The Mersey Daughter: A heartwarming Saga full of tears and triumph

Laura looked him up and down, seeming to assess him as a potential dance partner before cocking her head and saying, ‘Well, why not? It’s what we’ve come here for.’ Not giving him a chance to change his mind, she boldly took his arm and led him towards where a small crowd was gathering ready for the next dance.

His companion promptly lost his nerve and scuttled back to their group of friends who, by the looks of it, proceeded to mock him roundly for being such a coward.

‘Well, Laura doesn’t hang around,’ Kitty observed, as the waiter came with their drinks. She took a sniff of the cocktail. ‘Ugh, she’s welcome to that, though. I’ll stick to the shandy.’ She raised her glass. ‘Cheers, Marjorie. To happier days.’

‘Ummm.’ Marjorie clinked her martini glass against Kitty’s and sipped, first cautiously and then with more enthusiasm. ‘This is nice, though. It’s getting really busy, isn’t it? Laura was right to make us arrive early. I wouldn’t want to be stuck at the back, or so far forward that everyone trips over you.’

Kitty grinned. It sounded as if Marjorie was beginning to relax and find it not so bad after all. Maybe they’d make it through the evening without embarrassing themselves. ‘Did you want to go to brush your hair? I’ll keep the table, I don’t mind.’

‘No, it’s all right.’ Marjorie patted her hair. ‘It’ll do. I wouldn’t want to leave you on your own.’ Her gaze wandered around the room. ‘All sorts in here, aren’t there? What are those uniforms over there?’

Kitty squinted in the direction her friend was pointing. ‘Oh, they’re Canadians.’

Marjorie raised her eyebrows. ‘How do you know that?’ she asked. ‘I’ve never seen them before.’

‘We get a lot around Liverpool,’ Kitty explained. ‘We’ve always had a lot to do with Canada – we used to get Canadian timber all the time down at the docks where I lived. And there are lots of Canadian servicemen around there now. We even had some come to the canteen where I worked. I liked them. They’ve come so far from home to fight alongside our boys – you can’t help but admire them.’

Marjorie seemed to approve of that and looked at the group with renewed interest. ‘I say, they’ve noticed us.’

Of course they have, thought Kitty, you’ve been staring at them unabashed for ages, they’re bound to realise it. But she didn’t say anything, not wanting to bruise her friend’s new-found confidence and enjoy-ment. ‘Oh, they’re coming over. The one with the light- brown curls looks keen.’

One of the group, a pilot from his uniform, made a beeline for Marjorie, his curls bobbing a little as he rounded the table. Marjorie, far from retreating back into her shell, responded with smiles and nods as he asked her for her name and if she’d been here before. The martini looked as if it had worked its magic and banished her earlier awkwardness. Two of his friends began to chat to Kitty, general questions that didn’t require her to think much or give away what she was training as. Although she didn’t exactly have access to state secrets, she was always very careful to reveal as little as possible.

The pilot offered Marjorie a dance and, somewhat to Kitty’s surprise, she accepted. Marjorie hadn’t even said anything about being able to dance, but soon she was on the dance floor, trying her best. Kitty smiled at her friend’s obvious pleasure. Then Laura swept by with her partner. She was in a different league; her movements were graceful yet precise, and she’d obviously done this many times. The young man was gamely trying to lead her through the steps but it was clear who was really in charge. Kitty sighed. It would take a brave man to control Laura, on or off the dance floor.

She realised one of the Canadians was still talking to her and she broke off her train of thought to pay attention to him. ‘I can’t believe you’re here without a boyfriend,’ he was saying. He seemed to be building up to making his move.

Kitty felt she couldn’t let him get his hopes up. ‘No, my boyfriend isn’t in London,’ she explained. ‘He’s a doctor on Merseyside. He’s going to come down to see me soon.’ She crossed her fingers as she said this, hoping it was true. Lovely, kind Elliott – and he was a wonderful dancer. She could suggest they come here. Her face brightened at the idea.

‘Oh I see.’ The young man in front of her seemed to get the picture, and understood that it wasn’t him she was smiling about. ‘Well, nice meeting you, ma’am. You take care when you’ve finished your training, now.’

‘You too,’ Kitty said, and meant it. She knew – as did everyone else – the immense danger all fully trained fighter pilots were in. This young man would be lucky to survive. But nobody said this, of course. She watched as he wove his way back to his friends, wondering what the future had in store for him and the rest of them.

The next dance came to an end and Marjorie and her partner headed back towards Kitty, their faces flushed. He showed her to her seat and then moved off, as Marjorie waved. Over her shoulder, Kitty could see Laura, and the by now somewhat exhausted young corporal also coming their way.

Kitty raised her eyebrows as Marjorie sank back into her chair. ‘Not having another dance with him, then? He seemed nice. I thought you two were set for the evening.’

‘No, we decided we’d had enough,’ said Marjorie, all trace of her earlier anxiety now gone. ‘We started talking as we danced and it turns out he’s got a steady girlfriend back home in Toronto. He’s a very nice young man and I’m not surprised he has a sweetheart, so it’s best he goes back to his friends.’ She grinned. ‘I’ve surprised myself. He’s good looking, isn’t he?’

Well, well, thought Kitty, so books aren’t Marjorie’s sole interest after all. ‘Yes, very,’ she agreed. ‘So now we know what your type is, don’t we? We’ll have to keep a look-out for others with light-brown curls and pilots’ uniforms …’ She trailed off as Laura approached and she registered the expression on her face. She looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

‘Who … who was that?’ she gasped, her hand to her throat. She could barely force out the words. ‘That man dancing with Marjorie – who was that?’

‘Laura, whatever’s wrong?’ Kitty stood up immediately and rushed to her friend, who had frozen to the spot. Gently she guided her to the table and into a seat. ‘Here, sip this.’ She handed her the cocktail glass. Laura took it and swigged back a mouthful, swallowing hard, almost desperately. ‘Steady, now. That smells like strong stuff. Tell me what’s happened. One minute you’re dancing the night away and wearing out that poor boy, and now you’re shaking like a leaf. Whatever is it? Did he say something to you, or what?’

‘Oh, my God.’ Laura put the drink down and then dropped her head into her hands. ‘I’m so sorry. God, what an idiot. What a fool. No, he didn’t say anything, it’s not him. It’s my fault, making a spectacle of myself. Just ignore me.’ Her voice broke but she raised her head and was visibly trying to pull herself together.

‘Laura, take it easy,’ said Marjorie. ‘Is it something we’ve done? Tell us.’

Laura gave a heavy sigh. ‘No. Not really.’ She gulped. ‘It was that young man you were dancing with. I just caught sight of the two of you together when I’d finished my dance and … for one moment …’ She shut her eyes tight and then opened them. ‘Well, I thought it was Freddy. Stupidly, I know. It couldn’t have been, I know that deep down, but just for a second … it caught me unawares, I’m so sorry …’ She abruptly looked away, biting her lip in a desperate effort not to break down.

Marjorie looked stunned. ‘Who?’ she mimed, turning to Kitty.

Kitty’s heart went out to Laura. ‘Her brother,’ she whispered. ‘He’s missing in action.’

‘But she never said.’ Marjorie’s face betrayed her feeling of hurt that she hadn’t been told.

‘She doesn’t. She just spoke about it once, before you all arrived.’ Kitty sighed. ‘She said they were close. I hadn’t realised just how much.’

How hard it must be for Laura, she reflected, suffering in silence, surrounded by young men who must remind her all the time of the uncertainty that hung over her brother’s fate, always preparing herself for the worst possible news, never knowing how long she would have to go on in limbo. Kitty recognised that the young woman’s devil-may-care attitude was her way of coping, but it only plastered over the wound, it didn’t come close to healing it. The confidence – arrogance, almost – masked a deep hurt that could never go away until Freddy’s fate was resolved one way or the other.

‘You take your time, Laura,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to pretend in front of us. We understand.’

Laura turned back to them both. ‘Thanks,’ she said, wiping her eyes. ‘Oh God. I must look a proper fright.’

‘Here, have this.’ Kitty retrieved a handkerchief from her sleeve. ‘Clear up the worst with this, and then go to put on some more lipstick. I’ll come with you if you like.’

‘No, no, you stay here.’ Laura was recovering now, sounding more like her old self. ‘I’ll go on my own, I’ll be all right. But tell you what.’

‘What?’ Kitty and Marjorie said together.

‘Wave at that nice waiter and get me another one of these. Make it a double.’ With that Laura painted on a determined smile and pushed her way to the door of the ladies’.

Kitty twisted around to do as she was asked, catching sight of the waiter and raising her hand. Good for Laura – even though she was in despair about her brother, she wasn’t going to let it ruin their evening. And it was an easy mistake to make, Kitty realised. Anyone could do it. For example, there in the corner, among a group of officers in naval uniform, there was a young man with a head of gorgeous blond hair who from this angle was the spitting image of Frank Feeny. But no, she chided herself: that was all past. Her heart was fluttering involuntarily because of all the excitement of the evening – it was nothing more than that …

CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_217c4e96-cb38-5a04-84c1-1cca3d91fe7c)

‘So I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then?’ Rita got up to go home, even though she’d rather have stayed in her mother’s kitchen to carry on the lively conversation. ‘Thanks, Violet, you don’t know what a relief it is to have your help.’

‘Think nothing of it!’ Violet insisted, and gave one of her braying laughs, which even after all these months made Rita’s ears ring. But she’d happily put up with that for the comfort of knowing the shop wasn’t going to be left in Winnie’s increasingly incapable hands.

‘What about Georgie?’ demanded Nancy, pouting at being sidelined yet again. ‘I was going to ask you if you could have him overnight and tomorrow morning, then I’d come round to pick him up. Do I have to change my plans?’

‘Plans? What plans?’ Rita paused on her way out. ‘You didn’t say anything, Nancy.’ Privately she thought for the thousandth time that her younger sister didn’t know how lucky she was. She could play with her beautiful, healthy son every day, watching him change and grow before her eyes: he was walking with increasing confidence and beginning to learn their names. Here he was now, just about managing to toddle towards her, holding out his arms, saying ‘ri-ri-ri’, which was as close as he could get to Rita. She bent down to hug him. He was adorable – why didn’t his mother want to look after him? Rita held him close, savouring the smell of his soft hair, which reminded her of her own children when they were that age. She sent up a silent prayer for their safety. Even though she knew they were well and happy, every day without them was like a blow to her heart.

‘Oh honestly, I’ve told you all of this before.’ Nancy rolled her eyes. ‘You know very well that Gloria’s coming home. She’s been a big success in London and now she’s going on tour. She’s coming to Liverpool today and I’m going to go and meet her. They’re putting her up at the Adelphi! I’m not going to miss that!’

‘Well, that’s a change from the Sailor’s Rest and no mistake,’ observed Dolly, who was fond of Gloria even though she’d got a reputation for being fast. ‘I hope she’s going to make some time to visit her parents in all of this high life. They won’t have seen her for ages.’

‘Oh, she’s bound to,’ Nancy lied. Gloria’s parents weren’t like Dolly and Pop. Mr and Mrs Arden were more bothered by how well their pub was doing than what their only daughter got up to. ‘Mam, you’ll take Georgie, won’t you? He loves being here, look at him now. It’s his favourite place in the world.’ She wondered if she was laying it on a bit thick, but she could usually persuade her mother, and it was true that George liked nothing better than to stay at his granny’s.

Dolly regarded her most troublesome child with a baleful air, in full knowledge that she was being taken advantage of, but she could never stay cross with her for long. ‘Oh, all right then,’ she said. ‘But make sure you behave yourself, young lady. I won’t have you being the talk of the street.’ Nancy pursed her lips at her mother but wisely kept any backchat to herself. The business with Stan Hathaway was still a sore spot between them and she didn’t want to risk any curtailment of her night out.

‘Here, Rita,’ Dolly said, ‘you get off and give the boy to me. Are you sure you won’t take some lettuce? I picked it myself; it’s one of the first things that’s come up in the victory garden. All thanks to your clever idea of using spare panes of glass from the bomb site to make little greenhouses, Violet.’

‘That’s a good idea. In fact, why don’t I drop some off at Danny’s?’ Rita asked. She knew that Danny would be grateful for the salad, as he would never think to buy it for himself. Moreover, letters had begun to arrive at his house from Jack, and she was desperate to hear his news.

‘Of course, what a kind idea.’ Dolly beamed at her eldest daughter’s thoughtfulness. ‘There’s plenty for both of you.’