by Nancy Revell
Something had happened while she had been away.
But what?
Standing still, Rosie looked out at the skyline of cranes, then down towards the wide entrance gates, and saw that there was now a swell of flat-capped workers piling into the yard. As she continued staring down at the miniature tableau showing the shipyard coming to life, she saw what she was looking for – a smattering of colourful turbans. The women’s headscarves had been expertly coiled and knotted so that not a strand of hair was able to wiggle free.
A few minutes later her mismatched group of women welders – Gloria, Polly, Dorothy, Angie and Martha – came trundling across the swaying metal walkway.
‘Yeh! She’s back!’ Rosie heard Dorothy shout out as they spotted Rosie standing by a five-gallon barrel fire she had just got started. Rosie mentally braced herself for what she knew would be an avalanche of questions – and those were just the ones coming from Dorothy.
‘Eee, am I glad to see you back!’ Gloria was the first to reach her. She nodded her head back towards the rest of the squad behind her and rolled her eyes dramatically.
‘We’ve been as good as gold, miss! Just like we promised.’ It was Angie, who Rosie thought looked a little pale – and was that another red mark on her face?
Rosie turned to Gloria with a mock-serious look. ‘Have they all behaved themselves, then?’
Gloria looked at the four expectant faces, all wanting approval, all excited by their boss’s return, and all, she knew, gagging to find out how the trip to see her lover had gone.
‘Actually, they’ve been pretty good. I’ll give them that,’ Gloria acquiesced. ‘But I’ll tell you one thing, I wouldn’t want your job for the world! Always someone wanting yer attention, or some foreman moaning about something or other. I’m more than happy to hand the reins back.’
Rosie looked at Gloria and tried to read her face. She seemed all right. She didn’t seem overly distressed or down. But then again, it had always been hard to tell with Gloria. They had all struggled to know what was really going on with her at the best of times. It had taken months for her to confide in them about her violent other half. And even longer to tell them that she and their yard manager, Jack Crawford, had not only been childhood sweethearts, but had fallen back in love with each other.
‘So, come on, Rosie, tell us how it went?’ It was Polly, who, Rosie knew, would have given anything to have spent just one day, never mind four days and four nights, with her fiancé, Tommy, a dock diver she’d met here at the yard before he had signed up and joined a special unit of deep-sea divers based in Gibraltar.
‘Well, I had a wonderful time.’ Rosie looked at all the women and saw a big smile appear on Martha’s face.
‘Really, really lovely.’ Rosie paused. She didn’t know what else to say.
‘Well? Was he waiting for you at the station?’ Dorothy asked.
For the briefest moment Rosie’s mind was filled with an image of Peter striding along the platform, his eyes scanning every carriage until he spotted her. The train had barely squealed to a stop before he’d wrenched open the door, lifted her down and wrapped her in his arms, telling her over and over again how much he loved her.
‘Well, it was quite romantic, I guess,’ Rosie said, hesitating.
As if on cue, the klaxon sounded out for the start of the shift, saving Rosie from further interrogation. The women groaned in unison.
‘I’ll tell you everything over lunch,’ Rosie told them. Her words were met with a chorus of approval, Dorothy clapping her hands in excited anticipation.
As they all headed over to the various sections of the upper deck, Rosie caught up with Gloria.
‘Is everything all right with you and Jack?’
Gloria looked at Rosie in surprise.
‘Have you heard?’
Rosie nodded. The noise was just starting to gain momentum and she knew that within minutes they wouldn’t be able to hear themselves think, never mind talk.
‘I’ll tell you later.’ Gloria cast a quick look around to make sure no one was near. ‘But don’t mention it in front of everyone.’
Rosie nodded her agreement just as the drillers started up and obliterated anything else she might have wanted to say.
Over the next few hours Dorothy and Angie worked flat out welding braces on to the heavy four-by-six-foot steel doors of the main deck house. Polly and Gloria were doing flat welds on the hatch covers, each sitting with one knee at a right angle, the rubber lead wrapped around their arms to lessen the weight, surrounded by a constantly flashing arc of giant sparks. Martha, like some female warrior from Greek mythology, was standing on the bridge doing overhead welds, her bulky arms not dropping once.
When the hooter sounded out that the workforce should down tools for their lunch break, the women welders did just that.
Martha waved her arm over to Rosie and shouted out, ‘Cabin!’
Rosie looked and saw that all the women were beckoning her over to a small steel cabin that had been erected while she was away.
‘Bring your flask!’ Polly shouted, as she freed her mass of chestnut curls from the confines of her turban. As she hauled her holdall over her shoulder, Rosie saw what looked like a folded-up map peeking out the top.
Arriving in the cabin Rosie was taken aback. ‘Gosh, you’ve made it into a little den!’
‘Yeh, miss, and it’s our den, no one else is allowed in here,’ Angie said.
‘We’ve claimed it as our own,’ Martha added.
‘Here they are!’ Polly was looking out of the little window at the side of the cabin facing onto the yard.
‘Hi, everyone!’ Hannah hurried in, closely followed by Olly, who waved his hand self-consciously at the women and blushed.
‘Hi, everyone!’ he repeated.
‘Come on, you two lovebirds! Take a pew!’ Dorothy ordered as they all settled around a battered old brazier that had once been used to heat rivets and which had been rescued from the scrapheap by Martha, who was now stoking it up. There was a jangle of metal as they all hung their cans over their make-do stove to heat up their tea, followed by a rustling of greaseproof paper as sandwiches were unwrapped.
‘So, come on, we want to hear every minute detail!’ Dorothy said, dramatically.
‘Yes, come on, Rosie, we want to hear all about it,’ Hannah chipped in as Olly handed her half of his sandwich and nodded his own encouragement.
‘I don’t think I’ve got much of a choice, have I?’ Rosie’s question was met by a chorus of ‘No!’ from the women.
Polly handed Rosie a can of tea from her flask, which was still relatively warm. She could see that Rosie had turned up to work empty-handed, probably anticipating that they would all be going to the canteen.
‘Thanks, Polly.’ Rosie took the tin cup and took a quick sip. ‘Well, I don’t know where to start, but I guess the most exciting bit of news is …’ She paused, still finding what had happened a little unreal.
‘I got married!’
The women all gawped at Rosie in total disbelief. Even Dorothy was momentarily speechless.
‘Married? To Peter?’ Martha was the first to speak.
Rosie chuckled. ‘Yes, to Peter.’
‘Oh. My. Goodness!’ Dorothy had finally found her tongue. ‘You’ve got married! To your “scrummy detective”?’
Rosie nodded again.
‘Eee, congratulations, miss!’ Angie stood up and did something she had never done before: she put her arms around her boss and gave her a hug. Her actions started a chorus of ‘Congratulations!’ and a clamour to follow suit and give Rosie a hug to show her just how happy they were for her.
Martha almost squashed the breath from her, Dorothy’s hug was nearly as crushing, and Hannah’s skinny arms squeezed her with all their might, accompanied by a few words in her native tongue, something they had all got used to hearing whenever Hannah was excited or worried.
When Polly hugged her, Rosie whispered, ‘You’ll be next. He’ll
be back soon. You’ll see.’ Rosie had thought a lot about Polly since she’d got married. Out of all the squad she knew, news of her nuptials to Peter would affect Polly the most. Tommy had now been away for more than a year and she could tell it was taking its toll. Polly hid it well, but they all knew she was worried sick about her fiancé. She had told Rosie during an unguarded moment that she often wished she and Tommy had got married before he had left.
Gloria was the last to give her friend a bear hug. ‘I’m dead chuffed for yer, I really am!’ There were tears in her eyes. Rosie thought her second in command seemed more emotional than normal, and again she thought of Jack and his sudden move to Glasgow.
‘All right, you lot!’ Rosie’s voice was thick with emotion. ‘Stop now or else I’ll be a blubbering wreck!’
‘Ha!’ Hannah suddenly perked up, pointing to Rosie’s left hand. ‘I thought it was odd you were wearing a bandage! Show us the ring!’
Everyone looked at Rosie as she picked off the sticking plaster to reveal her gold wedding band.
‘Oh, it’s lovely, miss.’ Angie was staring at the ring as if it was a huge solitaire.
Rosie caught Polly touching the top pocket of her overalls, where she kept the ruby and diamond engagement ring Tommy had given her, and again she felt sorry for her. Polly had recently been the matron of honour at the wedding of her brother Joe and sister-in-law Bel. It must seem to her that everyone was getting married but her.
‘So, tell us about the proposal?’ Polly asked. If she felt even a touch of jealousy, it didn’t show.
‘Oh, Polly, I’m afraid it wasn’t anywhere near as romantic as yours and Tommy’s,’ Rosie admitted with a little laugh. She was greeted by a semicircle of disappointed faces. ‘Sorry to be so blunt and honest, but it really wasn’t.’
‘It must have been a little bit mushy?’ Dorothy demanded.
Rosie laughed. ‘I’m afraid not – not a bit.’
Dorothy opened her mouth to push for more information when the horn sounded out the end of the lunch break.
‘Come on, you lot,’ Gloria said, naturally taking command, as she had become used to doing this past week.
She looked across at Rosie.
‘Next instalment in the Admiral after the end of shift?’
Rosie nodded.
‘Definitely.’
Rosie’s decision, though, wasn’t so much to do with a need to continue being cross-examined about her love life, as for the chance to catch Gloria on her own. She wanted to chat to her about Jack and find out the real reason he was hundreds of miles away building ships on the Clyde.
Chapter Three
The Admiral, North Sands, Sunderland
The women had managed to squeeze just about every last drop of information out of Rosie concerning her nuptials to Peter. They had sat, enrapt, as Rosie told them all about the actual wedding day, how they’d had to get a special licence, that they’d only just had time to get the ring and a bouquet of white pansies, and that she’d worn the red dress Kate had made her for Christmas.
Dorothy and Angie were a little disappointed that Rosie had not been terribly forthcoming about the actual proposal but hadn’t wanted to push it. They were conscious that their boss was being more open with them than she ever had been in all the time they had known her. Gloria had also briefed them not to ask anything about Peter’s war work, as it was all very ‘hush hush’, and even Rosie didn’t really know where he was going, or what he was doing.
‘So,’ Rosie said, breathing a sigh of relief that she had done what she knew she had to do, ‘enough about me and my love life. I’m bored of talking about myself. So, come on, what’s been happening while I’ve been away?’
Rosie looked at her squad and at Hannah and Olly, who thought no one could see that he was holding his ‘friend girl’s’ hand under the round wooden table. All their faces, apart from Hannah’s and Olly’s, were flushed from having spent the entire day out in the cold before being propelled into the heat of a packed pub. Rosie looked at Angie and saw that the red mark she had noticed on her face this morning had now merged in with the ruddy blush of her hot cheeks.
‘You all right, Angie?’ she asked.
‘Aye, miss, couldn’t be better. Why’d ya ask?’
‘Miss asks, Ange,’ said Dorothy, her expression revealing the depth of her outrage, ‘because she’s not blind and she saw the mark your dad’s backhander left on your face.’
Angie’s hand went automatically to the top right side of her face, before dropping quickly to pick up her drink.
‘It’s like I told Dor, miss, just ma dad in a one … It was just bad luck I was in the way.’ She took a sip of her port.
Rosie glanced across at Gloria, whose face had darkened.
‘And what was the big man “in a one” about?’ Gloria asked. Angie’s dad was indeed a ‘big man’ – pretty huge, in fact – but that wasn’t the meaning Gloria conveyed in the tone of her voice. Gloria might have put up with being her ex-husband’s punchbag for most of her married life, but since she had got shot of him, hearing about men who used their fists on women made her boiling mad.
‘Apparently,’ Dorothy answered the question for her friend, something she was wont to do and which Angie didn’t seem to mind, ‘he was in a mardy because he’d just come in from work and Angie’s mum was just going out. She’d committed the ultimate sin.’ Dorothy’s eyes widened to show her incredulity. ‘She’d not made his tea, having been called in to do overtime at the ropery.’ They all knew Angie’s dad worked at the Wearmouth colliery and that her mum was a ‘Craven’s angel’ – the nickname given to the hardy, no-nonsense women who worked at Craven’s Ropery.
‘So, big gob here,’ Dorothy continued, ‘decided to make a joke of it and tell her dad that it wouldn’t kill him to make his own tea. And as you are all now witness to, it was a joke that was not met with a barrel of laughs.’
‘Eee, honestly, Dor, yer don’t half exaggerate,’ Angie said. ‘I keep telling ya, yer should write one of them books yer always trying to get me to read, then ya can be rich ’n famous ’n we can live the high life—’
‘Welcome back, Rosie!’
Dorothy and Angie’s banter was broken by Jimmy, the head riveter, who was balancing four overflowing pints in his large, outstretched hands. The women all looked up at him.
‘And I do believe congratulations are in order!’ He had a big smile on his face. ‘Yer kept that one quiet, didn’t ya!’
The women all looked at Rosie, who was blushing – and it was not caused by the fire that was now roaring in the corner of the pub.
‘I’ll bring ya a drink over in a minute,’ he said, turning away to give his four mates their pints.
‘No need, Jim—’ Rosie tried to object but found herself addressing the back of his scruffy overalls.
‘Blimey!’ Polly laughed. ‘Talk about quicker than the speed of light!’
They all chuckled and said in unison, ‘Muriel!’
‘And we didn’t even gan to the canteen today!’ Angie added.
‘Oh dear,’ Hannah said, looking unusually guilty, ‘I think it might have been me. Olly and I nipped there for Mr B—’ Hannah couldn’t bring herself to call her boss ‘Basil’, so had come to a compromise.
‘He wanted a cold pie,’ Olly interrupted. ‘Said his wife wasn’t too well and hadn’t been able to put up his usual packed lunch.’
‘I bet you she didn’t get a backhander,’ Dorothy muttered under her breath.
‘We might have been chatting about it in the queue,’ Hannah confessed.
‘It was my fault,’ Olly butted in again. ‘I should have kept my voice down. Sorry, Rosie.’
Hannah looked at Olly and shook her head. ‘No, it’s my fault. I should have waited until we were on our own. I was just so excited …’ Hannah gave Rosie a look of remorse.
‘Don’t worry, you two, it’s nobody’s fault. Everyone’s going to have to find out eventually, might as well get it all over
and done with in one go … Anyway, on a different topic, Hannah, why are you dragging Basil in early and doing so much overtime? It’s not very often you draughtsmen are needed to do extra hours.’
Hannah looked at Olly and then back at Rosie. ‘I just want to do as much as I can,’ she said. ‘You know – how do you say it Angie? “To beat the bastards”.’
Rosie nodded her understanding. They all knew Hannah wanted to do anything to help win the war. She’d even welded for months on end before she’d nearly collapsed through exhaustion. At least if she was trying to work all the hours God sent, she was doing so with a pencil and paper and in the relative warmth of the drawing office as opposed to outside, in all weathers, working with a welding rod and thick sheets of metal.
‘Best of luck, pet!’ Jimmy’s voice boomed over their heads as he leant over and put a bulbous glass of brandy down in front of Rosie. ‘My lot says to tell ya “Congratulations!”’
‘Ah, thanks, Jimmy.’ Rosie raised her glass in the direction of Jimmy’s squad, who were all squashed around a table by the window, and mouthed, ‘Thank you.’
Jimmy looked at Martha, who was just taking a big glug of her beer shandy. ‘And if Martha there—’ He didn’t need to finish what he was saying.
‘The answer’s still no, Jimmy!’ Martha said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
‘Blimey, you lot never give up, do you?’ Polly laughed. Ever since Helen had put Martha to work with the riveters, Jimmy had made no bones about the fact that he wanted her on his team permanently. There was, of course, no way Martha wanted to work with anyone apart from the women welders, even if she was more suited to riveting. The group’s gentle giant was as shy and sensitive as she was large. When she’d first started at the yard it had taken months for her to come out of her shell. She had barely even spoken. Now Martha was more verbal than she had been in her entire life and no one wanted to jeopardise that. They all knew that if ‘Big Martha’, as she was affectionately known by their fellow workers, was put with any squad other than their own, there was a good chance she would shrink straight back into her shell.