‘Go on then,’ June agreed.
The three of them waited their turn in the queue whilst Hilda, Harry’s wife, removed a new batch of chips from the fryer, testing one between her forefinger and thumb before expertly shaking them free of fat. The chips were the best in Liverpool and people flocked from the opposite side of the city to get their fish supper.
‘Three penn’orths of mix, please,’ Eddie ordered when it was their turn.
Nodding her head, Hilda placed three portions of chips on separate pages of the Liverpool Echo, then took the huge pan of mushy peas off the gas stove, and scooped half a ladleful out onto each pile of chips.
‘Salt and vinegar?’ she asked.
All three of them nodded.
Quickly wrapping their chips in another sheet of newspaper, she handed them over.
Now intent on eating their chips and peas, they slowed their conversation to match their pace as they headed for Chestnut Close.
The cul-de-sac was in darkness, and their chips long finished by the time they finally reached number 78. Knowing that Eddie was going to be rejoining his ship in the morning, Molly wanted to say something to tell him that she was conscious of the danger he would be facing once war came – that though she may be safe at home at the moment, she knew that things would change for ever for them all once hostilities were declared. But at the same time she was reluctant to spoil the happiness of the evening by reminding them all of what lay ahead.
Whilst she hesitated, not sure what to do, Eddie turned to June and hugged her, kissing her on the cheek. And then, having released June, he turned back to Molly. She had been in his arms for a good part of the evening whilst they danced, so she had no qualms about being held tightly by him now. But when he bent his head to kiss her, it was not with the same brotherly peck on the cheek he had given June, but a lingering kiss on her mouth that took her by surprise.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise and confusion. In his she could see a mixture of emotions. With the shock of an icy cold finger pressed against her spine, she recognised that what she was seeing in his eyes were the feelings of a man about to face the reality of war and death. With a mix of compassion, tenderness and a wholly female response to his need, she kissed him back, shyly and inexpertly, as though somehow her kissing him was a kind of magic talisman that would protect him.
‘I’m off early in the morning,’ Eddie told them both gruffly as he released Molly. ‘Keep an eye on me auntie for me, won’t yer?’
Both girls nodded. Molly hoped it wouldn’t be too long before he was back home again, safe – and in her arms.
‘I really enjoyed it tonight,’ Molly told June sleepily when they were both in bed. ‘Did you?’
‘I’d have enjoyed it a sight more if my Frank had been there,’ June responded, immediately making Molly guiltily aware of the fact that she had not given Johnny much thought at all, apart from when she had spotted his sisters. As for the kiss she had given Eddie … Her face burned afresh, not just because she had given it, but also because she had enjoyed giving it.
Proudly Molly smoothed down the grey-green tweed skirt of her WVS uniform suit. Under the jacket she was wearing the red jumper that was part of her uniform, like the felt hat that she had pulled firmly over her curls. For winter there was a dark green coat to wear over the suit.
When Mrs Wesley had handed Molly the voucher to enable her to buy the uniform, she had praised her for passing her first-aid test, and had told her warmly to wear her uniform with pride. Although the suit was more functional than glamorous, Molly had managed discreetly to alter the fit of the skirt so that it looked more shapely. She had collected it earlier in the week and she was very conscious of wearing it, and also that she was about to play her part in a very important event. Today was the day when the children of the cul-de-sac and the surrounding area were to be evacuated from Liverpool to the safety of the Welsh countryside.
As she walked past the allotments she stopped to speak to Bert Johnson, who, despite the fact that he was coming up for eighty, still worked on his allotment. Rover, his mongrel dog, was lying faithfully at his side, and Molly stooped to pat the dog’s head.
‘Tell yer dad that he wants to get a rooster for them chickens of his,’ he told Molly.
Her father often went round to check up on Bert, who lived several doors down from them on the opposite side of the road. Although he was older than their father, he too had served in the Great War and the two men got on well together. He had survived the war without any injury, but Bert had lost both his wife and his two young children in the influenza outbreak that had followed, and now lived alone apart from his loyal dog.
Promising him that she would pass on his message, Molly hurried down the road. She and the other WVS involved had been told to be at their designated schools well before the children to be evacuated were due to arrive. Molly’s job was to tick off their names on a list she was going to be given and then later to help escort the children to Lime Street station to board the trains that would take them to their designated evacuation areas.
To her relief, the first person she saw when she reached the school was Anne, who beamed at her.
‘I’ve been looking out for you. We’re going to be working together. What luck!’
Two hours later, armed with her list, Molly was busily asking children’s names as they arrived at the school, whilst at the same time trying to reassure desperately worried mothers that they were doing the right thing. Already the school seemed to be full of children carrying suitcases tied with string, the older children with pillowcases containing the rest of their belongings slung over their shoulders. Many were also holding on to younger siblings, the gas masks they had been issued with hanging round their necks.
The boys, as boys will, were scuffling lightheart-edly with one another, whilst the girls looked on disapprovingly. Molly knew that behind the teasing and jostling lurked real fear at what lay ahead.
‘If you can, then do try to persuade the mothers to say their goodbyes to the kiddies here instead of going with them to Lime Street,’ Molly’s superior had told her, but it wasn’t as easy as that. Molly found it heartbreaking to see the brown labels tied onto the children’s clothes and belongings, their names often written in shaky handwriting, bearing silent witness to the mothers’ anguish at the thought of the coming parting. The children were clinging resolutely to their gas masks, as they had been told to do.
‘You’ll look after them, won’t you?’ more than one mother had begged Molly with tears in her eyes, although there were some desperately sad little ones lined up, who seemed to have no one to care for them at all. Although she knew that she was not supposed to do so, Molly discreetly gave just that little bit more attention to these children, some of whom were very shabbily dressed and didn’t seem to have with them the new clothes and personal items the Government had instructed that each child was to have.
‘A toothbrush each, if you please, and how am I supposed to give my three that, when they all share the same one at ’ome?’ Molly heard one mother demanding indignantly of one of the other WVS girls.
By and large, though, the children she was dealing with were well fed and properly clothed. It tore at Molly’s
