Christmas with the Shipyard Girls

by Nancy Revell

Bel had also made sure that room service had left a tray of nibbles should they get hungry during the night. She was under no illusion the pair would be wasting their last night together sleeping.

  There was also a little bottle of Scotch, which she knew was Tommy’s preferred tipple, and another of port, which was Polly’s.

  Polly and Tommy looked at each other. There was a tinge of sadness in their eyes.

  This was to be their first night as a married couple – and their last.

  At least for the foreseeable future.

  Until this war was won.

  And it would be won, Polly had decided.

  After what she had experienced this last week there was just too much goodness in the world.

  And because of that, she was sure good would triumph in the end.

  It had to.

  She’d realised they were all playing their part in making sure that happened.

  ‘There’s something that you haven’t seen yet.’ Polly turned to Tommy.

  He was taking off his uniform, all the while continuing to take in the extravagance of the room.

  He had never seen anything like it in his life.

  ‘Oh, yes? And what’s that?’ he asked, bringing his attention back to his gorgeous wife in her beautiful dress.

  ‘It’s something I have been wearing the entire day, yet no one has seen it. Nor will anyone else see it,’ Polly said with a cheeky smile. ‘It’s for your eyes only.’

  As she spoke, she lifted her dress to just above her knee.

  Her garter had dropped down a little during the course of the day.

  Tommy stared.

  ‘Well, that’s lovely!’ He threw Polly a cheeky smile. ‘The garter too.’

  He dropped down on one knee and gently pulled the unique handmade hosiery down his wife’s leg.

  Polly lifted her foot off the ground as Tommy took the garter off.

  He held it, inspecting its intricate design.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ he said simply. ‘Kate?’

  Polly nodded.

  ‘Of course.’

  Tommy handed Polly the garter and she too admired it.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  Something on the inside had caught her interest.

  Holding it up close, she inspected what looked like swirls of pale blue stitching.

  ‘Kate’s sewn some words on the inside …’ She squinted some more.

  Tommy saw tears form in her eyes.

  ‘What does it say?’

  Polly looked up at her husband.

  ‘It’s five words,’ she said.

  Tommy raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  Polly smiled.

  A single tear escaped and ran down her face.

  ‘Hope … Faith … Peace … Joy …

  ‘And … Love.’

  Epilogue

  Arthur checked his suit was hanging in the wardrobe and that his room was tidy. He ran a comb through his thin grey hair and then climbed into bed.

  ‘Now, wasn’t that just the most perfect of days, Flo?’

  Arthur took the framed photograph he had of his wife from the bedside table.

  ‘Our Tom looked so handsome. So happy.’

  He got himself comfortable.

  ‘I worry about what’ll happen over there, but yer right. It’s out of my hands now. It’s time to let go.’

  Arthur wiped the glass front of the photograph with the sleeve of his pyjamas and then rested it on his chest as he lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

  ‘We did right by our boy, though – didn’t we?’

  Arthur’s eyes started to flutter.

  He was struggling to keep them open.

  He felt so tired.

  It’s time, Arthur.

  ‘Ahh, Flo.’

  The relief in the old man’s voice was clear.

  ‘I thought you’d never let me.’

  Arthur felt himself sinking. His whole body was infused with the most amazing feeling of well-being.

  Contentedness.

  Peace.

  ‘Yer look lovely, Flo. Yer always were a bonny lass.

  ‘What’s that? I’ll like it over there?’

  Arthur smiled.

  ‘Ah, pet, yer know me. I’ll like it anywhere as long as you’re there. Anywhere.’

  Arthur took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

  It was the last breath he would take in this world.

  And as one soul left the front room of 34 Tatham Street, another soul came into the world in another part of town, although it wouldn’t make itself known for at least a few months.

  Dear Reader,

  Christmas is such a magical time of year, and so it felt really important for me to capture and reflect that in this seventh instalment of the Shipyard Girls series. I hope you feel I have succeeded.

  Christmas with the Shipyard Girls is also a particularly poignant book for me personally as I was going through a difficult time when I wrote it.

  Because of that, the themes of the book – the Christmas message of love, faith, hope and charity – are especially heartfelt.

  I’m sure there have been times when you, like me, have felt as though you’re hanging in there by the very tips of your fingers. Or perhaps you’re doing so right now. If you are, please, keep a tight hold. You will get through it.

  And so, as Christmas approaches, I’d like to wish you, dear reader, Love, Faith, Hope and Charity – not just this Yuletide – but the whole year through.

  Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year!

  With Love,

  HISTORICAL NOTES

  I found this wonderful, and very appropriate Christmas card, while I was researching Christmas with the Shipyard Girls. It’s a character called ‘Rosie the Riveter’. She was a WW2 cultural icon, representing women who worked in the shipyards and factories.

  It made me smile.

  I hope it does you too!

  Merry Christmas!

  Turn the page for a sneak peek into my new novel

  J.L. Thompson & Sons, North Sands, Sunderland

  Boxing Day 1942

  ‘Thank goodness you’ve come!’

  Helen heaved a dramatic sigh of relief.

  Manoeuvring herself around her desk, she strode across the office and gave Dr Parker a hug.

  ‘I was worried you might be called into theatre on some kind of emergency at the last moment, leaving me to deal with my dear mama and all her old cronies on my lonesome.’

  Dr Parker wrapped his arms around Helen, returning her embrace. She smelled of expensive perfume. As always, he had to force himself to let her go.

  ‘I wouldn’t have missed one of your mother’s infamous soirées for all the tea in China,’ he said, a smile playing on his lips.

  ‘Come in and take your coat off.’ Helen walked over to the tray that had been left on top of one of the filing cabinets.

  ‘Talking of tea?’ She took hold of the ceramic pot.

  Dr Parker hung his jacket up on the coat stand by the door and rubbed his hands.

  ‘Yes, please, I’m parched.’

  He watched as Helen poured carefully, adding a touch of milk, just the way he liked it.

  ‘How are you feeling after yesterday?’ He scrutinised Helen’s face as she turned and handed him his cuppa.

  ‘Still in shock,’ she admitted, exhaling.

  She walked back to the cabinet and poured herself a cup.

  ‘The thing is, John, I’m at a loss as to what to do. I can’t just forget it – and I’m not the type of person who can just shove it under the carpet.’

  ‘That’s true,’ he agreed, eyeing her.

  ‘I have to know,’ she said, picking up a pile of papers, shuffling them together and tapping them on the desktop. ‘Otherwise, I’ll always be wondering.’

  She paused, papers still in hand.

  ‘Either way. Even if it is just some fluke that my mother and Bel look alike … that they look practically identical … God, if it was
n’t for the age gap, I’d say they were twins.’

  Another pause.

  She put the papers in the top drawer and slammed it shut.

  ‘Either way, I need to know.’

  She walked over to the large windows that divided her office from the open-plan work area that made up the rest of the administration department and yanked the wooden venetian blinds free, lowering them ready for tomorrow morning when everyone would be back from their two-day Christmas break.

  As she did so, her gaze was naturally drawn to Bel’s desk, which had, as always, been left neat and tidy.

  ‘I mean, it’s not as if I can just ask Bel, can I?’ She turned back to look at Dr Parker drinking his tea. ‘I can’t just casually say when she gets in tomorrow, “Lovely wedding, Bel, wasn’t it? Oh, and by the way, I couldn’t help but notice that you are the absolute spit of my mother. You wouldn’t know if you’re related by any chance, would you?”’

  Dr Parker allowed himself the slightest of smiles. Helen’s dry sense of humour always amused him.

  He looked across at her; her sparkling emerald eyes never failed to captivate him. ‘The thing is, Bel’s probably totally unaware of the fact that she has a doppelgänger. She didn’t seem particularly shocked when she was introduced to your mother at the wedding yesterday.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Helen took a sip of her tea and put the cup and saucer back on the tray. ‘That’s true. But then again, that could be because she’s well aware of the fact that she looks like a younger replica of my mother.’

  Helen was quiet for a moment.

  ‘Really, John, when Bel was introduced to my mum at the Grand, it must have been like looking into a mirror – a mirror that shows you an image of your future self.’

  Still feeling the need to play devil’s advocate, Dr Parker argued, ‘Bel was run ragged yesterday organising Polly and Tommy’s wedding. She probably barely even registered Miriam.’

  ‘Possibly,’ Helen said.

  She put her hands on her hips and stared down at her desk, lost in thought.

  ‘It could also be that she didn’t react to seeing my mother because she knows fine well that she looks like her.’ Her face became animated. She looked up at Dr Parker with wide eyes. ‘Knows that they are …’ she waited a beat ‘… related.’

  Dr Parker took a final slurp of his tea and stood up.

  ‘I think you had one too many gin and tonics yesterday and your imagination has gone into overdrive. This is simply a case of two women who look alike.’

  He went over to the stand and slipped his coat back on.

  ‘Now, come on, get yourself ready. I feel like you’re procrastinating because you don’t want to go to your mother’s Boxing Day extravaganza.’

  Helen let out an exasperated sigh.

  ‘Oh, John, don’t. It’s going to be hideous. And even more of an “extravaganza” as Mother has made it quite plain that she feels she was deprived of a proper Christmas Day celebration because I deserted her to go to some welder’s wedding.’

  As John helped Helen into her winter coat, he had to force himself not to wrap his arms around her, hold her tightly, then turn her around and kiss her.

  God! Perhaps he was the one with the overactive imagination.

  As they walked out into the stillness of the shipyard, Helen looked around and took in the metal and concrete landscape she loved so much.

  It was a rarity to see it so tranquil.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been here when it’s so quiet,’ Dr Parker said as he buttoned up his overcoat against the icy-cold air and plummeting temperatures of the late afternoon.

  As if in defiance of the peace, the clanking of steel suddenly sounded out from the platers’ shed.

  Dr Parker looked askance at Helen.

  ‘We’ve still got a skeleton staff keeping things ticking over,’ she explained.

  Five minutes later they had left the confines of the yard and were scrunching through thick snow along the promenade. Daylight was just beginning to fade, although there was still enough light to see the dark blue-green waters of the North Sea and the outline of the lighthouse on the North Pier.

  ‘So …’ Dr Parker looked up at the darkening skies. The clouds looked heavy with yet more snow. ‘I’m guessing that Tommy will be somewhere over the Atlantic by now?’

  He tried to sound casual when really he was desperate to know how Helen was feeling about the departure of the man he knew she had loved all her life.

  The man who had just married another woman.

  ‘I’d say so,’ Helen said, pulling up the cuff of her coat sleeve and looking at her watch. ‘It’s gone half four. I know his flight was at one – so, allowing for delays, and the time difference, he should be there by now.’

  A worried look fell across her face.

  ‘God willing.’

  Dr Parker saw the flash of anxiety and felt the familiar stab of jealousy whenever Helen showed any kind of emotion towards Tommy.

  They walked for a while in silence. The snow was glinting with a sparkling topcoat – the result of the morning’s fall.

  Eventually it was Dr Parker who spoke.

  ‘So, how are you feeling about everything?’ he ventured, his mind still on Tommy – or rather, on Helen’s thoughts about Tommy leaving.

  Helen sighed.

  ‘Well, a little confused, to be honest.’

  Dr Parker’s heart sank. They had not talked openly about Tommy since the day Helen had declared her love for him at the hospital. That had been over two months ago, and Helen had barely mentioned it since.

  ‘Well,’ Helen said, ‘I was thinking last night when I was trying – unsuccessfully – to sleep …’

  Dr Parker felt the familiar ache in his chest. His heart.

  ‘I was thinking,’ she said. ‘Trying to work out that if Bel is related to my mother – and to me for that matter – then what are the possible options?’

  Dr Parker was momentarily confused. Had Helen deliberately avoided talking about Tommy and her feelings for him, or was she genuinely obsessing about Bel?

  Sometimes he thought he could read Helen like a book; other times she was a complete and utter mystery.

  ‘Options?’

  ‘Well …’ Helen said as they crossed the road. There was no need to check for any traffic. The roads were empty. ‘There’s the possibility that Bel could be my mother’s illegitimate love child, before she met Dad. I mean, they do look like mother and daughter. And the age gap is about right. I’ve worked it out. Mum would have been about sixteen. Possibly seventeen.’

  ‘True,’ Dr Parker conceded.

  They continued walking.

  ‘Actually, I wouldn’t mind having another sister.’ Helen laughed. ‘I always wanted a sister when I was growing up. I might now have an older sister – as well as a little sister.’ Helen smiled as she thought of Hope. She’d looked particularly gorgeous in her ivory flower-girl dress yesterday.

  ‘What about your aunty?’ Dr Parker knew that Miriam had a sister who was very similar in looks, but the complete opposite in nature.

  ‘Mmm,’ Helen mused. ‘I did think about Aunty Margaret – that Bel could possibly be her child, but I just can’t see her having a child out of wedlock. Besides, she was never able to have children with Uncle Angus – could never carry them to full term …’ Her voice trailed off.

  Dr Parker knew Helen would be thinking of her own miscarriage earlier on in the year.

  Stepping aside, he let Helen pass through the wrought-iron gate to the park. The place had been turned into a winter wonderland. Bushes and trees were draped in thick white shrouds. The model boating lake was a sheet of ice. The bowling green no longer green.

  ‘The other spanner in the works,’ Dr Parker said, ‘is, even if your mother or your aunty Margaret had had an illegitimate child, why would Bel’s mother – what’s her name again?’

  ‘Pearl.’

  ‘Why would Pearl claim that Bel was her daughter? From what I�
��ve seen of her, she doesn’t strike me as your typical adoptive parent.’

  ‘That’s putting it politely,’ Helen said. ‘The only reason someone like Pearl would take on a child would be if she was being paid handsomely for it. And the woman clearly hasn’t got two pennies to rub together.’

  By now they had reached the other side of the park.

  ‘Which,’ Helen continued, ‘brings us to the men in the family.’

  ‘Your grandfather?’ Dr Parker said, pulling open the gate.

  Helen burst out laughing.

  ‘Hardly, John!’ She walked out and onto Roker Park Road. ‘Do the maths. Bel’s roughly the same age as me. She’s more likely to be his granddaughter.’

  Helen’s face suddenly lit up.

  ‘Unless it was my grandmother’s secret love child? She was much younger than Grandfather. And I get the impression she was a bit of a dark horse.’

  They crossed the road and started walking the short distance to the corner of Park Avenue.

  Helen looked at Dr Parker.

  Her excitement waned.

  ‘But that still brings us back to the problem of Pearl, doesn’t it?’

  Dr Parker nodded.

  Helen could feel herself getting exasperated.

  ‘There’s just far too many ifs and buts and maybes and maybe nots. It’ll end up driving me mad.’

  She took Dr Parker’s arm as they crossed Side Cliff Road to her front gate. It was the only house in the vicinity that had managed to keep its Arts and Crafts ironwork.

  ‘To be continued,’ Helen said.

  Dr Parker smiled and shook his head.

  ‘I still think that imagination of yours is running riot.’

  Secretly, though, he wondered if Helen’s current obsession with Bel was her way of avoiding thinking about Tommy.

  They walked up the short pathway and up the stone steps. Putting her key into the front door, Helen turned to Dr Parker.

  ‘I’m thanking you in advance,’ she said with a grimace. ‘I’m sure this is probably the last place you fancy being today. On Boxing Day of all days. And one of your rare afternoons off.’