Goodnight Sweetheart

by Annie Groves

  ‘How many of us did you say had to fit in here?’ Molly heard June demanding in disbelief as, along with the other women, they crowded into the Anderson shelter the men had spent the afternoon installing.

  ‘The lorra us from number 56 down,’ one of the men answered her, whilst the women exchanged concerned looks.

  When the corrugated iron shelter had been sunk into the ground, the top had been covered with the earth that had been dug out.

  ‘It will seem more like home once you get some curtains hung in it,’ Brian, their neighbour from number 80, called out to his wife with a grin, whilst he winked at the other men.

  ‘Curtains? But there aren’t any windows …’ Mavis Leadbetter began, and then shook her head when the men burst out laughing. ‘Go on with you, you’re nothing but overgrown lads, the lot of you. No one would think there’s going to be a war on.’

  ‘Come on, love,’ her husband chivvied her. ‘It’s either laugh or cry.’

  ‘Aye, well, there’ll be a lorra crying done before we’re out of this,’ someone else chipped in.

  ‘We’ve gotta sort the inside of this out yet,’ Brian Leadbetter changed the subject firmly, ‘but at least we’ve made a start …’

  ‘Well, let’s hope that none of us gets caught short whilst we’re down here,’ Nellie Sinclair, who lived on the opposite side of the cul-de-sac, said pithily.

  ‘Don’t worry about that, Nellie,’ Molly and June’s Uncle Joe grinned. ‘I reckon the ARP lot won’t miss a couple of those buckets they’ve told us we need to have in case of a bomb dropping. Brian’s a fair joiner and it won’t tek him long to fit a nice polished seat on top of one of them for you.’

  ‘Go on with yer, you’ve gorra lorra cheek, you have. And we’ll have less of that mucky talk, if yer don’t mind.’ Nellie might be pretending to be shocked but Molly could see that she was laughing.

  Uncle Joe was their father’s cousin, not his brother, but the girls had grown up calling him Uncle Joe and his wife Auntie Averil. Following their father’s example, Joe had moved into Chestnut Close shortly after he and Averil had married. He was a tall, well-built man, always ready with a smile and a joke, and much more outgoing than their own father, and so he had soon become a popular figure, not just in the close but also beyond it. He had a fine singing voice, and that, plus the fact that he could play the accordion, made him welcome at every local social event. Joe enjoyed a drink and a laugh, and he was a good father and husband as well as a kindhearted uncle. He might tease June for being bossy, and make Molly blush with his saucy jokes, but Molly was always glad to see him. June might say disapprovingly that he had a bit of a reputation for being quick with a quip and even quicker with a silver-tongued compliment, but their father always defended him and said that there was no real harm in him.

  As different as chalk and cheese was how people described the two men. Where the girls’ father was quiet and self-effacing, Joe was boisterous and ready to put himself forward. Where Albert Dearden liked nothing better than to spend his spare time working on his allotment, Joe preferred to go down to the pub for a beer.

  ‘What about your mam, Frank?’ Albert asked a few minutes later as they all made their way home. ‘I could go round and give a bit of a hand getting her shelter sorted out.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr Dearden, but it’s all sorted. She’s to share with next door, and me and Fred Nuttall got it in this afternoon.’

  ‘Well, don’t you go worrying about her whilst you’re away, Frank. I’ll keep an eye on her.’

  ‘I’d be obliged if you would, Mr Dearden. It’s going to be hard for her, being on her own …’

  ‘What about me? It’s going to be hard for me as well, worrying about you,’ June put in crossly. ‘You don’t want to be spoiling your mam too much, Frank.’

  ‘Leave him alone, lass. Of course he’s worried about her. If she needs a hand putting up them blackout curtains, Frank, you tell her that she’s only got to say,’ her father responded sharply.

  ‘Never mind that. You remember to find out when you can have some leave, Frank, so that I can tell the vicar.’

  ‘Ronnie Walker was saying that on account of me being a qualified electrician they might put me into the Royal Engineers.’

  ‘Aye, and if’n you’d thought of it in time and got yourself a job with the electric company you’d have been in a reserved occupation,’ June reminded him tartly.

  Unlike their father, and most of the other men in the cul-de-sac, Frank had been lucky enough to get a proper trade apprenticeship – thanks to his skill and his mother’s determination. And that was yet another reason why Mrs Brookes felt that June wasn’t good enough for her Frank, Molly suspected.

  ‘Now that’s enough of that, June,’ Frank rebuked her gently, adding too quietly to be overheard, ‘I want to do me bit, and I wouldn’t want anyone thinking any different. Especially not folk like your dad.’

  A couple of the women with young children were gathering them up and Molly went to help them.

  ‘No way am I letting mine be evacuated,’ Pearl Lawson was saying vehemently.

  The Government had sent out notices earlier in the year advising people of their plans to evacuate city children out of danger in the event of war, sending them to live in the country along with their teachers, who would make sure that they continued to have their lessons. Pregnant women and mothers with babies were also included in the evacuation plans, but the mothers of Chestnut Close, like many mothers up and down the country, were divided in their feelings about the planned evacuation. Some accepted that it was a necessary decision if their children were to be kept safe but others were openly hostile to it.

  ‘Aye, well, there’s no way I’m going to let mine stay here and be bombed,’ another said equally determinedly. ‘And besides, I don’t want mine missing out on their schooling and I’ve heard as how the Government will be closing down some of the schools here in Liverpool out of fear that they might be bombed. Why shouldn’t our kiddies have as good as posh kiddies get and be sent into the country where it’s safe?’

  Pearl Lawson’s next-door neighbour, Daisy Cartwright, chipped in, ‘It’s different for them. They’ll be going with their schools and not sent off to some strangers like ours.’

  It had been in the papers that some of the public schools based in cities were moving out wholesale to safer country locations where their pupils would board.

  ‘Ta, Molly,’ Daisy thanked her as Molly picked up the small toddler who had been making a determined effort to escape. ‘Is it true that you and Johnny Everton are engaged, only I heard it from his mam that you are?’

  ‘Yes,’ Molly confirmed, blushing slightly.

  ‘Well, you’re a bit on the young side, if you don’t mind me saying, and you’re gonna have to watch him. He’s gorra bit of an eye for the girls, from what I’ve heard,’ Daisy told her. ‘Marriage isn’t allus all that it’s made out to be, and once you’ve gorra couple of kiddies to think about it’s too late to change your mind.’

  Pearl, sensing Molly’s embarrassment, tactfully changed the subject. ‘Have you measured up for them blackout curtains yet?’

  ‘Yes, me and June are going to Lewis’s to buy the material tomorrow,’ Molly told her.

  ‘I’ve told my George he’s gorra make frames for the windows so that we can pin the stuff to them. Catch me mekkin’ curtains when I’ve enough to do as it is! And wot’s all this about not buying in food? Chance’d be a fine thing on what George brings home! Don’t know what we’d do if it weren’t for the allotment.’

  Leaving the women to chivvy their children out of the shelter, Molly went to rejoin her own family.

  ‘Has Johnny been round to see you, Molly?’ Frank asked her in a kind voice.

  ‘Yes. He called round earlier whilst you and June were out, but he couldn’t stay.’

  ‘Aye, well, I hope you didn’t go and say anything daft to him,’ June challenged her, adding for Frank’s benefit, ‘Daft thing’s bin sa
ying that she isn’t sure she wants to be engaged, if you please!’

  Molly could hear the impatience in June’s voice.

  ‘Well, if she isn’t sure…’

  Molly could feel herself starting to blush guiltily as her heart gave a funny little beat. She liked Frank so much. He was always kind to her, listening to her as though he really cared about what she was saying and treating her like a grown-up, while June was impatient with her. But then that was Frank all over, being kind to folk.

  ‘Don’t you go encouraging her to be daft, Frank,’ June warned sharply. ‘Of course she wants to wed Johnny – just like I want to wed you,’ she added more softly, before demanding, ‘Don’t you, Molly?’

  Obediently Molly nodded her head. What else could she do?

  THREE

  ‘Well, I’ll tell you something for nothing, young Molly, you’re not gonna be the only one sporting a new engagement ring this weekend,’ Irene Laidlaw announced on Monday morning when the other machinists had all finished examining Molly’s ring, ‘seeing as how so many young men have received their papers. Of course, it’s different for me,’ she added loftily, ‘since my Alan was one of the first to volunteer …’

  ‘Probably because he wanted to get away from her,’ one of the other girls muttered, causing a ripple of giggles to spread across their small enclosed work space, with its sewing machines and air smelling of new cloth.

  Although she had no official senior status, it was accepted by the other girls that Irene was their leader. She had been working there the longest and, although opinionated, was a kind soul and the first to befriend a girl new to the factory and help her settle in.

  All the girls worked in pinafore coveralls to prevent bits of thread and cotton from clinging to their clothes. And at least Hardings, unlike some of the factories, had windows big enough to let in proper daylight so that the girls weren’t straining their eyes as they bent over their machines.

  ‘I’ll be glad when we’ve finished this bloomin’ bloomers order, and start workin’ on sommat a bit more glamorous,’ one of the girls complained with a noisy sigh.

  ‘Aye, I can’t see your Bert getting excited about you tekkin’ home a few pairs of these to surprise him wiv, Janet,’ the girl working next to her grinned cheekily. ‘I’m sick to me back teeth of ’em meself.’ She too sighed as she surveyed the mound of bloomers waiting to be made up.

  The girls were three-quarters of the way through a big order for ‘quality undergarments’, which in reality meant enormous pairs of bloomers as favoured by older women, and equally utilitarian brassieres. The kind of corsets favoured by most middle-aged women were supplied and made by specialist mail-order firms so that customers could be measured for them in the privacy of their own homes, and were so expensive that it was rare for the women Molly and June knew to own more than a best corset and a spare.

  ‘Pity it’s not some of them fancy French knickers we’re mekkin’ up,’ Janet said longingly.

  ‘Well, there’s nothing to stop you getting a pattern from Lewis’s and making yourself some, Janet,’ June pointed out briskly. She already had her eye on a nice piece of selvedge material. She reckoned she could get three pairs of drawers out of it if she got Molly, with her clever fingers and good eyes, to cut them for her. If she was very lucky she might be able to come by enough fabric to get Molly to make her a matching brassiere as well. There was a strict list that allowed each girl one piece of spare or unused fabric from any one contract, and the only way to get more was to ask one of the other girls to do a swap or to sell off her piece. Perhaps she’d ask Molly to let her have hers, June decided.

  ‘’Ere, guess what?’ another of the girls demanded breathlessly, as she came hurrying into the room. ‘I was just happening to be standing outside the office and what should I hear—’

  ‘Come off it, Ruby. Admit it, you was listening on purpose,’ May teased her.

  ‘Do you want to know what I heard, May Dunning, or do you want to wait until old man Harding tells you?’ Ruby demanded.

  ‘Go on then, tell us,’ May gave in.

  ‘Well, old man Harding was talking to his missus, and saying as how they gorra take on more machinists, because of the Government wanting him to make a lorra stuff, like, for the army.’

  ‘What, you mean uniforms?’ May demanded excitedly. ‘Cor, that will be a change from stitching bloomers. Just imagine the chaps as’ll be wearing them: all fit and handsome, like …’ May was notorious for having an eye for the men and often regaled them with saucy tales on a Monday morning of the latest man she’d met over the weekend.

  ‘They might be fit and handsome when they first put on their uniforms, but they won’t be for very long. Soon they’ll start coming home dead, just like my Thomas …’ The high-pitched emotional voice that joined the conversation belonged to Hannah Carter, the oldest and normally the quietest of the machinists, a small spare woman who had been widowed at the end of the First World War. Everyone turned to look at her with varying degrees of consternation or accusation.

  ‘’Ere, Hannah, there’s no call for you to be saying stuff like that, and upsetting people,’ Sheila Williams protested, her already florid complexion turning even pinker.

  ‘Yes, there is. You don’t know what it’s going to be like, but I do. You don’t know how it feels to send your husband off to war and never see him again.’ Hannah had started to cry in earnest now.

  Molly went over to try to comfort her.

  ‘Watch out. Boss is on his way,’ one of the girls called out, and immediately they all hurried to their machines so that by the time the door opened to admit a grey-haired middle-aged man and the thin-faced woman accompanying him, the room was filled with the sound of treadle machines busily stitching.

  Robert Harding rang a small hand bell as a signal to the women to stop work, and then announced importantly, ‘From today we’re going to be making some changes at Hardings, on account of us being called on by the Government to make uniforms for our brave soldiers.’

  ‘What kind of changes?’ Irene demanded sturdily.

  ‘Well, for one thing we’re going to be taking on more machinists, and for another, Miss Jenner here is going to be in charge of all you machinists, to make sure that the uniforms are made to the proper standard.’

  Molly gave a small shiver as she looked at the thin, hard-eyed woman standing at Robert Harding’s side, surveying them all with unsmiling grimness. There was something about her that sent a chill right through Molly.

  ‘All right, back to work, everyone.’

  The sharp command was given almost before the door had closed behind Robert Harding, and although the girls obediently bent over their work, Molly was anxiously aware that some of them, June included, were not likely to take very well to Miss Jenner’s arrival. It sent another shiver of apprehension all the way down Molly’s spine to know that the supervisor was patrolling the narrow aisles between the rows of machines, standing behind each of them in turn to observe their work. Up to now Molly had liked her job. She was a good machinist, quick and deft, but with the cold censorious weight of Miss Jenner’s gaze on her back she was all fingers and thumbs.

  ‘So when are we gonna be starting working on these uniforms, then, Miss Jenner?’ May asked boldly, causing a collective sigh of relief to spread through the room at this breaking of the silent tension.

  Their relief had come too soon though. Miss Jenner strode towards May and said coldly, ‘In future you will speak only when you are spoken to. And let me remind you that you are all here to work, not to engage in time-wasting chatter. I have already told Mr Harding that I think he would do well to put in place a system of fines for workers who shirk their duties – in any kind of way.’

  Molly could see the tide of angry red staining the back of May’s neck.

  Without the normal banter between the girls to speed them through the day, time seemed to drag, and Molly could scarcely conceal her relief when the dinner bell rang, signalling the en
d of the morning’s work.

  Immediately June stood up and called, ‘Come on, our Molly. We’ll have to put a bit of speed on if we’re to get down to Lewis’s and back …’

  ‘You there, girl. Who gave you permission to stop work?’ Miss Jenner demanded icily.

  ‘The dinner bell’s been rung and that means that it’s dinner time. And me and me sister have got to get down to Lewis’s and get our blackout material, just like the Government has told us to do,’ June defended herself, raising her eyebrows as though defying Miss Jenner to claim a higher authority than that of the British Government.

  ‘Very well then. But see that you are back here before the work bell rings otherwise you’ll be docked half a day’s pay.’

  ‘You gorra be careful with that Jenner, June. It looks to me like she’s going to give us a lorra grief,’ May warned ten minutes later as they all streamed out of the room, heading for the small ‘canteen’ where they were allowed to eat their dinner and make themselves a hot drink.

  ‘So what? Let her try, if she wants,’ June shrugged. ‘I don’t care. Come on, Molly,’ she instructed. ‘We’ve got to get down to Lewis’s.

  ‘It’ll be quicker if we walk instead of waiting for the bus,’ June announced once they were outside the factory, but in the end, even though they ran almost the whole way down to Ranelagh Street, it still took fifteen precious minutes.

  ‘Oh Gawd, look at the queue,’ June complained when they hurried into Lewis’s haberdashery department. The shop was filled with customers milling around amongst the rainbow-coloured bolts of cloth and shelves of pins, needles and buttons.