Christmas with the Shipyard Girls

by Nancy Revell

  Martha was standing arms akimbo. She looked at Dorothy and Angie and then back at Polly and Tommy. A huge gap-toothed smile plastered across her face.

  ‘Thank God for that,’ Gloria said aloud. Whatever happened now, at least Polly’s future would not be blighted by regret. She knew what that was like, had lived it, and would not wish it on anyone.

  Rosie put her hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the glint of sunlight that had appeared a little earlier and had stayed to shine its light on this real life theatre.

  Brushing away a tear, she thought of Peter.

  The women watched, along with most of the workforce, as Tommy kissed Polly one final time before grabbing one of the helmets. He pulled the bottom chinstraps wide. Raising the helmet above her head, he gently pulled it down. He stepped closer so that their bodies were just about touching and fastened the straps.

  Quickly putting on his own helmet in one sweeping motion, he turned, climbed on the bike and kicked back the stand with his left foot.

  Putting her hands on Tommy’s shoulders to balance herself, Polly climbed on the back. With her feet just about touching the ground, she slid her arms around Tommy’s waist. Their bodies were now meshed together as Tommy carefully manoeuvred round in a half-circle, before turning the ignition and starting the bike.

  It spluttered into life, the engine thumping over.

  The women watched as the bike slowly weaved its way across the yard.

  Tommy slowed to a halt to nod his thanks to Alfie, who had also been watching the whole drama, enthralled.

  And then they disappeared from view.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  When Tommy pulled the bike up outside the Major’s flat, there was no hesitation from either Polly or himself.

  Neither of them needed to say anything.

  Instead, they both dismounted, took off their helmets and walked up the ramp.

  Polly waited until Tommy fished out his key from his trouser pocket and opened the door. He pushed it wide, before turning to Polly. This time when he picked her up, it was to take her over the threshold of what for the next few hours would be their temporary home.

  This moment was not about the past or the future, but about the present. The here and now.

  When Tommy carried Polly into his bedroom, he said a silent prayer of thanks that the Major had gone with Joe to a unit based in Houghton-le-Spring. He wouldn’t be back until much later.

  Putting Polly down on the bed, he kissed her and she kissed him back with equal ardour.

  As they became more passionate, their desire fired by the knowledge that this time there would be no holding back, Polly suddenly started to chuckle.

  ‘Wait,’ she said, her eyes dancing with a mixture of desire and laughter.

  She sat up and undid the laces on her boots.

  Kicking them off, she gently pushed Tommy back down on the bed and let her long brown hair fall like a curtain around his face, so that their vision was of each other and nothing else.

  Polly dropped her head to the side and kissed his neck. She could hear the sound of his breathing become heavy as she kissed his neck and his ear before returning to his lips.

  Between kisses and caresses, they undressed one another. The start of their lovemaking was speckled with more laughter as Polly struggled out of her overalls and the layers of clothes she had on underneath.

  Neither needed to say that this time there would be no pulling back, no waiting until there was a gold band on Polly’s left hand. They did not have the luxury of time or the security of a future together that they could plan.

  The time they had together was short – too short.

  They didn’t need to say the words. They had said enough.

  Instead, they showed each other their love with the touch of their hands and their lips, the feel of their skin and the movement of their bodies together.

  After they had made love, they remained lying on the bed, holding each other close, still needing to feel their bodies touching.

  Polly looked at Tommy.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said simply.

  Tommy angled his face so that he could see hers. Her eyes.

  ‘For what?’ he asked.

  ‘For all those awful things I said to you.’ She suddenly felt ashamed at her behaviour. ‘About your ma—’

  Before Polly could say any more, Tommy put a finger across her lips.

  ‘Shh,’ he said. ‘You don’t need to apologise. I know you didn’t mean those things. I know where they came from. You were angry. And you were angry because you love me.’

  He kissed her, seeing that she was going to say more.

  ‘I should have been more honest with you too, about what I wanted to do …’ he said, touching her cheek gently. Tracing it with his finger.

  Polly shuffled round in the bed so that she was on her side, looking at Tommy’s profile.

  She drew in a deep breath.

  ‘Have they given you a date?’ She exhaled as she spoke. Needing but not wanting to hear the answer.

  Tommy turned his face to look at Polly. His eyes now filled with apprehension.

  ‘Next Saturday,’ he said simply.

  ‘Boxing Day?’ Polly felt a moment’s panic.

  Tommy nodded.

  Be brave!

  Rina’s words came back to her.

  She thought of Hannah’s parents.

  Tommy put his arms around her and they cuddled.

  They stayed like that for a while. Tommy felt Polly’s tears on his chest and he pulled her closer.

  They were quiet for a moment before Polly pitched herself up on her elbow.

  ‘Tommy Watts,’ she said, drying her eyes and looking down at her lover.

  ‘Yes?’ He looked up at her. Her cheeks were rosy, although there were still smudges of dirt from the yard on her forehead. He didn’t think she had ever looked more beautiful.

  ‘I want to ask you something,’ she said. Her eyes were serious.

  ‘Yes?’ Tommy asked, mirroring Polly’s position and hitching himself up on his elbow. He touched her face with his free hand.

  ‘I want you to know that you can say no.’

  Tommy nodded, his look reflecting the earnestness of his lover.

  She looked into Tommy’s hazel eyes, knowing that she would see his answer there.

  ‘Tommy Watts,’ she repeated.

  She paused.

  ‘Will you marry me?’

  Tommy’s eyes lit up and sparkled with sheer delight, a huge smile immediately spreading across his face.

  ‘I would love to marry you, Polly Elliot!’ He could hardly get the words out quick enough. ‘I would drag you down that aisle now, this very moment, if I could.’

  He kissed her.

  Then kissed her again.

  And for the second time that afternoon they made love.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  When Major Black arrived back at the flat it had gone nine o’clock. He found Polly and Tommy in the kitchen making a big pot of tea. Polly was in her overalls, looking as though she had only recently come back from work.

  ‘I was just on my way home,’ Polly said. ‘There’s a fresh pot of tea if you want a cup?’

  ‘No time, my dear,’ the Major said, bringing his wheelchair to an abrupt stop at the entrance to the kitchen. ‘I’m needed elsewhere for the next week or so.’

  He pushed both wheels forward towards his room.

  ‘Glad to see you two have sorted out your differences!’ His voice trailed behind him.

  The sound of a wardrobe door swinging open could be heard.

  A few moments later he bellowed out, ‘Give us a hand, Tommy lad!’

  When Tommy arrived at the bedroom doorway, he saw the Major had already got out an overnight bag, flung it on the bed, and was now pulling clothes from the drawers of his dresser and plonking them in his lap.

  ‘Listen, laddie,’ the Major said as he did a 180-degree turn back to the bed. ‘The flat’s
yours from now on until you go,’ he said, transferring the clothes into his holdall.

  He zipped up the bag.

  ‘Which means, if you want your fiancée to stay here until you fly out, then that’s more than all right with me.’

  Tommy’s face lit up.

  ‘That’s very kind of yer, Major. Are yer sure?’

  ‘Never been more sure.’

  The Major heaved the bag onto his lap. Tommy knew not to help. He followed the Major as he wheeled himself to the front door.

  ‘If you need me,’ he opened the front door, ‘I’ll be at the Grand.’

  Tommy looked out into the darkness and saw the outline of a military car parked up on the cobbles.

  Seeing the look of confusion on Tommy’s face, the Major explained.

  ‘Big powwow going on there. Army and navy. Putting our heads together. They reckon it’s easier to have me there. On tap, as it were.’

  The Major carefully eased his wheelchair down the ramp.

  Tommy heard him chuckle.

  ‘Who am I to complain, eh?’

  ‘Really?’ Polly said, holding her tea. ‘He says I can stay here until you go?’

  Tommy nodded.

  ‘Like man and wife?’

  Tommy nodded again.

  ‘Which we will be soon,’ he added. They had agreed to go to the registrar on Monday to see how quickly they could get married.

  ‘What do you say?’ Tommy asked, a little unsure.

  ‘Yes.’ Polly put her tea down.

  ‘Yes, yes, yes.’

  She put her arms around Tommy’s neck and kissed him.

  Tommy kissed her back.

  ‘But …’ he hesitated ‘ … what about yer ma?’

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  ‘What?’ Agnes’s face could only be described as thunderous. It was bad enough knowing that her daughter had just spent several hours alone with Tommy at the flat, but this? This was something else entirely.

  ‘I’m going to stay with Tommy at the Major’s flat,’ Polly repeated, her voice steady. She was doing just what the Major had been doing an hour ago. Only her clothes were not being packed quite so neatly.

  ‘And the Major’s not going to be there? At all?’

  Agnes was thrown by this. The Major had popped in for a quick cuppa when he’d come back with Joe. He hadn’t mentioned anything about going away for the week.

  ‘That’s right, Ma, he’s not going to be there,’ Polly said simply.

  ‘So, the two of yer are going to be living in mortal sin?’ Agnes tried to keep her voice low, although why she was doing so, she wasn’t sure. The whole of the east end would know by the morning, the way gossip travelled around these parts.

  Polly pulled the toggles on the bag and tied them into a tight bow.

  ‘Ma, we’ll be married in the next few days.’

  ‘That’s not the point.’ Agnes threw both arms up to the ceiling in exasperation.

  Polly heaved the bag onto her shoulder and faced her mother. She’d known this would be her ma’s reaction. She’d come prepared.

  ‘You’re right, Ma. That’s not the point.’ Polly’s voice held no anger. ‘The point is that Tommy and I have exactly seven nights left together. Six and a half days.’

  Tommy was leaving at thirteen hundred hours on Boxing Day.

  ‘And as this might be the last time I see him for a very long time, if not for ever …’ Polly forced back the tears. Forced herself to stay strong. ‘Then I want to enjoy every moment we have left.’

  In the next room, Arthur and Bel were sitting quietly. Neither pretended they were doing anything other than eavesdropping.

  Hearing Polly’s last words, Bel went over and gave Arthur a big hug.

  ‘Eee, I don’t know what I would have done if they hadn’t made up.’ She was half laughing, half crying.

  ‘Better late than never,’ Arthur said. ‘Each as stubborn as the other.’

  Bel laughed. She’d been on cloud nine after watching Tommy and Polly in the middle of the yard.

  ‘Bloody brave as well. Facing the wrath of Agnes.’

  ‘She’ll come around,’ Arthur said, patting Tramp and Pup, who, having sensed the anger in Agnes’s voice, had trotted back into the kitchen.

  ‘I don’t think she’s got a choice,’ Bel said.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Sunday 20 December

  ‘Apologies for my tardiness,’ George said as Dorothy let him into the flat.

  ‘He means “lateness”,’ Dorothy told Angie, who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

  ‘I’m hoping you two didn’t both spend your rent money at the Ritz last night?’

  ‘Nah,’ Angie said, going back into the kitchen and pouring George a cup of tea, adding just a little milk, which was the way he liked it.

  ‘But it was hard not to. We had a lot to celebrate.’ She put the teapot down on the kitchen table before getting the bourbons out of the cupboard and putting them on a plate.

  ‘Yer favourites,’ Angie said, sitting down and giving George her full attention.

  George smiled. They went through the same ritual every week when he came to collect the rent.

  ‘I’m guessing the reason for your celebration was the rekindling of Polly and Tommy’s love affair?’ George smiled. Rosie had relayed the whole scene to them last night, along with how ecstatic Charlotte had been on hearing that Polly and Tommy were back together.

  ‘I think it was more than a “rekindling”,’ Dorothy chuckled. ‘An inferno more like!’

  George suppressed a smile and took a big sip of his tea. He liked Dorothy’s dramatic take on life.

  ‘Has Rosie told yer?’ Angie said, pouring herself a cup.

  ‘About?’ George asked.

  ‘Have you seen Rosie today?’ Dorothy asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

  George looked at Dorothy and then at Angie.

  ‘No, I’ve been out most of the afternoon.’

  ‘They’re living in sin!’ Angie couldn’t contain herself.

  George looked confused.

  ‘Tommy and Polly!’ Dorothy and Angie said in unison.

  ‘Really?’ George was genuinely surprised.

  ‘Yes!’ Dorothy was bursting with excitement. ‘Polly’s moved in with Tommy.’

  All the women had nearly choked on their tea and biscuits when Polly had told them at work this morning.

  ‘At the Major’s?’ George asked. Now this was quite a turn-up for the books.

  Both women nodded.

  ‘The Major’s at the Grand,’ Angie informed.

  ‘Apparently there’s some big meeting of military minds going on there this week.’ Dorothy tapped her nose as though it were all top secret.

  George thought it odd he’d not heard about it.

  ‘Said the flat’s Tommy’s to do with as he pleases. And if it pleases him to have Polly living there until he has to leave, then that’s fine with him,’ Dorothy improvised.

  ‘Really?’ Now George was intrigued. ‘That’s very kind of him.’

  ‘Very liberal,’ Dorothy said, eyes widening to stress her point.

  ‘Mmm,’ George agreed. ‘But what do you mean by “until he has to leave”?’

  Dorothy and Angie’s enthusiasm seemed to deflate instantly.

  ‘That’s the downside to all this,’ Dorothy explained.

  ‘Tommy’s flying back out there on Boxing Day,’ Angie said.

  ‘Gosh.’ George felt his own heart go heavy. God only knew how Polly felt. Poor girl.

  ‘That’s jolly quick, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is,’ Angie said. ‘Jolly quick.’

  Dorothy looked at her friend. She had never heard her use the word ‘jolly’ before.

  ‘They’re still going to get married, though,’ Dorothy said, grabbing a bourbon and biting into it.

  ‘Registry office,’ Angie said, pulling a face.

  Dorothy looked at her friend again. She could be a number-o
ne snob at times.

  ‘Bloody shame they didn’t kiss and make up before – then they’d at least have had a nice wedding,’ George mused, more to himself than to his tenants.

  ‘I know,’ Angie said. ‘Polly says she doesn’t mind.’

  ‘She’s not got much choice, by the sounds of it.’ George drank the rest of his tea. ‘Have they set a date next week?’

  ‘Nah,’ Angie said. ‘They’re just gonna grab whatever slot they can.’

  ‘They’re going tomorrow,’ Dorothy butted in. ‘To see when the registrar can fit them in.’

  ‘Dear me,’ George said, ‘it really is going to be a rather rushed affair.’

  ‘I knar, but if he’s gannin on Boxing Day they dinnit have much choice, do they?’ Angie said, finally taking a sip of her tea.

  Dorothy noticed that whenever George visited, Angie drank her tea with her little finger sticking out as though she were lady of the manor. She’d have to rib her about it later.

  ‘Well, my dears,’ George said, pushing himself out of his chair with his stick. ‘This has been a most illuminating visit.’

  ‘Here’s the rent,’ Dorothy said, handing him an envelope with the money. ‘Best not forget it as Angie here is developing expensive tastes and I doubt very much there’d be owt left, as she’d say, by next week.’

  George chuckled, stuffed the envelope into his inside pocket and bade the pair farewell.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  George’s mind was working at full speed from the moment he walked out of the flat. Turning right at the bottom of Foyle Street, he made his way to the bus stop at the end of Toward Road.

  On the corner of Borough Road there was the Echo boy, standing blowing into his hands.

  George went to get a paper but stopped when he saw the headlines. The names of men from the town who were in the 125th Anti-Tank Regiment of the Royal Artillery, who had been captured in the fall of Singapore and were being held in Japanese prisoner-of-war camps, were beginning to filter through. It explained the early print run.