Courage of the Shipyard Girls

by Nancy Revell

  ‘Yes,’ Rosie agreed. ‘George’s right, Lily. You can trust them. I’ll have a word with them as well, just so they know what is and what isn’t acceptable.’

  ‘You’re too soft, the pair of you. You’ll never make it in business if you keep giving people the benefit of the doubt.’

  George almost choked on his drink.

  ‘Well, you’re a fine one to talk, Lily! Not only do you not have any kind of contract for the girls working here—’

  ‘That’s different,’ Lily cut in.

  ‘But,’ George continued to make his point, ‘you have also taken in your fair share of strays. You took Kate in without a second’s hesitation.’

  ‘Ah, but I knew Kate was Rosie’s old schoolfriend,’ Lily defended herself.

  ‘And you brought Maisie back from London after you’d only known her five minutes.’

  ‘That was to help with the Gentlemen’s Club,’ Lily said, getting up again to look for her cigarettes. ‘And anyway, she’d been under my employ at La Lumière Bleue.’

  ‘But that doesn’t detract from the fact that you took in two young women whom you knew next to nothing about,’ George said. ‘And if I went back in time, I know for a fact I’d be able to reel off a fair few other examples of you being “soft”.’

  ‘We’re getting off the subject.’ Lily waved her hand, dismissing George’s words. ‘Rosie and I want to hear how it all went. By the sounds of it the two gadabouts have committed to moving into your bachelor pad.’

  ‘They have indeed,’ George said.

  ‘Well, I can’t thank you enough,’ Rosie said. ‘That’s one less – actually, two less things to worry about.’

  Rosie had confided in Lily and George about the women’s secrets and had talked at length about how she and Gloria were trying to work out ways in which they could help their friends, should their secrets ever be exposed.

  Lily got up and started raking around in the drawers for her cigarettes.

  ‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Not only are you too soft, but you’re also too protective over that mishmash squad of yours.’

  Rosie looked at Lily, who seemed determined to be as fractious as possible this evening.

  ‘Oh, I’m overly protective now, am I?’ Rosie asked, suppressing a smile and flashing a quick look at George. ‘So, Lily, do tell us. Do you know if Kate’s had any more surprise visits from Sister Bernadette – or any of the other nuns from Nazareth House?’

  Lily’s face immediately flushed.

  ‘No, she hasn’t! And they better not put one foot inside that shop. In fact, they better not even look in the window while I’m still drawing breath, otherwise there’ll be what for.’

  Rosie laughed.

  ‘Eee, Lily, you are funny. And there’s you telling me that I’m too protective over my squad …’

  Lily glared at Rosie. ‘That’s different … Kate’s different. That Sister bleedin’ Bernadette has to learn she can’t bully our Kate. She’s not a child any more. And moreover, she’s not on her lonesome now.’

  ‘And how’s Maisie?’ Rosie quizzed. ‘Is she still being hounded by that client of hers from Glen Path?’

  ‘Ha!’ Lily said. ‘I sent him away with a flea in his ear the last time he came round. Told him straight. If my girls don’t want to see a client, that’s their choice. No one under my roof does anything they don’t want, and if anyone tries to make them, they’ll have me to deal with.’

  Rosie looked at George, who chuckled.

  ‘I think you can rest your case now, my dear.’

  Lily tutted, realising she’d fallen right into Rosie’s trap.

  ‘So,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘When are you off to see Charlotte?’

  Rosie exhaled. ‘Well, I said I’d try and get to see her in a few weeks’ time, and then again before term starts in September.’

  ‘So, you’re keeping the poor girl imprisoned in that school for the foreseeable.’

  ‘Hardly “imprisoned”!’ Rosie objected. ‘Having the best education money can buy, beautiful grounds to run around in, as well as weekly trips into Harrogate, isn’t what anyone could call “imprisoned”.’

  The kitchen door opened and Kate peered in.

  ‘Entrez, ma chérie!’ Lily commanded.

  ‘Ah, Kate,’ Rosie said, genuinely pleased to see her friend. ‘Come and have a cuppa and tell us what you’re working on at the moment.’

  ‘Don’t think you can change the subject just like that,’ Lily scolded Rosie as Kate busied herself with making a pot of tea. ‘I have to fight Charlotte’s corner for her, seeing as no one else is!’ She shot a look at George, who put both hands up in surrender.

  ‘The girl’s practically begged you to come back home and live. She’s fourteen years old now and got her own mind. She should be able to choose where she wants to live and where she doesn’t.’

  George started shifting about uncomfortably. This had become a real bone of contention between the two.

  ‘I know I sound like a broken record,’ Lily continued, ‘but she’s going to have to know about all of this sometime.’ She swung her arm around the room. ‘The longer you leave it—’

  ‘The harder it’ll be,’ Rosie finished off Lily’s sentence for her. She took another sip of her Rémy. ‘I know, I know. But I need to do this gradually. I need to tell her about Peter first of all, which,’ she added quickly, seeing that Lily was going to give her another lecture, ‘I’m going to do when I see her next.’

  ‘That’s great to hear!’ George butted in. ‘But I think we’ll just leave it there and let’s hear all about Kate’s day.’

  Lily opened her mouth and shut it again.

  ‘Well,’ Kate said, pouring milk into her tea. ‘It’s been busy, but it’s mainly been alterations. You know, it’s all about Make Do and Mending these days.’

  Lily tutted.

  ‘What is the world coming to when we’re all having to chop up old clothes and make them into something new. I heard this new Utility Clothing Scheme has even gone as far as restricting the number of pleats in a skirt and buttons on a coat. Even the turn-ups on men’s trousers are no longer allowed!’

  Kate chuckled. ‘Just on the ones they’re making now.’ She looked across at George, who was looking down at his very expensive Savile Row trousers, which had very large turn-ups. ‘But it’s interesting. It’s forcing designers to be different. Inventive. I mean, look at some of Norman Hartnell’s creations – and Hardy Amies’.’

  ‘Urgh.’ Lily took a sip of her brandy as if to wash away a bad taste in her mouth. ‘I’ve seen them in Vogue after that fashion show they had to launch them. Talk about the emperor’s new clothing. How were they trying to sell them? That’s it: “High-fashion elegance achieved within the strict rationing restrictions.” What a load of codswallop. It’s just cheap, mass-produced rubbish.’ Lily looked at Rosie in her favourite slacks, which Kate had made for her last year. ‘And don’t even get me started on women wearing trousers.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Kate said, seeing that Rosie was about to bite, ‘guess who came into the shop today?’

  Lily sat up straight. ‘Better not have been one of those bleedin’ nuns!’

  ‘No, Lily,’ Kate said, blushing. She was still embarrassed about her catastrophic fall off the wagon on the day of Sister Bernadette’s visit, and the guilt from not having given Rosie her letter from Peter straight away still lingered. ‘It was that nice lad from Thompson’s.’

  Everyone’s eyes focused on Kate.

  ‘What? Alfie the timekeeper?’ Rosie asked, a smile spreading across her face.

  Just at that moment Maisie and Vivian came bustling in, catching the tail end of the conversation.

  ‘Who’s “Alfie the timekeeper” when he’s at home?’ Vivian asked in her best Mae West drawl, arching a well-defined eyebrow.

  ‘Yes. Who is Alfie the timekeeper?’ Lily’s face had reddened even more.

  ‘He’s the young lad who cl
ocks us all in and out.’ Rosie stared across at Lily, warning her to keep calm. ‘He was very helpful when Kate came to the yard that morning with Peter’s letter, wasn’t he?’

  Kate nodded.

  ‘Anyway, he was telling me a little while ago,’ Rosie continued, ‘that his nana’s eyesight’s now too bad for her to do any kind of darning or sewing. Poor woman.’

  ‘The boy not got a mother?’ Another question from Vivian.

  ‘No mum or dad to speak of,’ Rosie said. ‘Brought up by his grandparents.’

  ‘And he can’t stitch up his own clothes?’ Lily was scrutinising Kate, who was clearly perplexed by the interest in Alfie’s visit to the Maison Nouvelle. She had only mentioned it in passing.

  ‘What he wanted doing was a bit more complex than that,’ Kate explained.

  ‘I’ll bet,’ Vivian said, but not so loud that Kate could hear.

  ‘His grandmother,’ Kate explained, ‘gave him an old suit that had once belonged to his granddad. A rather lovely dark grey, woollen suit … Bit on the big side, though, so I’m taking it in for him.’

  ‘So, you had to measure him up?’ Lily asked again.

  Kate laughed. ‘No, Lily, I just guessed! Of course I took his measurements.’

  ‘Well, I think that’s great,’ George chipped in, sensing Kate’s growing unease. ‘But, the most important question, Kate, is …’

  There was an expectant pause.

  ‘Did the trousers have turn-ups?’

  Rosie chuckled, Lily pursed her lips, and Maisie and Vivian just looked confused.

  ‘Anyway,’ Rosie said, getting up. ‘Can’t sit around here gassing all evening. There’s work to be done.’

  ‘Yes, and I promised to play a game of rummy with the Brigadier,’ George said, using his stick to push himself into a standing position.

  ‘And I’ve got some old wedding magazines I want to go through,’ Kate said, looking at Lily. ‘You’re going to have to give me some idea of the kind of dress you want making.’

  ‘Well, if things keep going the way they are with this bloody war, I’ll be doing a Scarlett O’Hara and getting you to make a dress out of those velvet curtains in the front room … Actually, that’s not such a bad idea. They’re a rather lovely deep red. I can copy Mrs Rosie Miller – ’ Lily raised her voice so Rosie could hear ‘– and get wed in red!’

  As Kate made her way upstairs, she turned and looked down at George.

  ‘I don’t suppose you two have set a date yet? I’ve given up asking Lily. She just keeps saying “All in good time, ma chérie!”’

  George sighed. ‘I know, my dear, I know. Like trying to get blood out of a stone. I’ll keep trying.’

  ‘I will too,’ Kate said as she continued on her way up to the third floor.

  ‘Good luck with that,’ Rosie said, catching their exchange as she crossed the hallway to her office. ‘Lily gives new meaning to the word stubborn.’

  ‘Don’t I know it, my dear,’ George said, sounding more than a little worn out. ‘And heaven knows what’s got her goat this evening. She seemed to be in a perfectly wonderful mood when I came in.’

  ‘Anyone’s guess,’ Rosie said. ‘She’s up and down like a yo-yo these days. I think it’s her age. You know, that particular time of a woman’s life.’

  George looked puzzled.

  ‘Anyway,’ he said, his face brightening, ‘it’s good to see you in such good fettle.’

  George and Lily had been massively relieved when Rosie had told them about the envelope of petals she had received in the post. They dreaded Rosie receiving bad news, like poor Polly. The French Resistance might well be doing its utmost, helped by the likes of Peter and other SOE French operatives, but it was still a David and Goliath battle.

  ‘You heard anything from your old chums?’ Rosie asked, her voice dropping as one of the new girls and a client passed them on their way up to what Lily liked to call ‘les boudoirs’.

  ‘No, nothing new to report,’ he said. George had promised Rosie he’d keep an ear out for any snippets he might hear from his old war buddies. ‘The south is still unoccupied, but for how much longer? Who knows … But don’t you worry!’

  Rosie nodded.

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘I promise.’ Rosie smiled.

  ‘Good.’ George opened the door to the back reception room, letting out a stream of smoke and laughter, accompanied by the sound of Vera Lynn’s ‘White Cliffs of Dover’ coming from the gramophone.

  ‘Oh.’ Rosie looked up the stairs to make sure no one was about. ‘Kate’s keeping off the booze, isn’t she?’

  George nodded gravely. ‘We’re keeping our eyes on her. We’ll tell you if we have any worries. She’s still not venturing out much, though.’

  ‘Still a straight line from here to the boutique and back again?’ Rosie asked.

  Another nod from George. Since Sister Bernadette’s visit, Kate seemed to have become averse to going anywhere but the Maison Nouvelle. And they’d all noticed that Kate still jumped out of her skin whenever the little brass bell above the shop door tinkled.

  ‘Well, tell Lily to go easy on Alfie. I think he’s been sweet on Kate since the day he met her at the yard. He’s a nice lad. Might be good for Kate to go out – even if it’s just to a café in town.’

  George touched his forehead in a salute, before disappearing into the parlour to join the evening’s ‘guests’.

  ‘Maisie, can I have a quick word?’ Lily said as everyone started to filter out of the kitchen. ‘On your own, if you don’t mind,’ she added.

  Vivian threw her friend a curious look and left, shutting the kitchen door behind her.

  ‘So,’ Lily offered Maisie one of her Gauloises, ‘do you want to tell me what’s going on with your Glen Path client?’ She lit Maisie’s cigarette and then her own. ‘Only, he’s been round here a few times recently, asking why you’re being so evasive.’

  Lily blew smoke up to the ceiling.

  ‘If you want me to tell him you’re no longer available, then I can. It’s not a problem.’ She tapped ash into the crystal ashtray. ‘But if he’s been in any way unpleasant, then you do need to tell me. I don’t want to foist him off on to one of the other girls if you’ve had to put up with anything that’s not acceptable?’

  ‘No, no, Lily, it’s nothing like that.’ Maisie hesitated for a moment, unsure how much she should tell her boss. ‘He’s not odd or weird or anything. Just old.’ Maisie laughed lightly. ‘You’d think he would be past it by now, wouldn’t you?’

  Lily raised her eyebrows. ‘You’d be surprised how old they get before they’re past it, believe you me.’

  Maisie balanced her half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray and went over to the sink to pour herself a glass of water. She knew Lily had been around the block more than a few times in her life, and was not one to be crossed, but she also knew she was fair – and that she could keep a confidence.

  ‘If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell another soul? Not even George. And definitely not Rosie.’

  Lily looked at Maisie and nodded. All her girls harboured secrets and at some stage every one of them had confided in her. Not once had she betrayed their trust.

  Maisie took another sip of water.

  ‘For ages now Bel’s been going on about finding her father. Apparently Ma had always fobbed her off with some cock and bull story about her dad dying when she was small, but Bel never believed her … Then I tip up and put the cat among the pigeons, and all of a sudden she’s got a sister that she never knew about, and one who then starts wittering on about finding her real dad.’

  ‘The sailor from the West Indies,’ Lily said.

  ‘Exactly, but that idea soon died a death. There’s no way I’m going to travel halfway round the world to look for someone I’m not even sure is alive – war or no war. God, I wish I’d just kept my mouth shut.’

  ‘Because all your yammering got Bel thinking about her old man?’ Lily’s cockney accen
t had come to the fore, as it always did when she was having an honest one-to-one.

  ‘Exactly. And it wasn’t just thinking – she became obsessed with finding out who he was, and when Ma wasn’t forthcoming, she decided to go all Miss Marple and find him for herself.’ Maisie took her cigarette from the ashtray and inhaled deeply. ‘Then one day I was going round to see my Glen Path client and who should I find going door to door, asking if anyone knew of a young girl called Pearl who used to be a scullery maid in one of the houses that overlook Backhouse Park?’

  Lily sighed. ‘Why do I have an awful feeling I know where this story’s going?’

  Maisie nodded.

  ‘Bel’s theory was that Ma had been going with someone she worked with, but I had an awful feeling it was someone she had worked for.’

  ‘Did you talk to Pearl about it?’ Lily asked.

  ‘Yes, and you should have seen her face when I told her I’d bumped into Bel along The Cedars. She went as white as a sheet.’ Maisie took another sip of water. ‘But when she asked me to keep Bel away from Glen Path, it was me who went white.’ Maisie forced laughter. ‘Which is no mean feat.’

  Lily looked at Maisie. The girl was stunning. Her caramel-coloured skin had brought many new clients to the bordello.

  ‘You’re worried your Glen Path client and Bel’s father are one and the same,’ Lily surmised.

  Maisie nodded. ‘Not the nicest of thoughts.’

  ‘Mm … I can imagine,’ Lily said. ‘Nor for Bel either, if she ever found out. And from what I’ve picked up, you two have been getting on pretty well lately?’

  ‘Yes, we have. I don’t want to spoil what I’ve got. I quite like having a sister, even though Bel isn’t a bit like me. And I hate to admit it, but I’ve got a real soft spot for little Lucille. She’s just adorable … Not that I want to be going off and having any children of my own,’ Maisie quickly added, worried that Lily might think she was secretly hankering after a husband and family when nothing could be further from the truth. She knew exactly what she wanted: to stop seeing clients and to focus entirely on the Gentlemen’s Club. Rosie wasn’t the only one who wanted to be a businesswoman; Maisie, though, wasn’t going to be held back by any holier-than-thou concerns about being legitimate.