Child of the Mersey

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Danny knew, judging by the determined look in her dark eyes, that Kitty was not in the mood for being soft-soaped. As she impatiently shoved a fine wisp of dark wavy hair behind her ear he took a chance and said, by way of explanation, ‘You know what it’s like, Kit: payday on the docks the lads wanted a little flutter. Percy the Greek was nowhere to be seen, so they decided on a game of pitch-and-toss. But where was our Tommy, who was supposed to be lookout …?’

‘Danny was here with me, where he should have been, and not with you lot of scallywags picking up bad habits.’

‘It wasn’t my fault,’ Tommy whined. ‘I had a sore throat.’

‘Another one?’ Danny’s brows puckered. ‘You’ll have to get him seen to, Kit.’

‘If you two didn’t gamble and drink our money away, I might be able to afford a doctor.’ Kitty looked at her little brother. She didn’t know whether it was his bad start in life but Tommy had a very weak chest and still seemed to pick up whatever was going. The summer months saw an improvement but they’d had a few close shaves with him in their time and Kitty worried about him constantly.

‘All right, Kitty, that’s enough now.’ Her father tried to assert his authority, which she respected when he was sober. It was a different matter when he was falling over drunk, as he would have been if the dice school had not been scattered.

‘How am I expected to bring Tommy up the right way with you two leading the example?’ Kitty asked her father. ‘If it wasn’t for Jack and me, goodness knows what would have become of him. I don’t know where me mam got you two from, but it was definitely the same place!’

‘Sorry, Kit,’ her father and her brother said in unison, and as usual, she relented.

‘I don’t want to get a cob on with you,’ she said as if talking to young children, ‘but you both squander what little money we have.’ She’d only own up that she had the money in her pocket after the pub shut. They could live without it for once in their lives.

‘Jack won’t be happy, will he, Kit?’ Tommy said piously, giving Danny cause to glare.

‘Mam would be horrified.’ Kitty knew the mention of her mother always brought a wave of contrition. ‘And if you bring the bobbies to this door again, either of you,’ she said, pointing at them with the knife she was about to put on the tray, ‘I will tell Jack.’

‘Sounds like she’s at the end of her tether,’ Danny whispered to his father when Kitty took the tray out to the scullery.

‘I heard that, and I am,’ Kitty called. Then coming back into the room and nodding to Tommy she said, ‘You go and have a lie-down, you look awful.’ She looked at his untouched plate of suet pudding.

‘I wouldn’t mind a bit of a lie-down,’ he said without complaint, so unlike him as he loved to be outside.

‘Is he sickening for something?’ Danny asked, his eyebrows meeting. Kitty tilted her head to one side to get a better look at Tommy’s downturned face. These things came on so fast with Tommy and they disappeared just as quickly sometimes.

‘I’ll go now if that’s all right, Kit?’ Tommy said, getting up from the table and heading to the stairs.

Kitty’s eyebrows rose. He must be sick if he was taking himself to bed. ‘Go on,’ she said more gently. ‘I’ll bring you a drink up soon.’

‘Ta, Kit,’ Tommy said, looking miserable. Then, in a low voice, milking his sister’s sympathy for all it was worth, he added, ‘It was probably making me get that wash that did it.’

‘What’s the matter, Spud?’ Jack, just coming through the door, was surprised his little brother did not raise a smile when he produced his weekly comic.

‘He’s not feeling well; he’s got another one of his sore throats.’ Kitty felt guilty for scolding Tommy earlier. ‘I got a couple of lemons from the shop. I’ll make him a hot drink.’

‘In this weather!’ Tommy exclaimed in a croaky, despondent voice. ‘I’ll melt.’ Then, without another word, he climbed the stairs to the middle bedroom he shared with Danny. Dad had the back room since Mam died, and Kitty had the big front bedroom containing just a single bed, a small table for the alarm clock and a chest of drawers for her meagre amount of clothing.

‘That’s a lovely cake, Kit,’ Jack said, taking off his cap, his jacket slung over his shoulder. He and his father nodded warily to each other as Jack entered the kitchen. ‘Did you make it?’

Jack was now a well-paid shipwright at Harland and Wolff’s foundry and marine repair works in Strand Road.

Every payday Jack put his wages on the table, and Kitty gave him back his spends. Not once did she hear him complain. Work had been scarce for Danny and Dad, and Jack was often the only one providing. Kitty supplemented the coffers with the odd catering job, and made delicious wedding or christening cakes, but although everybody around came to her, she could not charge inflated prices to people she knew were in the same boat as herself.

‘Aye,’ Kitty answered proudly, gazing at the cake she had moved to the sideboard for safety. She could feel her face flush warmly; it wasn’t very often she got a compliment in this house. ‘I’m going to take it over to Aunty Dolly’s later.’

‘You’ve surpassed yourself, Kit!’ Danny smiled.

‘Will you stay for your tea today, Jack?’ He didn’t always, and Kitty sneaked a look at her father whose head was still buried in the Echo.

‘Would be a shame to waste it.’ He answered her after a pause, and gave her a grin. It must have been one of their good days, thought Kitty, and pulled a seat out for her brother, taking his cap and jacket and hooking them on a peg behind the door.

‘If you wait until I’ve finished my tea,’ Jack said, sitting down to the table for his evening meal, after which he’d go back to his digs, ‘I’ll carry it over for you.’

It would be nice to have a chat with Aunty Dolly and Pop. Maybe, he thought, trying to suppress a warm smile, Rita would be there too …