The Mersey Daughter (Empire Street #3)(69)
‘Of course.’ Frank found himself smiling broadly at the young woman, who gave the impression of infectious energy. More often than not he found an excuse to cut off any of the recruits who tried to make conversation outside the classroom, but now he decided not to be so churlish. It wouldn’t hurt to make a bit of an effort. ‘How are you finding Liverpool, then?’ Even from their brief exchange, he could tell she wasn’t from the local area. Her accent placed her to the north, he thought.
‘I love it, sir,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘Even though everyone says I should have seen it before the war, it’s so friendly. People talk to you and nobody minds giving you directions if you get lost. I did my basic training down south and some people there look at you as if you’re some kind of alien if you ask for help. I didn’t take to it at all.’
‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ Frank said. He’d been based in Southampton before being posted back to Merseyside and, though he’d enjoyed it, some of his colleagues had had similar experiences. ‘So where are you from originally then, Hemsley?’
‘The Lakes, sir. Not too far from Penrith,’ she said, her eyes lighting up at the thought of her home. ‘It’s beautiful there and I miss it, but there’s so much more to do in a city like Liverpool. I don’t have to wear Wellingtons to get down the lane, for starters.’
Frank laughed, despite the caution around women he’d adopted since he’d lost his leg, and made to turn to answer, but the sharp movement caused him to stumble a little. Damn, whenever he let down his guard, his leg betrayed him.
‘You all right, sir?’ Hemsley’s face showed her concern.
‘Yes, nothing to worry about,’ he said hastily. So she didn’t know. He had imagined that it was the first thing anyone learnt about him, and that they all talked about it behind his back: the fact that he had only one leg. But perhaps that was his paranoia running wild and they had better things to gossip about. He decided to get it over and done with. Then she could tell the rest of the recruits if she felt like it. ‘Actually, it’s because I lost a leg in action a while back, and now use a false one. Every now and again it plays up. Right as rain now.’
‘Sorry to hear that, sir,’ said the young woman, taking the news in her stride. ‘Does that mean you don’t go to the Grafton dance hall very often, then? Bet that wouldn’t stop Douglas Bader.’
Frank could have laughed out loud. Was this recruit trying to chat him up? He decided to play along. ‘I wasn’t the best dancer in the world before it happened, to tell you the truth,’ he said. ‘I leave that sort of thing to my younger sister. She was always out, often down the Adelphi. They used to have some wonderful music there before the war broke out. Still do, now and again,’ he added, remembering Gloria’s visit as Hemsley fell into step beside him.
As they rounded the corner, he could see Danny heading towards them, ready for his shift. He stopped to say hello. Frank felt obliged to do the introductions, and couldn’t help registering how Danny looked at the Wren with appreciation.
‘Good to meet you, Hemsley,’ he said with his infectious grin. ‘Frank, sorry, Sublieutenant Feeny, I’ll see you later.’ He hurried off, close to being late as usual.
The Wren gazed after him for a moment and then turned her attention back to Frank. ‘I’ve seen him around, haven’t I? They say he’s one of the best trainee code breakers. Whoops, have I said something I shouldn’t?’
‘Actually yes,’ said Frank, ‘so you want to be careful who’s around when you talk about such things. Best kept for in the bunker if you want to be certain nobody can overhear. We need to keep what goes on in there a secret from the outside world as much as we can. It wouldn’t do for half of Liverpool to know what Danny Callaghan does for a living – he’s too valuable an asset to have his work made public.’
Hemsley nodded, her eyes widening. ‘I’ll be more careful,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t want to put anyone at risk. He seems nice, though.’
Frank shot a look at her. So, she was like many of the women of his acquaintance – impressed by just a minute’s worth of Danny Callaghan’s company. Well, he couldn’t blame her; Danny was a good-looking young man, highly rated in his work, and footloose and fancy-free. Despite his looks, he’d never taken advantage of them when it came to women, as far as Frank could remember. Now of course there was the issue of his enlarged heart, but that wasn’t Frank’s secret to tell.
He remembered his own days before the accident, when he’d never been short of female attention. While he hadn’t played the field overmuch, he’d certainly made the most of it, and had never been backward in coming forward. Everything had changed since then – or, no, he told himself: strictly it had been just before that when he’d noticed how Danny’s sister Kitty had transformed from a child into a very beautiful young woman. But there was no way she would have been interested in him once he’d lost his leg, and now she had Dr Elliott Fitzgerald, and they all said he was crazy about her. Good for him. What excellent taste he must have. Nevertheless, this young woman before him now had something of Kitty about her: the bouncing curls, the blue eyes, although they weren’t as dark. She was bolder than Kitty had been, for sure, but then again he had no way of knowing what Kitty was like now, six months into her own training and living far away in London. More importantly, Wren Sylvia Hemsley was here in front of him, not all those miles away and, even if she was impressed by Danny, she also seemed to be showing signs of interest in Frank. Why not pursue it for once? Live a little, he told himself. You’ve come close to death once; what harm can a little encouragement do?