‘Straight through on the train,’ her father said. ‘Mind you, you’d certainly see some action there, if that’s what you’re looking for.’ He spooned up the last of his soup. ‘If you do decide, for heaven’s sake don’t let Mum know how bad it is. Jerry regularly bombs the docks, from what I read in the paper.’
‘It’s not in Liverpool itself – it’s in a village called Bingham. I’m not sure how far away it is from the city … but I shan’t apply.’
‘Her father gave her a sharp look. ‘Because the docks are so near?’
‘No, not that at all,’ Lana said quickly. ‘It’s because I’m needed in the shop.’
‘Not true.’ Her father set the tray down on the kitchen table again. ‘Both women who applied for the job sounded nice, so we’re bound to pick one of them.’ He looked at her, his eyes smiling. ‘Your country needs you more than we do, Lana.’
‘But the ATS won’t accept me—’
Her father ignored her. Instead, he said gently, ‘That goes for the school kids as well.’
‘Did you reply to that advert in The Lady?’ her mother said unexpectedly one afternoon when she was reading her book in the front room. Lana had just brought her a cup of tea and a digestive biscuit.
‘Dad shouldn’t have mentioned it.’
‘Well, he did. He thinks you ought to at least apply. I agree.’
‘Even though it’s in Liverpool?’
‘Yes. Being a headmistress would give you a sense of purpose, which is exactly what you need.’ She looked up at Lana and smiled gently. ‘I know Dickie would approve.’ From the bowl she scooped a tip end of sugar and stirred it into her tea. ‘Except for the rationing we’ve had very little to put up with, except the time when that little row of cottages was struck and that whole family was killed.’ She shook her head. ‘That was terrible.’ She took a sip of tea. ‘Sometimes I think we should be doing more for the war effort.’
‘Don’t tell the villagers that, Mum. They wouldn’t know what to do without you and Dad for their food supplies.’ She looked at her mother’s pale face. ‘You need to eat more. You’ve lost quite a lot of weight since you’ve been ill.’
‘You’re changing the subject, dear. We were talking about the headmistress job. It would be a marvellous opportunity for you.’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘If you don’t answer soon you’ll be too late. Mrs R-S gives me The Lady after her daughter’s read it.’
‘I’m sure it won’t have gone,’ Lana said. ‘Most people seem to be doing proper war work.’
Her mother gave her a sharp look. ‘Lana, get it out of your head that you wouldn’t be doing proper war work, as you call it, if you went back to teaching. All right, you wouldn’t be in the military, but your job with children would be just as important. Imagine how they must feel – terrified most of the time, I should think. You’d be bringing some fun into their lives, and some stability as they won’t have their fathers coming home every night. And some of them, poor little kids, will lose their fathers forever.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, Mum.’ Lana looked across the room at her mother, a sob catching in the back of her throat. ‘I don’t know anything any more.’
‘Believe me, love, life’s too precious to waste. This war is taking far too many of our young people.’ Her mother blinked rapidly. ‘I think about your Dickie every day.’
Even at this distance Lana could see her mother’s eyes fill with tears and she knew she was also worrying desperately about her sons, Geoff and Nick, Lana’s beloved brothers, so far out at sea, not knowing from one day to the next if they were safe. She went and knelt by her mother’s chair.
‘Write the letter this evening,’ her mother said, stroking Lana’s head. ‘Will you promise?’
Lana nodded. ‘All right, Mum, if it makes you happy.’
The reply came through swiftly. The position had already gone, Mr Shepherd informed her. Thank you for your interest and I wish you good luck in seeking a suitable alternative position, he finished.
Her hands made fists. Another rejection. She knew it wasn’t personal – for heaven’s sake. The man didn’t know her – had never heard of her. But it felt like another slap in the face. She tore up the letter and threw the pieces onto the fire, enjoying the flames rising as the strips flared, then burned into ashes. It was meant to be that she didn’t go to Liverpool. Mr Shepherd and the successful applicant had made the decision for her. What a relief!
She’d left it too late by dithering. As each day passed Lana became more annoyed with herself for not taking action. It would have been a marvellous opportunity to gain experience as a headmistress, albeit temporarily. Nothing was permanent in wartime anyway, but it would have looked good on her work record. At least she now knew what she wanted to do. She’d thought she’d wanted to join the ATS, that was true, but teaching was in her blood, and as soon as her parents employed an assistant for the shop she’d start applying to other schools.
Another week passed and Lana was kept busy with deliveries and serving in the shop while her mother built up her strength and carried on doing the bookkeeping. There were times in the evening, though, when Lana just longed to go out with a friend to the pictures – anything to relieve the relentless tedium. But most of her friends had joined up if they hadn’t already been conscripted. She would have been pleased to take her mother so she could escape to a world that didn’t consist of the constant round of cooking, cleaning, washing and all the other domestic chores on top of the accounts for the shop. But her mother always shook her head, her chin quivering with fright at the thought of venturing into the outside world. Lana gave a sigh of frustration.
The only bright spot was that the nights were drawing out and it was already March. The month when spring began. When the primroses showed their yellow faces along the verges. She’d already spotted snowdrops three weeks ago when she’d gone for a walk up the lane. Her heart lifted for a few moments and then the memory of Dickie’s face blocked out everything else, and an overwhelming sadness filled every part of her body. Her love had been extinguished by some nasty little Austrian’s megalomania, and his hatred of anyone who didn’t fit his bill of a perfect blond-haired, blue-eyed German. If Hitler had those physical traits it would be slightly more understandable, but he was the very opposite of what he ranted on about; yet no high-ranking German, from the little they were told, seemed to mock it, or even question it.
Dickie had only been the second serious boyfriend in her life. She’d never told her parents or they would have been shocked but she’d lived with the first one, Keith Travers, for two and a half years. She’d been twenty-five and old enough to know better but had been totally infatuated. He was every girl’s dream – handsome, intelligent, fun, successful at his job as a property developer … she could go on listing the things that had appealed. But he’d invested in the wrong company who’d done the dirty on him and he’d lost almost all his money. He’d changed overnight, becoming morose,
