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

by Howes, Pam

  Jack nodded. ‘The trouble with senility setting in, it’s not reversible, and there’s no pills that can cure it. As bits of the brain die off the mind shuts down and parts of the body that are no longer controlled by them bits of dead brain start to fail. That’s the way I understood it when my mam was like this. Just a shame that your mam is so much younger than mine was for this to happen to her.’

  Alice sighed. ‘I know. I just don’t have a good feeling about it, Jack.’

  He reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘Try and be brave. It’ll help get you through it, and I’m right there for you to help as well.’

  ‘And I’m so grateful for your support. I always will be. Thank you.’

  He smiled. ‘It’s what mates are for.’

  Alice chewed her lip as she stared out of the car window. Jack was a good mate, there was no denying it, but Terry was the one who should be here right now by her side; supporting her. It’s what husbands were supposed to do. So much had happened since their wedding day and, apart from that one day and night with him, she’d dealt with it all on her own. The effects of the war, the air raids and Cathy’s traumatic air raid shelter birth. Rodney’s going missing and then the subsequent news of his death, supporting Brian through it all and then having to agree that her sick mam should be institutionalised. It was a lot for anyone to cope with in such a short space of time. She’d grown stronger through her experiences, and although she missed Terry, and his letters home told her that he was missing her too, were they just words he thought she needed to hear? Did he still mean them? He felt like a stranger now, someone she used to know, and she felt herself getting closer to Jack, though she knew deep down that it was probably just because she needed a shoulder to cry on. He’d been there for her through most of it, the shoulder to cry on, the arms to hold her, doing nothing inappropriate, apart from stroking her hair on Boxing Day when they’d gone to see her mam. In spite of that, she was grateful for the constant support he gave her when she felt she couldn’t carry on.

  But she was married, for better or for worse, even though at times she didn’t feel it could get any worse than it already was. Since Alan had told Millie that he’d met someone else, there was always that niggling thought at the back of her mind that the same thing might happen to Terry, that he’d get injured and fall in love with his nurse. She told herself not to be so stupid; Alan and Millie weren’t married and she and Terry were. They’d made vows and promises to each other. It still didn’t stop her hopes and dreams of a happy ever after from fading slightly. But maybe that’s how every woman whose husband was away felt: bereft at being left behind holding the babies. It was a hard life for all concerned and hopefully would start to get better once the war was over, which at the moment felt like it would never happen.

  At Rainhill Hospital Alice and Jack were taken to a side room in a clinically clean ward, where Mam was lying perfectly still on crisp white linen. Her cheeks were highly flushed in her grey face, as though fighting a temperature, and her breathing behind the oxygen mask sounded laboured. Alice broke down and clung to Jack, who held her close. The woman in the bed didn’t even look like her mam.

  The sister who’d spoken to them said not to expect too much and to only stay about half an hour. Jack brought two chairs in from the corridor and they sat side by side.

  ‘What will I do if she dies?’ Alice whispered.

  Jack looked at her and frowned. ‘I’m gonna be blunt here, Alice. Don’t think badly of me, but this is no life for your mam. She’s got no existence in here. She’s getting weaker by the day and she’ll pick up any germs going. Something will see her off eventually. She’s peaceful right now. Be glad of that, chuck. It was a relief when my mam just slipped away. I couldn’t stand seeing her suffer.’

  Alice swallowed hard. ‘I’m sure you’re right, but it’s still horrible to think about it. When she was at the other place she once told us she didn’t want to come home because Dad and Rodney were there with her and she didn’t want to leave them behind. I guess that’s about the time her mind started to leave me and Brian behind. Maybe she’s at peace with herself now she knows she’s going to join them soon.’

  ‘Aye, maybe. She’ll know when she’s ready to go.’

  24

  October 1943

  Mam lingered until the middle of October, getting weaker, until Alice, sitting by her bed, prayed for her ending to come peacefully. She felt guilty while she was doing it, but knew deep down it was time for them all to release her. In these final days she spent as much time with her mam as working would allow. Jack kindly brought her and Brian to Rainhill after work and school as often as he could borrow Arnold’s car.

  Brian and Alice held Mam’s hands, sitting either side of the bed, as she took her final breath. Alice looked across at her brother, his cheeks flushed and his eyes red-rimmed. He was trying so hard not to cry and to be strong for them both. It broke her heart to see him like this. He was too young to suffer so many losses in so short a space of time. She put her arms around him as he got to his feet and convulsed into sobs on her shoulder. She silently vowed to do whatever she could to look after him properly, to give him a good future and to make sure he would never want for anything.

  The kindly Lark Lane shop proprietors had a collection for Edith Turner, who had been one of their regular customers since the day she’d married and moved into Lucerne Street with her new husband. Arnold and Winnie offered to put on a small wake at the Legion and wouldn’t accept any contribution from Alice towards it.

  The funeral cortège moved slowly down Lucerne Street, the shiny black car carrying Alice, Brian and Granny Lomax following the hearse. Granny’s next-door neighbour was looking after Cathy for a few hours. The residents of the terraced houses had closed their curtains as a mark of respect. The small procession pulled up outside St Michael’s Church, where Mam had worshipped for most of her life. Alice was touched to see all the neighbours and Mam’s old workmates from the Princess Laundry and the sock-knitting circle, standing outside waiting. They would do her proud and Alice knew she would have been thrilled to bits to know it.

  Millie and her mam were waiting by the church door and Millie waved her hand in greeting. Alice lifted her hand in acknowledgement. Jack was standing beside them with Arnold and Winnie and they nodded at her as she linked her arm through Brian’s and followed the coffin bearers inside.

  The vicar welcomed them all and, following prayers, Mam’s favourite hymns were sung.

  During ‘Morning Has Broken’ Alice could feel tears coursing down her cheeks. She didn’t bother to wipe them away; after all, no one would mind. Brian pulled on her sleeve as the vicar began his eulogy.

  ‘What?’ she whispered as he turned red-rimmed eyes to her. She took his hand and squeezed it.

  He reached into his jacket pocket and handed her a sheet of lined paper torn from a school exercise book.

  ‘I couldn’t sleep so I wrote a little poem for Mam last night. It’s just about some memories. Do you think the vicar will let me read it?’ he whispered back.

  Alice chewed her lip as she took a quick look at his lengthy scribblings. ‘Are you sure you can manage all this? It may make you feel very sad.’

  ‘I want to. It’s not just sad. I’ve tried to make it a bit happy as well.’

  Alice sighed and caught the vicar’s eye as he finished the eulogy and made his way out of the pulpit. He walked over to her and she whispered to him. He smiled and nodded and addressed the packed church.

  ‘Edith’s youngest son Brian would like to read a few words he has written for his mother.’ He smiled encouragingly at Brian, who got to his feet and went to stand beside Mam’s flower-bedecked coffin in front of the altar.

  Brian studied his piece of paper for a few seconds and then, glancing at Alice, who smiled and gave him a nod of reassurance, he cleared his throat and began to read, his young voice clear, precise and growing with confidence in the silent church.

  ‘My poem is ca
lled “Our Mam”,’ he began.

  Dear Mam, we’re missing you so much

  And I’m sure you’re missing us

  But I know you are at peace now

  Instead of running for t’next bus

  One cold and frosty morning

  You looked at me and frowned

  Then wrapped a scarf around me neck

  And took me into town

  We went to Paddy’s Market

  And you bought me some nice new clothes

  We had tea and toast in the Kardomah

  And you wiped me snotty nose

  We called in Lewis’s toy shop

  And we looked at cars and games

  And my favourite Meccano set

  But you shook your head in shame

  We’d lost our dad and we was poor

  But it didn’t matter, Mam

  Because we still had Alice and Rodney

  And white bread with strawberry jam

  And then Hitler made the war begin

  And they made me an evacuee

  I missed you Mam, but I was okay

  Because they took good care of me

  My parcel from home at Christmas

  Made me cry with surprise and joy

  Wrapped up in fancy paper

  Was me favourite Meccano toy

  Thank you for all you did for us

  You were the best mam in the world

  Now it’s my turn to look after our Alice

  And her lovely little girl

  Brian put his fingers to his lips and placed a kiss on Mam’s coffin before walking back to his seat as the congregation got to its feet and applauded him.

  ‘Well done, Brian,’ the vicar said. ‘There’s not a dry eye in the house. That was very brave and you were word-perfect. You did your mother proud.’

  ‘Bravo, Brian,’ Granny Lomax said, giving him a hug. ‘Very well done.’

  ‘That was wonderful, Brian,’ Alice said, wiping her eyes as the clapping congregation sat back down. ‘Mam would be so thrilled.’

  Brian smiled shyly, folded his paper and put it back in his pocket.

  After Mam had been laid to rest alongside her husband, Alice and Brian invited people back to the Legion to join them for refreshments. After offering their condolences following the service, Jack, Arnold and Winnie had left to get organised for the wake.

  Freddie and Marlene arrived at the Legion after their shift at Rootes had finished, apologising that they’d been unable to get the afternoon off as the company rules were strict about taking time off only for relatives’ funerals. Alice was just glad to see them and was touched when Freddie handed her an envelope. Just as he had done after they lost Rodney.

  ‘We had a whip-round,’ he whispered. ‘To help you with the cost.’ He gave Alice a hug.

  ‘Thank you so much. It will be a big help as Mam had no money at all to her name. Just a couple of penny policies I can claim on.’

  Freddie nodded. ‘Those’ll help you a bit. And you’ll inherit the house now, you and your Brian. That should see you both okay for the future, chuck. It’ll give you a roof over your heads and you can get it ready for when Terry comes back. Make a lovely home for you all, that will. Use a bit of that money you’ve been saving up and get the roof fixed. And once it’s watertight I’ll rally up some of the blokes that are still around to give you a hand to get the place put right.’

  Alice stared at him as the penny dropped. She’d been so consumed with grief at losing Mam and trying to get everything arranged for the funeral that she’d been unable to think straight. The fact that the house now legally belonged to her and Brian hadn’t even entered her head. Her own place; and one that she could make nice in readiness for Terry’s eventual homecoming. After all, it was her family home and all her precious memories of Mam, Dad and Rodney were there. It would be a struggle, but she could make it a real home again for Cathy and Brian too. But what would her mother-in-law say to that idea? She dreaded to think and turned her attention to the guests, who were offering their commiserations to her and Brian as they tucked into the plates of sandwiches made by Winnie.

  Alice and Freddie walked around the house on Lucerne Street on a Saturday afternoon in late November, making notes. Well, Freddie was pointing out things that needed urgent attention and Alice was writing them down in her notebook. The loose slates on the roof had been secured by Freddie’s brother Albert and the bedroom ceilings were drying out now. Large brown water stains were apparent, but Freddie assured her they would be fine with a couple of coats of distemper. Most of her mam’s neighbours who were still able had offered to help when she was ready. She only had to ask, she was told over and again.

  ‘So where will we get paint from at the moment?’ Alice asked. She couldn’t recall seeing any on the shelves of the little hardware shop on Lark Lane when she’d gone in with Brian to get some nails to make the chicken coop for Rosie and Betty, the adopted chickens.

  Freddie tapped the side of his nose. ‘There are three big cans of white distemper at work. It’s left over from when we set up the munitions floor upstairs. Can’t see as we’ll need it now. It’s just standing in the store cupboard taking up room. I’ll have a word with the boss tomorrow. See if he’ll let us have it. I’ll offer a few bob, but I reckon we’ll get it for nowt.’

  ‘Oh, well that will be a huge help,’ Alice said, smiling. ‘Your brother took up the old carpet squares when he did the roof as they were sodden. So there’s nothing to stop me tearing off all the old paper now and then it’s ready to paint upstairs. Once the bedrooms are done I can see how much money I’ve got left to buy some new carpets or oilcloth and rugs. We might not be able to move in for quite some time, until I can afford to refurnish the lot, but at least it’s going to be taking shape nicely.’

  Freddie nodded. ‘How did Terry’s mam take it? That you intend to move in here, I mean.’

  Alice sighed. ‘Not very well. She suggested I sell it and stay there with her, but it’s our family home and I’d like to make it nice again for me and Brian and Cathy. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m not afraid of hard work and neither is Brian. His main worry is his veg garden and the chickens, but he can walk round each day after school and do his bit.’

  ‘You need your own space, chuck. I wouldn’t have lived with my ma-in-law for a gold clock. Not saying yours isn’t very nice, but when Terry comes home you’ll all be squashed in up at that bungalow. You’ll have a lot more space here. That little box room at the back will be grand for Cathy, Brian can have the middle one and then you and Terry can have the big front bedroom. An ideal home for all of you. I presume you’ve told him of your plans?’

  ‘I have, yes. He says to go ahead and do what I can afford to do. He’ll send money as and when he can to help me.’

  ‘We’ll soon have it shipshape and Bristol fashion, as my mother used to say, though Lord knows what she meant by that!’

  Alice laughed. ‘Shall we go down to the little café on Lark Lane?’ she suggested. ‘I think you deserve a nice brew and a sticky bun if they’ve got any.’

  ‘You’re on, gel. Lead the way.’

  25

  April 1944

  Alice, Brian and Cathy moved into their house on Lucerne Street the third week of April, just in time for Brian going back to school after the Easter holidays. In the true Lark Lane community spirit of helping, all the neighbours had been on the job to restore the house to a habitable state. A neighbour had replaced the broken pane in the front living room window and the whole inside had been freshly distempered in white with the paint donated by the kindly boss at Rootes. All the interior woodwork had been washed down and given a coat of white gloss-paint that another neighbour had produced from his garden shed.

  ‘If it’s out of the way the wife won’t nag me to do ours,’ he told Alice as he handed over the two tins, with a cheeky wink.

  Alice had been outside finishing donkey-stoning the front step and windowsill when he arrived. When she came back
outside after carrying the tins through to the kitchen, several tell-tale paw prints on the sill, courtesy of Blackie or Ginger next door, brought a smile to her face. Bessie came out and shooed them away and took over from Alice, re-stoning and wiping.

  ‘I’m sorry, chuck,’ she said and shook her fist at the two naughty cats, who sat warily watching her every move.

  The front door had been given a new coat of shiny black paint – by whom, Alice had no idea, but it looked lovely. The doorknocker and letterbox had been polished up with Brasso and looked sparkling. Everywhere was fresh and clean and another neighbour had brought curtains round that she’d picked up at Paddy’s Market and altered to fit. They replaced the old faded curtains that had been up for donkey’s years. The criss-cross tape and blackout linings still remained at the windows as standard for the time being. Alice was moved to tears time and again by her neighbours’ kind deeds.

  The old beds had been ruined by the rain that had leaked through the ceilings. Those had now been removed and burned in someone’s back garden and Granny Lomax had given her the beds they had been using from the bungalow. There had been a few more cross words over Alice’s wish to move back home, but eventually her mother-in-law reluctantly agreed that it would be best for them all and that she understood Alice’s wish to be in charge of her own family home for when Terry came back. And at least this way they had a good start in that they didn’t need to rent or borrow money to buy a house.

  ‘How will you do your weekend job at the Legion now though? I can’t come here each night at the weekend,’ she’d said as she looked round the house on the day they moved in. ‘I’d have to walk home alone in the blackout and it’s not safe. Cathy and Brian can’t stay with me as you’ve got their beds here now and I don’t really want to buy any more, besides which, I probably wouldn’t be able to get my hands on any at the moment.’