by Nancy Revell
No, it had been the old nun’s actual physical presence that had caused Kate such trauma. This was the first time she could recall coming across any of the Poor Sisters of Nazareth who had brought her up. Kate had not had any dealings with the nuns since she’d left Nazareth House. She might well have seen them during her time on the street, but if she had, she couldn’t remember. Being so close to the woman who had caused her such misery when she was so young, and who had inflicted such terrible violence on her, had made Kate so petrified that she had lost control of her bodily functions.
She had felt like a child again. Terrified. Vulnerable and helpless.
And it was this that was now making Kate feel full of self-reproof, because she was no longer any of those things. She was not scared, defenceless or powerless.
After Kate dried her face, she pulled off the clothes that she had been wearing yesterday and which she had slept in. As she quickly tossed her skirt into the wicker basket that she used for her dirty laundry, Kate spotted an envelope peeking out of one of the pockets.
‘Oh no!’ Kate spoke the words aloud.
‘No, no, no, no!’ she repeated.
She had a sudden image of Peter coming into the shop.
Handing her the letter.
To Rosie.
She felt another wave of nausea that caused her to double over and dry retch.
She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts and in her self-destructive behaviour, she had forgotten all about Peter’s letter!
She had promised to give it to Rosie last night. It must be important. She – indeed, the whole bordello – knew of Rosie’s heartache and that she and her detective were no more.
God, how could she be so utterly selfish?
Kate looked around and found her watch. She was shocked to see how long she had slept. It was nearly eleven o’clock. She never slept in this long. Kate stepped towards her wardrobe, flung open the doors and pulled on the first items of clothing she could reach. Her head was still pounding and her mouth felt as dry as cardboard as she pulled on a skirt and jumper and stepped into a pair of flat shoes.
She then bent down and took the envelope out of the pocket of her crumpled skirt. Grabbing the purse and gas mask she had cast into the corner of the room, she ran down the stairs, grabbed her winter coat from the stand, and slipped out the front door.
Lily was just coming out of the kitchen when she saw Kate disappearing into what was turning out to be a rather cold but surprisingly sunny winter’s day.
It took half an hour of running and jumping on and off buses and trams before Kate made it to the huge metal gates of Thompson’s. It was the first time she had been over the River Wear in many, many years. She avoided going over to the north side as much as she could because it always brought with it too many painful memories, for it was on this side of the river that she had been brought up when her mother was alive. A time when she had been happy.
As Kate stood at the entrance to Thompson’s, she suddenly realised she had no idea what to do next. How on earth could she hope to find Rosie in what looked like, from where she was standing, a concrete jungle of metal and machinery? The place was immense and as intimidating as it was expansive.
‘Are you all right there?’
Kate looked around to see where the voice had come from.
‘Here!’ the voice sounded out again. ‘Look to your left.’
Kate obeyed the instructions and found herself looking at the face of a blond-haired young lad peering out of a window in what looked like a cabin at the side of the entrance.
‘No!’ Kate shouted up to the curious face. ‘I’m not all right! I need to find Rosie Thornton. She’s one of the head welders.’
Kate didn’t say any more as the face suddenly disappeared.
Seconds later, Alfie was standing in front of her.
‘Aye,’ he said in his broad north-east accent, ‘I know Rosie. Everyone here knows Rosie.’
‘Good,’ Kate said. ‘I need to see her. It’s an emergency.’
Alfie took another long look at Kate and decided that she could be trusted.
‘Do you want me to go and get her for you?’
‘Oh, yes – yes, please!’ Kate felt a flood of relief.
‘If anyone tries to come or go,’ Alfie said, ‘you have to tell them to wait here until I’m back.’
Kate nodded and watched as Alfie started to hurry across the yard, jumping over mounds of chains, dodging rivet heaters and catchers, then stopping to allow a line of cranes chug past, all swinging huge metal plates from their arms.
Kate didn’t have to wait long before she saw Alfie reappear with a worried-looking Rosie.
‘Is everything all right? Has something happened?’ Rosie looked at Kate and thought she didn’t look well. ‘Are you all right, Kate?’ Her voice was full of genuine concern.
‘Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just feel awful because I should have given you this last night.’ As she spoke, she handed the letter over to Rosie, who took it and stood looking at the writing on the front of the envelope. There was just her name, but she knew straight away whose handwriting it was.
‘I’m so sorry, Rosie,’ Kate repeated, unsure as to what to give as an excuse. ‘I should have got it to you earlier.’
She stood and watched as Rosie tore open the envelope and read the letter.
Kate stared at her friend and thought she saw tears forming in her eyes, but it was hard to tell as her face was so dirty and her eyes looked bloodshot anyway.
‘Is everything all right?’ Now it was Kate’s turn to ask.
Rosie’s head jerked up.
‘Yes, yes, everything’s fine, Kate, but I need to go somewhere. Are you all right getting yourself back home?’ Rosie knew Kate rarely ventured this far afield.
‘Of course,’ Kate said, desperately hoping that nothing had been spoilt by the late delivery of her letter.
‘Alfie, will you cover for me?’ Rosie asked. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘Course,’ Alfie said. ‘Mum’s the word ’n all that.’
By the time the words were out of his mouth, Rosie was running up the embankment.
Peter stood on the platform as his train pulled in.
He waited until everyone who was boarding the train had got on, his eyes trained on the wooden flight of stairs that led down to the main platform.
He had put the time of his train in his letter. There was a chance that Rosie might come. A slim chance. But a chance nevertheless.
If she turned up now, they could at least hold each other one last time.
Rosie ran as fast as she could, considering she was wearing heavy steel-toecapped boots, looking over her shoulder to see if there was a bus or a tram she could jump on to help her race against time.
Deep down she knew that it was a race she was never going to win, but she didn’t care.
She was going to run it regardless.
As she neared the end of Dame Dorothy Street, she tried to convince herself that there was the chance that luck, for once, would be on her side, and Peter’s train would be either delayed or running late.
In which case, she might make it.
She might get to see him one last time.
As she turned left and ran across the length of the Wearmouth Bridge and onto Bridge Street, she could feel her chest burning as her breath became more laboured. Her legs felt like jelly yet she forced them to keep moving. To keep running.
She was so angry with herself.
Angry for not going to Peter last night.
For turning back.
For being so bloody stubborn.
Rosie didn’t think she had hated herself this much ever before.
‘You’re your own worst enemy, Rosie Thornton!’ She spat out the words as she dodged a woman pushing a pram, and an elderly couple walking away from the town centre.
The pavements were getting busier the nearer she got to the railway station. Looking behind her to check it was safe, she dropped
down off the kerb and started running along the side of the road. Anything to get her there in time.
The words Peter had written in his letter kept circling around in her head.
I love you … always will … Please understand.
But it was the last paragraph that had made her want to weep.
I will try my damnedest to get back to you, but, if I don’t, he had written, you are young, and you must allow yourself to love again.
She wanted to see Peter now so she could scream at him that she didn’t want to love again!
That he was the only one for her!
That he had to come back to her!
Turning into Athenaeum Street, she saw the entrance of the train station.
Rosie heard the blaring of a car horn and she jumped back onto the pavement, but as she did so she tripped and fell, her hands and knees smacking hard against the ground. She felt people staring at her as she pushed herself up and ran the last hundred yards.
As she reached the entrance to the railway station she heard the blast of a whistle and the hissing of a train. She flung herself towards the guard standing next to the barrier.
‘Guildford …’ Rosie could barely speak, she was so out of breath.
The elderly guard put his hand to his ear.
‘Guildford?’ Rosie shouted with her last bit of energy.
The grey-haired guard shook his head.
‘Sorry, pet. It’s just leaving the station now.’
‘Please, can you let me through anyway?’ Rosie begged.
Seeing the look of desperation on her face, the old man ushered her through, knowing it was fruitless, but doing it all the same.
Rosie could hardly see through all the steam as she blindly thudded down the two flights of stairs.
But it had all been for nothing.
By the time she reached the platform, the train was steadily chugging its way out of the station and all Rosie could do was stand forlornly and watch it go.
Chapter Forty-Five
Monday 5 January 1942
‘We’re all here for you.’ Gloria spoke into Rosie’s ear as she hugged her hard.
Polly, Dorothy, Angie and Martha all wanted to do the same, but didn’t. Gloria was the only one who could get away with such a public show of affection. Instead they simply waved their goodbyes with sad smiles on their dirt-smeared faces.
The women welders had all witnessed their boss’s raw heartache with their own eyes when she had returned from the railway station on Saturday afternoon. She had arrived back at work looking ready to drop and she had clearly been crying as her eyes were red and puffy and bloodshot. None of them had ever seen Rosie like this before. Gloria had quickly taken her off to the canteen for a cup of tea, and Rosie had told her through gut-wrenching tears what had happened. Gloria had simply listened as Rosie’s anger had been replaced by self-recrimination. They had cajoled Rosie into going to the Admiral, and Dorothy and Angie had managed to put the tiniest of smiles on her face, but everyone knew, Rosie most of all, that this particular love story was unlikely to have a happy ending.
‘Thanks, Gloria, what would I do without you lot?’ Rosie forced a smile on her face.
‘I think you’d manage, but at least we can cushion the blow a little.’
‘Anyway,’ Rosie said, ‘you get yourself off. I’ve got to go and see Helen about ordering in some new equipment – if I can find her, that is. She never seems to be about when I need her.’
As Gloria hurried to catch up with Polly, she realised just how little Helen had been about since the incident with Vinnie. She was probably just busy. From what Jack had said, she was never at home much these days either, and they’d both surmised that, like Dorothy and Angie, she was probably just out enjoying herself.
‘Rosie doing overtime?’ Alfie asked Gloria and Polly as they handed in their timecards. They both ignored his question and instead told him what he really wanted to know.
‘Kate won’t be coming to meet her today, I’m afraid, Alfie!’
They both chuckled, making the young timekeeper blush. When they’d all been in the Admiral on Saturday night, Alfie had made a point of offering to buy Rosie a drink, which she had declined, knowing he could ill afford it on his wage. They had thought he’d done so as he had seen that Rosie was upset on her return to the yard after her dash to the station. However, when he had then tentatively started asking questions about the young woman who had come to deliver the letter to Rosie, they’d realised that Alfie’s sudden keenness to socialise with the women was because of Kate.
‘So, what’re you doing with the rest of your day?’ Gloria asked Polly as they waited for the old steamer to drag herself across the river.
‘Oh, I dunno, probably help Ma with some of her chores, prepare the tea, see if Bel wants me to look after Lucille for a few hours.’
‘Dorothy and Angie didn’t persuade you to go off gallivanting with them this evening?’ Gloria joked.
‘No chance!’ Polly laughed, as they made their way onto the ferry. ‘I don’t mind going to the flicks with them, but other than that, I don’t think so. They’re scary them two when they’re out. I actually feel sorry for any blokes they set their sights on.’
Both women laughed and chatted away as they made their way back to Tatham Street. The conversation steered towards Rosie and their concern for her broken heart.
‘I just keep thinking how awful it must be that she has absolutely no way of getting in touch with him. She doesn’t even know where in Guildford he’s based, or how long he’s going to be there,’ Polly said. ‘If that was me and I couldn’t have any kind of contact with Tommy, I’d be devastated.’
Gloria murmured her agreement. She knew how much she had missed Jack when he was over in America – when she had not even been able to write him a letter – and it made her realise just how lucky she was to have him back. And even more so to have him back for good.
‘I need to tell Miriam.’ Jack kissed Gloria’s thick mass of curly brown hair as he spoke to her. They were in their usual meeting place – the small stone porchway of St Peter’s Church. Jack had his arm wrapped around Gloria’s shoulders, and he had pulled her close, not just to keep her warm, but also simply because he enjoyed the feeling of her pressed to him.
Gloria knew that Jack had made up his mind. There was to be no more putting off the inevitable. Christmas had been and gone – as had the New Year – and Gloria had given her word that they would come clean once the festivities were over.
Jack had been gutted he hadn’t managed to spend any time at all alone with Helen, who seemed to have turned into a socialite in her spare time. He’d thought she might calm down after the New Year, but she hadn’t.
‘The only reason I agreed to put it off this long,’ Jack added, ‘was because of Helen, and that’s been a total waste of time.’
‘Mm,’ Gloria agreed. She felt Jack sag a little, clearly relieved that he didn’t have to fight her on this any more.
Gloria knew herself that it was time. The irony hadn’t escaped her that she had been the one who had desperately wanted to tell the truth from the beginning, but there had been so many obstacles in her way she hadn’t been able to. Now that the time had come when they could put a stop to all these clandestine meetings and deceit, she should have been rejoicing. Instead, she felt a deep, nervous dread.
‘I was thinking of doing it this weekend coming,’ Jack said.
Gloria nodded. She knew that Jack needed to tell Miriam on his own, so it was up to him when he felt the time was right. Doing it on a weekend would mean he would be able to catch Helen and tell her separately, as she only ever did half a day on Saturday and always had Sundays off.
‘Do you know what I’m looking forward to the most?’ Jack asked. He didn’t need to say what he was talking about. It was all either of them had thought about for so long now – the time they could finally be together.
‘What’s that?’ Gloria tipped her head to look up at Jack
, who was staring out into the darkness.
‘Waking up in the middle of the night and finding you next to me.’
Gloria thought that sounded better than anything in the whole world.
Chapter Forty-Six
Tuesday 6 January 1942
Gloria and Polly steadied themselves as they felt the familiar bump of the ferry reaching the north dock.
‘God, I’m freezing,’ Polly said as she clasped and unclasped her gloved hands. The past few days had been bitter. The loaded granite-coloured skies had let go of the odd flurry of snow, but there was clearly more to come.
‘I know,’ Gloria agreed, ‘and it’s gonna get worse, that’s for sure. You seem chipper all the same.’ She gave her workmate a sidelong glance. ‘Which I’m guessing means you’ve just had a letter from Tommy?’
Polly looked at Gloria with a smile on her face. ‘You know me too well!’ she laughed.
‘How’s he doing?’ Gloria asked. Her own two boys had just sent her a postcard. It hadn’t told her much but it was enough for her to know that they were alive and well; that was all that mattered.
‘Well, you know Tommy, he’d say everything was all fine and dandy even if he was just about to take his last breath.’ Polly paused for a moment. ‘Actually, he said something really lovely.’
Gloria raised her eyebrows. ‘Ah, young love, eh?’
Polly blushed. ‘No, nothing like that. No, he said how proud he was of me. Proud that I was working at the yard, building ships.’
Gloria had to stop any concern showing on her face. ‘Really? That’s a turn-up for the books. I thought he was always trying to get you to stop and do something “safer”.’
‘I know,’ Polly said, ‘looks like he’s finally accepted that his future wife is going to be a shipyard worker. War or no war!’
Gloria forced herself to sound jocular, despite the niggle in the back of her mind.
‘Well,’ she said with a smile, not wanting Polly to see what she was thinking – that it seemed an odd and rather sudden change of heart on Tommy’s part. ‘We’ll see how you both feel about that when you’re married and out here expecting.’ Gloria stuck her hand out in front of her stomach to stress her point.
