Shipyard Girls at War, page 16
She was just opening up her mouth to say something when Bel beat her to it. ‘And you, Ma. Well, I’ll tell you one thing, if I hate Joe and I hate this family, there aren’t words enough to describe just how much I hate you. You just take the biscuit, don’t you? What are doing here anyway? What are you really after? I still haven’t worked that one out – but I know one thing’s for sure, it’ll be something you need. Or want. It’ll be about you. It always is, isn’t it, Ma? So don’t think I believe for one moment you turned up on our doorstep to come and see your little Isabelle. Come to help your little girl get over the loss of the man she loved. The man she adored.
‘The man who made up for all the love you never gave me.’
Bel’s anger was reaching a crescendo. ‘You’re really trying your hardest at the moment, aren’t you, Pearl? Well you’re not fooling anyone here, that’s for sure. You forget we all knew you when I was a child. Oh, but of course, you probably don’t remember much of that do you? Because you were either simply not there – or were too drunk to know or care.’
Pearl was struck dumb as her daughter continued her rant. ‘Everyone can see right through you, Ma. What’s the word? – You’re transparent. Do you even know what that means? Well, I certainly wouldn’t, were it not for Agnes. It was she who taught me to read and write. Not you. Not my own mother. It was she who sent me to school. Something you just couldn’t be bothered to do. The teachers actually thought I was a new girl when Agnes started taking me. And, you know what, Ma. I let them think I was. I let them think Agnes was my real ma.
‘What right have you to be here, to just saunter back into my life and wreak havoc like you always do? You’ve never been a mother to me. Ever. Agnes,’ Bel continued bitterly, ‘has been more of a mother to me than you’ve ever been. You do not deserve to be called a mother. A mother is meant to love and care for the children she gives birth to. You don’t even know the meaning of love. Unless it’s opening your legs for some bloke—’
As the last words found their way out of Bel’s mouth, Pearl stepped forward and slapped her daughter hard across her face.
The room fell into a shocked silence. They all seemed rooted to the spot as Bel’s hand went to her red, stinging cheek.
She then turned, pushed past her mother, and practically staggered down the hallway, before flinging open the front door and running down the street.
‘What’s got into her?’ Pearl asked.
Agnes was speechless, as she stared at her daughter-in-law’s mother in disbelief.
Had the woman really no idea?
Polly looked at Joe. They didn’t say a word to each other, but they knew what each other was thinking.
‘No, I’m going,’ Joe told Polly, and she knew there was no arguing with her brother. She knew intuitively he was the one who could sort this out. Make it all right. Hopefully.
Joe grabbed his stick and hurried from the room and out of the house. Polly followed him to the front door and shouted after him: ‘She’ll have gone to the Victoria Hall. That’s where she always used to go when we were small and she was upset.’
Polly watched Joe hobble off at a surprisingly fast pace, using his stick to push himself forward. She desperately wanted to go after him; to take charge and run and find Bel herself, but she knew she was not the right person to go to her sister-in-law’s aid at this moment – to help patch together Bel’s fractured self.
Joe was the one at whom her anger and resentment had really been directed. Joe was the only person who stood any chance of remedying the situation that had been going on for too long.
Polly could now see exactly why she had been so angry of late. Of course, she was grieving, but there was so much more to it. Polly felt annoyed with herself for not realising before, but she had been dealing with her own grief at losing her brother, as well as her own worries about Tommy. And on top of all that, she felt constantly exhausted by the number of hours she was doing down the yard. She just had not had the energy to put herself in Bel’s shoes and walk around in them for a while.
Of course, now she understood – every time Bel looked at Joe she saw Teddy. The torment and the pain of seeing someone all day, every day, who was the double of the man she had loved and lost must be unbearable.
As Polly watched Joe disappear down the street and into the darkness, she turned back into the house. As she walked into the hallway, she saw Lucille sitting on the top step of the stairs. Next to her was Arthur. Lucille had obviously heard her mother’s shouting and hysteria and had sought refuge with the old man. Polly counted their blessings that Arthur had come to live with them. He was the one calming presence in their household. And a very much needed one.
As Polly looked up and saw the upset and confusion on the little girl’s face, she beckoned to them both. ‘Come on down, you two,’ she said, forcing a smile and trying to make light of the situation by adding, ‘the coast’s clear.’
As the pair slowly made their way downstairs, Polly reached to pick up Lucille and give her a comforting cuddle.
‘It always seems worse than it is, you know, when someone shouts and cries.’ As she spoke she gave Arthur a sad smile, mouthing the words ‘thank you’ as they went back into the kitchen, where it was now unnaturally quiet.
Polly could see the back of Pearl in the yard, puffing away on a cigarette, and Agnes was sitting staring into the open fire, lost in thought, but on turning to see Lucille wrapped around her aunty Polly, she snapped herself out of her worrisome thoughts and said, ‘All right. Let’s put the wireless on and listen to some music, and I think I’ll treat this bonny little bairn to some Ovaltine … How does that sound?’ she said, cupping Lucille’s face in both her hands.
Lucille answered with a nod, but she still looked distressed. Agnes and Polly knew she had rarely heard any of them raise their voices, or cry, and certainly not lose it in the way Bel just had.
As Agnes walked into the scullery, she heard her granddaughter’s unusually quiet voice ask, ‘Where Doey?’
Agnes sighed inwardly. This was not going to be a quick fix. But what did she expect? Her son’s death had affected so many lives, and the ripples of his leaving them all would continue for a long time to come – that much Agnes knew.
‘He’s gone to have a walk with your ma,’ Agnes heard Polly say. A reassuring white lie.
Agnes just hoped Joe was able to find Bel and bring her back. She had never seen Bel so angry and so out of control. Not even as a child – and Agnes knew Bel had had every right to be volatile as a youngster after the upbringing she had suffered. Agnes looked out at Pearl, lighting another cigarette from the one she had just smoked, and glared daggers at her back. What had made that woman such a self-obsessed and insensitive person, Agnes had no idea.
As she turned and opened the cupboard door in search of the tin of Ovaltine she knew was in there, her whole body wilted when she heard the whirring sound of the air-raid siren start up.
‘Oh God, no … not tonight of all nights,’ she said, slamming the cupboard doors shut and hurrying back out of the scullery.
Chapter Twenty-One
‘Bel! Bel!’ Joe had just caught sight of her when the sound of the air-raid sirens sounded out across the town.
It had only been by chance that he had seen Bel, as the blackout meant his search for her really was a stab in the dark. Thankfully Polly had been right, and it looked as if Bel was heading for the Victoria Hall on Toward Road, just next to the museum. Why that place had always been her sanctuary in times of trouble, he had no idea. But at least he had reached her before she had made it to the Gothic, cathedral-like entertainment hall she was so drawn to. He could just about make out the back of her slim figure and the thick mop of her bobbed blonde hair due to the anti-aircraft searchlights that had started to poke huge white tapering fingers of light into the brooding, dark skies.
‘Bel … Bel,’ he shouted as loudly as he could, in order to be heard over the whining of the sirens now in full flow.
Bel finally heard her brother-in-law’s deep voice hollering from behind and she turned around. Her eyes squinted through the sporadic flashes of harsh light and the tears that were blurring her vision. She looked distraught. Joe had never seen his sister-in-law like this ever before – not in all the time he had known her. But then again that wasn’t so unusual; she had been Teddy’s girl. If she had ever had any problems, or been upset, it had always been his brother she had gone to – even as children, before the pair of them had started stepping out with each other.
As Joe hurried towards her, it occurred to him that his relationship with Bel had always been one of frivolity, fun and laughter; they had had surprisingly few serious conversations during the years they’d spent growing up together.
As Joe neared Bel, he felt his body sag with relief that she had stopped walking and was now standing stock-still, facing him as he approached. He was desperate to reach her before she ran off again, and was managing to make up the distance between the two of them quickly, considering his bad leg was such a hindrance.
‘Just leave me alone, Joe!’ she shouted above the deafening sound of the air-raid siren. Her head jerked upwards as her attention was suddenly diverted skyward to a blur of red and white lights as tracers let off their rose-coloured beams in spurts.
Bel had got as far as Laura Street before Joe had caught up with her. It was a residential road on the cusp of the town centre. Men, women and children were starting to spill out of terraced houses that lined the road and were beginning to hurry towards the nearest shelters. Doors could be heard banging shut, as could the piercing screams of babies, upset at the rude interruption of their slumber, and the panicked voices of mothers, wrapping up their babies in blankets and shouting at their other children to ‘hurry up’ and ‘keep close’ as they fled their homes.
‘Bel,’ Joe said as he finally reached her. ‘We’ve got to get to a shelter. It’s not safe being out here.’ He was out of breath. He hadn’t realised just how weak he had become over the past few months. He used to be able to run for ages, barely breaking into a sweat, never mind getting out of puff; he had worked with the dead weight of a rivet gun for just about every hour of every working day since he’d turned fourteen, and would still have the stamina for a game of football most evenings. Now his energy was expunged after just a few minutes’ dash.
‘Just leave me alone,’ she repeated.
Joe looked at her exasperated. ‘I can’t and I won’t.’
He grabbed her by the arm in case she decided to make another run for it.
‘Besides.’ He tried desperately to inject some humour into the dire situation in which they now found themselves. ‘If I let you go now, Ma’ll have my guts for garters – she’ll hang, draw and quarter me … and then she’ll make my life even more unbearable than it is already!’
It was typical of Joe to resort to such black humour, and to be so overdramatic, although it was true that Agnes would make his life pretty intolerable if he did not bring Bel safely back home. Luckily, his humour caught Bel unawares and in doing so it broke through a weakness in her defences that, until this evening, had been pretty much rock solid.
As Bel looked at her brother-in-law, it was as if she was seeing him for the first time.
This was the Joe she knew. The one who had always made her laugh. Had always made her feel better. How could she hate him so?
And, at that moment of realisation, as she stood there, surrounded by the chaos, noise, and flashing lights, the barricades that she had put around herself went down and the true wretchedness of her soul became visible.
‘Oh, Joe, I’m sorry. Please, leave me. I just want to die. I can’t go on like this, please just leave me.’
Joe was shocked to the core by Bel’s words, but what disturbed him the most was the conviction with which they were spoken.
‘Well, you bloody well can’t!’ His words came out harshly as he pulled her towards him, and practically dragged her forward, along the pavement, his eyes searching around for some kind of shelter, something that would protect them from the inevitable deluge of bombs that were about to be dropped.
‘You’ve got to live, whether you like it or not. You’ve got the most amazing little girl. And she needs you … so if you don’t want to live for yourself, you’re going to have to damn well keep on living for your daughter’s sake,’ he shouted at her as he continued to tow her along by his side.
Joe was thankful Bel offered no resistance. All the fight had clearly gone out of her and she was allowing herself to be propelled along the street as he frantically looked for cover – anywhere that would protect them from the Luftwaffe’s imminent attack.
‘You might think she’s better off with Ma and Polly– but you’re wrong,’
Joe’s words sent a shock of guilt through Bel. He had read her so well. He had seen right through her. He had read every terrible, awful, sinful thought, for that was exactly what she had been thinking, more and more so of late – that her daughter would be better off with Agnes and sister-in-law.
Joe pulled Bel behind him. One hand had a vice-like hold on her arm, the other was gripping the top of his walking stick, upon which he was pushing down heavily as his leg was now in agony.
Just then there was a massive explosion. The ground underneath them vibrated and they were both covered in a sheet of dust. Neither of them could see a foot in front of them.
For a split second Joe thought he was back in the desert, his vision blinded by the acrid dust from the harsh, water-deprived landscape.
Then, all of a sudden, a vision of Teddy’s face showed itself to him through the grimy mist, and his brother’s words resounded in his ears. ‘Promise me you’ll look after Bel.’
Joe reached out and grabbed Bel’s hand. It felt so small in his own. He pulled her away and out of the fog of dirt and debris.
With no air-raid shelter nearby, Joe frantically scanned the immediate area and spotted that the front door of one of the houses had been left swinging open. He yanked Bel to the deserted house and over the threshold. He pulled her behind him down the short stretch of hallway to the cupboard under the stairs. He unlatched its little wooden door. ‘It’s better than nowhere,’ Joe said as he put his hand on Bel’s head and forced her into the small storage space, which was empty, bar a large sweeping brush and a few buckets. Joe bent over and followed Bel, pulling the door shut and making Bel sit down with him on the wooden floor.
They both sucked in air, trying to regain their breath; coughing, their throats dry.
‘Oh my God! I hope Lucille and everyone else is all right.’ Bel felt herself starting to panic.
‘They’ll be fine,’ Joe tried to sound as reassuring as possible. ‘They would’ve had time to get to the shelter. Ma will probably be organising everyone now, and getting them to sing along to some song or hymn that everyone knows the words to.’
Bel’s mind jumped back to last summer, when Agnes’s little lunchtime birthday celebration for Lucille had been ruined by an air raid, and how her innovative mother-in-law had somehow managed to organise a makeshift party in the cellar of the local church they were sheltering in. She knew Joe was right. Lucille couldn’t be in better hands.
Joe put his arm around Bel’s shoulders. There was hardly room to breathe, never mind move about. Bel was aware of his closeness, the way he was protecting her, and she let him. She could not fight it any more. She simply didn’t have the strength, or the will.
‘I’m so sorry, Joe,’ she said, trying her hardest to hold back the tears.
Finally Bel’s anger started to dissipate, allowing her sorrow to seep through. All her deeply buried thoughts and feelings began to find their way to the surface. To the light.
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry, Joe,’ she repeated. Her words this time accompanied by tears. ‘I feel so terrible. I’ve been such an awful person. I hate myself … I’ve hurt the people I love the most. The people who have loved me the most. I’ve just been feeling so angry and it’s just got worse and worse.’
Joe looked down at Bel’s face, now covered in dirt, and he let her talk, held her as her words came tumbling out with increasing speed. He caught some but not all of what she said, but he knew that didn’t matter. Bel had finally let go and that was all that mattered.
Bel cried some more and Joe let her. He didn’t say anything, just kept holding her in his arms.
‘And, Joe,’ she said, lifting her face up to look him in the eyes, ‘I’m so sorry for what I said back at the house.’
Joe gently squeezed her shoulders to reassure her. ‘Well, a lot of it was true. I do look like my brother. I must be a constant reminder of him. We were twins, after all.’
‘In looks but not in your personalities …’ Bel said.
‘Like chalk and cheese,’ they both said in unison.
‘I think my ma used to say that so much because she wanted us to be different,’ Joe said thoughtfully.
‘And you are – were – so different,’ Bel corrected herself with sadness.
They both continued to chat; all the while Joe held Bel in his arms, his body wrapped around her, protecting her from any harm.
They remained like that for hours. Sometimes they were quiet; listening to the rumblings outside, the distant sound of gunfire and the drone of aeroplanes. When it seemed to calm down, they awaited the call of the all-clear siren, but it never came; instead the earth shook as more bombs were dropped on the town.
Bel gripped Joe’s hand when she heard the sounds of the ack-ack guns, and she prayed for the safety of her daughter and the people she loved.
‘Please God, let no harm come to them. Keep them safe. They’re good people,’ she tried to argue her case, hoping that there was some kind of justice to be had amidst all of this terror – this malevolence that was trying so hard to ravage their land.
