by AJ Pearce
Before I could say anything, I felt someone move to my side.
‘Miss Eggerton. Monica Edwards, Woman Today. How do you do? I wonder if I might join you both? I was just remarking to my colleagues how well-deserved Mr Clough’s praise for Woman’s Friend was today. And how very informative your speech was. You have inspired many of us through your words this morning.’
It was the work of a prima ballerina crossed with one of the army’s most relentless of tanks. Mrs Edwards smiled throughout, not even pausing for breath. She might just as well have had gills.
Miss Eggerton hesitated, perhaps weighing up whether to be charmed or annoyed. Mrs Edwards gave her no time to decide. ‘I must apologise but would you mind terribly if I steal Miss Lake away from you? I wanted to ask her advice on a feature I’m planning.’
Miss Eggerton nodded and said, ‘Of course.’
‘Miss Eggerton,’ I said, knowing that Mrs Edwards had stepped in to save me from getting into hot water, ‘thank you for listening to my query. I hoped you might find it an interesting point. Most of all, thank you for your briefing. I agree wholeheartedly with Mrs Edwards. It was very inspiring indeed.’
Miss Eggerton’s eyes glinted. Not, I would bet, because she was taken in by flattery, but because she recognised a capitulation when she saw one. ‘Miss Lake,’ she said. ‘A piece of advice. Please remember that we work with the women’s press so that they can inform their readers and support rather than question Government policy, or indeed, feature their readers questioning Government policy. I would advise to leave that to the more Trotskyite members of the press.’
‘Of course,’ I said, smoothly. I was beginning to learn how this worked. ‘I do hope that is not how my words might have appeared.’
Miss Eggerton let me off. ‘Not to me, Miss Lake,’ she said. ‘But others might take a rather different view.’
I extended my hand and she shook it. ‘Thank you, Miss Eggerton,’ I said. ‘I look forward to continuing our support to the highest degree.’
‘As do I,’ said Miss Eggerton. She turned to Mrs Edwards, shook her hand and said, ‘Thank you for your timely arrival.’
Then she walked briskly out of the room.
That, I thought, could have gone better.
‘Thank you for saving me,’ I said to Mrs Edwards. ‘Mr Collins did tell me not to start fights.’
Mrs Edwards touched my arm lightly. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘He used to do it all the time. But he didn’t back off like you very sensibly did. Well done. You knew when to step back.’
She smiled and put her arm through mine. ‘Shall we go?’ she said. ‘I’ve just heard a rumour you’re about to become part of the family, and I am embarrassingly keen to know if it’s true.’
I nodded and said it was.
‘How wonderful,’ said Mrs Edwards. ‘You must tell me more. Oh, and Miss Lake, whatever it was that Miss Eggerton was avoiding answering, you don’t have to let it drop. It’s a fine line to tread, but whoever you are trying to help, I could see you feel passionately about them.’
‘I do,’ I said. ‘Very much.’
Mrs Edwards nodded. ‘Then keep going,’ she said. ‘You may need to find a different route to take, but stick to it and I promise, you won’t let them down.’
CHAPTER TWENTY
It’s a Good Thing Isn’t It?
I WAS BOTH buoyed and perturbed by the meeting, my head thoroughly stuffed with things to consider. I was thrilled to bits of course about Woman’s Friend being commended by Mr Clough, which went down marvellously on my return to the office, but more than dismayed with Miss Eggerton and her lack of inclination to be of much help.
There are women who stick up for each other, and women who don’t.
Miss Eggerton was one of the Don’ts. In fact, she didn’t even seem to think that women should be at work once they had children. I knew what my own mother would say in response, and it would probably start with, ‘Granny didn’t chain herself to railings so that . . .’
I wondered what the point of Miss Eggerton being a spokeswoman for the Ministry of Labour and National Service was when she seemed to think that going to work was a matter of choice.
After all, it might have been highly unlikely that the Government would need every mother of young children to work, but she didn’t appear to realise that it wasn’t just about what the Government needed. What about the women themselves?
Miss Eggerton was letting them down.
As Anne and the women began organising a parade, it was time to redouble my efforts in terms of what I might be able to do. Mrs Edwards had been right. I needed to take a different route.
While Anne and Betty tried again to get a response from the factory managers, as well as writing to their local authorities and making enquiries at the Labour Exchange, over the next week, Bunty and I made a list of anyone on a national level that might be able to help. Then we spent every minute we could writing letters and asking for advice.
With Mr Collins away, I wrote to the Ministry of Health for information about the Government’s nurseries scheme as we were planning a feature. This was entirely true. I also wrote to all the news magazines asking if they were interested in an article about a women workers’ Patriotic Parade. This was above board as well, but I wrote to them from myself and not Woman’s Friend.
Bunty and I contacted our MP, and Bunts sent an impassioned letter to Dr Summerskill, asking for her help. I wanted to write to Mr Bevin, the Minister of Labour and National Service, himself, but Bunty said she would do that as I’d just given Miss Eggerton the right pip and you never knew if my name was now on some sort of list.
We weren’t naive enough to think any of these people would actually have time to read our letters, but we carried on, nevertheless.
Everyone kept each other updated whether we had made headway or not. All of us had to go out and buy extra stamps.
Dear Anne,
Saturday 20th December sounds perfect for a parade. Bunty and I will come of course. Bunty is bringing her camera.
I spoke with someone at the ‘M’ and I’m afraid they weren’t very helpful, but don’t worry, I shall find someone who is. Bunty is going to write to Mr Bevin himself! If Betty doesn’t get any joy from writing to the union, perhaps she should too?
I’ll write more asap.
Love
Emmy x
Dear Emmy and Bunty
The children are finally asleep, so I have five minutes to write. Thank you for your letters. We are all THRILLED you can come to the parade! As it is so close to Christmas, we hope the town will be busy (not that there’s anything to buy) and we’ve been told there will be a tree in the square, so that gives us something to march around. We have been trying to quietly spread the word and there’s been quite a good take-up by some of the other girls. We’ve asked everyone to keep it secret. I don’t trust you know who.
Some bad news. Mr T refused to even meet us. Mr R says it’s out of his hands and we reckon T has told everyone to close ranks. It’s just too mean of them all. I’m pleased we’re planning the other things.
The children are well but running rings around Mum – Ruby ran away again today. She only got as far as the next street when someone found her, but Mum was in bits.
Better go. I think Tony’s back teeth are finally coming through, poor love.
With love to you both,
Anne x
Dear Anne
That’s rotten about Mr T. I’m not enormously surprised, but still. Horrible.
But the plans for the 20th are wonderful. I have sent out letters about writing an article but have not put the specific details in yet. Do you think your local newspaper will be interested? I think leave it to very near the date to ask them, just in case.
Love,
E x
WOMAN’S FRIEND AT WORK
They’re Old Hands Now!
In the last of our series about women munitions workers, EMMELINE LAKE finds out how our New Recru
its are doing after two months in the job.
We first met our friends several weeks ago when they were the new girls on the team. They were freshly trained and hard at work, but if that impressed you, you should see them all now! . . .
MESSAGE – URGENT
To: Mrs Mahoney & Miss Lake
From: Miss Hester Wilson
A quarter to eleven: The lady from The M called for Mr Collins and said Mr S would like to speak to him URGENTLY. I said would Miss Lake do, but she said it has to be Mr Collins. I didn’t say we don’t know where he is.
MESSAGE – URGENT
To: Miss Lake
From: Miss Wilson
Half past two: Miss Jackson from Lord Overton’s office asked if Mr Collins is back yet. I said thank you very much but no he isn’t, and she asked when he might be as Lord Overton would like to speak to him (Mr Collins). I did ask but like the other lady, she didn’t want you either.
Darling
Thank you for your letter. It so cheered me up. You’d think I was in Timbuktu for the amount of time we get together.
I’m angling for a meeting in London so that I can try to see you, but let’s try to speak on the phone until then.
Not long till we’re married. I am counting the days!
All my love.
Cxxx
Dear E&B
Some good news: we think there may be up to twenty of us on the 20th! That’s good, isn’t it? And Betty has written to Mrs Churchill because, Betty says, she is such a good sort and might listen. Ruby wanted her to ask Winston why barrage balloons don’t have faces drawn on as they’d look funnier if they did. Betty told her she put it in as a PS!
Other things: Irene’s found a bit of cleaning work so that has helped. She still hasn’t had any news.
Mum has a dicky tummy which she can’t shake off, but the rest of us are all right so that’s a relief.
See you soon.
Anne x
It was good to feel we were all trying to do something that might help. Then two things happened which changed everything.
The first didn’t really affect anyone much, or at least no one outside of a small group of people, to whom it mattered more than anything. The second affected the whole world.
Both stopped us in our tracks.
As letters flowed between us all and out to the people we thought might have a sympathetic ear about helping women working in war work, news arrived from Anne. I supposed Bunty and I had half expected it, but it was no less awful when it came.
Dear Emmy and Bunty
Irene has had the worst news about her husband, Douglas.
She is being very brave. We’re all trying to help.
She has taken the girls to Maeve’s. Enid doesn’t understand but poor Sheila very much does.
I suppose at least now it is out in the open, but it’s shaken us all. Another one of our precious boys.
I hate this stupid, horrible war.
Anne xx
PS: Sorry – I should have called, but it’s just so dreadful and sad, and I didn’t want to cry on the phone.
Bunty and I sat in silence for ages after we’d read the letter. We hadn’t even met Douglas, and we’d only met Irene the once. But if anyone knew how she felt, it was Bunty. And if anyone knew how Irene’s friends felt, I had to say it was me.
As the war had gone on, I had found that sometimes concentrating on your own little part of the world could make things easier. I had always been an avid follower of the news, as we all were these days, and reading letters as part of my job meant I could never entirely ignore what was going on, even if I’d wanted to. But now and then, when it all felt as if everything was inch by inch getting too much, I would stop reading the newspapers for a couple of days, avoid the radio, and steer clear of discussing what was increasingly grim.
Perhaps I had thrown myself into concentrating on plans and letters about the parade partly to block out the news, especially if it was probable that Charles would go overseas at some point. Now it was right on our doorsteps again.
Bunty and I of course wrote to Irene, sending our sympathy and love, and telling her that if she could think of anything we could help with, to just say. We didn’t know her well enough to be much good, but we wanted her to know that we cared.
The second thing that happened could hardly have been further away from us. On Sunday 7th December, the Japanese bombed an American naval base in Hawaii. It was the most awful attack and there was no question of wanting to avoid the news now. We were all glued to our radios as soon as we heard.
By Monday morning, the headline was the same on every front page. Japan had declared war on America and Britain. Now the whole world really was at war.
Charles hardly ever talked about what was said in the papers, and certainly nothing to do with his work, but now I was desperate to hear what he thought.
I rushed home from work, hoping he would call. When the phone rang, I snatched it up so quickly I nearly dropped it.
‘Hello, darling,’ said Charles, from a phone box. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m very well,’ I said, over heartily. ‘Quite busy. How are you?’
‘Jolly well, too,’ said Charles, sounding even more hale than me. ‘What’s the latest? I read your letter and I’m so sorry about Anne’s friend. How is she?’
‘Anne says she is coping. It’s wretched, though.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Charles again. ‘Tell me about work. How are things with Guy away?’
I didn’t really want to natter on about work when the world seemed to be getting more dangerous by the minute, but I went along with him, for form’s sake.
‘Absolutely fine. I’m a bit worried that both the people we can’t mention and Lord O are trying to get hold of Guy. I keep thinking Miss E may have complained. Other than that, nothing to report. I’ve finished writing the series on the factory. Bunty’s well and we’re writing letters to everyone we can think of.’
Everything tumbled out incoherently. It had been over a week since we last spoke and Charles listened kindly as I whittered on.
‘So, goodness, yes, that’s it,’ I finished. ‘Have you frozen to death in the phone box while I’ve gone on?’
‘Snug as a bug,’ said Charles staunchly, which was probably untrue. ‘It’s what I’m here for, although I do wish I could be of some help. Do you really need to contact Guy?’
‘Not for me, no, but I am rather worried about the important people. I wish he’d left a forwarding address or a number.’
‘I’ll track him down,’ said Charles. ‘Sorry if that sounds rather clandestine. He’s terrifically loyal to the chaps he was with in the army, but hardly talks about it. Things must be bleak, though, if he hasn’t been in touch. Leave it with me.’
I thanked him and Charles said it was a pleasure. Then, and unusually, there was a silence between us.
‘Ooh,’ I said, brightly. ‘Nicer news – the vicar has confirmed that the choir can definitely do the wedding, which is lovely. And Mr Bone says he knows a florist who can do some nice arrangements if we can supply the greenery. Bunty thinks if she and I can’t manage to go down ourselves to pick it all, her granny will find a way to get some sent up. Isn’t that kind of her?’
‘Yes,’ said Charles. He didn’t sound very excited by it. Then again, floristry possibly wasn’t his thing.
‘And Roy and Fred from the station want to bring some sort of speaker and look after the music so everyone can dance afterwards.’
That was more up Charles’ street.
‘Very good,’ he said.
His voice was flat as a pancake. I waited while there was another lull in the conversation.
‘The thing is,’ said Charles. ‘I’m so sorry, Em, but I think we may need to bring the wedding forward. I mean obviously I’m not sorry about getting married sooner. It’s just . . .’
The receiver felt heavy in my hand. I screwed up my eyes and waited.
‘I think there’ll be a posi
tion for me overseas.’
If everything had seemed better two minutes ago, now it felt anything but. ‘Ah,’ I said, playing for time so that I could get my voice in order before speaking. ‘Right-oh,’ I managed. ‘That’s all right. What with the news and everything I had rather thought . . .’
‘I’m so sorry, darling,’ said Charles, sounding as wretched as I felt. ‘I’ve no idea what or where, yet. It may have nothing to do with all that.’
I took a very deep breath and mustered every bit of miserable fortitude I could. ‘Not at all,’ I said, as if someone had just apologised for taking the last seat on the bus. ‘So, you can’t really tell me very much?’
‘A bit,’ said Charles. ‘Several of the medium gun chaps need people and they seem to think I might be the right sort. Possibly lining up to become a BC. It was rattling around before Hirohito’s lot did their party piece, so things may now have changed.’ He went quiet. ‘Damn it, E, I’m so sorry. This has happened a lot faster than I thought.’
He sounded awful, but he should have been thrilled. He had hoped to become a Battery Commander at some point, and he’d always said that he loved being out in the field. This sounded like his chance.
It was my time to step up. I was marrying a career officer. He had been training for this since he was eighteen.
‘Em, are you still there?’ His concern was obvious.
I cleared my throat and answered. ‘Of course, darling,’ I said. ‘It sounds very exciting. Just your sort of thing which really is awfully good.’
My knuckles were white as I gripped the telephone. When he answered, it sounded as if he knew it.
‘It should be all right,’ he said gently. ‘They’re all good bunches of men.’
‘Of course,’ I said again. I couldn’t stop saying, Of Bloody Course. ‘As if the Gunners would be anything else.’ I tried to make a little joke of it, even managing to do a small laugh. ‘So you don’t know where you’ll be off to?’
‘Off to’ made it sound as if it would be quite the cheerful day out.
‘I can’t say anything at the moment.’ Silly question. ‘But I think it’ll be soon.’
He didn’t say when, but soon was enough for me.