Anne Bennett 3-Book Collection: A Sister’s Promise, A Daughter’s Secret, A Mother’s Spirit. Anne Bennett
Читать онлайн книгу.
been Cathy’s and she smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she unplaited her hair and coiled it into a bun, which she fastened at the nape of her neck. It was the way Nellie wore her hair, and Molly knew that immediately she looked more grown up.
It was a shame she thought that she had to cover her fine clothes with the old black coat, which was as drab and shapeless as ever, though even that looked better when teamed with the tam-o’-shanter and scarf that Tom had bought her that first Christmas.
The journey was, as she had been warned, very stop and start, and so slow that sometimes she had an urge to get out and push. One half of her was in a fever of excitement to get to Birmingham, to find Kevin and bring him some measure of comfort, and yet the other half of her recoiled from the idea of what she might find.
By the time the train had chugged its way into Derry, she felt as cold as ice and burdened down with sadness. The night was still dark as pitch on the train to the docks at Belfast, and though the sky had lightened a little by the time she was aboard the boat, it hardly affected Molly’s mood.
The pearly dawn had just begun to steal across the sky when she stood on deck and watched the boat pull away from the shores of Ireland. She remembered doing the same thing in Liverpool when she vowed to return, and she also remembered the promise she had made to her little brother, which she was now going to keep.
This time, although her stomach did churn a little, she was able to eat and keep down some of the food that Tom had packed for her, and she bought a cup of nice hot tea to wash it down, but it didn’t chase away the cold, dead feeling inside her, nor stop her imagining the tragic and devastating scenario waiting for her at the end of the journey. Many spoke to the young and very pretty girl travelling alone and looking so sorrowful, and although she was pleasant enough, she wasn’t up to a long, in-depth conversation with anyone. She wanted to keep herself focused on what she had to do once she reached Birmingham, because that helped keep the tears at bay and she had shed quite enough of those.
Although the day was grey, overcast and bitterly cold, Molly was glad it was daylight when they reached Liverpool and she followed the other passengers as they made their way to the station. The train south had passed three stations with the names blacked out before she mentioned it to a fellow passenger.
‘It’s to confuse the enemy,’ the woman said. ‘You know, in case there are spies travelling about the country.’
‘But how do people manage if they didn’t know the area?’
‘Have to manage, and that’s that,’ the woman said. ‘I mean, my dear, don’t you know there is a war on? God, if I had had a pound every time someone said that to me since this whole shebang started, I would be a rich woman by now.’
‘Yeah,’ said another. ‘As if you couldn’t know. Even if a Martian landed I would say he would be aware of it, and in short order too. And the government treat us like imbeciles. I mean, look at that poster.’
The train had drawn to a halt at another nameless station and Molly saw that on the wall was a poster showing a man and woman standing beside a train ticket office that looked closed and the poster asked, ‘Is Your Journey Really Necessary?’
‘It’s because they want trains left to move the troops, my old man said,’ the first woman told Molly. ‘But I ask you, with this stop-start nature they have at the moment and the way trains never run on time, because “there is a war on”, you understand, if your journey wasn’t necessary, then I’m sure you would stop at home.’
‘This is all new to me,’ Molly said. ‘I was born in Birmingham but was taken to my grandmother’s in Ireland when my parents died five years ago.’
‘Ah,’ the first woman said, ‘how lucky to have one of your own willing to take you in, in such awful circumstances.’
If only you knew, Molly thought, but didn’t give voice to it.
‘Why come back now?’ asked the second woman.
Molly told them about her young brother staying with his grandfather and the absence of letters that prompted her to come and see for herself what had happened to them.
‘Well, I hope you find them both safe and sound,’ the first woman said. ‘But you will see Birmingham is very changed from the place you remember, and the two women regaled Molly with tales about the raids on Birmingham and the great swathes of the city laid waste, until the train drew up at a station they said was Crewe, where they had to change trains. Molly remembered it well, but for all that, was worried about missing Birmingham when she eventually got there. She was glad the two women were travelling on with her as they said they would make sure she got off at the right place.
They were true to their word, and when Molly alighted from the train, despite herself, she scanned the platform. She would have given anything to see her grandfather waiting for her, to see his eyes light up when he saw her, feel his arms go around her tight. She would smell the smoke from the pipe he always left in his jacket pocket, and she would kiss his dear, weathered cheek and tell him how glad she was to be back.
Tears stood out in her eyes at the realisation that she might never see him again, and she suddenly felt very lost and more than a little scared. She had no plan of action. She had money and knew she had to find lodgings, but she had no idea where to start. The almost sleepless night and the long and wearing day had begun to take their toll.
Two men had been watching Molly. They saw she was young and noted that there was no one to greet her. She was just the sort of girl they were interested in. Their eyes met, but they didn’t speak; there was no need. They waited until the platform virtually cleared of passengers and the girl still stood there in an agony of indecision, trying to batten down her rising panic and decide what to do first.
‘Can we be of any assistance to you, miss?’
Molly had no sense of alarm or unease, rather relief that someone had actually spoken to her, especially when the two men looked so respectable, dressed in suits and shirts and ties. The man who had spoken had actually doffed his hat, which had been a novel experience. Who better to ask advice of than these two men?
She had actually opened her mouth to say this, but she was prevented by the wails of the air-raid sirens and she looked at them, her eyes standing out in her head and intense fear displayed in every line of her body. Ray Morris, the man who had spoken to her, knew that he was on to a winner, for the girl was stunning, absolutely stunning, and he knew Vera would pay a good price for one who looked like this – when he had broken her in a bit, that was. She liked them broken in, did Vera.
But that was for later. Now there was the air raid to deal with, a raid that the girl was obviously scared rigid of. He took her arm, saying firmly, ‘Come, we must seek shelter. My name is Ray Morris and my friend here Charlie Johnson. Don’t worry, we will look after you.’
Molly was only too glad to let the two men take charge, and they led her from the station. Outside was a hive of ordered activity, for everyone seemed to know where they were going. Molly and her escorts followed the stream of people. The strains of the siren died away and the dull thumping sounds of the first explosions, as yet some way away, could be heard.
Powerful searchlights lit up the sky and men with tin hats on their heads and armbands circling their upper arms urged people to hurry. Molly was never so pleased with anything as she was at the feel of Ray’s arm through hers, while his friend Charlie came behind carrying the case. They went into a brick building, which seemed surrounded by sandbags. It was cold and dank, and very dim as the only light came from a couple of swinging paraffin lamps. The place looked very uncomfortable, the only seats bare wooden benches fastened to the walls. Yet Molly was glad that Ray sat her down on one of those, with him and Charlie beside her, because there wasn’t enough seating for all the people crowding into the place and some had to make themselves as comfortable as possible on the floor.
Molly had inadvertently arrived in Birmingham at the start of the worst raid that the city had suffered so far, though none was aware of that yet, of course. Inside the shelter, people talked and smoked and played cards, and some sang while