by Daisy Styles
‘Not recently, and only a couple of letters since he was posted back to the Front,’ Maggie answered despondently. ‘I don’t even know whether he’ll be home for Christmas,’ she added miserably.
‘Mum was wondering the same thing too,’ Gladys told her sister-in-law to be. ‘She’s been living in hope, saving all her ration coupons for a big spread that looks like it won’t happen soon – she’ll be so disappointed.’
‘I’m so sick and tired of this war,’ Maggie fumed as she struck a match to light her cigarette. ‘It’s all about waiting: waiting for a letter, waiting to clock on, waiting to clock off, waiting in a queue … always bloody waiting.’ She gave a long weary sigh. ‘It’s been over four years now. The war they said would be over soon – when will it ever be over?’
Gladys, determined to look on the bright side, pointed out the good news. ‘It’s looking a lot more hopeful since the Bolshies recaptured Kiev in the Ukraine,’ she reminded Maggie. ‘This time last year they were on the run; now the boot’s on the other foot.’
Kit nodded in agreement. ‘Gladys is right: just think back to last year, when the Jerries were bombing our beautiful cathedral cities,’ she recalled. ‘Now we’re the ones leading raids on Germany,’ she said with a triumphant smile.
‘Not to mention the Eighth Army’s progress in North Africa,’ Gladys added. ‘And with the Allies making their way through Italy, nineteen forty-four could be a turning point in the war,’ she said with genuine hope in her voice.
Maggie hung her head to hide her tears. ‘I just can’t keep a stiff upper lip any more, I’m sick of the whole bloody “Keep calm and carry on” routine. I know I’m being pathetic,’ she admitted. ‘I just miss my Les,’ she ended with a feeble sob.
Gladys reached out to give Maggie a hug. ‘Come on, sweetheart,’ she whispered. ‘Les wouldn’t like to see you like this.’
Maggie nodded as she wiped away her tears. ‘He wouldn’t be at all impressed,’ she agreed, ‘He’d call me a soppy bugger!’
Nora, who was bursting to tell everybody her wonderful news, blurted out, ‘Did you know that Edna’s a grandmother!’
Kit, whom Ian had advised to keep Edna’s news to herself until Edna broke it publicly, sighed with a mixture of frustration at Nora’s lack of discretion, and relief. It would be nice to talk about Edna’s news openly; Kit knew everybody would be thrilled for her. If ever a woman deserved trust and devotion, it was their own wonderful Edna.
‘I looked after her little granddaughters t’other day,’ Nora babbled on. ‘They are so cute; they’re going to be Edna’s bridesmaids! And her daughter’s lovely too.’
‘That’s wonderful news!’ murmured Gladys as she wiped a sentimental tear from her eye.
The four friends smiled at each other across the table. ‘Looks like we’re all happy at the same time, just for once,’ Gladys commented.
‘Apart from me!’ Maggie joked.
‘There’s usually at least one of us in trouble,’ Kit laughed. ‘Life wouldn’t be the same if we were all happy, would it?’ she teased.
‘I wouldn’t mind being ’appy all’t time,’ Nora confessed. ‘Does ’aving a fella make yer ’appy all’t time?’ she asked in all innocence.
‘In my case it makes me cry a lot,’ Maggie laughed.
‘Even little Rosa’s got a fella,’ Nora said, with envy written large in her big blue eyes. ‘As usual I’m the only spinster among us,’ she groaned.
Maggie gave her a nudge in the ribs. ‘Stop bloody moaning!’ she said cheerfully.
Nora burst out laughing. ‘Eh! Listen to the frying pan calling the pot burnt arse – you were the one that were moaning only five minutes ago!’
‘Yeah, well, I’ve got over it,’ Maggie said briskly. ‘Anyway, kid, you’ve got to remember fellas aren’t two a penny these days.’
‘In my case fellas aren’t at all,’ Nora responded flatly.
‘Shall we fix you up with one?’ Maggie asked in all seriousness. ‘You know, a blind date?’
Nora’s jaw dropped. ‘I’m not meeting up with lads I don’t know!’ she cried indignantly. ‘They could be bank robbers – or murderers!’
Luckily, further indignations were drowned out by the factory hooter sounding out.
‘Just in time!’ Gladys called out, as she saw Rosa come tearing into the canteen, looking like she’d just jumped out of bed.
‘I have post,’ Rosa gasped breathlessly as she waved one of Roger’s postcard sketches in the air. ‘And for you too, Glad,’ she added as she shoved an envelope into Gladys’s hand before dashing off to the changing room, knowing she was already five minutes late for work.
Waving goodbye to her friends, Gladys collected her bike and left the Phoenix. She wheeled it up the cobbled lane to the cowshed, all the time aware of the tantalizing crackle of Reggie’s letter tucked safely in her coat pocket. Savouring the pleasure of reading it in bed, Gladys quickly washed and changed into her nightie, then snuggled under her heavy woollen blanket and cosy eiderdown.
My darling,
No words can tell you how much I physically ache to see you. Believe me, I don’t stand around moping all day like a love-sick fool – you know how busy the operating theatre is here – but even as I’m removing gunshot from a deep wound or sewing up a tear in a soldier’s abdomen, my mind drifts to you … I think of your lovely face, your wonderful, sweet-smelling hair, your soft, rosy lips and your eyes, deep-blue and sparkling, and I have to force myself to turn my attention to my patient. So far I’ve not done any damage, but if I should I will definitely blame you for captivating me with your beauty and your charms.
I’ve tried every trick in the book to get Christmas leave, but, with the latest wave of wounded rolling in from the casualty stations at the Front, nobody’s been granted time off. The daily schedule at St Thomas’ is even more demanding than when you were here – sometimes we’re working well into the night after an early-morning start, and need I tell you how often the wretched sirens sound out every night? When you see how much these men have suffered, it’s wrong to complain, but OH! I WILL MISS YOU! I comfort myself with the knowledge that we will meet in the New Year – the sooner the better.
Write to me, my Gladys, write and tell me of your days on the wards and your long, lonely nights dreaming of me – I hope!
Your loving, all-adoring,
Reggie
After reading the letter three times, Gladys’s eyelids began to droop. Tucking the precious letter under her pillow, she closed her eyes and fell instantly asleep with a smile on her lips.
As Gladys slept peacefully well into the afternoon, Arthur made his way to Malc’s office, where he was welcomed with a cigarette and a mug of tea. Seeing his friend’s face grey with grief, Malc’s big heart ached to help him, but he knew better than most what a private, reserved man Arthur was, so he kept his peace and waited. After a few drags on his Pall Mall, Arthur came to the point of his visit.
‘There’s only one way of saying this, pal,’ he started. ‘So I’ll say it as it is – I’ve decided to leave the Phoenix and seek work elsewhere.’
If Arthur had hit Malc with a cricket bat, he could not have been more stunned. ‘Leave?’ he gasped. ‘Why?’
‘We can’t stay here, Malc,’ Arthur replied sadly. ‘We’d be living nothing but a life of memories. I’ve given it some thought. In some respects it would be easier to stay at the Phoenix – Stevie and I both know people we love and trust – but I can’t do it.’ He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on Malc’s desk. ‘Everywhere I turn I see her: the filling shed, the cordite room, the despatch yard, my allotment’ – he choked as he mentioned the place where Violet had finally allowed herself to fall in love with him – ‘the house, the town, the moors. It wouldn’t be right to bring up Stevie in an environment where he was surrounded by sadness brought on by his mother’s death. It’s just not working, Malc. I know it’s not,’ he concluded firmly.
Even though he could see the
sense in what Arthur was saying, Malc was panicking about how father and son would survive on their own.
‘B-b-but where will you go? How will you manage?’
‘Scotland: it’s where Violet and I planned to go when we were running away from that evil husband of hers; we would have gone, but after he died she felt safe here and she wanted to stay with her friends, so that’s what we did.’ He sighed heavily, his expression suggesting he wished they’d moved, then Violet might still be alive. ‘I’ve applied for a job as safety officer in a munitions factory in Dundee. If I get it, we’ll leave early in the New Year. I wanted you and the girls to hear it first hand from me, not Mr Featherstone.’
Malc slumped against his chair, where he immediately lit up another cigarette. ‘Jesus Christ, Arthur, you’ve thought it all through,’ he gasped.
‘I had to,’ Arthur confessed. ‘It’s not like I’m my own man, I have a baby son whom I alone am responsible for; funnily enough, he’s the one who’s helped me make the decision.’
‘How can a five-month-old tell you what to do?’ Malc questioned.
‘Seeing the place where his mother died, his nursery, made me think that every day, as long as the war lasts, I’ll pick up Stevie and instead of swinging him in my arms in joy I’ll inevitably, just as I do now, turn to the place where I found Violet and I’ll wish I was dead too. That’s no way to bring up a child,’ he said decisively. ‘I’ll still be best man at your wedding, Malc,’ he said with a shadow of a smile. ‘I won’t let you down.’
Malc gave a grateful nod, ‘Thanks for that, Arthur.’
‘You can tell Edna, but I’d as soon tell the girls myself,’ Arthur said, as he rose and quietly left the room.
‘By Christ, there goes a man with a will of iron,’ Malc thought. ‘How much easier it would be to stay in Pendleton, supported by his friends, as he is now; but not for Arthur Leadbetter. For the sake of Violet’s son, he’s going to start anew in order to remove his child from the shadow of his wife’s untimely death. That takes guts.’
When Arthur saw Kit, Rosa, Nora and Maggie taking a break together in the canteen, he seized the moment to tell them his plans.
‘Hello there,’ he started cheerily enough as he sat down at the metal table and handed out cigarettes. ‘I was hoping to catch you all together. ‘I’ve got something to tell you …’
After he’d finished, Violet’s friends sat speechless for several seconds. Kit, who’d known Violet the longest, spoke first. ‘I think you’re a brave man, Arthur, though I’ll miss you and little Stevie. I believe you’re doing the right thing for you and your son.’
Arthur’s eyes filled with tears as he reached across the table to grip Kit’s small hand. ‘Thanks, Kit. Knowing you approve helps a lot.’
‘How will you manage?’ anxious Nora fretted.
‘We’ll just have to start all over again,’ Arthur replied. ‘I won’t beat about the bush, lass: it’ll be hard, making a home and friends on my own, settling Stevie in nursery and trying to live a life without my beloved.’ He gulped at the prospect of what lay ahead.
‘You will make friends,’ said Rosa, who knew more about loneliness and isolation than anybody at the table. ‘It take time but you are a very good man and good manager too,’ she said with true sincerity. ‘And you have Stevie,’ she added with an emotional smile. ‘He could, how you say, charm anybody?’
Arthur answered with a fond smile. ‘He could charm the birds from the trees!’
‘Stevie’ll make friends wherever he goes,’ said Maggie confidently.
Arthur stubbed out his cigarette and rose to his feet. ‘He’s just like Violet – everybody loved her.’
News quickly got round the factory of the safety manager’s decision to leave the Phoenix. Edna, in her mobile chip shop parked up in the despatch yard, heard every point of view going.
‘He’d be better off staying put – at least he’s got a community to take care of him and the child.’
‘I’d go if I were him – no good living in the past.’
‘Dundee’s a long way away, bloody cold too!’
‘Best safety officer I’ve ever known – he’s done a lot for this factory and for the workers in it.’
‘He’s saved lives too – we’ll never get another as conscientious as Arthur Leadbetter.’
‘It’s a terrible tragedy what’s happened to him.’
Edna listened to the workers’ comments, then said, ‘Everybody has a right to their own opinion but, at the end of the day,’ she said as she lit up one of her Woodbines, ‘it’s Arthur choice. I wish him well, but, my God, I’ll miss him.’
30. A Christmas Rush
Oddly enough, just as things were settling down, easy-going Nora put everybody in a flat spin.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said as they stood in a line clocking on one morning.
‘Hold on to your hats, girls!’ Maggie chuckled. ‘You never know what’s coming next when our Nora’s had her thinking cap on.’
Rosa, who adored Nora for her sweetness and innocence, said, ‘Tell us, mia cara, what are your thoughts?’
‘Well,’ said Nora as they filed out into the corridor that led to the canteen, ‘this time last year Myrtle came up with the idea of having a carol concert in town and raising funds for the war widows,’ Nora explained.
‘It was lovely!’ Kit remembered. ‘We had so much fun and we raised a lot of money too.’
They settled down at their favourite table in the canteen and the smokers lit up. ‘Why don’t we put on another carol service this year, but make it even bigger?’
‘Eeh, lovie, you’ve left it late!’ Maggie tittered. ‘Christmas is almost upon us and you go and have a brainwave.’
‘I only thought about it in bed last night whilst I were saying mi prayers for Myrtle – that’s when it dawned on me,’ Nora confessed. ‘And I had another thought too.’
‘Go on, tell us – we should stage a pantomime!’ Maggie joked.
‘Let the girl speak,’ Kit chided as she swotted cheeky Maggie with her hand.
‘I thought this year we could donate our takings to a charity that helps refugees,’ Nora added, and a deep blush flooded her face.
Rosa stared at Nora incredulously. ‘You really are a kind person!’ she announced before she flung her arms around Nora and hugged her tightly.
As Nora hugged Rosa back, she said, ‘I want to do summat for your friends, lovie. Nobody should be killed or locked up because they’re Jewish – it’s just not fair,’ she added in her characteristically simple and direct way.
Nora’s sincere words brought a swell of tears to Kit’s eyes, which she wiped away before she said, ‘I think it’s a wonderful idea. We could involve the children from the Phoenix and the town too,’ she suggested. ‘We could even ask Malc to dress up as Father Christmas and hand out toys to the children!’
‘He’ll have only just got married the day before!’ Maggie cried. ‘He might be on his honeymoon.’
‘I’ll consult with Edna later,’ Kit promised. ‘She might know what his plans are.’
‘I don’t see how Santa, assuming we get one, is going to have a sackful of toys he can hand out,’ Maggie added uncertainly.
‘I wasn’t thinking of BIG toys, just little bits and pieces, wrapped in a twist of tinsel, nothing elaborate,’ Kit explained.
Rosa nodded excitedly. ‘Like our Hanukkah, we also make little gifts for the children! I could draw pictures of fairies and elves, it would cost nothing.’
Like her sister Emily, Maggie as usual found her thoughts drifting to food. ‘We could roast chestnuts,’ she said with a smile. ‘Thank God you don’t need ration coupons for chestnuts!’
‘We’ll bring our instruments and sing carols round the Christmas tree in the market square, just like we did last year,’ Nora said.
‘Where possible,’ Kit chuckled at the thought of dragging the unwieldy drum kit she used for their band practices all the way down the hill into town.
‘I might just manage a snare drum but forget the big bass!’ she laughed.
‘Let’s see what food we can cadge between us to make little festive treats,’ Maggie said. ‘Everything’s rationed, but you never know what hidden tins folks have got stashed away at the back of their cupboards.’
The hooter sounded out, calling the workers around the factory to their different departments – the bomb line didn’t stop for anything, not even a carol service in honour of refugees who were victims of war.
Kit made a point of seeing Edna before catching the bus home after her long shift. Luckily, Edna was parking her mobile chip shop in the despatch yard as Kit was leaving.
‘Eeh, lovie, how are you?’ Edna said gently as she noted Kit’s tired face.
‘I’m okay, though if truth be told I could sleep for England,’ Kit answered frankly. ‘How are you?’
‘Never happier!’ Edna declared with an ecstatic smile. ‘I think a lot of my happiness is down to you, young lady. I bet it was your idea to track down my Flora,’ she said knowingly.
‘Ian did most of the work,’ Kit said generously. ‘Though, to be honest, we never thought it would happen. It’s such a complicated business – there was so little we could do other than scour the ads. Flora’s the one who made it easy when she came looking for you, lovely girl that she is.’
‘How many times have I wrapped up chips in newspaper and never thought to look in the personal ads!’ Edna joked. ‘Flora’s coming to mi wedding, and the little lasses are going to be my bridesmaids,’ Edna added. ‘Imagine that, Kit – my granddaughters walking down the aisle behind me on my wedding day. It’s the stuff of dreams.’
Kit smiled at Edna’s glowing face. ‘If anybody deserves joy it’s you,’ she said lovingly. Taking a deep breath, she continued, ‘Actually it’s your wedding I want to talk to you about … have you got any plans for Christmas Day?’