Shipyard Girls 10.The Shipyard Girls on the Home Front Read online

  ‘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’ secrets 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.

  Gloria gave up trying to question him, believing him, knowing he would never put others in danger to satiate his own selfish needs. She kissed him back. The feel of his lips reassuring her that this was real. That he really was here.

  ‘Daddy!’

  They both looked down to see Hope staring up at them, her hand grasping Jack’s trouser leg as she started to tug it.

  ‘Come here, my gorgeous little girl.’ Jack let go of Gloria and reached down. ‘My, my, someone’s grown up since I saw them last.’ He picked Hope up again and kissed her little button nose, causing her to scrunch up her eyes and giggle. ‘Two years. Two whole years.’

  Gloria heard sadness and a shred of bitterness. Hope had just been six months old when he had last seen her.

  ‘Daddy,’ Hope said again, as though practising a new word. A word she had only ever spoken into the receiver of a black Bakelite phone.

  ‘Aye … Daddy …’ Jack suddenly felt his throat constrict with emotion.

  Hope’s face creased into a smile and she touched his face with one hand.

  Gloria felt the tears welling up.

  ‘I’ll tell yer what – ’ Jack looked at Gloria and then back at his daughter ‘ – why don’t I read yer a bedtime story, eh?’

  Gloria looked at Hope and pulled a happy face, mouthing the word ‘story’.

  ‘Story!’ Hope clapped her hands together.

  A wide smile spread across Jack’s face and he took a step towards Gloria and kissed her again. Nothing, he vowed silently, would ever part them again. Nothing.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever felt this happy in my entire life,’ he said, his eyes glistening with the sting of tears.

  ‘Nor me,’ Gloria said, as she kissed him back.

  Gloria watched as Jack read Hope her favourite bedtime story, Beatrix Potter’s The Tale of Two Bad Mice. It had become her favourite after they’d been forced to spend the last air raid with a rather frantic mouse that had been scurrying around in Mr Brown’s Anderson shelter.

  Looking at Jack, Gloria saw the physical changes the past two years had brought: his hair was more grey than black and his face looked tired and weather-beaten, but physically he seemed strong, certainly more muscular than when she had seen him last on that awful day when they’d been forced to say a rushed farewell in the porch of St Peter’s Church.

  Gloria looked at Hope. Her dark lashes were lowering as she tried desperately to stay awake. Jack’s voice was soft as he relayed the mice’s tale of mischief in the doll’s house, knowing that the lilting rhythm of the words would soon send his daughter into a deep slumber.

  Sensing her eyes on him, Jack glanced back at Gloria and winked before turning another page of the hardback book. Gloria noticed how full of life he seemed.

  At the familiar sound of her daughter’s gentle snoring, Gloria stood up, careful not to make any noise. Jack followed, putting the storybook down on the stool by Hope’s cot and tiptoeing out of the room.

  As soon as they were in the hallway, Jack pulled her close and they kissed. This time for longer. And without interruption.

  ‘God, I’ve missed you,’ Jack murmured.

  ‘Please – tell me yer here to stay? For good?’ she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  ‘I’m here to stay,’ Jack reassured. ‘For good.’

  Gloria kissed him again, curious to know more, but not wanting to talk. They had spoken on the phone so much since Jack’s exile, she suddenly felt tired of words. She only wanted the feel of his mouth on hers and his body pressed against her own.

  Sensing her passion, Jack looked at Gloria. ‘I’ve waited two years for this moment,’ he said, his breathing becoming heavy. ‘I don’t want to wait another minute.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Gloria said.

  And with that she took his hand and led him into the bedroom.

  After making love, Gloria and Jack lay in each other’s arms, simply holding one another, enjoying the feel of each other’s bare skin and the warmth of their bodies.

  ‘So …’ Gloria said, kissing Jack’s bare shoulder ‘… tell me, tell me everything. How come I’ve got yer back? I’m guessing it’s got something to do with Helen?’

  ‘Aye,’ Jack said. ‘She rang me from the old man’s house and told me I could come back home.’

  Gloria knew that Helen and Miriam had gone to Mr Havelock’s for Christmas dinner.

  ‘Thank God I offered to work Christmas Day – she’d have had a job getting hold of me otherwise.’ He looked at Gloria. ‘She told me that Bel ’n Pearl had turned up out of the blue. All she said was that I had to trust her – that she’d tell me everything later, but that I could come back.’

  ‘It must have been something big for Miriam to allow yer to return,’ Gloria said.

  Jack blew out air.

  ‘Allow.’ He repeated the word with undisguised resentment. ‘That woman has been ruling our lives for too long.’ Gloria knew Jack wasn’t just thinking about his banishment to the Clyde, but about the fact that Miriam had lied and manipulated him into marrying her all those years ago, pretending she was pregnant to get him down the aisle and then telling him she’d had a miscarriage, by which time it was too late – he had a ring on his finger and an invisible shackle around his ankle.

  ‘Well,’ Gloria said, snuggling up to him, ‘all should be revealed tomorrow when Helen comes round.’

  Gloria smiled as Jack switched off the light and pulled her close. No wonder Helen hadn’t wanted to come back to the flat. She’d known Jack would be waiting for her. She had done well to hide her excitement. It had been Helen’s mission for a long time to get Jack back – to put right the wrong she felt partly responsible for – so that Hope could finally have her daddy home where he belonged.

  Her final thought as sleep came was that Helen too would now have her father back in her life – something, Gloria knew, that would mean the absolute world to her.

  Chapter Two

  Boxing Day

  As Helen drove across the Wearmouth Bridge, she automatically looked to her left, her eyes scanning the river, crammed as alway
s with an eclectic mix of boats and barges, cobles and colliers, the odd schooner and, of course, ships – those in the making, as well as those docked for repair. She caught a glimpse of the J.L. Thompson & Sons shipyard on North Sands through an archway of overhanging cranes, before forcing her attention back to the road. Whenever she saw her place of work, she never failed to feel a swell of pride.

  Driving down Bridge Street and turning left into High Street West, she spotted a couple of billeted Admiralty leaving the Grand Hotel and her mind swung to her mother. She had heard her return late last night, stumbling up the stairs to her bedroom, having undoubtedly drunk the bar dry with her friend and fellow lush, Amelia.

  Helen indicated and turned right down Norfolk Street.

  Parking at the bottom of the street, she climbed out of her beloved green sports car, admiring it for a moment. Even though she had bought it several months ago, the novelty of owning such a swanky motor, and driving it rather than being chauffeured, had not worn off.

  Looking at her watch, Helen saw it had just gone half ten. Enough time for Gloria and her father to have had a lie-in and enjoyed their first breakfast together with Hope as a family, but not so late that they might have ventured out – something she knew they’d be loath to do until they’d been told exactly what had happened yesterday.

  Walking through the melting snow towards the end of the road, Helen turned right into Borough Road. As she approached the steps that led down to Gloria’s flat, she imagined how wonderful it must have been for her father to finally be reunited with Gloria and Hope. Her heart warmed at the thought of it.

  Knocking on the front door, Helen called out, ‘Only me!’

  Seconds later, the door opened. Jack stood with Hope in his arms.

  ‘Dad!’ Helen held her arms out wide and hugged them both.

  ‘Daddy!’ Hope shouted out, copying her big sister.

  ‘Yes,’ Helen said, cupping Hope’s heart-shaped face. ‘Daddy’s back!’

  Looking over her father’s shoulder, Helen saw Gloria coming out of the kitchenette. She didn’t think she had ever seen her look so happy.

  Having fussed over Hope playing with her toys on the clippy mat by the coffee table, Helen sat down in the armchair next to her and watched as her father settled with Gloria on the sofa opposite.

  ‘So, come on, don’t keep us in suspense any longer,’ Jack said.

  ‘Well,’ Helen took a quick sip of her tea, ‘it’s a long story, which I will try and keep as short and succinct as possible.’

  She kept her word, briefly telling her father about Bel’s true paternity, how she had initially suspected that she might be a Havelock after seeing Bel and Miriam at Polly and Tommy’s wedding last Christmas. The similarities between the two had hit her like a slap on the face: the same corn-blonde hair, the same button nose, the same lips and the same blue eyes. Both pretty and petite. She relayed how she had ended up employing a young female private eye, whom she had nicknamed Miss Marple, to find out the truth. Armed with the information she’d been given, Helen had decided she would only know for sure if she confronted Pearl and Bel; something she had done last May in the Tatham Arms.

  ‘So, you’ve known all this time?’ Jack asked, surprised that Helen hadn’t told him.

  ‘I have,’ Helen said.

  ‘And I have as well,’ Gloria said, looking at Jack. ‘But Bel said she wanted as few people to know as possible. She said it was all right for Helen to tell me as she knew how close we are.’

  ‘So,’ Jack said in disbelief, ‘the old man is Bel Elliot’s real father?’

  Helen and Gloria looked at him and nodded.

  ‘Pearl used to work as a scullery maid way back when—’ Helen stopped short.

  ‘And he got her in the family way?’ Jack said.

  ‘More like raped her,’ Helen said.

  Jack looked to Gloria for affirmation. She nodded, her face grim. He felt a shiver go down his back. Charles Havelock had been his father-in-law for over twenty-five years. This was shocking.

  ‘And I learnt yesterday that Pearl wasn’t the only one,’ Helen continued. ‘One poor girl called Grace never got over what had been done to her. Her mother came home one day to find her daughter hanging from the bannisters.’

  Gloria’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh, that’s terrible.’

  Jack stood up and paced across the living room. His face was red and his jaw clenched.

  ‘So,’ Gloria said, ‘I’m guessing when you ’n yer mam were at yer granddad’s for yer Christmas dinner, Pearl ’n Bel turned up – and Bel told Mr Havelock that she was his daughter?’

  ‘Yes,’ Helen said.

  ‘And I’m guessing,’ Jack said, his face still flushed with anger, ‘that Bel said she’d tell everyone about what he’d done to her mam – ’n that she was the result – if I wasn’t allowed to come back.’

  ‘More or less,’ Helen said.

  ‘And what about Miriam?’ Gloria asked. ‘I can’t imagine she took all of this lying down.’

  ‘No, she didn’t.’ Helen sighed. ‘She accused Bel and Pearl of being liars, at which point Bel showed them the private eye’s report, which detailed all the evidence that pointed to Grandfather being Bel’s father.’

  ‘What? You gave Bel the report?’ Gloria didn’t try to hide her surprise.

  Helen nodded.

  ‘Bel said she’d make it plain that Pearl was in no way a willing participant in her conception and that she would tell the judge and jury and anyone else who would listen to her that Grandfather was a rapist. A “sick and perverted old man”. And that Pearl had only been fifteen years old at the time, which, she pointed out, was below the age of consent.’

  ‘Blimey,’ Gloria said, beckoning Jack to come and sit down.

  ‘And very clever,’ Helen said. ‘She had Grandfather in a corner. Even if it couldn’t be proved he’d raped her, it would still be an offence because of Pearl’s age.’

  Helen watched as her father sat back down next to Gloria.

  ‘Bel said that in exchange for her silence, she wanted Dad to be able to return home to be with the woman he loves, but more than anything so that he could be a father to Hope. She did what she did for this little girl here,’ Helen said, looking at Hope playing intently with her dollies. ‘So Hope could have a father in her life.

  ‘But,’ Helen went on, raising her eyebrows, ‘that wasn’t the only shocker to come out of yesterday’s very eventful Christmas dinner.’

  ‘There’s more?’ Gloria said.

  ‘There is indeed.’ Helen looked from her father to Gloria. ‘Grandfather said that he’d also been doing his research and knew Bel had a half-sister called Maisie who had been adopted as a baby.’

  ‘Which everyone knows already,’ Jack said.

  ‘They do,’ Helen said, ‘but not many know that she is also a call girl – and that she works in an upmarket bordello which is run by Rosie’s friend Lily.’

  Helen looked at her father and Gloria. Neither looked at all shocked.

  ‘Did you know that already?’ she asked accusingly.

  ‘We did,’ said Gloria. ‘But it wasn’t our secret to tell.’

  Gloria and Jack waited for Helen to ask more about Lily, the eccentric woman with the orange hair and fake French accent, and her connection with Helen’s head welder, Rosie Miller, but she didn’t. Much to their relief.

  ‘So after Grandfather showed his trump card,’ Helen continued, ‘he told Bel that if she said anything to anyone about him being her father, then he would inform the authorities about the bordello, and also make sure all the women welders’ secrets would be bandied about town.’ Helen sighed. ‘And, of course, that he would take great pleasure in finding ways of ruining not only Bel’s life, but the lives of all those she holds dear.’

  Jack shook his head in disbelief.

  ‘So, how come he agreed to allow Jack back?’ Gloria asked.

  Helen arched an eyebrow. ‘Pearl. Unbelievably, it was Pearl who
saved the day.’

  ‘How come?’ Jack asked.

  Helen watched as Hope got up, squeezed her way past her mammy and started climbing on to her daddy’s knee.

  ‘Well, Pearl said that if he did grass them all up, Lily’s little black book would undoubtedly find its way into the hands of the police. And that every one of those businessmen, judges, lawyers and those high-up in the police would know it was Grandfather’s fault that they were being pulled in for solicitation.’

  ‘She had him by the short and curlies then,’ Jack said.

  ‘She did, but Pearl had one more card to play to totally secure the deal,’ Helen said.

  ‘And what was that?’ Gloria asked.

  ‘Grandmother,’ Helen said simply.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Well,’ said Helen, sucking in air, ‘it would seem that my dear grandmama is not in fact dead, but is very much alive and living – or should I say incarcerated – up at the asylum under an assumed name: Miss Henrietta Girling.’

  ‘What? At Ryhope?’ Jack was incredulous.

  ‘Yes,’ said Helen.

  Jack had met Henrietta a few times in the early days of his marriage to Miriam. He’d never forgotten her look. She was eccentric, certainly, but not mad.

  ‘Why’s she at the asylum?’ Jack asked.

  ‘That’s the pertinent question,’ Helen said. ‘Grandmama Henrietta has been locked away in the local mental hospital because of Grandfather.’

  There was silence as Jack and Gloria digested what they’d been told.

  ‘So, he got her sectioned?’ Jack asked.

  ‘He did. Greased the necessary palms. And she’s been there ever since,’ Helen said.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ Gloria asked.

  ‘I’ve seen her with my own eyes.’ Helen looked at their shocked faces. ‘I drove there last night and Genevieve the old receptionist took me to see her.’

  Gloria and Jack looked at Helen and then at Hope, whose attention was now also focused on her big sister.

  ‘And she’s lovely,’ Helen said. ‘Really lovely. Obviously, she comes across as a bit doolally, but who wouldn’t if you’d been shut away in the local loony bin for the past two decades.’