The Bomb Girl Brides

by Daisy Styles

  Overcome with curiosity, Nora hurried towards Maggie, who grinned in the candlelight. ‘Here she is!’

  Nora gazed in disbelief at the pig, who grunted ecstatically as Maggie tickled her pink snout. ‘A pig!’ she spluttered.

  Laying the lantern at Maggie’s feet, Nora also hunkered down so she could get a better look at the animal. ‘I don’t believe it!’ she gasped, her face breaking into a huge smile. ‘Oh, you’re gorgeous, aren’t you?’ she crooned softly as she gazed in delight at the newcomer.

  ‘I’m going to fatten her up for my wedding breakfast,’ Maggie announced.

  Nora gazed at her friend in horror. ‘You can’t!’ she protested.

  ‘Well, I’ve not got her for the bloody fun of it,’ yawned Maggie, who was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. ‘It’s going to be hard work, but Percy said he’d give me a hand.’

  ‘Who’s Percy?’

  ‘The fella that found the pig,’ Maggie explained.

  ‘I’ll help too,’ Nora instantly volunteered.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Maggie, struggling to her feet. ‘Come on, let’s leave her to settle down.’

  ‘She might run away,’ Nora fretted.

  ‘Percy’s penned her in for the night; she should be fine,’ Maggie explained.

  By the light of the wavering candle, the pig looked at them with her little baleful eyes.

  ‘See you in the morning,’ Nora whispered fondly. The pig gave a grunt as they departed. ‘Goodnight, sweetheart!’ Nora cooed.

  ‘It does no good to get sentimental, Nora,’ Maggie warned as the two tired girls made their way home. ‘Remember, this is about my wedding breakfast, nothing more, nothing less.’

  The following morning it was Maggie who went in search of Nora. It was the beginning of a perfect spring day: skylarks were singing their hearts out as they rose higher and higher in the arching blue sky and blackbirds were calling across the valley. Lovely Maggie, with her thick auburn hair swinging down her back and her blue eyes sparkling with excitement, was more than surprised to find Nora at the allotment, where she was helping Percy lay straw in the pig pen.

  ‘Just in time to muck out!’ Percy called, handing Maggie a shovel.

  Wrinkling her delicate nose, Maggie gingerly dropped the pig muck into a bucket, then hurriedly set the spade to one side.

  ‘You can use yon muck on your vegetables,’ Percy informed her as he lowered the second bucket of slops that Maggie had collected the previous night over the fence. ‘Get stuck in, missis,’ he said cheerfully to the pig.

  Nora watched in delight as the pig gave the same performance as she had the previous night.

  ‘She’s starving!’ Nora cried.

  ‘Nay, she’s not,’ Percy told her knowledgeably. ‘Pigs’ll eat till it comes out of their ears.’

  ‘We want her nice and plump,’ Maggie remarked.

  ‘You shouldn’t talk like that when she’s around,’ Nora hissed as she pressed her finger to her lips.

  ‘She’s a pig!’ Maggie laughed. ‘She doesn’t know what we’re talking about.’

  ‘I think it’s insensitive,’ Nora added. ‘And, by the way, she’s called Polly!’

  ‘You’re taking this too far, Nora, you’ll regret it,’ Maggie warned.

  But Nora wasn’t listening: she was smiling at Polly, whose head, after it had emerged from the swill bucket, was decorated with potato peelings. After Polly had given a series of satisfied grunts, she rolled on her back in the newly strewn hay.

  ‘Look at her!’ giggled Nora in delight.

  ‘Drag yourself away, lovie,’ Maggie urged. ‘We’ve got five minutes till clocking-on time and you’re still wearing your nightie!’

  16. Secrets and Lies

  At Edna’s insistence, Rosa finally got hold of Roger using the phone in the chip shop.

  ‘I’m so sorry I’ve been a poor correspondent,’ she said apologetically.

  Clearly agitated, Roger was torn between relief and frustration.

  ‘Rosa! I’ve been going mad with worry – why didn’t you answer my letters, sweetheart?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated flatly.

  ‘Is something wrong? Are you all right?’ he asked anxiously.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she replied. ‘But I’ve had bad news about my brother.’

  Clearly thinking it was the worst news, that Gabriel was dead, Roger waited for her to continue. After Rosa had related the latest details, Roger exclaimed, ‘Darling, I can’t tell you how many stories I’ve heard about pilots being helped to escape by underground workers. With luck your brother may have been helped too.’

  ‘Yes, I know all about that,’ Rosa cut in impatiently.

  ‘Sorry,’ Roger said contritely. ‘You clearly know a lot more about these things than I do.’ When Rosa didn’t respond, he added softly, ‘I can see why you haven’t been in the mood for writing to me.’

  ‘I tried. I just couldn’t find the words,’ she admitted. ‘Phoning seemed easier.’

  ‘You poor love.’ His voice gave an emotional lurch as he spoke. ‘I feel so useless stuck here in Norfolk with not a hope in hell of getting leave – I should be supporting you in your time of trouble.’

  Rosa was in fact secretly relieved that Roger wasn’t near at hand; she had plans to put into action that were taking up every spare minute of her time. If Roger had been around, he would have got in the way, and no doubt stop her – best that he was kept in the dark, and at a distance too. Cutting through her thoughts, Roger spoke again. ‘How can I help?’

  ‘Say some prayers, and forgive me for being such a poor fiancée,’ she said in all sincerity.

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive, my darling,’ Roger said so tenderly that Rosa flushed with guilt. ‘Just tell me you love me and still want to be my wife?’ he implored.

  ‘Of course I still want to marry you, Roger,’ she retorted quickly.

  ‘As long as you mean that, I can put up with anything,’ he replied.

  Rosa brought their conversation to a close by announcing that Edna had returned, which was a lie, but she had to make an urgent phone call before Edna really did return. Dialling her uncle’s number in Manchester, she asked if there was any news. Hearing to her distress that there was none, she made her decision. She’d write to Gladys and tell her she was coming to London; hopefully she could stay with her dearest friend in the first instance and then see if she could get to the ports. ‘I might even get a safe passage to France!’ Rosa thought wildly.

  She didn’t know how far she would get, but she knew if she was ever to find out where Gabriel was, she would have to take some risks. She’d sat around too long waiting for something to happen; the time for action had come.

  When Edna returned Rosa was on her second cheroot. ‘I’ve left some money for my calls,’ she told Edna, who was busy putting the kettle on.

  ‘Thanks, lovie,’ Edna said, lighting up her own cigarette. ‘I’m on mi tod tonight,’ she added. ‘Malc’s had to drive over to Doncaster to pick up some safety equipment for the new fella.’

  ‘Why hasn’t he gone himself?’ Rosa asked. ‘Arthur always used to pick up his own stuff.’

  ‘He can’t drive,’ Edna replied with a grimace. ‘So Malc’s got lumbered with the job, worse luck. Like you say, it wouldn’t have happened if Arthur Leadbetter was still safety officer at the Phoenix; nothing slipped past him when it came to organization.’

  ‘I thought he looked well when he was down here,’ Rosa remarked. ‘He’s put on weight and he doesn’t have quite such a terrible haunted look any more.’

  Edna nodded. ‘He’s still a handsome man despite his war wounds,’ she said, referring to the scars caused by the factory explosion and the damage done to his hands when he was working with explosives in the army. ‘It won’t be long till he’s spoken for again. Mark my words.’

  Rosa’s stomach lurched; the thought of Stevie having a stepmother upset her more than anything. ‘I hope Arthur chooses carefully,’ she sa
id with an unexpected burst of passion. ‘I’d hate to see that little boy take second place to anyone.’

  ‘I can’t see Arthur letting that happen,’ Edna assured her. ‘He loves his lad more than life itself.’

  Little did Edna know that her husband wasn’t in Doncaster on work business; he was in fact in Penrith with Flora. He’d received a frantic phone call from her earlier in the day that had put the fear of God in him.

  ‘Malc!’ she cried when he picked up the phone in his office.

  ‘Hello, lovie,’ he’d started amiably enough.

  ‘Help me!’ Flora wailed.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked tensely. ‘Take a deep breath,’ he said, as she started to sob uncontrollably.

  Through her tears, Flora tried to stay coherent. ‘You said … you said you’d help me, Malc.’

  ‘And I will, lovie,’ he assured her calmly. ‘But first you’ve got to tell me what’s happened.’

  ‘John came home,’ she whispered.

  Malc was surprised. ‘I thought he’d only recently been granted leave?’

  ‘It wasn’t leave,’ Flora explained miserably. ‘The army doctor’s recommended that John should be discharged from his duties.’

  ‘On what grounds?’ Malc asked, his alarm growing.

  ‘He’s sick, mentally sick,’ she said through bursts of fresh tears. ‘They say he’s incapable of performing his duties because he’s drunk all the time. His sergeant-major as good as said he’d be dishonourably discharged if he wasn’t classified as sick.’

  Malc couldn’t believe he was hearing right. ‘Where does all the booze come from?’

  ‘He steals it,’ Flora muttered in shame. ‘I’ve known John all my life, and he never touched a drop of alcohol until he joined the army. It’s not his fault.’

  ‘War does terrible things to the best of men,’ Malc agreed softly. ‘Maybe home and family are a safer placer for him until he’s over the booze.’

  By this time Flora was almost hysterical. ‘Noo!’ she exclaimed as her voice rose higher. ‘He’s home now and he’s not stopped drinking since he walked through the door. We’re terrified.’

  On the other end of the line, Malc’s brow creased in anxiety as he realized quite how serious things were for young Flora and her precious family.

  ‘It’s so bad today I’ve had to leave the girls with a neighbour. I was frightened for their safety – that’s why I’m phoning you,’ Flora cried.

  ‘Okay. Where is he now?’ Malc asked.

  ‘He passed out about an hour ago – with a bit of luck he might sleep till morning.’ The tremble in Flora’s terrified voice said it all.

  ‘I’ll be up there with you as soon as I can,’ Malc promised.

  ‘Don’t tell Mum,’ Flora begged. ‘Please don’t tell her,’ she implored. ‘She’ll be so worried.’

  Malc took a deep breath; he wasn’t at all easy with this request. ‘She should know, Flora – after all she is your mother. She’ll want to help too.’

  ‘But I’ve only just found her!’ Flora protested. ‘I don’t want to spoil our lovely new happiness – if she knew about John she’d never have a minute’s peace.’

  Malc knew for sure that Flora was right; Edna would be on the warpath and God help the man that ever laid a hand on her precious daughter.

  ‘He was a really good man when I married him,’ Flora added almost apologetically.

  Worried that he should be on his way, Malc quickly brought the conversation to a close. ‘I’ll make an excuse to Edna and leave right away. Don’t do anything to provoke him, Flora,’ he warned before he put down the phone.

  Hours later, Malc was on Flora’s street in Penrith. He was careful not to park outside her house in order to avoid drawing attention to a stranger’s car in the area. On his drive North (in the blackout pitch dark), Malc had had time to consider his options. What legal rights did he have over Flora’s husband? He wasn’t even a blood relative. But he couldn’t ignore her plea for help, especially after he’d made a solemn promise to protect her.

  Getting out of the car, he strode down the street till he was standing outside Flora’s house, which was ominously silent. Malc jumped as a voice hissed in the darkness. ‘Oi! Over here.’

  Malc turned to see a neighbour waving at him from behind a half-open door. Hurrying towards her, he cast a look over his shoulder to make sure that nobody was watching him.

  ‘Quick, come in,’ the nervous neighbour whispered urgently, as she all but pulled him indoors, then quickly closed and locked the door behind him. ‘The wee bairns are asleep upstairs,’ she continued, still whispering as she led him into her front room, which was gloomy with the blackout blinds pulled down.

  ‘Are they all right?’ Malc asked.

  ‘As right as they can be with their dad raving drunk from dawn till dusk,’ the neighbour replied. ‘He used to be a lovely fella, a real family man, but the war’s had its way with him and like so many others he’s taken to the bottle.’

  Keen to find Flora, Malc was anxious not to spend too long chatting to the anxious neighbour. ‘Thanks for taking care of the kiddies,’ he said gratefully.

  ‘He’ll kill her if he carries on like this,’ the neighbour insisted. ‘He needs to be locked up for his own safety.’

  Feeling his heartbeat quicken, Malc moved towards the door. ‘I’d best go to her, then – am I right in thinking she’s alone with him?’

  The neighbour nodded curtly. ‘Take care of yourself,’ she said, as she watched him leave, then quickly locked the door behind him.

  Malc silently made his way round to the back of Flora’s house and tapped on the kitchen window, where he saw a light was on. When Flora let him in, he gasped as a shaft of light fell across her bruised face; he could see she’d ineffectually tried to hide her wounds with face powder, but the swelling was livid where she’d clearly been hit around the face.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ he gasped.

  ‘Shhh!’ Flora hissed, as she laid a trembling finger to her lips. ‘He’s woken up.’

  ‘Good,’ said Malc, suddenly so angry that he itched to punch the brute who’d hurt his daughter-in-law. ‘I want a word with him.’

  Flora flattened herself against the kitchen wall as her husband came staggering into the room. Bleary-eyed and hung-over, he looked like he was spoiling for a fight. Adjusting his braces over his grubby, unbuttoned shirt, he glared at Malc, who stood defiantly before him.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’

  ‘Flora’s father-in-law,’ Malc replied, looking the man straight in the eye and seeing a brief flash of bewilderment there. Curbing his anger, Malc took a deep breath and tried a more subtle approach. ‘Look, son, I know you’ve had a bloody hard time – we can get help for you, proper advice on how to look after yourself. But’ – he stressed his words to make sure the message got home – ‘But you really have got to stop hurting your wife.’

  At that Flora’s husband went off as if somebody had lit a blue touch fuse underneath him.

  ‘Get out!’ he bawled as he drunkenly swung a fist at Malc, who neatly ducked the blow. ‘Get out!’ he shouted again and picked up the kitchen table and threw it across the room.

  It wasn’t difficult to dodge the table, which landed against the window, its glass panes shattering on impact.

  Flora’s husband then lunged at Malc, who, for all his bulk, was quicker on his feet than his attacker. Pinning John’s arms behind his back, he turned to Flora. ‘Go!’ he commanded. ‘Go to the girls!’

  White-faced and trembling, Flora fled, leaving the two men wrestling with each other, rolling around the kitchen floor, the shards of glass cutting into their hands and faces. Malc was just wondering if he’d be able to beat off the younger man when to his relief the back door flew open and two burly policemen rushed in, dragging John off Malc, who was by now gasping for breath.

  ‘You need to cool down, young fella mi lad,’ one of the policemen started to say, but John smashed a furious fist into hi
s face, causing blood to gush from the policeman’s nose.

  ‘That’s it!’ shouted the other policeman as he attached handcuffs to John’s wrists. ‘A night behind bars might make you see sense,’ he added as the two of them frog-marched John, shouting every kind of obscenity, out of the back door and down the street towards the waiting police van.

  Within seconds of their going Flora was back in the house.

  ‘Malc! Malc!’ she cried as she rushed to help him.

  ‘I’m all right; don’t worry about me,’ he spluttered, as he leant against the kitchen sink and tried to get his breath back.

  Flora surveyed her ruined kitchen. ‘Thank God he’s gone,’ she said fervently. ‘I was so scared when I heard all the shouting that I ran to the phone box and called the police.’

  ‘I’m glad you did,’ Malc replied. ‘Drunk or not, your husband’s a lot younger and stronger than me.’

  Flora reached into a kitchen cupboard for her first-aid box. ‘Let me clean those cuts for you,’ she said.

  ‘Come back with me,’ Malc begged as Flora gently washed his wounds with antiseptic. ‘We could put the little girls in the car and drive back to Pendleton tonight – you’ll be safe there.’

  Flora sadly shook her head. ‘He’ll be like a lamb when he comes round in the morning,’ she murmured. ‘He’ll have no idea what he’s done or why he’s in custody; he’ll be frightened,’ she added. ‘I can’t leave him like that, Malc.’

  Malc struggled to suppress his frustration. ‘Sweetheart, don’t you see, he’s lost all control? It won’t help him you being here; it just allows it to start all over again.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll be able to get him to the doctor’s when he’s sober,’ she pleaded. ‘I’ve got to give him another chance; I can’t just walk away.’

  ‘And what about them little lasses?’ Malc asked. ‘What kind of example are they growing up with?’

  Seeing Flora’s green eyes, which were so like Edna’s, fill up with tears, Malc felt his heart melt. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart – it upsets me to see you like this,’ he said, as he held out his arms to the weeping woman.

  When she nestled her head against his warm shoulder, Malc got a faint whiff of perfume; it made him even sadder to think that Flora had tried to make herself attractive for her husband’s return. ‘Look where that has got her,’ he thought bitterly.