Daughters of the Mersey (31 page)

‘They were, but why did I always look on the black side of everything? I saw myself
as a physical wreck and never even tried. Miles pointed out that I was a selfish shit who thought only of himself and that you all had to fight for anything that wasn’t my idea.’

‘I know, but—’

‘I took it badly but it was the shake-up I needed. It brought me to my senses, that and the fact that he set me an example by getting back on his feet and going out to live his life. He showed me what I should have done.’

‘Well, you’re trying now,’ Leonie said and turned towards him. ‘Suddenly you’re much more like the man I married.’

Steve was so relieved that he took her in his arms and kissed her in the way he used to when he was young.

It was weeks since Milo had first written to Duggie Jenkins and he’d posted off some boating magazines and another note since, but he’d heard nothing from him. Floris had told him they often didn’t hear from him for weeks and he knew from hard experience that it wasn’t always possible to write. But when Milo came home from the hospital he found a letter from Duggie propped up on his dressing table. Mum said it had arrived yesterday. He threw himself on the bed to read it and Duggie’s words leapt off the paper. He hadn’t changed a bit, he was still his old cheerful self.

Later, Milo went round to the Jenkins’ house when he knew they’d be home from work. Floris danced to the door when he rang the bell.

‘We each got a letter from him this morning. Dad’s took a month to get here, but mine only a few days. At least we know he’s alive and well.’

Milo offered
them his letter from Duggie to read. ‘There’s quite a lot about his life there.’

When Floris handed it back, she said, ‘He was obviously delighted to hear from you.’

‘How are you?’ her father said. ‘How did you get on at the hospital?’

‘They discharged me, but I’ve also been discharged from the army. I’m no longer fit enough to fight.’

Floris looked shocked. ‘But you always seem so well to us.’

‘Yes.’ He admitted it had come as a shock to him and told them how it had happened. ‘It’s left me feeling at a bit of a loss. I can’t make up my mind what to do next.’

‘You were working in your family business, weren’t you?’

‘Yes, but I didn’t enjoy it. I’ve told Pa I don’t want to go back. With the war, it’s losing ground anyway.’

‘Then give yourself a day or two to think about it,’ Henry Jenkins advised. ‘It’s a new career you’re looking for. Think about what you like doing, what you enjoy. There are jobs everywhere. Right now, you can have your pick.’

‘I wanted to go to sea, but now . . .’ Milo hesitated. ‘Something to do with ships perhaps.’

Floris laughed. ‘I work for Beauforte Air Sea Rescue. That’s to do with ships and Dad works for Cammell Laird’s.’

‘We’re desperate for more staff,’ Henry said, ‘and I suspect Beauforte’s in the same position. We’re building ships as fast as we can to replace those being sunk in the Atlantic by U-boats.’

‘And they all need full safety equipment before they put to sea.’ Floris smiled. ‘Both are considered vital for the war effort.’

‘What exactly do you do?’ Milo asked Henry.

‘I’m a ship’s architect. There
are vacancies in the drawing office if you fancy something like that.’

‘I do, I think that would suit me.’

‘Think about it first,’ Henry said. ‘Don’t rush into the first thing that sounds halfway suitable. Find out what else there is available to you. Look in the newspapers, go to the library, talk to people. Think about doing the job hour after hour, day after day for years on end. Come back next week and we’ll mull it over. Perhaps I can help.’

When Floris showed him out, she said, ‘Don’t mind, Dad, Milo. He treats you like he does Duggie. He’s missing him.’

Milo had found him a helpful support. ‘He talks a lot of sense.’

While working on the ward, June had little time to dwell on her loss and that went for the time she spent in the classroom too. She needed to keep her mind on what she was doing to survive. It was when she was off duty that she missed Ralph most. She had plenty of company from her fellow nurses and that helped. She knew they all tried to include her in trips to the cinema or to a dance hall. ‘You need to get out and about more,’ they told her, ‘not mope here in your room.’

June didn’t feel ready to go out dancing yet. She didn’t want to talk to other men. She knew several of her fellow student nurses were older than her and were still seeking boyfriends. But marrying Ralph had changed her, made her grow up in a hurry. She still wore Ralph’s wedding ring on a gold chain round her neck under her uniform.

Only rarely now did she have a storm of tears. When she needed comfort, she took out Ralph’s letter to read again. It was becoming creased
but it eased her mind. For June it was enough to feel she would survive and that she was doing her bit at the hospital to help the war effort.

As usual, Nick Bailey was expecting Tom and Elaine to come and stay for the weekend. He enjoyed their company; he was envious of their stable marriage and their twins.

When he’d told them he’d proposed to Heather, Tom had said straight away, ‘She’s a stunning looking girl but she’s too young for you. She’ll not want to stay at home every evening listening to the wireless. Do you have the energy to keep up with her?’

Nick thought he had and he was tired of being on his own. ‘I’m in a rut. I need to get out and about more.’ He’d felt ready to have another try at marriage. ‘Heather will be good for me.’

She was equally keen to be married and it seemed pointless to delay it at his age. It took place only two months later in the register office.

Heather had boundless energy, she enjoyed dancing, racing, rowing on the river, she wanted him to take her to theatres, cinemas and for meals out. Nick couldn’t concentrate in the office; he felt tired and grew less enthusiastic about going out. There was no let-up for him at the weekends. Tom and Elaine bored Heather; they came too often, and as for those twins . . .

‘Everything revolves round those tiresome children,’ she complained. ‘They climb all over me and I’m sick of playing Snap, Ludo and Snakes and Ladders.’

After six months of marriage, Nick was afraid Tom had been right because they were growing tetchy with each other.

He suggested that being together
at work as well as at home was perhaps too much.

‘Would you like to look for a different job?’ he’d asked. Women without young children were required to work in wartime and employers were in need of extra staff of every sort. She found a new job the following week.

‘I’m to be secretary to the manager of a luxurious hotel, the Cavanagh. I’m looking forward to it. I think it should be fun.’

In the following weeks, Nick thought Heather was happier, she said she was enjoying her new job. But it left him shorthanded in the office and he couldn’t get a reasonable replacement for her. Heather chatted about making friends with the people she was working with and started going out in the evenings with the girls – to a dancing class, she said, and she was enjoying that too.

He missed her company. He thought he was letting her down. ‘You don’t have to go with other girls,’ he told her. ‘I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.’

He’d expected Heather to take him up on that but she didn’t. ‘I’m quite happy to go with my friends,’ she’d said coldly.

It had occurred to Nick that he could take her out to dinner on Friday nights, together with Tom and Elaine. He thought Heather would be pleased and it would help to repay Elaine for all the times he’d eaten at her house and would also help to stretch the rations. The problem was, the twins would have to remain with Olive and Aunt Bernie until Saturday morning.

He discussed it with Tom and booked a table at Heather’s favourite restaurant but the arrangement didn’t please either her or the twins and they did it only once. The tiffs he had with Heather became more serious rows and they were having them more often. He did
his best to keep the peace but it wasn’t always possible.

Nick knew he was failing yet again to achieve a happy marriage. He didn’t want to return to the loneliness of his widowed years. He found himself thinking more often of Leonie and Amy. When in the evenings he was left at home alone, he got out Leonie’s letters and the photographs of Amy and read them all through again, regretting what couldn’t be.

One Saturday evening, Heather had an argument with Elaine as they were preparing dinner and flounced to their bedroom and started to pack. ‘Where are you going?’ Nick asked, alarmed.

‘Do you care?’ she spat between her teeth.

‘Of course I care, you’re my wife.’

‘But you care more about your so-called brother and his wife.’

‘You can’t just walk out on me like this.’

‘Watch me,’ she snapped, tossing a satin nightdress into her case. ‘I’ve had enough of your friends. I don’t like them, especially their kids. I’m going to the Cavanagh. I can share a friend’s room for the night.’ He knew many of the hotel staff lived in.

‘But you’ll come back?’ Nick could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead.

‘When they’ve gone,’ she said and the door slammed behind her as she flounced out. He had a miserable time trying to explain it to Tom and Elaine.

‘We’re coming too often,’ Elaine said sadly. ‘We’re putting on you, taking advantage. I’m sorry.’

‘Blast this war,’ Tom said. ‘It makes life very difficult.’

That weekend, the Cliffords were relying on public
transport to get home. This was happening more often and usually they left late on Sunday afternoon. Nick would go with the twins to the railway station to see Tom and Elaine off and then take the children back to Olive and Aunt Bernie. They always invited him to have his evening meal with them – he was, after all, one of the family. That Sunday they were surprised to find Heather wasn’t with him and he had to give the painful explanation over again.

When he got home she was already curled up in bed. ‘Your friends impose on us. Surely you can see there are things I’d rather do at the weekend than run round after them? I can’t do what I want in my own home.’

Nick tried to explain about the bombing raids, about the help and support he’d received from Tom. But after that, she refused to stay at home if Tom and his family were coming. Tom didn’t feel he could continue to come every weekend.

Nick began to fear that Heather might leave him. She was spending more time with people he’d never met than she was with him. He began to lose hope.

One Sunday night Heather returned with an empty case and started to pull her clothes from the wardrobe.

‘I’ve made up my mind to go,’ she said angrily. ‘I’ve had enough of living with you. I’m sick and tired of it. I want a divorce. You know how to go about getting it, don’t you?’

Nick had half expected that she’d ask for a separation, but a divorce, straight off like that? He’d dealt with a few couples seeking divorce and he knew it was deeply shaming and carried a stigma ever after. He was so shocked that it took him a moment to get his words out. ‘You can’t get a
divorce on the spur of the moment. It’s difficult and takes a long time. You need to think hard about it.’

‘What d’you think I’ve been doing these last months?’

‘We should talk—’

‘I’m not going to let you talk me out of it. You’re an old has-been. You never want to do anything except read and entertain your boring friends.’

He moistened his lips. ‘Have you got—’

‘Of course I’ve got another man.’ Her beautiful eyes blazed defiance. He’d suspected for some time that she might have. ‘I want to live with him, he’s a lot more fun than you. He’s got more go in him.’

Nick felt as though he’d been kicked. ‘I see.’

‘You’d have to be half blind not to. I haven’t exactly kept him hidden.’

He was sorry and shocked that it was to end like this. Heather was not the woman he’d believed she was.

‘It was a mistake,’ she said. ‘We both know that, don’t we?’

His hands were trembling. He put them in his pockets. ‘There have to be specific grounds on which a divorce can be granted.’

‘I don’t care about the grounds, desertion, adultery – anything. Whatever is easiest. You know more about that sort of thing than I do. I’ll plead guilty to anything short of murder. I just want to be free of you.’

Nick felt he couldn’t argue against that. At this stage he didn’t want to, it would be futile. Nevertheless, his sense of loss was raw and painful. He felt he was touching bottom again.

I
T WAS THURSDAY, ELAINE HAD
worked hard all day and was tired. She heard the phone ring and
Tom pick it up while she was in the kitchen making a frugal supper from the leftover scraps from last night. They ate in the kitchen these days where it was warm and also saved the trouble of setting the dining-room table.

When the meal was ready, she went to the living-room door to call Tom in, and found he was still talking on the phone and signalling that he couldn’t come just yet.

‘Who is it?’ she mouthed.

‘Nick.’

Tom would usually tell him they were about to sit down to eat and he’d ring back later. Elaine could see from her husband’s face that they were talking about something important and stayed to listen.

‘If you feel like coming over for a bit of company, don’t hesitate.’

Elaine pulled a face; she and Tom had already agreed that they wanted an early night.

‘No, all right then. Yes, I know you might get caught in an air raid. I’m very sorry to hear this, Nick . . . yes, we’ll come tomorrow for the weekend.’ At last the phone went down.

‘What’s happened?’ Elaine wanted
to know.

‘Heather’s left him. She wants a divorce.’

‘Well I’m not surprised, are you? We know things have been a bit sour between them for some time.’

‘She’s told him she admits adultery and desertion. She’s given him names and dates and told him to file for it.’

‘He’ll be upset.’

‘He’s very upset, he was almost in tears. It seems Heather has gone off and left him to get the divorce started.’