Put Out the Fires Read Online Free PDF

we’ve got Attlee as his Deputy, and Ernest Bevin at the Ministry of Labour.
    Two good socialists at the very heart of power, though it’s a pity it took a war to get “em there.”
    She wrinkled her nose. “All you ever think about is politics.”
    “What else is there? What d’you think started the war if it wasn’t politics? Everything’s politics.”
    “I’ve heard that before.”
    “And you’ll hear it again.”
    Eileen grinned again. “I know I will, Dad.” She’d been brought up on politics, listened to him, morning, noon and night, sounding off about inequality and injustice.
    He’d used her as a sounding board after Mam died when Eileen was fourteen. Sheila, a year younger, was too flighty and never there to listen, and Sean too young. Jack Doyle had been the unpaid representative of the Dockworkers’
    Union for as long as she could remember, fighting for workers’ rights with a tenacity and strength of purpose that were the envy of weaker men and a never ending bane to management. The local Labour Party still held their monthly meetings in his parlour. To her shame, the politics went in one ear and out the other, but she was proud of her fiery, charismatic dad, and doubted if there was a better known or more respected man in the whole of Bootle.
    “What are you going to do about your job?” he asked. He was pleased she’d taken up war work. “I hope you’re not thinking of giving it up, like, because there’s no need.
    Francis seems quite capable to me.”
    “Well, I don’t want to leave.” It was bad enough losing Nick, without losing her job as well. “The thing is, what am I to do with Tony now Annie’s moved away?” She’d had an arrangement with Annie, who also worked at Dunnings but on a different shift, to look after Tony while she was at work. Now Annie was married, and as from Monday would be living miles away in Fazakerley in her new husband’s house. It was one of the reasons that had prompted Eileen to move to Melling where Dunnings was only a few minutes’ walk from the cottage. “I don’t want him shoved from pillar to post while I’m at work,” she went on. “He needs somewhere safe and regular to go when I’m on late shift, particularly when there’s a raid.” It was useless to rely on Francis, who would almost certainly return to the old routine of spending his evenings at Corporation meetings or in the King’s Arms. Anyroad, she would prefer Tony had as little as possible to do with his dad.
    “I’ll lend a hand when I can, luv, but I’m on shifts meself, and I’ve just taken up firewatching on the docks.
    “Fact, I should be there now ‘case the siren goes. I’ll make me way the minute I’ve had a quick pint.’
    Eileen looked worried. “I can’t ask our Sheila. She’ll see to his meals and makes sure he gets off to school with Dominic and Niall, but they’re already crammed like sardines in the cupboard under the stairs during the raids.” It had always been her worst nightmare when she was at work and in the relative safety of the underground shelter, imagining Pearl Street being bombed and Tony killed. But it was merely another terrifying aspect of the war shared with all the other men and women in the factory who’d left their families at home.
    “We’ll try and sort something out tomorrow,” Jack said. “In the meantime, I’d better be off.” As he was about to leave, he turned, his face once again flushed scarlet.
    “By the way, when Francis went upstairs, I suggested he use the back bedroom from now on. I thought that’s what you’d prefer.”
    “Thanks, Dad,” she murmured gratefully. She’d sworn she’d never sleep with Francis Costello again. In fact, she felt convinced she would kill him if he tried anything now he was back. Even so, she’d been dreading broaching the subject when bedtime came. For over a year, she and Tony had slept in the front bedroom - on the clear understanding he was only there to protect her