by Daisy Styles
Agnes kissed her daughter, then said, ‘And they can’t wait to meet you, sweetheart!’
Though Agnes had been staying with Mr and Mrs Sugden, the old couple who housed Esther in between her hospital visits, she hadn’t had as much time with them as she would have liked. Before Agnes packed her bag and left for the station Mrs Sugden suggested they had a cup of tea together. Agnes immediately accepted then suggested to Esther that she introduced Dolly to her other toys, which she kept in her bedroom.
As soon as Agnes was settled, Mrs Sugden said, ‘She stopped wetting the bed whilst you were here.’
Agnes nodded; she’d noticed the thick rubber undersheet on the single bed she’d shared with Esther during her stay.
‘She seems very thin.’
‘We have trouble getting food down her,’ Mrs Sugden replied. ‘They say she doesn’t eat much of the hospital food either.’
Agnes’s heart dropped. During her time with Esther the little girl happily ate the meals and picnics they shared.
‘She’s pining,’ the old lady answered knowingly. ‘And there’s nothing anybody can do about that.’
‘Not unless Hitler and Mr Churchill have a peace parley,’ said Mr Sugden, speaking for the first time.
‘And that’s not likely to happen, not with the way things are going,’ retorted Agnes, who’d just been reading in the morning papers of the growing tension in the Pacific.
‘We do our best, lovie, even though we know the little lass only wants her mam,’ Mrs Sugden assured her
‘I’m grateful to you both,’ Agnes quickly said. ‘You’ve given my daughter a safe home, and at least she’s out of the blitz,’ she added, determined to sound upbeat.
‘We’ll keep her safe,’ the old lady promised.
Agnes sighed heavily.
‘I’m dreading leaving her,’ she murmured.
Mrs Sugden patted her hand.
‘We’re dreading it too, pet.’
Esther had to be wrenched out of her mother’s arms at Keswick railway station.
‘Take care of her,’ Agnes begged the old couple as she climbed onto the train, which was slowly starting to pull away from the platform.
Sobbing in the woman’s arms, Esther waved Dolly in the air.
‘Bye, Mummy. I love you!’ she cried.
‘Bye, darling,’ Agnes called back, grateful for the engine smoke that hid from Esther the tears pouring unchecked down her cheeks.
The journey back was nothing like the happy, expectant journey to Keswick. The weather had changed and the bleak December chill settled on the countryside, clothing it in a clinging dank mist. There were endless stops and starts on the journey, with tired troops pushing their way up and down the packed corridors with their loaded kitbags. Knowing she was on an early shift the next morning, Agnes tried to catch some sleep, but her last memory of Esther sobbing her heart out as she waved Dolly in a final farewell drove sleep right out of her mind. When would she see her again? Would Esther remember what she had to do in her next physiotherapy class? Would the poor child start to wet the bed again? How could she persuade her to eat more when she was eighty miles away in another county?
As all these thoughts swirled around her fevered brain, Agnes became aware of a rush of excited laughter and jubilant cries outside in the packed corridor.
‘Bloody great news!’
‘About time too!’
Baffled, she turned to her companion, a soldier not much older than a boy, who was balancing several kitbags on his lap.
‘What’s happening?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Bloody Japs have bombed Pearl Harbor – the Pacific War’s on!’ he replied, grinning from ear to ear.
Agnes looked at the boy soldier incredulously.
‘REALLY?’ she gasped.
‘Really, missus! With the Yanks on our side we’ll soon have this bugger of a war over!’
Agnes slumped back against her seat and smiled.
‘Thank God for the Americans!’ she exclaimed.
Maybe she’d be reunited with Esther sooner than she thought, and, God willing, Stan too.
CHAPTER 9
Overpaid, Oversexed and Over Here
Seeing the huge potential for female conscription Churchill extended the call-up to all women, married or single, between the ages of eighteen and fifty. Only the old, the very young, the infirm and the pregnant slipped through his net. At the war’s peak over seven million married women were engaged in full-time or part-time work in Britain, taking on roles that would never previously have been considered appropriate for women. They were on the land, working gruelling seventy-hour weeks; they worked in aircraft factories, building and repairing planes; they were helping to build ships; they were driving fire engines and ambulances; they were working day and night as air-raid wardens. But nowhere was this growing army of women more noticeable than in the munitions factories, which expanded as the desperate need for more bombs grew.
As soon as the conscription age was raised many more women arrived for work at the Phoenix.
‘We’re bound to get more toffee-nosed southerners coming here now, and none of them’ll know their arses from their elbows!’ Lillian groaned.
Agnes laughed. ‘Oh, you mean like me?’ she teased.
Lillian’s myth of ‘posh southerners’, as she called folks from south of Manchester, had been blown away by Agnes, who she unconditionally adored.
‘You’re different, cock,’ she said as she gave her a kiss.
‘And so are the other southerners,’ Alice reminded Lillian. ‘So stop being such a bigot.’
‘What’s a bigot?’ Elsie asked.
‘Somebody what doesn’t like southerners!’ Lillian laughed.
There was a sense of increased hope now that the US had entered the war. Britain finally had a loyal and powerful ally. The Bomb Girls were thrilled when they heard that American forces were being flown into the UK.
‘Over here, overpaid and hopefully oversexed!’ laughed Lillian in delight.
‘We’ll probably never see them,’ said Alice.
Agnes nodded.
‘They’ll be stationed in secret locations until Churchill and Roosevelt agree on a plan of action,’ she said.
‘So much talent – what a waste!’ groaned Lillian.
Nothing prepared the girls at the Phoenix for the sudden arrival of a squadron of Canadian airmen, who were billeted in an old airfield down in the valley, a location that completely baffled Alice.
‘Why come here?’ she puzzled.
‘Who cares why so long as they’re here!’ Lillian replied.
‘Seriously,’ said Alice thoughtfully. ‘Why billet them in an old airfield?’
‘I suppose they have to go somewhere,’ Elsie replied.
‘And it’s close to Manchester, Liverpool, even Birmingham,’ Agnes added.
‘When we’ve done with the geography lesson,’ Lillian interrupted impatiently, ‘can we go and take a peek at the newcomers, just in case somebody’s pulling our leg!’
‘Count me out!’ laughed Agnes. ‘I’ve got better things to do.’
‘Like cracking the whip on the factory floor?’ Lillian teased.
‘I’m not going chasing after foreign fellas I’ve not been properly introduced to,’ Elsie said primly.
‘I’m up for it,’ giggled Emily.
‘Me too,’ added Alice.
So the next day, before their afternoon shift started, Emily, Alice and Lillian set off in the softly falling snow, each of them carrying a tin tray borrowed from the canteen.
‘There’s got to be an explanation for these trays,’ Lillian said as they threaded their way over the frozen tracks.
‘You’ll see soon enough,’ Alice assured her.
Emily and Alice led the way across the moors that they knew like the back of their hands, but the going was tough and slow in the deep snow.
‘One step forward and three back,’ Lillian gasped as she tried to keep up with her fri
ends.
At the top of a steep summit, with a fine view of the valley below, Emily and Alice tucked their coats around their legs then settled themselves firmly on their trays.
‘What’re you two up to?’ Lillian asked as she watched the girls in amazement.
‘Going down the quick way!’ Alice laughed as she pushed herself off.
With a yelp of excitement, Emily quickly followed.
‘Come on, Lil, go for it!’
‘S’pose there’s always a first time for everything,’ Lillian giggled as she hitched her dress into her knickers. ‘Here goes!’
The three girls whooshed down the icy hillside, laughing and screaming with excitement as they tried to stay upright on the wobbling trays which, as they gathered speed, veered sideways at their every movement. Lillian was the first to lose her balance; with a scream she bounced off and rolled down hill, where she landed safely in a soft drift of snow. Experienced ‘tray surfers’, Alice and Emily kept on going, and as the ground flattened out they steered their trays to a stop then ran over to Lillian, hauling her to her feet.
‘You two certainly know how to live!’ Lillian laughed as she spat snow out of her mouth.
‘Are you ladies okay?’
Lillian, Emily and Alice jumped in surprise and turned around to see a Canadian airman curiously eyeing them.
‘We’re fine,’ Emily assured him.
‘We always travel on trays in this part of the world!’ Lillian joked, putting the other girls at their ease as always with her quick humour.
‘You must teach me how to,’ the handsome Canadian replied. Giving a smart salute, he quickly added, ‘Lieutenant Freddie Bilodeau at your service.’
Lillian winked.
‘The eagle has landed!’
The girls introduced themselves to Freddie, who told them that his squadron had flown in from Ontario only that week. ‘More of our guys will be joining us soon.’
Lillian smiled in pure delight.
‘The more the merrier!’ she laughed.
‘I say, wanna tour, ladies?’ Freddie asked with a heart-stoppingly handsome smile.
‘Yes, please!’ Emily and Lillian chorused in unison.
‘Shouldn’t we be making our way back?’ Alice asked.
Lillian and Emily turned to her in amazement, and again they spoke in unison as they asked the same question.
‘Why?’
‘Clocking on,’ Alice reminded them.
Keen not to lose them, Freddie quickly said, ‘I won’t keep you too long, ladies,’ and with a swagger he helped them into the open-topped jeep, where he purposefully sat Emily in the front passenger seat. ‘You cosy down there, sweetheart,’ he murmured caressingly.
Lillian, in the back seat with Alice beside her, muttered into Emily’s ear.
‘Cow! He’s making a play for you.’
Alice frowned as she whispered a warning.
‘Watch out for him, Em.’
Emily shook her mass of auburn curls now burnished gold by the angle of the winter sun.
‘It’s only a bit of fun, Al,’ she replied as Freddie got in the car.
In the back Lillian’s skirt got hitched up, showing off her shapely legs to the appreciative Canadian airmen as they whizzed by.
‘Hi, fellas!’ she called as they blew kisses in the girls’ wake.
As Freddie gave them a guided tour of the airfield, he slowed down to point out various red-brick blocks.
‘Obviously that’s the landing strip and the control tower is over there,’ he said, pointing to the strip where Canadian planes were standing ready for take-off. ‘Officers’ quarters, guardhouse, hospital, theatre, operational building, supply room, latrines, chapel –’
‘Bet you’re not in there often,’ Lillian teased.
‘I’m a regular churchgoer,’ Freddie quipped as he accelerated away from the domestic buildings and headed out towards the landing strip. ‘Over there’s the oil storage, the machine-gun range and the parachute block.’
‘I’m astonished the base is up and running so fast,’ said Alice.
‘We Canadians don’t hang about, ma’am,’ Freddie answered with a wink and a smile.
After the tour was over Freddie drove the girls back over the moors to the Phoenix.
‘Great to meet you,’ he said as he helped them out of the jeep, holding onto Emily’s hand for what seemed an extra-long time. ‘Hope you’ll look kindly on your friends from across the pond?’ he added with another heart-stoppingly charming smile.
‘We’ll organize a little welcome party,’ Lillian assured Freddie before he sprang back into his jeep and roared off across the moors, blowing kisses as he went.
‘Well, well, well, Em, he’s got the hots for you, that’s for sure,’ Lillian remarked as soon as they were alone.
Emily blushed but there was no doubting the extra spark in her pretty blue eyes.
‘He was nice,’ she said, trying to brush aside Lillian’s comments.
‘Nice!’ exclaimed Lillian. ‘He’s bloody gorgeous – and he practically ate you up!’
‘And he knows it,’ said Alice. ‘He’s a born flirt.’
She gave her friend a knowing look.
‘Don’t go getting distracted by sweet-talking Canadians – remember you’re engaged to Bill.’
Emily bridled at her remark.
‘Of course I won’t! But anyway, considering Bill’s my fiancé, he’s taking me a bit too much for granted. He hardly writes these days!’
Alice shook her head.
‘Emily, there’s a war on – thousands of letters are lost every day. Don’t go blaming Bill for that.’
In a pig-headed mood, Emily pressed on, ‘He never came to see me when he was at Preston barracks just after Christmas.’
Alice’s eyes flashed in irritation.
‘You’re being ridiculous!’ she cried. ‘How’s he supposed to breeze out of the barracks without permission?’
‘Well, his mum got to see him!’ Emily retorted.
‘And so could you if you hadn’t been working shifts,’ Alice reminded her.
‘Can you imagine how it feels to have your fiancé home, just down the road in Preston barracks, and he doesn’t even bother to come and see you?’ Emily snapped.
Alice, who knew Bill well, shook her head.
‘There’s got to be an explanation,’ she insisted. ‘You should know Bill better than to think he wouldn’t bother. He’s as straight as a die, loyal and faithful. He’d be gutted if you started messing about.’
Emily’s cheeks flared bright red.
‘Who says I’m messing about?’ she asked sulkily. ‘You’re all getting carried away. I just enjoyed a handsome man’s attention. I don’t see the harm in that.’
‘If I could squeeze a word in … ?’ Lillian said with a cheeky laugh. ‘What the eye doesn’t see the heart doesn’t grieve about.’
Ignoring Lillian’s breezy attitude, Alice held her best friend’s gaze.
‘Please be careful, Emily,’ she implored.
The girls were soon so busy and exhausted from factory work that the subject was put to one side. The one thing that kept them all going on those long shifts was the thought of the upcoming swing night at the Phoenix that Emily had taken it upon herself to organize. Lillian and Alice wasted no time in drawing Elsie and Agnes into their preparations.
With Malc’s help, Lillian tracked down a local swing band, Emily and Agnes got to work organizing the refreshments, and Alice and Elsie were busy designing posters to pin up all over the factory, even in the small chapel that was regularly visited by girls who couldn’t make it to the church services in Pendle.
Thankfully the days seemed to race by and the event they were all so looking forward to was suddenly upon them. Nobody was allowed time off – shifts ran as usual at the Phoenix – but Emily, Alice, Elsie, Lillian and Agnes were lucky as their shift on the Saturday of the dance was an early one so they had all afternoon to fuss about getting ready. N
o matter how reserved Agnes and Elsie were it was impossible not to get drawn into the excited preparations going on in the old cowshed. There wasn’t enough water for a bath each so it was two to a bath, with the last person having to top up what was left with boiled water from the kettle. Lillian, in her element, took charge of everybody’s hair. As Joe Loss dance music blared out from the radio, the girls took it in turns to sit on an upright chair whilst she set their hair and applied make-up. Then they stood for the final finishing touch as, with an expert eye and steady hand, Lillian traced down their bare legs a black crayon line that looked, from a distance, exactly like the black seam on nylon stockings.
With the catering on her mind, Emily set off for the canteen a good few hours before her friends.
‘I’ve got meat and potato pies to cook for two hundred!’ she said cheerfully, heading for the door in her old canteen overalls. It was so nice to be preparing for such a joyful occasion when they’d had such a gruelling few months of long, exhausting shifts.
‘Please tell me you won’t be dancing in that?’ Lillian gasped in dismay.
‘No, Alice is bringing my glad rags over to the Phoenix later,’ Emily said with a cheeky wink. ‘I won’t let you down, Lillian, I promise!’
At the final hour, Elsie shocked them all by having a tantrum. With her hair softly waved and her pretty heart-shaped face skilfully rouged, she looked lovely. The months of regular square meals at the Phoenix had put flesh on her bones. No longer skeletal, she now had a small bust and gently curving hips. The dress she’d borrowed from Lillian, a soft sage silk, brought out the green tones of her eyes and Alice’s ballroom shoes added height to her short stature. But when she saw herself in the mirror her face changed and she refused point-blank to leave their digs.
‘I can’t go!’ she cried, looking utterly miserable.
Her friends did a complete double-take at the sound of Elsie’s angry, raised voice. This was not the little Gateshead mouse of a girl they were used to.
‘Why on earth not?’ Agnes gently asked.
Elsie bit her lip then burst into tears.
‘I canna dance!’
‘Don’t cry, for God’s sake!’ Lillian exclaimed. ‘You’ll ruin your make-up!’