Winter on the Mersey(81)
‘Yes. Yes, and to you too.’ She looked up at him and for a moment thought he was going to come even closer. But he reached out, touched her arm briefly and turned away.
Confused, disappointed, and yet sure that he’d meant something more than the simple words themselves, she took out her key and let herself in to the warm comfort of her noisy family home.
Kitty paused to look out of her office window at the darkening sky and what was visible of the city skyline. She’d been working in the Tactical Unit, allied to Derby House, and was the last to leave. New Year’s Eve. She cast her mind back to the previous one, when she’d still been down at the south coast. She’d had the afternoon off and had managed to meet up with Marjorie, and they’d had a chilly but bracing walk along the coast before finding a café serving an amazingly luxurious real hot chocolate, rich and sweet. She savoured the memory of the taste, better by far than any champagne or cocktail. Though maybe if Laura had been there she wouldn’t have agreed.
Kitty sighed as she straightened the small pile of paper; it would need to be attended to as soon as possible. She and Laura had exchanged Christmas cards, but neither of them had heard from Marjorie. They’d again reassured each other that no news was good news, but Kitty was beginning to lose faith in the phrase. She dreaded that the worst had happened. And how dreadful it was for Laura, to have finally come out of the horrible limbo of not knowing Freddy’s fate, only to be faced with an almost identical situation with one of her closest friends.
Nothing to be done about it, thought Kitty grimly, putting on her overcoat and picking up her bag. She didn’t particularly feel like celebrating with Marjorie’s fate hanging unresolved, but Tommy would expect her to join in the fun. After all, she told herself firmly, she should be glad of everything that had gone well in the past year. The course of the war, for one. The tide had well and truly turned and the Allies had continued to sweep through France. The end might finally be in sight. She wanted that more than anything, so that if Tommy did suddenly change his mind and sign up with the Merchant Navy, at least his life wouldn’t be in danger, or no more than it would normally be in peacetime.
She could be proud of herself too, for taking on this position and doing it well. It wasn’t big-headed to say so; she’d been praised by her superior officer only this last week, and she knew she commanded the respect of her colleagues. She and Danny had made a safe home for Tommy, and guided him into a relatively safe job; that was a very big thing to be thankful for. Rita had had her baby safely, Jack had had a few shore leaves in the last year, and he and Rita were happy at last, against all the odds. Violet had had twins and they were thriving, despite the tragedy of Eddy’s death, which they had all felt so deeply. So there was much to be thankful for.
If only Danny didn’t have to go back to his residential course. It wasn’t for ever, but they evidently thought so highly of him that he’d been selected to continue working on a special project. She would never have admitted it to him but, after that night when Alfie Delaney had tried to get into her house, she kept expecting him to try again. He wouldn’t dare if he knew Danny was there. Perhaps he didn’t know Danny was going away again. She would have to hope that was the case.
If Frank had still been living across the road she’d have felt much safer, but he’d gone back to his billet and she hadn’t seen him since Christmas, as their shifts hadn’t coincided. She paused as she drew her scarf around her neck – a soft, warm one in elegant royal blue, a present from Laura. Heaven only knew how she’d come by such a gorgeous thing. For a second Kitty imagined Frank draping the scarf around her neck, tying it gently, tucking it into her collar. She shook her head to dismiss the image. There was no point. Frank had Sylvia, and anyway, when all was said and done, Kitty was nothing to him but a kid sister, no matter what her professional ranking. All the same, that look in his eyes as he’d sat by her fire at Christmas, as they waited for news of the birth – and then the stolen dance to the gramophone record … She took a deep breath, checked the blackout blinds were in place, and left the office. She knew what her midnight wish would be, no matter how fanciful it seemed. It was just that she couldn’t see any way that it would come true in the next year.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The pale winter sun shone through the old net curtains, but Alfie couldn’t bring himself to stir. He turned over in his bed and buried his head under the pillow, trying to block out the light. He’d have happily left the blackout blind down all the time, but his mother insisted he had to know when was day and when was night. It made no difference to him.
He’d never known a case of flu like it. Usually he prided himself on being able to weather most minor ailments, and his fellow workers on the docks were quick to condemn anyone who bunked off claiming they were sick. It took a lot to fell most of them. Alfie had never had their dedication or commitment, but he didn’t see it that way as he lay in his sickbed, powerless to alter the menace of the virus, weak as a baby.
He thought he was a martyr, bearing up as well as he could, but unable to lift a finger to help himself. Surely nobody had ever suffered so badly. One minute he was racked with fever, raging hot, the next he was shivering, and no amount of extra blankets could make him feel warm again. His mother piled his bed with everything she could find – old counterpanes, crocheted shawls and a moth-eaten candlewick bedspread – but they did no good. Then he’d be too hot again and throw them all off, calling for her to fling open the window and let in the cool air.