Christmas with the Shipyard Girls

by Nancy Revell

‘Did Marjorie and Charlie enjoy their tour of the yard?’ Dorothy asked.

  ‘Yes, it was just a quick one, though,’ Rosie said. ‘I got Hannah and Olly to show them around the drawing room and up in the mould loft.’

  ‘Good thinking, miss. That Marjorie looked like she might be blown out to sea. There’s nothing to her.’

  Rosie laughed. That had been part of the reason she had kept them indoors as much as possible. The other being that she had her doubts whether Marjorie’s parents really had agreed to her being there.

  ‘You going to meet up with them now?’ Dorothy asked.

  ‘I said I’d treat them to some tea at Vera’s before Marjorie got the train back to Newcastle.’

  ‘She dinnit sound like she’s a Geordie, miss,’ Angie said.

  ‘I think she’s been away from home most of her life. At boarding school.’ Rosie smiled; there was no mistaking where Angie had been born and brought up.

  ‘Yer ganna introduce her to Vera, miss?’ Angie sounded concerned. Vera was known for being rather brusque and somewhat prickly, especially with those she didn’t know.

  ‘Rina’s working today,’ Rosie said. ‘And Hannah and Olly are meeting us there as well.’

  ‘Ah, they’ll be all reet then, miss,’ Angie said.

  ‘It’ll be good for Hannah too. Might take her mind off things for a little while,’ Dorothy said.

  ‘Exactly,’ Rosie agreed.

  They walked down to the ferry.

  ‘You’ve still got George’s uniform safe and sound in the flat, haven’t you?’ Rosie asked.

  ‘Of course, miss,’ Angie said.

  ‘Still in its dry-cleaner’s bag, miss,’ Dorothy said. ‘Any particular reason you’re asking?’

  Rosie sighed wearily.

  ‘Oh, Lily reckons she’s going to persuade George to wear his uniform for their wedding. I personally think this is one argument she’s not going to win.’

  ‘Ahh,’ Dorothy and Angie said in unison.

  They didn’t say so, but they didn’t rate Lily’s chances of success very high either.

  They’d seen the state of George’s uniform when they’d found it on the day they’d moved into his flat. It had been stuffed up in the attic. Out of sight and out of mind. It certainly didn’t look like it was something their landlord ever wanted to see again – never mind get married in.

  Chapter Thirty

  Dr Parker gently rapped on the open door to Helen’s office. As he did so, he saw a ginger blur shoot past him and out into the main office.

  ‘All work and no play …’ He let his voice trail off as he watched Helen look up from a pile of order forms on her desk. The rush of adrenaline that hit him was no surprise. He’d accepted that was how it was whenever he saw Helen. Just like he had accepted that the feelings he had for this woman would never be reciprocated.

  Not as long as her love for Tommy dominated her heart.

  ‘Oh, is it that time already?’ Helen looked at her watch before raising her sparkling emerald eyes to the man who had become her closest friend.

  ‘It is indeed,’ Dr Parker said, getting Helen’s coat from the back of the door and holding it out for her. ‘And there’s no time to be wasted if we’re to make it to our favourite eatery before it shuts.’

  Helen placed a Hartleys glass paperweight on top of the documents she had been checking. ‘Well then, I guess these can wait until tomorrow.’ She manoeuvred herself around the desk. Putting her arms through the sleeves of her coat, she sensed John’s presence close behind her. For the briefest of moments, she felt like taking a tiny step backwards and relaxing her body into his outstretched arms.

  As soon as the thought entered her mind, though, she gently pushed it away. She had got used to these imaginings. They were not uncommon. She had learnt to accept them for what they were. Flights of fantasy. She knew John could never be anything more than a friend. How could he, after what he knew about her? As her mother liked to tell her whenever she got the chance, she was ‘soiled goods’.

  Strangely enough, Helen thought as they made their way out of the main building, it didn’t bother her. She would trade the feel of John’s arms around her, even the touch of his lips on hers, for the ease of their companionship.

  Besides, romantic love had hardly brought her happiness.

  ‘So, tell me about your day,’ Dr Parker said.

  ‘Well,’ Helen said, after a deep intake of breath, ‘you’ll be pleased to know I was very brave and went to see everyone in the canteen.’

  Dr Parker turned to look at her. She had tied a scarf around her head in an effort to save her perfect victory rolls from being sabotaged by the winds. She looked, as always, incredibly glamorous.

  ‘Very brave,’ he said with a smile. For someone so outwardly confident, it always amazed him that inwardly Helen was so insecure.

  ‘And did it all go well?’

  ‘Yes,’ Helen nodded, linking his arm and holding the ends of her scarf to ensure it did not blow away as they walked up the embankment to Dame Dorothy Street. ‘I wasn’t exactly sitting around having a good gossip with them all, but I did thank them for working so hard.’

  ‘And were they all nice to you?’ Dr Parker couldn’t help feeling protective of Helen. He knew the women had been overwhelmed with emotion the night of the air raid, and that their declaration of a steadfast and long-lasting friendship might easily become a distant memory as life resumed some semblance of normality.

  ‘Yes, they were.’ Helen was quiet for a moment as they reached the top of the road and turned right. ‘I know they’ll always be nice to me because of what I did,’ she mused.

  ‘What you “did” – meaning risking your life for Gloria and Hope?’ Dr Parker’s question was rhetorical. Helen always seemed to trivialise her actions on that fateful night.

  ‘Mmm,’ Helen said. ‘But one day I hope they’ll be nice to me because they like me – not because they feel like they owe me, if that makes sense.’

  Dr Parker nodded.

  ‘Yes, it does, perfect sense. And I’m sure that day will come when they realise that you are a lovely person, as well as a brave one.’

  Helen turned her head to the right and looked across the river.

  ‘Oh, John, I think you’re a little biased,’ she said sadly, thinking of Hannah. ‘I think we both know that I haven’t exactly been a “lovely person” to date.’

  Dr Parker knew by Helen’s tone that there was something bothering her.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

  Helen looked at him and thought how wonderful it must be to have a clear conscience. To be a genuinely good person.

  ‘I still feel so guilty about Hannah,’ she said as they walked along Harbour View.

  ‘Why is your guilt stronger today?’ he asked. ‘Has something happened?’

  Helen was quiet for a moment as she looked down into the darkness of the north dock.

  ‘I think something might have happened – judging by the terribly woeful look on Hannah’s face this afternoon. She’d obviously been crying. I would have liked to ask her what was wrong, but I don’t feel like I know her well enough to start prying into her personal life.’

  ‘The poor girl’s probably worried sick about her mother and father,’ Dr Parker said. ‘There’s more and more coming out about what’s really happening over there.’

  ‘What have you heard?’ Helen asked. She knew John spent his spare time reading just about any and every newspaper he could get his hands on.

  ‘There was an article in the Guardian recently,’ he said, his face becoming serious. ‘It was a report on a meeting that happened at the Royal Albert Hall. Well, it was more a protest than a meeting as such – about the Nazi persecution of the Jews.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ Helen said. ‘What did it say?’

  ‘It would seem that the Archbishop of Canterbury didn’t beat about the bush. Said we are seeing – what were the words he used? That’s it, an “eruption of evil”. That th
ere’s been nothing like it for centuries, and that what’s happening in Europe is so horrible we are refusing to accept it.’ He huffed. ‘That’s if we’re even aware of what’s going on.’

  Helen guided John over to the railings.

  ‘And did he say what is happening over there?’ Helen asked. ‘It all seems very vague.’

  ‘Well, Hitler initially claimed to be deporting Jewish refugees for labour, and that only men of working age were needed, then it was women – and now children are being deported. From two years old up.’

  Helen felt a shiver go down her back as she thought of Hope.

  ‘The fear,’ Dr Parker said, ‘is that a large proportion of those deported are destined for camps where thousands of Jews have already perished. The Archbishop didn’t beat about the bush and said it’s clear Hitler is hell-bent on “exterminating the Jewish people”.’

  ‘God!’ Helen felt her anger shoot to the surface. ‘Exterminating. How can you want to exterminate people just because of their religion? Their culture?’

  Dr Parker looked down at Helen’s outraged face, which mirrored his own feelings.

  ‘So, the chances are,’ Helen said, ‘Hannah’s parents might well have been sent to one of these camps?’ Her guilt came to the fore again, followed by a need to make amends one day.

  If not for Hannah’s sake, then for her own.

  ‘So, what’s it like, living with the Major?’ Polly asked as she leant across their table and gave Tommy a kiss.

  ‘Better than sharing a ward with half a dozen blokes – and soldiers at that!’ Tommy laughed. ‘Actually, the Major has said he would love to see his flat graced by the presence of a woman – whether he is there or not.’ Tommy gave Polly a mischievous smile.

  ‘In other words,’ Polly said, ‘he’s happy for me to be there unchaperoned?’

  Tommy nodded enthusiastically.

  ‘Exactly.’

  He took a sip of his tea.

  ‘And I do believe he’s going out tonight with Joe ’n the rest of his Home Guard squad. So, would the future Mrs Watts like to come back ’n drink yet more tea at my new digs?’

  Polly made a face, as though deciding whether this was something she would like to do or not, before breaking into a wide smile.

  ‘I think the “future Mrs Watts” would love to see your new digs and drink yet more tea.’

  This time it was Tommy who leant across to give Polly a kiss.

  ‘Yer know how much I love yer, don’t you?’ he said.

  Polly nodded and kissed him back.

  They parted just as the door of the café opened and a gust of cold air caused the half-dozen or so customers, including Tommy and Polly, to look at the culprits.

  ‘Oh!’ Polly couldn’t help herself exclaim in surprise. ‘Helen!’

  ‘Polly!’ Helen was also taken aback to see Polly and Tommy sitting at what was her and Dr Parker’s favourite table.

  The two women looked at each other.

  ‘Honestly,’ Helen said. ‘As if you don’t see enough of me at work.’

  ‘And,’ Tommy chuckled, ‘as if I’ve not seen enough of this man over the past four weeks!’

  Dr Parker walked over to where Polly and Tommy were sitting by the window, which would have given views out to the North Sea had the blackout blinds not been pulled down. He stretched out his hand and shook Tommy’s by way of a greeting and tipped an imaginary hat to Polly.

  ‘Have a seat!’ Tommy said, pulling out the empty seat next to his. Polly smiled at Helen and did the same with the seat next to her. As Helen took off her scarf and coat before sitting down, Polly became conscious of her dirty overalls and that her hair was in need of a good brush. Why did she always feel inferior around Helen?

  ‘So …’ Dr Parker said, trying to keep his face from showing his disappointment that the few spare hours he had managed to get off, and which he had hoped to have spent solely with Helen, now looked as though they would be sacrificed to being sociable. ‘I see my instructions to rest and recuperate have gone by the wayside?’

  Dr Parker looked at Tommy and thought he still looked too pale and undernourished. He should never have agreed to discharge him. Although, who was he kidding? Tommy would have left the Ryhope with or without his permission.

  ‘Tommy, it’s lovely to see you,’ Helen said. She had been dreading this moment. Had he remembered? She felt herself flush with a mix of humiliation and embarrassment as she recalled those few moments of insanity when she had believed Tommy had wanted her, and when she had thought she wanted him.

  The irony, she realised, was that neither was true.

  Looking at Tommy now, her heart went out to him, not with love, but sympathy. He looked terrible. She knew why John hadn’t wanted to discharge him. Instinctively she went to squeeze his hand resting on the tabletop, but quickly retracted it.

  It did not go unnoticed by either Dr Parker or Polly.

  ‘I’m so sorry I’ve not been in to visit you while you’ve been in hospital,’ Helen said guiltily, trying her hardest to think of an excuse.

  ‘Dinnit be daft,’ Tommy said. ‘You’ve got better things to be doing with yer time. Not that you’ve got much time for yerself, by the sounds of it. Pol tells me you’re going full steam ahead to get Brutus down the ways?’

  Helen nodded. She was glad the ice had been broken and that they were on familiar territory.

  ‘Another fresh pot, please,’ she said, seeing the waitress coming over to them. As she turned back to the table, her face suddenly lit up.

  ‘Oh John, I forgot to tell you the good news.’

  She looked at Polly and then at Tommy – then back at Dr Parker.

  ‘They’ve set a date.’

  Helen laughed on seeing the puzzled look on John’s face.

  ‘For their wedding. Scatterbrain!’

  ‘Really? When?’ Dr Parker asked. His mind felt all over the place. Skirting between concerns about Tommy’s health and his early discharge, and the fact that this was the first time he had seen Helen with Tommy since the day at the hospital when he’d realised she was still very much in love with a man she couldn’t have.

  ‘Saturday the nineteenth,’ Polly said, taking hold of Tommy’s hand across the table.

  ‘Of December?’ Dr Parker asked.

  ‘A day after we launch Brutus,’ Helen said. ‘How’s that for timing?’

  Dr Parker looked at Helen. There was no resentment in her voice whatsoever. Helen was not only beautiful, but also a very good actress.

  ‘So, obviously you’re both invited,’ Polly said, looking at Tommy for confirmation and then back at Helen and John.

  ‘Aye, that goes without saying,’ Tommy nodded.

  ‘Oh, thank you, Polly,’ Helen said, glancing at John. ‘We’d love to come, wouldn’t we?’

  ‘Of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world!’ Dr Parker said, smiling at the happy couple and at Helen. Again, she’d done a grand job of sounding totally sincere.

  ‘Well, we better get ourselves off now,’ Polly said, and Tommy immediately got up and grabbed his leather motorcycle jacket off the back of the chair.

  ‘Aye, doctor’s orders,’ he chuckled. ‘Lots of rest and early nights.’

  ‘Tommy, the day you follow an order, I’ll eat my hat.’

  The two men shook hands.

  ‘And Polly, please just say if I can do anything to help with the wedding,’ Helen said. ‘Or if you need time off? It’s not every day you get married.’

  Helen knew about Polly spending Tommy’s gratuity pay. Gloria had told her. She would have loved to give them some money for the wedding, but knew they’d be affronted by the very suggestion.

  ‘And send my regards to yer dad, Helen. Tell him the Scots have had their pound of flesh. We need him back here now.’

  Helen laughed.

  God, if only he knew. Her father would not be coming back to the north-east any time soon. Not as long as her mother was living and breathing.

 
‘I will,’ Helen said as she and Dr Parker said their goodbyes and watched Polly and Tommy leave the café.

  ‘Well, that’s the last place I’d have expected to see Helen,’ Tommy chuckled as he pulled on his jacket.

  ‘Me too,’ Polly said.

  ‘Looks like the Bungalow Café’s not just our favourite place for a date.’ Tommy smiled as he put his arm around Polly and pulled her close.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think they’re courting,’ Polly said. ‘I think they’re just friends. Even Gloria says so, and she should know.’

  Tommy laughed. ‘Just friends, eh?’

  ‘You don’t think so?’ Polly asked, curious.

  ‘Well, put it this way,’ Tommy said, ‘I don’t know any red-blooded man who would troop all the way over from Ryhope during his few precious hours off to take a mere friend fer a cup of tea in a little café on the other side of the water. Helen might well see the good doctor as just a friend, but I’d bet Dr Parker’s intentions are anything but chaste.’

  Polly looked at Tommy, shocked.

  ‘Thomas Watts,’ she said, ‘these days a man and a woman can be just friends, you know. I believe the word is “platonic”.’

  Tommy chuckled.

  ‘Not when the woman looks like Helen.’

  Polly felt a wounding stab of pure, unadulterated jealousy. ‘I suppose she must be rather irresistible to all men.’ She looked at Tommy for his reaction.

  A wide smile immediately spread across Tommy’s face.

  ‘Not “all”,’ he said. ‘This man’s only got eyes for one woman and she’s right here next to him.’

  Polly pushed the green-eyed monster away.

  ‘Remember our first date?’ Tommy said as they reached the bus stop. He pulled Polly close and kissed her.

  ‘How can I forget?’ Polly smiled at the memory. ‘You came up to me after work and asked if you could give me a ride home. I was so nervous because I’d never been on the back of a motorbike before.’

  Tommy laughed.

  ‘Not that it showed. You climbed on as though you’d done it a thousand times.’

  He bent his head and kissed her.

  ‘We rode all the way to Whitburn and back and all I could think of was the feel of your arms around my waist,’ Tommy said, his mind drifting back in time.