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She had been overjoyed when Billy had proposed. He’d announced it at a Banham family christening and it had brought tears to her eyes when she saw how happy her closest friends were for them. Finally it looked as if their life together could begin.
Billy had always lived with his mother, who had been thrilled to hear that her son had at last become engaged to the love of his life. However, she felt she was too old to cope with a toddler around the house. Billy had understood. He had planned to move in with Kathleen after they married, even though her place was really just one big room with a back kitchen and a shared privy in the yard. He was out most of the time anyway, working down at the docks in Limehouse, or on ARP duty in the evenings.
They’d fixed the date even while the Blitz had rained down on the streets around, causing havoc, destroying houses, roads, entire families. They had been under no illusions about the danger, but one day in the summer their plans fell apart.
Kathleen had been at home with Brian when she heard the familiar wail of the air-raid siren, which had sounded practically every night for months on end. ‘Off we go, then,’ she’d said to her little boy, hurriedly bundling him into his siren suit and snatching up the bag she kept in readiness by the front door. Together they had hurried to the local church hall, set up for those who had no Anderson shelters in their gardens. At the last minute she had decided it would be quicker to push him in his old pram, and that meant she could load the shelf underneath it with his teddy bear and wooden bricks, extra food, and a few of her own essentials.
Never had she been so thankful to have acted quickly. When the all clear came the next morning, they had returned to a scene of devastation. Jeeves Place had taken a direct hit, and Kathleen’s home was nothing but a pile of smouldering bricks. She could see straight through to the yard and the houses that had backed on to it. Neighbouring properties had lost all their windows, some of their roofs and brickwork. The smell was indescribable.
‘This your place?’ a kindly policeman had said. ‘Afraid you can’t come any closer – it’s not safe.’
‘But … my things,’ she had gasped. ‘All my clothes, all my boy’s clothes, they’re in there.’ Even as she said it, she recognised that they had very little left behind worth saving.
‘You can come back later when we’ve made it secure,’ the policeman had suggested. ‘Do you have anywhere you can go in the meantime?’
Kathleen had gulped, taking in the changes to her old street. Its narrow pavements were shrouded in dust and rubble, a few residents grey-faced with shock standing at the far end beyond the cordon. ‘Y-yes, I think so.’ She hoped the Banham household was still standing. She didn’t think her shaking legs would take her any further.
She had the desperate urge to get Brian away from all of this before he could realise what was going on, that the only home he had ever known was now in ruins. ‘We’ll go to my friends,’ she had said, and swung the pram around as fast as she could.
It was a matter of minutes before she arrived at the Banhams’ front door, which was still mercifully in place. Jeeves Street had taken a pounding earlier in the summer and there were gaps in its once-solid terraces, but the house she sought was intact. True, the air stank of fires and brick dust and, worse, an underlying stench of decay and rust. But the Banham home, for years her sanctuary, stood firm.
Mattie, her best friend, had cried with relief and hugged her hard before pulling her into the heart of the house, the big kitchen, with its view over the awkward wedge shape of not-quite-garden. Flo, Mattie’s mother, had immediately set about making tea and pouring precious orange juice for Brian, as Mattie still got extra for nursing her younger child. Kathleen had collapsed onto a chair, relieved beyond measure that she was safe and so were her closest friends and their children. Mattie’s father, Stan, was an ARP warden in the same section as Billy, and Flo promised to inform him at once that they were in one piece. ‘We thought you would be,’ she said. ‘We knew you went to the church shelter whenever the siren went, no matter what time of day or night. We all squashed up into our own shelter, packed in like sardines we was.’
Kathleen had stared around, taking in Mattie, her face tear-streaked, with her daughter Gillian pulling at her sleeve, and younger child Alan grizzling from his cot in the corner – the one that Gillian and Brian used to share when they were smaller. Flo looked worried but resolute, as usual. Only then, once Kathleen had her cup of tea and could see that Brian was chatting away happily to his teddy, did it occur to her that everything would have to be changed.
So the wedding was postponed until Kathleen and Billy could find somewhere to set up home together. That was easier said than done. Both wanted to stay in the area; as well as Billy’s mother, his work was relatively close by. Kathleen had family down in Haggerston but wasn’t close to them. They had all but washed their hands of her when she had married Ray against their advice, and although she sometimes visited her mother, it was more out of duty than anything else.
She and Mattie had often talked about taking Brian, Gillian and Alan out of Hackney to somewhere safer in the countryside; as mothers of such small children they would be eligible to be evacuated with them. Yet it was hard to leave Mattie’s parents. Both of Mattie’s brothers had joined up when war had broken out, Joe in the navy and Harry in the army. Harry had vanished at Dunkirk and for many bleak months everyone believed he was dead, but he had survived … just. He was still recovering in hospital, and was in no position to help his parents should they need it. Mattie’s husband Lennie had been taken prisoner at the same time and nobody could say when he would be home, though they all talked determinedly of ‘when’ and not ‘if’.
Mattie and Kathleen had worked together to keep the household running smoothly, while everyone kept their ears to the ground in case word of a house or flat came up. Even so it was many months before Stan got wind of anything likely.
Then, in November, he’d been on duty one night when there had been an accident with a gas main and he had helped to evacuate a nearby block of flats. A grateful elderly resident had confided in him as he slowly walked her towards a WVS mobile canteen so that she could have a warm drink on the chilly evening.
She was worried that her sister’s house would be broken into by looters. The sister had left it to go to her daughter’s, and wouldn’t be coming back as she was too frail. How could she find reliable tenants? She didn’t know what to do for the best. Stan had offered to put her in touch with the ideal young couple.
Now Kathleen turned in Billy’s arms, thoughts of the new house filling her mind. It was between her old flat and Butterfield Green, an open space which would be good for Brian to play in come the better weather. It had two bedrooms upstairs, a large one at the front big enough for a proper double bed, and a smaller one at the back. Downstairs was a front parlour, a kitchen that was more like a scullery, and, an unexpected luxury, a lean-to bathroom at the back, with a copper for hot water and no need to step outside on a cold night. It was more than they could have hoped for.
Once again she briefly wondered if she and Billy should have waited until the wedding before sleeping together but, after the postponement, they had decided that enough was enough. They had waited for years, always acting properly despite their strong attraction and ample opportunity. Who knew what awaited them. So Kathleen had found a temporary billet with Brian, and Billy had taken to visiting between his days down at the docks and his evening shifts. It wasn’t much but they savoured every second they had together. After all, they would be together officially soon, with a new date for the wedding set just before Christmas.
‘Come on, sleepyhead,’ she said, reluctant to leave the comfort of his arms. She had never felt safer in her life, secure in the knowledge that this was where she belonged. ‘Nearly time to go.’
He smiled easily as he turned onto his back and looked at her, the waves of brown hair falling around her beloved face, brushing his own shoulders. ‘Got a few minutes yet, haven’t we?’ His eyes grew bright.
She took in his look and smiled back. ‘I thought you were tired, Billy Reilly?’
His smile grew broader as he drew her closer to him. ‘Never too tired for you, Kath,’ he breathed, before kissing her deeply and drawing the covers over them once more.
CHAPTER TWO (#ue03ff779-875f-50d0-935a-49e3bf678610)
‘This is what comes of taking up the tram tracks to use the metal for the war effort,’ groaned Edith as she set down her Gladstone bag in the common room of the nurses’ home. ‘Or not having any spare metal for new bikes. Kids try to ride ones built for adults. Then they fall off. I’ve had two broken arms to look at in one afternoon. It puts me off riding my own bike, I can tell you.’
Alice had got in from her rounds ten minutes earlier and had made a pot of tea. ‘Here, have some of this. It’ll put you in a better temper.’
Edith collapsed into a comfy chair with well-worn cushions and looked up at her tall friend. ‘Thanks. I will. Brrr, I’m freezing, there’s a bitter wind out there.’
Gladys was passing by and caught her words. ‘Shall I build up the fire a bit? Gwen said we can have an extra bag of coal to boost our morale.’
Edith nodded enthusiastically, mindful that this was a big concession from their deputy superintendent. ‘That would be lovely. Sure you don’t mind? I’d offer to help but my fingers are numb.’ She wrapped her red hands around the cup of tea, feeling its warmth as her fingers began to tingle. ‘That’s more like it. Thanks, Al.’
Pushing back her dark blonde hair behind her ears, Alice took a seat beside Edith. ‘That’s what should be top of your Christmas list, then. New gloves.’
Edith nodded. ‘I think Flo’s knitting me some. That’s why I haven’t tried to replace these old ones, which are full of holes.’ She pulled out a bundle of navy wool from her pocket and held it up. Her hands were scarcely bigger than a child’s, appropriate to her birdlike frame. ‘Call that a glove? It’s more like a fishing net now. Mind you, I’ve had these since we qualified. So that’s, what …?’
‘Two and a half years,’ said Alice at once. ‘We began as district nurses back in the summer of 1939.’
‘Before the war.’ Edith raised her eyebrows. ‘Hard to imagine there was such a time, isn’t it?’
Alice nodded, sipping on her own tea. ‘No shortages. No air raids. A proper night’s sleep. Remember those?’
‘Only just.’ Edith took another gulp of tea. ‘I know the raids seem to have stopped now but I still feel as if I’m making up lost time for all those hours of sleep we missed. Sometimes I wake up and imagine I can hear the siren going, out of sheer habit. Does that mean I’m going crazy?’
‘Probably.’ Alice set down her saucer. ‘I know what you mean though. You get used to going to bed expecting to be woken up and having to run down to the refuge room. If you’d told me a few years ago that I’d be able to sleep sitting up on a hard chair, I’d have thought it was impossible, but now we know better.’
‘Still prefer my own bed though.’ Edith loved her little attic room, which had few extra comforts but all the essentials. Before coming to the Victory Walk home she’d never had her own room. It was her haven, and she resented every air raid that took her from it. ‘I’m tempted to go up and have forty winks now before the evening meal, but it won’t be as warm. Gladys, that fire’s lovely – come on, Al, let’s sit right beside it now it’s blazing.’
Gladys beamed in triumph. ‘Me ma always said I was good at getting a fire going. When we had any coal to burn, that was. Sometimes me little brothers would come back with wood they’d found and we’d use that.’ She brushed her hands across her apron. ‘I’d best be going, I’m on duty at the first-aid post tonight.’
‘How’s it going?’ asked Alice.
‘Very well. I love it,’ said Gladys honestly. ‘The most difficult thing is to get me sister to help out at home. That’s why I want to be off now, so I can leave again in good time for my shift. Our Evelyn, that’s the one who’s only a couple of years younger than me, needs to get into the habit of being the cook around the place and I ain’t giving her any chance to make excuses.’
‘Quite right.’ Edith frowned. ‘You’ve done more than enough for them, Gladys. You’re needed elsewhere now.’
‘That’s what I says to them,’ Gladys replied with determination. ‘Give that fire a good top-up before you eat and it’ll keep going all evening. See you tomorrow, then.’ She hurried out.
Alice shook her head. ‘Doesn’t sound as if that sister is making life easy.’
‘Don’t you go worrying about it, Al, you can’t make no difference. We did the best we could, teaching Gladys to read. She’s got to sort out things at home. High time her sister stepped up, but it’s not our business.’
‘I know.’ Alice sighed and stretched back in the wooden carver chair she’d pulled as close as she dared to the roaring fire. She rolled her shoulders back a few times, easing out the tensions of the day, made worse by cycling around in the cold. Then she brightened. ‘I forgot, I had a letter today.’ She dug around in the pocket of her Aran cardigan, a present from her mother on her last visit home to Liverpool.
‘Is it from Joe?’ Edith asked eagerly, her dark eyes gleaming. She knew Alice received regular letters from Joe Banham, and plenty of the nurses speculated that this meant there was romance in the offing, although Alice maintained it was no such thing.
‘No.’ Alice’s face grew solemn. ‘I haven’t heard from him for a while. Not that it means anything,’ she added hastily as Edith’s expression grew anxious, ‘there might be problems with the post.’ With Joe in the navy, they were never sure where he actually was at any given time.
‘Of course.’ Edith was equally determined not to jump to the worst conclusion. Joe would be all right. He had to be. His parents had been through enough when they believed his brother Harry was dead – as had they all, her more than anyone. Harry was the love of her life and she had felt as if part of her had died too; now he was slowly recovering, there was not a day that went past when she didn’t count her blessings. ‘So who is it from, then?’
Alice drew out the envelope and showed her friend the handwriting on the front: bold, forward-slanting lettering. ‘Dermot,’ she said.
‘Oooooh, Dermot.’ Mary had arrived, her face breaking into a broad smile at the mention of the doctor who had temporarily worked at a local surgery when the regular doctor had been unwell. ‘How is the divine Dermot? Still breaking hearts all along the south coast?’
‘You’re late back,’ Edith said, watching as Mary found another carver chair with a faded cushion and pulled it across to join them. ‘Was there a problem?’
‘No, not really. Mr Emmerson was feeling a bit lonely, that’s all, so I stayed for a chat,’ Mary explained, warming her hands in front of the flames. ‘He misses his sons, poor old devil. But then one of his daughters-in-law popped round so I left them to it.’ Mary’s elderly patients loved her as she had the knack of getting them talking. She often said that it wasn’t simply their aches and pains that needed attention, it was that since the war broke out more and more of them were on their own. ‘So what has the lovely Dermot to say for himself?’
‘Anyone would think you had a soft spot for him,’ teased Edith. ‘Better not let Charles hear you saying that.’
‘Chance would be a fine thing. Charles has been too busy recently to hear me say anything. I hardly see him.’ Mary’s face fell and her chestnut curls drooped a little. Her boyfriend was a captain in the army and, even though he had been based in London for much of the war, he found it difficult to spare time away from his duties at headquarters. ‘So, cheer us up, Alice. What’s the news?’
Alice scanned the sheets of paper, covered in vivid navy ink. ‘All right … good … he’s well, he sends his best. Reading between the lines, they’re working flat out, there’s no let-up even though the raids over the airfields have died down. Lots of his colleagues have gone to serve abroad so there’s twice as much to do for those left on the home front.’
‘Sounds familiar,’ said Edith.
‘No budding love interest, then?’ Mary was always keen to hear about other people’s romances as hers had gone into the doldrums.
‘If there is, he isn’t saying.’ Alice looked up from the letter and folded the top sheet. ‘He might not tell me, of course.’ She counted herself immune to Dermot’s considerable charms as he’d trained as a doctor at the same time as she had studied for her first nursing qualification, back in Liverpool. Their relationship had always been that of colleagues, whereas his arrival in Dalston had caused uproar among the single nurses, and even those not so single.
‘That’s too bad. Well, I live in hope.’ Mary’s good mood had bounced back.
‘He’s wondering what it will be like treating American troops, now they’ve joined the war,’ Alice went on, skimming the second page. ‘He’s going to be working alongside a couple of surgeons from New York, by the sounds of it.’
Belinda rushed in, her dark, tightly curled hair a tangled mess. ‘Budge up, I’m frozen solid,’ she said, bringing across yet another chair to the fireside. ‘I thought I was going to be late for the meal, the ambulance took so long. Woman in labour with a breech birth,’ she explained hastily. ‘Did somebody say “American troops”? Go on, Alice, tell me about my favourite subject.’
Alice pulled a face. ‘Nothing specific, sorry. Were you hoping for news of a battalion of them to be stationed up the road?’
‘We should be so lucky.’ Belinda made a face as well. ‘Look, I know Pearl Harbor was terrible but we have to look on the bright side. All those handsome young men coming across the ocean just to rescue us.’ She rolled her eyes.
‘Bringing gifts of nylon tights and chocolate …’ Mary sat up straighter. ‘I know, I know, better not let Charles hear me say that. Still, you can’t deny that things might start to get interesting.’
‘Exactly.’ Belinda beamed in anticipation.
‘The only good thing is, it might mean that the war is over faster,’ Alice said seriously.
‘True. No, you’re right, I realise that,’ Belinda said hastily. ‘It’s just that you’re not looking for a boyfriend, are you, Alice, but some of us like to keep on the alert just in case. There’s a bit of a shortage of eligible men around here if you hadn’t noticed. So if there are thousands of them about to board ship for Europe, then I for one intend to be ready. What are you looking at me like that for? I’m just saying.’
Edith got to her feet. ‘Looks as if the meal’s ready. Stew again, by the smell of it.’ She reached for her bag as she rose. ‘I’ll take this back to my room and see you down here in a mo.’
Alice stood as well. ‘I hadn’t really thought about it like that,’ she admitted.
‘Well, some of us have,’ said Belinda with spirit, unfolding her tall, slim frame from the warmth of the chair. ‘Who knows, Alice, we might get you out dancing yet.’ She ran after Edith, her thick nurse’s cloak over one arm, her Gladstone bag swinging from the other.
Alice watched them go, reflecting on Dermot’s letter, less concerned by what he had said than what he hadn’t. There had been no mention of Mark, Dermot’s best friend, who had also trained at the big Liverpool hospital when they were there. Mark had broken her heart. She had believed that they were destined to be together and that he felt the same as she did. However, the lure of the Spanish Civil War had been stronger and Alice found herself deserted, not for another woman but for a rival against which she could not hope to win: a cause. Gradually she had hardened her heart and poured everything into her work instead.
Yet it was only human to wonder if he was all right. She knew he had returned from Spain and enlisted as a doctor, and was – to the best of her knowledge – somewhere on the south coast, treating the Forces and also any enemy airmen who had been shot down this past year. She told herself it was enough to know that he was alive, doing the work that he loved and was so supremely good at. There could be nothing further between them. But it did mean that, however enthusiastic her colleagues were, the very last thing she ever wanted to do was to go dancing.
CHAPTER THREE (#ue03ff779-875f-50d0-935a-49e3bf678610)
‘I thought these new girls were meant to help us out but this has been the slowest day I can remember in all the time we’ve worked here,’ Peggy Cannon complained, pulling off the dusty headscarf that she wore while working in the gas-mask factory. ‘I know they’ve got to register for some kind of war work, but why didn’t they sign up for something they’re good at?’ She rolled up the fraying piece of cotton and shoved it into her bulging handbag.
Clarrie was more forgiving. ‘You forget what we were like at first. We were all fingers and thumbs. Give them a few days and they’ll catch up.’ She shook free her own hair, which was a striking red, all the more noticeable in the dull changing room of the factory.
‘They’ll have to,’ Peggy grumbled. ‘We’re going to be making more than gas masks and boxes now, aren’t we? I heard we were going to do stuff for weapons, rubber seals and that.’
Clarrie glanced around. ‘Don’t go saying that outside these walls.’
Peggy snorted. ‘What do you take me for? Do they seriously think we won’t notice that everything we’re working on is a different shape?’ She buttoned her coat, with its worn patches from several years’ use. ‘Don’t mind me, I’m just in a bad mood.’
Clarrie shrugged, used to her friend’s impatience. ‘Well, my sister’s gone and put her name down for the Land Army,’ she said. ‘Can you credit it? She can just about peel a carrot; she’s never grown a thing in her life. Pity the poor farmer who ends up with her.’
Peggy grinned at the idea. ‘Maybe she’ll be good with animals. Used to take that dog you had when you were little out for walks, didn’t she?’
‘Yes, but she didn’t have to kill it and eat it,’ Clarrie pointed out. ‘No, she’s in for the shock of her life. And she’ll most likely be out in the middle of nowhere, no dancing or nothing.’
One of their fellow workers passed by, half hearing their conversation. ‘Oh, are you going dancing?’ she asked casually. ‘Well, good for you, Peggy, cos you’re over him by now, aren’t you? Let’s face it, he’s been dead much longer than you was wed. Best to get back out on the dance floor!’ and she was off in a trail of cheap perfume, leaving Peggy with her jaw dropping at the insensitivity of the comment.
Clarrie tucked her arm through her friend’s. ‘Pay her no notice. She don’t know what she’s talking about.’
Peggy swallowed hard. ‘I know. She’s nothing but hot air, that one. She don’t know the half of it and that’s a fact. Come on, let’s get out of here.’ She found it was suddenly hard to breathe. She’d go for ages convincing herself that she was all right, but all it took was one callous remark and she was back down in the deep well of grief, mourning Pete, who’d been her husband for less than a year when he’d been killed at Dunkirk. As if a bit of dancing could put right the unfairness of that.
Not that she hadn’t tried. Where Edith had stayed in, craving silence and stillness to remember her Harry, Peggy had thrown herself into escaping, drinking, dancing, staying out, and generally carrying on as if there were no tomorrow. Sometimes it helped her to forget, more often it just brought it home to her how wonderful Pete had been and how nobody else came close. She’d had one particular dreadful incident, when she was attacked by a Canadian airman whose dark good looks hid his violent heart. She had even bounced back from that, as far as the few people who knew about it could tell. Only Peggy knew that her love for Pete was so deeply buried that nothing could touch it, and she couldn’t see how she would ever get over his loss.
Clarrie glanced at her watch. ‘Tell you what, shall we have a quick one down the Duke’s Arms? It’s Friday, there might be some of the old gang from school there.’
Peggy perked up. That was one place it wouldn’t matter if two young women came in for a drink on their own. They had plenty of friends who often went there and most of them had known Pete.
‘Yes, let’s. Pete’s mum won’t be waiting for me, it’s her WVS day.’ Peggy continued to live with her mother-in-law and, although the two women had their occasional differences, there was comfort to be had in the knowledge that they had both loved Pete.
The cheerful old pub was not far from the factory and already the main bar was buzzing with conversation. There was nothing fancy about it, and from the outside it was impossible to tell, in the blackout, that it was full of old metal lamps inside and well-polished woodwork, with a welcoming atmosphere that drew the regulars back time after time. Clarrie waved at a few people as she pushed her way in, Peggy – who was shorter – following behind. Clarrie was like a beacon with her bright hair, and Peggy sometimes felt in her friend’s shadow.
‘Hello, girls, what can I get you?’ A familiar figure was standing at the bar.
‘Billy! What you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at home getting ready for the big day?’ Peggy came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the young man grinning sheepishly over the top of his pint.
‘Dutch courage,’ he admitted, setting down his glass. ‘Come on, what’ll it be? You might as well take advantage of my last night as a free man.’
Clarrie laughed. ‘Surely you of all people aren’t having second thoughts, Billy?’
Billy gave her an incredulous look. ‘Me? Of course not. It’s just, well, you know, I’ve got to stand up in front of everyone and say my vows. What if I mess it up? I’m getting all nervous just thinking about it.’ He grinned to make a joke of it but they could see his hand was shaking a little.
Peggy faced him seriously. ‘You won’t, Billy. And, even if you do, who’s going to care? Kath won’t, she’ll be glad that you finally made it to the altar at last. She won’t want you smelling like a brewery though, I can tell you that for a fact.’
Billy shook his head firmly. ‘I only just got here. I won’t be staying. Only wanted to settle me nerves a bit then I’ll get back to Ma’s, make sure she’s all set for tomorrow. What can I get you?’
‘Half a shandy,’ said Clarrie at once.
Peggy was tempted to say port and lemon, but that drink had been her downfall once too often. ‘I’ll have the same,’ she said, and caught Clarrie’s brief glance of approval.
‘Then I’ll have a half meself as a top-up and that’s it, no more till after the … the wedding.’ Billy suddenly went bright red. ‘I still can’t believe it. I’m really marrying Kath tomorrow. How about that?’ His eyes shone as he passed them their shandies.
