by Nancy Revell
‘Oh,’ Angie said, but she still didn’t look terribly enlightened. ‘Anyway, where’s Gloria, Pol? She normally comes in with you.’
‘She was a little late with Hope and I wanted to get a paper early before I came in. She should be here any minute.’
‘Talk of the devil,’ Martha said, looking over her workmate’s head and seeing Gloria fighting against the winds to reach them.
‘Eee,’ Gloria said, ‘we’ll be blown away if we’re not careful today, that’s for sure.’ She took one look at the women. ‘Why the serious faces?’ She did another quick scan of the area, before adding, ‘And where’s Rosie?’
‘She’s not got in yet,’ Dorothy said.
‘Probably having a lie-in with her dishy copper,’ Angie piped up.
Dorothy gave Angie one of her stares that told her she had yet again overstepped the mark and said something very inappropriate.
‘And,’ Dorothy continued answering Gloria’s initial question, ‘we’ve all got serious faces because Polly’s been telling us all the latest – that the Japanese have attacked a couple of American airbases.’
‘Hi everyone!’
The women all turned to see Hannah hurrying towards them. She was dressed as if she was about to embark on a trip to Siberia, with matching hand-knitted hat, scarf and mittens, along with an oversized blue woollen coat that her aunty had purchased for her in one of the second-hand shops in the east end.
‘Have you heard the news?’ she asked as she reached the fire, immediately pulling off her mitts and sticking her two delicate white hands out to catch some warmth.
‘Dorothy’s just been telling us what the paper’s saying,’ Martha said.
‘But I’m still not sure what this means for us?’ Angie asked.
‘It means,’ Hannah said, ‘that the Americans will join the war. And most importantly, they’re going to be on our side.’
Hannah paused.
‘They’re going to help us win the war!’
Polly nodded in agreement. ‘Let’s hope so, eh? About time they stopped sitting on the fence. They’ve got no choice now. This is really shocking because you’re meant to declare war on someone before you attack them and the Japanese didn’t.’
Dorothy looked at Polly in surprise. ‘When did you become the fountain of wisdom on all things war-like?’ she asked.
Polly blushed. She had never been very good at school, although her ma had always made sure she could read and write and do her maths, but since Tommy had been sent over to Gibraltar she had wanted to know and understand as much as possible about what was happening, not just over in Europe, but throughout the whole world.
‘So, then,’ Angie asked, ‘where’s the Pacific when it’s at home?’
Dorothy’s reply was interrupted by the klaxon sounding out.
‘See you all in the canteen at lunchtime?’ Hannah asked as she turned to leave for the drawing office.
Everyone agreed and waved Hannah off before turning back to Gloria.
‘Rosie’s still not here,’ Dorothy said.
‘What’ll we do?’ Martha asked.
‘Yeh, what’ll we do?’ Angie asked, looking about the yard to make sure Rosie wasn’t on her way over to them.
‘Well,’ Gloria barked, ‘we can’t just stand about here like lemons. Come on, get your gear and we’ll pick up from where we left off last week.’
Leading the women across the yard and over to the dry basin, Gloria checked behind her. There was still no sign of Rosie, although something told her that there was nothing to worry about. In fact, she had a sneaking suspicion that Angie’s presumptions as to why ‘Miss’ was late might well be not far off the mark.
As the women settled themselves down at their table in the canteen, Rosie apologised yet again to her troop of welders.
‘I can’t say enough how sorry I am,’ she said, looking guiltily at them all. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever overslept like that in my life … I can’t even remember the last time I was late.’
Martha laughed. ‘Probably never!’
‘Yeh, probably never!’ Angie repeated, adding, ‘Anyway, it’s nice to know you’re not perfect, miss.’
Rosie smiled. ‘Far from it, Angie! As long as I’m forgiven. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. Promise,’ she said.
The women all looked in slight amazement at their boss. Rosie had never – not once – been late for work in the eighteen months they had all worked there. Of course, they had not dared enquire as to why Rosie was late, but what was all the more intriguing was that their boss was still wearing her make-up from the night before.
None of them had said anything, but they would have all pooled their week’s wages and laid a bet that Angie’s supposition was spot on: Rosie had indeed been out with her ‘scrummy detective’ last night and had not made it back to her own home.
As Rosie picked at her lunch, she felt extremely self-conscious, as if she were an open book for all to read. If anyone had wanted to take a peek, they would have learnt that Peter had taken her out for a drink and then persuaded her to stay the night at his. The last thought on her mind had not been to set the alarm.
She had been in such a panic when she’d woken up and seen the time, Peter had forced her to calm down, telling her that being half an hour late for work was not the end of the world. He’d managed to talk some sense into her, but still she’d been in a right tizzy and had run the whole way from Peter’s lovely terraced house in Brookside Gardens in the west end of the town to her flat on the Borough Road in the east end.
She’d not thought to wash her face, instead had just climbed into her overalls, pulled on her boots and overcoat and run out the door and down to the ferry landing. She had no idea she was sitting there still sporting a good amount of make-up – it had stayed on remarkably well, with only her mascara slightly smudged.
‘So, tell me all the latest,’ Rosie said, now determined to push the attention away from herself.
‘The Japs have bombed somewhere called the Pacific and now they’re going to help us win the war,’ Angie said knowledgeably. ‘Hawaii to be specific – that’s in the Pacific,’ she added with a chuckle. ‘Which if you didn’t already know, miss, is left of America if you’re looking at a map.’
Rosie looked at Angie and had to suppress a smile. She knew now that for ever and a day she would be ‘miss’ to her most recent recruit.
‘So sorry I am late,’ Hannah said, squeezing herself between Martha and Polly, and putting her home-made sandwiches down on the table.
‘Looks like it’s the day for being late,’ Polly said, deadpan.
‘You off somewhere nice after work, Rosie?’ Hannah said as she started to unwrap her packed lunch.
Rosie shook her head and looked puzzled.
‘Only you’ve got your make-up on today,’ she said in all innocence.
Rosie went bright red.
‘So,’ Gloria said, seeing Rosie’s obvious discomfort and kindly moving the spotlight away from her and back on to the latest war news, ‘one of the drillers was saying in the queue that the Yanks are going to officially declare war on Japan later on today.’
‘Yes,’ Polly said, ‘I think that’s a cert, especially as there were so many casualties. I heard one of the dinner ladies say there’d been at least a couple of thousand killed. And loads more injured. A lot of them civilians as well.’
There was a thoughtful break in the conversation before Hannah spotted the newspaper that Polly had brought into the cafeteria.
Polly handed her the paper, but didn’t speak as she had a mouth full of food.
‘Oh, that’s good,’ Hannah murmured, ‘Hitler has not succeeded in taking Moscow. They are retreating.
‘You know – ’ she looked up at the women and her face looked uncannily serious ‘ – the Nazis killed ten thousand Jews last week in Riga. That’s not far from Russia,’ she explained. ‘They were marched from the ghetto, taken to a forest and shot dead.’
The women all stopped eating. They were shocked.
‘That’s not the ghetto your mother and father are in, is it?’ Dorothy asked, remembering what Hannah had told Angie and her on the day of the christening.
‘No, díky bohu,’ Hannah broke into her native tongue, ‘thank God. The one they’re in is in Czechoslovakia, but how long before he does the same there?’
‘How do you know this?’ Polly asked. She now listened to the BBC world news religiously with Arthur every night. It had become their ritual. They sat there in front of the range’s open fire, both wanting and not wanting to hear news about Gibraltar.
Martha looked down at her friend. ‘Rina?’
Hannah nodded.
‘Her aunty Rina,’ Martha told the women by way of an explanation. ‘She hears things from the rabbi.’
‘So …’ Hannah forced herself to perk up. ‘This is good? About the Americans? Yes?’
‘Yes,’ Dorothy and Angie said in unison.
‘They’re going to help us win this war,’ Polly said in earnest.
‘And moreover,’ Gloria said, her heart going out to Hannah. The worry the poor girl must be going through. ‘We’re going to help win this war. Aren’t we?’
‘Too right,’ Polly added. ‘Every ship Jerry sinks, we’ll make damned sure we’re building another one to replace it.’
‘Yes, with your brains,’ Dorothy said to Hannah, ‘and our brawn,’ she leant over and felt Martha’s biceps, causing them all to chuckle, ‘bloody Jerry doesn’t stand a chance!’
At the end of the shift everyone made their way to the bottleneck that always formed at the timekeeper’s cabin.
‘Thanks for taking charge this morning when I didn’t show,’ Rosie said to Gloria. The pair were walking together, their shoulders practically touching due to the surrounding throng of workers all eager to get home or to the pub. Martha, Hannah and Olly were a few heads in front of them. Angie, Dorothy and Polly were just behind, chatting away nineteen to the dozen about some new film that was just about to come on at the cinema.
‘Any time,’ Gloria said. ‘If you ever want a bit of time off, you know, I’m more than happy to stand in for you. It’s not as if I need to do much. You’ve done such a good job at training us and they’re all hard workers. I wouldn’t have to get the whip out on them.’
Rosie nodded. They had all worked like Trojans this afternoon. No one had said anything but the conversation over lunch and thoughts of what had happened in the Pacific and in Riga had affected them all.
‘Thanks, Gloria,’ Rosie said, ‘but that really was a one-off.’
‘You off out tonight with Peter?’ Gloria asked tentatively.
‘God no!’ Rosie laughed. ‘I think Lily’ll sack me if I do. I’m falling behind with the books as it is. How about you? How’s things with …?’ Rosie didn’t need to say Jack’s name.
‘It’s difficult,’ Gloria said. ‘Very difficult.’ She sighed slightly. ‘He seems really tired lately, which I suppose isn’t surprising.’ She paused as she thought about Jack and how he had told her that these days as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.
‘But,’ she added, ‘at least he managed to see Hope over the weekend and spent a little time with her at Agnes’s, which was lovely. He really does adore her.’
‘I know,’ Rosie said, thinking of the look of pure, unadulterated love she had seen in Jack at the christening. ‘And,’ her voice dropped to almost a whisper, ‘how’s he managing with Miriam?’
‘Well,’ Gloria said, her face suddenly becoming harder, ‘she’s apparently been really nice. She’s not dragged him out once this week to any kind of dinner party or social. Looks like she’s playing happy families, with just the two of them cosied up together on an evening.’
Rosie could feel the anger and jealousy coming off Gloria.
‘She’s even,’ Gloria said as they both handed in their cards and allowed themselves to be carried down to the ferry in the slow-moving sea of workers, ‘got him sleeping in her bed.’
The image of Jack and Miriam lying together in some big, comfy bed had been goading her relentlessly since Jack had told her, rather innocently, that he and Miriam shared the same bed, although he had been quick to reassure her that it was just the bed they were sharing and nothing else.
‘Oh no!’ Rosie was genuinely alarmed. ‘But I thought you said before that the pair of them hadn’t shared a bed for years. That the marriage was dead in the water – in all ways?’
Gloria leant into Rosie as they were jostled about near the ferry landing.
‘It was,’ she said, as she fished out a penny from the top pocket in her overalls, ready to pay the ferryman, ‘but Miriam’s made out to Jack that they never spent a night apart in all their years of being blissfully married.’ Gloria’s words dripped sarcasm.
‘Jack doesn’t believe her, though, does he?’ Rosie was becoming a little anxious that Miriam might well be doing a good job of making fiction into fact.
‘No,’ Gloria hesitated, ‘I don’t think so.’ She stopped speaking while they both handed over their fare and stepped on to the ferry that was bobbing about, the boat’s paddles throwing up water in anticipation of the return journey across the Wear. ‘I just think it’s a lot for him to take on-board at the moment.’
‘It must be hard,’ Rosie said, looking at her friend and wondering how on earth she was managing to stay so calm and in control. ‘And Vinnie?’ she asked.
‘Mm, all quiet. A bit too quiet. I’d like to think his night in a cell put the willies up him, but I think that might be wishful thinking. It’s been weeks now since the christening and if I know Vinnie, he’ll be stewing everything over in that sick head of his. Plotting something. The question being – what? It’s either that or I’m being totally paranoid and he’s finally giving up the ghost and is just enjoying life with that Sarah woman.’
Rosie felt herself bristle. She knew Vinnie, and was pretty certain he would be making a reappearance in the not too distant future.
‘I’m guessing you’ve not filled in Jack’s memory regarding Vinnie being handy with his fists?’ Rosie asked.
Gloria shook her head.
‘I was going to,’ she sounded weary, ‘but I know as soon as I do that he’s going to go mad and the cat will be well and truly out of the bag. And I’m just not ready for that at the moment. I need a plan of action and to be honest, I haven’t got one yet.’
‘Oh, Gloria, I do feel for you. I wish I could do something to help. You know we’re all here for you, don’t you?’
Gloria squeezed her friend’s arm as they looked behind to see the rest of the women waiting for the next ferry as this one was chock-a-block with workers.
Gloria waved to the women welders as the seagulls circled and screeched above.
‘I know you are,’ she said, with a sad smile. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you all, I really don’t.’
Chapter Seventeen
As Rosie hurried up the steps from her basement flat and onto the Borough Road, she pulled the belt on her grey mackintosh tightly around her waist and tucked the large lapels across her chest to keep out the bitterly cold wind that showed no signs of tiring. She pulled out her little torch from her pocket to guide her way through town across to Ashbrooke.
Normally she would walk, but this evening she was exhausted. She felt as though she had been running around all day trying to grab back the time she’d lost by sleeping in. Seeing a tram squealing to a stop on Toward Road, she ran, or rather trotted as fast as she could in her heeled shoes, to catch it before it pulled away. Grabbing the pole and pulling herself on-board, she found the tram practically empty and sat on the first seat she saw, paying her fare to the young, fresh-faced clippie.
As the tram trundled its way past the bomb site where the town’s Victoria Hall had once stood, Rosie tried to reprimand herself for feeling so happy when she was surrounded by such devastation. Especially after what they had all hea
rd today. On the way home she had seen the latest headlines that America had declared war on Japan and Germany as predicted. This was a world war in the truest sense. Yet, in complete contradiction to all this darkness – all this death and destruction they were being faced with on a daily basis now – she had never felt so light, so excited and so alive.
Since the afternoon of the christening over a fortnight ago, she and Peter had managed to see each other almost every other evening, which had not been easy. Peter had his civil defence work to do after his policing duties, and Rosie had Lily’s, which had been busier than normal following its reopening after the sudden ‘plumbing emergency’, and because they were almost ready to officially open the Gentlemen’s Club.
As Rosie put her purse back into her shoulder bag, she unzipped the side pocket and looked at the shiny silver key Peter had given her when she left that morning. She had been in such a panic, but as she had rushed out his front door, he had grabbed hold of her arm and pressed what had felt like a piece of metal into the palm of her hand and pulled her back for one final kiss.
‘So you can come whenever you want,’ he’d told her.
Now that she had a moment to think, she realised the importance of his gesture. He had already told her that he loved her, and she believed him. But this was showing her that he trusted her and wanted her to be a permanent part of his life.
She felt her heart start thumping as her mind wandered to the time they had spent together last night. She even felt herself blush as images of their lovemaking flashed wantonly across her mind. She looked at the elderly couple who sat adjacent to her and was relieved they were staring somewhat forlornly out the window and were paying her no heed.
Rosie reprimanded herself. It was so dark in the tram – the Ministry of Defence regulations allowed only the smallest sliver of light as guidance through the enforced blackout – Rosie would have had to be glowing like a beacon for the old couple to have even noticed her, never mind read her thoughts. Still, she couldn’t help but feel exposed and she forced back those very private images, replacing them with ones from the earlier part of their evening when they had sat close together in the corner of the Victoria Gardens, holding hands under the table and chatting away, immersed in their own little world.
