Sunlight on the Mersey

by Lyn Andrews

Genres: Sagas

Synopsis

The enthralling and heartwarming new novel from the hugely popular Sunday Times bestselling author of TO LOVE AND TO CHERISH and A SECRET IN THE FAMILY.

The Great War is over, and sisters Iris and Rose are adjusting to life in their modest Liverpool home after their brother Charlie has returned from the front. But when their mother sends Rose to the beautiful Welsh village of Tregarron to recover from an illness she discovers a new world of possibility at her feet. There, she obtains a job as housemaid to the wealthy but tragic Rhys-Pritchard family and falls in love with the young but troubled head of house. Meanwhile at home, Charlie, keen to improve his social standing, becomes engaged to the daughter of a successful coal merchant, while Iris falls for a porter from the local fruit market. Then tragedy strikes, and the whole family must pull together if they are to survive the turmoil ahead. Their support of one another can only bring them closer together, but will they be forced to put their dreams on hold in the process?

Release date: December 6, 2012

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 261

Sample

Liverpool 1918

‘MAM, HOW WILL WE ever find our Charlie in this crowd?’ fifteen-year-old Iris Mundy cried impatiently, holding tightly to her mother’s arm. Weak late-November sunlight filtered down through the great glass domed roof of Lime Street Station to fall on the heads of the dense crowd milling about below on the concourse. It picked out the pitted brass fittings on the engine that had slowly come to a halt amidst clouds of hissing steam and the strident sound of grinding brakes. The first train bringing the troops back home had finally arrived.

The municipal band immediately burst into a rousing version of ‘The British Grenadiers’ and, simultaneously, a deafening cheer erupted from the waiting crowds as Liverpool welcomed home its surviving sons after four years of bitter and bloody conflict on the fields of France and Belgium. The atmosphere was electric, infused with pride, relief and overwhelming joy.

Kate Mundy’s reply was drowned out by the noise but her expression was a mixture of grim determination and happiness as she began to push her way forward. It looked as if the entire population of Liverpool had turned out to welcome the boys back, she thought, although she did not intend to let that stop her being the first to embrace her son. Every day and night for the past year she’d spent worrying that he would be badly wounded or, even worse, killed, but now he was safely home. Although she was small and wiry her eagerness gave her the strength she needed to edge steadily forward towards the platform where the first passengers had begun to alight. ‘Just hang on to me, Iris, and we’ll get through this crowd somehow,’ she shouted to her daughter above the din. ‘Is our Rose with your da?’

Iris, who was a good deal taller and sturdier than her mother, managed to half turn and caught sight of her father with her younger sister, Rose, hanging grimly on to his arm. She grinned at him. ‘There’s no stopping Mam now, she’ll steam-roller her way through regardless!’ she called as the cheering gradually died away.

Bill Mundy grinned back, pride and happy anticipation in his eyes. He’d worried about his son just as much as Kate had although he’d tried not to show it too much; someone had had to bolster the family’s spirits through those dark days. He was a big man, over six feet tall and well built, so the crowd of people in front of him presented little problem, but his fourteen-year-old daughter was slight and slim like her mother. ‘Rose, luv, whatever you do, don’t let go of my arm,’ he urged. ‘You might get lost in this crowd.’

Rose looked up at him, her dark eyes full of trepidation. ‘I won’t, Da, but I’ll be glad when we can get out of the station. I didn’t think it would be as bad as this. I’ve never seen so many people!’

Bill nodded. ‘It’s only to be expected, luv, it’s been a long, desperate and heart-breaking time for everyone. But as soon as we find Charlie we’ll be out of here.’

Kate and Iris had almost reached the front of the crowd as more and more men and boys, still in uniform and with kitbags slung over their shoulders, jumped from the carriages and pushed their way towards the barrier, eagerly searching the crowd for loved ones, relief at being home at last plain on their faces. Too many of those faces looked so much older than their actual years, Kate thought sadly; the result of the horrors they had witnessed and lived through.

Iris suddenly caught sight of her brother in the front rank. ‘There he is, Mam!’ she cried, pointing and then waving madly. ‘Charlie! Charlie, it’s me, Iris! Over here, we’re over here!’

Charlie’s dark eyes lit up and his face creased in a grin as he pushed his uniform cap back revealing thick, short-cropped brown hair.

Kate half ran the last few yards, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks as she held out her arms to him. ‘Charlie! Thank God! Oh, thank God, you’re home safe!’

Charlie hugged her and then for the first time caught sight of his father and Rose over the top of her head.

‘Welcome home, son! We’ve all missed you and we’re proud of you,’ Bill said in a choked voice, taking the kit-bag from his son and patting Charlie affectionately on the shoulder. ‘How’s the arm now?’ he added, noticing the lad wince slightly as Iris hugged him.

‘Almost good as new, Da. Just the occasional twinge,’ Charlie replied off-handedly. He’d been fortunate to come through that bloodbath with just a flesh wound and a fairly mild case of trench foot. He turned his attention to Rose, who was bobbing up and down with excitement, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. ‘Rose, you’ve certainly grown since I last saw you!’

Rose hugged him. ‘I’ll be fifteen next birthday, I’ve left school and I’m hoping to get a job soon! And now the war is over I won’t have to work in munitions either. Oh, we’ve got so much to tell you, Charlie, and there are all kinds of celebrations being planned!’ she blurted out. She really had missed him.

Iris smiled: Rose’s enthusiasm was infectious. Her sister was fortunate not to have to go into a munitions factory as she, Iris, had had to do this past year. The work had been hard, dirty, tedious and dangerous and Rose would have found it backbreaking; Rose had always been what her Mam termed ‘delicate’.

The little family reunion was being replicated all around them as wives, mothers, sisters and sweethearts embraced their menfolk with tears and cries of joy.

Bill took the situation in hand. ‘Right, let’s make our way out to the tram stop before the queues get too long. There will be more trains arriving soon and the traffic is already heavy,’ he said, guiding them towards the still crowded entrance.

As they finally emerged into the pale winter sunshine, Kate clinging tightly to Charlie’s arm, Rose still close by her father’s side and Iris just behind them, Charlie stopped and stared at the familiar sight of St George’s Hall, which dominated the opposite side of the road. The massive façade with its classical columns, the huge crouching bronze lions that guarded the plateau and the long flight of shallow steps that led up to it were blackened with soot but it was still an imposing sight – and one that epitomised ‘home’, just as much as the buildings on the Liverpool waterfront and the river itself did. There’d be sunlight sparkling on the turgid grey waters of the Mersey today, he thought.

‘That’s a real sight for sore eyes, Mam!’ he said with a catch in his voice. And one he’d often wondered if he would ever see again. Many of his mates wouldn’t, he’d left them behind in the mud of Flanders. He pushed the thoughts away. It was over now. He was home and he was determined he wasn’t going to waste his life. He’d been spared and he was going to make something of himself.

Bill had been watching him closely and noticed the hardening of his son’s expression with regret. Charlie had changed in the year he’d been away but it would have been a miracle if he hadn’t. He could only try to imagine what the lad had been through and he was still only eighteen, he thought as he followed his wife and son down the steps and towards the nearest tram stop.

‘Da, do you think our Charlie is . . . all right?’ Rose asked quietly. She too had noticed the change in her brother’s demeanour.

Bill tucked her hand through his arm and patted it reassuringly. ‘Now don’t you go worrying any more about him, luv. He’s home, he’s fine, he’ll settle down – just give him time.’

‘Mam will be in her element now, fussing over him and fattening him up,’ Iris added, grinning at her father. ‘And there’s the street party and everything to look forward to. That will cheer them all up.’

Bill smiled happily at his elder daughter. ‘And then there’s Christmas to look forward to and it will be great to have the whole family together this year.’

Rose’s momentary anxiety disappeared at her father’s words. Charlie was home and her da was always right. Their close and loving family was complete again, there was nothing to worry about.

‘We’ve got a lot to look forward to now, haven’t we, Da?’ Iris added, linking arms with her father.

Bill nodded. ‘We have indeed, luv. The future has got to be better than the last four years – and here’s the tram. Let’s go home.’ There had been a celebratory family supper that evening although Kate bemoaned the fact that the food shortages meant she could not provide the kind of meal she had envisaged for Charlie’s homecoming.

‘Mam, after what I’ve been used to, it’s a feast fit for a king,’ Charlie had laughed, tucking into the tiny portion of meat and potatoes while his sisters had fussed over him, pouring both himself and his father a glass of pale ale.

When the meal was over, the toasts drunk, the dishes cleared away and washed and Rose and Iris had gone up to bed, Bill urged Kate to follow them. ‘You’ve had a long, tiring day, luv, and you’ve to be up at the crack of dawn in the morning to go to the market.’

Kate nodded, although she was loath to let Charlie out of her sight. At least she would sleep easily tonight, knowing he was safe, and she was also aware that Bill wanted some time alone with his son. ‘Well, goodnight, luv. Sleep well,’ she said, smiling.

‘I will, Mam, you can be sure of that,’ Charlie replied. It felt a little strange to be once again sitting in the so-familiar kitchen with comforts he’d not had for many months. He’d been away a year, not long compared to some of the lads, and yet it had seemed infinitely longer.

When Kate had gone Bill got up and extracted a small bottle from the back of the cupboard in the base of the dresser. ‘I’ve been saving this for a special occasion,’ he informed his son, pouring a small measure of the whisky into two glasses.

‘This is certainly better than pale ale,’ Charlie said appreciatively after taking a sip.

‘Finest malt and not easy to come by. I’m glad you’ve come through it safely, lad, so many didn’t, but it’s been the longest year in my life and most probably yours as well. It’s going to take you a while to . . . adjust to life now.’ He paused as Charlie nodded. ‘I’m not going to ask you about what you went through, but if you want to tell me I’ll be only too glad to listen and . . . help ease your mind, if I can.’

Charlie shook his head as he stared down into the amber liquid in his glass. ‘I . . . I don’t think I can talk about it, Da. Not yet anyway. Maybe . . . maybe in the future, maybe never. It was a . . . a living nightmare. Sheer hell on earth. Too . . . horrific to dwell on. I want to forget it; I don’t want to think about it.’

Bill nodded slowly. The newspaper reports of the hundreds of thousands killed and wounded had been bad enough. Every city, town, village and hamlet had lost men. ‘Then put it all behind you and think about the future,’ he urged firmly.

Charlie shook off the oppressive feelings that were threatening to overtake him. ‘That’s just what I intend to do, Da. I look at it like this: I was just so fortunate to have been spared. Now I’ve got the rest of my life ahead of me and I’m not going to waste it. We . . . we had an officer, a Captain Summerhill; he was a good bloke. Not an upper-crust, toffee-nosed snob as some were. He used to talk to me. He used to say, “If by some bloody miracle you come through this in one piece, Private Mundy, aim for the very best you can get out of life, for by God you’ll have both earned and deserve it. You all will.” So that’s what I’m going to do. Aim high. Make something of myself. I’m not sure how I’ll manage it but . . . but I want to end my days a respected middle-class man with a position in society and a healthy bank balance. Is that too much to ask for, Da?’

Bill looked dubious but he slowly shook his head. ‘No, the world has changed – is still changing – but not that quickly, Charlie. For the likes of that Captain Summerhill it wouldn’t be hard to achieve all that – he’d have the right background, the right connections – but you’re just a working-class lad from a poor area of Liverpool. I don’t want to put a damper on your hopes and ambitions but it won’t be easy.’ It might be well nigh impossible, the class system was so rigid, he thought, but he didn’t say so.

Charlie didn’t reply. Getting the best he possibly could out of the future seemed the only thing that made any sense of the carnage of the past – and his da was wrong. It wouldn’t be easy for Edmund Summerhill to achieve anything; he was buried in a shallow grave in Flanders.

Sensing his son’s mood Bill tried to be optimistic. ‘Still, it’s something to aim for, Charlie, and don’t forget you’ll inherit the pawnbroking business one day, just as I did. You’ll soon settle back into life now the war’s over; we all will. I’d see if you can get your old job back – that will be a start. And remember, son, you can always rely on me for help, advice and a sympathetic ear. We can all look forward now with hope.’ He poured the remaining whisky into their glasses. ‘Here’s to peace, happiness and prosperity.’

Charlie smiled. ‘To all that – and to the future.’



Liverpool 1921

‘IT’S RHEUMATIC FEVER, I’M afraid, Mrs Mundy. I’ve examined her thoroughly and I know the symptoms well enough, unfortunately,’ Dr Mackenzie informed Kate who stood beside him looking worriedly down at her daughter. Rose, now seventeen, was flushed; her eyes were fever bright, her skin clammy with perspiration. Wisps of her dark hair were stuck to her cheeks and forehead and there was fear in her brown eyes.

‘I will be all right, Mam, won’t I? I feel terrible now but I will get better?’ Rose’s voice held a note of panic. Rheumatic fever was serious; she knew that much. She had pains in her arms and legs and her head was throbbing.

Kate tried to hide her own anxiety. Rosamund, or Rose as she was always called, had been rather spoiled. As a baby she’d always seemed to be ailing and there had been times when Kate seriously wondered if she would succeed in rearing her to adulthood, but when Rose had turned seventeen and it seemed as though her fears for the girl were over, she’d come down with this. And rheumatic fever she knew could leave Rose with a weak heart.

‘As long as you rest, Rose, you’ll be fine and hopefully suffer no lasting effects,’ the doctor assured his patient firmly. ‘Take the medicine I’ve prescribed, drink plenty of fluids and stay in bed. I’ll call in and see you in a day or two.’

Kate nodded, relieved at his words as she ushered him towards the door of the small, neat but rather sparsely furnished bedroom. ‘Thank you, doctor. You know she’s always been a worry to me so I’ll take good care to see she does as she’s told. And I can tell you this, too: she’s not going back to that hotel to work. I swear that’s where she picked it up. You get all kinds of people in those hotels and you never know where they’ve come from or who they’ve been mixing with,’ she remarked darkly.

Dr Mackenzie smiled at her kindly. He’d known the whole family for years but he doubted she’d understand it was an inflammatory disease that often was the result of a severe throat infection and Rose could have contracted that anywhere. Rheumatic fever was seldom fatal in adults but the young were often left with serious heart, joint and eye conditions. In this area of Liverpool children were weakened by malnutrition and dire poverty, the privations of the war years hadn’t helped. The Mundys were far better off than many of their neighbours for they ran two businesses, he mused. Kate had a greengrocer’s shop and her husband Bill was a pawnbroker, both very necessary establishments in this dockland community. ‘I think it will be a while before she’s fit for work of any kind, Mrs Mundy, but if you are worried about her before my next visit, don’t hesitate to send for me.’

Kate thanked him and showed him downstairs and out through the shop, which she had closed for half an hour as business had been slow that morning. They lived above it but she certainly wasn’t going to let him out the back way through the yard with the privy, the tin bath tub hanging on the wall, the small wash house and the stack of empty wooden fruit crates which would go back tomorrow, not a man of his position.

She’d been up very early as usual, but it had been Bill who had gone to the market this morning. She glanced around the shop and frowned. He’d got everything she’d put on the list but she preferred to choose the produce herself. Most of the blokes at the market were decent and honest but there were a couple who would try to palm you off with stuff that was past its best. She had wiped and polished up the fruit and stacked it in neat piles in the window, the potatoes were in sacks on the floor but resting against the front of the counter and the vegetables were arranged by variety and size on the wide deep shelves on the opposite wall. Bunches of fresh and dried herbs were suspended from a rack behind the counter. It all looked neat and tidy. Things now were slowly improving, she thought. At the end of the Great War there had been serious shortages of food and real hardship. She shook her head sadly as she remembered the terrible loss of life those four years had resulted in. Tragedy and hardship indeed for so many of her friends and neighbours but at least Charlie had come through with nothing more than a flesh wound in his arm and a fairly mild case of trench foot, which had quickly cleared up. It had taken Charlie a while to adjust to life at home and during the first months he’d had nightmares and bouts of moodiness, although lately he seemed more settled and at ease, especially with his sisters. Now she was worrying about whether this fever would leave Rose with a weak heart, despite Dr Mackenzie’s reassurances. At least Iris enjoyed good health.

She had a bottle of Robinson’s Barley Water in the pantry, she remembered; she’d get it out and make up a jug and take it up to Rose. Drink plenty of fluids, he’d said.

Bill came into the shop and smiled affectionately at his wife. Despite the fact that her hair was no longer the burnished copper colour it had been when he’d met her and there were now fine lines at the corners of her grey eyes, to him she remained a very attractive woman. She was still small and slim and he often wondered where she found her boundless energy; time certainly hadn’t slowed his Kate down much. ‘I saw him leave, luv. What did he say is wrong with her?’

‘Rheumatic fever, Bill, but he says we’re not to worry, that with medicine, rest and plenty of fluids she should recover and have no after-effects. But you know as well as I do that it can do lasting damage. Have you closed up or have you left someone reliable in charge?’ she asked as an afterthought.

‘I just put a note on the door: “Back in ten minutes”,’ he replied. ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine, luv, try not to worry too much.’

‘She’s not going back to that hotel, Bill. I swear that’s where she picked this up, mixing with all and sundry. I never thought she was really strong enough to cope with the work of a chambermaid anyway. Changing beds, cleaning and carting bundles of linen around is heavy work and she’s always been a bit on the delicate side.’

He said nothing; jobs were hard to find these days, especially for young, unskilled, untrained girls like Rose and Iris. Iris had worked in munitions in the last year of the war but Rose had been too young to join her sister. The lads who had survived were back and so many of them were now without work. Unemployment was rife and getting steadily worse. He was seeing more and more items being brought in to be pledged and the number of them remaining unredeemed was rising. ‘Well, we’ll talk about that when she’s feeling better, luv. Is there any chance of a quick cuppa?’

Kate nodded. ‘I’ll put the kettle on. You take this barley water up to her and tell her she’s to drink a full glass of it whether she feels like it or not,’ she instructed as she bustled about with the kettle, teapot and tea caddy. She wouldn’t mind a quick cup of tea herself before she opened up as there would be no closing for lunch today. She couldn’t afford to turn any business away even if it did only amount to a few pounds of potatoes or carrots for a pan of ‘blind’ scouse – most of her customers couldn’t afford any meat to go in it. She thanked God daily on her knees for her good fortune. They all had work, even if her children weren’t exactly enthusiastic about their various occupations and Bill had always worked hard to provide for them. Unlike quite a few in the same occupation, he was a kind and compassionate man, always treating the women who came in with their bundles on a Monday morning with respect. His ‘ladies’, he called them, although most of them had never owned a decent coat and hat in their lives, but wore shawls instead. He made sure they kept their dignity.

Kate and Bill had been married for twenty-five years and she could count on the fingers of one hand the times he’d lost his temper with anyone. She smiled to herself as she spooned the tea into the pot. She would never forget the evening the tall, well-built, handsome young man with the dark hair and eyes had asked if he could escort her home from the social evening she had attended with friends at a nearby church hall. She’d found out that he was the son of Arthur Mundy, a respected pawnbroker, that he helped his father and hoped to take over the business when the old man retired. Also that he was teetotal, which had pleased her mother no end for her own father had been overly fond of the drink, often to the detriment of the household budget. Yes, she had a great deal to be thankful for and if she could live long enough to see all her children married and settled she’d be a happy woman.

Rose had been dozing fitfully, the pains in her joints making restful sleep impossible. She’d had a very sore throat a couple of weeks ago and had been off work for a day, but it had gone and she’d thought nothing more of it until two days ago when she’d begun to feel really awful. Her head ached, she felt sick, she’d had no energy and then the fever had overtaken her. At least she now knew what it was and that she would get well again. And she’d overheard what her mam had said to the doctor about her not going back to Black’s Commercial Hotel. For that she was really thankful. She hated the place, but it had been the only job she could get. She hated having to clean rooms, change beds, empty chamber pots and she knew it would be years before she would be promoted to something better, such as head chambermaid or housekeeper. She had enquired if she could be trained to wait on in the dining room – she wouldn’t have minded that – but she’d been told very firmly that there were no vacancies and that should one occur then they would employ someone already trained in silver service. There was another reason why she had no wish to return there. Jimmy Harper. She’d been foolish enough to believe that he had really cared for her. He was the first lad who had ever asked her out. He’d started working at the hotel a few months ago as the boy who cleaned the guests’ boots, brought them their morning papers and sometimes ran errands for them. He was the same age as her and they’d quickly become friends. She’d really, really liked him and had believed him when he’d said she was the only girl for him. They’d been courting for almost two months when one afternoon she’d caught him kissing Mavis Smythe, who had only been working there as a chambermaid for two weeks. He’d tried to laugh it off, saying Mavis had led him on, but she’d never felt so hurt and let down in her life before and having to see him every day and studiously ignore him made working at Black’s intolerable.

‘How are you feeling now, Rose?’ Bill asked gently as he set the jug and tumbler on the beside table. She certainly still looked feverish. ‘Has the medicine helped at all?’

Rose tried to sit up but the effort made her grimace. Bill took her hand in his. ‘You just lie there, I’ll get you another pillow and help make you more comfortable. Your mam said you were to drink a full glass of this.’

He found another pillow and placed it behind her and then filled the glass and held it for her as if she were seven years old instead of seventeen.

Rose managed a smile; she loved her father dearly and knew he was worried about her. ‘I feel a bit better knowing exactly what’s wrong with me but it will be a while before I get back to normal.’

He nodded his agreement. ‘Take things easy and you’ll be fine. Perhaps when you feel better you could read, that would help to pass the time. I’ll ask Iris if she’ll go to the library and get you some books. I’d go myself but I think she will have a better idea of what you enjoy than me. With everyone at work and your mam in the shop you’ll need something to occupy you, once you’re on the mend.’

Rose leaned back against the pillows and nodded. If she hadn’t been feeling so ill the idea of lying here reading all day would have been heaven. She loved reading, especially romances whose heroines lived far more interesting and pampered lives than she did and always married a handsome, adoring and often wealthy man. It also helped to take her mind off Jimmy Harper. She dozed off, comforted by the doctor’s assurances, her father’s presence and the knowledge that her days at Black’s Commercial Hotel were in the past.

‘Did the doctor come, Mam? What did he say? How is she?’ Iris fired the questions at her mother as she came into the kitchen at the back of the shop, put her bag on the dresser and took off her jacket and hat. She ran her hands through her thick auburn hair, which she’d recently had cut in the new short style, something of which her mother had strongly disapproved. They’d had words over it. She had dark eyes like her father but she also had his height and build, something she frequently complained about, bemoaning the fact that she wasn’t slender and petite like Rose.

‘Don’t just leave your hat and bag on the dresser, Iris; I’ll be needing those dishes off it soon. She’s a bit better. It’s rheumatic fever but she’ll get over it,’ Kate informed her, handing Iris the offending cloche hat and clutch bag and shaking her head at the sight of her daughter’s shorn locks. Iris was far too self-willed and independent in her opinion and working in that munitions factory appeared only to have increased those traits. It seemed as if all the changes in society could be blamed on the war.

‘That’s a relief! Shall I go up and see if there’s anything she needs or wants, Mam?’ Iris was genuinely relieved. Rose had been really ill these last twenty-four hours. Although they were very different in temperament and sometimes bickered, she was closer to her sister than she was to her brother Charlie; for the past few years she had found him somewhat difficult to live with, although she did sympathise with him after what he had been through.

‘Don’t be too long up there, Iris. I need you to help me with supper,’ Kate instructed. ‘Your da will be in a bit. . .