A Christmas Wish for the Shipyard Girls

by Nancy Revell

  The humiliation when the gossipmongers got wind.

  The hurt he would bring with him.

  Miriam stepped out of the car and walked up the steps to the Grand.

  She needed a drink.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  After the Salvation Army had moved on, everyone piled back into the warmth of the pub.

  Bel, her mind whirring with so many thoughts and feelings, found a seat in a relatively quiet corner and told Joe all that had happened.

  Joe, of course, was just relieved that Bel was all right. Knowing her intentions, he’d been worried sick from the moment she’d left Vera’s. They had talked about it beforehand. Bel had told him that she believed her failure to fall pregnant was perpetuating her need for vengeance, but she’d realised that even if she satiated her need for retribution, she’d still be left with a feeling of emptiness. Hatred and vehemence had blinded her – and once they had been pushed aside, she had been able to see more clearly. More rationally.

  And with that new perspective, she had decided to use what she had to do good.

  Joe wondered how long it would take Jack to get back home once he got wind of what had happened and realised he was now a free man.

  All the women knew something was up, though not what, when Bel had snuck off as the King’s speech was starting. Joe had said she needed to sort out a family matter. They knew not to probe further. When they’d seen Helen, Bel and Pearl arrive at the pub together, they knew whatever it was, it must have been serious – but also that whatever had happened had gone in their favour as they all looked happy.

  Tired but happy.

  Pearl told Bill what had occurred over a large whisky, all the while puffing away on a cigarette.

  The more he heard, the more he realised that Pearl had always known how dangerous Charles Havelock was, that she had been right in worrying about the safety of her daughter should he ever find out about her, or should Bel ever tell him that she was his illegitimate child. A child who had proved the man he really was.

  Pearl had been the unexpected heroine of the hour, not that she would ever admit it. But she had been. She had found out the truth about Henrietta and in doing so had saved her Isabelle, as well as those her daughter loved and cared for.

  Pearl was Mr Havelock’s ghost of Christmas past – and she’d brought Henrietta with her.

  Bill wondered what would happen to Henrietta. And whether Pearl would keep on seeing her. She might have to if she wanted to keep the upper hand. That, however, was a subject for another day.

  Tonight, he only wanted to know the answer to one question.

  One very important question.

  Helen sat with Hope on her lap and chatted to Gloria, but not about what had taken place at her grandfather’s. Instead, they talked about Jack, and, of course, about Bobby and Gordon, who had sent their mam a Christmas card. The King’s speech, Gloria said, had made her feel hopeful that she might see them soon, although she had laughed a little bitterly when she’d added that her sons would probably see their baby sister before Jack did.

  What a Christmas Day.

  Helen would never have thought she could muster a positive thought about Bel’s ma, but she had done something tonight that had shocked them all.

  She was glad it was now all out in the open – glad that she had seen for herself the real Charles Havelock, even if it had not been a pretty sight.

  It hadn’t surprised her to hear that there had clearly been other victims like Pearl, although her heart bled for the poor girl called Gracie – and for Gracie’s parents, still suffering.

  She’d been totally bowled over by the revelation that Bel’s sister Maisie was a call girl – and the eccentric Lily a madam. But then again, now that she knew, it seemed almost obvious. It was what she had learnt about her grandmother that had truly shocked her.

  Her grandmother was alive. The poor woman had been locked up in an asylum most of her life. How could anyone do that to another person? To someone you had married, who had borne your children? She wouldn’t say someone you loved, because she doubted her grandfather was capable of loving anyone but himself.

  When Helen went to the bar, she saw it was the same barmaid who had served her last New Year’s Eve, which automatically made her think of John. God, how she had wanted to kiss him that night when she’d gone outside to wave him off. She reprimanded herself. She really had to accept that she couldn’t have him.

  Turning around, she got a shock to see Rosie, Polly, Dorothy, Angie, Martha and Hannah standing there.

  ‘We haven’t had a chance to wish yer Merry Christmas,’ Angie said, looking at Helen and smiling. She and Dorothy had decided to ‘let bygones be bygones’, urged on by the rest of the women.

  ‘A toast!’ Dorothy declared.

  They all raised their drinks.

  ‘Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!’ they all chorused.

  Helen joined in the salutations. She knew she had been forgiven and the frostiness towards her had thawed. They all chinked glasses.

  She mightn’t have John, but she had her friends.

  That was one Christmas wish that had been granted.

  Chapter Sixty

  Helen looked at her watch. It had gone nine.

  ‘I reckon this little girl’s ready for her bed,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, yer right,’ Gloria said. ‘I’ve been putting it off.’

  ‘Because you’re having to go back to a cold, empty flat?’ Helen guessed. ‘On Christmas night?’

  Gloria laughed. ‘Don’t rub it in!’ She stood up and put on her coat. ‘I don’t know – I must be getting soft in my old age.’

  ‘Come on then,’ Helen coaxed, gently lifting Hope, who stirred from her slumber and wrapped her legs around her big sister. The three squeezed themselves through the throng.

  When they reached the hallway, Helen handed Hope over.

  ‘You don’t fancy coming back for a while?’ Gloria asked.

  ‘No, I think I’ll stay for a bit longer,’ she said. She could see Gloria was disappointed.

  ‘Yer could have a hot chocolate ’n tell me what really happened today? Yer won’t have to worry about anyone eavesdropping.’

  Helen laughed. ‘I’ll come round and tell you everything tomorrow, OK?’

  Gloria stepped out into the snow. Tatham Street was quiet, but the snow meant there was no need for her little electric torch.

  ‘See you tomorrow, then.’ Gloria smiled and started the short walk back to her flat.

  ‘Bye!’ Helen said, before hurrying straight back into the pub. Squashing her way through the increasingly raucous revellers, she grabbed her coat, handbag and gas mask and retraced her route back to the lounge door, down the hallway and out the front.

  She could just about make out Gloria, carrying Hope on her hip, traipsing her way down Tatham Street.

  She followed them both, again wishing she had worn more sensible footwear. As soon as they had turned left into Borough Road, Helen quickened her pace. She reached the corner just in time to see them crossing the road.

  As soon as they reached the other side, Helen took a sharp intake of breath as she spotted the dark outline of a man. He was wearing a coat as well as a trilby and was carrying a duffel bag over his shoulder. He appeared to be looking for someone.

  Turning around, he spotted Gloria and Hope.

  Helen watched as Gloria slowed down and came to a dead stop.

  Only then did Helen hear her father’s voice as he called out to the woman he loved – and the daughter he had not set eyes on for almost two years.

  ‘Gloria!’

  His voice sounded out loud and clear.

  He dumped his bag in the snow and strode towards mother and child.

  ‘Hope!’

  Helen could hear the joy in her father’s voice.

  As he reached them, he folded them both in an embrace.

  Helen stayed exactly where she was, her eyes glued to the family reunion.

&
nbsp; ‘Jack! Oh, Jack!’

  She heard Gloria’s shocked, muffled voice.

  ‘I can’t believe it! Yer here! Yer here!’

  Jack stepped back and took Hope from her. He kissed her on the head and then held her high in the air.

  ‘My beautiful little girl!’

  Helen remembered how he used to do the same to her when she was small.

  And as he held Hope high and spun her round in the air, Helen heard her tired but excited little voice cry out.

  ‘Daddy! Daddy!’

  With tears trickling down her face, Helen laughed and cried all the way back to her car.

  Jumping into the driver’s seat, she turned on the ignition and rubbed her hands together to get warm. Putting the car into first gear, she slowly pulled away. The snow had stopped, so her visibility was good. She slowly went through the gears and after making her way out of town, she was soon driving along the coastal road.

  The twenty-minute drive seemed to pass in a blur of thoughts and emotions.

  Arriving at her destination, she pushed open the car door and stepped out onto snow-covered gravel. Hurrying up the front steps, she pulled open the heavy front doors and walked across the tiled foyer to the main reception desk.

  She was glad to see someone was there, in spite of it being Christmas Day.

  Genevieve looked up from her book.

  ‘Can I help you, dear?’ She vaguely recognised the dark-haired young woman but couldn’t quite place her.

  ‘Yes,’ Helen smiled. ‘I’ve come to see someone I haven’t seen in quite a while.’

  ‘Well, it must be someone very special for you to come out here on a Christmas night,’ the elderly receptionist chuckled.

  ‘It is,’ Helen said. ‘She’s been here a long time. A very long time. Her name’s Henrietta.’

  ‘Ah, Miss Girling,’ the old woman said, pushing herself out of her seat. ‘Come with me, dear, I’ll take you to her. This place can be like a maze.’

  Chapter Sixty-One

  When Bel, Joe, Agnes and a very sleepy Lucille got back to the house, they looked in on Polly and Artie. They were both fast asleep. Polly in her bed, still holding Tommy’s letter; Artie curled up in his cot like a little dormouse in a nest of blankets, his thumb pressed up against his little button mouth.

  Walking back into the kitchen, Agnes poured herself a cup of tea that Bel had made and then declared she was ‘bushed’ and was off to bed.

  Before she left, she gave Bel a look that demanded honesty. ‘Are yer all right?’ She knew something had happened today but not what.

  ‘I am … I really am,’ Bel reassured.

  ‘Good,’ Agnes said, turning and making her way up the stairs to her room. Whatever had happened, it would seem that it had brought Bel some peace of mind.

  Hearing the bedroom door shut, Joe took his wife’s face in his hands and kissed her.

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ he said. ‘You know how much I love you, don’t you?’

  Bel nodded. ‘And I you,’ she said, kissing him back.

  Joe hobbled over to the cabinet and poured himself a small whisky. ‘Here’s to you, Arthur, wherever you may be.’ It was now exactly a year since the old man had left them all to go and join his Flo.

  Bel allowed Joe to put a little tipple in her tea and they chatted until it was half ten.

  ‘You go up,’ Bel said, getting up and giving Joe a kiss. ‘I’m going to nip across and see Ma. I won’t be long.’

  Joe gave her a questioning look.

  ‘I just want to check up on her. Make sure she’s not over-done it with the whisky.’

  ‘She didn’t look too bad when we left,’ Joe said, ‘so fingers crossed.’ They both knew, though, that Pearl had a habit of hitting it hard just before last orders, and that Ronald was always there, propping up the bar, telling Pearl there was a bottle back at his with her name on it.

  ‘Don’t fall asleep, though,’ Bel said. ‘I want to ask you something when I get back.’

  Joe gave her another puzzled look.

  Bel pulled her coat back on and slipped out the front door. Stepping out into the street, she breathed in the ice-cold air and stood for a moment. It was so still and quiet. The calm after the storm.

  She looked up into the clear night sky. As she sought out the stars and the crescent-shaped moon, she felt finally at rest. All the anger and resentment that had been part of her for so long had left her – at last. Love and understanding had taken their place.

  Taking another deep breath, she walked across the road to the Tatham. She just hoped her ma wasn’t too far gone. But if she was, she’d bring her home and put her to bed. It was the least she could do for her after today.

  She opened the main door and stepped into the passageway.

  She’d never been here when it was so quiet. She wondered briefly if Bill had forgotten to lock up. She found herself tiptoeing towards the lounge door; for some reason it felt as though she shouldn’t be there.

  Tentatively, she opened the door and popped her head through the gap. What she saw shocked her and brought a smile to her face at the same time.

  Quietly pulling the door to, she tiptoed back down the hallway and out of the front door. Still smiling, she walked back over the road and into the warmth of the house.

  Now it was her time to ask the person she loved an important question.

  She felt a ripple of nerves.

  She hoped desperately that, like Bill, the answer she’d get might be yes.

  ‘Get yerself away, Geraldine. We’ll finish off here.’ Bill smiled at his barmaid. They’d all worked their socks off tonight; the festive spirit, though, had made people generous and Geraldine had probably equalled her wages in tips.

  ‘Thanks, Bill,’ she said, grabbing her coat. She automatically switched off the main light, leaving just the lights behind the bar on.

  ‘See you tomorrow!’ she shouted out, ignoring Pearl.

  ‘Yer too soft with that girl,’ Pearl grumbled. Her comments, though, were only for show. She was glad Bill had sent the girl packing. She just wanted to sit and have a drink in peace and quiet. No more verbal sparring.

  ‘Here you are,’ Bill said, reading her mind. He put his best bottle of Scotch on the bar and poured a measure in his two best whisky glasses, which he kept for personal use. Coming round the other side of the bar, he sat down on the stool next to Pearl and raised his glass.

  ‘Merry Christmas.’

  ‘Aye, I’ll second that,’ Pearl said, chinking his glass and taking a mouthful of whisky. This was only her second drink of the night. She was going to enjoy every drop.

  ‘So,’ Bill said, ‘quite a day, eh?’

  ‘Yer can say that again.’

  Bill looked at Pearl.

  ‘You went to war with the great Mr Havelock and won – that’s some feat,’ he said, taking a sip of his drink.

  Pearl gave a throaty laugh. ‘Yer helped me get there,’ she said. ‘Henrietta was my ace.’ She looked at Bill. ‘All those trips to Ryhope paid off. Teamwork, eh?’

  ‘Definitely,’ Bill said. ‘Teamwork.’

  They were both quiet for a moment. Enjoying the stillness.

  ‘Of course, you do know I’m not letting you go tonight until you give me an answer,’ Bill said, his eyes not once leaving her.

  Pearl gave him a questioning look.

  ‘Answer?’

  Bill smiled.

  ‘Yes, an answer to the question I asked you earlier on, before you ran off to divide and conquer.’

  Pearl suppressed a smile.

  ‘Yer knar what my memory’s like, Bill. I think yer gonna have to remind me.’

  A huge smile spread across Bill’s face as he clambered off his stool and eased himself down onto one knee.

  He pulled out the gold band from his waistcoat pocket and held it between finger and thumb.

  ‘Pearl Hardwick, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

  Pearl slid off the stool.
r />   ‘Aye, William David Lawson, I will do yer the honour of becoming yer wife.’

  As Bill got back to his feet, they both felt a slight breeze and looked towards the door. Geraldine mustn’t have shut it properly.

  ‘Come here,’ Bill said, putting his arms around his future wife and stooping to kiss her.

  ‘There’s just one condition, though,’ Pearl said, poker-faced.

  ‘And what would that be?’ Bill asked.

  ‘I want a new ring. It’s bad luck to have yer ex’s.’

  Bill barked with laughter.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  When Bel came into the bedroom, Joe pushed himself up so that he was sitting up straight.

  ‘I’ve been lying here, racking my brains as to what you might want to ask me,’ he said as Bel got changed for bed, ‘but I can’t think what it might be.’

  Bel wrapped a shawl around her thick cotton nightie and sat on the edge of the bed.

  ‘And by the look on your face, it’s something serious,’ he said, a nervous smile playing on his lips.

  Bel took a deep breath.

  ‘Well, I guess it is serious … And I totally understand if you don’t want to.’

  ‘Now you’ve got me worried.’ Joe’s face showed the verity of his words.

  Bel moved around so that she was facing her husband.

  ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ she reassured. ‘It’s nothing awful, but I do need you to be honest – and not just say yes to please me.’ She paused, feeling the return of butterflies in her stomach. ‘And I won’t be disappointed if you say you need time to think about it.’

  ‘Now I really am worried,’ Joe said, his eyes fixed on his wife.

  ‘The thing is, as you well know …’ Bel smiled sadly ‘… I’ve been thinking a lot about getting pregnant – or rather, about not getting pregnant. And perhaps because I’ve been thinking about babies and families, and because of everything that’s been going on, I’ve been thinking about my own childhood, how Agnes took me in, basically brought me up, became a mother to me – did what my own ma was never able to do.’