Christmas with the Shipyard Girls

by Nancy Revell

  Polly gave a sigh of relief. Helen’s doctor friend must have read her mind.

  ‘Can I make a suggestion?’ He smiled.

  Polly looked up and nodded. A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. She brushed it away quickly.

  ‘I think you should go home and get your head down for a few hours at least. Tommy will need to rest, so why don’t you come back this afternoon? I should be about, so you can come and grab me if needs be.’

  Polly felt like hugging the man sitting opposite her. He seemed so nice. Too nice to be Helen’s latest squeeze. Perhaps Bel was right and they were just friends.

  ‘Actually,’ Dr Parker said, seeing the familiar look of exhaustion he saw on the faces of those who’d been up all night with loved ones, ‘I need some supplies picking up from the Royal in town. You could cadge a lift home if you want?’

  Polly’s face lit up.

  ‘Oh yes, please. That would be great.’

  The pair left the cafeteria and started walking down a long corridor towards the rear of the hospital.

  ‘Was everyone all right after I left?’ Polly asked.

  ‘Yes, yes, all things considered.’

  Dr Parker turned right and they walked down another windowless corridor.

  ‘I sent Gloria and Martha off to the hospital to get checked over. I gave orders that they were both to be kept in for at least one night – if not more. Gloria’s going to have to rest that leg of hers and make sure it doesn’t get infected. And Martha took quite a bash on the back of her head. She seems all right, but best to err on the side of caution. Just in case.’

  ‘I can’t believe they made it out in one piece,’ Polly said, recalling the bombed building collapsing in a cloud of brick dust.

  ‘I know,’ Dr Parker said.

  ‘Especially Helen. She barely had a mark on her,’ Polly said, walking quickly to keep up with Dr Parker’s long strides.

  ‘I know. She’s one very fortunate woman,’ Dr Parker agreed, thinking of Helen, her arm around Gloria; both of them standing amidst the ruins, having just escaped death by a hair’s breadth.

  ‘And very brave,’ Polly added.

  Dr Parker nodded his agreement as they turned down another corridor.

  ‘You know,’ Polly said, ‘the only thing she was bothered about when I was helping her to the ambulance was Hope – and making sure she was all right.’ Polly shook her head. ‘She wouldn’t rest until she saw her with her own eyes.’

  Dr Parker walked on quietly for a moment before he suddenly burst out laughing.

  ‘And that ginger moggy!’

  The image of Helen sitting on the back step of the ambulance, Hope snuggled up in her lap and a marmalade-coloured tomcat weaving itself around her legs, would stay with him for ever.

  ‘It wouldn’t leave Helen alone, would it?’ Polly chuckled.

  ‘Mind you, it did well to give Gloria a wide berth. I think it might have lost the rest of its nine lives if she’d got her hands on it.’

  They both walked in silence, thinking about Gloria’s old friend Mrs Crabtree, who had died trying to save her beloved pet.

  ‘The flea-bitten thing followed Helen and Hope all the way back to Gloria’s.’

  Dr Parker pushed open a double set of swing doors. Seeing the puzzled look on Polly’s face, he explained, ‘Helen’s looking after Hope until Gloria’s discharged.’

  ‘Oh,’ Polly said, still a little surprised. ‘I just presumed Bel would have taken her back to ours. But I guess Hope is Helen’s sister.’ Polly hesitated. ‘None of us realised that Helen had become so close to Hope … and Gloria.’

  Dr Parker nodded, knowing it was wise not to say any more. The dramatic events of yesterday had brought many secrets out into the open, the repercussions of which would only just be starting to be felt.

  Dr Parker opened a door and the two stepped out into the backyard.

  ‘Mr Sullivan!’ he shouted over to an old man who was washing down one of the ambulances. ‘Can you pick up some supplies from the Royal for me – and drop this young lady off in town while you’re at it, please?’

  The old man chucked the rest of the water over the bonnet and put the empty bucket down by the outdoor tap.

  ‘You got a list for me, Doc?’ the old man asked as he opened the passenger door for Polly.

  ‘Just the usual.’ Dr Parker cocked his head towards Polly.

  Mr Sullivan looked momentarily perplexed before he nodded his understanding and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  ‘Thank you, Dr Parker.’ Polly leant out the window.

  ‘What for? I’ve not done anything.’

  ‘Oh yes you have,’ she shouted back. ‘You’ve kept my Tommy alive!’

  Dr Parker stood and waved as the ambulance drove off.

  ‘No, my dear,’ he said to the empty yard. ‘It was you who kept him alive. Of that I have no doubt.’

  Chapter Four

  ‘There you are,’ Helen cooed as she pulled Hope’s little winter coat together at the front and started to do up the buttons.

  Hope immediately objected and started pulling the coat open. ‘Noo!’

  ‘All right, all right,’ Helen soothed. ‘Come on then, time to go.’

  Hope let out an excited laugh as Helen hoisted her onto her hip and stepped out of the flat. Shutting the door, she pocketed the front-door key and carried Hope up the stone steps.

  ‘Shoo! Go away!’ Helen waved her free hand at Mrs Crabtree’s ginger cat, which was sitting halfway up the steps. ‘Go on, shoo!’

  The cat turned and sprang up the rest of the steps, disappearing from view.

  At the top, Helen saw an old man in a shabby green cardigan standing by the grey Silver Cross pram she had hauled up the stairs a few minutes earlier.

  ‘Can I help you?’ Helen asked sharply.

  ‘Where’s Gloria?’ the old man asked, his face full of worry. ‘Is she all right?’ As he spoke, his eyes kept flicking to Hope. ‘She didn’t make it to the shelter last night.’

  ‘Ah, Mr Brown,’ Helen said. ‘You’re Gloria’s landlord?’

  ‘Well, ex-landlord,’ Mr Brown corrected.

  ‘Oh.’ Helen was sure Gloria had told her that the old man who lived above her owned the flats.

  ‘Is she all right?’ Mr Brown asked. Now it was the old man’s turn to sound sharp.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Helen reassured. ‘Well, yes and no.’ She moved Hope onto her other hip. She didn’t feel like she had a bean of energy this morning. ‘She’s up at the Royal. She got trapped under a load of rubble and has a nasty gash on her leg.’

  ‘Goodness me.’ Mr Brown started to rub his hands together anxiously. ‘But she’s going to be all right?’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Helen again reassured. ‘I think they’ll want to keep her in for another night, though.’ Helen jigged Hope up and playfully touched her nose, making her giggle. ‘So, I’ve volunteered to look after Hope until she’s back.’

  ‘Well, just give me a knock if I can help.’ The old man looked at Hope and stroked her cheek with an arthritic hand.

  ‘Do you think Gloria will be up for visitors?’ he asked as Helen put Hope in the pram.

  ‘I’m sure she’d love to see you, Mr Brown,’ Helen said, taking the brake off the Silver Cross.

  The old man looked at Hope, her thick black hair brushed neatly into place, and then at the young woman, her own thick black hair pulled back into a ponytail.

  ‘If you do go to see Gloria, Mr Brown, would you please tell her I’ll come and see her with Hope after work.’ It was a command more than a request.

  And with that Helen bumped the pram down the kerb and hurried across the road.

  Turning into Tatham Street, Helen took a sharp intake of breath. It was even worse than she remembered. The devastation from last night was shocking and seemed all the more surreal in the stillness of the early morning. There was now just the one fire engine and a lone St John’s ambulance, but there were still plenty of people diggi
ng about in the rubble. Helen saw one young woman near the bottom of the street crying inconsolably. She was clinging to what looked like a grey teddy bear and rocking back and forth. Another woman had her arms around her, trying, in vain, to offer comfort.

  Helen looked at Hope, sitting up, alert, staring about her, her own cuddly toy clasped in her pudgy little hands.

  ‘There but for the grace of God go I.’ She mumbled the heartfelt words under her breath. Never before had she been so thankful to a God she rarely bothered with.

  Stopping outside number 34, Helen was glad she didn’t have to go any further down the road where lives had been taken and bodies were still buried.

  She knocked on the front door.

  Within a matter of seconds, the door was flung open.

  ‘Ah, ’tis Helen, isn’t it?’ Agnes said.

  Helen caught the Irish brogue.

  ‘And our favourite little girl, Hope!’ As soon as the words were out, Agnes felt a tug on her skirt and looked down to see Lucille’s face scowling up at her.

  ‘And this one,’ she bent down and heaved her granddaughter up and onto her hip, ‘is our favourite big girl.’ She gave Helen a slightly exasperated look and tilted her head for her to follow her into the house.

  Helen stood for a moment. Another surreal moment to add to the many of these past twelve hours. It was hard to believe that she was standing on the threshold of the home of the woman she had once hated. Never mind arriving with Hope.

  ‘Just leave the pram in the hallway,’ Agnes said, putting Lucille back down. The little girl immediately ran excitedly back into the kitchen.

  ‘Come in ’n meet everyone,’ Agnes said. ‘Do yer want a cup of tea?’

  ‘No, thank you, Mrs Elliot,’ Helen said, getting Hope out of the pram. ‘I’ve got to go home and change before I go into work, so I’ll not stay long. You don’t mind having Hope for the day, do you?’

  As Helen walked into the kitchen with Hope clinging to her like a koala bear, she saw Bel coming out of the scullery.

  ‘Of course she doesn’t!’ Bel put her hands out to take Hope, trying not to show her surprise at seeing Helen looking decidedly down-at-heel. She had no make-up on, her hair was scraped back into a ponytail, and she was wearing Gloria’s oversized and rather frumpy brown winter coat.

  As Bel gently eased Hope away from her, Helen suddenly felt loath to let the little girl go.

  ‘I know you’re in a dash,’ Bel said, finally managing to pull Hope away from her big sister, ‘but let me quickly introduce you to the clan.’

  Bel turned to Joe, who was still wearing his Home Guard uniform.

  ‘This is my husband, Joe.’

  Helen guessed he had been out all night helping the wardens as he was filthy and looked shattered. She saw pain flash across his face as he used his walking stick to push himself up out of his chair.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Joe,’ Helen said, shaking his hand.

  ‘Aye, you too,’ Joe said. ‘Bel tells me you did a brave thing last night?’

  Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Helen didn’t know what to say.

  The sound of a loud hacking cough saved her from having to answer.

  ‘Ahh,’ Bel said. ‘And this is my ma … Pearl Hardwick.’

  Helen looked round and moved aside to allow past a skinny, bottle-blonde, middle-aged woman wearing a faded pink polyester nightgown.

  ‘Eee, it’s like Clapham Junction in here this morning!’ Pearl let out a cackle of laughter as she hurried towards the back door for her first smoke of the morning.

  ‘This is Helen Crawford, Ma.’

  Pearl immediately stopped in her tracks and turned around.

  ‘So,’ she scrutinised Helen, ‘you’re the Havelock girl?’

  Helen’s shock at realising that this common-as-muck woman was, in fact, Bel’s mother was immediately replaced by a feeling of unease.

  ‘Well, Havelock granddaughter, I guess,’ Helen said.

  ‘The girl’s Jack’s lass!’

  Helen turned around to see Arthur hobbling along the hallway. He was wearing his dark grey woollen suit and tartan slippers. There was a dog at either side of him.

  ‘Lovely to see yer, pet.’ Arthur took her hands in his own and squeezed them. Both dogs started sniffing at Helen’s feet. Agnes looked at Tramp and Pup and then back up at Arthur.

  ‘They’ll be wanting to sleep in your room every night now, mark my words.’ Agnes pursed her lips.

  ‘Ah, the poor things were shaking like leaves when we got back last night.’ Arthur bent down slowly and gave the older of the two a pat.

  ‘I think we all were,’ Agnes jibed.

  Arthur straightened himself up and looked at Helen.

  ‘Yer da will be as proud as punch to hear what yer did last night.’ As he spoke, he became breathless and put his hand on the kitchen table. Agnes bustled over and guided him to his armchair by the range.

  The old man let out a puff of air.

  ‘Don’t know what came over me there?’ Arthur looked up at Agnes.

  ‘Too much excitement, I reckon,’ she said, pouring a cup of tea and handing it to him.

  ‘Have you been to see Tommy yet?’ Helen asked.

  Everyone looked at Helen and then at Arthur.

  Although they all knew that Arthur had known Helen from when she was small, having worked with her father, it still seemed strange to see their familiarity with each other.

  ‘Not yet, pet, thought I’d wait till Polly came back. Give the two o’ them a bit o’ time on their own.’

  Helen suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment as she had a flash recall of the previous evening when she had declared her undying love to Tommy. She must have come across as some love-struck imbecile. God knows what John must have thought.

  ‘Well,’ Helen said, quickly scratching the scene from her mind, ‘you couldn’t ask for him to be in better hands. He’s got a brilliant doctor looking after him. Dr Parker. Just ask to see him when you do go up there and he’ll tell you everything you need to know.’

  As she spoke, Helen felt her heart lift. She resolved to call John as soon as she got to work.

  ‘Well, I’d better get going.’ Helen leant towards Hope, who was now balanced on Bel’s hip. She had been surprisingly quiet during the introductions.

  ‘You be good.’ She put her hands around Hope’s face and kissed her nose.

  ‘’Eeeelen!’ Hope suddenly started to cry. She reached out for her big sister.

  Helen looked at Bel and Agnes.

  ‘She’ll be fine.’ Agnes guided Helen out of the kitchen and into the hallway. ‘It’ll do her good to be with the other children today. Keep to her routine.’

  Helen nodded. ‘Yes, you’re right, Mrs Elliot.’

  ‘Did she sleep all right last night?’ Agnes asked as she went to open the door.

  ‘Actually, she did. Soundly.’ Helen smiled. ‘But she was totally exhausted.’

  ‘Well, ’tis a good sign. Especially after what happened, and with her mam being gone ’n all that. When something like this happens – ’ Agnes stepped out onto the pavement and looked at the bomb site further down the street ‘ – it’s good to keep some semblance of normality. As much as possible anyways.’

  ‘Well, thank you for looking after her, Mrs Elliot. I’ll come and pick her up after work. It’ll be around six. Is that all right?’

  ‘Course it is, hinny.’ Agnes looked at the dark rings under Helen’s eyes. ‘And you watch yerself today. It’s not just the bairn who’s had a bit of a shock.’

  When Helen reached the top of Tatham Street she turned left and walked back along Borough Road. As she passed the flat, she saw Mrs Crabtree’s cat back in its original spot on the middle step.

  ‘You might have survived last night,’ Helen said out loud, ‘but I don’t rate your chances if Gloria finds you here when she gets back.’

  As she rounded the corner onto Fawcett Street, Helen saw the cordoned-off bomb site where the town
’s most salubrious department store had once stood. Her home town was slowly but surely being razed to the ground.

  She had heard mutterings that there had been at least twelve killed.

  She just counted her blessings that Gloria and Hope weren’t part of that death toll.

  As soon as she got home, Helen went straight upstairs to her room. It had already gone seven. If she hurried, she mightn’t be too late for work.

  Passing her mother’s bedroom, she heard her snoring and knew that she would have probably spent last night’s air raid in the basement of the Grand with her friend Amelia and the latest from the Admiralty to be billeted at the hotel. She’d have returned home before midnight and had a nightcap, chased down with a couple of her sleeping pills. Helen could probably stand outside her door banging on a drum right now and her mother wouldn’t stir.

  Once in her own room, Helen quickly changed out of her dirty red dress, which amazingly had survived the previous evening’s drama without suffering a nick. Having bathed at Gloria’s last night, she stepped straight into a black dress that had been made to measure by the young woman at the Maison Nouvelle.

  She felt wearing black would be appropriate, knowing the town would be in unofficial mourning as the full extent of the air raid became public knowledge.

  Sitting down at her dressing table and seeing her reflection, Helen baulked.

  She looked dreadful.

  She reached for her Max Factor Pan-Cake foundation and got to work.

  Five minutes later the face looking back at her in the mirror was transformed.

  After pinning her hair back into victory rolls, she packed a few essentials for another night at Gloria’s, then hurried back downstairs and out the front door.

  There was no need to leave her mother a message to tell her she wouldn’t be back this evening. She’d clearly not noticed she hadn’t been back last night, despite the fact there’d been an air raid. At least she was spared the hassle of having to lie. God, she could just imagine the look on her mother’s face if she knew where she’d really been – and, moreover, with whom.