by Annie Murray
‘Oh, and you don’t think I ’ave?’ Gladys was hands on hips, cheeks plum red.
It was turning into quite a shouting match and no one was taking any notice of poor old Molly, as if she was a sack of turnips they were haggling over, so I went and sat down by her. ‘You all right, Molly? Feeling bad, are you?’
‘I want Lenny,’ she said tearfully. Poor old Molly, I’d never seen her miserable like that before, with everyone shouting about her head and not really knowing what was happening to her.
Just then, woken by the racket, Len appeared, shirt hanging out, hair standing on end, only half awake.
‘Ah,’ Gladys said accusingly. ‘’Ere ’e is.’
It all went quiet suddenly. Len stared round at us, rubbed his eyes like a little kid, then looked at me as if I should explain everything. Then Mom was looking at me too. So it was up to me again was it, to take responsibility? I was damned if it was.
‘’E’s got to know,’ Gladys said, back in the arms-folded-over bosoms position. ‘So you’d better get on with it.’
I stared hard at Mom. This isn’t my job. Not this.
‘Len . . .’ Horribly embarrassed, she took Len’s arm and he turned his great head and frowned at her, struggling to get every word. ‘You know you and Molly—’
‘Molly!’ Len pointed suddenly as if he’d only just seen she was there. ‘’Ullo Molly!’
‘Len, listen. You and Molly like each other a lot, don’t you?’
Len nodded very hard.
‘Well, Molly’s having your babby, Lenny. It is his, isn’t it?’ she hissed at Molly who stared back, then nodded.
Len still looked as if he’d got caught fast in a monkey puzzle tree and couldn’t get out.
‘Molly’s got a babby in her tummy,’ Mom spelt out slowly. ‘And it was you that put it there, see?’
‘And don’t try saying it weren’t,’ Gladys threatened.
Len moved a few steps closer to Molly. ‘You got a babby, Molly?’
Molly nodded again looking scared, poor child that she was. The two of them seemed stuck, Len standing there, Molly in the chair, not knowing what to do.
‘Well, there’s nothing for it,’ Mom said. ‘We’re going to have to get this sorted out one way or another. I s’pose the next thing is to fix a wedding day.’
Molly gazed across at us as if she just couldn’t believe what she’d heard.
‘Wedding day, Molly? How would you and Len like to get married?’
The light dawned. Slowly, bit by tiny bit, Molly’s mouth turned up into a whopping great banana of a smile.
The factory was abuzz with excitement. Doris was full of organizing a lunchtime show and trying to bludgeon as many as possible into a performance of a sort. It was amazing how much work they could get done while their minds were on other things.
‘Come on, Agatha,’ Doris wheedled. ‘You’ve got a few rhymes up your sleeve. And Joan – you can do your trick with the bottle and string.’
‘Oh not again!’ Joan groaned. ‘Everyone’ll be sick to the back teeth of that.’
‘No – you can’t see that one too many times.’ Doris was writing her down in a little notebook regardless.
‘Don’t know why you’re bothering,’ one woman said. ‘More trouble than it’s worth.’
‘You old misery.’ Doris’s cackling laugh rang round the warehouse. ‘Got to ’ave some fun from somewhere. What with tea going on the ration as well, there won’t be any pleasures left at all soon!’
Her laughter moved closer to my ear. ‘Right, Genie – put you down for a song, shall I?’
‘I’ve got no voice!’
‘Oh you ’ave, bab, I’ve ’eard you singing round the place – when you ’ad more to be cheerful about any rate. Sweet little voice you’ve got. From your nan I expect. It is ’er I’ve heard up the Eagle, isn’t it? And your auntie – oi—’ She held on to my arm and called out to the others for agreement. ‘’Ow about Genie gets ’er nan and ’er auntie and your mom is it? – over ’ere? The Andrews Sisters of Balsall ’Eath!’ She laughed again. ‘That’d liven us all up.’
‘They couldn’t – they’re all at work,’ I said, not sure they’d agree even if they hadn’t been.
‘I could sing with ’er,’ Nancy butted in, jealous of the attention I was getting.
‘Sorry, Nance,’ Joan said. ‘Not meaning to be rude or nothing but you’ve got a voice on you like a pair of clapped out bellows. I should stick to the day job if I was you.’
Nancy scowled viciously.
‘Eh – I tell you what, girls,’ Doris said, clasping my arm even harder. ‘Let’s make a real go of it and ’ave it of an evening. Get Genie’s nan along with ’er squeeze box, ’ave a bit of a drink and that – what d’you reckon?’
There were cheers and a few scattered handclaps.
‘Go on – we could do with a bit of a laugh.’
‘It’d get me away from the old man for a night any rate!’
‘You could bring ’im along.’
‘Not on your life I won’t!’
‘But there’s no room for a proper concert here,’ someone pointed out.
Someone suggested the yard at the back and they were chewing over how it could be cleaned up when Doris cut in with, ‘I know – the roof!’
Broadbent’s had a flat roof with a parapet running round it.
‘But we’ll never get a piano up there – it’s four floors!’
‘Oh yes we will,’ Doris said comfortably. ‘Course we will.’
There was a hubbub as everyone started making plans and picking the day, which was quickly chosen as the Friday, giving us two days. Doris with her little notebook, was jotting down names before they could even volunteer.
While this was all going on, out of the corner of my eye I saw someone come in through the door from the factory at the front and stand quietly waiting, watching what was going on with a smile on his lips. I half guessed immediately who he was, and it was only seconds before his presence was noticed by the others, and Nancy in particular, who let out a shrill, excited screech, ‘Look,’ She pointed. ‘’E’s back!’
Instant excitement to top up what was already there. Joe Broadbent was surrounded by a bunch of chattering women, the older, more motherly ones kissing him, and more forward ones making smart-alec comments and others just standing round chatting and giggling, demanding why he wasn’t in his uniform. A few of us carried on with our work, listening to the others.
Nancy, of all of them, was by far the most forward. God Almighty, I’d never seen anyone behave like quite such a tit. Blushing, leering, simpering, she hung round him as he tried to make his way into the factory. It was sick-making. She was throwing questions at him like confetti and tagging his name on to each of them in such a syrupy way that I saw some of the other women grimacing.
‘How’ve you been, Joe? How’s it feel to be a pilot, Joe? Have you flown lots of planes? Have you got your wings yet, Joe?’
On and on until someone else said, ‘Oh leave off, Nancy – you’re enough to give anyone a headache.’
I’d heard more than a bit about the famous Joe while I was at Broadbent’s and I was curious too, thinking he probably wasn’t all he was cracked up to be, because they hardly ever are, are they? Tucked away in the background I had a chance of a good look at him.
He was tall, a head at least above most of the women, and the first thing I noticed was the way he had of tilting his head forward when he spoke to them, fixing everyone’s face with his eyes, their questions holding his attention. Even Nancy’s, for a while anyway. He didn’t talk down to them as if they weren’t worth the trouble, just like his dad didn’t, and his manner was easy, standing with his hands in the pockets of his brown, worn-looking jacket. He had fair hair, half way between blond and brown, cut very short of course, forces standard, which looked a bit strange on anyone in civvies. His long, thin face was pale, tired I thought. But smiling out of it were dark brown eyes, the liveliest and ki
ndest I’d ever seen.
I was affected by Joe immediately. He was a clever person, I knew. He’d been to grammar school and before the war had been due to go on to technical college, even university. This was an awesome thought for all of us because opportunities like that were way off the edge of our horizon. He seemed so grown up at nineteen, so admirable, yet for all that, so far as I could see, so very approachable. I’d never come across anyone like him before.
Nancy was proving difficult for him to shake off as he did his round of the warehouse, stopping to have a word with everyone on the way. He seemed to remember everyone’s name, their family, their circumstances. It really was a family firm and some of those women had been there years. Broadbent’s was known as a good employer – fair, kind and reasonable.
‘Nancy – get back and get on with your work,’ Doris ordered her eventually. They were all browned off with her by now. Nancy pulled herself away with enormous effort as if she was strung to Joe by a piece of elastic and went pouting back to her place. With great ostentation she took the snood from her hair, which she proceeded to shake out, a long auburn mass of it, wavy down her back. She pulled her fingers through it, looking to see if Joe was watching her, and once she’d seen his glance turn her way she began coiling it briskly round her hand and put the covering back on it, patting it to make sure little wisps of her fringe were peeping out at the front.
‘Quite finished, ’ave you?’ Agatha said, sarky.
‘Now here’s someone I don’t know,’ I heard Joe say. ‘Who’s this then, Doris?’
My heart was beating so fast when he came up to me.
‘This is Genie, the new checker,’ Doris told him. ‘Been here a few weeks. She’s a good’un she is – Genie, Joe Broadbent. He’s home on a week’s leave, from the RAF,’ she explained carefully, as if I was deaf and hadn’t heard anything that had gone before.
‘Nice to meet you, Genie.’ I realized suddenly that he was holding out his hand to me. I wiped my left hand on my overall and held it out and then of course remembered it was the wrong one and had to start all over again. I felt such a scruffy little mouse in my overall and snood with draggly bits of hair falling out of it and my dirty hands, but I managed to look up at him. The smile that met me in his eyes gave me a feeling I’d never forget. Something that dug so deep in me I didn’t understand what had happened except I felt dizzy suddenly and new. Those dark eyes, striking against the light hair, held an expression that was so open, so sympathetic. After a few seconds I was able to smile back with all the warmth I felt.
‘How d’you do, Joe,’ I said, taking his hand. My heart was going so, I thought it must be showing, rattling my body.
‘You getting on all right here, are you?’
‘Very nice, thanks. It’s by far the best place I’ve ever worked.’
My hand was still in his and slowly he released me. I noticed the rubbed look of his jacket. It was old, a favourite probably.
‘Course, a lot of things have changed here since the war. They’ll have told you that?’ He glanced round at the others. Nancy was watching us, hard.
‘Oh yes,’ I said eagerly. ‘You used to take maps.’ Flustered, I lowered my eyes. ‘I mean make taps.’
When I looked up he let out a loud laugh which after a moment I joined in.
‘You’re not scared of me, are you? Good heavens, there’s no need to be.’ With the laugh still in his eyes he leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. ‘If it’s so good here, tell me where else you’ve worked then.’
‘You got half the afternoon to spare, have you? The worst place I ever worked was a meat factory . . .’ I found myself babbling on, telling him about the pork pies and the bloke’s nose and the woman whose finger got grated in with it too. And I told him about the taxi firm and the pawn shop and a couple of the others, although I kept some of the list back so’s he didn’t think I was a complete waster.
He laughed a lot at what I was saying which gave me courage and I relaxed and was able to talk more like my normal self.
‘Why so many?’ he asked.
‘I get bored easily. Not here though,’ I added quickly. ‘I like it here.’
Still chuckling, he said, ‘Seems I’ve led a very sheltered existence! You’ve managed to put me off pork pies for the rest of my life any rate.’
‘I never said what they did to the sausage—’
‘No, please!’ He held up one hand to stop me. ‘I’m surprised you lasted as long as a week there. Half an hour and I’d’ve been hanging up my overall I should think.’
After a bit more chatter Joe said, ‘Well I’d better let you get on, or Doris’ll never let me hear the end of it.’
He hesitated. ‘See you around, Genie.’
When I looked across at the clock I saw with disbelief that we’d been talking for twenty minutes. It felt more like two.
He stayed a bit longer, exchanging pleasantries with a few people. I could tell he was pleased to be back. Two or three times I felt his gaze on me, and I couldn’t stop myself watching him, following him with my eyes. I knew exactly where he was all the time he was in there. I watched the way he walked, his long straight back, his gestures, the way he moved his head.
As he left, going out again through the factory, letting in the clunking noises of the machines, his eyes found me again. Feeling the blush rise in my cheeks, I thought, it had to be a coincidence: he couldn’t really have been seeking me out.
But as soon as the door shut, Agatha said, ‘Ooh Genie!’ Whatever else she might’ve said was interrupted by Nancy who was round to my position in seconds and grabbing me by the throat.
‘Just you keep off ’im!’ Her face was all screwed up. ‘’E’s mine,’ she hissed, silly little cow that she was. ‘Mine, OK?’
I seized her hand and jerked it away from my throat which was sore where she’d clawed at me. ‘What’d you do then, eh? Buy ’im at the Co-op?’
‘Get back to your place, Nance,’ Agatha ordered her. ‘And keep your catty mitts off Genie. What the ’ell d’you think you’re playing at?’
For the rest of the afternoon Nancy gave me looks of such poisonous hatred along the table that I began to wonder if she was a bit barmy. But it didn’t touch me. Nancy Hogan could go take a running jump.
‘Will he be coming to the show on Friday?’ I asked Doris.
She grinned at me. ‘Who would that be, Genie?’ She relented quickly. ‘As he’s home I’d be very surprised if he doesn’t.’
‘I’m working Friday,’ Mom said when she got home that night, unsteady with exhaustion.
‘Can’t you swap?’ I called through from the kitchen. ‘Everyone else’s going.’
Nanny Rawson never took much persuasion to play and sing. It was her one escape from the house, the endless work. And Lil said she’d come and bring the kids.
Mom sat in an armchair, leaning down, rubbing her ankles. ‘No, don’t think so,’ she said listlessly.
I heard her get up and pour herself a drink. Suddenly I was full of angry determination. I wanted this so badly, wanted us all singing there together on Friday, and I wanted Joe Broadbent to see us. Without Mom’s high-reaching voice which complemented Lil’s deeper one, it wouldn’t be the same.
Standing by the kitchen door I watched her sit down with a glass half full of gin.
‘You managed to sort your shifts out all right when it suited you to see Bob.’
She hesitated, looking round at me, the glass to her lips.
I held her gaze, stared back. ‘Do this for me, Mom. Just for once, do something for me.’
She took two gulps, shuddering slightly at the strength of it. At last she said, ‘Oh well – all right then.’
I’d never been on the roof at Broadbent’s before, but anyone could see it’d been transformed. A group of volunteers had stayed on after work the night before to make the place ready, and considering the drabness of a smoke-stained factory roof, they’d performed a miracle. It was surrounded on th
ree sides by a brick parapet, and the fourth abutted a tall, thin building, higher than Broadbent’s, occupied by Cobham’s, a firm of tool-makers. So there was a blank wall facing us, only broken by a couple of filthy air vents. Across that they’d fixed old sheets made into a banner, painted in red and blue letters on the white, which read ‘Showtime at Broad-bent’s – 1940’.
There were already a good number gathering up there. I looked round with our nan, Lil and Mom (no Len – the pull of Molly was even stronger than that of a sing-song) and the kids, who thought being right up there was the best thing ever. I lifted Cathleen up and we looked across at the roofs of factories and houses, some below so we could see all their loose tiles, others on the same sort of level. You could see the spire at St Martin’s in the Bull Ring, and Cathleen pointed at the shining barrage balloons which seemed so much nearer from up here.
‘Don’t think I’ve ever been this high up before,’ Nan said, still breathless from all the stairs.
Mom looked over the edge, dreamily. She was wearing a loose dress, sensitive about being seen to be pregnant, and she’d evidently decided to join in tonight, to play along.
They’d swept the tarred roof, which still felt spongy underfoot from the warm day, carried up trestle tables and what chairs and stools could be begged or borrowed, and arranged them in rows facing the wall and banner. Wonder of wonders, to one side, stood a piano.
‘We borrowed some muscles,’ Doris said, coming up to us. She said how excited she was to meet the family, Nan especially. ‘This is my ’usband, Ray.’ She indicated a massive bloke next to her, built like an all-in wrestler with the broken nose to match. In fact he was a boxer in his spare time. I had a strong feeling I’d seen him somewhere before. ‘Knew ’e’d come in ’andy some time,’ Doris laughed, and I could see our nan warming to her.
Doris admired Lil’s kids, picked up Cathleen and cuddled her as everyone did, with her pretty looks.
‘She’ll be another like Genie,’ she said. ‘Bet she gets away with murder with them big eyes.’ Cathleen stole the show at this point by putting her arms round Doris’s neck and squeezing her face against hers.