alone was enough to cause Katie’s own tummy to tense up. Jean was the mainstay of her family, a loving wife and mother, with a practical calm streak that always ensured that her home and especially her kitchen was an oasis of reassurance and loving warmth. Tonight, though, Jean was quite obviously not herself.
Katie’s first fear, that there must have been bad news, subsided when she looked at Sam, who was calmly eating his tea. Sam was a good father, who would never have been sitting eating a luncheon meat salad if anything had happened to one of them.
Normally the conversation round the tea table in the Campion household flowed easily, punctuated by the twins’ laughter, but tonight only the wireless was producing conversation.
A quick look at Jean’s plate confirmed what Katie had already suspected: that she had no appetite for her tea. What was wrong? Jean was normally scrupulous about not wasting food. She might have a husband who worked hard on his allotment to keep them all in fresh home-grown food, but she still had to queue along with everyone else for all those things that were now rationed: meat and eggs, cheese and margarine, to name just a few.
As soon as they had all finished eating, Sam stood up.
‘You two can do the washing-up tonight,’ he told the twins firmly. ‘Me and your mum are going for a bit of a walk down to the allotment.’
Nothing was said, but Katie could tell from the way the twins looked at one another that they were also aware that something was happening, and that it was upsetting Jean.
‘You shouldn’t have said what you did to the twins, Sam,’ Jean told her husband in a troubled voice as he opened the gate at the back of the garden for her. A narrow lane ran along behind the houses, separating their back gardens from the allotments, which ran down to the railway embankment. Sam had been cultivating his allotment ever since they had moved into Ash Grove, and had even been able to take over a spare patch of land, which he shared with several other allotment holders and on which they had planted fruit trees. Because nothing could be cultivated beneath their branches they had let the grass grow and put hen runs there, and in summer this area was a favourite place for families to gather and have picnics. Now the grass was just starting to be shaded with the bluebells that grew wild in the grass, and that would soon form a rich blue carpet.
Jean blinked away painful tears. Funny how it was the little things that it hurt to think about when you realised you wouldn’t be able to see them.
‘They’ll be wondering what’s going on, and I don’t want them worrying, not after what’s happened.’
‘Aye, well, it’s because I’m worrying myself that I want to talk to you,’ Sam told her heavily, guiding her through the gate into his own allotment, and to the rustic seat in its sunny spot close to the tool shed, where he grew a few flowers because Jean loved them so much.
Now she looked down at the Russell lupins, already fat with cream and brown buds thanks to the shelter of their spot. A rose smothered the shed itself but it was too soon for it to flower yet. It seemed incredible that something as fragile as these plants could survive when buildings so close at hand were being destroyed.
Her emotions brought a hard lump to Jean’s throat. The evening sunshine slanted across Sam’s hands, strong and lean, tanned from his work both on the allotment and with the Salvage Corps.
It wasn’t usual for them to touch one another in public, but now something made Jean reach out to put her own hand on top of Sam’s as she told him quietly, ‘You’ve always had such good strong hands, Sam. They were one of the first things I noticed about you when you first asked me out. That’s partly why I married you, on account of them hands. With hands like that I knew you’d always keep me and our children safe.’
Sam’s expression was sombre as he moved his body to shield her from the bright glare of the dying sun.
‘I can’t do that any more, Jean. I wish I could, but I can’t. Not with what’s going on and this war.’
His voice sounded as heavy as her heart felt, Jean realised.
‘That’s what I want to talk to you about.’
Jean’s body shook. She could guess what was coming – had already guessed.
‘The thing is about my job that you see things others don’t always get to see, and the fact is, Jean, Liverpool can’t hold out much longer. I’ve heard it said by them as should know that another couple of nights like these we’ve been having, three at the most, and there’ll be nothing left to save.’
‘But what about the Government? They must be able to do something. Liverpool has to be saved; there’s the docks and the convoys coming in.’ Jean protested.
Sam shook his head. ‘There’s nowt to be done, lass. I wish there were. The convoys will have to be diverted, or risk being bombed in the water by the Luftwaffe. The city’s a goner, as near as dammit. When the war was first announced I wanted you and the twins to go somewhere where you’d be safe, but you wouldn’t hear of it, and to be honest the last thing I wanted was for us to be separated, but it’s different now. You’ve seen what’s happening and seen the figures in the papers. Jerry isn’t going to stop once he’s destroyed the docks; he’ll be moving inland and dropping more bombs as he does.’ Sam nodded in the direction of the railway embankment. ‘We’ve got the main goods line to Edge Hill right there in front of us. Jerry’s already had one go at destroying it, and he’ll be back to try again. Another couple of nights of bombing and those of us that are still left alive will be lucky if we don’t starve.’
‘That’s silly talk, Sam, with all that you’re growing on your allotment,’ Jean protested.
‘Veggies are all very well but how do you think meat and fish and that are going to get into the city with the roads and the railway lines unusable? There’ll be riots and all sorts.’
Jean wanted to argue that he was wrong but she couldn’t. Only this morning whilst she had been in the local butcher’s where the family was registered with their coupons, the butcher had told her how he’d heard that the bombing had destroyed so many shops and warehouses that those that were left were beginning to run out of supplies. Because the city was a port, receiving goods in and then distributing them to the rest of the country, it hadn’t occurred to Jean before now that they could run out. Feeding her family was the main priority of every housewife in these rationed times, and the thought of her own family going hungry and maybe even starving filled her with fear.
Sam had pulled away from her now and was standing looking towards the embankment, as though he didn’t want to have to face her.
Jean’s heart thudded with misery. She had known that this was coming. Everyone you talked to was saying how much they wanted those they loved to be safe.
‘I want you and the twins to leave Liverpool, Jean. I know the last time we talked about this you persuaded me to change my mind, but I won’t change it this time. I need to know that at least some of my family will be safe. I can’t do owt about Luke. He’s a man now and in the army, and you don’t need me to tell you that I’m as proud of him as it’s possible for any man to be of his son. And as for our Grace …’
He was looking at her now and Jean could see the sheen of his emotions in his eyes.
He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t seem that long ago that she was following me round the allotment, chattering away to me, sneaking the raspberries when she thought I wasn’t looking. And now look at her. She’ll soon
