by Annie Clarke
She laughed as they saluted. Mrs Oborne and Valerie handed their music back, protesting they would ruin it with their voices, and the whole table agreed. Valerie grimaced and grabbed Maisie’s sheet, making a paper dart that she aimed at Fran and let fly. ‘Bullseye,’ she crowed as it hit Fran’s turban.
Fran aimed it at Maisie, who laughed and ducked, catching it before throwing it to someone else, while Miss Ellington raised her voice even higher. ‘Learn it thoroughly, and then let’s show the Workers’ Playtime team just what a bunch of three-year-olds – in other words, you lot – can do. Of course, you might be wiped out by one of these other tables … And do remember, that there is competition from the other sectors.’ She touched her nose. ‘I say no more, for who knows what other sectors do here? You have a task before you, girls. Do your best, and try not to be wiped out, eh?’
Beth had the dart, and this time aimed it at Miss Ellington, yelling, ‘Wiped out, in this place? Bad choice of words, Miss Ellington.’
Miss Ellington dipped a curtsy, grabbed the dart and stuffed it in her pocket, shaking her head as she smiled.
Fran sat back, aching with laughter and relief because after a week with Bob, Beth was rosy and contented, which meant Amelia had taken what she considered her rightful place in the office and was no longer glowering.
As she listened to the excitement of the others, Sarah muttered, ‘I do wonder if Miss Ellington worked some magic to get Amelia transferred, because I’d heard her position had gone to someone else. Perhaps she’s wedged in a corner counting paper clips, but whatever it is, she’ll be happy and at least we won’t have her bellyaching around us all.’
Beth leaned against Sarah. ‘Sorry. It’s because I had leave.’
Fran shook her head. ‘It’s a good thing really because it just alerted us to what she’s really like. By, Beth, it’s good to have someone as common as the rest of us in our midst again.’
Sarah and Beth burst out laughing and it was good to hear, and it was as if something in Beth settled. And thank the Lord for that, Fran thought.
As Miss Ellington headed for the door, Beth grinned at the bus ‘team’ sitting round the table. ‘Now Bob’s gone back on duty, even if it’s only something on shore until his leg is quite better, I’ve all the time in the world to learn and practise, so, let’s go all out, shall we? I reckon I fancy being part of a right grand choir.’
‘Hang about, perhaps they’ll just think we’re a load of grubby factory girls, not worth the candle,’ Valerie warned, winking at Fran. ‘They might choose the office workers. Our Amelia is doing their solo.’
As the outrage began, Valerie waved them down. ‘Oh, you’re just so easy to rile, that you are. I reckon you just need to buff yourselves and your voices to a shine, and then Mrs Oborne and me can slip in the back to mime and add to the glow, pets.’
Beth muttered, ‘No one but me Bob’s going to buff me to a shine, let me tell you.’
Mrs Oborne laughed long and hard, then said, ‘You’d best wash yer mouth out with soap, our Beth.’
There was another twenty minutes till break was over, and Fran eased her shoulders, thinking that she could have eaten another bowl of rice pudding, she felt so much better, and then Beth reached for her hand as Sarah went for another cup of tea.
‘Is everything really all right with you and Bob?’ Fran asked.
‘Aye, pet, I was a daft idiot, snappy and picky. I got lonely, and was thinking all sorts, especially when I heard your Stan were back.’ Beth’s turban was slipping and she dragged it off, her auburn hair falling to her shoulders without a blemish to spoil it. ‘Bob said I should have this lot cut in case I caught it in machinery or it flopped over me eyes at a critical moment.’
Fran nodded. ‘Aye, they keep on about it, so maybe we should. There just doesn’t seem time. I reckon they should do it here. Get us all in a bit earlier, line us up, cut it after we’ve stripped, then we won’t itch from the bitty bits of hair for the rest of the shift. And let the bliddy government pay for it.’
Mrs Oborne was leaning across the table, resting on her elbows. ‘Good idea. Will you ask about it, or shall I?’
Fran could do nothing other than say she’d have a go, and curse her big mouth for opening and shutting it too often. Sarah brought a tray of tea for them all, and Beth whispered, ‘She’s a good lass. Some would only have brought one for theirselves.’
Fran smiled. ‘So are you, pet.’
‘Are what?’ asked Sarah.
‘A good ’un,’ Fran answered.
Beth put an arm around her. ‘Not really. I got too wrapped up in meself. Mam says I should know better.’
Fran grinned. ‘Oh, that’s what mams say all the time.’
Beth sighed. ‘Aye, but this time she were right. I don’t half wish Bob weren’t back on duty. But at least he’ll be safe for a while. Be better if he’d been discharged though, and safe. War’s such a damned worry.’
Mrs Oborne nudged Maisie. ‘Lass’ll be saying next he could have joined the rug co-op, but with your mam in charge, our Fran, safe isn’t the word. A tyrant she is, as she progs the strips into the mat as though they were the enemy themselves, checking the rest of us all the time with them eyes that miss not a thing. Lost her calling, she has. Should have been a bleedin’ general. That’d sort the buggers.’
Sarah was laughing as Fran sniggered, running her finger round her pudding bowl, like everyone seemed to be doing now their appetites were back. Her mam would have a fit.
Mrs Oborne raised her eyebrows at Sarah and said, ‘You can wipe that smile off your face an’ all. Your mam is her partner in crime – yours too, Beth. But we’ve raised a fair bit for them that’s been bombed out, so bless the three of them.’
They were all smiling when Fran saw Mr Swinton enter with Miss Ellington. Fran checked the clock and sighed. Ten minutes to go, then back to work, but Davey said he’d be at the bus shelter, and so would Stan for Sarah. He’d better have a good grovel ready, she thought, then they could all walk or cycle to the beck for fresh air. Maybe take some scones, or so Davey had promised, because he’d talked the corner shop into letting him have a couple. She felt her whole body relaxing at the thought.
It was a cold but sunny day, her itching had stopped and her hair was going back to dark brown. It would just be the four of them. But then she looked at Beth. If she wanted to stay on the bus and come, it’d be good for her.
She saw Miss Ellington speaking urgently to Mr Swinton, who shook his head, and held up one finger. ‘Just the sister, as next of kin,’ Fran saw him mouth.
She turned to tell the other two that someone was in for bad news, but as she did so she saw Miss Ellington shake her head and point to their table. By now the whole table had seen and had fallen silent. Steadily, the canteen quietened and all eyes were on the small group. It was only the tannoy that continued as before, playing music.
Mrs Oborne had a brother in the mine, as well as a husband. Valerie and Maisie had brothers too, but it couldn’t possibly be Maisie because her husband had already died, and lightning didn’t strike twice. No, not Maisie, life couldn’t be that cruel, or so Fran prayed. The canteen doors swung open, and Amelia came in, her brown hair gleaming. She stood with Miss Ellington, listening, and looked doubtful. Miss Ellington gripped her arm and spoke at length. It was then that Amelia could be seen nodding.
Both women turned to Mr Swinton, talking at once, but Mr Swinton brushed them aside and strutted towards the bus team’s table, his overalls flapping. No one spoke on the tables he passed, they just looked. The bus table saw that Miss Ellington was following in his wake, and behind her came Amelia, a file under one arm and a piece of paper in her other hand.
Mr Swinton reached their table and he eyed each and every one of them, and it was at that moment that Fran realised he was enjoying this, and knew that it was Stan, for it was only her family Swinton hated enough to toy with like this. She stood, but he waved her down. Her legs felt weak with relief, but t
hen he pointed to Sarah. ‘A bit of an accident at Massingham Colliery. Your brother is in the Newcastle Royal Victoria Infirmary. Mr Massingham has sent his car for you. Best hurry, or he might not—’
Miss Ellington spun round. ‘Enough, Mr Swinton.’
She turned back to Sarah, who had already risen, pale as a ghost, gripping her hands together. Amelia stepped forward, tugging on Mr Swinton’s arm, then pointing to Fran and whispering urgently. He shook her off. ‘Relatives only. There’s a war on, and targets to be met. Get changed, Miss Bedley. There is Mr Massingham’s car waiting for you. The rest of you, press on at due time.’
Fran stared at Sarah, then Mr Swinton, then Miss Ellington. She stood. ‘I must go. I’m to marry my Davey.’
Sarah reached out to her. They clasped hands as though they were drowning and the only safety was in one another. Fran pushed back her chair, which screeched on the concrete floor. The tannoy still played, and over it Mr Swinton said, ‘Family only, I said. There is work to be done, and that starts in –’ he checked the clock ‘– five and a half minutes.’
Miss Ellington swung round to stand in front of him. ‘If Fran goes I’m sure the other girls will work harder and the target will be reached. And that, Mr Swinton, is the right thing to do.’
Mr Swinton started to push Miss Ellington to one side, but she pushed back. He snarled, ‘You’ll tell the men at the front this, will you?’
Fran dropped Sarah’s hand and started round the table, but Beth caught and pulled her back. ‘Hold her,’ she urged Maisie, who came and did so, whispering, ‘Wait, let Beth …’ She petered out because Beth had reached Miss Ellington and Mr Swinton.
‘The men at the front don’t make bloody overalls, do they, or wear them, you half-arsed idiot,’ Beth said grimly.
Mr Swinton paled at that, and stepped back into Amelia, who pushed him off. It was only now that she spoke so the table could hear. ‘Bugger the office. I’ll take Fran’s place, and then we can keep up.’
Mr Swinton stared wildly from one to the other, but all Fran could think was, Davey … a bit of an accident. You didn’t send for the family for a bit of an accident. She couldn’t breathe, and Sarah was white and panting, but Mrs Oborne had hold of her, shaking her by the shoulders. ‘Stop that, Sarah, you need to be strong for your brother, and your parents.’
The rest of the room were watching. Some rose and drew near. Mr Swinton roared, ‘Relatives only, I said.’
Miss Ellington spoke to Amelia. ‘You meant it?’
‘Of course I damn well did. These are my friends, and I didn’t know they were until I wasn’t amongst them. Of course I meant it.’
She was closer to Swinton now, along with Miss Ellington, who said to him, ‘Then the shift is covered. We can sort the office. I’m sure you agree – for the sake of morale?’
‘Sod morale,’ shouted Beth, and by now all the women at the tables were standing, staring. ‘Any more of your bliddy nonsense, Mr Swinton, and I’m not working, not today, not ever. I’m on strike. Anyone with me?’
Everyone who wasn’t already standing, stood up, and a chorus of ‘Ayes’ resonated over the endless music. Then there was a long pause, or so it seemed to Fran, but it was only twelve seconds, or so the clock said. Now thirteen, as the second hand clicked round. Was Davey alive? Was he hurt badly? Oh Davey … Was it only Fran who heard Miss Ellington whisper, ‘Recover some moral high ground, Mr Swinton, for the love of God?’
‘I’ll have the lot of them for treason.’
Miss Ellington whispered again. ‘Act your age, and dig yourself out of this damned great hole you’ve created for your idiotic arse before we see who actually is charged with treason. How’s your son, by the way?’
At those words Mr Swinton flushed and, after a pause, nodded. Mrs Oborne let go of Sarah, who started to rush towards the door, then stopped, calling frantically, ‘Fran, Fran, hurry.’
Fran moved then, feeling strange, as though she was floating miles above the world, but then Maisie came after her. ‘Go. Just knowing you are there will seep into him, as it would have done my Derek if I had been with him on that beach.’
Maisie shoved her, and Fran sped past Amelia, who called, ‘God speed.’
Again Fran stopped. ‘How can I thank—’ she said to Amelia.
‘Friends don’t have to,’ Amelia said. ‘I’ve only just realised that. Go.’
Beth went with them to the door. ‘I’ll come later, somehow.’
Again Fran said, ‘How can we tha—’
‘Don’t.’ Beth was fierce. ‘Don’t you dare thank me. We’re all together, we three, and no one can mess us about. I won’t have it.’
Fran and Sarah changed, full of fear and groping for gumption. They ran to the gates alongside Mrs Raydon, who had appeared as they left the changing rooms. They fumbled for their passes, showed them, and were waved through. They ran towards Massingham’s great big Rolls. The front and back doors were open. ‘Take the front,’ Sarah shouted. ‘I can’t bear to have to talk, even to the chauffeur.’
Fran did, and shut the door, smelling … What? She turned but instead of Alfie Biggins it was Ralph. Of course, his cologne. She reached for the door, for today of all days she would not be near this man who had haunted her since his return. But she was too late, for Ralph was starting the car and driving off as Sarah slammed her door shut. All Fran could think was that Ralph was never going to leave her alone, never, and was using even this accident to stand between her and Davey. But he said, ‘The chauffeur was off, and Father said I should take the car and drive you both. Where the hell have you been? We have to hurry.’
He was behaving normally, like any other man who wanted to help. She leaned back in the seat, too terrified at the thought of Davey and too grieved to even reply. So much for gumption, she thought.
In the back seat Sarah was silent, and that’s how they travelled as they drove away from the Factory.
Back in the sewing room, Amelia took over Fran’s machine and all the girls tucked their chins in and worked, ticketty-tick, crunch, crunch of the scissors. Finally, as two o’clock chimed, they reached their target. Amelia and Beth changed and walked to the bus with Valerie, Maisie and Mrs Oborne. Bert had heard the news and drove with a determination and speed the likes of which no one had experienced with him. As Beth got off at Sledgeford, he called after her, ‘Tom Bedley were me marrer till I buggered me back. I’ve a grand liking for his lad. Fair breaks me heart, for yer know they don’t send for relatives till it’s right bad.’ As the engine idled and the last of the Sledgeford passengers alighted, he looked at Beth. ‘You’ll be going to the station on yer bike?’
Beth nodded. ‘Course I am, they’re my friends. Just off to get it now.’
Bert nodded. ‘Your marrers, yer mean. So go on, fetch yer bike. I’ll drop you near the station at Massingham. They’ll need yer, like as not. But you watch that Swinton. I heard you girls have had your tussles with him afore, and this might be one time too many. Like his boy, he be. Nasty when riled. Howay now, we’ll wait.’
Beth ran all the way, hearing footsteps behind her, but she was heedless. She flew into her backyard, and it was then that Amelia arrived, helping her to haul the bike into the back lane. Just before she mounted, Amelia dug into her bag and drew out some money, stuffing it into Beth’s pocket, ‘For the train, and whatever you need.’ She then brushed Beth’s face with the ends of her scarf. ‘Try not to cry, Beth. Come on.’
She ran alongside as Beth cycled back to the bus. She pushed while Beth hauled the bike up the steps, and Amelia called, ‘I won’t come, I’m not one of your marrers, as Bert called you, but anything I can do …’
Beth reached down as Mrs Oborne grabbed the bike and hauled it into the aisle, and held Amelia’s hand. ‘You have done so much. He’d never have let Fran off without you. They’ll remember, I’ll remember.’
Bert roared off, and Beth sat with a thump in the aisle. She said to Mrs Oborne, who still held the bike, ‘You’ll te
ll me mam for me when you get to Massingham? Tell her I’ll be as long as it takes, but will need to bed down in me old room tonight.’
‘Aye, lass, now wipe yer face, get rid of them tears and make ’em stop, cos that won’t help the lasses.’
Beth hadn’t known she was still crying.
Chapter Sixteen
Ralph drove in silence and in his presence Fran wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t picture Davey as he and Stan had looked when they’d reached the hospital in the last accident. She wouldn’t think, or feel, so she stared out at the scenery, if slag heaps could be scenery. But yes, they could, for Stan had said, ‘They are the living embodiment of the land we live on.’
Her da had replied, ‘Shut yer noise and eat yer tea.’
That had been when Stan started in the pit. Sixteen, like Davey, because they did a couple of extra years at school. She looked down at her hands, clenched into fists. No, she was thinking. No.
She looked at the road ahead, the distant pitheads, the church towers, the weathered old trees that were so lucky to make old bones … Davey, her beloved Davey … And then she felt a hand on hers. Ralph. She snatched hers away.
‘I need to apologise. Davey came looking for me – he was my mentor for the day – and I was scrabbling to get a load of blacklocks out of my hair. Can’t stand the devils, and they’d just dropped from the roof. When I heard the rock fall I was startled, and ran down with the tub, but was going so fast I tripped and it whacked off the rails, just before it reached the fall,’ Ralph said.
‘So why apologise?’ Sarah said from the back seat. Fran just kept looking ahead. She mustn’t open her mouth or a wail would be all that came out. A wail for her love, her Davey. What did she care about Ralph’s blacklocks, his tub?
