by Nancy Revell
Angie cast a look at Dorothy, who ignored her friend and asked, ‘So that’s why she wanted her in the ambulance. To thank her?’
‘Yes,’ said Rosie, ‘it would seem so. Anyway, you can hear it all from the horse’s mouth yourselves this evening. You all up for a visit to the Royal?’ There was agreement all round, with Martha hurrying off to tell Hannah about what had happened.
Rosie asked Polly if it would be possible for Bel and Agnes to look after Hope until Gloria was discharged. Polly replied that she was sure Bel would be over the moon to have Hope overnight, as her sister-in-law loved the little girl ‘like she was her own’.
As Rosie, Polly, Dorothy and Angie made their way to the main gates, a few of the platers and riveters who knew the women welders asked after Gloria – some adding that they hoped her ex got a taste of his own medicine.
‘What do you think’s going to happen now?’ Polly asked Rosie when they were on the ferry.
‘God knows,’ Rosie said. ‘Gloria asked Dorothy not to say anything to Jack. She seems to think he’s not going to find out about this, which is highly unlikely.’
Polly agreed. ‘Yeh, gossip goes around the shipyard faster than the speed of light. It won’t take long before it reaches Crown’s.’
Rosie looked out at the rough, agitated waters of the Wear.
‘Mm, and if he’s not heard about it by now, I think there’ll be more than a good chance Helen tells him when they both get back from work.’
Chapter Twenty-One
‘Yer do think Gloria’ll be all right, don’t ya?’ Angie asked Dorothy.
‘Yes, she’s as tough as old boots,’ Dorothy said as they jumped on the bus that would take them from Thompson’s back over to the south side. ‘Remember that last beating he gave her, just before you started welding?’
Angie nodded. The image of Gloria’s battered face as they sat and ate cakes after work in a little tea shop on Dundas Street would always be imprinted on her mind’s eye.
‘Well,’ Dorothy said, as they each paid the bus conductor their fare, ‘I reckon that was much worse. The only reason she got taken to the hospital was because this time it happened in public rather than behind closed doors.’
Angie looked around her to make sure there was no one she knew as they sat down in the seats at the front of the double-decker that was now trundling along Dame Dorothy Street.
‘It made me think about my own mam,’ she said quietly. ‘Not that she’s had someone else’s bab, though!’ Angie kept her voice low as she whispered into her friend’s ear.
‘What?’ Dorothy hesitated. ‘You mean, if your dad found out …’ She let her voice trail off.
Angie nodded.
Neither of them had said anything since the day they had spotted Angie’s mother down the back lane with another man.
‘My dad’s not like that Vinnie, ya know,’ Angie said. ‘He’s not as bad as he looks.’
Dorothy wasn’t sure if she believed her friend or not.
‘Sometimes he doesn’t mean to hurt ya,’ Angie continued, ‘I just don’t think he knows his own strength.’
Dorothy thought Angie might well be kidding herself. She had seen a few examples of Angie’s dad’s inability to ‘know his own strength’ on her friend’s face when he’d cuffed her or given her a backhander.
As the bus drove across the Wearmouth Bridge, they were both automatically looking out down the river when Angie suddenly let out a loud laugh.
‘God, who am I kidding! He’d go bloody ballistic and – ’ Angie’s voice was back to a whisper ‘ – God only knows what he’d do if he found out any of us weren’t his! Not that any of us aren’t Mam and Dad’s! Well, I hope not anyway!’ she added as an afterthought.
‘Well,’ Dorothy said, ‘I think if I was your “mam”, for starters I wouldn’t be doing anything I shouldn’t.’ She dropped her voice, even though the bus was now full and everyone was immersed in their own loud chatter. ‘And secondly, if I was, I’d make damn sure I never got found out.’
Angie nodded. ‘Yeh, yer right. Luckily, my dad’s not the brightest.’
As they stood up to get off at their stop, Dorothy warned: ‘And if I was you and your dad ever did find out, I’d make bloody sure I didn’t get caught in the crossfire.’
They walked down Fawcett Street and crossed over to Burdon Road in silence before Angie asked, ‘What do ya reckon yer stepdad would do, if he found out yer mam was having it off with someone else? And worse still, had had another bloke’s bab?’
Dorothy shrugged. ‘He’d probably either pretend he didn’t know and turn a blind eye, or just leave.’
Angie made a face that intimated this was far stranger than getting a beating. ‘What, even though he’s got four bairns with yer mam?’
Dorothy shrugged again.
As they continued to walk up the road they were silent for a short while, both immersed in their own thoughts.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who’s got a stepdad,’ Angie said out of the blue.
Dorothy looked at her friend and laughed. ‘I don’t think I have either. Mind you,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘I reckon there’s plenty out there. People just don’t let on.’
Dorothy had never been exactly forthcoming herself about the fact that the man her mother was married to was not her biological father. And even though her stepfather wasn’t her most favourite person ever, when people assumed that he was her real father, she didn’t correct them.
‘Ya never say much about yer dad, Dor.’ Angie looked at her friend. ‘Yer real dad, I mean. Can yer remember him?’
‘Bits and pieces,’ Dorothy said, sounding unusually vague. ‘I was only young when he left. My memory of him is a bit of a blur. He left one day and never came back. I do remember that Mum seemed happier afterwards. Like she was relieved. She used to tell people that he’d died.’
‘Really?’ Angie said. ‘That’s a bit naughty.’
‘Well, I don’t think she wanted the stigma of being classed as a divorcee. It’s still frowned upon now, but back then it was quite scandalous.’
Angie thought for a moment before chirping up: ‘Yer know, I don’t think I have ever known anyone who’s got divorced either.’
Dorothy looked at Angie and was going to say something but stopped herself.
‘Anyway, enough about boring parents,’ she said, grabbing her friend’s arm, forcing them both to hurry across the Mowbray Road and on to the start of the long stretch of Ryhope Road. ‘On to more important things,’ she said theatrically, ‘like where’re we gonna go after we’ve seen Gloria at the hospital? Shall we see what’s on at the flicks? Or do you think we should have a little drink somewhere?’
‘Both!’ Angie said, linking arms with her friend as they both hooted with laughter.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When Helen had raced round to Crown’s just after the attack and told Jack what had happened, he’d been seized by the worst panic imaginable. He had asked Helen repeatedly if any serious harm had come to Gloria, but his daughter had reassured him that the St John Ambulance crew seemed to think she was going to be just fine. No serious or permanent damage.
Jack had seen the state his daughter was in and held back his surprise when she pulled out a packet of Pall Malls and lit up a cigarette. He’d had no idea his daughter had started smoking, but didn’t say anything; instead he simply gave her a big hug and told her that he was incredibly proud of her and that she had been so brave. By the time she’d left his office, she’d looked happier and some colour had returned to her cheeks.
As soon as Jack was on his own, though, he opened his top drawer and did something he rarely ever did – he poured himself a stiff drink.
He felt the burn and with it came a cascade of thoughts and scattered memories. Disjointed memories, but as he finished his drink, pulled on his overcoat and made his way to the hospital, those memories started to become more cohesive.
Fragments of conversations
between him and Gloria started to swim to the forefront of his mind: her telling him about Vinnie and their marriage – and that violence had been a constant in her life for many years.
When he arrived at the hospital and hurried up to the Observation Ward, he felt a surge of relief to see that Gloria was sitting up in bed and looked relatively unscathed.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked as soon as he reached the side of her bed.
‘Yes, Jack, I’m fine, honestly.’ Gloria spoke through the tears that had come out of nowhere on seeing the man she loved. ‘I don’t really need to be here,’ she added. ‘I really am perfectly fine.’
Jack brushed a piece of Gloria’s curly brown hair away from her eye and inspected her face. It looked unmarked, which surprised him after what Helen had described of the attack.
‘It looked so much worse than it was. There was a load of blood on my face from a nosebleed.’
She didn’t tell Jack that the nosebleed had been caused by Vinnie headbutting her, and the damage was minimal as she’d instinctively jerked back.
Jack leant in to kiss Gloria, who kissed him back, their exchange of love gentle and slow.
Jack stood back up and looked down at Gloria.
‘You really shouldn’t be here.’ Gloria’s face was angled up at Jack as she reprimanded him in a whisper, although she doubted the old woman to her left and the even older woman on her right would be able to hear; the nurse had to bellow at them every time she wanted to ask them anything, or give them their medication.
The only reason Gloria wasn’t shooing Jack back out straight away was because it was highly unlikely anyone else would visit her. Not only was it out of normal visiting hours, but the only people she knew who were aware of what had happened to her were the women welders, and Rosie had told her they would see her that evening.
‘Wild horses weren’t going to stop me,’ Jack said, and he took her arm and squeezed it. As he did, Gloria flinched.
Jack glanced down to see both her arms looked red and sore. He felt his face flush with anger. At that moment, if Vinnie had been standing in front of him Jack thought he would have killed him with his bare hands.
‘I swear—’ he started to say and stopped himself.
‘Jack,’ Gloria said, seeing the murderous look on his face, ‘don’t even think about it. Promise me?’
Jack was silent.
Gloria saw the nurse walking towards her bed. She’d been sitting at the little desk by the entrance when Jack had come in and had stood up to reprimand him for coming outside of visiting times – it was just after five o’clock and visiting wasn’t until seven – but when she saw the two embrace and the tears that had spilled down Gloria’s face she’d decided to turn a blind eye for a few minutes.
‘You’re just about to get kicked out,’ Gloria told Jack with a smile. ‘Now go. You’ve taken enough chances already coming here like this.’ But Gloria was glad he had; it had made her feel so much better than any of the painkillers she had been given.
‘Yes, I’m gone!’ Jack said to the young nurse now just a few yards away, who was tapping her wrist and frowning.
He turned back to Gloria and gave her a quick kiss. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Before Gloria had time to argue, he’d turned and disappeared through the heavy swing doors of the ward.
‘No more secrets,’ Jack said out loud as he hurried out of the hospital. Tomorrow, he resolved, they were going to have a serious talk. Gloria had not been entirely honest with him. He knew it was because she’d wanted to protect him, but he didn’t want protecting.
It was time he knew everything – the good and the bad.
Chapter Twenty-Three
When Helen had gone to see her father at Crown’s she had been in a bit of a state to say the least. She’d even had to have a smoke in front of him. Never before had she witnessed such savagery waged against one person, let alone a woman.
She knew there were plenty of battered wives about, but she hadn’t thought about the reality of what being a ‘battered wife’ meant. And she had certainly never seen that reality with her own eyes.
And, to top it all, she herself had never before in her life committed such an act of violence. Not that she had any regrets about doing so. It had been a knee-jerk reaction. She was just relieved that the spade had been to hand, and that she’d managed to make the man she now knew was called Vinnie stop.
When her father had commended her on her bravery and had clearly been as proud as punch of her, Helen’s mood of shock and upset had quickly morphed into one of joy and happiness. She had proved herself to her father. He was proud of her. She felt worthy. Validated. Loved.
It wasn’t until Helen had been relating the horror of seeing Vinnie’s rain of punches on Gloria and the poor woman’s bloodied face that she remembered her father had once dated Gloria many moons ago. It had been the way her father kept asking if Gloria was all right – the way he said her name – that had made her recall his previous romantic history with her. How close they’d actually been back then, she had no idea. From what she had gathered, they’d just gone on a few dates before her mother had decided he was the one for her.
When she’d returned from her trip to Crown’s to see her father, she’d been met by a uniformed police officer who had asked her if she would kindly give a statement as to the events of the afternoon. It seemed to have taken ages, and the young constable’s handwriting was laboriously slow to say the least, but they’d got there in the end, and Helen had felt a certain amount of satisfaction that she was playing some part in bringing justice to this despicable man, who obviously thought he could walk into one of the most important shipyards in the country and try to beat a woman half to death.
It was her father’s words of praise, however, and not the giving of the police statement, that were at the forefront of her mind as Helen arranged for a chauffeur-driven car to take her up to the hospital at quarter to five.
‘The Royal,’ Helen commandeered the elderly driver as she climbed into the back of the car.
She knew she would be visiting Gloria outside the permitted hours, but she felt as though the hospital had become her second home after the amount of time she’d spent there by her father’s bedside. Also, she knew as soon as she mentioned her name and who she was – and that her grandfather was one of its main benefactors – any objections would be silenced.
The main reason she was going now, though, was because she knew that Gloria’s women welders would, without doubt, be descending en masse that evening and would stay from the minute they were allowed in to the moment they were told they had to leave. There was no way she wanted to be there when they were. No way.
Helen got out a cigarette, lit it and wound down the window in the back seat of the little shiny black Austin that was now making its way over the Wearmouth Bridge. As she blew smoke out into the cold, late-afternoon air, she felt as though life really was on the up.
As they drove up the New Durham Road, Helen spotted a little florist and asked the driver to pull over. You couldn’t arrive at someone’s bedside empty-handed.
Five minutes later she was hurrying up the stairs to the ward on the first floor, where the young girl at reception had told her a Mrs Gloria Armstrong had been taken on arrival at the hospital.
Helen smoothed her skirt and was pleased to feel that it wasn’t as tight on her as it had been. Her cigarette lunches were having the desired effect.
She could hear the sound of her heels on the shiny tiled floor of the windowless corridor and smell the now familiar odour of disinfectant as she approached the clearly signed Observation Ward.
Having a quick smell of the rather extravagant bunch of yellow chrysanthemums she had bought, she pulled open the heavy swing doors.
What Helen saw next stunned her far more than what she had been a witness to earlier on in the day.
She hadn’t quite made it into the actual ward – one hand was still keeping the door partially open,
the other clutching the bunch of flowers – when she stopped dead.
Her father was leaning over Gloria and kissing her!
And it was not a quick kiss on the cheek.
Nor was it the kiss of a friend.
No, this was most definitely a kiss exchanged between two lovers.
Helen watched, her face set in a look of sheer disbelief, as her father straightened up again.
She saw him say something to Gloria and then he touched her arm and she jerked it back in pain.
Helen’s vision was then blocked by the sight of the ward nurse, who had been tending one of the other patients and was now walking slowly across the ward towards her father and Gloria, tapping her wrist.
Helen took one step back and let the swing doors close in front of her.
Taking another step back, she turned around and walked down the corridor, down the staircase to the ground floor, and out of the main entrance.
When she realised she was still clutching the bunch of chrysanthemums, she dropped them instantly, as if they were poison.
Chapter Twenty-Four
‘I’m back!’
It was Polly’s familiar call whenever she stepped over the threshold of her home. Her words were always met with relief by Agnes, who still worried about her daughter’s safety even though she had now been working at the yard for over a year and a half. Agnes had accepted that she would never stop worrying. How could she? Not only were the yards hazardous places to work, they were now also the Luftwaffe’s primary targets – the price the town paid for its revered ability to build ships. Agnes prayed this war would end soon so that Tommy would come home and he and Polly could get married and start a family – and, above all else, put an end to her daughter doing a man’s job.
When Polly walked into the kitchen she found the usual mess left by Aggie’s nursery being cleared up by Bel. Baby Hope was asleep in Lucille’s old crib, which they had found amongst various bits and pieces they’d come across while clearing out the attic. Agnes was hanging out the laundry, helped by Lucille and the new toy rabbit she had refused to be parted from since the day Maisie had given her it at the station.
