idea had begun to form in her mind. If she stayed in Liverpool she would naturally continue to live with her parents until she and Johnny had some time to look for somewhere to rent. But if she transferred to, say, a London hospital, she would gain some independence and be involved in proper war work. Johnny had already told her he wouldn’t be given much leave for the foreseeable future, so she couldn’t see he’d be affected much, one way or the other. At the moment it was only an idea, and she needed to think about it.
‘The sooner the real action starts, the sooner it will be over,’ Johnny said, when they came out of the cinema one evening, the second of the two days’ leave he’d been given. ‘It’s a pity we haven’t had a chance to look for our own place, but I’m glad you’re safe with your parents. It’s one thing I don’t have to worry about.’ He stopped her on the pavement and smacked a kiss on her cheek, then looked at her closely. ‘What’s up, Max? You seem rather quiet? Those aren’t tears, are they?’
‘No, it’s—’
‘Not upset because I’ve got to go back to camp tomorrow, are you?’ Johnny interrupted as though he was too impatient to listen to her. ‘Because if you are, forget it. You don’t have to worry about me.’
‘I know I don’t, Johnny. You can take care of yourself. You’ll be busy and that’s why I want to keep busy … and not just wait until you come home.’
His eyes were on her, as though he was trying to decipher her meaning. ‘Even with me away you can be busy looking for a place to rent. Give you something to think about. And if you really like something, I’ll be happy if you sign up. After all, you’ll be the one in it all day – not me.’
A spurt of anger leapt in her chest.
‘Johnny, you don’t seem to understand. I am going to finish my training and take my finals. And what’s more, I’m thinking of applying to one of the London hospitals to do just that.’
His face set in a hard expression she’d never seen before. ‘Since when did you decide this?’
‘I haven’t made any decision yet, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. Mum has the best intentions but she smothers me. Living at home I’m still her child. She forgets I’m a grown woman.’
‘And a married one.’ Johnny’s voice had an edge to it. ‘My wife, in case you’ve forgotten.’
‘Please don’t start that again, Johnny. I’m not a simpering female – you should know that by now.’
‘Why do you want to leave Liverpool, for heaven’s sake? Your father’s not in the best health. Aren’t you being selfish?’
‘He’s all right at the moment. If anything should happen – if he gets worse – I’d come home immediately.’
Johnny took his time to light a cigarette. He inhaled deeply and blew out a stream of smoke.
‘If – and I say “if” – I allow you to carry on working, against all my better judgement, will you forget the idea of London?’
‘I told you, Johnny, it’s just a thought.’
Johnny had refused to discuss her idea of going to London anymore. She knew he wouldn’t understand why she’d want to leave Liverpool as he’d always said he’d never want to live anywhere else in the world. But this was far more serious. His attitude seemed to be that she was a possession rather than a woman with her own brain, and the Johnny she’d known and adored was fading. It was as though being married had cost them their precious friendship. Somehow it made it even more imperative that she take decisions for her own career. And that might mean transferring to London.
‘Take care of yourself, Max,’ Johnny shouted from the open window of the train as it began to roll out of the station the next morning.
‘You, too,’ she called, swallowing the lump in her throat. In spite of their disagreement, she knew she’d worry herself sick about him until she heard from him.
She half ran to catch the tram to take her back to the hospital. Her shift would start in an hour so she needed to hurry.
As the tram trundled along, Maxine peered out of the window, which for once was reasonably clean. Liverpool looked exactly the same as it always did. People rushing to work, shopping, the familiar landmarks of the adjoining historic buildings – the Derby Museum, the Walker Art Gallery and the impressive Central Library – no signs at all that the country was at war.
Her attention was suddenly caught by a tall RAF officer with a couple of books under his arm, running from the library towards her tram. There was something about him. A sense of urgency and the determined expression on his face as he drew nearer. She couldn’t help watching him, wondering if he’d manage to catch the tram before it pulled away. Just as he was about to board, the doors shut in his face and Maxine noticed his expression turned to raw annoyance. Before she could look away he gazed directly up at her through the window, his dark eyes holding hers for several long seconds. Her stomach fluttered. She had the strangest feeling that he knew her.
She felt disappointed for him that he hadn’t quite made it; she refused to acknowledge that she was a trifle disappointed for herself.
‘Mum?’
‘Is that you, dear?’
Her mother always asked the same question every evening, as if it was possible she was someone else calling her ‘Mum’.
Maxine opened the kitchen door where her mother was making supper.
‘Ah, there you are. I’m nearly ready.’ She tipped her cheek for her daughter’s kiss. ‘Go and call your father … Oh, there’s a letter for you.’
Maxine hung up her coat in the hall and picked up the envelope that was propped on the chiffonier behind an empty jug. She glanced at the large sprawling writing. Pearl. Hmm. Her cousin didn’t usually write unless she wanted something. She’d look at it later. For now she’d decided to talk to her parents. Tell them her idea. They needed time to digest this kind of plan.
Supper was quiet, as usual. Her father liked to eat in peace and it was rare for the three of them to have a conversation, let alone a serious discussion, unless Mickey was home. Then he’d talk non-stop and her mother would smile indulgently. Thank goodness Mickey wouldn’t be coming home yet. He’d have plenty to say about her announcement, throwing it in the worst possible light and alarming her mother. Maxine sighed. She would have to wait until she’d helped her mother clear the table and wash up. By then her father would be settled in his favourite armchair, smoking his pipe and listening to the wireless.
‘Are you quite well, Maxine?’ Her mother’s voice sounded anxious. ‘You haven’t finished your supper … it’s your favourite.’
She sent her mother an apologetic smile.
‘I think I’m a bit tired, that’s all. It’s been a long day.’ She put another small forkful in her mouth but it stuck in her throat. She swallowed twice to dislodge it and laid her fork down. ‘It’s just that I want to tell you both something, though it’s not absolutely definite yet.’
Her mother looked across the table, her face suddenly wreathed in smiles. ‘Oh, my dear. How wonderful.’ She turned
