by Nancy Revell
Finally, she could rest and simply be alone with her own thoughts.
She felt a lovely warm glow as she recalled telling Gloria the news about Vinnie. It had been a Christmas gift to surpass all others. The news had transformed Gloria. She’d been like a different woman – more relaxed and contented than Rosie and the rest of the women had ever seen her. And there was no need to say why. Gloria had been relieved of the heavy and worrisome burden she had become too used to carrying around with her for too long. Now, finally, it had been taken off her. For good.
Rosie felt her heart swell as she thought of Peter, and how it had been thanks to him.
Looking out of the window at the miles of unspoilt landscape, Rosie marvelled, as she always did when she ventured out of her hometown, at the breathtaking beauty of ‘England’s green and pleasant land’. And as she allowed her eyes to close, her mind drifted back to Peter. His touch. His smell. The way he made her feel. She had never felt this way about anyone ever before. This past month she’d had to pinch herself – numerous times – to remind herself that what was happening was real. And true.
She was in love with Peter, as he was with her. Neither of them could deny it or try and hide it. She had never dared to hope that she would fall so deeply in love with someone – and would want to be with that person for the rest of her life. She knew that he would be there for her through thick and thin – something she had never had – and he knew that she too would be there for him during all of life’s inevitable ups and downs.
It was only now that she had met Peter and had experienced that incredible closeness – the emotional intimacy as well as the physical – that she realised just how alone she had been.
And now – hard though it was to believe – she didn’t have to be on her own any more.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Christmas Day 1941
‘Mammy! Daddy! Look!’ Lucille’s jubilant cries had Tramp sitting up alert in her basket and the puppy racing round the rug, snatching up pieces of wrapping paper and shaking her catch from left to right for all her worth.
Last night Lucille had tried her utmost to stay awake in an attempt to catch a glimpse of Father Christmas, but, like most children the length and breadth of the country, she had failed. Her disappointment, though, had soon been overtaken by her joy at seeing that Santa had left behind a stocking stuffed with presents and not a bag of coal, as had been threatened if she was naughty – although it was something the rest of the Elliot household would have been glad to see at the bottom of Lucille’s bed, since all fuel was now being rationed.
Having got the fire going before allowing Lucille to drag her Christmas stocking down the stairs and into the kitchen so that she could open her presents on the rag rug by the warmth of the range, Bel and Joe were soon joined by Agnes and Arthur, and then, finally, by Pearl after she’d had her usual morning smoke out in the backyard.
There was only one member of the household missing and that was Polly, who had opted to work a half-shift along with the rest of the women welders. She’d been up and out at seven o’clock sharp, as soon as Gloria had arrived and dropped off Hope, who was now sleeping soundly in Lucille’s old crib.
As everyone sat around the kitchen table, all blurry-eyed and sipping on steaming cups of tea, Lucille proudly held up each of her presents as if they were trophies she had won. Bel had been eternally grateful that Gloria had told her about a small, hidden-away second-hand shop down one of the side streets in town. It was where Gloria had got her Silver Cross pram and where most of the toys that Lucille was now waving in the air had been purchased.
There had been some deliberation as to what to wrap the presents in as paper was now a precious commodity due to the country’s wood-pulp supplies coming from places now under Nazi control. They had ended up using Arthur’s old newspapers and colourful bits of ribbon, and they were pleased to see that this had by no means lessened Lucille’s excitement on opening her gifts.
Lucille’s joy that it was Christmas Day permeated the whole of the Elliot household. Even Pearl appeared loath to leave the happy atmosphere, the warmth of the roaring fire and the carols blaring out of Arthur’s wireless for her shift at the Tatham. Once there, however, she was, as she was apt to say, ‘happy as a dog with two tails’ as the festive spirit meant she was being bought so many drinks by her regulars that she had to chalk them up on the tab board.
Ronald was the surprising star of the day after managing to get hold of a whole chicken, which Agnes had delightfully accepted with no questions asked. Most of her neighbours were making do with bacon, or a bit of ham, although it was still going to be slim pickings considering the number of people she had to feed today, which, on top of those living under her roof, also included Gloria, Ronald and Arthur’s friend, Albert.
‘I’ll be back in an hour or two!’ Joe’s voice shouted through to his mother as he pulled on his coat ready to go and see Major Black. He grabbed hold of Lucille, who as always was demanding his attention, and held her aloft, causing her to emit a mix of screams and giggles while he told her to be good until he got back.
Agnes had also invited the Major to spend Christmas with them, but wasn’t surprised when Joe told her that the offer had been ‘most gratefully received’, but had, all the same, been declined.
‘Tell him there’s more than enough to go round if he changes his mind!’ Agnes stuck her head out of the scullery, where she was peeling what felt like a never-ending amount of potatoes and carrots, still thick with mud from Arthur and Albert’s allotment.
Bel walked Joe to the front door with Hope cradled in her arms; she was now wide awake, her huge blue eyes taking in all the sights around her.
‘Send our Christmas wishes to the Major,’ Bel said as Joe gave her a gentle kiss at the door.
As Bel watched Joe hurry off up the street, his walking stick striking the pavement, she was glad he had found a good friend in the Major. As a veteran of the First War, he had experienced his fair share of war atrocities, not least the trauma of losing both his lower limbs in battle. Bel knew there was so much Joe hadn’t told her about what had happened out in the desert, and that he probably would never be able to confide in her about his eighteen months on the front line, but she knew Joe talked to the Major. And she was sure it was no coincidence that since he’d come to know Major Black and joined up with the Home Guard, his terrible night terrors, which used to wake the whole house, had abated.
Walking back to the kitchen and into the scullery where Agnes was busy peeling and chopping the veg, Bel prepared a bottle for Hope.
‘How you feeling?’ she asked. She didn’t need to say any more. They both knew that today was going to be a mixed bag for them all. This was their second Christmas Day without Teddy, but their first knowing that there would never be another with him. Agnes looked at Bel and her eyes spoke of the terrible heartache she was feeling and trying desperately to hide. Agnes knew she wasn’t the only mother in the country to be feeling so bereft today, but it didn’t make her pain any the less. Last week they’d all listened to the latest news about the war in North Africa and Rommel’s retreat, but it had not given them cause for jubilation, only a sense that perhaps Teddy’s life had not been sacrificed in vain.
‘Keeping busy,’ Agnes said simply, as she reached with her free hand to gently squeeze her daughter-in-law’s arm. She knew Bel’s grief over Teddy’s death had been overwhelming, just as she also knew that since Bel and Joe had grown close and fallen in love, Bel had continued to battle feelings of guilt.
‘But it’s like I always say, “our lives must go on,”’ Agnes said, looking at baby Hope and smiling a little sadly. ‘And, you know, Teddy would want us to be happy and to make the most of our lives.’
She could see tears starting to show in Bel’s eyes.
‘I just thank God that Joe made it home in one piece,’ Agnes said. She would never admit it, but sometimes she was glad Joe had been injured, as there was no way he’d ever be sent
back out to the front line.
‘And,’ she continued, looking through to the kitchen where Lucille was forcing the puppy to do a little jig to music on the wireless as Arthur watched and chuckled, ‘I really don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you and Lucille and Polly. I really don’t.’
Bel couldn’t stop a tear falling down her cheek as she gave her mother-in-law a big hug with her free arm.
It was the first time she’d realised that Agnes needed them as much as they needed her.
As Arthur watched Lucille playing and making Pup do a doggy version of the hokey-cokey, he chuckled at the little girl’s mischievousness. He remembered Tommy around the same age. Flo had always done her utmost to make Christmas extra special for their grandson. Trying her hardest, Arthur had always thought, to make up for the fact that Tommy didn’t have a ma or da with whom to share the most exciting day of the year. Flo would somehow conjure up a feast and a stocking stuffed with toys, even when they could ill afford it.
Watching Lucille collapse in giggles with Pup, Arthur wished that Tommy had also enjoyed that same sense of innocent, gay abandon. But with Tommy there had always been an underlying seriousness – even when he was a toddler. Tommy had his father’s looks and strong physique, but he had unfortunately inherited his mother’s deep sensitivity. And it was that which caused Arthur concern, especially now he was so far away from home.
Tommy’s mother had taken her own life after she’d been unable to get over the death of her husband in the First War, and as Tommy had grown up it was clear that he too had that same emotionally sensitive streak, which often caused him to withdraw and suffer dark moods.
Arthur had hoped that his grandson would find himself a wife, and when Polly had come along and made his grandson happier than he had ever seen him before, he had thought it the answer to his prayers.
Arthur’s eyes started to feel heavy and he tried to keep them open as Lucille toddled off to wake up Tramp, who was happily snoozing by the side of the range. The warmth of the fire and the early Christmas Day excitement won over, however, and Arthur closed his eyes, allowing himself to indulge in a little mid-morning snooze. As he felt himself starting to drift off, as always, whenever sleep came for him, Flo appeared by his side.
‘Eee, pet, keep yer eye on that grandson of ours,’ Arthur asked her. ‘Keep him strong, my love. Keep him safe, and bring him back soon.’
‘No rest for the wicked then?’ Jimmy shouted over to the women welders as they huddled around their five-gallon barrel fire at the start of the half-shift they had all volunteered for. The need for ships to be built and repaired as swiftly as possible took precedence over everything, and that included Christmas Day.
‘Yer right there, Jimmy,’ Gloria shouted back good-naturedly.
‘Aye, well, merry Christmas to yer all anyways,’ Jimmy waved.
‘Happy Christmas!’ the women welders chorused back as Jimmy headed over to his squad of riveters.
Like Jimmy and his men, Gloria, Polly, Dorothy, Angie and Martha had all offered to work today’s shift. They too had already bandied about the joke that there was ‘no rest for the wicked’, but in truth no one had been twisting their arms behind their backs when the call had gone out for festive-season overtime.
Gloria had immediately put her name down as she had not relished the thought of being at home on her own, even if it was with Hope, and when Agnes had invited her over for Christmas dinner, she’d jumped at the chance to work and then spend a few hours at the Elliots’. At least it would take her mind off Jack. Lately it seemed that the more they saw each other, the more she missed him when they weren’t together.
Polly, of course, would have worked a full shift had her mother not had a fit at the mere mention of it, and Martha had also come to a compromise with her parents, who agreed to part of – but not the entire – Christmas Day being sacrificed. This was a particularly special time of year for Mr and Mrs Perkins as they had adopted Martha during a bleak and bitter Christmas twenty-two years ago, not that Martha was aware of the significance. It had been something Mr and Mrs Perkins had not felt the need to impart to their daughter, although they had told her that she was adopted. Even when Martha was a small child, they had known it was unlikely they would ever be able to pass her off as their own.
Dorothy and Angie had also not seemed keen on spending the day with their respective families. Angie’s house was chaos at the best of times, but since her mam had been doing more overtime – or rather, seeing her fancy man on the sly – it had grown worse. Dorothy, on the other hand, couldn’t bear the awkwardness of sharing the day with her mother and stepfather and her four younger half-sisters. They would both have probably signed up for the whole day had they not decided to get themselves togged up and go out on the town after work.
Hannah had asked her boss, Basil, if she too could work on Christmas Day. He had chuckled and ruffled Hannah’s thick mop of black hair like she was a little child and told her that the office workers – thankfully – had the day off. He had thought Hannah’s keenness to work was because she was a Jew, and as such Christmas Day was the same as any other, but what he didn’t realise was that Hannah would have wanted to work even if it was the holiest day of the year. She was now doing all the overtime on offer, and was also working on the Sabbath, which, she told herself, was allowed as God would understand why.
‘What’s everyone having for their Christmas dinner then?’ Angie asked, moving from one foot to another and gently clapping her gloved hands together. It was cold and windy, but there hadn’t been even a hint of a white Christmas. Not even a slightly frost-coated one.
‘To be answered during the break!’ Gloria declared, picking up her welding helmet and motioning the rest of the women to follow her. ‘To the fitting-out quay!’ she commanded, as she led the way across the yard.
Rosie had put her in charge while she was away and Gloria was keen to do the best job possible, helped by the fact that she felt on cloud nine, and had done since yesterday morning when Rosie had relayed the wonderful news that Vinnie – the bane of her life, the man who had caused her so much physical and emotional pain for so many years – was now out of her life. Permanently.
She had reported the good news to the rest of the women welders over lunch and Dorothy had let loose with an uncontrolled ‘Hurrah!’ that had caused a fair amount of good-humoured ribbing from the men at the neighbouring tables.
Gloria, however, had to wait to tell Jack until after Christmas, as they’d agreed he was to spend it at home with Helen. The decision to do so had gone a long way to assuage Gloria’s feelings of guilt towards Helen, which had become greater on learning how emotional she had seemed when Rosie had gone to thank her on behalf of the women. Gloria’s love for Jack, and his love for her, had come with a price to pay. Gloria was paying hers with guilt.
Hopefully, though, Gloria told herself in an effort to ease that guilt, Helen and her father would be sitting in front of a nice warm fire, exchanging presents and getting ready to enjoy their family Christmas dinner together.
‘Darling, can you get Geraldine and Frank a glass of the red, please?’
Jack nodded in agreement. He would have spoken, had he thought he’d be heard over the loud music and the chatter that had been steadily increasing in volume as the day had progressed. Any hope of simply enjoying a normal family Christmas and spending some time with his daughter had been quashed from the moment he’d opened his eyes in the comfort of the back bedroom, where he now slept without any objections from Miriam.
As soon as he had woken up he had heard the beginnings of a whirlwind of activity. Poor Mrs Westley. She, along with a couple of local girls who had been brought in to help, had barely had a minute’s rest as Miriam had ordered everyone about and organised what was amounting to be the event of the year. Miriam had even jokingly called it ‘Christmas with the Crawfords’. It was as though she had purposely invited everyone they knew, or rather everyone who was someone.
> After Jack got up, he’d tried to suggest that he and Helen go for a Christmas-morning walk around Roker Park, and perhaps, if the weather wasn’t too awful, have a stroll along the promenade. They mightn’t be able to get down to the beach as it had been sprinkled with landmines and cordoned off with rolls of barbed wire, but they could still walk along the clifftops and look out to sea. But Helen had been too busy, running around getting herself ready for a breakfast date at the Grand with some naval officer billeted there.
Jack had asked Helen about him – had actually been quite glad she was going out socialising, as she’d seemed too focused on work lately and he’d been worried she wasn’t going out and doing what other young women her age did. He had tried to find out more from Miriam about the mystery man from the Admiralty, but she had simply brushed it aside with some flippant comment about it being a ‘short-lived dalliance’ that wouldn’t last two minutes. Jack had thought Miriam might have shown more interest, since Helen wasn’t one to go out much.
‘So, Jack – ’ it was their neighbour two doors down, who was well known in the banking world and came from what Jack called old money ‘ – how’s life treating you at Crown’s?’
Jack forced a smile on his face as he began his now well-worn spiel on all things shipyards and the war. He knew it wouldn’t be long before they asked him about his trip to America, about the SS Tunisia, which he’d been travelling on when it was sunk by enemy aircraft just off the west coast of Ireland, and about what it was like to nearly drown in the North Atlantic.
He had started to feel like a performing chimp in a circus whenever he was forced to attend any of Miriam’s fancy social dos or be part of her determined effort to throw the town’s best dinner parties.
