Beyond a Misty Shore Read online

  When at last the celebrations had died down life began to get back to what passed for normal. The authorities started dismantling the coastal defences and closing the camps, and Sophie began to think hard about the future. There was still a little work for her at Sayles’ for the summer months were always busy but she knew that once the harvest was in she could expect little more, and neither could Maria. Sophie was good at dressmaking but there was very little call here for her skills. There were professional seamstresses in both Peel and Ramsey and good shops in Douglas. Apart from housework there was little else she could do; the days when the women of Peel and the surrounding areas worked in their dozens gutting and salting the herrings were firmly in the past. Before the war Douglas, Port Erin and Port St Mary had always been crowded in summer with holidaymakers and no doubt they would soon return, but not many had come to Peel, so there was no work to be found in hotels and guest houses, of which there were few anyway.

  She decided to discuss the matter with her mother one evening in September, the day after they had found out that Hans and his family were to be repatriated to their country of origin the following week, news that had upset Maria terribly. She was still upstairs, lying on her bed sobbing.

  ‘Oh, Mam, I feel so sorry for her. She really is very fond of him and she says he is heart-broken too,’ Sophie said as she sat down opposite Sarah at the table.

  ‘I know, but she has known for a while that the time would come when he’d have to leave. He’s no choice, times are still very . . . troubled. She’s very young, she’s only just turned eighteen; she’ll get over him and find someone else. But I, too, hate to see her so upset.’

  Sophie twisted her hands together. ‘Mam, what’s going to happen to us all? Maria, Bella and me? There’s no work and without that there’s no hope of a decent future. I . . . I’ve been worrying about it for a while now. I’d like to be a dressmaker – professionally, that is – it’s the only thing I’m good at but it would take time and money to get started up . . .’ Her voice trailed off and she bit her lip.

  Sarah put down the knife she’d been using to peel the vegetables and pushed the bowl to one side. She could see how anxious Sophie was. She sighed heavily. It was a dilemma that many families had faced and would continue to face and there was only one solution to this problem. ‘Your only chance of making that dream come true is to leave the island, Sophie. Oh, it was something I never thought I’d have to deal with, my children having to leave to find work. Both your pa and Andrew had steady work – it didn’t pay a great deal though we managed – but . . . but . . . the good Lord decided to take them and we have to carry on living as best we can. We both have to think of Bella’s future too.’

  Sophie nodded slowly. It was a decision she had been seriously considering. She would have to make a new life for herself and her child, away from the island. ‘Where can I go, Mam?’

  ‘Across to Liverpool, luv. That’s the logical place. I know they’ve taken a terrible battering over there these last years but things will be starting to get better now, you’ll find work and I’m sure your Uncle Jim and Aunty Lizzie will be happy to have you stay with them until you get on your feet. He is my older brother, after all.’

  Sophie nodded her agreement. ‘I’d be grateful. Will you write to them, Mam, please?’ She reached across the table and clasped Sarah’s hand tightly. ‘I don’t really want to have to go, Mam. I’ll miss you terribly, but . . . but . . .’

  Sarah smiled ruefully. ‘But there is nothing else you can do, Sophie. You are still a young woman, you have to make a new life for yourself. There are too many painful memories here, luv. Every time you go down to the harbour or walk along the quay you’ll be remembering that day. The day he didn’t come back. No, in some ways it’s the best thing you can do.’ She paused, frowing. ‘I think it might be a good idea if you take Maria with you. She’ll find it hard to get work and once that lad has gone she’ll be as miserable as sin. A fresh start would benefit her too. She’ll meet new people, make new friends, maybe even find a lad to replace Hans Bonhoeffer in her affections.’

  ‘Mam! Both of us and Bella? You’ll be here alone! I can’t leave you on your own!’ Sophie cried.

  ‘I won’t be on my own. I was born here, I grew up here, I know everyone. I have friends. Isn’t Andrew’s mam, Fenella Teare, one of my closest friends? I have my work, too. Wouldn’t I be a very selfish woman to force you to stay here just to keep me company? No, Sophie, I want you both to go to Jim and Lizzie and make a new life for yourselves, and Liverpool isn’t that far away – just a couple of hours by ferry. I’ve made up my mind. I’ll write in the morning.’

  Sophie reluctantly nodded her agreement. Mam did have many friends, her widowed mother-in-law amongst them, and Liverpool wasn’t that far away but to people such as her mam, Maria and herself, who had never been off the island before, it seemed like a great distance and not just in miles.

  ‘I’ll have to break the news to Bella and then try to scrape together as much money as I can for our fares and to pay my way until I get a job.’

  Sarah picked up the paring knife again. ‘I’ll try to help out too, luv. It will be for the best.’

  Sophie smiled. ‘All we have to do now is convince Maria and I don’t think that’s going to be easy. Perhaps we should wait until Hans Bonhoeffer and his family have left.’

  Sarah nodded and resumed her task. She knew in her heart that she was doing the right thing for her girls, but she could not help feeling more than a little depressed and bereft already.

  Chapter One

  ‘IN THE NAME OF heaven, Sophie, what have you brought us to?’ Maria Kinnin’s dark eyes were full of shock and disbelief as she stared through the murky October morning at the sight that was gradually becoming clearer the closer the Isle of Man Steam Packet ship, the Lady of Man, drew to the Liverpool Landing Stage. A thin veil of mist hung over the turgid waters of the Mersey and the ships they had passed had left wakes that resembled ribbons of dull, mottled pewter. There wasn’t a breath of wind, the surface of the river was flat and the sky above was a uniform mass of gunmetal cloud.

  She had come up on deck with her elder sister when they had passed the lighthouse on Perch Rock, eager to catch her first sight of the city that was to be her new home. Now that sight filled her with utter dismay. Was this what she’d left Peel for, she thought desperately? She’d been persuaded to give up all her hopes and dreams to come here; her ma and Sophie had said it would be a fresh start, a new life full of great opportunities and excitement but the scene of total devastation that met her eyes offered little prospect of either. They’d come on a wild-goose chase, she thought bitterly.

  Sophie clutched her little daughter’s hand tightly and shook her head in horror at the sight that met her eyes. The three majestic buildings that graced the waterfront were intact, although blackened over the decades by the soot from thousands of chimneys, both industrial and domestic, but beyond them was a total wasteland of rubble and burned-out buildings. St Nicholas’s Church – the sailors’ church her pa had called it – was a pile of broken, scorched stones and charred beams; only its blackened spire still stood. In what had been Derby Square, only the statue of Queen Victoria was untouched, that monarch surveying the destruction that surrounded her with characteristic grim disapproval on her granite features. Sophie felt her shoulders sag as bitter disappointment washed over her. Oh, they’d heard how badly Liverpool had suffered in the terrible, week-long blitz of May 1941. Even far away on the island they’d heard the dull roar of the explosions and they’d seen the night sky glowing eerily red from the thousands of burning buildings. But she’d never expected the reality to be as bad as this!

  ‘Are we nearly there, Mam? I’m cold and I’m hungry.’ Sophie dragged her stunned gaze away from the ruined city and looked down at Bella. Her daughter was so like her father Andrew that tears pricked her eyes. Wearily she brushed a strand of Bella’s dark brown hair away from her cheek and with an effort for
ced herself to smile. ‘Not long now. We’ll soon be sitting in Aunty Lizzie’s nice warm kitchen having our breakfast.’

  ‘That’s if Aunty Lizzie still has got a kitchen!’ Maria said grimly, unable to conceal her feelings. She too was cold, tired, hungry and now utterly dispirited. The salty air was making her long dark hair curl frizzily. Her knitted red tamo’-shanter did little to protect it from the dampness in the morning air. She always took great pride in her appearance, even though most of her clothes were either hand-me-downs or had been made by Sophie. She spent hours trying to tame her thick unruly hair, even though her mam told her it was her ‘crowning glory’ and she shouldn’t complain about it so much. Sophie’s hair was just as thick but it was poker straight, which she considered very unfair considering that they both took after Sarah, whose own hair had once been as dark and straight as Sophie’s but was now grey and worn in a neat bun. Maria was missing her mother already for she’d never been away from home before. ‘Aunty Lizzie may not have a roof over her head at all.’

  ‘You could be right there, girl,’ agreed a small, plump woman standing beside them. She wore a black coat and a grey felt hat jammed tightly over short salt and pepper hair, and from her accent Maria realised she was Liverpudlian.

  She turned to the woman, frowning. ‘Oh, don’t say that! Isn’t it bad enough that we’ve come on this fool of a journey without having to find we now have nowhere to live?’

  The woman bristled with indignation. ‘You should ’ave been here during the Blitz, girl! There were thousands of people left without a ’ome, left with nothing but the clothes they stood up in but grateful they still ’ad their lives. Youse lot had it soft over there. I’ve been to see me sister-in-law so I know. Youse never ’ad bombs raining down on yer night after night while yer were packed like sardines in the public air-raid shelter and terrified out of yer wits. And there’s still ’undreds without ’omes of their own, even though it’s all over now.’

  Sophie glared at the woman, her dark eyes filled with grief and anger. ‘Don’t you dare say we had it soft on the island, missus! My poor pa risked his life to keep fish on your tables and then he went down with the Tynwald off North Africa. And I’m a widow! A widow at twenty-four and with this child to bring up alone. My husband’s boat was dragged by its nets to the bottom of the sea by a U-boat! The whole crew drowned!’

  ‘And your government dumped all those foreigners on us. We had internment and POW camps!’ Maria added, although there was a note of sadness in her voice.

  Mollified, the woman nodded. ‘I know and I’m sorry for yer loss, girl. Where is it you two’re hoping to stay?’

  Maria fished out the scrap of paper from her coat pocket. ‘Sixteen Harebell Street,’ she informed their travelling companion.

  ‘That’s near Stanley ’ospital, it’s Bootle,’ the woman informed them, then, pausing, she frowned. ‘Bootle ’ad it bad but I don’t think them “flower” streets were hit. Not bad ’ouses either from what I’ve ’eard.’

  Both Maria and Sophie were very relieved to hear this.

  ‘Is it far from the Landing Stage?’ Sophie enquired. Bella was now shivering and clutching her old rag doll tightly to her.

  ‘Well, it’s too far to walk, I know that. You’ll ’ave to get a tram from the Pier ’ead, it’s the terminus so just ask one of the conductors or drivers which tram to get. Tell them where yer want to get off too.’

  The deck was now crowded with people and Maria increased her grip on her small suitcase as the ship came alongside, shuddering as it hit the huge rubber tyres attached to the side of the stage that acted as fenders, throwing everyone off balance.

  ‘We’ll be crushed to death before we even get near the gangway at this rate!’ she cried.

  Sophie bit her lip, realising her sister was right and terrified that Bella would be separated from her. She might even fall and be trampled in the rush for the gangway. ‘See if you can catch the eye of one of those deck hands and ask for help. I’ll have to keep hold of Bella and our luggage.’

  Bella was shivering with cold and fright, terrified by the unfamiliar noises and the press of people who all seemed to tower above her. She had never been away from Peel in her life before. ‘Mam, don’t leave me! I don’t like it here, I want to go home! I want to go back to Granny Sarah!’ Her big blue eyes filled with tears and she hugged her doll to her as she clung to Sophie, burying her face in the folds of her mother’s skirt.

  Sophie drew her closer. ‘Hush now, it’s all right. Mam’s not going to let anything happen to you and we’ll soon be off this ship and in Aunty Lizzie’s house.’

  Maria had no trouble at all in attracting attention. She had been considered one of the prettiest girls in Peel. A good-looking young lad, wearing a thick woollen jumper emblazoned across the chest with the Three Legs of Man, pushed his way towards her, smiling broadly.

  ‘Why did I never meet you strolling along the Lock Promenade in Douglas?’ he asked, admiration evident in both his eyes and voice.

  ‘Because I come from Peel and why would I be bothered going all the way to Douglas to walk along a promenade?’ she quipped, smiling archly and fluttering her long dark lashes. ‘Will you help us to get down the gangway in one piece, please? My sister has her luggage and my little niece to see to.’

  Thus appealed to, and as they were both very attractive girls, he immediately took both Maria and Sophie’s cases and began to shoulder his way through the crowd shouting ‘Make way there, folks! Make way! Follow close behind me. Where are you going?’ he shouted to Maria over his shoulder.

  ‘Somewhere called “Bootle”, we’ve to get a tram,’ she informed him.

  ‘Took a bit of a hammering did Bootle, so one of the shore lads told me, especially the dock areas. A lot of the houses have been pulled down as being unsafe.’

  Maria raised her eyes skyward impatiently; she was grateful for his help but it was difficult trying to keep up a conversation in such a crowd. ‘Our aunt lives in Harebell Street and a woman told us those houses were fine.’

  ‘I hope she was right. Still, it’s all over and we got our own back in the end. Sometimes I feel a bit sorry for them now, their whole country’s destroyed, according to the newspapers.’

  ‘And so is ours and they should ’ave thought of that before they started the flaming war!’ The woman in the black coat had elbowed her way to their side and was ruthlessly pushing forward.

  ‘I suppose you’re right, missus. Let’s get you all off now,’ the deck hand called as they reached the top of the gangway. He turned to Sophie. ‘Can you manage this case and I’ll carry the little lass down on my shoulders so she won’t get crushed?’

  ‘Oh, that’s so good of you! I was wondering how I was going to manage,’ Sophie replied with relief as he effortlessly hoisted Bella on to his shoulder.

  ‘Hold on tightly to this kind man, Bella. We’ll soon be off and your mam and I will be right behind you,’ Maria urged her obviously apprehensive niece.

  It was a relief to be off the ship at last and at the bottom of the gangway they parted company with both the woman in the black coat and the young deck hand, Maria flashing him a genuine smile of gratitude. People were still milling around but they made their way towards the line of green and cream waiting trams. Sophie made some enquiries of a man in a uniform, whom she took to be some sort of official, and was directed towards a tram at the front of the line. They climbed aboard and Maria showed the conductor the piece of paper bearing her aunt’s address.

  ‘I’ll give yer a shout when we get to the nearest stop, luv,’ he promised and they settled thankfully on to the wooden slatted seat, Sophie with Bella on her lap and her suitcase at her feet.

  ‘I just hope she’s going to have a pot of tea ready for us, I’m worn out,’ Maria commented, gazing out of the window.

  Sophie smiled tiredly. ‘I’m sure she will. She knows what time the ferry was due in. Mam put it all in the letter and she said she was a friendly enough soul an
d should make us very welcome.’

  ‘How does she know that? We never got a reply and she only met her the once, years ago before the war, when they came over on a day trip,’ Maria reminded her. She didn’t know Uncle Jim Quine, her mother’s brother, at all. He’d gone to Liverpool to work before she’d even been born. Sophie didn’t either, she’d only been a small baby.

  Sophie didn’t reply, she was too tired, heartsore and filled with misgivings to enter into an argument with Maria.

  The tram had filled up and when the conductor came for their fares Sophie held out the pennies.

  He took them but gave her one back, grinning conspiratorially. ‘It’s supposed to be half-price for the little ’un, but what the ’ell! She’s sitting on yer knee an’ I reckon that penny is better in your pocket than the flaming Corporation’s.’

  She thanked him and put it back in her purse. She would need every penny she had until she got a job. She had sold everything to come here, even her precious wedding ring. She wore one made of brass now. She had to make all her hopes and dreams for a better future come true, for Bella’s sake. She hugged the pale, weary child to her, fighting back the tears of exhaustion and sorrow. Oh, Andrew! I still miss you so much, she thought. He’d been dead three years yet each time she had passed the harbour, where what was left of the fishing fleet was anchored, it broke her heart. Mam had been right to urge her to leave Peel and its bittersweet memories behind, but to have to face the future without him was daunting in the extreme. In truth she would never forget him or the brief happy years they’d had together, and nor did she want to. What made her heart ache was the knowledge that she would never again feel his strong arms around her, never be able to confide her fears and worries to him, or see his blue eyes dancing with mirth, or hear his laughter. She would never again feel her heart skip a beat with joy and relief when he came home to their cottage in Charles Street, the narrow winding street that led from Orry Lane down to the harbour, as the fishing fleet returned and the Girl Sophie was tied up. The cottage was now gone – rented out to someone else – and so was the Girl Sophie. She lay at the bottom of the Irish Sea and so did her poor Andrew. And just what lay ahead of her now? More anxiety, hardship and disappointment? Life had never been easy. ‘Chasing the herring’ as her father had done all his life had never brought in much money and even when she’d married Andrew it had been hard to make ends meet, but she hadn’t minded that. They’d been happy.