photographs on her knee. ‘You didn’t know him when he was really little, but
here, look at this photo we had done at the photographer’s in town. Look at his fair hair and chubby little legs. Oh Lil, I was just reckoning of the day when he would come home again, but
now he never will.’
Very slowly, life returned to some sort of normality. Once she was over the initial, searing shock, Edie’s natural strength and resilience rose to the surface once more. She’d grown
up alongside families who had lost their menfolk at sea; fisherfolk, sadly, were used to tragedy, but it didn’t make it any easier. This was something different. War took countless numbers of
men, a whole generation. Grief from the losses in the last war still overshadowed so many lives – especially in Grimsby where the pals’ battalion, the Grimsby Chums, had lost so many
local boys. And now it was all happening again.
When Archie had to go back to sea, Edie, with Lil beside her, returned to the WVS centre and threw herself into the work.
‘I’m doing it for my boy – I’m doing it for Laurence,’ she said bravely. ‘It’s what he would have wanted – and would expect – me to
do.’
Now she had other worries at the back of her mind. Frank was finding it harder and harder to find regular work and soon, she knew, he would be called up. Beth had obviously received
Shirley’s letter for when she replied, Edie could tell she felt the loss keenly. She had been the closest to Laurence in age and they had always been good ‘mates’. Edie tried to
comfort herself with the fact that Beth must still be living with the Forsters.
But life, as Edie was always being told, had to go on. And it did. Whilst she would forever mourn Laurence’s death, the living must be cared for. And there was Irene’s baby coming,
due in September. It was like her mother’s old saying, she thought. When someone goes out of a family, another comes into it. Edie wondered if they would call it after Laurence, if it was a
boy. She hoped so.
It was in late June 1940 when the first bombs fell on Grimsby. The very same day that the French signed the armistice with their invaders, and, with engineered irony, in the
same railway carriage used in 1918 for the German surrender. Adolf Hitler was gleeful, his revenge for what he saw as the humiliation of his own country was complete. Britain stood alone and the
war was coming even closer to home; casualties were to be expected amongst the civilian population. It was not just soldiers who would lose their lives now.
Talk began again of evacuations into the relative safety of the Lincolnshire countryside for youngsters and mothers and babies.
‘You ought to go,’ Frank urged Irene. ‘I’ll be going any day now and—’
‘I’m going nowhere until this baby is born. I want him – or her – to be born in Grimsby, preferably here at home.’ Irene was determined and nothing – and no
one – would change her mind. She could be remarkably stubborn when she wanted to be, Lil thought. More bombs fell on the town in July when the enemy targeted the docks, but as the missiles
all fell into the river, no damage was done. The Battle of Britain had begun and the RAF was valiantly trying to prevent the Luftwaffe attacking coastal ports, radar stations and airfields in the
south of England.
Early in September, Frank got his call-up papers and the next morning, Irene went into labour.
‘Must have shocked her into it,’ he joked, but his eyes were worried as he listened to Irene’s cries from the room upstairs. ‘I just wish the midwife would hurry
up.’
‘No need for any midwife,’ Edie said, coming through the door. ‘If me and her mam can’t see this babby into the world, it’s a pity. Now, Lil, have you got
everything ready?’
Lil nodded, but Frank still wasn’t sure. ‘Oh but, Mam, I don’t think—’
But Edie was already on her way up the stairs carrying towels and a bowl of hot
here, look at this photo we had done at the photographer’s in town. Look at his fair hair and chubby little legs. Oh Lil, I was just reckoning of the day when he would come home again, but
now he never will.’
Very slowly, life returned to some sort of normality. Once she was over the initial, searing shock, Edie’s natural strength and resilience rose to the surface once more. She’d grown
up alongside families who had lost their menfolk at sea; fisherfolk, sadly, were used to tragedy, but it didn’t make it any easier. This was something different. War took countless numbers of
men, a whole generation. Grief from the losses in the last war still overshadowed so many lives – especially in Grimsby where the pals’ battalion, the Grimsby Chums, had lost so many
local boys. And now it was all happening again.
When Archie had to go back to sea, Edie, with Lil beside her, returned to the WVS centre and threw herself into the work.
‘I’m doing it for my boy – I’m doing it for Laurence,’ she said bravely. ‘It’s what he would have wanted – and would expect – me to
do.’
Now she had other worries at the back of her mind. Frank was finding it harder and harder to find regular work and soon, she knew, he would be called up. Beth had obviously received
Shirley’s letter for when she replied, Edie could tell she felt the loss keenly. She had been the closest to Laurence in age and they had always been good ‘mates’. Edie tried to
comfort herself with the fact that Beth must still be living with the Forsters.
But life, as Edie was always being told, had to go on. And it did. Whilst she would forever mourn Laurence’s death, the living must be cared for. And there was Irene’s baby coming,
due in September. It was like her mother’s old saying, she thought. When someone goes out of a family, another comes into it. Edie wondered if they would call it after Laurence, if it was a
boy. She hoped so.
It was in late June 1940 when the first bombs fell on Grimsby. The very same day that the French signed the armistice with their invaders, and, with engineered irony, in the
same railway carriage used in 1918 for the German surrender. Adolf Hitler was gleeful, his revenge for what he saw as the humiliation of his own country was complete. Britain stood alone and the
war was coming even closer to home; casualties were to be expected amongst the civilian population. It was not just soldiers who would lose their lives now.
Talk began again of evacuations into the relative safety of the Lincolnshire countryside for youngsters and mothers and babies.
‘You ought to go,’ Frank urged Irene. ‘I’ll be going any day now and—’
‘I’m going nowhere until this baby is born. I want him – or her – to be born in Grimsby, preferably here at home.’ Irene was determined and nothing – and no
one – would change her mind. She could be remarkably stubborn when she wanted to be, Lil thought. More bombs fell on the town in July when the enemy targeted the docks, but as the missiles
all fell into the river, no damage was done. The Battle of Britain had begun and the RAF was valiantly trying to prevent the Luftwaffe attacking coastal ports, radar stations and airfields in the
south of England.
Early in September, Frank got his call-up papers and the next morning, Irene went into labour.
‘Must have shocked her into it,’ he joked, but his eyes were worried as he listened to Irene’s cries from the room upstairs. ‘I just wish the midwife would hurry
up.’
‘No need for any midwife,’ Edie said, coming through the door. ‘If me and her mam can’t see this babby into the world, it’s a pity. Now, Lil, have you got
everything ready?’
Lil nodded, but Frank still wasn’t sure. ‘Oh but, Mam, I don’t think—’
But Edie was already on her way up the stairs carrying towels and a bowl of hot
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