The Docklands Girls

by June Tate

  His invitation was so unexpected that for a moment Cora hesitated.

  ‘You’ll be perfectly safe with me, Miss Barnes,’ he said, trying to hide a smile.

  She burst out laughing. ‘Of that I’m in no doubt! Thank you, I’d be delighted.’

  They found a nearby cafe and sat down at a table near the window.

  ‘Would you like a sandwich or something?’ asked Joe.

  ‘Oh, no thanks, a cup of tea will be fine.’ She looked at her companion and, filled with curiosity, asked, ‘Do you work around here, Mr Keating?’

  ‘Yes, at the moment I work for the National Provincial Bank in an advisory capacity. The bank’s introducing a new system and I’m here to oversee it.’

  ‘You are?’

  He looked amused at her surprise. ‘What did you think I did for a living?’

  Cora chuckled and, with twinkling eyes, said, ‘Oh, I don’t know. Nothing as mundane as that.’ She gave the matter a moment’s thought. ‘I was convinced it was something far more exciting. To me, you are a man of mystery.’

  He started to laugh. ‘Really? No, I’m just an ordinary man trying to make a living.’

  ‘I don’t think you are ordinary at all. I would say there is far more to you than that: I’m convinced you are a man with a secret past … or present even.’

  ‘You have too lively an imagination, young lady.’

  At that moment, the waitress served the tea and further conversation on the matter was closed. They spoke about the war and D-Day, the number of troops who’d passed through the town, the fighting going on across the Channel and how they hoped it would all be over soon.

  ‘What will you do when that day comes?’ asked Joe.

  ‘After celebrating, I’m going to move up to London and start a new life,’ said Cora. ‘I’ve been saving every penny I’ve earned with that in mind.’

  ‘Will you be returning to your old occupation?’ he asked.

  ‘Certainly not! I want to put that all behind me. I’ll get a job in a shop somewhere, a nice little flat and begin to live! I’ll bury my past and start again.’

  ‘That sounds like a great idea, I wish you luck.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Much as I’d love to sit and chat, I’ve an appointment.’ He called the waitress over and paid the bill.

  They rose from their chairs and left the cafe.

  ‘Thanks for the tea, Mr Keating – it was kind of you.’

  He smiled softly. ‘The pleasure was all mine. You take care of yourself now.’

  Joe smiled to himself as he walked away. What a delightful girl Cora Barnes was. He hoped she would fulfil her wishes.

  Cora was telling Belle about her encounter with Joe Keating. ‘He took me for a cup of tea, Belle! He says he works for the National Provincial Bank.’

  Her friend looked sceptical. ‘No, there’s more to him than that. You’ve seen the way he dresses. Those suits cost a packet and are made to measure would be my guess. You be careful, Cora, love. Don’t get involved.’

  ‘That’s hardly likely, Belle. We only met by chance on both occasions.’

  ‘I know, but I’m a great believer in fate. I think people come into our lives for a reason.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake! You sound like an old gypsy telling fortunes.’

  ‘Maybe, but I’m seldom wrong. You just remember my words.’

  On the battlefields in France, Sergeant Miller was certainly glad that Jackson Butler was in his life. They were in a small town, advancing with their company. Sherman tanks led the assault, with the soldiers moving in behind. The fighting was fierce as the town was well defended, the troops dived for cover wherever they could before moving on – the tanks climbing over rubble, advancing deeper into enemy territory. The sound of explosions and the smell of cordite filled the air. Cries of pain could be heard as the enemy made its mark. The ground was spattered with blood as both sides suffered casualties. Grenades were thrown and body parts flew into the air.

  Soldiers moved on further with bullets flying around them. Just as Sergeant Miller urged his men to move out, Jackson spotted a sniper in a window about to take a shot at his sergeant, but he brought Milt down with a rugby tackle, and then lifting his rifle, shot the sniper dead.

  As Milt brushed the dust from his face, he realised what had happened. He looked at Jackson with gratitude, ‘Thanks, I owe you.’

  Jackson brushed his thanks aside. ‘I got lucky, Sergeant.’

  Milt grinned. ‘No, soldier, I was the one who got lucky!’ Getting to his feet, Miller called to his men. ‘Move out!’

  They spent the next few hours fighting every inch of the way into the town. As the casualties occurred, the call of ‘Medic!’ could be heard many times during the advance until the town was safely in the hands of the American troops.

  It was only then that the locals, who had been in hiding, cheered the victors as they established their stronghold.

  Reconnaissance parties were sent out, to scour the buildings and shots were heard as hidden German troops were found. Then those who surrendered were led away, hands in the air.

  Eventually camp was made and the surviving soldiers took a well-earned break. Milt sought out Jackson Butler and handed him a silver flask. ‘Here, take a swig of this, Butler, because today you really earned it. My girl will be more than grateful you’re a good shot!’

  Jackson took the flask, and with a broad grin, he said, ‘To the lucky lady!’ and drank.

  The burning liquid felt good as it passed down his throat. He handed the flask back. ‘Thanks, Sergeant.’

  Sitting on the ground, leaning against what was left of a wall, Jackson took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. Apart from feeling dirty after all the fighting and the debris, he was happy to still be alive. Today had been really bad and he knew that they had lost some good men. He said a silent prayer, thanking the Lord for his salvation and praying he would come out of the war in one piece.

  For his part, Sergeant Milt Miller knew just how lucky he was to still be alive. Had it not been for Jackson Butler whose sharp eyes had spotted the sniper, he would be a dead man. He certainly wouldn’t be putting that in his next letter to Hildy!

  Hank Mason had made it through the day, too. But as he sat drinking a cup of coffee, his hands were trembling. He had been so lucky. Two men beside him had been killed. He remembered the look of surprise on the face of one of them as a bullet entered his heart and he fell. He wondered how much longer the fighting would last and would he still be standing?

  He was not alone in such thoughts. Every man who had survived this day wondered the very same thing, knowing that ahead of them lay many a day like today.

  Chapter Twelve

  A new threat emerged. The Germans were sending over bombs called V-1s, buzz bombs or doodlebugs as the locals called them. The public had been warned to take cover if they heard the curious engine noise stop or if they saw the flame from the bomb disappear. It took seconds before the explosion. The south of England had been shaken for thirty long hours. It was like the Blitz all over again. Southampton was fortunate; there were only three attacks, two in Bitterne, but luckily without fatalities.

  Belle and Cora decided to share accommodation now they were both working. They applied to be on different shifts so as not to be with each other twenty-four hours a day, which they considered would be too much, even though they were such close friends. It worked well as they shared the household chores and the cooking.

  They remained in the same vicinity where the flats were cheaper and they were near their place of work. However, they still managed to spend an evening out together, going to the cinema, enjoying the fleshpots and they still kept in touch with their old associates.

  It was on one such occasion, sitting in the Horse and Groom, talking to their old mates that Belle suddenly turned pale and spilt her glass of beer.

  Cora was the first to realise that something was wrong.

  ‘What is it, Belle?’ she asked.

 
; ‘Those two men, standing at the bar. The big one … I heard his voice, that’s the one who raped me!’

  Cora looked across the bar at the men. They looked like dockers, in their shabby trousers and jackets. One was wearing a flat cap.

  ‘Which one?’ whispered Cora.

  Looking down into her lap so as not to be noticed, Belle said, ‘The one without the cap. I’d know that voice anywhere.’

  The other girls looked over at the men.

  ‘Don’t any of you have anything to do with him and don’t leave here alone like I did,’ Belle warned.

  ‘What do you want to do, Belle?’ asked Cora. ‘Do you want to leave?’

  Belle was now really agitated. ‘Yes, let’s go.’ She rose from the chair.

  The man at the bar looked over. He saw Belle and watched her carefully as she walked to the door. She looked back over her shoulder at him and saw the grin on his face. She walked outside and was violently sick.

  Cora was standing over her trying to comfort her when a quiet voice asked, ‘What’s the problem? Is your friend ill? Can I help?’

  It was Joe Keating.

  Very quietly Cora explained. ‘There’s a man at the bar who attacked my friend Belle a few months back and she recognised him. She’s in shock.’

  ‘What does he look like?’ asked Keating.

  Cora described him.

  ‘Right, well you take your friend home, I’ll go into the bar and make sure he doesn’t follow you, if he does, I’ll come and walk with you.’

  Cora thanked him and quickly led Belle away.

  Joe Keating walked into the bar and saw the two men. He walked up to the counter and, standing beside them, ordered a drink. The men continued to chat, so Joe sat at a nearby table watching, until much later when the men left together.

  The following night there was a report in the Southern Evening Echo about a dockworker found badly beaten near Canal Walk who had been hospitalised with serious injuries.

  It was the main topic of gossip in the Horse and Groom when it was discovered it had been a customer who’d been drinking in the bar the night before. It wasn’t long before the brasses realised it was the man who’d attacked Belle and they made sure she was told about it.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Cora exclaimed, then turning to her friend asked, ‘Do you think that Mr Keating had anything to do with it?’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Belle, ‘why would he get so involved?’

  But just at that moment, one of the brasses came over and told them the man had upset a couple of men in the bar and after he left, they followed. ‘Draw your own conclusions,’ she said.

  Belle glanced over at Cora. ‘There you are then!’

  ‘So I was wrong, thank goodness for that.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Meanwhile, in France, territory was being won and lost. Troops gained a foothold only to be driven back. The fighting was fierce, but eventually things began to change. Heavy bombings had disrupted the German communications and destroyed their fire power. Now, in some areas, they were prepared to surrender at the sight of the invading troops. Lines of German prisoners filled the roadsides as American and British tanks passed through in various areas of France.

  Nevertheless, some strongholds were still well defended. It was here that Milt and his company were still fighting. Food was short, sleep was brief. The troops were tired and dirty, all of them longing for a respite, a hot meal and a wash.

  The company was holed up on farmland, with a German company approaching through the fields of corn. Some of the men were in a cow shed, some in an old barn, Jackson and a few others crouched down in what had been a pigsty.

  ‘Jesus, this place stinks!’ exclaimed Jackson in disgust. ‘I ain’t never gonna get the smell out of my uniform.’

  One of his mates burst out laughing. ‘You ain’t got no hope of getting laid again if you don’t. Even Belle wouldn’t have you smelling like that.’

  An eruption of gunfire stilled any further conversation.

  Machine-gun fire rattled as the Americans fired on the approaching enemy and, when they were closer, a flame thrower turned the growing corn into a furnace. Screams of pain could be heard. Men, in flames ran in panic.

  ‘Move out!’ yelled Milt. His men moved forward, firing as they went, stopping to throw grenades, moving forward again whilst their own planes flew over, dropping bombs on the German lines, until eventually the field was theirs.

  Jackson got to his feet and cheered, holding his rifle in the air in triumph. A shot rang out and he fell to the ground. Another sounded and the German who’d fired at Jackson also fell to the ground.

  Milt came running, calling, ‘Medic!’ loudly. He reached Jackson. ‘You bloody fool! What the hell were you thinking?’ He stooped down beside Jackson, and covered the wound on his shoulder with a pack to stem the bleeding.

  ‘Sorry, Sergeant. I wasn’t thinking.’ He winced with pain. A medic knelt beside him and tended to him, giving him an injection before dressing the wound.

  ‘Am I gonna die?’ asked Jackson fearfully.

  ‘No, soldier; you’ll be fine, but we must get you to a field hospital. They’ll take care of you. Although you’ll be going home would be my guess.’

  Jackson let out a sigh of relief. The thought of dying on the battlefield and never seeing his family again had always been at the back of his mind, but he’d accepted it as a price you had to pay for war. Now it seemed possible that he had been spared. He gave a silent prayer, knowing how stupid he’d been and how fortunate.

  A couple of weeks later, Belle opened a letter from Jackson. As she read it, she let out a cry of alarm.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Cora.

  ‘Jackson’s been injured!’ She read on. ‘He’s fine, thank God. He’s being shipped back here to the hospital at Netley apparently. He’ll let me know when. He says he caught a bullet in his shoulder and has had an operation, but in time he’ll be fine. He’s been in a field hospital.’

  ‘Oh, Belle, you’ll be able to visit him so you will see him again, after all.’ Then she saw her friend was in tears. Rushing to her side, she held her close. ‘He’s alive, Belle! Don’t cry.’

  ‘I know and thank God for that, it’s just that I thought I’d never see him again and now I will – I’m so happy!’

  Cora started to laugh. ‘It’s no wonder that men can never understand a woman. I’ll make us a cup of tea – that puts everything right.’

  Three weeks later, Belle took a bus to the hospital in Netley, which had been taken over by the American army. She stopped at the reception desk and asked to see Private Jackson Butler and was directed to one of the wards.

  Her heart was beating rapidly; she took a deep breath and walked on. Every bed was full. Nurses were busy tending to the patients, but one of them stopped to tell Belle which bed she was looking for. It was at the far end by a window.

  Jackson was propped up on his pillows, one shoulder bandaged and in a sling, eyes closed. Belle stood and looked at him, trying to fight back the tears.

  ‘Hello Jackson, love,’ she said softly.

  He opened his eyes and when he saw who was standing beside him, he grinned broadly. ‘Belle!’

  She leant over and kissed him. ‘Didn’t I tell you to duck and didn’t you promise me that you would?’

  He hugged her with one arm until she could hardly breathe.

  ‘Oh, Belle, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you. How are you?’

  She sat in the chair beside the bed. ‘More to the point, how are you?’

  He grimaced. ‘Fine, I’m fine. I caught a bullet in my shoulder, but after an operation, it’ll mend in time. They’re gonna send me home, Belle.’

  ‘At least you won’t have to go back to the fighting.’

  He took her hand. ‘It was pretty hairy out there, Belle; we lost a lot of good men. But we had a great sergeant who kept us as safe as it was possible. Milt Miller’s a good soldier.’

  ‘Milt
Miller? Our supervisor at the factory is engaged to a Milt Miller, a sergeant. It must be the same man.’

  ‘Well, you tell her from me, he’s fine.’ His expression softened as he gazed at her. ‘I sure missed you, Belle. I thought about you a lot. I wish I could come back and convalesce with you.’

  ‘No more than I do, darling. I would take such care of you, you wouldn’t believe.’

  A nurse came over and asked Belle if she’d like a cup of tea.

  Belle thanked her and said she’d love one. Then asked, ‘How long will Private Butler be staying here?’

  ‘At least a couple more weeks.’ She looked at her patient. ‘Well, Private, you look pretty chipper.’ Then to Belle she said, ‘Having a visitor does the men so much good, but unfortunately most of the men here have to wait to get back home first.’ Looking at Jackson, she added, ‘You’re a lucky man!’

  He chuckled and said, ‘Nurse, you have no idea just how lucky.’

  When they were alone, Jackson said quietly. ‘Gee, Belle, I want so much to hold you and feel you close to me.’

  She caressed his face. ‘I know, I feel the same. We had such good times together, didn’t we?’

  ‘We sure did, honey, and when I go home, that’s what I’ll remember most of all. You made me feel like a man, just like any other.’

  ‘You were more of a man than many I’ve known, Jackson; you just remember that.’

  But in her heart she knew that when he returned to Alabama, the same old restrictions would be facing him and she worried as to how it would affect him. But she kept these thoughts to herself.

  She stayed until visiting time was over, promising to come again the following day and every day until he was shipped home.

  ‘Can you manage to do that with your job?’

  ‘Yes. I’m on an early shift so my afternoons are free.’

  ‘Belle, honey, I’m so glad you ain’t on the streets no more.’