Shipyard Girls at War, page 35
‘Didn’t you know – widowed women aren’t meant to be making sweet with their dead husband’s brother?’
The room fell totally silent.
Bel was mortified.
Her face flamed red and her whole body felt as if it was on fire – with anger, and shame.
‘How dare you make accusations like that! How dare you?’
Pearl looked at her daughter. ‘They’re not accusations, Isabelle,’ she stressed quietly to her daughter. ‘They’re facts. Because, Isabelle, I know. I know everything,’ she said, looking into her daughter’s eyes, showing her that for once she wasn’t hedging her bets and second-guessing – that she did, in fact, know the truth of the situation.
‘I know all about your little love affair with Joe, so don’t play the innocent with me. You may fool everyone else in this house with your Little Miss Perfect act, but yer don’t kid yer old ma. I know exactly what you’ve been up to.’
‘We haven’t been up to anything!’ Bel knew that wasn’t true, but it had only been a kiss, after all. Her mother was making it sound like something really sordid.
‘I saw it coming before it even happened,’ Pearl said, now sounding quite pleased with herself. Boastful. ‘And then I saw you both on the night of that Beryl’s birthday party, when you both sneaked off early.’
Bel was feeling sick to the pit of her stomach. She had not heard anyone come into the house, but then again that whole evening seemed like a muddle to her now. She could only surmise that her mother had skulked in after them and spied on them.
‘I came back to get my spare packet of fags,’ Pearl told her, revelling in the fact she now clearly had the upper hand, ‘and I got an eyeful of yer both kissing through the door. Yer didn’t even bother to close it! Yer want to be thankful it was me that saw the two of ya smooching away like a couple of teenagers and not anyone else! God, imagine if Agnes had clapped eyes on the pair of you …’ She paused.
‘Oh, Isabelle. What a let-down. The woman welcomes you into her home as a wee bairn and this is how you repay her. One son dies, so you just help yourself to the other.’
Bel felt mortified. Her mother had spoken the words, but she had thought the same thing herself. That this was what people would think. People who had loved and cared for her. That Agnes and Polly – and even Arthur – would see her as some kind of hussy. Moving on from one brother to the next in the blink of an eye.
The shame she would feel if they found out. The embarrassment. But what would be worst of all would be seeing the disappointment on their faces.
‘Anyway.’ Pearl stood up and smoothed her skirt down. She knew she had successfully crushed her daughter into submission, but it irked her that the victory felt empty.
They had nothing more to say to each other. They had both said too much already. Words that could not be taken back. Or forgotten.
Pearl felt a very slight ripple of regret. Even perhaps a tinge of guilt.
‘But dinnit worry, Isabelle, I’m not all bad. Yer secret’s safe with me.’
As she spoke her last words, Pearl turned and quietly left the room, gently shutting the door, leaving Bel sitting as though she had been frozen in time.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Thursday 7 August 1941
‘Hey, Gloria, I think you’re due for a tea break.’ It was Rosie’s familiar voice, but her casualness sounded strained; a little false.
‘Sounds like a good idea to me,’ Gloria said, switching off the crane’s loud engine and slowly climbing out. As she did so she put a protective arm across her bosom, which was pulling her denim overalls to their full stretch.
‘Oh, I feel like I’m heaving two huge melons around with me, as well as this great big bump,’ she said, carefully stepping on to the ground. She could no longer see her feet, so was feeling the ground to make sure she was on terra firma.
Rosie sat down on one of the metal chairs ‘borrowed’ from the drawing office and poured out a tea for Gloria and then another for herself.
‘You look serious.’ Gloria said, carefully sitting down next to her, ‘is there anything the matter?’
Rosie looked at her friend and put her tin cup of steaming tea down. ‘I’m really sorry to have to tell you this.’
Gloria felt her stomach turn over. Rosie never sounded this sombre, nor looked so grave.
‘It’s Jack, isn’t it?’ she asked. She felt her heart pound as if it was going to burst out of her chest. She could almost hear its thudding, quickening beat.
Rosie nodded and leaned over to squeeze her arm.
‘Please, tell me he’s not dead,’ Gloria begged her.
Since the beginning of the war there had already been hundreds of the town’s men – either from the Royal Navy or the Merchant Navy – declared missing or dead. Hardly a week seemed to go by without some news flash reporting that a warship, cargo vessel – sometimes even a trawler – had been torpedoed by a German U-boat, or bombed out of the water by the Luftwaffe.
‘There’s no news yet,’ Rosie said. ‘The steamship he was travelling on – the SS Tunisia – was bombed and sunk by Jerry a few hundred miles off the west coast of Ireland on Monday. The bosses told us today that so far they were only getting dribs and drabs of information coming through; it’s sketchy to say the least.’
Gloria could feel the pinprick of tears start behind her eyes, but would not allow them to come forth.
‘I’m trying my hardest to find out more,’ Rosie said. ‘But it’s hard. Apparently the Ministry of War don’t like admitting publicly that we’ve had a hit – bad for morale, and all that.’
Gloria tried, but found she couldn’t speak. Her mind was too busy skidding around to be able to form words.
Had she lost the love of her life more or less as soon as she’d found him again?
Had her baby lost its father before they had even had the chance to meet?
Had she willed this somehow to happen when she had wished that Jack’s return be delayed to give her more time to work out what she was going to do?
The guilt. It was all her fault.
Her dilemma now seemed so pathetic. So trivial. Life was what was important. Why hadn’t she seen that?
Please God, let him be all right, her mind screamed out, but she seemed unable to move a muscle, never mind talk.
‘You okay, Gloria?’ Rosie said, moving closer to her friend, putting her arm around her shoulders and giving her a gentle hug.
‘He’ll be all right,’ Rosie said, but even she thought that her reassurances sounded trite and empty. How did she know Jack hadn’t been blown up, or drowned, or had died of hypothermia. But what else could she say? Her only thoughts now were for Gloria and her unborn child.
‘You have to keep well for the baby,’ Rosie said, as she felt Gloria’s silent tears splash down on to her bare arm, which was wrapped around her friend. She gave Gloria another cuddle.
‘Just don’t give up hope,’ she said. ‘There’s always hope.’
Chapter Fifty
Tuesday 12 August 1941
‘All right everyone, I think we can now confidently say that Ma’s little Tramp has definitely lived up to her name – and she is, as suspected, pregnant!’ Polly announced to the entire household who were sitting squashed up around the table for dinner. Agnes had demanded they eat together because, in her words, they were all ‘like passing ships in the night’, and they needed to spend at least a part of an evening together.
‘So,’ Polly continued, ‘not only will we soon be struggling to feed ourselves, as well as our new four-legged house guest here, but we’re also going to have God knows how many baby Tramps to look after.’
Polly was enjoying her ‘I told you nothing good would come of this’ moment, which, of course, she didn’t really mean. If anything, she was quite excited about the fact that the dog she secretly loved was going to have pups.
‘So, Ma, you’ll finally get to be a grandmother again – only to a load of tiny fur balls.’ Polly chuckled, and her mother scowled back.
Joe stood to serve up the food and noticed Pearl threw Bel an odd look, which her daughter returned with one that said, Don’t you dare.
‘All right, hand your plates over,’ he commanded, scooping up a big ladle of broad bean and mutton stew with dumplings.
‘Age before beauty,’ he joked, taking Arthur’s plate. The old man was slowing down a bit these days and his hearing was getting worse.
‘What’s that lad?’ he almost shouted.
‘Us blokes have to stick together,’ Joe said back. ‘Let’s just hope Tramp has some boy dogs to even out the numbers!’
Arthur let out a laugh before holding his nose over his plate and breathing in the mouthwatering smells of Agnes’s cooking. There was never anything Agnes cooked which Arthur didn’t devour with relish. Polly knew it was due to all the years there had just been him and Tommy fending for themselves. Both were great divers, but pretty poor cooks.
‘And now beauty,’ Joe said, taking hold of Lucille’s plate and making sure she got a good chunk of meat.
‘We’ll have to find homes for the pups,’ Agnes piped up, as Joe continued to dole out the supper. ‘I may be soft, but I’m not that soft, and one dog is enough for this household – so if everyone could ask around.’ She looked at Pearl. ‘Perhaps some of your regulars might be willing to take a few off our hands?’
‘Aye, I’ll ask around tonight,’ Pearl said, handing her plate to Joe and asking him, ‘So, how’s the lovely Maria? You two still courting?’
Bel felt her heart beat that little bit faster.
‘Pearl. You’re turning into a right nosy parker these days.’ Joe forced his voice to remain light.
Everyone had fallen silent, though, eagerly awaiting Joe’s answer.
Pearl cackled, ‘Looks like I’m not the only nosy parker here.’
Joe looked at the expectant faces looking forward to his response.
‘Yes,’ he said, although he sounded more than a little uncertain. ‘But we’ve not had much of a chance to date as such. Her work with the WAA is pretty full on.’
He looked over to Bel who had her eyes glued to her plate.
Realising they weren’t going to eke any more information about Joe’s love life out of him, the focus turned to Polly, who always had plenty to regale them with about the latest goings-on at Thompson’s and what was happening with her workmates. They all knew about the problems they had been having with Hannah and Martha, and about Dorothy and Angie’s shenanigans. And Agnes was always keen to hear about Rosie, whom she had nursed after she had been attacked by her uncle, and for whom she had a particular soft spot. And, of course, they were all counting down the days until the arrival of Gloria’s baby.
‘I can’t believe how fast these past few months have gone,’ Polly ruminated between mouthfuls of stew. ‘She’s due any day now, but she’s still working – she says she’d rather be at work than sat watching the clock at home.’
Bel quietly asked if she had heard any more about Jack.
Polly’s face fell and she shook her head. ‘Still, we’re trying to keep her positive. Hopeful. No news is better than bad news. That’s what we keep telling her.’
‘And from Vinnie?’ Bel asked, her face hardening.
‘It’s all very odd. Not even a whisper. This is the longest he’s stayed away from her’ – she dropped her voice – ‘and probably the longest he’s managed to keep his hands to himself … Very strange, but who cares why. He’s not bothering Gloria, and that’s all that matters.’
Agnes, who was sitting next to her granddaughter, looked at Lucille, who seemed to be only interested in eating her dumplings, having relegated her meat to the side of the plate. Agnes knew Bel couldn’t wait to have another baby in her arms; she just hoped it didn’t also bring back her grief, knowing she would never have any more children with Teddy.
‘Why don’t we all go to the Tatham after dinner – for a special treat?’ Polly suggested.
Her idea was greeted with a blast of agreement from everyone but Bel.
Polly saw the look on her sister-in-law’s face, and misreading its meaning, quickly added, ‘I’m sure Beryl will take Lucille for the night.’
Bel nodded, secretly hoping that for some reason Beryl would not be able to oblige, although thought it unlikely as she loved having Lucille over, as did her two daughters, who doted on her.
Bel forced a smile. ‘Sounds great.’
After they all finished their supper, Agnes took Lucille next door, Pearl left for the start of her shift at the pub, and everyone else cleared and washed up before piling out of the door and sauntering the few hundred yards down to their local. When they stepped into the front bar, it was heaving.
‘I think everyone’s had the same idea as us tonight,’ Polly shouted over her shoulder to Arthur and Agnes.
Bel was behind them, and behind her, at the rear, was Joe.
Bel felt his presence, especially as they were all having to squash through a merry throng of drinkers. One of the groups they were passing burst into raucous laughter, and a few of the men stepped back, causing Bel to topple backwards slightly.
As soon as she did so, she immediately felt Joe’s hands on her shoulders steadying her. She felt his closeness and, just for the briefest of moments, his body pressed against hers.
Bel turned her head slightly to the side and, realising she wanted to say something, Joe bent his head towards her.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
Bel could feel his mouth brush the side of her face as lightly as a feather. Instinctively she felt herself starting to turn towards him.
‘Joe,’ she whispered the words over her shoulder.
‘Yes?’ Joe asked. Bel could feel his breath on her skin, sensed his body gently leaning into her own, and she felt her own body naturally responding.
Bel yearned to turn round, to hold herself against him; to feel herself enveloped in his arms, allowing herself to feel his touch.
‘Ma knows,’ she said, just loudly enough for Joe to hear.
Bel immediately felt his body stiffen.
‘Knows what?’ he asked, his hands still on her shoulders as they arrived at the bar.
Standing behind the counter, leaning on one of the beer pumps, was Pearl.
‘You having trouble standing on your own two feet there, Isabelle?’ she asked, looking at Joe’s large, weathered hands still clasping her daughter’s narrow shoulders.
Joe immediately released his grip. ‘Aye, it’s a bit busy here tonight. Where’s the rest of the clan?’ Joe asked.
‘Over there, I’m gonna bring everyone’s drinks across.’ Pearl looked at Bel and Joe and said quietly. ‘So then, what are you two sweethearts having?’
‘Sorry?’ Joe’s face flashed anger.
‘Just asking what you two are drinking?’ Pearl repeated, all innocence, taking a sneaky sip of a very large brandy she had stashed away under the counter next to the slop tray.
‘I’ll have a pint of Vaux,’ Joe said sternly. ‘Bel, what are you having? Gin and tonic?’
Bel seemed to have lost the power of speech and merely nodded.
As they moved away from the bar and headed over to where Polly, Agnes and Arthur had managed to find a table, Joe once again leant his face close to Bel’s.
‘We have to talk, Bel.’
‘I know,’ she said, ‘I know.’
Chapter Fifty-One
The next day everyone was up bright and early. Even Pearl. The sun had been streaming through the blackout curtains since six in the morning, enticing people to start their day that bit earlier.
Bel had got herself ready quickly, and given in to Lucille’s demands to go and see her little friend called Amber, who had been named so, because she had been born with a layer of downy ginger hair which had quickly developed into a shock of apricot-coloured curls.
Bel was just about to leave the house to go into town to do some shopping and was searching around for her ration book. Pearl was out in the back yard chain-smoking and looking as if her mind was anywhere but in the here and now; Agnes was in the washhouse, possing clothes in the dolly tub as though her life depended on it; and Polly was doing a half-shift at the yard.
Arthur had made friends with another old man called Albert, who had embraced the whole Dig for Victory ethos with gusto, and Arthur had started to help his new mate out with his garden-turned-allotment near the Town Moor in Hendon. His friendship had the added benefit of providing the Elliot household with extra vegetables, although so far that had only been radishes, herbs and garden peas.
‘Found it!’ Bel said to herself, stuffing her little yellow paper booklet into her pocket just as Joe emerged from his room dressed in his smart Home Guard uniform.
When Bel saw Joe, she was hit by an unexpected feeling of self-consciousness. There was no denying Joe looked incredibly handsome, despite his walking stick and the slightly jaded look he had brought back with him from the front line.
‘Do you mind if I walk into town with you?’ Joe asked. His request sounded formal.
Bel looked at him and quietly agreed. ‘No, I don’t mind – like you said last night, I think we need to talk.’
Bel walked to the back door and shouted to Pearl and Agnes that she was ‘off up the town’, and that she would see them both later.
Agnes took a break from pummelling her washing to give her daughter-in-law a quick wave, while Pearl simply looked at both Bel and Joe, before forcing a smile through a fog of smoke. For a fleeting second Bel thought her mother looked the tiniest bit guilty, but she dismissed the thought as soon as it came into her head. That was one emotion she didn’t think her ma had ever experienced in her entire life.
Within a few minutes of leaving the house, Joe and Bel were cutting up the back streets to the town centre.
‘Ma saw us.’ Bel just came straight out with it.
Joe looked puzzled.
‘The night of Beryl’s party. When we …’ Bel let her voice trail off. ‘She came back for her blasted fags and saw us. My bedroom door was open.’
