Put Out the Fires (52 page)

“I know! I’ll go down the Docky!”

It must be almost a year to the day since she’d last wandered along the Dock Road and met Donnie Kennedy.

Francis had just arrived home, and she remembered how utterly wretched she’d felt, thinking about how she’d let Nick down.

She crossed over to Number 16 and poked her head into the hall. “I’m going down the Docky, Sis,” she yelled.

A muffled reply came from the parlour and she noticed the door was closed. “Don’t go too far now, luv, not in your condition.”

It was as if someone had removed the heart from the city and beaten it to a pulp, yet the heart stubbornly refused to die, refused to stop pumping the vital lifeblood to the body it had sustained for more than two centuries, and continued to throb and beat, gradually getting stronger, greater, and more vibrant than it had ever been before.

Eileen Costello’s own heart swelled when she turned into the Dock Road, which seemed to be literally pulsating with people and traffic and noise in the tingling Liverpool sunshine. Funnel after funnel rose majestically above the remains of the great walls, and cranes turned to and from the enormous loads swinging precariously as they were loaded on or loaded off the ships.

Eileen smiled as she began to stroll in the direction of Liverpool. She walked past the gates of the Gladstone Dock, where she and Sheila used to wait for Dad when they were little. Life had seemed so uncomplicated in those days, though she supposed the grown-ups had a struggle to exist from day to day. She could scarcely remember the Great War, when her dad had fought in France, and wondered if the whole country had been turned as upside down as it was now. Everything, everybody, seemed to have been touched by the conflict in some way or other.

She passed a group of sailors wearing strange uniforms with big white floppy collars, rather girlish in their way.

One of them made a huge circle with his arms and called something in a foreign language and his mates laughed. A man in front of her in a formal black suit and wearing a trilby, who was about to go inside a ship’s chandler’s, paused, his hand on the door.

“He said you were an adorable and magnificent mother!”

Eileen, embarrassed, muttered something incomprehensible in reply.

There were sailors everywhere, of all different nationalities and in the most peculiar get-ups. She paused and watched as a great horde of them came pouring out of Alexandra Dock looking around them excitedly, as if they’d only just arrived in Liverpool, the greatest port in the world. She felt as if she were standing at the very hub of the universe, the place where everything began and ended.

And then a voice whispered in her ear, “Penny for them!”

“Nick!” she said faintly.

She turned abruptly, stumbling, and found herself caught up in a pair of strong, familiar arms, and there he was, looking down at her with his lovely brown eyes and grinning from ear to ear.

“Nick?” she said again. She grabbed his shoulders.

There was actually real flesh and bone underneath her fingers. She had thought she was having hallucinations on top of everything else. “You’re real!” she breathed. “I thought I was seeing things.”

“Oh, my love! My dearest girl, my darling Eileen.” He rocked her back and forth, regardless of the passersby who were glancing with amused indulgence at the tall, handsome RAF officer embracing his very pregnant wife-well, somebody’s wife. “You look beautiful, big and very beautiful. I knew you would!”

“What on earth are you doing here?” she cried. “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming? How did you know where I was?”

He continued to hold her. “Questions, questions,” he groaned. “I fly all the way from North Africa and drive through the night to see my girl and all I get is questions.

Aren’t you pleased I’m here?”

“Of course, I am.” She began to cry. It was impossible to have been more pleased about anything. “Of course I am.”

“There now, don’t cry.” He wiped her face with his handkerchief. “Come on, let’s go home. When I arrived in Pearl Street, Sheila told me you’d gone to some mysterious place called ‘the Docky’, so me and your brother-in-law set off post haste in search of you. Cal’s gone to look the other way.” He began to lead her along the road, his arm around her shoulders.

“But what are you doing here?”

Her heart lifted at the thought he might be home for good, but it didn’t lift for long. Nick replied, “The Squadron’s being sent to Russia in support of Uncle Joe.”

“Jaysus!” She stopped in her tracks. “Oh, Jaysus, Nick.

That’s more dangerous than anything you’ve ever done before.”

“Not for me, it isn’t,” he said boastfully. “I lead a charmed life. I’ve made a pact with my maker and he’s promised nothing will ever happen to Nick Stephens.”

“Don’t pretend, luv,” she said gently.

His face became serious. “We all pretend, darling. We have to. It’s what keeps us going.” He kissed her softly on the lips. “Anyway, we’re taking off from Northolt tomorrow afternoon, which means we have about ten hours together. I have to leave at midnight.”

“Ten hours!” she breathed tremulously. “There’s not a lot we can do in ten hours, is there?”

“I can think of one thing straight away, but I don’t suppose that’s on at the moment.” He looked down at her vast stomach. “However, there’s something else we can do, possibly more important . . . ” He paused and looked mysterious.

She dug him in the ribs with her elbow. “Stop codding me, Nick. What is it?”

He waved a piece of paper in front of her face. “We can get married! I’ve got a special licence.”

“What?” She stopped again and looked at him askance.

His brown eyes were dancing and his face quite literally glowed with happiness. She thought she had never loved him so much as she did at that moment. As they stood stationary on the pavement, a horse and cart rattled past, people jostled against them, and a ship’s hooter sounded three times on the river. Eileen only half heard or half noticed the activity and the noises all around her. Time seemed to stand still, and all she was conscious of was the piece of white paper which Nick held in his hand. She had nothing to wear. There was no time to arrange a reception, but most importantly of all, it just wasn’t done, getting married when you were eight-and-a-half-months pregnant.

What on earth would the priest think? As for the neighbours, their tongues would wag for months.

“All right,” she said. What did all these things matter when compared to the look on her beloved Nick’s face?

“Phew!” he said, relieved. “I had a feeling you’d raise all sorts of objections. I was all prepared for a marathon argument, though there was no way I would have taken no for an answer.”

Eileen gave a long shuddering sigh, and Nick said with some concern, “What’s the matter, darling?”

“I feel all funny inside. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Well, it is, I can assure you. All the arrangements have been made. I’ve been rushing around like a mad thing since I arrived in Liverpool this morning.”

“You’ve been here since this morning?”

“I got the licence, and I’ve been to see the priest in that little church in Melling. The wedding’s booked for four o’clock, which gives us,” he looked at his watch, “two and a half hours. What shall we do till then?”

She looked at him, scandalised. “What do you mean, ‘what shall we do till then?’ I’ve got to get ready.”

“But you look beautiful as you are!” Nick protested.

“I’m not getting married in this ould smock, I’ve got a decent one at home. And I’ve got to do me hair, change me stockings, get made up, look for a hat—there’s a million things to do. In fact, we’d better get a move on.”

They met Cal on the way back. “There you are!” he beamed.

Eileen waited until they were in the house before she made the announcement. “Nick and me are getting married in Melling at four o’clock this afternoon!”

Sheila screamed. “You can’t! Not in your condition.”

“I can, and I am, Sheil, so don’t waste your breath trying to stop me,” Eileen said in a voice that brooked no argument.

“Oh, all right, but I’ve got nothing to wear.”

“Neither have I, but it’s not stopping me.”

“Jaysus, our Eileen,” Sheila complained. “Trust you to spring something like this on us without a word of warning. Another thing, the larder’s virtually bare. We were having snoek and cabbage for tea, which isn’t exactly what you’d term wedding food.”

“But we don’t need food,” Nick put in hastily. “In fact, we don’t need anything. There’ll only be the two of us.

The priest said he can provide two witnesses.”

“You must be joking!” Sheila looked at Nick as if he was mad. “D’you seriously think I’d let me own sister get married all on her own? And what about me dad?” she demanded. “He’ll have a cob on for the rest of his life if he doesn’t give her away.” She went to the front door and yelled, “Dominic? Niall? One of you come in this minute.”

Niall came rushing in, “What is it, Mam?”

“I want you to run down to the Docky as fast as you can and tell them on the gate that Jack Doyle’s girl is getting married in Melling at four o’clock and they’ll let him off early. You know which entrance, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mam,” Niall said importantly.

“And don’t tell anybody else,” Sheila shouted as he was halfway down the hall, “We don’t want the whole street knowing.” She looked Eileen up and down. “Not with her looking the way she does.”

Cal said, “What d’you say you and me go for a bevy, Nick?”

“Good idea.” Nick looked relieved. “I was wondering how to make myself scarce for a while.”

“Tara, luv,” Sheila said absently as the men both left.

“Eileen, have you got any decent stockings?”

“I don’t think I have, no,” Eileen answered, panic stricken.

“Neither have I. I’ll send our Siobhan round to Veronica’s for a couple of pairs. What about flowers? You’d like a little posy, wouldn’t you? I wouldn’t mind a buttonhole meself-but what’ll I pin it onto!” Sheila looked distraught. “Jaysus, Sis, I’ve only got two frocks and one’s as old as the hills and the other’s second-hand. And I lost all me hats, except for that woolly one, in the blitz . . . ”

“What about the pink costume I wore for Annie Poulson’s wedding?”

“It’ll never go near me. I’m much bigger round the hips than you are.”

The blue crepe-de-chine, then, it’s a bit fuller—it’d go well with me navy-blue beret.” Eileen remembered she’d ordered wedding outfits for all of them earlier in the day, but never mind, they’d do for when Sean and Alice got married.

“I’ll try it on in a minute. How are we supposed to get out to Melling, the lot of us?” Sheila said, suddenly indignant. “Why couldn’t Nick have arranged it at St Joan of Arc’s?”

“Because he thought there’s be just the two of us,”

Eileen explained patiently. “But he’s got a car. You and Cal can go in the back with me dad if he gets here on time.”

“But what about the kids? He can’t fit six kids in an” all.

They’ll want to see their only auntie getting married.”

“Are you sure, Sheil? You’re turning this into a great big do all of a sudden.”

“Well, people only get married once in their lives, don’t they?”

“Not everyone, Sheil. This is me second time, remember?”

“Jaysus, I forgot.”

A voice called down the hall, “Are you there, Eileen?”

“It’s Aggie,” Sheila mouthed, making a face. “Come on in, Aggie.”

Aggie Donovan came bustling in, her face shining with excitement. “Well, you could have knocked me down with a feather when I heard the news. Getting married, eh?

That’s a bit sudden, isn’t it, Eileen?”

“Who told you?” Sheila asked sharply, “Your Niall did. He shouted it out to the whole street.”

“The little bugger!”

Aggie folded her arms on her chest and regarded Eileen with sly, curious eyes. “I suppose it’s that big RAF chap I saw walking down the road with Calum Reilly?

Eileen nodded numbly.

“I thought as much!” Aggie said with a satisfied look, as if she’d known all along there was something going on.

“Anyroad, luv, you don’t need to worry about the food for the reception. I’ve started on a cake—I managed to get some sultanas last week, but it’s a pity there won’t be time to ice it—and Millie Harrison’s doing some cheese sarnies.

Paddy O’Hara’s gone round to see if there’s any biscuits in the shops - they can allus find him odds and ends, him being blind, like - and Brenda’s making one of those eggless sponges.”

“But Aggie,” Eileen said faintly. “We weren’t going to have a reception, and it’s all the way out in Melling.”

“I know, luv, but Millie said the buses run quite frequent. She reckons we can get there in plenty of time.

Well, I’ll love you and leave you for the moment. I expect you’ll be dead busy getting ready over the next couple of hours.”

She left, and Eileen and Sheila looked at each other and burst out laughing. “This street! I don’t know how you can bring yourself to leave it!” Sheila said eventually. “Well, I suppose we’d better get a move on. Your other smock needs ironing, for one thing, and I’d better try your blue frock on.”

Over the next hour, Pearl Street became a hive of activity.

Women went into one another’s houses, their faces creased purposefully, borrowing a quarter of margarine or a cup of sugar or in search of a precious egg. Frocks were ironed, hats brushed, shoes cleaned and best jewellery given a spit and polish. May Kelly brought Eileen a bottle of whisky and eight Easter eggs which she hadn’t managed to get rid of. She was quickly despatched to buy a posy of flowers and six buttonholes if they were available. Unfortunately, as she regretfully explained, flowers weren’t available on the black market. Mack, the landlord of the King’s Arms, offered a crate of beer at a reduced price.

“I’m sorry, Eileen, but I can’t afford to give it free, like.”

“Thanks, Mack. I’ll pay you later,” Eileen said, doing her best to sound grateful. Nick would do his nut when he came back and discovered there was going to be a fullblown reception after the wedding.

Brenda Mahon came just as Mack was leaving. “You know that hat you liked, well I found a bit of cream net and tacked it on. It’ll look lovely with your navy blue smock, if that’s what you’re ‘wearing.’