Victory for the Shipyard Girls

by Nancy Revell

  ‘I think there’s something funny about that bloke Helen’s seeing,’ Gloria said, grabbing her gas mask and haversack. ‘I saw him taking Helen into the Burton opposite mine, and now, by the sounds of it, she’s been drinking in the Wheatsheaf. That’s not normal behaviour for a courting couple. Not of Helen’s standing, anyway.’

  Rosie had to laugh. ‘Honestly, Gloria, if I didn’t know you better I’d say you were a class-one snob!’

  ‘Yer know what I mean,’ Gloria argued. ‘People like Helen just don’t go to pubs like that. They go to the Grand or the Palatine …’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Rosie agreed, ‘but the places she’s going to are not really “dives”, are they, just normal, common or garden pubs.’

  ‘I know, but still, the Wheatsheaf? It’s hardly the most romantic of places to take a date, is it?’

  Rosie had to agree. When she and Peter were courting they had tended to go to tea rooms and the Victoria Arms just off the Villette Road, which was more of a family pub.

  ‘Perhaps Helen and this fella of hers want to see how the other half live?’ Rosie said as they both circumvented a huge mound of chains that had been dumped next to one of the yard’s cranes.

  ‘She’s not replied to any of Jack’s letters, you know,’ Gloria said.

  Now that did surprise Rosie, much more than Helen having a predilection for drinking in slightly down-at-heel pubs.

  ‘She’s just hurt.’ Rosie tried to help assuage her friend’s unspoken guilt. ‘She’ll come round, you’ll see.’

  ‘Mm, I’m not so sure. This goes deep with Helen.’

  As they caught sight of their squad chatting away to Hannah and Olly outside the canteen, they both fell silent.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘Polly, do you think Bel would mind looking after Hope for an extra half-hour or so? It’s just that I’ve got some stuff to sort out with Gloria about the flat,’ Rosie asked as they made their way off the ferry and up the short embankment from the south docks.

  ‘Of course she won’t. Hope’s part of the family now.’ Polly chuckled. ‘And Bel does adore her. I think she needs to have another little ’un herself soon, or one day she might not hand Hope back.’

  ‘Tell her thanks, Pol. We won’t be long.’ Gloria knew Polly was joking, but she did sometimes worry that Hope might begin to think that Bel was her mam; after all she did spend more time with her, certainly more waking hours. And if her daughter didn’t see Jack soon, she might even start to see Joe as her dad.

  ‘Have we really got stuff to sort out about the flat?’ Gloria asked Rosie as Polly hurried on ahead. Within seconds she had disappeared from sight, having jogged past a particularly loquacious group of shipwrights heading into one of many pubs that made up this part of the east end.

  ‘No,’ Rosie said, grabbing her friend’s arm and tugging her against the tide of workers as they turned left along High Street East. ‘Remember Peter and I used to always go for tea and cake at the little café just up the road here?’

  ‘Vera’s? The one run by that grumpy old woman?’

  Rosie laughed. Vera was known as much for her un-friendly demeanour as her mouth-watering sandwiches and cakes.

  ‘That’s the one,’ she said as they both checked for trams before crossing the road. ‘Well, that’s where we’re going. I’ve got an idea.’

  When they reached the café, the blackout blinds were down, but as soon as they opened the glass-panelled door they were hit by warmth and the unbeatable smell of fresh baking.

  Hearing the bell sound out above the door, Vera automatically looked up from behind the counter where she was pouring steaming-hot water into a ceramic teapot. She immediately flicked up the tap and left a long line of customers waiting in a queue that ran the length of the display counter.

  ‘Rosie!’ She bustled over, her large girth squeezing its way round her seated customers. As always the café was packed. In place of a hug, Vera took both of Rosie’s forearms and gave them a squeeze. She stepped back and inspected Rosie from top to bottom. ‘Yer still too skinny for my liking!’ Then she turned her attention to Gloria. Like Rosie, she was dressed in scruffy denim overalls and still had her hair tied up in a turban.

  ‘Workmate?’ she surmised.

  ‘How did you guess?’ Rosie chuckled. ‘Vera, this is Gloria. Gloria, Vera.’

  The women nodded at each other but neither offered up a smile.

  ‘Go to your table and I’ll bring yer tea o’er.’ She pointed to the corner of the café where there was a small round table with just two chairs. When they got there they both saw the piece of folded card with Reserved written on it.

  ‘Did she know you were coming?’ Gloria asked.

  Rosie looked across at Vera, who was sorting out their tea tray. ‘Well, I try to come every Wednesday.’

  ‘Like you and Peter used to?’

  Rosie nodded. ‘He made me promise to keep coming.’

  When Vera banged the tin tray down on the table and plonked two cups of tea and two huge slices of pound cake, Gloria realised why Peter had made the request. Not only did Vera clearly care for Rosie an awful lot, but she was also making sure she wasn’t going to waste away. It wasn’t the first time Gloria had thought Peter a rather clever – and very caring – man.

  ‘Vera.’ Rosie grabbed her arm gently. ‘When you get a spare moment, would you mind coming over for a quick chat, please?’

  Vera gave a curt nod and left.

  ‘So …’ Gloria took a sip of her tea. ‘Spill the beans. What’s this all about?’

  ‘Well, you know we had decided I would see if Kate could have a word with Mrs Milburn to take Hannah’s aunty on?’

  Gloria nodded.

  ‘Well, it took a while for Kate to speak to her as she’s been visiting relatives over in Rochdale, so she only managed to see her the other day, and unfortunately it would seem that Mrs Milburn brought back a cousin who is going to replace the Italian baker she thought was French.’

  ‘Bugger! Bloody nepotism!’

  ‘I know, bloody families, eh!’ Rosie chuckled. ‘Anyway, I got to thinking, and I know it might be a strange mix, but I wondered if Vera could take her on. I know she mightn’t be everyone’s ideal choice of employer, but underneath her brusque exterior is actually quite a nice woman.’

  Gloria looked across at Vera.

  ‘She could certainly do with some help by the looks of it,’ she agreed. ‘It has to be said, though – Hannah’s aunty couldn’t be more different to Vera. They look about the same age, but I’d say that’s where any similarity stops.’

  ‘I know,’ Rosie said, ‘that was my initial concern. But I thought it might be worth a try. Vera’s been a stubborn old mule and despite some heavy hints, she just dismisses the idea with a wave of her hand.’

  ‘Why do I feel that my ears should be burning?’ It was Vera, pulling up one of the few free chairs. She had managed to get through her queue, although this was partly because a good few customers had given up and left.

  Vera looked down at Gloria’s cake, which hadn’t been touched. ‘Dinnit yer like it?’ As she spoke, Rosie quickly forked her own untouched piece of cake and put it in her mouth.

  ‘Far from it!’ Gloria looked longingly at her plate. ‘It’s just that I owe someone a real favour ’n I thought I’d give it to her, if yer don’t mind, that is?’

  ‘Nah, course not. This one here’s always doing it.’ She looked at Rosie, who had managed to demolish half of her cake and was washing it down with a big glug of tea.

  ‘So, haddaway,’ Vera said. ‘What did ya want? Can’t sit around here all day. Work to do.’

  ‘Well, that’s exactly what we wanted to chat to you about,’ Rosie said, swallowing hard and wiping her mouth quickly with her napkin. ‘We’ve got someone who we think would be perfect for this place.’

  ‘What? Working here?’ Vera asked, folding her arms across her large chest.

  Gloria noted Vera’s immediate defen
sive reaction and didn’t hold out much hope that Rosie’s idea would come to fruition.

  Rosie leant forward, abandoning the rest of her cake. ‘This woman is not just some waitress who will clear up teacups and serve, although she would be able to do that as well – she’s a brilliant baker. She can really help out in the kitchen. What she can do within the limitations of rationing is second to none.’

  Rosie looked at Vera, who still looked very sceptical.

  ‘You, of course, are still the best cake-maker in the whole of the town,’ Rosie said with a cheeky smile.

  ‘And butty-maker, dinnit forget!’ Vera’s arms had dropped to her sides. She looked around and saw another queue had formed. Every day it seemed to be getting busier and she wasn’t getting any younger. Every night she went upstairs to her flat above the shop and fell into her bed, exhausted.

  Vera pushed back her chair and stood up. ‘What’s this “master baker’s” name then?’

  ‘She’s called Rina,’ Rosie said. ‘She lives up Villette Road.’

  ‘She Jewish?’

  Rosie nodded.

  ‘Oldish woman? Sells stuff on tick?’

  Rosie nodded again. ‘Do you know her?’

  ‘Know of her. Why does she want to work here?’ Vera was easing herself back into her chair.

  ‘Well, she doesn’t actually know she wants to work here. Not yet anyway. It’s a long story, but to be blunt she’s a soft touch and she’s not been recouping what she’s owed. Sounds like she’s digging a bit of a pit for herself.’

  Vera nodded. ‘And what’s this Rina to you two?’ She looked at Rosie and then at Gloria.

  ‘Her niece Hannah works at the yard,’ Gloria explained.

  ‘This Hannah,’ Vera asked, ‘was she one of the refugee children that came across a few years back?’

  Gloria nodded. ‘She must have only been about sixteen when her parents sent her over here to live with her aunty.’

  ‘Just in time,’ Rosie added, ‘before Hitler decided that he wanted Czechoslovakia for himself.’

  ‘And her parents?’ Vera asked.

  ‘Last Hannah heard they were in some kind of ghetto,’ Gloria said.

  Vera tutted.

  ‘And you say her aunty can bake?’

  Rosie and Gloria both nodded energetically.

  Vera pushed out her chair and stood up for the second time. She looked over to see four of her customers were heading out the door, tired of waiting to be served.

  ‘I’ll bring a box over for the cake,’ she said to Gloria and shuffled back to the counter.

  After serving the customers who’d had the patience to wait, Vera headed back, box in hand.

  ‘Let’s give it a try then,’ she said, packaging up the cake and handing it to Gloria.

  ‘There’s only one other problem,’ Gloria said, smiling her thanks as she took the cake. ‘We don’t want Hannah or Rina to know we’re behind this. They don’t know we know—’

  ‘About their money troubles?’ Vera said.

  Rosie and Gloria nodded.

  ‘What part of Villette Road is she on?’ Vera asked.

  Her question was met by two smiling faces.

  ‘Well, I’ll be coming to Vera’s with you every Wednesday just to see how this unlikely coupling manages to rub along. I just can’t see it myself, but fingers crossed, eh?’

  ‘I’ll pop in next Wednesday,’ Rosie said as they made their way back up High Street East, ‘and if Rina’s there, and it looks like it could work out, I’m gonna have a word with Basil and see if he can reduce the overtime Hannah’s doing. Martha was telling me she’s working herself to the bone.’

  ‘I know, she never looks the picture of health at the best of times. I’m glad she’s got that Olly though. He seems a nice lad.’

  ‘I agree. She always seems happy when she’s with him … God knows, the poor girl could do with a bit of lightness in her life. She’s certainly got enough worries on her plate, what with her aunty Rina, and from what Polly was telling me the other day about these so-called “labour camps”, it’s not good news.’

  As they turned left down Norfolk Street, Gloria looked at her friend. ‘How are you feeling? About Peter? It must be hard, not knowing how he is? Or where he is?’

  Rosie sighed. ‘I’m coping … Well, at the moment, anyway. Peter didn’t think he’d be going overseas for a while, but we’re not far off March now so I don’t think that’ll be the case for much longer. It makes me realise how strong Polly’s been this past year,’ Rosie mused. ‘It’s a true saying, “You don’t know what someone’s going through until you’ve been there yourself.”’

  ‘I know.’ Gloria was quiet for a moment. ‘I didn’t like the sound of his last letter either … and she’s not heard from him since.’

  ‘What was it about the letter that was odd?’

  ‘It might just be me looking too deeply into things, but Polly was over the moon because Tommy had told her how proud he was of her working at Thompson’s. It just seemed to be a bit of a turnaround from his usual lament that she should work somewhere that was safer.’

  ‘You don’t think it was just a genuine change of heart?’

  ‘It could be … I dunno. I just had the feeling that there was something more going on.’ Gloria waved her hand. ‘Oh, ignore me, I’m turning into a right old worrier. It’s probably me just being daft. Thinking the worst.’

  Neither women said anything and although Rosie didn’t think her friend was either ‘daft’ or a ‘worrier’, she sincerely hoped that in this instance she was both. For Polly’s sake.

  ‘Pol, come and share this cake with me.’ Bel caught her sister-in-law coming through the scullery and into the kitchen.

  ‘Oh, only if I must!’ Polly said, deadpan. She had her thick dressing gown on and her hair tied up in a bun on top of her head.

  Bel poured out two cups of tea and cut the slice of cake that Gloria had brought to her earlier on, pushing one half onto a small plate and handing it to her sister-in-law.

  ‘I tried to do the right thing,’ she said, ‘and offered it round, but no one was having any of it. Agnes refused point-blank and said it was wrong to give a present to someone else and that Gloria would be offended were she to find out. Arthur agreed with her. Joe just laughed, told me he was sweet enough, gave me a kiss and went out to do his night shift. And Lucille has been playing up today so there was no way she was getting a reward for bad behaviour.’

  Polly laughed as she sat down. Lucille was definitely becoming a handful of late. But she seemed so happy it was hard to be strict with her.

  ‘I’m guessing you didn’t offer the cake to your ma, then?’ Polly teased, knowing that it wasn’t only Lucille who was in Bel’s bad books.

  ‘You’re joking, aren’t you? Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, she’s never here.’

  All of a sudden, they could hear Arthur’s loud snoring start up. Bel chuckled as Polly leant over to the kitchen door, which led out onto the hallway, and pushed it shut.

  Polly looked at Bel. ‘Not that I’d ever be the one to stick up for your ma, but she does seem to be putting the hours in at the pub. And from what you’ve told me she’s been pretty good about taking Lucille out whenever she’s got a free moment.’ Polly paused. ‘And to be honest, I haven’t seen her that out of it for a while. Tipsy perhaps, but not bladdered like she used to get.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Bel backed down. ‘She’s not been that bad lately. I think I’m just feeling really resentful towards her at the moment.’

  ‘Tell me more.’ Polly leant back and could feel the tiredness starting to filter through her body. It had been a long day.

  ‘Well, I know I sound like a broken record, but I just can’t understand why Ma’s so open with Maisie but so bloomin’ evasive about who my father is – or was. She promised we’d have a chat about him, but that’s never happened. She’s never here. I’ve never known her to be so busy all the time.’

  ‘Are you a
bsolutely sure he didn’t die when you were a baby, like Pearl’s always said?’ Polly asked, shovelling a piece of cake into her mouth and savouring it.

  Bel moved her chair around a little so that she was facing the crackling fire that was now on the wane.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Bel said with great certainty. ‘I knew it anyway, but she finally admitted it a while back. Having said that, he might well be dead now, who knows?’ She let out a quiet sigh. ‘But, even if he is dead, I’d still like to know a little more about him. Golden-girl Maisie’s been told all about her dad—’

  ‘A sailor boy from the West Indies,’ Polly interrupted, ‘is not exactly a huge amount of information.’

  ‘But it’s more than I’ve ever been told,’ Bel retorted.

  Polly looked at Bel. ‘Perhaps,’ she hesitated, ‘this isn’t going to sound very nice, but have you thought that Pearl may not actually know who your da is?’

  Bel looked at Polly but her face didn’t show any anger at what her sister-in-law was suggesting.

  ‘I have,’ Bel mused, ‘but I just don’t think that’s the reason she’s been so cagey. I know she’s not been exactly lily-white, but she was only sixteen when she had me. No, there’s some other reason she’s being so evasive about it all, but whatever her reasons, it’s only fair that she tells me. And that this time she tells me the truth. If not, I’m just going to have to find out for myself.’

  Bel got up and poked the fire so that it gave off a little crackle and a slightly tired burst of flames, while Polly went to wash up their plates.

  Neither of them heard Pearl quietly tiptoe upstairs.

  Nor had they any idea she had come in from her shift at the pub a little earlier than normal and had been standing quiet as a mouse in the hallway, listening in to the tail end of their conversation.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Glen Path, Sunderland

  1913

  The night Pearl was taken in and given the live-in job as a scullery maid, she had, not surprisingly, fallen into an exhausted sleep. When she woke the next day, though, there was a part of her that wished she had ended up in the park and, like the little match girl, seen wonderful visions and been taken to heaven by some kindly old grandmother.