by Nancy Revell
And there had been no doubt that she would get what she wanted. Her whole life she had always got what she wanted, so it had come as a shock to her that it hadn’t been as easy as she had anticipated. But she had been adamant: Jack was going to be hers – and no one else’s. After all, who would not want her? She was gorgeous – and she was rich. What more could a man want?
She had gone on a few dates with Jack, but was shocked when he told her that he was back with his old girlfriend, Gloria. That they’d had a tiff but had made it up again. Miriam had been furious. How could he choose some poverty-stricken, uneducated half-wit from the slums over her? With all her breeding, her schooling, her looks – and her money? Miriam was mad, but she was wise enough not to show it. Strangely enough, it had actually made her want him all the more. Had made her even more determined to succeed. And she had succeeded. She had used all of her cunning and sexual know-how to lure Jack back to her parents’ house one night when she knew they would be out. Once there, she had gone to work, teasing him, subtly refilling his glass with her father’s very expensive whisky. And then she had seduced him. She had known it was unlikely their evening of passion would be enough to make her pregnant, but she had also been savvy enough to realise it would suffice to make Jack believe she was with child.
She had been pretty certain Jack would do what was expected in decent society, and she was right.
Jack broke off his relationship with Gloria and did the gentlemanly thing: he made Miriam his wife.
Shortly after tying the knot, Miriam had put on the performance of a lifetime, and with gut-wrenching sobs had told Jack that she had lost their baby. Her phoney pregnancy had been followed by a phoney miscarriage.
Of course, by this time it was too late for Jack. He had committed himself. He had married her. There was no going back. Miriam had got exactly what she wanted.
Within just a few years of marriage, though, Miriam learnt the hard way that sometimes you have to be careful what you wish for. She had not thought ahead, had not considered how life would be when there was such a class divide, but also, she had never thought of what it would be like to spend your life with someone who did not love you. And when Jack started to suspect that she had tricked him into marriage, she started to see pure hatred in his eyes.
Miriam arched her back and sat up straight in the chair. Still, she thought bitchily, if Jack saw Gloria now, he would be thanking her. When she had seen Gloria the other day in the shipyard, her eyes had nearly popped out. What a worn-out wreck.
And when Helen had told her later that Gloria had just had a baby, Miriam had literally gasped in disbelief. Who on earth has a baby at her age? She wished Jack would wake up just so she could show him Gloria – so he could see what a lucky escape he’d had all those years ago.
Miriam yawned. It was getting late, and it felt warm in this small, stuffy room.
As she looked down at Jack, her eyelids started to droop and her neck jerked as she started to doze off. ‘Keep awake, woman,’ she muttered to herself. They didn’t need two of them sleeping and dribbling. Perhaps she should think about going home?
Her eyes were just starting to close again when she felt Jack’s hand twitch. Her eyes shot back open. At first she thought it was her own hand, but when she looked down she saw Jack’s hand move again.
Then his fingers started to curl around her hand and slowly start to squeeze. Miriam watched in what felt like slow motion as Jack’s hand gripped hers tighter and tighter, squashing her fingers painfully until she cried out in panic.
‘Jack! Jack! Wake up,’ she demanded. Miriam tried to wrench her hand free, but Jack’s grip was like a vice.
‘Nurse! Nurse! Come quickly!’ she shouted out, but as her head swung towards the door she realised she had shut it earlier on and the nurse was in a little room further down the corridor.
She might not even be there!
As Jack let out a huge heave of air, Miriam’s head whipped back around to stare at him. It was as if he was trying to say something, but couldn’t quite get his mouth around it.
‘Orrr …’ The word came out as an incomprehensible sound.
‘Jack, wake up! For God’s sake, just wake up. You’re scaring me!’ Miriam was becoming hysterical, half out of her seat and desperately trying to prise Jack’s hand off her own.
‘Orreeea …’ Jack tried to say again.
‘Nurse!’ Now Miriam was practically screaming, terrified by Jack’s sudden awakening.
Finally she heard hurried footsteps tapping down the corridor before the door swung open. The young nurse rushed over to the far side of the bed and grabbed Jack’s other hand to check his pulse.
‘It’s all right, Mr Crawford,’ she said soothingly, ‘you’re going to be fine.’
Miriam looked at the nurse. How could she be so calm!
‘Get him off me!’ she shouted at the young ginger-haired girl, who was forcing open Jack’s eyelids and shining some kind of small, pencil-like torch into his eyes.
The nurse looked across at Miriam and hurried back round to her side of the bed.
‘Mrs Crawford, calm down,’ she said sternly, as she took Jack’s hand and slowly peeled back each finger, releasing Miriam from his grip. When she had done so, the nurse strode over to the open doorway, stuck her head out into the corridor and shouted out.
‘Nurse Taylor, get Dr Parker – and quick!’
As she turned back and saw the look of horror on the man’s wife’s face, she took her by the arm and gently guided her out the door.
‘Mrs Crawford, let us deal with your husband for now. Go and rest in the waiting room down the corridor – to the right.’ The nurse manoeuvred Miriam out of the room, then immediately turned back and bustled over to Jack, who was now calm.
Within minutes Doctor Parker and the nurse were around Jack’s bed, checking his heart rate, his blood pressure, and gently talking to him as they took a sample of blood with a large brass and glass syringe. They then prodded and poked him, before sitting him up and putting a stethoscope to his chest and to his back.
‘He keeps trying to say something,’ the nurse said. She was desperately listening to Jack who was now no longer shouting out, but simply muttering quietly to himself. She leant in closer and put her ear close to his mouth.
‘I think he’s saying “Gloria” … What’s his wife’s name?’
‘Miriam,’ Dr Parker said. ‘She’s one of the Havelocks.’ The two nurses nodded. Everyone in the town knew of the Havelock family.
‘Maybe Gloria’s his daughter?’ the nurse continued.
‘No, she’s called Helen.’ Dr Parker knew this for certain as he had chatted to the man’s daughter quite a lot since he had arrived here. She was a bit stuck-up – but she did seem to genuinely care for her father.
‘It doesn’t matter who he’s calling for,’ he said. ‘He’s woken up. That’s the main thing. Now let’s run some tests and see if we can tell if there’s any serious damage. I want round-the-clock care from now on, with hourly observation notes brought to me on the dot. He’s probably going to be in and out of consciousness for the next few hours.’
The doctor hung his stethoscope back around his neck and moved away from the side of the bed. ‘Let me go and have a word with his wife and I’ll be straight back.’
Dr Parker softly knocked on the door of the small restroom. He had met Miriam before, just the once, but it was enough to know exactly what kind of woman she was. He came from a fairly well-to-do family himself and his own mother had not been too dissimilar to Miriam – probably a fraction nicer, but only just. He knew that everything had to be focused on her and her well-being.
‘Mrs Crawford? I’m Dr Parker. How are you feeling?’
Miriam looked up at the doctor and was relieved someone was finally asking how she was faring. It had been ‘Jack, Jack, Jack’ these past few weeks, and she thought she might scream if anyone else asked her how he was doing.
‘Oh, I’m a little shaken, if
I’m honest. It was like being in a living nightmare just then. He wouldn’t let go of me,’ she said and dabbed her eyes, although there were no tears forthcoming.
The young doctor bobbed down next to Miriam so he was at eye level with her.
‘Often,’ he started to explain, ‘when patients start to come out of a coma, their muscles go into spasms, which may well explain why your husband was gripping so hard and for so long …’ His voice tailed off as he could see that the woman sitting in front of him was not interested in listening to him. She just wanted attention. And lots of it.
His aim now, he realised, was to get shot of her as fast as he could, with as least fuss as possible. If she hung around she would end up pestering the nurses and generally get in the way. He knew the sort.
‘I think the best thing for you, Mrs Crawford, would be to go home, pour yourself a stiff drink, and try and get some sleep. There’s nothing you can do for your husband tonight. He’s in capable hands here, and we can ring you at home if you’re needed. I’m guessing you have a telephone at home?’
Miriam nodded. The thought of a large gin and tonic geed her up no end. And quite frankly she couldn’t stand being in this place of illness and death for a moment longer.
Immediately she stood up. The gin was now calling her and all she wanted to do was sit in front of her gas fire and drink herself into a stupor. As she made to leave, she turned. ‘Does this mean he’s going to be all right?’
The young doctor smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s looking very positive, Mrs Crawford. He’ll probably sleep for a while now, but so far all the signs are good.’
He was lying, of course. He had no idea whether or not this woman’s poor husband was going to be able to walk, talk, or even be able to feed himself again. But he knew there was no point in telling her this. Tonight they just needed rid of her. His patience – and, he knew, that of the two nurses who had been working back to back twelve-hour shifts – was just about out.
The little that was left most certainly wouldn’t stretch to dealing with the likes of Mrs Crawford.
Chapter Thirteen
Thursday 11 September 1941
‘I’m afraid she might be a bit tetchy today. She’s been grizzly all night,’ Gloria warned as Bel came hurrying down the hallway at Tatham Street. She always had the front door open on a morning ready for Gloria and Hope’s arrival just before seven.
‘Ah,’ Bel cooed down at Hope, who was snuggled up and sleeping soundly in her pram. ‘I had the same problem with Lucille when she was born. I don’t think I got a decent night’s sleep for the first year … To be honest, she still wakes up a lot during the night now.’
Bel looked up as Gloria yawned. ‘Not that that’s what you want to hear.’ Bel could see the extent of Gloria’s sleep deprivation by the dark circles under her eyes.
‘Oh, I almost forgot!’ Gloria said, perking up. ‘Congratulations on your engagement! Everyone’s so happy for you both. We can’t shut Dorothy and Angie up. They’re man-mad at the best of times, and now, thanks to you two, they’ve gone into overdrive. I think they’re desperate to follow you up the aisle as soon as humanly possible.’
Bel chuckled. She had met Dorothy and Angie a few times and thought they were a hoot. ‘I can’t see either of them settling down any time soon. They just want to have some fun. And I don’t blame them.’
‘That’s true,’ Gloria agreed. ‘And at least I’ve managed to put them off babies for a while. They’ve seen it warts and all thanks to this little one deciding to be born in front of an audience in the middle of a shipyard.’
‘Ah, but she’s just so adorable,’ Bel said, picking the sleeping baby up out of the pram and cradling her in her arms. Gloria saw Bel’s look of pure adoration and love as she gazed down at Hope and knew that the realities of being a new mum might have put Dorothy and Angie off having families for some time, but had clearly not had the same effect on Bel.
As Gloria started to manoeuvre the Silver Cross pram she had bought from one of the second-hand shops in town, she spotted Joe hobbling down the street, his walking stick swinging forward and propelling him forward at a remarkably fast pace. Gloria turned to Bel in time to see a huge smile spread across her face as she spotted her fiancé looking ever so handsome in his smart Home Guard uniform. Gloria thought that the girls were right. Joe did look like Errol Flynn with his tall, slender build and slicked-back dark brown hair.
‘Ah, the welcoming committee,’ he said, taking off his cap. ‘To be greeted by three gorgeous girls, what more could a man ask for?’ he joked.
‘Make that four,’ a voice from behind them shouted out. It was Polly, a piece of toast in one hand, her holdall and gas mask dangling from the other.
‘I think you’ll find that’s only two gorgeous girls,’ Gloria spluttered, looking at Polly and Bel, ‘and one very old and very worn-out mother, and a very grouchy baby girl … Anyway,’ she added, ‘I was just congratulating Bel on your engagement. Everyone’s dying to hear if you’ve set a date yet.’
Joe let out a hoot of laughter. ‘It’d be tomorrow if I had my way.’
Bel tutted in mock annoyance.
‘We’re looking at November,’ Polly butted in. She was enjoying her role as self-appointed wedding organiser, which, she had told everyone, was what being a Maid of Honour really meant.
‘Come on, Gloria,’ she said, looking at her watch, ‘we’d better be getting a move on, otherwise we’ll be late.’
Joe stood to the side to let the two women past; they were dressed in identical oil-stained overalls, with headscarves tied like turbans around their heads.
‘Take care, the both of you,’ he said with unusual seriousness. There hadn’t been any bombs dropped on the town for the past month or so, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be more. It was no secret the Luftwaffe’s prime target was the town’s shipyards and engine works. Hitler wanted them gone. There was a part of him that hated the fact that women were working in the yards, especially as one of those women was his sister, but he knew that, if they didn’t, the shipyards would grind to a halt, which could only mean one thing – the war would undoubtedly be lost.
As Gloria and Polly hurried down the street, joining the rest of the workers all heading in the direction of the south docks, Gloria turned to have one last look at her baby girl and caught Joe, his head dipped down, kissing Bel’s upturned face. Hope was snuggled between the two of them – now quiet as a mouse.
As the two women made their way along Tatham Street, past Jennings foundry, right at Borough Road, and then left down to Panns Bank, where they jostled to get their place on the old steam-paddled boat, they chatted away about work, the wedding, baby Hope, and, of course, Jack.
Polly, like the rest of the women, knew Gloria relied on work to keep her mind off her worries about her lover, but she also knew it was something that was always there and couldn’t be ignored.
‘I’m guessing there’s no more news?’ Polly asked as they walked up to the yard’s huge iron gates. There was no need for Polly to say Jack’s name.
‘No.’ Gloria shook her head, but her look told Polly that she was worried sick.
Half an hour later the two women, along with Rosie, Dorothy, Angie and Martha, were engrossed in their work, their masked faces immersed in a constant shower of sparkling molten metal. Occasionally, their arms would drop to rest for a second or two before their rods re-engaged with metal and their fountain of glitter was reignited.
When lunchtime came, they all packed up quickly and made their way over to the canteen. Normally, with such a clear blue sky and the sun out, the women would have sat out and enjoyed their packed lunches by the side of the dock, but Dorothy and Angie were on the prowl, and so the women had been cajoled into eating in the canteen.
Rosie had made her excuses and was heading over to chat to Basil about some welding concerns he had with one of the new ship designs he and his team were working on. On top of which she had promised Martha she would wren
ch Hannah away from Olly and send her over for lunch – without her new ‘friend’ in tow.
As Rosie neared the drawing offices, she saw Hannah’s excited little face pressed up against the window that looked on to the yard. As soon as she spotted Rosie, she came hurrying out, followed by an equally ardent-looking Olly.
‘What’s up? You two looked full of the joys,’ Rosie asked as soon as she reached them both.
Hannah waved her hand, beckoning Rosie to follow her to the side of the building so they could speak without anyone overhearing them.
‘It’s good news,’ Hannah said, ‘I think.’
Rosie looked at Hannah and then at Olly.
‘It’s Jack,’ Hannah whispered, ‘he’s woken up.’
‘That’s fantastic news!’ Rosie said. Her face lit up. ‘How did you find out?’
‘Olly, here,’ Hannah turned slightly to her friend standing behind her. ‘He overheard one of the managers, Harold I think his name is, talking to Basil in his office. Olly was standing outside with some drawings Mr Basil had asked for, waiting to go in.’
Rosie swung her gaze to Olly, whose face looked so serious that anyone would believe they were involved in some kind of top secret espionage.
‘Did you hear which hospital he was in, Olly?’ Rosie asked, her eyes glued to Hannah’s friend, desperate for an answer.
‘Yes, I think I heard them say something about the Royal,’ Olly whispered.
‘And did you hear anything else?’ Now Rosie’s own voice had dropped to a near whisper.
Olly shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not.’
‘All right,’ Rosie said, her voice returning to its normal volume.
‘I want you to go to the canteen, Hannah. Have a quiet word with Gloria and tell her to get her stuff and meet me at the gates – but don’t say why. Quick as you can!’
