by Daisy Styles
‘We could talk to her tonight when she’s parked up in the despatch yard,’ Nora said, now eager to make up for lost time.
‘We’ll get her talking about the wedding, then we’ll see how she’s feeling,’ Maggie added with a cunning wink.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t come,’ Kit said apologetically. ‘I’ll be at home with Billy.’
‘Don’t worry, we can talk to Edna,’ Gladys assured her.
‘Whatever happens,’ Kit said in a resonating loud voice, ‘don’t take no for an answer!’
Edna, always the one for a laugh and a chat, looked distinctly down in the mouth when her friends turned up after they’d clocked off from their shift.
‘Try and be subtle, our kid,’ Maggie whispered to Nora, who’d been fretting about Edna all day. ‘Let her do the talking.’
Her words were wasted on impetuous Nora, who immediately blabbed, ‘We’ve been thinking about your wedding, Edna!’
Looking like she didn’t want to engage in the conversation, Edna agitatedly wiped down her little counter and rearranged the salt and vinegar bottles several times. ‘I haven’t had a minute,’ she said quickly. ‘What with Arthur coming home, and now I hear little Stevie’s got a tummy bug – it never seems to end.’
Rosa gently caught hold of her hand. ‘Come, mia cara, let’s smoke a cigarette,’ she suggested.
Edna rather reluctantly stepped out of her mobile chip shop and joined the smokers in the despatch yard. ‘I won’t have one of your smelly fags,’ she said to Rosa with her old cheek. ‘I’ll stick with mi Woodies.’
As the mood lightened a little, Gladys said, ‘I bet you’ve not had time to sort out an outfit for the wedding?’
Edna rolled her eyes. ‘I thought I’d wear mi best suit; Malc ses he doesn’t mind.’
‘But wouldn’t it be nice to surprise him?’ Maggie suggested with a glint in her eyes.
Spurred on, Nora added, ‘Imagine you in a bonny frock and a hat – and nice shoes; Malc would be dead proud.’
‘So would I!’ Edna exclaimed. ‘But there isn’t time. Anyway, it doesn’t matter,’ she said as she stubbed out her cigarette. ‘Worse things happen at sea.’
Before she could dash back inside the van, Gladys said, ‘Kit and I could come into town with you the day after tomorrow, when we change our shift rotas.’ Seeing Edna hesitate, Gladys ploughed on. ‘Come on, it’ll be a laugh – we can get our dinner at Lyons, make a day of it,’ she said persuasively.
‘I’ll have to see if Arthur can spare me,’ Edna said guiltily. ‘I promised I’d make tea for him on Saturday.’
‘Don’t be daft!’ Maggie laughed. ‘I can do that. I know my cooking’s not up to yours but I can make a cracking mince-and-onion pie. I’ve saved up a few weeks’ rations for him, and I’d be glad to help.’
‘So that’s that, then,’ Gladys concluded. ‘We’ll get the bus as soon as Kit and I have finished work, okay?’
Edna flushed with a sudden unexpected sense of excitement. ‘If you say so,’ she said gratefully.
The girls’ trip into Manchester was a tonic; all of them had known Violet well and just being able to talk about her openly and naturally seemed briefly to bring her back.
‘I remember when she lent me her coat,’ Kit recalled fondly. ‘It was on our first walk down to the Phoenix and it was pouring down. I’d got an old rag of a coat and Violet, who owned two smart coats, without any fuss or bother draped one of them over my shoulders. When I protested she just laughed and said, ‘Come on, Kit, I can’t wear two coats at once!’
One of Gladys’s most treasured memories was of the night Violet showed them her silver clarinet. ‘She told us her mother had taught her to play as a little girl; she played a tune for us, maybe it was “Greensleeves”, I don’t exactly recall, but she played with such sadness and longing it brought tears to our eyes,’ Gladys confessed.
‘I best remember her walking out of Arthur’s allotment garden last summer: she was carrying a huge bouquet of larkspur, delphiniums and lilies, and she looked like a bride, even though she was still wearing her Bomb Girl uniform,’ Edna reminisced with a sigh. ‘She was so very beautiful.’
After they’d got off the bus and found a nice table in a Lyons Corner House, Edna wagged her finger at her friends, who were enjoying cheese flan and mashed potatoes. ‘Now remember, Violet had the best fashion sense of the lot of us; when she got dressed up she looked like a model,’ she said with a fond smile. ‘For her sake we must keep up her high standards and not let the side down.’
All three women gazed at each other for several seconds. ‘It’s good to talk about her – it feels like she’s keeping an eye on us,’ Kit said with an emotional catch in her voice.
Edna winked. ‘If we’re clothes shopping, I suspect Violet will be watching our every move!’
So with Violet’s high standards in mind, the three friends entered the big Co-operative store in Piccadilly. ‘Let’s start with your dress first,’ Gladys suggested.
Edna nodded as she replied with a happy smile, ‘You know what, I’m beginning to enjoy myself.’
In the ladies’ wear department the three women ‘Ooohed’ and ‘Ahhed’ over lace, silk and satin tea dresses.
‘Don’t forget about “Fashion on the Ration”!’ Edna reminded them as she checked the prices on the sales tags.
Kit and Gladys, who had previously made a plan, exchanged conspiratorial winks.
‘Don’t let “Fashion on the Ration” ruin your big day, sweetheart,’ Kit said as she looked down at her tummy and smiled. ‘I won’t be using my clothing coupons so you can add them to yours.’
‘You can have mine too,’ Gladys added. ‘I bought loads of stuff in London before I joined ENSA.’
Before Edna could open her mouth to protest, both of her friends laughed as they gently nudged her.
‘Go on, splash out!’ Kit urged.
‘Spoil yourself for a change,’ Gladys laughed.
Getting more and more excited as they walked along racks of coats and smart suits, Edna finally decided she was going to try on a vivid royal-blue wool coat with big deep pockets and a red velvet hat with a brim that set off her grey-and-red hair. When she walked out of the changing room, Kit and Gladys gasped in delight. ‘You look like a film star!’ they exclaimed.
‘I feel like a film star,’ Edna said as she stood in front of the full-length mirror to examine her reflection. ‘You don’t think the hat’s too much?’ she asked as she anxiously scrutinized the grey hair growing at her temples.
‘No!’ Gladys cried. ‘The hat is gorgeous, glamorous and very festive too.’
‘A perfect hat for a Christmas wedding,’ Kit agreed.
Edna turned slowly so she could check the back view of the coat. ‘Do you think my bottom looks a bit too big in this coat?’ she fretted.
‘Don’t be daft!’ Kit laughed. ‘It’s a perfect fit, and it’ll keep you warm.’ She started to giggle as she added, ‘If it snows, you’ll need a pair of wellies!’
Edna grimaced. ‘I am not wearing wellies on my wedding day, but I do fancy a pair of them posh tie-up brogues with little heels.’
‘OOH!’ Gladys teased. ‘There’s no holding you back now, Edna!’
By the end of the afternoon, Edna had everything she wanted. The black leather heeled brogues she finally chose were high enough to give her a bit of height and a swing to her walk, which offset the fine woollen coat.
‘Thank you so much,’ she said as they returned to the Lyons Corner House they’d started off in for a pot of tea and a toasted tea-cake. ‘I’d never have chosen so well without you girls helping me – and donating all your clothing coupons too.’ Taking a deep drink of tea from her cup, Edna asked, ‘So, what will you two be wearing on my wedding day?’
‘Seeing as I have the important job of giving you away, I’m going to wear my honeymoon suit,’ Kit started. ‘You know, the smart black barathea with the short skirt?’ she reminded her friends, who nodded in
approval. ‘It still fits, just,’ Kit quickly added. ‘I’m going to brighten it up with a spray of flowers.’
Edna turned to Gladys. ‘What about you, Glad?’
‘I’ll wear one of my best silk tea dresses underneath my mother’s fur coat and, like Kit, I’ll try and get a spray of flowers from somewhere, even if they’re artificial,’ Gladys replied.
‘Flowers might well be a problem in mid-winter,’ Edna said as she winked at her friends. ‘Malc said he’s going to get me a bouquet, though where he thinks he’ll find roses in December don’t ask me!’
‘Knowing Malc, he’ll move heaven and earth to keep his promise,’ Kit said with a knowing smile.
By the time they’d got off the bus in Pendleton, Edna had agreed on the hymns and the music that Kit and Gladys had suggested on the way home: ‘Here Comes the Bride’, ‘Jerusalem’ and ‘Alexander’s Ragtime Band’.
‘Well, thanks to you two lasses I’m sorted,’ Edna said gratefully. ‘All I’ve got to do is show up, looking like a radiant bride’ she joked.
‘You’ll knock Malc’s socks off in your new outfit,’ Gladys promised.
‘Now you can look forward to your wedding day without any worries,’ Kit added.
‘Apart from mi husband getting arrested for trying to buy a dozen red roses on the black market, I’ve nothing at all to worry about!’ Edna chuckled.
Before Edna kissed her friends goodbye, she said quietly, ‘And we’ll try to make it as good a day as possible for Arthur and young Stevie; it’s bound to bring back a load of memories for poor Arthur.’
Kit sighed. ‘So many bad things have happened to him here he must feel cursed.’
Edna dropped her voice. ‘He said to me and Malc the other night that Pendleton’s not the right place for him any more.’
Kit and Gladys gasped. ‘Do you think he might leave us?’
Edna shrugged. ‘Who knows, lovie? He’s got a lot of love here, but every one of you Bomb Girls must remind him of the woman he’s lost. We’ll just have to wait and see, and support him in whatever he decides to do.’
After waving farewell to Gladys and Edna, who happily walked the short distance home with her shopping bags, Kit waited in the town square for Ian to pick her up in his car. When he drove up with Billy in the back seat, Kit could see from the expression on her husband’s face that something had happened. Suddenly anxious, she said, ‘What is it, Ian? What’s wrong?’
It was only after she’d climbed into the front seat and Ian had pulled into the traffic that he answered.
‘There’s an ad in the Manchester Evening News – in the personal column.’
25. A Wild Goose Chase?
Kit must have read, then reread, the advert Ian had cut out from the Manchester Guardian over a dozen times.
I am trying to contact a Mrs Chadderton, aged around 43 years, living in the Clitheroe/Pendleton area of Lancashire. If you know of her, or of any of her family, please get in touch. Thank you. Replies to Box 515, c/o Manchester Evening News.
‘It’s got to be her, Ian!’ she exclaimed as she brewed tea, then lit up a Woodbine.
‘Ye-ess,’ he said cautiously. ‘But it could be a debt-collector or a blackmailer,’ he pointed out. ‘We don’t want to raise Edna’s hopes, then put her in touch with a crook.’
‘No!’ cried Kit. ‘That would be awful, but, then again, we can’t let this opportunity slip by, can we?’
As Billy tugged at Ian’s hand and called ‘Dada! Dada!’, Ian bent to lift the giggling little boy into his arms. ‘No, I don’t think we can pass it by, but it’s our duty to protect Edna; we should be the first to question the advertiser, and only if we think she really might be Edna’s daughter can we introduce them.’
Kit nodded in complete agreement with her clever, cautious husband. ‘So please, darling, can you send a note to the box number before you leave for the Phoenix tomorrow?’ Ian asked as he headed upstairs to put sleepy Billy to bed.
The following morning Kit found it difficult to pen a delicate reply with Billy careering around, so she waited until he was quietly playing with his building bricks before she settled down to write.
To whom it may concern,
I know of a Mrs Chadderton in the Pendleton area; she is alive and of the age you mention. Before I impart further information, I should like to meet you in person at your earliest convenience. Please reply through the personal column in the Manchester Evening News.
Signing her name, she addressed the note to Box 515 at the Manchester Evening News. After posting the reply on her way to work Kit felt quite tense; she would have given anything to talk to Violet, to open her heart to her friend, who was always sensitive and compassionate about other people’s problems. But that was impossible. Kit would never be able to share a secret with her beloved friend again, and the knowledge of that left Kit feeling lonely and bereft. She could talk to Gladys, who’d known Kit almost as long as Violet had, but their working hours never coincided these days, and Kit couldn’t go knocking on the infirmary door, asking for ten minutes alone with Nurse Johnson. Feeling sad, Kit entered the filling shed, where she and Violet had worked side by side for so long, laughing and joking, singing along to the radio, moaning about how tired they were, yawning through the long night shifts, both of them longing to get home to cuddle their babies. She was roused from her reverie when she saw Arthur walking along the line of benches. ‘Arthur!’ she cried. ‘How are you?’
‘I already feel better for being back in here,’ he admitted as his eyes gazed wistfully at the bench where his wife used to sit.
Kit, who instinctively knew what he was thinking, smiled sympathetically. Fortunately, one of the older women spotted Arthur and called out, ‘Oi! Have you come to bother us, buggerlugs?’
Arthur grinned as he made his way over to the cheeky woman, whose determinedly upbeat manner brought a smile to his face. ‘I thought I’d better keep an eye on you lot,’ he joked back.
As Kit watched Arthur, she marvelled at him; he was a tough man, all right, facing the workforce who were grieving for Violet too. Maybe his return would help both him and the workers. Kit sincerely hoped so.
Ian and Kit didn’t have long to wait for a reply from Box 515. A few days later, there was a response to their ad in the personal column of the Manchester Evening News.
‘Am available to meet,’ Kit read in suppressed excitement. ‘Suggest Manchester Town Hall, this coming Friday, at five o’clock.’
Kit handed Ian the paper. ‘If I left Billy at the nursery after work, I could hop on a bus and meet you in Manchester,’ Kit said quickly.
‘Isn’t it a bit of a rush for you, sweetheart?’
‘I don’t mind – the sooner we can see the mystery advertiser, the better,’ she said with a nervous smile.
‘Okay,’ he answered, then, knowing his wife as well as he did, he added, ‘Don’t go getting your hopes up, missy.’
‘I’ll try not to,’ she promised.
With the arrangements made, Kit began to feel weak and shaky; this was what she had wanted, but the thought of going through with such an extraordinary meeting made her feel quite sick. What questions could she actually ask the stranger? She racked her brains trying to recall all the details Edna had told her about parting with her daughter.
‘I had a baby too,’ Edna had confessed, almost a year ago now, she recalled. ‘A daughter, a beautiful little girl. I called her Flora. At six weeks she was taken from me, adopted by a rich childless couple in Penrith. I tried to find her again, but there was no Flora Chadderton on any adoption records. The father was a local lad, Edward Pilkington; we’d been courting since our school days. We only did it the once, just before he went off to the war, the First War, that is. Eddie never knew he had a daughter; he died at Passchendaele, blown up in a German rocket attack.’
‘Oh, my God!’ thought Kit. ‘If I get this wrong, Edna will never forgive me.’
By Friday lunchtime, Kit was a nervous wreck. ‘What’s up?
’ Maggie asked when Kit pushed away her mushy peas and corned-beef hash dinner.
‘I just can’t stomach it,’ Kit groaned.
‘You’ve got to keep your strength up now you’re eating for two,’ said Nora, who always ate like a horse.
‘I’ll be all right – I’ll get a slice of bread and marg,’ Kit assured her as she slipped from the table and nipped into the ladies’ toilets. ‘Oh, if only I could clock off now and get the whole business over and done with,’ she thought to herself as she washed her hot face in cold water.
The sight of Ian, tall and handsome in his warm tweed overcoat, standing outside his office waiting for her, instantly calmed Kit down. ‘Let’s pray this isn’t a wild goose chase,’ he said as he drew her arm through his and pulled her close to keep her warm.
As they crossed Albert Square, Kit was struck by a sudden thought. ‘How will we know who we’re looking for?’ she cried.
Ian smiled. ‘Somebody will be looking for us, so hopefully we’ll catch sight of each other.’
Kit groaned. ‘Oh, I hope so. I can’t go through this again – my stomach’s in knots.’
Ian patted Kit’s hand as they walked towards Manchester Town Hall’s impressive Victorian entrance, but as they did so it started to rain.
‘Oh, no!’ Kit cried as the rain obscured her vision.
Sheltered from the rain, they stood in the entrance, peering from left to right and back again. Feeling rather silly, Kit muttered, ‘We must look like owls!’
‘Shssh!’ Ian warned as a tall woman approached them.
Gripping her handbag, the woman said nervously, ‘I’m the person who requested information in the Manchester Evening News, Box 515.’
Ian nodded. ‘We responded to your ad,’ he said quietly. ‘You’re seeking information about a Mrs Chadderton?’
Before the woman could reply, a man running out of the rain pushed past them. ‘Perhaps we should find somewhere quieter?’ Ian suggested.
The woman pointed to a pub on the corner. ‘Would that be convenient?’