or were deemed to be medically unfit to fight, took on other war time responsibilities. Some became fire wardens who issued warnings about incendiary bombs, while others, like Albert Tatlock from number 1 Coronation Street and Ena Sharples from the Mission, became ARP wardens. Their main duties were to watch with a careful eye that no one contravened the blackout laws and to round up residents and help them to reach the shelters in time during air raids. As food became scarcer, and imported goods such as fruit and sugar disappeared completely from the shelves, those who had a patch of spare ground at the backs of their houses, no matter how small, began to create victory gardens where they grew as many of their own vegetables as they had space for. Neighbouring, which had once been a feature of life for those living in the crowded neighbourhoods with back-to-back terraced housing, began again in earnest, as people keenly looked out for their neighbours and frequently popped in and out of each other’s houses. After the Blitz, everyone in Weatherfield, from Coronation Street and beyond, began to pull together like never before. No pint of milk was left on the doorstep for long without someone enquiring about why it hadn’t been taken in. Annie herself had good reason to be thankful to her neighbours, Albert and Bessie Tatlock at number 1, whenever the sirens sounded for she needed help dressing her two little ones in their siren suits while trying to hurry them down into the cellar.
Annie had never had much time for Elsie Tanner who lived at number 11, dismissing her as common and ungodly, but even she had joined in when the whole street had rallied to help poor Elsie deal with the horrific loss of almost all her family. That event had allowed the swelling number of congregants at the Mission of Glad Tidings to catch an astonishing glimpse of Ena Sharples’ softer side and afterwards, when two of Elsie’s sisters were found alive, the singing from the Mission could be heard from one end of the street to the other. Sometimes all people could offer was nothing more than a small gesture of kindness, or a shoulder to cry on, but that didn’t make their contribution any less valued. The camaraderie and unlikely friendships that were struck during that time helped to bond the whole community. That was when Annie Walker realized, for the first time, that not only her clientele but the Rovers Return itself was at the heart of that community.
Yes, thought Annie, feeling safe and warm as she snuggled under the eiderdown, she would definitely go to church on Mothering Sunday and she would thank the good Lord for finally blessing her and her family with better luck than she’d had when she was young.
Of course, there was one person missing from her family right now; one special person who would have made them complete. A person whose safe return she prayed for every night; a person she wrote to every day and whose photograph she kissed before she went to sleep. Jack Walker, her husband, being the selfless man he was, had signed up for action as soon as he could and was now with the Fusiliers, performing what was considered to be an essential role for his king and his country in the battle against Germany and Japan. Annie understood that what he was doing was important, playing a small part in the greater war effort, like so many others, but it didn’t stop tears pricking her eyelids whenever she thought of him bravely battling in some far away corner of the Empire. He was probably cold and possibly even a little afraid, but she would never know. His letters told her nothing about where he was, or what he was thinking or feeling. Careless talk costs lives was one of the war’s most critical slogans and letters to and from all military personnel were censored to make sure nothing was given away to the enemy that could give them any clues about the whereabouts, movements, or the state of the allied troops. Annie was afraid, but such anxiety had become a part of everyday life, particularly for the women who had been left behind. Sometimes she felt almost worthless, merely standing behind the bar pulling pints, but then she reminded herself that she was fulfilling a valuable role providing solace for those who were unable to fight but who were keeping things going at home until the soldiers were able to return. She could only hope that her letters cheered him a little. She tried not to show her apprehension in any of her daily missives. Instead she gave amusing reports of the children’s antics.
At least, she told him about some of Billy’s escapades, anecdotes that she thought would make him laugh. Though she hadn’t bothered to mention the time last week while her mother was in charge, when the mischievous little devil had locked Joanie into the under-stairs cupboard. The poor little mite had apparently cried herself to sleep in there and had not been found for several hours. Annie saved that story for her own private nightly jottings in the diary she kept. But she liked to send Jack regular bulletins about the welfare of their friends and neighbours in Weatherfield and she eagerly awaited Jack’s letters, not so much for their news content, for that was limited, but, if she was being honest, she had to acknowledge that she was afraid that one day there might not be any letters. Like many women in the street she was afraid that her husband wouldn’t come back, or that if he did, he might be maimed or wounded. Every day there were stories of people she knew being hurt – or worse. But she knew she had to put her worries aside and for Jack’s sake, and for the sake of their children, she refused to let herself dwell on such dark possibilities and she tried to dismiss the wretched images that sometimes threatened to take over her thoughts. She had to stay strong and she had to believe. After all, wasn’t she keeping the Rovers going so that he could pick up where he had left off on his return? Keep the Home Fires Burning, that was what the song said. And thanks to people like Lottie and Sally she had been able to do just that. Between them they had kept things going and she hadn’t had to close the pub for a single day. She couldn’t help feeling rather pleased with herself. She did seem to have a knack for choosing loyal and trustworthy friends.
Suddenly Annie heard a piercing scream and she was brought back to the present with a jolt as she sat up sharply in bed. It took her a few moments to realize it was Billy downstairs who had been yelling at his grandmother, demanding that she give him some jam for his bread soldiers. Annie sighed. How could anyone explain to a small child that jam was rationed and that it would probably be at least a week before they would be able to go and claim their next allocation of anything sweet? But if Billy was becoming fractious, then it was definitely time for her to get up, time she went back to work. She sighed. It had been really nice to have a few days off and she had to admit she did feel much better for having had a rest; any longer, though, and it would become an indulgence. She was needed downstairs now as Sally had to go back to the munitions factory where she had been requested to work longer hours and Lottie too would soon be doing extra shifts there. She knew her mother was looking forward to getting back home too. Everyone had been wonderful, covering for her at the bar and looking after the children, but it was time now for her to pull her weight once more. And perhaps a word to Elsie Foyle in the corner shop about getting some special sweet treat for the children would have to be one of her first priorities. She resolved to get up the following morning.
She lay back on the pillows contemplating what she would wear for her first day back behind the bar. Clothes were special to her and she enjoyed planning her outfits. She would love to wear something that would help her make an entrance when she first walked into the bar, even if she did then spend the rest of the session sitting on a bar stool ringing the money into the till. She thought about her limited wardrobe but knew with the current stringency in clothes rationing there would be no possibility of getting anything new. Maybe she could dress up one of her old twinsets with the single row of pearls and matching pearl earrings Jack had given her for her last birthday. Then she could wear her newest pleated skirt that she’d bought just before the war started. She would dab on a little make-up – that always made her feel brighter – and she would tell Jack about it in her next letter, remind him how much she missed him and how much they needed him at the Rovers. She knew he would like that.
Annie stretched and yawned luxuriously. She had had a good few days’ rest and she was pleased to say she felt refreshed. But now she was ready to go back to work. For all that Lottie said to reassure her, she worried that they might be struggling a little without her downstairs and one of the first things she must do was look for a new barmaid. Tomorrow she would surprise the children by giving them their breakfast, but for now she slid down on the pillows and shut her eyes again …
When twenty-year-old Gracie Ashton came to live on Mallard