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

by Howes, Pam

  Millie turned her tear-filled eyes to Freddie. ‘Is it…?’

  He put his arm around her shoulders. ‘You know I’m not allowed to say anything just yet.’

  ‘But if it wasn’t Josie you would tell us, Freddie, so you don’t need to say anything. We just know,’ Alice said, tears streaming down her face. ‘It’s so unfair. She was a lovely friend, always happy and smiling. Her mam will be heartbroken. She was her only daughter. She’s already lost one of her sons.’

  ‘Someone is on the way to speak to both families,’ Freddie said. ‘The other girl, for all her stupidity, is in a bad way.’ As he spoke the clanging bell of the ambulance leaving the premises sounded outside. ‘That’ll be her on her way to the hospital. The others up there will be sent home today now – they’re too upset to carry on and none of them will be able to concentrate and that’s dangerous. Management will send for the bus to take them home. Do you two want to leave with them? With Alice’s condition, I don’t want to take any chances. Might be best if you have a rest and come in tomorrow.’

  Millie nodded. ‘I’ll come home with you and stay at yours until your mam finishes work, Alice.’

  ‘Okay.’ Alice smiled weakly. ‘Thank you. What a dreadful thing to happen though. One minute we’re all cheering at our lovely plane taking off, and now this. Talk about the highs and lows of this blooming war. And we haven’t even left Liverpool like our boys have done.’

  Alice’s mam was bursting with the news of how upset everyone was by the dreadful accident that had killed young Josie Roberts. By the time Alice and Millie had arrived home the news had started to circulate. Josie’s mam’s best friend worked in the bakery and she had been told and had let the rest of the Lark Lane shops know what had happened. A collection to help her mam had been put in place at the post office and people were chipping in with bits of spare change.

  ‘We’re a close community, Josie was one of ours,’ Edith said, wrapping her hands around the cup of tea that Millie had poured her. ‘You don’t expect it when your girl goes off to work, that you won’t see her again. There’s always a chance that your lad might not come back home, but not your daughter when she’s only working a few miles up the road. It’s shocking. Thank goodness you two are not on the munitions floor. I’d have had to put my foot down, Alice. Especially now.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘I dread to think what’s going to become of us all.’ She stopped as someone knocked loudly on the front door. ‘Go and see who it is, Millie love.’

  A white-faced Mrs Lomax came bustling into the sitting room with Millie on her heels.

  ‘Oh, Alice. Thank goodness,’ she gasped. ‘I heard that a young girl had been killed up at Rootes. No one could tell me her name so I ran all the way here as fast as I could. Oh dear, I don’t mean that to sound as though I don’t care about the poor young lady, it’s just that…’ She sank down next to Alice on the threadbare sofa and gave her a hug. ‘I couldn’t bear it.’

  ‘It’s okay, we understand,’ Alice said, hugging her mother-in-law back. ‘Thank you for caring. It was our lovely friend, Josie. Millie will pour you a cup of tea while you get your breath back, Mrs Lomax.’

  Mrs Lomax blinked back tears. ‘Thank you, my dear. And I’m so sorry to hear it was one of your friends.’

  She squeezed Alice’s hand as Alice took a deep shuddering breath and smiled sadly.

  8

  March 1941

  Josie’s funeral took place at St Michael’s Church on the third Saturday of March, after an inquest had recorded her death as accidental. Her body was laid to rest in the family grave in the church grounds. The second victim of the explosion, a girl called Avril, was still in hospital. According to those who’d been to visit her she’d never be right again. Half of her face was missing and she’d lost both hands, and as Elsie, who’d worked closely with the girls, had said, ‘Her head’s not right; she’s gone all mental over blaming herself for killing Josie. She’ll end up in Newsham Park, you mark my words.’

  Elsie’s comments had struck a chill through Alice, and although she still felt angry that Josie had lost her life needlessly, she also felt a degree of pity for Avril. The earring that had caused the explosion was from a pair she’d received for Christmas from her boyfriend fighting overseas, and she couldn’t bear not to wear them. Alice knew how that felt as she hated not wearing Terry’s locket while at work and she wasn’t even handling explosives, but rules were rules and were in place for the sake of everyone’s safety. But the thought of Avril spending the rest of her life in a mental hospital with no hands to do anything for herself didn’t even bear thinking about.

  A buffet was held in the church hall after the funeral, with everyone bringing something along to help Josie’s bereaved mother. In spite of rationing and shortages, the community had pulled their weight and a good spread was laid out on trestle tables covered with white cloths.

  Alice sat down next to Millie, whose eyes were red from crying.

  ‘I can’t stop thinking about how happy she was at Christmas when we all sang together,’ Millie wailed. ‘It’s just not right. She was too young and such a nice girl.’

  ‘She was,’ Alice agreed. ‘Well, we owe it to Josie now to win this bloody war, one way or another.’

  Easter weekend in April brought nice weather and, on Good Friday afternoon, Alice and Millie took a stroll around the boating lake at Sefton Park.

  ‘This is lovely,’ Alice said. ‘Just to be outside without a coat and scarf is a treat. Summer dresses, cardies, peep-toe shoes and gas mask boxes though, what a combination, eh?’

  They sat down by the side of the lake and ate the little picnic that Millie’s mam had packed up for them. Jam sarnies, an apple each and a flask of tea.

  ‘That’ll be you soon.’ Millie nodded in the direction of a young woman pushing a pram and pointing at the ducks on the lake, much to her baby’s delight.

  Alice’s eyes were drawn to the young man trailing behind her, who was struggling along on crutches and had a patch over his right eye.

  ‘I hope not. I want my Terry home, but I’d like him in one piece. Bless that poor fella. Bet he’s from the convalescent home where they’ve taken a lot of injured soldiers who’ve been brought back from Europe, and they’ve let him out for a bit of time with his wife.’

  ‘My dad’s playing in the band soon if we don’t get any air raid warnings,’ Millie said. ‘We’ll go and watch him when we’ve finished our dinner.’

  ‘That’ll be nice. There’s a few people out with babies and toddlers,’ Alice said, looking around. ‘Wonder why they haven’t had the little ones evacuated, or even gone away with them.’

  ‘Well have you thought about what you will do?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet. I can’t go away anywhere because of Mam and I’m not letting a new baby go to strangers, so I suppose I’ll have to manage here and pray it doesn’t get any worse before it’s over.’

  Millie packed up the flask and paper bags from their picnic and helped Alice up from the grass. They strolled over to the Palm House to use the toilet facilities and then sat down by the bandstand to listen to the ARP brass band. Millie’s dad was playing trumpet and he waved to the girls in between tunes and took off his uniform cap to mop his sweaty head with a hanky. The ice-cream seller had stopped nearby, ringing his tricycle bell to attract attention. Alice looked longingly in his direction.

  ‘Shall we?’ She nodded at Millie. ‘A cornet with raspberry syrup?’

  ‘You’ve read my mind.’ Millie laughed. ‘I’ll get them; you stay there and rest your legs and your bump.’

  Alice laughed and ran her hands over her little mound. ‘I’m not that big yet, getting there though. I’m sure it’s started wriggling about. Either that or it’s wind!’

  Millie grinned and hurried over to join the queue for the ice-cream seller.

  By Alice’s reckoning, from her wedding date, and not the calendar months the midwife she’d seen recently insisted on working from, she was eigh
teen weeks this weekend, so she was almost halfway there. An article in Woman’s Weekly magazine stated that a baby begins to move between sixteen and twenty-five weeks and the movements are called quickening and feel similar to bubbles popping, or butterflies. That was exactly what she likened the feeling to. She felt a little thrill of excitement and couldn’t wait to tell Terry when she next wrote to him. She and Mam had been invited to tea on Easter Sunday at Mrs Lomax’s, so she’d be able to tell her mother-in-law the good news.

  Alice’s head had barely hit the pillow on Saturday night when the air raid warning wailed. Mam was banging on her door in seconds and the pair pulled on dressing gowns and slippers, grabbed their gas masks and a blanket each off their beds and hurried down the back yard to the Anderson shelter that served them and next door. They were quickly joined by the neighbours, who were clutching their two large cats. Mam wasn’t that keen on cats but she didn’t mind these two, who were treated like babies by Bert and Bessie Bradley. The elderly couple had no family and the cats were their life. Blackie and Ginger settled down on a blanket Bessie laid on the floor for them and were soon purring contentedly.

  ‘Wouldn’t you think they’d have some respect when you consider it’s Easter weekend?’ Bert complained. ‘Bloody Luftwaffe, I’m sick and tired of this. I had enough last time.’ Bert had never recovered from the previous war, when he’d suffered a back injury. He had been unable to work since. ‘I thought we were winning last year over that three-month stretch when we took control of the skies.’

  Alice nodded. Bert was referring to the Battle of Britain and thought what most Liverpudlians thought.

  ‘We need to get more planes built, Alice. You tell ’em, gel.’

  Alice smiled wearily. That was what everyone said and she sometimes wondered if the whole of Aigburth thought that she and Millie alone were responsible for the Halifax productions.

  ‘We’re going as fast as we can, Bert. We have a night shift on the go as well as us girls in the day.’

  ‘Aye, well, best they get a move on.’ Bert shifted his large backside to make more space for Bessie. He laid his head on her shoulder and within seconds was snoring.

  Bessie rolled her eyes. ‘He makes more bloody noise than them German planes,’ she said. ‘What I’d give for a good night’s sleep.’

  As the minutes ticked by, the sound of muffled explosions and Bert’s snoring was more than Alice could stand – and besides that, she needed a wee and couldn’t hold it much longer. The last few weeks she felt she’d never been off the lavvy. She jumped to her feet.

  ‘Mam, I’ve got to go indoors,’ she whispered.

  ‘Oh no, chuck, you can’t do that,’ Mam said.

  ‘Well I’ll have to,’ Alice muttered, jiggling from foot to foot. ‘I need the lavvy and I need it right now.’ She shot out of the shelter, shutting the door behind her, and ran back into the house. She flew upstairs and just made it in time as the siren wailed the end of the air raid. ‘Oh, thank God for that, on both counts.’ She breathed a sigh of relief and made her way downstairs as her mam came in at the back door. ‘That was well-timed.’

  Mam smiled. ‘It was. There’s a right stink of burning out there wafting up from the Mersey. Some poor buggers have copped it tonight. God help them. It’s a rabbit warren down there with all those tenements and rows of terraces. I just hope there are enough shelters for them all. Right, chuck, let’s try and get some sleep. I want to be up for the morning service tomorrow. We need to support the church while we can. The more prayers the better at the moment.’

  Alice put her hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn. She could hardly keep her eyes open as Mam and Mrs Lomax talked about last night and the awful news that had filtered through of direct hits in the centre of the city. Some of her workmates lived in the worst-affected areas and she just hoped they were safe. No deaths had been reported, but sometimes people’s injuries were so horrific that death might just be a blessing.

  ‘Do you want the last sandwich, Alice?’ Mrs Lomax said, offering the plate towards her. ‘Might as well, dear, it looks lonely on its own and I think your mother and I have had more than enough.’

  ‘You’re very lucky that you managed to get some salmon,’ Mam said. ‘We’ve not had a tin for nearly twelve months. I really enjoyed that.’

  ‘Well truth be told, I had the tin in the pantry and have been hanging on to it for a special occasion. I’ve also got some pears and a tin of evaporated milk for dessert. We may as well use them up, because I won’t open them just for me. It’s nice to enjoy a proper Sunday tea once in a while. Alice looks tired. Maybe an early night’s in order. At least you’ve got tomorrow off. Let’s just hope there are no air raids tonight. I’ll go and get the pears and milk dished up while Alice finishes her sandwich and then, before you go, I have a little surprise for you.’

  Alice wolfed down the last sandwich, the pears and milk and a small piece of angel cake. She sat back with a contented sigh.

  ‘I’m stuffed, but I really enjoyed all that. Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Mrs Lomax smiled. ‘Now shall we take a peep at my surprise? If you’d both like to follow me.’

  Alice looked at her mam, who raised her eyebrows, and they both followed Mrs Lomax down the hall. She stopped outside the bedroom that had been Terry’s and flung open the door, ushering them inside. Under the window, protected by a white sheet, stood the grey pram from Lewis’s; and standing next to it, a little white cradle mounted on curved wooden rockers.

  ‘With all the bombing going on around the city, I was concerned about getting them delivered safely, so my neighbour George took me to the store on Thursday and we arranged delivery for yesterday morning,’ Mrs Lomax explained. ‘And while I was there I saw the little cradle. I thought it might come in handy, either for you at home, or for me here if you ever leave the baby with me while you go out or go back to work.’

  Alice flung her arms around the woman she’d thought was a bit too snobby for her own good when Terry had first introduced them. But now she was beginning to appreciate what a kindly mother-in-law she had.

  ‘Thank you so much. It’s beautiful. And I agree that the pram is safer here than in the city at the moment. Are you sure it’s not in your way?’

  ‘Not at all. This is Terry’s room, and he certainly won’t need it for a while, if ever again. You’ll be looking for your own place once he gets back. I just hope he’ll be able to finish his training to become an engineer when the war is over.’

  ‘I’m sure he will,’ Mam chipped in. ‘My Rodney was training to be an engine driver before he joined up. They’ll pick up many skills while they’re overseas, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  Alice chewed her lip. Staying alive and one step ahead of the enemy was the best skill those boys could learn right now. But she kept her mouth shut. Both mothers needed to think about a future in which their sons came back to a country with jobs waiting for them.

  9

  Following the accident at Rootes, Alice and Millie had postponed their planned trip to the pictures. But they knew that fun-loving Josie wouldn’t have wanted them to mourn forever. She’d have been the first to declare that Hitler shouldn’t stand in the way of them going out and enjoying themselves. They decided on an Easter Monday visit, which would round off the four-day holiday nicely. They made their way to the Mayfair picture house in Aigburth and stood outside looking up at the poster. Neither had any idea which film was currently showing and Millie squealed with delight when she saw that Cary Grant’s film, His Girl Friday, was advertised.

  ‘One of your heart-throbs,’ Alice said, laughing. ‘That’s lucky. We could have been stuck with something dead boring.’ She looked up at the façade of the lovely building, which was lit up by neon lights running up both sides and along the three large arched windows above the entrance foyer, illuminating the Mayfair’s name. ‘Doesn’t it always look grand,’ she said.

  Millie nodded and linked her arm through Alice’s as they que
ued for seats.

  ‘Two nine-pennies in the stalls please,’ Alice said, handing over a two-bob bit to the blonde girl in the kiosk. ‘Do you want some sweets?’ she asked Millie.

  ‘We haven’t a lot of choice, love,’ the girl said. ‘No chocolate at the moment, but we’ve got wine gums and bags of boiled sweets. The ladies will be round with ice-cream later.’

  ‘Oh, wine gums,’ Millie said, handing over a shilling. ‘We’ll share a bag. That okay with you, Alice?’

  ‘Yes, I love ’em. Except the green ones,’ she said as they walked towards the entrance doors. ‘And I know you don’t either, so they can go home to your dad.’

  They laughed as the usherette showed them to their seats on the front row. Millie’s dad always got the left-over green sweets of any variety. The organist was playing the Compton organ that had risen from the orchestra pit and the atmosphere was relaxing. Last night had been undisturbed and Alice had slept like a log. Mam had left her to have a lie-in this morning while she attempted a bit of housework. On the way back from Mrs Lomax’s, Mam had confessed that she’d been mortified when she had turned up out of the blue the day of the factory explosion. After yesterday’s visit for tea, she said she was going to get to grips with sorting out the house the best she could before the baby arrived. There wasn’t much she could do about replacing the furniture, she’d said, but she could at least make a few new cushion covers and a rag rug for in front of the hearth. After all, they had enough old clothes she could cut up and use. By the time Alice got up for breakfast the steps and windowsill had been freshly donkey-stoned and the brass letterbox and knocker were gleaming. The downstairs windows were as sparkling as they could be with all the tape on them, and the patch of front garden, now cleared of weeds, revealed a few sprouting bulbs that had been hidden: late daffodils that would brighten the garden up a bit.