The Bomb Girls

by Daisy Styles

  Dropping the tea, Stan suddenly jumped to his feet. Thinking the song had jogged his memory, Agnes jumped up too.

  ‘We used to sing it together walking home from the picture house,’ she reminded Stan, who began hurrying away along the river path past Queens’ College. ‘Stan, wait!’ she called as she grabbed the flask and dashed after him.

  To her horror, he walked straight out onto the busy main road.

  ‘STAN!’ she screamed as a car, mercifully going slowly, screeched to a halt and missed hitting Stan by inches.

  The furious driver leaped out and started yelling at both of them.

  ‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?’ he bellowed.

  At the sound of his angry voice Stan buckled at the knees and fell to the ground where he covered his head with his hands as he curled into a foetal position.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Agnes gasped. ‘My husband’s not well.’

  ‘I can see that,’ said the shocked driver. ‘It’s a wonder he’s not dead!’

  Once he’d driven away Agnes bent down and tried to lift Stan to his feet.

  ‘It’s all right, love, he’s gone. You’re safe,’ she said as she smoothed his black hair, now heavily streaked with bands of grey.

  Tears streamed down Stan’s haggard face.

  ‘Take me back to my cell. Please, get me out of here!’ he begged.

  Back on the ward an agitated Stan was put to bed and injected with a tranquillizing drug that sent him into an immediate deep sleep. Agnes sat by his bed, holding his hand as he ranted in his sleep.

  ‘No … no … don’t hit me,’ he whimpered as he tossed and turned. ‘I don’t know, no, not again …’

  Stroking his hair, Agnes tried to calm her husband, who, twitching and shivering, finally slipped into a ragged, restless doze.

  ‘It’s all right, my love, you’re safe now. You’re home, and we’ll look after you. Nothing to worry about, just rest … shh …’ she soothed as the light faded and night set in.

  Depressed beyond words, feeling like she’d done more harm than good, Agnes braced herself for her final visit to Addenbrooke’s Hospital before she had no choice but to return, for the time being, to her war work. She wished she could stay, but would try to get back for another visit as soon as she was allowed leave. With her heart in her mouth and her stomach churning, she walked down the long ward to say goodbye to Stan. She found him sitting in the same old metal chair, staring out of the same window at the falling gold and ochre leaves.

  I leave him just as I found him, she thought hopelessly.

  ‘Stan …’ she whispered.

  She didn’t make the same mistake of touching him; she just hunkered down so she was on the same level as him.

  ‘I’ve got to go.’

  Stan remained impassive. Holding back the tears that threatened to engulf her, Agnes waited patiently, until she got cramps in her legs from crouching so long.

  ‘What the hell am I waiting for?’ she muttered angrily to herself. ‘A miracle like you see in the pictures? Stan rising and taking me in his arms and us walking off into the sunset! Snap out of it, Agnes, and leave the poor man alone. You’ve done no good here.’

  She rose, swiped away her tears of pain and despair and then, with one last lingering look, she left the hospital and headed home to the only people in the world she could talk to.

  Weary and heartbroken, she returned to the digs where her friends were eagerly awaiting her return.

  ‘How was he?’ Elsie asked as she removed Agnes’s damp coat, although she knew from the sight of her friend’s face that she didn’t really need to ask.

  Weak and depressed as she was, Lillian’s heart went out to Agnes, who looked like she’d aged twenty years since she’d left them.

  ‘Sit down and get warm, then have some tea,’ she urged as she settled Agnes on the sofa.

  ‘Tell us your news?’ Emily begged.

  Clutching a mug of steaming-hot tea, Agnes gazed into the loving faces of her devoted friends. Tears welled in her eyes and the heartbreak she’d bottled up all day on the train bubbled out of her.

  ‘Stan might be alive …’ she sobbed. ‘But he’s a living corpse – he didn’t even recognize me!’

  CHAPTER 20

  Payback Time

  As a hard winter set in and the year turned, families in Pendle heard that their lads in the Lancashire Fusiliers were battling it out against Rommel’s German army in Tripoli. Elsie, who’d hardly ever attended school in Gateshead, had no idea where Africa was, never mind Tripoli. During one of their tea breaks, Emily, who’d been avidly following news of the Lancashire Fusiliers, took it upon herself to teach Elsie some geography on the back of a copy of the Daily Herald. She drew the bulky shape of Africa and put a star where Tripoli was, then she drew a sketchy map of occupied Europe.

  ‘We’re here,’ she said as she put a big circle around England. ‘And Tommy is, fingers crossed, there,’ she added as she pointed at the star that represented Tripoli.

  ‘Oh …’ Elsie’s voice trailed away. ‘He’s a long way away.’

  ‘Hopefully, he’ll soon be heading this way,’ said Emily as she drew an arrow up to the heel of Italy. ‘Across the Med and into Italy.’

  As Elsie’s geography lesson continued, a woman the girls knew from the loading bay yelled over the high notes of the all-women Ivy Benson Band blasting out from the radio, ‘Lillian Liptrott, Lillian Liptrott!’

  Lillian, who was humming along to the music, didn’t even hear the call.

  Agnes waved a hand in the air.

  ‘Over here.’

  In a hurry, the woman dropped a letter on top of Emily’s sketch of North Africa.

  ‘Just found this in my pigeonhole, cock,’ she said with a cheery laugh. ‘Must’ve got there by mistake.’

  As if in a slow-motion dream, Lillian looked at the grubby, crumpled, airmail envelope with writing on the front so smudged she could barely decipher her name. The back of the envelope was half open, which indicated it had been read for censorship purposes.

  Struggling for breath, she gasped, ‘Gary! I think it’s from Gary.’

  Then, turning as white as a sheet, Lillian swayed in her chair.

  ‘Catch her before she faints!’ cried Agnes.

  On either side of her, Emily and Elsie grabbed Lillian by the arms and steadied her.

  ‘Deep breaths, sweetheart, deep breaths,’ Agnes said as she wiped Lillian’s clammy brow.

  Grasping the letter in her trembling hands, Lillian croaked, ‘Read it.’

  Agnes read aloud.

  ‘My darling girl, can you ever forgive me? I’ve kept you in the dark because my squadron were totally in the dark too! We were transferred from our Lancashire base overnight, no chance of saying goodbye to you, my love. We were driven to an unknown destination then our training began for a top-security mission …’

  What followed had been crossed out by the censor.

  ‘Trust me, sweetheart, I was going crazy thinking about you. I asked if I could write to you, phone you? The answer was always a definite no. None of us could have any communication with the outside world till our mission to …’

  ‘The censors have crossed out wherever they were going to,’ Agnes said as she scanned down the letter.

  ‘He was going out of his mind? How about me?’ laughed Lillian as colour returned to her cheeks.

  Agnes continued reading.

  ‘We flew out at dawn, a bunch of us in B-17s, on a mission to strategically bomb enemy bases. I tell you, Lillian, we had no idea we were part of an offensive air operation against Germany – a massive all-American air attack in Europe! Believe me, it was damn scary, but we got the Hun on the run! Hell, when we found out what we’d achieved, we were proud, man, we were so proud!

  Since then we’ve been detailed in some God-awful place in Wales, awaiting further orders.

  Darling, when I think of you I just ache with love …’

  Agnes smiled as she
folded the letter and handed it back to Lillian.

  ‘The rest is a bit personal,’ she laughed.

  ‘Check the envelope,’ Emily suggested. ‘See where it was posted?’

  Lillian squinted at the small print.

  ‘Nothing but the date,’ she said, then she gasped in disbelief. ‘Can you believe it?’ she cried. ‘It’s taken all these months to get here! All the time I was thinking Gary might be dead … and losing the baby …’ Her voice choked with emotion. ‘All that time he was in Wales!’

  ‘Well, he couldn’t have done anything even if he’d wanted to,’ Emily pointed out. ‘Not if he was banged up on a top-security mission.’

  Lillian nodded and smiled; already the sparkle was back in her big brown eyes.

  ‘As long as he’s alive and he loves me, I can wait for ever,’ she said dreamily.

  Seeing Lillian radiant and happy for the first time in a long time gave Elsie the confidence to reveal her secret.

  ‘I’m got something to tell you,’ she said shyly.

  Her friends turned expectantly towards her.

  ‘You’re not going on a bombing raid too?’ Lillian joked.

  Elsie shook her head and blushed bright scarlet as she replied, ‘I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant, like!’

  Agnes, Lillian and Emily leaped to their feet and threw themselves on Elsie, squeezing and hugging her until she could hardly breathe.

  ‘Give us a bit of air,’ she cried.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us sooner?’ Emily asked.

  ‘It didn’t seem right, what with Lillian being so sad and poorly,’ Elsie answered quietly.

  ‘That’s all in the past,’ said Lillian staunchly. ‘Now it’s time to think about you, Elsie.’

  ‘Does Tommy know?’ Agnes asked.

  ‘I wrote to him straight away but …’ Her voice trailed away.

  Her friends knew what the ‘but’ meant. Her letter, like thousands of others, could have got lost or, worse, Tommy could be dead, imprisoned, lying injured by a roadside somewhere between Tripoli and Tunisia, never knowing he was a father-to-be.

  ‘This bloody rotten war,’ Lillian seethed under her breath.

  ‘Don’t fret, lass,’ said Emily, her voice upbeat, her tone defiant. ‘We’re your Phoenix family and we’ll take care of you till Tommy gets home.’

  The following day, as the girls clocked off their shift, Agnes was taken aside by the personnel officer, who told her that the empty bed vacated by Alice would soon be taken by a new munitions girl from London. When Agnes broke the news back at the digs a loud groan went up from Elsie, Lillian and Emily.

  ‘Oh, no!’ said Emily. ‘And I’m the one who has to share with the new lass.’

  ‘I suppose it couldn’t last for ever,’ said Elsie. ‘Though I was secretly planning to put my wee bairn in the spare bed when it was born,’ she added with a giggle.

  ‘What if this London woman’s posh?’ Lillian said.

  ‘That’s all we need,’ Emily laughed. ‘Somebody with airs and graces living alongside us in a cowshed!’

  Towards the end of the week Elsie, tired and with an aching back brought on by constantly bending over the conveyor belt, took herself off to the digs for a stretch-out on her bed.

  ‘We’ll join you soon,’ Agnes said as she lingered behind in the canteen, drinking tea with Emily and Lillian.

  Yawning and rubbing the small of her back, Elsie opened the door of the digs and walked in, only to get the shock of her life. There in front of her was a man she’d hoped she’d never see again: her tyrant of a father. He was waiting for her in the sitting room.

  In a single split-second the camaraderie she’d just been enjoying with her friends was banished from her mind as she was whizzed back to her former existence in Gateshead: the fear, poverty, pain and constant abuse. How had her monster of a father tracked her down? What did he want?

  Terrified, Elsie looked wildly around.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here. It’s not your house,’ she cried.

  ‘I’ve come for your wages,’ her dad snarled.

  ‘I haven’t got any money,’ she lied.

  With an arm raised, her dad took a step towards her.

  ‘Don’t give me that shit!’ he yelled as he laid into her, hitting her hard around the head and face. ‘Everybody knows munitions girls earn a packet and I’ve come for what’s owed to me.’

  Elsie, who did have savings hidden under a loose floorboard not six feet away from where her father was standing, would have preferred to lose a limb rather than part with the money she’d saved up for her baby.

  ‘I’ve got no money!’ she repeated and before he could hit her again she bolted for the door.

  ‘BITCH! Get back here,’ her dad bellowed as Elsie shot like a terrified rabbit out of the house.

  Though pregnant, Elsie could run faster than her father, who, unused to moorland tracks, stumbled as he gave chase.

  ‘Wait till I get hold of you,’ he gasped as he tried to keep up with her.

  Coming back from the canteen, Emily and Lillian were surprised to find the digs empty and the front door standing wide open. Hearing cries coming from the moors, they ran to see what was going on. Nothing could have prepared them for the sight of Elsie being pursued by a man.

  ‘Quick!’ Lillian yelled as she set off running. ‘Elsie’s in trouble.’

  Emily followed, but not before picking up the bread knife from the kitchen table.

  Out of breath and gasping for air, Elsie was forced to stop as a sharp pain shot across her side. Scared that she might have damaged her baby, she fell onto the soft ground.

  When her father found her hugging her small rounded belly his anger doubled.

  ‘Filthy bitch!’ he yelled at her again. ‘You’ve got yourself knocked up too!’

  Seeing her father coming at her, Elsie curled into a tight ball.

  ‘Dad! No, please, no!’ she screamed.

  ‘I’ll beat the bastard out of you,’ he raged, and without a doubt he would have done if Emily and Lillian hadn’t thrown themselves on his back and dragged him away from his sobbing daughter.

  He put up a good fight, punching out in all directions, but finally Emily drew the bread knife on him.

  ‘Come one step nearer and I’ll cut you,’ she said. The blazing light in her blue eyes gave Elsie’s dad no cause to doubt her words.

  With a busted lip and scratches all over his face, he stepped away.

  ‘I’ll be back, whore,’ he snarled at Elsie, who was crouched hiding behind her friends. ‘I want my money.’

  Still pointing the blade at him, Emily replied, ‘Don’t even try it, mister.’

  Threatening all kinds of revenge, Elsie’s dad slunk back across the moors, leaving his daughter half fainting with relief.

  ‘Oh, God, has he gone?’ she whispered.

  ‘He’s gone,’ said Lillian as she reached down to help Elsie to her feet. ‘Come on, lovie, let’s get you home.’

  Trembling, Elsie was too frightened to move.

  ‘What if he follows us? He knows where I live.’

  Emily shook her head.

  ‘He won’t come back, not now anyway. Like all cowards, he knows when he’s outnumbered.’

  Standing on either side of Elsie, they got her to her feet and half carried her back across the moors, which were now dark in the fast-fading light. Once in the digs they patched up her wounds and settled her into bed, where they kept her warm with hot-water bottles. All night long Agnes, Lillian and Emily took it in turns to sit with Elsie, who slept fitfully due to the cuts and bruises on her face and the agitated state she was in.

  ‘I’m scared stiff she’s going to lose the baby,’ Lillian fretted.

  ‘As long as we keep her calm and quiet, she’ll be all right,’ Agnes assured her friends.

  Eventually all the girls fell into an exhausted sleep. A hand shaking her shoulder and a soft voice in her ear roused Lillian early the next morning.

  �
�Cuppa tea?’

  Lillian started awake and stared into the face of Elsie, who was bending over her with a steaming mug of tea.

  ‘Get back into bed!’ she cried as she removed the mug from Elsie’s hand and ushered her back into her empty bed.

  ‘I’m dressed and ready for work,’ Elsie pointed out to her bleary-eyed friend.

  Hearing voices, Agnes and Emily came rushing into the bedroom.

  ‘What’re you doing up?’ Agnes cried.

  ‘Will you all stop your fussing?’ Elsie replied.

  Nothing would convince Elsie to stay at home and rest. In the end she confessed that she was scared of being alone just in case her dad came back. Seeing her so nervous and vulnerable, her friends agreed she’d be safer in numbers and they all clocked on for their morning shift with Elsie sporting two black eyes.

  During their first tea break, with Workers’ Playtime jangling out over the loudspeaker system, Elsie begged her friends not to tell Tommy of the previous day’s events.

  ‘It’s not like he’s here to tell,’ Lillian pointed out with a laugh.

  ‘You mustn’t say a word to him when he gets home,’ Elsie replied in all earnestness. ‘The less he knows, the better.’

  ‘Putting Tommy on one side for the moment,’ Agnes said grimly, ‘we need to establish a plan, should that bullying father of yours turn up again.’

  Elsie went pale and started to tremble.

  ‘He said he’d come back,’ she whispered. ‘Next time he might kill my baby.’

  ‘Not if we’ve got anything to do with it!’ Emily said fiercely.

  ‘We’ve got to make sure he can’t get into the house again,’ Agnes said.

  ‘We could padlock the door and windows,’ said Emily.

  ‘And keep a constant eye on you, buggerlugs!’ Lillian fondly added as she laid a protective arm around Elsie’s skinny shoulders.

  Elsie smiled trustingly at her devoted friends.

  ‘What would I do without you all?’

  ‘I don’t know, sweetheart,’ joked Lillian. ‘I really don’t know!’

  ‘Seriously,’ said Agnes, ‘for the time being, let’s not let Elsie out of our sight.’