Goodnight Sweetheart (24 page)

‘And how are they supposed to do that when they’re bleedin’ dead?’ Mavis scoffed unkindly.

‘He didn’t mean to kill ’em, did he? He just wanted to help ’em to get out, like.’

‘Aye, well, he certainly knew what he was doing when he bombed the overhead railway tekkin’ stuff to the docks. Your dad works on the railways, doesn’t he, Molly?’

‘Yes, up at the gridiron on Edge Hill. He said this morning that the damage to the overhead wasn’t too bad, and that it’s not stopping supplies getting to the docks for our lads.’

‘Speaking of our lads, we’d better get crackin’ with these parachutes,’ Iris reminded them briskly, ‘otherwise they’ll be ’aving to jump out of their planes wi’ nowt to help ’em other than a few pairs of silk bloomers. How’s your June, by the way, Molly?’

With June’s baby due shortly she had been given leave from work.

‘She’s bin feeling the heat, and worrying about having to run to the shelter if there’s an air raid. And she’s missing her Frank, of course.’

Despite the lack of sunshine there was a muggy stickiness in the air that made Molly drag her feet a bit on her walk home from work. At least June would have a bit of tea ready for her, a luxury for Molly. She felt strange going to work without her sister and she missed her company, even though
she got on well with the other girls. No friend, however close, could ever take a sister’s place, Molly acknowledged.

The back door was wide open, and the strong smell of carbolic coming from inside the house made Molly’s nose wrinkle.

Her sister was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor furiously as though her life depended on it, her face red and strands of hair escaping from her headscarf.

‘June,’ Molly protested, rushing into the kitchen, ‘you shouldn’t be doing that in your condition.’

‘I don’t know what it is but I just got this urge on me to start scrubbin’,’ June told her, panting slightly, as Molly helped her to her feet, and then wincing, her face suddenly paling.

‘What is it? Did the baby kick?’ Molly asked her.

‘Kick? It felt more like he were tying knots in me guts,’ June answered her forthrightly, gasping and clinging to Molly’s arm as she panted. ‘Bloody hell, he’s doin’ it again.’

‘Come and sit down and let me put the kettle on,’ Molly told her, guiding her over to a chair and then going back to remove the bucket and scrubbing brush, before hurrying over to the sink to fill the kettle.

June was still complaining that the baby was giving her bellyache an hour later when their father came home.

‘Scrubbin’ floors, is it?’ Elsie commented knowingly when she popped in for a gossip later on in the evening. ‘Sounds to me like you’re goin’ to be needing Frank’s mam before too long.’

‘Give over, Elsie,’ June protested. ‘The baby isn’t due for another three weeks yet.’

‘Mebbe, but does ’e know that?’ Elsie quipped. ‘He’ll be here before the end of the weekend, I reckon. You mark my words.’

‘Perhaps I should run round to Frank’s mam’s, June, and tell her what’s happened,’ Molly suggested worriedly. ‘I know she’s helping out at Mill Road Hospital on some shifts and it’s better to be safe than sorry.’

‘I’m all right. It’s just a bit of wind, that’s all. And as for me scrubbin’ the floor, I’ve bin meaning to do it all week, but what with us having our baths last weekend and having to watch how much water we use, this was me first chance.’

Molly watched her sister sympathetically as June tried surreptitiously to massage her swollen belly. She suspected that June, for all her bravado, was secretly worrying about having her baby. This was one of those times when they needed their mother to turn to, Molly acknowledged.

Her own anxiety increased later on when her father came into the kitchen and closed the door to say quietly to her, ‘Don’t say anything to June, lass – there’s no point in worrying her – but I reckon it might be a good idea to run
down to Frank’s mam’s and just give her the nod, like.’

‘I’ll just dry me hands and go down now,’ Molly agreed.

Frank’s mother had obviously just been on the point of going to bed when Molly knocked. Doris’s hair was in curling rags and she was wearing her dressing gown, and from the look of her face Molly suspected she had taken her teeth out.

‘Scrubbin’ floors and holding her belly, is she?’ she repeated when Molly had told her what was happening. ‘Well, it’s a fact that there’s many a woman bin scrubbing her floor when she had her first labour pains but your June has another three weeks to go, and her waters haven’t broken yet. Added to which, she’s a bit mardy.’

It was a statement Molly couldn’t deny, but she still said stubbornly, ‘It was me dad who said I should run down and tell you.’

‘Did he? Very well then, you go back home, Molly, and I’ll pop over and have a look at her in the morning. If yer think yer need me during the night, though, you come right over and knock
me up, mind. I don’t want nothing ’appening to my Frank’s baby.’

Molly had just reached number 78 when she heard the thin shrill wail of the siren. She met her father and June at the door. Her father’s arm was round June’s shoulders as he tried to help her. All around them doors were opening and families were making a run for the shared shelter at the bottom of the cul-de-sac.

‘I’ve forgotten me bag,’ June wailed as Daisy hurried past with hers.

‘Dad, you get June down to the shelter, I’ll get the bags,’ Molly called out, leaving her father to help her sister as she darted into the house to retrieve the bags everyone was supposed to keep ready for air-raid emergencies.

She caught up with her father and June a few yards short of the shelter. The siren was still going, and down by the docks the night sky was beginning to glow red from the fires from the incendiary bombs and the shells from the ack-ack guns.

‘Gawd, will yer listen ter the noise of them,’ Elsie said to Molly as they helped June down into the shelter. ‘There must be hundreds of the buggers coming. Look at them parachute bombs.’

There was silence, and then a sudden explosion, over by the railway sidings, had them all ducking for cover and then hurrying into the shelter.

‘Ooo, me belly,’ June moaned, clasping her stomach as she was helped to a seat.

‘I ’ope this bloody air raid doesn’t last long,
’cos I’ve left our George sitting on the lav,’ Pearl announced, whilst the mothers set about getting the children tucked into their sleeping bags.

‘Are you all right, June?’ Molly asked her sister anxiously, studying June’s pale sweaty face.

‘No, I’m bloody not,’ June answered her, beads of sweat gathering on her face. ‘I …’

What she said was drowned out by the sound of a bomb exploding.

‘Blimey, that one were close,’ someone protested nervously, whilst one of the smaller children started to wail in fear.

‘Gawd knows how many planes Hitler has sent over this time,’ one of the men muttered, ‘and by the sound of it they’re still coming. I reckon he means business tonight.’

Everyone exchanged worried looks.

‘It’ll be the docks and Birkenhead they’re after, not us up here,’ another man tried to comfort them, ‘and our lads will soon sort them out.’

‘Mam, I feel sick,’ one of Daisy’s boys announced.

‘Anyone fancy a game of cards?’ her husband asked, removing a pack from his pocket.

‘Put them away. We don’t want no bloody gambling in ’ere,’ Daisy told him sharply.

Whilst she listened to everything going on around her, Molly was still concentrating on what was happening outside, and she knew from the looks on her neighbours’ faces that she wasn’t the only one.

‘That’s the last of Jerry’s planes now,’ Jim Fowler announced. ‘I’ve been counting and it’s bin nearly a minute since I heard one.’

No sooner had he spoken than they all heard the roar of a plane’s engines, so loud and low that Molly wasn’t the only one to duck, fearing it might actually hit the shelter.

‘Sounds like our lads have got that one.’

‘Sounds to me more like
it’s
gonna get
us
,’ Daisy muttered, giving a small scream at an explosion close at hand.

‘Well, that’s one as won’t be going back tonight,’ Jim announced with satisfaction.

‘Molly, I got ter get out of here,’ June moaned. ‘I feel right poorly, I really do.’

Molly reached for her sister’s hand and held it tightly. ‘It won’t be long now before the all clear goes, June,’ she tried to comfort her, but the truth was, as they all knew, the bombing raid was only just beginning.

‘No … I can’t stay here any longer,’ June told her, pulling away and standing up, her eyes widening as she looked down at her feet, her face suddenly bright red.

‘Mam, June’s peeing.’

‘It’s all right, June,’ Elsie tried to comfort her. They could all see how distressed and embarrassed poor June was. ‘It’s just your waters breaking, that’s all.’ She patted June’s hand but Molly could see the concern in Elsie’s face, and her own stomach tightened with fear.

‘’Ere, June, you can’t go into labour now, in here,’ Daisy protested.

‘Aye, June, you tell Mother Nature that she’s got ter wait for Jerry to go home,’ one of the other women joked, whilst Elsie said firmly, ‘We’d better see what we can sort out, just in case.’

They could all hear the sound of bombs exploding and planes overhead, their flight paths tracked by the ack-ack gunners, and all of them knew that it could be several hours before they heard the all clear.

‘I can’t have me baby here,’ June protested weepily. ‘My Frank wouldn’t like i t …’

‘There there, June. Don’t you go upsetting yourself. Let’s have a cup of tea,’ Daisy suggested, adding ruthlessly, ‘You men tek yourselves off ter the back of the shelter, will yer?’

‘Oooh …’ June put her hand on her belly, groaning in obvious pain. ‘Oh, Molly, I’m that scared,’ she whimpered, tears flooding her eyes as she reached for Molly’s hand.

‘Come and lie down over here, June lass. Happen you’ll feel a bit more comfortable then,’ one of the other women offered sympathetically, whilst another mother herded the children out of the way.

‘How often are yer having yer pains, June?’ Elsie asked practically.

‘I don’t know,’ June groaned. ‘I …’

They all tensed as the door to the shelter was suddenly pushed open.

‘I couldn’t sleep so I thought I might as well get meself down here just in case, seeing as it looks like we won’t be hearing the all clear for a good while,’ Frank’s mother said breathlessly.

Molly could have kissed her, and even June looked relieved to see her mother-in-law.

‘Her waters have broken, Doris,’ Elsie informed her importantly.

‘Have they, an’ all!’ she responded. ‘Give us a hand, will yer, Molly?’

In the large bag Doris had brought with her was a sheet, which she handed to the other women, who used it to make an impromptu screen to provide June with a bit of modesty whilst the men were instructed to start a singsong – ‘Mek as much noise as yer can,’ Doris told them, adding to Daisy, ‘We don’t want the kiddies scared to death if June starts yellin’.’

‘My two have heard it all before,’ Daisy told her matter-of-factly.

‘This is going ter kill me, I know it is,’ June sobbed.

‘No such thing,’ Doris told her sturdily. ‘Perfect hips you’ve got for childbirth, June, and I should know, seein’ how many I’ve delivered in my time. Molly, be a good lass and come an’ give me a hand. You can remember how it was with Sally, can’t you? Elsie, get someone to boil us up some water, will yer?’

‘No, Molly, don’t go,’ June cried, grabbing hold of Molly’s hand when Molly started to move away
to make room for Doris to examine her sister. ‘Oh …’

‘That’s right, June,’ Doris instructed briskly. ‘No pushing yet.’ Molly could feel June’s nails biting down into her hand. Her sister’s face was an eerie colour in the faint blue glow of the shelter’s lights, and filmed with sweat. Molly knew that she had been there when Sally had given birth, but now was different, because this was her own sister, and this was no siren practice but a real air raid. Another bomb exploded somewhere near at hand.

‘Come on now, June, that’s enough fuss,’ Doris was saying calmly, her voice raised so that June could hear her above the sound of her own moans and the staccato noise of the busy ack-ack guns.

The minutes and then the hours ticked slowly away whilst the Germans bombed the city and June struggled to give birth. The air inside the shelter, never fresh, was now fetid with pain and fear.

As Doris had instructed her to do, Molly kept wiping the sweat from June’s face, offering her sister what comfort she could as June cried and clung to her hand.

‘How’s she doin’, Doris?’ Molly overheard Elsie asking in a whisper.

Women died in childbirth – Molly knew that. Suddenly she was filled with fear for her sister.

‘You’re doin’ fine, June,’ she heard Doris saying. ‘Soon be over now, but don’t push until I tell yer.’

‘It’s killin’ me,’ June moaned. ‘I can’t …’

‘Yes, you can. Take deep breaths. Now you can start to push …’

‘No, I can’t …’ June wailed. ‘It hurts too much …’

A cluster of bombs suddenly exploded in an earsplitting volley of noise that seemed to go on for ever, and it was only when the noise had finally died away that Molly realised that June’s baby had been born.

‘It’s a girl, June,’ she heard Doris announcing as the new arrival gave her first cries.

Miraculously, at least to Molly, suddenly June was all smiles of triumph.

‘By, but you were lucky. That was one of the easiest labours I’ve ever seen,’ Doris told June matter-of-factly. ‘Here, you hold the baby for a minute, Molly,’ she demanded, handing Molly her niece whilst she attended to June.

Tears of relief filling her eyes, Molly took the baby. High above them in the night sky, she could hear the sound of the bombers leaving the city, the danger over for another night.

The baby was so perfect, and so beautiful. Molly blinked away her tears of wonderment as the baby stared up at her with an unwavering dark blue-eyed stare. She could actually feel a small tug on her own womb as she looked back at her. A feeling of such intense love filled Molly that she could hardly bear to hand the baby back to Doris to give to June.

On her sister’s face was a look of such softness
and pride that Molly’s throat tightened with envy as well as with joy. It was hard not to think about Eddie and the children she would never have.

‘She’s my Frank all over again,’ Doris pronounced proudly. ‘I could see that the moment she was born. A real Brookes, she is, and no mistake.’

‘Dad,’ Molly called, lifting the sheet and smiling emotionally at her father. ‘Come and have a look at your granddaughter.’

‘By, but she’s the image of yer mam, our June,’ he whispered chokily as the baby looked up at him. Tears ran freely down his face as he reached out and touched the baby’s cheek with one finger. ‘Aye, the image of my Rosie, she is.’

The baby yawned and blinked. The all clear started to sound and Doris went to summon some of the men to carry June back to her own bed on the shelter’s one and only emergency stretcher.