Wartime Girls

by Anne Baker

Genres: Family Life; World War II; Sagas

Synopsis

A tragic accident throws a young woman's life into disarray, as the storm clouds of war begin to loom... Set in Liverpool during the Depression and the Blitz of the Second World War, Anne Baker's dramatic saga, Wartime Girls, brings a close-knit community vividly to life. Perfect for fans of Dilly Court and Nadine Dorries. It is the day of the Grand National, 1933, when Susie Ingram's fiancé, Danny, is killed in a tragic accident. In a cruel twist of Fate, Susie discovers she is carrying Danny's child and, shunned by his parents, she turns to her mother for support. Louise Ingram, widowed during the First World War, knows how hard it is to bring up a family alone, but with the help of her eldest daughter, Martha, who lives next door, they manage to survive. When little Rosie is born there is no doubt that she is Danny's daughter, but it is destined to take many more years of heartache before the two families are united again... What readers are saying about Wartime Girls : 'Definitely recommend this book. Excellent story - wouldn't hesitate to give five stars ' 'Another excellent Anne Baker novel, and fans will not be disappointed. Characters come to life in this family war story'

Release date: December 18, 2014

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 434

Sample

CHAPTER ONE

24 March 1933

At breakfast Susie Ingram said, ‘Mum, isn’t it marvellous that we’ve both got this afternoon off? I want you to come shopping with me. I haven’t any shoes to go with my wedding dress, and it’s only two weeks away.’

It was Friday and Grand National Day. Half the population of Liverpool either went to the races or stayed at home glued to their wireless sets. Traditionally, it was a day given over to pleasure and celebration, and as a result many employers were closing their factories and offices for the afternoon. There was even talk of changing the hallowed day to Saturday, in order to stem the loss of production.

‘All right,’ Louise said, ‘the big shops won’t be crowded today.’ As they both worked, finding time to go shopping wasn’t easy. ‘I’d like to get myself a new hat. My navy straw isn’t too bad, but it is your wedding. I’ll meet you straight from the office at half twelve.’

Later that afternoon, in Lewis’s shoe department, Susie tried on three pairs of satin slippers and several more in white leather, until at last she found a pair of smart silver sandals that pleased her. She took a few steps wearing them. ‘Mum, aren’t they gorgeous?’ The little heels suited her long, slender legs, not that her legs would be seen when she was wearing her wedding gown. ‘I love them.’

Louise bit back the thought that being silver her daughter wouldn’t get much wear from them. ‘They’re really quite expensive,’ she said.

‘Mum!’ Susie giggled. ‘They’re to complete my wedding outfit, and that isn’t going to cost the earth!’ Her eldest sister, Martha, was a dressmaker. As a gift, she’d bought a length of ivory silk and made Susie’s wedding dress.

‘Go on then,’ Louise laughed. ‘Anyway, I’ve drawn a good horse in the sweepstake at work, perhaps it’ll win.’

‘The Grand National’s great fun, isn’t it? I’ve drawn Windrush, there was a lot about him in this morning’s paper.’ Susie’s big almond-shaped eyes sparkled up at her mother. They were a soft golden brown and at times like this, when she was excited, they were as bright as the morning sun. ‘Wouldn’t it be marvellous if one of us won some money?’

At just seventeen, Susie had blossomed into a beauty. Her hair was blond, an attractive shade of ripening wheat. She had a lovely wide smile, a clear peaches-and-cream complexion and seemed to glow with health. She took after her father’s side of the family.

Up in the hat department, Louise picked out a stylish confection of feathers and tried it on. She stared at her reflection, altered the angle of the hat, but it didn’t help. She’d never had her daughter’s neat, even features and dramatic colouring, and now, at forty-two, her brown hair was fading and here and there had a silver thread in it. Still, she had kept her figure.

‘Try this, Mum. It’s the same shade of blue as the two-piece outfit you’re going to wear. I think it’ll suit you.’

Louise put the hat on and smiled at her reflection. ‘It does. It really does. How did you know?’

Susie laughed. Louise could see she was sparkling with anticipation, very much in love and looking forward to her marriage to Danny Curtis.

‘If we catch a bus now, we could be home in time for the big race,’ Susie suggested. ‘Martha said we must go to her place to listen to the commentary on her wireless.’

Louise had been saving up to buy a wireless of her own, but that had had to go on the back burner until after Susie’s wedding.

‘Come on, let’s get back.’ Susie took her mother’s arm and hurried her to the bus stop talking non-stop. She was excited at being on the brink of marriage. Everything was happening for her now.

On the bus, the conductor was discussing the merits of one horse over another with several vocal passengers, and Susie listened with avid interest.

Louise looked out of the window, musing that of her three daughters, Susie, the youngest, had had a charmed life; everything had gone well for her. Unlike her older sisters, when she was growing up Susie had had no idea how she wanted to earn her living. Her best friend at school had been Fiona Curtis, Danny’s sister, who on leaving at the age of fourteen had been entered for a two-year course in the best secretarial school in the city. Susie had told her mother that Fiona wanted her to go too, but there was no way Louise could afford the fees.

Louise had played an important part in the life of St Biddolphe’s, the church where her husband Harold had been curate and where Susie was to be married. She did not know how it came about, but she was as pleased as her daughter when the vicar told her that Susie’s secretarial school fees could be paid from the church fund built up to help poorer families in the congregation. Susie was now working as a shorthand typist in the offices of Bibby’s soap company, a job found for her by the school when she had passed their final exams.

As she’d grown older, Susie had also helped with fundraising and was popular with the church members. Since her early teens she’d regularly attended the church youth club, where Danny Curtis, her fiancé, was a fellow member, and the vicar had recently asked Susie to take over teaching a class in the Sunday school.

Louise knew the Curtis family well: Danny was the third eldest of six children, and his sister, Fiona, the fifth in birth order. Their mother Victoria sat on some of the church committees with Louise, and did even more work for the church.

Louise approved of Danny; she’d watched him grow up. He was a jolly lad, tall and handsome, with a mop of copper-coloured curly hair. Red hair ran in his family, his father and two of his siblings blessed with varying shades from sandy to ginger. He was hard working and employed by one of the largest ship repairing businesses in the port of Liverpool. Everybody said Danny would soon follow in his father’s footsteps and rise up the ladder to senior management.

Since Harold’s death, Louise had been troubled by feelings of guilt and self-doubt. She was accepting unlimited help from St Biddolphe’s, but would Harold think she was doing enough?

She’d tried to be both mother and father to her three daughters, and she’d seen it as both her duty and her role in life to bring them up to be caring citizens and take part in the life of St Biddolphe’s. Harold would have wanted them to have his firm religious faith, but she wasn’t sure whether she could impart that. What she wanted was to give them as happy a life as she could.

These days, much of what she did was for Susie’s sake, and to tell the truth, there had been times when she’d felt a prickle of jealousy towards Danny because Susie was spending so much time with him. She’d had to tell herself not to be silly; Susie had grown into a beautiful young lady and what she wanted her to have now was a happy marriage. Louise was delighted to see her so excited at the prospect, and felt a quiet contentment that she was achieving what she’d set out to do.

‘Mum,’ Susie was tugging at her arm, ‘you’re daydreaming. You’d go past our stop if I didn’t watch you. Come on, don’t you want to know which horse wins?’

Of course she did. Louise gathered her parcels and they both got off at the bottom of Milner Street. There were meaner, smaller houses at the bottom of the street where many families were in the grip of real poverty, and it was quite a steep climb up to their house, but Susie’s feet seemed to have wings. She leapt up the two steps and knocked on the front door of number 24. Martha had it open almost before Louise reached the step. ‘Come on in, they’re calling the jockeys to line up for the start. I was afraid you were going to miss it.’

Martha was twenty-four now but looked older. She’d had rheumatic fever as a child and had had a lot of pain in her joints since. Already her shoulders were slightly bent and her finger joints were beginning to knot. Her eyes seemed enormous in her small face, her other features petite and even, and she would have been pretty if she’d not looked downright ill.

She’d been married for six years and seemed very happy, but poor health and bad luck had dogged her. She was pale and frail, and had repeated bouts of ill health. Her much longed for third pregnancy barely showed. Twice she’d miscarried within the first three months; she was only two months now, but they were all hopeful she would carry this baby to term.

Bert had taken the tenancy on the house next door to Louise, so she would be on call if Martha needed her.

‘Bert has gone to Aintree,’ Martha said, ‘but he thought it would be too much for me.’ Beside her, Susie with her energy and rosy cheeks seemed to glow with good health. Susie regularly did shopping for her and ran to tell the doctor when she wanted him to call, and Louise had been known to step in to cook them a hot meal.

‘Bert drew a horse called Windrush in the sweepstake being run by the local pub and he’s given the ticket to me.’ Martha was all smiles. ‘He said I can treat myself to something if it wins.’

Susie chortled, ‘I drew Windrush in the office sweepstake this morning. I do hope we win.’

Fortunately, they still had a few minutes to sit down before the race started. ‘What’s the name of the horse you drew, Mum?’ Susie asked.

‘I can’t remember.’ She was turning out her handbag. ‘I’ve got it here. Yes, it’s Kellsboro’ Jack.’

Then the horses were off and took all their attention. Three commentators were spread round the course describing what they saw, and their voices were rising octave on octave until they were almost screeching. Susie was letting out little squeals of excitement every time she heard the name Windrush mentioned, while Martha had a huge smile on her face. Their horse was going well. He was up near the front of the pack.

Louise couldn’t help feeling the thrill of the race. She knew Kellsboro’ Jack had made a good start, and she didn’t think his name had been mentioned amongst the horses that had fallen, but as she’d heard nothing of him since the horses had completed the first circuit of the course, she had no idea where he was.

Susie wailed her disappointment when they heard that Windrush had fallen at Becher’s Brook the second time round, and Martha groaned and tore up her ticket.

Then the commentator was screaming that Kellsboro’ Jack was in the lead and Louise was suddenly bursting with hope and pleasure. For a long moment, hooves thundered past, obliterating the voice from the airwaves, but she caught the name again – her horse was still there.

‘It’s pulling away, increasing its lead,’ Susie shouted, ‘it’s going to win.’

‘Yes!’ Louise was on her feet, but the commentator was screaming with excitement and in the end none of them heard his final worlds because there was a huge roar from the Aintree crowd that ended in an outburst of cheering. Louise held her breath, her hands clenched.

‘What? What?’ Susie was asking. They were looking askance at each other, until they heard the name of the horse repeated.

‘Mum, Kellsboro’ Jack has won,’ Susie yelled, ‘you’ve won!’

Louise could hardly believe her luck. The horse she’d drawn in the sweepstake at work had won the Grand National!

‘Marvellous, blooming marvellous luck!’ Susie was laughing with the joy of the moment. ‘Well if Martha and I can’t win, I’m glad you did.’

‘How much will you get?’ Martha wanted to know.

‘I haven’t the slightest idea.’ The sweepstake had been set up by her colleagues in the office; Louise had only bought a ticket because it was expected of her and it was part of the fun.

‘Was the sweep for the whole factory or just the office?’

Louise shook her head; she hadn’t asked.



CHAPTER TWO

Susie opened up their packages to show Martha the wedding finery they’d bought, and changed into her new silver sandals to help break them in.

‘I love your hat, Mum,’ Martha picked it up, ‘it’s very smart.’

‘Try it on,’ Louise said. ‘Yes, it looks good on you too.’

Martha smiled at them. ‘You must be in need of a cup of tea,’ she said, and led the way into her kitchen to light the gas under the kettle. Susie and Louise helped to get out the cups and saucers while Martha put out the custard cream biscuits she’d bought that morning. They were all fizzing with excitement after the race and Mum’s win, and it was quite a jolly occasion. It took them the best part of an hour to quieten down.

Susie thought her mum looked tired, and would have stayed talking, but she wanted to get a move on as Danny had said he’d come round between six and half past to take her to the pictures.

Back at home, while her mother warmed up the pan of scouse she’d made for their evening meal last night, Susie put a match to the fire she’d laid that morning and set the table.

‘What are you going to spend your winnings on?’ she asked as they sat down to eat, though they’d already talked at length about this next door. ‘A wireless would be just the thing.’

‘It would, but I probably won’t win enough for that.’

‘I’d love to have a wireless of our own.’

‘Susie, love, I can’t decide on anything until I know how much I have won, and there’s going to be a lot of extra expense with your wedding.’

Mum tended to be rather staid and set in her ways. She couldn’t let herself enjoy her windfall in case they really needed the money later. She was too much of a sober-sides, always worrying about something – if it wasn’t the family, it would be church matters or the need for more thrifty housekeeping – but Susie loved and admired the way she coped with everything. She knew her mother would give her the world if she could.

Mum had agreed that Danny should move in and live with them when they returned from their week’s honeymoon in the Lake District. She’d even offered to buy them a double bed as a wedding present and had taken them to choose it before she’d ordered it. The very thought of having the new bed in her own bedroom and sharing it with Danny, thrilled Susie to bits. Though he thought Louise lived in gentile poverty, he was more than happy to live with her and Susie because his parents had strong ideas about what their children should be allowed to do and tried to exert control over them.

Susie didn’t see much of his father, but Mrs Curtis was a powerful lady who liked to think the Mother’s Union and the frequent church fetes wouldn’t function if she didn’t manage them. She was inclined to order the other helpers about and many were in awe of her.

Susie knew that Danny came from a more prosperous family than hers. She had been visiting the Curtis home for most of her childhood and thought it rather grand. It was a large, detached and very comfortable house, and with six children fairly close together in age, there was always something interesting going on there. They had a family room which the adults rarely entered; table tennis was set up almost permanently on the table, and they often rolled the carpet back to dance to their gramophone. She felt she’d grown up with Danny and his big family and knew them through and through.

Danny was just twenty-one and his parents thought he was too young to marry, that he and Susie should be sensible and save up until they could afford a home of their own. Jack, the eldest Curtis brother, was twenty-five and doing just that. Danny had tried, but then he’d used what he’d saved as a down payment on a motorbike, and now he had weekly payments to make on that for the next six months.

‘Once I’ve paid for it,’ he said, ‘I’ll have a side car put on to make it more comfortable for you. Anyway,’ he went on, ‘why wait for marriage when we know we love each other and it’s what we both want?’

Susie took her new shoes upstairs so Danny wouldn’t see them before the wedding, and started to wash and change ready to go out.

Louise was looking forward to a restful evening and had settled down by the fire with her knitting, but her eyes were drawn to the photograph on the mantelpiece. She’d had it taken professionally in the spring of 1916, especially to send to Harold. A carefree image of herself smiled out at her; she’d been twenty-five at the time. She was wearing a new dress she’d bought especially for church functions, and had dressed their three beautiful girls in pale sprigged muslin. Martha had been seven years old, Rebecca had been six, just fourteen months younger, and little Susie a baby of eight months.

Even as a child Louise had wanted babies; they were revered in her family. She was an only child but knew her mother had longed for more. She’d had three miscarriages and a baby boy who had died in infancy, and Louise had watched her mother cuddle the babies of her friends and peep into every pram they saw; together they’d taken delight in baby smiles. Above everything else Louise had wanted to be a mother, and she felt blessed to have three pretty daughters.

When the Great War broke out in 1914, Harold had been the curate of St Biddolphe’s Church on the edge of Liverpool’s dockland for eight years. Everybody thought the war would be over by Christmas; optimism was widespread, men were volunteering in droves, and Harold had seen it as his duty to volunteer with them. He’d been sent to France as an Army chaplain and he’d also helped the injured in the heat of battle.

He’d told Louise he wouldn’t be in as much danger as the fighting troops, but in a battle on the Somme, the first-aid post where he’d been offering comfort to the injured had been shelled and totally destroyed. Harold had lost his life, as had two stretcher bearers, a doctor and several patients.

The news came as a profound shock to Louise; Harold hadn’t told her he was so close to the front line. She felt paralysed with grief and the responsibility of bringing up their three daughters on her own.

Her mother, who lived nearby and who had been widowed when young, said, ‘I’ll give you all the help I can. You know I love to spend time with my granddaughters, but it isn’t going to be easy.’ Louise knew she could rely on her for support. The members of the congregation were sympathetic and offered help too, but the house she was living in belonged to St Biddolphe’s. Now Harold would not be returning to his post as curate, the vicar, Mr Roger Saunders, told her she would have to find somewhere else to live.

She was heartbroken at having to leave the home she’d shared with Harold, but amongst the church members there was an estate agent. He and Mrs Saunders had helped her sort through the local houses available for rent, and had taken her to see a few. Mrs Saunders had gone with her to see 26 Milner Street for a second time. Louise had decided it would suit her, and they were living there still.

It was a Victorian terraced house where the front door opened directly on to a long street winding down to the docks that bordered the Mersey. It was double-fronted with a bay window on one side of the front door and a flat one on the other. Behind it was a yard that provided a wash house and the only lavatory.

Mrs Saunders had shaken her head at that. ‘With young children, especially Martha, an outside lavatory might prove difficult.’ Martha often felt poorly. ‘If you’re sure about this house, we could negotiate to have a bathroom fitted in the smallest of the four bedrooms before you move in, and have electricity installed as well.’

All the remaining rooms upstairs and down were of good size. It was in a respectable district, not too far from the church, and she considered it one of the better houses in Liverpool.

Louise had known that she’d have to support herself and her children from then on. She’d trained and worked as a book-keeper before she’d been married, and now she applied for similar jobs, but Britain was in the throes of war, and though war work was easy enough to find, a permanent job as a book keeper proved more difficult.

After morning service one Sunday, Mr Ralph Randall, another devout member of St Biddolphe’s congregation, said, ‘I hear you are thinking of returning to work?’ He was the manager of Peverill’s Preserves, a large factory on the Dock Road, making jams and other spreads.

‘Yes, I need to find a job,’ she said. She had Susie in one arm, Martha hanging onto her other hand, and with such a young family, some of the lady members of the congregation had told her she’d find it impossible to work for a few years. ‘Come and see me in my office,’ he said, ‘and we’ll discuss it.’

Louise went dressed in her best. She was nervous because it was eight years since she’d worked outside her home, and for all she knew Mr Randall might want his books kept in a different manner to the one she’d used. He was plump and genial and his eyes twinkled up at her from deep pockets of flesh. He took her around the part of the factory where strawberry jam was being made, and told her a little about the business.

Peverill’s Premium Preserves was founded in 1886 and made several varieties of jam, two types of marmalade and also lemon curd and other spreads. It had expanded quickly in its early years and now had several small factories in northern towns. The firm took a paternalistic attitude towards its employees, providing a canteen that served hot lunches at reasonable prices, and there was always a Christmas party, a summer outing and a week’s paid holiday for everyone. The girls working on the factory floor were provided with white overalls that were laundered for them, and as they were required to cover their hair at all times, turbans in pastel colours were provided too. It employed mostly women and girls; many had worked there for years.

Mr Randall then took her back to the office and introduced her to the accountant, and also to the girl she would be taking over from who was leaving to be married. Louise thought the salary she was offered was generous, but was afraid he was only giving her the job out of the goodness of his heart, and not because she was the best applicant. That took away some of her confidence, but she knew she was lucky to be given this chance.

Louise had gone straight round to see her mother and asked her to come and live with her and help her care for the children. Her father had died many years before so her mother was living alone.

‘I’m pleased to be asked,’ she’d said, ‘and I want to help you and be near the children, but you know I’ve got a dickey heart and I’m getting older.’ She’d married late in life and had been nearing forty when Louise was born. ‘I’m afraid I might end up more of a liability to you than an asset.’

‘Mum, I really need you now and I know you’ll be a huge asset. I wouldn’t be able to work full time without you. You’ll be there for the children when they come home from school, and if Martha isn’t well enough to go, I won’t have to take time off. We’ll face any future problems when they come.’

They’d all settled into their new home. Louise took care of the cleaning and the washing while her mother did the shopping and prepared most of the meals. Her older daughters attended the church school, and her mother and other ladies of the church looked after Susie until she was three, when she was considered old enough to join the nursery class at the school.

On Sundays, the whole family went to morning service in the church, and in the afternoon the older children went to Sunday school. Louise enrolled them in the Brownie pack held in the church hall, and when they were older there would be the Girl Guides. She arranged for them to be occupied in one activity or another until she returned from work, so that her mother would not be over-burdened. She took her annual leave during the school holidays, but the children were off for much longer and the church ladies rallied round arranging other activities and outings.

In return, Louise acted as the unpaid treasurer of the church’s accounts, she was an organising member of the Mother’s Union, and helped unstintingly with all fundraising. She cleaned the church, arranged flowers, baked cakes and helped at church fetes and Sunday school outings. It was a relief to know she could cope, and the years began to pass.

When in 1919 the flu pandemic spread round the country, Martha, whose health had always been poor, caught it and they were all very worried about her. Louise had been hearing of deaths in the houses nearby; it seemed a worse carnage than that in the trenches in wartime France. The other two caught it one after the other, but fortunately they all recovered quite quickly. Louise had relied on her mother to look after the girls while they were ill and felt very guilty when she said she hadn’t been feeling well for a day or two, but had kept going so Louise could go to work.

When Louise came home one afternoon and suddenly realised how ill her mother was, she sent her straight up to her bed. She scribbled a note to the doctor, asking him to call, and gave it to a neighbour’s boy playing in the street, together with a penny, and sent him to put it through the doctor’s front door.

They had all come to know and trust Dr Raymond Grant, their GP, who was very young and fortunately another member of St Biddolphe’s congregation. He came that evening but shook his head when he examined her mother. Forty-eight hours later she was dead.

Louise felt bereft all over again. She missed her mother’s calming presence about the house and so did the girls. Her mother had fitted into the household very well and was always thinking of some little treat for the girls. She had been teaching them to cook and they loved making cakes. Harold had already been away from home for nearly two years when he’d been killed, but her mother had been very much part of their life; Louise had come to rely on her and felt all her responsibilities more keenly now she had no one to share them with.

And it seemed there was one problem after another. Her family was barely over the loss of Grandma when Martha fell ill again, and this time she was so ill she was admitted to hospital. It took a worrying fortnight before she was diagnosed as having rheumatic fever, a very serious complaint which put her on bed rest for several weeks. She came home more fragile than ever and still in need of rest.

It had been the start of the summer holidays and Louise could see no way round this problem except to give up work. When she spoke to Mr Randall about it, he said, ‘Take a month of paid holiday instead of your annual week. You work hard here, you deserve it.’

‘You’re very kind,’ Louise had gulped, feeling tears of gratitude start to her eyes. She knew jobs were getting ever harder to find, and if she’d had to give it up, she doubted she’d get another that suited her as well and was so near to her home.

‘I know how hard it is because my elderly mother has been an invalid for years,’ he sighed. ‘I’m often juggling jobs, trying to find time to fit everything in,’ he gave her a wan smile, ‘but we get by.’

By the end of the month Martha was allowed out of bed, but she had by no means recovered. Louise felt she had to go back to work.

‘Is your eldest daughter better?’ Mr Randall asked her.

‘She’s made a turn for the better, but she’s not fully recovered yet,’ she said, and told him how she was managing.

Once again her neighbours and the lady members of St Biddolphe’s congregation had rallied round to help. Louise had got to know Nurse O’Brien better since she’d first come to visit Martha in her professional capacity as district nurse. There was an aura of serenity and calm about her that soothed Louise’s anxieties. She was friendly and full of empathy too, so Louise came to rely on her when Martha had a bout of ill health. If she had time, she would prolong her visit and have a cup of tea.

The school holidays were not yet over, so Miss Maddocks, a school mistress, came for several hours each day until the two younger girls went back to their classes in the church school. Her fiancé had been killed within three weeks of being sent to fight in France, and she’d told Louise of her disappointment at not being able to marry and have children of her own. She was very caring towards the children she taught and Louise knew she could not have coped without help from her and Nurse O’Brien and was very grateful.

Mr Randall said, ‘I’m afraid the work is stacking up on your desk, but if it would help to come in an hour or so later in the mornings and leave a little early, do feel free to do so.’

‘Thank you. I shall try to work normal hours. How is your mother? Better, I hope.’

‘I’m afraid it’s not the sort of illness from which she’s likely to get better,’ he said.

Louise worked hard to catch up with her work, even taking some home in the evening, and she eventually managed it.

She was sorry to see Mr Saunders, the vicar, retire in 1920 and take his wife to live with their daughter in the Lake District. She’d counted Mrs Saunders as a friend and did not feel quite the same about the new vicar and his wife, the Reverend Mr and Mrs Thomas Coyne, but she felt she’d been well supported by St Biddolphe’s throughout the years. She and her daughters had been part of the community and that had provided them with a social life and with friends. She knew almost everybody in the district and felt able to manage her little family.



CHAPTER THREE