The House by Princes Park (22 page)

‘What excuse would I give?’

‘Use your imagination for a change and think of one.’ Ruby went upstairs for a little cry.

By Christmas, they had another lodger, a fussy, mild-mannered young man called Charles Winner from Dun-stable who took very seriously his position as the only man in the household. As an engineering draughtsman, he was in a reserved occupation and wouldn’t be called up. He had moved to Liverpool to be near his girlfriend, Wendy, who was a WREN and had been posted to the Admiralty Operations Room in Water Street. Sometimes, Wendy slept overnight in the small bedroom, the only one now empty – at least Ruby presumed she slept in the small bedroom, but felt in no position to lay down the law if she didn’t.

It seemed to have got around that Mrs Hart’s house was somewhere people could stay if they were in Liverpool overnight, a few days, a week – Ruby suspected it was all Martha Quinlan’s doing. If Wendy wasn’t occupying the spare room, then more often than not someone else was: a serviceman on leave who couldn’t stay with his family because they’d lost their house in a raid, or whose girlfriend lived in a place where men weren’t allowed. Wives came to see their sailor husbands when their ships docked briefly in Liverpool. When all the bedrooms were in use, people kipped down on a settee in one of the living rooms. They brought their ration books so the coupons could be used to buy the extra food.

Ruby was up at six every morning preparing half a dozen breakfasts. The children ate at a later sitting. She was never sure how many people would turn up for tea. During the day she looked after hordes of children, somehow managed to shop, and washed endless sheets and
pillowcases so that the rack in the kitchen was always full of washing that took ages to dry and there was never time to iron – by now, Mrs Hart’s linen cupboard had been stripped bare.

‘You’d never guess, Tiger,’ Ruby commented more than once, ‘but I swore I’d never enter domestic service.’

Tiger was his old self again, possibly bigger than before. He was a very understanding cat and purred sympathetically whenever she complained.

‘Another thing, I wanted to keep our presence in the house as unobtrusive as possible, but people come and go by the minute and the noise is horrendous. The neighbours must wonder if it’s been turned into a hotel or a school.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Tiger purred.

Christmas was less than a week away. A box of decorations had been discovered in the cellar, a paper tree. The living room at the back, supposedly private, but which everyone considered they were at liberty to use whenever they pleased, was festooned with chains, the tree decorated with gold and silver stars. Ruby made a Christmas cake that contained no eggs, very little fruit, and had only a thin suggestion of icing. Beth won a pudding in a raffle at work, and Connie had come by a turkey by mysterious means she wasn’t prepared to divulge. Charles Winner was staying in Liverpool because Wendy hadn’t been allowed leave. ‘But she’s coming to dinner on Christmas Day,’ he told Ruby when he presented her with two bottles of sherry.

‘That’s nice of her!’ Ruby remarked, seeing herself stuck in the kitchen just like any other day.

But Beth and Connie, who’d made herself very much at home, offered to do the cooking on the day. ‘You won’t have to lift a finger, Rube,’ Beth promised.

Ruby began to look forward to the festivities. Suddenly,
she didn’t mind the house being full. For the first time, there was money to buy presents for the children, though finding them in the shops wasn’t easy. She’d managed to get Greta and Heather a doll each, little shopping baskets, hairslides. There was a wheelbarrow for Jake, a toy bus, and a lovely enamelled compact for his mother. She rubbed her hands together excitedly. This year, Christmas was going to be the gear.

Apart from a few light raids that had caused little damage, December had been remarkably free from the attentions of the Luftwaffe. Liverpool breathed a sigh of relief and everyone anticipated a peaceful holiday.

But they were wrong.

Five days before Christmas, the siren went at half-past six. Tiger, terrified, immediately made for the cellar. The children had eaten, but Ruby, Beth and Connie were in the middle of a meal. Charles wasn’t yet home. They followed the big cat down the narrow wooden stairs with their food. When Ruby finished, she went back for the tea she wasn’t prepared to waste, raid or no raid. She was about to return, when the front door opened and Charles came in accompanied by Wendy and another WREN, a pretty blonde. ‘This is Rhona. She’s on her way to see a friend, but I thought she could shelter with us until the raid’s over. It’s probably just a light one, but it’s not worth taking the risk.’

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Rhona said.

‘Of course, I don’t mind.’ Ruby gave her a warm, welcoming smile. ‘You’d best get down the cellar quick. Take the pot and I’ll fetch more cups.’

There’d never been a raid like it before. The world became one large, never-ending explosion. The house shook, dust drifted from the ceiling. Shut away as they were in the bowels of the earth, the sound of breaking
glass could still be heard, the urgent clamour of fire engines, the occasional scream.

Even the children were frightened, not interested in games or stories tonight. The grown-ups hardly spoke, but looked at each other, biting their lips, when a bomb shrieked to earth, wondering if they were to be its target.

During a lull, Ruby went upstairs to make more tea, not caring if she used the entire week’s ration. She drew back the curtains and looked at the crimson sky shot with streaks of black smoke. A fire crackled nearby. It was like a scene from hell.

‘It looks as if it’s been soaked with blood, the sky,’ said a voice. It was Charles. ‘I’ve come for the sherry,’ he explained. ‘I thought it might cheer us up a little. I know where I can get more tomorrow.’

‘If there is a tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow always comes, Ruby.’

‘It might not come for us,’ Ruby said harshly. ‘It’s no good pretending everything’s going to be all right, being positive, because we’ve lost control of our lives. In the past, no matter how bad things got, I’d grit me teeth and make them better. But now I can’t. No one can.’

‘In that case, you’ve just got to grit your teeth and hope for the best. Forget about the tea for now, let’s have sherry instead. And I got you a box of chocolates for Christmas. I’ll fetch them too.’

It cheered her that he’d thought to buy her a present. She’d got nothing for him or Wendy. She’d buy something – tomorrow!

Charles said, ‘I don’t know if it’s just my imagination, but I can hear singing.’

‘I’ll just get some glasses.’ Mrs Hart had some in her china cabinet. The children could have lemonade.

They returned to the cellar, where Rhona had removed her tunic, loosened her tie, and was leading a sing-song in
a fine soprano voice. ‘Good King Wenceslas looked down, on the feast of Stephen...’

Greta and Heather had livened up miraculously. They were singing along, bright-eyed and full of smiles. Jake didn’t know the words, but stared intently at Rhona’s pretty face and tried to mouth them. Beth glanced at Ruby and winked. ‘Isn’t this the gear!’ she whispered. ‘I can’t hear the bombs any more.’

The sherry and lemonade were poured, the chocolates opened, spirits were lifted. Connie and Wendy danced an Irish jig and Ruby sang, ‘Yours till the stars lose their glory’, astonished to find she knew all the words. Greta and Heather recited a poem they’d learnt from Roy Deacon, unaware it was full of innuendo and double entendres. The audience laughed until their sides ached and drank more sherry.

‘Do your impersonation of Paul Robeson,’ Wendy urged Charles, so he sang ‘Old Man River’ in a deep, mournful voice that made them want to cry. Rhona cheered them up again with a chorus of carols.

Outside, bombs fell, the earth was being shaken to pieces, but they didn’t hear, or pretended not to hear. They were too loud, too boisterous, needing to shut out reality in favour of make-believe.

It meant they didn’t notice the candle flicker when the cellar door opened, or see the young man wearing an air force blue greatcoat limp down the stairs. ‘Evening folks,’ the young man said, bringing the entertainment to an abrupt halt. ‘Hope I’m not interrupting, but do you mind if I join in?’

‘Who are you?’ demanded Ruby, but she knew before the words were out of her mouth. She hadn’t met him before, but a photograph of the curly-haired young man with the same mischievous, smiling features was on the sideboard upstairs.

It was Max Hart.

‘This is Max,’ she said quickly to the assembled company, praying he wouldn’t demand to know what they were doing in his mother’s house. But he didn’t look as if he was about to make a scene. Instead, despite his smile, he appeared bone weary, his young face creased with exhaustion. ‘Max, meet Beth, Connie, Charles...’ She reeled off the introductions.

‘Take your coat off, luv, and sit down,’ said Connie.

Removing the coat was easier said than done. Max could hardly raise his arms. Charles sprang forward to help.

‘My God!’ Charles gasped when the coat was off, revealing the blue-grey uniform underneath. ‘You’re a Flight Lieutenant and you’ve got the Distinguished Flying Cross.’ He shook Max’s hand vigorously, close to tears. ‘This country owes everything to young men like you. You’re the bravest of the brave. What was it Churchill said about the battle in the skies? “Never have so many owed so much to so few.” ’

Max Hart blushed uncomfortably. ‘Would you mind if I had a drink?’

‘It’s only sherry,’ said Ruby.

He managed a tired grin. ‘That’ll do fine.’ He went on to explain it had taken two days to get from his base in Kent using public transport or hitching lifts. ‘An ambulance at one point. In Bedford, a chap lent me his bike to get as far as Northampton where I left it with his cousin. The cousin used his entire petrol ration to take me to Birmingham.’ He’d slept on a train and had arrived in Liverpool only an hour ago and, ignoring the danger, began to walk. ‘Then this Civil Defence chap stopped and gave me a lecture and a lift. I’ve got ten days’ leave on account of the fact I sprained my damn ankle. I was determined to spend Christmas in my own home, don’t ask why.’ He grinned again. ‘I think I wanted to be assured there were a few remnants of normality left in the world, but instead I found Liverpool being blown to pieces and
the house apparently haunted. It gave me a shock, I can tell you, when I heard singing from the cellar.’

‘Didn’t your mum tell you she said Ruby could have the house while she went to America?’ Connie enquired.

‘It must have slipped her mind,’ Max replied with a straight face. ‘Look, you were having a good time before I showed up. Please go on. It sounded fun, better any day than listening to the noise outside.’ The bombardment was continuing unabated.

Rhona said, ‘This is especially for you,’ and began to sing, ‘There’s a boy coming home on leave...’

By midnight, they had begun to wilt, having run out of songs and energy, though the Luftwaffe showed no sign of wilting and the bombs continued to rain down. Thankfully, the children had gone to sleep. They talked instead.

‘I know who you are,’ Max said quietly to Ruby. ‘The pawnshop runner. Mum said you were like an exotic stick insect.’

‘I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not!’

‘I’d take it as a compliment if I were you.’ He winked. ‘Out of interest, what are you doing here?’

She’d known this was coming. ‘Your mam asked if I’d keep an eye on the house,’ she explained, ‘but when me and Beth were desperate for somewhere to live, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to move in, just us two and the children. But I kept being told it was my patriotic duty to take in more people or look after other women’s children. I suppose,’ she added ruefully, ‘it’s all got out of hand. Lord knows what your mam’ll say when she finds out.’

‘Well, she won’t find out from me. You’re doing a great job while mum is having a grand time in the States according to her letters. Let’s regard it as
her
contribution towards the war.’

‘You’re being very kind and understanding.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ he said dismissively. ‘I was halfway to Liverpool when I began to wonder if I was mad,
wanting to spend Christmas alone in a cold house where there wouldn’t be any food. I’ve rarely been so pleased about anything as finding you here. Bloody hell, Tiger!’ he exclaimed when the big cat appeared and launched itself on to his knee. ‘I didn’t know you were still around.’

‘There’s an old wardrobe he regards as his own special shelter.’

‘Me and Tiger used to be best friends when I was home from university.’ Tiger purred ecstatically as he feverishly licked the familiar face.

‘It looks as if you still are.’

It was almost four when the all clear sounded. They looked at each other thankfully, knowing they’d shared an experience they would never forget. Charles insisted Max use his bedroom. ‘I’ll just get some clothes first...’

Ruby was the first to emerge from the cellar, half expecting the house to have blown away and be met by open air. But Mrs Hart’s house had survived. A strange, sour smell turned out to be soot which had fallen down all the chimneys. They went straight to bed. Heather shared Wendy’s room and Charles slept on a settee.