Daughters of Liverpool by Annie Groves Read Free Book Online Page B

questions to tell the other girl at least something about her family, but now, just like the Campion twins, Carole seemed to think that Katie had lived a far more glamorous life than she had, despite all Katie’s attempts to explain to her that her life had not been glamorous at all.
    Mentally Katie reviewed the contents of her wardrobe. When accompanying her father she had worn either a plain black dress or a black skirt with a white blouse – very dull indeed. Her mother had kept all the stage costumes she had ever worn, and had a wardrobe full of the kind of clothes that Katie suspected Carole would expect her to wear, but Katie wasn’t the sort who hadever wanted to wear sparkly sequined things, or in fact any kind of clothes that made her stand out in a crowd. She had grown up dreading standing out because it normally was as a result of some kind of embarrassing behaviour on the part of her parents. Being a little stoic with two artistic parents hadn’t always been easy. Katie could laugh at herself, of course. She had grown up to feel fiercely protective of her parents and yet at the same time she was rather relieved finally to be able to ‘be herself’ and be judged accordingly. She couldn’t, for instance, imagine anyone as down-to-earth as Jean Campion having a cosy chat with her dramatic mother.
    Katie liked Jean. There was a warmth about her that made Katie feel happy to be going ‘home’ to the Campions after work.
    She missed her parents, though, and she was looking forward to returning home for Christmas, even if she would have only a couple of days with them. Not that she wasn’t enjoying her work or happy in Liverpool. The girls were a good crowd who had made her welcome, and Anne’s calm manner brought a steadying presence to their ‘table’. So far there had been nothing remotely suspicious in any of the letters Katie had read, and Anne had informed her that this was the case with most of the letters.
    ‘But we still have to be vigilant,’ she had warned Katie, ‘because you never know, and we don’t want any spies sending letters that might get our lads killed or help Hitler to drop bombs on us, do we?’
    * * *
    ‘There you are, Katie; I was just beginning to worry about you,’ Jean greeted Katie when she knocked briefly on the back door and then stepped into the kitchen. Jean had told Katie that she must treat the house as her home and that there was no need for her to knock, but Katie still felt that she should.
    ‘I’m sorry I’m late, only I saw people queuing, and someone said it was oranges so I joined the queue thinking that you might like them for the twins for Christmas. They’d almost gone by the time I was served, but the grocer let me have four.’
    ‘Oh, Katie, bless you. You are thoughtful. Did you hear that, Sam?’ Jean called out. ‘Katie’s gone and managed to get some oranges for the twins.’
    Sam was more reserved than his wife, but he was a kind man and he gave Katie a warm smile.
    ‘There’s a letter arrived for you, Katie. Looks like your dad’s handwriting.’
    Thanking Jean, Katie took the letter from her. It was indeed from her father. A familiar mix of happiness and apprehension tightened her stomach as Katie opened it. So far her father’s letters had contained nothing but complaints about how hard his life was without her, and how surprised he was that she had not thought of this before taking on her war work.
    This time, though, her father’s mood was more positive. He had, he wrote, bumped into an old friend – a musician who had done well for himself, who lived in Hampstead and who had invited Katie’s parents to spend Christmas with him and his wife.

    So there’s no need for you to bother coming home, Katie – the Durrants haven’t got any children and since your mother and Mae Durrant were on stage together as girls, we’re both looking forward to having a splendid Christmas reminiscing about old times.
       ‘Katie, are you all