A Christmas Wish for the Shipyard Girls

by Nancy Revell

  Joe nodded.

  ‘And I’ve been thinking with everything that’s been happening how different my life would have been had your ma not taken me in.’ Bel sighed. Tears were glistening in her eyes. Joe leant over and touched her face. She took his hand and held it for a moment before letting it go.

  ‘I knew a little bit about Kate’s life before Lily took her in, but I hadn’t realised just how awful it was.’

  Joe furrowed his brow.

  ‘Oh, Joe, I could cry now just thinking about it.’

  ‘The nuns?’ Joe asked. He’d caught whispers of what went on behind the closed doors of Nazareth House and knew Kate had gone there after her mam died.

  Bel nodded.

  ‘They made her life a living hell,’ Bel said. ‘They beat her, abused her, treated her like a dog. Worse.’

  ‘Is that why she ended up on the streets?’

  ‘Yes, can you imagine that? Feeling safer on the streets than in what’s meant to be your home.’

  Joe was listening, rapt.

  ‘And I kept thinking about when I was young, how I could easily have ended up being taken away by the welfare and dumped somewhere like that – would have, if it wasn’t for Agnes.’

  Joe nodded. He remembered a number of times when his ma had given some cock-and-bull story to some officious-looking person who’d come knocking on their door.

  ‘That was the only time I saw my mam lie outright,’ Joe said with a sad laugh.

  ‘When Teddy died, I accepted that it would just be me and Lucille – and then you came back and threw my world into even greater chaos.’

  Joe smiled.

  ‘But more than anything, falling in love with you also reignited my dream of having more children – of having a family. A big family. You know all I’ve ever really wanted is to be a mum.’

  ‘I know,’ Joe said, leaning over and kissing her softly on the lips. ‘I remember saying to you we could have a whole football team if that’s what you wanted.’

  ‘And I remember saying you might rue the words.’ Bel let out a soft, sad laugh.

  They were quiet for a moment.

  ‘You know, your ma always wanted more children,’ Bel said, ‘would have had more if your da had made it back from the war.’

  Joe looked surprised. ‘Really?’

  ‘She only told me the other day. She said when I came along it was like she’d got her wish.’

  ‘That’s nice. Ma’s not one for sentimentality,’ Joe said.

  Bel laughed.

  ‘You know,’ she said, becoming serious again, ‘I think I knew as soon as I didn’t fall straight away that something was up. Everyone kept saying, “Oh, it’ll happen. Don’t worry.” But something inside of me just knew. Knew that for some reason I wasn’t going to be getting that football team I wanted. I tried to tell myself to be happy with you and Lucille – which I am. You know I love you both to pieces?’

  Joe took her hand and squeezed it.

  ‘I know you do – as does Lucille.’

  Bel gave a sad smile.

  ‘And I know I should be so grateful for what I’ve got,’ she continued. ‘I’m so lucky in so many ways … But I still can’t stop myself wanting to be a mum again. And feeling desperately sad that I can’t be a mother to more children. Not just Lucille.’

  Joe looked at Bel. ‘But if it’s not happening, we can’t make it …’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Bel said, sitting up straight. The butterflies had started up again. She fixed her gaze on Joe. ‘I know I can’t make nature do something she clearly doesn’t want to do – but there is another option.’

  Joe looked puzzled.

  ‘I could still be a mother,’ Bel said. ‘In a way – like Agnes. She didn’t give birth to me, but she was a mother to me.’

  Comprehension started to show on Joe’s face.

  He eyed Bel. ‘I think I might know what you want to ask me.’

  ‘Do you?’ Bel looked questioningly.

  Joe nodded.

  ‘And what is it you think I want to ask you?’ She had her fingers crossed behind her back.

  ‘You’re thinking that there are so many children out there who need a mother – and a father – and you think we would be able to give them a good home. A loving home. I think yer thinking that you want to do the same for a child like Agnes did for you.’ He paused. ‘I think you’re going to ask me if I’d be up for adopting.’

  He looked at Bel. ‘Would I be right?’

  Bel took a deep breath and nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you would. So,’ she looked at Joe, ‘if I asked you – what would your answer be?’

  Joe kept his face deadpan. ‘If you come over here,’ he put his arm out, ‘I’ll tell you.’

  Bel moved over and cuddled up.

  Joe kissed her head and neck before whispering in her ear: ‘I’d love to. I think it’s a wonderful idea.’

  Bel pulled away in excitement and sat up. ‘You would? You really would? No hesitation? Honestly?’

  ‘Honestly,’ Joe said. ‘Without hesitation … I actually can’t believe we haven’t thought about it before now.’

  ‘Oh Joe, neither can I!’ She kissed him and kissed him again. ‘I’ve been thinking that myself. It’s like the answer’s been there right in front of me and I couldn’t see it.’ Bel snuggled back into Joe’s arms.

  ‘Well, now we’ve had the blinkers removed,’ Joe said, ‘I think we shouldn’t waste any more time.’

  ‘Really?’ Bel said.

  ‘Really,’ Joe repeated.

  ‘You busy tomorrow?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ Bel said, a wide smile spreading across her face. ‘I’m free the whole day. How about you?’

  ‘Free the whole day … Fancy a trip down to the Town Moor?’

  Bel squeezed his arm. It was where the town’s main orphanage had been built in the middle of the last century.

  ‘Oh, Joe, I’m so excited! You really want to go there tomorrow? You don’t want time to think about it?’

  ‘I don’t … Do you?’

  ‘Definitely not,’ Bel said, snuggling up.

  They were quiet for a moment.

  ‘Oh, Joe, I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep.’

  Joe chuckled.

  ‘Me neither,’ he said, bending so that he could see Bel’s face. ‘Of course, there’s absolutely no reason why we shouldn’t still keep on trying naturally as well, is there?’

  ‘Oh, no, of course not,’ Bel said, glancing up at Joe and giving him a very serious look.

  Joe laughed and pulled her close.

  Bel kissed him.

  ‘Joe Elliot, I love you so much.’

  ‘And you, Mrs Elliot – you have no idea just how much I love you.’

  ‘Oh, I do,’ Bel said, kissing her husband on the lips, then on his neck. ‘I do.’

  Epilogue

  Sunderland Boys Orphanage, Town Moor, Sunderland

  Boxing Day

  ‘I hope you don’t mind us coming today. We weren’t sure …’ Bel’s voice was full of uncertainty, although what she and Joe had come here to do today, they could not be more certain of.

  ‘No, no, please, come in, we are always open.’ The head of the orphanage ushered them in from the cold and closed the door.

  ‘Did you know today is St Stephen’s Day?’ the old woman asked. ‘Some call it the Feast of St Stephen.’

  Bel and Joe shook their heads.

  ‘St Stephen was the first Christian martyr. So, this is in fact a saint’s day, the second day of Christmas,’ she said, swishing past them. ‘Follow me. We’ll go to my office. It’s nice and warm there and we can talk in private.’

  Bel and Joe followed the matron, who walked surprisingly quickly for her age and her size, down the long hallway and into a large office that could only be described as chaotic. There were books everywhere, files and documents spread out across her mahogany desk, and, as promised, a roaring fire.

  She bustled over and gave
it a hearty prod.

  ‘Please, sit down, make yourselves comfortable.’ She gestured towards two leather armchairs in front of her desk.

  Joe waited for Bel to unbutton her coat and sit down before he eased himself into the chair with the aid of his stick.

  ‘It’s Mr and Mrs Elliot, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is.’ Joe pushed himself back up and offered his hand to the matron, who returned a firm handshake.

  Seeing the couple’s surprise that she knew who they were, she explained.

  ‘I know your mother, Joseph.’

  Bel looked at her husband. She didn’t think she had ever heard anyone call him by his proper Christian name.

  The matron turned her attention to Bel and took her hand in her own.

  ‘And you, my dear, are Isabelle Elliot. Formerly Isabelle Hardwick.’

  For the first time Bel didn’t recoil at being called Isabelle. Nor did she feel ashamed of being a Hardwick.

  ‘I know of both families quite well,’ she said, clasping her hands together and placing them on top of her desk. ‘When you barely venture outside the east end and you get to be my age, there’s not many families you don’t know.’

  Bel was glad to see there was no judgement in her words or tone.

  ‘I would say how can I help you? But I think I can guess.’

  Bel smiled. Joe took hold of her hand and squeezed it.

  The old woman pulled out a file from under a mound of papers on her desk and opened it. She took out an official-looking form and handed it to Joe. Then she yanked at her top drawer, retrieved two pens and handed them to the couple she had no doubt would make wonderful parents.

  She should know. She had seen them grow up. Knew that Isabelle had not had the easiest of upbringings and had been widowed and married within a year. She’d heard the gossip doing the rounds at the time.

  ‘Cup of tea?’ she asked, getting up and going over to a pot by the fire.

  ‘No thank you,’ Bel said. Joe shook his head. He handed the form to his wife to fill in. She was, after all, a secretary with a certificate in shorthand and typing to her name.

  By the time the matron had finished her tea, and some leftover Christmas cake, Bel and Joe were signing the bottom of the form and handing it back to her.

  ‘So, what happens now?’ Bel asked.

  As though in answer to her question they heard an ear-splitting cry. It was shortly followed by another cry, equally ear-splitting.

  Bel started to get up out of her chair. It was her instinctive reaction on hearing a baby cry.

  ‘Would you like to see our two new admissions?’ the matron said. ‘Although you might need some earplugs. They’ve been crying their little hearts out since they were brought to us.’

  Bel and Joe followed the old woman out of the office.

  ‘They came to us in the early hours,’ she informed them, shuffling down the corridor, ‘and they’ve already sent a couple of the nurses doolally.’

  Walking into the nursery, Bel spotted two nurses both trying desperately to shush and calm their tiny charges.

  ‘Do you mind?’ Bel asked as she reached the first nurse.

  ‘Not at all,’ the young girl said, the relief on her face showing that she meant every word.

  The matron and Joe watched as Bel swayed the crying newborn in her arms, whispering love into the little girl’s ear. After a few minutes the crying started to splutter to a stop, and as one baby stopped sobbing so did the other.

  The nurse with the second baby looked at Joe and held the baby out. Joe hobbled forward and took the baby in his arms, breathing a sigh of relief that it did not start crying again.

  Now that she could hear herself speak, the matron told the nurses to go and get themselves a cup of tea.

  ‘The mother died in childbirth,’ she told Bel and Joe. ‘She might have survived if she’d managed to get herself to hospital, but it was too late,’ she said sadly.

  ‘And the father?’ Joe asked.

  ‘Like your brother, Edward –’ again the matron threw Bel by using Teddy’s full name ‘– he died out in North Africa. Although not on land, but at sea. Which is why they’ve been brought here.’

  Bel looked at the baby Joe was holding. A boy.

  ‘So, they’re twins?’ Bel asked.

  ‘They are indeed,’ the matron said. ‘But unfortunately, as one is a girl, we’re going to have to split them up.’

  Bel and Joe knew that the orphanage had been built for the sons of lost seamen, with the aim of training the boys they took in to become seamen themselves.

  ‘No room at the inn for the little girl, I’m afraid,’ the old woman said. ‘Her gender dictates.’

  ‘Well, there’s room enough in our house for them both, isn’t there?’ Bel glanced up at Joe, who nodded and smiled his agreement.

  The matron eyed the young couple. For once it would seem He’d listened to her and she’d been granted her Christmas wish.

  Bel looked at Joe; her eyes were bright and brimming with tears.

  ‘Looks like Agnes was right after all,’ she said.

  Dear Reader,

  Like most of us, I’ve made many, many wishes during my lifetime – some of those have been granted, others haven’t. There were a few of those wishes which felt so important to me that I wondered how I’d get through life if they didn’t become a reality. I was pretty sure I would wither up and die. But I didn’t. What I discovered after a while was that I mightn’t have got what I’d wished for – but I’d instead been gifted the unexpected, which, as time went on I realised was just as exciting – and definitely worth living for. I hope, dear reader, that you do get what you wish for in life, but if not, then I hope you don’t feel that it’s the end of the world, but rather the beginning of something different. Something which will make you equally as happy, if not more.

  For now, though, I wish you all good health and lots of happiness, and, of course, a wonderful Christmas!

  With Love,

  HISTORICAL NOTES

  Here’s a real-life photograph of Mary, Princess Royal and Countess of Harewood, controller commandant of the ATS (Auxiliary Territorial Service), at the launch of Greenwich, which is featured in this latest instalment of The Shipyard Girls series. It was printed in the Newcastle Journal in July 1943.

  The caption reads: ‘The Princess Royal arriving at the north-east shipyard yesterday to launch the merchant vessel Greenwich, the first tramp steamer to be christened by a member of the Royal family.’

  © Trinity Mirror. Newcastle Journal, 03 July 1943.

  READ ON FOR AN EXCLUSIVE EXTRACT FROM MY NEW NOVEL

  The Shipyard Girls on the Home Front

  COMING FEBRUARY 2021 PRE-ORDER YOUR COPY NOW

  Christmas Day, 1943

  The Tatham Arms, Tatham Street, Sunderland, County Durham

  The initial rush of euphoria and instantaneous joy Gloria felt upon seeing Jack and being reunited with the man she loved – the man she had loved from the innocent age of sixteen – was quickly pushed aside by fear and panic.

  Gloria blinked to clear her vision, which had become blurred by the sudden onset of tears at watching Jack be reunited with his daughter. Hope’s shrieks of joy and excitement were filling the air, breaking the silence of this unforgettable Christmas night.

  ‘What are yer doing here, Jack?’ Gloria asked, furtively looking up and down the street. The rapture in her face was gone; anxiety was now at the fore. ‘Yer shouldn’t be here. What if someone sees you?’ Images of her workmates – Dorothy, Angie and Martha – flashed in front of her eyes. Their families’ secrets unveiled. Dorothy’s mum’s bigamy, Angie’s mam’s infidelity, and Martha’s birth mother a child murderer. Their lives – and the lives of those around them – ruined in one fell swoop.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Jack was quick to reassure her as he lowered a giggling Hope back down, ‘it’s all right. Everything’s been sorted.’

  Gloria looked around. Thank God there was no one a
bout. She looked across at The Burton House pub on the other side of the road, suddenly terrified that someone might come out and clock them. Clock Jack. With Hope in his arms. Outside her flat. Then shoot across to the other side of the Wear and sell them out to Miriam.

  ‘Let’s get inside!’ She hurried to the top of the steps to her flat and had a quick scan of the street, feeling another wave of relief that there was still no one about, before clomping down to her front door. Jamming the key into the lock, she looked over her shoulder to check that Jack and Hope were right behind her.

  Pushing open the door, she flicked on the light and ushered Jack inside. He ducked slightly, at the same time kissing the top of his daughter’s head.

  As soon as they were over the threshold, Gloria pushed the door closed and dropped the latch. Only then did she allow herself a sigh of relief. They were safe. Away from prying eyes.

  ‘What on earth possessed yer to come back?’ Gloria said, taking off her coat and automatically going over to the electric gas fire and switching it on. She turned to see Jack gently putting Hope down; he was smiling as he ruffled her mop of raven hair.

  ‘Jack, this is taking a bit of a chance,’ Gloria said, walking towards the man she still couldn’t quite believe was here.

  He put his hand out and pulled her close, kissing her gently at first and then with more passion.

  ‘It’s safe,’ he said, pulling away briefly. ‘I wouldn’t have taken the risk otherwise. Trust me.’ He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again, savouring the feel of her lips on his own. Her mouth tasted of sweet berries. Port. Her favourite tipple.

  Gloria gave up trying to question him, believing him, knowing he would never put others in danger to satiate his own selfish needs. She kissed him back, the feel of his lips reassuring her that this was real. That he really was here.