The Factory Girls of Lark Lane: A heartbreaking World War 2 historical novel of loss and love

by Howes, Pam

  Alice chewed her lip and looked at Jack, who shrugged and sat down. Mam got to her feet and shuffled away, calling over her shoulder that she was just waiting for the kettle to boil.

  Alice’s eyes filled and Jack stood up and put his arms around her.

  ‘Look, I know this is hard to take but she’s gone like my mam did. Just follow her lead, Alice, play along with her. She doesn’t know what she’s doing or saying by the sound of it. I’ll be Terry for the afternoon if needs must.’

  Alice leant against him, glad of his support and that he was there with her. Nothing seemed to go right lately. She needed a friend, a shoulder to cry on, and at the moment, in the absence of Millie, that friend was Jack and the shoulder belonged to him. They sat side by side, Jack holding her hand in a comforting way. Eventually Mam shuffled back into the room and smiled as she sat down in front of them.

  ‘Hello, love, fancy seeing you here. And who’s this?’

  Alice caught her breath. What was happening to her mam? She didn’t even realise that she’d just spoken to them five minutes ago. Jack spoke up for them both, still holding onto Alice’s hand.

  ‘Hello Mrs Turner. I’m, er, Alice’s friend.’ Jack didn’t give a name. ‘I’ve driven Alice over to see you as there are no regular trams and buses today. It’s Boxing Day, you see.’

  Mam nodded. ‘Oh yes. It was Christmas Day, wasn’t it. I told them I had to get home to see to my little boy. He’s only a baby, you know. Where is he, Alice? They wouldn’t let me go home yesterday. They said I had to wait to see you. So where is he?’

  ‘Brian is fine, Mam. He’s with a school friend today. The family invited him for tea.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. Brian’s not at school, he’s only three. And where’s our Rodney and your father? They said they’d take me home today but I haven’t seen either of them since last night.’

  ‘I don’t know, Mam.’ Alice looked at Jack in despair. ‘What shall I do?’

  ‘Just go along with her,’ Jack whispered. ‘If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. We could do with speaking to a nurse or someone. Bet there are no doctors on duty today. Shall I go and ask at reception?’

  ‘Would you, please? Thanks Jack, I’ll stay here with her.’

  Mam grabbed her hand as Jack went in search of someone to speak to. ‘He’s nice, your young man. Don’t let him get away, see that you marry him as soon as he asks you, he looks a good one. Terry, did you say his name was?’

  Alice took a deep breath and nodded. ‘That’s right, Mam. And I’ll take your advice when he asks me.’

  She gave her mam the wrapped presents and watched as she unwrapped them, smiling at the framed photo of Brian and Cathy that they’d had taken together.

  ‘Who are these children? They look very nice. Do I know them?’

  Alice almost choked on a sob. ‘That’s Brian, your little boy, and that baby is my Cathy, your granddaughter.’

  Mam stared at the photo for a while and then smiled, but not with recognition. ‘Are you married then, love?’

  ‘Yes, Mam.’ This was awful. Did her mother even know there was a war going on? She clearly had forgotten that Dad and Rodney were dead. The door opened and Jack came back in with an older man in a suit.

  ‘This is Doctor Forbes, Alice,’ Jack said. ‘I’ll take your mam for a cup of tea while he talks to you.’ He patted her shoulder and helped Mam to her feet. ‘Oh, what have you got there? Shall we go and look at your pressies while Alice has a chat to the doctor?’

  He led her away and Alice felt grateful that Jack was with her today. It was a good job he was, because she had a feeling that what she was about to hear wasn’t going to be pleasant in any way. Doctor Forbes sat down in the chair Mam had vacated.

  ‘Is it serious?’ she began, her voice faltering.

  ‘I’m afraid it is, Alice,’ he replied. ‘We’ve seen a real decline in your mother’s state of mental health since she’s been with us. She’s rather young, at nearly fifty, for the diagnosis, but we’ve assessed her and done tests since she’s been here and her condition deteriorates as the days go by. I’m afraid that we will be unable to keep her here in the convalescent home for much longer and she is of course unable to go home and live independently. We are looking to transfer her in early January to a mental health hospital in the city where she will get the help and treatment that she needs.’

  ‘You mean an institution?’ Alice said, her voice barely more than a whisper. ‘Oh no, my poor mam. Is there anything she can take that will make her get well again? She’s missing out on her little lad growing up and my baby girl, her granddaughter.’

  The doctor shook his head. ‘There’s nothing, I’m afraid. Her brain is in decline and her condition will only worsen over time. She has a brain disease that we believe to be dementia and she also suffers from psychosis. She is a very sick woman and needs specialist care that only a hospital dealing with mental health patients can help with.’

  Alice sighed. ‘And will she die of this brain disease?’

  He nodded slowly. ‘The brain eventually stops functioning and communicating with parts of the body. I’ll make sure you get as much information as we can give you to keep you informed. We’ll let you know where we are sending her, and when, as soon as we know ourselves. Meantime, I can assure you that we will do our best to care for your mother here and keep her comfortable until that time arrives. Now I’ll take you to find her and your husband and you can enjoy the rest of your visit with her.’

  Alice nodded, not bothering to correct him, and followed him to the dining room, where Jack and Mam were sitting at a table chatting like they were old pals, a plate of cake and a tray of tea things in front of them. The doctor shook Alice’s hand and she joined them, feeling stunned at what she’d just been told.

  ‘Okay?’ Jack asked, pouring her a cuppa from the green tea pot on the tray. ‘Sugar?’

  ‘Just one please. I’m in a spin, I really am.’

  ‘I know, I’ve been in the place you’re in right now. We’ll talk about it on the way home. Meantime let’s get back to that Blackpool holiday your mam was telling me about. When you fell in the sea and wet your clothes and had to be taken dripping wet back to the boarding house to get changed.’

  Alice half-smiled at the long-ago seaside holiday memory that seemed clear as a bell to her mam, who was chatting happily to Jack. She still seemed to think he was Terry.

  22

  February 1943

  Mam had been transferred to Rainhill Hospital in mid-January, and although it wasn’t an ideal solution as it was still quite a journey to visit, it was the only hospital place available right now that could cope with her mental health, which was worsening as the days went by. Alice wished she could care for her at home but it would be impossible for her to continue to work, and without her working they would starve. She knew she was in a better position than a lot of girls her age who were married to soldiers and had the responsibility of children to look after, but sometimes she thought about what Jack had said, about her being tied when she could have been free until Terry came home. He was right, but it had been her choice and what she’d wanted more than anything at the time. After all, no one had expected the war to last all this time and still with no end in sight.

  The daily slog of working at Rootes was getting harder and occasionally Alice had been asked to do overtime, as the demand for Halifax bombers was overwhelming. So many planes had been lost in battle along with their crew and the need to replace them was urgent. It meant extra money in her wage packet, but gave her less free time to spend with Cathy and Brian. She was still working on Friday and Saturday nights at the Legion and then trying to visit her mam each Sunday, transport permitting. To say she felt worn out was an understatement.

  Granny Lomax and Brian were supporting the Dig for Victory campaign and had dug half of the large back lawn over ready for growing vegetables. The last few days had been frosty and had halted the dig and preparation as the ground was too
hard, but the pair was determined to have it ready for spring and the new planting season. Granny’s farmer friend had promised a couple of chickens too, so Brian was excited about the prospect of looking after them and having fresh eggs. He’d collected all the government pamphlets about what to grow and how, and had painstakingly written out lists of seasonal planting times, and how to grow things in stages, so that as they harvested one lot another would go in the ground and they would have fresh vegetables and salad throughout the late spring and summer months. Granny was in charge of fruit-growing, he’d told them. The planning was keeping him busy and, along with his studies and helping with Cathy, he never gave Alice a moment’s trouble, unlike some of the unruly boys he’d been at school with. Boys who, if she’d been their parents, she’d have been glad to see the back of during the mass evacuation.

  Alice yawned and dragged her frozen feet as she walked the short distance from the tram stop to the bungalow. It was bitter cold and icy underfoot. She felt tired and her shoulders were aching from being hunched over the factory benches all day. She’d done five hours’ overtime and was looking forward to soaking her weary bones in a hot bath after tea. Production on the Halifax bombers had stepped up even further to keep in line with demand. But it seemed to Alice that the more they produced the more they lost, not to mention all the young lives that went down with them.

  As she let herself into the bungalow the aroma of something tasty wafted down the hallway. Rabbit pie? Certainly smelled like it anyway. Her stomach rumbled with anticipation as she hung her coat on the hallstand and went into the kitchen, where Granny Lomax was draining potatoes over the sink, steam engulfing her face and hair.

  She put the pan down on the wooden draining board and wafted the steam away with a tea towel.

  ‘Smells good,’ Alice said, reaching for the dish of butter from the cold slab in the pantry. She cut a sliver and dropped it into the pan. Granny poured in a drop of milk and got to work with the masher.

  ‘I long for the day when we can throw as much milk and butter into the spuds as we used to,’ Granny muttered as the potatoes fluffed up slightly. ‘How can we enjoy really creamy mash when we can scarcely butter the toast with our rations? It’s ridiculous.’

  ‘We could always get a goat,’ Brian said, coming up behind Alice and giving her a quick hug. ‘I’ll learn how to milk it and I might be able to make butter as well. I think there’s something about it in my pamphlets.’

  Granny raised an eyebrow. ‘I think we’ll have quite enough livestock with the chickens when they arrive.’

  ‘So do I,’ Alice said, giving her brother a hug back. ‘And I’m not even sure what goats’ milk tastes like. We might not like it and then we’ll be stuck with an animal we still need to feed.’

  ‘Set the table, Brian love,’ Granny ordered. ‘Have you finished all your schoolwork? Put your books away in the sideboard if you have.’

  Brian nodded and went off to do his chores.

  ‘Where’s little Madam?’ Alice asked, peeking round the kitchen door for signs of her daughter. ‘She usually comes to greet me.’

  ‘Playing with her dollies on the rug and struggling to stay awake. Can you just lift the pie out of the oven for me, Alice love?’

  Alice savoured the aroma as she lifted the pie up onto the work top next to the gas stove.

  ‘Mmm, smells wonderful. I’m starving tonight. It’s all those extra hours I’m putting in. Makes me really hungry.’

  Granny smiled. ‘My neighbour dropped some bits of wood off earlier for Brian to have a go at making the chicken coop. We need some nails but we can get them at the weekend from the ironmongers on Lark Lane. He’s drawn a plan for Brian to follow and it looks quite straightforward. Once it’s ready he’ll bring the chickens round. We’ve got some more plant pots outside as well to put seeds in, to get things going so that we can then replant into the beds we’ll finish digging over when the weather improves and the ground’s not so hard. By the way, two letters arrived earlier for you. One from Terry and the other looks like Millie’s writing with a London postmark. They’re on the mantelpiece. I’ll dish up while you have a read,’ she finished, as Alice’s eyes lit up.

  Lying in her bed, stomach full and feeling relaxed and fresh from her lavender-bath-cube-scented soak, Alice took Terry’s letter from its envelope and re-read his words. Her eyes filled as she read how much he was missing her and that he couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms again. He wrote that he still couldn’t tell her where he was stationed, but that he was doing his best to stay safe, not to worry, and he hoped that she and Cathy were staying safe too. He’d already told her that he knew who Jack Dawson was, from her earlier letter, and to thank him for escorting her home at night from the Legion. He said he would buy him a pint when he got home and to ask if he was still keen on motorbikes. She’d written back that he was. Terry’s missing Christmas card had finally arrived in the middle of January, much to her relief, swiftly followed by another that Alice assumed had been stuck in the seasonal backlog too. Since then there had been nothing until now. Terry wrote that he’d be keen to ask Jack if he’d help him sort out his Harley on his return. Alice smiled as she got her pad and pen out of the bedside table drawer to write back to him. She was certain that Jack would be thrilled to be involved with the motorbike repairs.

  Millie’s short letter had been written at RAF Biggin Hill, where the band had played a few shows before moving on to RAF Benson in Berkshire for a brief time. She said she was fine, still enjoying herself, and she hoped all was well with Alice and her family. She was missing them and hoped to be back in Liverpool as soon as the band worked its way up the country. She would write again when she had any further information. Alice wished she could write back to her friend, but there was little point, as all Millie’s letters went straight to her mother’s for collecting when she was home. She would just have to wait and catch up with all the news then. Not that much was happening. It was the same routine, day in and day out.

  Alice finished her letter to Terry and put it to one side to post tomorrow. She took a quick look at Cathy, who was flat on her back, fast asleep in her cot under the window, crept back into bed and switched off the lamp. She shivered and pulled the blankets tightly around her. What was the betting the windows would be iced up tomorrow, both here in the bedroom and on the bus to work?

  ‘So ’ow’s she doing?’ Marlene asked when Alice told her that she’d had a letter off Millie. The pair were on the works’ bus bumping along towards Speke, and just as Alice had predicted, the windows had ice on them. She picked at it with her fingernail and shivered.

  ‘She’s fine. Enjoying herself and the band seems to be doing plenty of shows.’

  ‘Lucky Millie,’ Marlene said. ‘Wish I could sing an’ ’ad a figure like she does. I’d be off with that band an’ all like a shot. Nice life if you can get it.’

  ‘It certainly is,’ Alice agreed as the bus pulled up in front of the factory. ‘Here we go. No singing driver today. Pity because I always feel happier going in when we’ve had a sing-song.’

  Marlene laughed and linked her arm through Alice’s. ‘’E’ll be back on tomorrow. Everybody needs a day off.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Alice said. ‘At the moment I’m working every single day. The extra money is handy, but I’m falling asleep on my feet at the Legion. Hopefully things will be a bit less fraught here when we take on more staff.’

  ‘Aye, maybe,’ Marlene said. ‘Freddie’s interviewing today so fingers crossed. Meantime keep saving that extra money for when your Terry gets home. It’ll stand you in good stead for getting a nice place of your own.’

  The pair followed the other workers inside and changed into their overalls, turbans and rubber-soled footwear. Alice placed her wedding ring inside her coin purse and pushed it to the bottom of her handbag before stashing everything in her locker. She still hated taking off her ring each day, but needs must.

  As she sat down at the bench and flexed her
fingers in readiness to pick up her riveting gun, Freddie appeared beside her looking anxious.

  ‘Would you mind giving me a hand this morning, gel? I’ve twelve coming in for interviews and the office girl’s phoned in ill so there’s no one to do the paperwork.’

  ‘Of course I will, Freddie. It’ll make a nice change from here.’

  He nodded. ‘Smashing. Go and get back into your own clothes and then you’ll look more the part.’

  Alice smiled, looking down at her unfeminine, baggy attire and flat, ungainly shoes. She dashed back out to the locker rooms again and changed into her smart black skirt, white blouse and black court shoes. Thank goodness she’d put stockings on today to help keep her legs a bit warmer on the bus. She’d be sitting behind a desk most likely, so the fact that she had a small ladder running up the back of one of them wouldn’t matter too much and it was above knee height anyway. She ran a comb through her hair and touched up her lips with the worn-down stub of Tangee lippy she kept in her handbag. She really must try to get another, but the shops were in short supply of most cosmetics. She glanced in the cracked mirror on the back of the door and smiled at her distorted reflection. She ran a comb through her hair, now freed from the turban. There, she’d do. Not quite as smart as the usual girl who worked in the office, but better than nothing.

  Freddie was waiting for her in the corridor and they walked into a small room that was simply furnished with a desk, chair and a tall filing cabinet. It was freezing cold with ice on the windows. Alice shivered and Freddie switched on a two-bar electric fire that sparked and fizzled as it glowed red.

  ‘I’ll get you a hot drink in a minute but that fire will soon warm the place up a bit if you keep the door closed. The list of applicants is there on the desk.’ He pointed to a clipboard. ‘The ladies will wait out in the corridor. If you call them in one at a time and take down their particulars, and then bring them and the paperwork in to me in the office next door, I’ll do the interview while you sort out the next lass. It shouldn’t take us too long. I can usually suss out who I think is suitable for the job or not. Then letters will need to go out to the ones we take on. Right, I’ll nip down to the canteen and get us a brew. Won’t be a minute.’