Elsie wondered if she ought to try and contact Arnold. Would he be interested to know about his daughter’s birth? She had not heard from him and thankfully had never received a telegram or any of those dreadful official letters. But now she wondered if perhaps she should try to connect with him once more. She never was good at writing letters and as he hadn’t written to her, she really didn’t know where he was. She didn’t even know if he was on a ship or in a submarine, whether he was out in the Atlantic or the Pacific. Geography never had been her strong point. For all she knew, he could still be stuck in Portsmouth docks. She could probably get the information from somewhere if she tried hard enough, but she wasn’t that bothered. He would find out soon enough, if he ever came home.
The one person she did want to contact was Fay. And in the days that followed, after spending time at home recovering from the birth, Elsie managed to get word to her about Linda. She wasn’t sure – and she didn’t really care – how her mother would feel about becoming a grandmother, but she knew her sister would be thrilled to know she was an aunt.
Once the snow had begun to clear she also took a small bunch of flowers to Mrs Sharples at the Mission.
‘What’s that for?’ Ena Sharples looked at them suspiciously.
‘For helping me and for doing what you did.’ Elsie smiled. She genuinely felt grateful and she hoped Mrs Sharples would be able to see that.
‘Don’t think you can get away with anything with a few flowers. I’ll still be charging my regular fee.’ Clearly the older woman was back to her usual surly self.
‘I’m not trying to get away with anything. This is just a little extra, that’s all.’ Elsie had never given anyone a present like this before and she was surprised how nice it felt to be giving someone something. It was almost as much fun as it was to receive.
‘Can we not bury the hatchet for once and be like proper neighbours?’ she said, wondering if it was having a baby that had made her soft in the head.
‘I’ll say thank you, then. And where, may I ask, are you planning on having the christening?’ Ena Sharples said as she took the flowers and stuck them in a jar that was standing on top of the harmonium. ‘Happen you could do worse than to have her christened here at the Mission.’
Elsie was surprised. Obviously she’d have Linda christened though she wasn’t really religious, but she’d hardly put much thought into it yet and wasn’t sure she wanted Ena Sharples lording it over her and Linda. ‘I don’t know how to go about it, I’m not the church-going type.’
‘Maybe you should be for once. What with this war an’ all.’
Elsie felt the older woman’s glare. ‘Maybe you’re right. I’ll think about it,’ was all she would concede and then she wandered back home, mulling it over.
Later that day Elsie was among the many residents of Coronation Street who listened to the BBC news on the wireless at the Rovers Return. The new Secretary of State for War, Anthony Eden, told the country solemnly that what people had been calling ‘the phoney war’ was over and that a serious offensive was more than likely on its way. He asked for what he called Local Defence Volunteers to come forward and offer their services to their country. It was to be a new home army to help defend British shores from possible attack. Then he warned of more stringent rationing in the months to come and the difficult times ahead.
A heavy atmosphere descended on the drinkers as people took his words to heart. There was no more singing and conversation was subdued. Everyone left the pub that night looking more forlorn than ever. Little did they know it wouldn’t be long until the bombing started in earnest.
It was the day Elsie had chosen for the ceremony that the first air raid hit Weatherfield. Linda Tanner ended up being christened in the basement shelter underneath the Mission of Glad Tidings. The short service had no sooner begun in the chapel upstairs when the air raid siren began to wail. The loud drone of the planes and the distant boom of bombs dropping told the congregants this was no false alarm. Elsie and the others had never heard anything like it and the residents had come streaming out of their houses withshocked white faces, hurriedly pulling on coats and huddling infants into siren suits.
Elsie clung to her new baby as if there was a bomber immediately overhead. Everyone had put their gas mask on and Mrs Sharples was trying to encourage Elsie to wear hers and to put one on the baby.
‘Kenneth Barlow and Billy Walker have put their Mickey Mouse masks on,’ Mrs Sharples said.
Elsie had been given a huge infant mask that she was supposed to pump air into but she couldn’t imagine try-ing to get her wriggly baby inside of it in an emergency, so she covered her daughter’s head with a blanket and clutched her close to her breast instead. The lay preacher was in the middle of his final blessing when the boom sounded as if it were overhead. The large room was plunged into sudden darkness. Then there was a collective audible gasp followed by individual panic-stricken shrieks as the whole building was shaken to its foundations. Unidentifiable objects fell from the walls and ceiling, people protesting loudly as they were hit. The air was filled with gritty dust that made everyone gasp and cough.
‘I can’t see,’ someone called.
‘Not surprising as there’s no bloody light,’ someone else retorted.
‘No, I mean I can’t open my eyes.’
Ena Sharples lit up her torch and it soon became plain that it was plaster dust and the powder of fallen masonry that was causing the problem. There was another boom, followed by another, but it was obvious that the planes were now moving away and were dropping their lethal packages elsewhere.
Finally the all clear sounded and everyone emerged from underground, blinking into the daylight and trying to protect their ears from the whine of the siren and the fire engine and ambulance bells that filled the air. People were shaken and dishevelled, hair greyed by the cloud of dust that hung over the entire street. There was a strong smell of burning and the sparks and flashes from adjacent streets confirmed that fires were still raging in buildings that had taken a direct hit.
Elsie hurried home and was surprised to find Fay waiting for her on her doorstep, a small battered suitcase in her hand.
‘Thank God you’re all right, I didn’t know what to do.’ Fay rushed up to Elsie and hugged her. ‘And how is this little one?’ She peered inside the folds of blanket that filled Elsie’s arms.
‘She’s safe, thank goodness,’ Elsie said. ‘No thanks to them.’ She shook her fist at the sky. ‘But what are you doing, hanging about here at this hour?’
‘I’ve come to see my niece,’ Fay said, almost too lightly. ‘Thought I could give you a hand. Though of course I didn’t know about any of this.’
‘Well, help is always welcome,’ Elsie said. ‘But let’s go inside. I could murder a cup of tea and I’m sure you could too, so come in and tell me all about …’ Elsie stopped speaking as she opened the front door and ran down the passage, Fay following behind.
‘Oh my God, Else,’ Fay said as the two women stood amid a pile of debris.
It was obvious the building behind the house had been hit, for there was no longer a wall at the back separating her from the neighbouring street. The force of the blast had blown in all the windows. Shattered glass covered the floor of the back room, kitchen and scullery and the unhinged back door was swinging on a single nail. Even the privy had had its roof blown off.
Elsie wanted to cry. But as she stepped outside she was too shocked to show any emotion, for sticking out from underneath the pile of bricks of what had once been the wall between her house and number 13 were two stocking-clad legs.
Elsie was pleased Fay decided to stay with her because she didn’t know how she would have managed on her own, clearing up the rubble and fixing as much of the damage as was possible. The whole street was without water or electricity for several days which made things all the harder. And when the body of Madge from next door was finally recovered it made a grim sight and Elsie tried to push the memory of it out of her mind. Somehow with a baby to look after and with Fay alongside her, she just about managed it.
‘So tell me, what’s going on in Back Gas Street?’ Elsie said one night when they had settled down and put the baby to bed.
‘You’re well away from it all, that’s all I can say.’
‘How is everybody?’ Elsie said hesitantly.
‘Mam’s the same as ever, I suppose, though she’s not pregnant of course. She never seems to do anything much and then I get cross with her because she says she’s too busy to be bothered going down to the shelter when the siren goes off. And she doesn’t force the kids to go either.’
‘And how’s Jack?’ Elsie asked.
‘Still missing you, if that’s what you’re asking,’ Fay laughed. ‘Maybe I’ll bring him here to see you.’
‘And his new cousin,’ Elsie said, her voice choked.
‘But the best news is that Dad’s been roped in to be an ARP warden – can you believe it? Complete with a tin hat!’
‘Bloody hell. So is he any different?’ Elsie wanted to know.
‘You wouldn’t believe it, but he is. He’s got so many other people to boss around, he leaves us lot alone. And he doesn’t have time to get drunk every night.’
‘So the war is good for something,’ Elsie said.
‘But that’s not all. I think he must have some kind of fancy woman, because he leaves mam alone completely. She’s not complained about him getting on to her for ages.’
‘And you think he’s getting his leg over somewhere?’
‘You bet he is.’
‘I ask you, who would want anything to do with him?’
‘You never know, do you? But then, you fancied Arnold Tanner!’ Fay spluttered with laughter and Elsie stared at her.
‘No offence,’ Fay said quickly, ‘but he’s not to everyone’s taste.’
‘Good grief, Fay. Since you’ve been working in that office you don’t half talk posh.’
‘No I don’t,’ Fay protested, but her cheeks did redden. ‘Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with trying to better yourself. I was trying not to hurt your feelings too much, that’s all.’
Elsie shook her head in disbelief wondering that anyone could ever say anything about Arnold that would bother her now and changed the subject. ‘How’s the job going? Is it working out?’
‘Yes, thanks, it is. The boss is very odd. I think it’s because he’s old. But with Terry there to keep me sane, I’m managing OK.’
‘Is Terry your boyfriend now? You know what I mean?’
‘Yes, I know. But you could hardly call him that. He’s very cautious and very gentlemanly. He says he doesn’t want to pressure me or put me in an awkward position.’
‘Does that mean he hasn’t kissed you?’
‘Only on the cheek.’ Fay looked coy.
‘How long is it you’ve known him?’ Elsie tried not to let her thoughts show on her face and suppressed a grin.
‘That’s not the point. He doesn’t want to rush things. And right now that suits me too.’
‘He doesn’t sound like he’s going to set the world on fire?’ Elsie ventured.
‘I don’t want anyone who’s going to set the world on fire! We can’t all be like you, chasing trouble. Anyway, not after all that business with Harry. It’s not as if I’m going to marry him.’
‘I thought you wanted to get out of Back Gas Street.’
‘I do, and that’s why I’m here.’
‘You can stay here as long as you want, you know that. But surely, with all your fancy ideas, you want better than this?’
‘Aren’t you happy here?’
Elsie thought about it. ‘Happy as I can be, I suppose. I’ve finally started to have a bit of fun, if you know what I mean. But I don’t know how it will be once Arnold’s back …’