Silver Linings (14 page)

Connie startled Johnny by shouting from the kitchen, ‘Come on, bonnie lad.’ He had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard her come back into the house. Going through to the kitchen he drew out a chair, and as he sat down at the table the aroma that was wafting up from the rabbit stew reminded him that he was hungry – in fact he was ravenous. That was no surprise because he had been so engrossed in union duties that he hadn’t had time to eat properly all day.

Whilst he devoured the delicious food, Connie busied herself tidying up the kitchen. Once Johnny was finished she lifted his plate and washed it. ‘Right, Johnny, everything is shipshape, so as tomorrow will be a long and emotional day for you I think you should get yourself off to bed now and I’ll get off to mine.’

Connie had just closed her outside door behind her and was halfway up the hall when Johnny pushed the door open again. ‘Connie,’ he croaked hoarsely. ‘I can’t do it. I just can’t do it!’

‘Do what?’

‘Stay in my house on my own. The silence is echoing off the walls and it’s screaming at me. Connie, none of my children are asleep in their own beds!’

‘No, they’re not. But they will be asleep somewhere,’ an exasperated Connie retorted.

Although she could not clearly see Johnny’s face in her torchlight she knew he was pleading to her with his eyes – those soulful eyes that had always beguiled her. What, she wondered, could she say to him? Nonetheless she surprised herself when she patiently replied, ‘Look, I’m not going to come and sleep in your house but you are welcome to bunk in with me.’

Johnny needed no further invitation. Before she could have second thoughts he was heading towards her living room.

Both Kitty and Jack knew that it would be difficult to find seats on the Liverpool train. They were becoming increasingly despondent when they finally came upon a six-seat carriage with one space vacant.

Four of the seats were occupied by servicemen but it was only the American airman who suggested that Jack should sit down on the available chair and that he would be more than happy to accommodate Kitty on his knee. Naturally the offer was declined and Kitty sat down on a seat whilst Jack was reduced to sitting on the floor with his back to the door.

It wasn’t a pleasant or comfortable journey for either Kitty or Jack. What added to their chagrin was that they expected to arrive at eight o’clock in the evening but the train did not in fact pull in to the Liverpool terminus until after ten.

‘Blast,’ was Kitty’s reaction to their late arrival. ‘You know what us being this late means, Jack?’

‘No. What?’

‘That as Bobby is not on the danger list we won’t be able to visit him until tomorrow morning.’

‘Right enough.’

‘So what do you think we should do?’

Rubbing his numb backside Jack wearily replied, ‘Firstly we must find a chippie and eat. Then as I’m so blinking tired we’ll go and find a bed and breakfast where I can get my head down.’

Jenny had been ecstatic when a breathless Kitty had asked her if she would look after her sixteen-year-old grandson Davy, who was a plumber’s apprentice, and her precocious and gossipy soon-to-be four-year-old precious granddaughter Rosebud.

She had always felt that somehow she and Kate should have taken Rosebud when Sandra had died giving birth to her. But how they would ever have got her away from Kitty and Johnny she just didn’t know. The trouble, as she saw it, was that both of them had sworn to Sandra, in the vain hope of easing her passing, that they would always care for Rosebud. Jenny realised then and now that no way would she and Kate ever have been given custody of Rosebud.

By the time Kate had got home from work Jenny already had Rosebud washed and ready for bed.

‘My!’ exclaimed Kate. ‘I didn’t know that we were going to have our darling Rosebud staying overnight.’

‘Well you are,’ chimed Rosebud, ‘and you’ve just missed Davy, who is also staying here.’

‘What has happened to Kitty and Johnny?’

‘Johnny’s in Glasgow on blooming union business,’ Jenny replied, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling, ‘and Kate, wait till I tell you, Kitty’s away to Liverpool …’

‘Surely not on her own … and why would she go there?’

‘Not on her own. Oh no, Jack insisted on going with her. You see, Kate …’ Jenny stopped to sniff and rub under her nose. ‘My gracious God, whom you doubt, has listened to my prayers and our Bobby has survived. Survived, do you hear? But now he’s in hospital.’

Kate slumped down on a chair and began to sob.

‘Why is Aunty Kate crying? Is it because you’re going to send her away to the evacuation as soon as she’s old enough?’ babbled Rosebud.

Jenny ignored Kate’s crying and turned to face Rosebud before asking, ‘Who is going to be sent to the evacuation?’

‘Me,’ chanted Rosebud, who loved being the centre of attention. ‘Every day, Granny, after I’ve been a wee bit, a very wee bit, naughty …’

‘Naughty?’

‘Yes, Granny.’ Rosebud sucked in her lips, obviously thinking of the naughtiest act she had committed. ‘Like … like … asking Mrs Dickson if she has any spare sweetie coupons or sitting on Kit Ferguson when he falls over. Kitty then says to me that just as soon as I’m old enough she’s going to put me on the bus to Lasswade.’

‘Lasswade?’ shrieked Jenny.

‘You know, where all the evacuees go so they can learn to be good. And,’ Rosebud emphasised, ‘nobody visits them until they are.’

Jenny quickly changed the subject by asking Kate if she was happy to have ham and eggs for her tea. Nonetheless she vowed, as the egg sizzled in the pan, that she was going to have more than a few choice words with Kitty when she got back home.

* * *

An uneasy, eerie silence had fallen in Connie’s house as both she and Johnny undressed down to their underwear. Nightclothes for them were still luxuries that even now, if they could afford them, they could not justify spending precious clothing coupons on. Besides, if there was an air raid it was so much easier just to pull on your jumper and skirt or trousers.

‘I’m sorry, Johnny,’ Connie gulped, ‘the only room in the house that has a bed in it is mine. So you either can bunk on the sofa,’ she tittered, ‘or if you are in need of a cuddle get in beside me.’

‘I am an honourable man, Connie, so the sofa it is.’

Johnny heaved himself on to the couch. For a full ten minutes he tossed and turned. ‘Connie, I’m too long for this couch,’ he loudly protested. ‘And I can’t get comfortable. What do you think I should do?’

Connie chortled. ‘One of three things.’

‘And what are they?’

‘Firstly, you could try cutting cut off your feet; secondly, and probably the least drastic measure, take yourself back through to your own bed; or finally throw caution to the wind and … cuddle in with me.’

Next thing Connie heard was Johnny rolling himself off the sofa. Then the slip-slapping of his bare feet on the linoleum floor caused her to emit a girlish giggle, which turned into full-blown laughter when he mumbled, ‘To hell with it. And as I have such high standards and therefore nothing is …’ He paused. ‘See when I come to think of it … who would blooming know or care … especially if they were getting bombed to hell?’

Being a lady, Connie pulled back the covers so Johnny could get in beside her. He had just got himself settled in the bed when she chuckled. ‘Now, Johnny dear, if I put the bolster pillow in between us would that be enough for your high standards?’

Johnny humped and turned his back on her. That was until he was overcome once again by that lonely, desolate feeling. Without saying a word he turned back and drew her into his arms.

Drumming her fingers on his chest, she murmured, ‘Johnny, just in case things get … well … you know they might get … So I think you should know that when I married Mark I didn’t know that he was … What I’m trying to say is that he was … is … a nancy boy.’

Johnny could only grunt, ‘A what?’

‘A nancy boy,’ Connie quickly confirmed. ‘So that meant he brought his then lover, Jamie, with us on …’ She hesitated and kept pounding her fingers on Johnny’s chest before adding, ‘Or to be correct, he took me along with them on their honeymoon.’

Silent minutes slowly ticked by before Johnny drawled, ‘Well, if that little story is not a damper on any passion that might have arisen – and I’m not saying that any has – then I don’t know what else is.’

‘You’re just like Mark,’ Connie blubbed through heart-rending sobs. ‘You led me on to think … that you liked me as a de … sir … able … woman … and just like him you promised me so much a few minutes ago and now you are rejecting me.’

‘Rejecting you? No I’m not. It’s just that I’m wondering …’ Johnny halted and sat bolt upright in the bed. ‘If your husband is still alive would he … ?’

‘Well as far as I know, he is alive and kicking.’

‘That’s what I mean – he could burst in here any minute now and justly kick the living daylights out of me.’

‘Don’t be daft, Johnny. In the ten years I’ve lived here he’s never as much as put a foot over the door.’

Relief swept over Johnny. He snuggled down in the bed again. ‘All right, Connie,’ he drawled, ‘tonight I’ll share your bed but … well, it’s against my religion to … with a woman who is not free …’

Connie started to howl again.

‘What’s wrong with you now?’ Johnny huffed.

‘It’s just that I’m going to be like your sister Kate and die a virgin.’

‘Virgin!’ Johnny was bolt upright in the bed again. ‘Now let’s get this straight. Are you saying that you’re still a virgin?’

Connie sniffed. Her nodding head bounced off his chest.

‘How old are you?’

‘I turned thirty-eight but just last week.’

‘Well, if this is not a first for Leith, I don’t know what is.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘That you, a sassy bottle blonde, are still a virgin at thirty-eight!’

‘But your sister Kate is born and bred Leith and at forty-three she’s still …’

‘Aye,’ Johnny replied coldly, ‘but she’s not sassy. She’s like the Little Sisters of the Poor married to frigidity.’

Connie snuffled. Profuse tears spilled over. Johnny felt guilty.
Nothing else for it then,
he argued with himself. So reaching over he drew her into his arms again. ‘There, there,’ he cooed. ‘It’s all right, Connie. Now come on, stop crying, and I promise you that I won’t tell anyone your secret. Nobody will know but me that you’re a …’ He blew out his lips as temptation began to raise its ugly head.

And so it was true that when Connie Sharp allowed Johnny Anderson to share her bed that night she was a thirty-eight-year-old virgin. But long before dawn broke she might still have been thirty-eight years old but she was most certainly no longer a virgin!

Jack had put his hand forward to run it over the plaster cast that was covering Bobby’s left arm. ‘Does it hurt, Bobby?’ he asked tentatively.

‘Not as much as it did …’ Bobby’s thoughts were racing back to the night his ship was torpedoed.

Twenty-six merchant ships loaded up with food and vital supplies left North America bound for Liverpool. The spaced-out fleet was flanked at the front, sides and rear by an escort fleet of destroyers, frigates, corvettes and fighting planes.

Bobby remembered he had just congratulated himself again for not only having survived the disastrous runs of 1942 – when nearly six thousand men lost their lives and around 450 ships were torpedoed by the U-boats – but also having got almost safely home again this trip.

He then recalled that he had volunteered to become one of the gallant band of merchant seamen who were risking their lives to make sure Britain was not starved into submission. He and his fellow shipmates had become buoyed up with great expectations when they were assured that in 1943, life in the Atlantic would be so much safer for them. Convoys, at last, would enjoy the protection of escort planes that could fly as far as the infamous Atlantic Gap. This black pit had in the past been favoured by the German U-boats because no escort planes could cover the convoy at that distance – meaning ships were like sitting ducks and thousands were consigned to a watery grave.

Bobby huffed as he thought,
Aye, things should have been better on my last trip
.
But as all us Scots ken, the best-laid schemes ‘gang aft agley’
. He became pensive as he reluctantly remembered that strict blackout was still the order of the day and the convoy had endured the added menace of being engulfed in a silent pea-souper fog. No one on board his ship had voiced their concerns but they all knew that they were now at even greater risk.

To be truthful it was the tanker in front of them being torpedoed that was the start of the problems. Then he admitted to himself that the ship that he was travelling on was not really seaworthy. Had it not been for the fact that Britain was so short of vessels, his ship would now be a pile of junk in the breakers’ yard. The ship only caught a glancing blow from the torpedo that was aimed at it, but as it exploded, it did enough damage for the captain to know that he had to abandon ship – and speedily at that.

Luckily they had stayed afloat long enough to get two lifeboats launched, and through what Bobby considered the captain and the chief engineer’s courage, fortitude and determination, all but five of the crew were housed in the two boats. Bobby, however, was unfortunate enough to be racing through the ship to get to the lifeboats when a door banged shut on his arm. Luckily the captain and the chief engineer, who were going to be last to get into the lifeboats, grabbed hold of him and they got him safely aboard.

After four hours of drifting, luckily in the right direction, the fog lifted and then they had to contend with biting-cold, swollen seas. Another two hours slowly and painfully passed before they were picked up by another merchant ship bound for Liverpool. The injured Bobby was then transferred to a small cottage hospital.

Kitty and Jack had been standing beside Bobby’s bed as these thoughts and memories raced through his mind: her asking, ‘Has he said anything, Jack?’ and Jack responding ‘No’ as Bobby opened his eyes.

‘I’ve not been asleep. I’ve just been thinking,’ he protested. ‘Oh, Kitty, pretty Kitty, I am so glad to see you. You see …’ He stopped as uncontrollable sobs overtook him.