A Christmas Wish for the Shipyard Girls

by Nancy Revell

  ‘A letter to do with the Gentlemen’s Club,’ she added.

  ‘Ah, yes, of course,’ Lily said, her face becoming sombre.

  ‘You’d posted it before the royal launch, which seems ages ago now,’ Maisie said.

  ‘It was.’ Lily was also keeping her voice low, although the screams of excitement had been replaced by loud music. She looked to see Vera standing by an old gramophone that had been placed on the counter, her hand hovering over the needle. ‘And it took longer than I expected to get a response – but just after you’d left, about four weeks ago, I received a call about the matter.’

  ‘What? From Mr Havelock?’ Maisie asked, aghast.

  ‘Gawd, no. There’s no way a man like him would lower himself to making such a call. No way.’ Lily put her cup and saucer down and lit up a Gauloise. She looked around for an ashtray. Stepping over to a table of young mothers, one of whom was trying unsuccessfully to get her crying baby to have its bottle, she smiled, requisitioned the metal ashtray, and quickly moved away.

  ‘And?’ Maisie was staring at Lily, whose cheeks had suddenly reddened. She guessed her boss was having one of her hot flushes.

  ‘The old man got one of his minions to ring,’ Lily said. ‘Wanted to know if I knew who Mr Havelock was.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And,’ Lily spoke through a plume of smoke, ‘I said in my best French accent that I knew exactly who he was and that I was très désolée, but the club was simply oversubscribed. Of course, I waffled on about fire regulations, how being a new club we had to adhere to the letter of the law and all that.’

  ‘And do you think he was convinced?’ Maisie asked.

  ‘Mmm,’ Lily said. ‘I think the minion might have been, but I’ll bet the cost of my wedding that the man himself won’t be. No one says no to people like him. Regardless of any kind of rules or regulations. He’s above all of that – or rather, he believes himself to be.’ She took a deep drag. ‘Men like that don’t like it when you don’t jump up and dance to their tune.’ Grey smoke swirled from her mouth as she spoke.

  Maisie nodded. It was why she was nervous about the whole situation.

  ‘Men like him thrive off conflict,’ Lily mused. ‘They love the thrill of the fight, and unfortunately I think we might just have provided him with a battle.’ She stubbed out her cigarette.

  ‘And what do you reckon? Do you think there’s going to be any ramifications?’ Maisie asked, her face betraying her concern.

  Lily laughed, but her face was serious. ‘Oh, yes, most definitely.’

  ‘You all right?’

  Lily and Maisie both jumped.

  It was Bel with Lucille by her side, beaming up at her aunty Maisie and the strange woman with hair the same colour as her new birthday dress.

  ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Maisie said, before turning her attention to her excited-looking niece.

  ‘Oh, goodness me!’ She made a pantomime look of surprise. ‘Is that a medal I see?’

  Lucille nodded energetically. It had been Agnes’s present to her granddaughter – to wear her granddaddy’s medal on her special day.

  Maisie looked at the plate she was holding; her cake was untouched.

  ‘Is the birthday girl allowed another piece?’ she asked Bel.

  ‘Please, please, please, Mammy!’ Lucille jumped up and down in excitement.

  Bel nodded and Maisie handed over the cake. Her conversation with Lily seemed to have killed her appetite.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  ‘Well, I think it’s safe to say that was one very successful birthday party,’ Joe said, getting into bed and propping up his walking stick against the bedside cabinet.

  ‘And Kate worked miracles in getting her to wear a dress that wasn’t a bigger version of the yellow one she’s been wearing for God knows how long,’ Bel said. ‘She really is a star. She actually stitched little figures into the dress where you couldn’t see to make it more enticing.’

  ‘She didn’t stay long at the party,’ Joe said. He had noticed Kate slip away after about an hour.

  ‘Kate never stays anywhere for long,’ Bel said. ‘Maisie says she’s obsessed with what she does. If she’s not making clothes, she’s designing them. I suppose that’s why she’s so good.’

  Bel sat on the edge of the bed, her mind wandering off.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Joe asked, sitting up. ‘I mean really all right?’

  Bel didn’t answer; instead, she took off her dress, put on her nightie and climbed under the covers.

  ‘Talk to me,’ Joe said. ‘Tell me what’s going on in that brain of yours.’

  Bel sighed.

  ‘I went to see Dr Murphy on Friday,’ she said, giving Joe a sidelong glance. She saw his surprise.

  ‘Really? You didn’t tell me you had an appointment.’

  ‘I know. I didn’t want any fuss. Didn’t want anyone to know. They’d all be asking me why I was going and what was wrong, and I’d have to say …’ Bel took a deep, shuddering gulp of air to try and stop the tears that were threatening.

  ‘You’d have to say you were going because of yer not falling,’ Joe finished her sentence for her.

  Bel nodded. ‘Everyone’s so excited about Polly being pregnant, I don’t want to spoil that.’

  ‘You think yer’d be chucking cold water on everyone’s good cheer,’ Joe said, looking at her expression, reading her thoughts.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Bel, looking down at her hands and turning her gold band around. She must have lost weight as it seemed looser than normal. What she would give to be fat, with swollen hands and ankles. ‘And I keep looking at Polly – and feeling so jealous. I hate to even admit it … I know she’s not had it easy and she’s worried sick about Tommy, not that she’ll admit it, but I just keep looking at her and feeling so woebegone that I’m not pregnant as well. I think it hurts all the more because I know what it’s like to be pregnant. The feelings you have. That wonderful inner peace. Joyfulness. Sense of great expectation.’

  They were both quiet for a little while.

  ‘So, what did Dr Murphy say?’ Joe asked, taking hold of Bel’s hand.

  ‘Well, he asked me lots of questions about my monthlies and gave me an examination and looked back on my notes from when I was pregnant with Lucille, to see if I’d had any womanly problems since then, which I haven’t, but he didn’t seem to have an answer. He agreed that it was unusual that I hadn’t fallen after this amount of time.’

  Joe did the maths in his head. They had been married in November 1941.

  ‘Over a year and a half,’ he said.

  ‘Twenty-one months.’ Bel smiled sadly. ‘Dr Murphy said that normally I would have fallen in that time span, but he said that these are not normal times and that the war was affecting people in all sorts of different ways. He said in my case, it might be that all these air raids and uncertainty are somehow affecting me. Stopping me from getting pregnant.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Joe said, ‘sounds a bit airy-fairy to me. Especially as you got pregnant with our Teddy so quickly.’

  Bel squeezed Joe’s hand. Sometimes it still felt strange that she had fallen in love with her husband’s brother – his twin brother at that – but that had never been the case for Joe. He felt it was the most natural thing ever.

  ‘What if the problem’s with me – not you?’ Joe asked.

  Bel smiled for the first time and looked with love at the man she had known since he was a boy. ‘Oh, Joe, I think you’re one of the few men who would even suggest that it might be the man’s fault – not that it’s anyone’s fault.’

  ‘But it could be,’ Joe said.

  ‘Well, actually, that was something Dr Murphy did mention,’ Bel said. ‘You know what he’s like – not one to mince his words.’

  Joe chuckled. Dr Murphy had been their doctor since they were children.

  ‘He said it was extremely unlikely to have anything to do with you because of Teddy,’ Bel explained.

  Joe frowned in
confusion.

  ‘Because of you being twins – identical twins. He said that you were, therefore, identical in most ways – including your ability “to sire a child”.’

  ‘That sounds like Dr Murphy.’ He took a deep breath. ‘So, is there anything he can do?’ Joe looked at Bel. He dreaded to think of how it would affect Bel if she couldn’t have any more children. She had managed to take her mind off it with her work at the yard, even learning shorthand and climbing the career ladder, but he couldn’t see that filling the hole that would be left if she wasn’t able to have another child.

  ‘I don’t think there’s anything I can do. Dr Murphy just said that I’d have to keep trying – that I had time on my hands because of my age. And to try not to worry about it.’

  ‘That sounds like positive advice,’ Joe said, pulling Bel close.

  It was a few minutes before he realised that Bel was crying. He felt her tears on his chest and then came the gentle shuddering. Bel never cried much – hardly at all – so when she did, it seemed the saddest thing ever.

  Joe had known Bel nearly all her life. She had been a regular presence in their house from the day Polly had brought her home, dirty and upset, after her ma had up and left with some bloke she’d just met. He had watched her grow up and knew all she had ever wanted was her own family. A big, happy family. To be a mum several times over.

  He turned and switched off the light and gave his wife a cuddle.

  How he wished he could wave a magic wand and make it happen.

  He worried, for he knew if Bel couldn’t have any more children, it didn’t matter how much he loved her, and how much she loved him and Lucille, she would always carry with her a deep sadness.

  Chapter Thirty

  Wednesday 1 September

  When Polly reached Arthur’s grave, she went about her usual routine of taking away the old flowers and replacing them with a new bunch she had picked on the way. Even if she could have afforded to, and if she could find a florist that was still open, she knew that he would have preferred the hand-picked wildflowers – and that he wouldn’t have reprimanded her for pinching a few from the park.

  ‘Not long now before the bab arrives, Arthur,’ she said as she busied herself. ‘A couple more weeks. Thank goodness!’ She heaved herself up straight and looked down at the grave. ‘There,’ she said, putting her hand on her huge belly, ‘all neat and tidy.’

  She then turned her attention to Flo’s grave, going through the same routine. Polly had never met Tommy’s grandmother, but she felt as though she had a sense of the woman she had been. And she felt a certain closeness to her. She wore her rings, after all.

  Polly knew this baby was going to be Tommy’s world. With no mam and dad, and now that Arthur had gone to join Flo, she and this lively little being inside of her would be his only family.

  ‘Ohh.’ Polly let out a gasp of air. She smiled. He or she was awake and letting her know it. She looked around and spotted a nearby tree stump she could sit on. She walked over and lowered herself down onto it. She just hoped she’d be able to get up again.

  It had taken Mr Havelock a while to find someone who could find out what he needed. Mr Havelock had cross-examined Eddy again, and it was clear that, despite the owner’s Gallic descent, she was most definitely aware of who he was, and more so, how important he was. Something wasn’t right.

  The first private investigator he had gone to – a family firm called Pickering & Sons – had shut up shop. The old man, who had been highly recommended by an old acquaintance, was now too infirm. He’d been told the daughter had taken over, but hadn’t the stomach for it and was now some sort of photographer.

  It had, therefore, taken him longer than he’d first anticipated, but he had finally found a man – a retired detective whom Mr Havelock had known years ago. He’d been as bent as a nine-bob note, so Mr Havelock knew he’d be perfect for the job. No need to worry about him working within the confines of the law, or to have any concerns about him adhering to any kind of ethical code of behaviour.

  He knew the ex-plod wasn’t the fastest gun in the West, but he had a name for being thorough. Besides, he wasn’t in a huge rush. He’d always been a believer in that old English proverb: Slowly, slowly, catchy monkey.

  And he was quite sure – the monkey would be caught.

  Polly just about managed to get herself up off the tree stump. She had considered waiting for a helping hand, but after a few goes, she’d managed. She went to Albert’s, something she often did after visiting Arthur’s grave, to have a cup of tea and a chat and then headed home. She was shattered when she got in and went to have a rest on her bed, but instead fell fast asleep. She slept so deeply there could have been another air raid and she wouldn’t have woken up. Thankfully, there wasn’t one. In fact, there hadn’t been any more air raids since the one in May.

  When she did wake up, it took her a while to orientate herself. Looking at the clock, she saw it was past eleven. The front door went and she knew it would be Joe, back from his Home Guard duties. She heard the tap of his walking stick in the hallway, followed by the scuffling sound of the two dogs as they scrambled to welcome him, and then the cabinet door was opened, which meant her brother was having a nightcap. Pulling on her dressing gown, trying to stretch it a little as it now barely covered her bump, she padded into the kitchen.

  ‘How was Lucille’s first day at school?’ Polly asked, yawning. ‘I feel awful. I came back, everyone was next door at Beryl’s and I just closed my eyes for two minutes …’

  Joe chuckled. ‘Well, I think I’d be knackered if I was hauling around a sack of coal day in, day out.’

  Polly arched her back as she sat down at the table. ‘Don’t get me started. I think new mothers are sworn to secrecy about the reality of pregnancy – for fear of extinction.’

  Joe laughed. He poured himself a shot and put the bottle back in the cabinet. Polly saw him flinch as he manoeuvred himself back down onto the kitchen chair.

  ‘You all right?’

  ‘It’s me that should be asking you that,’ he said, stretching his bad leg out in front of him.

  Polly knew not to fuss.

  ‘So, come on, tell me all about my niece’s first day,’ she said instead.

  ‘Oh, well, not surprisingly, LuLu loved it,’ Joe replied. ‘She did not stop talking from when Bel and I went to pick her up to the moment she flopped into bed. She was very excited. She seems to have made lots of new little friends who, by the sound of it, she has already started to boss around.’

  ‘That’ll be Agnes’s influence.’ Polly laughed.

  ‘Exactly my thoughts,’ Joe agreed, taking a sip of his drink. ‘And, of course, I think the whole school now knows that she is to have a cousin very soon.’

  Polly laughed again. ‘She keeps asking me when the baby’s due and I keep telling her. I reckon she thinks if she keeps asking, the baby will somehow come earlier.’

  ‘God forbid,’ Joe said, thinking of his sister’s near miscarriage.

  They were quiet for a moment.

  ‘Do you feel excited?’ Joe asked.

  ‘I do,’ said Polly, ‘but I don’t feel as though I can let myself get too excited until the baby’s here and everything’s all right.’

  Joe nodded. He understood. His sister had had one hell of a scare when her waters had broken early. He also thought Polly wasn’t showing her excitement for fear of upsetting Bel.

  ‘The school just the same?’ Polly asked.

  ‘Yes, same as when we were all there.’

  ‘Really?’ Polly grimaced. ‘Don’t tell me they’ve still got the same teachers there?’

  ‘No, I didn’t recognise any of the names. Bel asked one of the teachers about the dreaded Miss Flint and was told she’s not there any more.’

  ‘Thank the Lord. Although I pity the school that’s got her now,’ Polly said.

  ‘Aye, I know,’ Joe laughed. ‘I’m kind of glad they didn’t know, though – the mood Bel’s in,
she’d probably have gone there ’n given her a mouthful.’

  Polly looked at Joe.

  ‘I wish she’d get pregnant,’ she said.

  ‘Mmm,’ said Joe.

  ‘You think there’s more to it?’

  ‘I think getting pregnant would help – a lot,’ Joe said. ‘But I don’t think it’s just that.’

  ‘Mr Havelock?’

  Joe nodded solemnly.

  ‘I wish I could do something to make it better,’ said Polly.

  ‘So do I.’ Joe let out a sad laugh.

  Polly thought of the terrible anger and depression that had hit Bel on hearing that Teddy had been killed. Joe had been the one to pull her through it all. He had unwittingly been the light at the end of the tunnel.

  If she and Joe couldn’t help her, Polly wondered who could.

  Later, when she went back to bed, Polly read Tommy’s latest letter for the umpteenth time. When her eyes couldn’t stay open any longer, she gave in to slumber, the page falling to the floor as she drifted off, thinking about Tommy, his pale, angular face, his serious hazel eyes as he looked at her when they made love; how afterwards, he would wrap his arms around her and pull her to his chest. As sleep enfolded her, Polly thought she could smell him, felt the slightest bristle of his stubble on her skin – and with it came a contentedness and lightness of being, as though there was no war, no worries, no past, no future – just her and Tommy and their baby.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Two days later

  Friday 3 September

  When Polly got up – or rather rolled herself up and off her bed – she felt better than she had done for the past few days.

  Opening the curtains and the blackout blinds, she looked out onto Tatham Street, then down at her belly.

  ‘Not long now,’ she said, putting her hand on her bump. ‘Only two weeks to go.’