Winter on the Mersey(23)

‘Miss Kerrigan? It is you, isn’t it?’ A voice came from behind her.

Swiftly she threw herself round, feet back on the ground, and looked up. For a moment, with the light streaming in the open door and window behind him, she didn’t recognise the figure. He was tall and well set, in the uniform of the US Army, and had an easy, relaxed bearing. Then the penny dropped.

‘Mr Trenton, or Staff Sergeant Trenton, I should say.’ She took a swift glance at his chevrons and counted them to check she was right – she’d become an expert at reading the different insignia by now. She stood up, her weariness gone. ‘Well, fancy seeing you here.’

‘I might say the same, Miss Kerrigan – Nancy, wasn’t it?’ He took a chair and sat down, and so she sank back on to the old wooden one she’d collapsed on beforehand.

‘That’s right. Fancy you remembering,’ she laughed, conscious of how different he appeared in the daylight. Although she’d tried to take a good look at him as he walked her to the bus stop after the recent ill-fated dance, she hadn’t really been able to get a proper impression of him. Now the broad light of day confirmed he was every bit as good-looking as she recalled, and his face was even more friendly. ‘What would you like – we’ve still got some soup, or there are Spam sandwiches, and there’s always tea.’

‘Of course. This is England. There’s always tea,’ he echoed, but not in a teasing way, and he smiled to show he meant nothing by it. ‘There’s no rush, Miss Kerrigan. Look, here comes your friend with something for you.’

Mrs Moyes placed a deep bowl of soup in front of Nancy, along with what these days passed for a bread roll. Nancy thanked her gratefully, even though she knew the roll would taste like sawdust. You just couldn’t get proper flour any more, just the low-grade type that everyone had to put up with but which made the bread tasteless and grey. She didn’t care. She was used to it – they all were – and it would fill her up until she could get back to her mother-in-law’s house. ‘It’s my break,’ she explained, wondering if she should postpone it; whether Gary Trenton would think the worse of her for not being on her feet, serving behind the counter.

‘You don’t have to apologise to me,’ he said at once. ‘I tell my men, make sure you take your breaks while you can. You’re not much use to me if you’re too darn tired to put one foot in front of the other. Reckon it can get pretty busy in here, with all my fellow countrymen arriving.’

Nancy swallowed a mouthful of the soup. It was mixed vegetable, as it often was, and it didn’t always do to ask which vegetables were in it, but she was past bothering about that. Then she nodded. ‘It can. It sure can.’ She attempted an American accent.

‘Not bad.’ Trenton grinned in appreciation.

‘More and more of them every day,’ Nancy went on, then left the sentence hanging. She’d noticed the increase in numbers, they all had, and the rumours were spreading about something big in the offing. She wondered if her new friend could be persuaded to talk, but quickly realised he hadn’t got to staff sergeant by gossiping.

‘If you say so,’ he replied amiably. ‘Pretty crowded city, ain’t it? Pity about the hollowed-out church up the road.’

Nancy nodded as she nibbled at the dry roll. ‘You should have seen it before the blitz. St Luke’s was lovely.’ She paused ruefully. ‘We lost so many buildings in just a few days. Most of the rubble has been cleared away now, but you could hardly walk around because of the bricks and stones and glass, and the smell, oh boy, you don’t ever want to come across such a thing again. Burning and all that.’ She sighed at the memory of that terrible, frightening time, and then grew quiet, figuring that if Trenton and his men were over here, then they would most likely be called to take part in equally grim scenes, or possibly worse. She had better shut up – the men came to the canteen to take their minds off such things, not to be reminded of what they were about to face.

‘Everyone says it was a great city,’ Trenton said.

‘Still is,’ Nancy replied robustly. ‘There’s nowhere better, and you’d better believe it. We might not have that church or our cathedral, we haven’t even got a proper John Lewis any more – that’s a store, a lovely big department store – but you won’t find our spirit’s been broken.’

Trenton smiled even more broadly and nodded in approval. Nancy couldn’t help notice he had very fine hands, with tapering fingers and clean, square-cut nails. She wondered how strong his grip was, or how delicate his touch could be. Maybe if he were to touch her … She shook the thought from her mind. ‘You said it, Miss Kerrigan,’ he agreed. ‘That’s what everyone tells me. The people of Merseyside won’t be beat.’

‘No, sir.’ Nancy swiftly wiped the last of her roll around the dregs of the soup and popped it into her mouth. She was too hungry to leave any food, good-looking staff sergeant or not, but then she shook the crumbs from her fingers and swiftly pushed back her hair. She flashed him her best Rita Hayworth smile.

‘So how does a person get to see the real Liverpool?’ Trenton asked now. ‘I can’t say how long I’m around for, but I kinda think I should get to know the city while I’m stationed here.’

Nancy pushed her bowl away and sat up straighter. ‘Well, the WVS has been known to run tours. Just short ones, as a way of helping our visiting servicemen find their way about the place.’