Victory for the Shipyard Girls

by Nancy Revell

  The dark-haired woman standing in the doorway looked harried. This house wasn’t as big or as grand as some of the houses Bel had knocked on so far, but it was still impressive.

  ‘Yes?’ asked the woman, dressed in a neat, navy blue pleated skirt and matching cashmere cardigan, as she turned her head, distracted by the screams and shouts of what sounded like a classroom full of children. It turned out to be just three young girls, who had clearly decided to run riot while their mother’s attention was elsewhere.

  ‘Behave! The lot of you!’ Her reprimand was followed by silence, before three pretty little faces appeared from behind their mother.

  ‘Sorry, my dear, you were saying?’ the woman asked Bel, pushing a strand of hair back behind her ear.

  ‘I wondered if you knew of a young girl that may have worked here over twenty years ago. Probably as a maid.’ As Bel spoke the words she knew this was a no-go and was proven right fairly quickly.

  ‘Oh, gosh, no, sorry, my dear. We’ve only been here …’ She paused a moment to think. ‘Well, it can’t have been much more than ten years.’ Looking at Lucille, who was staring at her three daughters, she was unaware that they were all sticking out their tongues and pulling faces at the little blonde girl standing obediently next to the pram.

  ‘And you can’t remember anything of the previous owners?’ Bel asked, without much hope.

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember the couple who lived here before us, but they were old and they only had a housekeeper and a cleaner. I think they’d been here donkey’s years, but from what I gathered it had never been a big household.’

  ‘Oh, never mind.’ Bel tried to sound chirpy. ‘Thank you anyway.’ She looked at the three faces still gurning at Lucille. ‘Sorry to bother you.’ As she turned to walk back down the steps she caught a glimpse of Lucille’s scrunched-up face with her tongue sticking out, before it returned to an expression of angelic innocence.

  ‘I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that!’ Bel whispered as she turned the pram around and pushed it back out onto the street.

  As they started walking to the next house, they heard a familiar voice behind them.

  ‘Bel! LuLu!’

  They turned round to see Maisie, hurrying towards them. She was wearing a fawn-coloured suit dress and no overcoat, a sure sign that spring was here. Lucille ran to her aunty and flung herself at her.

  ‘’Aisiee!’

  Maisie grabbed her under the arms and lifted her up, spun her around and then plopped her back down on the pavement.

  ‘Well, this is a surprise. Don’t often see you up this way?’ She stepped towards Bel and gave her a hug, followed by a kiss on both cheeks. It was a habit she had acquired since starting work at Lily’s.

  ‘I know,’ Bel said, feeling a little awkward. Maisie had become a regular visitor to Tatham Street and was actually getting to know the neighbours, as well as most of the locals in the pub, but she had never invited Bel to Lily’s, which was, for all intents and purposes, her permanent home now.

  ‘Aunty ’Aisiee come to park!’ Lucille demanded.

  ‘Ah, sweetie, I can’t come today.’ Maisie bent down to talk to her niece. ‘I’ve got an appointment to keep.’

  Bel raised an eyebrow.

  ‘No, honestly,’ Maisie said, standing up to talk to Bel. ‘I would if I could. I really like the park. Never had one on my doorstep before. London may have many things, but it is lacking somewhat in greenery. And the parks they have are always so crowded.’ They both looked across to the expanse of Backhouse Park, which consisted of two and a half acres of natural woodland and had been gifted to the town by a well-known Quaker banker who had lived in a huge mansion on the Ryhope Road that was now an art college.

  ‘So, what’s the appointment?’ Bel asked, wanting to keep the conversation away from why she was schlepping from door to door along The Cedars with her daughter and Gloria’s baby.

  ‘Ah, well.’ Maisie looked uneasy. ‘It’s not an appointment as such. Just going to visit an acquaintance.’

  Bel looked at Maisie and felt herself blush, although why she should be the one blushing she had no idea. She had never talked to her sister about her employment at Lily’s, and was happy to believe that Maisie’s work was solely to do with the Gentlemen’s Club.

  ‘Oh, you got far to go?’ Bel asked, more for something to say than for any other reason.

  ‘Just round the corner to Glen Path.’ Maisie looked down at Lucille, who was staring up at them both, taking in every word passing between her aunty and her mammy.

  ‘Anyway, you didn’t answer my question,’ Maisie said, looking back at Bel. ‘What are you three doing in this neck of the woods? Something tells me you’re on some kind of mission? Especially as you all look like you’re on your way to church, not just on a sojourn to the park.’

  Bel looked down at her best coat, which she had pressed before leaving the house, and her black leather shoes that she had polished to a shine. She had also woven Lucille’s blonde hair into two straight, tight plaits. Bel let out a sigh. There was no reason to lie to Maisie. Besides, she was the only one who really understood her need to find her father.

  ‘Actually,’ Bel lowered her voice, ‘you’re not far wrong.’ She looked at Lucille, who had now got bored with the adult chatter and was on her tiptoes trying to look in the pram to see if Hope was awake, her intentions clear. If she wasn’t, she soon would be.

  ‘Beryl mentioned that Ma had worked around here, in one of the big houses, as some kind of maid,’ Bel explained.

  ‘What? So you thought you’d go all Miss Marple? Find the house and then what?’ Maisie was intrigued.

  ‘I dunno.’ Bel now sounded deflated. ‘To be honest, it’s been a complete washout. I’ve felt like some kind of beggar with my two street urchins next to me knocking on all these doors.’ Bel looked behind her at the half-dozen houses she had already called at.

  ‘Honestly, I’ve felt about this small.’ She put her thumb and forefinger an inch apart.

  Maisie laughed. ‘Yes, they can be a bit stuck-up along here. Lots of “old money”, which generally means old people stuck in old ways. No time for working-class folk.’

  ‘A woman just took one look at me and slammed the door in my face. God, I was so angry I had to stop myself banging on the door again and giving her a piece of my mind.’

  Maisie chuckled again. She knew the only reason Bel probably hadn’t was Lucille and Hope.

  ‘So, Beryl reckons Ma worked in one of the houses along here?’

  ‘I think her exact words were, “one of the big houses that overlook Backhouse Park”.’ Bel looked at Lucille, who was now pulling Hope’s blanket down so she could get hold of her little hand.

  Just then Bel was struck by an idea. ‘You could ask your “acquaintance”. See if he remembers a young girl called Pearl who used to work around here as a maid?’

  Maisie stared at Bel for a moment as if a thought – and not a particularly pleasant one – had just occurred to her.

  ‘Personally, I think you’re looking for a needle in a haystack.’

  As she spoke, Bel’s face dropped.

  ‘I know. It’s crazy. Seemed like such a good idea when I was sat at home chatting to Polly.’

  ‘I tell you what,’ Maisie quickly looked at her watch, ‘I’ve got to go now, but why don’t me and you go out one day and knock on doors. Leave the “bairns” at home?’

  ‘Ah, that would be really nice. Thanks, Maisie.’ All of a sudden Bel didn’t feel so hopeless. For the first time she felt as if she and Maisie were proper sisters. United.

  ‘Mammy! Park. Pleeease.’ Lucille’s tone of voice had changed from demanding to outright begging.

  ‘How can you refuse?’ Maisie laughed.

  ‘All right, LuLu, you win. The park it is!’ Bel told her daughter, who removed her hands from inside the pram, although Bel feared it was too late as Hope was starting to stir.

  ‘I’ll pop by over the weekend and we’ll
make a plan,’ Maisie promised, giving Lucille a hug and a kiss.

  As Maisie hurried off down the wide, tree-lined pathway, Bel shouted out, ‘Thanks, Maisie!’

  Maisie turned around and blew them all a kiss before crossing the road and turning right into Glen Path.

  As Bel started pushing the pram back down the street towards the park’s main entrance, she took hold of Lucille’s hand. The little girl was pulling her mammy forward with all her might.

  Was it possible that her father was still here? Still alive? Still working in one of the big houses? If he was around her ma’s age, perhaps a little older, he would be in his mid to late forties.

  Suddenly Bel panicked.

  The age of conscription had just been raised to fifty-one. There was a good chance her da would be called up – might have already been called up!

  Her time might be running out.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  As soon as Maisie had finished her ‘appointment’, she turned right out of the main gates instead of left, which she would have normally done had she been headed back to Lily’s. This evening she was going to take a rather long detour home – via the Tatham. It was a relatively warm evening, and Maisie felt like clearing her head, so even though she knew it would be a good half-hour walk, she didn’t mind.

  She had asked her client, as she had been getting ready to leave, if he knew of a young maid called Pearl who had worked for a while in one of the houses overlooking the park. On hearing how long ago it was, though, he’d let out a snort of laughter, saying that at his age he was lucky to remember what he’d had for breakfast. When Maisie told him it was important and he had seen the look of earnestness on her face, he had sat back in his chair, filled his pipe and thought for a little while before declaring that, as far as he could recall, he had not employed any such maid. Maisie wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth, or if it really was too long ago for him to remember. When she had continued to pursue the subject and asked if any of his neighbours had employed a skinny young blonde girl, he said, ‘Even if I did have the mind of a younger man, it’s highly unlikely, my dear, that I would see, never mind know, any of my neighbours’ servants. We all tend to keep to ourselves around these parts.’ Her client’s use of the word ‘servant’ had made Maisie recoil, and she’d counted her money and left, forcing a smile on her face.

  The walk along Glen Path and then The Cedars always seemed to be quiet, which Maisie found a little disconcerting. Being brought up in London and living there most of her life, it was rare to see an empty street without at least half a dozen cars or buses on it. Her spirits lifted when she reached Ryhope Road and crossed over to Villette Road, where she was hit by the buzz of life – a group of chattering Jews making their way to the synagogue, the usual shouts and screams of the local children running in and out of the Barley Mow Park, housewives carrying half-full bags of shopping, and the first trickle of workers heading home for their tea.

  As Maisie cut through some of the side streets before coming out onto Tatham Street, she popped into the tobacconist and bought Pearl her packet of Winstons. By the time she reached the pub, it was just starting to get dark. Walking into the main bar, Maisie smiled and said her hellos to some of the regulars.

  ‘Ah, Maisie!’ Pearl’s face lit up as it always did when she saw her daughter.

  ‘Bill,’ Maisie looked over at the landlord standing next to Pearl behind the bar, ‘can I borrow your chief barmaid for five minutes, please?’

  ‘Eee, yer dinnit need to ask his permission. I’m my own woman. I’ll have myself a break if I need one!’ Pearl said in outrage.

  Bill raised his eyes to the heavens and Maisie shook her head in sympathy. ‘That may well be, Ma, but Bill is still your boss.’

  ‘Go and sit down and I’ll bring your drinks over,’ Bill said, as Pearl lifted up the counter and came round the other side of the bar.

  ‘Ah, thanks, Bill. My mother doesn’t know how lucky she is to have you as her employer.’

  ‘Phut!’ Pearl said, her eyes lighting up as Maisie handed her the packet of cigarettes. ‘More like he doesn’t know how lucky he is to have me here, working for peanuts, every hour God sends.’ She then opened the packet, pulled out two cigarettes and handed one to Maisie with the words, ‘Ta, pet!’, sparking up her daughter’s cigarette and then her own with the Ronson lighter Maisie had bought her in London. She exhaled smoke and spoke at the same time. ‘So, then, to what do I owe this honour?’

  Maisie turned around as she saw Bill coming over with their drinks. ‘I don’t think you’ll be calling it an “honour” or be quite so chirpy when I tell you, Ma.’

  ‘Here you go, ladies.’ Bill handed Maisie a good measure of Rémy Martin from one of the bottles she had given him the other week. One was a gift, the other to be put behind the bar for her visits. Maisie had decided if the Tatham was to become her regular drinking hole, then she needed to be able to enjoy a decent drink.

  ‘Eee, “ladies” is it now?’ Pearl blew smoke up to the ceiling.

  ‘Well, I could think of worse names to be called, Ma!’ Maisie turned to Bill. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what’s got into this mother of mine. I feel for you, Bill. Talk about a constant barrage of abuse.’ Maisie turned her attention back to Pearl. ‘Can’t you say a civil word to the man?’

  ‘Ah, he loves it!’ Pearl chuckled, giving Bill a wink as he walked off smiling and shaking his head. ‘Can’t take ourselves too serious, can we?’

  Maisie looked at her mother and took a deep breath.

  ‘Well, I don’t know if you’ll be saying that when I tell you what I’ve got to tell you.’ Maisie looked at the bulbous glass and took a sip of her drink. She wondered if Bill would be offended if she brought in her own glass too.

  ‘What have yer gorra tell me, then, that’s so serious?’ Pearl took a long drag on her cigarette.

  ‘It’s Bel,’ Maisie said. ‘You wouldn’t guess where I saw her this afternoon?’

  Pearl’s eyes were now focused solely on Maisie.

  ‘Where?’ she demanded.

  ‘The Cedars,’ Maisie said simply.

  ‘The Cedars?’ Pearl repeated. ‘What was she doing up that way?’

  Maisie took a deep breath. ‘She was looking for her “da”. Or at least trying to find where you worked after you came back from London. She heard from Beryl that you used to work in one of the big houses that overlook the park when you came back after having me.’

  ‘And?’ Pearl said. Her cigarette had burnt down to the butt and she tossed it in the ashtray.

  ‘And,’ Maisie said, ‘she’s done her maths and worked out that you must have fallen pregnant within a year of returning home. Which, in turn, probably means her father is someone you worked with … Or …’ she blew out smoke ‘… someone you worked for.’

  Pearl looked at Maisie and lit another cigarette. Her eldest daughter wasn’t stupid, that was for sure. But more worryingly, neither was her youngest. It wouldn’t take Isabelle long to come to the same conclusion.

  ‘How many doors did she knock on? What did she find out?’ Pearl was now perched forward on her stool, staring at Maisie, hoping upon hope that Isabelle’s snoop along The Cedars had been fruitless.

  ‘About half a dozen or so, but don’t worry, she didn’t find anything out. She seemed pretty down in the mouth, to be honest.’

  Pearl wanted to say that she would be more than down in the mouth if she found out the truth, but she didn’t. Instead she took a large swig of her whisky.

  ‘She said someone even shut the door in her face. It didn’t seem like anyone had been particularly nice to her. Or helpful,’ continued Maisie.

  For a moment Pearl was transported back to the day she too had trooped from house to house along The Cedars and then Glen Path. When she, too, had suffered the affront of having doors slammed in her face and being talked down to as though she was dirt. It hadn’t bothered Pearl. She had been beyond caring. But it bothered her now, bothered her
that people were being like that to her Isabelle. She was so kind, so pretty, and she had such manners. More than a lot of posh folk she’d come across. Her Isabelle shouldn’t be knocking on doors, begging for information, like she herself had begged for a job and a roof over her head.

  ‘Do yer think that’s it, then?’ Pearl asked. ‘Do yer think she’ll leave it at that?’ But even as she spoke her words Pearl knew the answer.

  ‘You’re not going to get off the hook that easily, Ma. I’m afraid Bel’s determined to knock on every door of every house that overlooks that park until she gets an answer. One way or the other.’

  ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me.’ Pearl blew out another thick cloud of grey smoke.

  ‘But,’ Maisie sat back and smiled, ‘this is when I deserve a big pat on the back.’

  ‘Go on,’ Pearl said, pulling another cigarette out of the packet and lighting it off the one she was just about to put out.

  ‘I said I would go with her next time she decided to go door-knocking.’

  Pearl’s mind was working nineteen to the dozen. ‘So you can tell me if she finds anything out?’

  ‘Exactly!’

  There was a moment’s pause.

  ‘That would take a load off yer auld ma’s shoulders,’ Pearl said, leaning across the table conspiratorially, ‘even more so if you could keep her away from Glen Path.’ She thought she saw a flicker of concern skit across her daughter’s very beautiful freckled face. ‘Is that gonna be a problem?’

  Maisie shook her head. ‘Any house in particular?’

  ‘Nah,’ Pearl said, as a large group of overall-clad workers she knew worked at Bartram’s shipyard walked into the bar. ‘Just keep her away from there. Just say you’ve already spoken to the people along that particular street. Make something up. Just don’t let her go anywhere near those soddin’ houses.’

  Maisie watched her ma as she downed her drink and hurried back to the bar to help Bill out with the new influx of customers. As the pub continued to fill up, Maisie didn’t make any attempt to move, but stayed there for a good ten minutes, drinking her brandy and smoking, deep in thought.