Put Out the Fires Read Free Page B

whenever you’re home, just so’s I know you’re all right, like.” He was a kind lad, and had been a tremendous help that day.
    “Come on, now, luv, dry your eyes and we’ll go home.”
    “I don’t think I’ll call on Sean,” he sniffed. “I’ll go back to me mam and dad and have a game of Snakes and Ladders with our Clare. It’s me last night . . . ” He stopped and gave his nose a good blow on a rather grubby handkerchief.
    “That’s a good idea,” she said comfortably. Anyroad, knowing Sean, he’d be out with one of his never-ending stream of girlfriends.
    They scarcely spoke again the rest of the way as they turned off the Dock Road and walked passed the Goods Yard and through the warren of narrow streets of two-up, two-down terraced houses where they lived. Eileen seemed lost in thought and Donnie felt too embarrassed to say another word. What on earth would she think of him, breaking down like that?
    “This is our street,” he said awkwardly when they reached the Chaucer Arms, and she came to, blinking, as if she’d forgotten he was there. He almost wished he could run away without another word.
    “Take care,” she said. “Don’t forget, I’ll be praying for you.”
    “Ta.” He shuffled his feet awkwardly. “I hope you come through the raids all right, and . . . ” He wanted to say he hoped her RAF friend would come through, too. Instead, just to be polite, he said, “And I hope your husband comes home safe and sound.”
    To his surprise, she gave a little bitter laugh. “There’s no need to worry about Francis, he’s quite safe, if not entirely sound. He arrived back unexpectedly this afternoon and they’re going to discharge him from the army. He’s home for good.”

Chapter 2
    Eileen waited on the corner for Donnie to wave goodbye.
    But she waited in vain, for the small hunched figure merely crossed the street and went into the house without a glance in her direction. No doubt he felt awkward bursting into tears like that, she thought as she continued towards home. She reckoned, somewhat sadly, that she’d probably never see Donnie Kennedy again unless they met by accident.
    It had been four o’clock exactly, and she’d been about to slam the door on 16 Pearl Street for the final time, already late for Nick, having missed the train through no fault of her own, when an ambulance turned into the street, bringing Francis Costello home to his family. Eileen was put in the worst predicament she’d ever known; how could you walk out and meet your lover when your husband had returned injured from North Africa?
    Sheila thought she should have gone and let Francis look after himself. “I would have, if it was me.” His head was heavily bandaged and he’d lost the sight of his left eye, but he could walk and talk and indeed had seemed quite cheerful when he arrived. “You owe him nothing, Eileen,”
    Sheila cried. “Nothing!”
    By not going, she was letting Nick and Tony down, Sheila added, working herself up into a proper lather.
    Tony couldn’t wait to live in Melling in the cottage with black beams on the ceiling and roses around the door and apple trees and strawberries in the garden. He’d been looking forward to sleeping in the room with the new curtains which Mr Singerman had made on the window.
    Most of all, he was looking forward to having Nick for a dad, because his real dad made him feel unhappy most of the time.
    “For Jaysus sake, girl,” Sheila said scathingly, “there’s a war on. You should snatch at happiness if it chances to come your way, ‘cos by this time next week you might be dead. The most important people are the ones you love,’ which all seemed strange to Eileen, because Sheila was the religious one, not her. She couldn’t have just walked away.
    She couldn’t have lived with Nick, or, more importantly, with herself, if she had. She felt split in two, utterly divided between love for one man and responsibility to another - though if she’d