‘For God’s sake, stop fussing.’ Alfie pushed his mother aside as he reached for his coat. Even though it was now March, the weather was still cold and, as he’d barely set foot outside his own front door for what felt like a lifetime, he knew he’d be grateful for its warmth. However, his mother was standing by holding a scarf and thick gloves, anxiously pressing them on him.
‘You’ll catch your death,’ she warned. ‘You don’t want to rush into things. What do you need to go outside for, anyway? I can bring you everything you need right here. Why don’t you stop inside and build up your strength?’
‘Because I’ve got to get away from you, and the one thing I really need is more whisky,’ Alfie muttered under his breath. He felt like a schoolboy again, being forced to take the hand-knitted gloves he’d hated so much. He hadn’t worn them back then – he’d always just shoved them in his pockets the moment he’d rounded the corner out of her sight – and he wasn’t going to wear them now. He’d had enough; he’d reached his limit. If he didn’t get away soon his head would burst, with all the furious thoughts that were swirling around it.
The shock of the outside air made him gasp, but he gulped it in, relishing the freshness of it, after so long being cooped up in the small terraced house, with its constant smell of cooked cabbage and damp walls. He turned his face up to the sky. It was grey and it would probably rain but he didn’t care. He was free again. It was all he could do not to shout out loud.
He knew he should go down to the docks and see his boss, explain he was on the mend and would soon be back at work. He needed to start earning again, for a start. His feet decided otherwise, heading in the opposite direction, as if he had no choice in the matter. He moved along in a direct line as if driven by a secret mission. After a while he arrived at the nondescript pub to which he’d taken Tommy all those months ago. The sign still swung in the breeze, but now the new paint could be distinguished on it: a bright figure and the words, The King’s Head. Alfie glared at it, squinting upwards. The king hadn’t done much for him, he thought angrily. Still, it was a pub, and one he hadn’t yet been banned from, so it would do as well as any other. He was gasping for the taste of proper beer.
If he’d hoped for any kind of welcome, any comments that he hadn’t been seen in there for a while and he’d been missed, he was doomed to disappointment. The morose barman simply grunted at him and pulled the pint without comment, setting it down silently and holding out his hand for money. Alfie didn’t care. He wasn’t at home, his mother wasn’t going to fill his head with information he didn’t want, and he had a decent pint of bitter before him.
In fact, there was one piece of information he’d seized on the other day when his mother had come in from the shop, complaining about Tommy Callaghan being a danger and a menace, riding his bike too fast, and about how slow that daft Ruby was. She’d mentioned in passing that Danny wasn’t around at the moment, having been sent off on some course or other. Alfie had stored that nugget away and brooded on it; it was typical of that smug devil that he’d landed yet another cushy number, but on the plus side it left the field clear for Alfie to pursue Kitty.
Now he was out and about he could set about following his plan. With Danny out of the way, there would be nobody to stop him if he tried to see Kitty again. All he had to do was tell her how things were – that she needed to listen to him because he knew what was best for her. It was simple. She belonged to him. She’d always known he had his eye on her, she must have realised how he felt. She might resist at first, especially now she had this job that everyone thought was so important, but she’d see reason eventually. Alfie didn’t hold with women working. It simply wasn’t right; it went against the natural order of things. She couldn’t hope to do whatever it was she did as well as a man would do it. She was an excellent cook, everyone said so, and therefore her destiny was to be in his kitchen and, Alfie hoped fervently, in his bed. He licked the head of his pint from his upper lip, savouring the thought. He’d have Kitty just where he wanted her, and soon, before that stuck-up brother of hers came back. He’d strike while the iron was hot.
The meeting room had been too warm and stuffy, crammed with bodies, all elbow to elbow as they tried to write their notes. Kitty wished they could open a window, but the few panes of glass had been covered with tape to minimise damage if a bomb should go off nearby, and couldn’t easily be opened. She tried to put out of her mind what Laura had told her.
They’d managed a very quick rendezvous the evening before, as the Liverpool train had got in just after Laura’s shift had finished. They’d hurriedly run to the nearest café, Kitty glad of an excuse not to spend any more painful minutes with Frank, even as she felt a pang when he’d turned his back and headed across the station concourse in the opposite direction. They’d been assigned to separate billets anyway. Laura had been her usual energetic self, full of news of Freddy’s recovery, but still no wiser about Marjorie’s fate. Kitty had looked at her friend keenly, recognising the signs of stress around her eyes. She wondered what the cause was.
‘Oh, honestly, it’s nothing.’ Laura had dismissed the idea, but then, recognising that Kitty knew her well enough to see through any defences, caved in. ‘It’s these damned bombs again. It was bad enough dodging the doodlebugs, but this latest lot don’t give you a chance. You don’t even hear them until after they’ve struck. It’s pretty annoying.’
‘I can see that.’ Kitty shuddered. ‘Have they caused much damage?’
Laura set down her mug of weak tea. ‘Here and there. The worst was Selfridges, can you imagine? That was very inconvenient of them. A visit there was one of the few perks of working in central London.’
Kitty raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s a real shame. I know we felt the same when Lewis’s got hit at home. Still, we’ve managed somehow.’
Laura nodded. ‘Of course. That’s what we do, isn’t it? We manage somehow. Sorry to rush you, especially as I’ve only just seen you, but I have to go – I’ve extra duties this evening, some visiting bigwig or other. But I’ll see you tomorrow for a proper chinwag, won’t I? After your big meeting?’
‘Of course,’ Kitty had said, and hugged her friend.
Now she felt her mind drifting to the evening ahead, and the promise of swapping gossip with Laura. Peter was back on active service, and they would have the whole time to themselves, which felt like a long-overdue luxury. Then someone spoke her name and she realised she was being addressed directly.
Quickly she gathered her thoughts, covering her moment of hesitation by tidying the stack of papers before her. Then she rose from her seat and gave the brief report she’d prepared, speaking steadily and confidently. As she finished she looked around at the sea of faces. She couldn’t help but notice Frank, watching her with what seemed to be pride; despite her earlier intentions, she was buoyed by his approval. That’ll show him, she thought. Me, Kitty Callahan from Empire Street, standing up in front of all these important people, speaking in public. She almost pinched herself; for a moment it didn’t seem real. Then, as the chairman nodded to her, she took her seat once more. The chairman turned to his left and muttered something in the ear of the officer sitting just behind him. Gold braid flashed as the officer half rose. ‘Miss Callaghan, if I could trouble you for a quick word after the meeting.’
She nodded, but there was no time for any further explanation – they had already moved on to the next item. She forced her eyes to focus on the agenda, now covered in annotations and underlining.
It was another half an hour before the meeting dissolved for a tea break. She made her way to a bare side room, painted in institutional cream, following everyone else. Before she could join the queue for the hot drinks, the officer sidestepped her. ‘Miss Callaghan, a moment of your time.’
‘Of course,’ said Kitty, pushing away her alarm at being singled out.
‘Your report this morning was very informative,’ he said, his eyes crinkling in a friendly manner. She guessed he must be about forty, and evidently very senior in the service. ‘Our chairman thought you might care to share it with some of our communications officers who can’t be here in person. They are based near Holborn – I don’t know if you know where that is?’
Kitty nodded. ‘I was based in north London for some time when I first joined the Wrens,’ she told him. ‘I know most of the city centre quite well.’
‘Excellent,’ the officer said. ‘I believe one of my colleagues has suggested Lieutenant Feeny comes along as well, to give his view of the operations. We can arrange a lift for you, as Captain Harris has to attend a combined services meeting near there, but if you can find your own way back, that would be a tremendous advantage.’
‘That is no trouble at all, sir,’ said Kitty, careful that her face did not betray her true feelings. More time alone with Frank – but she’d coped with the long train journey down and so this would be bearable. She’d keep her mind on the evening to come, catching up with Laura.
‘Then we’ll have a car waiting for you outside the side entrance when this is finished,’ the officer said. ‘Don’t let me detain you from your tea and biscuits, Miss Callaghan. You see we can run to biscuits here – it’s not like being stuck out in the provinces, you know.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Kitty, annoyed that he’d had to have a snide dig at where she came from. London officers – they were all the same.
‘Now you be a good boy and don’t cause any trouble for Auntie Sarah or Tommy,’ Nancy instructed her son as they stood on the doorstep of the Callaghans’ house. ‘Remember to clean your teeth and go straight to bed when they tell you.’
‘Yes, Mam,’ said Georgie impatiently, hopping up and down on the spot. He couldn’t wait to be inside. He’d visited this house many times but had never been allowed to sleep there, and he could hardly contain himself.
Tommy opened the door, a big grin on his face as he caught sight of the little boy beaming up at him. ‘All right, young Georgie?’ he said affectionately, ruffling the boy’s hair. ‘Come on in.’
‘Don’t you stand for any nonsense from him, Tommy,’ Nancy said, half worried that it would be too much for the lad, but proud too that her little boy was having this small adventure. ‘He’s got everything he needs packed in that canvas bag.’
‘I put in my picture book an’ all,’ Georgie said solemnly. ‘So I won’t get under your feet.’
‘Course you won’t get under my feet,’ said Tommy warmly. ‘We’re going to have a grand time. So don’t you worry,’ he said to Nancy, who was hovering.
‘I know you will. All right, give Mammy a kiss and then off you go,’ she said, wondering why she suddenly felt a surge of trepidation. The little boy’s cough seemed to be on the mend at last, and she’d left Georgie with lots of babysitters before, including Tommy himself. In any case, it wouldn’t be long until Sarah got home from work. Her younger sister was one of the most sensible, capable people she knew, so there was, as Tommy said, no need to worry. She was just being silly. She bent and gave Georgie a brief hug and then waved goodbye as Tommy shut the door. As she walked away she could hear Georgie’s shrieks of excitement.
Nancy drew the collar of her best coat up around her neck, shivering with her own excitement. Gary had booked them into the select hotel they’d been to once before. It was so much more risky now the days were longer and people would be around who might know them – but she didn’t care. He’d be off on active service from tomorrow. He couldn’t tell her where he was going; she wasn’t sure if he knew himself. So it would be a night to savour. She was now all but certain he was going to ask her to come away with him after the war was over, which everyone said would be soon. She knew there were a few legal obstacles in the way, but she was sure they could find a way around them. Gary was so clever, so caring and protective. He’d make sure a little thing like a hasty marriage undertaken when she wasn’t old enough to know any better didn’t get in the way of their lasting happiness together. She just had to trust him.
Singing to herself, she hopped on to the bus, ignoring all the looks coming her way, knowing that her joy was radiating off her like heat from the sun.
Kitty had kept her eyes facing the front windscreen as they were driven across town and shown to the large office where she was to repeat her report from earlier in the morning. There was no need for small talk with Frank as Captain Harris, apparently unaware that she’d ever been to the capital before, kept up a running commentary. It mainly consisted of pointing out bomb sites, something she could have done without.
They were met by a polite but brisk senior Wren, who swiftly ushered them upstairs to an echoing corridor, leading to a meeting room with rows of chairs which had the air of having been hastily put together. Kitty suspected they’d had about as much notice of this as she and Frank had. Still, she delivered her report, and Frank added a few points from his side of things, which seemed to go down well. Within less than an hour they were back on the street again.
Frank looked at Kitty. ‘That was rather a whirlwind, wasn’t it?’ he said, rubbing his forehead as he did so. ‘I hope we were able to tell them what they needed.’
Kitty could feel her resolve to keep her distance slipping away. ‘They wouldn’t have asked us if they hadn’t thought we could contribute something vital. It’s not our fault we aren’t as up to date on how some of our communications were designed – we’re the ones who know how to work them, after all. I’m glad we had the chance to meet some of the people who do a similar job and check we’re all working in the same way. Are you all right?’ she added anxiously, as he continued to rub his temples.
Frank straightened up at once, always sensitive to any implication he was less than one hundred per cent. ‘Of course.’
Kitty sighed, realising he’d assumed she meant his leg, when all she’d intended was to be considerate. ‘Only you look as if you might have a headache,’ she added.
Frank nodded slowly. ‘All right, yes, I have. It’s being cooped up in that stuffy place this morning, and I have to admit I didn’t sleep well last night. Whatever my landlady’s shortcomings, I must confess the bed in my usual billet is extremely comfortable. I’ve been spoilt. The one I was given yesterday had springs poking through it, so I finally slept like a letter Z. Funny, isn’t it, when we spend most of our working lives shut inside an underground bunker, in a warren of small rooms – you’d think this would all be a breath of fresh air.’
‘Well, maybe some air is just what you need,’ Kitty suggested, determined now to be friendly but practical. ‘Come on, we don’t need to get a bus or Underground, we can walk back. I know the way. It’ll do us good.’ She deliberately didn’t ask if he would be all right to walk, knowing it would cause offence and break the fragile truce between them.
Frank tipped his head and looked straight at her. ‘Lead the way then, Kitty. You’re more familiar with this place than I am.’ For a moment she thought he was going to give her his arm, but then he put his hands in his pockets, so she was saved the embarrassment of reaching out only to have the offer taken away.
‘Let’s make our way via the back streets,’ she suggested. ‘It’ll be quieter. High Holborn gets so busy, it will be noisy and do your head no good at all.’
‘Okey doke, as Tommy would say.’
Kitty laughed. ‘I hope he’s all right and not driving your sister round the bend.’
‘How’s that?’ he asked.
‘Oh, you won’t have heard. It was all a bit last minute.’ Kitty found the street she wanted and explained the arrangement she and Sarah had come to, in order not to wound Tommy’s pride but still keep an eye on him.
Frank laughed when he understood how they’d achieved that delicate balance. ‘It’s hard to remember that Tommy’s almost a young man now,’ he said fondly.
‘You haven’t seen him on his bike, have you? Honestly, it’s a wonder he hasn’t fallen off yet, the speed he goes around corners,’ she replied – but whatever she was going to say next was lost as a powerful blast hit them, without the slightest hint of any warning. It was only afterwards that the hideous noise of the V2 bomb’s descent could be heard – but by then the walls of neighbouring buildings had crumbled, a vast hole had opened in the narrow street, and Kitty and Frank were submerged in a pile of bricks and rubble.