Freda Lightfoot - Peace In My Heart

Having spent hours searching and getting nowhere, Joanne felt close to despair, all hopes fading within her. ‘And where is Danny, my dad, or even my cousin Cathie? We’ve got absolutely nowhere.’

They went on to explore the odd hostel and canal boat, in case she’d moved to live in one of those. Trekking up and down more roads, streets and yards where old friends had once lived, Joanne found those too were either destroyed or empty of anyone she knew. By late afternoon she agreed it was time for them to return home to Blackpool. Nothing was at all as it used to be here in Manchester. After walking dejectedly back to Victoria Station, Joanne remained silent throughout the entire journey, feeling utterly exhausted but surprisingly comforted when she nodded off to sleep with her head on Bernie’s shoulder. Not for a moment did he object to that.

Davie, a good friend of Evie and Donald, had safely returned from the war when demobilized from the East Lancashire Regiment, and readily helped her to carry all her belongings in his old Ford van. Not that she had any furniture, having lost it all when their first home had been bombed. He drove her along Liverpool Road and up Byrom Street to a crowd of back-to-back houses close to Wood Street and Deansgate, an area that had thankfully not been destroyed by explosive bombs. It was at least within reasonable distance of Victoria Station; now back in action after suffering a landmine fall on a platform early in the war. Would that be where her son would arrive, or the station on Liverpool Road or Piccadilly? She must make enquiries to find that out.

‘Here’s number six, chuck,’ Davie said, parking his Ford van then starting to lift her boxes and bags out as she unlocked the door. Carrying a load of things in, he glanced around with disdain. ‘I reckon you’ll have to tart this place up. At least it’s a bit bigger than the one room you’ve been occupying lately, chuck.’

Looking around to examine it, not for the first time, Evie gave a sigh. ‘You’re right, Davie, it does require quite a bit of attention. I’m determined to ensure that my family will return to a life of comfort, once I find them. As I’m no longer living in the place they once knew and loved, I’ll work hard to make this more spick and span.’

‘Good for you and I’ll be glad to help, not having much work on myself just yet.’

‘I couldn’t afford to employ you.’

‘That’s all right, wasn’t asking you to do that. If you can afford to buy some white paint, or whatever colour you prefer, I could decorate these walls for you.’

‘Oh, that would be wonderful.’ She fetched her purse and handed him a couple of pounds. ‘See what you can get with that. I really appreciate your help, Davie.’

‘Rightio,’ he said, then, giving a grin and a wink, he finished the unloading then went off happily whistling, promising to be back the next day to start the painting.

Evie knew that this house was not as large or comfortable as the first home they’d rented and lost during the Christmas Blitz in 1940. It had a messy living-kitchen, two bedrooms and a lavatory in the backyard they would have to share with several other families. Having investigated it when Harold Mullins first offered it to her, she’d worked out that the main bedroom would be for herself and Donald. Joanne and Megan could share the small spare room and she’d bought a sofa bed for Daniel, which she’d had delivered and placed in a corner of the living-kitchen.

None of this was ideal but hopefully they might eventually find a better house one day. That would not be easy right now, there being a desperate shortage of property in all cities that had suffered from bombing. This one was at least equipped, with a bit of furniture, including necessary beds in the rooms upstairs. Not that there were any carpets and nothing but blackout curtains over the mucky windows. Nevertheless, she was deeply grateful to Mullins for supplying her with this cottage, as well as the new job she’d be starting first thing on Monday morning, so she must make no complaints about the mess the house was in. She was also deeply grateful for Davie’s offer of assistance.

He turned up as promised the next day and quickly set to painting the kitchen walls white, then moved on to other parts of the house. Evie spent every spare moment over the following days cleaning and scrubbing. Not convinced she’d given Davie sufficient money to paint every room, she frequently asked if he needed more but he would shake his head and gave a chuckle.

‘Neither of us is rich, chuck, but we’re coping well. I did make sure I bought a cheap version so you concentrate on your jobs and I’ll see to this decorating. It needs to look good for Donald and your kids when they arrive home.’

Once he was done, every room looked much cleaner and brighter. Evie gave him a large currant sponge cake she’d baked for him as a token of her appreciation. ‘You’ve done an excellent job, thank you so much.’

‘Eeh, thanks, chuck. We’re a great team. And do let me know when Donald comes home.’

‘I certainly will,’ she said, and gave him a smile as he trotted off.

She stocked the larder with some of her children’s favourite food: dried eggs, Rowntrees KitKat, cheese and wheatmeal bread if little in the way of fruit, sweets, sugar or treacle, rationing still being in place. Once they were due to arrive she’d buy some chicken and vegetables and other tasty food. She had made an attempt to buy them new clothes, then realized she’d no idea what size they took now they were so much older, so had to abandon that idea. Evie made a mental note she could take them shopping to the Flat Iron Market, which had low-priced clothes, or else she could sew her girls a dress each. How exciting that would be, loving sewing and knitting as well as lacemaking.

No longer employed by the mill, her request to keep working with other women to make lace had been ignored by Harold Mullins. Certain machines at the mill had been idle throughout the war, there being no demand for lace in those days. Still in good condition it was a shame she’d not been allowed to operate them. Evie thought she might one day return to making lace herself by hand and try selling it on Campfield Market to earn herself more money. But it could take a while to build herself the stock.

Right now she had to acquire the necessary skills to do this completely different and difficult job, which would hopefully make her a reasonable income as well as having thankfully supplied her with this home for her family. But being only a part-time occupation, she might find some opportunity to work for herself. An interesting proposition.

Chapter Seven

Taking her favourite walk along the beach, Joanne loved the wonderful view of the sea as well as collecting a few beautiful shells and pieces of driftwood from under the pier, which she thought of as treasures. She would wash the shells and paint the driftwood in bright colours, or create an image of seagulls and boats, sensing that would give them a more interesting appearance. It surprised her when Bernie suddenly came to join her.

‘Hello, Joanne. I saw what you were doing while I was watching the boats and am happy to join in,’ he said, starting to pick up a few more shells to pop into her carrier bag.

Lifting her hair from her neck to let the breeze run through it, she glanced up at him with some reluctance, wondering why he had followed her. This being a lovely summer’s day she felt quite unable to think of any justified reason for dismissing him even though she had a desire to be on her own to think things through.

‘Thanks, Bernie, I have managed to find a few.’ They walked along in silence, collecting more pretty shells. When she’d filled her bag he took it from her, claiming it was far too heavy for her to carry. Seeing his pale grey eyes glitter with admiration Joanne was filled with a sudden gush of panic. He did seem to be growing far too interested in her. She was even more surprised when he next asked her for a date.