The Bluebird Girls: The Forces' Sweethearts 1

by Rosie Archer

  ‘I’m stuck for labour with the young blokes away fighting. Always the same. If I can get hold of the materials, I got no men. I’m due a big shipment of cement so I’m hoping to start building with the other things that have been delivered. It’ll be the first phase of family council housing in Bridgemary.’

  ‘Does that mean some of the Gosport families that have been bombed out will be rehoused?’ Ivy asked. She could hear giggling coming from the back of the van. Bea and Rainey were all right.

  ‘Eventually,’ he sighed, ‘When the bombing stops. Meanwhile I got enough work with making good the bomb damage. The council are talking about us taking on some of the prisoners of war currently held in St Vincent Barracks as labourers.’

  ‘How do you feel about that?’ asked Jo.

  ‘If it works out, I’ll be happy. I expect some of the men will be glad to be working. No one likes being locked up.’

  ‘But they’re our enemies,’ said Jo. Ivy saw her mouth was now a thin, hard line.

  ‘Most of them are young blokes brought up to fight for their country, just the same as our lads.’

  ‘You’d really employ Germans?’ Jo’s forehead was furrowed with disbelief.

  ‘All I’m worried about is building homes to help families live somewhere decent, Jo. That and earning a living. It’s been hard on Mum having Granddad living at home. Someone’s always had to babysit him.’

  ‘But Germans?’ Jo didn’t like to think of the enemy who had destroyed English homes being trusted to rebuild them.

  ‘Look, Jo, when the farmers lost their labourers in the Great War they got land girls. The Women’s Land Army did wonders. Lots of people didn’t think it would work, but it did then and it does now. Everyone has to pull together in this blasted war.’ He took his eyes from the road and smiled at her. ‘Don’t forget we got three girl factory workers in this van! If women can work like men, why shouldn’t prisoners of war work as well?’

  Jo said, ‘Won’t they escape?’

  ‘How are they going to get out of our country without passports?’ Ivy thought she was clever to point that out.

  ‘I always knew you were the bright one,’ said Eddie, giving her a blinding smile.

  Eight words directed at Ivy by Eddie and her heart was thumping so loudly she was sure he would hear it.

  He pulled up outside the hall and, before he opened the back doors to free Rainey and Bea, Eddie went round to the passenger side of his van and helped down Jo, then held out his hand again, this time for Ivy.

  She wondered if he, too, felt the electric current tingle against his skin as she did when their fingers touched. Looking into his eyes, she was sure he had. He opened his mouth to say something but no sound came, and he held on to her just a little bit longer than was necessary as she climbed down from the van.

  *

  ‘At least the caretaker’s opened up,’ said Jo, as she pushed open the door and went into the hall. ‘It seems funny just us being in here.’ She realized she was talking to herself for the three girls had gone straight to the kitchen.

  Memories of the interrupted pantomime came flooding back. They were so lucky the hall hadn’t been damaged. A couple of nights later there had been another full house when Mrs Wilkes had encouraged her girls to perform again for free.

  ‘Hello, everyone.’ Blackie’s rich voice rang out from behind the curtain at the side of the stage.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ said Jo. ‘I never noticed a car outside.’

  ‘I came across on the ferry,’ he said. ‘I remembered you said you could walk here, so to save petrol I left a bit earlier and used public transport. You look nice.’

  Jo felt her face colour. She wasn’t used to receiving compliments. Syd always agreed she looked all right, but it had been years since she’d had a compliment from Alfie.

  ‘Need to see if there’s a tape measure in the kitchen,’ he said. ‘I forgot to ask Madame . . .’

  She didn’t hear the rest of his words as the door closed on him. Why had Alfie suddenly sprung to mind? When she had first heard about his death, she had given way to tears alone in her bedroom. A loss of life was such a waste. She remembered the early days when they’d spent as much time together as they could. She had been so very young. Getting older had made them grow apart. She mentally shook herself. She was looking back at her marriage through rose-tinted spectacles. The memories of black eyes and broken bones came flooding back.

  She was here today to keep an eye on the girls. Because of Blackie, Rainey had a chance to do something good with her life. So why was she alone in the hall, the girls in the kitchen – and what on earth did Blackie want a tape measure for?

  ‘Mum! Come and take our measurements, will you?’

  Rainey stood in the doorway, smiling.

  Blackie brandished a tape measure. He shrugged. ‘I found it in the drawer. It’s not something I can do, is it? And if I let them do it themselves we’ll get some right funny numbers of inches.’

  Jo went over and took the tape measure from him.

  ‘You stay in the kitchen. It’s warmer in there,’ he said. ‘I need all their measurements for clothing, including arm and leg lengths, bust, waist, everything.’

  ‘I think I know what you mean,’ said Jo, hastily.

  ‘Madame is set on air-force costumes, with hats, also long evening gowns in blue with elbow-length gloves, so when I said all measurements, I meant all measurements. I’ll stay in here until you’ve done that.’ He moved back into the hall. ‘I’m going to run through on the piano some of the music they’re to sing.’

  Rainey could hardly contain herself. ‘What are we singing? Tell me!’

  ‘I’ll play them through when you come out of the kitchen!’ He looked at Jo. ‘Is she always like this?’

  ‘Only when she’s excited,’ said Jo. ‘Do I get new clothes, too?’

  ‘Oh, we will have our little joke won’t we? The answer is no.’

  In the kitchen the tea was already made. Jo sent Ivy out with a cup for Blackie while she set about measuring the girls and writing it all down with a separate page for each of them.

  Jo had no idea where Madame could get the materials but she’d already said it wouldn’t be a problem. No doubt she had dressmakers as well. Of course, the air-force uniforms would need to fit well. The girls would also have to have fittings. None of that was Jo’s worry. She could hear piano music, and excitement swelled within her.

  A little later, mission accomplished among much giggling, Jo trooped her charges into the hall.

  ‘They’re like excited puppies,’ said Blackie. ‘Are they like this at choir?’

  ‘This is different, isn’t it?’ said Jo. ‘Though Alice Wilkes is extremely proud of them.’ Blackie was sitting at the piano. He’d discarded his jacket and the empty cup was on the floor.

  ‘We’ll all have to do her justice, then. These are the songs I want word perfect, with dance steps.’ He handed Ivy some song sheets and Rainey and Bea stared at him.

  ‘Dance? Who said anything about dancing?’ Bea’s eyes were wide.

  ‘Not like ballet and tap, simple movements. I’ll be your choreographer.’

  ‘What?’ It was Bea again.

  ‘I’ll show you how to move. We don’t want you all wriggling around any old how, do we?’

  ‘Mum! Look at these songs!’

  Pages were thrust into Jo’s hands. ‘An Apple for the Teacher’, ‘Our Love’, ‘We’ll Meet Again’, ‘Tea for Two’ and ‘Over the Rainbow’.

  ‘We can’t sing “Over the Rainbow”! That’s Judy Garland’s song!’ Bea was indignant.

  ‘You can sing any song I think you can sing,’ Blackie said.

  ‘But we won’t be as good.’

  ‘You’ll be different, not better or worse. You’ll sing it your way. Or, rather, the way I suggest you interpret the song. Each of you will be the main vocalist in a certain song, with the other two backing her up.’

  ‘But there’s five songs and three
of us . . .’ Ivy was curious.

  ‘That’s because I haven’t been able to get hold of the music for one of them.’ The girls were suddenly silent. ‘I’ve got on order Billie Holiday’s “God Bless the Child”. You all have wonderful voices but we need a really sultry voice for that one. I’d like you to sing it, Ivy.’

  ‘Do you think I could?’ She looked bashful.

  The shout of ‘Yes!’ was deafening.

  ‘Right,’ said Blackie. ‘I remembered that none of you can read music. Not to worry, some of our favourite singers can’t either, Billie Holiday for one. So I’ve done what Mrs Wilkes does and printed out the words. Learn them, practise when and wherever you can, together if possible. But we’ll run through those five now.’ He looked at Jo. ‘Have we time?’

  She nodded. ‘We have about an hour and then we must leave, else the girls will be late for work.’

  ‘We’d better get cracking then, hadn’t we?’ Blackie said. ‘It’s not long until the New Year.’

  All eyes were on him, as he said, ‘Oh, didn’t I tell you? Madame’s booked the King’s Theatre for a revue in January.’

  Chapter Forty-one

  ‘I do like Bette Davis,’ said Jo, as she took the port-and-lemon that Syd was handing to her.

  ‘I know you do. That’s why I suggested we see The Letter .’ He gave her a big grin, then settled down beside her in the Alma pub. ‘I haven’t seen much of you lately, and when I go into the paper-shop, Mr Harrington usually tells me you’ve left early.’

  Jo gave a big sigh of relief that she could enjoy the drink and a chat with Syd. She was tired. ‘It seems like the days don’t have enough hours in them now.’

  ‘I miss you.’

  Jo took his hand. It felt soft. She saw he had scrubbed the grease from all the crevices and dug out the oil from beneath his fingernails to look as presentable as possible for her. ‘Oh, Syd,’ she said, ‘I need to supervise what’s going on with my Rainey, and Ivy and Bea, and I have to earn money as well.’

  ‘When eventually they make their debut, or whatever it’s called, you’ll have more time.’

  ‘Hardly,’ she said. ‘That’s when my job will become harder. I’ll need to keep an eye on . . . What do they call them? Stage-door johnnies. You know, men who prey on girls, send them flowers, turn their heads . . .’

  ‘I know what kind of men they are,’ he snapped.

  ‘Well, you know what I’ll have to contend with.’

  He said moodily, ‘I suppose that means you’ll have to travel all over the place.’

  Jo dropped his hand. ‘Of course!’ She realized she’d been sharp with him.

  ‘I’ll never see you then.’

  Jo ignored that remark. ‘Don’t let’s spoil a lovely evening by squabbling. I’ll have to be home soon – I’ve got to be at the paper-shop by half past four in the morning for the delivery of the dailies.’

  ‘If it’s money you need, I can help you . . .’

  She shook her head. ‘I have money put by. You helped me sell the car, remember? That money’s got to stay where it is until Rainey and I are desperate. The girls are working hard so their families don’t go short. I have to do the same. Besides, I need to go with the girls for my own peace of mind.’

  He took a long drink of his pint. Jo picked up her glass and sipped. The air in the pub was thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of the beer had given her a headache. More than anything she wanted to be at home in bed.

  Syd put his pint glass on the table, which was scarred with ring marks. ‘I suppose that Blackie goes everywhere too?’

  She put down her glass and stared at him. She took a deep breath. ‘I’m tired, Syd. You’ve been a good friend to me. But I can’t have you worrying about where I should go and who I might be with. I don’t want to hurt you, but I took a lot of that stupid jealousy from Alfie. I can’t take it from you.’

  She got up, pushing the table aside and went to the bar door, then out into the street where the fresh cold air was like balm. As she walked past Watt’s the greengrocer, she was aware he hadn’t followed her.

  She liked Syd, she really did. He’d helped her get where she was today, given her the courage to stick up for herself. She loved him for that.

  But never again would she answer to any man!

  Chapter Forty-two

  ‘Oh, I do like that Cheeky Chappie’s chatter,’ said Edna. The women at Priddy’s were crowded around the noticeboard where the usual goings-on in the area were pinned up for the workers’ perusal.

  ‘He gets a bit near the knuckle sometimes, doesn’t he? But who better to start the New Year off at the King’s?’ Mo said. She scratched at her turban. ‘He comes from Brighton, you know.’

  ‘It’s those funny clothes he wears that make me laugh,’ said Edna. Rainey saw she was reading a poster: ‘Max Miller, Song and Dance Man. One week only’.

  ‘Who else is appearing in this revue, then?’ Mo asked.

  ‘There’s a strong man, a magician, a woman with poodles, a dancer called Little Annette, and in the second half before Maxie-boy it’s the Bluebird Girls.’

  ‘Who are they? Is there a picture?’ Mo asked.

  ‘No, there’s a picture of Max Miller but the others are just names.’

  ‘Shall we book and go? I get a bit fed up with pantomimes, don’t you?’ Mo said.

  Rainey put a hand across her mouth. She’d expected to see an advertisement in the Evening News but she had never thought to see a poster advertising the show at Priddy’s! Of course, she should have realized: Blackie and Madame were doing everything in their power to make a success of the girls. And at their first appearance onstage there would be critics and newspaper people who could make or break them. Rainey shivered. Everything was moving so fast now. The days were whizzing by with work, rehearsals, fittings, practising and more practising every moment they could. They were always hungry, always tired.

  Mo, Edna and some of the women had moved away from the noticeboard so Rainey was able to stare at their stage name printed in blue. She shuddered as she looked at Little Annette’s. So, they were going to meet her again? Fancy them being on in the second half as the lead-up to the great and famous Max Miller! Would they meet him backstage?

  She didn’t think Bea or Ivy had seen the poster yet. She’d left them in the room where they filled the shell cases. It was quiet in there at their break-time. Everyone poured into the canteen, glad of a change of scene. It was too cold and too dark to venture outside, and, besides, there was all that palaver with changing clothes and boots.

  Rainey had just visited the lavatory, and as she walked quickly back to Ivy and Bea she marvelled that each of them had become word perfect in all the songs. It was the dance steps that bothered them. She thought of earlier that day at the David Bogue Hall.

  Bea had kept leading with the wrong foot, exasperating Blackie.

  ‘I’m going to write “left” and “right” on your feet,’ he’d grumbled.

  ‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll try harder,’ she’d cried.

  He’d made them go over and over the simple steps until at last she’d got them right.

  The air-force costumes had been sent over today, along with hats, matching underwear, shoes and stockings. Somehow Bea had put on an inch around the waist so a note was pinned to the skirt for the dressmaker to let it out.

  Rainey couldn’t get over how professional both Bea and Ivy looked in costume. It didn’t seem to sink into her brain that she was dressed identically and looked good, too. Until Blackie took the big mirror off the wall and propped it up so they could see themselves full length.

  ‘We look real!’ Bea had shouted.

  Ivy had pinched her arm and Bea had squealed. ‘You are real, you dozy cow,’ Ivy said.

  Blackie had made them go into the kitchen and change back into their ordinary clothes. ‘I want the three of you dressed in the glittery gowns for the very last number only. You’ll have to get changed at the side of the stag
e. Are you all right with that? There will be people about but you can’t be prudish—’

  Bea broke in: ‘You should see some of the funny places we’ve got changed when we’ve done concerts with Mrs Wilkes. We’ve undressed in hallways with people walking up and down, hospital corridors when the visitors are arriving and, once, in a public library where people were changing their books!’

  ‘What she means is they don’t mind,’ chipped in Jo. ‘I’ll be there to make sure the changes run smoothly.’

  ‘Good.’ Blackie still looked troubled. ‘There is one problem.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Jo had asked.

  ‘You girls are on stage all the time, so there will be no break. Somehow we’ll have to work out how you get into the right glittery dresses so you end up dressed, on the stage at the same time, to sing the last number, “Over the Rainbow”.’

  There had been silence and Rainey had practically heard their brains ticking.

  Jo had said, ‘How about if, during the second to last number, they come off the side of the stage to me, one after another, always leaving two girls onstage singing? I quickly help with their costume changes. Then they’ll all be ready to stand together centre stage for “Over the Rainbow”?’

  ‘Yes, that could work. We’ll try it when the dresses are here.’ Blackie smiled at Jo.

  ‘Just a minute, you said “right dresses”. Aren’t they all the same?’ Ivy frowned.

  ‘Oh, didn’t I tell you?’ Blackie said. ‘Madame has had the three gowns made up slightly differently for each of you. You’ll love them, I can promise, the sequins glitter like stars, and you’ll be—’

  Rainey stopped thinking about earlier and came down to earth with a bump. Moaning Minnie was announcing an air raid!

  Should she turn and run to the shelter with the mass of workers now shoving against each other in the corridor and trying to escape the building? Or should she carry on to the workroom where she hoped to find Ivy and Bea?