‘Sorry. I didn’t realise you’d want a keepsake of Mam’s.’
‘Your mam was my sister and nothing will change that fact.’ A tell-tale crack in Ramona’s voice surprised May. But, as Mam had often told her, blood was thicker than water. Poor Ramona, she thought, to lose a sister before they’d had the chance to make up – and it was too late now.
‘Me mam didn’t have many possessions, only clothes and a few trinkets. You can have her wedding ring if you like.’
‘I want nothing to do with that man. Your dad was my sister’s ruin and I’ll never forgive him.’ Ramona’s stout body quivered with vexation. ‘Anyways… that’s not what I want to talk to you about.’ She regained her regal stance. ‘It was me who asked Mr Newman to be lenient with Ivy’s funeral bill. Your dad said he couldn’t pay because he was skint… as per usual… and was in between jobs. Ha!’
May was dumbfounded. So locked in grief was she that it had never occurred to her who would have to pay for Mam’s funeral. How daft can a person be?
The whites of Ramona’s eyes, awash with tears, were pink. She swallowed. ‘No way was my sister going to be buried in a pauper’s grave. So… here is the offer. Either you can pay the bill in weekly instalments from your salary, or,’ she said expansively, ‘you can come back and work for me as a parlour maid. Your board and lodgings will be free and the money you earn will be docked off your bill.’
In other words, May would be working for nothing. She remembered Mam saying that she didn’t want her daughter to be a skivvy for the rest of her life.
‘No, thank you, Mrs Newman. I’ll take the first offer, if you please. You see, I’m starting training to become a nurse at Edgemoor Hospital shortly.’
‘A nurse! Eee.’ Ramona was impressed, May could tell. ‘You certainly don’t take after him. It’s our side of the family has the professional streak. Let’s think on… no… you’re the first to have a medical vocation. Wait till I tell your cousin Danny.’
May, surprised at her reaction, lost her tongue. Never before had she been allowed to have anything to do with Danny. She could imagine Mam laughing in heaven.
Mam’s voice played in her head. ‘By, I don’t envy Ramona’s cronies. They’ll be sick and tired of hearing about her gloating about her niece… how she’s training to be a nurse.’
Norma, bored, poked her head from the hood of the pram, her little body twisting in agitation as she started to grizzle.
‘Mrs Newman, I must be off.’
‘Me too. There’s certain matters need my attention.’ She gave a sniff.
May told her, ‘I’ll see to it that the funeral bill is paid off quarterly… if that meets with your approval.’
Ramona gave a magnanimous smile. ‘Certainly, dear, and do let your uncle and I know how you get on at the hospital.’
* * *
The next morning, when she finished her shift, May made for the cloakroom, a headache throbbing in her temples. The ten-hour shift had taken its toll.
In the cloakroom she went to weigh herself on the penny scales. Like most women at the factory, though she ate stodgy canteen meals, she still lost weight, and, with her pallor, she was worried she might come down with some ghastly illness. It would be just her luck now that she was going to fulfil her dream and work at the hospital.
May noted, as she stood on the scales, that the pointer didn’t move past the seven-and-a-half-stone marker.
‘Aye, hinny, we’re all the same,’ an older woman collecting her coat from the peg told May. ‘Skin and bones we’ll all be, when this war is done.’ She shrugged herself into her coat, which hung off her bony shoulders. ‘It’ll get worse if the powers that be get their way. Wantin’ production stepped up, they are… and it’s us mugs that have to do the work.’ She eyed May sagely. ‘You look out for yersel’, lass. There’s plenty more to take your place as far as management is concerned.’
May, a little staggered at this unpatriotic talk, didn’t reply. Everyone had to do their bit, she thought. But she shouldn’t judge as it took all sorts, and the poor woman looked tired to the bone.
‘Tomorrow’s my last night,’ May told her.
‘Never. Where you off?’
‘Training to be a nurse.’
‘I’ll be buggered.’ A broad smile split the woman’s weary face. ‘Wish it was me. But I went and had all them bairns, didn’t I? Because nobody telt us there was another kind of life.’ A guilty look crossed her face. ‘Mind you, I wouldn’t be withoot one o’ me bairns.’ She stopped to think, then winked. ‘I take that back. I could think of a couple of rascals I might get shot of.’
May collected her coat, bag and gas mask and followed the woman to the factory exit where the pair of them walked some way together towards the factory gate.
When May went to fetch her bike from the bicycle shed, the woman called, ‘Don’t take this wrong way, hinny, but I hope I never see you in that hospital.’
‘I won’t.’ May smiled. ‘Ta-ra.’
* * *
May thought of the woman’s words, as she pushed the bike towards the gate and passed through security. She might not want another life, but things had changed since the war started; women had tasted freedom, and some wouldn’t want to go back to what they considered the dull routine of housework and looking after menfolk.
Outside the gate, May mounted her bike.
The dim beam of a torch highlighted her face. For a heart-stopping moment, May thought the male voice belonged to security from the factory.
‘Hi, May Robinson.’
The artificial light shone beneath the speaker’s chin and a rather ghoulish-looking Alec Hudson stared at her.
His audacity appalled her. ‘You’ll get into trouble if the factory warden catches you.’
The torch switched off.
Factory workers, in a dash for home and to snuggle down into a nice warm bed, swarmed past the pair of them.
‘What are you doing here?’ May asked.
‘What d’you think?’
‘I’m too tired to think. Go away.’
‘I told you I don’t give up.’
She made to pedal away but he grabbed the handlebars. ‘Look here, agree to a date and I’ll be gone.’
She thought him rather pushy but she couldn’t get mad, and she laughed despite herself. ‘You’re right. You are determined.’
‘I like to get my own way.’ She heard steel in his voice. ‘Hawway, confess you’re over the moon to see us.’
May knew a flirt when she met one. She tried not to think about Billy’s expertise in this area.
But where was the harm in a bit of flattering flirtation? As Etty had said, May should live a little.
‘Well, I wouldn’t say that… but I’m on my way home.’ May caved; she could never hold out against male persuasiveness. Besides, the lad had got out of bed early before work to meet with her.
‘Hawway, I’ll walk some of the way home with you. I’ve plenty of time before work.’
‘As long as you behave.’
Billy never could. He was always touching her or making suggestive comments.
‘Are you suggestin’ I’d do something smutty? I’m always a gentleman.’
Now she’d upset him. May would have to stop these comparisons.
‘No. It’s me. It’s been a while since… I’ve had dealings with a chap.’
Chap! Since when did she call blokes that? She felt totally out of her depth.
‘Aye… and this chap let you down, didn’t he? The rotter.’
‘He didn’t real—’
‘Though I’m grateful to him. His loss is my gain.’
May could hear the confident smile in his voice. She decided to let go for once and just let things happen.
They walked together side-by-side pushing their bicycles, footsteps echoing as they went under the arches. Occasional traffic – a motor car, cyclist and a clopping horse pulling a cart – passed them by on the road.
‘What do you
do at the shipyards?’ May eventually broke the unsettling silence.
‘I’m a shipwright carpenter at the Middle docks.’ His voice held a certain pride.
Despite her tiredness, May was interested. ‘What does that involve?’
‘Making sure the ship’s safe when it comes into the dock, then mostly repairing the vessel’s timberwork. It’s a freezing cold job this time of year.’ Something about his tone told May that the subject of work was closed.
In thoughtful silence they walked towards Chichester roundabout, where in the darkness May heard a bus conductor hooking and unhooking a trolley’s booms on the overhead cables. Up Dean Road, though the rubble was gone and May couldn’t see them, she knew there was many a gap between buildings where terraced houses once stood and she’d swear, after all these months since the raid, the fire-damaged buildings still gave off a sickening acrid smell.
‘Is it much further?’ Alec asked. ‘I’ll have to get back.’
‘No. Just a few more streets. Whale Street.’
‘Have yi’ lived there long?’
May didn’t want to go into the rigmarole of the past few days and simply said, ‘No. Just a short while. But I’m moving soon.’
‘Where to?’
‘To nurse training school up Dunlop Road.’
‘When d’you go?’
‘The day after tomorrow.’
‘For how long?’
‘Three months. Then after my preliminary training I move to the nurse’s home at Edgemoor Hospital.’ It felt surreal telling him about it, as if she was talking about someone else.
May wanted to change the subject from herself. ‘How about you… where d’you live?’
He hesitated. ‘My nana lives a few streets from here in Wawn Street. I practically spent my childhood here.’
‘Why? Did your mam go out to work?’
‘No. She buggered off when I was little.’
May, shocked, stopped in her tracks. ‘Oh, I am sorry. Did your dad bring you up?’
‘He wasn’t that interested.’
Alec made off up the street. May, hurrying to catch up, thought it best not to pursue the matter, as he obviously didn’t want to talk about the past.
As they walked on in silence, May became aware of a certain intimacy between them.
‘I’ve never told a soul about my folks before.’ Alec’s voice was gruff, as if it cost him to speak out about his private life.
‘I’m glad you told me. They say a problem shared is halved.’ May thought of Etty. She was always there when May wanted to get something off her chest.
‘How old did you say you were?’ Alec asked
‘I didn’t.’
‘I’d reckon’ – a thoughtful silence – ‘mid-twenties.’
At twenty-five, May was positively on the shelf and though she didn’t mind, she balked at letting the world know.
‘Practically an old maid.’ Alec became his brash self. ‘But don’t worry, I’m partial to older women.’
Things were getting too personal, and May was at a loss as to how to handle the situation. She walked swiftly away and, turning into Whale Street, made for Etty’s front door.
Alec caught up. ‘Am I rushing things if I ask for a kiss before I go?’
The man had gall. Again, his pushy ways brought rascally Billy Buckley to mind.
‘Look, it’s best I tell you. I sort of have a… beau.’
Instantly, she felt daft at using such an old-fashioned word.
‘I’ll bet he’s the cad who left you…’
Avoiding answering, she put the key in the lock. ‘Aw! Give us a chance. You don’t know what you’re missing.’
He was incorrigible. ‘Don’t you have a girlfriend?’
‘I have now.’
8
December 1943
In the build-up to Christmas that year, when all sorts of everyday goods were in short supply and either had to be queued for or were unobtainable, folk – Etty included – were totally drained by the war effort. But community spirit still prevailed and often showed itself in small kindnesses.
‘Here, hinny, take this. Our bairn’s too big for it…’ A neighbour stood at Etty’s door, smiling and holding out a used and undoubtedly much-loved rocking horse. ‘He’s a bit dilapidated but he’ll do for your little one from Santa Claus.’
The next kindness was from an elderly gentleman neighbour. As Etty stood in the lengthy queue at the corner shop, he pressed sweetie coupons into her hand. ‘There you are, pet. You’ll have more use than me for these. Get some sweeties for your little lassies’ stocking on Christmas mornin’.’
Today Trevor had come home after a six-till-two shift. Later on, he’d helped bath the kiddies, read to Norma from a story book until the bairn, finally, fell asleep. Then, collapsing on the couch, a snore rattled at the back of his throat. Etty worried that all that filth he breathed at the pit was doing him damage.
As she ironed the white collarless shirt Trevor wore when he worked at the funeral parlour, Etty planned the Christmas dinner, excited at the thought that May would be joining them – work at the hospital permitting.
It was May’s last time doing the night shift at the factory before starting at the hospital tomorrow. At present she was at the early showing at the cinema of For Whom the Bell Tolls with Alec Hudson. Ironing the shirt sleeve and making sure she didn’t press a crease up the side, Etty said a silent prayer: Please God let the lass make a fresh start. Please let going out with Alec be just the beginning. For despite what May hoped, there was no future with Billy – he’d told Etty so the last time they’d met.
At the time, Billy was expecting to be posted abroad and he had asked Etty if she would wait for him. By then, she’d seen through him and realised what a two-timing scoundrel he was. She told him about Trevor and that her heart belonged to him. Billy was aghast that Trevor knew she was carrying another man’s child and that he still wanted to marry her.
‘Trevor is the most trustworthy, upstanding man,’ Etty had told him proudly. She still couldn’t believe her luck that despite everything Trevor still loved her. She’d promised herself that she’d make it up to him and be the best wife a man could have.
Mechanically, Etty put the flat iron on its heel. Satisfied with the shirt, she hung it over the back of a chair.
She glanced at the little artificial Christmas tree on the tea trolley, lodged in a bucket filled with coal to secure its base and surrounded with festive paper. Baubles, like everything else, were in short supply so Trevor had made little wooden toys – a snowman, Santa Claus, a teddy bear – all meticulously painted, which hung on the branches.
When Dorothy died, Trevor hadn’t balked when Etty said she wanted them to raise her sister’s baby as their own. And not once, even in an argument, had he reminded Etty of her past, which had already resulted in him bringing up another man’s child. He had two children and neither one his own, but Etty would swear Trevor had convinced himself Norma was his flesh and blood. One day, she prayed, she’d bear him a son but so far, and it certainly wasn’t for the want of trying, they’d had no luck.
As she took the ironing cloth off the table and put the folded clothes on a chair, thoughts of Dorothy filled Etty’s mind and the despair of losing a beloved sister dragged at her heart. She shook her head impatiently. She wasn’t the only one suffering in this war. Other women had lost loved ones, killed in action or in a bombing raid – and they’d feel their loss this Christmas too. It didn’t do to be maudlin or wallow in bitterness; best to buck up and get on with the job of living.
Etty counted her blessings. She had the dearest husband, two gorgeous kiddies, and a home – and, of course, May, who was loyal to a fault and the best friend anyone could wish for. A pang of remorse stabbed Etty at the secret she carried but could never voice. Her stomach lurched at the thought of the consequences if the truth was ever revealed.
She went into the scullery and began gathering the ingredients to make a Christm
as pudding. She yawned; it had been a long day and she was at her beam end. The pudding could wait. With the girls asleep, and Trevor no longer snoring, the peace was bliss. Time for a cuppa and catch up with last night’s Gazette.
Minutes later, supine on the couch, cup of hot tea in one hand, Etty turned the pages of the newspaper with the other.
She read an article about a woman who had heard a broadcast message from her serviceman husband on the Greetings from East Africa programme. How thrilling for her, Etty thought. She then scoured the ‘articles for sale’ column and then the births, deaths and marriages.
A name in the deaths column made her heart skip a beat. She stiffened; it couldn’t be…
Her stomach clenched in fear, Etty checked the list again.
It was.
* * *
The dark enveloped May as she came out of the Westoe Picture House – known locally as the Chi because of its location in Chichester Road. Deciding to walk home as it was only a few stops, May linked arms with Alec for security, nervous walking in the blackout.
Alec, gentleman that he was, appeared to understand and made sure he walked on the outside and kept far away from the kerb.
‘It’s a bugger to see when there’s no moon shining,’ he grumbled. ‘I’m gonna switch on me torch.’
A dim light appeared on the ground.
He patted her arm. ‘You’re safe with me.’
A motor car crawled by on the road.
‘Where exactly is this school of yours in Dunlop Road?’ he asked.
May explained where it was.
‘Will you get time off at Christmas?’
‘I don’t know yet. All I do know is I’ll work regular hours in school and will finish at five. All that will change if I move into the hospital nurses’ home when I’ll work shifts.’
Our Last Goodbye: An absolutely gripping and emotional World War 2 historical novel Page 7