The Stowaway

By Ann Steele

Liam Wright is different from the other boys in his family. The youngest and smallest, he dreams of a university education, not a lifetime of backbreaking labor at the Southampton docks with his father and four brothers. Liam’s mum Mary believes in and encourages his dreams. A devastating incident on Liam’s 12th birthday sends Mary to the hospital in early labor, resulting in an emergency surgical procedure following the delivery. Before long, Mary becomes gravely ill. A shocking discovery soon takes Liam on a voyage that will dramatically alter the course of his life forever. Liam’s coming of age story explores the complex nature of relationships, choices and their consequences, and the power of hope.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ann Steele
• Release date: Aug 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798201317744

Ann Steele

I have been writing fiction since 2002. I am married with three grown children and four grandchildren.

Book preview

The Stowaway

By Ann Steele

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2023 Ann Steele

Alex Steele, Editor

Cover Design by Laura Shinn Designs

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This ebook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and some of the places are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual event, place, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental

Prologue

The skirmish between a weary group of 27 British soldiers, who had hunkered down in a ravine while on a mission to sneak up behind the enemy, and a band of German soldiers, similar in size, was swift and bloody. After the initial moment of surprise, the British were able to get off the first shots and in no time soldiers on both sides were exchanging fire. The battle didn’t last long and the ensuing slaughter was inevitable due to the close proximity of the two opposing forces.

A young British soldier, who had been hit in the leg, lay bleeding at the bottom of the ravine, pinned under the bodies of a fellow soldier and an enemy combatant, making it difficult to breathe. After several brutal minutes, the noise from the fighting subsided while the air remained thick with the smoke from countless rounds of spent ammunition. The soldier didn’t know what to expect if he tried to dislodge himself and make his presence known. The pain from the bullet in his thigh burned as though someone had stuck him with a red-hot piece of iron. With his jaw clenched and lips pressed together, he did his best to suppress the cry that began working its way up his throat and, in the end, making its way free. What followed was the sound of approaching footsteps. Knowing his life may depend on what he did next, he closed his eyes, swallowed the pain, and pretended to be dead.

The footsteps stopped and the soldier could feel the bodies of the two dead men being pulled off of him. He held his breath. Silence. What fate awaited him? Would it be the welcome face of a fellow British soldier come to rescue him or the bullet from the enemy’s rifle? After what seemed like an eternity, a boot tapped the open wound in his leg, causing the soldier to cry out once more. He looked up and saw the German uniform. This is it, he thought in despair as he squeezed his eyes shut, knowing his last seconds on earth would be spent lying in the blood-soaked mud of France, waiting for the bullet that would end his life.

Nothing happened.

Confused, the soldier dared to open his eyes a second time and looked up into the face of the German soldier standing over him. The face was smiling, warm and kind. Looks like you could use a doctor, mate, he said in perfect English, offering his hand. I think we can help each other.

Chapter 1

Mary Wright had avoided looking at the calendar in the hope that, by not doing so, she could more fully enjoy each day Brendon was gone instead of wasting her time dreading his return. On the whole, that approach wasn’t effective; the undeniable fact that he would return saw to that. She was fooling herself by not acknowledging the passing of each day on the actual calendar. Nothing would stop Brendon’s release date from drawing ever closer.

You know he’s coming home, Mary told herself one day as she pulled the calendar from the drawer in the old bureau where she had tucked it away weeks before, knowing, give or take, what she would discover. Biting her lip, her fears were confirmed. It was Monday, February 20, 1950. Brendon would return home the following day.

She reprimanded herself for reacting with despair. No mother should feel that way about her child. Truth be told, she couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t have negative feelings toward her son. He was a handful from the time he was born and things had gotten worse with each passing year. Truancy, fistfights at school, gratuitous aggression, bullying, and insolence peppered Brendon’s youth. His favorite target was his younger brother, Liam. From the time Liam was born, Brendon derived immense pleasure from terrorizing him. He never missed a chance to intimidate, threaten, and even hit Liam. The worst incident was when Liam was five years old, standing on a chair and washing his hands at the kitchen sink. Brendon came along and turned the hot water faucet on high, scalding Liam’s hands. They could have been burned worse if Brendon hadn’t then kicked the chair out from underneath Liam. In addition to his burned hands, he ended up with a chipped front baby tooth. Brendon said it was an accident, but both Mary and Liam knew better. She didn’t know what caused Brendon to behave the way he did, he was just a naturally mean, malicious troublemaker. It therefore came as no surprise to her when, the month previous, he was arrested and sentenced to 30 days in jail for stealing beer and cigarettes from a local grocer. Mary was humiliated by his ever-increasing bad behavior, which seemed to foreshadow a more wayward future.

As she held the calendar in her hands, she was struck by a new and sudden realization. She didn’t know where it came from, just that it was true. She was late. She hoped it was because she was going through menopause. She was, after all, 43 years old and women her age and even younger were going through the change. And like a lot of women her age, the change wasn’t altogether unwelcome news. She already had five children, all boys, and had six miscarriages along the way. That was enough. She dreaded facing another pregnancy at her age.

How could she have missed all the familiar signs that corroborated Mary’s fear that it wasn’t menopause after all? She was indeed pregnant. Oh Lord, not again. She considered, for the briefest instant, seeking an abortion, which was not only dangerous, it was illegal. A neighbor of hers had gone to an abortionist the year before and both mother and child died during the procedure. Mary couldn’t risk such a drastic measure; she was terrified at the thought of dying.

Her husband and four of their sons, George (23), Jack (21), Hyrum (20), and Brendon (18), all worked at the shipyards in Southampton, doing back-breaking work six days a week for unfair wages. Her youngest son, Liam, was 11 and too young to join them, for which Mary was grateful. Liam, like this current pregnancy, had been a surprise. She suffered four of her miscarriages between Brendon and Liam. She was sick during the entire pregnancy with Liam and, although he was the smallest of her babies, the premature delivery had been difficult on both mother and child. She hoped he would be her last and for the past eleven years it seemed as though she would have her wish. She had been so careful. She kept track of her cycles and made sure to avoid her husband’s advances during her fertile times. How could she have messed up and gotten pregnant anyway? And how was it even possible at her age? She should be welcoming the change of life, not another child.

She didn’t want to tell Thomas; still, it would soon become obvious as she figured she was had to be at least four months along. She wondered how he would take the news that there would be one more mouth to feed in addition to the five sons they already had. Five sons and a husband with large appetites. Food rationing was still in place in the aftermath of World War II. Because of Liam’s age, he was entitled to the blue rationing coupons that allowed him a full meat ration, fruit, and a half pint of milk each day. Those rations, for the most part, ended up going to his brothers and father, who needed the extra nutrition to keep them healthy for work, while Liam and Mary took smaller portions at each meal. If there was one bright side to Mary’s pregnancy it was that she would be entitled to the green ration coupons that would allow her more fruit, a daily pint of milk, and double her supply of eggs. That could be the positive spin to put on the situation when the time came to tell Thomas of her condition.

The Wrights lived in a cramped, three-bedroom council flat near the shipyard. These were difficult times in post-war England and having an extra mouth to feed would make things even more difficult for the struggling family. George was about to ask Daisy Thompson, a girl he had known since they were small children, to marry him and his wages would then go to his new family. Liam wouldn’t be old enough to work and contribute to the household income for several more years, which was something his father expected but he didn’t want to do. He was a serious, more education-oriented lad who wanted to attend university when he was old enough. It was a subject that caused numerous fights between father and son, and husband and wife. Mary was on Liam’s side.

As she sat musing about the future and her options, Liam sidled up next to her. Are you okay, Mum? he asked. You seem out of sorts.

Although mothers aren’t supposed to have a favorite child, Mary couldn’t help it—Liam was her favorite. He was sweet, smart, quiet, and ambitious. He wasn’t at all like his four large, boisterous brothers. He enjoyed learning and exceled in school. If he could keep his grades up and get a scholarship, he would be the first of the Wrights to earn a university education. In fact, he would be the first one to go beyond Year 10. Mary was proud of Liam and encouraged his aspirations, as opposed to Thomas who never missed an opportunity to remind his youngest child that it was his duty to leave school at age 15, go to work with the rest of the Wright men, and contribute to the household finances.

I’m a little tired, that’s all, Mary responded, which was the truth. This twelfth pregnancy, at her age, was starting to take its toll.

Can I help you do anything?

Mary smiled as she ran her fingers through her son’s wavy brown hair. You can help me by doing your homework and keeping your grades up. She leaned in close and whispered, although there was no one else around to hear, There won’t be anyone prouder than me when they put your degree in your hand.

Thanks, Mum, Liam said, his small chest ballooning with delight.

Liam, Mary knew, wasn’t physically capable of the back-breaking jobs that awaited him as a dockworker if Thomas got his way. The boy was tiny when he was born, weighing five and a half pounds, and had never taken off like his brothers, who were all muscular and close to six feet tall like their father. Thomas said his son would be hitting his growth spurt anytime, the same thing he’d been saying for the past year. At age eleven, Liam was just four-foot four-inches tall and bore a slight build. His two oldest brothers enjoyed giving him a good-natured ribbing about his size whenever Thomas brought it up; they also believed he was just a late bloomer. His other two brothers, Hyrum and Brendon, were crueler with their insults and Thomas turned a deaf ear to their nastiness.

Mary could see what they couldn’t or wouldn’t accept—Liam was different from the rest of them in both size and temperament. And as far as Mary was concerned, there was nothing wrong with that.

As Mary now beamed at her youngest child with a joyful heart, it was then that she decided that the baby growing in her womb might not be a bad thing after all. It would be worth any hardships that may lie ahead to have another child like Liam.

Her next big decision was when to tell Thomas. How should she do it? It had to be in private, that much was obvious. Thomas wouldn’t think the news was good and she didn’t want her sons to witness the inevitable fight that would ensue. She decided to wait until after Brendon was released from jail. Thomas had been looking forward to Brendon’s return, all the while downplaying his son’s guilt. Brendon’s wayward conduct was, in Thomas’s eyes, nothing more than youthful hijinks that would diminish with time. Mary, on the other hand, saw it for what it was: burgeoning criminal behavior.

A welcome-home dinner was planned for Brendon’s return the following evening. He was to be released at 9:00 that morning and, pursuant to his discharge agreement, would need to report straight to work. For the next 30 days, his foreman would need to sign off that he showed up and put in his full shift. If he avoided any further trouble for a year after that, the prosecutor would consider expunging his record.

On the morning of Brendon’s release, Thomas went to the jail before work, accepted custody of his son, and took him to the dockyard. The foreman welcomed Brendon back, reminding him of the terms of his continued employment: one more misstep and he would be fired.

Thomas and the boys returned home that evening shortly after 6:00. Mary could hear their voices before seeing them from the kitchen window that looked out onto the street. She called Liam to come to dinner as she removed the shepherd’s pie from the oven, its crust a perfect golden brown. Thomas insisted that a hot meal be ready to eat as soon as he walked in the door; it had been that way from the day the two of them were married. The aroma from the bubbling pie filled the room. She placed it on the table at Thomas’s end, along with a freshly sharpened knife. Because it was the night that she planned to tell Thomas about the baby, she had prepared Thomas’s favorite meal—shepherd’s pie and plum pudding. She figured it would do well to put him in the best mood possible.

Smells good, Mum, said Liam as he stood next to his chair. A moment later, the door banged open and Thomas and his fellow working men fell into the room amid raucous laughter.

Look who’s back, hollered Thomas as he ruffled Brendon’s hair.

Welcome home, son, said Mary over the din. She swallowed hard and forced a smile on her face.

The men stripped off their coats and hung them up on the wooden pegs on the back of the door before dropping their empty lunch pails on the countertop near the sink for Mary to clean out and refill the following morning.

And if that weren’t enough to celebrate, said Thomas as he grabbed George in a playful headlock, there’s also a big deal happening tonight at the pub. Ain’t that right, me ol’ mucker! He drilled his knuckles into George’s sweaty head.

What’s going to happen at the pub? asked Liam.

If you must know, Pipsqueak, said Jack, our boy George here is going to pop the question to Daisy tonight. With that, he and the other men joined in the spirited fray, pommeling George with good-natured thumps.

Mary said, Well, isn’t that exciting news! Good for you, George. The others stepped aside so she could hug her eldest son.

Enough of this now, said Thomas in his authoritative voice as he pulled out his chair. Let’s eat.

The past month in jail did nothing to deter Brendon from starting in on the bullying of his younger brother, whom Brendon viewed as an easy target and therefore deserving of anything he could dish out. He knocked into Liam on purpose as he pulled out his chair. Miss me? he sneered under his breath, his tone dripping with meanness and sarcasm.

Everyone took their seats as Thomas sliced himself a piece of shepherd’s pie. The knife was passed to George, and then around to others in turn. Mary was left with the small slice that remained. As usual, she supplemented her meal with bread she had baked.

The dinner conversation steered away from Brendon’s recent incarceration and revolved instead around George’s pending proposal. I can’t wait to see her face when you ask her, said Liam between mouthfuls.

Don’t be thick, chided Brendon as he smacked Liam on the back of his head. He never missed a chance to dress down his younger brother. We’re not going to be there. He doesn’t want your big ugly nose intruding on their business.

Liam turned red and hung his head.

That’s enough, Brendon, scolded Mary, unsurprised that Brendon was starting up again already. No, dear, she said to Liam, placing an affectionate hand on his, we won’t be there. This will be a private moment between George and Daisy. He can tell us all about it when he comes home. If he wants to, she added, smiling at George.

Oh, he’ll tell us, all right, bellowed Jack, if he knows what’s good for him! He gave his brother’s shoulder a shove while the others laughed.

Liam wondered what would happen if Daisy turned down George’s proposal; all the same, he knew better than to ask. It was best if he just ate his meal in silence. He was seldom part of dinner conversations anyway and tonight shouldn’t be any different.

Mary, the lone person at the table who noticed Liam’s embarrassment, reached under the table and patted his knee. Never mind, she whispered.

After dinner, George walked alone to The Hobbled Toad, the local pub two streets over. He planned to meet Daisy there at 7:00, where he would offer her the ring with a small colored stone he purchased the week before and ask her to be his wife. The ear-to-ear grin on his face as he left the flat caused Mary’s heart to swell with happiness for her eldest son.

With Liam’s help, she cleared the dinner mess while Thomas and the other three boys retired to the living room. The boys soon became restless. Meanwhile, Thomas was content to sit and read the evening paper.

Let’s go to The Fife and Drum, Jack suggested at last. The boys weren’t used to staying at home with nothing to do. They were often out with friends at The Hobbled Toad. However, going there wasn’t an option for them this night.

Good idea, replied Hyrum, standing up and grabbing his coat and cap off the peg. His brothers followed suit.

Wanna come, Dad? asked Jack.

No, you go ahead. Have fun and don’t stay out late.

Before they got out the door, Mary said, Liam, would you like to go with your brothers?

Liam gave Jack a hopeful look. With George gone, Jack was now the oldest and the one calling the shots for the others. He was also the one brother Liam could depend on to be in his corner.

Liam used to share a bedroom with Hyrum and Brendon until their tormenting got too much for him. Jack suggested, when Liam was seven, that he move into his and George’s room. George was agreeable and within 10 minutes, Liam was moved and settled into his new, more hospitable, environment. He was much happier there, as were Hyrum and Brendon in having him gone.

Sure, why not? Jack now said. You wanna come with us, Pipsqueak?

Before Liam could answer, Brendon blurted, No, he don’t wanna come. He can stay home and sew a dress with Mum! He gave a bawdy chortle at his own perceived cleverness.

Jack cuffed him on the back of the head. Shut up, Brendon. Come on, Pipsqueak, you’re coming with us.

Liam’s face lit up as he crossed the room and took down his cap and coat from the peg. Thanks, Jack, he said.

You’re a right little arse, Brendon growled, knocking his body into Liam as he passed.

Jack put his arm around Liam. Don’t listen to him, he said. He’s just jealous.

Jealous! cried Brendon. Why would I be jealous of a scrawny little twit like him? Honestly, it was good being in jail so I didn’t have to see his ugly face every day. He and Hyrum howled with laughter.

The boys continued fighting as they walked out the door. The subsequent quiet felt good and Mary heaved a sigh. I wish you wouldn’t let Brendon treat Liam so poorly, she said to her husband as she folded the kitchen towel and hung it over the handle of the oven door.

It’s all just a bit of happy horseplay, answered Thomas from behind his newspaper.

I don’t think there’s anything happy about it. Brendon is a bully and Liam doesn’t deserve his abuse.

Leave it alone, Mary, Thomas warned, scowling at her over the top of the paper. Brendon just got home. The boys need to work these things out for themselves. Besides, Liam could stand to be toughened up. How do you expect him to become a man when you’re always babying him?

His comment offended Mary but she knew there was no use arguing. Thomas’s attitude toward his boys and their rough-housing and insults were in stark contrast to her own. He saw it as the natural course for boys; he and his two brothers went through the same thing. He considered Mary’s attempts to stifle that natural course as nothing short of interfering in something she knew nothing about and had no business doing. He often remarked that her meddling and her babying of Liam was holding him back from becoming the man he needed to be. Without a word, Mary went to her bedroom, took out a book, and read by herself.

Later on, as Thomas climbed into bed next to Mary, who was still reading, he said, I hope you’re not still pouting.

I’m not pouting, she answered without looking up.

You just don’t understand boys.

She closed her book with a snap. Oh, I think I understand you all just fine.

Her gibe went unnoticed. The lads are all right. Leave them alone to make their own way and work things out themselves.

Then you should take your own advice, Mary countered in a curt tone. She placed her book on the bedside table.

What are you harping about?

Let Liam decide what he wants to do with his life instead of going on all the time about how he has to leave school in a few years and go to work with you and our boys. She surprised herself by being so blunt with her husband. She had her own opinions about a great many things in their marriage; be that as it may, it was rare that she expressed them aloud.

Thomas was also surprised. I’m the man, he said in a low, stern tone of voice, and I’ll decide what goes on in this house.

Although it infuriated Mary when Thomas pulled the ‘I’m the man’ card, she understood she’d get further with him if she didn’t threaten his self-proclaimed authority. I just mean, she said, softening her voice, that he’s a smart boy and I know he can make something of himself given the chance to finish his education.

Are you saying I’m nothing? Thomas shouted. And George and the others are nothing too? We’re just stupid laborers in your eyes, is that it? You think if Liam goes off and gets some fancy education, that will make you look better?

Of course not, replied Mary, trying not to cry. I’m proud of all of you. She made herself lean over and kiss Thomas on the cheek to calm him down. I just think it would be a good opportunity for Liam, that’s all. Times are changing. A formal education may be even more important by the time Liam is old enough for university. Wouldn’t it make you proud to see him as a doctor or lawyer or a professor? Shouldn’t we want better things for our children than what we have?

What, you think I want to keep them down? snapped Thomas, still on the defensive. You know as well as I do that we don’t have the money to send him to university. You’re making things worse by getting his hopes up for nothing.

I think he could get a scholarship, Mary pointed out.

"Just because you think he could doesn’t mean it will happen. You need to be realistic and stop living in a dream world. Liam may be the youngest but he’ll be a man soon and men are supposed to work and provide for themselves and their family."

Mary saw the opportunity to bring up her pregnancy. He may not be the youngest for long.

Thomas’s anger was replaced by shock and disbelief. What are you saying, Mary?

Steeling herself up for her husband’s reaction, she said, I’m pregnant.

What? Aren’t you too old to have any more kids?

With an exasperated sigh, Mary answered, Apparently not.

Thomas shook his head as if to dislodge the news from his mind. Are you sure? Maybe you’re just going through the change. Some men down at work have talked about how their wives thought the same thing; they just didn’t realize what was happening. It was just a scare. I’m sure that’s what’s happening to you, too.

Mary became annoyed with his automatic dismissiveness of the situation and because, as usual, he thought he knew better than she did. You can’t tell me what’s going on with my own body, she retorted. I’ve been pregnant enough times before to know that I am pregnant.

Thomas’s silence was uncomfortable. After a full minute the only thing he could think of to say was, I thought we were through having kids.

So did I, but here we are. Don’t forget, I didn’t do this on my own. Thomas grunted in an evasive way. And before you suggest it, she added, sounding resolute, I’m not going to terminate it.

Thomas looked startled. Had she read his mind? How could you even think I would suggest such a thing? he challenged, trying to sound wounded by her accurate deduction.

Mary studied him for a moment to see if he was being sincere. It was hard to tell. Maybe we’ll have a girl this time, she said with optimism.

I hope not. His disdain-filled response came out before he could stop himself.

Now it was Mary’s turn to look startled. Why would you say that? she demanded.

You know as well as I do that a son would be better. When he’s old enough he can bring home a paycheck like the others. Lord knows we’ll need it. He wanted to point out that her announcement now meant that the possibility of Liam going off to university was no longer an option; nevertheless, for once he held his tongue. In time she would come to see that he had been right all along.

Well, I could use the help around the house. I’m not getting any younger and I don’t get much help as it is. She knew her complaint would fall on deaf ears; Thomas was a traditionalist in every sense of the word—women worked in the home and men went off to earn the money. That’s the way it had always been and the way it should always continue to be. Those lines should never be blurred. By the way, I don’t want to tell the boys yet. Our focus for now should be on George’s upcoming wedding. Daisy is a nice girl and he seems so happy.

Yeah. Thomas lay down, pulled the covers up to his chin and closed his eyes. Turn out the light and go to sleep.

Mary was hurt that Thomas didn’t even ask how far along she was or express any concerns about how the pregnancy at her age would affect her or the baby. With a sigh, she turned off the light and settled underneath the