Beyond a Misty Shore (3 page)

‘Are we nearly there, Mam? I’m cold and I’m hungry.’ Sophie dragged her stunned gaze away from the ruined
city and looked down at Bella. Her daughter was so like her father Andrew that tears pricked her eyes. Wearily she brushed a strand of Bella’s dark brown hair away from her cheek and with an effort forced herself to smile. ‘Not long now. We’ll soon be sitting in Aunty Lizzie’s nice warm kitchen having our breakfast.’

‘That’s if Aunty Lizzie still has got a kitchen!’ Maria said grimly, unable to conceal her feelings. She too was cold, tired, hungry and now utterly dispirited. The salty air was making her long dark hair curl frizzily. Her knitted red tamo’-shanter did little to protect it from the dampness in the morning air. She always took great pride in her appearance, even though most of her clothes were either hand-me-downs or had been made by Sophie. She spent hours trying to tame her thick unruly hair, even though her mam told her it was her ‘crowning glory’ and she shouldn’t complain about it so much. Sophie’s hair was just as thick but it was poker straight, which she considered very unfair considering that they both took after Sarah, whose own hair had once been as dark and straight as Sophie’s but was now grey and worn in a neat bun. Maria was missing her mother already for she’d never been away from home before. ‘Aunty Lizzie may not have a roof over her head at all.’

‘You could be right there, girl,’ agreed a small, plump woman standing beside them. She wore a black coat and a grey felt hat jammed tightly over short salt and pepper hair, and from her accent Maria realised she was Liverpudlian.

She turned to the woman, frowning. ‘Oh, don’t say that!
Isn’t it bad enough that we’ve come on this fool of a journey without having to find we now have nowhere to live?’

The woman bristled with indignation. ‘You should ’ave been here during the Blitz, girl! There were thousands of people left without a ’ome, left with nothing but the clothes they stood up in but grateful they still ’ad their lives.
Youse
lot had it soft over there. I’ve been to see me sister-in-law so I know.
Youse
never ’ad bombs raining down on yer night after night while yer were packed like sardines in the public air-raid shelter and terrified out of yer wits. And there’s still ’undreds without ’omes of their own, even though it’s all over now.’

Sophie glared at the woman, her dark eyes filled with grief and anger. ‘Don’t you dare say we had it soft on the island, missus! My poor pa risked his life to keep fish on your tables and then he went down with the
Tynwald
off North Africa. And I’m a widow! A widow at twenty-four and with this child to bring up alone. My husband’s boat was dragged by its nets to the bottom of the sea by a U-boat! The whole crew drowned!’

‘And your government dumped all those foreigners on us. We had internment and POW camps!’ Maria added, although there was a note of sadness in her voice.

Mollified, the woman nodded. ‘I know and I’m sorry for yer loss, girl. Where is it you two’re hoping to stay?’

Maria fished out the scrap of paper from her coat pocket. ‘Sixteen Harebell Street,’ she informed their travelling companion.

‘That’s near Stanley ’ospital, it’s Bootle,’ the woman informed them, then, pausing, she frowned. ‘Bootle ’ad it bad but I don’t think them “flower” streets were hit. Not bad ’ouses either from what I’ve ’eard.’

Both Maria and Sophie were very relieved to hear this.

‘Is it far from the Landing Stage?’ Sophie enquired. Bella was now shivering and clutching her old rag doll tightly to her.

‘Well, it’s too far to walk, I know that. You’ll ’ave to get a tram from the Pier ’ead, it’s the terminus so just ask one of the conductors or drivers which tram to get. Tell them where yer want to get off too.’

The deck was now crowded with people and Maria increased her grip on her small suitcase as the ship came alongside, shuddering as it hit the huge rubber tyres attached to the side of the stage that acted as fenders, throwing everyone off balance.

‘We’ll be crushed to death before we even get near the gangway at this rate!’ she cried.

Sophie bit her lip, realising her sister was right and terrified that Bella would be separated from her. She might even fall and be trampled in the rush for the gangway. ‘See if you can catch the eye of one of those deck hands and ask for help. I’ll have to keep hold of Bella and our luggage.’

Bella was shivering with cold and fright, terrified by the unfamiliar noises and the press of people who all seemed to tower above her. She had never been away from Peel in her life before. ‘Mam, don’t leave me! I don’t like it here,
I want to go home! I want to go back to Granny Sarah!’ Her big blue eyes filled with tears and she hugged her doll to her as she clung to Sophie, burying her face in the folds of her mother’s skirt.

Sophie drew her closer. ‘Hush now, it’s all right. Mam’s not going to let anything happen to you and we’ll soon be off this ship and in Aunty Lizzie’s house.’

Maria had no trouble at all in attracting attention. She had been considered one of the prettiest girls in Peel. A good-looking young lad, wearing a thick woollen jumper emblazoned across the chest with the Three Legs of Man, pushed his way towards her, smiling broadly.

‘Why did I never meet you strolling along the Lock Promenade in Douglas?’ he asked, admiration evident in both his eyes and voice.

‘Because I come from Peel and why would I be bothered going all the way to Douglas to walk along a promenade?’ she quipped, smiling archly and fluttering her long dark lashes. ‘Will you help us to get down the gangway in one piece, please? My sister has her luggage and my little niece to see to.’

Thus appealed to, and as they were both very attractive girls, he immediately took both Maria and Sophie’s cases and began to shoulder his way through the crowd shouting ‘Make way there, folks! Make way! Follow close behind me. Where are you going?’ he shouted to Maria over his shoulder.

‘Somewhere called “Bootle”, we’ve to get a tram,’ she informed him.

‘Took a bit of a hammering did Bootle, so one of the shore lads told me, especially the dock areas. A lot of the houses have been pulled down as being unsafe.’

Maria raised her eyes skyward impatiently; she was grateful for his help but it was difficult trying to keep up a conversation in such a crowd. ‘Our aunt lives in Harebell Street and a woman told us those houses were fine.’

‘I hope she was right. Still, it’s all over and we got our own back in the end. Sometimes I feel a bit sorry for them now, their whole country’s destroyed, according to the newspapers.’

‘And so is ours and they should ’ave thought of that before they started the flaming war!’ The woman in the black coat had elbowed her way to their side and was ruthlessly pushing forward.

‘I suppose you’re right, missus. Let’s get you all off now,’ the deck hand called as they reached the top of the gangway. He turned to Sophie. ‘Can you manage this case and I’ll carry the little lass down on my shoulders so she won’t get crushed?’

‘Oh, that’s so good of you! I was wondering how I was going to manage,’ Sophie replied with relief as he effortlessly hoisted Bella on to his shoulder.

‘Hold on tightly to this kind man, Bella. We’ll soon be off and your mam and I will be right behind you,’ Maria urged her obviously apprehensive niece.

It was a relief to be off the ship at last and at the bottom of the gangway they parted company with both the woman in the black coat and the young deck hand, Maria flashing him a genuine smile of gratitude. People were still milling around
but they made their way towards the line of green and cream waiting trams. Sophie made some enquiries of a man in a uniform, whom she took to be some sort of official, and was directed towards a tram at the front of the line. They climbed aboard and Maria showed the conductor the piece of paper bearing her aunt’s address.

‘I’ll give yer a shout when we get to the nearest stop, luv,’ he promised and they settled thankfully on to the wooden slatted seat, Sophie with Bella on her lap and her suitcase at her feet.

‘I just hope she’s going to have a pot of tea ready for us, I’m worn out,’ Maria commented, gazing out of the window.

Sophie smiled tiredly. ‘I’m sure she will. She knows what time the ferry was due in. Mam put it all in the letter and she said she was a friendly enough soul and should make us very welcome.’

‘How does she know that? We never got a reply and she only met her the once, years ago before the war, when they came over on a day trip,’ Maria reminded her. She didn’t know Uncle Jim Quine, her mother’s brother, at all. He’d gone to Liverpool to work before she’d even been born. Sophie didn’t either, she’d only been a small baby.

Sophie didn’t reply, she was too tired, heartsore and filled with misgivings to enter into an argument with Maria.

The tram had filled up and when the conductor came for their fares Sophie held out the pennies.

He took them but gave her one back, grinning conspiratorially. ‘It’s supposed to be half-price for the little ’un, but
what the ’ell! She’s sitting on yer knee an’ I reckon that penny is better in your pocket than the flaming Corporation’s.’

She thanked him and put it back in her purse. She
would
need every penny she had until she got a job. She had sold everything to come here, even her precious wedding ring. She wore one made of brass now. She had to make all her hopes and dreams for a better future come true, for Bella’s sake. She hugged the pale, weary child to her, fighting back the tears of exhaustion and sorrow. Oh, Andrew! I still miss you so much, she thought. He’d been dead three years yet each time she had passed the harbour, where what was left of the fishing fleet was anchored, it broke her heart. Mam had been right to urge her to leave Peel and its bittersweet memories behind, but to have to face the future without him was daunting in the extreme. In truth she would never forget him or the brief happy years they’d had together, and nor did she want to. What made her heart ache was the knowledge that she would never again feel his strong arms around her, never be able to confide her fears and worries to him, or see his blue eyes dancing with mirth, or hear his laughter. She would never again feel her heart skip a beat with joy and relief when he came home to their cottage in Charles Street, the narrow winding street that led from Orry Lane down to the harbour, as the fishing fleet returned and the
Girl Sophie
was tied up. The cottage was now gone – rented out to someone else – and so was the
Girl Sophie
. She lay at the bottom of the Irish Sea and so did her poor Andrew. And just what lay ahead of her now? More anxiety, hardship and
disappointment? Life had never been easy. ‘Chasing the herring’ as her father had done all his life had never brought in much money and even when she’d married Andrew it had been hard to make ends meet, but she hadn’t minded that. They’d been happy.

She looked out of the window as the tram trundled its way down Chapel Street and Tithebarn Street, the trolley sparking as it crossed the junctions. The sight that met her eyes only deepened her fears. Whole streets of houses, shops, churches, schools and pubs were in ruins. Was there any work to be had here at all, she wondered? Had she made the worst decision of her life? Why had she left the green fields, the wooded glens, the moorland where sheep grazed in the shadow of Snaefell, the quiet little villages, the rugged, towering cliffs at Bradda and Niarbyl, all the beauty of her small island home for an uncertain future in a strange, war-battered, crowded and noisy city? Was this wasteland of ruined buildings all she could now offer her precious daughter as ‘home’? She prayed silently for the courage to face the days and months ahead.

When they alighted from the tram they walked in the direction the conductor had pointed out. The roadway was wide and cobbled and a horse and cart slowly passed them, the clattering of the iron-shod hooves of the heavy, patient Shire muffled slightly by the dampness in the air. She shivered as they passed the bottom of a street in which there were huge gaps where houses had once stood.

‘This street is called “Woodbine” so it can’t be very far
now,’ Maria surmised, looking up at the sign attached to the wall of the end house. ‘Didn’t that woman say they were called the “flower” streets? Not that there’s anything remotely “flowery” about this place!’ she added.

Sophie nodded, gazing across the road to where soot-blackened buildings and mounds of rubble obscured the view of the docks and the river beyond.

Maria followed her gaze and pursed her lips, thinking how different it was from the view from the harbour at home. There the ruined castle crowned the top of the grassy hill on St Patrick’s Isle and the gulls swooped and dived overhead.

Holding Bella’s hand tightly, Sophie turned into Harebell Street and was thankful to see that all the houses were still standing. She managed a smile. ‘Here we are, Bella. This is Harebell Street where Aunty Lizzie and Uncle Jim live. Aren’t they fine, big houses?’

The child nodded slowly, still confused and very apprehensive for everything was strange to her. The houses did seem big compared to her Granny’s cottage and the street was so much wider than the little narrow lanes she was used to, but she was determined not to cry. ‘Will I have other children to play with here, Mam?’

‘Of course you will and you’ll make lots of new friends at school too,’ Sophie replied with forced cheerfulness, wondering how Bella would settle amongst strangers.

‘All we have to do now is find number sixteen and let’s hope there’s something to eat and a warm fire waiting for us,’ Maria added as she began to count off the houses. At least
they all looked fairly well cared for, she thought. Most had cotton lace curtains at the window and the doorsteps had been scrubbed and whitened. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad living here after all.