Born in Lancashire, FREDA LIGHTFOOT has been a teacher and a bookseller, and in a mad moment even tried her hand at the ‘good life’. A prolific and much-loved saga writer, Freda’s work is inspired by memories of her Lancashire childhood and her passion for history. For more information about Freda, visit her website: www.fredalightfoot.co.uk

Also by Freda Lightfoot

Historical Sagas

Lakeland Lily

The Bobbin Girls

The Favourite Child

Kitty Little

For All Our Tomorrows

Home is Where the Heart Is

Gracie’s Sin

Daisy’s Secret

Ruby McBride

Dancing on Deansgate

Watch for the Talleyman

Polly’s Pride

Polly’s War

House of Angels

Angels at War

The Promise

My Lady Deceiver

Always in My Heart

The Luckpenny Series

Luckpenny Land

Wishing Water

Larkrigg Fell

Poorhouse Lane Series

The Girl from Poorhouse Lane

The Woman from Heartbreak

House

Champion Street Market Series

Putting on the Style

Fools Fall in Love

That’ll Be the Day

Candy Kisses

Who’s Sorry Now

Lonely Teardrops

Women’s Contemporary Fiction

Trapped

Historical Romances

Madeiran Legacy

Whispering Shadows

Rhapsody Creek

Proud Alliance

Outrageous Fortune

Biographical Historical

Hostage Queen

Reluctant Queen

The Queen and the Courtesan

The Duchess of Drury Lane

Lady of Passion

Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Also by Freda Lightfoot

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

May 1945

The celebrations for the end of the war had gone wild, the streets on VE Day packed with jubilant revellers all singing, dancing and laughing, much to Joanne’s delight. There were rosettes, flags and bunting all around; lights on everywhere and a band playing. Her gaze shifted to the lilting waves as they lapped below the North Pier. She felt quite familiar with all the moods of the sea from gentle and benign, as it was today, to fiercely destructive when towering waves would fly over the promenade and small boats could be battered. Having adopted HMS Penelope, a ship the locals supported, they were devastated when it was tragically hit by a torpedo near Italy in 1944 and sank, killing 400 men. There had been a dreadful plane crash on Central Station and an air disaster in nearby Freckleton when a B-24 Liberator had crashed into the village school and houses killing over fifty people and dozens of children. The many airports had endured some problems throughout the war but the town had still welcomed holidaymakers in need of a little fun, and had generously provided accommodation to thousands of evacuees, including herself and her younger sister. Fortunately, Blackpool had suffered fewer disasters than many other places, certainly much less than Joanne’s hometown of Manchester. Life seemed to be rather like the sea, one moment calm and benevolent, the next cruel and harsh because of the horrors of war. But they’d found it a great place to live.

Thankfully the war was at last over, so hopefully things would improve. Looking out across the calm blue Irish Sea, the sandy beach was smooth and golden, stretching for some distance. Joanne had brought some sandwiches and cakes to contribute to the party they would all enjoy later. She’d even seen someone bring along a stack of odd-looking yellow pieces of fruit, which were apparently bananas, not something she’d ever tasted, and she greatly looked forward to savouring them.

‘God save the King,’ somebody called out. Cheers of joy met this cry, turning it into the national song.

Joanne glanced at her watch. Half past three. Her afternoon break would generally be almost over at this point. Lunchtime at the boarding house where they lived, the two landladies having cared for them this last three years, had been busy as usual with many wives having come to visit their RAF husbands. Joanne always looked forward to an hour or two of freedom in the middle of the afternoon when she could refresh herself in the sea air and sunshine. Those two dear sisters, Aunt Annie and Aunt Sadie, readily encouraged her to take a break, and today being one of celebration, there was no demand for her to rush back to work. No doubt they too were around somewhere enjoying this celebration. From where she stood on the promenade close to the Tower and the North Pier, Joanne watched her sister Megan happily dancing with Bernie, their landladies’ nephew. He’d first asked Joanne but she’d politely declined, anxious to sit and wait for Teddy to come, knowing in her heart that she could love no man but this GI.

Oh, but why hadn’t he arrived when he’d promised that he would, knowing she so enjoyed dancing with him? He was a most dapper and exciting GI, billeted in Garstang. Joanne did once visit him there to attend a dance at the village hall. She’d been shown around the camp, tripping along duckboards in her heeled shoes to view the Nissen huts, cookhouse and officers’ mess. It was a bit of a dump, packed with gallon drums, jeeps, fuel; wet clothing hanging on hedges or trees to dry that didn’t look at all proper. He’d taken her to see the tent where he and his mates were accommodated and had given her a cuddle and a kiss. She took care that he did no more than that, not wishing to be taken advantage of. Many girls were happy to lose their virginity with a man who could be killed in the war, something they felt they should not object to. Joanne was far more cautious being only seventeen, very young and innocent.

Oh, but how she loved him. These GIs were most attractive men and happy to come into Blackpool to visit one of the many pubs on the promenade, or enjoy the dancing at the Tower Ballroom, sometimes dressed as a civvie instead of in their uniform.

After the dance she and Teddy would often take a drink in a pub and she would sit on his lap for him to kiss and caress her, sending her senses skittering at the thrill of his touch. More often than not there were other girls hovering close by. Joanne paid them no heed, accustomed to the fact that these guys were never short of admirers, being popular men. And she was perfectly certain that Teddy viewed her as his favourite girl. Hadn’t he told her so a million times?

So why wasn’t he here on this special day? There was so much she felt the need to say to him now the war was over. Joanne gave a sigh and stood up, brushing away the sand that had blown onto her skirt.

When a hand lightly touched her shoulder she felt a frisson of recognition. He’d arrived at last. Instantly filled with pleasure and excitement, Joanne quickly turned to give him a hug, eager to welcome him while inside she felt in complete turmoil. Did she dare to tell this man how much she dreamed of a happy future together? ‘Oh, Teddy, it’s so wonderful to see you. This day of celebration is such a thrill. I’ve missed seeing you this last couple of weeks,’ she softly told him.

He gave her a wink. ‘I’ve missed you too, honey. All my mates are revelling in VE Day, so why wouldn’t I do that too?’ he blithely responded. ‘It’s a great cause for us guys who’ve worked hard for you Brits during the war.’

‘Thankfully you’ve been spared the trauma that many have suffered. I’m so thrilled you are still fit and willing to join us.’ Joanne felt utterly breathless. His face was mere inches from her own, so irresistibly close that her heart pummelled with anticipation. His sculpted mouth curled into an entrancing smile and she ached to taste it and stroke his soft cheeks. This handsome GI was so intoxicating, such a wonderful and fun man and no doubt a hero as many American troopers were.

As he stroked away a curl of her fair hair, his blue eyes gleaming with admiration, Joanne twinkled her gaze provocatively up at him, desperately hoping the sight of her in this new blue dress that hugged her figure in a most becoming way would captivate him. She’d clipped some of her blonde hair up on top of her head into rolled bangs and the rest fell neatly over her shoulder. She’d also patted her pale face with a little powder and wore a bright red lipstick, eager to look as attractive as possible.

As if recognizing this emotion in her he gave a wicked smile and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘You’re such a pretty girl, honey.’ Then licking the soft curve of her upper lip, he slid his hand over her cheek and neck.

Blushing with delight at this compliment, Joanne found her breathing quicken under the thrill of his caresses. Seconds later she was held in his arms where she’d most longed to be during all these endless days of waiting to see him again. How fortunate she was to receive the attention he was giving her. His hands rested possessively around her back, his cheek lay against hers and he was pressing her hard against his tall, strong body to give her a passionate kiss. Her heart raced and she felt slightly giddy at the quiver of his tongue as it probed her mouth, the enticing warmth of him running through her like fire. Oh, how she adored him.

It was then that she became aware of a young woman standing close by. Doe-eyed and attractive, she was clinging fast to his arm. Shrugging her casually off, he whispered in Joanne’s ear, ‘Not too impressed with this festivity. Don’t we usually slip away somewhere quiet on our own, which is far more entertaining, huh? Let’s take a walk along the beach, honey.’

Joanne had always loved the time they’d spent walking barefoot on the beach together, holding hands and enjoying the comforting sounds of the sea. He would talk about his dreams for a new career once the war was over and she would happily listen, hoping to be a part of his plan. He’d also succeeded on numerous occasions to persuade her to join him in some quiet Nissen hut near Squire’s Gate airport, or in his jeep, where they would hug and kiss. She felt completely smitten by his attention to her.

Today the promenade was packed with hundreds of folk having fun, plus horse-drawn carriages and GI jeeps scuttling around. Glancing across at her sister, who was now dancing with a young boy, she hesitated. Megan was still quite young, about to turn eleven come September. Being only five at the start of the war she had at first badly missed their mother and suffered much in the way of trauma. Mam had used to write to them quite regularly, but then there came a time that whenever she or Megan wrote to her they failed to receive a reply. They’d entirely lost contact with their mother, perhaps because she’d moved or was dead. Megan being something of a shy, awkward girl, greatly in need of care, was convinced their mother had lost interest in them. How could they know? Not certain they would ever find her again, Joanne thought of herself as a surrogate mother, so felt entirely responsible for looking after her sister.

Bearing all this in mind she should maybe stay close to her right now, but the loud sound of music playing was destroying all hope of her speaking to Teddy, which Joanne felt desperate to do. Walking along the beach would be much more private. Noting his admiring gaze fixed upon her, Joanne found the prospect of spending time alone with him far too irresistible to refuse. Giving him a nod, she said, ‘I am looking forward to dancing with you but we could take a short walk first, although not too far.’

‘’Course not, honey.’

Giving the other young woman’s furious expression a charming smile of apology, Joanne linked her arm with his and let him lead her away from the promenade down the steps to the beach. Would she now have the opportunity to ask the question she longed for an answer to? How to go about that was not easy to decide.

They walked for some distance along the beach close to the sea, feeling the coolness of tiny waves splashing against their feet, causing them to jump and giggle. Once they reached the quiet area below the North Pier, he leaned his back against a pillar and pulled her tightly into his arms. Joanne eagerly welcomed more of his passionate kisses, giving a little sigh of pleasure as he slid his hands over her breasts and stomach. When he pushed her down onto the sand, tugged up her skirt to caress her thighs and pressed hard against her private parts, she squealed. Whether that was his hand or another part of him pressing into her she felt too naive to understand. A sense of panic overwhelmed her and, pushing him away, she gave him a frown, lightened with a small, fetching smile.

‘Don’t be naughty, Teddy, we aren’t married. Although were you to ask me to go home with you to America to become your darling wife I might well say yes, having spent so many happy months with you and absolutely adoring you.’

Leaning back, he gave her a rueful smile. ‘Oh my, how irresistible you are, sweet, shy and prudish little Joanne. I adore you too. Wish that could be possible.’

‘Why would it not be?’ It surprised her that he was accusing her of being prudish, considering what she’d just allowed him to do. Had she said the wrong thing by having finally admitted what she dreamed of and how much she loved him?

‘We guys have to go through quite a long process to receive the necessary permission for that,’ he said, giving a sparkling smile before he kissed her again, proving how the glory of his desire had lit a certainty within her that he was in love with her.

‘Oh, I see. I should make it clear that when you manage to arrange our future together my young sister must also accompany me to America and remain a part of my life. You need to understand how very much she depends upon me. I’m sure you will accept that as you have no wish to lose me,’ she coyly remarked, giving him an enchanting smile. ‘Will you write and let me know when you wish us to join you?’

‘Hey, sure thing, honey. I’ll give that some attention once I get back home, find a job and sort my life out.’

Excitedly waiting for more details of where he lived and when he was leaving, she was startled when a tribe of his pals suddenly appeared by his side and they started to punch and laugh at each other. The expression in his blue eyes now looked much more obsessed with these other Yanks than with her. He lifted her up in his arms, gave her a warm hug and one more kiss, smoothing his lips over hers, his tongue again dipping into her mouth. Then he whispered in her ear, ‘Sorry, can’t hang around any longer. We gotta go now!’

What he seemed to be saying did not fully register in the fuzz of emotion that clouded her brain. ‘Oh, no, please don’t go back to the camp yet. I want you to stay and dance with me on this day of celebration.’

After giving a burst of laughter, he said, ‘I’m aware of your fondness for dancing, honey. It’s been great to spend time with you. Have fun and enjoy life, now this blasted war is over.’ He released her and flung his arms around his mates. Joanne felt a cold wind blow over her as she watched them race away then up the steps to the promenade, jump into a jeep and, giving her a wave, they drove away. It came to her in that terrifying moment that these GIs were not simply returning to the camp in Garstang or Warton Military Site where some of them were stationed, but heading back to the United States of America. And she had no notion of where Teddy lived in that far away country, since he’d been interrupted by his mates before getting round to giving her such detail.

Oh, what anguish Joanne felt at losing him. She could but hope he would write to her, knowing she lived with those dear landladies in Jubilee House, once he’d sorted his life out as promised. Or might he forget all about her? What a dreadful prospect. And having lost contact with her mother, as well as their dear brother Danny, uncertain whether either of them was alive or dead, Joanne worried that she might never find any love in her life ever again.

Chapter Two

Evie, her niece Cathie and friend Brenda had together enjoyed the VE celebration for the end of the war. Many local merchant seamen had delivered food for the party, including non-rationed pork, which they’d happily roasted for everyone. What a treat that had been. Now the three of them were sitting in Campfield Market, each savouring a delicious custard tart. The outside market was bustling with people as always, today all chatting and laughing, singing and joking. Here, in the inside market at their favourite café, it was quiet and more relaxed, happily surrounded by smiling faces. Evie watched as a pretty young girl tried on a red felt wide-brimmed hat at Higginson’s millinery stall, turning her head this way and that to admire herself in the mirror, perhaps her way of celebrating.

An ache punctuated her heart as Evie recalled how she’d seen very little of her son and even less of her daughters, Joanne and Megan, since they’d been evacuated. They had spent a brief spell at home back in 1940, when it had initially appeared to be a phoney war, but once the bombing started they were again evacuated.

At first they’d remained easily in touch and she’d gone to help her girls when concerned about the way they were being treated by one family they’d been billeted with. A short time later she’d received no further letters from them to say where they were living, probably because they’d been moved around quite a bit. Evie had too, sadly losing their first home and had rented many other single rooms since. During the Christmas Blitz when one of the grain elevators had been bombed, buildings had collapsed and burned for days afterwards. Many mills and warehouses, including the one she’d worked for, had also suffered fires. How tragic that had been. It had turned into a nasty war, not least to lose touch with her daughters. She’d had to endure severe rationing, hard work at a different mill and the anguish of not knowing whether her missing husband was dead or alive. At times Evie’s strong resilience had faded because of this heart-rending pain and exhaustion. Even now she felt a slur of anguish within her as she longed to have her family back. Would they too be enjoying this celebration?

‘I’m aware this bloody war is still going on in the East, but I live in hope my son and daughters will all be home soon,’ she stoutly announced. ‘They’ve been gone over five years and I’ve missed them so much.’

‘Haven’t you seen them at all?’ Cathie asked, looking stunned.

‘My son Danny is in Cumberland where he’s lived throughout the war. I’ve written to him regularly and did once pay a visit. It took twenty-four hours or more to get so far north with the train constantly halting. And the cost of the journey was considerable, not to mention finding local accommodation. Not an experience I could afford to repeat. He was then moved out to a camp for some reason or other.’

‘Oh, poor you. I’ve every sympathy with that, Aunty. And didn’t you once tell me that you have to pay six shillings a week for their care?’

‘Indeed I do, whenever I can afford to, although thankfully the Government has helped with that cost. Frustratingly, I’ve not received details for some years of exactly where my daughters are. I’ve spoken to our local billeting officer to ask him to investigate where they might have been moved to, presumably somewhere in Cumberland or Westmorland. He’s agreed to look into that for me by contacting the volunteers who do this job in rural areas without pay,’ she said, showing a slight tension in her smile of approval.

Reaching forward, her niece gave her hand a little squeeze. ‘I’m sure they’ll be located and soon be back in your care. Little Heather here is safe too, although as you know we’ve recently lost her mum, my beloved sister,’ she said, tears suddenly flooding her eyes and rolling down her cheeks.

Evie gave a sad smile. ‘I know, dearie. Such a tragedy that Sally should be killed in a road accident having survived this dratted war. Thanks to you this baby is indeed safe and well loved. And, as you know, I’m happy to help child-mind whenever necessary. Oh, it is a bit nerve-wracking when I think the last view of my children was when they too were still young. Now they are so much older I worry about how they’ll react once they do come home. Will I even recognize them?’

Cathie’s friend Brenda gave a little nod. ‘I can understand your concern, Evie. When I was working in France with the Oeuvre de Secours aux Enfants, known as the OSE, many children who had lost touch with their parents developed problems and some had no wish to return home. They might have grown very fond of the family they’d been living with throughout the war, some suffered the loss of memory of their real parents, or their father could be dead and they’d no idea where their mother might be.’ Brenda fell silent, making no mention of what she had suffered in France.

‘Are you saying mine could accuse me of abandoning them?’ Evie asked, filled with a burst of anxiety.

Brenda firmly shook her head. ‘I’m sure yours were much safer than was the case in occupied France. Some suffered a heart-rending and difficult time there. Not at all easy for them. I’m sure your son and daughters will be eager to come home and see you, their beloved mother.’

‘I do hope you’re right.’

‘Why would they not be when you’re such a loving, caring person?’ Cathie said. ‘Your family has been much more fortunate than mine, despite the war. I wish you’d been my mum, instead of my own selfish mother who is always more interested in her string of lovers. Not to mention my absentee father, your brother, whom I haven’t seen in years as he’s apparently living somewhere abroad. But have you heard any news about dear Uncle Donald, your darling husband? Could he be safe and well?’

A crease marred Evie’s brow as she recalled the years of silence she’d endured after he’d been declared missing, constantly worrying over whether he would ever be found or presumed dead. Eventually she was informed that he’d been captured and was being held as a prisoner of war. Now she unfolded a letter and handed it over to her niece with a warm smile. ‘I’ve recently had word that as an ex-PoW he’s now in rehabilitation being cared for by the Civil Settlement Service. They are checking his health and helping him to recover. He’s apparently a bit thin and worn out, but alive and will hopefully be home soon. How wonderful that will be. I can’t wait to see him,’ she said, her face a picture of joy. ‘My dream is to have all my family together again. I do hope you’re right, Brenda, and my son and daughters will be eager to come back home. I will pay attention to any possible problems they might have. Having no idea where they are, I shall go and speak to the billeting officer again, to see if he’s found them.’

‘I’m goin’ to fall, sir. One more move and this mountain and I will part company,’ Danny yelled. He was attempting to climb a mountain and a piece of rock had broken off somewhere below his right foot. He could feel his legs weakening, control oozing out of them.

‘You’re doing fine, Danny. Pull back. Your stomach is too close to the rock face. Look for a hold. You’re fourteen, not four. As you are so fond of telling us.’

‘If I lean back I’ll be into a skydive without a parachute.’ Panic swelled and bubbled in his stomach. ‘I daren’t move me eyes let alone me ’ead.’

A chuckle came from below. ‘There’s a jug handle up there. Get your hand round that and you’ll feel safe and secure again.’ This advice came from the camp leader who was supposedly a gifted mountain instructor if dismissive of this climb, treating it as a small practice.

Danny, however, had a very different view. He could hardly believe this death-defying feat he was involved with, probably his last movement in this world. How could a mountain have a jug handle? He did know, of course, that this name was simply a label for a particular type of hold. But he’d give anything right now to be safely back in his tent enjoying a glass of milk, his mouth having gone dry with fear. In all the time he’d spent at this camp he’d made no attempt to learn how to climb. But he’d been bullied into taking part in this event. Now he clung on, shivering, knowing that if he was to stand any chance of being chosen as a team leader on the next walking expedition he had to make an extra-special effort. His fingers stretched out and curled around the jug handle, which did feel better, and he let out a sigh of relief.

‘Now put your right foot where your left hand is and make ready to swing round and go backwards up the chimney.’

These instructions would have set him laughing if he hadn’t been too nervous of the results of such a foolish act.

‘This rope is too slack. I’m jiggered, so take it up,’ he yelled. ‘Who is belaying me?’ When the answer came from above he wished he hadn’t asked.

‘It’s me-ee. Yet again I have you in my power.’ This comment was followed by a much-exaggerated imitation of a wolf howling.

Danny saw a smirk of satisfaction on Willie’s face. Why had he stupidly agreed to come on this climb, which made him feel a complete and utter fool? He could never trust this alleged old friend who’d become so domineering and bad-tempered due to a disagreement and row they’d had some years ago. He’d been a pain ever since because of what he’d done back then. At first Danny had been billeted on a farm, which he’d loved. It had been hard work with one or two problems but he’d enjoyed roaming around the countryside, milking cows and feeding chickens. Willie had lived nearby and when charged with some petty crime of nicking fruit and veg, he’d insisted that he was only helping Danny look for stuff to eat and sell. They’d both been sent to this camp, classed as problem boys.

Since then this nasty liar frequently ordered him to do all manner of jobs or stupid tasks that Willie had no wish to be involved in, demands Danny had to accept to avoid being beaten. Or else he’d find his food messed up by Willie spitting in it. Now he’d got him into this mess, a climb he was making far worse than it should be. It felt as if this bully was wielding the power of life or death over him. Holding a knife in his hand and chortling with laughter, he looked as if he might cut the rope upon which Danny was hanging then drop him off the mountain.

The voice of the camp leader penetrated into his head, again giving him careful instructions. ‘Concentrate on what you are doing, laddie. Keep your weight on your feet. Don’t reach too high with your hand or you’ll lose your balance. Then move one foot at a time.’

Giving a tug, Danny pulled himself up through the so-called chimney but then came the last part – a nasty overhang. He felt his stomach heave into a dark hole of terror. If this practice pitch of fifty feet was so difficult, how did anyone ever have the nerve to climb a big mountain such as Scafell? And how could he be sure he’d survive? He strived not to assume he would suffer a possible disaster, telling himself that he must prove he had the courage to do whatever was required of him. Searching for a hold without the help of his stomach, let alone the unreliable strength of his limbs, he jammed every toe and finger into the minute cracks he could find and hung on to them, silently praying. He’d be so much happier on level ground, or preferably no higher than the bottom rung of a very wide ladder. But he had no intention of being beaten by this rocky crag. Gritting his teeth, Danny swung up his right foot and stuck it on a wide fissure of rock, rather like a long split in a bread roll. Now he just had to get his bottom round, his left foot up and – aah! His feet jerked and slipped off the ledge. The view of the countryside tilted around and a cold sweat broke out over him. Was this the moment he’d die?

‘Help!’ he yelled.

The jerk of the rope tied to his climbing belt felt almost worse than the slip. Knowing how a person could fall twenty feet in one second, he felt deeply grateful for this safety rope that the camp leader always attached in these practice climbs, in addition to the belay. Fortunately, Danny had fallen less than two feet, his nails managing to find contact with a crack in the rock face. Tearing himself up in a fury of panic, he dived over the top as if the devil himself was on his backside. Once he’d recovered from the initial effects of the shock, unhooked himself from the rope and pulled off his safety helmet, he flung himself at Willie to start belting him.

‘Yer a nasty wiry worm! Stop bloody attacking me the whole damn time.’

Within seconds they were fighting. Willie thumped Danny much harder and more brutally, being fatter, taller, stronger and nastier than him. ‘Do as I flamin’ well tell you,’ he roared.

Growing taller and stronger, Danny felt the need to defend himself more, following years of bullying. It was only when they saw the camp leader reach the top of the climb that they pulled away from each other. Danny gasped for breath; all too aware he’d probably collected yet more bruises, as had happened to him so often in the past.

‘It was just a joke, what I did. I’ll make sure you regret having hammered me,’ Willie snarled as he stalked off, leaving Danny spitting with fury. How could he believe he’d done the wrong thing when this bastard was constantly harassing him? Willie Mullins had made his life a thousand times more difficult and painful throughout this dratted war. How he longed to be rid of him and ached to be back home with his mam, whom he sorely missed, as well as his sisters. According to the camp leader that wasn’t going to happen until the war in the East also ended, the Government having no wish to risk danger for evacuees.

Unfortunately, Willie too lived in Castlefield, both of them having attended the same school even though he was two years older than him, so when that did happen Danny could but hope he’d manage to stay well clear of him, now he too was almost grown up.

Chapter Three

When Joanne and Megan returned to the boarding house where they happily lived, they found it packed with soldiers. These comprised Polish aircrew, as well as many of their wives and children who had come to visit their husbands, always welcome thanks to these kind landladies. On this occasion everyone was happily engaged in watching a performance of brightly lit puppets before a curtain strung across part of the dining room, the children in particular excitedly laughing and enjoying the show. Joanne guessed the man creating this show would be Tomasz, a dapper young Polish man with fuzzy dark brown hair. He would often sing, play music or perform a mime, acting out a story with no speech but lots of clever movement. He was most gifted and great fun. Soon, he and his Polish colleagues would all be gone, and Joanne could see by the joy in this group how they were all looking forward to returning home. Not something she could expect to happen for herself and her sister.

Striving to block out the fears for their uncertain future, Joanne grabbed an empty tray of plates and carried it briskly to the kitchen. Aunt Annie was busily boiling kettles on the stove to make tea. Aunt Sadie stood at the table, slicing bread to make more sandwiches. This younger sister, in her mid-fifties was a small, round-faced lady with a plump nose, her piercing dark eyes guarded by tiny spectacles, her black hair firmly clipped up. As always, she was tidily dressed in a long dark skirt, a white blouse and a huge apron, her stockinged feet held in a neat pair of strapped flat shoes.

Joanne dashed to help by starting to chop Spam and lay slices onto the bread ‘We’ve had a lovely time today on the promenade and, of course, have enjoyed living here in Blackpool these last few years.’

Giving her a warm smile, Sadie said, ‘I remember the happy day we met you in that centre on Whitegate Drive early in 1942. You were such lovely little girls, if looking rather tired and sad, poor little Megan constantly weeping. How could we resist taking you in?’

‘We greatly appreciated that. Now I can’t get my mind round to leaving here and moving back to Manchester. I would sorely miss this town and you two caring ladies.’

‘Don’t fret, dear. We’ll miss you too when you leave but once that happens you can come and visit us any time you wish. Our work will thankfully calm down soon, although I shall miss spending each afternoon knitting scarves and rugs, soldiers no longer being in need of them, the war now over.’

Quietly piling the sandwiches onto the tray, having little appetite for food herself right now, Joanne gave a tremor of a smile. She was highly appreciative that Aunt Sadie’s efforts to support the troops had been a most important part of this lovely lady’s life, as it was for her sister, Aunt Annie. They were also most supportive and kindly towards herself and Megan, as this conversation highlighted. But she had no wish to reveal the anguish she’d just gone through by losing the GI she adored. ‘My mam always loved knitting too, plus sewing and lacemaking. Not that I’ve seen anything she’s made in years, let alone any sight of her. Who knows if I ever will again.’

‘I’m sure you will, dear.’

Joanne met her sympathetic gaze with speculation in her own. It was then that Megan burst through the kitchen door in a cloud of steam, her cheeks scarlet because of the heat of her surroundings as well as her fury. ‘If that RAF chap won’t keep his hands off tapping my bottom, I’ll land him a smack on his ear.’

Aunt Annie, older and taller with similar coloured hair, eyes and spectacles to her sister, let out a heavy sigh, clearly realizing who she was referring to. ‘He’s probably just a bit drunk on this day of celebration and was only teasing you, lass. Not all men are a problem, although the odd one can sometimes enjoy marlicking about on occasion. Ideally, I should mebbe chuck that fellow out and be in possession of a vacant room come dinnertime. However, he’s a man very much in charge, visiting some of the troops and paid to stay here by the Government so there’s nowt I can do about that.’

‘He’s no right to touch me,’ Megan tartly remarked. ‘I don’t like men at all.’

‘Quite right, love. Go and have a rest up in your room and keep well away from all these drunken chaps. That would be wise. I’ll have a quiet word with that Wing Commander Ramsbotham, silly fool that he is.’

Excusing herself with a spirited smile, Aunt Annie pushed up her sleeves and marched off to the dining room, a fierce look in her eyes as she prepared to do battle with this offender. What a character she was, and very meticulous. She had no intention of waiting hand, foot and finger on other folk’s whims and peccadilloes, appreciating the fruitlessness of such behaviour. Folk in this boarding house had to behave themselves or they were dispatched elsewhere, in spite of these landladies’ care and concern. Joanne knew that this dear lady was of the opinion that the amount the Government paid for the soldiers and other military personnel who occupied rooms here, which didn’t match the amount of money they earned from tourists, at times left them a bit short of cash.

Joanne gave Megan a quick cuddle, aware that she hadn’t found it easy being an evacuee with no mother present to comfort her, and having been constantly moved around because of ill treatment they’d suffered at times. At least they’d been fortunate to happily live here in Blackpool these last three years. She watched with a smile as her sister stamped off upstairs, knowing that she was not required to do any work, being far too young. She’d no doubt happily go and read or draw, as she so loved to do. Joanne didn’t at all mind working for these lovely ladies, really quite enjoying it, but she felt that their lives were in complete turmoil. What on earth would happen to them now?

The next morning, having suffered a sleepless night quietly weeping over her loss, Joanne anxiously worried that Teddy might never write and arrange for her to join him. She felt herself engaged in a world she no longer wished to be a part of. Not that life throughout the war had been at all easy, with bombs falling and sirens screaming and wailing. Now, wiping the tears from her eyes, she got out of bed and found that she’d tossed that new blue dress she’d bought for the special VE Day celebration onto the floor the previous evening. She gazed in dismay at the creased fabric, parts of it torn and marked with brown stains, perhaps because Teddy had pushed her down on the wet sand under the pier. What exactly had he done to her? A part of her shook with fear; not at all clear about that. Could her life be ruined as well as this frock?

‘What’s troubling you, sis? I heard you crying last night. Do tell me what’s wrong,’ Megan whispered, looking deeply distressed.

‘I’ve just damaged my new frock,’ Joanne remarked, not wishing to discuss the truth of her distress. She’d never spoken about her feelings for Teddy, preferring to keep their relationship private.

‘Oh no, what a nuisance and we had such a fun time yesterday.’

How dare she deny that? Panic pulsated through her, making Joanne feel badly in need of Megan’s comfort. Should she tell her more or keep what happened a secret? All possibility of making that decision vanished when Aunt Annie politely opened the door to ask Joanne if she would please start serving breakfast to their guests.

‘Of course,’ she said. After quickly dressing, she tossed the dress aside and dashed off downstairs to take part in her usual morning chores.

Later that afternoon, Annie handed the dress back to her, suitably repaired. ‘Megan told me of your problem. You looked such a pretty girl wearing this frock yesterday, I’ve cleaned and mended it for you, dear.’

‘Oh, thank you, Aunt Annie,’ Joanne said. ‘What a wonderfully kind and helpful lady you are.’ Tears spurted and ran down her cheeks, making her feel desolate and low. She feared that her heart could break having lost the man she loved. He’d told her how pretty she was, making no mention of what he felt for her, something she hadn’t noticed at the time. ‘I do so appreciate your care for us, particularly having lost our mam. Heaven knows whether she’s still alive, let alone any other members of our family. Being unable to find our parents, I do feel in a state of bewilderment, wondering where we could possibly live, were we to return to Manchester.’

Annie put her arms around Joanne, giving her a pat and a hug. ‘Our local billeting officer knows where you are, therefore I’m sure you’ll hear from her soon, lovey.’

How could that happen when their mother had no idea in which town her daughters were now living? Nor had they any idea where she was living either. If they ever did hear from her, Joanne wondered if Megan would be at all interested in going back home? And would she personally find the courage to tell her mam she’d fallen in love with a GI and how she ached to go to America to join him, rather than go home to Manchester? In addition to finding their mam and dad, would she ever find Danny, their brother, whom Joanne believed no longer lived with the farmer who first took him in. Receiving no response from him either when she’d written to say where they’d been moved to, following their departure from that area in Keswick, Joanne wondered whether he’d been sent some place else. What a muddle their lives were in. Where and when would their family ever meet up?

Danny was involved in taking a hike with a small group of friends around Derwentwater, a crystal glass lake. Not a breath of wind stirred in the heat of the day. How he loved this beautiful area of Keswick and the magical panoply of fold upon fold of mountains in a landscape that seemed to stretch into infinity. The ribbon of this dusty track linking the skeins of drystone walls could lure him to venture onward and upward into the unknown, were he free to roam. Far away in the distance were the hills of Scotland and the Solway Firth. Here, as they walked on through a copse of tall trees, he admired the awesome sight of Blencathra, a proud, benevolent mountain.

Many travellers, as well as themselves as youngsters, were urged into climbing these beautiful peaks to celebrate their fitness, including Grisedale Pike, Helvellyn, the highest giant, and the mysterious Castlerigg Stone Circle. The presence of these brooding mountains always enthralled him even when they were loaded with snow, or wet grey clouds. The mountains often appeared sullen but today were filled with a benign merriness of sunny beauty. How happy it made him feel despite often having heard the sound of bombing over by the coast.

The war had started well for him, living and working on that friendly farm close to Blencathra until Willie Mullins had messed things up for him. He now worked part-time for a farmer close to the camp and still enjoyed walking if not climbing, having suffered an attack by Mullins. Thankfully, that selfish lad was too lazy to be interested in joining them today so he was free of yet more pestering. A part of Danny felt he’d like to stay out here in the countryside for ever, while another part of him ached to return to his parents in Manchester.

It was when they returned to camp that he was called to the camp leader’s office, shocked to hear himself accused yet again of stealing fruit and veg from a local farmer. Horrified, he loudly protested. ‘It weren’t me, sir. I never steal nowt. I’m innocent, having happily worked for this farmer for some time. Why would I pinch owt off him and risk losing my part-time job? It were more likely Willie Mullins what stole it. He allus puts the blame on me, as he so likes to do for owt he pinches.’

The camp leader glared at him, sour-faced and disbelieving. ‘What proof do I have of that? I found a box of food close to your bed and Willie confirmed that you’d committed that theft, always complaining you were short of food. That young lad was also marked with bruises, admitting that when he’d challenged you about this crime you’d started a fight.’

‘That’s a lie!’ Danny snapped. ‘He must have hidden it there. I certainly didn’t. We had a fight when he tried to drop me off the cliff we were climbing. He’s the one who eats too much and steals things, not me. I’m not a bloody thief.’

The leader gave a snort of disbelief. ‘I do not approve of bad language or arguments, lad. I appreciate you two do not get on terribly well. No doubt you fight him in order to keep him silent, as you’ve no desire to be charged with this theft. Fortunately, I have no wish to call the police, which would damage our reputation even worse than yours. You must simply apologize to that farmer and politely return this fruit and veg.’

‘I’ll not apologize for summat I didn’t do.’

‘Then you will suffer a suitable punishment,’ he sternly remarked.

To his utter dismay, Danny then found himself locked in the coal cellar below the leader’s office, a stark and dreadful place. Close by the room in which he was confined, he could hear the barking of a bad-tempered bull terrier who lived chained to the wall. In the past Willie would constantly insist that he must be the one to come down here to collect the coal needed for the huts, which Danny had always found pretty scary. That dog would growl and attempt to pounce or bite him, unless he possessed a scrap of food to divert its attention. Now he had nothing to offer and could but pray he’d be kept clear of that dog and be freed soon.

He lay on a cold bed with one blanket for the rest of that day and night, his mind dreaming of his mother, father and sisters. Joanne and Megan had lived quite close to him for a while but then had been moved on, where to or why he’d no idea, never having received a letter from them since he too had been moved. At times he felt very lonely and worried about ever finding them. He did receive the occasional letter from his mother and sometimes a parcel of comics as if he was still a young boy, which he nevertheless quite enjoyed, The Beano and The Dandy being his favourites. There’d not been any word from his father, or any mention of him at all from his mam. How he missed his family.

It was the following morning, when Danny was finally released and provided with a most welcome scrambled egg breakfast, that the camp leader came trotting over to hand him a letter, a smirk of a grin on his face. ‘Good news, laddie. Be aware that once the war in Japan is over, permission will be granted by the Government for you to be taken home to Manchester by train. Willie here, your old classmate, will go too. So make sure you improve your friendship, laddies. Not that I’ll miss either of you when that time comes,’ he said with a chuckle. He patted each of them on the back and walked away to leave them sitting scowling at each other.

This news gave Danny hope he’d be back with his family soon, once this war had finally ended. Or did he wish to stay here in this beautiful countryside? Not right now. He’d completely gone off that idea.

Chapter Four

In the weeks following, Jubilee House became less packed than it used to be. Many of the civil servants, military personnel and refugees had left, some finding jobs or transport to take them back home thanks to the local authorities. Still not having received any letter from Teddy, Joanne badly regretted not being invited to join him in America. He was so far away she sorely missed him, all hope of a future together rapidly fading. She was no longer convinced that he loved her. Perhaps he just enjoyed having sex with women, including that one hanging on to his elbow, so maybe he’d assumed he could have it with her too. Not at all certain what he’d done to her and whether he’d succeeded in seducing her, being fairly innocent on such matters, Joanne deeply worried that she might have a serious problem as a result. It really didn’t bear thinking about.

Gazing through the breakfast-room window as she cleared the tables, puffs of bright clouds bounced over the sea that shivered with white waves, looking beautiful as always. How it reminded her of the time she’d spent walking on the beach with Teddy, constantly kissed and fondled by him. Oh, and her love for that GI was so strong she still ached for him to write and offer to marry her. That would resolve this possible problem she had and make her future so much happier.

‘We’ve still not received any letter from our mother,’ Megan whispered, as she came to help with the washing-up. ‘So can we stay here?’

‘I’ve been struggling to decide that too. We need to think what we should do with our lives now this war is over. Once we’ve finished our morning jobs we’ll take a cycle ride to Stanley Park then enjoy a walk around, since it’s a Saturday and you’re not at school today.’

‘That would be lovely, sis. It ain’t gonna be an easy decision to make.’

‘Don’t worry, we’ll talk things through, love.’

Breakfast being over, Joanne spent the next hour clearing and collecting cups and dirty plates, bustling back and forth, the two landladies upstairs busily dealing with bedrooms and bathrooms. The small dining room now empty, she gave that a clean too and set the tables in preparation for dinner. Once that was done, she went upstairs to tell Megan she was ready to go and they put on their cardigans and strong shoes then went to fetch their bicycles from the shed in the backyard.

‘We’ll cycle along Chapel Street then Hornby Road to the gateway to the park. I’ll just check the tyres.’

While pumping them up, she saw Bernie, the landladies’ nephew, hovering by the kitchen door. Having only just turned eighteen, he’d thankfully been too young to be called up during the war, but had worked with the local Home Guard. They’d become reasonably good friends over the years but he was a bit boring in Joanne’s opinion, very much a gawky boy with a spotty complexion. Admittedly, his square face was now much smoother, with thick brown hair flopping over his brow, if still a little scrawny in build. There was a neat smartness about the clothes he wore now. They could be quite appealing and at times his grey eyes would hold a hint of shrewdness in their depth. But he was not exactly fun, exciting or good at jokes. Just quiet and conventional with strong ties to his aunts and the work he did for them, often helping with the cooking and various other tasks. Joanne had felt obliged to dance with him after Teddy had disappeared that day. Not something she had any wish to do again, never having viewed him as a possible love of her life. With a start, she realized he had caught her staring at him. Filled with embarrassment, she quickly turned away but not before she had noted how his expression looked most doting, which struck her as extremely odd.

‘If you’re off on a cycle ride, can I come with you?’ he asked politely.

After giving Bernie an indifferent smile, Joanne pointed out they were going off to have a private conversation.

‘You aren’t planning to leave us like these refugees and other guests, are you?’ he said, looking dismayed at such a prospect.

‘It’s difficult to decide what we should do so we need to talk it through. Speak to you later, Bernie.’

He watched them ride away with a gloomy expression on his face.

Stanley Park was filled with a fine mist, swirling about like a bolt of gossamer silk. Not that this blocked the sound of aircraft landing in the aerodrome just beyond what had once been the bowling pitch. After locking up their bikes close to the café, the two girls set off to walk round the lake in order to escape the noise. The cool wind gathered momentum and turned into a dampening shower, the sting of rain on Joanne’s face making her feel this dreadful weather was adding to her sense of agony. Would she ever recover?

The time she’d spent with Teddy had once seemed so sweet and filled with hope. Now all that had vanished since he still hadn’t written to her. Being young and having behaved most foolishly in trusting him, Joanne thought she might never trust any man ever again, let alone find the happiness she longed for. She felt miserable and sluggish, constantly rushing to the bathroom fearing she could be sick. Fortunately, that hadn’t happened so far, but she had very little appetite and was rapidly losing weight. Each night in bed she would quietly weep from the sadness of her lost love and her parents, which made her feel completely torn apart. Sensing that her heart could break, tears again spurted in her eyes and ran between her fingers as she attempted to wipe them away. Looking shocked, Megan quickly led her to sit on a bench.

‘What’s wrong, why are you crying again, sis? What is it that’s worrying you?’

When her tears were spent Joanne sat for a moment in silence, feeling rather like a small mouse caught up in the rumble of sound from the aerodrome as they sat beneath this ash tree. It was then that she saw a squirrel emerge from a branch above her, its small sleek body glinting as it nibbled insects when the rain stopped and there came a bright glimmer of sun, no nuts anywhere around. It scampered down and dashed off to nearby fields, scavenging for fruit and vegetables, rather like a greedy thief stealing what didn’t rightly belong to him. They both burst into laughter. Thankfully she wasn’t a mouse or a squirrel, although possibly a foolish young girl. Taking a deep breath, Joanne finally confided in her sister the misery she felt in losing her American boyfriend, carefully making no mention of what he did to her.

‘Ah, I thought that might be why you weren’t looking good or eating well and keep weeping each night in bed,’ Megan responded fondly. ‘Do try to cheer up, lovey. Mebbe that GI will write to you one day.’

‘Oh, I do hope he does, once he’s settled in back home and found himself some employment. It could take a while for him to go through the necessary process he mentioned.’ A long delay was proving to be a strong element of concern, in fact something of a panic, not having had a period this month. If Teddy truly did love her and was doing his best to arrange for her to join him, he would surely write or maybe come looking for her one day, which would probably be here in Blackpool. Another good reason for them to stay on here. Her life then would be so much happier. Right now it could go completely wrong and Joanne had no wish to speak of this problem to her sister. ‘I must learn to be patient and cheer up,’ she said with a smile.

Giving her another warm hug, Megan went on to speak of her personal delight at being offered a place at a local high school, come September, and her wish to attend. ‘To be honest, I’ve no desire to leave our lovely aunts or lose the offer from that school. Would you be willing to give up this job and return home? I do hope not,’ she stoutly declared. ‘I desperately want to stay here, being the only place I’ve enjoyed throughout the war.’

A flicker of sadness and sympathy washed over Joanne. At the start of the war, Megan had been petite and shy, rather awkward and unsure of herself, feeling far too young to cope with the trauma of evacuation. Now she was a comely girl with a round, pretty face and a dimpled smile. Really quite bright so did deserve to attend that high school. And it was perfectly understandable that she was happy living with these landladies, feeling very much cared for. Things had been so different for them in the past.

When they’d first been evacuated out to a bleak part of Keswick back in 1939, they were made to stand and wait at the railway station whilst the local people decided whom they were prepared to offer accommodation to. Being working class and a bit scruffy looking after that long journey, they were the last to be chosen. Her brother Danny, aged only eight at the time, had been selected by a farmer while she and Megan were chosen by another farming couple. Joanne had protested, claiming that being siblings they should stay together, but the billeting officer had ordered her to keep quiet. Having no idea where her brother was sent, she’d written to her mother, hoping Evie could discover that, which she did.

Joanne and Megan had hated the farm they were originally taken to, being treated like slaves and required to work hard on the land. If they didn’t do as they were told they’d be deprived of the poor food they were granted only twice a day. They’d felt constantly hungry, often being given only bread and dripping for their evening meal. Nor were they ever allowed into the house. They had to sleep in a barn, sharing a small makeshift bed on the dirt floor with no heat or light save for a single candle. There was no toilet or bathroom available, just a potty, which they had to empty every morning. Each day they would rise early and have to walk miles to school, no lift by horse or cart ever offered them. When it was bitterly cold weather they’d frequently fall ill with colds, their hands chilblained. Joanne came to believe they’d been accepted as evacuees simply to provide those greedy people with money paid by the Government, as well as the work they required them to do.

‘Do you remember the problems and anguish we suffered at that first place we were billeted?’ Joanne asked.

‘Only vaguely,’ Megan admitted.

‘Well, each month Mam would send us comics and parcels of food, and a warm scarf or jumper she’d knitted for us. I was always excited to see a parcel arrive then felt utterly furious when that couple handed it over to their own children, never to us. I frequently wrote home to explain this horror to Mam, then realized my letters were withheld by that farmer’s wife, which was why I never received a reply. I did finally manage to send her a letter, thanks to our local teacher who gave me an envelope and stamp and posted it for me in town. I told Mam that if we weren’t moved somewhere better, we’d run away.’

Megan gave a frown. ‘I do remember your excitement when you saw Mother standing outside in the yard one day. I found that amazing.’

‘I was filled with joy,’ Joanne said with a loving smile. ‘I dashed straight over; realizing Mam had come to rescue us. I threw our clothes into a suitcase within minutes. She was, of course, engaged in a furious row with our so-called foster parents and then marched us off.’

‘She walked us for miles to find a bus and a train. We then went home but didn’t stay long as we were soon evacuated again,’ Megan said, pulling her face in a glower of disapproval at how their mother had sent them back to Keswick and what happened as a result. Something her beloved sister had no wish to speak of or remember. ‘I agree we’ve been through an absolute nightmare and never seen her since. Thankfully these two kind landladies, Aunt Annie and Aunt Sadie, took us in when we were brought here to Blackpool, and are most kind and welcoming.’

‘They are indeed.’ On certain occasions, whenever she’d felt herself or Megan were badly treated, Joanne had gone to see the local billeting officer and insisted they should be moved. Eventually they’d been billeted here in Blackpool, which had proved to be a good thing. ‘I suspect they gladly took us in because they aren’t married and have no children of their own, just Bernie, their adopted nephew. However, you need to be aware that these landladies may no longer wish us to continue living with them, occasionally mentioning a wish to retire.’

‘Oh, surely that won’t happen.’

‘We should bear in mind that it might.’

They went on to talk at some length, worrying over where they could go and live if that occurred, having no conviction they would ever find their mother. Joanne still missed her badly and felt in need of her support. Making a decision about whether or not they should leave was not proving to be at all easy. And brooding about her own problem would do no good either.

Joanne gave a sad little sigh. ‘The question is, will the billeting officer send us back to Manchester now the war is over? Will he find where Mam is living, assuming she’s still alive, or put us in a state children’s home? Not a prospect I wish to consider. I’ll make some enquiries and see if I can find out where she is. If not, I could pay a visit to Manchester and search for her by calling on various friends who may have an idea where she’s now living or working.’

‘If you succeed, we still have to decide if we really do want to go back home, wherever that may be. As I say, I’m not certain I do,’ Megan stated firmly. ‘Your love for our mam is fairly obvious, but sadly I have very little memory of her. And convinced she may have deliberately neglected us, I very much prefer the affection I feel for these two landladies we think of as our aunts.’

‘Mam was always most caring so why would we not be pleased to see her again?’ Joanne stated gently. ‘Don’t worry, lovey, she could probably find you a good high school in Manchester. I’ll most definitely look into finding her but right now we’d best head back to Jubilee House and happily stick with living here.’ Stepping out with fresh vigour, they collected their bikes and cycled back. A warm breeze ruffling her hair, Joanne felt a comforting glimmer of determination and fresh hope.

Chapter Five

It was a Friday afternoon when Evie and several of her women colleagues were instructed to visit the boss in his office. She happily went arm in arm with two of her friends, Enid Wilson and Lizzie Parkin. ‘We may be granted a rise in pay now the war is over,’ she said.

Enid gave a grin. ‘Let’s hope so. We definitely deserve that after all the work we’ve done.’

‘And Mr Eccles is generally a pleasant man, though a bit depressed having lost his brother and son,’ Lizzie whispered.

Seated at his desk, Mr Eccles failed to meet their happy smiles by keeping his gaze fixed upon his clasped hands. ‘I do thank all you ladies for the excellent work you’ve done throughout the war. I must now release you from these labours in order to give preference to our returning soldiers. Your task is over so you are free to retire, being no longer required to do your bit.’

Panic reverberated through Evie. Blast and damn this mill owner, such a goddam-son-of-a-bitch. He probably cared more about men than women now the war was truly over. Her friends stood frozen in silence, no doubt aware they had no right to object to these soldiers being sorely in need of a job. But they too badly required an income, as did she. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Why would they sack her, considering the problems she was facing? Evie suspected that when Donald arrived home he would not be fit enough to work and she would still have three children to protect and care for, or so she hoped. How on earth would she manage that without an income coming in? ‘You surely can’t be serious,’ she sternly remarked.

Finally meeting her furious gaze with a sympathetic smile, he said, ‘This war is over, so you dear ladies must now concentrate upon your domestic duties. The textile industry is not doing particularly well at the moment but soldiers, sailors and airmen on their way home will obviously require their old jobs back. You can work to the end of this month then must collect your final wages and card when you depart. I can but apologize for reality.’ He then ordered them to return to their looms.

As they all walked unsteadily out of the office, Evie heard some of the women start to grumble to each other, some weeping, others looking shocked and dismayed. They did very little in the way of weaving for the rest of that day, as they kept sharing the worry of where else they might find employment. According to the general conservation buzzing around throughout the day, it was clear that other factories had also laid off women workers, so new jobs would not be easy to find considering the high number of unemployed and the return of so many men from the war.

When their shift ended and Evie walked home with her two friends, Enid said, ‘How on earth can I continue to pay the rent without a wage coming in?’

Evie informed them that her niece too had lost her job at the tyre factory. ‘She’s sought jobs at various shops, warehouses and factories, explaining her skills and experience as a result of the war, but so far has received no offer anywhere. I can but hope that if we look hard enough we will succeed, bearing in mind we too have considerable experience after all these years of hard work we’ve done.’

‘I do hope so,’ Lizzie agreed. ‘I’ve lost my husband but not my childer, so need to keep earning a living.’

‘Me too,’ Evie said. ‘Although my husband will be home soon, he won’t be at all well.’

‘We should have seen this coming as many of those brave soldiers do deserve their jobs back,’ Enid muttered. ‘I’d never got around to thinking how that might affect us. Nor did I expect it to happen so quickly.’

Listening to her two friends, Evie felt a sickness soak within her, not convinced she would succeed in finding employment. She felt entirely numb and stormed back to her one-bedroomed flat in a fine old temper. She slammed the door closed, flung her coat on the floor in a veritable rage. Clenching her fists, she drummed them against the kitchen wall, feeling absolute despair. One minute she’d been celebrating the end of this war, now she felt apprehension ricocheting through her at the prospect of a woeful future.

Over the next few days, whenever Evie’s shift was over she went in search of employment, initially striving to find work in another factory, warehouse or mill, which she would prefer. No one was interested in taking her on, being a mere woman, even though Evie had worked hard all her life in various cotton mills. She’d always started at seven each morning, involved with Egyptian cotton and testing it with her thumb. Some of it was often a bit rough and invested with fleas. After being spun and woven they’d be washed out in the bleaching process. Now the textile industry was in a slump. Knitting, sewing and lacemaking were also hobbies she enjoyed doing, having been taught by her mother when she was a young girl. It crossed Evie’s mind that working for herself might prove to be less of a hassle. But would it earn her sufficient money? Probably not. With a sigh, she went on to search for alternative jobs in shops and department stores, including Kendal Milne, Lipton’s and Maypole grocers, as had Cathie and Brenda. She failed to receive an offer from any of them. Even young men returning from the war were struggling to find employment, the state of the country not being in a good condition. Post-war life seemed to be falling apart.

As well as searching for a job, she was also desperately in need of a home suitable for her family. Not that finding a property here in war-torn Manchester would be easy either. An absolute nightmare. As a consequence of the 1940 Christmas Blitz and enemy bombers coming night after night, Hardman Street, Lower Byrom Street, a part of Duke Street, Piccadilly and many others had been attacked and were now pretty derelict, houses burned out by incendiary bombs. There was little sign of much in the way of repairs being done yet, let alone any new builds.

It came to Evie one day that the solution could be to ask the tackler in charge of the looms in her part of the mill if he could help to get her old job back. Harold Mullins was not an easy man but would surely understand the difficulties she was facing. Tragically his wife Jane, once a friend of hers, had been killed early in the war, no doubt as a result of the bombing. His son Willie had been evacuated with Danny, since they’d both attended the same school when they were young. Surely Harold Mullins was a great believer in the cotton industry, as was she, despite the hard times they were facing? Calling to see him back at the mill, Evie asked if they could have a word. ‘I’m sorely in a quandary over how to resolve my problem of finding a new job, so wondered if you could help me get this one back or offer me some advice.’

Giving her a blink of interest, he agreed. ‘Aye, we could ’appen meet up at the Dog and Duck at seven this evening. I’m not against that.’

This was not at all what she’d expected, assuming they could just talk here at the mill, but it didn’t seem appropriate to refuse to meet him there.

Evie arrived early and, sitting in this public house near Potato Wharf, ordered herself a glass of shandy, all too aware of the disapproving glances from the men standing at the bar. Women were not supposed to attend pubs on their own so would Mullins, the gaffer, actually arrive and be willing to help her? He hadn’t sounded too convincing but then he never did, always a man more obsessed with himself. Gazing out of the window, she saw a bustle of people hurrying along the street, rain splashing over their unwary legs, car horns hooting at them if they attempted to rush across the road. The weather seemed to suit the bad news she’d received in losing her job and the brickwork looked battered and black with smoke, as a result of the dreadful bombing that Manchester had suffered over these last six years.

She recalled how much lovelier the Dog and Duck had been when she was a young girl and used to come here with Donald. Being her boyfriend, they’d sit, cuddled together, to enjoy a drink or a little snack. In those days she’d had clear skin, honey-gold hair, brown eyes as rich and dark as velvet with long, curling lashes. Now she felt wrinkled and worn out, with a core of anxiety she was doing her utmost to hide. What state would Donald be in when he finally came home? Would he still be the gentle, quiet man she’d fallen in love with and happily married, or listless and with health difficulties as a consequence of the anguish of war and his years held as a prisoner? He certainly wouldn’t be well enough to work – a fact she must make clear to Mullins.

She was aware that in addition to the war issue of employing ex-soldiers, the mill owner was concerned that the textile industry could be going downhill because of foreign competition. Generally, yarn or cotton was sold through merchants who visited Manchester for that specific purpose. They’d as soon go to Liverpool or India for their product, with not a jot of commitment or loyalty in their bones, their task being to get the best deal they could for their clients. Having failed to find any other job, Evie had done quite a bit of thinking, attempting to pay attention to how well other mills operated, compared to this one. Did it need to update its looms, or increase and strengthen its markets by selling more products abroad than in England? And maybe change what they produced, now that the war was over.

Whether any of this would be the right thing for her to say to Harold Mullins was very difficult to decide. His temperament was indeed self-obsessed. He used to storm through the mill finding fault with everything women did and then return later all syrup and smiles, probably because he’d gone off to get himself a glass of whisky. He would then call them ‘dear gels’, his tone attempting to be complimentary. But not an easy man. Were it not for the difficulty she was in, she wouldn’t attempt to seek his assistance.

‘So you’ve getten problems. It don’t surprise me in the least.’ She heard him snort as he sat down beside her nursing a glass of beer, which made her jerk with shock, not having seen him enter the pub. ‘Ye can’t trust a woman as far as you can throw her.’

Evie stared at the fleshiness that sagged his jawline, the dark receding hair, his eyes slightly bloodshot, indicating a liking of far too much alcohol. She noticed a harshness and an arrogance in the twisted smile he gave her. Gathering her courage, she quickly explained her situation and failure to find the employment she was in desperate need of. She’d brought a list of all the factories, shops and offices, etc. that she’d called upon and explained how she’d failed to receive a single offer from any of them.

Giving a snort of laughter, he told her how he’d once changed jobs, not having seen eye to eye with his previous employer and had ended up with this lucrative post as a foreman. ‘I can quite see you’ll have problems with your husband and childer when they finally return home. My son Willie should be arriving soon. No doubt he’ll miss his mum, but can’t say I’m broken-hearted over losing my wife.’ He moved on to speak of how she’d been prone to hysterics and unnatural jealousy, calling her a slut of a wife who had found herself a fancy man. ‘The bloody pair of ’em med a fool of me.’

Poor Jane, once such a good friend of hers, had claimed her husband had never been faithful to her so she had indeed found herself a new man. How could he blame her for that? Evie began to feel slightly uncomfortable, this not at all being a subject she wished to discuss. ‘I’m so sorry she died in the war, despite whatever problems you had. My issue, however, is that I must be the breadwinner, at least until my husband fully recovers from having been a PoW. So I desperately feel I should be allowed to continue working at the mill. You must appreciate my concern to care for my son and daughters and make their lives good. I doubt it will be easy, considering how long it is since I last saw them. And, as you know, Danny and your son Willie have been friends since their early school days.’

He pricked up his ears, frowning in concentration. ‘I’d forgotten that. It’s good to hear about the friendship of our sons and weren’t you and I friends once too?’

A wrench of memory cringed within her as Evie recalled having a date with this difficult man when she’d been barely sixteen. He’d tried to attract her in such an obsessive way, it had completely killed their so-called friendship, so far as she was concerned. Thankfully, he’d had no objection when she’d refused his next offer of a date and started courting her friend Jane instead. Since being the tackler in charge of their part of the mill, and she needed his help to retain her job, this was a reality she had to face. ‘We were friends once,’ she blithely admitted, giving him a polite smile.

‘So what could you offer exactly, in order to keep this job?’

Taking a breath, Evie said, ‘I’m aware that the owner fears the mill is going downhill now that we’re post war and in danger of closing. It’s been embroiled in weaving parachutes but it could move on to make good quality shirts to supply to large stores like Kendal Milne, or perhaps lace for pretty dresses and curtains.’

Harold showed little interest in these suggestions. ‘I very much doubt Mr Eccles would be interested in employing women to make lace or owt, for that matter. It’s the chaps we should employ now.’

‘I appreciate some women will happily step down to make way for returning soldiers, but those of us still in need of an income should surely be allowed to keep working. Many are well qualified, as am I.’ In Evie’s opinion women must remain strong, not become weak as babes. She felt a strong desire to resolve her own problems as well as gain the respect of Mr Eccles for all the other women needing to keep their job. Had she said the right thing to persuade Harold Mullins to help this come about?

‘I have some sympathy over your personal problems, which can’t be easy to deal with. Unfortunately, there’s no possibility of you getting yer job back.’

Her heart sank. ‘Really? Are you sure? That sounds disastrous.’

‘The fact is that Mr Eccles, the mill owner, has suffered the loss of his brother who was largely the one who ran the mill, and his son. He now has little desire to continue working there himself, being quite old. Nor has he much hope of selling it as the textile industry is starting to decline. If a mill goes bump it’s generally because it’s bankrupt, and he does plan to retire, possibly before that happens.’ Leaning closer, he gave her a grin, revealing a couple of broken teeth. ‘However, as a matter of fact I could offer you employment in a little business I run.’

Startled by this offer, Evie gave a puzzled frown. ‘I didn’t realize you owned a business. What sort is it?’

Tapping his plump nose, he gave a chuckle. ‘Whatever I tell you, don’t reveal details to anyone. Putting it bluntly, I accept bets from clients who are keen on gambling. I’m aware it’s not legal but it’s still popular and considered an important part of life for many. I like to keep a close eye on my clients, meking sure I get paid whatever they choose to invest. At this stage there’s allus summat going on to liven me up. Considering I’m still busily engaged at the mill you could assist me to build it up into a more lucrative business. That would be useful, bearing in mind folk are more likely to appreciate a pretty woman dealing with this issue, rather than a chap. Eventually I too will lose my job, once that mill closes down.’

‘I . . . I’m open to suggestions,’ she stuttered, feeling slightly alarmed by the way his puckered face was mere inches from her own, the smell of alcohol on his breath most foul.

‘Quite. What have you got to lose? It would only be a part-time job but you could earn a reasonably decent wage, so long as you make the necessary collections of debts from my clients.’

Evie felt a flicker of doubt that she’d any wish to be involved in this weird job offer he was making, not at all the kind of work she’d hoped for. ‘I’m not certain I’d be any good at that.’

‘’Course you will, being a strong, determined lady. And as an employee I could permit you to rent one of the houses I own. How about that?’

She was stunned by this possibility and gazed at him in amazement. She was undoubtedly desperate for a home for her family as well as an income. Maybe she shouldn’t fuss about this job even if it was only part-time and had to be kept secret. ‘Are you making me an actual offer?’

‘Aye, if yer willing to do what I ask.’

‘I very much appreciate your generosity, Mr Mullins. I badly need to find a house to rent and shall do my best to oblige you,’ she told him politely.

‘That’s good to hear. You can call me Harold, as we were once friends.’

‘That was a long time ago and now I’ll simply be your employee. I am, of course, expecting my husband to arrive home any time soon. I expect you were friendly with him too, so he’ll be happy to know that you’re willing to help us,’ she tactfully pointed out.

‘Aye, well, you’ll need to keep this agreement under yer hat and say nowt about whatever I ask of you, in view of the authorities’ attitude towards betting. They’ll come round to changing these daft rules eventually. And since I’ll be carrying on working at the mill till it closes down, I’ll keep tabs on yer and see how you get on wi’ this job. Any folk who are neglectful will have to be contacted time and again to make ’em pay up. Just remember that them what don’t work, don’t eat. Now, do you fancy a refill?’ he said, giving her a glittering wink.

Evie noticed how his gaze slid over her, his fingers flickering as if feeling the urge to touch her. Feeling desperate to escape this possibility she politely declined his offer. ‘No thanks, I haven’t yet finished this glass of shandy, not at all a good drinker.’ Taking a quick sip, she went on to say, ‘I would like to know where that house is, please, what the rent will be and when I could move in? Then I can get it ready for the arrival of my family.’

He gave her details of the address and the cost of the rent he demanded, not cheap but reasonably acceptable. ‘It might require a bit of cleaning and painting, but you’re welcome to do that and can move in right away,’ he said, handing over the key.

Thanking him profusely, Evie’s heart pounded with relief and excitement. Eager to visit this house and discover what attention it needed, she gave him a nod and a smile, jumped to her feet and scurried away. It was then that it came to her she hadn’t properly understood all he’d said about the work she was expected to do for his business. Nor had he offered any proof if and when the mill would close down. Had she done the wrong thing by asking for his assistance? Should she have gone to speak again to Mr Eccles, the mill owner? Probably that would have been a complete waste of time, having been dismissed along with other women and that poor man had lost two members of his family. He’d be unlikely to take any of them back, particularly now he intended to ultimately close the mill down. She could but hope she’d done the right thing by accepting Mullins’s offer. Finding a job, whatever it was, and a new home for her family, was surely all that mattered.

Chapter Six

June 1945

‘I’ll come with you to help search for your mother,’ Bernie swiftly offered when Joanne made the announcement she’d visited the billeting officer who’d admitted he’d no idea how to contact this Evelyn Talbert, no longer being in possession of her current address. They were all sitting eating a delicious steak and onion pie in the kitchen one suppertime, which he’d cooked. Now with his sleeves rolled up Joanne found herself staring at his tanned arms, muscles round and strong, wondering why she was suddenly impressed by this image of him. Probably because she was savouring this good food, Bernie Flynn not at all a young man she wished to involve herself with. Taking a breath, she was about to deny that his assistance was required when she was interrupted by Aunt Annie.

‘Do thank him for that offer, dear girl. It would be an excellent idea to have our nephew’s support and protection in what is currently a bleak city, particularly as you’ve no idea where your dear mother is living so it could be a long and weary search.’

‘Oh, I do so agree,’ Aunt Sadie said. ‘Do you wish to accompany her too, Megan?’

‘No, ’course not,’ she loudly protested. ‘I have a lot of homework to do so don’t have time.’

Noticing the disapproval in her sister’s lovely face, Joanne hastily assured Megan it was not necessary for her to come. ‘Of course you don’t need to accompany me, lovey. I take Aunt Annie’s point that it won’t be an easy task and no doubt there will be a good deal of walking involved, which would be too much for you, Megan.’

Bernie smiled at her. ‘I, however, would be quite happy to walk my socks off.’

As the aunts clapped their hands to applaud his offer, Joanne felt obliged to politely accept it. He could be quite supportive, so why would she object?

They took the train to Victoria Station, which reminded her of the anguish she’d felt there as a young girl. She remembered how Megan had lost her precious doll when it fell from the rack where their bags had been stacked and its china head cracked and broke. Her sister had been heartbroken, crying for hours throughout the long train journey for the loss of her doll as well as her mother. ‘It was so hard saying goodbye to our mam who steadfastly attempted to look brave when we were evacuated. We were taken far north from our beloved home and family, which made me feel so lonely.’

‘A reaction I know well,’ he softly said. ‘I’ve never confessed this to you but I too lost my mother.’

‘Oh, no! Do you mean she was killed?’

He gave a slight shake of his head. ‘Nope. I reckon she’s still alive some place but I’ve no idea where, as I’m obviously of no great importance to her. After my father was killed in the Royal Navy destroyer, HMS Basilisk near Dunkirk in 1940, she fell into a dreadful state of grief and then a year later ran off with one of his friends.’

‘My goodness, what a dreadful thing to do, to abandon her son. You must have been utterly heartbroken. Me too, having lost contact with my mother, father and even my young brother Danny.’

‘That’s the reason I offered to help you find her, Joanne. Why would I not do what I can to help, when I fully understand the sense of loss you feel?’

‘Much appreciated,’ she said, and for the first time they shared a warm smile, offering each other comfort. ‘I’m so looking forward to searching the place we used to live, quite hopeful that I’ll at last find my mam.’

Once they arrived in Manchester they left the crowded platform and walked down Deansgate enjoying glancing at all the shops. Turning along Bridge Street, they passed the Pack Horse, then went all the way down Lower Byrom Street, trailing up and down several other streets too. Joanne found it quite devastating to see how many houses and factories had been destroyed and was appalled when she saw children playing games in the rubble and old air raid shelters. Narrowing her eyes, she carefully studied them all in case her brother was among them but sadly saw no sign of Danny. There were still sandbags lying around and no signposts, so searching Castlefield for her mother was proving to be something of a nightmare.

When Joanne saw a woman walking some distance ahead wearing the kind of coat and headscarf she recalled her mother once wore, she desperately called out to her. ‘Mam, is that you?’ Turning to give her a quick glance, the woman walked away at great speed and disappeared round a corner, not troubling to respond.

‘Was that your mother?’ Bernie earnestly asked her. ‘If so, I could run after her to tell her you’re here.’

‘Obviously not. If it was, she’d have come rushing to me with her arms outstretched to give me a hug. The problem is that I’m no longer certain of what she’ll look like after all these years,’ Joanne stated despondently.

‘Will she recognize you?’ he asked, giving her a wry smile. ‘You’re a lovely girl now, no longer a child.’

Joanne felt herself blushing even as she frowned, wondering if that had been the problem or had she been mistaken in guessing that woman was her mother? Maybe she’d lost all memory of her? Surely not.

When they finally arrived at the street close to Potato Wharf where they’d lived when she was a child, Joanne looked in horror at the derelict mess of the many houses bombed out back in 1940 during the Christmas Blitz, including their own. She couldn’t even find the house where her cousin Cathie had lived quite close by, or homes of any of their other friends. Shocked by the sight of the dreadful state the city was in and the fact she could find no sign of anyone she knew, Joanne felt grateful when Bernie gave her a clean handkerchief to mop up the tears rolling down her cheeks.

‘Come on, cheer up. Let’s find somewhere for a bit of a snack. We could then start exploring the mills or any other places you remember she worked.’

Looking up at him with gratitude, Joanne gave a nod. ‘Good idea. Let’s go to the Crown.’

They ate an excellent lunch of cod and chips at the pub, which Bernie insisted on paying for. He talked about how he’d enjoyed doing a lot of cooking. ‘I had to learn how to cook when my mum left home. Fortunately, I was sort of adopted by my aunts and they readily accommodated me, which was just as well considering I had no way of paying the rent on the house I was living in. Being fourteen years old, I offered to work for them, which they happily accepted and have taught me a great deal about cooking since.

‘I remember when I once managed to find some real eggs from a local farmer that I made custard tarts for all our guests. The Poles ate the custard but left the pastry untouched. Aunt Annie was infuriated when she saw that and gave them a telling-off over not eating the delicious pastry, speaking to them as if they were naughty children.’ He burst out laughing. ‘It was simply ignorance on their part, of course, never having had a custard tart before, and they quickly did as they were told and gobbled it up.’

Joanne burst out laughing also. ‘Well done. I’m sure they very much enjoyed it.’

‘Oh aye, they did, claiming it was delicious. Now the war is over I’ve moved on to gain training for more useful jobs. I’m having a go at decorating, plumbing and some simple building work. No idea if any of that will be appropriate for me. My aunts are most encouraging and supportive, happy to fund such training, and, as I greatly appreciate their care, I do whatever they ask of me.’

‘They are indeed considerate and generous ladies. I shall be sorry to leave them and am not convinced Megan will agree to do that, even if I promise to take her back for regular visits. My young sister is a very independent little madam with no memory now of our mother. I’m a sort of surrogate mum to her, the only person she’s had to protect and care for her, particularly whenever she’s been upset or in difficulty.’

‘I reckon you’ve done a good job. You’re a lovely caring girl no matter what problems you and your sister have suffered during this dratted war. How are you feeling now, health-wise?’

This not being at all a subject Joanne wished to discuss she did not respond and quickly moved on to speak of where her mother used to work. When she took him to the mill she discovered to her dismay that it had been bombed and burned in a fire. Moving on to search every other possible mill or factory, Joanne called in them all to ask if her mother worked there, explaining she was called Evelyn Talbert, known as Evie. The response from the various secretaries or managers was always a sad shake of the head, as if they were asked countless times where certain persons were, save for one mill where she was told her mother had once worked for them. Feeling a burst of joy, this excitement soon subsided when she was told Evie had now left, being sacked along with most other women. And nobody knew where she was working or living now.

Having spent hours searching and getting nowhere, Joanne felt close to despair, all hopes fading within her. ‘And where is Danny, my dad, or even my cousin Cathie? We’ve got absolutely nowhere.’

They went on to explore the odd hostel and canal boat, in case she’d moved to live in one of those. Trekking up and down more roads, streets and yards where old friends had once lived, Joanne found those too were either destroyed or empty of anyone she knew. By late afternoon she agreed it was time for them to return home to Blackpool. Nothing was at all as it used to be here in Manchester. After walking dejectedly back to Victoria Station, Joanne remained silent throughout the entire journey, feeling utterly exhausted but surprisingly comforted when she nodded off to sleep with her head on Bernie’s shoulder. Not for a moment did he object to that.

Davie, a good friend of Evie and Donald, had safely returned from the war when demobilized from the East Lancashire Regiment, and readily helped her to carry all her belongings in his old Ford van. Not that she had any furniture, having lost it all when their first home had been bombed. He drove her along Liverpool Road and up Byrom Street to a crowd of back-to-back houses close to Wood Street and Deansgate, an area that had thankfully not been destroyed by explosive bombs. It was at least within reasonable distance of Victoria Station; now back in action after suffering a landmine fall on a platform early in the war. Would that be where her son would arrive, or the station on Liverpool Road or Piccadilly? She must make enquiries to find that out.

‘Here’s number six, chuck,’ Davie said, parking his Ford van then starting to lift her boxes and bags out as she unlocked the door. Carrying a load of things in, he glanced around with disdain. ‘I reckon you’ll have to tart this place up. At least it’s a bit bigger than the one room you’ve been occupying lately, chuck.’

Looking around to examine it, not for the first time, Evie gave a sigh. ‘You’re right, Davie, it does require quite a bit of attention. I’m determined to ensure that my family will return to a life of comfort, once I find them. As I’m no longer living in the place they once knew and loved, I’ll work hard to make this more spick and span.’

‘Good for you and I’ll be glad to help, not having much work on myself just yet.’

‘I couldn’t afford to employ you.’

‘That’s all right, wasn’t asking you to do that. If you can afford to buy some white paint, or whatever colour you prefer, I could decorate these walls for you.’

‘Oh, that would be wonderful.’ She fetched her purse and handed him a couple of pounds. ‘See what you can get with that. I really appreciate your help, Davie.’

‘Rightio,’ he said, then, giving a grin and a wink, he finished the unloading then went off happily whistling, promising to be back the next day to start the painting.

Evie knew that this house was not as large or comfortable as the first home they’d rented and lost during the Christmas Blitz in 1940. It had a messy living-kitchen, two bedrooms and a lavatory in the backyard they would have to share with several other families. Having investigated it when Harold Mullins first offered it to her, she’d worked out that the main bedroom would be for herself and Donald. Joanne and Megan could share the small spare room and she’d bought a sofa bed for Daniel, which she’d had delivered and placed in a corner of the living-kitchen.

None of this was ideal but hopefully they might eventually find a better house one day. That would not be easy right now, there being a desperate shortage of property in all cities that had suffered from bombing. This one was at least equipped, with a bit of furniture, including necessary beds in the rooms upstairs. Not that there were any carpets and nothing but blackout curtains over the mucky windows. Nevertheless, she was deeply grateful to Mullins for supplying her with this cottage, as well as the new job she’d be starting first thing on Monday morning, so she must make no complaints about the mess the house was in. She was also deeply grateful for Davie’s offer of assistance.

He turned up as promised the next day and quickly set to painting the kitchen walls white, then moved on to other parts of the house. Evie spent every spare moment over the following days cleaning and scrubbing. Not convinced she’d given Davie sufficient money to paint every room, she frequently asked if he needed more but he would shake his head and gave a chuckle.

‘Neither of us is rich, chuck, but we’re coping well. I did make sure I bought a cheap version so you concentrate on your jobs and I’ll see to this decorating. It needs to look good for Donald and your kids when they arrive home.’

Once he was done, every room looked much cleaner and brighter. Evie gave him a large currant sponge cake she’d baked for him as a token of her appreciation. ‘You’ve done an excellent job, thank you so much.’

‘Eeh, thanks, chuck. We’re a great team. And do let me know when Donald comes home.’

‘I certainly will,’ she said, and gave him a smile as he trotted off.

She stocked the larder with some of her children’s favourite food: dried eggs, Rowntrees KitKat, cheese and wheatmeal bread if little in the way of fruit, sweets, sugar or treacle, rationing still being in place. Once they were due to arrive she’d buy some chicken and vegetables and other tasty food. She had made an attempt to buy them new clothes, then realized she’d no idea what size they took now they were so much older, so had to abandon that idea. Evie made a mental note she could take them shopping to the Flat Iron Market, which had low-priced clothes, or else she could sew her girls a dress each. How exciting that would be, loving sewing and knitting as well as lacemaking.

No longer employed by the mill, her request to keep working with other women to make lace had been ignored by Harold Mullins. Certain machines at the mill had been idle throughout the war, there being no demand for lace in those days. Still in good condition it was a shame she’d not been allowed to operate them. Evie thought she might one day return to making lace herself by hand and try selling it on Campfield Market to earn herself more money. But it could take a while to build herself the stock.

Right now she had to acquire the necessary skills to do this completely different and difficult job, which would hopefully make her a reasonable income as well as having thankfully supplied her with this home for her family. But being only a part-time occupation, she might find some opportunity to work for herself. An interesting proposition.

Chapter Seven

Taking her favourite walk along the beach, Joanne loved the wonderful view of the sea as well as collecting a few beautiful shells and pieces of driftwood from under the pier, which she thought of as treasures. She would wash the shells and paint the driftwood in bright colours, or create an image of seagulls and boats, sensing that would give them a more interesting appearance. It surprised her when Bernie suddenly came to join her.

‘Hello, Joanne. I saw what you were doing while I was watching the boats and am happy to join in,’ he said, starting to pick up a few more shells to pop into her carrier bag.

Lifting her hair from her neck to let the breeze run through it, she glanced up at him with some reluctance, wondering why he had followed her. This being a lovely summer’s day she felt quite unable to think of any justified reason for dismissing him even though she had a desire to be on her own to think things through.

‘Thanks, Bernie, I have managed to find a few.’ They walked along in silence, collecting more pretty shells. When she’d filled her bag he took it from her, claiming it was far too heavy for her to carry. Seeing his pale grey eyes glitter with admiration Joanne was filled with a sudden gush of panic. He did seem to be growing far too interested in her. She was even more surprised when he next asked her for a date.

‘I know that you like dancing and wondered if you’d care to accompany me to the Tower Ballroom. That would be fun,’ he said, giving her a grin.

Oh, my goodness, did she wish to dance with this lad? She certainly had no intention of falling for him, still living in hope of becoming engaged to Teddy. Wouldn’t it be dangerous to allow Bernie to become too fond of her? But what could she say? Hadn’t they been sort of good friends these last few years? And he’d been most supportive by helping her search for her mother in Manchester, as well as sympathetic when they’d failed to find her? But she felt the urge to refuse this request as politely as possible, telling herself she should do her utmost to prevent him from attempting to court her, still fixing her hope on Teddy. Bearing in mind who he was, she must remain cautiously polite towards him. ‘Maybe we’ll give that a try on some occasion. I’ll let you know when I feel ready to have a dance,’ she said, tossing up her chin with a flicker of a smile.

To her surprise, a day or two later, she also received the offer of a date from Wing Commander Ramsbotham. Being such an attractive and lively young man, how could she refuse him? He was far more exciting and good-looking than Bernie. That night when they settled in bed, Joanne told Megan how she’d accepted his offer and declined Bernie’s.

‘Why are you being so stupid?’ her sister demanded, sounding most scathing.

‘Why would I not accept? Wing Commander Ramsbotham is a very attractive man,’ Joanne stoutly declared.

‘Rubbish, he’s a pain in the ass. Bernie is so much kinder and more polite.’

Joanne rolled her eyes. ‘He does appear to be quite smitten with me. He keeps offering to clean my shoes, check the tyres on my bike and if I stretch up a little to the high kitchen cupboard he’ll ask what it is I want and can he reach it for me. He’s very funny! And, of course, he followed me down to the beach the other day to supposedly help me find shells when really he wanted to ask me out. Not at all what I wished him to do.’

‘Oh, for goodness sake, why not encourage Bernie to be your next flame instead of that randy RAF chap? Being our aunt’s nephew you mustn’t be rude to him. And you were far too flighty when those GIs showed interest in you, obsessed with love,’ she mockingly stated.

‘Don’t talk nonsense.’ Joanne felt slightly irritated by her sister’s teasing attitude. She was such a highly intelligent girl and often dismissive of her despite her being her much older sister. She could, however, be making a relevant point not to be rude to Bernie, and a little against the decision she made. She was a bright lass.

‘I’ll give it some thought,’ she said. She turned over in bed and shut her eyes tight so they wouldn’t spill out tears yet again.

Had she been flighty? Being naive, headstrong and foolish to let herself fall madly in love with Teddy, eagerly waiting for the day he’d write and ask her to marry him. Many young girls had felt equally obsessed with those GIs during this dreadful war. It was true that like all his mates Teddy had clearly enjoyed having a fan club of girls gathered around him. All those guys felt in need of adoration, having been caught up in the fighting, bombing and enduring great danger. Like many other girls she too had stupidly allowed him to seduce her, all because she believed that he loved her. Maybe he didn’t care for her at all. Had he thought of her as flighty, not just shy and prudish, greatly appealed by the adoring emotion he’d seen in her eyes and duly taken advantage of her? Was it just as well that he’d left, or was she in serious trouble and very much in need of a man to protect her?

The Tower Ballroom was beautifully lit with red and yellow lighting. When the Wurlitzer organ came sliding up, the man seated before it happily playing, the carefully sprung dance floor was soon packed with people in order to encourage everyone to keep dancing. Some were seated above in the balconies so they could simply watch. ‘Shall we dance now or take a glass of bubbly first?’ Wing Commander Ramsbotham asked as he led her to a table.

‘Oh, no wine for me, thank you, just a cup of tea and a cake.’ Joanne had tactfully agreed to accompany him to an afternoon tea dance not an evening one, taking her sister’s advice that this would be far more appropriate and safe.

‘Call me Clive, dear girl. That’s my name,’ he chuckled. Ignoring what she said, he ordered a bottle of wine. Then, taking her hand, he led her out onto the dance floor.

There was something about the way he held her close, pressing his thighs against her legs and his cheek against hers that set off a small alarm within her. Had Megan been right to warn her against accepting this date? He kept a firm hold of her for several more dances till eventually she politely suggested they return to their table and requested a cup of tea.

Taking a long drink from the glass of bubbly wine he’d poured for himself, he then poured a glass for Joanne. ‘Cheers! Chin, chin.’

She lifted her glass to click his, as was demanded of her, but nervously set it down again without taking a single sip and gratefully thanked the young waitress who delivered her a teapot and a selection of cakes in a stand.

He laughed, the sound of his humour not at all pleasant, filled with a blast of cynicism. ‘Come on, take a drink. Don’t deny yourself such a delicious treat.’

‘I prefer this afternoon tea, thank you, very much the kind of treat that suits me perfectly.’

Glancing about him with a faint air of derision, he said, ‘Why don’t we slip away to somewhere more private and enjoy a little fun together? Wouldn’t that be more entertaining than this ballroom?’

Wasn’t privacy what she’d often dreamed of in the past with Teddy? Now, this man demanding the opportunity to be alone with her was not something she considered at all appropriate. ‘I’m not certain about that.’

‘Why not, dear girl?’

From the expression in his blue eyes it was clear to Joanne what he was implying. He obviously fancied her and assumed she was fascinated by him too. The thought flickered in her head that if she agreed to let him do to her whatever he wished, could she then lay the blame for this child she carried upon him and gain herself a marriage that could save her reputation and spare her a desolate future? Would that be a good thing? He was an attractive man if quite a bit older than her and probably quite well off. He was, however, rather weird, remembering how he’d pinched her sister’s bottom. Wasn’t that why Megan strongly disapproved of him? Taking a deep breath, she mildly remarked, ‘I assumed we were just coming to the Tower Ballroom to enjoy a dance and afternoon tea, not whatever you’re suggesting.’

‘Why would you not be happy to join me in a different hotel to the Jubilee House? I’m fully aware you were highly captivated with those GIs. I assume that’s because you love having a man around to enchant you. And you are most captivating, a very pretty girl in that short, tightly fitting blue dress. Very sexy.’

Something in his tone jolted her as Joanne felt herself flush with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. The implication seemed to be that he considered she was open to titillating attention from all men, in particular those in the Army or Air Force. No doubt he too loved having a fan club of girls, being filled with a strong sense of his own importance and was possibly something of a pervert.

‘Would you believe those Americans greatly interfered in our lives, robbing me of my latest conquest whom I’d been dating for quite a while. I remember one date I had with her when a GI turned up and gave her a kiss, blast him. That pretty girl dumped me in favour of that blasted chap, as so many have done.’

He went rabbiting on about the GIs and Joanne firmly shut her ears to his complaints. She stared at him, noticing a cold hardness in his eyes and a certain arrogance in his twisted smile. Some instinct made her turn her head away and to her surprise she saw Bernie standing in the doorway watching her and looking a little concerned. He did seem to be making a habit of keeping a close eye on her as if anxious to ensure she was safe, even this afternoon in spite of her refusal to accept his offer of a date.

‘Actually,’ she said, interrupting Clive Ramsbotham, this cocky wing commander, ‘you wouldn’t believe how happy I am that this war is now over and I’m no longer pestered by cheeky men. I’ve no wish to be harassed by you either, sir. Fortunately, an old friend is waiting for me so I must return to work now. Thanks for the tea and goodbye.’ Highly amused when his jaw fell open in shock, she jumped to her feet and smartly walked away. When Joanne reached Bernie at the door in the far corner, she linked her arm with his, burst into a giggle and said, ‘Do help me escape from that dreadful man.’

‘My pleasure,’ he said, giving a chuckle too, and they happily trotted down the stairs then along the promenade back to Jubilee House.

Fortunately, cocky Clive quickly departed and over the following days Joanne readily agreed to take a few walks with Bernie, feeling much safer with him. She always made sure Megan accompanied them, believing that to be far more appropriate. Bernie did at times seem to be increasingly attentive, often bringing her small bunches of wild flowers to express his growing interest in her. Joanne was stunned one afternoon following a show he’d taken them to on the North Pier when he attempted to kiss her cheek. She quickly turned away so that he caught her ear instead.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Just wanted to let you know how I appreciate your company.’

She heard Megan give a little giggle as Joanne politely accepted his apology. He was apparently attempting to be reliable and kind. Did that mean her sister was right to encourage her to go on a date with him? But how could she trust any man, let alone fall in love with this one?

All necessary jobs now done, thanks to Davie’s painting and Evie having made the house much more clean and neat, she rose early on Saturday morning, took a little cereal and toast, then quickly washed up. She felt eager to meet her niece Cathie at Campfield Market and tell her what she’d achieved. It was as Evie put on her coat and headscarf that there came a knock on the door. As it banged open, she heard the call of an all-too-familiar voice and the sound of loud footsteps approaching. To her dismay, she saw Harold Mullins marching towards her. All too aware he could be most domineering, Evie felt a spark of resentment that he believed he had the right to walk in without an invitation. This would be because he was the owner of this small house, even though she’d already paid him the first week’s rent and hadn’t yet begun working for him.

‘I hope you don’t want me to start on this job today, as I’ve spent the last week busily smartening up this house and am now on my way out shopping,’ she informed him politely, feeling a shudder of discontent within her.

‘Hold yer horses, lady. You may be in a hurry but don’t rush off. As you know I’m putting a bit of business your way. I’ve quite a few clients who’ve so far refused to cough up what they owe me. Here’s the list of those who essentially must pay their betting bills,’ he said, handing her a sheet bearing a long list of names and addresses. ‘You can start calling on them right now, then the rest on Monday morning and insist they pay up.’

Evie met his unyielding gaze in consternation, realizing she was not in a position to refuse. There was probably much more to this job than she’d imagined. She hadn’t at all taken into account that some folk would avoid paying his betting company. ‘How do I do that?’ she asked in alarm.

‘With firm determination and politeness, at which you’re most efficient. And tek no notice if they claim to be poor or hide away pretending they’re not home. Keep hammering on their flaming door till they let you in. Then deliver the payments you receive to me this evening and every evening thereafter.’

‘Heck, not sure I’ll be any good at this,’ she said, dreading the prospect of being demanding of people in poverty or difficult strangers addicted to gambling to hand over to her what they owed to Mullins, let alone walking the streets each evening to his house in the dark. Why had she ever agreed to take on such a task? The reason was obvious. Because of this house he’d offered her to rent, she reminded herself, glancing around with pride at the improvements already achieved. Something she’d been desperately in need of.

Giving her a smarmy grin, he said, ‘Aye, you’ll have to be good at this job, lass, otherwise you’ll be bloody sacked and chucked out of this house.’ Having made this cutting remark, he marched away.

Chapter Eight

When Bernie again asked her to attend a dance with him at the Tower Ballroom, Joanne felt sorely tempted to accept. Maybe she should be making a fresh start in life, as well as finding an answer to her problem. ‘OK, why not? You’re right, I do love dancing. We’ll give it a go,’ she said with a smile.

It was a delight to see Reginald Dixon come sliding up seated before the Wurlitzer organ this time, which he’d used to play at the Tower before joining the RAF. ‘He often came to give concerts,’ Bernie told her. ‘Now he’s planning to return for good, no doubt once he’s been demobbed. Good to see him here.’

Holding her quite professionally, Joanne was surprised to find what a good dancer he was and easily kept in step with him. Presumably living near the Tower Ballroom had provided Bernie with plenty of opportunity to learn how to dance, often coming along to the afternoon sessions, as he did that time he rescued her from that dreadful wing commander. She happily danced with him, thankful that he was nowhere near as demanding or flirtatious.

Over the summer she’d taken several more walks with Bernie on the beach. On occasions he would escort her and Megan to the Winter Gardens to listen to music playing or watch various shows on the North and Central Piers or at the Grand Theatre. Her sister rarely accompanied them these days, it being almost September and she was generally engaged in preparing herself for this new school. Aunt Annie had made her the required uniform and was teaching her how to knit and sew. Aunt Sadie was engrossed in finding her good books to read from the local library and encouraging her to draw and paint. They were so supportive of her sister, Joanne wondered if she should seek their help too.

Aware of how Bernie was holding her close as they danced, she could feel the warmth of him, which was raising an odd sort of expectation within her. Bernie did seem to be most friendly and there were moments when she almost felt the urge to become quite fond of him. Not that she believed that would ever happen, although could he provide the answer to her problem? She dismissed this nonsense with a sigh. He was a little more considerate and attentive than Teddy had been and happily content to work with his aunts. Yet there was a boring sameness about him, showing no plans to make changes to his life. He did sometimes gaze at her closely for no good reason, his eyes clouding a little beneath his furrowed brow. She gave a shiver. Why on earth would she wish to imply that she liked him much at all?

As if seeing a sign of anguish in her face, he said, ‘I know you’ve not been eating too well lately, are you feeling any better?’

‘I’m fine,’ she stoutly remarked.

Noticing how she kept looking around, avoiding his gaze, he gave her a grin. ‘You look very pretty in that floral frock and with those clips in your curly hair. Did you agree to accompany me because you wanted to show yourself off, as you obviously like to do with us chaps? Well, why not when you look so gorgeous?’

About to protest at his indication that she liked to flatter herself she instead burst out laughing, feeling madly lighthearted and a little touched by this comment. ‘How well you understand me. I do like to look elegant, which isn’t at all easy having little money to spend on clothes. And as I no longer trust men I simply do my best to improve whatever cheap frocks I can find. You look quite good too in that smart navy suit with a white shirt and blue tie.’

‘So I’m no longer the tangy mess I once was?’

‘’Course you’re not, silly lad,’ she said, feeling relieved that he did look much better. She’d never wished to be seen going out with him when he was a gangly youth with messy skin. ‘You have greatly improved if not as handsome as some of those GIs.’

‘Ah, am I the wrong man for you then, not being that fellow you desperately wanted?’

Joanne felt a waft of embarrassment. Had she said entirely the wrong thing by mentioning those Yanks? ‘Are you asking me to confess that I’m in love with one of them? Oh, dear, would that make you jealous?’ she remarked teasingly.

‘Why would I not be?’ Then, pulling her closer, he gave her cheek a gentle kiss. Instantly Joanne pushed him away, her heart hammering with fury at how he dared do such a thing, and marched back to their table at the side of the ballroom. Steadfastly avoiding meeting his shrewd gaze as he settled beside her, she felt alarmed when he continued to question her.

‘Does that GI still fancy you and do you believe he’ll send word for you to join him in America? Please tell me, as I do feel the need to know.’ He asked the question quietly, a kindness very evident in his grey eyes.

‘I very much doubt it,’ she responded sternly. A part of her felt as if she wished to weep. How could she confess her need for Teddy because of the problem she was suffering, having missed three monthly periods? She couldn’t risk losing hope of him sending for her, not after all the time they’d spent together, let alone how she desperately wanted him to accept her as his adoring wife after what he’d done to her. Feeling far too locked up in anguish to think of a suitable response and wishing to escape this issue, she quickly changed the subject. ‘Tell me what you were involved in during the war, not having been called up.’

He gave a grin. ‘I was enrolled as a fourteen-year-old by the Home Guard, trained and provided with a dispatch rider’s Army trade badge. I constantly cycled around delivering important messages as instructed. We were at first a bit short of weapons but were trained to march and drill with a form of dummy rifles. Eventually we did have proper firearms supplied, and a special khaki uniform complete with an LDV armband. I was happy to be a local defence volunteer, happy to do my bit to help the various troops and protect our area. Keeping a watch for the possible invasion of the enemy over the sea was also an important part of our day.’

‘How brave of you. So what do you plan to do with your life now this war is over? Will you take up sailing and fishing? And have you found anyone who fancies you?’

‘What a question!’ Remaining silent for some moments, he sat sipping his half-pint of beer. Joanne suspected that she’d asked the wrong question, never having seen or heard him going off on a date with any other girl. Did that make him feel unwanted and lonely, which may account for why he kept asking her out as well as these personal questions? Perhaps he felt the need to find himself someone to care for him, having lost his parents. Then his next comment completely stunned her.

‘I don’t have a girlfriend but am quite fond of you, and concerned over what you suffered. The truth is, Joanne, I saw what that GI did to you down on the beach that day. I suspect he may have left you in a sorry state, in which case if you’re in need of saving your reputation by finding yourself a respectable man to marry and protect you, may I apply for that position?’

Evie was up like a lark first thing every single morning. On the first Monday in this job she’d spent the entire day attempting to locate all the addresses on the list, having walked for hours around parts of Castlefield and Salford. Now, knowing where she had to call, she’d knock on doors then politely ask for the payments due. Some folk would readily or sulkily provide the money; others slammed the door in her face or made all manner of excuses.

‘Can’t pay at the moment. Maybe next week if I win summat. I’ll let you know,’ was a frequently typical remark.

And so it went on, day after day, week after week. Evie felt wracked with nerves every time she approached sour-looking men who viewed her with diffidence and disdain. Others proved reluctant to commit themselves, despite being impressed with her good manners. After gritting her teeth and promising to call again, she would smile and move on to the next house. As darkness fell and very often it began to rain, soaking her through, she would deliver the money she’d received to Mullins each evening, as instructed. Generally, Evie would politely point out how she’d failed to collect as much as was owed, something she was apologizing for right now.

‘I’ve done the best I can and succeeded in persuading some clients to pay up, but others don’t even answer the door or else firmly state they don’t possess the necessary funds.’

‘I assume you tell ’em when you’ll call again and that’s why they hide?’ he snapped.

Taking a breath, realizing she never said anything of the sort, Evie gave a weary smile. ‘I reckon it takes days or weeks before some can find the amount they need.’

‘You ain’t doing too well then. You should call twice a week at different times so they never know exactly when you’re coming. Try a bit harder to get the money off ’em that’s due.’

‘I doubt that will work, or that I’m very good at this job.’ Evie felt she was working hard, yet Mullins didn’t seem prepared to give her the slightest praise for her efforts, or be very helpful. But then, as he had clearly explained to her, she was required to do as he ordered. And he was most rude by constantly complaining that she fell short of his impossibly high standards. Giving him a polite smile, she went on to say, ‘You clearly have a low opinion of my worth. Night after night you complain. I can see this must be a problem for you but I feel worn out by working hard in this so-called part-time job, and failing to achieve whatever you demand. Pestering people too often doesn’t seem to work. You should probably have employed a young man, not me.’

Harold’s face darkened. ‘I’m not in favour of chaps. Much prefer a woman to work for me. I reckon you’ll improve if you do as I say.’

‘Whether or not you’ll admit it, you’re losing money hand over fist. Same as Mr Eccles is, the mill being outdated so ’appen if you’d listened to the suggestions I made, I might have kept that job and helped him to improve it. Please let me have it back, I’d much prefer that job to this one, as many other women would, since we love working in a textile factory. I’d be much better at that.’

His face was purple as he glowered at her, a blue line around his lips, and for a moment she was fearful he might actually be about to hit her. But taking a huge indrawn breath and showing a great effort of will, he brought his temper under control. ‘I’m damned if I’ll allow you to tell me how to run things at t’mill, or in this business of mine. I’ve no financial problems, am doing fine, but need to earn more as I too could ultimately lose my job if the mill closes down. Tha’ll have to mek sure tha does better, or you’ll lose yer flamin’ house as well as this job.’

He slammed his door shut in her face and Evie turned on her heel and stamped away. What a difficult man he was. It came to her that renting this house off Harold Mullins meant she was completely under his control. But no alternative properties were available, and she’d failed to find other work. Dreading to think how much worse this job could become she made a vow to keep searching for more suitable employment as well as a better house. Meanwhile, she had to accept reality and keep on working for this man to earn money to care for her family, once they all arrived. Oh, hopefully they would come home soon.

Joanne felt as if she was drenched in confusion, having unbelievably heard Bernie’s offer. The idea he’d seen what happened that day on the beach when Teddy had made love to her before dashing away, left her frozen with anguish. Why on earth would he offer to marry her simply because of a difficult situation he suspected she was in. No doubt that was because being a local defence volunteer in the Home Guard, bravely doing his bit during the war when he was young, he still felt the necessity to protect people.

It was Teddy, the man she loved, whom she wished to marry, certainly not their aunts’ nephew. He couldn’t provide her with any sort of future that would appeal or make her happy, save for a form of protection and security. Being a mixed-up lad with no well-paid job, why would she care about him? The only thing she could find in his favour was his improved appearance. He was better looking now he was older, for all he was still a bit lean and obsessed with doing his duty. But how could he truly prove to be in love with her?

Now, as she walked alone by the shore feeling a benign coolness with the promise of autumn in the air, her eyes scanned the silvered water and golden sand, as if expecting Teddy to appear at any moment. Whenever she thought of him, the ache in her heart became increasingly painful. Would that beloved man call and confess how he missed and needed her, not having realized until now how much he truly loved her? He might then decide to find a job here in Blackpool and work hard to build a future for them together.

‘Give me the chance, that’s all I ask. I do love you, darling,’ he might say. Oh, how she longed to hear that.

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