Christmas with the Shipyard Girls

by Nancy Revell

  ‘Bloody Nora, Pol!’ Angie had to practically scoop her chin off the floor.

  ‘That is some wedding present!’ Martha said, gawping.

  ‘Well, it couldn’t have happened to a nicer couple.’ Gloria had her hands on her hips. A look of disbelief on her face.

  Rosie looked at her squad, all standing around their makeshift fire. She smiled at everyone’s reactions. She too was delighted for Polly.

  As the women fired questions at Polly, wanting to know every minute detail of Lily and George’s impromptu visit last night, Rosie thought about Peter. She couldn’t help it. Any mention of the war or weddings brought him to mind. She had accepted that now.

  She looked at Gloria, who she knew worried about her boys out in the Arctic. Luckily for her, Bobby and Gordon wrote regularly. Hopefully, Tommy would too. If only Peter were also able to write to her.

  The women’s excitement and interrogation ended with the klaxon blaring out the start of the shift, but their questions immediately started up again when the horn sounded out the beginning of the lunch break.

  They were joined in the canteen by Hannah and Olly. On hearing the news, Hannah clapped her hands and hugged Polly, all the while making a series of exclamations in Czech, which Olly translated.

  A little while later Bel arrived with Marie-Anne. Polly had given Bel the go-ahead to tell Helen and Marie-Anne the wonderful news and that, naturally, they were invited if they were able to come. It being Christmas Day and all.

  Polly told Dorothy, Angie and Marie-Anne to each bring a date, if they wanted. Not one of the trio seemed particularly enamoured with any potential beaux they had met at the Ritz. What followed, therefore, was much discussion as to whether or not it would be preferable to go as a girlie threesome, with the hope of meeting their own Mr Rights at the wedding. Everyone knew weddings were fertile ground for meeting one’s future husband, although, as Dorothy pointed out, that might have been the case before the war, but not necessarily now.

  Rosie made everyone chuckle when she told them how Charlotte had actually jumped up and down on her bed on hearing the news last night. Secretly Rosie had been slightly dismayed that Charlotte’s enthusiasm for what she saw as the equivalent of a Hollywood wedding had been equalled by her adoration of Lily for making such a ‘sacrifice’ and being so ‘kind and generous’.

  Polly told Rosie to tell Maisie and Vivian to bring whoever they wanted, and that it went without saying that Lily and George should invite as many people as they wished.

  None of the women said anything, but they all knew Gloria would have given anything to be able to go to the wedding with Jack.

  After Rosie had eaten her lunch, she told everyone she had to nip in and see Helen.

  When she returned ten minutes later, everyone looked at her, curious as to what they had needed to chat about.

  ‘We’re going to be a man down – or I should say a woman down,’ she told them, her face serious as she poured herself a lukewarm cup of tea. ‘As Polly here,’ she continued, the beginnings of a smile forming, ‘has just been given paid leave of absence as of end of shift today. It’s just been sanctioned by Helen.’

  Polly’s eyes lit up.

  ‘So,’ said Gloria, who had been in on the plan, ‘this will be your equivalent to a honeymoon. Only before the wedding, not after.’

  ‘Really?’ Polly’s face lit up.

  Rosie reassured her with a smile.

  ‘Oh my goodness! That’s wonderful! Thank you, thank you, Rosie!’

  Polly jumped up and flung her arms around her friend.

  ‘Wait till I tell Tommy!’

  At the end of the shift, Polly said her goodbyes and hurried over to see Ralph and the diving team to invite them to the wedding.

  Ralph declared himself ‘chuffed to pieces fer yer both’. The other two divers and the two linesmen all beamed at her and agreed that they were too. They all had a soft spot for Polly. When the younger diver asked about what to wear, Polly found herself being stared at by all five men and realised that they were worried about the Grand being so posh. When she left them, she’d hoped she’d done a good enough job of reassuring them that it did not matter one iota.

  By the time she reached the admin building, everyone had gone home. She was banking on Helen working late and was right. When she walked into the main office, she saw the light on in Helen’s office. She knocked on the open door and was immediately waved in.

  ‘Polly, I’m overjoyed to hear the news!’ Helen got up out of her chair, wanting to go and give Polly a hug, but holding back.

  ‘Thanks,’ Polly said, walking into the office. ‘And thank you so much for giving me paid leave.’ Polly, too, felt an unexpected awkwardness. She hadn’t seen much of Helen since the night of her falling-out with Tommy. She still felt awful about what she’d said, and also a bit embarrassed about the state she’d been in.

  Helen dismissed Polly’s gratitude with a flick of her hand.

  ‘I know Bel’s already invited you,’ Polly said, ‘but I wanted to invite you personally. There’s no time to send invites out.’ Polly looked down and saw Winston curled up in his basket, his two large green eyes staring up at her. It was the first time Polly realised that Mrs Crabtree’s cat and Helen had the same startling, emerald-coloured eyes.

  ‘You will be able to come, won’t you?’ Polly asked. ‘Obviously, I’d really like you to come, but I know the girls would too.’ This was a little white lie. They hadn’t said as much, but this was probably because they were far too preoccupied with more pressing matters, like what they were going to wear.

  ‘And I know Tommy would love you to come.’

  Polly paused.

  ‘He’s asked me if you could invite Dr Parker as well? He’s not sure he’s going to be able to get up to the Ryhope to ask him personally.’

  Polly saw Helen hesitate and misread it.

  ‘Of course, you both probably have something else planned. It is Christmas Day, after all.’

  ‘No, God, no,’ Helen laughed. ‘Far from it! I’d love to come. I really appreciate you asking me. And Tommy. I’d have totally understood if I was the last person either of you wanted there.’

  Polly shook her head. ‘After everything that’s happened these past few months,’ she said, ‘and more so this past week, I’ve realised that life really is too short to hold resentments.’

  Helen thought she heard sadness in Polly’s voice, which wasn’t surprising, but also acceptance.

  ‘Honestly,’ Polly said, ‘everything that happened before – when I first started at the yard – that’s in the past now.’

  Helen looked at Polly. She was pretty sure she didn’t know about her declaration of love to Tommy. If she had, she wasn’t sure Polly would have been quite so forgiving.

  ‘So, you’ll come?’ Polly asked.

  ‘Of course. Wild horses wouldn’t stop me,’ Helen said. This would be the perfect excuse to bail out of the usual Christmas celebrations with her mother. With her father in Scotland, she had not the slightest desire to spend the day at home.

  ‘And you’ll ask Dr Parker? I know it would mean a lot to Tommy.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  Polly looked at Helen.

  There it was again.

  The hesitation.

  Helen suddenly sat back down in her chair, defeated. She took a cigarette out of her packet of Pall Malls and sparked it up.

  ‘We’ve had a bit of a falling-out,’ she confessed.

  Polly stepped forward and sat down on the chair in front of Helen’s desk.

  ‘Why?’

  Helen looked at Polly.

  ‘We haven’t spoken since you and Tommy had your huge falling-out.’

  ‘Really?’

  Polly thought Helen looked a little guilty.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I was annoyed after the dive,’ Helen said. ‘Blamed him for Tommy going back out there.’

  Polly leant forward.

  ‘Oh, Helen,
Dr Parker couldn’t have stopped him.’

  Polly looked at her and realised her falling-out with Dr Parker had upset Helen more than she was letting on. More than she was probably admitting to herself.

  ‘The poor bloke’s done nothing but try and help Tommy. And – I know this for a fact – Tommy said if ‘the doc’, as he calls him, hadn’t sanctioned the dive or signed his medical certificate, he would have found someone who would. Even if he’d had to pay him.’

  Helen looked at Polly.

  She knew she was speaking the truth.

  She took a deep breath.

  ‘God!’ she declared. ‘I hate apologising!’

  Polly laughed out loud.

  ‘Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?’

  When Polly left, hurrying off to her next port of call, the Maison Nouvelle for a last-minute dress fitting, Helen dialled the operator.

  ‘Ryhope Hospital.’

  She listened.

  Then sighed.

  ‘Yes, I’ll hold.’

  After her dress fitting, Polly practically ran the half-mile from the boutique to John Street.

  Hearing her coming through the main front entrance, Tommy opened the door to the flat.

  ‘I’ve got the rest of the week off!’ she said breathlessly, stepping over the threshold to the flat. ‘Rosie asked Helen and Helen’s given me paid leave of absence!’

  Tommy pulled Polly close.

  ‘That’s brilliant!’ he said, taking her in his arms.

  Kissing her passionately, he pushed the door shut with his foot.

  Neither of them had to say it, but they were now on a countdown.

  Four more days to their wedding.

  But also, only five more days before they would be parted. Again.

  They didn’t need to say it, but they intended to make the most of every minute of those remaining five days.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Tuesday 22 December

  ‘So, this is what it feels like to be on honeymoon,’ Polly whispered into Tommy’s ear when she woke up the next morning.

  Tommy smiled, his eyes not yet open.

  ‘So, this is what it feels like to be married,’ he whispered back, pulling his soon-to-be wife close and kissing her.

  Pushing a strand of hair away from her eyes and kissing her again, this time chastely on the nose, he looked at the woman he loved more than anything in the entire world. This was the image he would take away with him to war. He resolved there and then that if he were to lose his life out in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea or at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean – if he had time before death claimed him – then he would imagine Polly’s face just as it was now, and in doing so he would die with love in his heart instead of hate.

  He brushed aside another wisp of Polly’s hair.

  ‘Would Mrs Watts like a cup of tea to start off her John Street honeymoon?’ he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

  Polly kissed the smile. Taking hold of her soon-to-be husband’s hand, she placed it on the small of her back and pressed herself against him.

  ‘Mrs Watts would love a cup of tea.’ She paused, kissing lips that were now becoming more serious.

  ‘But not quite yet.’

  The first two days of their honeymoon were spent in a blur of making love, chatting and drinking tea. They managed a quick and rather blustery walk around Mowbray Park, stopping to kiss under the outstretched but now rather bare arms of their favourite old oak tree. They had a cup of weak tea and a scone in the museum’s little cafeteria, followed by a stroll around their favourite exhibition room, which was filled with scaled-down models of ships – those made from metal and those from wood – all built on the banks of the Wear. They had an even windier walk along the south docks, passing the Diver’s House, and reminisced about the evening just over two years ago when Tommy had proposed.

  They never talked about the future, however.

  This honeymoon was about basking in their love. Past and present.

  Along with most of the Elliot household, they’d gone to see Reverend Winsey and had the required rehearsal in a bitterly cold St Ignatius Church.

  Lucille, as the only bridesmaid, loved being the centre of attention. The anticipation of a visit from Father Christmas – on the same day as her aunty’s wedding – was sending her into a fever of excitement. And to top it all, Bing Crosby’s crooning about a white Christmas had the knock-on effect of making Lucille and all her little friends obsessed with a need for it to snow on Christmas Day.

  Agnes had managed to put her concerns about ‘mortal sin’ to one side after she had gone to see Beryl. Agnes had stomped next door, spitting nails, the night Polly had left for her new temporary home. Her fury had practically rocketed through the roof when her best friend had not been equally incensed by Polly’s shameful behaviour. Instead, Beryl had told Iris and Audrey to go to their rooms, before shutting the door to the kitchen and letting rip at Agnes, telling her that if there was a God up there, he would not give two hoots if Polly and Tommy were living together – especially when it was just a matter of days before they officially became man and wife. Beryl had gone red in the face trying to keep her voice down. Her own worries about her husband and sons had flicked to anger and that anger had turned itself on her best friend.

  ‘I think the good Lord – ’ Beryl had sucked in air ‘ – will just be counting his lucky stars that Tommy, and men like him, are risking life and limb to do battle with the Devil himself.’ She’d glared at Agnes. ‘Never mind that your daughter is working herself to the bone building bloody ships day in, day out.’

  Agnes had been shocked by her friend’s reaction. They had always – always – agreed with one another. Been there for each other through thick and thin.

  She’d left Beryl’s house feeling like she had been physically shaken.

  The next day she had got up and told Bel to go to the Major’s flat to tell Polly and Tommy that they were expected round for Sunday dinner.

  When her daughter and her live-in lover had arrived, Agnes had been relieved that Polly didn’t seem to be holding a grudge.

  Agnes could see that her daughter, for now at least, was blissfully happy.

  Before they’d sat down to eat, Agnes had taken Tommy aside.

  Knowing that they would not be able to afford one gold band – never mind two – she had given him Harry’s wedding ring.

  ‘Well, will yer look at that!’ she’d exclaimed when Tommy had tried it on. ‘Talk about made to fit.’

  Realising the reasons for Agnes’s actions were more fiscal than sentimental, Arthur had gone into his room and returned with Flo’s wedding ring, knowing that, like the engagement ring, it too would be a perfect fit.

  Agnes’s mood had also been lifted no end by Lily and George’s gift of a wedding. Lily might not be most people’s idea of a fairy godmother, but she had granted Agnes her lifelong wish for her daughter to have a proper wedding.

  It also meant that neither she nor Beryl would have to worry themselves silly over how they would put a decent dinner on the table on Christmas Day.

  Instead, the mother of the bride dragged Beryl into town and they each bought themselves a new outfit – complete with hat. They were the first new items of clothing either woman had bought themselves for many, many years.

  The women welders, naturally, talked about nothing else apart from Polly and Tommy’s Christmas wedding.

  Or rather, Dorothy and Angie talked about nothing else. Rosie, Gloria, Martha, Hannah and Olly hardly managed to get a word in edgewise.

  The pair’s excitement doubled, if that were possible, when Rosie asked them if they wouldn’t mind bringing George’s uniform round to Lily’s on Christmas Eve.

  Dorothy and Angie somehow managed to keep their near-on hysteria under wraps until they were walking home from work.

  ‘“Would you mind”!’ Dorothy bellowed out.

  ‘Yeah,’ Angie laughed out loud, sounding more than a little deranged.
‘As if we’re gonna “mind”!’

  ‘This is going to be the best Christmas ever,’ Dorothy declared, grabbing her best friend’s arm and squeezing it until Angie shouted out in pain.

  ‘Sorry, just a bit excited,’ Dorothy apologised, trying unsuccessfully to rein in her exuberance as they turned into Foyle Street.

  ‘Cor,’ Angie said, rubbing her arm, ‘just think, we’re going to see inside – ’ she dropped her voice as they neared their flat ‘ – a bordello.’

  ‘I knoooow,’ Dorothy said, again reaching for her friend’s arm.

  Bel was easily as excited as the squad’s ‘terrible two’, but, unlike Dorothy and Angie, was managing to keep a veneer of decorum in place.

  She was, after all, the matron of honour.

  Bel felt akin to the swans she had seen during a rare trip to Barnes Park, who had seemed to glide serenely on the lake while all the time paddling manically under the water. She had a hundred and one things to do to make her sister-in-law’s wedding the best ever.

  There was no doubting the reception at the Grand would beat any other wedding hands down, but she needed everything else to be equally wonderful.

  When Marie-Anne dared to suggest that Polly should perhaps ‘pitch in a little’, Bel had gasped – that everyone knew a bride is ‘never to be disturbed on her honeymoon, unless absolutely necessary’. Marie-Anne thought that, deep down, Bel was quite happy Polly was out of the way so that she could be the bride by proxy right up to the morning of the wedding.

  Bel had gone through the wedding list so many times she reckoned she could probably recite it in her sleep. The list consisted of quite an eclectic mix of guests: Maud and Mavis the sweet-shop owners, shipyard bigwig Harold and his wife, Jimmy the head riveter and his motley crew, along with their significant others. The men’s wives, Polly had told Bel, were apparently getting a little tetchy about their husbands’ friendship with the women welders. Polly had thought it would be the perfect occasion for everyone to meet. Bel personally wondered about the wisdom of this, but followed instructions all the same.