by Nancy Revell
By the time he had arrived at his destination, he knew what he was going to do.
They had to see each other. Even if it was just for one last time.
Rosie almost staggered out of the double doors of the admin building, still clutching the telegram, her head spinning as she made her way across the yard to see the women.
Harold had sanctioned her leave with the words ‘For however long this detective sergeant needs you for, my dear!’ He had no idea what was behind the telegram, nor what Rosie’s association with the detective was, other than it was obviously important business. The telegram had been sent to the yard, and it was clearly imperative that their head welder be on the three o’clock train to Guildford.
As soon as the women welders spotted their boss, they all pushed up their helmets, switched off their machines and stood like statues watching her approach. They had only been making a pretence of working and had positioned themselves so that they had a direct view of the main office.
‘She’s got the telegram,’ Polly said.
‘She doesn’t look upset.’ Martha’s eyes were scrutinising her boss’s face.
‘That doesn’t mean anything,’ said Gloria.
‘You all right, miss?’ Angie shouted out. She couldn’t contain herself any more. Dorothy yanked her friend’s arm to shut her up. Behind Rosie they could see Hannah bob out of the drawing office. Olly was behind her and they were both hurrying across the yard.
‘Yes,’ Rosie shouted back, seeing the row of worried faces all staring at her. The noise of the yard was at its normal level, but she could see that the women had heard her by the looks of relief that had instantly appeared on their faces.
‘I’m fine,’ she said as she reached them.
The women all moved in close so they could hear each other speak.
‘The telegram?’ Polly asked.
Rosie held it up as if suddenly realising that she was still holding it.
‘It’s from Peter,’ she said, her hand shaking now as well as her voice.
‘Rosie, you all right?’ Hannah asked as she arrived, out of puff, but as soon as she saw Rosie’s face she knew that whatever it was, it was not bad news.
‘I’m fine, Hannah.’ Rosie looked down at Hannah’s upturned face and at Olly, still trying to catch his breath next to her. ‘It’s Peter. He’s sent me a telegram.’
‘And?’ Dorothy demanded. She was almost bursting with impatience. ‘What does he want?’
‘He wants me to go to Guildford.’ Rosie still looked shocked, as if she didn’t quite believe it.
‘Can I have a look?’ Gloria asked.
Rosie handed her the telegram. Gloria read it while Dorothy craned over her shoulder.
‘Bloody hell, Rosie,’ Dorothy said, her eyes wide with excitement. ‘You better get a move on. Your train’s at three!’
Rosie didn’t move.
‘Do you think I should go?’ She was looking at Gloria.
‘Yes!’ six voices practically screamed at her all at once.
‘Will you be all right taking over?’ Again Rosie looked at Gloria.
‘Of course she’ll be fine!’ Dorothy couldn’t stop herself.
‘We’ll behave, miss, promise, cross our hearts and all that,’ Angie chipped in, excitedly.
‘Of course I will be, Rosie.’ Gloria handed back the telegram. A telegram, she thought, that had been very cleverly worded. To an outsider, who didn’t know that Rosie and Peter were romantically involved, it gave the impression that Rosie was needed on some kind of official business. Probably war-related. And by sending the telegram to Thompson’s, and stating his full official title of detective sergeant, Peter had ensured that Rosie received the telegram straight away and would be given immediate leave – no questions asked.
Rosie took the telegram but didn’t move.
‘Now go!’ Gloria told her.
‘Go!’ the women all shouted at her.
A tentative smile spread across Rosie’s face. ‘All right, I’m going.’ And with that she turned and started walking across to the main entrance.
Looking down, Polly saw that her boss had left behind her bag and gas mask. She grabbed them and ran after Rosie.
Rosie looked round and smiled again.
‘Oh my God,’ Dorothy said, as they watched Rosie leave. ‘She looks completely shell-shocked. Do you think she’ll be all right?’
Gloria chuckled. ‘I think she’ll be more than “all right”.’ She turned to look at the women welders still staring after Rosie.
‘Well, come on you lot. Enough gawking. Back to work we go! There’s ships to be built!’
Chapter Forty-Nine
An hour after Rosie’s departure, the women had successfully welded a particularly large patch of metal on to Brutus’s immense flank and were taking a much-needed breather. There was a cold fret creeping in from the North Sea, but when they pushed their masks up they all had sweat dripping down their faces. Not surprisingly, they were all desperate to chat about Rosie and this latest and very dramatic development in her roller coaster of a love life with Peter, but Gloria reminded them of Angie’s promise to ‘behave’ – at least until they got to the Admiral after the end of their shift.
As the women turned their faces up to the sky to catch the cool breeze, they were startled by the sudden appearance of Billy, one of the yard’s foremen.
‘You in charge today, Gloria?’ he shouted above the din of the nearby riveters.
Gloria nodded.
Billy stepped forward to be heard more easily. ‘The yard manager needs to talk to you.’
Gloria shouted to the women to make a start on the next section, adding, ‘I shouldn’t be long!’ She then turned to follow Billy, who had already started to make his way back down the metal gangway.
Halfway across the yard, Billy pointed Gloria in the direction of the timekeeper’s cabin, where she saw Harold chatting to Alfie. The pair of them were jigging from one foot to the other and rubbing their hands in an attempt to keep warm. As soon as Harold spotted Gloria, he waved her over. Only then did Gloria start to feel a little uneasy. She was sure Billy had said it was the yard manager she needed to see – not Harold.
‘What is it with you women welders today?’ Harold joked when Gloria reached him. ‘Your lot are in demand this afternoon. First Rosie, now you!’ He had to raise his voice so as to be heard above the clatter of a load of metal sheets being moved from the nearby platers’ shed.
‘Nothing to worry about, though!’ he reassured Gloria. ‘You are, however, needed elsewhere,’ he added, pointing a gloved hand over to the company car, a black Ford Anglia that was standing idly just outside the gates.
Gloria looked at the chauffeur-driven car, but when she turned back to Harold he was already hurrying off to the administration block. Even Alfie had disappeared into the cabin, where she knew he had sneaked in his own little three-bar electric heater. Gloria’s sense of unease grew. If there had been anything wrong with Hope, Harold would have said, surely? Besides, he’d stressed that there was ‘nothing to worry about’.
‘Over here, Mrs Armstrong!’
Gloria looked up to see that the driver was holding the passenger door open for her.
It took Gloria just a few minutes to hazard a guess as to where she was being taken once the driver turned right at the top of North Sands and started driving along Harbour View. She knew then that they weren’t headed for town, but were instead driving in the direction of Roker. Her suspicions were confirmed when the chauffeur turned left onto Roker Avenue, which heralded the start of the coastal road.
A few minutes later they turned left into Side Cliff Road. It was then that her sense of apprehension turned to panic as the very beautiful, end-of-terrace house that was Jack and Miriam’s marital abode came into view on the corner of Park Avenue.
After pulling up outside the house, the driver jumped out and opened the back passenger door. Gloria climbed out, suddenly conscious of the dirty overalls she
was wearing and her clumpy leather boots. She forced herself to smile her thanks at the young lad who had brought her here. He gestured to the side of the house and the black wrought-iron gate that had somehow avoided being requisitioned by the Ministry of War. It was open in expectation of her arrival. Gloria walked through the gateway, pulling off her headscarf and stuffing it into her trouser pocket. She had no idea what to expect, but knew that whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good.
Glancing behind her, Gloria saw the car pulling away. When she looked back round again, she saw the large front door and there – standing in the doorway – was Miriam. She had a drink in one hand and was beckoning Gloria into the house with the other.
‘Welcome, Gloria!’ she trilled. ‘Please, do come in!’
Gloria looked at Miriam and thought how stunning she looked. Her make-up had been expertly applied. Not too much, but enough to hide the imperfections created by age. Her nails were long and had been painted a vibrant, glossy red.
Once Gloria had stepped across the threshold, Miriam closed the thick oak door behind her, leaving Gloria with the feeling that she had just walked into a trap from which there was no escape.
‘Come through,’ Miriam beckoned, sliding past Gloria and walking across the terracotta-tiled hallway. ‘Jack’s just in the front reception room. We’ve been waiting for you.’
Gloria’s heart was thumping. Her senses were on high alert. She looked around as if searching for a way out, but knew it was fruitless. She had unwittingly stepped into the arena and like the gladiators of old, she knew she was going to be forced to fight, whether she liked it or not.
‘Can I get you a little tipple – a sherry or something – Gloria?’ Miriam was now at the mahogany drinks cabinet and was pouring a good measure of gin into the crystal tumbler she was holding.
Gloria shook her head. She looked across at Jack, who was standing by the large bay window that looked out on to the vicarage opposite and over to the park on the right. He had watched Gloria’s arrival and seen the dazed look on his lover’s face as she had stepped out onto the pavement.
Jack had arrived back at the house just moments before Gloria’s appearance. He’d been at Crown’s when he’d been told that he was needed urgently at home and had dashed back, worried sick that something had happened to Helen. But when he had rushed through the front door and found Miriam pouring herself a drink, he knew this had nothing to do with his daughter’s well-being. Then, when Miriam told him that they were awaiting a very important guest, alarm bells had started ringing loudly in his head.
‘Well, isn’t this cosy?’ Miriam asked, looking at Gloria and then to Jack.
There was a moment’s silence before Jack stepped forward.
‘Miriam, this is a conversation that you and I should be having on our own.’ He glared at his wife.
‘Really, Jack?’ Miriam asked. ‘Why should this be a conversation between just you and me? After all,’ she waved her drink in Gloria’s direction, ‘this affects all three of us, doesn’t it?’
Gloria stepped forward, feeling awkward and out of place in her work gear, as if she was some tradesperson who had ventured into a part of the house that was out of bounds.
‘Miriam—’ Gloria said.
‘Ah, she speaks! Finally!’ Miriam chuckled, taking a sip of her drink and peering down her nose at Gloria.
‘Miriam,’ Gloria persevered. ‘I want … No,’ she hesitated, ‘no, I need to apologise to you. You clearly know about Jack and me …’ Gloria paused. She was unsure as to how much Miriam did, in fact, know, and so refrained from mentioning Hope. ‘And I just want you to know that I am truly sorry for any hurt – any upset – that this has caused you. I really don’t know what to say, other than I am sorry.’
Gloria stopped. She had not been prepared for this. Had never thought she would ever be in this situation. The intention had always been that Jack would have this conversation with Miriam. On his own. It was his wife. He was the one who had to tell her. Besides which, they’d both felt that no wife would want to be told by her husband that he was having an affair and have the mistress present to add to the humiliation, would she?
But then again, this was Miriam they were talking about, and not your average wife. It was now abundantly clear that she had actually gone out of her way to orchestrate the three of them being together.
‘Oh, Gloria,’ Miriam’s voice was light and sounded sincere, ‘that’s awfully nice of you to apologise for any “hurt or upset”.’ She took another sip of her drink and asked casually, ‘Just out of interest, what was your plan?’
She looked at Gloria and then at Jack, who opened his mouth to speak.
‘No, no,’ she jumped in before either of them had a chance to say anything. ‘Let me guess.’ She took a breath.
‘Jack,’ she smiled over at her husband, ‘you were going to leave me – and this house and your daughter – in order to set up home with Gloria here.’ Miriam looked at Gloria and forced another fake smile across her face. ‘So that you both – and of course, let us not forget baby Hope – could then be one big, happy family.’
The mention of Hope’s name gave Gloria a jolt and she automatically looked across to Jack, who was staring at his wife.
‘I’m guessing from both your silences that I am right in my supposition?’ Miriam said, her eyes darting from one to the other.
Gloria didn’t know what to say. There was nothing to say. They had been worried about telling Miriam – had honestly believed that Miriam had no idea about them – and they certainly hadn’t thought she had any idea about Hope.
‘Yes, Miriam,’ Jack said, ‘you’re right. That’s exactly what we’re going to do. I’m sorry that you’ve found out about Gloria and me – and Hope – before I had a chance to tell you myself, but at least now everything’s out in the open.’
He walked away from the window and sat himself down on the sofa.
‘I’ll pack my bags and leave today. I’m happy for you to divorce me on the grounds of adultery, and it goes without saying that I don’t want a penny from you. I came into this marriage with nothing and I’m more than happy to leave with nothing.’
Miriam walked with her drink to where Jack had been standing. She looked out of the window as if deep in thought. When she turned her attention back to Jack and Gloria the butter-wouldn’t-melt mask had been removed – along with the pretence of being the perfect hostess.
‘Do you really think that I will just stand by and let you two skip off into the sunset – pushing your bastard child in a second-hand Silver Cross pram? Do you? Do you really think that?’ Miriam hissed, her face contorted.
The dramatic change in Miriam’s demeanour – as well as her language – shocked Gloria, but it was the fact that she knew the make of Hope’s pram that really put her on alert. Had Miriam been spying on her?
‘I hate to say this, Miriam,’ Jack said, forcing himself not to react to the fact that Hope had been called a ‘bastard’, ‘but you haven’t really got any choice in the matter. And besides,’ he added, ‘I doubt very much that you would want me within an inch of you, never mind still live in the same house as you, knowing what you know.’
Miriam let out a sharp, shrill laugh that shocked Jack and sent a shiver down Gloria’s spine. She had a terrible sense of foreboding.
‘Oh dear Jack,’ she smiled at her husband the way a mother does when indulging a small, innocent child, ‘you never were the brightest button in the box, were you?’ She stepped forward, away from the window, and Gloria could see her face start to twist as she spoke. ‘I hate to disappoint you – and you, Gloria – but I do, in fact, have a “choice in the matter”. A very big choice.’
She paused.
‘But anyway, I’m digressing,’ she said, turning her attention back to Gloria, softening her voice and resuming her cordial air. ‘Do you like working at Thompson’s, Gloria?’ she asked, taking another sip of her drink.
Gloria eyed Miriam. It was as she had sus
pected. Miriam was going to tell her that she had just worked her last few hours and that she would never pass through Thompson’s gates, or those of any other shipyard, ever again. For a brief moment Gloria worried about Polly, whom she had left in charge, and how they would all manage until Rosie was back.
‘I’ll take it your silence means that you do?’ Miriam said.
Gloria still didn’t respond.
‘And the rest of the women you work with?’ Miriam said. ‘They all seem happy working there, don’t they?’
Gloria was thrown. She hadn’t expected Miriam to start talking about the other women welders.
‘Even the little Jewish girl,’ Miriam said. ‘I know she struggled at first, but since she’s moved across to the drawing office, I’ve heard she’s come on leaps and bounds.’
Now Gloria was really confused. The conversation wasn’t going the way she had expected. Why was she talking about Hannah? But it was the inflection in her voice that was causing Gloria to feel increasingly concerned about what she was to say next.
‘And what a strange bunch they are!’ Miriam chuckled.
Gloria bristled. ‘Miriam,’ she butted in, ‘if you’ve got something to say, then just spit it out, otherwise I’m going to get myself off.’
‘Oh no, Gloria, you can’t go yet,’ Miriam said in her little girl’s voice, ‘it’s only just starting to get interesting. You see, I’ve got so much I want to tell you. And I think you may find it of particular interest. I know I did. Rather fascinating, actually.’
Miriam walked to the cabinet and casually added a splash of gin and a little tonic to her glass.
‘For starters, I’ll bet you didn’t know about your “little bird” – I think that’s what you all like to call her, isn’t it? And how she’s now not just keeping a roof over her own head but her aunt’s head as well. You see, it would seem that dear Aunty Rina is a bit of a soft touch and has not been collecting the money she is owed by her customers. Word on the street is that you just need to make up some sob story and the old woman will give you a hug, followed by a quick kiss on both cheeks before telling you “not to worry” and “pay when you can”.
