Shipyard Girls 10.The Shipyard Girls on the Home Front

by Nancy Revell

  Toby laughed. He wished he could spend the entire day – and night – with Dorothy. She made him laugh. Made him feel young and carefree. She made him forget about this abominable war, and the decisions he was having to make every day – decisions that could as easily save a man’s life as send him to an early grave.

  As they ate their sandwiches and drank a second pot of tea, they chatted away, Dorothy telling him all about the landing craft they were building and how different they were from the merchant ships they had worked on until now. ‘Rosie has become even more of a slave-driver than she was already,’ she said. ‘Honestly, you’d think we were in a competition to build it in record time.’ Toby guessed why Rosie was so invested in the speed in which they were being produced. Peter.

  ‘And how’s Gloria? And Jack?’ he asked tentatively. He knew there was something about Jack’s sudden return Dorothy wasn’t telling him. The very fact she wasn’t telling him meant it must be serious.

  ‘They’re good,’ Dorothy said, taking another sip of tea. Dorothy had told him during the weekly phone calls he made to Mrs Kwiatkowski’s that Jack had got his old job back at Crown’s and that, amazingly, Hope had taken to him as though he had never been away. Dorothy had put it down partly to Hope having heard Jack’s voice over the phone these past six months, but mainly to the little girl sensing how happy her mammy was to have Jack about.

  ‘They’re not getting any hassle from anyone?’ Toby probed. It was obvious their affair would be viewed as scandalous, especially as Jack was married to Miriam, the daughter of the revered Mr Havelock – a man Dorothy didn’t seem to rate at all, judging by the way she talked about him. Neither did she rate Miriam, for that matter, although he could understand why she didn’t like Jack’s estranged wife. She sounded a real she-devil – she had conned Jack into marriage and, unsurprisingly, their life together had not been a happy one.

  ‘No, no hassle. Not yet,’ Dorothy said, pushing her plate away and wiping her mouth with the paper serviette. ‘But that’s probably because they’re keeping a low profile. At the moment hardly anyone knows. I think they’re trying to keep it really low-key until Miriam files for divorce.’

  ‘She’s not already done so?’ Toby asked.

  Dorothy shook her head. ‘She’s still in Scotland.’

  Toby smiled at the old woman for the bill.

  ‘And the twins, are they well?’ Toby thought what Bel and Joe had done was wonderful. There weren’t many couples these days who would adopt one child, never mind twins.

  ‘Very well,’ said Dorothy. ‘Very lovable and very loud.’

  Toby chuckled.

  ‘And I don’t think I need to ask if Angie and Quentin are still head over heels?’

  ‘Not need at all,’ Dorothy said. ‘Angie tries to play it down but isn’t doing a very good job.’

  Toby smiled. It had been obvious to everyone – apart from Angie – that she and Quentin were made for each other, even if they were from opposite ends of the social spectrum.

  ‘And any more news about Bobby?’ Toby knew about his head injury. Reading in between the lines, he wondered if there was more to it.

  ‘Not anything new,’ Dorothy said. ‘He’s still being “observed”.’

  Toby nodded.

  ‘And has Gloria thought any more about telling them – about Jack?’ He couldn’t believe it when Dorothy had told him that they didn’t know their mother had divorced their father and they now had a little sister.

  ‘She’s made up her mind. She’s going to tell them. I said I’d help her compose a letter, but she said it’s something she has to do herself.’

  ‘Well, at least they’re stationed on the same ship, so they’ll get the news together,’ Toby said. He looked at Dorothy and took hold of her hand. ‘You know how proud I am of you, don’t you?’ he asked. He meant it. Wholeheartedly. He had met a lot of women of Dorothy’s background and none of them had the grit, or physical strength, to do the work she did. He had roared with laughter, though, when she’d confessed to him that she had only applied for the job because she’d fallen for some good-looking riveter who worked at Thompson’s. But that was Dorothy for you. It was why he loved her. Was why he was here today – to tell her just that.

  ‘Here you are.’ The old woman handed the bill to Toby, who immediately put a few notes on the little plate, leaving a very generous tip. The woman smiled her thanks, pushed the money into the pocket of her pinny and turned to Dorothy.

  ‘Yer work on the ships, pet?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Dorothy nodded. ‘I’m a welder at Thompson’s.’

  The old woman patted her on the back and handed her a parcel wrapped up with string. ‘Take this for your squad. Hettie and I – ’ she cocked her head over at the counter ‘ – think yer deeing a grand job. Keep it up. Deeing yer town ’n yer country proud.’

  Dorothy was taken aback. She suddenly felt tears spring to her eyes. This was turning into such a special day.

  ‘Oh, thank you, that’s lovely,’ she said, taking the cake. ‘That’s really kind.’

  ‘Least we can dee, pet.’ The old woman stuffed her hands in her pocket and gave a throaty chuckle. ‘Now get yourself back to work, and you – ’ she looked at Toby ‘ – go ’n win that war.’

  Toby stood up and tipped his cap.

  ‘I’ll certainly give it my damnedest,’ he said, his face showing his resolution.

  As they walked back to the yard, Toby smiled to himself. There was he thinking the generous ham sandwiches had been down to his uniform. He looked at Dorothy – it was her uniform that had inspired.

  ‘So, when am I going to meet your parents?’ he asked.

  Dorothy let out a slightly bitter laugh. ‘It depends whether they can find the time. They only squeeze me in on a Sunday to ease their conscience and make sure I’m still in the land of the living.’

  ‘Well, why don’t I try and get a Sunday off sometime soon and I can come with you?’ Toby looked at Dorothy. She always got tetchy when talking about her family. ‘You know, we’ve been courting for more than a year – I think it’s time I met your family, don’t you?’ Ideally, he would have liked to have met Dorothy’s father, but Dorothy had made it quite clear she had no idea where he was.

  ‘I do want you to meet my mum and Frank,’ Dorothy said.

  ‘Why do I sense a “but”?’ Toby asked.

  Dorothy shook her head and put a smile on her face. ‘There is no “but”. It’ll be interesting – you meeting them.’ In her mind, it was simply a necessity – something to be endured in order for her to be asked for her hand in marriage.

  ‘Come here.’ Toby pulled Dorothy towards him.

  ‘Careful, I don’t want to squash my cake.’

  ‘I thought she said the cake was for your squad.’

  Dorothy laughed. ‘I might give them a sliver.’

  Toby kissed her passionately.

  ‘Dor …’ Toby looked at Dorothy, his voice serious, his eyes looking into hers, wanting to read her reaction – to see if she too felt the same. ‘I wanted to tell you something. You know … with it being Valentine’s Day, and all that.’

  Dorothy looked at him. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I want you to know …’ He hesitated. ‘I want you to know that … well … that I love you.’

  A smile slowly spread across Dorothy’s face.

  She laughed.

  ‘I thought you’d never tell me.’

  She kissed him.

  ‘That’s good,’ she said, ‘because I would have hated this relationship to have been one-sided.’

  Toby looked at Dorothy.

  ‘Is that your way of telling me that you love me too?’

  Dorothy kissed him.

  ‘It is.’

  Toby felt a rush of relief. He hadn’t been entirely sure if Dorothy really wanted to get serious. They had snatched whatever time they could together since their first date at Polly and Tommy’s wedding, and they had kissed and cuddled, although th
at was all. He knew Dorothy wasn’t seeing anyone else, but still, he wasn’t totally sure if she wanted to take their courtship to the next step. Sometimes he thought he could read her like a book, other times not. Now he knew. She loved him. She’d told him, even if it was in a roundabout way.

  Later on that evening, Helen and Matthew walked into the dining room at the Grand. She had agreed to go with Matthew on condition he did not see it as any kind of a date, despite it being Valentine’s Day; it was simply because she was hungry and hadn’t been anywhere nice for ages. Matthew had been pleased as punch, joking that he would take what crumbs he could. Helen had only agreed to dine at the Grand, and had not asked Matthew to change the venue, because she knew her mother wouldn’t be there.

  Dr Parker, meanwhile, had only booked the Grand because he believed that there was no way Helen and Matthew would be there, knowing that Helen would not risk going anywhere her mother might be. He had no idea that Miriam was still in Scotland.

  When they all spotted each other, it was hard to tell whose face fell the most – Claire’s, Matthew’s, John’s or Helen’s. It would probably be classed as a draw. On seeing each other in the bar before they were seated by the maître d’, they all forced expressions of pleasant surprise, saying what a coincidence it was. John asked about Miriam and was a little puzzled to hear that she was still over the border, silently cursing himself for not considering the possibility that she might not be back. The last thing he’d wanted this evening was to see Helen and Matthew together. It rankled him. He knew it shouldn’t, that he and Helen were merely friends, but it did.

  Helen fought hard not to show how she felt about Claire. She did not want her to gain the satisfaction of knowing how jealous Helen was – or that she didn’t like her, especially as it was inevitable that their paths would eventually cross at the asylum while she was visiting her grandmother, when she would need to keep the doctor on their side.

  They made polite small talk, chatting about the last time they had all seen each other at Artie’s christening and what a lovely ceremony it was, and how festive and cosy it had all been in the Tatham Arms. Claire felt her hackles rise again, recalling how John and Helen had seemed so cosy chatting by the bar that day, and how she had desperately wanted to ask what it was they had been talking about, but knew it would not have been appropriate.

  During their chit-chat, Matthew tried his hardest to give the impression that he and Helen were an item. He gently touched Helen’s elbow and stood close enough to her to intimate that they were physically close and at ease with each other. Miriam had told him a while ago that Dr Parker had had his eye on Helen, and although the doctor had clearly chosen one of his own, Matthew was still concerned he might feel he’d made a mistake and change his mind. He needed him to believe that Helen was taken; that it was too late even if he did have a change of heart. He was helped enormously by Dr Eris, who brought up the lovely photograph of them both published in the Echo.

  Dr Parker might have been convinced that Matthew and Helen were an item, but Dr Eris wasn’t taken in. She was a psychologist after all. She made her living out of reading people – and she had read Matthew well, had sussed him out from first meeting him at the christening. The man wanted Helen, but Helen didn’t want Matthew.

  Dr Eris knew exactly what Helen wanted and she was going to make damn sure she never got it.

  When the maître d’ finally showed them to their reservations, both couples tried not to show just how relieved they were to be sitting at tables far enough apart that they could not overhear each other’s conversations – conversations which, it had to be said, were quite bland in comparison to the thoughts swirling around in their heads.

  Chapter Ten

  Two weeks later

  Monday 28 February

  Every evening, Gloria would follow the same routine: after giving Hope her tea, she would settle down at the small dining table and set about writing her letter to Bobby and Gordon. But it was no good. Every evening, Jack would get back from work and find Gloria with a pen in her hand, a sheet of paper on the table, a frown on her forehead and several screwed-up balls of paper on the floor. Each time, Jack suggested that it might be a good idea to take Dorothy up on her offer of help with writing the letter. ‘She’s desperate to help. Plus, she’d be perfect – she’s had a good schooling … she might be able to help you put it in a way the boys can understand,’ Jack cajoled.

  Finally, one evening, Gloria relented. Jack smiled and picked up Hope, who was holding aloft a scrunched-up piece of paper as though presenting him with a prized possession. Telling Jack to keep Hope entertained, Gloria retreated into the kitchen and made the tea. Chopping up onions while heating up a knob of lard in the pan, she kept thinking about her two sons, wishing she had told them everything from the off: how their father’s violence had got much worse after they had left for sea, as had his drinking, but she hadn’t wanted them to know for they had their own lives now. She didn’t want them worrying about their mam. They’d done enough of that as bairns. She realised that now.

  As she added bacon to the pan, causing a burst of ferocious hissing and spitting, she wondered if she’d told them about the escalating violence and how Vinnie had been seeing another woman for two years before Gloria had finally chucked him out, whether this would have made them more understanding, more empathetic about her present situation; whether it would have paved the way to telling them about rekindling her love affair with Jack and then, later, about Hope. If she told them now, though, it would look like an excuse, like she was justifying living in sin with a married man and their illegitimate child.

  As she turned and looked into the lounge, she saw Hope sitting on Jack’s lap; their little girl was sucking her thumb, immersed in a story her daddy was reading her.

  Gloria forced herself to stop worrying.

  She would get the letter written next week – with Dor’s help. Then she’d send it off and know at least that they had heard the news from her and no one else. There were other lads from the town on their ship and she’d started to worry that when the local gossipmongers eventually got wind about her and Jack, which in time they undoubtedly would, they would beat her to it. If she told them now, she’d get ahead of the rumour mill and hopefully, by the time her boys came home when the war ended, they would have been able to digest the news and perhaps – just perhaps – find it in their hearts to forgive her for not leaving their dad sooner, when they themselves had been bairns. The guilt of not having done so had weighed heavily on her for a long time.

  Chapter Eleven

  Wednesday 1 March

  The women were sitting in the Admiral, having realised they hadn’t been out for a drink en masse for ages.

  ‘Pearl’s set a date,’ Polly announced.

  ‘What? Set a date for the wedding?’ Martha asked.

  ‘Of course for the wedding,’ Dorothy said, rolling her eyes to the pub’s beamed ceiling. ‘What else would she be setting a date for?’ She looked across the table at Polly. ‘So, come on, when is it?’

  Polly took a sip of her port and lemon, looking around the table at her workmates. How life could change. How people could change. Not so long ago, the prospect of Pearl getting married would have barely caused the bat of an eye; at most, a few mumbled, derisory comments. The faces looking at her now were expectant, happy – eager to know more. Whether Pearl liked it or not, she had become something of an accidental heroine the day she’d gone to battle with Mr Havelock and had helped them all.

  ‘Well, she’s been lucky – or should I say, Bill’s been lucky, as he seems to be the one doing all the gadding about and organising. Anyway, when he went to see the registrar the other day, the person before him had just cancelled her date.’ The reason being, Polly did not add, the poor woman had just had notice that her fiancé had been killed in action. ‘And the day that had just become free was Saturday, April the seventh, which is—’

  ‘The Easter weekend!’ Dorothy shrieked.
<
br />   ‘Why do I think something else exciting is happening that weekend,’ Gloria said.

  Angie looked at Gloria and gave her a weary nod. ‘Toby’s just managed to wrangle some leave that weekend.’

  ‘And,’ Dorothy said, silently clapping her hands, ‘we’re bullying Quentin into getting leave then as well.’

  ‘Correction,’ Angie said. ‘Dorothy is bullying Quentin. Every time he rings up, she snatches the phone off me ’n tells him we’re all gannin out on Easter Saturday on a double date’ – Angie widened her eyes – ‘somewhere posh.’

  Hannah chuckled. ‘Dorothy, you’re getting worse.’

  ‘And as he’s got a forty-eight-hour pass, he’s going to meet the family on Easter Sunday.’ This time it was Dorothy who widened her eyes.

  ‘Does that mean he’ll ask you to marry him then and there?’ asked Martha.

  ‘No, silly,’ Dorothy said, ‘it just gives him the green light.’

  ‘But what happens if they don’t give him the thumbs up?’ Martha asked.

  ‘Oh, they will,’ Dorothy said. ‘I can just imagine their relief at being able to finally get shot of me – make me someone else’s responsibility.’

  ‘I’m sure they don’t really think like that,’ Hannah said.

  Dorothy arched an eyebrow.

  ‘Anyway, where’s the queen bee?’ They all knew Dorothy was talking about Helen. ‘Bet you she’s got much more glamorous places to be than the Admiral.’

  ‘I did ask her to join us,’ Rosie said, ‘but she’s gone to see her relative.’ Rosie was very aware that there could be no slip-ups at all with regards to Henrietta. It just needed one pair of flapping lugs to catch on to what they were talking about and the results could be disastrous.

  ‘Ahhh,’ Dorothy and Angie said in unison.

  ‘Not the most glamorous of nights out, then,’ said Polly.