by Daisy Styles
‘Oooh, lovie, in’t it dangerous working alongside bombs?’ Mrs Wheelan fretted.
‘It can’t be as dangerous as firing the bombs on the Front Line,’ Nancy declared with genuine passion. ‘If Chamberlain wants me, he can have me! I’ll sign up just as soon as I’m discharged.’
‘Ooh, Nance, don’t tell your dad your plans; he won’t like it,’ Mrs Wheelan warned.
‘I’ll hide as much of mi earnings as I can from Dad.’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘But he won’t stop me working. I plan to save up so that one day I can buy a nice little terrace up Tonge Moor Road, just me and you, Mam!’ she said breathlessly.
‘Oh, lovie, I’d like that very much,’ her mum said with tears in her eyes.
Nancy cried like a baby when her mum took the train back to Bolton, but the visit had done her good; it focused her attention on returning home and on her ambitions to become a Bomb Girl on Pendle Moor!
Leaving their babies in the nursery, Daphne and Nancy were discharged from the ward and in less than a week they were back to doing light chores around the Home. When they were strong enough, Ada liked to see her patients on their feet, though she insisted they got plenty of rest, which aided their recovery. After the clattering noisiness of the ward, Nancy was delighted to be back in the big, comfortable bedroom she shared with her best friends.
Still rather sore, she carefully settled herself on her narrow single bed, sighing with relief. ‘Eeeh, it’s good to be back,’ she said to Emily and Isla. ‘Away from all them bloody screaming babies.’
Though it was nice to be among her friends again, Nancy realized that the time left to her with Gloria, Daphne, Emily and Isla was fast running out. Sister Ada had promised her that when she was fully recovered and her stitches had healed she would be allowed to leave Mary Vale. Like Nancy, Daphne was also in a lather to go home.
‘Not that I don’t like this place,’ she declared as she lay across Nancy’s bed, smoking a cigarette. ‘But my heart is aching for Hermione,’ she told her friends.
‘Who’s Hermione when she’s at home?’ Emily laughed.
‘My mare, of course!’ Daphne exclaimed.
‘I don’t understand why you are both in such a rush to leave. You could stay longer and enjoy being taken care of,’ Emily reminded the two girls.
Nancy vigorously shook her head. ‘Thanks – but no thanks,’ she answered briskly. ‘I’ve been here quite long enough – I’m ready to go home. Anyway, there’s a war on and I want to build bombs to blast Hitler to kingdom come!’ she announced with patriotic zeal.
‘Good for you, girl!’ Daphne boomed. ‘Make a bomb big enough to take out Hitler and we’ll all be dancing in the streets!’
Nancy laughed along with her friends, who, she knew, she would sorely miss – but it was the real world that called her now, and, in truth, she just couldn’t wait to begin her life over again.
21. Farewells
To Percival’s disgust, Daphne stayed on at Mary Vale a little longer than she had planned. Her father was adamant that she wouldn’t be allowed home until he’d discussed ‘the state of play’, as he called it, with Sir Percival, who was more than keen to sign the girl off for reasons not known to Lord Wallace.
‘She’s as fit as a fiddle; she can leave any time,’ Matron informed Percival. ‘In fact, if the wretched girl isn’t discharged soon, she’s more than likely to jump out of the window and run away.’
‘Oh, dear, we can’t have that,’ Percival said with mock sincerity. ‘I’ll notify Lord Wallace right away.’
Jubilant as she was to return to her horse-and-hound life, there was an unexpected sadness in Daphne when she visited the nursery to say goodbye to her son.
‘He’s a fine chap,’ Ada said, when she spotted Daphne at the changing table, where Bertie, kicking his chubby bare legs and chortling happily, was blissfully unaware that his world was about to change forever. Biting her lip, Daphne turned to Ada. ‘Will you keep an eye on him for me, until he goes?’ she asked.
‘Of course I will,’ Ada promised, touched by the request. ‘We all will. That’s our job here: to look after all of Mary Vale’s babies until they leave us.’
Daphne picked up her son, gave him one last cuddle, kissing him tenderly, before returning him to his cot, that more familiar look of resolve back on her face.
‘Mummy’s waiting for me in the car,’ she said with a grimace. ‘It’ll be a hell of a journey home, with her rabbiting on about the ghastly deb balls she’s lined up for me.’
Her friends could hardly conceal their smiles.
‘Oh, heck, Daphne, for the life of me I can’t see you in a tiara and a long white frock,’ giggled Nancy.
‘Mother’s under the illusion that, just because I’ve had a baby, I’ve had a brain transplant too! It drives her mad that I’ve always resisted society balls and parties; a good ride to the hounds and a bit of slap and tickle in the tack room is more my thing,’ she guffawed.
‘We’ll miss you so much,’ Gloria said, hugging her friend goodbye.
‘Who will make us laugh when you’re gone?’ Isla asked sadly.
‘I would say I’ll come and visit you, but one thing’s for sure: I’m never coming back to this place as long as I live and breathe,’ Daphne boomed as she strode towards the door. ‘You’ve all got my address. I expect you to write after you’ve had your own babies, and give me an update, and you, Nancy,’ she added bossily, ‘keep in touch too, once you’re back home.’ And, with a final goodbye to Bertie, she swept out of the room.
In the hallway Daphne completely ignored Matron, who’d come to see her off, but she thanked Ada and Sister Ann profusely. Not one for sentiment, she bade her last farewells, then picked up her suitcase and set off down the garden path to join her mother, who was waiting for her in a gleaming chauffeur-driven Daimler. To her surprise, Shirley came hurrying down the path after her.
‘Daphne, I just wanted to say goodbye too,’ the girl called out. ‘I’ve never met anybody who made me laugh so much,’ she added with a shy smile.
Touched by Shirley’s sincerity, Daphne gave her a thundering smack on the back. ‘Keep up the good work,’ she barked, as she clambered into the Daimler, which drove off at top speed, Daphne waving her hankie out of the open window.
‘What a character,’ said Sister Ann to Ada.
‘I’ve never known anybody who could turn the air as blue as Daphne with her foul language,’ Ada giggled. ‘Mary Vale will be a quieter place without her, that’s for sure.’
Sister Ann smiled fondly. ‘We’ve still got Bertie to remind us of his mum.’
Neither of them noticed that Matron was standing right behind them.
‘You’re quite right,’ she said. ‘We still have little Bertie … and life goes on.’
Nancy’s leaving was a much quieter affair.
‘I just want to go now,’ she confided in Shirley, whom she’d grown to trust. ‘I’ve been here longer than anybody but you!’ she joked. ‘You can’t get enough of it, and I’ve had more than enough of it!’
Though Sister Ann pointed out to Nancy that her accommodation was still covered for a few more weeks, Nancy remained firm and politely declined the offer.
‘It’s not that I’m not grateful to you, Sister, and Ada too,’ she said humbly. ‘I’ll never forget how good and kind you’ve been to me, but I really want to go home to mi mam now.’
‘Pick up where you left off,’ Sister Ann said optimistically.
‘No, definitely not that,’ Nancy corrected her. ‘A new life is what I want, a completely new life: building bombs to beat Hitler!’
After helping Nancy pack her few things and making sure she had a packet of sandwiches to eat on the train home, Emily and Isla accompanied her to Kents Bank Station.
‘Promise you’ll write,’ Isla begged.
‘Tell us if you get called up to the munitions factory,’ Emily added.
‘I will,’ Nancy promised. ‘I hope your births go well,
and you both have bonny, healthy babies,’ she said, a lump in her throat as she boarded the train. ‘I’ll never forget you,’ she gulped through her tears as the train moved off. ‘Take care!’
Emily and Isla waved and managed to keep up the smiles until the train disappeared round the bend in the track. But, as silence fell, a sense of anticlimax mixed with some sadness descended on the two women. They hoped Nancy would be okay – and that they would see her again. Standing forlornly on the empty platform, they looked out over the darkening marsh, which was loud with the sound of the incoming tide and the call of oyster catchers and dunlins dipping and diving over the waves.
‘We’re next, kiddo,’ Emily said, as she looped her arm through Isla’s.
‘That’s just what I was thinking,’ Isla agreed. ‘Me, you, Gloria and all the other girls in the Home too, an endless cycle of mothers and babies and inevitable farewells.’
Squinting her pale blue eyes, Isla gazed at the vast marsh as it rapidly filled up with seawater. ‘Living here in this remote part of England, quietly waiting for our babies to be born – it’s hard to imagine there’s a war on out there.’
At the mention of war Emily’s eyes welled with tears. ‘I think about it all the time … And wonder where my George is.’
Seeing she’d put her foot in it, Isla was quick to apologize. ‘I’m so sorry, Em, that was thoughtless of me.’
‘The truth is, Isla, I’m permanently upset,’ Emily confessed. ‘I just try not to show it.’ She gave a weary sigh. ‘We all have our troubles at Mary Vale.’
Isla leant over to give Emily a kiss on the cheek. ‘You’re not wrong. Come on,’ she said more cheerily. ‘I’ve still got some cake left that Jeannie sent over last week. Let’s get back and polish it off with a nice pot of tea.’
Everybody missed Daphne’s booming voice and Nancy’s earnest ways, but life went on at Mary Vale, just as it always did. Gloria finally got around to setting up her little school in the dining room, which at the moment was exclusively for Robin, who, if left to his own devices, would have stayed all day long with Sister Mary Paul and the other nuns in the big kitchen that always smelt of something baking.
‘This isn’t a real, proper school,’ Robin said mutinously, when he and his mother sat at the dining table on the first day with his schoolbooks spread out before him.
‘It’s Mary Vale’s School,’ Gloria coaxed. ‘And this is where we’ll carry on with your reading, writing and arithmetic while we stay here.’
‘Want to play in the garden,’ he added sulkily.
Knowing she had to lay the law down right from the start, Gloria drew Robin on to her knee. ‘You know Daddy’s gone off to war, don’t you?’
Robin’s bottom lip trembled but he didn’t say anything.
‘He would want you to carry on being his big, clever boy,’ Gloria continued gently.
Robin stopped looking cross and smiled his heart-melting, cherubic smile. ‘All right, Mama, I’ll be a big, clever boy for Dada – and for Merry Paul too!’
Gloria burst out laughing; she knew exactly where she came in the pecking order of her son’s affections, and it delighted her to hear Robin’s improvised name for his favourite nun. Merry Paul was the perfect name for Sister Mary Paul, who brought happiness out of her kitchen as well as food.
School was only half a day, with playtime at 10.30. After a glass of milk and a biscuit provided by Sister Mary Paul, who clearly thought Robin would fade away if he didn’t eat something (provided specifically by her) every two hours, Robin went tearing out into the garden, where he pretended to be a bomber plane for a full fifteen minutes.
‘I thought he might be hungry – all that learning taxes the brain something awful,’ Sister Mary Paul said, handing Gloria a cup of tea.
‘He’ll never be hungry with you around,’ Gloria laughed.
‘I brought this for you; it’s just arrived,’ the nun added.
Instantly recognizing the handwriting, Gloria eagerly clutched the airmail letter. ‘Thank you! It’s from my husband,’ she cried gratefully.
‘I’ll leave you to enjoy it in peace,’ Sister Mary Paul said, as she discreetly left Gloria in private.
Shaking with excitement, Gloria tore open the letter she’d been waiting for and a lump rose in her throat as she started to read it.
My dearest darling Gloria,
God! How I miss you. I know it’s not long since we parted but it seems like a lifetime ago. Everybody’s talking about the ‘Phoney War’, and I expect you’re grumbling to yourself about leaving London when you did, very much at my insistence. But, believe me, my sweetheart, this is no phoney war; it might be quiet in London but there’s so much action this side of the Channel. Almost as soon as we got here, we were moved closer to the Belgian border in anticipation of an invasion of the West. I can’t say more than that – otherwise the censors will destroy my letter – so I’ll talk about something else. I’m longing to hear how you and Robin are settling into the Home; are there any other evacuees there? I just hope you’ve got good company and that you and the baby are being taken care of. Is Robin being a good boy? As long as he’s with his mum I’m sure he’ll be happy. Write to me, my darling, I ache to hear how you are. I’ll write as often as I can but I’m not sure how reliable or how regular the post is from this end.
I love you ALL so very, very much.
Your loving husband,
Stan xxxxx
Gloria kissed the letter, then held it to her heart; it was such a relief to know her beloved was alive and well. When Robin came back in from his ‘bombing raid’, she’d suggest they write a letter, and maybe Robin could draw a picture of his new home for his daddy? Gloria smiled to herself as her baby gave a hearty kick; he or she was alive and well too, thank God. Stan’s little family was all safe and sound in Mary Vale, where life held many surprises and some unexpected pleasures too.
A few days later, after Sister Ann’s fitness and exercise class, which was now held in the sitting room, as it was too cold to use the garden any more, Ada approached Gloria, who was looking beautifully calm after the class.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ she said with an apologetic smile.
Gloria struggled to her feet. ‘Sister Ann’s classes are the best part of the day,’ she said gratefully. ‘Apart from preparing me for the birth of my baby, I feel so completely relaxed afterwards.’
‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ Ada said, as she drew the young woman aside so she could speak to her in private. ‘I have a request to ask of you,’ she added, lowering her voice so the girls leaving the room couldn’t hear what she was saying. ‘I hear you’ve started up a little school in the dining room.’
‘It’s just to keep Robin on his toes,’ Gloria told her. ‘I’d love it if there were more than one person to teach; I’m used to big classes after teaching in Battersea.’
‘With your permission, I would like to add another pupil to your class.’ Ada paused, then said, ‘It’s Shirley.’
Gloria’s big, dark eyes widened in surprise. ‘Shirley?’
She’d never imagined she’d be teaching the quiet, unassuming girl, who seemed to be part of Mary Vale’s furniture; always there with a mop or a duster, cleaning and tidying with a smile on her face, as if she actually enjoyed doing hard work.
‘She’s more than welcome, but, to be honest, she always seems to be so busy – she’s here, there and everywhere!’ Gloria laughed. ‘Cleaning, helping out on the ward, working in the kitchen – I’ve even seen her gardening. Will she have time to come to school?’
‘I’m sure she’ll make the time,’ Ada answered confidently.
Gloria gave Ada a direct look. ‘I’m aware that Shirley’s arrangements here at Mary Vale are rather unusual,’ she said frankly.
Ada nodded. ‘That’s right: she was a resident here but stayed on after she’d had her baby adopted. She seems to like the place,’ Ada smiled fondly. ‘However, when the time comes for her to leave Mary Vale, we’d like t
o keep an eye on her: she’s so young and inexperienced, we’d prefer it if she could stay close by. But having barely been to school could seriously hold her back,’ she added. ‘Being able to read and write would stand her in good stead in the workplace, don’t you think?’
‘Of course,’ Gloria assured her.
‘And, God willing,’ Ada thought to herself, ‘she might never have to return home again if we can find her work locally.’
‘She’s a sweet girl; I’d love to help,’ Gloria said generously. ‘If she can put up with Robin, she’s most welcome to join us.’
‘I think your little boy will make Shirley feel easier, less self-conscious, if you know what I mean?’ Ada said with a knowing smile.
‘He’ll probably finish up teaching her,’ Gloria joked. ‘Once he gets going, I can barely get a word in edgeways. We start at nine and finish just before dinner-time; depending on her chores, Shirley can stay for as long she wants.’
‘Thank you, Gloria. We’ve been wondering how to help Shirley find work, and this might be just the thing,’ Ada said gratefully. ‘I’ll go and ask her if she’d like to start tomorrow.’
Shirley appeared in the dining room the next morning, without her usual pinafore. She carried a notebook and a pencil and had a shy smile on her face that disappeared the minute Robin started chatting. Thrilled to have company, he took Shirley’s hand and sat her down in the chair next to his. ‘My mum’s the teacher,’ he said. ‘So we can do what we want!’
‘Robin!’ Gloria chided her adorable, irrepressible son. ‘Shirley’s here to learn to read and write, so be serious.’
‘I’ll learn her!’ Robin declared, and he started to reel off the alphabet. ‘A for apple, b for ball, c for cat …’
Shirley giggled, then chanted in the same manner as the little boy.
