Secrets of the Shipyard Girls

by Nancy Revell

  ‘So,’ Rosie said, ‘you’re going into business with George?’ Now she was really interested. She had suspected the pair of them were up to something the evening they had told her about pooling their resources to buy the house next door, but she hadn’t thought too much more about it as her mind had still been reeling after bumping into Peter.

  ‘Ah,’ Rosie said, putting all the pieces together and understanding what Lily and George had planned. ‘You want to run the “exclusive” Gentlemen’s Club from next door?’ Rosie sat back. ‘Well, I have to admit, that sounds like a brilliant idea.’

  ‘And, ma chère –’ Lily was clearly relieved that Rosie seemed to be very accepting of the idea ‘– what’s more is that it may be a way for the business to gradually become legitimate.’

  Rosie was now leaning forward with her arms on the desk, both hands cupping her glass tumbler. ‘Oh, that would be good,’ she said.

  ‘It’ll take time,’ Lily said. ‘As I said, at the moment, it is a “vision”, but I’m convinced it can become reality. And,’ she added with a twinkle in her eye, ‘your excellent head for figures is going to help us no end.’

  Rosie was just about to ask Lily more about the complexities of running a club and how they could start to convert the bordello into a business that was legal and above board, when they heard the heavy wooden front door swing open, followed by the chattering sound of two voices.

  One belonged to George.

  The other, Rosie guessed, belonged to Maisie.

  Rosie didn’t think she had seen Lily move so quickly in her life. In seconds she was out of her chair, across the room and out into the hallway without being slowed down in the least by her high heels and tight dress.

  ‘Oh, mon Dieu, bonsoir,’ Rosie heard Lily gush. ‘How lovely to see you, Maisie. How was your journey up here?’

  Rosie listened to Maisie telling Lily that her trip had been ‘quite heavenly’. That first class was really ‘the only way to travel these days’, and that she too was ‘absolutely charmed’ to finally be here.

  Rosie then heard Lily usher Maisie into the Louis IV themed reception room, where all the girls were waiting in anticipation of the start of the welcome party.

  Rosie’s mind was tossing around what Lily had told her and at the same time she was listening to Lily’s faux French accent as she introduced Maisie to the girls and a few of their regulars who had also been invited to this evening’s little soirée. The women’s voices sounded excited and there were short bursts of laughter as the party got under way.

  A few minutes later, Lily’s head appeared around the doorway.

  ‘Well. Come on! Chop chop!’

  Rosie took a final sip of her brandy and got up.

  ‘Honestly, you’d think I was asking you to walk the bleedin’ plank.’ Lily’s exasperation at Rosie’s lack of enthusiasm had made her cockney roots reveal themselves.

  Rosie straightened her blouse and brushed down her slacks with her hands, before walking past Lily and deliberately winding her up by pulling a forced smile across her face.

  As soon as Rosie entered the party she spotted the back of a slender, petite young woman, dressed in a classy designer box suit. From behind Rosie could see her hair had been cut into a shoulder-length bob which gave a modicum of order to a mass of tight chestnut brown curls. Most of the girls were standing around Maisie in a circle, looking entranced while the newcomer held court.

  George was at his usual place, perched on the stool of the baby grand, tinkling a perky piano rendition of ‘All the Nice Girls Love a Sailor’. There were also the couple of regulars Lily had invited smoking and chatting to their escorts for the evening.

  ‘Maisie, ma chère,’ Lily called out as she followed Rosie into the room. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet.’

  Rosie watched as Maisie turned round. She had a cocktail glass in one hand and a long ebony cigarette holder in the other. When she spotted Rosie her eyes widened and a smile spread across her face.

  ‘Ah, Rosie,’ she gushed, stepping forward and putting her glass down on the little art deco glass coffee table near to one of the leather armchairs.

  Rosie fought hard to beat down her shock and surprise. She managed to catch it before it found its way to her face. Rosie could see why the girls were so entranced, for Maisie was absolutely stunning. Her wayward tousled bob framed a perfectly sculpted face, high cheekbones, and full, sensuous lips.

  But, what had startled Rosie more than anything was Maisie’s mixed heritage; her skin was a light sun-kissed brown, as if she had just returned from an exotic holiday in some far-flung country.

  If Maisie had picked up on how taken aback Rosie was about her ethnicity, she did not show it.

  ‘How wonderful to meet you at long last,’ she said and gently touched Rosie on the arm and kissed her lightly on each cheek. As she did so Rosie noticed a slight smattering of freckles that could just be seen across her nose and the tops of her cheeks.

  ‘I’ve heard so much about you.’ Maisie spoke in an almost whisper that created an immediate intimacy.

  ‘And I have heard so much about you too,’ Rosie said, noticing for the first time Maisie’s captivating almond-shaped eyes that were light brown, flecked with hazel.

  Now she understood Lily’s excitement. This woman could have men – and women – eating out of the palm of her hand. She was, as Lily had described, ‘exquisite’.

  ‘So, please tell me, Maisie, what has inspired you to leave the bright lights of London for the north-east of England? Don’t tell me it’s because of the Blitz, because if it is, I hate to tell you, we’re getting pretty hammered here as well. London may be the capital, but we’ve got a lot of industry up here that is attracting a fair amount of attention from the Luftwaffe.’

  Maisie gave a little laugh. ‘No, no, there are a few reasons I’ve wanted to come up. For starters, I’ve got family here that I haven’t seen in a very long time and who I’m just dying to catch up with …’

  Rosie was about to ask her what part of the town her family were from, but Maisie continued on without a pause.

  ‘And I’m also rather excited about this new Gentlemen’s Club Lily and George want to start up. I think it could be quite the success. There’s nothing else like it in the town, by all accounts. And there certainly won’t be a shortage of those wanting to become members – not with RAF Usworth nearby, and, of course, you’ve got the members-only cricket and social club literally across the road. They’ll be fighting to get through the door.’

  Maisie took the smallest of sips from the cocktail that she had gracefully retrieved from where she had left it. ‘But, enough about me. I want to hear about you.’ She leant in closer and said in a conspiratorial voice, ‘I have to admit to being totally fascinated by the fact that you also work as a welder. And in a shipyard, at that.’

  Maisie would have said this had it been the last thing on earth she wanted to hear about, but in this case she did really mean it. The woman standing opposite to her now, with the scarred but very attractive face, and who was now jointly running the bordello with Lily, fascinated her.

  In fact, the bordello had far exceeded her expectations, and she had been pleasantly surprised that Lily’s description of the place had not been exaggerated. A part of her had been dreading leaving London with its cosmopolitan way of living, and exciting night life. She had resigned herself to the fact that she had to come here, to this poor northern town, full of factories, shipyards and industry, to do what she needed to do. But, from what she had seen already, it looked like she might also be able to have some fun.

  ‘Well, Thompson’s is certainly quite a change from this place,’ Rosie said, turning to look around her to see if any of the chairs were free. Spotting a couple of their regulars getting up to leave with two of the girls, Rosie motioned for Maisie to join her and they sat down.

  ‘Ah, that’s nice,’ Rosie said, relaxing in the warmth and comfort of the cushioned chair. ‘I love my job,
but it does take it out on the old pins.’

  As the two women sat chatting, Lily kept a discreet eye on them as she stood by the fireplace talking to George, who had gently taken hold of her hand, although his show of affection could not be seen by others.

  George could tell Lily’s mind was not on what he was talking about, but he didn’t mind as she had gently squeezed his hand. He knew Lily always had half an eye on what was going on around her, even if she looked totally engrossed in conversation. He had to smile to himself, though, as Lily was clearly cock-a-hoop that Maisie and Rosie seemed to be getting on. Not that he doubted Maisie’s ability to get on with anyone. That girl could charm the birds right out of the trees, but she would have her work cut out with Rosie as she wasn’t always the easiest of people to get onside. He knew from experience that if Rosie took a dislike to someone, she wouldn’t give them the time of day.

  George had known that Lily had been nervous about Maisie’s first encounter with Rosie, which wasn’t surprising as they were both strong, no-nonsense women. There could well be a personality clash and he and Lily needed the two of them to get on if they were to make a success of this new business.

  Seeing that Rosie didn’t have a drink in her hand and that Maisie had almost finished her cocktail, Lily pressed close to George for a brief moment and looked over to the two women.

  ‘George,’ she spoke gently into his ear, ‘can you be a dear and get them both a drink? Something with bubbles in, please.’

  A few minutes later George was playing waiter and handing a champagne cocktail to each of the two women, who were now happily chatting away. When he returned to Lily, she whispered conspiratorially, ‘So, what were they talking about?’

  George laughed, but didn’t answer; instead he walked off to fetch Lily her drink.

  ‘Darling,’ he said on his return, ‘I’m not your spy as well as everything else –’ he downed the rest of his whisky ‘– but if you must know, they were talking about,’ he paused for dramatic effect, ‘… the shipyards.’

  ‘Bleedin’ typical,’ Lily gasped. ‘Rosie’s favourite subject. Bet you she’s waffling on about those new Liberty ships the yard’s become so famous for.’

  ‘Actually,’ George said, ‘if I heard right, they were chatting about Rosie’s team of women welders. Maisie seemed genuinely interested.’

  ‘Hm,’ Lily said, taking a quick swig of her drink, ‘Maisie’s the kind of girl who could feign interest in drying paint if she had to.’ But her words were said with a clear sense of relief that it did, in fact, look like the two women’s acquaintance had got off to a good start.

  Finally Lily could begin to relax and enjoy her drink with George. She was secretly congratulating herself on how well everything was going when, filtering through the chitter-chatter of the party, she heard the mournful wail of the air raid siren start up.

  Within seconds the room had fallen silent.

  ‘All right, everyone,’ Lily said. ‘You know the drill.’

  She looked around at the faces staring at her, before adding, ‘And don’t forget the house motto, which is …’

  Vivian, who had made herself the unofficial head of the girls, stepped forward so that she was positioned in the centre of the room.

  ‘… Keep calm and party on!’ she declared with her drink raised as if giving a toast.

  Then turning on her heel and looking like a glamorous female Pied Piper, she shouted, ‘Follow me, everyone!’ and led them all out of the large reception room and down the hallway.

  As they ambled out of the room, Maisie sidled up to Rosie. ‘I see what you meant about the Luftwaffe having a particular liking for your little town!’

  Opening the small wooden door to the cellar at the side of the main staircase, Vivian made a great show of pulling on the light that illuminated half a dozen stone steps leading down into the cellar.

  Maisie’s eyes widened in wonder. ‘Well, it beats being stuck in the London Underground for hours on end,’ she said as she peered down into the cellar at a fully stocked drinks cabinet, a record player, and a beautiful chaise longue that had been upholstered in a delicate golden silk fabric.

  ‘Ah, is that rosewood?’ she asked as she climbed down into the cellar and made a beeline for the antique couch.

  ‘You’ve got a good eye, ma chère,’ Lily said following her down the steps and over to the chaise longue. ‘I may love all things français, but I do have rather a particular penchant for our very own Regency furniture.’

  Maisie trailed her smooth, caramel-coloured hand along the hand-carved scroll-shaped arms and back of the chaise lounge, before sitting down on it gently so as not to damage it.

  Rosie again noticed Maisie’s hands, which did not look like they had done a day’s hard labour in their life – unlike most of the other girls here, who often wore laced fingerless gloves to disguise their former lives.

  By now everyone had made it down into the cellar, and Vivian was lighting candles and carefully placing a record on to the deck of the old portable gramophone. It was, as expected, the music to ‘I’m No Angel’ and it was Vivian’s showpiece at the start of any air raid.

  As she cleared her throat, everyone fell silent. The distant sound of the sirens could just about be heard.

  ‘Before you start, Vivian, has anyone seen Kate?’ Lily looked about the small gathering, but there was no Kate.

  ‘Oh, she’s a little minx, that one,’ Lily said anxiously. ‘I bet you she’s working on Bel’s dress and won’t tear herself away from it.’

  One of the regulars, an older man called Charles, a brigadier in the Durham Light Infantry who visited Lily’s whenever he was on leave, called out, ‘I’ll go and get her.’

  But Lily shook her head. ‘That’s very kind of you, Charles, but I’ll send George here.’

  Lily made it sound as if she couldn’t possibly have one of her clients running about on chores, but in reality it was because she made a point of never allowing the bordello’s punters to have any dealings whatsoever with Kate. Her ‘petit enfant’, as she often called her in private, might live at Lily’s, but she had made it known that Kate should have no contact with any of the men who visited.

  George didn’t need asking twice, and as Vivian started singing the first verse of ‘I’m No Angel’ in a convincing American drawl, he could be seen disappearing back into the house.

  By the time Vivian was finishing the second verse, swaying her womanly hips suggestively along to the lyrics, ‘Love me, honey, love me till I just don’t care, I’m no angel’, Kate and George were both safely ensconced in the cellar.

  Maisie watched curiously as Kate made a beeline for Lily, who then put a protective arm around the young girl’s skinny shoulders. She saw Rosie go over for a quick chat. As Rosie turned away, Maisie managed to catch her eye, and patted the seat next to her, beckoning her to come and sit down.

  ‘If ever Mae West needs a double,’ Maisie said in awe of Vivian who was now in full flow and had everyone entranced and swaying to the music, ‘she need look no further.’

  ‘If you tell Vivian that, you’ll make yourself a friend for life. I’m sure she’s convinced she should be Mae West and is actually more like Mae West than Mae West herself.’

  The two women chuckled and when Vivian finished with a sultry ‘I can make it heaven where the shades are drawn … I’m no angel’, Maisie got up and, gently clapping her hands, trilled out, ‘Encore, encore.’

  Lily tottered over to Rosie and took the place where Maisie had been sitting; they both watched as Maisie chatted away to Vivian and the rest of the girls and their clients. Rosie thought everyone looked completely taken with Lily’s ‘new girl’.

  ‘What do you think, then?’ Lily asked.

  ‘Well,’ Rosie said, turning to look at Lily, ‘you’ve certainly found yourself a little gem there, haven’t you?’ Lily glowed, revelling in the praise.

  Rosie continued to watch Maisie.

  ‘She’s certainly … ho
w did you describe her before … “exquisite”,’ Rosie said, adding thoughtfully, although more to herself than Lily, ‘Almost too good to be true.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next day, as the people of Sunderland traipsed to work after just a few hours’ sleep, having spent most of the night cooped up in shelters, the talk, as expected, was dominated by the previous evening’s air raid attack.

  ‘Aye, a whole family was taken out – four bairns ’n all,’ Polly overheard one of the shipwrights tell his mate as she stood on the early morning ferry. She felt her stomach sink. She had heard that the bombs had dropped in Southwick on the north bank of the River Wear. It was likely their aim had been the shipyards, but, as usual, they had only succeeded in destroying homes and killing the innocent.

  No wonder so many of the townsfolk were packing their children off to go and live with strangers out of harm’s way. Polly had chatted to Bel about sending Lucille away, but she’d been adamant. Lucille was to stay at home.

  As Polly was jostled off the ferry, she threw Stan, the old ferryman, a sombre look, before being carried along with the mass of other shipyard workers up to the main gates. After collecting her card from the timekeeper’s cabin, Polly hurried over to the welders’ area, and was relieved to see all the women were there. None of them lived in Southwick, but they could have easily been visiting friends or relatives.

  ‘Morning, Pol,’ Rosie said as Polly reached the five-gallon barrel fire they were stood around. The temperature was dropping and the mornings had graduated from chilly to cold. ‘You and yours all right?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, thanks,’ Polly said, pulling out her Thermos from her holdall and pouring herself a cuppa.

  ‘None of the hospitals were hit, were they?’ Gloria asked quietly as they all stood around the fire, warming their hands and drinking steaming hot tea.

  Rosie glanced over at Gloria. She looked dead on her feet, and the dark shadows under her eyes showed she was getting next to no sleep.