Daughters of Liverpool. Annie Groves
The ARP men by the crater were saying something about it looking like everyone in the fire engine had ‘bought it’.
Emily shivered and held the boy’s hand more tightly.
Later she found it hard to recall how long it had taken them to walk up Wavertree Road, scrunching over pavements strewn with broken glass, and past bombed-out burning buildings. There was no comforting stop at the chippie. Its windows were blown out and its owners in an air-raid shelter. Where they should be, Emily knew, but if she was going to die she’d prefer to die in her own bed in clean sheets, thank you very much, not some council shelter where you’d be mixing with all sorts. The people of Wavertree Village had certain standards, make no mistake about it.
Every time she heard a plane overhead Emily clung more tightly to the boy’s hand. He had saved her life once tonight, after all.
‘Katie, is it really you?’
Katie had just reached the table closest to the band, with her candles, as they were about to take a break, and a wide smile curved her mouth as she returned the warmly enthusiastic hug of the sax player, Eric, whose family had originally come from Hungary, and who had played for a while in one of the bands conducted by her father.
‘How is your father?’ Eric asked her eagerly. ‘He is well? Safe? There have been so many bombs in London.’
‘He is very well, thank you, Eric,’ Katie answered. ‘And you?’
‘I am well too, but I hadn’t expected this. We came away from London to escape from the bombings.’
Luke’s men had done all that they could do, and now that the tarpaulins were safely in place, Luke had agreed that they could accept Mr Munro’s offer of a free drink.
‘Not too much, mind,’ he warned the men as they re-entered the candlelit ballroom. ‘It isn’t Christmas yet, lads.’
The girl, the stuck-up one, was standing over by the alcove talking to a member of the band. They were laughing together and the man had his hand on her arm. Pretty nifty work on his part, Luke reckoned, and the girl didn’t look as if she objected to his familiarity. So, a bit free with her favours then, as well as wanting a rich husband. Not that he cared. She didn’t appeal to him one little bit.
Seeing Hatton Gardens in flames had left Luke feeling on edge and wishing that he could go across and find out what was going on. It irked him to be stuck here in a ballroom when he could be doing something far more useful, but rules were rules, and if he went off and left his men to their own devices anything could happen. Half of them would have too much to drink and the other half would be taking Dutch leave, and then there’d be hell to pay in the morning when they weren’t fit to report for duty.
No, he had to stay with them and keep an eye on them. The barman was offering him a beer, but Luke shook his head, and asked for lemonade instead.
‘Lemonade, Corp? That’s a girl’s drink,’ Andy grinned.
‘Well, one of us has got to keep a sober head on his shoulders and since I am your corporal it had better be me,’ he told them.
‘You know what,’ one of the other men announced, eyeing the dance floor, ‘I reckon this dancing by candelight could be a pretty good thing. You can get a girl close and do a bit of smooching.’
‘That’s enough of that,’ Luke warned him, but he could see that the men were looking hopefully towards those tables occupied solely by girls.
The band was ready to start playing again. Katie had been introduced to Mrs Hamer and the other members of the band now, all of whom had heard of her father.
‘What was all that about?’ Carole hissed when Katie returned to their table.
‘Eric knows my father and he was asking after him.’
‘Them army lads have come back from fixing the roof,’ Carole told her, ‘and that fair-haired one’s been looking over here ever such a lot. I reckon he’ll be asking me to dance before the night’s out.’
‘He certainly will if you keep on making sheep’s eyes at him,’ Katie agreed.
Carole pulled a face and protested mock innocently, ‘What a thing to say. I can’t think what you mean,’ and then started to giggle, nudging Katie as she said, ‘He’s got ever such a nice smile, though, hasn’t he?’
Katie’s expression softened. She could never behave like Carole, but she still couldn’t help feeling her own mood lightened by the other girl’s bubbly manner. Perhaps her mother had been right to tell her that she was too serious, but if that was how she was, she couldn’t change her nature, could she?
Mr Munro had gone over to Mrs Hamer and was saying something to her, and then he turned round and announced, ‘Let’s hear a cheer for our army lads, and if any single young lady here has anything about her I reckon she’ll be the first on her feet to ask one of them to dance when the band starts playing, because the next dance will be a ladies’ excuse me in their honour.’
There was a cheer from the occupants of the tables, and then a lot of laughter, as the men were herded onto the floor, looking bashful, and three or four daring girls got to their feet and went over to them to claim their partners.
Carole needed no further encouragement or excuse. She was on her feet, dragging Katie up with her.
‘Come on,’ she demanded, ignoring Katie’s objections. ‘I’m not letting some other girl walk off with that lad I’ve got me own eye on.’
It was only innocent fun, and sanctioned by the Grafton’s manager – a nice way for them all to show their appreciation for what the men had done, Katie knew – but still she felt very self-conscious about it all, even though they were far from the first or the fastest of the girls to approach the soldiers.
In fact, since Katie had hung back, by the time she actually reached the dance floor and the soldiers, to her relief all the men seemed to be partnered.
She was just about to turn round and go and sit down again when Mr Munro himself appeared at her side, announcing, ‘Here you are, Corporal. Here’s a partner for you. Now don’t say “no”. I’m well aware that you’re the one who ensured that your men did such a good job, and I’m sure this charming young lady here is as keen to show her appreciation as I am to show mine.’
It was her, the stuck-up one. Luke’s heart sank. He didn’t want to dance with anyone but least of all with her. The last time he had danced here it had been with Lillian, just before he had left with the BEF for France. Last Christmas, in fact.
He didn’t want to dance with her, Katie could tell. Well, she didn’t want to dance with him either, and she held herself stiffly away from him to let him know it.
She was dancing with him as though he was a bad smell under her nose, Luke thought angrily.
The band swung into a pacey swing number, designed to get things moving, and allow those who had the skills to show off their best steps.
Katie might not be able to sing but she was a very good dancer, something that had been an additional source of discord between her parents when she had been growing up, as her mother claimed that Katie’s ability to dance had been passed on to her daughter by her, whilst her father had retaliated by saying that he did not want a daughter who thought that prancing around on a stage meant that she had ‘talent’.
Whilst the other couples, taking advantage of Mr Munro’s invitation to the girls to choose their own partners, were eager to take advantage of the mood of the moment – a potent mix of male bravery and heroism, and female bravado, spiced with the kind of music that allowed the more adventurous men to take a firm hold of their partners and draw them closer – Luke and Katie were determinedly keeping one another at a rigid arm’s length, both making it plain that they were more than delighted when the music finally stopped.