‘Our Nancy all right, was she?’
‘She’s got some do on, and says she’s been asked to volunteer. I don’t doubt she has, but it’s what she gets up to while she’s there that worries me.’ Dolly clacked her needles together. Both she and Pop were very strict about the sanctity of marriage and had brought their family up to hold the same view. That was why it had been so hard to stand by when Rita was married to that manipulative bully Charlie Kennedy, but Rita had never given them any cause to worry, even when he treated her so badly. The same could not be said for Nancy, who’d been caught out with Stan Hathaway, a local boy now in the RAF, in a bus shelter a couple of years back. Nancy had sworn nothing had really happened and she wouldn’t go so far again, but Dolly knew only too well what she was like.
‘Don’t see trouble where there isn’t any,’ Pop warned. ‘She’s a good girl at heart, our Nancy. You can’t blame her for hankering after a bit of excitement. Sid’s been gone a long time and she’s still young. It’ll all be harmless fun, you see if I’m not right.’
‘Yes, I’m sure that’s all it is really,’ said Dolly, not wanting to worry Pop. ‘Anyway, she’s found someone else to babysit occasionally, so all’s well.’
‘There you are then.’ Pop rubbed his hands in front of the little fire. ‘Now tell me something really important. What’s for tea?’
Dolly brightened up. ‘Funny you should ask. I found a recipe from the government that uses parsnips in a pudding, and we’ve just dug up the last ones from the victory garden. It’s perfect. You mix them with cocoa and milk and it says it’ll be just like a chocolate pudding.’
Pop’s eyes widened. Even with Dolly’s talent in the kitchen he couldn’t see how this idea would work. ‘Lovely,’ he said loyally. ‘Can’t wait.’
Violet hugged the envelope to her chest and hummed to herself, standing stock still in the middle of the empty shop. She knew she had to open up so the dock workers could come flooding in and buy their morning papers and tobacco, but she wanted to savour the moment. It was so rare to have any time to herself, any space to think, and she just had to relish the good news, let it sink in, before the hectic rush began.
Eddy had written to say his ship was on its way back to Liverpool and he would be home before embarking on the next trip. He’d be back for a whole week. Seven whole days. Violet hadn’t seen him for that amount of time since they’d first met and married. She couldn’t quite believe it. Of course she had to keep calm and not jinx his return voyage; there was still danger in the Atlantic, but there was nothing like the risks of earlier in the war when the U-boats had sunk so many vessels. Eddy had survived all of that. Now the worst thing he’d have to contend with was the weather. Even that was improving, though – they were out of the season of winter storms and spring was finally here. He’d be home for Easter if all went to plan. She could collect eggs and decorate them, maybe hide them for Georgie and make a big game of it. Eddy would love to join in with that. Then they could all have a proper Easter dinner …
‘You opening up today, love, or have you won the pools and decided you’re too grand for us?’ called a voice from outside.
Violet snapped out of her dream and pushed up the sleeves of her moth-eaten cardigan. ‘One moment, hold your horses,’ she shouted, snapping up the blinds and unlocking the door. Several men had gathered, huddled in their jackets, scarves wound tight against the biting wind. Spring hadn’t managed to warm up this particular corner of Merseyside this morning, and the familiar smell of the river combined with that of the docks drifted into the shop.
‘You’re looking cheerful this morning,’ said one of the men, a regular customer who Violet had known since she began helping out behind the counter. ‘Maybe you have gone and won the pools an’ all.’
‘Better than that,’ grinned Violet, picking up the paper that she knew he liked, ‘much better. You can keep your old pools. My Eddy’s coming home on leave for Easter and he’ll be here all week. How about that?’
‘Blimey, love, that is good news,’ the man said, fishing in his pocket for his change. ‘Did you hear that?’ He turned to his workmates. ‘Eddy Feeny’s coming home on leave. You make sure to tell him we’ll buy him a pint down the Sailor’s Rest. He’s a good man, your Eddy.’
‘He is,’ said Violet, beaming widely. ‘He’s the best there is. Don’t you go keeping him out late down the pub – his place is home with me.’
‘Oh aye, you’ll be giving him a warm welcome all right,’ said another man at the back of the group, nudging his friend, but the others weren’t inclined to make a smutty joke with him. Eddy was well known and admired, and if anyone deserved a spot of leave with his young wife then it was him.
‘You leave her alone, Arthur,’ said the first man, ‘or you won’t find your favourite baccy ready for you like you expect. You make sure you tell your Eddy we said hello, Mrs Feeny. If it wasn’t for the likes of him, we wouldn’t have our jobs. Him and his lot, they defended our docks when Jerry wanted to destroy them. They took on Hitler’s submarines and won. We wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for the Eddy Feenys of this world, and that’s a fact.’
The men nodded sagely, knowing he was right. The docks were vital to the war effort – supplies of food, raw materials, and service personnel all arrived in Britain via the ports, and nowhere more vital than those of Merseyside. Hitler had done his best to disrupt the shipping in the Atlantic and destroy the docks themselves, but despite feeling the full force of the enemy power, the ships had kept sailing and the docks kept receiving them and their cargoes. The men of the Merchant Navy had run huge risks, playing a deadly game of cat and mouse on the high seas, and many had lost their lives. No wonder Eddy and his comrades were so well regarded. Violet could feel herself getting tearful at the very thought of it, but forced herself not to give way to the emotion threatening to overpower her. Instead she smiled again and made sure everyone had what they’d come in for.
In a matter of minutes the morning rush was over, and she could settle into the calmer routine of sorting out the remaining newspapers, stocking the shelves and checking the change in the till before the housewives started to arrive for their daily shopping. She made sure she knew where the stamp was for the ration books, gave the counter a quick wipe down and then settled back on the wobbly wooden stool that wasn’t quite the right height, as she was too tall for it. With a little thrill of anticipation she opened the envelope again. She’d just read the letter one more time before anyone else came in. Sighing with delight, she gazed at the familiar handwriting, giving her the news she’d waited for so long.
Kitty stared straight ahead of her at the slightly faded olive green wall, with its dog-eared posters and lists of instructions. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard down the telephone line. It had been in every way a routine call. It was just that she could have sworn she’d recognised the voice.
The caller hadn’t identified himself but merely said, ‘May I speak to Captain Squires, please? It’s rather urgent.’
All she’d had to say was, ‘Certainly, sir. Putting you through now,’ and no further interaction was needed.
There was a slight hesitation, almost as if the caller was about to say something other than the ‘thank you,’ that followed. The voice was troubling in its familiarity. Did the tone of it betray that he had known it was her, too?
She told herself to calm down. It was important that nobody