Winter on the Mersey(87)
Now he was out and about he could set about following his plan. With Danny out of the way, there would be nobody to stop him if he tried to see Kitty again. All he had to do was tell her how things were – that she needed to listen to him because he knew what was best for her. It was simple. She belonged to him. She’d always known he had his eye on her, she must have realised how he felt. She might resist at first, especially now she had this job that everyone thought was so important, but she’d see reason eventually. Alfie didn’t hold with women working. It simply wasn’t right; it went against the natural order of things. She couldn’t hope to do whatever it was she did as well as a man would do it. She was an excellent cook, everyone said so, and therefore her destiny was to be in his kitchen and, Alfie hoped fervently, in his bed. He licked the head of his pint from his upper lip, savouring the thought. He’d have Kitty just where he wanted her, and soon, before that stuck-up brother of hers came back. He’d strike while the iron was hot.
The meeting room had been too warm and stuffy, crammed with bodies, all elbow to elbow as they tried to write their notes. Kitty wished they could open a window, but the few panes of glass had been covered with tape to minimise damage if a bomb should go off nearby, and couldn’t easily be opened. She tried to put out of her mind what Laura had told her.
They’d managed a very quick rendezvous the evening before, as the Liverpool train had got in just after Laura’s shift had finished. They’d hurriedly run to the nearest café, Kitty glad of an excuse not to spend any more painful minutes with Frank, even as she felt a pang when he’d turned his back and headed across the station concourse in the opposite direction. They’d been assigned to separate billets anyway. Laura had been her usual energetic self, full of news of Freddy’s recovery, but still no wiser about Marjorie’s fate. Kitty had looked at her friend keenly, recognising the signs of stress around her eyes. She wondered what the cause was.
‘Oh, honestly, it’s nothing.’ Laura had dismissed the idea, but then, recognising that Kitty knew her well enough to see through any defences, caved in. ‘It’s these damned bombs again. It was bad enough dodging the doodlebugs, but this latest lot don’t give you a chance. You don’t even hear them until after they’ve struck. It’s pretty annoying.’
‘I can see that.’ Kitty shuddered. ‘Have they caused much damage?’
Laura set down her mug of weak tea. ‘Here and there. The worst was Selfridges, can you imagine? That was very inconvenient of them. A visit there was one of the few perks of working in central London.’
Kitty raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s a real shame. I know we felt the same when Lewis’s got hit at home. Still, we’ve managed somehow.’
Laura nodded. ‘Of course. That’s what we do, isn’t it? We manage somehow. Sorry to rush you, especially as I’ve only just seen you, but I have to go – I’ve extra duties this evening, some visiting bigwig or other. But I’ll see you tomorrow for a proper chinwag, won’t I? After your big meeting?’
‘Of course,’ Kitty had said, and hugged her friend.
Now she felt her mind drifting to the evening ahead, and the promise of swapping gossip with Laura. Peter was back on active service, and they would have the whole time to themselves, which felt like a long-overdue luxury. Then someone spoke her name and she realised she was being addressed directly.
Quickly she gathered her thoughts, covering her moment of hesitation by tidying the stack of papers before her. Then she rose from her seat and gave the brief report she’d prepared, speaking steadily and confidently. As she finished she looked around at the sea of faces. She couldn’t help but notice Frank, watching her with what seemed to be pride; despite her earlier intentions, she was buoyed by his approval. That’ll show him, she thought. Me, Kitty Callahan from Empire Street, standing up in front of all these important people, speaking in public. She almost pinched herself; for a moment it didn’t seem real. Then, as the chairman nodded to her, she took her seat once more. The chairman turned to his left and muttered something in the ear of the officer sitting just behind him. Gold braid flashed as the officer half rose. ‘Miss Callaghan, if I could trouble you for a quick word after the meeting.’
She nodded, but there was no time for any further explanation – they had already moved on to the next item. She forced her eyes to focus on the agenda, now covered in annotations and underlining.
It was another half an hour before the meeting dissolved for a tea break. She made her way to a bare side room, painted in institutional cream, following everyone else. Before she could join the queue for the hot drinks, the officer sidestepped her. ‘Miss Callaghan, a moment of your time.’
‘Of course,’ said Kitty, pushing away her alarm at being singled out.
‘Your report this morning was very informative,’ he said, his eyes crinkling in a friendly manner. She guessed he must be about forty, and evidently very senior in the service. ‘Our chairman thought you might care to share it with some of our communications officers who can’t be here in person. They are based near Holborn – I don’t know if you know where that is?’
Kitty nodded. ‘I was based in north London for some time when I first joined the Wrens,’ she told him. ‘I know most of the city centre quite well.’
‘Excellent,’ the officer said. ‘I believe one of my colleagues has suggested Lieutenant Feeny comes along as well, to give his view of the operations. We can arrange a lift for you, as Captain Harris has to attend a combined services meeting near there, but if you can find your own way back, that would be a tremendous advantage.’