Whistling in the Dark (7 page)

“Chops are off,” he said, eyeing her coldly when it came to her turn. “I can let you have a bit of liver.”

“Oh, yes – thanks,” said Joan meekly, and watched as he expertly sliced up a rather meagre portion of meat with his big knife and slapped it onto a sheet of newspaper. Joan paid Mrs Barrett, his thin, exhausted-looking wife, who sat clipping out ration coupons at the cash till, then hurried outside.

The first person she ran into was Doreen, also armed with a shopping basket, her hair blowing all over her face. It was a sight that cheered Joan up enormously.

“Let’s go for a coffee at the Bluebell,” said Doreen, linking arms. “It might give us a bit of energy for the next queue.”

On the way there, they saw Ania with Miss Mellor. She was walking two steps behind her hostess, eyes down, carrying the shopping basket. The two of them looked as though they were all set for a long queue at the grocer’s. No chance of a morning coffee for her.

“Poor Ania,” Doreen said. “She always seems so lonely. Can you imagine leaving your whole family behind to move somewhere you don’t know anyone?”

The Bluebell Cafe was where all the upper-class ladies of the district gathered on Saturday mornings to exchange gossip. Joan’s mum never went there. She regarded most of them as a lot of time-wasting snobs. But it was warm inside, and if you got a seat by the window, you could watch the world go by.

“Wasn’t the dance
awful
?” said Doreen, when they were settled. “Mum and Dad had to
force
David to go. He hates dancing. He says he’s scared of treading on some poor girl’s toes.”

“I don’t blame him! Mum had to force me too.”

“As for Captain Harper Jones!” Doreen rolled her eyes. “Thank heavens we were spared the sight of him doing the tango.”

Joan felt uncomfortable. The sight of him dancing with Mum was still raw in her memory.

“My dad quite likes him,” Doreen went on. “They play golf together sometimes, and he says he’s quite a good chap when you get to know him. And he certainly knows how to lay on a good dinner.”

Joan quickly changed the subject.

When Joan arrived home, the liver was already dripping blood through the newspaper. Surprisingly, Mum was still sitting at the breakfast table among the unwashed dishes. Joan usually took Mum’s appearance for granted unless she had done something radical like change her hairstyle, but she could not help noticing how strained and tired she looked.

Brian had gone off to do his youth-service training as a bicycle messenger and Judy, busy cutting out paper dolls, was being quite cooperative for once. Audrey, meanwhile, could be heard talking urgently on the telephone in the hall. When she put the receiver down and walked into the kitchen, there were tears streaming down her cheeks.

She had been talking to Dai. His ship had docked at Liverpool yesterday, just before the Blitz began, but all shore leave had been cancelled because of damage from last night’s raid. As always, security was very strict and he was not allowed to say anything about how long they were likely to be in port. All he could tell her was that as soon as the dock was clear enough to start reloading, they would probably prepare to re-embark immediately.

“The phone line got cut off before we had any time to talk properly,” Audrey sobbed. “It’s so awful him not getting any shore leave – at all! And heaven knows how long he’ll be away on the next trip. It’ll be to America probably. And I can’t help thinking about all those Nazi U-boats out there. On the news they try to play down the losses, but we’re losing merchant ships all the time. And they haven’t even got the depth charges and guns to fight back, like they have on Royal Navy destroyers—” She stopped abruptly, falling silent. Normally, it was a kind of unwritten rule in their family not to talk about their anxieties like this. Mum always did her level best to keep everyone’s spirits up by turning the conversation to something more hopeful. Today she looked too exhausted to try. She just sat there, slumped in her chair.

It was then that Joan noticed her flushed face.

“Are you OK, Mum?” she asked.

“Yes, yes, of course. Just a bit tired, that’s all.”

“But you’re burning hot!”

Mum, who was never ever ill, who kept going with such accustomed regularity that none of them could remember when she had last allowed herself even a modest late morning in bed, was clearly running a temperature.

“Better take some aspirin,” Joan suggested anxiously.

“There’s some in the bathroom cupboard. I’ll get them,” Mum said. She tried to stand but fell back again onto her chair and for a moment looked as though she was going to faint.

“Mum, Mum, what’s the matter, Mum?” squeaked Judy.

“Oh, shut up, Judy!” snapped Audrey. After wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, she said, much more gently, “Come on, Mum – better lie down for a bit.”

Mum put up no resistance as they helped her over to the sofa, where she lay back and closed her eyes. Joan ran to fetch a blanket and mix two aspirins in a glass of water.

“I’ll be all right in a minute,” said Mum weakly. “I think I might have caught the flu. There’s so much of it around at the moment. I was with someone the other day who had it. I’ll just rest here for a bit, if you’ll clear the table. I must go into town this afternoon.”

“Town” to them meant Birkenhead or Liverpool rather than their local suburban high street.

“Don’t be daft, Mum,” said Audrey. “You can’t go anywhere at the moment except to bed.”

“But I must go!” Mum protested. “I promised to collect a whole lot of stuff – bandages and dressings and things – for the Red Cross emergency first-aid centre. They rang this morning to say that they’re running very low on supplies. Nothing’s been getting through from the main depot in Birkenhead because of the Blitz. The local ambulance broke down in last night’s raid, and they haven’t been able to get a replacement yet – so I promised to go over by train to fetch them. They’re depending on me.”

“
Definitely
not, Mum,” said Audrey firmly. “Look, why can’t Joan and I go? We can manage it easily together. I know where the depot is – quite near the station. We can drop Judy off at the Hemmings’ house on our way to catch the train and be back long before teatime.”

Mum hesitated – and then took a deep breath and lay back, too worn out to disagree.

“All right,” she said. “If you really think you can manage it before it gets dark. There may be another raid tonight and you must be back before then.”

“There’s plenty of time. We can easily do it if we get going right now. Come on, Joan, Judy, get your coats.”

CHAPTER 11

I
t was not until they had dropped Judy off and reached the station that it dawned on Joan just how excited Audrey was at the prospect of this trip. She had even managed a lightning change into her best suit and a clean white blouse, and her recently tear-stained face was now meticulously made up. The train was just drawing in as they ran up to the ticket office. Audrey plonked down the money and asked for two returns to Liverpool. Joan was surprised, but there was no time to ask why as Audrey hurried her over the bridge to the platform. They jumped on the train just as the doors were closing.

“Why did you get tickets to Liverpool?” asked Joan as soon as they were settled on board. “I thought we were only going as far as Birkenhead.”

“We are. But we’re going on to Liverpool after that.”

“
What?
Whatever for?”

Audrey looked out at the suburban back gardens racing past the train window.

“I’m going to try to get to the docks, of course,” she said. “I’ve got a pretty good idea of where Dai’s ship will be. It was in the Gladstone Dock last time, so I’m guessing it will be there again.”

“
Audrey!
You’re not going to try to meet Dai?”

“Why not? Even if I only get as far as the dock’s entrance, I might be able to get a message to him to come and meet me.”

“You’re
crazy
!”

“Oh, Joanie, don’t be cross. I’ve just
got
to see Dai, even if it’s only for a few minutes. And I needed you to help me. Mum would never have let me go on my own, so this errand to get the Red Cross stuff came in really handy. We can easily make it home before it gets dark.”

“You mean to tell me that we are going to collect all these packages then lug them all the way to the Liverpool docks and back?”

“They won’t be very heavy – they’re only bandages, cotton wool and stuff. And you won’t have to come all the way to the docks with me. I can leave you somewhere and we can meet up afterwards.”

Joan knew there was no stopping Audrey once she had made up her mind to do something. They sat in silence for the rest of the journey.

The Red Cross depot at Birkenhead was not far from the station. They hurried over there and managed to make it back, carrying the packages, in good time to catch the next train on to Liverpool Central.

When they emerged into the crowded street, the first thing they saw were the windows of a department store that had been blown out in a blast from last night’s Blitz. Shattered glass lay all over the pavement, waiting to be swept away. Workmen were busy putting up temporary shutters over the gaping, ruined window displays, where a few bedraggled fashion dummies remained exposed, looking anything but elegant.

People were picking their way through the rubble. Servicemen and servicewomen of many different nationalities mingled with harassed civilians who were shouldering their way through the crowd, anxious to get some shopping done before the next night’s raid began. Joan felt sick. The sight of those ruined shops really brought home the danger of being in Liverpool.

Audrey immediately took control. She lead the way purposefully towards Lime Street, with Joan trailing reluctantly behind her. But, as always, there was a certain buzz, a rush of adrenalin, from being engulfed by this city, even in its current battered and chaotic state. For them it still held memories of thrilling shopping expeditions with Mum before the war started or of setting out on those breathlessly anticipated visits to the Christmas pantomime at the Empire Theatre, which starred George Formby with his ukulele, followed by a cream tea with delectable cakes at the Kardomah Cafe.

The theatres and cinemas were still valiantly keeping going in spite of the Blitz, and with so many servicemen in town, the dance halls were packed too, especially on Saturday nights. Audrey sometimes went to one of the halls with Dai when he was on leave. But Mum would never think of allowing Joan anywhere near one. She said Joan was much too young to go into Liverpool in the evenings, even with a girlfriend. Mum rarely came herself now, except in the daytime to do some essential shopping. Joan didn’t care tuppence about not being able to go to dance halls. It was visits to the theatre and the Walker Art Gallery that she missed most. Now she just had to make do with the local cinema.

She followed Audrey as they made their way towards the dock area, juggling their parcels. It was a fairly long walk. The big crowds thinned out slightly when they left the main shopping streets behind, but there were still plenty of people around: men loitering outside pubs, women pushing old prams loaded with babies and shopping, and children everywhere, shouting and playing in rubble-strewn side streets. Traffic was heavy in the main thoroughfare, with big lorries, already on the move again after last night’s raid, making their way to and from the docks.

Audrey stopped on a long, narrow street lined with warehouses. “Can you wait for me here?” she asked. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

“But why?” Joan asked, dismayed. “Why can’t I come with you?”

“Because I want to go on my own,” said Audrey. “We’re pretty near to the dock entrance now. If I can get to see Dai, even if it’s only for a few minutes, we need to be alone, see? Anyway, we’ve carried these wretched bags quite far enough. You wait here with them. I’ll be back quite soon, honest.”

Joan looked around anxiously. “I don’t like it,” she said. “Us getting separated, I mean. Mum would have a fit if she knew about this.”

But Audrey wasn’t listening. She was already checking her hair and make-up in her handbag mirror. Then she briefly flung an arm around Joan’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry to do this to you, Joanie,” she said, “but it’s just
so
important to me. You do understand, don’t you?”

Before Joan could answer, Audrey was off down the street, her high heels skidding rather unsteadily on the cobbles.

Now all Joan could do was wait. She knew from experience that Audrey’s vague promise of not being long was totally unreliable. She only wished that she hadn’t been dumped quite so near to a corner pub from which a raucous noise emanated. It was meant to be pub closing hours, but a group of heavily made-up girls who looked not much older than Audrey were chatting and laughing with some sailors just outside the doors. Joan felt self-conscious.
It’s too late to move now,
she thought. There was nothing for it but to stay put.

She looked at her watch. It was nearly four o’clock – not long before it would get dark. With a heavy sigh, she sat down on one of the bundles – she was beyond caring about squashing the contents now, however important they might be to the war effort – and watched the lorries trundling past.