Gracie led her into the mine office and found her a cup of tea which Elsie accepted with gratitude but poor Gracie was now on pins to get back to the others before the Super missed her. ‘I’d best go.’
‘It was my son,’ Matron gasped.
‘What?’
‘My eldest, Donald. He was sent down a mine though he wasn’t a miner. He wanted to be a soldier but they sent him to dig coal instead. One of Bevin’s boys. There was a fall and... trapped ...’
Gracie listened, horrified, then put her arms about the huge woman, now a quivering wreck and held her while tears rolled down the fat cheeks. ‘You don’t have to say another word. I understand.’
After a moment she pulled out a hanky, struggling for control, her eyes seemed suddenly bleak and empty, and her voice seemed to come from a long way away. ‘And my other son, David, was killed at Dunkirk.’
‘Oh God, no!’ Gracie was struck dumb. It sounded as if this poor woman had lost her entire family. She didn’t dare ask if there was anyone left. No wonder she was always in a foul mood with a bitter twist to her mouth. To say she was sorry would sound trite and inadequate, even so Gracie said it, for want of anything else. ‘Can I do anything more for you?’
One plump hand patted the back of her hair, checking it was tidy. ‘No. I shall be all right in a minute. Thank you for the tea. I appreciate it. Now you’d best go, Freeman, or you’ll be in trouble.'
‘You’ll be OK?’
‘I’ll be fine. Pay no heed to me.’ Gracie could almost see the drawbridge coming up again, the armour which she’d erected around herself to discourage pity, or worse self-pity. ‘I’d be obliged if you’d forget everything I’ve just told you. Make no mention of it.’
Gracie squeezed the woman’s plump hand and hurried away.
First they were shown the stack of pitprops at the surface. Many had already been peeled of their bark but some hadn’t and the girls were all given a lesson in how to do this task which helped the seasoning process. Each prop was placed on two trestles and using a sharp knife and firm downward sweeps, the skin of the props was sliced away.
‘As is the skin from my knuckles,’ yelped Gracie, but her skill improved with practise. It also taught them why it was important for them to remove all the small branches and arms, not only for the safety of the miners, but for the poor soul who had to do this job all day.
After that they were given helmets, so heavy Gracie could barely keep her head upright, and promised a ride in a cage that went deep into the ground.
‘Hell’s teeth, I’m not sure I fancy that,’ Lou whispered. ‘Why do we need to go?’
‘Because,’ said the Super, right in her ear, ‘you’re the ones cutting the poles which will hold the roof up for the miners. If you’ve been down a mine yourselves, you’ll know how it feels and make sure that you cut strong ones.’
The point was certainly driven home as they were led through the shafts and galleries where the men worked, and the purpose of various pieces of machinery carefully demonstrated. There was electric light for part of the way but they were then shown shorter, narrower passages where the miners were expected to work in difficult and cramped conditions, where they were often dependent upon the lamps affixed to their helmets. The atmosphere grew hot and airless, though the ventilation fans were working normally. It was explained to them about the pumps, and how these were constantly at work, preventing the mine from flooding.
Today, being a Sunday, the miners were not working and the silence was profound, broken only by the constant dripping of water and strange creaking that echoed in the empty vastness. Their guide carried a candle and a canary in a cage, both of which he used to test the quality of the air at the head of each shaft. When they reached the coal face, he showed them the pitprops, some of them cracked and bent.
‘Don’t worry, girls. These aren’t any of yours. They’ve been here a long time,’ their guide reassured them. Even so, they felt guilty, as if they were responsible for sending inferior wood.
He offered them all a turn with a pickaxe to cut some coal, which they all tried with great trepidation. On the way back in the lorry, Lou said that the next time they were felling softwoods for pitprops, she’d make doubly sure that they chose good strong poles with no sign of weakness in any of them.
Gracie agreed. She’d felt quite certain that the great mass of earth above her head had been about to collapse on top of her and press her into the blackness. But despite these fears, she’d gained a great deal from the trip. More than she felt comfortable with.
Gordon was waiting for them when they arrived back at camp. He lifted Lou bodily from the back of the lorry and carried her off to great whoops of delight from the other girls.
‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ chorused Tess and Jeannie together.
‘To the woods!’ yelled Enid.
‘I think not.’ The voice of Matron boomed out and poor Gordon very nearly dropped his beloved in the mud as he instantly responded with a smart salute.
‘Have you permission to be on this site, sailor?’
‘No sir... er ma’am. I mean, I’ve got a late pass. Just for tonight.’
‘This is a work area. And women only.’ Matron hoisted her ample bosom onto her folded arms and glared at him.
‘Yeah, I can see that.’ His eyes roved over the beaming faces surrounding him, all filled with curiosity and avid interest at this gorgeous hunk of male they’d discovered in their midst. Lou decided it was time to pitch in with her four pennyworth. The sooner she got her lovely Gordon away from their adoring gaze, the better.
‘What he means is he understands all of that but just popped in to let me know he was here, that he’d be available later.’
‘Ooh,’ cried a voice from the crowd. ‘Is he taking bookings?’
Fresh gales of laughter from the audience and a few more ribald remarks. ‘No, no, I mean that he’s managed to wangle a spot of leave. We’ll surely be allowed some free time this evening, won’t we, Matron? I can go out with him, can’t I? If there’s another lecture could I miss it for once? We’re only recently wed, d’you see, and we’re so very much in love.’ She put such pleading, such feeling, into her voice, it would have moved a heart of stone. Matron didn’t flinch.
‘Your personal affairs are hardly my concern, Mason. I’m afraid you don’t go anywhere without my permission.’
She made to walk away but Lou took a step towards her in her desperation, for all she itched to run away with Gordon that very minute. It was exciting and brave of him to walk right into the camp like this, bold as brass, but she did wish he’d given notice he was coming. She’d have been more prepared, maybe begged some time off. ‘Aw go on Matron. Be a sport. He is me husband after all. Can’t I go with him to the flicks or something? Who knows when I might see him again, and there is a war on.’ A hard lump of emotion filled her throat and Lou swallowed, aware suddenly that this was true. Her plan to be near Gordon could all come to nothing the moment he got his sailing orders.
‘I want you off government property now, sailor. And the rest of you girls, about your business. Supper is in half an hour.’ Unmoved by Lou’s pleas, the woman flounced away, the long green overall beneath the heavy brown coat almost skimming the sea of mud.
Lou was utterly devastated, the disappointment in her so keen that she felt sick. Tears were pricking the backs of her eyes, and she didn’t dare glance at poor Gordon’s crestfallen face or she might start blubbing in earnest. There was a sympathetic groan of disappointment from the onlookers but it was Gracie who hurried after Matron and caught up with her. Some sort of exchange took place between them; too far away and much too quietly spoken for Lou to hear what was said, but, after a moment, the woman suddenly swung about and glared back at Lou.
‘You’d still need to be in by nine-thirty.’
‘Nine-thirty, but...’
‘That would be fine,’ Gracie hastily intervened. ‘You understand that too, Gordon, don’t you?’
‘Sure thing,’ he agreed, cap in hand and face alight with eagerness. ‘Not a second later sir... Ma’am.’
‘If you can’t even work out what sex I am, what hope for your poor wife. Nine-thirty. On the dot. I shall be standing at the door to check. One minute late and you’re on report, Mason.’
Lou didn’t linger to find out what stratagem Gracie had employed to persuade the old dragon, though it had certainly worked. She was in far too much of a hurry to go before the permission was withdrawn. Within ten minutes, Lou had changed into her glad rags, as she called them, and was sashaying out of camp, her arm tucked into Gordon’s, a chorus of whistles and envious glances following them every step of the way.
They didn’t go far, certainly not to the flicks. For one thing, Lou hadn’t been in the area long enough to have the first idea where to find a picture house, or even how to catch a bus or train to one. For another, all they really needed was each other; to kiss and cuddle, to explore their newly discovered feelings. All of which could as easily be resolved in a corner of some field, beneath a tree, or by wandering arm in arm along the quiet Cornish lanes.
Meandering through a patch of woodland on the outskirts of the estate, they spotted a tiny summerhouse. It had a curly roof, rather in the style of a pagoda and there were strange paintings of figures and animals on the walls. Although it was dusty and neglected, it possessed four solid walls and a door, thus providing that vital element of privacy. Amazingly, it even had a fireplace.
In no time at all Gordon had got a small fire going and they were stretched out before its bright warmth on a heap of dusty sacking, remaking their marriage vows. He was a generous and exciting lover and, Lou knew, in those precious moments of intimacy, that whatever the future held for them, she would never regret marrying him. Never. Just the caress of his fingers on her bare skin set her alight.
Sated by their love making and entranced by the magical glow of the flickering firelight they talked as never before, drawing ever closer as they revealed secret hopes and desires, exchanged confidences, dreamed dreams, till finally Lou found the courage to voice her greatest fears. ‘You aren’t going overseas are you, love?’
There was a short pause before he answered. ‘I don’t know. There’s been no hint of it. Not yet. But things are happening, they must be.’
‘Why must they?’ She wanted to deny the very existence of war, to hold him safely here in her arms for ever.
‘Because there always is. Simple as that. The Germans are in Stalingrad, which I don’t suppose is good. And since we lost Tobruk and the Eighth Army withdrew, there’s been rumours that Monty will do something by way of retaliation. He’s the new British Commander, Field Marshal Montgomery, in case you’re wondering.’
Lou was nodding, listening intently to every word. ‘Are you saying you might be involved?’
‘I think I’m saying that there could be a knock-on effect. Pulling all the plugs out, as it were. The big push. And yes, I dare say I’d be off then.’
She looked stricken. ‘I thought, as an engineer, your job was more shore based; that you’d stop on at the dockyard.’
He smiled softly at her, brown eyes gentle with not a spark of their usual mischief as they cruised over her face, seemingly eager to memorise every small part of it. ‘It’s just a bit of maintenance work while we’re in port, love. If it was a major refit, they’d transfer me to another ship. At sea I work in the engine rooms. That’s my job, second engineer, so they can’t go without me, now can they? But let’s not worry about all of that now. What matters is that we’re together, and you drive me crazy. Come here.’
Melting into his arms once more, Lou strove to push these concerns from her mind, as Gordon was trying to do, but it seemed strange that some unknown man, commander or not, could hold the power of life or death over her lovely husband.
He was kissing her lips, her eyes, the soft curve of her breast and if Lou had any another question ready, she quite forgot what it could have been. Afterwards, they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Gordon had admitted to being tired after a hard week on maintenance. Lou most certainly was, after the day she’d had, and tomorrow would be another long, tiring day in the woods. It always was, particularly since she’d mastered the art of felling, though admittedly nothing very large. As she drifted into sleep, she recalled the joy of bringing down her first tree, of calling out ‘Timberrrrrr!’ to let everyone know they must clear out of the way.
‘What’s that, a matchstick?’ Tom-Tom had chuckled but his teasing hadn’t in any way dented her sense of triumph. She’d been pleased with herself. It was a long way from worrying about the warp and weft of parachute silk in a Rochdale factory.
Something woke her and with dawning horror Lou realised it was the stable clock. For a moment she panicked as she counted the strokes, but it stopped at nine so she woke Gordon gently with a kiss and he escorted her back to camp safely within their time limit.
‘How will you get back? Or found your way here in the first place, come to that?’ It suddenly occurred to her to ask.
He waggled his thumb. ‘I’ll hitch a lift back. Don’t worry about me.’ They made arrangements for him to come again the following week, and then he was gone, vanishing into the darkness as he always seemed prone to do, so that it almost felt as if he weren’t real, not a proper husband at all, just a ghost who flitted in and out of her dreams. Lou shivered, as her mam would say, just as if a goose had stepped over her grave. Then she crept to her bed and buried her head under her pillow, so that Gracie wouldn’t hear her gasping sobs.
Even a day without word was an agony. Lou would ring him on the camp telephone, write every day while Gordon would barter leave with his mates in return for cigarettes or rum, begging his chief to let him pop over for an evening or a couple of hours in the afternoon, anything he could think of to get to see ‘my missus’, as he called her. But there were occasions when he failed to turn up, despite his promises, and Lou would weep with anguish and fear till he rang, or a note came through the post.
She wasn’t the only one to suffer this particular sort of pain. Stifled sobs could often be heard late into the night. Sometimes a girl would simply not be there in the morning. She would have packed her bags and gone home, perhaps out of homesickness or a need to be with loved ones when bad news came. Others decided they couldn’t take the outdoor life, the tough routine, endure the uncertain weather or acquire the necessary skills. The squad rather expected Lena to go off one day in a similar fashion but, in spite of her continued grumps and groans, she was still present and correct every morning.
‘Has someone pinched my blouse? And who the heck was snoring all night? How can I possibly sleep through that racket. Look at the tide mark you lot leave around the basin. What Mummy would say, I shudder to think.’
Hoots of laughter. ‘Good old Lena. What would we do without your cheery chatter every morning?’
On other days she would be ‘dying of exhaustion’ but the least hint of a dance or a trip to the picture house in nearby Fowey and she’d be the first to the wash basins, eager to freshen up and be off. It was hard to make her out at times but Lena was nothing if not an endless source of amusement.
There were feuds of course. Tempers would grow short and an over tired girl might flare up and object to an untidy bunk mate, or the way she cut her toe nails. There’d be tearing rows, name-calling, even the occasional scrap, but generally the mood of the camp was good.
Sometimes, friends though they were, Lou and Gracie might feel ‘a bit scratchy’ if things got on top of them. Lou might have received word that Gordon wasn’t coming to see after all, or Gracie might have received a letter from home, forwarded from Timber Corps head office, either of which could put one or other of them in a foul mood for the day. At other times it might be Tess having trouble with the lorry, or Jeannie grousing because she’d run out o f fags.
‘I’ll swear someone’s smoking the darned things behind me back.’
&
nbsp; Gracie was usually the one to give in and go and buy her more, knowing the irascible Scot would be on an ever shorter fuse until she’d got her smokes. But in the main there was very little friction.
Lou and Gracie thrived on the outdoor life, loved the work, and discovered that felling was as much an art as sheer brawn, a matter of good skill and judgement rather than brute strength. Although there was a limit, of course, to the size of tree they could tackle. It was important to first of all decide which way it was best for it to fall, without damaging other standing trees, or itself, as it came down, and then to clear the way for it. The preliminary axe work must cut a mouth in the tree on the side which it must fall. They took great pride in leaving no waste, in cutting so low the stumps could scarcely be spotted, even by the eagle-eyed Tom-Tom.
‘You don’t cut as much as ‘ee should, but it’s worth having when ‘ee gets it,’ he told them one day, in his soft Cornish burr, which they took as a compliment, since it apparently meant that what they lacked in quantity, they made up for in quality.
‘What a lark,’ Gracie would say. ‘Who’d think there was a war on.
On Gordon’s next visit, Lou decided that it would do them all good if the entire squad took a day out in Fowey. They all cheered, Jeannie heartily agreeing that a bit of fun would be most welcome, as well as giving them the opportunity to doll themselves up. ‘Wearing the auld breeks is fine, but putting on a dab of powder and rouge will remind me I’m still a lassie.’
Tess drove Buttercup, her favourite old truck. They parked it close to Readymoney beach which, fortunately, had not been mined against possible invasion or sealed off with barbed wire since it was a well protected cove within the bounds of the River Fowey. Gathering up their swimming togs, they ran giggling down the wooded track, past Point Neptune, quickly changed and plunged into the sea. Lou gasped as she sank beneath the waves. ‘Lordy, it’s cold,’ but Gordon was soon beside her and they wasted no time in swimming a little way out, though still safely within the bay, where they could be alone to kiss and canoodle in the water.
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