Through the Storm (28 page)

‘But we still sell petrol, Rita,’ Jessica protested, ‘and I never turn away anyone who wants something doing on their car. The trouble is, most of them won’t let me touch it because I’m a woman.’

‘Perhaps you should pretend it’s Jack who’s the mechanic,’ Rita laughed coarsely. ‘He looks as if he’s got a particularly safe pair of hands. I’d trust my chassis with him any day.’

‘Jack?’ Arthur frowned at Jessica.

‘Jack Doyle,’ she explained easily. ‘He usually gives me a hand on Saturday mornings.’

‘You never said so before.’

‘It never crossed my mind, that’s why.’

‘I see.’ He leaned back in the chair and was quiet from then on. When Rita spoke, he responded with a brief, polite smile, as if he hadn’t taken in a word she’d said. Jessica glanced at him worriedly from time to time to find him staring intently at Penny, who was playing with a set of blocks which Rita kept especially for her. Next time Jessica looked, he was staring at her instead. Their eyes met. Jessica dropped hers immediately.

He knows!

He asked Rita for the bathroom and, once there, Jessica heard him retching, but she stayed glued to her chair, too scared or possibly too embarrassed to face his misery. His wife had betrayed him with the man he admired most in the world. Rita, snapping her fingers to a Carmen Miranda record, was too engrossed to hear.

When Arthur emerged, white-faced, he said, ‘I think I’ll go home. I feel a touch unwell.’

‘I’ll come with you.’ Jessica jumped to her feet.

‘I’d sooner go on alone.’ He picked Penny up and hugged her fiercely. ‘Goodbye, sweetheart.’

‘Dada!’ She banged his cheeks.

‘Goodbye, Rita.’ He bowed courteously. ‘It was nice meeting you.’

‘You too, Arthur.’

The door closed. In the ensuing silence, Rita asked, ‘Is there something wrong?’

Jessica nodded. ‘I’d better go.’

‘Was it my fault?’

‘No, it’s mine.’

‘He’s a lovely chap, Jess.’

‘I know.’ Jessica bundled Penny into her coat and carried her downstairs. Arthur was already out of sight by the time she set off along Linacre Lane, and when she arrived in Pearl Street, there was no sign of him or his suitcase in the house.

Jessica had almost forgotten about him when, four weeks later, she received a short letter. ‘
I’ve joined the Royal Artillery as a driver. Surprisingly, they seemed quite happy to take an old man of forty-five. I’m unsure where they’ll send me, but then I scarcely care. Please never let Penny forget me. With love, Arthur
.’

Calum Reilly stayed glued to the wireless for most of Boxing Day. The grim news was what he’d been expecting. Hong Kong had fallen to the Japanese the day before and 12,000 British troops, the entire garrison, had been taken prisoner.

‘Nice Christmas present they got,’ he muttered.

‘What’s that, luv?’ asked Sheila.

He told her what had happened. ‘And the Japs are advancing in the Philippines. Manila has just been declared an open city.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means there’ll be no more fighting because the Americans have given up. It’s a world war now, Sheil. It’s no longer just Europe and Africa. Our lads are being driven back in Malaya. I bet you a pound to a penny that Singapore will soon go the same way as Hong Kong.’

The names meant nothing to Sheila, but she was alarmed by the glum look on Calum’s face. ‘We’re not going to lose the war, are we, luv?’

‘Christ Almighty, Sheil, I hope not.’

‘You mean there’s a chance?’

Cal pulled her down onto his knee. ‘Of course not, luv.’ He couldn’t reveal to her his worst fears, but all the victories so far had been on Hitler’s side. The monster merely had to glance in the direction of a country and it was his – though the Russians were still putting up a helluva fight. Even in Africa, where the Brits had wiped the floor with the Italians, as soon as
the
Germans arrived under the leadership of their brilliant general, Rommel, the whole British front had collapsed. Now the Japs were on the scene with an equally efficient and ruthless fighting machine, and the same thing was happening in the Far East; defeat followed by defeat. What if the unthinkable happened and Britain lost?

That’s what it was, Cal told himself angrily, unthinkable. If you started to believe you might lose, then you might as well give up the ghost right now and save thousands, if not millions, of lives. They
had
to win, in order to save not just his own country, but the entire world from Fascism.

‘Conquer or die,’ Churchill had said, and whilst Cal had never believed a word that came out the mouth of a Conservative politician in the past, he believed that much. They’d conquer Germany or die in the attempt, because he himself would sooner be dead and his whole family along with him, than live under a Fascist dictatorship.

Sheila was saying something in his ear. ‘What, luv?’

‘I said, would you like to go upstairs for a while? The kids are all out and we’d soon hear if one of ’em came in.’

He grinned at her, his good humour restored. It helped to lose himself in Sheila. ‘I wouldn’t say no, but you’re wearing me out, girl. I’ll be no use for a week after I’m back on board ship.’

To his surprise, she didn’t move off his knee straight away. ‘Cal,’ she whispered shyly, ‘do you have to use one of those precaution things? I want another baby, luv, I really do.’

He shook his head firmly. ‘I told you, Sheil. Once the war’s over we’ll think about more family.’

‘But there’ll be such a big gap. Our Mary’s nearly two and a half, and Churchill said it won’t be over until nineteen forty-three.’ She kissed him beseechingly. ‘I’d
love
a baby, Cal. I feel dead empty if I’m not expecting or I haven’t got one to feed.’

He looked down at her exasperatedly. ‘But you’re only twenty-seven, Sheil, and we’ve already got six kids. We’ll end up with a couple of dozen at the rate you’re going.’

‘A couple of dozen’ll do me fine.’ She stroked the back of his neck, where the hair already felt slightly longer. ‘Please, Cal!’

‘What about the last time when you had a miscarriage?’ he asked sternly.

‘The baby was growing outside me womb. The doctor said it would be a miracle if it happened a second time. But I’ll go to the clinic and be examined regular, I promise.’

Perhaps it wouldn’t do any harm, thought Cal. After all, the bombing seemed to have stopped, his family would be safe. And if it made his darling Sheila happy …

He pushed her off his knee. ‘Come on, then. Let’s go upstairs.’

Lucy Peterson called in to see Kitty on her way to the pictures on Saturday night. She was all dolled up in a teddy-bear jacket and a bright red dress which her dad had bought her for Christmas. ‘He was in ever such a nice mood over the holiday. I think the job’s doing him good. Anyroad, how are you feeling?’ she asked.

‘Absolutely fine,’ Kitty assured her, ‘’cept me legs are a bit weak. I would have gone back to work today, but Harriet said she’d kill me if I didn’t wait till Monday.’

‘The last few days have been really the gear,’ Lucy said happily. ‘I never thought working in a hospital over Christmas would turn out to be so much fun. That Glyn Thomas bloke is a dead scream. He had the entire hospital singing “Men of Harlech” on Boxing Day.’ She looked at Kitty slyly. ‘He kept asking about you.’

‘I promised to bring him some books,’ Kitty explained.

‘He didn’t mention anything about books, but when he learnt you were ill he looked dead upset. I told him I was coming to see you and he sends his love. I reckon he’s interested. Oh, and Stan Taylor came searching for you yesterday. He was in a right ould state. His fiancée’s given him his marching orders and he wants to talk to you. He said only you would understand.’

‘Honest?’

Lucy giggled. ‘He must think you’ve got a sympathetic ear.’

‘Actually, he was dead boring. I only went out with him because I felt sorry for him.’

‘Well, you’ll feel even more sorry for him now. They’re the most dangerous, men you feel sorry for. You might end up marrying him on the rebound – his rebound, I mean.’

‘There’s not much chance of that,’ Kitty said disparagingly. ‘We’d spend the entire honeymoon talking about Daphne, his fiancée.’

‘Can I have him?’

Kitty burst out laughing. ‘What do you mean, can you have him? He’s not mine to give.’

‘I think he’s quite good-looking in a mangy sort of way.’ Lucy pursed her lips speculatively. ‘What he needs is his mind taking off things. I’d look upon it as a challenge.’

‘You can have him with pleasure.’ Kitty clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Gosh, I’m being dead cruel. He was madly in love with Daphne.’

‘She obviously wasn’t madly in love back.’ Lucy frowned severely at Kitty. ‘You shouldn’t give a toss about being cruel to men. They won’t hesitate to be cruel to you if it suits them.’

With that, Lucy left. She’d scarcely been gone a
minute
, when Sheila Reilly came in through the yard with a bowl of jelly and custard.

‘But I’m an not invalid,’ Kitty protested. ‘I’ve completely recovered. I can make jelly and custard for meself.’

‘Stop complaining and eat it,’ Sheila ordered. ‘It’ll do your throat good.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with me throat.’

‘I made the custard with that new household milk. Have you tried it yet?’ Tins of dried skimmed milk powder had only just become available. Each family was allowed one tin per month to supplement their meagre weekly milk ration of two and a half pints.

‘Yes, but it’s horrible in tea.’

‘It’s only good for cooking.’ Sheila fetched a spoon from the kitchen and watched as Kitty ate. ‘What does it taste like? It’s no good asking Cal and the kids, they’ll eat anything.’

‘Why are you asking me? Haven’t you had some yourself?’

Sheila shrugged dismissively. ‘I didn’t really feel like any.’

‘Oh, Sheil,’ Kitty said in dismay. ‘You’ve given me your share.’

‘I told you, I didn’t feel like any.’

‘Fetch another spoon and we’ll share.’

The two women sat down at the table, taking turns to have a spoonful each.

‘It’s all right, isn’t it?’ said Sheila, pleased. ‘I declare household milk a great success. Y’know, this brings back memories of when we were kids and we’d try and raise a penny between us for a bag of chips.’

‘Whoever had the first go always picked the biggest chip!’

‘And we’d end up fighting over the crispy bits.’

When they’d finished, Sheila washed the dish ready to take home. ‘By the way,’ she said coming
in
from the back kitchen, ‘who do you know in Flint Street?’

Kitty shook her head. ‘No-one,’ she said. ‘Why?’

‘It’s just that your dad asked our Dominic to take a note round to number twenty-two on Boxing Day.’

‘I wonder if that’s where he went for his Christmas dinner? He stayed in looking after me all Boxing Day. Perhaps he’d arranged to go again. Perhaps that’s where he is now!’ From yesterday, since she appeared to be on the road to recovery, there’d been scarcely any sign of her dad.

‘Maybe he’s got a woman!’ Sheila suggested with a grin.

‘Never! On the other hand – promise not to breathe a word to a soul, Sheila – Vera Dodds bought him a pair of cufflinks for Christmas.’

‘She didn’t!’ Sheila’s mouth fell open in astonishment.

‘She did!’

‘That’s odd, because according to Aggie Donovan – this is in the strictest confidence, Kitty – Vera’s got something going with Dai Evans on the quiet.’

Kitty hooted with laughter. ‘They’re both taking a risk, aren’t they? Ellis’ll kill them both if she finds out.’

‘Anyroad, what did your dad have to say about the cufflinks?’

‘He pretended to be annoyed, but I could tell he was secretly chuffed. He said she’s always making eyes at him in the King’s Arms.’

‘It’s hard to imagine people their age fancying each other, particularly if one of ’em’s your dad. I mean,’ Sheila said emphatically, ‘there’s no way
our
dad would become involved with a woman. I know we make jokes about Kate Thomas being his girlfriend, but that’s merely to get up his nose. In actual fact, they’re just good mates. Oh, well,’ she sighed, ‘I’d best be on me way, I don’t like leaving Cal for long. He’s going back the day after tomorrer.’ She could almost hear the
minutes
ticking away before he left her. ‘Is your doctor friend coming to see you today?’

‘Who do you mean?’ Kitty frowned.

‘The doctor who borrowed tea off us on Christmas night.’

‘Harriet! She’s not a doctor, she’s an auxiliary, same as me.’

‘She may be an auxiliary now, Kit, but she used to be a doctor. Remember when I had that miscarriage? Oh, it must be eighteen months ago now. After the man doctor had seen to me, dead impatient he was, she came in and told me everything was going to be all right.’

‘Are you sure, Sheila?’ Kitty pressed.

‘Dead sure. I’ll always remember her. She was ever so kind.’

It explained a lot of things which had puzzled Kitty. Harriet’s knowledge of medicine and hospital practice had always seemed surprising for someone who’d only started as an auxiliary a few months before. ‘I love hospital Christmases,’ she’d said only the other day – and she’d accidentally let slip she’d been to university. There was also the thermometer in her handbag which Kitty had felt too ill to remark on at the time. Harriet had always been extremely unforthcoming about her past.

Kitty resolved the secret would remain safe with her. She’d never reveal it to another soul, not even Lucy, though it all seemed very mysterious. Why should a trained doctor take a job as an auxiliary? No wonder Harriet regarded herself as a serf.

‘Have we got much food in, kiddo?’ Jimmy asked the following morning as they were on their way home from Mass. The sky was heavy with grey clouds which threatened snow, and a freezing wind howled in from the River Mersey.

‘A little bit of boiled ham and some leftover chicken
which
I was going to do with ’taters for our dinner,’ Kitty told him. ‘Why, are you hungry?’

‘Is that all? Is there nothing in the store cupboard?’