Down Daisy Street (30 page)
As it happened, it was easy for Jimmy and Alec to confirm their leave and get their rail passes. On a course such as this it was really the pilot who needed most retraining, since a navigator and a gunner would do very much the same job in whichever aircraft they happened to be flying. So, when Jimmy showed the telegram to his CO, he was immediately told to get his rail pass and leave early the following day, and his request that his friend might accompany him was granted without any argument.
Accordingly, the two of them set off at an incredibly early hour next day and were stepping down off the bus which had brought them as near to the centre of Liverpool as it could by early afternoon. Lime Street station had been put out of action three days before by the bombing raids.
What they saw there shocked Alec almost as much as it shocked Jimmy, to whom the scene had once been as familiar as the back of his own hand. It was a city in ruins, with a thick pall of smoke still hanging over it. To be sure, the bulk of St George’s Hall, up there on its plateau, was unharmed, but Lime Street station looked as though it would be out of commission for some time and there were ruined buildings everywhere, some of them still smouldering. They had to clamber over heaps of bricks and rubble in order to reach the only taxi rank in sight.
‘Where’s you headin’, fellers?’ the taxi driver asked them as they piled their kit bags and themselves on to the cracked leather seat. ‘Because there’s roads mashed to bits all over the place, sewers spewin’ up, telephone lines down, rubble stoppin’ a car or a bike from passin’. . . I dunno as I can promise to get you anywhere in under an hour.’
‘Crocus Street; it’s a couple o’ streets past the Stanley Hospital, on the opposite side o’ the road,’ Jimmy began, only to be told brusquely, though not unkindly, that the driver knew the flower streets as well as he knew the rest of Kirkdale.
‘But it’ll be a roundabout route,’ he warned. ‘The Scottie’s took a beatin’. Paddy’s market bought it, as you fellers say, and one o’ the cinemas . . . but I’ll get you home, don’t you worrit yourselves.’
‘What else has been hit?’ Jimmy asked apprehensively, as the taxi began to make its way through the shattered streets. ‘Surely the Stanley Hospital is still standin’? Me dad’s in there . . . we’re goin’ there as soon as I’ve dropped me stuff off at home.’
‘The Stanley’s awright so far as I know,’ the driver assured them. ‘I’m from Bootle meself, so I come in to work that way and the hospital were there this mornin’. The Royal and the Millfield infirmaries have both been hit, though, and have you heard about the
Malakand
? She were an ammo ship in Huskisson Dock until this morning – she’s a load of scrap metal now. Destroyed everything around her when she blew,’ he added with mournful relish. ‘It’s to be hoped they won’t come again but there’s no bleedin’ reason why they should stay away, because our air force seemed to be busy somewhere else for all the protectin’ they did. An’ if they do come again tonight there’s no sayin’ what’ll be left by this time tomorrer.’
Malakand
? She were an ammo ship in Huskisson Dock until this morning – she’s a load of scrap metal now. Destroyed everything around her when she blew,’ he added with mournful relish. ‘It’s to be hoped they won’t come again but there’s no bleedin’ reason why they should stay away, because our air force seemed to be busy somewhere else for all the protectin’ they did. An’ if they do come again tonight there’s no sayin’ what’ll be left by this time tomorrer.’
‘I don’t know about the air force in these parts, but I’m damned sure we’re doing a pretty good job in the south and east of the country, though the fighters are pretty thin on the ground since the Battle of Britain,’ Alec said. ‘Didn’t you see
any
of our chaps? But I dare say you didn’t see much at all since you were probably down in the shelter.’
any
of our chaps? But I dare say you didn’t see much at all since you were probably down in the shelter.’
‘In a shelter? Let me tell you, you cocky young bastard, that I’m an air raid warden, nights.’ He turned towards the young men and Alec saw that his face was grey and his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. ‘I’ve not slept for three nights, and I only get a couple of hours of a mornin’ before turnin’ into work.
If
there were fighters up last night, for instance, they didn’t come over my part of the city. Why, the only plane to crash – it were a Heinkel – was brought down by a barrage balloon. Mind you, last night’s raid weren’t as bad as the one on Sat’day night, but it was still bloody frightening and more damage were done.’
If
there were fighters up last night, for instance, they didn’t come over my part of the city. Why, the only plane to crash – it were a Heinkel – was brought down by a barrage balloon. Mind you, last night’s raid weren’t as bad as the one on Sat’day night, but it was still bloody frightening and more damage were done.’
‘Sorry,’ Alec mumbled. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to give offence. But we’ve been bombing Germany, taking off from Norfolk in a Blenheim bomber, an’ I can tell you we’re very grateful to the chaps who fly Hurricanes and Spitfires when we see them come screamin’ down on the Jerry aircraft. They wouldn’t hold back, I’m tellin’ you.’
‘Well, I’m sorry too, then,’ the driver said handsomely. ‘I’m sure you’re right and there was a good reason why our planes didn’t try to stop them Jerries bombin’ us. Truth to tell, I don’t think anyone ever thought the Luftwaffe would come this far north. O’ course, the ack-ack blazed away, but the Jerries never came low enough to get within range, or so they tell me. Still, no use cryin’ over spilt milk; p’raps they’ve done enough damage and will leave us alone for a bit.’
At this point, Jimmy leaned forward, grasping Alec’s arm and pointing. ‘Look!’ he said hoarsely. ‘There’s a bleedin’ building there still afire – wharrever’s happenin’? Where’s the fire brigade, then? Dammit, there’s another, smoulderin’ away. If they don’t put ’em out before dark falls, enemy bombers will have a perfect target, blackout or no blackout.’
The taxi driver agreed that this was so but said, defensively, that the fire service was doing its best, helped by the fire departments from towns as far away as Manchester. ‘The trouble is, when the fire seems to be out the fellers move on, but they’ve only damped it down like and underneath it’s still burning,’ he explained. ‘And there’s so many fires, and they’re everywhere. The ARP – that’s my little lot – do their best but we don’t have the equipment, see? They give us bass brooms an’ tell us to extinguish fires with ’em.’ He snorted disgustedly. ‘That shows what them fellers up in London knows about the sort of fire which happens when an incendiary gets dropped.’
They turned into Crocus Street at this point and drew up before the McCabe house. Alec stopped to pay the driver and by the time he joined Jimmy at the front door it was already beginning to open. A small and very dirty child stood in the aperture for a moment, staring up at them and plainly seeing the uniforms alone. Then she focused on Jimmy’s face and flung herself forward, wrapping her skinny arms tightly round his waist and butting him with her head. ‘Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy!’ she wailed. ‘Oh, I’m so glad you’re home! Our daddy’s dead.’
Chapter ElevenJimmy put his arm round the child and went into the house with Alec close on his heels, feeling absolutely awful. This was a house of mourning and he wished himself anywhere but here. They walked down a short passageway and into the kitchen, which was crowded with young McCabes. A woman he took to be Mrs McCabe was sitting at the kitchen table with her head resting on her sprawled arms. She was crying rhythmically in great tearing sobs and the children around her were crying too. Alec saw brimming eyes on each side of him and felt his own grow wet. Jimmy was crying, wiping his face with the heels of his hands as though he, too, were still just a little boy at heart. Perhaps we all are, Alec thought humbly, knowing that he would have reacted much as Jimmy was doing had it been his own father who had died.
‘Jimmy. Oh, my dear, I’m so dreadfully sorry. I came round just as soon as I heard the news to see if there was anything I could do.’ The speaker was a tall, slender girl with a mass of golden, curly hair and large blue eyes. Even at such a moment, Alec saw that she had the longest eyelashes he had ever seen, a small straight nose and skin like milk. He imagined that this must be Jimmy’s sister, Annie, and thought her a real little smasher. He was just wondering why Jimmy had never told him that his sister was beautiful when Jimmy crossed the room in a couple of strides and took the girl in his arms.
‘Jane, my darling, it’s like you to come round to help us,’ he said huskily. ‘But why are you home at this time? Shouldn’t you be at work?’
‘We’re on earlies this week,’ Jane said. ‘Who’s your friend?’
‘Oh, I forgot. This is me pal, Alec, Alec Hewitt,’ Jimmy said.
Jane detached herself from Jimmy’s arms and smiled across at Alec. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Hewitt,’ she said formally, and moved across the kitchen whilst Jimmy bent over his mother and hugged her, telling her soothingly that she mustn’t make herself ill with weeping.
‘Da’ wouldn’t want you makin’ yourself bad, grievin’ for him,’ he said coaxingly. ‘Poor Mam, you’ve always worked hard but now you’re goin’ to have to work harder than ever. There’s a lot to talk about, but we can’t do that until you’re a bit calmer. When – when did Da’ die?’
Mrs McCabe had sat up straight as her son spoke and now mopped at her tear-blubbered face with a large handkerchief her son handed her. ‘We’ve only just heard,’ she muttered. ‘There were a knock at the door – oh, ten minutes ago – and it were a young lady from the hospital. She telled us he were gone and said to come up to the ward when we were ready. Oh, Jimmy, I dunno what I’ll do wi’out your dad!’
‘There’s time enough to decide what to do when we’ve visited the hospital,’ Jimmy said quietly. ‘Oh, look, Jane’s made you a nice cup o’ tea. Just you drink that down and eat somethin’ – a slice of bread and jam perhaps – and then we’ll get the kids fed and settled down before we go over to the Stanley. Where’s Annie? I suppose Joe and Rupe are off out somewhere.’
Mrs McCabe sighed and reached out a hand for the enamel mug. She blew gustily on the tea, then took a long swallow before answering. ‘Annie’s workin’ – didn’t I tell you? She’s a nippy at Lyon’s restaurant and doin’ pretty well for herself. Joe’s workin’ at Laird’s and young Rupe went out early this mornin’ to collect shrapnel and any bits and pieces – bullet cases and the like – he can pick up. All the kids do it,’ she added defensively, though neither Jimmy or Alec had said a word.
‘It’s all right, Mam,’ Jimmy said soothingly. ‘I just wanted to check up on all the kids. Lucy answered the door to us and the others are all in here.’ He turned to Jane, who was serving up some sort of soup from a large, blackened saucepan into a variety of ill-assorted crockery. ‘That smells good! Gorrany spare for a couple of hungry aircrew?’
Jane turned away from the stove and gave both young men the benefit of her brilliant smile. ‘It’s blind scouse ’cos I couldn’t lay me hands on any meat, but me dad brings plenty of veg home from work. And there’s heaps, help yourselves.’
Soon the entire family, including Alec and Jane, was sitting down to plates of the blind scouse. Jane had added a good number of potatoes to each helping and Alec was heartened to see how the food cheered everyone up. Even Mrs McCabe stopped crying, and presently she and Jimmy left the house to visit the hospital and sort out what must be done, leaving Jane and Alec to clear away, wash the crocks and keep an eye on the younger McCabes. Alec could not sort them out, but he counted six of them, all tatty-headed, ill-clothed and rather dirty. Jane suggested that they should wash the children and put them into clean clothes, but this idea was vetoed by the McCabe young who insisted that they had no clean clothes and that Mam would probably give them a good strip down wash later.
Jane shrugged but told Alec in an undertone that if the kids refused to clean up there wasn’t much she could do about it. ‘Mrs McCabe has too many kids to be able to take proper care of them,’ she said softly. ‘And Mr McCabe . . . well, I’m really sorry that he’s died, of course I am, but – but he weren’t a great deal of help to his wife and family. He were hardly ever at home and Mrs McCabe told my mam often and often that he drank more of his wages than he handed over. Don’t say nothing to Jimmy, but for the past six months he’s had a lady friend and he spent all his gelt on her, I believe. So, financially, Mrs McCabe might even be better off; I suppose she’ll get a widow’s pension and she won’t have to hide her wages away like she used to.’
‘Oh, does she work then?’ Alec asked, placing a pile of dried cutlery on the dresser. ‘I didn’t know Jimmy’s mam worked.’
‘In Liverpool, everyone works; them as don’t work, don’t eat,’ Jane said promptly. ‘Mind you, before the war, most women were paid peanuts, no matter what they did. But it’s different now. Mrs McCabe works in a factory, making munitions – I think it’s bombs and that – out at Aintree. She’s well paid, like we all are now.’
Alec nodded. He realised that the life led by the ordinary people of Liverpool was very different from that of those, however poor, living in a rural community. The only work in his part of the world was for farm labourers, and their wives might clean at the ‘big house’ or help in the harvest fields when they could. Though there were no proper paid jobs for women, the solution to their financial problems lay in their own hands. They filled their gardens with vegetables, fruit bushes and the like, and usually kept a few fowl. There was a pig in the sty at the end of the garden, fed from the scraps which the family did not eat, and the pig’s manure was spread on the ground to enrich the soil for next year’s crops. Countrywomen made their own bread because there was no alternative, just as they baked their own pies and cakes. Alec had noticed two bought loaves of baker’s bread standing on the dresser in the McCabe kitchen, and a jar of mixed fruit jam with a Hartley’s label on it. Country people were often very poor; a bad season could mean real hardship for everyone, but there were always the woods and the hedgerows, where fruit and nuts could be gathered free. And there were rabbits and pigeons which could be either shot or trapped to grace a farm labourer’s table. Yes, Alec concluded, it must be hard for the women of Liverpool to make ends meet, particularly if they had too many children and feckless husbands.
By this time, he and Jane had finished the work in the kitchen and Jane had just made a pot of tea and suggested that they should sit down and enjoy it. ‘Jimmy and his mam won’t be back from the hospital for a while yet,’ she was beginning, when someone banged on the back door and it shot open. A slender young woman with long, light-brown hair came into the room, talking as she entered.
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