by Daisy Styles
‘Then you’d best make a good job of it – you know what fellas are like?’ Maggie pointed out. ‘Quick to judge, especially where us lasses are concerned.’
In order to start work Gracie had to climb 160 feet up the crane on a series of ladders. When she finally arrived in her cabin, hot and flushed, what little breath was left in her lungs was lost in a wild gasp of delight.
‘No wonder these machines are called giants,’ she thought to herself. ‘I feel like I’m on top of the world.’
Spread out below her were the yard, the docks, the berths and the slipways, with hundreds of bustling workers, looking like little ants, going about their business. The town lay beyond, rows and rows of terraced houses and long, narrow streets; and beyond the urban sprawl was the vast expanse of the sparkling Irish Sea, which stretched westward into a shimmering blue infinity.
Dragging her mind back to the job in hand, Gracie settled into her seat, where she started to tackle her first task: to load a boiler on to a battleship that was in the process of being rebuilt. Trembling with both nerves and excitement, Gracie took her time to complete the task of lifting and of unloading tons of equipment. With practice and experience she was soon able to place the goods that she was responsible for within an inch of where they were required to be, whether it was moving material off the ships that had come into the yard for repair work or loading them with vital equipment needed overseas.
As the war progressed, it was a huge relief to see American convoys arriving at the shipyard. Safely escorted across the Atlantic by frigates and destroyers, they were regular, welcome visitors loaded with cargo that was vital to Britain: anything from food supplies, coal, medical equipment to ammunition, tanks and planes in sections ready to be assembled. It was at moments like these, when Gracie offloaded hundreds of tons of precious goods, that she truly felt that she really was part of the war effort. From Barrow, American goods deposited in the yard would be quickly dispatched across the country to feed the hungry, heal the sick, build bombs, warm homes and fight off the enemy. With only the wheeling seagulls overhead to hear her Gracie often would cry out her heartfelt thanks.
‘Thank you, Yanks! Come back soon.’
Though Gracie missed her friends, she barely had time to catch her breath since starting her challenging new job. She hadn’t written to Diana or caught up with Zelda, so when she saw Dora in Barrow town centre Gracie was overjoyed.
‘Dora!’ she cried, as she rushed across the street to give her friend a hug.
It was only when Dora turned in her direction that Gracie saw how dramatically changed the older woman looked. From being a strong, robust woman with sparkling eyes and a ready smile always playing at the corners of her mouth, Dora was now drawn and thin, with vacant eyes and unkempt, greasy grey hair.
‘Hello, dear,’ Gracie said in a softer voice. ‘Do you remember me from Mary Vale? Gracie, Zelda and Diana?’
A spark of recognition briefly lit up Dora’s haggard face; then, sounding confused, she demanded in a slurred, tired voice, ‘What’s your name?’
Desperately wondering how she could reach out to the woman who had been one of her strongest allies only months ago, Gracie was uncharacteristically lost for words. She was hugely relieved when she caught sight of Mr Saddleworth hurrying towards his wife with an anxious expression on his face.
‘Lovie, what’re you doing?’ he asked gently.
‘I got lost and this woman here says she knows me,’ Dora answered in a frail, quivery voice.
Mr Saddleworth smiled as he recognized Gracie. ‘We’ve just been to the doctor’s,’ he explained, filling Gracie in on their recent devastating news.
‘She’s been on tranquillizers since we heard – no interest in anything, not even the work that she used to live for.’
‘She’ll be badly missed at Mary Vale,’ Gracie murmured. ‘Everybody loved her, especially the babies.’
‘I wish she were back there,’ Mr Saddleworth said with real longing in his voice. ‘These days she just sleeps or weeps all day.’
Seeing Dora getting agitated, he took her by the arm. ‘Come on, lovie, let’s find the bus stop and get you home.’
‘Bye, Dora,’ Gracie said softly. ‘God bless you, sweetheart.’
Standing by the roadside watching them walk away brought a sob to Gracie’s throat. Dora was one of the strongest women she had ever known. Tough, funny, compassionate and generous, she had been a great support to everyone at the Home, nun, nurse, resident or neighbour. Yet here she was, broken in the prime of her life by the horrors of war that were just too painful to bear. Seething with anger, Gracie continued on her way home.
‘It’s not bloody fair,’ she swore out loud, causing passers-by to throw odd sideways glances at her.
Jack, laughing, joking friendly Jack, who had asked her to dance when she was the size of a house; who planned to take her to the pictures when he was next home on leave. If she hadn’t been pregnant, she might have flirted with him, kissed him and sent him off with a smile on his face; as it was, she hadn’t ever answered one of his letters.
She stopped on the corner of her street for a moment and turned to look at the sea. Her heart lifted at the sight of her crane, which she immediately made out from the others berthed in the yard. By God, she had got what she wanted, more than she had ever dreamt of. She was alive and young, her life stretched out before her, but what had those thousands upon thousands of young lads fighting for their country got? The thought made Gracie both angry and sad. It also galvanized her further: she would work until she dropped to fight the war the only way she knew how – driving cranes at Barrow Shipyard, where beating the enemy motivated the entire workforce.
41. Cartmel Cottage
After the conversation she had recently had with Ada, Zelda decided she would inform Frank of her plans to move to Kendal. Anxious that she may have already left it too late, Zelda hardly slept that night. When morning eventually dawned, she was up with the lark to feed and bathe Constanza; then, after playing with her in the nursery, she set off for her prearranged driving lesson. Sitting in the driver’s seat, Zelda watched Frank walk through the back gate of Mary Vale and approach the van with a broad grin on his face. He looked so tall and broad in his dark winter coat, his black hair contrasted against his tanned outdoor skin; even his eye patch added a touch of dare-devil glamour to his sharply chiselled face. As he came closer, Zelda could see he was giving her a somewhat concerned look. In his usual, forthright manner, he came straight out with his concern.
‘You look right peaky, lass.’
‘I didn’t sleep well,’ she prevaricated.
‘Something troubling you?’ he asked, as if reading her thoughts.
‘You could say that,’ Zelda replied, as Frank settled himself in the passenger seat beside her. ‘I’ll feel better after a bit of fresh air,’ she said with feigned cheerfulness.
‘Right, then,’ he said. ‘Where shall we drive today?’
‘Not too far,’ she quickly said. ‘I need to get back for Constanza and …’ She dithered as she tried to think of another excuse. ‘I’m beginning to feel guilty about wasting your dad’s precious supply of petrol.’
Frank shrugged. ‘That’s for me to worry about. Let’s head towards Cartmel, see how good your reversing is in those narrow little streets.’
They stopped by the clear bubbling beck just outside the pretty village of Cartmel, dominated by its ancient eight-hundred-year-old Priory, whose long history went far back to the monks of Lindisfarne Island. Here Frank clambered out of the van to stretch his legs and smoke one of his roll-up cigarettes, while Zelda drank tea from the Thermos he had brought along with him. Though it was a bitterly cold spring morning, songbirds warbled in the overhead treetops and a weak sun shone down on the nodding daffodils lining the riverbank. After stubbing out his cigarette on the gravel path, Frank reached out for the Thermos that Zelda was clutching. He poured himself some tea.
‘Spit it out, lass, I
can see something’s up.’
Zelda took a deep, trembling breath; the polite sentences she had been running through her head all morning disappeared, and instead she simply blurted it out.
‘I’m leaving Mary Vale, Frank – I’m moving to Kendal.’
Looking like he had been punched in the solar plexus, Frank stared at her for several long seconds before speaking bluntly. ‘Why?’
‘The chemist in Kendal has offered me his flat over the shop,’ she explained.
‘I see,’ he murmured. ‘And is that what you want? You’ll be happy, the two of you, in a flat over a chemist’s shop?’ he asked pointedly.
Blushing, Zelda could only mumble, ‘It’s a start.’
Replacing the top on the Thermos, Frank climbed into the van, but this time he sat in the driver’s seat.
‘Please don’t be cross with me, Frank,’ she pleaded.
‘I’m not cross with you,’ he told her straight. ‘There’s just something I need to show you.’
Feeling hot and self-conscious, Zelda sat quietly beside Frank, wondering what on earth he planned to show her.
After they had left the village behind them, they drove along the winding lanes that skirted Cartmel Forest, where Constanza had been born only a few months ago. Zelda couldn’t help but smile when she saw the tree that Captain had been tied to while poor Frank had run back and forth on a mercy mission to rescue a frantic mother and her new-born baby girl.
She was taken aback when Frank turned up a track that led to a pretty white-washed house that looked exactly like a doll’s house but life-sized. Standing firm and square in a large but very overgrown garden, it had a delightful east–west orientation that made the house look bright and light. When Frank pulled up outside the front door, Zelda glanced around. ‘Have you come to pick something up?’ she asked.
Frank gave a curt nod. ‘I left some tools here the other day.’
Stepping out of the van, he opened Zelda’s door and helped her out. ‘Come and have a look round.’
Rather bewildered, Zelda followed him inside. ‘The kitchen’s nice,’ she said, as she admired the recently painted black grate and a fine old pine dresser that covered one entire wall.
‘Wait till you see the sitting room,’ Frank said, as he ushered her into the spacious but empty front room.
‘It’s very pretty,’ Zelda exclaimed. ‘Lovely views,’ she murmured, as she gazed out on to the garden, where, between the brambles, Zelda was sure she could make out a large abandoned rose bed. ‘Pity it’s so neglected,’ she said sadly.
Following Frank up the stairs to the carpeted landing, she asked who lived there.
‘It belongs to a farmer who has gone to live with his daughter Keswick way,’ Frank replied.
Opening one of the bedroom doors, Frank led Zelda into a sweet little room that had a cot in one corner and a chest of drawers in the other, with several framed photographs placed on the top of it. Zelda visibly stiffened as she looked along the line of photographs, which were all of Constanza. A shiver ran down her spine as she suddenly understood the purpose of their visit to this house. Feeling faint with shock, Zelda gripped the edge of the windowsill for support.
‘I don’t understand,’ she eventually managed to say.
Frank shyly took hold of her trembling hands. ‘If you want it, it can be your house, sweetheart: me and Dad have been doing it up for you and Constanza.’
‘But, but,’ she spluttered as she burst out laughing, ‘it’s such a nice thought but I couldn’t possibly afford a lovely big house like this.’
‘Well, it so happens that I have a plan for that, but let’s talk about that later,’ he urged.
With her emotions flying all over the place, Zelda turned around to admire the newly painted room with its polished floors and rag carpets.
‘You did all of this for me?’
‘Aye,’ he said, with a proud ring in his voice. ‘I was hoping to finish the job before I gave you a tour, but, since you went and jumped the gun by announcing your imminent move to Kendal, I thought it might be wise to show you around sooner rather than later.’
‘It’s gorgeous!’ she cried. ‘Just beautiful.’
Touched beyond words at the trouble he’d gone to on her behalf, Zelda stared up at him. ‘You are the most wonderful man,’ she declared before she could stop herself.
‘There is just one thing I haven’t explained yet …’ Pausing to take a deep breath, Frank continued in a low, trembling voice, ‘The thing is, I’d like to live here with you, if I may?’
Zelda gulped. ‘You want to live with me?’
‘Nay, little lass,’ he gulped. ‘I want to marry you.’
Zelda gazed up at him. ‘You want to marry me?’
‘I most certainly do,’ Frank answered robustly.
Flabbergasted as she was, Zelda could not stop herself from bursting out laughing.
‘Even though I’m German – and a Jew too?’
Pulling her close to his chest, Frank did something he had been longing to do for months: after running his heads through her glorious rich red curls, he tilted her small chin and bent to kiss her soft pink lips that opened to his.
‘I love you, lass,’ he murmured. ‘I really don’t think I could live without you.’
Smiling and crying all at the same time, they stood locked in each other’s arms until Frank whispered in Zelda’s ear, ‘You’ve not said yay or nay yet, sweetheart.’
Smiling up at him, Zelda was almost beyond words; this giant of a private man with one eye and a scarred face had become her companion and help, but now, after baring his soul, Frank was suddenly her beloved. Standing on tiptoes so she could reach up to him, she pressed her lips to his and kissed him deeply.
‘Yes,’ she sighed.
‘Yes!’ he gasped. ‘You’re quite sure?’ he gabbled. ‘I won’t take the house away from you if you say no, I’ll just go back home and leave you in peace.’
‘I can’t think of anything I would love more! I’d be happy to live with you anywhere, dearest Frank,’ she smiled, before kissing him long and hard again.
‘Well, then, in that case,’ he chuckled, ‘it’s time you inspected the master bedroom.’
Zelda stared with pleasure at the big room that overlooked the front garden and contained only one article of furniture – a big old double bed. Drawing Zelda on to the bed so they could sit beside each other, Frank stared at his wife-to-be.
‘I’ve got summat else,’ he said shyly. ‘I didn’t want to bring it out until you’d agreed to my proposal.’
Zelda smiled. ‘I can’t believe you ever thought I would turn you down?’
‘I hardly dared to hope, I wanted it that much,’ he answered with a searing honesty that brought a lump to her throat.
Drawing a little velvet box with a gold clasp from his pocket, he handed it to Zelda. ‘It was mi mother’s ring.’
Flipping open the lid, Zelda gasped when she saw a cluster of emeralds set in a vintage gold ring.
‘It’s beautiful,’ she murmured.
‘I thought the stones would go with your lovely hair,’ Frank said as he slipped the ring on to Zelda’s small wedding finger.
‘Darling,’ she murmured, laying her head on his warm shoulder, as they both lay back on the bed, holding each other tightly, overcome with love and emotion.
‘I could lie here all day,’ Frank murmured, nuzzling her silky soft neck.
‘Me too,’ she sighed. ‘Think of it, dearest, after our wedding we’ll lie here together every night,’ she whispered with a small seductive smile.
Frank gave his happy boyish grin that always melted Zelda’s heart. ‘Who knows,’ he murmured. ‘Maybe one day soon there’ll be another little cot besides Constanza’s,’ he said with real yearning in his voice.
Zelda began to giggle. ‘If I should ever give birth again, believe me it will be right here in this lovely house – not on a bed of leaves in Cartmel Forest!’
Later, bef
ore they left Cartmel Cottage, Zelda completed a quick tour of the garden.
‘Don’t worry,’ Frank said knowingly. ‘There’re acres of space for your herbs, sweetheart.’
As Zelda stood in the middle of her new home, with the weak winter sun beaming down on her head, she suddenly felt a benign presence at her side. Shivering like somebody had walked over her grave, she turned, but it in a blink the sensation was gone. Nevertheless, Zelda knew in her heart that Izaak had, from beyond the grave, reached out to her. She knew he wanted this for her: to live in the country that had given her sanctuary, with a man who loved her and Constanza. The knowledge filled Zelda with great peace; at last she had come home.
42. Spring Weddings, 1941
Zelda and Ada ended up getting married on the same day, though not in the same church. Zelda and Frank got married in the local Register Office; in attendance were Alf Arkwright, cradling little Constanza in his arms, and Gracie, who had turned up that morning from Barrow and drove the small wedding party to the venue in the Bedford van that Frank had polished until it gleamed.
‘I hope you didn’t mind marrying me in a Register Office, my darling,’ Zelda whispered after the brief ceremony.
‘Stop thy fretting, little lass,’ Frank answered tenderly, as he kissed the bright gold wedding ring on her finger. ‘I told you right from the start, I understand your reasons for choosing the Register Office – why would a person of the Jewish faith marry in the Church of England?’ He grinned at his new wife before adding, ‘I’m quite sure God doesn’t mind either way.’
‘Oh, Frank, thank you,’ Zelda murmured as she stood on her tiptoes in order to reach up and kiss him. ‘Thank you for loving me,’ she added, as tears welled up in her gentle brown eyes.
‘All that matters is we’re married, man and wife,’ Frank added proudly. A squeak from hungry Constanza, still in Alf’s arms, caused Frank to smile before rearranging his sentence. ‘Sorry, little lady, who could ever forget you? Man, wife and baby – a right proper little family.’
