The Mersey Daughter (Empire Street #3)(77)
‘Well, it’s complicated. I’m probably imagining the whole thing. Yes, it’s to do with the night of the fire, of course it is. But it’s not just the fire.’ She paused to gather her words, to try to make sense of the conflicting emotions raging within her. ‘It’s Peter being in hospital. It feels like partly that’s my fault.’
‘Yes, I know, you said. But it isn’t really. Remember what they said at the hospital – you know deep down it’s not because of you. The pair of you could have turned away but you didn’t and you saved the child.’
‘There’s more, or maybe there isn’t,’ Laura groaned. ‘It was being in that fire with Peter. I thought he wasn’t going to make it, but sort of didn’t have a second to think about it properly at the time … we just had to get the baby and then get out. Then I helped him to walk because he was injured, and suddenly I didn’t hate him any more. It was like … I don’t know. As if we fitted together. I thought he’d be furious but he wasn’t. Then, at the police station, he was so kind and funny. Now I look back, he must have been in agony, but he didn’t say, he was just … human for once. It’s so hard to describe, I couldn’t even put it into words before.’
‘And you realised you didn’t hate him after all,’ Kitty prompted.
‘Something like that,’ Laura admitted. ‘It wasn’t as if he said much, it was just somehow completely different between us. Or I thought so, anyway. Something changed, something that felt terribly important. But now he’s fighting for his life and I might never know.’
‘Oh, Laura.’ Kitty reached out and gave her friend a hug. ‘That’s bitterly unfair, isn’t it? And you can’t even see him to find out.’
‘That’s about it,’ said Laura, feeling slightly better now that her torment of a secret was out at last. ‘It’s crazy; you hear all the time of how people find each other in the intensity of danger, and look how some of that turns out. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, I just want to know.’ She fought down a sob. ‘And I don’t want him to die. He’s such a brave man. I know he can be annoying and rude and standoffish, but when it came down to it, he didn’t hesitate.’
‘Neither did you,’ Kitty pointed out loyally. ‘He would have known that. He would have seen how courageous you were.’
Laura nodded slowly. She hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps that was what some of the sense of connection had been about – mutual respect. What a terrible waste if he should die and they couldn’t see where that took them. But she had to face it.
‘He might die, Kitty, and then I’ll never know,’ she said tiredly.
‘No,’ said Kitty, ‘but you’ll always know you both did the right thing.’ She paused. There was nothing else she could say to ease her friend’s agony, as any reassurances she could give would be false and they both knew it. What a cruel twist of fate. ‘I’m glad you told me,’ she added. ‘We were worried about you, you know. Look, I suppose we should go back in. You could try to get some rest before we go to the canteen.’
She took Laura’s arm and began to lead the way back to the main building. Laura patted her face. ‘Do I look a fright?’ she asked. ‘I know I’ve let myself go a bit this week.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Kitty said, but before she could go on, a smartly uniformed leading Wren came out of a side door and marched towards them.
‘Wren Fawcett? I’ve been looking for you everywhere,’ she barked sternly. ‘Telephone call from the admiral’s office. I don’t know what you’ve been doing but it’s urgent.’
Laura’s eyes grew wide and her step faltered.
‘Did they say what it was?’ Kitty asked hurriedly.
The senior Wren glared at her. ‘Obviously not. You are wanted immediately, Fawcett. Look sharp.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
‘Not again.’ Sarah sighed wearily as the air-raid siren sounded out its wailing cry, and Georgie instantly joined in. She had just come off shift from her post down near the docks and wanted nothing more than a quiet night in. She hadn’t even had time for a cup of tea, although the kettle was always warm in Dolly’s kitchen.
It had been so long since they’d had a raid over Bootle that Sarah had come to believe they’d be spared from now on. She struggled to remember what to do, what to bring to the shelter. There should be a bag somewhere with all the essentials in it, but had they topped it up since last time?
Dolly swept in from the back yard, all purpose and organisation. ‘Don’t just stand there, our Sarah, but fetch me down that tin from the top shelf. I’ve got some emergency biscuits put by. Then make a flask of tea, quick. Georgie, don’t worry, we’ve done this before, haven’t we? Go to Auntie Violet, she’s in the parlour, she’ll sort you out.’
Georgie looked up at his grandmother, his big eyes uncertain; but once reassured by her comforting tone, he ran into the front room as he was told.
‘Oh Mam, I can’t face the thought of that shelter,’ said Sarah, exhausted from running around all day. She took down the tin and passed it to Dolly, before pulling on her worn-out coat over the cardigan she’d knitted from old wool that had been unravelled from one of Pop’s ancient jumpers. It wasn’t a colour she’d have picked out herself, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. ‘I thought all of that was over.’