‘I want to go into Lewis’s, Bella.’
The road outside the main entrance to the store was busy with Christmas shoppers. There were no Christmas lights, of course, on account of the blackout, but the people of Liverpool were still trying to put a brave face on things and make the best of the festive season. The young woman with the pram stopped beside a man selling roasted chestnuts from a brazier. She looked cold and hungry. Bella huddled deeper into her good thick coat with its fur collar, and a label inside it that said that it had come from a famous store in New York. The coat had been a present from her parents and had come into the country as a ‘special order’ put in by her father to one of his many contacts in the Merchant Navy. Bella’s father had a business that fitted the pipe work into naval and merchant vessels and their household seldom went short of anything, rationing or no rationing.
‘I still don’t know why you’ve gone and ordered a turkey, Bella. After all, you’ll be coming to us for your Christmas dinner.’
‘I told you, Mummy, the turkey’s for the billetees.’
Vi’s mouth thinned with disapproval. ‘If I’d been you I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of buying a turkey for them.’
‘I was just trying to do the right thing, Mummy. You’re always saying how important it is, with Daddy being on the council and everything.’
Vi, who had picked up a carrot from the vegetable barrow in front of them, put it back without examining it to tell Bella sharply, ‘There’s doing the right thing by people, and there’s being overgenerous. If you ask me there’s no reason why that Jan shouldn’t have got a turkey for his mother and sister himself. After all, he’s in the RAF, as he’s so fond of telling us all, so it’s not as though they’re destitute.’
‘Mummy, I’m getting cold standing here,’ Bella protested, stamping her feet in her boots and hugging her arms around herself as she changed the subject. She didn’t want to talk about her billetees. She wasn’t quite sure herself why she had gone to the trouble of ordering a Christmas turkey for them, as well as letting them practically have the run of the house, as she had done these last weeks. At least she would be at her mother’s for Christmas, and sleeping in her own childhood bedroom, so she wouldn’t have to listen to the mother and daughter going on and on like they did about Jan and how wonderful he was.
‘Come along then.’ Vi started to cross the road, having spied another vegetable barrow. Bella made to follow her and then stopped, opening her handbag to remove a ten-shilling note and then hurrying over to the girl with the pram.
‘Here, this is for the baby. Buy her something pretty,’ Bella told her.
The young mother’s face betrayed her shock, followed by anger.
‘I’m not a beggar, you know,’ she began.
‘Bella, what are you doing?’
The sound of her mother’s voice had Bella turning away from the pram.
‘Very well then, I’ll take it, but only because me husband’s been laid off from his ship on account of him not being well.’ She took the note, pushing it quickly into her pocket.
‘Bella …’
‘Coming, Mummy.’
‘What on earth were you doing?’ Vi demanded crossly when Bella caught up with her.
‘I was going to buy some chestnuts but then I decided not to bother,’ Bella fibbed. She had no idea why she had given in to that impulse to give the other woman something. She could still see the baby’s big brown eyes and sweet smile. The pain was back again. It was silly of her to feel like this. She hadn’t even wanted a baby really, had she? But she had been having one and now she wasn’t, and somehow that had left her feeling different and sad, even though she didn’t want to feel like that; as though there was an emptiness in her life and as though she really wished that she was still going to have a baby after all.
‘I just don’t know what I’m going to buy your father for Christmas, Bella. He’s not easily pleased at the best of times, and with this war on …’
‘You could always buy him something to water down his gin.’
Vi’s face took on a high colour and she gave her daughter the kind of displeased look she normally reserved for others. Vi had spoiled her daughter and boasted about her to everyone who would listen, but having a daughter who was widowed, and, even worse, whose husband had been carrying on before his death and threatening to leave her, was not easy to boast about.
‘I’m surprised at you, Bella,’ Vi told her daughter, ‘making a comment like that about your father. It’s only thanks to him that you’re living in that house; those refugees seem to have taken over without you putting your foot down and stopping them.’
‘I can hardly go against the Government and turn them out,’ Bella pointed out. ‘Everyone with a spare room empty is expected to go on the register with the billeting officer, you know that, Mummy. The only reason you haven’t had to is because Daddy’s on the council, and he’s claimed that he needs the bedrooms in case he has to put up some of the men from the Ministry of Defence who come to see him because of the work he does for the navy. Not that I’ve heard of any of them staying with you, Mummy.’
‘Now that’s enough of that,’ Vi reproved her daughter crossly. ‘Your father is only doing his duty. You know that. Your auntie Jean has had to take someone in, but she’s only got the one, not two like you – some young girl, it seems, who’s working sorting letters or some such thing …What do you think about this cravat for your father, Bella? We’ve been invited round to the Hartwells’ for drinks on Boxing Day, you know. Mr Hartwell is on the council with your father. He took Alan’s father’s place.’
‘Yes, I know, Mummy. I can’t see Daddy wanting a cravat, though.’ Bella picked up a pair of leather driving gloves, wondering if they would do for her brother, Charlie, and then suddenly remembered something she had intended to mention to her mother. Putting the gloves back, she told Vi, ‘I almost forgot. Mrs Lyons from three doors down from me called round again the other day to ask if I’d thought any more about joining the WVS.’
‘Well, I suppose you should really, especially with your father being on the council. You’d be better joining my group, though.’ Still frowning over the cravat, Vi complained, ‘I do wish Charlie would let me know what he is doing for Christmas. Of course, it’s only natural that his friends want his company, what with him being a hero and everything.’
Bella’s mouth compressed. She was so used to her brother being the ‘naughty’ one, whilst she herself had always been her mother’s favourite, that it had come as an unwelcome surprise to discover that since Dunkirk her parents had taken to singing Charlie’s praises and boasting about him instead of her. And all because Charlie had rescued a fellow soldier from drowning when they had had to evacuate the beaches. Privately Bella thought that the parents were making too much of a fuss over Charlie and his ‘bravery’ but she knew she would earn herself a black mark with her mother if she said so.
‘Did I tell you that Charlie’s kept in touch with the family of the boy he saved – such a pity that he went and drowned anyway. Daddy had a lovely letter from the father – Mr Wrighton-Bude – saying how grateful he was to Charlie.’
‘Yes, Mummy, you did tell me.’ And more than once, Bella thought crossly. She’d never be able to stop her mother now that she was in full flood about Charlie’s bravery, and the last thing she wanted was her mother concentrating on Charlie just when she, Bella, wanted to gain her sympathy and persuade her to ask Bella’s father if he would increase the allowance he made her.
The discovery after Alan’s death that his father’s business had been on the point of bankruptcy, and that both Alan and his father owed money to their business associates, had come as a very unpleasant shock to Bella. She had thought that Alan’s family were very comfortably off. They had certainly behaved as though they were, especially Alan’s