The Factory Girls of Lark Lane: A heartbreaking World War 2 historical novel of loss and love

by Howes, Pam

  She smoothed the skirt of her new two-piece suit that was hanging from the picture rail. The blue wool tweed would pick out the colour of her bright blue eyes. A matching blue velvet pill-box hat with a small feather decoration sat on her dressing table. She wasn’t a hat person, but both her mam and Millie had said she couldn’t get married without one, it wasn’t right. Even though Alice had grumbled that it was a waste of her precious clothing coupons, to keep them happy she’d got one – but she’d chosen the smallest and cheapest design she could find and planned to whip it off as soon as she could after the ceremony was over. She unpinned her dark brown hair and ran her fingers through the shoulder-length locks. If Millie’s mam could just give it a bit of a trim tomorrow and style it into demi-waves that fanned her cheeks, she’d be happy. Terry loved to run his hands through her hair and she wanted to wear it loose and not all pinned up like a few brides’ photos she’d seen recently. The French pleat seemed to be the favoured style for formal weddings, along with short finger-waves, but it wasn’t to her liking. It was bad enough having to wear her hair trussed up and stuck under a turban all day for work, so it definitely wasn’t going to happen on her wedding day. She might not have the long white lacy gown she’d always dreamed of, but she was still going to look as feminine as possible for Terry.

  She slid in between the icy sheets, pulling the pink eiderdown up to her chin, and shivered with a mixture of cold and excitement, knowing that she’d never get to sleep if she didn’t shut her mind to the thought of her handsome, dark-haired boyfriend and the one night they would spend together before he had to go back to his barracks before being sent away to God knows where. He’d been saving like mad and booked them a room at the very grand Adelphi Hotel in the city centre. It was the place where all the posh folk and politicians usually stayed when visiting Liverpool. After lecturing them about being extravagant and telling them they shouldn’t be spending their savings like that when they could stay the night at the bungalow, Mrs Lomax had relented and kindly offered to stand half the costs as an extra wedding present for them. Alice was sure it was a night she’d remember all her life. She closed her eyes and willed sleep to come.

  2

  Alice grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her head after Millie had finished rinsing the suds from her hair over the bath, with a large enamel jug. There were no sinks in the Bickerton Street front parlour salon, and Millie’s dad Harry had flatly

  refused to go to the expense of having extra plumbing put in. ‘Not with a war on,’ he’d grumbled, so all hair-washing had to be done in the bathroom. The fresh scent of Pears soap hung in the air. Millie’s mam melted down grated pieces of the soap in hot water and it made a nice substitute for shampoo, which was hard to get with all the shortages. The substance was a bit thick and gloopy and took a while to rinse out, but the clients agreed it was better than nothing and left their hair looking nice and shiny.

  Downstairs, Millie’s mam Marion, smartly dressed in her brightly coloured cotton smock over a plain black fitted dress, combs sticking out of every pocket, was waiting for the girls with tea things and slices of angel cake at the ready on a trolley. Another customer, who Alice recognised as Mrs Floyd from the Lark Lane Post Office, was under a dryer by the bay window and she smiled as Millie led Alice to a seat placed in front of a large wall mirror. Alice took the cup of tea and slice of cake that Marion offered her.

  ‘Now then,’ Marion began. ‘Our Millie tells me you’d like to wear your hair loose and wavy, is that right?’

  Alice, her mouth full of cake, nodded. She swallowed and took a swig of tea to wash down the crumbs.

  ‘Please, I don’t want it fastening up. I’d like the same style as Millie.’ Millie’s dark blonde hair swung to her shoulders in bouncy curls with soft waves fanning her cheeks.

  Marion nodded. ‘I’ll trim about an inch off the length, tidy up your fringe and fix it into pin curls with clips. Then you can pop under the dryer for a while and Millie will comb you out and set it. Finish your tea and then we’ll make a start. Oh, get that, Millie love,’ she said as the doorbell rang. ‘It’ll be Doris for her perm. She’s always early. I’ll swear that one can smell a pot of freshly brewed tea from Aigburth Road.’

  Alice sat under the dryer watching Millie combing out Mrs Floyd’s bleached, blonde hair after removing the metal curling pins. Millie smoothed each section down, arranging the ends under so that the effect was a rather glamorous style, and portly Mrs Floyd seemed delighted with the result.

  She patted her waves and smiled, batting her lashes at her mirrored reflection. ‘Well, old Floydy will think it’s Lana Turner coming home to him,’ she said with a throaty chuckle. ‘I’ll knock his socks off, swanning in looking like her.’

  ‘You look lovely, Mrs Floyd,’ Millie said, holding a mirror up so Mrs Floyd could see the back. ‘Very glam indeed.’

  ‘I think this hairdo calls for a night out at the Legion if we don’t get any air raid warnings tonight.’ Mrs Floyd got to her feet and Millie fetched her coat and gas mask box from the hall coat stand.

  ‘Be with you in a minute,’ she mouthed at Alice as she helped Mrs Floyd into her coat.

  ‘Enjoy your wedding later, Alice,’ Mrs Floyd shouted, bending down in front of the dryer. ‘And let’s hope the snow stays off until after the ceremony. All the very best to you and Terry, my love.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Alice said.

  Millie switched off the dryer, and Doris, who was talking at the top of her voice as Marion combed perming solution through her hair, stopped suddenly. ‘Thank God for that. I can hear meself speak now. What time’s yer wedding, Alice?’ she asked.

  ‘Two thirty,’ Alice replied, sitting in front of the big wall mirror again while Millie took the clips out of her hair. The heavy curls fell softly to her shoulders, soft, bouncy and shiny, just how she’d pictured they would look. Once Millie had worked her magic with the comb she’d also feel like a film star and Terry would love it.

  ‘Well, if I’m done in time I’ve a packet of rice in my bag so I might just catch the pair of youse leaving the registry office. I can chuck a handful, but the rest is for puddin’s.’

  Alice laughed. ‘That will be lovely,’ she said.

  ‘Are you ’aving an ’oneymoon, chuck?’

  ‘Not really. Just one night in the Adelphi for a special treat. Terry has to go back to barracks on Sunday afternoon.’

  ‘That’s a shame. But I s’pose it’s ’ard getting any time off now with this blooming war. You’re lucky your Terry’s still in England. Bloody ’itler’s got a lot to answer for. All them little kiddies shipped miles away from ’ome an’ all. Terrible. Still, a night at the Adelphi, eh? That’s posh. Has he come up on Littlewoods treble chance, then?’ She laughed at her own joke and continued. ‘This war will all be over next year though, according to my old man. He’ll soon be back safe and sound, you’ll see.’

  ‘Let’s hope it is, and all our boys are back safe and sound,’ Marion said, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘’Ere, doesn’t your ’arry have any insider information, Marion? What with ’im working for the APS, like.’

  ‘It’s the ARP.’ Marion laughed. ‘No more than you or me, I’m afraid. Harry’s an air raid warden, not the man in charge. You need to keep listening to the wireless for updates, that’s what he’d tell you. It’s the best help I can give you.’

  ‘So ’e can’t say how much longer we’ve got to lug them stinking rubber masks around with us then?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, chuck.’ Marion began to wind tiny sheets of white paper around strands of Doris’s hair before rolling it onto perming rods, which didn’t take long as her hair was quite short. ‘There we go. All done. Under the dryer with you now and I’ll fetch you a cuppa through.’

  Millie finished smoothing down Alice’s hair and held up a mirror to show her the back. Alice smiled as she moved her head and watched her hair swing smoothly from side to side. ‘It’s lovely. Just how I wanted it to look. Yo
u are clever. You’d make a great hairdresser, Millie.’

  Millie laughed. ‘Well, when we’ve won this war with the planes we’re building, I might think about it. And you, Alice, you should think about taking up nurse training like you always wanted to do when we were at school.’

  Alice sighed. ‘One day, I might get the chance. Bit late when I’m married though, unless they change the rules about taking on married women some time.’ She got to her feet and Millie brought her coat through. Alice had tucked a silky headscarf into her pocket to keep her hair nice until she got home and she placed it carefully over her waves and fastened it under her chin. She only lived one street away, but the air was cold and she didn’t trust the snow not to start and ruin her hair before the celebrations began.

  ‘I’ll see you in an hour at yours,’ Millie said. ‘Mam’s found a nice little silver fox-fur jacket that she’d forgotten she had, so I’m going to wear it over my frock to stop me freezing to death.’

  She gave Alice a peck on the cheek and Marion and Doris waved goodbye and wished her luck as she left.

  Light snow was beginning to fall as Alice hurried up Lucerne Street, coating everywhere with a fine dusting of white, reminding her of icing sugar on mince pies. Not that they’d be having any this year as her mam had been unable to get any mincemeat and there was no dried fruit around to make their own. She dashed indoors, whipped off her scarf and shook the wet flakes off. In the back sitting room she examined her hair in the mirror and, satisfied it still looked fine, shouted up the stairs.

  ‘You up there, Mam?’

  ‘I’m here, chuck.’ Edith popped her head around the bedroom door and stepped out onto the small landing. She was still wearing her dressing gown and slippers, and a hairnet to keep her newly set hair in place. ‘Don’t look so worried. I’m not poorly. I’m just not getting dressed until the last minute in case I spill something on Marion’s nice frock. I was going to make us poached eggs on toast when you got back. You dashed out without your breakfast and you’ll need something in your tummy or you’ll be rumbling all through the service. Go and pop the kettle on and I’ll be down in a few minutes. I’m just trying to match up a pair of stockings that haven’t got ladders in them.’

  Alice shook her head. She didn’t have a pair she could lend her mam; the only good ones she had, she’d be wearing later. This bloody war. Life was fragile enough without the shortages and having no spare money, and it showed no signs of stopping. They missed Rodney’s wages, although he sent a few pounds home when he had it to spare, but the last lot had gone on buying Christmas presents for Brian in Wales. He’d grown taller and needed new clothes. Mam had knitted him a navy blue jumper and matching warm socks from wool she’d bought at Paddy’s Market. She’d managed to get him a pair of grey trousers and a white shirt that still looked like new, from a second-hand stall. Washed and pressed they’d made a nice outfit, so at least he’d look smart for the church service he’d told them he was going to on Christmas morning. The clothes would also do him for school, Mam said. They’d parcelled everything up along with a small bar of Cadbury’s chocolate, the last one in the grocer’s on Lark Lane, and a Meccano set that they’d saved up for. He’d been asking for one each birthday since Dad died, but there had never been enough money to treat him. Alice smiled as she thought how excited her little brother would be with the unexpected surprise in his Christmas parcel. She felt a lump rise in her throat when she thought of how she wouldn’t be able to share his joy. But at least he was safe for now and that was something to be thankful for.

  In the kitchen she put the kettle on the gas hob and spooned tea leaves into the pot. The remains of a loaf stood on the bread board waiting to be sliced and Alice cut two pieces and put the remainder in the breadbin. She slid the slices under the grill and stood by the sink looking out of the window. The snow was coming down a bit faster now. She sighed and prayed it would stop soon. A taxi was booked to pick her, Mam and Millie up later to take them the couple of miles to the Mount Pleasant Registry Office. Terry had arranged it, and had also booked one for him and his mother and his best man, Jimmy, a fellow soldier who had managed to get a short leave at the same time. Their taxi would arrive a bit earlier than Alice’s so that he’d be there waiting for her. But at this rate there’d be no photos taken on the registry office steps. They’d just have to be done inside. Mam appeared at her elbow as the kettle boiled. She shooed her away and Alice scurried off upstairs to recheck her outfit while Mam took over making them a bite to eat.

  At the very same moment the registrar instructed Terry to kiss his bride, the air raid warning siren wailed. There was a scuffling sound outside the front door, which was flung open by a member of the ARP with the instructions that they should get to the nearest shelter right away and make sure they took their gas masks with them.

  Terry raised an eyebrow and smiled at Alice. ‘Well that was well-timed, eh, gel? At least you’ve got my ring on your finger.’

  Mrs Lomax shook her head so hard her hat wobbled. ‘Is there to be no peace? Not even today?’ She shook her fist towards the ceiling and the imaginary spectre of Hitler that lurked in every mind’s eye. ‘I’m sick and tired of this.’

  ‘We all are, Madam,’ the registrar said patiently, mopping his brow with a white hanky. ‘But at least we got the ceremony conducted in peace and your son is now a married man. That’s something to be grateful for, at least.’

  ‘If you say so,’ Mrs Lomax huffed as the wedding party made its way to the back of the building and filed into the shelter outside.

  Alice clung onto her new husband’s arm and Jimmy helped Edith and Millie to a seat inside the gloomy shelter. The snow had stopped but it was cold and Edith shivered in her thin dress and jacket. The registrar handed out some folded grey woollen blankets that were stored on a nearby shelf and Millie tucked one around Edith’s shoulders and helped Mrs Lomax with hers.

  The registrar smiled as everyone took a seat and, heads cocked to one side, they listened for the sound of enemy planes overhead.

  ‘The three-thirty wedding may have to be put back,’ he muttered to the assistant registrar, who reminded Alice of a sad dog with his long face and big brown eyes.

  ‘I suspect you may be right,’ the man said. ‘Such a shame as the bridegroom only has today before he goes overseas.’

  Alice chewed her lip as she listened to the exchange of words. She felt so sorry for the young couple whose wedding plans may be scuppered, never knowing if, or when, they would see each other again. She blinked away the tears that threatened. Thank God she and Terry had got the two-thirty slot. Any later and they wouldn’t now be Mr and Mrs Lomax. She rested her head on his shoulder and he slid his arm around her and squeezed her tight. Within the hour the all-clear sirens sounded and thankfully there’d been no noise of bombs exploding nearby. That was the trouble; sometimes nothing happened, but they still had to dash into the closest air raid shelter. With loud cheers, the party made their way back indoors.

  The registrar went into the office and came back out with Alice and Terry’s marriage certificate. He shook their hands and wished them well as the front door burst open and an anxious-looking young couple in wedding finery almost fell in, followed by two other people who Alice assumed must be their witnesses, and an older man with a camera and stand.

  ‘Come through, come through,’ the registrar urged the young couple, who looked on the verge of tears. ‘We’ve just time to marry you before we close, if we hurry.’

  Alice saw the relief on the young bride-to-be’s face as she thanked him, and she and the party followed him into the room.

  ‘Are you here for us, mate?’ Terry asked the photographer.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Lomax?’

  ‘We are.’ Terry laughed. ‘First time we’ve had our full title.’

  ‘Then I’m here for you. I was hoping I wouldn’t miss you. I had to go in the shelter two streets away. The snow has stopped, so shall we get a shot on the front steps while we can?�
�� He took charge and arranged them into a group, and then took a couple of shots of Terry and Alice on their own and then one of them with their best man and bridesmaid. ‘They’ll be ready towards the end of next week,’ he said, handing Terry a card. ‘Give us a call a week on Monday and I’ll let you know when to pick them up.’

  ‘Will do. It’ll be my wife here that picks them up as I’ll be God knows where by then.’

  ‘No problem,’ the photographer said. ‘I wish you all the best and you take care, young man. Go and sort Jerry out and win this war for us.’

  3

  Alice held tight to Terry’s hand as the taxi pulled up outside his mother’s white-painted semi-detached bungalow on Linnet Lane. Terry thanked the driver, paid him and helped Alice out onto the snowy pavement. He supported her down the slippery garden path and fumbled in his pocket for a key.

  ‘Looks like we’re first back,’ he said. He opened the door and swung her up into his arms. ‘I know it’s not our own threshold, but it’s better than none,’ he joked as he carried her inside and kicked the door closed with his foot. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he planted a lengthy kiss on her lips. ‘Alone at last,’ he whispered into her hair and kissed her again.

  ‘Not for long,’ Alice said as a car pulled up outside. ‘Put me down. Here come the others.’

  ‘Ah well, we’ve got tonight. And I can’t wait.’ He lowered her down and grinned as Alice blushed prettily.

  The door opened and Mrs Lomax came inside followed by Edith and Millie, with Jimmy bringing up the rear.