The Shipyard Girls on the Home Front Read online

  Still, those were thoughts she’d have to keep to herself. She was going to have to learn to deal with Claire, as there was a good chance that she’d bump into her when visiting her grandmother at the asylum. Claire was Henrietta’s doctor, after all. Typical – out of all the doctors working in the asylum, Claire was her grandmother’s shrink. But at least Helen’s visits to Ryhope would give her the opportunity to see John.

  As she got back in her car, Helen’s mind wandered back to two days ago, to Christmas Eve, when they had been squashed up in the Tatham after the christening. John had seemed genuinely sad that they hadn’t seen much of each other lately. He’d been in a reflective mood and had talked about how close they had become over the years, which was true, and how they had been there for each other, which wasn’t entirely true. He had been there for her – throughout her four-month pregnancy, her miscarriage, the sickening revelations about her grandfather – but she honestly didn’t think that she had really been there for him, other than as a companion.

  Starting up the engine, Helen indicated and pulled out, turning left into Borough Road. She just wished she had realised she was in love with him sooner. But at the beginning she had been too wrapped up in her girlish crush on Tommy; then she’d become involved with Theo – lying, cheating, married Theo – who had used her like a rag, tossed her aside and returned to his pregnant wife and two children. John had helped her pick up the pieces, and as time had gone on she had realised, too late, that she was in love with him. Although even if she had realised sooner, it would still have been hopeless. John would not want her as a wife. As her mother had repeatedly told her, she was ‘sullied’, after all.

  As she drove through the town centre and then across the Wearmouth Bridge, Helen recalled John saying how much he valued their friendship. ‘I think we’ve got something special,’ he’d said. And she’d told him that she agreed. That she was glad she wasn’t losing him, despite his relationship with Dr Eris. And she had meant it.

  She couldn’t imagine a life without John in it, even if it was just as a friend.

  Chapter Three

  New Year’s Day 1944

  ‘Happy New Year!’

  Rosie, Polly, Gloria, Martha and Hannah looked up to see Dorothy and Angie, arm in arm, walking across the yard towards them.

  ‘Health, wealth and happiness!’ they declared, their voices loud enough to cause most of the other overall-clad workers in the vicinity to glance up. Seeing that it was the two gobby welders from Rosie’s squad, they turned back to their own conversations.

  ‘Happy New Year!’ the women chorused back in unison. They had been bracing themselves for the arrival of the squad’s ‘terrible two’. The pair were pretty much inseparable. They worked together and lived together in a little flat in the centre of town, yet they were like chalk and cheese. Dorothy was tall and dark-haired and came from a relatively well-off background. Angie just nudged five foot and had strawberry-blonde hair and came from a mining family in the Barbary Coast, known as one of the poorest areas of the town.

  ‘They don’t look too worse for wear.’ Gloria spoke out of the corner of her mouth to the group’s gentle giant, Martha. They were both holding their hands up against the warmth of the five-gallon brazier they had managed to get going as soon as they’d arrived at their workplace, a stone’s throw away from the quayside. The fire was now flickering and spitting, providing them with some much-needed heat to combat the bitter cold and biting winds slicing across the yard from the North Sea.

  ‘Yeah!’ Dorothy let go of Angie and marched over to Polly. ‘She’s back!’ She threw her arms around her workmate and squeezed her. ‘We’ve missed you! Didn’t we?’ She looked at Rosie, Gloria, Hannah and Martha. They all nodded, smiled and muttered their agreement.

  Polly had been forced to give up her job when she had nearly miscarried in the third month of her pregnancy. After having a cervical stitch put in, she had kept on working in the yard in more sedentary positions, first as timekeeper and then as a clerical worker in the admin department. She’d worked right up to giving birth to Artie, who had come almost two weeks earlier than expected and had been born amidst great drama on the sorting table in the middle of the main office. That had happened four months ago and today was her first day back with the women welders.

  ‘Eee, yer knar, Pol, I can honestly say it’s not been the same without yer,’ Angie said, her face serious.

  ‘Ah, thanks,’ said Polly, pushing a strand of her thick chestnut-coloured hair back into her headscarf. She’d almost forgotten what a battle it was to keep her hair away from her face. Thompson’s was located on the bend of the River Wear, making it perfectly positioned to take the full force of the north-east’s unrelenting weather.

  ‘I have to agree,’ Rosie said. ‘It’s going to be good to have you back – and not just because I won’t have to find a replacement.’

  Polly looked at Rosie and then at the rest of her friends.

  ‘It feels good to be back,’ she said, a wide smile appearing on her face. ‘Even if the weather’s awful.’ She looked up at the dark morning sky, which was only just starting to lighten with the break of day.

  ‘You don’t think you’ll miss Artie too much?’ Hannah, the group’s ‘little bird’, asked. She was still considered one of the squad, even though she had left welding when Rosie got her an apprenticeship in the drawing office, where she had excelled; pen and paper suited her much more than a rod and metal plates. Hannah’s question about baby Artie had been one that had gone through all their minds on seeing Polly back in her overalls this morning.

  ‘I hope not,’ Polly said, looking at Hannah, who had on double layers of everything. A muffler as well as a scarf. A hat as well as her hood pulled up. You could only just see her face peeking out and the blunted fringe of her bobbed black hair.

  ‘I’m only going to be working normal hours, no overtime,’ Polly explained to all the women. ‘So I’ll be with Artie from the minute I get back from work until the minute I leave. And all weekend.’

  ‘But today’s Saturday?’ Martha asked, genuinely puzzled.

  ‘That’s just to get me back into the swing of things,’ Polly said. ‘You know, with it being a short shift.’ In reality, Polly had been chomping at the bit to get back and had argued the case with her mam, Agnes Elliot, to start today rather than Monday.

  ‘I suppose it’s the start of the New Year. A clean sheet and all that,’ Gloria said.

  ‘A clean sheet. Exactly,’ Polly agreed. ‘And I really don’t think Artie will miss me at all.’

  ‘That’s a bit harsh,’ Rosie said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Dorothy agreed. ‘I’m sure that won’t be the case. Little Artie adores you.’

  Polly let out a splutter of genuine laughter. ‘Honestly, since the twins arrived in his life, he’s only had eyes for his two younger cousins.’

  There was a collective ‘ahh’ at the mention of Gabrielle and Stephen, the newborn babies Bel and Joe had adopted on Boxing Day. The women had gone to meet the two new additions to the Elliot household earlier on in the week and had all been instantly smitten.

  ‘Well, I for one,’ Dorothy said, ‘have a good feeling about this year.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ Martha asked, giving the fire a poke with a pair of metal tongs.

  ‘Yeah,’ Angie chipped in, ‘yer been looking into that crystal ball of yers?’

  ‘The stars are aligned,’ Dorothy explained. ‘Gloria’s got Jack back.’ She looked at Gloria and smiled. ‘And Rosie’s heard from Peter.’ They had all been there when Dorothy’s beau, Toby, had told Rosie on Christmas Day that her husband, Peter Miller, an undercover operative in France, was alive and well. ‘And Angie has finally – ’ Dorothy’s eyes went to the heavens ‘ – got it together with Quentin.’ Thanks to a little meddling from Dorothy and their neighbour, Mrs Kwiatkowski, Angie and Quentin had become girlfriend and boyfriend after he had surprised her on Christmas Eve, having got leave from his job with the War
Office and travelled back to his hometown to tell the woman he had been in love with for over a year how he felt.

  ‘And,’ Dorothy said, pausing for dramatic effect, ‘I’m pretty sure that I might well be wearing something shiny and diamond like on my left hand before the year is out.’

  ‘Really?’ Hannah asked. She and Olly had been courting for over a year and neither of them had even thought about getting engaged. Or at least she had never thought about it.

  ‘Why are yer so sure?’ Gloria asked.

  ‘I’m so sure,’ Dorothy said, ‘because Toby kept going on about meeting my parents when he was here at Christmas. And we all know what that means.’

  ‘It means he wants to meet yer mam ’n stepdad,’ Angie said, rolling her eyes.

  Dorothy ignored her.

  ‘He clearly wants to ask their permission for my hand in marriage,’ Dorothy explained. ‘Like a proper gentleman – not that I want to jinx it.’

  ‘Haven’t you just jinxed it by saying it out loud?’ Martha asked. She had nearly been jumped on when she’d started to say that they’d not had an air raid since the end of May last year.

  ‘Blimey, there’s nowt like being sure of yerself, is there?’ Angie gawped at her friend.

  All the women laughed loudly, although none of them thought that it was so improbable. They had seen Toby and Dorothy together on Christmas Day when he had turned up at Vera’s café looking very dashing in his army uniform. There was no doubt they were well suited – both were from educated, middle-class families – and it was as clear as day that Toby was well and truly taken with his sweetheart.

  ‘Love!’ Dorothy put both hands on her chest. ‘There is to be a lot of love this year! I can feel it in my bones.’

  As soon as the midday klaxon sounded out, the women downed tools and hurried across the yard towards the sanctuary of the canteen.

  ‘I’ve just got to pop up to see Helen,’ Rosie said. ‘I want to catch her before she heads over to Doxford’s for the launch of Arabistan.’

  ‘More like heading off for a schmooze with the scrumptious Matthew Royce,’ Dorothy declared.

  Matthew Royce Jnr was the new manager at Doxford’s, who had made no secret of his amorous feelings for Helen.

  ‘I don’t think Helen sees him that way,’ Gloria said.

  ‘Is the woman totally blind?’ Dorothy gasped.

  ‘Who’s blind?’ Angie sidled up next to her best mate.

  ‘Helen,’ Dorothy explained. ‘Glor reckons she doesn’t fancy the irresistible Matthew Royce.’

  ‘Never!’ Angie sounded equally amazed.

  Rosie and Gloria exchanged exasperated looks.

  ‘Tell her Happy New Year from us,’ Dorothy said. ‘And to have a luverlee time with lover-boy Matthew this afternoon.’

  Dorothy and Angie hooted with laughter and ran to catch up with Martha and Polly, who had just been joined by Hannah and Olly hurrying over from the drawing office.

  Gloria followed them, thinking that Helen was blind when it came to Matthew. But she knew that was because she only had eyes for one person – Dr Parker.

  ‘Get a move on, Glor!’ Dorothy shouted over; she was holding open the canteen door.

  Gloria quickened her pace. Everything seemed to happen so much faster these days. You had to walk quicker, work quicker – get married quicker. Gloria sighed as she reached the entrance to the canteen and Dorothy made a show of bowing and waving her through the entrance with a flourish. The girl was as nutty as a fruitcake, and such an attention-seeker, but she had a heart of gold.

  ‘I feel for Toby,’ Gloria ribbed Dorothy as she walked into the warmth of the cafeteria.

  ‘Why’s that?’ Dorothy let the door swing shut.

  ‘Because if he does propose,’ Gloria said, ‘he’s gonna have his hands full, that’s for sure.’

  ‘What? Little ol’ me? A handful?’ Dorothy’s words were followed by a robust cackle.

  As they dumped their flasks and luncheon boxes on the table they had commandeered as their own after first starting at the yard, Muriel waved at them from behind the counter.

  ‘Good to see yer back, Polly!’ she shouted over. ‘Bet yer wish yer were up in the office today, though? Brass monkeys out there.’

  Polly laughed. As did the rest of the women. They knew it didn’t matter how bad the weather was, Polly would always choose welding over office work.

  Taking a bite of her sandwich, Dorothy pulled out a copy of the Sunderland Echo from her haversack. ‘Time for our lessons in current affairs.’ She looked across at Polly, whose idea it had been initially, although Dorothy had taken on the mantle of head teacher.

  Polly nodded and pulled out her copy of the Daily Mirror, which she always bought because it reminded her of Tommy’s granddad, Arthur; it had been the only national newspaper he would read. Arthur had died a year ago, but she still felt his presence – still wanted to feel his presence. Looking around the table, Polly saw that she and Dorothy were the only two who had remembered to bring a paper to work with them.

  ‘You go first, Pol,’ Dorothy said magnanimously, ‘seeing as today is your first day back with the troops.’

  ‘Consider yerself honoured,’ Gloria japed.

  Polly spread out the paper on the table and scanned the headlines. ‘Looks like the Chinese are having some success against the Japanese in Burma,’ she said, her eyes scanning further down the page.

  ‘That’s good,’ Martha said, taking a big bite of her corned beef and potato sandwich.

  Everyone mumbled their agreement.

  ‘And there’s more on General Eisenhower and him being officially named head of the expected invasion of Europe,’ Polly continued.

  ‘I thought it was France they were gonna invade?’ Angie asked, her eyes glued to Martha’s sandwich. She was always in awe of the packed lunches Mrs Perkins managed to put together for her daughter.

  ‘France is Europe – well, a part of Europe,’ Dorothy said, rolling her eyes.

  ‘I think the plan is to start with France and then push through to the rest of Europe,’ Olly informed them.

  ‘Would I be right in saying that this means Peter will be a part of it all?’ Hannah asked quietly, checking over her shoulder that Rosie was nowhere in sight.

  ‘Well, now that you mention it,’ Polly said, ‘I would guess there’s a good chance he will be.’

  They were all quiet for a moment. Peter’s work was very hush-hush, and although no one knew for certain what he was doing over the Channel, it didn’t take a genius to guess he’d be helping the Resistance prepare for the anticipated invasion.

  ‘I think we should keep any chatter about what’s going to happen in France down to a minimum when Rosie’s about,’ Gloria suggested.

  Everyone agreed that ignorance was bliss in this case.

  ‘You heard anything from your boys yet?’ Hannah asked.

  They all knew that Gloria’s sons, Bobby and Gordon, were able seamen on the destroyer HMS Opportune, and that it had been part of the Battle of the North Cape, which was being hailed as a significant victory for the Allies. It hadn’t been without casualties, though. A battleship, a destroyer and a cruiser had been damaged and twenty-one men had been reported dead, with more injured.

  ‘She got a telegram from them the other day,’ Dorothy answered for Gloria.

  Gloria sighed. ‘I am capable of speaking for myself, Dor.’ She looked at Hannah. ‘Thanks for asking. They said they were all right, which was a huge relief.’

  ‘They sound nice boys,’ Hannah said. ‘Knowing how anxious you’d be and putting your mind at rest.’

  Gloria nodded. It was true she’d been worried sick the moment she’d seen the headlines. The telegram had lifted a massive weight off her shoulders, but, like just about every other mother with sons at war, she wouldn’t be happy until they were back home.

  ‘So, what about news here? What’s in the Echo?’ Hannah said, looking across at Dorothy, who did not need further e
ncouragement to take her turn in the relaying of the day’s news bulletin.

  ‘Well, I have to say the editorial seems as sure of victory as I am about Toby’s proposal.’

  There was the expected rumble of groans around the table. They all knew this was all they were going to hear from now on. They could only hope that Toby dropped down on one knee post-haste to save them all months of earache.

  ‘It reads …’ she declared, taking a quick sup of tea ‘… “This is the year of Victory”.’

  ‘Who says that?’ Martha asked.

  ‘The editor of our local newspaper,’ Dorothy said, again rolling her eyes. ‘That’s why it’s called an “editorial”.’ She took a deep breath and continued. ‘“This is the year, the year of Victory, the end of the European war.”’ She paused. ‘Notice how he said European war – not the war worldwide.’

  Angie emitted a loud sigh. ‘Gerra a move on, Dor, we’ve not got all day. Yer might like the sound of yer own voice, but that’s not to say the rest of us dee.’

  Everyone chuckled. Angie was doing a valiant job of keeping up the banter with her best mate, but her words lacked any kind of sting. It was obvious to them all that she was too much in love for there to be any kind of genuine sharpness or edge to her words.

  Dorothy rustled the paper and continued to read. ‘“The year in which we believe all our troubles, real or imaginary, will come to an end.”’ She looked up to see Hannah listening attentively. Poor Hannah. Her worries were most definitely not imaginary.

  ‘Well, let’s hope so,’ Polly said.

  They all hoped so. Gloria for the sake of her two boys, Rosie for Peter’s sake, Polly for Tommy’s, and Hannah for the safety of her parents, imprisoned in the notorious Auschwitz concentration camp in Poland.