Authors: Katie Flynn
It was not only school which Lilac enjoyed, either. Aunt Ada was strict and would not let her play out as much as she would have liked, and Bessie needed all the help she could get with three children under five, but within the confines of Coronation Court – or the Corry, as she soon learned to call it – she had more freedom than she had ever enjoyed at the Culler.
For the first time in her life she was able to go snowballing in winter, because who could enjoy snowballing on a strictly conducted walk? And anyway, the streets were soon cleared of snow in the city centre, whereas in the parks and quite often in the court, the
snow was allowed to lie. And there was sliding – the children always made a long slide from one end of the court to the other, carefully marked with a line of rags so that no adult took an inadvertent trip. In spring and summer there was trekking off on expeditions with her friends, sometimes slipping out with Art to help him find old boxes down at the docks which he might carry home and split up into kindling to sell at a penny for two bundles, stealing a free ride on a leckie after school and then using the time you’d saved to saunter along and window shop. All these things had the charm of novelty for a child reared in an orphan asylum. In the Culler food had been dull but plentiful enough, clothing automatically provided, walks few and strictly supervised, play very limited. There had been nothing to do half the time, unless you counted kitchen work or cleaning, and Lilac hated domestic chores.
So of course Lilac’s leisure was used to the full, insofar as she was allowed by Aunt Ada and Bessie.
‘Art’s gone to the canal, to see if he can pick up some more boxes,’ Lilac would say wistfully. ‘Can I go, Auntie?’
And though for a long time the answer was nearly always no, Lilac was sure that once Aunt Ada realised how sensible she was she would change her mind, give Lilac her head a bit, so she put up with the refusals, sure they would turn to agreement in time.
‘I need you here, queen,’ Aunt Ada would say. Or ‘Nellie wouldn’t think much of me if I let you go off with them young roughs,’ or even, ‘When you’re older, chuck.’
And then Charlie got his Blighty one.
It had rained all morning but by two in the afternoon
the sun peeped out and the breeze freshened to a boisterous wind.
Lilac had peeled the potatoes for supper and now she was sitting in the window, mending a great rent in Nathan’s blue coat and listening to the conversation going on between the two older women. Bessie was frowning down at the letter in her hand, a letter she must have read at least fifty times since its arrival the previous day, whilst Aunt Ada spat on the toe of her black laced boots and then polished vigorously with a rag. Every now and then she held the shoe up in a ray of sunlight which came through the low window and admired the shine she was creating.
Lilac sewed grimly on and wondered when it would be politic to say something. It was Saturday and the girls all went out on a Saturday afternoon if they possibly could. Her particular friend, Sukey, would wait for her as long as she could, but if Lilac didn’t put in an appearance she’d guess she was being kept in and would go off with the others. Usually, Auntie let her go off on a Saturday with Sukey, but today was different, because of the letter.
‘
By the time you get this I’ll be in Blighty, in the Alder Hey Hospital, so mind you come and see me as soon as you can
,’ Bessie read aloud for the hundredth time, her brow furrowing with effort. ‘
And don’t you worrit yourself; this time there won’t be no comin’ back
.’
‘There you are, then,’ Aunt Ada said, apparently satisfied at last with the shine on her first boot and starting on the second. ‘Get yourself ready, our Bess; you don’t wanter be late, do you?’
‘Oh, I’m all but ready,’ Bessie said. ‘No, but Ada, what does it mean? Does it mean ’e’s been wounded real bad? Honest to God, I’m scared stiff of what I’ll find when we get there.’
‘Look, he writ ’imself, didn’t he? So there can’t be much wrong with ’im. ‘Sides, they’d ’a said. Now come along, gairl!’
‘Auntie, can I go off with Sukey? I’ve finished Nat’s coat, the seam’s tight as a tick, not a bit of light showin’ through,’ Lilac said quickly. ‘I’ll be home before you are ... or did you want me to come to the ’ospital?’
Aunt Ada and Bessie exchanged glances. Lilac could see the Great Idea forming.
‘Well, queen, we was goin’ to tek you, but seeing as ’ow you’ve ’ad your eleventh birthday, an’ we trust you, you can tek the kids outer our way. I’ll gi’ you a penny or two, then you can get ’em some fades if you’re going to the market, they usually ’ave bruised fruit goin’ cheap.’
Lilac, taking the money, resigned herself to pram pushing all afternoon. Not that it was so bad; Sukey was an only child and liked kids. What was more she was an only child because her father, a catholic, had walked out on her protestant mother after the most colossal family row. He had gone to sea and jumped ship somewhere, never to return. So Sukey lived with her mother’s family and went to the Penrhyn Street school but had cousins and friends at St Anthony’s, just as Lilac had. It had given the girls something in common, and it was a bonus that Sukey also loved Bessie’s kids and enjoyed helping with them.
‘You’re sure you don’t mind, chuck?’ Bessie said as she helped Lilac put Nathan and Millie, the two younger children, into the old pram. Henry was a big boy and usually walked alongside, holding onto the pram, though when he grew tired he would consent to being hoisted aboard with the younger kids. ‘The trouble is, if Charlie needs to be a bit quiet ...’
‘It’s all right, honest. I like walkin’ with ’em,’ Lilac
said hastily. She had seen how tears were forming in Bessie’s big brown eyes and didn’t want to precipitate a bout of wailing and lamentation. How strange, she thought, to love someone and want him back, yet be driven to tears in case the very wound which brought him home might be a bad one. She really could not understand grownups!
‘Well, so long as you’re sure. I’ll give your Daddy a kiss from each of you,’ Bessie said. She kissed the little ones and made a lunge for Henry, who drew back hastily, already unwilling to sacrifice his masculine image to a mother’s urge to cuddle. Besides, they were standing out in the court now, on the steaming paving stones, preparing to go their different ways – anyone might see! ‘Thanks, our Li, you’re worth your weight in gold to me an’ Auntie.’
‘Give Charlie a kiss from me, too, an’ say I’ll see ’im when I’m allowed,’ Lilac said at once. She remembered Charlie with real affection, he had always been good to her. ‘Bye, then! Wave to Mam and Auntie, kids.’
The children waved vigorously as their mother and aunt set off for the tram stop, then Lilac began to push the pram towards Tenterden Street, where Sukey lived. The pennies were hot and heavy in her hand so she slid them into the pocket of her skirt. She waved to Sukey, standing on the corner ahead, and as she drew closer, patted the pocket to make the pennies chink together.
‘Auntie give me some pennies for fruit,’ she said. ‘They’ve gone to the ’ospital to see Charlie. Wonder how soon they’ll let ’im come home?’
The two girls in their faded jerseys, dipping skirts and patched boots, made their way along Scotland Road towards the Rotunda. It was a popular walk with their age-group and they knew they would meet other
pram-pushing girls once they arrived at the theatre. Besides, the broad pavement was good for hopscotch and tag, so long as you didn’t fall. It gave the littl’uns a chance to get out of the pram and run about a bit without the danger of being run over by traffic.
‘They won’t let ’im ’ome that quick,’ Sukey said knowledgeably. She had numerous relatives fighting in France. ‘A Blighty one is always bad. Did he come ’ome as BS, BL or red label?’
Lilac knew all about patients being graded as Boat Sitting, Boat Lying, or Special Attention, but now she could only shrug.
‘Dunno. Our Charlie never said, see? Just that he was in the Alder Hey, and not to worry.’
‘Oh. Well, you’ll know soon enough,’ Sukey said comfortably. ‘At least he’ll ’ave good weather to get better in by the look of it.’ A few days earlier there had been an unseasonable snowstorm but now the snow had all melted away and the sunshine of late April fell warmly on their heads. ‘Flossie Arbuthnot’s mam’s ‘avin’ another baby – me mam says her Dad’ll be livid when ’e comes home.’
‘Why?’ Lilac said, as much out of politeness as anything. Flossie did not interest her in the least, far less Flossie’s mother.
‘Why, ’cos Flossie’s dad’s not the baby’s dad, silly,’ Sukey said. She leaned over the pram and wiped a trail of mucus from the smallest child’s face with the hem of its stained dress. Bessie, though a loving mother, was not always a careful one. ‘There’s always babies like that in wartime, my mam says.’
‘Oh?’ Lilac retorted. ‘Art’s gone to play down by the river, ’cos the tide’s out. He’s gone with that Fred ... wish I could go, too. It’s all sand, he says ... real nice. But I got landed with the kids, as usual.’
Both girls knew that Art was unlikely to invite a mere girl to join him and his friends. His genuine friendship for Lilac could not, she thought, be called in question, but nevertheless he was beginning to look askance at her entire sex, thinking them cissies and a pretty useless bunch, on the whole.
‘Never mind. Perhaps, when Charlie’s ’ome, he’ll look after ’em,’ Sukey said comfortingly. ‘Fellers do, when they’ve been wounded.’
‘Our Dad’s been wounded,’ Henry said, as though the remark had reminded him. ‘I ’ope ’e’s got both arms, else ’ow’ll ’e play “a leg an’ a wing” with me and the kids?’
‘Wanna walk,’ whined Nathan. ‘Li, I wanna walk like our Henny.’
‘You can’t get down till we reach the theatre,’ Lilac said. ‘Then you can have a good run around.’ She turned back to Sukey. ‘They’re good kids though, a lot better’n some. Oh, there’s Kathy and Sara ... they’re looking at the pictures of the actors and that. Let’s hurry.’
They belted the pram along, skinny legs going like clockwork, and skidded to a stop alongside their friends.
‘Hello, you two! What’s on, then?’
‘It’s a murder play, wiv a lorra blood,’ Sara said with relish. ‘Her what plays the lead, she’s ever so lovely, pale an’ sad lookin’, some’ow. And the murderer looks real wicked – come an’ see!’
The visit to the fruit market on Great Nelson Street proved only partially successful. Because of the munitions factory which had been built on Cazneau Street, where the market had once been, it was only half its
pre-war size and anyway it was a poor time of the year for fruit, with last year’s crop all but over and the new season’s fruit not yet arrived. But the girls got a handful of wizened apples and a few weary looking oranges – fades indeed – for their penny and came away moderately satisfied. With their heads together over the pram, gossiping like two old shawlies and occasionally exchanging remarks with their charges, they made their way back along the Scotland Road until they reached the corner of the street where Sukey and her mum shared the family home with a dozen others.
Here they stopped for a final gossip before parting.
‘Goin’ to come out tomorrer?’ Sukey asked, swinging on the lamp standard and staring reflectively at her boots. ‘If you don’t ’ave the kids we could walk down to the pier’ead, or up Abercromby to look at the posh ’ouses.’
‘Dunno. See what Auntie says. But I’ll see you Monday, anyroad.’
Lilac waved until Sukey was halfway down Tenterden Street, then, pushing the pram more slowly now after her long afternoon, she continued up the crowded pavement a short way until she reached the entrance to Coronation Court.
‘Is it dinnertime?’ Nathan asked plaintively. He was a skinny little chap but fond of his food. ‘I’s hongry, Li!’
‘Me too,’ agreed Lilac. ‘Want an apple, Nat? You too, Henry?’
She passed over two rosy, much-wrinkled apples. Nathan began to eat his at once but Henry bit out a half-moon and held it out to his sister, letting Millie suck and chumble enthusiastically at it.
‘You’re a good brother, our Hal,’ Lilac said, rather touched at the little boy’s thoughtfulness. ‘You’re
ever so like your Dad – Charlie always thought of others first, Nellie often said so. Here, you can have another apple all to yourself this time.’
‘Fanks, Li,’ Henry said thickly. ‘Are vey back yet – Mam an’ me Auntie Ada, I mean?’
His words came out jerkily as Lilac hurried the home-made pram across the uneven pavingstones, but she was saved the necessity of replying by Bessie, who erupted into the court from the small house, grabbed Henry, gave him a hug, kissed the babies and then pounced on Lilac and hugged her too. It was immediately plain that Bessie was in the grip of two conflicting emotions, joy and sorrow, for though she smiled there were tears in her eyes which presently spilled over and ran down her cheeks.
‘Oh Li, love, we’ve seen ’im! Ever so cheerful ’e is ... but Li, he’s lost ’is leg! They’ll give ’im a wooden one ... I kept saying, “what’s to become of us, what’s to become of us?” and then ’e told me ... Li, our Charlie’s a hero!’ She bent over the pram and snatched Millie out of it, hugging the child to her breast, still shiny-eyed and pink-cheeked from emotion. ‘Millie Miranda, your daddy’s a hero!’
Aunt Ada appeared in the doorway. She looked pale, though she was smiling.
‘Bessie, get them kids indoors,’ she said sharply. ‘I’ll talk to Lilac. Foller me, chuck.’
So whilst Bessie cleaned up the children and fed Millie, Aunt Ada and Lilac prepared a meal and Aunt Ada told Lilac what had happened.
‘Seems Charlie saved ’is officer’s life,’ she said briefly. ‘But they both lost a leg, see? And the officer, ’e’s a man of property up in the Lake District, wherever that may be, ’e’s offered Charlie a home and a job for life ... there’s a cottage, a garden ... and all Charlie will
’ave to do is mind the gates of the big ’ouse and drive the officer when ’e wants to go about. So they’ll be off when Charlie’s fit enough to leave Alder Hey.’
‘That’s nice,’ Lilac said doubtfully. She could read something in Aunt Ada’s face which she did not understand. ‘Is it the country, Auntie?’