by Nancy Revell
‘She went to the lavvy, miss.’ Angie still spoke to her as though Rosie was a headmistress. No matter how many times Rosie had told her to simply call her by her Christian name, Angie did not seem able to oblige.
‘Yeh,’ Dorothy added, ‘think she’s got a bit of a dicky stomach.’
As Rosie, Dorothy, Angie, Polly and Gloria stood and looked down at the shipyard from the upper deck of the injured ship, they could see the whole yard had come to a standstill.
‘What’s happening?’ Gloria asked, looking at Rosie for an answer. ‘Why did the klaxon just go off?’
Rosie continued to stare down at the yard. Her eyes had narrowed and were scrutinising the area where a gaggle of about half a dozen men were now crowding underneath a large crane that wasn’t moving and whose driver was peering out the side of his metal box cabin.
‘There’s been an accident,’ she said in a monotone.
There was a joint intake of breath.
‘Oh my goodness – Martha!’ Polly exclaimed. ‘She should be back by now. She went to the lav ages ago.’
Rosie didn’t look at the women but continued to inspect the yard. Her eyes, which had become overly sensitive to the sun since her ‘welding accident’, were now watering, making it harder for her to see what was going on. The women followed Rosie’s gaze. It didn’t take them long to suss out the route Martha would have taken to the women’s toilet.
It passed the exact spot where the crane had come to a stop and the cluster of workers had gathered.
‘Look!’ Angie shouted, her arm shooting out and her gloved hand pointing in the direction of a black and white van with a blue flashing light that had just come into their vision and was making its way slowly across the yard. Its pace was snail-like as it was having to drive around the usual obstacles: stacks of huge metal sheets, fires used to heat the rivets and warm the workers, coils of ropes and rows of steel poles.
‘Stay here!’ Rosie told them, as she headed across the metal patchwork deck they had all been welding and across the gangplank that created a short, narrow bridge to the flat concrete of the yard. None of the women listened to her and instead followed hot on her heels.
Within minutes they were marching towards the growing throng of workers.
‘Move! Gerrout the road!’ one of the yard foremen shouted out. The workers immediately parted, creating a clear pathway for the St John ambulance that was kept in the yard at all times. None of the women, apart from Rosie, had ever seen it in action before.
Rosie turned to the women.
‘Wait here!’
The way she said it this time made it clear there was no room for debate or disobedience. The women stood shoulder to shoulder in a line fifty yards away from the commotion.
‘Polly! … Gloria!’ It was Hannah, running towards them with Olly in tow. She had seen Rosie disappear into the melee that was slowly growing in size at the foot of the crane. Her face scanned the women.
‘Where’s Martha?’ she demanded.
There was no reply.
‘Where’s Martha!’ Hannah was verging on tears, her voice full of fear.
‘We don’t know, Hannah,’ Dorothy said. ‘Come here,’ she beckoned, stretching her arm out. The group’s little bird ducked under and let her former workmate cuddle her as they continued to watch and wait.
‘She went to the toilet,’ Dorothy dipped her head to speak to Hannah, ‘but she didn’t come back.’
Hannah started speaking in her native tongue and Dorothy looked down to see that she had her hands clasped in prayer. She didn’t need a translator to know what Hannah was saying.
For what felt like an eternity but was, in reality, only a few minutes, Gloria, Polly, Dorothy, Hannah, Angie and Olly stood frozen to the spot, their faces grey with worry as they waited. Then they heard the foreman’s commanding voice shout out again: ‘Right, let’s get him gone! Make way!’ And once again the workers parted and the ambulance started to reverse slowly.
‘Martha!’ Hannah’s high-pitched voice made Dorothy jump as Hannah ran towards her best friend and flung her arms around her waist. Hannah’s head barely reached Martha’s chest as she looked up and continued speaking in the language of her beloved homeland.
‘Thank the bleedin’ Lord!’ Angie blustered.
‘Hear, hear!’ Dorothy said, her face a picture of sheer relief.
‘I’ll second that,’ Polly said as they all walked towards Martha.
‘You all right?’ Gloria asked, looking Martha up and down. She couldn’t see any injuries.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, looking at her friends in surprise before realising what they’d been thinking. ‘It wasn’t me in the accident!’
Just then Rosie appeared behind Martha.
‘You feeling all right, Martha?’ she asked. ‘That wasn’t the most pleasant of sights.’
Martha nodded. ‘I’m fine. Honest.’
‘Come on then. I think you need a cup of sweet tea at the very least,’ Rosie said, leading the way over to the cafeteria.
A few minutes later they were all supping their tea and Hannah had treated her friend to a piece of apple pie. All eyes were on Martha.
‘How bad was it?’ Gloria asked, looking at both Rosie and Martha for an answer. Martha looked at Rosie to relay the news as her mouth was full of apple and pastry.
‘Not good,’ Rosie said. ‘But it would have been a lot worse if it hadn’t been for our Martha here.’
The women all waited for an explanation.
‘One of the metal plates came loose when it was being hoisted up by the crane …’ She paused.
‘Oh, please don’t tell me it landed on one of the platers?’ Polly was aghast. She had heard over the years that this was not uncommon in the shipyards. When her brothers had been working over at Bartram’s before the war, one of their workmates had been crushed to death when a metal plate that was being hauled on to one of the ships broke loose.
‘Just his leg,’ Martha said, swallowing hard as she finished off her pie.
‘Anyone we know?’ Dorothy asked.
Martha shook her head.
‘So, he’s alive?’ Angie asked.
Martha nodded.
‘Yes,’ Rosie added, ‘but his leg was in a bit of a mess. I’m guessing he’ll be lucky to keep it. And if he does, I doubt very much he’ll be walking on it again.’ She looked at Martha. ‘It could have been a lot worse, though, if Martha hadn’t been there.’
The women all looked intrigued.
‘One of the men told me the second it landed on the poor man’s leg, Martha got her hands under the metal plate and somehow managed to lift it up enough for a couple of the other platers to drag the man free.’
‘Blimey!’ Angie said, letting out a low whistle. ‘Martha, you’re a hero!’
‘Heroine,’ Dorothy quickly corrected. ‘And yes she is. She’s our real-life heroine!’
Martha blushed.
Rosie, who was next to Martha, squeezed her arm. ‘I think you should be proud of yourself.’
Martha allowed herself a wide smile, showing off the big gap between her two front teeth.
‘Ya know what my mam says about having a gap in yer teeth?’ Angie had been fascinated by Martha from the first as she had never come across anyone like her before, which was unusual for Angie as she had not had a sheltered upbringing by any stretch of the imagination.
‘What’s that Angie?’ Martha asked, genuinely intrigued.
‘She says that if you can get a threepenny bit in between your two front teeth and wiggle it around, then that means you’re going to be lucky!’
Everyone looked at Angie. They were starting to get used to her sudden random thoughts.
‘Mm,’ Dorothy said, looking at her friend as if she were from another planet, but as she looked up her eye caught two ‘suits’ coming through the canteen door. She gasped audibly as they were followed into the canteen by none other than Helen.
‘Oh. My. God,’ she punctuat
ed each word dramatically. ‘Don’t look now but Helen’s just come into the canteen!’
Instinctively, all the women turned to look. Sure enough, Helen was walking across the canteen – and it looked like she was coming straight to their table.
Realising that the two managers and Helen were indeed coming to see her squad, Rosie stood up to welcome them.
‘Hello, Harold. Hello, Donald.’ Rosie stretched out her arm to shake the hands of her superiors.
‘And Helen,’ Rosie was the epitome of courteousness, ‘it’s good to see you back.’ The women shook hands.
‘Actually, we’re not here to see you, Rosie,’ Helen said in a manner that appeared to be genuinely good-natured. ‘We’re here to see one of your welders. Martha. I do believe she has been quite the hero of the hour.’
On hearing the word ‘hero’, Angie nudged Dorothy, who nudged her friend back equally hard. Their eyes, and those of Polly, Gloria, Hannah and Olly, were glued to Helen.
Rosie stood aside and crocked her head at Martha, signalling her to stand up. Martha followed her boss’s unspoken command, bumping the table as she did so and causing the teacups to jiggle but not spill over.
‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I’m so clumsy.’
Helen looked up at Martha. ‘Well, clumsy or not, Martha Perkins, your quick-thinking actions may well have saved a man’s leg – even his life. Harold, Donald and I thought it was only right that we come and thank you personally.’
Helen hesitated for a moment before she put her hand out. Martha looked down at the pale, perfectly smooth and manicured hand before tentatively taking it in her own huge paw and shaking it.
Rosie was amazed that Helen had managed to keep her face so impassive. Normally she wouldn’t even look at Martha, never mind speak to her – never mind touch her.
Harold stepped forward to shake Martha’s hand, followed by Donald.
‘We’re going to make sure you get an official commendation, Martha, but we just wanted to tell you in person just how much we appreciate your actions today.’
‘I just hope the man’s all right,’ Martha said.
‘Yes,’ Rosie added, ‘please tell him that Martha and the rest of her squad send our regards and wish him a speedy recovery.’
Harold nodded. ‘I will, Rosie, but I’m not sure how speedy it’ll be.’
‘Still,’ Helen interrupted, ‘at least he’s alive. We have to be thankful for small mercies.’ Her words, however, lacked their usual hoity-toity quality and had a surprising hint of empathy in them.
Helen, Harold and Donald thanked Martha again and then left. The canteen, which had fallen quiet as soon as the three managers had entered, returned to its normal volume.
‘Cor! Martha, looks like you’re gonna get some kind of a medal!’ Angie was awestruck. ‘Yer mam and dad are gonna be dead chuffed when they hear about this!’
Angie had mentioned Martha’s parents a few times since she, Dorothy and Hannah had dropped in for a cup of tea after the christening. She had joked more than once with Martha about doing a ‘mam and dad swap’; it was a suggestion Martha had politely declined.
‘I don’t know what the fuss is all about,’ Martha said. She seemed genuinely perplexed.
Rosie could tell their gentle giant was becoming a little uncomfortable with all the attention, so she suggested that they all head out and sit by the quayside for a short while before they started work again. She knew from experience that they had to wait for the horn to sound again before they were actually allowed to go back to work. Some legal beagle would have to give the green light that the yard was safe to carry on its work after such a serious accident.
Five minutes later they were sitting on their makeshift seats – a load of old pallets that had been half-heartedly stacked up a few yards away from the quayside. It was the women’s favourite spot and somewhere that held a lot of memories for them all, both good and bad.
It was near to where they had all learnt to weld as trainees a year and a half ago; it was where Polly had first clapped eyes on Tommy being helped out of his diving helmet; it was here that Raymond had nearly killed Rosie and he himself had ended up losing his life; and it had been here almost four months previously that they had all been sitting, quietly enjoying the summer sun on their faces, when the Luftwaffe had dropped its bombs and Gloria had gone into labour.
‘I used to think the shipyards were right ugly, dirty places,’ Angie piped up as they all sat in their usual positions facing the river, so that they could talk while watching the live theatre that was constantly being played out on the Wear’s grey, murky waters.
‘And now,’ she laughed, ‘I know they’re right ugly and dirty – and bloody dangerous as well!’
Everyone chuckled.
‘Eee, well.’ Dorothy looked to her left at the huge liner that was moored up and in the process of having camouflage painted onto its hull. ‘That was a turn-up for the books. Helen coming into the canteen like that, wasn’t it?’
There was a general assent.
‘Still the same stuck-up madam, though, by the looks of it,’ she added, chuckling.
There was a murmur of agreement.
‘She thinks the world of her dad, though,’ Gloria suddenly chipped in. ‘From what Jack’s told me – ’ she dropped her voice, even though there was no one else around ‘ – she was by his bedside more or less constantly when he was ill.’
‘Mm,’ Rosie agreed, ‘I think Helen’s always hero-worshipped Jack.’
The women sat in silence for a while, trying to match these two conflicting images of the woman they all hated and who had brought such trouble into their lives.
‘Well, she might be nice to her own, but she’s still a bitch to just about everyone else,’ Dorothy said.
‘Yeh, look what she did to Hannah here,’ Martha said with a frown on her wide brow. ‘She ground her down … made her do all the hardest welding jobs … tried to get her the boot.’
Olly, who was at the end of the row of women, took hold of Hannah’s hand and squeezed it.
‘I know, Martha,’ Hannah said, letting Olly keep a hold of her hand, ‘but we have to forgive people.’
‘Only if they want to be forgiven,’ Dorothy butted in. ‘And all the lies she told about Polly seeing Ned the plater. And let’s face it,’ she looked at Polly, ‘she very nearly succeeded in breaking you and Tommy up.’
Polly nodded, looking down the quayside at the diver’s pontoon and thinking how that all seemed such a long time ago.
‘And,’ Angie took up the list of charges against Helen, ‘she was trying to give Gloria the elbow just ’cos she was preggers.’
‘The thing is …’ Gloria suddenly blurted out. She had been sitting quietly through her workmates’ diatribe against Helen. ‘… I feel really guilty every time I see her. I keep thinking about how she’s going to feel when she eventually gets to know that her father’s had a child with someone else.’
The women all fell silent and turned to look at their colleague. These past nine days since Jack had come back into her life in such dramatic fashion, Gloria had appeared to be coping with everything incredibly well, but it was hard to tell; she’d always kept a lot to herself.
‘And,’ Dorothy agreed quietly, ‘that “someone else” isn’t just anyone – it’s one of us.’
There was a moment’s quiet reflection before Hannah piped up.
‘Do you know what you’re going to do yet?’
Gloria sighed wearily.
‘No, not yet. It feels like a minefield and I don’t know where to step, because wherever I do there’s bound to be a massive explosion.’
‘And that nutter’s still not shown his face yet?’ Dorothy asked, her voice angry as it always was when she spoke about Vinnie.
‘No, but I feel like he’s a time bomb waiting to go off,’ Gloria said ominously. ‘I swear I can hear him ticking all the way in Grindon.’
The women now knew all about Vinnie being arrested on the mo
rning of Hope’s christening and had agreed amongst themselves that although this had enabled Gloria to enjoy a peaceful christening, and would probably keep Vinnie at bay for a little while, it might well add oil to the fire.
They all watched for a moment as a merchant ship from one of the yards up the river made its way under the Wearmouth Bridge and out of the mouth of the river.
‘Anyway, Pol,’ Dorothy forced her voice to sound chirpy as she steered the conversation away from the darkness that was Vinnie, ‘have Maisie and Pearl returned from their mother-daughter “bonding” trip in London?’
‘Ohh … yesss …’ Polly drew out the words, voicing them in a mock-weary manner. ‘We now have the joy of Pearl back under our roof. Which means there’ll be some other drama just waiting round the corner to jump out at us when we least expect it.’
Everyone chuckled.
Rosie smiled and thought the same could be said about Maisie, who had arrived back at the bordello on Saturday. Maisie now clearly felt she had done her time being remorseful about the upset she had caused at Bel’s wedding, and was successfully worming her way back into everyone’s good books – helped enormously by some very extravagant presents she had brought back from the capital.
Rosie looked back over her shoulder to see the crane that had been involved in the accident being driven across the yard to one of the engineering sheds. She knew it would be scrupulously checked over for any faults.
As Rosie brought her vision back to the choppy waters in front of them, she was unaware that she was being watched – albeit surreptitiously – by Dorothy and Angie.
‘Go on!’ Dorothy whispered to Angie. ‘Now’s the perfect opportunity.’
Angie pretended not to hear her friend.
Dorothy elbowed Angie gently in the side.
This time Angie shook her head vehemently and whispered back, ‘No, you do it!’
