by Maureen Lee
The two women passed. Flo had no idea if Nancy glanced in her direction because she kept her own eyes fixed firmly on the ground. After a few seconds, she turned and saw the colourful figure cross the road and go into number eighteen.
In the Mystery, Tommy got to his feet and reached down to pull her up. “We’ll come back later when it’s dark. And then . . . ” His dark eyes smouldered and Flo’s tummy did a cartwheel.
“And then . . . ” she whispered. Then they would come as close to heaven as it was possible to get on earth.
She told him about the sailors because she wanted to make him jealous and he duly was. “You belong to me, Flo Clancy,” he said angrily. “We belong to each other till the end of time.”
“I know, I know!” she cried. “I wouldn’t dream of going out with another man when I’ve got you.”
He looked sulky. “I should hope not!”
In the pub, he informed her that the submarine he’d been working on, the Thetis, was taking its first diving exercise on Thursday. “Some of the shipyard workers are sailing with it, but my name wasn’t on the list. You get extra pay, at least ten bob.” He looked wistful. “I would have gone for nothing.”
“Never mind.” Flo was keeping a close eye on the sky outside. She wasn’t bothered about the Thetis. All her concentration was centred on how swiftly night would fall so they could go to the Mystery and make love.
The Fritz family had been to Anglesey for Whit, a regular haunt, and Mr Fritz didn’t return to the laundry till Thursday when the children were due back at school.
He’d bought a camera, there was one exposure left on the roll, and he wanted a snapshot taken of him with his girls.
Later that morning, Mrs Fritz came bustling along to take it. It was the first of June and a perfect day for taking photographs. The weather had been brilliantly sunny all week.
The six women trooped outside, excited. “You stand by me, Flo,” Mr Fritz hissed. “It’s an excuse to put my arm around you. I want a record of that smile. It’s always been enough to dazzle the strongest eyes, but lately it’s not just a smile, it’s a miracle.”
Mrs Fritz stationed her plump body in the middle of the street. “Try and get the sign in over the door, Stella,” her husband shouted, as everyone shuffled into position.
“Say cheese!” Mrs Fritz called.
“Cheese!”
There was a click. “All done!”
“If it turns out all right, I’ll order a copy each.” Mr Fritz squeezed Flo’s waist and whispered, “I enjoyed that.”
Flo knew he was only joking, because he adored his sweet little wife and eight children, but she hoped no one had noticed—Josie was always complaining that Flo was Mr Fritz’s favourite.
The rest of the day passed in a dream, as the days did since she’d met Tommy. She lived for Monday, lived for Friday, then lived for Monday again. They would have met more often, but he didn’t like to leave Nancy while she felt so poorly.
Six o’clock came and she made her way home, still immersed in her dream, and scarcely noticed the crowd that had gathered on the corner of the street next to hers until she reached it.
“What’s up?” she asked.
A woman grabbed her arm. “There’s been a terrible accident, girl. Haven’t you heard?”
“What sort of accident?”
“It’s some ship, a submarine called the Thetis—it’s trapped underwater in Liverpool Bay and they can’t find its position. There’s over a hundred men on board.”
“Holy Mary, Mother of God!” Flo crossed herself. At first she felt relieved that Tommy hadn’t been on board, but concern followed quickly for the men who were. She could think of nothing more horrific than to be trapped beneath the sea in a vessel she imagined being shaped like a big black fish. “They’ll be rescued, won’t they?” she said anxiously.
An elderly man butted in. “Of course they will, luv.
I’m an ould salt meself, so I know Liverpool Bay’s no more than twenty-five fathoms deep. They’ll have them men up in no time.”
When she got home Mam and her sisters had already heard the bad news. Martha was wondering if they dared invade Albert’s room and turn on the wireless.
“It’s not been declared official yet,” Mam said. “So far it’s just rumour.”
“You mean it might not have happened?” Sally looked hopeful.
“Oh, it’s happened all right.” Mam shook her head sadly. “Mrs Cox’s nephew works in Cammell Laird where everyone knows full well there’s been an accident.
Women have already started to collect outside to wait for news of their men. It’s just that nothing’s been confirmed, so the news won’t have reached the wireless.”
It wasn’t until ten o’clock that the plight of the Thetis was conveyed to the nation by the BBC. One hundred and three men were on board, fifty of them civilians. The Admiralty assured everyone concerned that rescue ships were on their way and there was every hope the men would be saved.
“I should think so!” Flo said indignantly. “It’s only twenty-five fathoms deep.”
“How much is that in feet?” Martha asked Albert, as if men automatically knew everything. Albert confessed he had no idea.
There was a search for Dad’s dictionary, which had conversion tables at the back. Twenty-five fathoms was 150 feet.
In bed that night, Flo was unable to get the trapped men out of her mind. She tossed and turned restlessly.
“Are you awake, Flo?” Sally whispered.
“Yes. I can’t stop thinking of those men in the Thetis.”
The neither.”
Martha’s voice surprised them because she usually slept like a log, despite the metal curlers. “Let’s say a silent prayer. Remember that one ‘we learned at school for shipwrecked mariners?’
Eventually the sisters fell asleep, the words of the prayer on their lips.
When they woke next morning the Thetis came straight to mind. The weather was lovely, gloriously sunny, and it seemed incongruous and unfair that those safe on land should be blessed with such a perfect day in view of the disaster unfolding beneath the sea.
Albert had given them permission to listen to his wireless, from which they learned there’d been no developments overnight. Ships and aircraft were still trying to pinpoint the position of the stricken submarine.
On her way to work, Flo passed several groups of people gravely discussing the tragedy, which had touched the hearts of everyone in Liverpool. Twice she was asked, “Have you heard any fresh news, luv?” All she could do was shake her head.
She bought a Daily Herald. Everyone in the laundry had bought a paper and the Thetis was the main headline on them all, as well as the sole topic of conversation all morning. Betty Bryant knew a woman who knew a woman whose cousin’s husband was on board.
“I know someone on board even better than that,”
Olive Knott said smugly. “In fact, we all do. Remember that feller who brought his suit in for dry-cleaning a couple of months ago, Tommy O’Mara? He’s a fitter with Cammell Laird. His poor ould wife wasn’t half making a scene last night! Running up and down the street she was, screaming her head off. It took half a dozen neighbours to calm her. Mind you, Nancy O’Mara’s always had a couple of screws loose.”
“But he wasn’t supposed to go!” Flo’s horrified words were lost in the chorus of dismay.
“Such a dead handsome feller, what a shame!”
“He was a cheeky-looking bugger, but I liked him.”
Josie Driver looked close to tears.
Olive made a sour face. “I don’t wish him any harm, but Nancy’ll be better off without the bugger. He drove the poor woman doo-lally with his philandering.
No woman, married or single, was safe near Tommy O’Mara.”
That’s not true! Flo wanted to scream that Olive was talking nonsense. Tommy may have been a bit of a blade in the past—in fact, he’d hinted so more than once—but it was only because Nancy hadn’t been a p
roper wife in a long time. Since he’d met Flo, he wouldn’t have given another woman a second glance. Oh, if only she could tell them! But why on earth was she thinking like this when it didn’t matter a jot what Olive thought? What mattered was that Tommy might die! If he did, Flo wanted to die, too.
In her agitation she nearly scorched a shirt. Then Betty made things worse by reading out something from the newspaper. There was only enough oxygen on board to last thirty-six hours. Once the supply dried up, the men would die from carbon-dioxide poisoning. “It means there’s not much time left.” Betty clasped her hands together as if she were praying. “Holy Mary, Mother of God, please save those poor men!”
Then Mr Fritz came hurrying in, panting for breath.
“The Thetis has been spotted with its stern sticking out of the water fourteen miles from Great Ormes Head. It was on the wireless just before I left.”
“Thank the Lord!” Josie shouted. “They’re bound to save them now.”
Relief swept through Flo’s body so forcefully that, for a moment, she felt sick. She swayed, and Mr Fritz snatched the gas iron from her hand. “Are you all right, Flo?”
“I hardly slept last night. I feel a bit ragged, that’s all.”
“You go home, girl, if you don’t feel better soon,” he said concernedly. “I don’t want you on your feet all day if you’ve got problems.”
“Problems” meant he thought she had a period. Standing for ten hours in the equivalent of a steambath was hard on women who had trouble with their monthlies, and Mr Fritz was always sympathetic if someone needed a day off. Flo, however, had always sailed through hers without so much as a twinge. Apart from a week’s holiday each year, she hadn’t had a single day off since she’d started five years ago straight from school.
“I’ll see how I feel,” she told him gratefully.
The feeling of sickness soon left her, but for the first time the noise in the laundry began to get on her nerves: the churning of the washing in the boilers, the clatter of the belt-driven wringers, the hiss of the irons. Flo knew she couldn’t work all day with the sounds pressing against her brain while she remained ignorant of the fate of the Thetis.
At midday, she went into the office and told Mr Fritz she felt no better. “I wouldn’t mind going home, after all.”
She felt slightly ashamed of how good she’d become at lying over the last two months.
He fussed around, patted her cheek, and said she didn’t look anything like her usual glowing self. He even offered to take her to Burnett Street in the van.
“No, ta,” she said. “I might walk around a bit to clear me head. I’ll go to bed this avvy.”
“Good idea, Flo, I hope you feel better tomorrow.”
Several hundred men and women had congregated in front of the gates of Cammell Laird. Some of the women held babies in their arms with slightly older children clutching their skirts. Some faces were hopeful, others blank with despair. A woman she couldn’t see was shouting for her man. Flo’s heart sank. It would seem there hadn’t been more good news.
A girl with a glorious head of red hair, about the same age as herself, was standing at the back. “What’s happening?”
Flo asked.
“Four men got out through the escape hatches, otherwise nowt.” The girl’s face was extraordinarily colourful: pink lips, rosy cheeks, black-lashed eyes the colour of violets, all framed in the cloud of red waves.
“But someone at work said the stern was sticking out the water,” Flo groaned. “I’d have thought they’d have hauled it up by now.”
The girl shrugged. “I’d have thought so, too, but they haven’t.” She looked at Flo sympathetically. “Have you got someone on board?”
Flo bit her lip. The feller.”
“Aye, so’s mine. Well, he’s only a sort of feller.” She didn’t look the least bit upset. “I only came out of curiosity. I’m always looking for an excuse to get off work. I suppose it’s about time I went—I called in and said I had to see the doctor.”
“I told a lie to get away meself,” Flo confessed.
The girl made a face as if implying they were partners in a crime. “Are you from Liverpool or Birkenhead?” She spoke in a loud, musical voice that rose and fell as if she was singing.
“Liverpool. I came on the ferry.”
The, too. I’ll catch the next one back. Are you coming?”
“I only just got here. I’d sooner stay and see if anything happens.” Flo wished the girl didn’t have to go. She rather liked her friendly, down-to-earth manner.
“I might go to the pics tonight. It’ll be all about the Thetis on the Pathe News. Tara, then.” She clattered away on her high heels.
“Tara.” Flo sighed. If the submarine hadn’t been brought up by tonight, it would be cutting things fine for those on board.
She turned her attention to the crowd. “What I’d like to know,” a man muttered aggressively, “is why they don’t bore a hole through the hull and get everyone out that way, or at least pass in a hose of oxygen.”
Somewhere a woman was still shouting: “What have you done with my man?” Flo edged her way through the throng.
“There’s no need for that carryon,” an elderly woman remarked acidly. “Most of us are feared for our lads, but we’re not reduced to weeping and wailing like a bloody banshee. Just look at the way she’s throwing herself about an’all!”
Flo didn’t answer. She had almost reached the front when she froze. Nancy O’Mara was kneeling on the ground, her hands clasped imploringly towards the closed gates of the ship-builder’s. Her crow-black eyes burned unnaturally bright, as if with fever. Long strands of hair had escaped from the big bun coiled on her neck, and writhed like little snakes as she rocked to and fro. She looked almost insane with grief. Every now and then she turned her tragic face towards the men and women standing silently each side of her. “Why?” she pleaded.
“Why, oh, why?”
Nobody answered, the faces remained impassive. They had no idea why. At that moment, there wasn’t a person on earth who knew why ninety-nine human beings still remained on the stricken vessel when it was surrounded by rescue ships and the stern was visible for all to see.
Flo stood stock-still as she watched Tommy’s wife throw herself back and forth on the pavement. Nancy paused to seek succour from those around her yet again.
“Why?” Then she caught sight of Flo, who stood transfixed as the burning eyes bored into hers, so full of hate that she felt her blood turn to ice.
Nancy knew!
With a cry that almost choked her, Flo turned and pushed her way through the crowd. She ran, faster than she’d ever run before, past the docks, the half-built ships, the vessels waiting to be loaded or unloaded. She ran until she reached the ferry, where a seaman was just about to raise the gangplank, and launched herself on to the deck. “Just made it, luv.” He grinned.
Flo hardly heard. She climbed the stairs until she reached the top deck where she leaned on the handrail and stared into the calm greeny-brown waters of the Mersey. A warm breeze fanned her face, and her mind was blank, devoid of emotion or thought.
“Hello, there,” said a familiar voice. “I thought you were going to stay and see what happened?”
“I decided not to.” Flo turned. The red-haired girl was the only person she didn’t mind seeing at the moment. “I felt too upset.”
“You shouldn’t get upset over a feller.” The girl leaned on the rail beside her. She wore a smart emerald-green frock that accentuated her vividly coloured face. At any other time Flo would have felt ashamed of the shabby blouse and skirt she wore for work. “There’s plenty more where he came from. Someone with your looks will soon get fixed up again.”
“I don’t want to get fixed up again,” Flo whispered. “I’ll never go out with anyone else. Never!”
“Don’t tell me you’re in love?” The girl sounded faintly disgusted.
Flo nodded numbly. For the first time since she’d heard the
news about Tommy, she began to cry. The tears flowed freely down her cheeks and fell silently on to the smooth waters below.
“Come on, girl.” Flo felt her shoulders being painfully squeezed. “What’s your name?”
“Flo Clancy.”
“I’m Isobel Macintyre, but everyone calls me Bel.” She gave Flo a little shake. “Look, the ferry’s about to dock.
Shall we find somewhere and have a cup of tea?”
“I’d love to, but what about your job?”
“Sod me job! I’ll tell them the doctor said I was run down and I needed a day off to put me feet up. Anyroad, it says almost half past two on the Liver building clock, so it’s not worth going in.”
Flo couldn’t help but smile through her tears. “You’re the healthiest-looking person I’ve ever seen.”
There was a cafe a short way along Water Street, almost empty after the dinner-time rush. They were about to enter, when Flo remembered she had only enough money for her tram fare home.
“Don’t worry,” Bel said, when she told her. “I’m flush so it can be my treat.”
As they drank their tea and Flo nibbled at a sticky bun, Bel informed her that she worked as a waitress at La Porte Rouge, a restaurant in Bold Street. “That’s French for the Red Door. It’s dead posh and I get good tips, particularly off the fellers. Last week, I got fifteen bob altogether.”
“Just in tips! Gosh, I don’t get much more than that in wages.”
Bel asked where she worked and where she lived and all about her family. Flo could tell she was trying to keep her mind off the events taking place above and below the sea not too many miles away. She gladly told her all about Fritz’s Laundry, about Mam and her sisters, and how they’d had to take in a lodger when Dad died. “He’s dead nice, Albert. The thing is, our Martha’s determined to marry him. I can’t think why, “cos though he’s nice, he’s no oil painting, and he’s forty-five. She wears glasses, though, and she thinks she’ll never catch a feller. You should hear the way she bosses me and our Sal around, just “cos she’s the oldest,” Flo said indignantly.