The Shipyard Girls on the Home Front Read online

  Nancy Revell

  * * *

  The Shipyard Girls on the Home Front

  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  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

  About the Author

  Nancy Revell is the Sunday Times bestselling 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

  A Christmas Wish for the Shipyard Girls

  To Gina Wilson, poet, novelist, psychotherapist, and a very special person.

  Thank you x

  Why YOU love Nancy Revell

  ‘I read it in one day and couldn’t put it down. I’m only sorry I’ve got to wait until February for the next book in the series to be released’

  ‘I absolutely love these books and as A Christmas Wish for the Shipyard Girls is the ninth in the series I feel like all the wonderful characters are like family’

  ‘Once again an astounding follow-on book in the Shipyard Girls series’

  ‘Nancy Revell brings the characters to life and you get totally engrossed in their lives and hope things turn out well for them. Have read all of the books now and can’t wait for the next one. Please keep them coming’

  ‘The Shipyard Girls is one of my favourite series of all time’

  ‘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’

  ‘I love these books and am always eagerly awaiting the publication of the next one in the series. As a Sunderland lass myself who knows the area where the stories are set, I can appreciate that these books are very well researched. Keep up the good work, Nancy’

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

  ‘I felt I was there in those streets I know so well. This series of books just gets 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 thoroughly enjoyed A Christmas Wish for the Shipyard Girls’

  ‘I absolutely love these books … Nancy Revell manages to pull you in from the first page and you can’t wait to finish each book but at the same time don’t want it to end. I am delighted there is going to be a book ten and can’t wait to see what all these lovely people are up to next’

  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

  ‘Our favourite author, Nancy Revell … Heart-warming, emotional and gripping as ever’

  Take A Break

  ‘A riveting read in more ways than one. Nancy Revell knows how to stir the passions and soothe the heart!’

  Northern Echo

  ‘The usual warmth from Revell, featuring lovable characters and heart-warming storylines’

  MyWeekly

  ‘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

  ‘Nancy Revell has created a fantastic saga that could literally have fallen from the TV. As a reader you feel like you are right there watching all the action take place’

  Chellsandbooks

  ‘Nancy Revell gives the usual warm fuzzy feeling of having caught up with my old, familiar friends’

  Clyde’s Corner

  ‘This series goes from strength to strength, and each new book in the series surpasses the previous book’

  Gingerbookgeek

  ‘Another superb read from Nancy Revell. Full of all the hope, humour and heart that have become her hallmarks’

  Bookish Jottings

  ‘You can always rely on Nancy Revell to offer up a story that is full of hopes, struggles and valuable friendships’

  A Novel Thought

  #x2018;This series keeps getting better and better. Nancy Revell always manages to make the drama new and fresh’ Over The Rainbow Book Blog

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to all those who have taken the time to tell me about or write to me about their wartime experiences, or about their female relations who worked in the Sunderland shipyards during the Second World War. In particular: Iris Lindsay and her daughter Ann Robinson; Angela Stevenson, whose grandmother Catherine Jameson worked as a comptometer operator at Thompson’s; Marie Dale for her wonderful anecdotes about her mother Margaret Graham, who worked as a crane driver at Bartram’s and went on to nurse injured soldiers at the Ryhope Emergency Hospital; Ann Moss, whose mam, Doris Wilkinson (née Hope), worked as a lathe operator at Greenwell
’s; and Marilyn Campbell whose mother, Joan Tate, worked as a French polisher at Austin & Pickersgill’s.

  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. Thank you to the wonderful booksellers at Waterstones 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 at Sun FM, and Lisa Shaw and her fantastic producer Jane Downs at BBC Newcastle.

  To artist Rosanne Robertson, Soroptimist International of Sunderland, and Sunderland City Council for their continuing work 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.

  To my former editor Cassandra Di Bello, now publisher at Simon & Schuster Australia, for planting the seed of one of the major romantic story lines in this book.

  To my present editor and 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, and to my wonderful copy editor, Caroline Johnson.

  Special thanks, as always to Diana Beaumont, of Marjacq Scripts, for being a such a fabulous agent.

  And, of course, to my mum Audrey Walton (née Revell), and my husband, Paul Simmonds, for listening to me, encouraging me and for the love they give.

  Thank you, all.

  ‘As we give, we find that sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven. And in the end, we learn that it was no sacrifice at all.’

  Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985)

  Chapter One

  The Tatham Arms, Tatham Street, Sunderland, County Durham

  Christmas Day 1943

  ‘I reckon this little girl’s ready for her bed,’ Helen said, nodding at Hope.

  The two-and-half-year-old was her half-sister, not that Helen saw the gorgeous, dark-haired girl curled up on her lap as a ‘half’ sibling – it didn’t matter to Helen one iota that they had different mothers.

  ‘Yes, yer right,’ Gloria agreed reluctantly, leaning across and pushing her daughter’s fringe away from her eyes, causing her to stir. ‘I’ve been putting it off.’

  ‘Because you’re having to go back to a cold, empty flat? On Christmas night?’ Helen ribbed as she hoisted Hope onto her hip; her little sister immediately clamped her hands around her neck and wrapped her legs around her waist.

  ‘Don’t rub it in,’ Gloria said, standing up and putting on her coat. She sighed. ‘I don’t know – I must be getting soft in my old age.’ She picked up her boxed-up gas mask and her handbag, swinging them over her shoulder.

  ‘Come on then, sleepyhead.’ Helen kissed Hope on the cheek.

  Gloria followed Helen through the throng of Christmas revellers, her daughter’s cherubic face watching her, chin resting on her big sister’s shoulder as she desperately tried to keep her eyes open.

  When they reached the hallway, Helen handed Hope over.

  ‘You don’t fancy coming back for a while?’ Gloria asked. She really did not want to go back to a cold, empty flat. The cold she could tolerate, but not the emptiness. Or rather, the absence of the one person she wanted to be there more than anyone in the world: Jack Crawford. Hope’s father. The man she had loved for as long as she could remember. The man she’d been forced to live apart from these past two years.

  ‘Yer could have a hot chocolate ’n tell me what really happened today? Yer won’t have to worry about anyone eavesdropping,’ Gloria said. It had been obvious something had happened when Helen had turned up earlier with Pearl Hardwick and her daughter Bel Elliot.

  ‘I think I’ll stay here for a bit longer,’ Helen said, tipping her head towards the lounge door of the pub, where there was life and laughter and plenty of festive cheer. ‘I’ll come around tomorrow and tell you everything, OK?’

  Gloria forced a smile. ‘I look forward to it.’

  Pulling open the front door, Gloria stepped out into Tatham Street. It was quiet, and the virgin snow meant there was no need for her little electric torch. As she started the short walk back to her flat, it felt as though her mood was getting heavier with each step.

  Yer should be happy, she berated herself. It had been a lovely Christmas, spent with those she was close to – and with a slap-up dinner at Vera’s, in spite of rationing. Then they had all walked to the Tatham Arms and continued the festive celebrations, stepping out and listening to the carol singers when the Salvation Army band had turned up. She’d even had the bonus of getting a Christmas card from her boys, Bobby and Gordon, both serving in the Royal Navy.

  Gloria thought of Rosie with her husband behind enemy lines, Hannah, a Jewish refugee from Prague with parents in a German concentration camp, and Polly, who’d just had a baby with a man who was spending the war yanking limpet mines off the hulls of Allied ships.

  If they could all keep their spirits up and a smile on their faces, then so could she.

  Gloria looked down at Hope. At least Jack was just over the border and safe – or as safe as could be these days, working in an industry that was one of Herr Hitler’s prime targets.

  But, Gloria thought as she trudged towards the end of Tatham Street, it didn’t matter how much she argued with herself, she still couldn’t stop feeling totally despondent about ever seeing her lover again, never mind Hope ever having a father in her life.

  Reaching the T-junction at the top of the street, Gloria turned left into Borough Road. Crossing over, she kept her eyes on the ground, not wanting to slip and fall with Hope in her arms. The snow on this stretch of road leading into town had been churned up by traffic, making it a mix of slush and ice.

  Reaching the pavement on the other side, which, thanks to the lack of footfall, was still carpeted in a thick white layer of snow and unspoilt, Gloria’s attention was caught by the outline of a figure standing outside the entrance to her flat. A dark, man’s figure. He had his back to her. A duffel bag was slung over his shoulder.

  Gloria slowed her pace.

  As though sensing her approach, the man turned round, causing Gloria to stop dead in her tracks.

  It couldn’t be? Could it?

  Was her mind playing tricks on her? Did she want this so much her mind had fabricated it?

  ‘Gloria!’ Jack’s voice sounded out loud and clear as he dumped his bag in the snow and strode towards her. ‘Hope!’ The joy in his voice was undisguised.

  Gloria stood immobile, unable to speak as the man she loved reached them and wrapped his arms around them.

  ‘Jack! Oh, Jack!’ Gloria’s voice was muffled. She could feel her heart thumping against her chest. ‘I can’t believe it!’ She looked up, needing to see him, to be reassured that this was not a dream.

  She watched as Jack stepped back and took Hope, kissing her on the head and lifting her high in the air.

  ‘My beautiful little girl!’ He smiled up at his daughter and spun her round.

  It was only when Gloria heard Hope’s tired but excited little voice cry out ‘Daddy!’ that she knew this was for real.

  Only then did the tears start tumbling down her face.

  The initial rush of euphoria Gloria felt was quickly pushed aside by fear and panic. She blinked to clear her vision, which had become blurred by the sudden onset of tears at seeing Jack and watching him with his daughter. Hope’s shrieks of joy and excitement were filling the air, breaking the silence of this unforgettable Christmas night.

  ‘What yer doing here, Jack?’ Gloria asked, furtively looking up and down the street. The rapture in her face was gone, anxiety now at the fore. ‘Yer shouldn’t be here. What if someone sees you? What if Miriam finds out?’ Jack’s wife had blackmailed them after finding out about their affair, threatening to expose some of the women welders’ sec
rets should Jack ever return to his hometown.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Jack was quick to reassure her as he lowered a giggling Hope back down, ‘it’s all right. Everything’s been sorted.’

  Gloria pushed her curly brown hair away from her face and looked around, still terrified that someone might come out and clock them. Clock Jack. With Hope in his arms. Outside her flat. Then shoot across to the other side of the Wear and sell them out to Miriam.

  ‘Let’s get inside!’ She hurried to the top of the steps to her flat, quickly scanning the street before clomping down to her front door. Jamming the key into the lock and pushing open the door, she flicked on the light and ushered Jack inside. He ducked slightly, at the same time kissing the top of his daughter’s head. As soon as they were over the threshold, Gloria closed the door and dropped the latch. Only then did she allow herself a sigh of relief. They were safe. Away from prying eyes.

  ‘What on earth possessed yer to come back?’ Gloria said, taking off her coat and automatically going over to the electric gas fire and switching it on. She turned to see Jack gently putting Hope down; he was smiling as he ruffled her mop of raven hair.

  Gloria walked towards the man she still couldn’t quite believe was here as he put his hand out and pulled her close, kissing her gently at first and then with more passion.

  ‘It’s safe,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t have taken the risk otherwise. Trust me.’ He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again, savouring the feel of her lips on his. Her mouth tasted of sweet berries. Port. Her favourite tipple.