The Mersey Daughter (Empire Street #3)(36)
She took the woman by the arm. ‘My colleague was quite right, we are outside visiting hours,’ she said quietly, ‘but under the circumstances I believe we can exercise a little discretion. Promise me you won’t make much noise and that you’ll only be a minute.’ She drew her along to where the old man was lying back against his pillows once more, his eyes shut. Wordlessly the woman looked at him, then at her, and nodded.
Rita tactfully withdrew, but not before she heard the woman gasp, ‘Dad. Oh, Dad.’
Sometimes, she thought, she really loved her job.
Frank carefully stacked the papers from that morning’s meeting as quietly as he could while the senior officers of Derby House continued their conversation as if he wasn’t there. The commander in chief, Sir Percy Noble himself, was joining in. Frank did his best to listen without appearing to do so. It wasn’t often that he was privy to the deepest concerns of these men.
‘It’s simply unrealistic to say that we haven’t been affected by the casualties of the first week of May,’ one began. ‘Obviously that information doesn’t go beyond these walls, but we have to admit that some of our vital personnel are no longer with us. We can keep them safe while they’re on duty, but if they’re above ground then they are as vulnerable as the rest of the population in their homes or out on the streets.’
Frank paused briefly, thinking of the flirtatious young woman on the telephones who had been making eyes at him for a few weeks. She was one of the ones who had not made it through the May raids. She had been twenty-four. What a tragic waste.
‘But you can’t just employ any Tom, Dick or Harry,’ another protested. ‘These positions require a certain sort of brain. Most will have had specialist training for years, on top of an inherent aptitude. We won’t find those wandering around on the street.’
‘Then maybe we target those with aptitude and train them fast.’ Sir Percy took charge of the discussion, his face etched with lines reflecting his many years of experience at the highest level of command. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but we have plenty of people who’ve undergone years of training but who aren’t quite up to the mark. You can train someone all you like, but if they don’t have the razor-sharp mind to start with, then they’ll never make the grade. We must change our way of thinking to reflect the needs of the moment.’
There was some muttering, and then the first man spoke again. ‘Reminds me of something Johnny Forrester was saying to me the other day. Remember him? Old chap but one of the best. He’s down south now, but was in hospital up here a few months ago, got taken sick when visiting family. Said he’d been incarcerated in this dull ward, and the one bit of entertainment he had was showing this young fellow how to do crosswords. Turned out the man had never even thought of trying them before, but within a few days he was solving them like a natural. Think he said the fellow had wanted to join the services but had a dicky heart. Couldn’t even carry on working on the docks. Strikes me that’s just the sort of young blood we need. Someone who’s keen, has the intelligence, but who’s been overlooked. Think of everyone who’s been turned away for flat feet. I don’t care what their feet are like if their brains are in full working order.’
‘That’s all very well,’ said the second man. ‘Firstly, I don’t imagine it would be in the public interest to intensively train up someone who’s about to pop their clogs. Secondly, how are we meant to find this young man you’re speaking of, even if we wanted to? Seems to me the hospitals round here will have had one hell of a lot of young male casualties through their doors recently.’
Frank stood motionless. He told himself this was pure coincidence and that it could be anybody. All the same, it would fit with what he’d heard the last time he went back to Empire Street, which he’d felt obliged to do after the raids had died down, to assess the extent of the damage.
‘Very well, make contact with Forrester for a start,’ snapped Sir Percy. ‘Seems like a roundabout way of proceeding, though. I need quick results, not ages spent chasing after one young man. We’d better try every available avenue to get as many suitable minds as we can.’
Frank gathered his courage and cleared his throat. ‘Excuse me, sir.’
They all turned round, with expressions that might as well have said ‘You’re still here, are you?’
‘Warrant Officer Feeny, sir. I think I might have a quicker way of reaching the young man in question.’
‘Really?’ barked the first officer. He didn’t need to add ‘seems highly unlikely’: his face did it for him.
‘Are we talking about the Royal Infirmary, sir?’
‘I believe so, yes.’ The officer’s expression didn’t soften.
‘Then I suspect the man you want is called Daniel Callaghan,’ said Frank, aware that he was making an almighty leap in the dark, and yet utterly certain that he was correct. It matched exactly with what Danny had told him, and also with the completed crosswords in the newspapers that he’d seen scattered around the Callaghans’ kitchen. ‘And I know exactly where to find him.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘Winnie, have you seen the corned beef?’ Rita was searching through the boxes in the storeroom, trying not to breathe in the dust. She knew she’d seen the box recently, but now it was nowhere to be found.