A Christmas Wish for the Shipyard Girls Read online

  Nancy Revell

  * * *

  A Christmas Wish for the Shipyard Girls

  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Nancy Revell is the author of the Shipyard Girls series, which is set in the north-east of England during World War Two.

  She is a former journalist who worked for all the national newspapers, providing them with hard-hitting news stories and in-depth features. Nancy also wrote amazing and inspirational true life stories for just about every woman’s magazine in the country.

  When she first started writing the Shipyard Girls series, Nancy relocated back to her hometown of Sunderland, Tyne and Wear, along with her husband, Paul, and their English bull mastiff, Rosie. They now live just a short walk away from the beautiful award-winning beaches of Roker and Seaburn, within a mile of where the books are set.

  The subject is particularly close to Nancy’s heart as she comes from a long line of shipbuilders, who were well known in the area.

  Also available by Nancy Revell

  The Shipyard Girls

  Shipyard Girls at War

  Secrets of the Shipyard Girls

  Shipyard Girls in Love

  Victory for the Shipyard Girls

  Courage of the Shipyard Girls

  Christmas with the Shipyard Girls

  Triumph of the Shipyard Girls

  To my literary agent Diana Beaumont, for making my wish come true.

  Thank you x

  Why YOU love Nancy Revell

  ‘How wonderful to read about everyday women, young, middle-aged, married or single all coming to work in a man’s world. The pride and courage they all showed in taking over from the men who had gone to war. A debt of gratitude is very much owed’

  ‘It’s a gripping, heartbreaking and poignant storyline. I couldn’t put it down and yet didn’t want it to end’

  ‘This series of books just get better and better; a fantastic group of girls who could be any one of us if we were alive in the war. Could only give 5 STARS but worth many more’

  ‘What a brilliant read – the story is so good it keeps you wanting more … I fell in love with the girls; their stories, laughter, tears and so much more’

  ‘I absolutely loved this book. I come from Sunderland and knew every street, cafe, road and dock’

  ‘This is a book that lets the reader know the way our ancestors behaved during the two world wars. With strength, honour and downright bravery … I for one salute them all and give thanks to the author Nancy Revell, for letting us as readers know mostly as it was’

  ‘A brilliant five-star read yet again for me’

  ‘Yet another fabulous tale from this author. Her descriptions of the events, the locations, the people and their emotions are all brilliant’

  ‘Another amazing book in the series. What a page turner this turned out to be. Lots of surprises right up to the end’

  ‘What a wonderful writer Nancy Revell is, she never fails to make me laugh, cry and have me totally gripped!’

  ‘I love this series of books and this one certainly did not disappoint. The lives of the shipyard girls give you an insight into the extent of the contribution women made to the war effort during World War Two’

  What the reviewers are saying …

  ‘Well-drawn, believable characters combined with a storyline to keep you turning the page’

  Woman

  ‘The author is one to watch’

  Sun

  ‘A riveting read is just what this is in more ways than one’

  Northern Echo

  ‘Researched within an inch of its life; the novel is enjoyably entertaining. A perfect way to spend hours, wrapped up in the characters’ lives’

  Frost

  ‘We’re huge fans of Nancy’s Shipyard Girls saga, and this is as emotional and gripping as the rest’

  Take a Break

  ‘Stirring and heartfelt storytelling’

  Peterborough Evening Telegraph

  ‘Emotional and gripping’

  My Weekly

  ‘[Nancy Revell] creates loveable characters and gives them storylines that are guaranteed to tug on even the toughest of heartstrings … Each new book is better than the last. I can’t wait for the next instalment of the story’

  Ginger Book Geek

  ‘Nancy Revell’s strong, vibrant, courageous, vulnerable, generous and warm-hearted shipyard girls have become firm favourites with saga readers everywhere’

  Bookish Jottings

  ‘With each book I just love this series more and more’

  Shaz’s Book Blog

  Acknowledgements

  A heartfelt thank you to publishing director Emily Griffin and the whole of ‘Team Nancy’ at Arrow who have worked so hard to make the Shipyard Girls series a Sunday Times bestseller.

  Thank you also to all the lovely staff at Fulwell Post Office, postmaster John Wilson, Liz Skelton, Richard Jewitt and Olivia Blyth, who have supported the Shipyard Girls from the off, to the wonderful booksellers at Waterstones in Sunderland, the Sunderland Antiquarian Society, especially Linda King, Norm Kirtlan and Philip Curtis, researcher Meg Hartford, Jackie Caffrey, of Nostalgic Memories of Sunderland in Writing, Beverley Ann Hopper, of The Book Lovers, journalist Katy Wheeler at the Sunderland Echo, Simon Grundy and all the team at Sun FM, and Lisa Shaw and her fantastic producer Jane Downs at BBC Newcastle.

  A huge thank you to artist Rosanne Robertson, Suzanne Brown, Kathleen Tuddenham, Megan Blacklock, Hilary Clavering, of Soroptimist International Sunderland, Kevin Johnson, Principal Landscape Architect at
Sunderland City Council, and Louise Bradford, owner and director of Creo Communications, for all your continued determination and enthusiasm to make the commemoration to the real shipyard women a reality. To Ian Mole for bringing the series to life with his Shipyard Girls Walking Tour.

  And, of course, to my mum Audrey, dad Syd, hubby Paul, and my ‘little’ girl, Rosie.

  Thank you, all.

  ‘It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger after them.’

  George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans), The Mill on the Floss

  Prologue

  Sunderland Borough Lunatic Asylum, Ryhope village, County Durham

  Sunday 16 May 1943

  ‘Sorry to bother you, Claire.’ Dr Parker stood on the doorstep of Dr Eris’s little cottage in the West Wing of the town’s notorious lunatic asylum. It was almost two in the afternoon, although most people’s body clocks had been thrown out of sync by a particularly heavy air raid during the early hours of the morning.

  ‘You’re not bothering me at all, John, not at all. Come in. Come in.’ Dr Eris opened the door wide. ‘It seems like it was just two minutes ago that we were saying goodnight to each other.’ The pair had been out for a drink the previous evening, which had ended with John walking Claire back to her hospital accommodation and saying a chaste farewell.

  ‘It does indeed.’ Dr Parker followed Dr Eris down the hallway. ‘Although the intervening time has been somewhat eventful.’

  ‘Very true. They’re saying it’s been the worst bombing we’ve had to date.’ Dr Eris led the way into the kitchen. ‘Sit yourself down. Let me make a quick cup of tea. It can be in place of the one you turned down last night.’

  Dr Parker felt himself redden. ‘I hope you weren’t offended. I didn’t want the hospital grapevine to go into meltdown. I think the very fact we simply went out for a drink together will have sent the gossipmongers into a feeding frenzy.’

  Dr Eris chuckled as she put the kettle on and placed two cups and saucers and a little jug of milk on the small kitchen table. ‘That’s the downside of working in a hospital that’s in the middle of nowhere – the entertainment tends to be generated in-house. You can’t sneeze here without just about every member of staff, and probably all the patients too, knowing about it.’

  Dr Eris poured boiling water into the teapot and gave it a feisty stir. She had actually been the one to get the gossip going by casually dropping into conversations with her colleagues that she and the eligible Dr Parker were going out for a drink and it was most definitely not for the purpose of talking shop. She’d also made a point of informing Denise and Genevieve, the receptionists at the Ryhope and the asylum, where she was going, and with whom – just in case there was an emergency, of course.

  ‘So, tell me, to what do I owe this pleasure?’ Dr Eris put the pot on the table and sat down.

  ‘I’m afraid I need to pick your brains about a patient who came in last night,’ Dr Parker said.

  Dr Eris tried to hide her disappointment; she’d hoped the visit was a social one.

  ‘Tell me more,’ she said.

  ‘One old chap suffered a nasty bash on his head – fell over on his way to the shelter. He’s quite elderly and a bit unsteady on his feet. He’s been patched up, but he still seems very confused and I’m wondering whether his memory loss and lack of clarity are due to a possible concussion – or if it’s dementia.

  Dr Eris poured their tea and added milk.

  ‘I can certainly take a look at him and give you my opinion,’ she said, a smile playing on her lips.

  Dr Parker narrowed his eyes. ‘What is it you’re not saying?’

  Dr Eris crossed her legs and leant forward a little, her teacup in her hands. ‘I was just thinking that much as I’m sure you value my thoughts on the matter, it might be more enlightening if you got the office to track down his next of kin and find out if he seemed confused before the bombs dropped.’

  ‘Dear me –’ Dr Parker combed his hair back with his fingers ‘– I think it might be me with dementia. In fact, now that I’m thinking about it, I’m sure one of the nurses took a call from his son saying he’d be visiting later. I’ll speak to him then. You must think I’m thick.’

  ‘I think you’re anything but, John. But I do think you’ve been working round the clock lately. You need a decent night’s shut-eye. The effects of sleep deprivation, especially over the long term, can mirror those of dementia, you know?’

  Dr Parker let out a bark of laughter. ‘Thanks for the reassurance.’ He took a sip of his tea. ‘So, tell me, how was last night for you?’

  ‘At the pub or during the air raid?’ Dr Eris asked, deadpan.

  Dr Parker laughed out loud again. ‘I meant the air raid, but I have to say that I personally had a thoroughly enjoyable evening at the Albion.’

  Dr Eris smiled. ‘Me too.’

  As they drank their tea, they both exchanged stories about the aftermath of the bombing. Dr Eris’s time had been spent checking and medicating those inmates who had become distressed by the disruption, while until the early hours Dr Parker had been in the Isolation Hospital in the West Wing, which had been converted into a makeshift ward for the injured. All the staff had done their bit, and most had gone to bed when they’d normally be getting up.

  Having finished his tea, Dr Parker pushed back his chair and stood up.

  ‘Well, I’d best be getting off.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Rounds to do.’ He looked at Dr Eris. ‘And thank you for the belated tea.’

  ‘You’re more than welcome,’ Dr Eris said, standing up and putting the teacups in the sink. ‘And I’ll pop in to see your confused elderly gentleman. You’ve got me curious.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Dr Parker said. As he made to go, he suddenly felt a little awkward. It would have been the ideal opportunity to ask Claire out on another date. So why was he hesitating?

  ‘Let me see you out,’ Claire said, turning and walking down the hallway.

  As she opened the front door, she had to stop herself from slamming it shut again. Helen was walking down the pathway to the Isolation Hospital. Worse still, she’d spotted her and was raising her arm to wave hello.

  Dr Eris turned around to face Dr Parker.

  ‘You know,’ she said, ‘it wasn’t just the tea you passed up on last night.’

  Dr Parker furrowed his brow in a question as Dr Eris stepped forward, put her arms around his neck and gently pulled him towards her.

  Chapter One

  Helen and Bel sat on the wooden bench to the left of the entrance to the asylum. The perfectly manicured lawns of the hospital grounds lay stretched out in front of them. A little earlier, the two women had literally bumped into each other in the corridors after they had ended up there following that night’s air raid.

  Bel had gone to the asylum with her ma, Pearl Hardwick, to visit her ma’s friend and boss, Bill Lawson, licensee of the Tatham Arms. The town’s hospitals being full to bursting, he’d been taken there after being nearly buried alive when a bomb had landed on the pub he had gone to for a lock-in.

  Helen, on the other hand, had gone to the asylum searching for Dr Parker, having felt compelled to tell him her true feelings. She knew she had missed her chance, though, by a matter of seconds, when she saw him kissing his colleague, Dr Eris.

  While Pearl had gone off to visit Bill in one of the wards given over to those injured in the air raid, Bel had taken a distressed Helen outside to talk about why she was so upset – an unusual state for Helen, who was not known for any kind of display of emotion.

  After chatting for a while, they had fallen into a comfortable silence, their faces turned heavenward, allowing themselves to bask momentarily in the solace of the afternoon sun. The beauty of their surroundings and balmy tranquillity of this most idyllic of spring days afforded a comfort of sorts.

  Opening her eyes, Bel turned her head slightly. Helen still lo
oked stunning, despite the smudged mascara and slight puffiness around her eyes. ‘Just because you saw him coming out of Dr Eris’s accommodation doesn’t mean he spent the night there, you know.’

  Helen gave Bel a sideways glance. Within the space of a few days, Bel had gone from being simply one of her staff to a family member. A blood relative. Her aunty. Her mother’s sister. Her grandfather’s illegitimate daughter.

  ‘Oh, Bel, that’s nice of you to say, but if you’d seen the way they kissed …’ Helen’s voice trailed off.

  ‘It mightn’t have been what it looked like,’ Bel argued. ‘Dr Parker might have just popped in there for a cuppa. The kiss could have been innocent.’ She glanced down at her watch. ‘Anyway, it’s a bit late for two people to be getting up.’

  ‘This is exactly the time they would be getting up.’ Helen felt the hurt in her heart as she spoke. ‘Whenever there’s an air raid, John – and all the rest of the doctors and nurses – work through the night, making sure any casualties are tended to, treated, operated on …’ She stared back up at the sky and closed her eyes. ‘I feel such a fool.’ She shook her head, annoyed at herself. ‘To think that John would want me.’

  Bel looked at Helen in surprise. ‘I don’t see why that would be such a foolish thing to think. I can’t see any man not wanting you.’

  ‘I don’t mean want as in simply to desire.’ Helen sighed heavily. ‘I mean want as in want me as his sweetheart. His fiancée.’ She turned her face away from the sun and looked at Bel. ‘As the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with.’