Put Out the Fires by Maureen Lee Read Free Book Online

door, just in case, and returned to bed, all desire for a ciggie having gone.
    Francis Costello lay staring at the slightly spotted ceiling in Tony’s room. There were cobwebs in all four corners and dust on the glass lampshade - Eileen had obviously let things slide since he’d gone away.
    From now on, Francis knew he would have to be very clever. It was essential that he get his feet under the table of Number 16 again if he wanted his political ambitions back on course. He’d been rather dismayed at the way Jack Doyle had looked at him with an expression close to disgust, ordering him into the back bedroom in a way that brooked no argument, but Francis was well aware he had the ability to charm the birds off the trees. With a bit of care and some subtle flattery, he’d soon have Jack eating out of his hand again. Jack Doyle virtually owned the local Labour Party and the appointment of a successor to Albert Findlay, the current ailing and elderly Member of Parliament for Bootle Docklands, was within his gift when Albert retired, which he was bound to do before the next election. Jack had promised the gift to Francis, and Francis had never wanted anything in his life as much as the power that such a wondrous gift carried with it.
    He’d actually married Jack’s daughter because a wife and family looked good on a would-be-candidate’s record, though he’d never cared much for women, and Eileen in particular irritated him beyond reason, with her feminine ways and feminine smells.
    In 1938, he’d even joined the Territorials to enhance his reputation. Military experts were of the opinion that war, if it began, would be over in a few months. But the experts had been wrong, thought Francis sourly. More than a year later, the conflict showed no sign of ending.
    In fact it was getting more violent by the day.
    The Army hadn’t been so bad at first. He’d learnt to type and managed to get himself in the Paymaster’s office, but once the Royal Tank Regiment had been posted to Egypt, Francis had been petrified. Not that he’d been involved in the fighting: he’d been safe in Alexandria, well away from harm. But say they’d been overrun by the Eyeries? They couldn’t be expected to ignore him just because he was a clerk. He’d be taken prisoner, or, even worse, killed, because he was in uniform like every other soldier.
    Francis couldn’t recall what he’d said to those two youngsters who’d turned on him and beaten him senseless, because he was drunk out of his mind at the time.
    Newcastle boys they were, arrived only that day, neither more than eighteen. All he could remember was a boot thumping against his head and his head thumping against a wall, and when he came to in the little military hospital he had a feeling he might have made a suggestion that was out of line. Sometimes, when he’d had one over the eight . . .
    At first, there’d been a sense of terrible shame, though this was soon replaced with a feeling of relief when he realised he was going to be discharged. It was worth losing the sight in his eye to get out of the Army. He knew nothing untoward would go down on his military record, because no-one had come forward to identify the two lads who’d beaten him, and the reason for the beating was merely rumour. Under the circumstances, the Army would have no alternative but to give Francis the benefit of the doubt.
    And now Francis Costello was home, a hero to the neighbours, with his good job at the Mersey Docks & Harbour Board waiting for him, as well as his seat on Bootle Corporation. With a bit of deft maneuvering, he and Jack Doyle would soon have their heads together working out what they’d do once Francis got to Parliament.
    Before he knew it, everything would be back as it was before he’d been called up.
    No, not everything! He’d forgotten about Eileen. At the bottom of his kitbag was a letter from a solicitor offering him a choice: either he agreed to divorce his wife promptly on the