The Bomb Girls' Secrets

by Daisy Styles

  ‘Do you think your brother likes me, Glad?’ Maggie nervously asked as she twirled around for Gladys to inspect her.

  ‘Believe me,’ she assured the anxious girl, ‘Les wouldn’t waste his time meeting you if he didn’t like you. He was the one that suggested a date in the first place,’ she reminded Maggie.

  Feeling a lot more confident, Maggie, with her red hair flying around her excited face, ran down the hill to catch the bus to Leeds. As she watched the young girl go, Gladys felt a pang of envy. She wished it was her that was going to see Les, whom she’d barely spent any time with since his return. She hoped he would accept Maggie’s invitation to play a trumpet duet at the carol-singing event in Pendleton; if he came, Gladys would get to see him one more time before he was posted back to his battalion.

  Later that night, as Violet, Kit and Gladys clocked off from their long afternoon shift, there was no sign of Maggie, who was due to start work with Nora.

  ‘She never came back,’ Nora told them anxiously.

  Gladys’s heart skipped a beat; she hoped impetuous Maggie hadn’t done anything inappropriate with her brother, who was a bit of a wild card himself.

  ‘She’s bound to turn up,’ Violet said reassuringly.

  ‘Knowing Maggie, she’s probably missed the last bus home,’ Kit added.

  Frustrated that she couldn’t contact her brother to find out where Maggie was, Gladys went to bed hoping for the best, but the next morning, when she saw the morning paper on the kitchen table, her blood ran cold.

  Just after 5 o’clock last night air-raid sirens across Leeds sounded the ‘alert’. Firewatchers on the roof of the Turner Tanning Machinery Company in Stanningley Road, Bramley, reported planes flying from the east to the north-west, and shortly after that the city was hit repeatedly and quickly went ablaze. A large number of incendiary bombs, followed by high explosive bombs, fell, causing widespread damage to the bus station, the museum, the town hall and thousands of homes.

  Gladys swayed. ‘Oh, no, please, God, no!’ she cried.

  Maggie had told her that Les was meeting her at the bus station; he would have been sure to have dropped her back there after their date, which would have been around 5 p.m., as Maggie was due back at work not long after that. How could she find out what had happened to the young couple? Would Emily Yates, Maggie’s big sister, know anything?

  Quickly pulling on her coat, Gladys ran down the track to the Phoenix, where she hoped she might find Emily working on the cordite line. Luckily, she was there, albeit with dark shadows under her eyes.

  ‘Did Maggie come home last night?’ Gladys quickly asked.

  Emily shook her head.

  Almost hysterical Gladys cried, ‘How can we find out what’s happened to them?’

  ‘Mam and Dad went to Leeds after they heard about the bombing raid first thing this morning,’ Emily replied, then added with tears in her eyes, ‘The kid’s only seventeen.’

  Gladys gave her a comforting pat on the arm. ‘We’re bound to hear something soon,’ she said with a conviction she didn’t feel.

  As she walked out of the Phoenix, Gladys had a sudden thought: Captain Trevor Horrocks might know something. Checking the time on her watch, Gladys belted down the hill into Pendleton, where she ran to Edna’s shop and used her phone. But all the phone lines in Leeds were down because of the bombing raid.

  ‘I don’t know what to do!’ she cried in sheer frustration.

  Ever pragmatic, Edna said, ‘There’s nowt you can do, lovie, but wait and see.’

  Gladys decided that when she finished her shift she’d go to visit Maggie’s parents. Hours later, standing before their front door, she felt nervous about intruding on them, but she couldn’t go through another day and night of not knowing what was going on. After apologizing to Mrs Yates for turning up unexpectedly, Gladys was ushered into the back kitchen, where Mrs Yates gave her a welcome cup of tea.

  ‘Do you have any news of Maggie and Les?’ Gladys asked as she held her breath in fear of what the answer might be.

  ‘Yes, we do,’ Mrs Yates replied quickly. ‘Your Les was just leaving when we arrived at the hospital to see our Maggie.’

  Gladys let out a huge gasp of relief. ‘Oh, thank God!’ she cried. ‘He’s safe. And Maggie? She’s in hospital?’

  ‘Suffering from concussion; she’ll be a few days more in Leeds Infirmary,’ Mrs Yates answered sombrely. ‘But if it wasn’t for Les shielding her from the blast and stopping her from running off in a blind panic when the bombs started falling, things could have been very different,’ she added, as she sat at the kitchen table opposite an ashen-faced Gladys. ‘He hurt his arm in the process of protecting our Maggie.’ Seeing Gladys’s big blue eyes widen in alarm, she quickly added. ‘He’s all right – his arm’s in a sling but they discharged him from the infirmary.’ She sighed heavily as she took a sip of hot tea. ‘They were both lucky. I honestly think if it weren’t for your brother, our Maggie wouldn’t be alive today.’

  Smiling proudly, and relieved beyond words that the news was nothing like as bad as she’d feared, Gladys gave a little laugh. ‘That’s my little brother for you: a knight in shining armour! But poor Maggie – she looked so carefree when she ran to catch the bus to meet Les,’ Gladys recalled.

  ‘That’s the blasted war for you,’ groaned Mrs Yates. ‘Just when you think there’s a little bit of happiness around the corner, the Luftwaffe come flying in.’

  Gladys nodded in agreement. ‘What a way to spend their first date! And Les is only just home after months of being missing in action. Just when we get him back, safe and sound, he’s hit by the Germans in his own town.’

  ‘Poor lad. We’ll just have to make sure they have a good Christmas,’ Mrs Yates said determinedly. ‘With this war showing no sign of stopping, we’ve got to live every day as if it was our last.’

  Gladys raised her cup of tea. ‘Amen to that.’

  With a little boy in their midst, everybody in the cowshed had plans for Christmas.

  ‘Arthur and I will go to look for a Christmas tree on the moors,’ Violet said excitedly. ‘We can stand it in the corner and Billy can help us decorate it.’

  ‘We can make paper chains to decorate the sitting room,’ Gladys cried.

  ‘And hang stockings for Father Christmas!’ Kit suggested.

  ‘We must invite Edna and Myrtle for Christmas dinner, though what we’ll eat is a bit of a mystery,’ Violet joked.

  Undeterred by the pressures of rationing, Gladys announced brightly, ‘Everybody can bring a bit of something; it doesn’t have to be a grand affair. A tin of corned beef and a piece of cheese will do,’ she said as she thought of the recent bombing in Leeds. ‘We’re alive: that’s all that matters.’

  Billy couldn’t believe his eyes when Arthur walked into the cowshed bearing a little pine tree that was prettily speckled with white ice. He watched in wonder as Arthur planted the tree in a bucket.

  ‘Christmas tree!’ Arthur told the enthralled child.

  ‘Tree,’ Billy gurgled as he reached up to grab the tree, then burst into tears as the little green spikes pricked his fingers.

  After Kit had kissed his fingers better, Billy helped to dress the tree with bits of tinsel and little homemade paper decorations depicting stars and angels and holly leaves, which Violet threaded with string, then hung from the branches. Billy also tried to help Gladys and Kit make some paper chains, but, after he ripped most of them, Kit suggested they finished the job when the little boy was in bed.

  Between them, they put together a Christmas dinner. Edna, who knew just about everybody in Pendleton, managed to get two pheasants from a local gamekeeper who’d shot the tasty birds on the moor. Kit spent her ration coupons on some stringy sausage meat, which she mixed with wild thyme and salt and pepper. The sprouts, potatoes and cabbage that would accompany the meat were all from local gardeners who were passionate about ‘Digging for Victory’, and Violet’s big bread-and-butter pudding dotted with sultanas a
nd apples was a fair substitute for Christmas pudding, especially when she promised to serve it up with hot thick custard, even if it was made with dried milk.

  ‘A feast!’ Arthur declared as he appreciatively sniffed all the wonderful smells that filtered through the cowshed in the lead-up to Christmas.

  Violet didn’t seem to appreciate the festive smells as much as her husband. The smell of the sausage meat that Kit had bought turned her stomach, and the sight of the pheasants dripping blood as they hung in the kitchen waiting to be plucked sent her rushing to the lavatory, where she was violently sick.

  ‘I must have a bug,’ she said as she returned weak and white-faced. ‘I’ve been off my food all week – even the smell of chip butties, which I normally love, turned me queasy the other day.’

  ‘Can I get you anything, sweetheart?’ Arthur asked. ‘Cup of tea perhaps?’

  Violet smiled sweetly at her anxious husband. ‘No, thanks, lovie,’ she replied. ‘I’d give my entire ration book right now for some fresh fruit, a juicy orange or a banana,’ she said with a yearning sigh.

  ‘Exotic fruits! Listen to you, milady,’ Arthur teased. ‘Haven’t you heard there’s a war on?’

  Everybody was immensely relieved when Maggie arrived home from Leeds Infirmary. Even concussion didn’t dampen her exuberant spirits. ‘It’s almost worth getting blown up for a week off work,’ she joked when her friends went to visit her on her return home.

  ‘Oooh, weren’t you scared?’ wide-eyed Nora asked.

  ‘I was petrified when I heard them bloody incendiaries.’ She added with a cheeky wink, ‘But I had Les to keep me safe. He held me tight and sheltered all through the bombing. Left to miself, I’d have made a run for it – and probably joined the dead in the morgue too.’ She smiled at Gladys and said, ‘Your brother’s a hero – and a good-looking one at that!’

  Les, now on extended leave because of his arm injury, did manage to take the bus over the Yorkshire moors to Pendleton to join in the carol service and visit his sister as well as Maggie, who, though covered in cuts and bruises, glowed with happiness when Les gave her a kiss on both cheeks and a Christmas present.

  ‘Not to be opened until Christmas Day,’ he teased as Maggie used the gift as an excuse to give him a few more kisses.

  ‘We need to practise our duet before we go into town,’ she whispered in his ear.

  Les burst out laughing. ‘How am I going to play the trumpet with my arm in a sling?’

  ‘We’ll manage, somehow,’ Maggie answered confidently as she stroked his wounded arm.

  In the Yateses’ back parlour the young couple stole kisses in between Maggie practising ‘Jingle Bells’ on her trumpet and Les singing along in his wonderful deep baritone voice. Mrs Yates insisted that Maggie should rest before the carol service, which gave Les the opportunity to walk up the hill to visit his sister.

  ‘How are you?’ she cried as she tried to hug him but instead caused Les to wince as she squeezed his arm.

  ‘Sore!’ he laughed, returning the hug as best he could.

  After admiring the cowshed and playing with Billy, Les joined his sister for a walk on the moors before darkness descended.

  ‘How long will you be home for now?’ she asked as she nodded at his sling.

  ‘Not long – my arm’s recovering and I should be back in action with my battalion soon,’ he replied as they walked over the icy heather, which scrunched under their feet. ‘But it’s good to have a bit more time with Mam and Dad over Christmas.’

  ‘I wish I could be with you all,’ Gladys said wistfully.

  ‘You’re needed here in Pendleton, our Glad. I need somebody to keep an eye on that gorgeous Maggie Yates for me,’ he chuckled.

  ‘She’s a little fire-cracker,’ Gladys said fondly.

  ‘You’ve only got to look at all that wild red hair to know that,’ Les joked.

  ‘Thank goodness you were with her at the bus station,’ Gladys added on a more serious note. ‘God, when I think what could have happened to you.’

  ‘We got off lucky,’ he agreed. ‘As long as I live I’ll never forget the sound of those planes flying low over Leeds.’

  Before they set off down the hill to sing carols, Les gave Gladys a parcel. ‘From Mam,’ he said.

  ‘PORK!’ Violet gasped when she opened the parcel and saw a thick piece of fresh pink pork.

  ‘It’s Dad’s allotment’s pig,’ Les told his sister. ‘They slaughtered it for Christmas, then shared it out between friends and family. Mam kept a bit back for you; it’ll be great with a bit of apple sauce!’

  With snow falling around the occupants of the cowshed, they made a happy little procession as they walked together on Christmas Eve. Pendleton looked like a picture postcard, with the high Pennines topped with snow forming a dramatic backdrop to the little town nestled in the valley. Standing in the town hall square, Nora, Kit, Gladys, Violet and Maggie, with Les at her side, tuned up their instruments, then started to play ‘Jingle Bells’ to get everybody into the festive mood. Children came running with their families, and in no time a large crowd had gathered. Whilst the band played, Myrtle led the singing, accompanied by Billy, who, wrapped up snug and warm in his pram, clapped and gurgled to ‘Jingle Bells’ and ‘Away in a Manger’. Edna, Arthur, Les and Ian circulated with buckets to collect money for war widows and orphans; then the concert culminated with a rousing chorus of ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’, which reached new heights when Maggie and Nora played a triumphant duet. The audience were so moved they clapped and cheered and cried for more.

  Edna dashed back to her chip shop just behind the town square, where she fired up her range in order to cook supper for the hungry and very chilly carollers. After a warming meal of chips, butter beans and fritters, the happy little party made their way home under a starry sky. After Kit had settled Billy down to sleep, Ian put a coat around her shoulders and drew her outside.

  ‘Let’s go for a little walk,’ he said softly.

  They walked over the snowy moors to a high ridge that gave a view of the town, dark with blackout blinds drawn, way down in the valley. The snow had stopped falling, and slanting beams from the rising moon reflected on the glistening white snow. It was certainly bright enough for Kit to see the small velvet bow on the package that Ian held out to her.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Catherine,’ he said as he handed her the parcel. Looking up at the man who had come to mean so much to her, she hesitated before opening it. He nodded at her to go ahead, so she slowly unwrapped the beautifully wrapped box, opening it to reveal the most exquisite diamond ring. Tears in her eyes, she looked up again at a smiling Ian. ‘You haven’t forgotten that you promised to marry me?’ he teased.

  Lost for words, Kit gazed in awe at the ring, which seemed to hold the moon and stars in each of its facets. Slipping it on to her tiny wedding finger, she murmured incredulously, ‘It fits!’ Then she added, ‘How do you always know my exact size? My feet, my waist, even my little finger!’ she laughed in delight as she admired the dazzling diamond.

  ‘I know every part of you by heart,’ Ian replied as he hugged her close.

  ‘Oh, Ian,’ she sighed as she leant against him weak with joy. ‘To think this time last year I’d just given birth to Billy and had no idea of the nightmare that was ahead of me.’

  Kissing her deeply, Ian whispered, ‘A nightmare that’s turned into a dream.’

  44. London

  As soon as Christmas was over, the Bomb Girls started to prepare for the trip to the Savoy. Apart from working their shifts and rehearsing their numbers, they had to pack for their performance, which involved two nights in no less a hotel than the Savoy itself. They also had to book a coach to transport the whole lot of them to London and arrange time off.

  ‘It’s all getting rather hectic!’ Myrtle said with suppressed excitement. ‘I was actually wondering whether to splash out on a new pair of glasses,’ she added in an uncertain voice that was at odds with her usual robust self-conf
idence.

  Violet, Gladys and Kit looked shocked.

  ‘No, Myrtle! I love your diamanté-tipped specs,’ Gladys assured her.

  ‘They remind me of angels’ wings,’ Kit confessed.

  ‘You wouldn’t look the same without them,’ Violet added.

  ‘Well, if you put it like that,’ Myrtle said as she adjusted her glasses, ‘I won’t go to the expense.’

  In the middle of all the constantly changing arrangements, Arthur and Violet dropped of bombshell of their own.

  ‘Violet’s expecting a baby!’ Arthur proudly announced as they sat around the table sharing a potato-hash supper one night. ‘A playmate for Billy!’

  Violet, who was glowing with good health and happiness, blushed.

  ‘There was I thinking I had a tummy bug and all the time I was pregnant,’ she laughed at herself. ‘You’d think at my age I’d have known better!’

  ‘Wonderful news!’ cried Gladys as she hugged Violet across the table.

  ‘When’s it due?’ gasped delighted Kit.

  ‘Summer,’ Violet replied. ‘We’ll have moved into our own house well before that; the cowshed is already bursting at the seams!’

  Watching the happy couple with their arms around each other, thrilled and so excited about their baby, Gladys could hardly believe that Arthur and Violet didn’t know each other a year ago. The pain and fear they’d endured was remarkable, and now here they were, blissfully in love, living every day for each other.

  ‘Here’s to Arthur and Violet, the parents-to-be,’ their friends cried as they raised mugs of tea. ‘Congratulations!’

  Nora was getting anxious about ‘going South’. As the event drew closer, the epic journey became almost the equivalent of circling the dark face of the moon to nervous Nora.

  ‘Will we be safe travelling?’ she asked as the excited girls gathered around Edna’s van one cold night.

  Edna smiled reassuringly at worried Nora. ‘What with all of us lasses and their fellas, not to mention Malc, plus Mr and Mrs Featherstone, we’ll be like an army on the move! We’ll need the biggest charabanc in Pendleton to get us to the capital.’