That Liverpool Girl by Ruth Hamilton Read Free Book Online Page A

darkness. ‘If you can, and only if it’s safe, try to let me know what’s going on. I shall pay you, of course, but—’
    ‘I don’t want paying, Miss Pickavance.’
    Hilda held up a hand. ‘Stop the nonsense, Mel. All your friends will have spending money, and you won’t.’
    The famous chin came up. ‘I shall do a paper round.’
    ‘I’m sure you will. But come here when you can and look at my house in daylight. Write to me. Tell me about . . . everything.’
    ‘Even the bad stuff?’
    ‘Yes, of course.’
    From that moment, these two understood one another completely. They shared common sense, intelligence and a terrible hunger for knowledge. Mel was to have a key to Hilda’s house, and she would write a letter each week to let her benefactor know what was happening in Liverpool, and she must write the truth, or as much of the truth as she could discover. ‘I won’t let you down,’ she said. ‘Unless it’s all beyond me.’
    ‘I know.’ Hilda stood up. ‘So, that’s that.’
    Yes, that was that. Nellie, Eileen and her three boys would be living at Willows. Soon, other needful children might be plucked from these streets and from their families, but Hilda was depending on the co-operation of tenant farmers and people who lived at Willows Edge. For now, she had to wait. Like many others, she hoped that Hitler, too, was playing a waiting game.

 
Three
     
    Eileen looked wonderful. In a slate grey skirt and jacket donated to the cause by Hilda Pickavance, she was elegance personified. Nellie looked at her daughter, saw what might have been, then turned away to attend to her pan of scouse. Eileen should have had a chance in life, because she was beautiful, and the white blouse, good shoes and leather bag served only to underline what had already been there. No fashion house had created the bone structure, the natural poise, the grace of Eileen Watson. She was beautiful inside, too, because she was a good, clever woman who should have received a better education. Well, she was good and clever till she ran out of patience—
    ‘Mam?’
    Nellie stopped stirring the stew. ‘Yes?’
    ‘How do I look in this lot?’
    The older woman adjusted the expression in her eyes. ‘Marvellous, queen.’ She wouldn’t cry, mustn’t cry. ‘I should have done more for you. After all, you were my one and only. I think God looked at you, saw perfection, and decided I’d had enough luck. You should have gone to a good school. I ought to have got you away from here so that you might have had a chance of something better than—’
    ‘No, Mam. Our Mel will do it all. ‘But . . .’ She sat down. ‘Thirteen, Mam. It’s not just an unlucky number – it’s an awkward age. If this war goes on for four or five years, she’ll be a young woman. And I won’t have been here for her. I know it’s three against one, except it’s not against, but you know what I mean. The boys need me. She needs me. But I have to go with the majority.’
    Nellie knew exactly what was going through her daughter’s head. Already a beautiful girl, Mel could become a target for any hungry male, and, with blackouts, bombings and panics, a young female with no family behind her might get into all kinds of trouble. It felt as if they were planning for the protection of three sturdy lads, while leaving a vulnerable, academically gifted girl to the vagaries of chance.
    ‘Oh, Mam. Could Hitler not have waited a few years?’ Nellie nodded thoughtfully. In the house belonging to the Bingley family, there was a boy the same age as Mel. Gloria Bingley had a twin brother and he, too, would be growing up. A cold sweat played up and down the length of her spine. She remembered her own teenage years, the power of that first surge of hormones. ‘Eileen?’ ‘What?’
    ‘I’ll take the boys to Willows. You stay and mind Mel.’ Eileen’s jaw dropped for a moment. Had her beloved mother gone mad? Philip, Rob and Bertie were almost beyond retrieval,