The Bomb Girls' Secrets

by Daisy Styles

  Knowing she and Ian were due to leave for Dublin at the crack of dawn the next morning, Kit was determined to talk to her friends about what had been troubling her ever since she’d found Violet in Ronnie’s kitchen. She waited until Arthur had gone to bed, then she said in a low whisper, ‘When I found Violet, she was tied up and gagged. And there was something else too,’ Kit took a deep breath before she continued. ‘Her corset and chemise knickers were on the floor beside her; the knickers were ripped as if they’d been dragged from her body.’

  ‘Oh, Jesus!’ groaned Edna as she lit up a Woodbine.

  ‘She’s never mentioned it,’ Kit quickly added. ‘And I’ve not either.’

  ‘Don’t tell Arthur – he’d take Ronnie apart,’ Gladys whispered fearfully.

  ‘I do wish somebody would see off this rotten excuse for a man,’ Edna cried wrathfully. ‘He deserves to die.’

  Kit waited for Edna to calm down before she whispered, ‘What if he did interfere with her? What if she’s pregnant with Ronnie’s child?’

  Gladys put her head in her hands. ‘That would really push her over the edge.’

  ‘Is it best to talk to her about it or just to wait to see what happens?’ Kit asked her friends.

  ‘You mean wait and see if she has her monthlies?’ said Edna.

  ‘After the shock she’s had and the state of her nerves, it’s likely that Violet may not have a period for a while,’ Kit replied.

  ‘She’s underweight too, which doesn’t help,’ Gladys added.

  ‘But you do share a bathroom,’ Edna pointed out. ‘And you use the same changing rooms at work; you’d see tell-tale signs like sanitary towels or blood stains if her monthly started.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Gladys.

  ‘Be vigilant,’ Edna said firmly.

  On the morning she was supposed to sail to Dublin, Kit made sure she said her goodbyes to Violet before Ian arrived to pick her up.

  ‘I pray you’ll be here when I get back.’

  Violet didn’t beat about the bush. ‘We’ll leave just as soon as we can, Kit,’ she said bluntly. ‘It’s for the best.’

  Kit paused before she asked, ‘How will you manage, together like?’

  Violet gave a bleak smile. ‘You mean, not being married?’

  Kit nodded.

  ‘We’ve talked it over and we’re going to pretend to be married,’ Violet replied. ‘I know we’ll be living in sin but I HAVE to be with Arthur or I’ll just curl up and die!’

  ‘There is no shame or sin about your relationship with Arthur,’ Kit said passionately. ‘It’s a good and beautiful thing!’

  Violet smiled proudly. ‘He’s the dearest most devoted man that ever drew breath. Even now, sleeping by me on my bedroom floor, he’s never laid a hand on me.’

  Kit gulped; if she didn’t ask the question now she never would. ‘Vi, forgive me, but it’s just that I saw things in the kitchen in that house.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Did Ronnie, you know …’

  Violet finished the question for her. ‘Rape me?’

  Kit blushed and nodded.

  ‘Yes,’ Violet answered in a voice that was so remote it didn’t sound like her. ‘Don’t worry, Kit, it wasn’t like it was the first time,’ she finished bitterly.

  ‘Oh, God in heaven!’ Kit exclaimed as she realized the full horror of Violet’s nightmare marriage.

  ‘You must NEVER tell Arthur,’ Violet insisted.

  ‘But what if you’re pregnant?’ Kit asked.

  ‘I pray to God I’m not,’ Violet cried. ‘I could never bring a child of Ronnie’s into the world.’

  ‘Have you had your period?’ Kit asked.

  When Violet shook her head, Kit quickly reassured her. ‘Well, that’s hardly surprising after everything you’ve been through; your body must be in shock.’

  ‘What would I feel like if I was pregnant?’ Violet asked nervously.

  Kit knew that if she talked in too much detail about pregnancy, Violet might guess her secret, so she moderated her language. ‘Well, I’ve heard folks say that in early pregnancy you suffer from morning sickness and have sore breasts,’ she said vaguely.

  Violet thought for a few seconds, then shook her head. ‘Then hopefully you’re in the clear,’ Kit said confidently.

  When they heard the sound of Ian’s car rumbling down the cobbled path, the girls clasped each other tightly.

  ‘Good luck, sweetheart,’ Kit cried.

  ‘Goodbye, Kit,’ Violet sobbed. ‘Good luck!’

  Kit ran into Ian’s arms.

  ‘Before we get carried away,’ he said as she reached up to kiss his mouth, ‘have you been given official permission to take a few days off?’

  Pulling reluctantly away, Kit answered, ‘Mr Featherstone was a bit grumpy, but I told him it would be my final visit and I promised I would never trouble him again.’ She threw back her head and laughed with sheer joy. ‘I didn’t say I was going home to pick up my son and had no wish to return to Ireland for a very long time!’

  Smiling mysteriously, Ian drew away from Kit and reached into his car.

  ‘I thought you might need something warm to wear on that draughty old crossing over the Irish Sea.’ With a twinkle in his eye he draped a pale blue tweed swing coat over her shoulders, then arranged a dark pink velvet trilby at a jaunty angle on her head. ‘I want you looking your best when you meet Billy again.’

  Thrilled by her new outfit, Kit did a little twirl for Ian’s benefit.

  ‘Billy won’t be recognizing his owd mother when I walk into that nursery dressed up like a princess!’

  Smiling, she wrapped her arms around herself as if she was already hugging her son.

  29. A Claddagh Promise

  Kit’s journey across the Irish Sea was unlike her previous ones home, and that wasn’t only because she was travelling with such hope in her heart. This time she was with Ian, who’d had the foresight to purchase medication that kept her sea sickness at bay; plus the September afternoon they sailed out of Heysham Docks was warm and golden, with the sea unusually still. Leaning on the ship’s rails, watching the coast of England fade to a blur, Kit and Ian were obviously a couple deeply in love.

  ‘I can’t believe this is really happening!’ Kit exclaimed as she slipped her arm through Ian’s and hugged him. ‘Normally I’m in a cabin in the darkest part of the ship being sick,’ she said with a grimace.

  As the sea breeze lifted Kit’s lovely dark hair, fanning it around her sweet heart-shaped face, Ian marvelled at the change in her. Love had given her a new radiance; even their nightmare escape from Ronnie in Coventry had added bloom to her cheeks and confidence to her step. He was proud of Kit’s bravery and bold thinking in rescuing Violet – even if at the time she had put the fear of God in him!

  ‘You’ll have a first-class cabin all to yourself tonight, sweetheart,’ he promised.

  Kit tingled with a mixture of pleasure and desire. How she longed to be sharing a cabin with Ian. As passion flared in her for the first time ever, she longed to explore and caress Ian’s muscular body. She dismissed the foolish things the nuns at school had said to frighten their students, ‘Sins of the Flesh’ and ‘The Work of Satan’. What could be sinful about loving a man who had irrevocably changed her life? She wanted to love him with her body and her soul, but Ian was not quite so direct: he kissed and cuddled her and delighted in pleasing her, but he never overstepped the mark, even though she often longed for him to do so.

  As the deep dark waters churned below them, Kit and Ian snuggled close to keep warm.

  ‘After we land in Dublin, we’ll visit Mother Gabriel’s legal adviser, who’s already had the letter from the handwriting specialist in Manchester, saying that the mother’s signature on the adoption papers is not yours and therefore the document is invalid.’

  Kit smiled. ‘I’m looking forward to hearing you say that out loud!’ she said with a gleeful laugh.

  ‘After that,’ Ian continued, ‘We’ll head over to th
e convent to make the final arrangements for Billy.’

  Suddenly alarmed, Kit said, ‘Promise me that nothing can go wrong this time.’

  ‘What on earth could go wrong, sweetheart?’ Ian asked. ‘We’ve cleared every hurdle; everything is legal and above board. I’ve been absolutely meticulous; that’s why it’s taken so long. There’s nothing to worry about at all.’

  Linking his arm through hers, Ian kissed her warm lips. ‘The battle’s over, Kit – nothing and nobody can stop you now.’

  Over supper, which Kit was astonished she could eat and enjoy, Ian broached the subject which he’d been wanting to talk about for some time. Reaching across the table he took her hand in his.

  ‘Darling, I want you to tell me how you became pregnant with Billy.’

  Kit snatched her hand away. ‘No!’ she exclaimed.

  Ian’s hazel eyes were tender with concern. ‘Do you think revealing your secret will make me stop loving you?’

  Kit nodded slowly.

  ‘I can only assume you were violated, darling, but look how you fought back! You fought your father, you fought the nuns, you fought the law; a little slip of a girl in rags and tatters, you took them on and you won, my darling.’

  ‘YOU won,’ she pointed out.

  Seeing a blush rising into her hairline, Ian said softly, ‘You don’t have to tell me if it’s going to upset you.’

  ‘I’m sick to death of keeping secrets,’ Kit declared as she decisively laid down her knife and fork and told him her story from the very beginning.

  ‘It was March, wet and windy, as it only can be in Ireland. I was out in the fields, potato picking, along with other estate workers. Himself is a big fat pig of a man, married to an arrogant English woman who looks down her nose at her serfs,’ Kit added bitterly. ‘I’ve no time for them or their type, but, according to mi stupid da, we’re forever in his lordship’s debt ’cos of the cottage he allows us to live in rent free. You’ve been there – it’s nothing but a hovel! Rain dripping through the peat roof and crawling with rats. I swear it was mi da’s scraping and bowing that drew the old goat’s attention to me. His eyes swept straight over Rosie, mi sister, but they landed on me every time he rode by in his carriage with her ladyship or trotted past on his horse. God only knows why: I was a bag of bones and covered in mud!’

  ‘You don’t know how lovely you are, Catherine,’ Ian murmured.

  ‘He’d doff his cap and smile as if he was coming a-courtin’. I hated the man and always put a safe distance between him and myself, until that March day. He must have been watching me,’ she said as she recalled her actions. ‘I’d never allowed myself to be alone with him – I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him – but he must have seen me leave the field and go to the potato shed to collect fresh sacks. That’s when it happened. He followed me into the shed, where he locked the door. I begged him to leave me alone but he was having none of it. I stood no chance against him, the big beast that he is. He slammed me against the wall, gagged me with one hand whilst he lifted my skirts then got on with the business.’

  Pale-faced Ian raised his full glass of claret and swallowed it in one gulp.

  ‘Christ, I’ve heard enough,’ he said as he topped up both their glasses.

  ‘You know,’ Kit added thoughtfully, ‘the worst thing was Fitzwilliam didn’t doubt for a minute that he had a right to me; because he owns our hovel of a home he thinks he owns me too.’

  ‘Droit du seigneur,’ Ian growled angrily. ‘The ancient right of the aristocracy to take whatever it pleases.’

  ‘What followed was almost as bad as the rape,’ she continued. ‘When it was obvious I was pregnant, I tried to tell mi da how Fitzwilliam had attacked me, but he said I’d egged him on, enticed him into the potato shed. Can you imagine that?’ she said with a hard laugh. ‘When I look back now, I marvel that nobody stood up for me. Look at the way we fought for Violet: nobody did that for me or for poor little Billy.’ She smiled adoringly at Ian. ‘Well, not until I met you.’

  Ian lit up a Pall Mall cigarette, which he inhaled deeply.

  ‘One day soon I’d like a word with Fitzwilliam,’ he growled.

  ‘Don’t go wasting your time,’ Kit declared. ‘His sort think they rule the world.’

  ‘That may be so, but his sort don’t rule me!’

  Before they went to their cabins, Ian and Kit took a turn around the deck, where the breeze was getting up. Watching a new moon appear in the dark sky dotted with flimsy transparent clouds, Ian pulled Kit to him.

  ‘I’m sorry I caused you pain, my darling, I just needed to know,’ he whispered.

  ‘And I needed to tell,’ she whispered back.

  ‘I worry whether you’ll ever be able to properly love again, whether you’re afraid of …’ He stumbled self-consciously on his words.

  ‘Giving myself to another man?’ Kit replied unselfconsciously. ‘I was, for sure, until I met you, but now,’ she added with a naughty giggle, ‘I can’t wait!’

  Ian burst out laughing. ‘Shameless hussy!’ he teased.

  ‘I always believed that falling in love would be as romantic as the poet’s words,’ Kit said as she recalled her favourite W. B. Yeats poem, which she’d learnt at school.

  I would spread the cloths under your feet:

  But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

  I have spread my dreams under your feet;

  Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

  ‘I will always tread softly upon your dreams,’ Ian promised.

  ‘And I, being poor, have only my dreams,’ she quoted.

  ‘Not any more, my darling – from tomorrow onwards you have the whole new wonderful world before you,’ he assured her.

  And as the moon sailed high into the sky, the couple standing by the rails at the prow of the ship sank into each other’s arms and kissed.

  The following morning, as Kit walked through the streets of Dublin, she recalled the frantic skinny girl in rags running through the very same streets on her way to the Convent of the Sisters of Mercy, where Billy had been taken. Now here she was, a smartly dressed, smiling young woman on the arm of the man she loved on her way to reclaim her son.

  ‘How lucky am I?’ she said to herself as she considered her radical change of circumstances.

  Suddenly Ian stopped outside a jeweller’s shop.

  ‘What kind of a ring is that?’ he asked as he peered intently through the shop window. ‘It looks like a pair of hands holding a heart.’

  Kit followed his gaze. ‘It’s a Claddagh ring,’ she said. ‘If it’s worn on the right hand with the heart facing inward towards the body, it means that the person wearing the ring is in a relationship – someone has captured their heart!’ she giggled.

  ‘That’s the ring for you, my sweet!’ he laughed and, taking her by the hand, he ushered her inside the shop.

  The charming shop girl brought out several velvet trays containing Claddagh rings: some were plain gold or silver; others were more elaborate, and more expensive too, with gems set in the heart clasped between the two hands.

  ‘Amethyst, emerald, sapphire, ruby,’ the girl chanted. ‘Which will you be after choosing?’

  Kit finally opted for an emerald stone.

  ‘Now,’ Ian said, trying to recall how she’d explained the wearing of the Claddagh. ‘It goes on the right hand.’ He smiled as he placed the ring on her finger. ‘And if you’re spoken for, which you are, young lady, it faces inwards towards the body. See!’ he laughed as he stood back to admire the ring on her finger. ‘Someone has captured your heart and you’re his for life!’

  As Kit kissed Ian, she whispered softly in his ear, ‘I want no other man but you, my darlin’.’

  30. Mr O’Rourke

  Though there’d been a lot of talk about the convent’s legal adviser, Kit was nevertheless surprised when she met Mr O’Rourke. She’d expected a short, fussy middle-aged man but instead was met by a tall, dark-haired, handsome man with sw
eeping black hair and a winning smile.

  ‘At your service, ma’am,’ he said as he shook her by the hand. ‘And nice to meet you in person, sir,’ he added as he turned to Ian.

  Kit immediately sensed that Ian didn’t like the man. He didn’t smile and his manner seemed guarded.

  ‘The whole business has taken an extraordinary amount of time,’ Ian said rather tersely.

  ‘Come along now, Mr McIvor, you can’t be blaming me for the communication problems we’ve had. It’s not my fault the British Government are intercepting letters from Ireland, nor can I be blamed for the German bombs landing on telephone wires.’

  Ian tenaciously pushed home his point. ‘For something which is essentially quite simple, I seem to have been put to great lengths to prove my client’s innocence.’

  Feeling like things might get heated, Kit quickly said, ‘It was a relief to hear you accept that my name on Billy’s adoption papers had been forged.’

  ‘There’s no doubting the handwriting specialist’s evidence,’ smooth-talking O’Rourke replied. ‘So now let’s be done with them!’ he said as he took a set of papers from his desk and tore them in half. Astounded Kit watched as he tore them in half once more before depositing them in the waste-paper basket. The sight of the hateful document lying in shreds in the bottom of the basket should have brought a rush of relief to Kit, but she continued to feel deeply uneasy, as if she was holding her breath waiting for something terrible to happen.

  Handing her a heavy gold fountain pen, O’Rourke said, ‘If you and Mr McIvor could sign to say you have witnessed my destruction of the fraudulent papers, that will close the matter once and for all.’

  Eager to get out of the office and away from O’Rourke, Kit quickly signed her name on to the thick headed paper, as did Ian; then O’Rourke, with an unnecessary dramatic flourish, added his signature.

  ‘I’m sorry for your troubles, Miss Murphy. I hope there will be no more misunderstandings in the future.’

  Feeling intensely irritated by his condescending manner, and knowing full well that it had been Ian, with the help of the handwriting specialist, who had in fact done all of the work on her behalf, Kit declared passionately, ‘There is absolutely no chance of there being any further misunderstanding, Mr O’Rourke!’