Man of the House

by Joan Jonker

Genres: Family Life; Siblings; Friendship; World War II; Sagas

Synopsis

The war may be over, but for one young wife, her battles are only just beginning... Man of the House is a heart-breaking but ultimately uplifting saga of life after the war, in the second instalment of Joan Jonker's Eileen Gillmoss series. Perfect for fans of Dilly Court and Katie Flynn. On VE day, everyone was rejoicing and it seemed the whole population of Liverpool had turned out to celebrate. Eileen Gillmoss, a colourful character with a smile forever lighting up her face, was the life and soul of the party. Today was the day she'd prayed for and dreamed about. After five long, lonely years, her prisoner-of-war husband Bill would be coming home, back to the open, loving arms of his wife and children. But the man who comes back from the war is a complete stranger to her. It isn't only that Bill's appearance has changed. It's his remoteness, his flinching from her touch that Eileen can't cope with. Now, Eileen, who is always there to lend a shoulder to cry on, is the one in need. But who can she turn to? No one can give her what she craves most... her old husband back. She wants him back where he belongs, as the man of the house. What readers are saying about Man of the House : 'This book has everything you need for a good read. I couldn't put it down. With every page you turn you don't know whether you'll be laughing or crying by the end of the page. With the good description of the characters in the book you feel like you have known them all your life ' ' Excellent... Joan Jonker never lets you down'

Release date: May 24, 2012

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 310

Sample

‘Sod it! I’m sweatin’ cobs an’ gettin’ nowhere!’ Eileen muttered under her breath. She glared first at the donkey stone in her hand, then at the offending front door step that had resisted all her attempts to come up white. ‘Waste of time, anyway! When the kids come chargin’ in it’ll be as black as the hobs of hell again!’

With a look of disgust on her face, Eileen threw the donkey stone into the hall before leaning against the wall. Rivulets of sweat were running down her face and she wiped them away with the corner of her pinny before folding her arms across her waist, where they disappeared from view beneath the mountainous bosom. Her attention was drawn to the house opposite and the man perched precariously on top of a rickety ladder nailing coloured bunting to the frame of the bedroom window.

‘I ’ope that ladder’s safe, Tommy!’ Eileen bawled. ‘I’d hate yer to fall an’ break yer fishin’ tackle!’

Hanging on to the window sill like grim death, Tommy Wilson peered over his shoulder. ‘Missus wouldn’t worry,’ he grinned, ‘save her having one of her headaches every night.’

‘Yer don’t mean to tell me she gets away with that old trick?’ A laugh rumbled in Eileen’s tummy, and when it erupted every ounce of her eighteen-stone body shook. ‘Tell ’er the bloody war’s over now, and that includes skirmishes in the bedroom.’

Tommy lifted his hand to deliver one more blow with the hammer before answering. ‘I’ll tell her you said that, but I’ll make sure I’m out of arms reach when I do! She packs a powerful punch does my Missus!’

‘Yer’ll ’ave to learn to put yer foot down then, won’t yer!’ Eileen watched as Tommy came down the ladder, testing each rung first before lowering his weight on to it. ‘Either that, or learn to duck!’

Tommy chuckled, wondering if his wife had heard the exchange between him and their neighbour opposite. There’d be hell to pay if she had. Ada didn’t always appreciate Eileen Gillmoss’s jokes. But Tommy liked the big woman. At least she knew how to smile. Not like some he could mention who looked as though a smile would crack their faces.

Eileen waved back as Tommy moved indoors, then gazed up and down the street where people were rushing to finish the decorations in time for the street party due to start at four o’clock. She’d heard all the streets in the neighbourhood were being decorated, as people prepared to celebrate the end of the war in Europe.

The end of the war! Eileen screwed her eyes up tight. Even though she’d heard Winston Churchill on the wireless saying that Germany and Italy had surrendered, and hostilities in Europe had ceased, she couldn’t believe it.

‘Goin’ asleep on yer feet, are yer?’

Eileen opened her eyes to see Cissie Maddox standing in front of her. She grinned sheepishly. ‘I couldn’t sleep if I tried, Cissie! I’m shakin’ like a leaf with excitement.’ She swept her arm wide to take in the coloured bunting stretching across the street from house to house, the Union Jacks of every size and shape swaying in the slight breeze, and pictures of the King and Queen, with the two Princesses, adorning the windows of nearly every house. ‘Looks great, doesn’t it? Makes yer feel real proud.’

‘Everyone’s done a good job,’ Cissie admitted. She lived two doors down from Eileen, and they’d been neighbours for years. They’d had their differences over those years, mostly about the kids fighting, but all that was forgotten now. She was the same age as Eileen and matched her in size ounce for ounce. But Cissie took more care of her appearance, with hair neatly permed, a face that was seldom seen without make-up, and clothes that didn’t look as though they’d come off a rag and bone cart.

‘Have yer made the cakes and jellies?’ Cissie’s face was serious. ‘We’ll have to start bringin’ the tables out soon.’

‘Keep yer hair on, Cissie! Everything’s under control,’ Eileen’s chubby cheeks moved upwards to cover her eyes as she grinned. ‘No, I’m not goin’ to tell lies today, I might put the mockers on meself! I haven’t done nowt, Cissie! Me mam’s made the cakes, jellies and blancmange. All I did was boil the water.’

‘Thank God for that!’ Cissie rolled her eyes expressively. ‘At least we’ll be able to eat the cakes.’

‘Watch it now, Cissie! We’ve just got one war over, don’t you an’ me start another one!’

‘Okay, we’ll call a truce till tomorrow.’ Cissie was silent for a moment, then sighed softly. ‘We’ll ’ave our fellers home soon.’

‘Oooh, don’t mention it, Cissie!’ Eileen looked up to the skies. Her Bill had been a prisoner of war since 1940, and the only contact she’d had with him in all that time had been through heavily censored letters. ‘Every time I think about it, I get that excited I ’ave to run to the lavvy! I’m not kiddin’, I’ve been to the lavvy that many times today I’ve worn a groove in our back yard.’

Cissie touched Eileen’s arm in a rare gesture of sympathy. Her husband was in the army too, but, thank God, he’d never been further than the Isle of Man. ‘It’s been a long time, and you’ve had a lot to put up with.’

‘It was a case of ’aving to put up with it!’ Tears were threatening and Eileen had no intention of making a fool of herself in front of Cissie Maddox. ‘I’d better get in an’ give me mam a hand.’

Seeing the signs, Cissie moved away. ‘I’ll give yer a knock when it’s time to bring the table out. And don’t you go luggin’ that big table out on yer own, d’yer hear? Get one of the men to give yer a hand.’

Eileen had her foot on the front step. ‘Our Billy should be ’ome in time to help. I’ve sent him up to the Sedgemoors to ask if Mary wants to bring the kids to the party.’ She gave a deep chuckle. ‘Can’t see them havin’ a street party round by them … they’re too posh for anythin’ so common.’

Eileen walked through to the kitchen where her mother, Maggie, was just taking a tray of fairy cakes out of the oven. ‘Mmmm! They smell good, Mam!’

‘That’s the lot, thank God!’ Maggie slipped the hot tray on to the wooden draining board. ‘They should smell good, too! All our sugar and margarine ration has gone into them. And I’m warning you, if you don’t keep the kids out of here there’ll be none left for the party.’

‘I wonder where the kids ’ave got to?’ Eileen frowned. ‘I haven’t seen them for ages.’

‘Probably wandering round, looking at the decorations.’ Maggie was edging a knife expertly round the cakes to dislodge them from the tray before sliding them on to a plate. ‘They’ve never seen anything like it before.’

‘Aye, poor little buggers.’ When Eileen nodded her layer of chins wobbled. ‘They’re too young to remember the street parties we used to have for Empire Day.’

Maggie ran her flour-caked hands down the front of her pinny. ‘I’ll have to sit down for half an hour before I get washed and changed, me feet are killing me. And a cup of tea would go down a treat.’

‘Go an’ sit down then, an’ I’ll make us a cuppa.’ Eileen pushed her mother into the living room. ‘Go on, do as yer told, unless yer want a fourpenny one.’

Mother and daughter sat in companionable silence facing each other across the table. The front door had been left open and a medley of sounds drifted in from the street, but both were lost in thought and oblivious to the racket outside. Eileen was studying her mother through lowered lids as she sipped on the piping hot tea. People said she took after her mother in looks, but, as Eileen mused now, her mother was only half her size. They might have looked alike years ago, but that was before Eileen started piling the weight on.

Eileen let out a soft sigh. The war years had certainly taken their toll on her mother. Her hair was now snowy white, and deep worry lines were etched on her forehead and under her eyes. She looked worn out, and Eileen blamed herself for it. When her dad had died fifteen years ago, it was she who persuaded her mother to come and live with her and Bill. Said it would be better than living in that big old house on her own. And the arrangement had worked fine until the war started and Bill had been called up. Eileen remembered how she’d jumped at the chance to work in the munitions factory when her mother had offered to mind the three children for her. Mainly it was because she wanted to do her bit for the war effort, but the money had certainly come in useful. They’d have been in queer street if they’d had to manage on Bill’s army pay and the few bob her mother got in widow’s pension. But no one had expected the war to last five years. So, in her sixties, when she should have been sitting back taking life easy, her mother had been saddled with three children to look after. Not that she’d ever complained. And when Eileen had offered to pack in work and look after her family, her mother wouldn’t hear of it.

‘I wonder how long it’ll be before Bill gets home?’ Maggie broke the silence. ‘It could be only a matter of weeks.’

Eileen ran a finger round the rim of her cup. ‘It’s like a dream to me, Mam! To tell the God’s honest truth, I’d got to the state where I thought I’d never see ’im again.’

‘You’d better get used to the idea quick, my girl, and get yourself moving!’ Maggie shook her head in despair as she eyed her daughter’s limp, straggly, mousey-coloured hair, the smudges of dust streaked across the chubby face, and the washed-out dress under the washed-out pinny. The seams of the dress were all burst open, and Maggie would lay bets that there’d be a couple of pins holding the hem up. ‘If Bill walked in now and saw you looking such a mess, he’d have a fit! And as for this … well! I just give up!’ Maggie snorted in disgust at the chaotic state of the room. Clothes had been flung over the backs of chairs, and those that had missed their target were left to lie on the floor with the cast-off shoes, toys and newspapers. ‘If I said this place looked like a pig sty, I’d be insulting the pigs!’

A lazy smile spread across Eileen’s face. ‘Don’t be gettin’ yer knickers in a twist, missus! I’ve got two days off work to celebrate the end of the war, an’ I’m gonna do just that! I’m gonna celebrate like I’ve never bloody celebrated before.’

Maggie tutted. ‘What have I told you about swearing? If Bill hears you, you won’t half get it in the neck, I’m warning you!’

Despite her words, Maggie was having trouble keeping her face straight. She could never hold out long against her daughter’s infectious humour. ‘You know, I must have a screw loose, putting up with you all these years!’ Maggie scraped her chair back. ‘Come on, let’s get ourselves tidied up.’

Eileen stretched across the table and clasped her mother’s arm. ‘Sit down a minute, Mam, I’ve got something to tell yer.’

Maggie was so used to having her leg pulled, she hesitated. But there was something about the set of Eileen’s face that made her curious, so she sat down. ‘Make it snappy, or we’ll never be ready in time.’

‘I was goin’ to tell yer tonight, when we had more time. But I’ll tell yer now, save yer walkin’ round like a wet week.’ Eileen licked her finger and rubbed it over a tea stain on the oilcloth covering the table. ‘Remember when Mary and Harry got married and went to live in Orrell Park?’ She looked up to see her mother’s eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘Just be patient, Mam! All will be revealed as I go along, but I’ve got to start at the beginning. I know I skitted Mary about goin’ to live in a posh house, an’ everythin’, but deep down I was a bit jealous. Every time I went up there and saw how nice she kept the house, and then came back to this dump, it was like a slap in the gob.’

‘You can’t compare yourself with Mary!’ Maggie said heatedly, quick to defend the daughter she’d watched struggle for the last five years. ‘Mary didn’t have three kids to look after, and go out and earn a living! She had a husband bringing in a good wage every week!’

‘I know that, Mam! And I don’t begrudge Mary a thing, honest I don’t, ’cos she’s me best mate! And it wasn’t Harry’s fault that the Forces wouldn’t have him! But seein’ their house, an’ our Rene’s posh house at the Old Roan, well it started me thinkin’,’ Eileen grinned into her mother’s flushed face. ‘D’yer know Cookson’s shop in Walton Vale? Well, for the last three and a half years I’ve been puttin’ five bob a week away in a club there. And yer know what, Mam? I’ve got me club card upstairs with forty pound ten shillings on it.’

‘Go way!’ Maggie gasped. ‘Fancy you not letting on all this time.’

‘I didn’t tell yer at first ’cos I didn’t think I could keep it up! Yer know what I’m like with money, it goes through me hands like water. And I didn’t half miss that five bob every week in the beginning, I can tell yer! Many’s the time I was tempted to use it, like when our Billy wanted new kecks and was walking round nearly bare arsed, or when the sole came off our Joan’s shoes. Then I’d think of Mary’s house, an’ our Rene’s, and I held out. Then after a while, when I could see the money mounting up, I was determined to carry on, no matter what.’ Eileen looked directly into her mother’s eyes. ‘Isn’t that a nice surprise, Mam?’

‘You can say that again!’ Maggie was flabbergasted. ‘What are you going to do with all that money?’

‘Mr Cookson said he’ll get me a dining room suite for here, an’ something for the bedroom. It’ll only be that Utility stuff they’re makin’ now, but Mr Cookson said it’s very good.’

‘I don’t know what to say, love!’ Maggie was so happy for her daughter she felt like crying. It was about time something nice happened in her life.

‘There’s more to come, Mam!’ Eileen’s eyes were lost in the folds of flesh that crept upwards when she laughed. ‘I may as well give yer all the good news in one go, so as yer can get that worried look off yer gob an’ enjoy yourself! I’ve got enough Sturla’s cheques in me bag, an’ clothing coupons, to rig us all out for Bill comin’ home. That’s me, you an’ the kids. Oh, an’ yer’ll be pleased to know I’ve booked an appointment to ’ave me hair permed next week, when I’m on night shift.’

‘Well, I never!’ Maggie’s head moved from side to side. ‘I can’t believe it! Here’s me been worrying meself to death about Bill coming home to this mess. I had visions of him walking in, taking one look round and walking straight out again.’

‘Mam, if he’s missed me as much as I’ve missed him, he won’t be interested in anywhere but the bedroom.’ Eileen saw her mother’s embarrassed blush and laughed. ‘I know you think I’m a loose hussy, but I couldn’t care less! If I have me own way, no one will see Bill for a week.’

Maggie tutted. ‘You’d make the devil himself blush, you would! I don’t know who you take after, but it’s certainly not me!’

‘Oh, aye! What did yer coal man look like?’ Eileen roared. ‘Or perhaps it’s the milkman I take after!’

This time Maggie’s chair was pushed back with a vengeance. ‘You can please yourself, but I’m going to get ready for the party.’ She left the room in a huff, but Eileen’s long guffaws followed her up the stairs and by the time Maggie reached the landing she was doubled up with laughter. The last five years might have been hard going, but she wouldn’t have swapped living with her eldest born for the grandest mansion in the world.

Church bells, silent for so long, rang out their message of thanksgiving. The ships in the Mersey blew their sirens and bus and car drivers hooted their horns. It was a day for rejoicing and it seemed the whole population of Liverpool had turned out to celebrate as one big family. Main roads were packed tight with people who wanted to share their relief, joy and pride. Friends stopped to hug and kiss, their laughter mixed with tears. Complete strangers were shaken by the hand and embraced, and anyone wearing a service uniform was surrounded by a back-slapping crowd and hailed as a hero. Even those who had lost loved ones on the battle fields or in the blitz of nineteen forty-one, when so much of the city was destroyed, came out to celebrate the defeat of Hitler and Mussolini. The atmosphere was heady with emotion as people linked arms to sing ‘The White Cliffs of Dover’ and Vera Lynn’s other much loved song, ‘We’ll Meet Again’. And long snake-like lines were formed as revellers danced the conga across busy main roads, bringing traffic to a standstill. Bus drivers were seen to leave their vehicles to join on to the end of these human chains. Timetables were thrown to the wind as legs kicked out to the accompaniment of ‘Aye, aye, Conga!’

This was a day for the history books, and people up and down the country were determined to make it a memorable one.

In hundreds of side streets, neighbours were celebrating with parties of their own. But if a prize were to be given to the most noisy and boisterous, it would surely go to Bray Street. And it wasn’t the children making the noise, either! They’d been stunned into silence at the sight of their kitchen tables being carried out to be added to a line which stretched down the centre of the cobbled street. And when the food appeared they were wide-eyed with amazement. They’d never seen so much food in their lives. The jellies were made from gelatine, the cakes with powdered egg and the blancmange with powdered milk, but to the kids it was like something from a fairy tale. With paper hats on their heads, they tucked in with gusto, afraid the mirage would disappear before their eyes. And while the children were feasting themselves, the grown-ups indulged in the beer and port wine they’d clubbed together to buy. So by the time the food had been demolished, the grown-ups were full of merriment and ready to let themselves go. The men removed some of the tables, Tommy Wilson was persuaded to bring his accordion out, and the party started in earnest.

‘In the name of God, just look at the state of her!’ Maggie was leaning against the wall watching the antics of her daughter. Wearing her best blue floral dress, and without a pinny for once, Maggie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘What would you do with her?’

‘Don’t be worrying,’ Ada Wilson was holding her tummy, laughing at the sight of Eileen attempting a tango with Cissie Maddox. Two eighteen-stone women tripping the light fantastic was a sight that brought tears to Ada’s eyes. ‘She’s the life and soul of the party!’

‘Is that what she is?’ Maggie answered dryly. ‘I think she’s had a few too many drinks.’

At that moment Tommy Wilson broke into a Scottish reel and Cissie gave up. ‘I’ve had it,’ she gasped.

‘Go on!’ Eileen puffed. ‘Yer can’t take it!’ She was out of breath, but being on her own didn’t deter Eileen. With one hand on her head and the other on her ample hip, she broke into a jig. With an audience clapping and cheering her on, she lifted a leg and began twirling it around, showing the legs of her knickers which were minus the elastic.

It was at this moment that Mary and Harry Sedgemoor, with their two children, turned into the street. ‘Oh, my God, I don’t believe it!’ Harry was giving two-year-old Tony a piggy back, and he held on tight to the child’s hands as he roared with laughter. ‘Do you see what I see, or are my eyes deceiving me?’

‘Oooh, I wish we had a camera,’ Mary chuckled. ‘We could pull her leg soft over this.’

‘Auntie Eileen!’ Three-year-old Emma made a dash forward and Mary had to grab her quick. ‘I want to see Auntie Eileen!’ The little girl struggled to free herself so she could run to her favourite Auntie. ‘Let go of me, Mummy, please!’

The music stopped, and as Eileen mopped the sweat from her brow she spotted her friends. ‘Yer’ll ’ave to bring the next turn on now, folks! Me mates have arrived.’

Moving through the crowds, Eileen held her arms wide. ‘Where’s my two little sweethearts, then?’

Emma reached her first and was clasped in a bear hug when young Tony pulled on Eileen’s skirt. ‘Lift me up, Auntie Eileen,’ he lisped. There hadn’t been many pleasures in Eileen’s life in the past five years, except for her three kids and her mother. But there were two that would always stay in her mind. And that was when Mary and Harry had asked her to be godmother, first to Emma, and then to Tony. And she loved the two children as though they were her own.

‘Yer’ve missed all the eats!’ Eileen looked over the heads of the children. ‘I thought yer’d ’ave been here ages ago.’

‘We would have been, but we had to stop and look at all the decorations,’ Mary was still giggling over the sight of the big woman doing the Highland fling. ‘Do I need to ask if you’re enjoying yourself?’

Eileen grinned sheepishly. ‘Well, what the hell, kid! The war’s over and my feller will be home soon! Isn’t that something to be happy about?’

Harry patted his pocket. ‘I’ve got a camera in here, and the next time you give me cheek in work, I’m going to let everyone see your version of a Scottish reel.’

Harry was Eileen’s boss in the munitions factory. But he was much more than that … he was a good mate. ‘Blackmail, eh? Well, two can play at that game, old son!’

‘I should be so lucky to have done something you can blackmail me with,’ Harry began to shake with laughter. ‘I noticed you’ve got your blue ones on today.’

‘Go on with yer, yer cheeky bugger!’ Eileen’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh, isn’t Auntie Eileen naughty for swearin’,’ she looked down into two pairs of bright eyes, one vivid blue, the other a deep velvety brown. ‘Shall we give Auntie Eileen a smack?’

‘No!’ chorused the two children. They loved this big woman who always made them laugh. ‘You’re not naughty … is she, Mummy?’

Torn between teaching them right from wrong, Mary compromised, ‘Auntie Eileen isn’t naughty, but the words that come out of her mouth are sometimes very naughty. But we’ll forgive her this time, shall we?’

‘Let’s go in and I’ll make yez a cuppa.’ Singing ‘Roll Out The Barrel’, and with a tiny hand clasped in each of hers, Eileen swayed through the crowd, which had quietened down without her to lead the singing. ‘Make way folks! I’ll just ’ave five minutes with me mates, then I’ll be out again.’

‘There yer go!’ Eileen lifted the two children on to the couch. ‘I’ll scrounge yez some lemonade in a minute, but let me see to yer mam and dad first.’ With a grin on her face and her eyes twinkling with happiness, Eileen turned to Harry. ‘D’yer want tea, or something stronger? I’ve got a little drop of the hard stuff put away especially for you.’

‘Go on, you twisted my arm,’ Harry laughed. ‘But I’ll need more than a drop to catch up with you.’

‘What yer want and what yer’ll get are two different things. . .