The Lost Days of Summer (31 page)

Nell had eaten her first shortbread biscuit and was starting on a ginger nut when her aunt produced the kaleidoscope from her dressing gown pocket. She smiled at the surprise on her niece’s face. ‘You know the night Maggie first arrived? We’d all gone to bed, but Maggie woke and yelled out when she heard a vixen scream. Then I heard the two of you talking on the landing outside my bedroom, so I got up and opened the door a crack to see what all the fuss was about. And the first thing I saw, dear Nell, was you in your working clothes and not your nightie. Aha, I thought to myself, the young monkey is off to the attic. So I waited until the two of you had gone back to bed and then went up the stair, opened the trapdoor and had a quick look round. The room was flooded in moonlight and the first thing I saw, lying on the sofa, was the kaleidoscope.’ She looked slyly at her niece through the thick curling lashes which had once been the envy of every girl in Liverpool. ‘So the little monkey has got her grubby paws on my kaleidoscope, I thought to myself. But she’s not had much chance to examine it. Maybe if I take it away now and keep it hidden in my own room, my secret, such as it is, will still be safe. For I knew, Nell, that though you might be curious, you are not the sort of person to enter someone else’s own room without an invitation, far less search through their possessions.’

‘I thought exactly the same about you,’ Nell admitted. ‘I knew you wouldn’t snoop deliberately in my room; I even knew that if you found the books you might not realise they were from the attic because you know I borrow books from the travelling library when it visits the village.’

‘Right. Well, in order that you should understand everything, I’m going to start at the very beginning. And that was a long time ago, towards the end of the Great War. As I’m sure you know, I was nursing at the Stanley Hospital at the time, looking after the wounded soldiers sent back from France. One evening my friend Sarah and I got off early . . .’

August 1918

Kath and Sarah emerged from the hospital, glad to be out of the stuffy wards and grateful for the fresh breeze blowing off the Mersey. As they turned along the pavement, Kath let out her breath in a gusty sigh. ‘Phew! Do you realise, Sarah, that we’ve been at war for four years? And everyone was saying it would be over by Christmas. Some hope! I’m beginning to believe it will go on for ever.’

Sarah snorted. She was a pretty, dark-haired girl with a high colour and big dark eyes, and she and Kath were good friends. Now, however, she shook her head chidingly. ‘Oh, Kath, don’t be so daft. The fellers coming back from the front are sure it’s almost over. Both sides are exhausted, and ever since the Yanks came in the Huns have been falling back. A young cavalry officer came on to our ward yesterday and he says it’ll be over by Christmas . . . no, don’t laugh, he’s speaking from experience, not wishful thinking, like they were four years ago. Ah, here comes our tram; we’d better run for it.’

The two girls, cloaks flapping in the breeze of their going, began to hurry, though they were well aware that at the sight of their uniform other passengers would hold back. Anyone in uniform, particularly the soldiers wearing the bright blue which showed they had been wounded in action, was given preferential treatment, so it was no surprise when the girls found themselves being pushed to the front of the queue and given two seats next to one another close to the door.

‘Doing anything exciting this evening?’ Kath asked as the tram started up. She hugged herself and beamed at her friend. ‘I am!’

‘I was going to the picture palace with my sister, to see Charlie Chaplin in
The Adventurer
,’ Sarah said, settling herself more comfortably in her seat and raising her voice above the rattle and roar of the tram. ‘But it’s such a lovely evenin’ it would be a waste to spend it at the flickers. I’ll see if I can persuade Lily to go out to Prince’s Park and have a row on the lake.’ She sighed gustily. ‘Anyway, she ain’t that keen on Charlie Chaplin; she’d rather see
Cleopatra
. But she’s not stuck in a hot ward all day, tending the wounded; if she was, she’d understand why I’d rather have a good laugh than watch a melodrama, no matter how exciting.’ She turned to her friend. ‘How about you? I guessed you were off somewhere when you persuaded Bet to swap shifts.’

Kath allowed a small, secret smile to touch her lips. If all went according to plan, she was going to have a marvellous evening because she would be spending it with someone so special that even breathing his name in a whisper too low to be overheard sent butterflies of excitement dancing within her. She cast a quick glance round the tram at her fellow passengers, then leaned so close to Sarah that the other girl’s hair tickled her cheek. ‘I’m meeting that fellow I told you about. I met him over a year ago . . . do you remember my mentioning him? His name’s John.’

Sarah nodded, smiling in her turn. ‘Yes, I remember. And no wonder! I take it he’s the one you send great long letters to every few days?’

‘That’s the one,’ Kath said. She chuckled. ‘He’s the reason – or his replies are, rather – that I accost the postman or get my mother to put letters addressed to me under my pillow so my sisters don’t see them.’ She sighed. ‘He writes lovely letters.’

‘When you say sisters, you mean Trixie, don’t you?’ Sarah said. ‘I seem to remember you had some daft idea that your youngest sister thinks he’s her feller. Only why she should imagine it, I don’t know.’

‘She does think he’s her feller, and in a way I can understand it. After all, it was Trixie who brought him into our family, after she’d met him at a party given by the local ladies at his convalescent home,’ Kath explained. ‘He’d been wounded and sent back to England for rest and recuperation, and there’s no doubt that he did like Trixie; liked her very much. I was in Portsmouth at that time, because there had been a big push and the hospitals down south were desperate for help. You must remember, Sal; you didn’t volunteer because you’ve got lots of family responsibilities, but I knew Mam and the girls could manage, so . . .’

‘Of course I remember. So it was then that young Trixie got her claws into your John—’ Sarah began, but was immediately interrupted.

‘No, it wasn’t really like that. Be fair, Sarah! I don’t think John ever pretended to be in love with her and Trixie had a heap of young men dancing attendance on her. But I walked into the house the night I came back from Portsmouth, worn out and pretty dirty after the long train journey, and the first thing I saw was a young man in hospital blue. It sounds stupid . . . mad . . . I don’t know, but our eyes met and . . . well, it really was love at first sight, and that was that. When he returned to France we wrote almost daily. I knew John and I were made for each other and he felt the same. So you see, if Trixie found out, she could easily cut up rough, say I’d stolen her feller.’

‘If John never encouraged her I don’t see why she should want to claim him,’ Sarah said obstinately. ‘Why, whenever I go dancing your Trixie is there, with a different feller each time. You tell her you and John mean to get married and I expect she’ll be sensible and wish you happy.’

‘My sister Trixie is pretty as a picture and smart as paint, and has a very high opinion of herself,’ Kath said, after some thought. ‘She flirts with any man who looks at her twice and thinks they’re all madly in love with her, but when it comes to the crunch she says she’s got a permanent sweetheart who is in France right now but will marry her as soon as the war’s over. And if she’s pressed, she says he was a rich farmer in civvy street, so since John was a farmer – though I don’t think he was rich – I assume she means him. So for the sake of family peace I’ve kept my own feelings for John to myself. And now he’s home on furlough we have to decide whether to tell Trixie – and the rest of the family, of course – that we’re serious and mean to marry when the war’s over, or whether we should wait until it really is over. Then if there’s going to be unpleasantness, at least we can walk away from it.’

‘But that’s ridiculous. The girl scarcely knows him, so why can’t you tell her to fix her interest elsewhere?’ Sarah said. ‘I’ve always thought your little sister was spoilt rotten and selfish as they come, and now I’m more convinced than ever. Why, she sounds a right little madam. She wants takin’ down a peg or two.’

Kath sighed. ‘I don’t suppose she can even remember what John looks like,’ she admitted. ‘Of course, I may be wronging her, but she’s always been very possessive; always wanted anything I’ve got, in fact. In a way it’s quite touching. If I like a man, then she knows, or thinks she knows, that he’s worth liking, if you see what I mean. I suppose I should do what you say and tell her to choose one of the other young men dangling after her, but quite honestly I don’t want John’s furlough to be ruined by scenes.’

‘Well, if you lose him to Trixie you’ll only have yourself to blame,’ Sarah said. ‘I suppose you’ll cry into your beer when she calmly makes him buy her an engagement ring and take her off to – to wherever he lives to meet his parents. Really, Kath, you make me cross. Have a bit of courage!’

‘Oh, it won’t come to that; John would never stand for it. He has plenty of courage even if I’m a bit short in that department. And by the way, I don’t drink beer,’ Kath said, grinning at her friend. ‘Don’t worry, John and I will work something out. Perhaps Trixie will decide her latest flirt is the most wonderful man in the world and leave me and John to plight our troth officially, as the saying goes.’

‘That kid needs a good hidin’, not some poor sucker to boost her opinion of herself,’ Sarah said. ‘She’s nothing but a spoilt baby. Goodness, the way she’s been going on at dances she’ll end up
havin
’ to get married and then how will your mam feel?’

Kath was beginning to reply when the tram drew up at their destination and both girls got to their feet, joining the press of disembarking passengers. On the pavement, Sarah turned to the left and Kath to the right, but Sarah loosed one parting shot before they went their separate ways. ‘Tell that Trixie she can’t have more’n one feller,’ she called. ‘Hasn’t she ever heard of rationing? One girl, one feller is a rule she don’t seem to have took into account.’

Kath laughed. ‘See you tomorrow, Sal.’

Her friend waved and Kath set off along the pavement, looking into shop windows as she passed. Not that there was much to look at, she reflected, quickening her pace. Ever since February, rationing had been a reality rather than wishful thinking on the part of the authorities. What one could buy had always been restricted by price, of course, and as prices rose the poor had grown hard-pressed, but at least now that ration books were given to every household shopkeepers had to stump up a certain amount of food for each customer and could not just sell it to the highest bidder. Bacon, cheese, butter and sugar were available in tiny amounts each week, and other goods were doled out monthly. The Ripleys, with everyone earning, were not too badly off, and because Kath and Lou were nursing they often received presents of food from grateful patients; but some women, Kath guessed, scarcely knew how to feed their families.

However, although rationing had made window shopping a thing of the past, today Kath had other, and much nicer, things to think about. John had wanted to come to the house in Kingfisher Court, but Kath had vetoed the suggestion. She had explained that Trixie had somehow got hold of the idea that he, John, was her personal property, and told him she thought they should meet in a small café two minutes’ walk from Lime Street station. He had told Kath six months before that Trixie was writing to him and that it was only polite to respond; Kath had replied that perhaps this was not very wise.

But it seemed so ignorant to ignore her letters, and they weren’t love letters or anything like that, just chatty little notes
, his own reply to Kath had said.

Actually, lots of the fellows get mail from girls they don’t really know, so I thought Trixie was just being friendly, keeping in touch, like. Do you think it would be wiser to tell her not to write again? I will if you want me to, but she’s only a kid, after all. I expect she likes to boast about knowing an artilleryman out in France, and there’s no harm in that, is there?

Later, John had told Kath that his letters had got shorter and shorter, and so had Trixie’s replies, and eventually it had been she and not he who had ended the correspondence. Kath noted with relief that her sister scarcely mentioned John after that . . . someone called Rodney seemed to have taken his place.

Wending her way along the crowded pavement, Kath reflected now that she was probably worrying unduly. Trixie was spoilt all right, but she had a warm heart; surely when she knew that Kath and John were in love and wanted to marry she would be delighted, for Kath had no doubt that her little sister adored her. Yes, things would work out. If only Rodney had not been called back to his regiment, she was pretty sure that Trixie would have scarcely thought twice about John, for Rodney was an officer and all her girlfriends envied her the tall, fair-haired young man’s friendship. Sarah had been very scathing about Trixie, but the kid was young for her age. It will be all right, Kath told herself, entering the corner house and going down the hallway to the kitchen where the family always assembled. Once she had explained how she and John felt about each other, her sister would be pleased for her, would begin to think of John as a brother instead of a possible lover.

Kath pushed open the kitchen door and was warmly greeted by her mother, a couple of aunts, Mrs Bluett from next door, and her mother’s crony Mrs O’Halloran, whose husband ran the corner shop. ‘Hello, chuck; you’re early for a change. Someone pour the lass a nice hot cup o’ char, whilst I butter some scones,’ Mrs Ripley said. ‘You going out this evening?’ She turned to the assembled company. ‘Nursing’s really hard work; Kath and Lou often come home too tired to do aught but seek their beds, whereas our Trixie scarce sets foot in the house before she’s off to some dance or party. Eh, she’s a lively one is our Trixie.’

Kath sank down on an offered chair and sipped the mug of tea which had been thrust into her hand, then answered her mother’s question. ‘Yes, I got off early because I am going out this evening. I’ve just come home to change out of my uniform and then I’ll be off. I’m meeting . . .’ she hesitated, ‘a young man whose furlough starts today. I expect we’ll have a lot to talk about since we’ve not met for over a twelvemonth, so we’ll probably get a bite to eat and then go to a theatre or a picture house.’