The Bomb Girl Brides

by Daisy Styles

  Maggie’s wedding couldn’t have gone more smoothly.

  ‘Glory be to God!’ exclaimed Kit, as she succinctly summed up the day. ‘After all the tempers and tantrums, the tears and the grief, it was perfect.’

  And it was. Maggie looked like the princess of her dreams, and her sister, Emily, was right: the last thing that anybody noticed, least of all Les, was the patch of burnt hair on the top of her head. As Maggie, on her proud father’s arm, entered the church to the strains of ‘Here Comes the Bride’, there was a collective gasp from the congregation. In all five years of the gruelling war that they’d lived through, none present had ever seen a bride more radiant or a dress more beautiful.

  As Maggie progressed slowly down the aisle, the satin fabric of her bridal gown seemed to shimmer as it caught the light spilling through the stained-glass windows. The veil over her face hardly hid her rapturous smile as she approached Les waiting for her at the altar, and behind her little Billy walked steadily, just as his daddy had instructed. Still spotty, the little boy in his charming page-boy suit, with his wild black hair slicked down, completely stole the show. Mrs Yates said it all when she exclaimed, ‘For the love of God! Will you look at the little lad!’

  Billy assiduously avoided stepping on the veil that puffed out and filled half the aisle, but he didn’t avoid grinning at everybody he passed and neither did he avoid waving gaily at his mum and dad. Nora, bringing up the rear (trembling from head to foot), looked unrecognizable in the elegant pink gown that hugged her voluptuous figure. But it wasn’t just the gown that enhanced Nora: it was the glow that emanated from her, the look of a woman in love.

  Rosa had decided, as she tossed and turned all night long, that she wasn’t going to say anything to anybody about what had passed between her and Roger the previous night. She had no intention of darkening Maggie’s big day with her own unhappiness. In fact, she needn’t have worried: with all the hullabaloo of the wedding preparations, nobody even mentioned Roger. It wasn’t until after the service that Julia, smart in a wine-coloured suit that accentuated her tall, slender frame, suddenly called out, ‘Rosa, Roger, can I have a photo please?’

  Blushing Rosa hurried over to Julia. ‘He’s gone,’ she whispered behind her hand.

  Julia looked blank. ‘Gone where?’

  Rosa’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Please, Julia, please don’t say another word – I’ll explain later.’

  Julia nodded and, smiling brightly, continued to photograph the guests, who were showering the bride and groom with confetti as they left the church and walked the short distance to the Black Bull, with the wedding party following close behind them.

  As soon as she was inside the pub, Rosa slipped into the ladies’, where she washed her face in an attempt to cool her flaming cheeks.

  ‘You’ve got to get through this without making a fuss,’ she firmly told herself, as she brushed her hair and examined her pale reflection in the mirror.

  In the upstairs room, guests were sitting down at their marked places. Rosa found hers and Roger’s too; glancing round to make sure nobody was watching, she snatched up the card with Roger’s name on it and shoved it into her handbag; then, feeling very self-conscious, she quickly sat down next to the vacant chair. Considering she hadn’t wanted to draw attention to herself, the gapingly empty chair beside her seemed to shout, ‘Where’s Rosa’s fiancé?’

  Looking down at the bowl of hot soup that the smiling waitress placed before her, Rosa thought she was going to completely disgrace herself by bursting into tears. She jumped when she heard the sound of what should have been Roger’s chair scraping on the ground, and, to her amazement, astonishment and pure delight, Arthur sat down beside her.

  ‘Arthur,’ she gasped in sheer relief.

  Never one to beat about the bush, Arthur said in a low voice, ‘I see Roger’s not here.’

  When his deep-blue eyes locked with her dark brooding ones, Rosa felt her stomach swirl.

  ‘He’s left, Arthur,’ she murmured. ‘He left last night.’

  Arthur quickly looked down, so it was impossible to read his face, but Rosa continued anyway. ‘I didn’t need to tell him I wasn’t ready to marry him – he guessed.’ She added, ‘That’s why he left.’

  ‘Tough on the poor chap,’ Arthur mumbled, still staring at the table.

  ‘I should have had the guts to speak out sooner,’ she said in a guilty rush.

  When Arthur finally did look up, he smiled as he patted Rosa’s hand. ‘It must have been tough for you too,’ he said.

  As his intense gaze bore into her, Rosa felt as if all her bones were melting. When she finally dragged her eyes from him, she was aware of several people looking at her curiously, though the only person who spoke was a grinning Edna, who said in a loud whisper, ‘Bugger me!’

  After that everything was a blur for Rosa. The food so lovingly prepared barely passed her lips; the speeches seemed far away, like a distant echo; faces came and went as if she was in a dream; the only thing that seemed real was Arthur, right by her side.

  Luckily Stevie slept throughout most of the meal, but when Edna saw the little boy stirring in his pram she hurried over, popped a soft bread crust dipped in a bit of milk into his hand and beckoned to her two little granddaughters.

  ‘Sweethearts,’ she said quietly, ‘will you push Stevie round the room in his pram, and let him play with Billy if he gets restless? His daddy’s busy at the moment.’

  Marilyn and Katherine could not have been keener. They very self-importantly looked after the little boy, entertaining him with songs and games and little nibbles of wedding cake.

  After the tables were cleared and stacked against the wall, a local band tuned up and the bride and groom took to the floor; to the achingly romantic strains of Vera Lynn’s ‘Yours Till the Stars Lose Their Glory’, Maggie and Les waltzed around the polished floor, gazing deep into each other’s eyes. As the song faded away and a new one started, Arthur rose to his feet and held out a hand to Rosa. ‘May I?’

  Rosa took his hand, then put her other hand on his broad shoulder. After encircling her tiny waist, Arthur expertly led his partner into another waltz, holding her close to his chest, so close Rosa could hear his heart beating.

  ‘You’re so much taller than me,’ she cried, tipping back her head so that she could smile up at him.

  ‘And you,’ he murmured tenderly, ‘are just perfect!’

  Rosa could have danced till dawn, but all too soon newly married Les and Maggie were leaving for their honeymoon. Stunning, stylish Maggie, wearing a military-style navy-blue swing coat over her going-away suit, waved to her guests, before she tossed her posy of spring flowers into the air. As it fell to earth, Nora held out her hands and caught it.

  ‘You’ll be the next!’ Kit cried, as everybody laughed at Nora’s blushing, excited face.

  Across the room Peter smiled; he had something special to say to his girlfriend, but not now, he thought; to make it right he’d need another person present – well, to be correct, he chuckled to himself, he’d need a rather special pig!

  The next day was a whirl of goodbyes; so many people were leaving, and, with the bride and groom already gone, a sense of anti-climax was beginning to descend on those in the cowshed, who were all recovering from a very late night. Though Rosa knew Arthur was leaving soon, she couldn’t take the smile off her face, and when he appeared, tall and handsome, his blue eyes roving the room for her, she threw caution to the wind and ran straight to him.

  ‘I missed you,’ she cried.

  ‘I missed you too!’ he replied, then laughed at himself. ‘And it’s only been ten hours!’

  Still laughing, he couldn’t take his eyes off her before Stevie claimed her attention, and all three went for a walk, Rosa pushing the pram and chatting in Italian to Stevie, who babbled back, whilst Arthur smiled in delight at their excitement in each other.

  Julia was aware, like all of the girls, of the shift that seemed to be taking place within Arthur
and Rosa’s relationship, and she smiled as she watched them go. Her smile widened when she spotted Peter walking up the cobbled lane towards the cowshed. Surrounded by romance on all sides, Julia laughed to herself. ‘Oh-o! Here comes another besotted one!’ she chuckled.

  Nora was surprised to see Peter so early in the day. ‘How did you get here?’ she inquired.

  ‘I got a lift in one of the ambulances,’ Peter replied with a smile. ‘I thought I’d help you with Polly this morning.’

  Delighted Nora gave him a kiss. ‘What a treat,’ she said, and went in search of the pigswill bucket.

  It was a perfect May morning: robins, blackbirds and thrushes were singing their hearts out, whilst skylarks rose high into the arching blue sky. And in the shade rolling banks of bluebells blazed against the dark bark of oak trees.

  ‘They’re so blue they make me blink!’ Peter laughed, as he strode along, swinging the pigswill bucket with one hand whilst holding on to Nora’s hand with the other. He stopped as he looked in wonder from the flowers to Nora’s face. ‘You’ve got bluebell eyes!’ he exclaimed.

  Nora couldn’t believe she was capable of such happiness. The sight in Peter’s only eye was strong and clear these days; he now walked without a stick and barely limped, except when he was overtired. Physically he went from strength to strength, which Nora thanked God for every day.

  ‘But now,’ she thought, ‘he’ll soon go away.’

  Determined not to spoil the beauty of the day, Nora pushed her dark thoughts to the back of her head.

  ‘Live for the moment,’ she remembered her late mother’s advice. ‘Make the most of God’s given gifts.’

  Polly met them with grunts of excitement; as soon as Peter lowered the bucket into her run, she buried her head in it, and the contented slurps and burps that Polly made as she gobbled her breakfast made Nora giggle.

  ‘When you hear her you really understand the expression “greedy pig”,’ she laughed.

  Grabbing the spade, Nora was all set to muck out Polly’s sty, but Peter stopped her. Laying a hand on her arm, he led her to an improvised bench made from an old wooden crate.

  ‘Let’s sit down for a minute,’ he said, as he drew her down beside him.

  Nora smiled up at the sun bathing her face in a warm glow. ‘Hah, this is nice,’ she sighed as she closed her eyes.

  When she opened them there was a bunch of bluebells tied with a pretty blue ribbon in her lap.

  ‘How lovely!’ she cried, picking them up and inhaling their woody sweetness. Feeling something attached to the ribbon, she looked at Peter. ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s for you to find out,’ he said with a mysterious smile.

  Nora loosened the ribbon and gasped in surprise. ‘It’s a ring!’ she cried.

  ‘A sapphire,’ he added proudly.

  Speechless, Nora gazed at the beautiful, clear-blue stone surrounded by tiny sparkling diamonds. Completely overcome, she whispered, ‘It’s too good for me, Peter.’

  Seeing her start to cry, Peter took the ring and slipped it on to her wedding finger. ‘My sweetheart, nothing in the world is too good for you,’ he whispered; then, raising her hand to his lips, he said, ‘My Nora, please will you marry me?’

  Nora gazed into Peter’s scarred but beautiful face. She was so full of love she wanted to sing out loud, ‘Yes, yes, yes! Oh, yes, my love, I will marry you!’

  Some hours later, as the newly engaged couple walked back to the cowshed, Nora poured out all her former anxieties. ‘I thought you’d go back to your mam’s in Bradford; I thought I might never see you again,’ she exclaimed, as she flashed her new ring this way and that, so that it could catch the light from the slanting sun.

  Peter stopped in his tracks. ‘You really thought I’d up sticks and leave you, after all you’ve done for me?’ he asked in amazement.

  Nora dumbly nodded her head.

  He pulled her close and kissed her wild, unruly curls. ‘I love you, you’re my girl, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, make a home for you and our children,’ he added softly.

  Nora blushed to the roots of her red hair. ‘Oh, Peter …’ she said on a sob.

  ‘I told you before,’ he said as they continued walking along hand in hand, ‘I’m not short of money: when Dad died before the war, he left me and Mam with a tidy sum. I intend opening up a business here in Pendleton, a little garage and repair shop,’ he said with a determined ring in his voice. ‘I’ll get Mam to move over here so I can keep an eye on her, and we’ll have our own home, my sweetheart, right here in the town where you grew up,’ he announced.

  Giddy with excitement, Nora flung her arms around Peter’s neck and kissed him long and hard. ‘I love you so much,’ she whispered as she gazed into his face. ‘And I promise I’ll love you always.’

  36. All Change

  In the week that followed Maggie’s wedding and Arthur’s departure, things slowly got back to normal, or as normal as possible, given Nora’s surprise engagement and poor Maggie’s emotional outbursts.

  ‘It was so wonderful,’ she said over and over again.

  ‘The wedding or the honeymoon?’ Rosa teased.

  ‘Everything!’ Maggie exclaimed. ‘But, oh, that night at Grange-over-Sands,’ she said with a dreamy, romantic smile. ‘The hotel was gorgeous and the view was unbelievable –’

  Nora, flushed with love, was keen to hear about what happened inside the bedroom rather than outside. ‘Who cares about the sodding view!’ she scoffed. ‘What was it like?’ she asked in a low voice. ‘You know, in bed …’

  Cheeky Maggie gave her friend a saucy wink. ‘Let’s just say it was well worth waiting for; I could have stayed there for weeks,’ she groaned, as she reached for her packet of Woodbines. ‘But before we knew it we were back on the train and heading home.’ She slumped glumly in her chair. ‘Saying goodbye to Les was awful – we were both in tears. It’s just not fair!’ she fumed. ‘I don’t even know when I’ll see my husband again.’

  Luckily Julia had just picked up the first set of wedding prints, which she handed to Maggie.

  ‘These should cheer you up,’ she said with a smile.

  Maggie stared rapturously at the black-and-white photographs that captured her perfect day, exclaiming in delight at the different images.

  ‘Look at Billy waving at his mum and dad, cheeky little monkey,’ she chuckled. ‘And Nora!’ she gasped. ‘I knew you looked bonny when you set off for the church but there you are, walking down the aisle like a princess – no wonder Peter proposed to you the next day!’

  ‘I felt like a princess,’ Nora said wistfully. ‘It was the happiest day of my life.’

  ‘Mine too,’ Rosa murmured dreamily.

  She was disturbed from her romantic reverie by Julia asking Nora a question. ‘Does Peter know when he might be discharged from Wrigg Hall?’

  Nora grinned as she replied with a bit of a swagger. ‘You mean my fiancé?’ she teased.

  ‘Get away with you!’ mocked Julia.

  ‘We haven’t got a definite date,’ Nora continued on a more serious note. ‘But it’ll be soon,’ she said confidently.

  ‘Then will he go back home?’ Julia questioned.

  ‘No!’ Nora exclaimed. ‘He’s staying right here, with me,’ she giggled. ‘He’ll lodge with mi dad, poor bugger. Once Dad gets going, Peter will never hear the end of Accrington Stanley Football Club.’

  ‘Has Peter told his mum the news?’ Rosa inquired.

  ‘We’re going over to Bradford to tell her together,’ Nora replied. ‘We’re hoping she’ll move over this way when we get wed – it’s not that far from Bradford.’

  With a nervous smile Maggie turned the conversation from Nora to Rosa. ‘I still can’t get over you and Roger,’ she cried.

  ‘Believe me, neither can I!’ Rosa replied in all honesty.

  ‘I only heard when I got back from our honeymoon,’ Maggie said, as she shook her head in disbelief. ‘Do you think you’ll e
ver hear from him again?’

  A shadow fell across Rosa’s face. ‘I shouldn’t think so – it’s not as if I treated him well, is it?’

  Seeing guilty tears well in Rosa’s brooding dark eyes, Julia said gaily, ‘Well, it looks like yet again you and I are the only Bomb Girls who aren’t spoken for,’ she joked.

  ‘Somebody will come swinging by one day soon and steal your hearts away,’ Maggie assured her.

  Julia gave a good-natured shrug. ‘Honestly, Mags, I really couldn’t care less. With all the talk of mobilizing troops in Europe, and Bomber Command dominating enemy skies, this blasted war might very soon be over and I intend to take up where I left off and go to Oxford,’ she declared with an excited smile.

  Nora, who hated being more than five minutes from those she loved most, looked tragic. ‘I thought you liked it up here?’ she said in a hurt voice.

  ‘I do like it, darling, but a girl has to get an education if she’s to compete with men when the war’s over,’ Julia said robustly. ‘No, seriously, time at Oxford will help me kickstart my writing career.’

  Poor Nora looked even glummer. ‘How can you even think of writing all day long – just penning a letter gives me a headache,’ she sighed. ‘I bet you’ll never speak to me once you leave here and start mixing with all them posh clever girls down South,’ she concluded on the verge of tears.

  Laughing, Julia threw her arms around Nora. ‘I’d be proud to call you my dear friend wherever I am, in fact,’ she added with a mysterious wink, ‘I might even put you in my novel.’

  Rosa smiled as she listened to Julia gently teasing Nora. Who would ever have imagined that ‘the snobby bitch from down South’, as they used to unkindly call Julia, would turn out to be such a gem of a friend? Rosa knew, even though their relationship had begun so badly, that she would always trust Julia, as she had done in the days after Roger’s sudden departure, when she had turned to Julia for sound advice and reassurance.

  The factory hooter recalled the girls back to their workbenches, all with different preoccupations: Maggie was desperate to finish her love letter to her husband, now back on active service; Nora was thinking about Peter’s discharge date from hospital; Julia had recently had the first stirrings of an idea for a novel about women and their war work, which was beginning to take shape in her mind; whilst Rosa could not stop her thoughts from returning to Arthur and Stevie.