in the memory department.’
‘No, Miss Morrison.’ Invited to sit, she placed herself opposite her employer and laid before her the problem concerning Mel, the school, evacuation and safety. ‘I’m sure Dr and Mrs Bingley are decent people. I know he’s your doctor, and he’s a nice man. But my Mel’s thirteen and nearly forty in the head. You see, Miss Morrison, she could be seventeen or so when the war’s over. I can’t take her to the middle of Lancashire, because they gave her a scholarship at Merchants, and she needs to see it through. All I want is my children to be safe. If the boys are running about on a farm, I can rest easy. Mel’s different, ahead of her time, very attractive—’
‘Like you, then.’
‘Younger, Miss Morrison. I don’t want her head turned. She can be stubborn. I need to keep hold of her, because her growing up to adulthood has already started.’
Frances Morrison inclined her head. ‘We’ve all been young, dear. Now, I suppose you want somewhere for you and Mel, because we’re all sure that Scotland Road will be less than safe. It’s too near the city and too close to shipping. The answer is yes, since I’m no longer fit to be alone all the time. And a bit of life in the house will do no harm. Take the two bedrooms at the back, dear. Mine is at the front, as you know, and the one next to mine is small.’
Eileen grinned. ‘It’s bigger than the one she has at the moment.’ This was a lovely house. It had electric lighting, a proper cooker, a nice kitchen, gardens, a hall . . . ‘Thank you, Miss Morrison.’
The old lady’s eyes twinkled. ‘Er . . . if you wish to be diplomatic, I don’t mind if you tell the Bingleys that I invited you to stay here. He knows I now need a nurse once a day, so he’ll understand that I don’t wish to be alone at nights. In fact, it won’t be a lie, since you didn’t ask directly.’
Eileen explained that the move could not take place until the boys and her mother had left for the countryside. She made tea and sandwiches for Miss Morrison before going off to meet Mel.
As she reached Liverpool Road, a thought occurred. She hadn’t consulted Mel. The girl was at the age when she considered, quite rightly, that she should have some input in decisions that impacted on her life. Oh dear. Everything had moved along at such a pace today that Eileen had failed to allow herself time for thought. War did this. War made people jump ahead without thinking. Mel was almost a woman. The area in which she lived made for early maturation, because kids who lived in poverty needed to grow physically and mentally in order to survive. Her academic superiority had also added to her development, and she was far wiser and abler than most of her peers.
Yet when Eileen met her daughter outside the gates of Merchants, the news was accepted with joy. Mel would have her mother, her own larger room, and an electric reading lamp. ‘Great,’ she cried. ‘I’ll still be able to visit my friends, but my best friend will be living with me. You, Mam. You’re my best friend.’
It was at times like this that Eileen felt privileged. Mel was grounded. She knew what she wanted, what she needed, what she owed. All around her on a daily basis she saw girls from backgrounds that were rich in money and lifestyle. She displayed no envy and no desire to imitate what she saw. An almost inborn sense of manners, of how to behave in a multiplicity of circumstances, meant that Mel seldom felt out of place. She was already a citizen of the world and, to prove it, she spoke several languages.
Mel smiled at her mother. She had never brought friends home, because she could not imagine them accepting her way of life even though she accepted theirs. Yes, the divide existed, but she would straddle it. A canyon stretching from Liverpool to Cambridge might have been judged impassable by most, but Mel was the brightest girl in her class. She knew it, the school knew it, and her
‘No, Miss Morrison.’ Invited to sit, she placed herself opposite her employer and laid before her the problem concerning Mel, the school, evacuation and safety. ‘I’m sure Dr and Mrs Bingley are decent people. I know he’s your doctor, and he’s a nice man. But my Mel’s thirteen and nearly forty in the head. You see, Miss Morrison, she could be seventeen or so when the war’s over. I can’t take her to the middle of Lancashire, because they gave her a scholarship at Merchants, and she needs to see it through. All I want is my children to be safe. If the boys are running about on a farm, I can rest easy. Mel’s different, ahead of her time, very attractive—’
‘Like you, then.’
‘Younger, Miss Morrison. I don’t want her head turned. She can be stubborn. I need to keep hold of her, because her growing up to adulthood has already started.’
Frances Morrison inclined her head. ‘We’ve all been young, dear. Now, I suppose you want somewhere for you and Mel, because we’re all sure that Scotland Road will be less than safe. It’s too near the city and too close to shipping. The answer is yes, since I’m no longer fit to be alone all the time. And a bit of life in the house will do no harm. Take the two bedrooms at the back, dear. Mine is at the front, as you know, and the one next to mine is small.’
Eileen grinned. ‘It’s bigger than the one she has at the moment.’ This was a lovely house. It had electric lighting, a proper cooker, a nice kitchen, gardens, a hall . . . ‘Thank you, Miss Morrison.’
The old lady’s eyes twinkled. ‘Er . . . if you wish to be diplomatic, I don’t mind if you tell the Bingleys that I invited you to stay here. He knows I now need a nurse once a day, so he’ll understand that I don’t wish to be alone at nights. In fact, it won’t be a lie, since you didn’t ask directly.’
Eileen explained that the move could not take place until the boys and her mother had left for the countryside. She made tea and sandwiches for Miss Morrison before going off to meet Mel.
As she reached Liverpool Road, a thought occurred. She hadn’t consulted Mel. The girl was at the age when she considered, quite rightly, that she should have some input in decisions that impacted on her life. Oh dear. Everything had moved along at such a pace today that Eileen had failed to allow herself time for thought. War did this. War made people jump ahead without thinking. Mel was almost a woman. The area in which she lived made for early maturation, because kids who lived in poverty needed to grow physically and mentally in order to survive. Her academic superiority had also added to her development, and she was far wiser and abler than most of her peers.
Yet when Eileen met her daughter outside the gates of Merchants, the news was accepted with joy. Mel would have her mother, her own larger room, and an electric reading lamp. ‘Great,’ she cried. ‘I’ll still be able to visit my friends, but my best friend will be living with me. You, Mam. You’re my best friend.’
It was at times like this that Eileen felt privileged. Mel was grounded. She knew what she wanted, what she needed, what she owed. All around her on a daily basis she saw girls from backgrounds that were rich in money and lifestyle. She displayed no envy and no desire to imitate what she saw. An almost inborn sense of manners, of how to behave in a multiplicity of circumstances, meant that Mel seldom felt out of place. She was already a citizen of the world and, to prove it, she spoke several languages.
Mel smiled at her mother. She had never brought friends home, because she could not imagine them accepting her way of life even though she accepted theirs. Yes, the divide existed, but she would straddle it. A canyon stretching from Liverpool to Cambridge might have been judged impassable by most, but Mel was the brightest girl in her class. She knew it, the school knew it, and her
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