t seem right to pass him on to a third. His dad would only be a few minutes away in Tigh Street.

A young man in Air Force uniform had entered the street. Her heart turned over because he looked so much like Kit, the same height, the same build, the same age as Kit would have been now. He even had a single stripe on his sleeve, just like Kit.

The stranger was speaking to a woman sitting on the opposite step and she nodded in Cara’s direction. Cara stood as he came towards her, removing his hat, smiling. Close up, he was nothing like Kit, but she still felt as if she were seeing a ghost.

‘Hello,’ he said.

‘Hello,’ she stammered.

‘You don’t remember me, do you?’

‘No.’ Perhaps they’d met in Malta.

‘That’s not surprising because I don’t remember you, at least not what you look like, although we were very close for a while.’ His eyes danced, as if he were enjoying her confusion.

‘Would you mind putting me out of me misery and telling me who you are?’ Cara said tartly, although her own eyes were dancing at the same time. Like Kit, he wasn’t the least bit handsome, but he had an appealing manner and a charming smile.

‘My name’s Charlie Green and you’re Cara Caffrey. I gave you a lift home from Lime Street Station once on me motorbike.’

‘I remember now! The war hadn’t long started. And you actually remembered me name and where I lived after all this time?’

‘Never forgot ’em,’ he said promptly. ‘I was always curious to know what you looked like, the first girl ever to put her arms around me.’

‘I bet I wasn’t the last.’

‘Well, no,’ he conceded with a grin, ‘but you’re the best-looking by a mile. The woman I just spoke to, she said your name isn’t Caffrey any more, that you’re a widow with two kids.’

‘That’s true, and I don’t live in Shaw Street any more, either, but me mam does and that’s why I’m here.’

‘So, I was lucky to find you.’ He sounded as if he really meant it.

‘Seems like it.’ She felt pleased that he had.

He held out his arms. ‘Would you like to dance, Cara?’

‘Why not?’

 

In Parliament Terrace, Juliette and Fergus were in the kitchen having a snack, the door wide open so they could hear Harry if he cried. Their hearts ached with love and worry for their child who’d been sleeping peacefully for hours.

‘I’ll go to London with him,’ Juliette said.

‘Not on your own, you won’t,’ Fergus said firmly. ‘I’m coming with you. Don’t forget you’re four months pregnant.’

‘As if I would! But what about your job?’