Christmas with the Bomb Girls

by Daisy Styles

  ‘Come and see her soon,’ Gladys begged. ‘She’s not got long.’

  Nora stubbed out her smoking cheroot as she replied, ‘It’s time I stopped thinking of myself,’ she said bravely. ‘I’ll come and see her on my next day off,’ she promised.

  Whilst Les was staying overnight with his sister in the cowshed, he decided to do a few odd jobs for her. When Maggie returned from her shift, she found Les stripped down to the waist, sawing a plank of wood, which he intended to use as a shelf in the kitchen. Maggie’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of his strong chest and muscular arms; and the scent of his skin, warm and with a slightly salty sweaty tang, made her heart race. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she stood on her tiptoes in order to reach his lips and kiss him lingeringly. Feeling her curvy body pressed against his, Les returned the kiss, exploring Maggie’s mouth with his tongue.

  Knowing that Rosa was at work and Gladys at the sanatorium, Maggie wriggled out of her coat and cardigan, then led Les into the spare bedroom, where, aroused and hot with desire, Maggie pulled him on to the bed. Feeling her beneath the thin cotton blouse she was wearing, Les slowly undid the buttons so he could see the soft curve of Maggie’s shoulders and the swell of her full breasts, which peeped seductively from her brassiere. ‘Christ!’ he gasped as he buried his face against her chest. ‘You’re so beautiful.’

  Wild with desire, Maggie reached for the buckle on Les’s trousers. ‘I’ve missed you, darling, I want you so much,’ she muttered as she hoisted him on to her body.

  ‘God, you have no idea how much I want you too,’ he said with a yearning groan.

  Lost in a sensual world of their own, where all their sensations clamoured for sweet fulfilment, Maggie would definitely have succumbed and so would Les had not his sister’s words rung in his ears: ‘You’re going to have to take responsibility, Les.’ Though he didn’t want to heed them, not at a moment like this, with Maggie half naked in his arms, he knew he had to or he’d never be able to look Gladys in the eye again. ‘Sweetheart,’ he moaned in a husky voice as he lifted his weight off Maggie, ‘we can’t do this.’

  Maggie’s eyes flew wide open. ‘We can,’ she cried. ‘I bought some condoms off a married woman I work with. It’s safe, Les,’ she begged as she ran her hands through his hair, ‘Please …’

  With a superhuman effort Les pulled himself away from Maggie. ‘Sweetheart, I love you too much,’ he sighed.

  Frustrated and humiliated, Maggie scrambled into an upright position and quickly fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. ‘Why don’t you just admit the truth – you don’t fancy me – it’s as simple as that!’

  Les whirled round, the colour flaring in his cheeks. ‘Maggie! How could you even think that?’ he exclaimed.

  ‘Easily, Les, look what you’ve just turned down.’

  Clearly eager to get away, Maggie threw on her clothes and grabbed her coat.

  ‘Don’t leave like this,’ Les pleaded. ‘You must understand, I want to protect you, sweetheart –’ He got no further. Flaming with anger, Maggie pushed her way past him and all but ran out of the cowshed, slamming the door hard on her way out. Devastated, Les slumped into the nearest chair. ‘So much for doing the right thing!’ he fumed.

  About an hour later, as Les was in two minds about whether to walk down the hill into Pendleton in order to talk sense into Maggie, Nora came in supporting Gladys, who was sobbing her heart out. Stunned by the sight of his wretched sister and fearing the worst, Les rushed forwards. ‘Sweetheart, Glad! Is it Mum?’ he gasped.

  Gladys shook her head as she rested her hot, wet face against his strong shoulder. Desperate to find out what had upset Gladys so much, Les turned beseeching eyes on Nora, who simply said, ‘Myrtle died an hour ago.’

  As Les soothed his sobbing sister, Nora, oddly calm and composed, made a pot of strong tea, which she poured into mugs and handed round. After a few sips of the tea, Gladys started to breathe more normally. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with me,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve known for months that Myrtle was dying – she was quite prepared for it – but seeing her so still, so cold, knowing I’d never see her again, talk to her, laugh with her.’ Tears welled up afresh in her eyes. ‘It was wonderful that Nora was with her at the end, though.’

  ‘I’m so glad you made me go,’ Nora admitted. ‘You know how scared I was, but the moment I saw her face I didn’t fear anything at all. She was just my Myrtle.’ Laying aside her hot tea, Nora lit up a Woodbine, which Les and Gladys refused. ‘I’ll always treasure that time with her before she slipped away, and the relief of seeing her not having to fight for every breath,’ she said as she gave a deep shuddering sigh. ‘Finally at peace.’

  ‘One thing’s for sure,’ Gladys said, wiping away her tears with Les’s proffered hankie. ‘If ever a soul went straight to their maker, it’ll be our darling Myrtle’s.’

  15. Farewell

  The very next day Les waited outside the Phoenix, having been told by Rosa what time Maggie would clock off work. His heart constricted with sadness when he saw his girlfriend’s normally smiling happy face red and blotchy from crying. Disentangling herself from Nora, who was holding her arm, Maggie hung back as Les waited for the crowd of girls to pass. Expecting at least a smack across the face from Maggie, he approached tentatively. ‘I just wanted to say how very sorry I am for upsetting you,’ he said humbly.

  Looking up at him with her big blue eyes brimming with tears, Maggie’s bottom lip trembled like an upset child’s. ‘I’m sorry I lost mi temper,’ she blurted out as she ran into his arms and hung on to him for dear life. ‘I love you so much, Les. I’d do anything, anything for you.’

  Burying his face in her tumbling auburn curls, Les tried to steady his voice, ‘Darling, I want you more than anything in the world, but I want to do the right thing by my future wife-to-be.’ Pulling slowly away from Maggie, he gazed deep into her eyes. ‘Maggie Yates, love of my life, will you marry me?’

  For perhaps the first time ever, Maggie was speechless, which gave Les the opportunity to reach into his pocket for the tiny black leather box he’d concealed there. Flipping open the lid, he murmured, ‘I know it’s not a big flashy diamond, but it’s given with all my love and devotion.’ Les took hold of Maggie’s finger, stained yellow with cordite, and slipped the engagement ring on to it.

  With tears of utter joy streaming down her face, Maggie looked from her new engagement ring to Les and back again. ‘Speak, for God’s sake!’ he cried. ‘You being quiet is even worse than you shouting at me!’

  ‘YES! YES! I will marry you!’ Maggie yelped as her voice came back. ‘It’s the most beautiful ring in the world,’ she added as she jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. ‘YESSS! I want to be your wife, Leslie Johnson.’

  Locked in each other’s arms, kissing and squeezing each other tight, the young couple finally came up for air. ‘I was going to give it you last night,’ Les confessed.

  ‘And I went and ruined your romantic proposal,’ Maggie said guiltily.

  ‘What I was trying to say, before you …’

  Seeing her fiancé looking embarrassed, Maggie completed the sentence for him. ‘Buggered off in a paddy!’

  Grinning, Les nodded. ‘What I was going to say was, as much as I adore your gorgeous body and can’t wait to make it my own, I really want to do things properly. I’ve been brought up the old-fashioned way, so you’ll have to like it – or lump it!’ he ended with a chuckle.

  Laying her head trustingly against his warm shoulder, Maggie murmured softly, ‘If you can wait, I can too, though, like you just said, the wait will probably kill us both, but it’s all in a good cause!’ She reached up to kiss his lips and stroke his handsome, smiling face. ‘The trouble is, you’re too bloody good-looking for your own good.’

  ‘Then I’ll cover mi head with a bucket next time I’m home on leave,’ he teased. ‘And you can wear one too – that should keep us both safe.’

  Swi
nging giggling Maggie round and round, Les laughed with happiness. ‘I love you, Maggie Yates, my beautiful wife-to-be!’

  The Bomb Girls’ Swing Band finally reunited for Myrtle’s funeral. In the Phoenix chapel, where they’d practised for all their successful big-band numbers only the year before, the girls, including Rosa (who was inseparable from her friends these days), gathered one bleak November evening, but there was no joy in their meeting.

  ‘It’s not the same without her,’ Nora sighed.

  Maggie, who had been highly emotional since Les’s departure back to the front line, brusquely wiped away a few tears. ‘She was so clever and patient.’

  ‘And funny too,’ Gladys added.

  ‘And long-suffering, putting up with us lot,’ Violet said with a fond smile.

  ‘And she played like a real professional,’ Kit said wistfully.

  ‘What’re we going to do without her?’ Nora asked. ‘Nothing will sound right without a piano.’

  As her voice trailed sadly away, Rosa reminded them, ‘I play the piano.’

  All eyes turned to Rosa and she blushed in embarrassment. ‘My mother make me take piano lessons until I sixteen.’

  Maggie blurted out, ‘You’re an artist AND a pianist too!’

  Rosa shrugged. ‘My mother an artist and a pianist,’ she replied modestly. ‘I just did what I was told.’

  ‘So could you play with us?’ Kit asked.

  ‘With pleasure,’ Rosa replied. ‘If you don’t mind me taking Myrtle’s place,’ she added anxiously.

  Gladys, whose discomfort and anxiety about performing in public had eased considerably since her conversations with both Myrtle and Les, said eagerly, ‘We’d be grateful.’

  ‘It won’t be fancy classical stuff, though,’ Maggie warned. ‘We’ll play all of Myrtle’s favourites.’

  ‘Though she did like “Greensleeves”,’ Nora chipped in. ‘That’s a classic, in’t it?’

  ‘Let’s see what the piano sounds like,’ Rosa said as she approached the old upright.

  ‘Myrtle always complained that it was like getting blood out of a stone,’ Kit laughed.

  Rosa sat down before the instrument, flexed her small delicate fingers and then played a rippling chord along the keys. Looking up, she smiled ruefully. ‘It out of tune – but if Myrtle made it work so can I,’ she said determinedly.

  ‘The piano in Pendleton church where the funeral will be held is much better than that old thing,’ Violet assured her.

  ‘So,’ Rosa said as she surveyed her friends, ‘we start?’

  Gladys, who hadn’t had time to go home and pick up her alto sax, for which she was secretly very grateful, was perfectly content accompanying Maggie and Nora on a borrowed trumpet. As her lips settled around the mouthpiece, Gladys felt the return of the familiar thrill of excitement that always used to come with her playing; or was it Myrtle, looking down from heaven and blessing her for freeing herself from a superstition? Whatever it was, Gladys couldn’t help but smile. ‘This is for you, my darling Myrtle,’ she said to herself as she ran her fingers up and down the valves and the music flowed. Kit, who hadn’t played the drums since she’d got married, tried to remember how to play the old dusty set that belonged to the chapel, and Violet smiled happily as she trilled up and down on her precious clarinet. Rosa accompanied them beautifully on the ancient piano, and, after playing for a good half-hour, the former Swing Girls’ expressions changed from gloom and sadness to pleasure.

  ‘I’d forgotten how good it can be,’ Maggie enthused.

  ‘Remember those great days in the dance halls?’ Nora reminded her friends.

  Violet grimaced as she recalled the nightmare competition in Stockport, when her husband had dragged her screaming off the stage and driven her, still screaming, back to their family home in Wolverhampton. ‘Not ALL of them were great days,’ she reminded her friend with a rueful smile.

  Dreamy-eyed Nora reminisced, ‘Going to London to play with Joe Loss at the Savoy Hotel. I’ve still got the posh pink soap I stole from the ladies’,’ she added with a cheeky smile.

  ‘Without Myrtle we’d have got nowhere; she was such a trooper,’ Violet remarked.

  ‘So come on, ladies,’ Gladys urged. ‘Let’s pick the best songs we can for her funeral service.’

  After some heated discussions, they agreed on three of Myrtle’s favourites: ‘When the Saints Go Marching In’ and ‘Abide with Me’, as well as ‘Greensleeves’ when the coffin was carried out for burial.

  ‘How are we going to get through the service without breaking down?’ Violet asked.

  Surprisingly, it was Nora who came back with a firm reply. ‘We’ll do it for Myrtle – she would have kept a stiff upper lip if it was any of us – and we’ll do the same for her.’

  With Myrtle gone and her role as carer ended, Gladys was at a loose end. Two weeks off work had turned to four weeks, after which there was no sign of improvement in her irritated skin condition. When Myrtle was dying, Gladys had been grateful to have extra time with her friend, but now she was alone, bored and desperately missing Myrtle, she longed to rejoin her friends on the Phoenix bomb line. At least they were doing something worthwhile for their country, which, even after four long years of war, looked unlikely to achieve peace any time soon. Plus, if she were on the cordite line (even with bleeding hands), she’d have the camaraderie of all the brave women around her. Left to her own devices, Gladys felt useless, unproductive and downright depressed.

  Rosa, at her wits’ end with Gladys moping about, suggested she went home for a few days. ‘Visit from you will cheer your parents, now your brother back with regiment.’

  Gladys smiled mischievously. ‘I could even take his fiancée along with me?’ she teased.

  ‘No, mia cara!’ shocked Rosa exclaimed. ‘It is for your brother to introduce Maggie to the family – not you!’

  ‘Only joking,’ Gladys chuckled. ‘God knows what they’ll make of Maggie. One thing’s for sure: neither Mum nor Dad, nor anybody else, will get a word in edgeways with Miss Yates around.’

  Gladys took Rosa’s advice and made arrangements with her mum to go home, but before she got the bus over the moors to Leeds she collected Myrtle’s belongings from the sanatorium: these included copies of the letters she had sent to her solicitor in Harrogate and a set of keys. As Gladys slipped them into Myrtle’s small suitcase, which smelt of lavender water and talcum powder, she thought of her friend’s last request: she had asked Gladys to be her executor and had instructed her solicitor in Harrogate accordingly. It felt too soon after Myrtle’s death to be even considering these things, but, thought Gladys, with all this spare time on her hands, shouldn’t she be doing something useful and productive for her late friend? There was nothing to stop her getting the train over to Harrogate, where she could introduce herself to Myrtle’s solicitor and discuss with him the possibility of putting Myrtle’s house on the market. After all, the sale of the house would have a big financial impact on all of the girls’ lives, which was what Myrtle had planned; it was her responsibility to work not only for Myrtle but for her friends too.

  As Gladys left Pendleton, Arthur finally returned home. After such a long stay in hospital, he was simply ecstatic to be back where he belonged, at home with his family. Malc and Violet drove over to Manchester Royal Infirmary to pick up the invalid, who, though massively underweight and on crutches, hopped into the car with a big smile on his face.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ he cried as he embraced Violet. ‘I’m thrilled to see the back of that place!’

  ‘They looked after you well, sweetheart,’ Violet gently reminded him.

  ‘I know, and I’m grateful, they did a great job stitching me up, but I’m longing to go home,’ Arthur admitted with a tell-tale tear in his eye.

  ‘You’ve got a brand-new home to go home to,’ Malc said as he set off driving. ‘My God, you wouldn’t believe how quickly they worked on rebuilding the domestic quarters; must have been priority orders from the to
p,’ he added with a knowing wink.

  Edna was waiting with Stevie for Arthur’s return, and, after dropping Arthur off, Malc and Edna discreetly left the family in peace. Like Edna said, ‘They’ll need a bit of privacy.’

  As Violet clung to her husband, whose handsome face was scarred by the masonry that had landed on top of him, wide-eyed Stevie started to cry. Holding out his arms to his mother, he sobbed until she picked him up and gave him a hug too. ‘It’s all right, sweetheart, Daddy’s home now.’ Stevie looked nervously at the stranger who was his father, then fiercely wrapped his arms around Violet and buried his face in her neck.

  ‘Best not to overwhelm him,’ sensitive Arthur advised. ‘He’s obviously forgotten who I am; it’ll take him time to get used to having me around again.’

  Violet gave Stevie his bottle, then settled the yawning baby in his pram. Returning to her husband’s side, she leant her head against his shoulder and softly murmured, ‘It was good to be able to stay at Kit’s house, especially at the beginning when I was visiting you all the time, but after a while I missed our little family and most of all I missed you, my love.’

  Arthur gently stroked her beautiful silky blonde hair. ‘You know I can’t go back to work at the Phoenix until I get the all-clear from the doctor?’

  Violet nodded. ‘It’ll be nice for you to spend some time at home with Stevie, though I wish I could be here with you both,’ she added a little enviously.

  ‘I’m sure once Stevie’s got used to having me around he’ll settle down in no time,’ Arthur said confidently.

  Violet gave a cheeky giggle. ‘Seeing as I’ll be the only worker in the family,’ she teased, ‘I look forward to coming home and finding my tea on the table.’

  Arthur groaned. ‘Don’t ask me to do anything creative with an ounce of lard and a tin of spam!’ he joked.

  Violet nuzzled his cheek. ‘I’ve made potato hash and pickled red cabbage for our tea tonight,’ she said proudly. ‘And I got some baking apples from Kit’s garden, so we can have apple pie for pudding.’