A Mistletoe Kiss (42 page)

Agatha glanced at the clock on the kitchen mantelpiece; it was four o'clock in the afternoon, high time Hetty returned, as she had promised, to the house in Everton Terrace. On the Friday night, she had acted as runner for the fire-watchers in the city centre who were without any form of telephone, and she had intended to do the same tonight, but Agatha had been against it. ‘You've got to get some sleep,' she had told her young friend. ‘As soon as the siren sounds, you and Mother should go straight to the Anderson shelter. It's not as if you can sleep during the day, because you'll be too busy dealing with your own personal tragedy. Mr Gower and I have requested permission from head office not to open the library on Saturdays for a while, so I shall get some sleep during daylight hours.'

Hetty had said she would see how things turned out, and now the back door opened and the girl herself came into the room. She smiled at the two older women, picked up a slice of bread and margarine, sat down and reached for the jam pot, whilst Mrs Preece poured her a cup of tea. ‘The Inland Waterways people have found Gran and Gramps,' she said. ‘I spoke to them on the phone, which was better in some ways than having to tell them face to face. They were actually in Leeds and had just loaded
up, but someone else will take over the barge whilst they return to Burscough by train. They won't be here until tomorrow, but once they arrive things will be a lot easier. They are devastated, naturally, but Gramps will know far better than I what needs to be done. So if you don't mind, I'll just have something to eat and then go to bed for a few hours. Wake me when Moaning Minnie sounds, if I don't hear it. As for the shelter, I'll see how I feel.'

‘All right,' Agatha said reluctantly. ‘I suppose if we try to insist that you go to the shelter you'll just meekly agree, and it won't be five minutes before you're reporting to the wardens, or WVS, and offering to help. Well, you know best, dear. And now we'll all eat our tea, such as it is, and prepare for the night ahead.'

Hetty loved staying in Agatha's pretty little spare room, but knew she would find it difficult to sleep. Thoughts of Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Alf, of the way they had accepted her into their family, filled her mind. Easygoing Aunt Phoebe had never made her feel a burden; Uncle Alf had several times introduced her to his friends as ‘young Hetty, what's as good as a daughter to Phoebe and me', and the boys had squabbled with her, teased her and protected her when she needed it. Of course she still had Gran and Gramps, but now that they had returned to the Leeds and Liverpool she did not see much of them. Naturally they exchanged letters, but it was not the same. Aunt Phoebe had never been demonstrative, rarely giving either her sons or
her niece a kiss or a hug, yet Hetty had known herself loved and felt her loss deeply and painfully.

Climbing into bed, fully dressed apart from trousers, jersey and boots, she plumped up the pillow and lay down, thinking how nice it would be if the moon hid its face behind thick clouds and the Luftwaffe decided to have a night off. Oh, if only they had taken the night off on Thursday; then Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Alf would still be alive.

Hetty had not yet cried for her aunt and uncle; she had been too busy and too shocked, had not perhaps even taken in what had happened and how it would affect her life. But now, suddenly, she felt a sob rise up in her throat and began to weep, and presently she cried herself to sleep.

She woke to the wail of the siren and glanced at her wristwatch. It was half past ten, and as she scrambled into her clothes she saw through the window – for she had rolled up the blackout blinds as soon as she had got into bed – that the darkness of the night was already split by searchlights. As soon as she was dressed she tapped on Mrs Preece's door, which was opened so abruptly that she guessed the older woman had not undressed. Hetty smiled at her. ‘I expect Agatha's long gone,' she said. ‘But we'd better make sure before I take you down to the shelter.'

‘Don't bother; I heard her clattering down the stairs at least half an hour ago, well before the siren started,' Mrs Preece informed her. ‘Are you going to stay in the shelter with me? Agatha said you wouldn't …'

‘I'll get you comfortably settled, then I'll see how
I feel,' Hetty said evasively. ‘Agatha showed me where she left blankets and provisions and so on earlier in the evening, and no doubt Mrs Simpson will join you. Come along now.'

Mrs Preece accompanied her down the stairs, and Hetty fetched the large canvas bag containing a flask of tea, jam sandwiches wrapped in greaseproof paper, candles and matches, Mrs Preece's knitting and a couple of books. Then she picked up the two neatly folded blankets and handed them to her companion and they both set off for the Anderson shelter. Agatha had explained to Hetty the evening before that they never left things in the shelter, where they might be stolen, or could get damp and musty, but what she termed ‘the emergency bag' was always packed and ready.

Hetty checked that the house was secure, for sadly it was not unknown for thieves to strip a house bare of anything of value whilst its occupants were in the shelter. Then she hustled old Mrs Preece into the Anderson, to find Mrs Simpson already ensconced. They greeted one another, and the two ladies wrapped themselves in the blankets and settled down on the hard wooden benches. Already, they could hear the drone of the heavy bombers and the rattling fire from the ack-ack batteries, but Hetty was amused to see that neither of her companions took the slightest notice. Mrs Preece was pouring tea into enamel mugs and Mrs Simpson was frowning over a knitting pattern. They looked set for the night, and Hetty felt no compunction about leaving them. She bent over and
kissed Mrs Preece's soft, wrinkled cheek, then touched her tin hat in mock salute. ‘I'm off to give any help I can,' she announced cheerfully. ‘I can see you'll be all right for the next few hours, so don't go saving me any grub because if they need me as a runner for the fire-watchers, or to check blackouts are drawn, or to cordon off bombed buildings, they'll give me a cuppa and a wad from one of the mobile canteens. See you soon, my dears!'

Three hours later, Hetty honestly wondered if there would be any Liverpool left by the time the all clear sounded. She had offered her help and had been told to go to a big warehouse near the Bryant and May's match factory, to act as runner should the fire-watchers there spot a conflagration. The bombers dropped incendiaries as well as HE bombs, and Hetty supposed that sometimes, if one acted quickly enough, fires could be extinguished before they did too much damage. Tonight, however, the defendants were overwhelmed. Hetty saw, from her perch on the flat roof of a warehouse near the docks, a barrage balloon in flames being carried towards the shipping by the spiteful wind and heard, only moments later, a deafening explosion, saw flames leap as high as the highest building. All around her there was chaos; she must report to HQ as soon as possible, though there seemed little hope of quenching the conflagration.

Telling the fire-watcher she would be back as soon as she could, she ran down the stairs and dashed to the nearest point to tell of the latest fire, and on the way saw tram lines rearing up like angry snakes,
water mains spouting fountains and fractured gas pipes alight, to add to the horrors. Several times she thought of poor Agatha, fire-watching from the topmost turret of the Everton library with its fantastic view of the entire city spread out before her, and wondered how on earth she was getting on. There were so many fires that it would be impossible for the older woman to pinpoint them, but at least she had the telephone downstairs in the library, though she found the spiral staircase difficult, either ascending or descending.

Hetty got back to the building which she had just left to report to HQ and gasped; it must have received a direct hit, for as soon as she got close enough she could see that it was just a shell, its windows gaping whilst flames leapt almost as high as the building itself.

A man in warden's uniform saw her and shouted. ‘Don't go near that building, queen! What are you doing out here? Find a shelter, for Gawd's sake; the streets ain't no place for a young girl. I'm goin' to cordon off that building …'

‘I'm a runner,' Hetty said breathlessly, swinging round to show him the armband she had been given. ‘I've just returned from HQ; what happened to the old feller who was fire-watching on the roof of this place?'

The man shrugged helplessly. ‘He wouldn't have stood a chance, chuck,' he said gently. ‘Now gerroff; I've work to do.' He had a bundle of metal rods under one arm and a coil of rope across his shoulder, and now began to cordon off the building; surely a useless task with so much destruction all around.

Hetty sighed, then decided to make her way back to St Domingo Road. She imagined that the library would be locked, but hoped that the little door at the end, which led up to the turret where her friend was fire-watching, would be open. When someone could be spared, Agatha was given a runner to save her from the horrors of the spiral staircase, and the little door was unlocked then.

As soon as she neared the library, however, Hetty began to feel uneasy. The streets were too quiet, too deserted, and despite the fact that it was May she found that she was shivering, not just with fright but with cold also. And she realised she was lonely, for aboard the
Shamrock
, no matter what might be happening, one was never alone. She hugged her thin coat around her, wishing she had thought to don the duffel she wore aboard the boat in winter, and looked apprehensively up at the sky. It was scattered with stars but the moon had sunk out of sight behind a row of buildings, and, in any case, thick dark clouds were beginning to blot out the stars. Hetty had stopped in order to look about her; now she began to walk again, and even as she did so she heard the drone of an engine. She looked up. Yes, there was an aeroplane, black even against the blackness of the sky, and it was coming towards her, coming fast and low and menacing, seeming to be heading straight for her as though the pilot had her in his sights and meant to shoot her down.

Hetty gave a tiny shriek and began to run, then slowed; which way, which way? She had been heading for the library and now she realised that she was on
St Domingo Road, that the large and imposing building opposite her was the library, though it looked different, somehow sinister, as though it were in league with the pilot of the plane which was swooping lower, lower …

Hetty told herself that she should make for the nearby public shelter, but something made her continue to run as fast as she could towards the library. She was outside the main gates now, hesitating, guessing that this entrance would be locked, not knowing which way to turn, sobbing with terror, longing for human companionship, any companionship …

Arms closed around her waist, strong arms, and she found herself lifted off her feet. The man carrying her fairly tore round the corner of the library, to the little side door which led directly to the turret. Then he stood her down and rubbed her tear-wet cheek with his own firm, slightly bristly one, continuing to hold her with her back against his chest so that she could not see his face.

‘I've got you, cariad; you're safe with me, safe as houses,' he crooned. ‘Just relax; the raid's nearly over. Very soon dawn will begin to creep over the rooftops and another day will begin, and when the all clear goes I'll throw you up on my great white charger and carry you off, because today's my day for rescuing fair maidens.'

‘Oh, Gareth, how did you find me? I've never been so frightened in the whole of my life,' Hetty gasped. ‘And why didn't you tell me it was you who put me on your motorbike and brought me home to Liverpool
that night? I feel so ashamed! Fancy thinking that the man who kissed me might be horrible Harry or one of the other blokes from my days on the canal. Oh, darling Gareth, I've been so stupid! But I'm not stupid any longer; I love you, the real you, not the imaginary one.' She twisted in his arms and pulled his head down in order to plant a trembling kiss on his startled mouth. ‘Will you ever forgive me?'

‘I might,' Gareth said. His voice cracked. ‘Oh, Hetty, I've loved you ever since we were kids and I'll love you for the rest of my life! But we'd best get inside because I see a warden coming up the road and he's bound to ask what we're doing here.'

‘If we climb the spiral staircase we'll find Agatha at the top,' Hetty said, hanging back as they entered the building. ‘You've not met her for years, but she's always approved of you and thought me a fool not to grab you with both hands. But what are you doing here, Gareth? You're supposed to be miles away in RAF Scampton, doing clever things with engines.'

‘Your grandfather rang my airfield and told me where you were. He and I have always kept in touch, and I reckon he knew how I felt about you even before I did. At any rate, he rang after your aunt and uncle were killed and told me to ask for compassionate leave, which I got. Naturally I didn't waste a moment but jumped into the old jalopy and came straight to Everton Terrace. The old lady you're staying with with said to try the library, so here I am.' He put his arms round her and squeezed gently. ‘Oh, Hetty, Hetty, Hetty! I've been so bloody unhappy, because in a way it was worse
that you'd fallen in love with a me who wasn't me … am I making sense?'

‘No, but I understand what you're saying,' Hetty said dreamily. ‘How awful it would have been if I'd not recognised you just now! Worse if I'd gone on looking for someone who didn't exist …

They were inside the library now and Gareth was pushing Hetty gently before him up the first half-dozen steps when they heard the
crump
of an exploding bomb and both instinctively ducked, then laughed at their foolishness. Gareth was just saying that he thought the missile had landed at least a mile off when they heard footsteps descending the stairs above them and hastily retreated, for there was no room for two adults to pass on the narrow metal steps.