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Christmas on the Mersey
Annie Groves
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2014
Copyright © Annie Groves 2014
Cover photographs © Colin Thomas (girl, woman); Charles Bowman/Getty Images (buildings); Shutterstock.com (all other images)
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2014
Annie Groves asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780007550821
Ebook Edition © October 2014 ISBN: 9780007550838
Version: 2017-09-12
To the memory of my wonderful Mum and Dad
(You always believed in me xxx)
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Keep Reading: CHILD OF THE MERSEY
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Also by Annie Groves
About the Publisher
October 1940
‘The patients who are too ill to be moved will have to go under the beds!’ Sister Rita Kennedy said as she hurried down the long ward, clearing it of patients who could be moved to the basement. The Germans had been dropping bombs almost every night since August. Now they were targeting the docks, so close to the hospital that Sister Kennedy imagined the pilots could probably smell the antiseptic they cleaned the floors with.
Many of the patients had been moved to hospitals in safer locations months ago. This hospital, close to the vital supply line, was a prime target. Everybody around here knew that to put the docks out of operation would be seen as a major coup for Germany. These remaining patients were emergency cases, brought in for assessment or emergency surgery before being sent elsewhere. The ward was busy every day, but since the raid started, only moments ago, it was like Lime Street Station at rush hour.
‘Johnny the porter said an enemy plane has been shot down over Gladstone Dock!’ Sister Kennedy did not have to listen too carefully to hear the probationer nurse’s excited words. ‘He said the pilot has landed in the Mersey.’ Sister Kennedy, like everybody else in this hospital, had friends and family who were serving, but this was neither the time nor the place to gloat.
‘They say he’s still alive and they’ve sent a crew to seize him!’
‘Do you think they’ll bring him here?’ another nurse enquired as they helped an old woman from her bed. The sound of anti-aircraft fire almost drowned out her question.
‘There’s no time for idle gossip, just get on with making the patients as safe as you can, please.’ Twenty-five-year-old Rita’s nerves were raw; her own children, just a few minutes’ walk away from the dockside hospital, had been brought back from the farm to which they were once evacuated. They were so happy there, Rita knew, but now they were in as much danger as everybody else.
‘Let’s not frighten the patients with supposition, Nurse,’ Rita whispered, and the young nurse nodded.
Promoted to ward sister just last week, Rita had no intention of voicing or showing her fears to the junior nurses. Panic could spread, she knew, and keeping a cool head was vital. Hitler’s Luftwaffe had so far failed to invade Britain by defeating the RAF in the skies over the South-East, but there was no let-up in their attempts, and they were now attacking the industrial cities and ports across the country. Rita pushed down on her growing anxiety. Why had she insisted on bringing the children home from the safety of their countryside billet near Southport?
There were so many of her family to worry about, too. Rita said a quick, silent prayer for her brother Eddy. He was sailing with the convoys in the North Atlantic, bringing back vital food and supplies. He told her, when he was home last time, that the wild, impetuous ocean could be a terrifying place for the most experienced sailor, and that was without torpedoes firing at them. Now Rita thought she knew a little of what he was going through.
‘That’s enough chattering.’ Rita, impatient now, worried that the two young nurses, still speculating about the shot-down German bomber, were not moving fast enough. ‘You know what they say about loose lips!’ This hospital would be the first place to bring the injured aviator – even if he was an enemy pilot. However, they were not here to judge but to ease the suffering of every patient