Courage of the Shipyard Girls

by Nancy Revell

  Meeting George had confirmed what he already knew – that he was a good man, who had helped Rosie understand the reason why Peter had joined up, and why he was putting the war ahead of his love for her. He had a sense that George knew much more than he’d let on and wouldn’t have been surprised if he knew about the SOE. Judging by the description of the uniform Dorothy and Angie had found in the loft, George had clearly been high-ranking, and after Rosie had shown him George’s medals, which she was keeping safe in her bedside cabinet – one of which he recognised as the Distinguished Service Order (DSO) – it was proof that he had been a very courageous man. The fact he had shoved his uniform and medals away in the dark recesses of his loft, however, said to Peter that he had also seen enough warmongering to want to forget it.

  ‘Here we are, sir!’ The cab pulled up at the bottom of Baker Street. Peter got out and paid his fare with a decent tip, which put a big smile on the taxi driver’s face.

  As Peter walked along the street to number 64 – an address he had visited during his initial recruitment, before he had been sent to Wanborough Manor for training – he wondered where he was going to be sent next. The circuit, code-named White Light, he had set up earlier this year had been forced to disband after there were suspicions that one of their members was leaking information to the Germans. Their suspicions had been proved right when five of his men had been arrested; they were more than likely now either dead or prisoners of war. Peter, who was the circuit leader, and one of the wireless operators had managed to avoid being captured by the skin of their teeth.

  Pressing the bell at the side of the innocuous-looking front door that was the entrance to the SOE headquarters, Peter guessed there would be new identity papers awaiting him. Having heard talk about a circuit presently being set up in Bordeaux, which was where his mother hailed from and where he had spent time as a child, it seemed more than likely that the south-west of France could well be his next port of call.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Saturday 29 August

  ‘So, that was it?’ Dr Parker looked at Helen across the table as they waited for their meals to arrive. ‘You just walked away … Went back to your hotel and jumped on the next train back up north?’ It was the first time he had seen Helen since her trip to Oxford and he had listened intently as Helen relayed the events of that morning four days ago.

  Helen nodded.

  ‘And you’re sticking to your guns? You’re quite certain –

  you don’t want anything more to do with him? Or for him to have anything to do with the baby?’

  ‘Absolutely certain,’ Helen said, taking a sip of her water. She’d forsaken her usual tipple of gin and tonic. It did not taste the same any more and John had told her that there was a school of thought that believed alcohol could be detrimental to the development of an unborn baby.

  ‘Well, I do believe the expression good riddance to bad rubbish is very applicable in this case,’ Dr Parker said, although he also felt that Theodore had got off very lightly. It was a brave decision by Helen, though. She had a long and difficult road ahead of her.

  He raised his half-pint of bitter.

  ‘Well, I think that is cause for a celebration in itself.’ ‘And let’s not forget it is also your birthday,’ Helen added, raising her glass of water.

  Just then the waitress arrived with their meals and carefully placed them on the table.

  Helen looked around at the restaurant, which was surprisingly full.

  ‘I’m so glad it is your birthday,’ she said. ‘It’s the perfect excuse to come somewhere like this.’ They both looked around at the very plush interior of the restaurant in the Empress Hotel, one of the best eateries in town.

  ‘And to have some decent food for a change,’ Dr Parker added, popping a piece of baked cod into his mouth.

  ‘It’s a shame you don’t live nearer,’ Helen said. ‘Mrs Westley would love nothing more than to fatten you up with all her pies and stews.’

  Dr Parker knew Helen and the cook were close, much closer than Helen and her mother, which wasn’t really much of a surprise.

  ‘Do you think Mrs Westley knows?’ he said, keeping his voice low, as an elderly couple sat down at the table next to them. He knew Helen still wanted to keep quiet about her condition for as long as possible. He’d initially thought it was because she was ashamed, but now he believed it was because she simply wanted to enjoy this time before it was spoilt, as it inevitably would be, by the judgement and malicious gossip of those she knew and those she didn’t.

  Helen took another mouthful of her fish covered in a parsley sauce and thought for a moment.

  ‘I think …’ she swallowed and took another sip of water ‘… that dear Mrs Westley might well have guessed. I mean, she’s nobody’s fool. It won’t have escaped her notice that I’ve stopped drinking and smoking.’ Helen had finally given up cigarettes as they seemed to make her feel nauseous. ‘And I’m eating more and have put on a bit of weight. She’s not said anything, though. Not that she would, but she’s been fussing about me even more than normal. Checking I’m all right. Making me sandwiches to take to work, and she’s always got something in the oven when I get in. Honestly, she must be queuing for hours on end to get me the choice meats she’s cooking up every night. Either that or she’s bribing the butcher.’

  ‘Good,’ Dr Parker said, liking Mrs Westley more by the minute. ‘Give that baby all the nutrients it needs. So,’ he looked at Helen, ‘have you thought any more about telling your father?’

  Helen nodded.

  ‘After I came back from Oxford, I wrote to him and said I was going to come and visit him in the middle of September. I was even thinking about asking my aunty Margaret and uncle Angus if they would come and see me while I’m in Glasgow.’

  ‘They’re up in the Highlands?’ Dr Parker asked, cutting up a piece of perfectly steamed parsnip.

  ‘Yes, so I don’t think they’ll mind making the trip to the Clyde.’

  ‘What do you think their reaction will be?’

  ‘I’m not sure, to be honest.’ Helen pondered for a moment. ‘It’s a difficult one. I think they’ll be shocked, for sure, but they’re a nice couple. Aunt Marg’s not a bit like Mum – she’ll be supportive, even if she is disapproving of my loose morals … I guess I’m just not sure how she’s going to feel.’

  ‘Because she’s never been able to have children herself?’ Dr Parker asked. He’d got to know a little about Helen’s extended family.

  Helen nodded as she finished her dinner.

  ‘What was the problem? Was it a case of her simply never falling pregnant?’

  ‘Oh, she had no problem falling pregnant.’ Helen sat back and dabbed her mouth with the corner of her napkin. ‘She just didn’t seem to be able to stay pregnant. It must have been awful for her.’

  It was on the tip of Dr Parker’s tongue to ask Helen if she knew how far along her aunty was when she miscarried, but he stopped. He might cause Helen to worry unnecessarily. Besides, most women lost their babies very early on in their pregnancy, certainly before they reached their second trimester.

  ‘Well,’ Dr Parker said, ‘I think it’s marvellous you’ve set a date to tell your father – and your aunt and uncle.’

  ‘Of course,’ Helen added, ‘then I’ll have to tell work, but I need to really think about how I’m going to approach that. I want to make sure Harold doesn’t write me off. I want him to understand that I will be coming back after the baby is born.’

  Dr Parker didn’t bother to ask if Helen was sure about being a working mother. He knew nothing would keep her away from her beloved shipyard.

  ‘It’s a shame your aunty Margaret doesn’t live nearer. She could have helped out while you were at work. Do away with the need for a nanny.’ Dr Parker had never been keen on any kind of paid childcare, having been more or less brought up by a particularly sour-faced and very strict governess himself.

  Helen looked at the man opposite her.

&
nbsp; ‘You know, John, that might not be such a bad idea.’ She suddenly started chuckling. ‘Oh, I can just see my dear mother’s face now. She’d hate it. In fact, the more I think about it, the more appealing it is – it might just drive her to take up residence in the Grand permanently!’

  It was just starting to get dark by the time they left the restaurant.

  ‘It doesn’t feel right letting you make your own way home,’ Dr Parker argued. He would actually have given anything to escort Helen back to her home across the river, even if it meant he had to walk all the way back to his digs in Ryhope.

  ‘John, I’m more than capable of getting myself back home. I’m getting quite accustomed to public transport these days.’ She smiled. ‘I actually rather like it. Sometimes I even get off the stop before and walk along the top of the promenade and just look out to sea.’

  ‘Well, now you’re not only making me feel jealous, but also like you are depriving me of the perfect end to an evening.’

  Helen nudged him playfully.

  ‘Go on. Go and save some more lives.’

  Helen started to walk away but stopped.

  ‘And thank you, John. Not just for a lovely dinner, but for being such a good friend.’

  Helen stepped towards him and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek.

  ‘And happy birthday!’ she laughed.

  A tram passed them, squealing to a stop.

  ‘Go on. Get yourself home!’ Dr Parker waved his hand at the tram.

  Helen hurried down the street and jumped on board.

  Dr Parker stood and waited until the tram disappeared from sight before turning and making his way towards his own bus stop.

  As he walked down Fawcett Street and passed the town’s municipal museum, he realised that he couldn’t kid himself any longer.

  He had fallen for Helen.

  Hard.

  He had tried desperately to stop himself, but had failed. Miserably.

  He’d found Helen incredibly attractive from the moment he’d first set eyes on her at the Royal, when he’d seen her at her father’s bedside. What man wouldn’t? She was not only stunning-looking but incredibly sexy. But it wasn’t her looks that had taken his heart captive, it was the person behind the perfectly made-up veneer.

  They’d become firm friends these past few months. Two people who genuinely enjoyed each other’s company, who laughed together, confided in each other – were themselves with each other; but did Helen’s feelings, like his own, go beyond those of mere friendship?

  As the Ryhope bus pulled up, Dr Parker got on, paid his fare and sat down in the only spare seat he could see.

  The dilemma was, if he declared his feelings and she rejected him, it would not only destroy their friendship, but Helen would also lose one of the two people she could rely on – who really cared for her.

  God, why was love so bloody complicated?

  And why, he thought with a sinking heart, did his gut tell him this was a love that could never be?

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Friday 4 September

  ‘You two off out tonight?’ Gloria looked across at Dorothy and Angie as they all pushed back their helmets and pulled off their protective gloves.

  ‘Is the sky blue?’ Dorothy said, throwing an arm up into the air theatrically.

  ‘Let me guess,’ Gloria said. ‘The Rink?’

  ‘Where else?’ Angie chuckled.

  Rosie stood up and straightened her back. She’d been bent over welding for just about the entire afternoon and felt like her spine was now set in the shape of a letter C. ‘What about you, Martha?’ she asked. ‘You on duty?’

  Martha nodded. They all knew that their gentle giant spent most evenings doing ARP work. ‘I’ll probably spend most of it drinking tea,’ she said, ‘not that I’m complaining.’

  Apart from a glut of incendiary devices that had been dropped the previous Friday in Fulwell, when homes had been destroyed but, mercifully, no lives had been lost, the town was enjoying a respite from any more visits from Hitler’s auguries of death. The theory was that Hitler needed to throw everything he had at the Soviets if he was going to succeed in taking Stalingrad.

  ‘You don’t fancy coming to the Rink tonight, do you, Pol?’ Dorothy slung her haversack over her shoulder.

  Polly forced a smile and shook her head.

  ‘I don’t think I’m up to the Rink at the moment, Dorothy.’ Polly doubted very much she ever would be. ‘But thanks for the offer anyway.’

  ‘Just say if yer ever wanna gan out,’ Angie piped up. ‘Me ’n Dor will always be happy to oblige.’

  ‘Thanks, Angie,’ Polly said as they all started to make their way off Brutus’s deck and back down to the yard.

  The women were more than aware that Polly had been really struggling since she had taken delivery of Tommy’s few possessions. She was doing her work as normal, as well as any overtime going, and she would sit and eat her lunch with them all, occasionally joining in the chatter, but it was as though part of her wasn’t there.

  ‘You off to Lily’s this evening?’ Gloria dropped back to walk with Rosie.

  ‘It keeps me out of mischief,’ Rosie said, but they both knew what she really meant was that it kept her mind off Peter.

  When they were passing the admin building, Gloria slowed down and took off her headscarf, making a great show of waving it in front of her face as if trying to cool herself. She then wiped her forehead with it before tying it to the strap of her holdall.

  ‘Is that a new headscarf?’ Rosie asked, unconsciously copying Gloria and taking off her own turban.

  ‘What, this old thing?’ Gloria turned to look at her scarf, a floral print of reds, greens and yellow. ‘Nah, I’ve had it ages. Thought I’d start wearing it. Better than it just being shoved away in the bottom drawer.’

  Dorothy suddenly looked over her shoulder and hissed at the squad’s elders.

  ‘Don’t look now, but Helen’s got her eagle eye on us!’ Gloria didn’t look, but Rosie couldn’t help it. Helen was indeed at the window.

  ‘Oh my goodness, look at the state of you lot!’ Their attention was suddenly diverted by Bel hurrying across to join them.

  ‘You look like you’ve been mining coal, not welding ships.’

  The women looked at each other’s blackened faces and dirty overalls.

  ‘That’s the slag,’ Martha said.

  Bel looked none the wiser.

  ‘It’s a black crust that forms over the weld. We have to chip if off with a hammer. Goes everywhere,’ Martha explained.

  Bel joined the women as they made their way to the timekeeper’s cabin.

  ‘Yet another reason I’m so glad I work in an office and not with you lot!’ She sidled up to Polly.

  ‘You all right?’ she asked her quietly.

  Polly nodded, but Bel wasn’t convinced.

  A few moments later they were joined by Hannah and Olly as they all joined the bottleneck of workers waving their time cards at Alfie.

  ‘What are you two up to this evening?’ Dorothy looked at them both. ‘Now that you are officially girlfriend and boyfriend.’

  Hannah and Olly both blushed.

  ‘We’re going to prepare for Shabbat.’

  ‘What’s Shabbat?’ Angie asked, as they were all jostled forwards.

  ‘The Sabbath,’ Olly answered.

  ‘Is that when yer can’t dee owt?’ Angie said.

  Hannah looked puzzled. She still struggled occasionally with the north-east dialect.

  Olly was just opening his mouth to answer when Alfie shouted out to Rosie:

  ‘Can yer tell Kate I’ll be in over the weekend?’ Rosie nodded.

  ‘Has he worked up the courage to ask Kate out on a date yet?’ Dorothy asked, as they were all released from the yard and were carried along by the throng of workers down to the ferry.

  ‘Not as far as I know,’ Rosie chuckled. ‘But don’t worry, Dorothy, you’ll be one of the first to know.’

&
nbsp; Dorothy scowled, hearing the heavy sarcasm in her boss’s tone.

  Gloria was just feeding Hope when there was a gentle knock on the door.

  Gloria had left the front door open – it was now one of the many signs she had adopted to show Helen that she and Hope were in on their own.

  ‘The coast’s all clear!’ Gloria shouted as she helped Hope guide a spoonful of baby food into her mouth.

  Helen walked in, automatically looking about the flat. She lived in mortal fear that one day she would come in to find Dorothy and Angie there.

  Seeing Helen’s worried face, Gloria chuckled as she wiped her hands on a tea towel and walked over to give her a hug.

  ‘Don’t worry. It’s Friday. They’ll be dolling themselves up for their big night out at the Rink.’

  Helen visibly relaxed.

  ‘Thank God for the Rink, eh?’

  Dumping her bag and gas mask by the door, she made her usual beeline for Hope.

  ‘So, how’s my little sister been today?’ Helen said to Hope, pulling up a dining chair and carrying on from where Gloria had left off.

  ‘Mmm, now doesn’t this look lovely?’ she said, glancing up at Gloria and pulling an expression of revulsion.

  ‘That might look like gruel to you ’n me,’ Gloria said, heading towards the kitchen, ‘but it’s like a gourmet feast for the bab.’

  Hope took another hungry mouthful as if to prove the point.

  ‘Ah, you’ve got it all to come,’ Gloria shouted through from the kitchen as she got the tea tray ready and boiled the kettle.

  ‘Mmm, can’t wait!’ Helen shouted back.

  ‘Actually, John came up with quite a good idea the other night,’ she added as she helped Hope hold her spoon straight and scoop more ‘gourmet gruel’ from her bowl.