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Far From Home
Anne Bennett
A moving family drama of one young woman’s fight to survive and to find a place to call home1938: Sixteen-year-old Kate Monroe is living in Birmingham, far away from her family in Ireland. Her parents have always doted on her siblings, Sally and James, leaving no time for her. Kate harbours a dark secret, a deep longing for her cousin. Feelings she must suppress in this deeply staunch Irish-Catholic community – even if they are reciprocated.Crazed by her infatuation, Kate is left with no option, other than to up-roots once more and seek out a new life, far away from the temptation of Tim Monroe.Will Kate find true love, or will distance make the heart grow fonder?
Anne Bennett
Far from Home
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my lovely husband Denis in
recognition for the way he battled lung cancer with
such courage and determination and also for the way
he kept upbeat throughout.
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
One
Kate Munroe’s feet dragged as she reached the house. After…
Two
The next morning, Sally woke with a jerk; she lay…
Three
By the time the three girls reached High Street and…
Four
The following morning, as Susie settled herself in the tram…
Five
Kate knew that if this antagonism her mother had for…
Six
The next morning, Kate got up in a really good…
Seven
Kate and Sally went to town first thing the next…
Eight
Kate was interested in where David’s family lived. He had…
Nine
Kate told Susie all about what had happened at the…
Ten
Phillip Reynard and all young men of a similar age…
Eleven
By the time Kate and David came back from their…
Twelve
Kate told David that he owed it to his family…
Thirteen
David arrived around midday on Sunday 24 December. When Kate…
Fourteen
New Year’s Eve 1939, the first New Year of the…
Fifteen
After Nick and David returned, Kate made a decision to…
Sixteen
Just a few mornings later, Kate was at work when…
Seventeen
Before they were able to find anything out about ARP…
Eighteen
Over the next weeks, as the summer took hold of…
Nineteen
November was only a few days old when Kate got…
Twenty
Four days after David and Nick went back, German bombers,…
Twenty-One
The citizens of Birmingham were not told of the fracturing…
Twenty-Two
The German planes returned the next night but in far…
Twenty-Three
Kate awoke from her drugged sleep some hours later. Her…
Twenty-Four
‘Mammy asks me in every letter when I am going…
Twenty-Five
Kate was unable to go to work until her stitches…
Twenty-Six
The short tram journey home was taken in virtual silence,…
Twenty-Seven
As they travelled to Ireland the following day, Helen wondered…
Twenty-Eight
Only two hours after the three women had left the…
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Other Books by Anne Bennett
Copyright
About the Publisher
ONE
Kate Munroe’s feet dragged as she reached the house. After a week’s work in the radiator factory she was always tired by Friday and the cold and dank late October evening didn’t help her mood. She was glad of the big, thick, navy coat, the light blue hat pulled on over her dark brown curls, and the matching gloves encasing her hands, which she had saved for weeks to buy.
She sighed with relief as she let herself into the entrance hall out of the biting wind, but it was very dark as she closed the door behind her because there was no light in the hall. ‘I haven’t bothered with the expense of having an electric light installed in here when the gas lamps were taken out,’ the landlady had told her when she moved in. ‘There’s a streetlight just outside, so I thought it would probably be light enough.’
Kate thought that was all very well, but the door into the house was almost solid, so the only light came from a half-moon window right at the top. The house was converted into flats and so the postman would leave any letters there on the hall table for people to help themselves and sometimes in these dark, autumnal days, it was hard to read who the letters were for in such dim light. It was the same that night, and Kate was shifting through the pile of envelopes, scrutinizing them carefully, when suddenly there was a scraping noise from the space under the stairwell and she called out a little nervously, ‘Who’s there?’
There was no answer and, gathering all her courage, Kate called out again, ‘Come on. Come out and show yourself.’
Through the shadowy dimness, she saw a figure emerge and move towards her. She relaxed a little: it was obvious from the outline that the figure was female and slight, but it was not until she got up close that Kate gasped in recognition. Her dark brown eyes were looking straight into the anxious blue ones of her young sister.
‘Sally,’ she cried. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I came to see you.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Kate said shortly, but suddenly her blood ran like ice in her body and she asked almost fearfully, ‘Are you in some sort of trouble?’
Sally blushed, even in the half-light Kate saw her cheeks darken, but she answered decidedly enough: ‘Not that kind of trouble. Not what you’re thinking.’
In relief, Kate let out the breath she hadn’t even been aware she was holding. ‘Tell you the truth, Sally, I don’t know what to think,’ she said in exasperation. ‘Let’s get this straight. Is anything wrong at home?’
Sally hung her head and twisted her feet on the floor, as Kate knew she did when she was troubled about something, and mumbled, ‘No, not really.’
‘Well, how “not really”?’ Kate said, feeling that she wanted to shake her younger sister. And then another thought struck her and she said, ‘I suppose Mammy and Daddy know you’re here?’
Sally lifted her head and Kate got her answer by the stricken look in her sister’s face, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. ‘Good God, they don’t, do they?’ she cried. ‘They know nothing about this?’
Sally shook her head and Kate sighed as she snapped, ‘Well, this can’t be gone into in the entrance hall. You’d better come up to the flat. Have you anything with you?’
Sally nodded. ‘The old brown case with the broken lock. It was all there was – I had to wrap a belt around it to keep it shut.’
‘Well, fetch it,’ Kate said. ‘And I hope you are fit enough to carry it, because I have no intention of doing it for you. I live on the second floor.’
They made their way upstairs and Kate listened to her young sister labouring behind her with the large case. Her own mind was teeming with questions; there was no way Sally should be in Birmingham at all and she could see problems ahead. She had obviously left the family farmhouse in Donegal in Northern Ireland in a hurry, without the knowledge or permission of their parents, and Kate had the feeling that she was the one who would be left picking up the pieces of her reckless, young sister’s decision.
She opened the door to her flat. Behind her she heard Sally sigh in relief. Kate ushered her inside and in the glare of the electric light saw her white and anxious face. ‘Look, put your case down and take off your coat,’ she said more kindly. ‘There’s a hook behind the door.’ She crossed the room as she spoke and drew the curtains, cutting out the damp, chilly night. ‘I’ll put the kettle on and make a cup of tea and you can tell me all about it.’
Sally didn’t answer, and when Kate came back into the room with two steaming mugs on a tray, she was standing in the same place. Though she had unbuttoned her coat, she hadn’t taken it off, and as she looked at Kate she asked, ‘Is this all there is?’
Instantly Kate bristled. ‘Yes,’ she said in clipped tones. ‘What did you expect? The Ritz?’
‘No,’ Sally said sulkily. ‘But you said …’
‘I never told you or anyone else that this place was anything better than it is,’ Kate said firmly. ‘And if you thought it was, then that was in your imagination. I’m a working girl, Sally, and this is all I can afford.’
‘So it’s just the one room?’ Sally said, still shocked by the bareness of the place her sister lived in.
‘Basically,’ Kate said. ‘Behind the curtain in the far corner is my bed, and beside that is a chest of drawers for my things with a mirror on top so that it doubles as a dressing table. There are hooks on the wall for anything that needs to be hung up.’ She led the way to two easy chairs in front of the gas fire and placed the tray on the small table between them. ‘Take off your coat and come and sit down.’
Sally obeyed. As she sat down in the chair Kate had indicated, she asked, ‘What about a kitchen?’
‘British kitchens are nothing like cottage kitchens in Ireland,’ Kate said. ‘Here a wee cubbyhole of a place with a couple of gas rings and a few pots and pans and bits of crockery on some rickety shelves passes as a kitchen. But,’ she added as she handed Sally one of the mugs, ‘here I have running water and a proper sink, which is more than I had at home. We even have a bathroom on the next floor down and we can have a bath just by turning on the taps. It has a proper flush toilet that really startled me the first few times I used it.’
