Sunlight on the Mersey (2 page)

When the meal was over, the toasts drunk, the dishes cleared away and washed and Rose and Iris had gone up to bed, Bill urged Kate to follow them. ‘You’ve had a long, tiring day, luv, and you’ve to be up at the crack of dawn in the morning to go to the market.’

Kate nodded, although she was loath to let Charlie out of her sight. At least she would sleep easily tonight, knowing he was safe, and she was also aware that Bill wanted some time alone with his son. ‘Well, goodnight, luv. Sleep well,’ she said, smiling.

‘I will, Mam, you can be sure of that,’ Charlie replied. It felt a little strange to be once again sitting in the so-familiar kitchen with comforts he’d not had for many months. He’d been away a year, not long compared to some of the lads, and yet it had seemed infinitely longer.

When Kate had gone Bill got up and extracted a small bottle from the back of the cupboard in the base of the dresser. ‘I’ve been saving this for a special occasion,’ he informed his son, pouring a small measure of the whisky into two glasses.

‘This is certainly better than pale ale,’ Charlie said appreciatively after taking a sip.

‘Finest malt and not easy to come by. I’m glad you’ve come through it safely, lad, so many didn’t, but it’s been the longest year in my life and most probably yours as well. It’s going to take you a while to . . . adjust to life now.’ He paused as Charlie nodded. ‘I’m not going to ask you about what you went through, but if you want to tell me I’ll be only too glad to listen and . . . help ease your mind, if I can.’

Charlie shook his head as he stared down into the amber liquid in his glass. ‘I . . . I don’t think I can talk about it, Da. Not yet anyway. Maybe . . . maybe in the future, maybe never. It was a . . . a living nightmare. Sheer hell on earth. Too . . . horrific to dwell on. I want to forget it; I don’t want to think about it.’

Bill nodded slowly. The newspaper reports of the hundreds of thousands killed and wounded had been bad enough. Every city, town, village and hamlet had lost men. ‘Then put it all behind you and think about the future,’ he urged firmly.

Charlie shook off the oppressive feelings that were threatening to overtake him. ‘That’s just what I intend to do, Da. I look at it like this: I was just so fortunate to have been spared. Now I’ve got the rest of my life ahead of me and I’m not going to waste it. We . . . we had an officer, a Captain Summerhill; he was a good bloke. Not an upper-crust, toffee-nosed snob as some were. He used to talk to me. He used to say, “If by some bloody miracle you come through this in one
piece, Private Mundy, aim for the very best you can get out of life, for by God you’ll have both earned and deserve it. You all will.” So that’s what I’m going to do. Aim high. Make something of myself. I’m not sure how I’ll manage it but . . . but I want to end my days a respected middle-class man with a position in society and a healthy bank balance. Is that too much to ask for, Da?’

Bill looked dubious but he slowly shook his head. ‘No, the world has changed – is still changing – but not that quickly, Charlie. For the likes of that Captain Summerhill it wouldn’t be hard to achieve all that – he’d have the right background, the right connections – but you’re just a working-class lad from a poor area of Liverpool. I don’t want to put a damper on your hopes and ambitions but it won’t be easy.’ It might be well nigh impossible, the class system was so rigid, he thought, but he didn’t say so.

Charlie didn’t reply. Getting the best he possibly could out of the future seemed the only thing that made any sense of the carnage of the past – and his da was wrong. It wouldn’t be easy for Edmund Summerhill to achieve anything; he was buried in a shallow grave in Flanders.

Sensing his son’s mood Bill tried to be optimistic. ‘Still, it’s something to aim for, Charlie, and don’t forget you’ll inherit the pawnbroking business one day, just as I did. You’ll soon settle back into life now the war’s over; we all will. I’d see if you can get your old job back – that will be a start. And remember, son, you can always rely on me for help, advice and a sympathetic ear. We can all look forward now with
hope.’ He poured the remaining whisky into their glasses. ‘Here’s to peace, happiness and prosperity.’

Charlie smiled. ‘To all that – and to the future.’

Liverpool 1921

‘I
T’S RHEUMATIC FEVER
, I’
M
afraid, Mrs Mundy. I’ve examined her thoroughly and I know the symptoms well enough, unfortunately,’ Dr Mackenzie informed Kate who stood beside him looking worriedly down at her daughter. Rose, now seventeen, was flushed; her eyes were fever bright, her skin clammy with perspiration. Wisps of her dark hair were stuck to her cheeks and forehead and there was fear in her brown eyes.

‘I will be all right, Mam, won’t I? I feel terrible now but I
will
get better?’ Rose’s voice held a note of panic. Rheumatic fever was serious; she knew that much. She had pains in her arms and legs and her head was throbbing.

Kate tried to hide her own anxiety. Rosamund, or Rose as she was always called, had been rather spoiled. As a baby she’d always seemed to be ailing and there had been times when Kate seriously wondered if she would succeed in rearing her to adulthood, but when Rose had turned seventeen and it seemed as though her fears for the girl were over, she’d come down with this. And rheumatic fever she knew could leave Rose with a weak heart.

‘As long as you rest, Rose, you’ll be fine and hopefully suffer no lasting effects,’ the doctor assured his patient firmly. ‘Take the medicine I’ve prescribed, drink plenty of fluids and stay in bed. I’ll call in and see you in a day or two.’

Kate nodded, relieved at his words as she ushered him towards the door of the small, neat but rather sparsely furnished bedroom. ‘Thank you, doctor. You know she’s always been a worry to me so I’ll take good care to see she does as she’s told. And I can tell you this, too: she’s not going back to that hotel to work. I swear that’s where she picked it up. You get all kinds of people in those hotels and you never know where they’ve come from or who they’ve been mixing with,’ she remarked darkly.

Dr Mackenzie smiled at her kindly. He’d known the whole family for years but he doubted she’d understand it was an inflammatory disease that often was the result of a severe throat infection and Rose could have contracted that anywhere. Rheumatic fever was seldom fatal in adults but the young were often left with serious heart, joint and eye conditions. In this area of Liverpool children were weakened by
malnutrition and dire poverty, the privations of the war years hadn’t helped. The Mundys were far better off than many of their neighbours for they ran two businesses, he mused. Kate had a greengrocer’s shop and her husband Bill was a pawnbroker, both very necessary establishments in this dockland community. ‘I think it will be a while before she’s fit for work of any kind, Mrs Mundy, but if you are worried about her before my next visit, don’t hesitate to send for me.’

Kate thanked him and showed him downstairs and out through the shop, which she had closed for half an hour as business had been slow that morning. They lived above it but she certainly wasn’t going to let him out the back way through the yard with the privy, the tin bath tub hanging on the wall, the small wash house and the stack of empty wooden fruit crates which would go back tomorrow, not a man of his position.

She’d been up very early as usual, but it had been Bill who had gone to the market this morning. She glanced around the shop and frowned. He’d got everything she’d put on the list but she preferred to choose the produce herself. Most of the blokes at the market were decent and honest but there were a couple who would try to palm you off with stuff that was past its best. She had wiped and polished up the fruit and stacked it in neat piles in the window, the potatoes were in sacks on the floor but resting against the front of the counter and the vegetables were arranged by variety and size on the wide deep shelves on the opposite wall. Bunches of fresh and dried herbs were suspended from a rack behind the counter. It all looked
neat and tidy. Things now were slowly improving, she thought. At the end of the Great War there had been serious shortages of food and real hardship. She shook her head sadly as she remembered the terrible loss of life those four years had resulted in. Tragedy and hardship indeed for so many of her friends and neighbours but at least Charlie had come through with nothing more than a flesh wound in his arm and a fairly mild case of trench foot, which had quickly cleared up. It had taken Charlie a while to adjust to life at home and during the first months he’d had nightmares and bouts of moodiness, although lately he seemed more settled and at ease, especially with his sisters. Now she was worrying about whether this fever would leave Rose with a weak heart, despite Dr Mackenzie’s reassurances. At least Iris enjoyed good health.

She had a bottle of Robinson’s Barley Water in the pantry, she remembered; she’d get it out and make up a jug and take it up to Rose. Drink plenty of fluids, he’d said.

Bill came into the shop and smiled affectionately at his wife. Despite the fact that her hair was no longer the burnished copper colour it had been when he’d met her and there were now fine lines at the corners of her grey eyes, to him she remained a very attractive woman. She was still small and slim and he often wondered where she found her boundless energy; time certainly hadn’t slowed his Kate down much. ‘I saw him leave, luv. What did he say is wrong with her?’

‘Rheumatic fever, Bill, but he says we’re not to worry, that with medicine, rest and plenty of fluids she should recover
and have no after-effects. But you know as well as I do that it can do lasting damage. Have you closed up or have you left someone reliable in charge?’ she asked as an afterthought.

‘I just put a note on the door: “Back in ten minutes”,’ he replied. ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine, luv, try not to worry too much.’

‘She’s not going back to that hotel, Bill. I swear that’s where she picked this up, mixing with all and sundry. I never thought she was really strong enough to cope with the work of a chambermaid anyway. Changing beds, cleaning and carting bundles of linen around is heavy work and she’s always been a bit on the delicate side.’

He said nothing; jobs were hard to find these days, especially for young, unskilled, untrained girls like Rose and Iris. Iris had worked in munitions in the last year of the war but Rose had been too young to join her sister. The lads who had survived were back and so many of them were now without work. Unemployment was rife and getting steadily worse. He was seeing more and more items being brought in to be pledged and the number of them remaining unredeemed was rising. ‘Well, we’ll talk about that when she’s feeling better, luv. Is there any chance of a quick cuppa?’

Kate nodded. ‘I’ll put the kettle on. You take this barley water up to her and tell her she’s to drink a full glass of it whether she feels like it or not,’ she instructed as she bustled about with the kettle, teapot and tea caddy. She wouldn’t mind a quick cup of tea herself before she opened up as there would be no closing for lunch today. She couldn’t afford to turn any business away even if it did only amount to a few
pounds of potatoes or carrots for a pan of ‘blind’ scouse – most of her customers couldn’t afford any meat to go in it. She thanked God daily on her knees for her good fortune. They all had work, even if her children weren’t exactly enthusiastic about their various occupations and Bill had always worked hard to provide for them. Unlike quite a few in the same occupation, he was a kind and compassionate man, always treating the women who came in with their bundles on a Monday morning with respect. His ‘ladies’, he called them, although most of them had never owned a decent coat and hat in their lives, but wore shawls instead. He made sure they kept their dignity.

Kate and Bill had been married for twenty-five years and she could count on the fingers of one hand the times he’d lost his temper with anyone. She smiled to herself as she spooned the tea into the pot. She would never forget the evening the tall, well-built, handsome young man with the dark hair and eyes had asked if he could escort her home from the social evening she had attended with friends at a nearby church hall. She’d found out that he was the son of Arthur Mundy, a respected pawnbroker, that he helped his father and hoped to take over the business when the old man retired. Also that he was teetotal, which had pleased her mother no end for her own father had been overly fond of the drink, often to the detriment of the household budget. Yes, she had a great deal to be thankful for and if she could live long enough to see all her children married and settled she’d be a happy woman.

Rose had been dozing fitfully, the pains in her joints making restful sleep impossible. She’d had a very sore throat a couple of weeks ago and had been off work for a day, but it had gone and she’d thought nothing more of it until two days ago when she’d begun to feel really awful. Her head ached, she felt sick, she’d had no energy and then the fever had overtaken her. At least she now knew what it was and that she would get well again. And she’d overheard what her mam had said to the doctor about her not going back to Black’s Commercial Hotel. For that she was really thankful. She hated the place, but it had been the only job she could get. She hated having to clean rooms, change beds, empty chamber pots and she knew it would be years before she would be promoted to something better, such as head chambermaid or housekeeper. She had enquired if she could be trained to wait on in the dining room – she wouldn’t have minded that – but she’d been told very firmly that there were no vacancies and that should one occur then they would employ someone already trained in silver service. There was another reason why she had no wish to return there. Jimmy Harper. She’d been foolish enough to believe that he had really cared for her. He was the first lad who had ever asked her out. He’d started working at the hotel a few months ago as the boy who cleaned the guests’ boots, brought them their morning papers and sometimes ran errands for them. He was the same age as her and they’d quickly become friends. She’d really, really liked him and had believed him when he’d said she was the only girl for him. They’d been courting for almost two months
when one afternoon she’d caught him kissing Mavis Smythe, who had only been working there as a chambermaid for two weeks. He’d tried to laugh it off, saying Mavis had led him on, but she’d never felt so hurt and let down in her life before and having to see him every day and studiously ignore him made working at Black’s intolerable.