you a big hug. That’s better,’ Jean smiled approvingly when the young woman took a deep breath and stopped crying. ‘You go and wait for the billeting officer, and no more tears.’
The girl – because she was only a girl really, Jean thought – was, plainly relieved to have got her guilt off her chest. Poor thing, Jean thought sympathetically as she ushered her back to the main hall.
But even though she had been listening to what the girl had had to say, Jean had still been thinking about what Sam had said to her this morning about wanting to have a talk with her.
The small knot of anxiety in her stomach tightened. She was pretty sure she knew what it was Sam wanted to say, but she hoped that she was wrong.
‘Charles’s release papers arrived this morning,’ Vi told Bella in a pleased voice, indicating in the direction of the front-room, where an official-looking buff envelope was propped up on the mantelpiece, against the clock. ‘And about time too, with less than a month to go to the wedding. Your poor father hasn’t been home for the last four nights and it will be a relief to him once Charles is out of the army and back here in Wallasey working for him. You’re going to have to get your skates on, Bella, about getting your things moved back here and the house left nice for Daphne and Charles.’
Bella’s mouth compressed. She wasn’t at all pleased about being forced to give up her home to her brother and his wife-to-be.
‘It isn’t as simple as that,’ she to her mother. ‘I’ve got refugees billeted on me, remember.’
‘Haven’t you told them to find somewhere else yet?’
‘It isn’t up to me to tell them anything. Daddy will have to tell the council, and they won’t be very happy, not with Jan being a bomber pilot and a war hero,’ Bella pointed out.
Vi gave her daughter a sharp look. The restrictions of the wartime diet, with its lack of protein and its hunger-appeasing carbohydrates, meant that Vi, like so many of the country’s older women, had put on weight around her mid section. As a family the Firths were luckier than most in that Edwin’s money and his contacts ensured that they were able to buy goods on the black market that others could not afford, when such goods were available, but everyone was beginning to feel the pinch now. Vi’s floral summer dress bought the previous year was straining slightly round her waist. Vi’s mouse-brown hair was also beginning to show touches of grey, although she still had it washed and set every week in the sculptured iron-hard waves she favoured. Her nails were painted with clear nail varnish, bought on the black market. The leader of Vi’s WVS group disapproved of the volunteers wearing nail polish at a time when the country was in such a dire position, although Good Housekeeping magazine was urging its readers to try to look their best to boost everyone’s morale.
Carefully checking one of her rigid waves with her fingertips, Vi warned, ‘There’s no point in you being difficult, Bella. It is your father who owns the house, after all, and I fully agree with him that it makes sense for Charles and Daphne to live there and for you to come home. Your father’s got enough to do as it is without having to sort out your refugees, and if I were you I wouldn’t risk getting on the wrong side of him. He’s been very generous to you, and I do think you might show a bit more gratitude.’
Gratitude for what, Bella wanted to say – taking her home off her? But she had learned some hard lessons these last few weeks, and she knew that she could no longer rely on her mother’s support and indulgence.
She looked at her watch. ‘I must go. We’re having to double up as a rest centre as well as the crèche, and since Laura is still on leave visiting her parents, I’m in charge of everything.’
Laura Wright was in charge of running the government-organised crèche where Bella worked as her deputy.
A note of pride had crept into Bella’s voice. Against all the odds, during these last few days she had discovered that she not only had a talent for organisation but that she was also thriving on the need to get things done and make decisions. She had been up this morning at first light, hurrying out to the school, almost in one way actually rather thrilled to see the line of people forming outside – victims of the bombing in Liverpool who had made their way over the water to Wallasey, prepared to sleep rough if it meant a decent night’s sleep, and now patiently waiting for a hot drink.
Queuing with them had been ARP workers, and fire watchers, and Bella had dealt with everything and everyone with calm efficiency – until the mothers had started arriving, bringing their little ones to the crèche, and amongst them she had seen him, smiling at her as brazen as anything, just as though … as though what? Despite what she had told him he actually still expected her to go off for that weekend with him?
‘Bella, you aren’t listening.’ Her mother’s protest broke into her angry thoughts.
‘I’ve got to go,’ Bella repeated. ‘I only came round to ask if you’d managed to get in touch with Auntie Jean to see if everyone’s all right. I know it was Bootle that got the worse of it last night but they are in Liverpool.’
Bella could see immediately that her mother wasn’t pleased by her remark.
In fact, if she was honest, her concern for her mother’s sister’s family’s safety had surprised Bella herself. She had put it down to the fact that since she was now involved in the war effort herself it was only natural that she should be more aware of what was happening.
‘Well, of course they’ll be all right. Why shouldn’t they be? It’s poor Charles you should be worrying about, after what happened to him, being set on like that and left for dead … Oh, that will be your father,’ Vi announced as they heard the front door being opened. ‘Now you’ll be able to tell him about those refugees, but I warn you he isn’t going to be pleased.’
Her father already didn’t look pleased, Bella acknowledged as he came into the kitchen, not even when her mother announced happily, ‘Charles’s release papers have arrived, Edwin.’
He greeted that news with a mere grunt, before saying that he was going upstairs to get changed and then he was going back to work. ‘And don’t expect me back tonight if there’s another air raid.’
‘Hadn’t you better open Charles’s letter, Edwin? There might be something he needs to sign, and if there is, Bella can go into Liverpool and take it to him. I do wish the hospital would say when he can come home. Poor brave boy. Bella, go and fetch the letter for your father.’
It was easier to comply than to argue, Bella decided, retrieving the envelope and handing it over to her father with an angry swish of the skirt of her cotton dress, thinking to herself: Poor brave boy nothing.
‘I’m so glad that Charles will soon be out of the army. He should never have gone in,’ Vi told Edwin, as she tried to smooth her dress over the curve of her hip. Thank goodness it was May with the summer ahead of them, during which she could try to lose a few pounds. Presenting a smart appearance to the world was important to Vi. Not that a little extra weight would have mattered if she’d been able to buy herself some new clothes, but with Lewis’s bombed there was now a shortage of shops where one could buy smart clothes. Vi certainly didn’t intend to go shopping somewhere like Bon Marche, Liverpool’s more price-conscious and less stylish department store.
‘Well, he did and according to this letter he’s going to have to stay in,’ Edwin announced, causing Vi to gasp and Bella to look at him.
‘But that’s not possible,’ Vi protested, her face flushing with anger. ‘You must
