LITMIR.BIZ

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received the ten-shilling note that made all the difference.

      For Lorna’s part, delivering letters to Nun Ainsty’s few houses presented no problem. She had been given the use of a red GPO bicycle on which she pedalled to Meltonby post office each morning to collect letters, small parcels and newspapers. Going to work was doubly enjoyable because she had never worked before. No one in Ainsty thought it strange that she had taken it into her head to do her bit for the war effort. Nance Ellery thought it admirable, though she was of the opinion that the Women’s Voluntary Service would have been more appropriate, the plum and green uniform would have complemented Lorna’s fairness and been far smarter than the trousers, old gardening coat and GPO armband in which she set out for Meltonby every morning except Sundays. For this Lorna was paid fifteen shillings a week which she promptly returned to Mrs Benson’s counter in exchange for a savings certificate – further to help the war effort.

      With past experiences in mind, she had written at once to William, telling him of her need to do something useful and that she had given two hours’ work each day to Mrs Holmes, who was grateful for the extra money, as William, with his knowledge of Army pay, would appreciate.

      … Nance approves of my job, though I think she was disappointed I didn’t join the WVS. I like to tell myself that perhaps my very small contribution to the war effort will bring you home just that little earlier.

      Please write and tell me you are proud of me?

      And amazingly, William replied that though there was absolutely no need for her to work, he was coming to accept that this was everybody’s war. There were even ATS girls at Aldershot and two women officers who ate in the mess, and were no trouble at all.

      ‘Thank heaven for that!’ Lorna breathed, determined that from now on she would make sure her husband was told of anything she did which might be considered out of the ordinary.

      ‘William seems to be settling in nicely at Aldershot,’ she said to Ness. ‘In his last letter he said it had been rumoured there could be promotions all round and it was fingers crossed that I could soon be addressing my letters to Captain Hatherwood! But whether or not it happens, at least he seems more – well – amenable.’

      ‘Good.’ And not before time, Ness thought, returning her concentration to the letter she was writing to her parents, hoping Liverpool would not soon be bombed like London, without mercy. Blitzkrieg, the Germans called it. More than a thousand civilians killed and London hospitals hardly able to cope with the wounded. And a new word blitz added to everyday language. Ness was sorry for London, especially for those who lived in the East End, and hoped with all her heart that the city on the banks of the Mersey would be spared such savagery.

      Deliberately she turned her thoughts to Ainsty, where the only bombers to fly overhead were our own. When would the soldiers come? There was still activity at the manor. Surely it was ready now? The windows had been cleaned inside and out and she wouldn’t be surprised, she had remarked to Kate, if the place hadn’t been given a thorough going over as well, after all the years of dust and neglect.

      ‘They do things wondrous slow,’ Kate sighed, for Glebe Farm had still not received the man promised by the Ministry of Labour, though he was expected any day now.

      ‘And when he does get himself here,’ Kate said meaningfully, ‘he will not be referred to as the conchie, but treated as normal – even though he might have ideas some folk don’t approve of. He’ll be treated decent!’ She paused to glance across the table at her son. ‘Until he gives us cause to think otherwise of him.’

      ‘And if that happens he’ll be on his way, be sure of it,’ Bob Wintersgill had firmly wrapped the matter up, ‘and that lot at the Labour can find me some proper help!’

      And the British – who now accepted how much so many owed to the few who had kept the invasion at bay this far – thought uneasily of what seemed to have been postponed until next spring; thought too of the second winter of the war which would bring the blackout with it and cold houses because coal was rationed and gas and electricity not to be used except when necessary.

      It was at the height of the blitzkrieg on London that two things happened at Ladybower. William wrote to say he was coming on leave on September 7th and, to Ness’s shock and horror, it was announced on the wireless that Liverpool had been bombed.

      ‘Lorna!’ Her face paled, her eyes were wide with fear. ‘What about Ruth Street? What about Mam and Da, and Nan? God! What’ll I do?’

      ‘You’ll get on the phone at once. Liverpool isn’t all that far away. Maybe trunks will have a line. Tell Mrs B it’s urgent, ask her to do her best.’

      ‘But we aren’t on the phone!’ Did Lorna think phones were everyday pieces of equipment? In little houses like Ruth Street? ‘There’s a phone at the pub at the top of the street, but that’s all …’

      ‘Right! Do you know the number? No? Then we’ll ask for enquiries. They’ll tell us. And you’ll be going home, won’t you – we’ll have to get in touch with the forewoman at the hostel.’

      ‘Home? Y-yes, I suppose so – if I’m allowed.’

      ‘Of course you’ll be allowed, especially if – well, if your folks need you there. It’s called compassionate leave, Ness, and anyway, you’re due a week off, aren’t you?’

      ‘Yes. Kate said only the other day it might be a good thing if I took what leave was due to me soon. Before they started lifting potatoes and things. But ring the exchange, Lorna? See if we can get the pub. It’s called the Sefton Arms – the landlord’s name is Rigby.’

      ‘Mrs B? Look, Liverpool has been bombed,’ Lorna whispered when the exchange answered. ‘It was on the wireless and Ness is worried sick. Can you get us the number of Rigby, Sefton Arms public house, in Ruth Street, Liverpool? Will it take long?’

      ‘No. I’ll ring you back. And tell Ness I’m sorry, will you …?’

      ‘Well, that’s got Mrs Benson on our side. And Ness, Liverpool is a big city; it’s unlikely the bombs have been anywhere near your home. More likely the docks …’

      ‘Ar. The docks. But you’d have thought Mam would have rung me here, wouldn’t you? There’s a phone box at the end of the street. If they’d been able, they’d surely have got in touch to let me know they were all right.’

      ‘Ness! No news is good news don’t forget and maybe there’s a good reason why they haven’t been in touch. There’ll be a lot of people phoning in and out of Liverpool since it was given out about the bombing. Maybe their trunk lines are extra busy at the moment. There’s all sorts of reasons for them not phoning. And put the kettle on? A cup of tea, eh?’

      ‘Yes. Of course,’ Ness whispered as if tea would put everything to rights. ‘And it’ll be all right, won’t it?’

      ‘Of course it will.’ Lorna ran her tongue round suddenly dry lips. ‘We’ll be through to the pub in no time, just you see and –’

      ‘But you said the trunk lines would be busy, didn’t you? Mam hadn’t rung me, you said, because there was probably a waiting list for long-distance calls …’

      ‘Yes – we-e-ll – that was only one reason! There are dozens of others. Maybe your folks have gone to relations.’

      ‘Without ringing me first?’

      ‘Probably. Do they have relations locally? Are they perhaps on the phone?’

      ‘There’s Uncle Perce and Aunt Tizzy. Perce is Da’s brother. They live over the water …’

      ‘Where’s that?’

      ‘Other side of the river. People call it living over the water. They might’ve gone there, but Uncle Perce isn’t on the phone, either. Lorna – what’ll we do?’

      ‘Like I said – kettle! Then, as soon as we’ve got a number we’ll put in a call. It’ll be all right,

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