Winter on the Mersey: A Heartwarming Christmas Saga. Annie Groves

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СКАЧАТЬ CHAPTER FIVE

      Violet hugged the envelope to her chest and hummed to herself, standing stock still in the middle of the empty shop. She knew she had to open up so the dock workers could come flooding in and buy their morning papers and tobacco, but she wanted to savour the moment. It was so rare to have any time to herself, any space to think, and she just had to relish the good news, let it sink in, before the hectic rush began.

      Eddy had written to say his ship was on its way back to Liverpool and he would be home before embarking on the next trip. He’d be back for a whole week. Seven whole days. Violet hadn’t seen him for that amount of time since they’d first met and married. She couldn’t quite believe it. Of course she had to keep calm and not jinx his return voyage; there was still danger in the Atlantic, but there was nothing like the risks of earlier in the war when the U-boats had sunk so many vessels. Eddy had survived all of that. Now the worst thing he’d have to contend with was the weather. Even that was improving, though – they were out of the season of winter storms and spring was finally here. He’d be home for Easter if all went to plan. She could collect eggs and decorate them, maybe hide them for Georgie and make a big game of it. Eddy would love to join in with that. Then they could all have a proper Easter dinner …

      ‘You opening up today, love, or have you won the pools and decided you’re too grand for us?’ called a voice from outside.

      Violet snapped out of her dream and pushed up the sleeves of her moth-eaten cardigan. ‘One moment, hold your horses,’ she shouted, snapping up the blinds and unlocking the door. Several men had gathered, huddled in their jackets, scarves wound tight against the biting wind. Spring hadn’t managed to warm up this particular corner of Merseyside this morning, and the familiar smell of the river combined with that of the docks drifted into the shop.

      ‘You’re looking cheerful this morning,’ said one of the men, a regular customer who Violet had known since she began helping out behind the counter. ‘Maybe you have gone and won the pools an’ all.’

      ‘Better than that,’ grinned Violet, picking up the paper that she knew he liked, ‘much better. You can keep your old pools. My Eddy’s coming home on leave for Easter and he’ll be here all week. How about that?’

      ‘Blimey, love, that is good news,’ the man said, fishing in his pocket for his change. ‘Did you hear that?’ He turned to his workmates. ‘Eddy Feeny’s coming home on leave. You make sure to tell him we’ll buy him a pint down the Sailor’s Rest. He’s a good man, your Eddy.’

      ‘He is,’ said Violet, beaming widely. ‘He’s the best there is. Don’t you go keeping him out late down the pub – his place is home with me.’

      ‘Oh aye, you’ll be giving him a warm welcome all right,’ said another man at the back of the group, nudging his friend, but the others weren’t inclined to make a smutty joke with him. Eddy was well known and admired, and if anyone deserved a spot of leave with his young wife then it was him.

      ‘You leave her alone, Arthur,’ said the first man, ‘or you won’t find your favourite baccy ready for you like you expect. You make sure you tell your Eddy we said hello, Mrs Feeny. If it wasn’t for the likes of him, we wouldn’t have our jobs. Him and his lot, they defended our docks when Jerry wanted to destroy them. They took on Hitler’s submarines and won. We wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for the Eddy Feenys of this world, and that’s a fact.’

      The men nodded sagely, knowing he was right. The docks were vital to the war effort – supplies of food, raw materials, and service personnel all arrived in Britain via the ports, and nowhere more vital than those of Merseyside. Hitler had done his best to disrupt the shipping in the Atlantic and destroy the docks themselves, but despite feeling the full force of the enemy power, the ships had kept sailing and the docks kept receiving them and their cargoes. The men of the Merchant Navy had run huge risks, playing a deadly game of cat and mouse on the high seas, and many had lost their lives. No wonder Eddy and his comrades were so well regarded. Violet could feel herself getting tearful at the very thought of it, but forced herself not to give way to the emotion threatening to overpower her. Instead she smiled again and made sure everyone had what they’d come in for.

      In a matter of minutes the morning rush was over, and she could settle into the calmer routine of sorting out the remaining newspapers, stocking the shelves and checking the change in the till before the housewives started to arrive for their daily shopping. She made sure she knew where the stamp was for the ration books, gave the counter a quick wipe down and then settled back on the wobbly wooden stool that wasn’t quite the right height, as she was too tall for it. With a little thrill of anticipation she opened the envelope again. She’d just read the letter one more time before anyone else came in. Sighing with delight, she gazed at the familiar handwriting, giving her the news she’d waited for so long.

      Kitty stared straight ahead of her at the slightly faded olive green wall, with its dog-eared posters and lists of instructions. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard down the telephone line. It had been in every way a routine call. It was just that she could have sworn she’d recognised the voice.

      The caller hadn’t identified himself but merely said, ‘May I speak to Captain Squires, please? It’s rather urgent.’

      All she’d had to say was, ‘Certainly, sir. Putting you through now,’ and no further interaction was needed.

      There was a slight hesitation, almost as if the caller was about to say something other than the ‘thank you,’ that followed. The voice was troubling in its familiarity. Did the tone of it betray that he had known it was her, too?

      She told herself to calm down. It was important that nobody saw her brief lapse of concentration. She was the most experienced operator in this unit and it was her duty to lead by example as well as coaching the newcomers. She couldn’t allow them to notice she was flustered. Besides, all she’d actually said were the very same phrases that she used scores of times every day.

      Forcing herself to focus on the job in hand, she took the next call, but she was on autopilot. Try as she might to avoid admitting it, all her nerves were fizzing. Logically the speaker could have been any young man with a Scouse accent, and heaven knew there were plenty of them in the service. He’d spoken only those few words. But they were enough. She knew deep in her bones that it had been Frank Feeny. Although her mind could come up with umpteen excuses why she shouldn’t jump to that conclusion, her body betrayed her and reacted in the way it always did when she heard someone mention his name or read about him in a letter from home.

      ‘Everything all right?’ asked Lizzie, her co-billettee who also formed part of the same unit. ‘You look as if someone just walked over your grave.’

      Kitty snapped back into her role. ‘Yes, quite all right, thanks,’ she said shortly. She saw Lizzie’s face fall – the junior Wren probably thought she’d made a faux pas – and quickly made an excuse. ‘Something in my eye, that’s all. It’s gone now.’

      Really, she told herself as she connected the next call, this wouldn’t do. She couldn’t allow herself to be thrown like that. She was meant to be showing the younger ones how to conduct themselves, and getting into a flap would only lead to mistakes. So what if it had been Frank Feeny? He was entitled to call any naval establishment. He most likely did so all the time, and so in some ways it was actually strange that their paths hadn’t crossed before now. It was irrelevant to her work, and he was nothing to her other than as a former neighbour and big brother of her great friend Rita. Yet her heartbeat told her differently, as it took ages to settle down to its regular pace. She made herself breathe in and out slowly, fighting СКАЧАТЬ