by Nancy Revell
‘Eee, we didn’t know if you’d be in,’ Martha said.
‘Bel told us you’d got stranded in Whitby,’ Gloria said.
‘Yeah, right. Stranded my foot!’ Dorothy said, righting her chair and sitting back down.
‘As if we believe that,’ Angie chipped in.
‘Not everyone’s like you two,’ Gloria batted back.
Polly laughed at the women’s banter. She sat down and poured herself a cuppa from the pot in the middle of the table.
‘We really did get stranded there,’ Polly said. ‘The last train got cancelled.’
‘Well, we’ll believe you—’ Dorothy said.
‘—thousands wouldn’t!’ Angie chimed in.
‘Did you have a nice time?’ Rosie asked.
‘Yes, we did,’ Polly said, unable to stop herself blushing.
‘Eee, Pol, yer’ve gone all red.’ Angie nudged Dorothy.
‘Well, that’s great to hear,’ Rosie said. ‘Now, I hope you don’t mind us interfering in your wedding plans, but—’
‘But if you do, it’s tough, because we’ve interfered!’ Dorothy couldn’t stop herself.
Polly looked at the women, confusion on her face.
‘You know how you said about getting a second-hand wedding dress?’ Rosie asked.
‘Or borrowing one,’ Angie said.
‘Yes,’ Polly said, forcing herself to sound enthusiastic. ‘I was going to have a look this weekend. Beryl was also going to get her dress down from the attic and I was going to see if it would be any good.’
‘So we heard,’ said Rosie. There had been a near riot when Bel had told them of Polly’s plan. Much as they all liked Beryl, none of them held out much hope that her dress would be anywhere near decent, even in the unlikely event that it fitted.
‘Well, we all decided – and by we I mean this motley crew.’ She looked around at her squad. ‘And, of course, Hannah. And Charlie.’ Rosie rolled her eyes at the mention of her sister. ‘And Bel and Marie-Anne. And Helen too. We all decided that we’d pool our resources and give you a joint wedding present. And that our wedding present to you would be—’
‘—your wedding dress!’ Dorothy and Angie almost shouted in unison.
Polly’s face lit up.
‘Really?’
‘We’ve all pooled our clothing coupons,’ Rosie continued, ‘and handed them over to Kate so that she can make you a dress. Maison Nouvelle style.’
Polly’s eyes were growing wider by the second.
‘But as time is of the essence, Kate needs to get started as soon as possible,’ Gloria explained.
‘So,’ Martha chipped in. ‘You’re going to get measured up today.’
‘Today?’ Polly asked, trying to take in what she was being told.
‘Kate’s coming here,’ Rosie said. ‘She should be arriving any minute.’
‘Oh, my goodness!’ Polly said, shocked. ‘I can’t believe it. Kate’s going to make my dress? And you’re all paying for it?’
They all nodded.
Tears welled in Polly’s eyes.
‘Are you sure? I mean, you all need your coupons for yourselves?’ She looked at Dorothy and Angie. She knew this was a massive sacrifice for them in particular. They were forever complaining about not having anything to wear.
‘The hours we’re working at the moment,’ Angie said, deadpan, ‘we’ve no need fer them. All we ever wear these days is our overalls. And we dinnit need coupons fer them.’
‘Agreed,’ Dorothy said. ‘Besides, we couldn’t bear for you to walk down the aisle in something wretched and second-hand. Or worse still, Beryl’s wedding dress. We’re really doing this for ourselves, aren’t we?’
The women all nodded.
‘And Kate’s got the time?’ Polly said. ‘I thought she was working flat out on Lily’s dress?’
‘It’s just about done,’ Rosie said. ‘And you know Kate, she’s not happy unless she’s got a needle in her hand and a new design in her head.’
‘So, you see,’ Gloria chuckled, ‘this is not really about you, but about everyone else.’
‘My own wedding dress,’ Polly said, starry-eyed.
Rosie smiled. She’d been right.
‘I don’t know what to say!’ Polly looked round the table.
‘Don’t say anything,’ Rosie said. ‘Just get yourself up to Helen’s office.’ She looked at the wall clock. ‘You’ve got half an hour to get measured up and have a chat about what you’d like.’
‘Oh, gosh, I have no idea what I’d like,’ Polly panicked.
‘Even better,’ Rosie said. ‘That means Kate will have free rein to do exactly what she thinks.’
A big smile appeared on Polly’s face.
‘It’s going to be amazing, isn’t it?’
Rosie chuckled. ‘I think that goes without saying. Now go, and we’ll see you over in the dry basin when you’re done.’
Kate knew that this was Polly’s surprise. Her wedding present. She had been over the moon when Rosie had explained to her what all her squad had agreed on. She wasn’t sure it was entirely necessary for her to go over and do the measuring up at the yard, rather than have Polly come to the shop, but she hadn’t argued the case. She had already turned down a few jobs with wealthy clients who had wanted her to come to their houses. She knew that if she wanted to extend her business and grow her clientele, she had to be prepared to venture to other parts of the town than Holmeside and Ashbrooke.
‘There’s Thompson’s,’ Alfie pointed out as they stood at the front of the ferry. There was pride in his voice. ‘And next to it is Crown’s.’
Kate felt as though she was travelling to the other side of the world, not just to the other side of the river.
It had been nearly thirteen years since she had been to the north side of town.
‘Nearly there,’ Alfie said. ‘See that ship in the dry dock?’
Kate nodded. She now felt frozen to the spot. She had one hand on the railing; the other was holding her black velvet cloche hat, which offered only a modicum of protection from the harsh weather.
‘That’s SS Brutus. She’s to be launched in a few weeks.’
Kate nodded again and tried to smile. She knew it was the cargo vessel Rosie and her squad were working on. And she knew about the launch through Helen, whose dress was just about ready. It was a design she was particularly proud of. A perfect meshing of professionalism and femininity.
‘She’s exactly four hundred and twenty-three feet long – and eight inches,’ Alfie informed her. ‘She has a beam of fifty-seven feet and two inches.’
Kate had no idea what a beam was. She had never been particularly interested in the town’s shipbuilding industry.
‘And a depth of thirty-five feet and nine inches.’
Kate looked at Alfie. She liked his accuracy. It was something she prided herself on.
‘And she’ll be propelled by a triple-expansion steam engine.’
Kate smiled.
This time it was genuine.
When W.F. Vint arrived at the north ferry landing, Kate and Alfie were the first off, Alfie being a true gentleman and allowing his charge to go before him.
When they reached the timekeeper’s cabin, Alfie waved up to the old man.
‘Won’t be long, Herbert,’ he shouted out, taking Kate’s arm and guiding her to the admin building. When they were safely inside the main entrance, Kate turned to her escort.
‘Thank you, Alfie. I appreciate you coming to get me. I hope they won’t have docked your wages?’
Alfie shook his head, although he wouldn’t have cared if they’d docked an entire day.
‘I’ll take you back when you’re done?’ Alfie crossed his fingers.
‘Are you sure that wouldn’t be too much trouble?’ Kate tried to disguise her relief.
Alfie’s face lit up.
‘No trouble at all! Just you come ’n get me when yer ready.’
Alfie disappeared back out into the yard and K
ate made her way up the stairs.
Pushing the door open at the top, she was greeted by Bel’s smiling face.
‘Kate, you’re here!’
She bustled over.
‘Let me take your coat. Oh, and your lovely hat.’
She looked down at Kate’s hands.
‘And your gloves.’
Bel looked at Kate. She was as white as a sheet and she looked frozen to the bone. Still, she’d made it. She’d been warned that there was a chance Kate might back out at the last minute.
‘Polly’s going to be over the moon,’ she said, carefully placing Kate’s black funnel-neck coat across her arm. ‘I’ve just seen her go into the canteen. The girls’ll be telling her now.’
‘Kate!’
Helen came bustling out of her office.
‘You made it!’
Unlike Bel, Helen knew next to nothing about Kate’s background and had no idea what an achievement it was for her to have made it here. All Helen knew about Kate was that she was a dressmaker sent from heaven.
‘Gosh, you look freezing.’ Helen looked across at Bel and Marie-Anne. They were the only workers left in the office, the rest of her staff having made a beeline for the door within minutes of the lunchtime klaxon sounding out.
‘Marie-Anne, would you be so kind as to bring in a tea tray for two, please?’
‘Of course,’ Marie-Anne said. She had never known Helen be so polite.
Marie-Anne had just gone to make the tea when Polly came bursting through the door.
‘Polly!’ Bel hurried over to her sister-in-law and gave her a hug.
‘Isn’t this amazing?’ Polly’s face was flushed. ‘Rosie told me about you all donating your clothing coupons and paying for the dress. I can’t quite believe it.’
‘I don’t think any of us could bear to see you going down the aisle in some drab, second-hand dress.’ Bel laughed. ‘I think we’ve done this as much for ourselves as for you.’
Polly laughed. ‘That’s what Dorothy and Gloria just said!’
Helen reappeared. ‘Kate’s all ready for you. Come on. I’ve only been able to wangle half an hour. I’ve sent Harold on some bogus errand so there’s no chance he’ll find out we’ve converted my office into a makeshift seamstress’s shop.’
Polly started to make her way over to the office, which had all its blinds pulled down for privacy.
‘Oh, and Polly,’ Bel said, a cheeky smile on her face, ‘I’ll be wanting a blow-by-blow account later on of exactly what happened last night.’
Polly blushed and headed into the office.
‘Thank you so much for doing this.’ Polly looked at Helen and Kate.
‘Well, it’s not very often you get married, is it?’ Helen joked. ‘Anyway, I won’t chatter. You’ve got half an hour.’ And with that she was gone, shutting the door firmly behind her.
‘And you don’t have to thank me either,’ Kate said. ‘Because Rosie has told me I’m getting paid whether I want to or not.’ She looked at Polly in her overalls and steel-capped boots. ‘Right, first of all I need you out of this.’ She waved a hand at Polly, making no effort to disguise what she felt about her present attire.
As soon as Polly was stripped down to her underwear, Kate got to work.
Sensing her need to concentrate, Polly kept quiet as Kate measured and remeasured, jotting figures down in her little notebook.
As she did so, Polly looked about the office, careful not to move.
It was the first time she had seen the inside of Helen’s workplace. It was lovely and warm thanks to a three-bar electric fire in the corner. Winston was curled up in his basket next to it. In her mind the ginger tom would always be synonymous with the night of the air raid.
Had it really only been six weeks?
So much had happened since then.
And now she and Tommy were just three weeks away from getting married and spending the rest of their lives together.
After a little while, Kate stepped back and wrapped up her tape.
‘I think we’re done with the measuring,’ she said. ‘Which leaves us fifteen minutes to talk about the dress. What’re your thoughts? Ideas?’
Polly put on her clothes.
‘You know, Kate,’ she said, pulling on her overalls, ‘I’ve never been very good with clothes, as Bel has always been at pains to point out.’
Polly bent down to put her boots back on.
‘I said to Rosie that I think I’d quite like you to just do what you think is best.’
She looked up to see that Kate’s face had lit up.
‘Well, if you’re sure.’
Helen shut the door and walked back into the main office. She had given her staff an extra half an hour’s lunch break, telling them that she needed the place empty until then.
‘Do you fancy a cup of tea?’ Marie-Anne asked.
‘No, thank you,’ Helen said, pulling out her packet of Pall Malls from her skirt pocket. She perched herself on the side of the window sill and cracked open the window. She was hit by a blast of wind and shut it again.
She took a cigarette out, not offering Bel or Marie-Anne one as she knew neither of them smoked.
‘Polly’s a lucky girl.’ She looked at Marie-Anne and Bel, who were sitting at their desk, drinking tea.
‘Because she’s marrying Tommy?’ Marie-Anne asked, immediately wanting to snatch back her words.
‘Well, there is that,’ Helen said, catching the look of embarrassment on Marie-Anne’s face and realising she must have heard that she and Polly had been love rivals.
‘Tommy’s a good catch, for sure. But I actually meant Polly’s lucky to have Kate designing her wedding dress.’
‘Do you know Kate?’ Bel asked. Kate had certainly never mentioned knowing Helen.
‘Oh, yes,’ Helen said, blowing out a plume of smoke. ‘I discovered her about a year ago.’ She hesitated. ‘Well, to be more exact, it was my dear mother who found her first.’
‘Really?’ Bel felt her brain snap to attention at the mention of Miriam. Her half-sister. Her secret half-sister.
‘So how did your mother hear about Kate?’ Bel asked, trying to sound casual.
‘I believe it was word of mouth,’ Helen said. ‘I think it must have been quite soon after the Maison Nouvelle opened. One of my mother’s friends had been there and was expounding Kate’s virtues.’ Helen took another drag of her cigarette. ‘After our first visit we realised why.’
Helen looked round for an ashtray. Seeing one on top of one of the typists’ desks, she walked over and picked it up.
‘I get Kate to make most of my clothes now.’ She perched herself back on the window sill and tapped ash into the cut crystal. ‘She knocked this skirt up in days.’ Helen looked down at the deep red skirt with oversized pockets that was nipped in at the waist and flared over her hips.
As they chatted, it occurred to Bel that this was the first occasion she had talked to Helen for any length of time. They had exchanged a few words at Tatham Street when Helen had been looking after Hope following the bombing, but they had just been pleasantries or practicalities regarding Hope’s childcare.
She wanted to get to know Helen better. They did, after all, share the same blood. And, bizarre though it still felt, Helen was her niece.
‘So, Bel, what are you going to wear for the wedding?’ Marie-Anne said.
‘Oh, well, it sounds odd,’ Bel sat up straight, ‘but I’m going to be wearing my wedding dress.’
Helen and Marie-Anne looked at her as though she was barking mad.
Bel laughed.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t be turning up in a flowing white gown, looking like Miss Havisham.’
Helen chuckled. So, Bel wasn’t totally uneducated. She’d always just seen Bel as Polly’s sister-in-law, but lately she’d realised there was more to her. She had a mixed-race sister, for starters. And that awful mother of hers. And no father to speak of.
‘Who’s Miss Havisham?’ Marie-Anne asked
.
‘She’s a character in a book,’ Helen explained, ‘who gets jilted at the altar and spends the rest of her days moaning about it, taking it out on others – and wearing her wedding dress.’
Helen stubbed out her cigarette.
‘Silly woman. Should have realised she was better off without him and got on with her life.’
Bel thought she heard a bitterness in Helen’s voice. A resentment not dissimilar to Miss Havisham’s.
‘So, come on, Bel, tell us about this wedding dress you’re going to wear?’ Helen asked, curious.
‘Well, it’s not really a wedding dress, more of the dress I got married in.’
‘Mmm,’ Helen said.
‘Because my marriage to Joe was my second marriage,’ Bel said, ‘I didn’t want to wear white. Also, neither of us wanted to get married in church. Joe’s not a believer, and I’m pretty half-hearted about the whole thing, so Kate made me a gorgeous pastel pink dress. She also made me the most incredible fascinator. We always said if the dress was worn on its own, it could pass as a party dress.’
Helen sat up straight.
‘Not the dress Kate’s got displayed in the window?’
‘Yes, that’s the one,’ Bel smiled. ‘It was one of the first dresses she made after she started up. I said it was pointless sitting in my wardrobe if it could be used as a window display.’
‘Oh, I love that dress!’ Helen said. ‘Every time I go there, I look at it and admire it. The detail’s incredible.’
‘I know,’ Bel said. ‘I often stand outside the shop and listen to people saying how gorgeous it is.’
As they chatted on, Helen looked at Bel. She was very pretty. Very English, with her pale complexion and naturally blonde hair. She would almost go as far as to say she was refined. If it wasn’t for her slight accent and clothes, you wouldn’t have thought she belonged in the east end.
God, she reminded her of someone.
She just couldn’t figure out who it was.
It’d come to her in time.
She was sure of it.
‘Come in!’ Dr Parker barked at the door of his office.
He looked up from a report he was writing to the British Medical Council arguing the case for more research into the development of prosthetics.