Spinner's Wharf

by Spinner's Wharf (retail) (epub)

  She was relieved when the kitchen door opened, spilling warmth over the yard. Mansel Jack’s large frame blocked the light for a moment and then he was standing before her, taking her hand in his.

  ‘I’ll see you again soon.’ His voice was confident and the fingers curling around hers were strong.

  ‘Best of luck to you, Billy!’ Mansel Jack moved away to shake her brother’s hand. ‘I must admit that I’m envious of you.’

  He seemed to melt into the darkness, though Rhian could still hear the crisp sound of his boots striking the cobbles.

  ‘Come on inside,’ Gina said, her tone breathless with excitement. ‘I’ve got something wonderful to tell you – Mr Mansel Jack is going to find Heinz for me!’

  Rhian was the last to move into the light and warmth of the room. She heard the kettle boiling on the hob, felt the heat of the fire on her chilled limbs, but her mind was still in the darkness outside as she imagined Mansel Jack striding away from her, his shoulders proud and his head held at a jaunty angle.

  Why had he come here to Sweyn’s Eye, she wondered uneasily, for the knowledge of his presence in the town was disturbing. Pull yourself together! she told herself sharply. She was Heath Jenkins’ woman now and she must never forget it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sweyn’s Eye slumbered in an illusion of peace. Summer had slipped gently by, for russet and gold now splashed hill and dale with rich colour.

  With the coming of autumn 1915 the Allied forces had taken Artois and Champagne. The British advance south of La Bassee pierced the German line to a depth of four thousand yards. The village of Loos was captured, as well as the western outskirts of Hulluch.

  Honey O’Connor listened to her father reading the news from the Daily Post, but her mind was on other matters. She looked across the breakfast table at Morgan; he caught her glance and winked secretly and her heart was warmed.

  ‘You’d better be getting off to the station, my girl,’ Stella O’Connor said quickly, rising from her chair and gathering the empty plates into a neat pile. ‘’Tis getting late, can’t you see?’

  Honey glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and its loud ticking in the silence seemed to rebuke her. ‘All right, mammy, I’m going in a minute, give us a chance.’ She had never explained her sudden decision to leave the Richardson household and take a job in the munitions factory – let sleeping dogs lie, she had thought to herself.

  ‘I’ll give ye the back of my hand if ye don’t shift!’ Her mother leavened the harshness of her words with a smile and dropped a kiss on Honey’s cheek. ‘Now tie a scarf tight round your head – you don’t want your hair turning orange, do you?’

  Honey sighed. ‘I’ve told you, mammy, we’ve got our mob caps only some of the other girls don’t like to cover the whole of their head – that’s why their hair is going a funny colour, it’s the TNT that does it.’

  She stood up, conscious in a proud kind of way of her thick trousers and the loose-cut jacket pulled in by a belt at the waist. This was the uniform provided for his workers by Mansel Jack and it was almost as good as khaki in the eyes of the townsfolk.

  ‘Here, stop dreaming, girl, and take your food. You’re thin enough already without forgetting to eat your dinner.’

  Outside in the misty morning air, Honey deliberately dawdled, for usually Morgan hurried after her and walked with her from Green Hill to the station, before going off to his shift at the copper works. Today was no exception and they smiled at each other without touching.

  ‘Nice enough day,’ Morgan said, clearing his throat self-consciously. Honey smiled up at him – her hair, tied back from her face, hanging rich and gold down to her waist.

  ‘Sure, it’s fine,’ she replied, a blush heating her skin.

  They walked in silence for a moment, each tinglingly aware of the other. Honey searched her mind for something to say, anything that would bring Morgan’s eyes to meet hers, but words would not come.

  ‘How are you getting on at the factory?’ He spoke in a jerky, stilted way and Honey realised that for Morgan it was difficult too.

  ‘It’s hard enough work, but I have friends there now. Katie Murphy’s a fine girl and looks after me, sure enough, but it’s Janey Jenkins is my best pal.’

  Morgan kicked at a pebble, his heavy boots making a crunching sound against the stone. ‘I worry about you.’ The words came out separately, spaced apart as though he was giving a great deal of thought to what he was saying. ‘There have been accidents – worries me, it does.’ He was unaware that he was repeating himself, and so was Honey, who felt a warm glow grow inside her.

  ‘I’m careful, sure enough,’ she said gently. ‘Don’t take chances with the gaines, handle them gentle I do, as if they were babies.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s not the fear of an explosion which worries me, so much as the thought of my face turning yellow.’ She looked carefully at her hands; the nails were brownish at the edges and the skin was tinged with yellow instead of pink. ‘I use the cream Katie Murphy gave me every night, but it don’t do much good.’

  ‘You look lovely to me,’ Morgan said softly, ‘but I wish you could get some other kind of work; a factory isn’t the place for you.’

  Honey felt a lightness rushing through her, for this was the nearest Morgan had ever come to revealing his feelings to her. She spoke breathlessly. ‘It’s much better than working for the toffs up on the hill.’

  Just before they reached the station Morgan came to a halt, hands in his pockets, grub-pack under his arm and his tea-can hanging from his belt. He was tall and handsome, every inch a man, and Honey felt the happiness which she experienced whenever she was with him.

  ‘See you later, then.’ He smiled and his teeth shone white against the dusk of his skin. The copper was beginning to bronze him, laying its touch upon his face just as it did on anyone who worked it. In a way, Honey thought, he was like her – marked by the job that was his livelihood.

  Honey ran then, making up for the time she had spent walking with Morgan, prolonging the moment and not wanting to leave him.

  Puffing and blowing, the train had already swallowed up the stream of women whose high-pitched excited voices rose above even the monster’s steaming breath.

  ‘Get in here quick!’ Katie Murphy hauled Honey aboard just as the train began to move. ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph – cutting it fine this morning, aren’t you, my girl?’

  Honey sank breathlessly into her seat, squeezing between Janey and Katie and smiling in relief. It would have been terrible indeed if the train had left without her.

  ‘What you been up to then?’ Janey giggled at her side. ‘Courtin’ with that lovely Morgan again, I’ll bet a copper-bottomed Toby jug!’

  ‘Hush,’ Honey warned, ‘don’t want anyone else to know. Now you promised me that you wouldn’t open your mouth, Janey.’

  ‘All right, only pulling your leg I am, mind. But there’s a shine in your eyes that gives your secret away. All the world must know that Honey O’Connor loves Morgan Lloyd.’

  ‘I’ll kill you, sure I will, if you don’t shut your mouth,’ Honey threatened, but burst into laughter when Janey tickled her waist mischievously.

  ‘What it is to be young!’ Katie Murphy moved up a little to accommodate Honey’s wriggling body. ‘I don’t think I ever giggled and smirked behind my hands like you girls do today. Sober enough I was, listened to my elders and betters sure enough!’

  There was a huge chorus of laughter and Doris, who was already tucking into her grub-pack, pushed at Katie’s arm.

  ‘Flighty piece you was, always chasing the boys – had them panting for her, she did,’ she winked knowingly at Honey. ‘Still panting they are too; can take her pick, can our Katie.’

  The laughter subsided into silence as a slender woman in a fine worsted coat and skirt pushed her way into the carriage. Honey stared up in open-mouthed astonishment, wondering if she could believe her eyes.

  ‘Mrs Richardson, sure it is.’ She fell back in her sea
t as the woman glanced in her direction and frowned.

  ‘Will you make some room for me,’ she asked abruptly.

  There was silence as the already tightly-bunched girls made a space.

  ‘Morning, Mrs Richardson,’ Honey said softly. ‘It seems you’re a working girl now, just like me.’

  ‘So I am.’ Delmai Richardson couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. ‘Patriotism apparently means going out to work in quite unsuitable surroundings.’

  It was Doris who broke the sudden silence. ‘Oh, hoity-toity then!’ The words burst from her lips. ‘If’n you’d kept your own babba instead of foisting it on to others, you’d have been able to stay at home in idleness, wouldn’t you? We’ve all heard about you, mind!’

  Delmai paled visibly and Honey felt almost sorry for her. ‘Hush now, Doris,’ she said pleadingly. ‘Sure we don’t want any bother, now, do we?’

  ‘The likes of ’er can’t cause us no bother,’ Doris would not be stopped. ‘No lady she isn’t, runnin’ off with one man while married to another. Living tally with Billy Gray, she was. We all knowed that, didn’t we, ’tisn’t no secret.’

  ‘What I do is no concern of yours,’ Delmai said evenly, though it was clear she was shaken and her hands were trembling.

  ‘I think perhaps we’d best let the matter drop, Doris.’ Katie Murphy smiled, trying to pour oil on troubled waters. ‘Mrs Richardson is doing war work like us and who can ask more?’

  Doris leaned forward in her seat, her plump arms resting on big knees. ‘What are you doin’ then, Mrs High and Mighty?’ she demanded. ‘Filling shells, is it, or are you working on the lathes?’

  Delmai looked at her with dislike. ‘I’m an office worker if you must know,’ she replied. ‘There has to be some administration, even you must realise that.’

  ‘There!’ Doris said in satisfaction. ‘Safe and snug in the office, she is, and getting her claws into Mansel Jack she’ll be next. There’s a thing for you!’

  Delmai Richardson rose to her feet and moved away to stand in the furthest corner of the compartment, her back to the girl who was tormenting her. ‘Don’t speak to me, you wretch!’ Her voice was hard and cracked. ‘You’re an ignorant woman and I want nothing to do with you.’

  ‘An’ I want nothing to do with you, neither.’ Doris would have the last word, even though Katie Murphy grabbed her arm and shook her.

  ‘Now let’s stop all this.’ Katie’s pale skin was rosy. ‘We’re working together trying to do our bit for the country, how will it help if we quarrel among ourselves?’ Doris would have said more, but Katie put her palm firmly against the girl’s lips. ‘Enough!’ She spoke quietly but with such authority that Doris subsided, falling back into her seat with her mouth set mutinously.

  Later as the clatter of the machinery discouraged all but the most essential conversation, Honey realised she was bone-weary and the day hardly yet begun. She was glad when grub-break came around and she could sit down and ease her aching legs. Janey took her place beside her and held out a thick chunk of bread and a piece of cheese.

  ‘I’ll swap you for an apple,’ she said, grinning. She edged closer, her coarse trousers rasping against the wooden bench. ‘Come on, tell me, has Morgan spoken to you yet?’ Janey’s eyes were wide with the vicarious thrill of the romance and Honey felt herself blushing.

  ‘Of course he’s spoken – sure and don’t we talk all the way down to the station?’

  ‘You know what I mean, has he asked you to walk out with him?’ Janey bit into the apple, juice running along her chin and dripping on to the thick jacket. Honey averted her eyes.

  ‘Sure and would I be telling you even if I knew what Morgan Lloyd thought about me? Perhaps I’m just a friend because he lives in me mammy’s house and that’s all.’

  ‘No, it isn’t all,’ Janey disagreed vehemently. ‘He brings you right to the station, doesn’t he, and meets you too when he’s not working – that’s more than friendship, and don’t forget I’ve seen the way he looks at you.’

  ‘Have you really?’ Honey asked, excitement flaring through her. Like a thirsty child she longed to drink in any drop of reassurance Janey had to offer, for men were unpredictable creatures. ‘Go on, Janey, which way does he look at me? Come on, don’t have me on now.’

  Infuriatingly Janey took another bite of the fruit, her white teeth crunching into the firm flesh, her lips dewy with juice, her eyes wide with mischief. ‘Promise you’ll bring me another apple tomorrow and I’ll tell you,’ she said.

  Honey pushed her away. ‘I don’t know why I bother with you,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘All you can do is to tease me when I’m deadly serious.’

  Janey put her hand on Honey’s arm. ‘He does feel for you, there’s soft you are not to see it yourself.’

  Honey put away the remains of the grub-pack, a feeling of warmth and satisfaction filling her. She wanted to think that Morgan loved her, sometimes she could almost believe it. But then when she looked at his well-set-up frame and handsome face, she wondered how he could even notice she was alive.

  ‘The boss is coming – look lively, girls!’ Katie’s voice was low, but Honey rose to her feet rubbing the crumbs from her jacket and straightening the cap on her head. Mansel Jack was a boss who gained respect without even trying. He stopped at the table, his glance encompassing them all.

  ‘Bad news, lasses.’ His hard voice held a trace of softness that was unusual and Honey found herself watching him covertly. He paused as though assessing the quality of the attention he was getting before continuing to speak.

  ‘We’ve received from America a faulty batch of gaines which makes our work more difficult than it already is.’ His gaze lingered on Katie Murphy and she nodded slightly, though she did not speak.

  ‘These gaines have a left-handed instead of a right-handed thread. What this means is that the gaines are unscrewing in flight, which is no good at all.’ He placed the tube on the table and took up a chisel and a hammer. ‘The gaines must be tapped like this – stabbed in two places to break the thread so that they can’t unscrew.’ He did the work deftly and looked round at the girls who were watching open-mouthed.

  ‘This is a dangerous job, for if a trace of fulminate should be detonated by the blow there would be an explosion.’ He put down the hammer and chisel. ‘I have chosen you lasses because of your courage and common sense, but I’ll say this – if anyone objects to the job, tell me now and you’ll be moved to something else with no shame attached.’

  Katie pulled at the edge of her collar, turning it up around her face as though she was suddenly cold, but when she spoke her voice was firm.

  ‘We’ll do the job all right, sir, you be after bringing us the tools and we’ll start right now.’

  Mansel Jack smiled his approval and to Honey, watching him, it seemed as though the sun had come out. Suddenly the terrible task they were being asked to perform appeared to be a glorious honour. He waited, his eyes searching the faces of the girls around him, listening for any word of dissent. Finally he turned to Doris, his gaze level.

  ‘I know you have little ones,’ he said. ‘You may be moved to the lathes or even join another gang if you wish.’ Before he had even finished speaking, Doris was shaking her head vigorously.

  ‘Not me, sir, I stick by my friends when there’s a job to be done. I won’t desert my gang and that’s for sure.’

  After a moment, he nodded. ‘Very well. Now, because of the dangerous nature of the work I mean to set you up in one of the outhouses away from the main factory. I’ll make sure you’re as comfortable as possible and you’ll all receive an increase in your wages. I won’t pretend to you lasses, this is dangerous stuff I’m asking you to handle. If any of you has a change of mind, come to me at once.’

  When he had gone, Honey felt fear burn inside her. She clasped her hands together to stop them from trembling and was ashamed.

  Katie sighed hugely. ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what have we let ourselves in
for?’ She pushed the cap back from her forehead and a stray curl sprang red and gold over her brow.

  ‘Now that the boss is gone, you can all speak out truthfully,’ Katie said firmly. ‘If anyone wants to drop out, say so now and no excuses needed. You Honey – you’re as pale as a blanched nut – anything you want to say to me?’

  Honey shook her head and Katie looked at her carefully. ‘Think hard now, it’s not only your own safety but ours too. If any of you are nervous or feel the job’s beyond you, speak up for the sake of the team.’

  In the silence Honey stared round at the faces of her workmates, wondering if she was the only one to feel the cold pain of fear. She had never been good with a hammer and chisel – clumsy she was, even with needle and thread - yet how could she speak of her terror when the rest of the girls, even Janey who was the youngest, seemed so calm and composed?

  As though aware of her thoughts, Janey caught Honey’s arm and pressed it sympathetically. She pulled a wry face and Honey laughed, knowing she was not alone after all.

  Honey felt relief flow through her and a kind of strength too. She held her head aloft thinking of the soldiers she had seen maimed and sick, hobbling through the streets of the town. Some of them were blinded and stood on corners selling pathetic bundles of bootlaces. A legless man was carried each day to the station, there to remain playing on his accordion, accepting charity with a face full of suffering. She, Honey O’Connor, was going to do some real work; she would help to win the war and then all the pain and suffering would be over.

  Tonight she would talk it all over with Morgan. He would reassure, perhaps even admire her and the thought was like the sun breaking through the clouds on a stormy day.

  * * *

  Morgan rubbed at his face with his sweat rag and the tingling of the copper particles scarcely bothered him now. He was becoming inured to the abrasive burn of the metal on his face and neck, and the sharpness of it in his lungs was no longer such an agony. But he was glad when his shift was over, for he was weary to the bone, yet the thought of seeing Honey sent the blood coursing sweetly through his veins.