Christmas with the Bomb Girls

by Daisy Styles

  ‘We’ll be here,’ Edna replied. ‘Me and Malc thought it weren’t fair to go scooting off straight after the wedding breakfast, not with Flora and the little lasses here too. We decided we’d go away on Boxing Day, not that I know whether I’m bound for the Sphinx or the Phoenix!’ she joked.

  ‘Phew! That’s a relief,’ said Kit with a smile.

  ‘Why – what’re you girls up to now?’ Edna asked with a grin.

  ‘We’re planning a big carol service in Pendleton on Christmas Day, and it wouldn’t be the same without you,’ Kit told her.

  ‘Ooh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ Edna exclaimed. ‘And Marilyn and Catherine will love it too. I could do some cooking, not just chips, maybe apple fritters for a treat – and toffee apples, though God only knows where I’d get the toffee from,’ she chuckled.

  Before Edna got carried away on alternative festive recipes, Kit rather nervously said, ‘Er, Edna … do you think your Malc might consider dressing up as Father Christmas?’

  Edna looked at her and burst into peals of laughter. ‘Oooh!’ she gasped. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard owt so funny in mi life!’

  When Edna had got her breath back, Kit explained that Malc, or rather Father Christmas, would hand out gifts to all the children at the carol service. ‘That’s if we can find any gifts,’ she said doubtfully.

  ‘I’m a dab hand at little peg dollies,’ Edna said. ‘All you need is a wooden peg and a scrap of material – that won’t be hard to find.’ She gave a little grimace. ‘Not that the lads would thank Father Christmas for a doll,’ she chuckled. ‘They might tell him where to stick it!’

  ‘Do you think Malc will do it?’ Kit asked uncertainly. ‘You know, dress up in a fake beard and a long red robe?’

  Edna winked. ‘Don’t you fret, cock, he will by the time I’ve finished with him!’

  Gladys was thrilled when she heard from Rosa about the planned Christmas carol service.

  ‘It’ll be just like last year,’ she cried, then she quickly added, ‘We’ll have to practise the carols beforehand.’

  Rosa, who was busy painting Christmas elves and fairy pictures on scraps of card, looked up in surprise; it was a delight to hear her friend so enthusiastic about their music rehearsals.

  ‘I am happy, mia cara, now you are happy you sing like before, Nora tells me.’

  ‘The bad days are long gone,’ Gladys said with a beaming smile that made her eyes sparkle with happiness. ‘I’ll get mi dad to bring mi alto sax over and maybe his piano accordion too,’ she added with a giggle. ‘Do you think you could play the accordion instead of the piano?’

  Rosa giggled as she twirled round and round as if doing a wild dance, ‘Wait till you see me, eh? Gypsy Rosalina on the accordion!’

  Everybody threw themselves into Christmas preparations: whether it was making little gifts to go in Santa’s sack, devising wartime recipes to make festive treats, or refamiliarizing themselves with their musical instruments after such a long time away from them. With everybody so preoccupied, Kit began to worry about something else.

  ‘Listen,’ she said earnestly one lunch-time, ‘I know we’re all excited about the carol service, but we mustn’t let it overshadow Edna’s wedding.’

  Her friends stared at her with puzzled expressions. ‘Course we won’t,’ Maggie spoke first.

  Rosa, more subtle and insightful, turned to Kit and said, ‘What makes you say this, Kit?’

  ‘I just worry that with so much going on, Malc and Edna might get sidelined,’ Kit admitted.

  ‘Never!’ Nora exclaimed.

  ‘I don’t mean on purpose, sweetheart,’ Kit said quickly, when she saw the hurt look on Nora’s face. ‘The run-up to Christmas is so frantic – we should be careful to take one day at a time.’

  Rosa nodded. ‘It make sense,’ she said in agreement with Kit. ‘First, we have Edna’s big day on Christmas Eve, then on Christmas Day we have the children and the carols; then on Boxing Day we have time for ourselves and sleep all day!’ Rosa joked.

  ‘You’ve got it in a nutshell!’ Kit laughed. ‘At times your English is better than mine, Rosa.’

  Gladys was determined to bring Christmas cheer to her patients in the Phoenix Infirmary, especially those who would be hospitalized all through the festive season. She’d asked for Christmas Eve off so she could attend Edna’s wedding, but she had to work an early shift Christmas morning, which she didn’t mind. She planned to jump on her bike, with her alto sax in her basket, and cycle into Pendleton for the carol service the minute she finished work.

  After persuading Sister Atkins to let her put up a Christmas tree in the infirmary entrance, Gladys went out one freezing-cold early morning in her mother’s posh but rather outdated fur coat and dug up a little fir tree on the moors. Later she planted it in a bucket, which she carefully wrapped in red crêpe paper, then she positioned the tree in pride of place in the infirmary entrance. It did look bare without any decorations, so in desperation Gladys left a notice under the tree saying,

  IF YOU HAVE ANY CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS

  TO SPARE PLEASE HANG THEM ON OUR HOSPITAL TREE

  She was delighted to find that more and more donations of tinsel, baubles, red ribbon and even a star to sit on the topmost branch were added with each visiting hour that passed.

  ‘It’s the first time we’ve ever had a Christmas tree in the infirmary,’ Dr Grant remarked with a smile as he passed Gladys in the corridor. ‘Thank you for organizing it, Nurse Johnson.’

  ‘A pleasure, Doctor,’ Gladys replied with a radiant smile.

  ‘That young woman’s too good-looking for her own good,’ Dr Grant thought to himself as they went their separate ways. ‘But, my God, she cheers the patients up with that sparkling smile of hers.’

  The last band rehearsal before the carol service was the evening before Edna’s wedding. It had been a frantic rush for all of the girls, who between them and their varying shifts just about managed to find a free hour when they could all meet in the Phoenix chapel, where they’d always held their band practices in the old days.

  ‘Okay,’ Gladys said, taking the lead as she’d always done in the past. ‘Let’s kick off with “Oh, Little Town of Bethlehem”, then go straight into “Away in a Manger” – the little kiddies love that. Remember to rock your arms as if you’re holding a baby when it comes to the chorus,’ Gladys reminded her friends.

  ‘How can I rock mi arms as if I was holding a baby if I’m playing the trombone?’ Nora asked.

  Gladys smiled as she patiently explained what to everyone else was blindingly obvious. ‘You can’t pretend to rock a baby and play the trombone at the same time, Nora, and neither can anybody else who’s playing a musical instrument,’ she added with a giggle.

  With Kit on a snare drum, Rosa on the piano accordion, Maggie on trumpet, Nora on trombone and Gladys on her alto sax, it took some time to get in tune with each other, but as they sang the old familiar carols, their musical accompaniment improved and by the end of the session they were all pleased with the outcome.

  ‘Well done – we’re almost as good as we used to be,’ Gladys said.

  ‘Badly out of practice,’ Maggie pointed out.

  ‘Hopefully the children singing at the top of their voices on Christmas Day will drown out any mistakes we might make,’ Gladys joked.

  Full of thoughts of the past, Maggie reminisced, ‘Remember how you used to click your fingers, Gladys: you’d go, “A-1, a-2, a-1, 2, 3, 4”, and we’d be off playing beautiful music in unison with one another,’ she said in a dreamy, nostalgic voice.

  ‘That was when we were practising nearly every night,’ Kit reminded her. ‘None of us could begin to think of working that hard now – we all have so many other commitments.’

  She stopped short as Nora gave a suppressed sob, rather like a loud hiccup.

  ‘What is it, mia cara?’ Rosa asked, as she turned to Nora, who was weeping unashamedly into her grubby hankie.

  ‘
I … miss … Myrtle …’ she cried as great sobs racked her body. ‘And mi mam … and our kid who got blown up by the bloody Jerries.’

  As Rosa tenderly soothed the weeping girl, Kit, Maggie and Gladys exchanged a knowing glance, ‘It’s that time of the year,’ Kit murmured with a lump in her throat.

  Gladys nodded. ‘Christmas brings back so many memories,’ she said with a catch in her voice.

  Kit nodded as her thoughts flew to Violet. ‘God alone knows how Arthur’s coping.’

  In Edna’s house, there were no tears that night. As Flora, who’d arrived on the train a few hours earlier with her girls, boiled up milk for cocoa, Edna rolled rags in her granddaughters’ hair.

  ‘What’re you doing, Nana?’ Marilyn asked as she wriggled impatiently on the stool that Edna had set by her own chair.

  ‘If you’ll stay still, little ferret,’ Edna chuckled, ‘I’ll tell you.’

  ‘Why are you putting bits of old rags in our hair? Mummy uses rollers,’ Catherine said knowingly.

  ‘This is how my mam used to curl my hair when I was a kiddie,’ Edna explained. ‘Not that it needed any curling – always had a headful of frizz,’ she joked. ‘You take a length of hair like this,’ she said, taking a length of Marilyn’s silky blonde hair to demonstrate the process. ‘Then you carefully wind it round and round the rag, which you knot so it doesn’t come undone, and tomorrow, you’ll see, you’ll have beautiful ringlets, just like a princess.’

  Malc, who was as bald as a coot, chuckled, ‘You can try that on me later, lass!’

  Edna smiled at Malc, who was stoking the fire. Her little back room felt cosy with love and family, and she hugged the sensation to herself like a warm blanket. ‘God is good,’ she thought gratefully.

  After finishing their cocoa, Marilyn and Catherine gave Malc and Edna a big kiss.

  ‘Night, night,’ the little girls said.

  ‘Night, night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite!’ Malc joked.

  ‘There’s no bed bugs in my clean house,’ Edna laughed, as she swatted his arm with a rolled-up newspaper.

  After Flora had taken the little girls upstairs and they were left alone, Edna snuggled up to Malc on the leatherette sofa; watching the coal burning brightly in the fireplace, she smiled contentedly.

  ‘No regrets?’ Malc asked as he gently stroked her hair.

  ‘None at all,’ she said with a happy sigh.

  ‘Get me to the church on time!’ he sang softly.

  ‘It’s bad luck to see each other before we’re wed in the morning,’ she warned him.

  ‘I’ll make myself scarce, don’t you worry,’ he assured her. ‘Anyway, I’ll have Arthur to keep me on mi toes,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Arthur …’ Just saying his name summoned up a huge lump in Edna’s throat.

  ‘Aye, he’ll be off before we know it. He made a point of going round personally telling everybody he knew that he’d be leaving in the new year, brave lad that he is,’ he told Edna, who, determined to hold on to their happiness, said, ‘Who’ll be looking after Stevie tomorrow?’

  ‘Ian’s taking care of both little lads, God help him,’ Malc laughed. ‘Kit will be busy being your matron of honour, and the other girls are all playing in the band, so Ian is more than happy to have the boys. Rather him than me!’

  ‘This time tomorrow we’ll be wed,’ Edna murmured disbelievingly.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Preston,’ he said softly.

  Malc left shortly afterwards. ‘You’ll need your beauty sleep, my sweetheart,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘See you at the altar – don’t be late!’

  Edna smiled happily as she waved Malc off. It was only when she closed the door that she realized something was missing. ‘He still hasn’t given me that bloody bouquet,’ she said out loud. ‘Daft apeth! I can see me finishing up walking down the aisle with only a bunch of blasted dandelions in mi hands!’

  31. Christmas Eve

  Christmas Eve dawned frosty cold, bright and beautiful.

  ‘Will it snow, Nana?’ Marilyn asked, as Edna unwound the rags from her hair.

  ‘I hope not, chick, I don’t want to get my new shoes wet through,’ she replied, and with a flourish removed the last rag from Marilyn’s hair, then stepped back to admire the full effect.

  ‘What did I tell you!’ she exclaimed. ‘A headful of ringlets,’ she said, holding up the mirror for Marilyn to peer into. ‘You look proper bonny,’ she added.

  Catherine looked anxious. ‘Will I always have curly hair now, Nana?’

  ‘No!’ Edna assured her with a big hug. ‘By the time I’m married to Malc, your hair will be right back to normal.’

  Suddenly there was a loud rap on the back door. ‘If that’s Malc, don’t let him in!’ superstitious Edna cried.

  Flora cautiously opened the door to reveal Kit standing on the doorstep in her smart black barathea two-piece suit.

  ‘Kit!’ Flora exclaimed. ‘Come in.’

  ‘Thanks, lovie,’ Kit said, as she quickly stepped into the back room with her hands behind her back. Smiling mysteriously, she slowly revealed a small but exquisitely beautiful bouquet of red roses, set against a background of green ferns and glossy ivy leaves. ‘From your husband-to-be,’ Kit said warmly, handing the flowers to Edna, who filled up with tears at the sight of them.

  ‘Well, I never – he managed it in the end!’ she gasped. ‘I thought I’d be left holding nothing but a bunch of dandelions!’

  ‘He must have spent a pretty penny on that lot,’ Flora said knowingly.

  ‘For God’s sake, lovie, never ask where they came from,’ Edna said with a chuckle.

  ‘There’s more,’ Kit added as she handed nosegays of red carnations to the little girls and a small spray of roses to Flora. ‘Malc’s thought of everybody, including me,’ she said with a laugh as she pointed to her own spray of red roses, pinned to the lapel of her black suit. ‘You’re a lucky woman, Edna,’ Kit said, as she kissed the bride. ‘That man of yours is one in a million.’

  Edna nodded. ‘I picked a good one,’ she said modestly.

  Just before eleven, an hour before the midday service, it started to snow: gentle flurries landed on the drab grey church path, covering it like a sparkling white blanket. It drifted on to the lofty church spire, which stood out stark and silvery bright against the blue sky. Freshly fallen snow transformed an ordinary parish churchyard into a twinkling winter wonderland for Edna’s wedding to Malc.

  When the car, driven by Edna’s old school pal, who ran the local garage, arrived for Flora and the bridesmaids, Edna’s heart began to flutter.

  ‘How do I look?’ she said to Kit, when they were alone together.

  Seeing her usually confident friend suddenly nervous and uncertain, Kit handed her a tiny glass of brandy, poured from a silver flask that Ian had filled up that morning. ‘For emergencies,’ he’d said with a knowing wink.

  ‘You look radiant,’ Kit said. ‘Now drink this – it’ll steady your nerves.’

  Edna knocked it back. ‘That’s better,’ she said as she licked her lips. ‘Give us another one, cock,’ she laughed.

  As the two friends sipped brandy, Kit assured Edna again that she looked perfect. ‘This is your day, sweetheart: you’ve waited long enough – enjoy every minute of it.’

  Moved to tears, the two women hugged each other. Then, seeing the car pulling up outside the chip-shop window, Edna adjusted her red velvet hat and, picking up her fragrant bouquet, held out her arm for Kit to take.

  ‘Lead on, matron of honour!’

  The church was packed with Phoenix workers: munitions girls who’d enjoyed her company – and her chips – every night in the despatch yard. Locals who’d known Edna all their lives were there too, and customers from the nearby mill who Edna made dinner for every weekday. All the well-wishers waited expectantly as Rosa, Gladys, Nora and Maggie struck up the music for the opening number, ‘Here Comes the Bride’.

  When Malc turned to greet Edna, he thought his h
eart would burst with joy: this beautiful, strong, loving, generous woman was tying a knot with him that he prayed would hold them strong until the day they died. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house as the middle-aged couple exchanged their wedding vows in front of the vicar, who was deeply moved by their faith and the conviction with which they spoke their marriage vows.

  ‘I take thee to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish and to obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.’

  Another person close by was also deeply moved by the couple’s tenderness towards each other: Arthur had to clench his teeth in order to stop his emotions from overwhelming him as he witnessed his best pal make his wedding promises to Edna. As tears blurred his vision, Arthur’s own wedding day came back to him as clear as day. His darling Violet, dazzling in her bridal dress, her sky-blue eyes alight with happiness, her delicate face suffused with joy. It had been the hardest struggle of his life to secure Violet’s trust, but when she finally gave it to him she gave him her all. After years of pain and marital brutality, she walked into his arms with such hope in her eyes; theirs might have been a short-lived marriage, but, my God, it had been the most powerful, passionate relationship Arthur had ever experienced.

  As the bride and groom went off to sign the register with the best man and woman, the congregation were entertained by Gladys, Nora, Rosa and Maggie, who played a cracking rendition of Glenn Miller’s ‘In the Mood’. It was impossible for some in the pews not to recall their own wedding days, whilst others dreamt of nuptials to come. As Gladys ran her long, slender fingers up and down the valves on her saxophone, she thought of Reggie. Would their new love blossom into a relationship that might lead to marriage? Gladys’s skin tingled at the thought of being Reggie Lloyd’s wife; she honestly couldn’t imagine anything in the world more wonderful than spending the rest of her life with the man who through thick and thin had held out for her.