Christmas with the Shipyard Girls

by Nancy Revell

  The force of the explosion had knocked him senseless, his body feeling like a feather caught in the eye of a tornado.

  ‘What happened?’ Polly asked in earnest.

  ‘I just remember being pushed through the water.’ Tommy paused. ‘Then everything went black. After that I can’t remember much.’

  This was true. The force of the explosion had knocked Tommy unconscious.

  ‘I vaguely remember being hauled aboard the hospital ship, but that’s about it,’ he said, hoping this would satisfy Polly.

  Polly was filled with such anger for a country she had not even been able to pinpoint on a map before this damned war. North Africa had stolen the life of one of her brothers, maimed the other, and very nearly taken the man she loved.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll ever stop counting my blessings that you made it back here alive,’ she said, tears beginning to fill her eyes.

  Tommy looked at Polly. It hurt him to see her upset. And even more that he was the cause.

  ‘Tell me more about last night,’ Tommy asked, wanting to change the subject. ‘Arthur told me bits and bobs.’

  Polly sat back and sighed. ‘Oh, Tommy, it was awful.’

  Tommy held her hand as she relayed how they had all been at home when the sirens started up. They’d been getting ready to go to the shelter when they’d heard two huge explosions, one after the other.

  ‘Then there was this banging on the front door,’ Polly said. ‘Like someone was trying to batter the door down. It was Pearl, looking the most worried I think I’ve ever seen her.’

  Tommy had never met Pearl but had read all about her in Polly’s letters.

  ‘She told us one of the bombs had landed in Tavistock Place, where we normally go, which was obviously why she was so worried. Bill was with her and he told us to take refuge in the pub cellar.’

  Tommy was listening intently.

  ‘We could see when we went across to the Tatham that the other bomb had obliterated the bottom end of the street, where Gloria had told us she was visiting an old friend – with Hope.’ Polly took a breath. ‘As soon as the all-clear sounded out, Bel and I rushed to see if she was all right. And that’s when Dorothy and Angie told us they were still in the house. Or rather, what was left of the house. Martha and Helen were in there as well.’

  ‘So, they’d gone in there to save Gloria and Hope?’ Tommy asked, pushing himself up in the bed.

  Polly nodded.

  ‘So, there we all were, staring at this building that looked like a house of cards on the verge of collapse.’ Polly laughed a little. ‘And then Rosie just said, ever so matter-of-factly, “Well, we better go in there and get them,” and so we all started clambering over bricks and mortar to get to the house. But before we got there, Martha appeared, carrying Hope.’

  ‘Blimey,’ Tommy said, enthralled.

  ‘Poor Martha,’ Polly said. ‘She put Hope down and then she just went down like a bag of hammers.’

  ‘What? She just keeled over?’

  Polly nodded, her eyes wide.

  ‘Then there was this awful cracking noise and we looked up and what remained of the house came down in one fell swoop.’ Polly breathed out. ‘Dr Parker was there with us and we all stood there, waiting and praying. And then through all the dust and dirt we saw them. It was the strangest sight. Helen was holding Gloria up and they were both just stood there – like statues.’

  ‘Blimey,’ Tommy said again. ‘Talk about lucky.’

  ‘I know,’ Polly agreed. ‘Then when everyone was over at the St John’s ambulance, Helen suddenly blurted out that you were alive – and you were here!’

  Tommy looked at Polly’s face, her eyes sparkling with happiness. He listened as she chatted on, telling him how she and Maisie had raced over to Ashbrooke, and how Rosie’s friend, George, a war veteran, had brought her to the hospital.

  Polly had just got to the part where she’d walked through the swing doors of the ward and seen him, when the matron rang her little bell to tell them all that visiting time was over.

  After Polly left, Tommy closed his eyes.

  Images of the Red Cross nurse overlapped those of the Tatham Street bombing. He railed inwardly, realising how easily the air raid could have claimed the life of the woman he loved. The woman who had given him the will and the strength to survive. He thought about the compassion and care of the nurse whose name he didn’t even know. And the bravery of Helen and Martha, risking their own lives to save Gloria and her little girl.

  And the more he thought, the angrier he became.

  It wasn’t just those fighting overseas who were dying in their droves, innocent women and children were being killed on their own doorsteps.

  There was no escaping the danger, death and destruction that walked hand in hand with Hitler and his fellow warmongers.

  This madman and his crazed cohorts had to be stopped.

  ‘Eee, Bel, I feel like I’m floating on a cloud. I really do. I’ve never felt like this – ever before.’

  Bel smiled. It was so lovely to see her sister-in-law glowing with such happiness, love and gratitude. Especially after what had happened last night. She had just heard that the death toll had gone up to fourteen – and that seven of those had been children.

  When Beryl had told her, she’d burst into tears. She hadn’t been able to stop them. Seeing Polly now, so happy and in love, full of expectations for the future, was a much-needed respite.

  ‘Did Helen’s doctor friend say how long it’ll take for Tommy to get better?’ Bel asked.

  Polly shook her head as she bit into one of her ma’s home-made oatmeal biscuits. Whenever anything really bad or really good happened, her mother went into a cooking and cleaning frenzy. As there had been both good and bad events in the past twenty-four hours, she’d gone into overdrive.

  ‘He said we just had to take it day by day,’ she said, wiping crumbs from her mouth. ‘And that the main thing was for him to rest and for his body to get its strength back.’

  ‘And was Arthur all right?’ Bel asked. She was sitting in the old man’s armchair by the range. Tramp and Pup were by her feet. ‘Only, when I told him last night that Tommy was alive and that you’d gone to the Ryhope to see him, he just stood there. Didn’t move a muscle. It was as though he’d been struck by lightning. Agnes had to sit him down at the table and give him a cup of sweet tea. He just looked at the cup and then up at Agnes and tears started trickling down his face.’

  Bel paused.

  ‘Then he just put his head in his hands and sobbed his heart out.’

  Bel looked at Polly. Her eyes had started to fill with tears.

  ‘It was like all the pent-up emotions from the months of waiting and wondering and thinking Tommy was dead just came pouring out of him.’

  Polly nodded her understanding.

  ‘I have to admit,’ Bel said, ‘me and your ma were struggling not to cry too. When he finally stopped, he stood up and hugged Agnes like she had been the one to bring Tommy back from the dead all by herself. Then he gave me a big hug and took himself off to bed.’

  Polly listened intently. Arthur had been such a pillar of strength to her ever since Tommy had left for war.

  When she’d gone up to the hospital earlier, she’d walked into the ward and seen Arthur half snoozing in a winged chair she’d guessed the matron must have got him. Tommy had been out for the count, but he had his hand over Arthur’s. They’d looked so close. And Arthur had looked so peaceful.

  The two women drank their tea in silence.

  Suddenly Bel put her finger to her lips. ‘I think I can hear him talking in his sleep?’ she said, cocking her ear to the hallway.

  ‘He’s probably shattered,’ Polly said. ‘I could tell he was tired coming back on the bus.’

  ‘Mmm. It’s not a five-minute journey, is it? The sooner we get Tommy back here the better, eh?’

  Polly nodded.

  She took another sip of her tea.

  ‘Bel, I feel
I’ve been given my life back. I’m the luckiest woman alive.’

  ‘You should have seen our lad, pet.’

  Arthur was lying on his back in his bed, hands clasped together as if in prayer. His eyes were closed. He didn’t need them open to see his Flo.

  ‘White as a sheet. And skinny as a rake he was. But he’s alive.’

  He yawned.

  ‘I knew you’d pull some strings up there ’n bring him back safe ’n sound.’

  Arthur chuckled.

  ‘And seeing Polly ’n how happy she is – ah, it’s just wonderful, pet. Really wonderful.’

  Arthur yawned again.

  He’d never felt so happy himself – nor so tired.

  Within a few minutes he had fallen asleep in the middle of his chat to Flo.

  Not that she minded.

  Chapter Ten

  The following day

  Sunday 18 October

  ‘So, just remind me,’ Charlotte said as she hurried to keep up with her sister’s brisk pace as they walked along Burdon Road. ‘We’re going to meet Polly and her family who live in the east end?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Rosie said.

  ‘And Polly is one of your squad. A welder. And she’s the one who’s over the moon because her fiancé, who everyone thought was dead, is alive?’

  ‘Yes,’ Rosie confirmed.

  ‘And …’ Charlotte hesitated for a moment. She had met so many people yesterday. ‘Polly lives with Mrs Elliot who works in admin?’

  ‘Yes, they’re sisters-in-law. Mrs Elliot is married to Polly’s brother Joe, who was medically discharged after he got caught by a landmine out in North Africa.’

  ‘Gosh, that sounds awful,’ Charlotte said. ‘I’m guessing he’s all right now?’

  ‘He’s got a bad limp. He had a load of shrapnel in his leg. Sometimes it’s a job to get it all out. Walks with a stick, but he still manages to do quite a bit with the Home Guard.’

  Charlotte didn’t say anything. She’d never met a real soldier before.

  ‘Let’s cut through the park,’ Rosie suggested.

  As soon as they’d got through the gate, Charlotte gasped in horror.

  ‘Oh my goodness.’ She stood stock-still and stared at the forty-foot-wide crater.

  Rosie didn’t say anything, but instead turned back to the gate they’d just walked through.

  ‘I forgot I wanted to show you something,’ she said.

  Charlotte followed, her eyes still trained on the crater.

  ‘Can you remember Binns?’ Rosie cast a look at her sister.

  ‘Of course I can,’ Charlotte said. ‘Mam used to take us there every Christmas to see the window display.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Rosie said, noticing that Charlotte was now referring to their mother as ‘Mam’ and not ‘Mum’. It had been ‘Mammy’ when their mother was alive.

  ‘Well, that’s what it looks like now.’ Rosie pointed over to a cordoned-off bomb site on the corner of Fawcett Street. They’d actually passed it last night on their way to see Kate, but it had been too dark to see properly. Rosie had also purposely not pointed it out then as she had wanted Charlotte to see the town in the clear light of day.

  ‘When did that happen?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘April last year,’ Rosie said. ‘It was gutted by a load of incendiary devices and they had to pull it down.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked as Rosie started walking along Borough Road.

  ‘Why would I?’ Rosie replied.

  Charlotte was just about to tell her sister exactly why she should have told her, when she stopped in her tracks.

  ‘Is that … was that the Victoria Hall?’ she asked, her eyes glued to a mountain of debris where the music hall had once stood.

  Rosie nodded solemnly.

  ‘That happened just a week after Binns was bombed.’

  Rosie started walking again.

  Charlotte followed.

  A few minutes later they came to another bomb site.

  ‘This is Tavistock Place, where one of the bombs dropped the other night,’ Rosie said.

  She stopped at the top of the road and pointed to yet another mountain of bricks and mortar.

  ‘That was a food warehouse.’

  Rosie turned right and the two sisters walked down the long line of terraced houses that made up Laura Street. At the junction with Murton Street there was another massive crater. It looked as though someone had hit the cobbles with a gigantic hammer.

  ‘You’d probably have just been getting on the train at York when that one landed, but fortunately it didn’t explode.’

  It took them another minute or so to walk down Murton Street before turning right into Tatham Street.

  Charlotte stared at the devastation at the end of the road. It looked as if the houses at the bottom had been stomped on. She’d never seen anything like it. There was upended furniture, half-buried sofas, a crushed tricycle. About half a dozen people were wandering around the bomb site. Some were salvaging goods. Others were simply looking. She recalled the snippets of conversation she’d caught yesterday amongst the women in the office. It was one thing hearing it discussed, quite another seeing it first-hand.

  ‘More than a dozen killed,’ Rosie said.

  She looked at Charlotte who was still staring at the ruins.

  ‘Sixteen others were badly injured,’ she added.

  They stood and looked.

  ‘Gloria and her little girl Hope nearly died when number two came down.’ Rosie pointed to a mound at the bottom right-hand side of the street. ‘And Martha and Miss Crawford nearly died saving them.’

  Rosie turned to her sister and gently placed her hands on her shoulders.

  ‘Now do you understand why I don’t want you to live here?’ She looked in earnest at her sister. ‘At least in Harrogate I know you’re safe. Safe from all this.’ Rosie turned her head to look at the devastation just a hundred yards from where they were standing.

  ‘Families are evacuating their children out to the country, not the other way around,’ she added, with more than a hint of exasperation in her voice.

  Charlotte had to bite her tongue.

  She wanted to say that Rosie wasn’t her mother – and that at fourteen she was no longer a child.

  More than anything, she wanted to tell her the real reason she didn’t want to go back to Harrogate, but she knew she couldn’t.

  ‘Come on,’ Rosie said. ‘Let’s go and meet the Elliots.’

  ‘I thought Charlie was a lad’s name?’ Pearl came bustling down the stairs, fag, as usual, scissored between her fingers ready to spark up. She’d heard Rosie introducing her sister to everyone and knew there’d be a cuppa begging, as well as a few biscuits. Agnes was in a baking mood and Pearl was determined to make the most of it.

  ‘It’s short for Charlotte, Ma, as you well know.’ Bel rolled her eyes theatrically to the ceiling before continuing to pour out everyone’s tea.

  ‘Well, Charlotte,’ Pearl said, balancing two pieces of shortbread on the saucer of her cup of tea. ‘I think yer far too bonny fer a boy’s name. It’s like my Isabelle here, she will insist on being called Bel – like something yer bloody well ring!’

  ‘Ma, out the back and smoke your fag,’ Bel ordered, before Pearl could say anything else. ‘And don’t drop your biscuits, ’cos that’s your lot!’

  Charlotte couldn’t believe this coarse, mutton-dressed-as-lamb woman was Bel’s mother. She stared as Pearl hurried out into the backyard.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m gonna leave yer all to it,’ Joe said, pushing himself up from his chair. ‘The Major’s expecting me in ten.’

  Charlotte looked at Bel’s husband and thought he was totally gorgeous. Especially in his uniform. The spit of Errol Flynn.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Charlie.’ He put out his hand.

  Charlotte could feel herself go bright red as she shook it.

  ‘You too, Mr Elliot.’

  Joe laughed loudly.
<
br />   ‘Please, call me Joe. Mr Elliot makes me sound like an old man!’

  Agnes quickly wrapped half a dozen biscuits in a sheet of greaseproof paper and tied it with string into a neat little parcel.

  ‘For you and the Major.’

  As Joe left, Arthur came into the kitchen and was introduced to Charlotte. He was reminded of his own daughter when she was that age, but didn’t say so. Even now he still found it hard to talk about Tommy’s mam, who had taken her own life after losing her husband in the First War.

  ‘Well, I can’t hang around idly gossiping!’

  Pearl had reappeared from the backyard.

  ‘Bill’s asked me to gan in early to help open up. It’ll be busy today. Always is after an air raid,’ she informed everyone as she left the kitchen.

  For the next half-hour, Agnes, Polly, Arthur and their two guests chatted, drank tea and ate home-made biscuits.

  The bombing was, naturally, the main topic of conversation – as was Tommy’s return.

  Rosie had to stop her own thoughts straying to Peter, wondering about him in France. What kind of covert operations was he involved with? How dangerous were they? She prayed that he was keeping himself safe.

  On hearing that Charlotte was working at Thompson’s, Agnes showed her disapproval with a loud tut and shake of the head.

  ‘If Rosie’s little sister wants to work in the yards, she should be able to,’ Polly said, giving Charlotte a wink. ‘I’d have given anything to start work at Thompson’s when I was that age.’

  Charlotte appreciated the show of solidarity but felt like a bit of a fraud. It hadn’t exactly been her choice to start working there – although she would probably have agreed to work down the mines if it meant not going back to Harrogate.

  When Rosie mentioned the fact that she had shown Charlotte what was left of Binns, as well as the once magnificent Victoria Hall, Agnes proceeded to give Charlotte a rundown of just about all the other air raids in other parts of town that had killed, maimed and mangled over the past two years. She knew Rosie’s intention today was to show Charlotte the devastating reality of war, and how different it was to living in Harrogate, which, from what Charlotte had told them, had suffered just the one air raid with no one hurt. They had all laughed loudly when Charlotte had told them that part of the bomb was currently being displayed in a shop window.