by Annie Groves
To her shock he shook her off, his mouth tight-lipped with anger. ‘When I got your note and I saw the way you looked at me when I came through to the Dungeon, all big eyes and soft lips like you wanted me so much it hurt, I thought you’d changed your mind about us, that you’d realised how precious and special what we could have together would be, but you were just putting it on, weren’t you? All you wanted was to use me to help your friend. How far were you prepared to go to do that, Di? All the way to my bed?’
Overwhelmed by her feelings, Diane would have slapped his face if he hadn’t grabbed hold of her wrist.
‘If you knew anything about me – anything at all – then you’d never say anything like that to me,’ she told him passionately. ‘You’d know too that sometimes a person shows their love more by what they do not do than what they do, and that loving someone sometimes means sacrificing your own feelings for their protection. If I wanted to help Ruthie it’s because I know how I would feel if I were in her shoes and the man I love was in Glen’s.’
Lee had relaxed his grip of her wrist and she pulled herself free of him, turning on her heel to walk away.
She had almost reached the end of the corridor when she heard him say rawly, ‘God dammit to hell, Di,’ followed by the sound of him walking swiftly towards her.
She didn’t turn round because she couldn’t. She was too afraid to let him see what was in her eyes. She felt his hands on her shoulders and stiffened as he turned her round, and then kissed her almost savagely.
‘No,’ she began but it was too late, her body was already saying ‘yes’.
Lee was breathing as though he’d run a race when he finally released her and she knew her own heartbeat was ragged with the intensity of her emotions, as she clung to him, torn between her need to be with him and her need to punish herself for giving in to it.
‘OK, I’ll see what I can do,’ he promised her, adding, ‘I can’t give you up, Di, and I don’t intend to. We need to talk properly.’
‘Not here,’ Diane objected. ‘We can’t.’
‘No…Look, what about meeting up at that dance place the day after tomorrow?’
‘The Grafton, you mean?’
‘Yeah.’
Diane nodded.
TWENTY-EIGHT
‘Jess, I need to talk to you.’
The quiet desperation in Ruthie’s voice made Jess frown. What on earth was wrong? Surely Glen’s CO hadn’t refused to let them get married?
‘Go on then,’ she encouraged her as she finished pushing her hair up out of the way, ready for work.
‘I meant in private,’ Ruthie whispered, glancing over her shoulder.
‘Well, let’s hang on here a minute until the coast is clear, then,’ Jess suggested, waiting until the others had left the cloakroom before saying, ‘OK, what is it?’
‘It’s Walter. He’s dead.’
Jess stared at her in shocked disbelief. ‘He can’t be,’ she protested. ‘You told me he’d just been knocked about a bit. How can he be dead?’
‘He is. He died at Burtonwood,’ Ruthie insisted. ‘That’s what Glen’s CO wanted to see me about, not…not me and Glen getting married. He wanted me to make a statement, because…because he says that it’s because of Glen that he died.’
Whilst Jess stared at her in disbelief, fresh tears spilled from Ruthie’s eyes, swiftly followed by the words spilling from her lips as she told Jess what had happened.
‘You mean that that Myra deliberately lied?’ Jess’s voice was sharp with incredulous anger. ‘By golly, if she were here right now I’d be letting her know what I think of her.’
‘Diane has said that she’ll have a word with her and try to get her to tell the truth.’
‘Huh…’ Jess began, about to say in no uncertain terms just what chance she thought Diane had of succeeding, when she saw the strain in Ruthie’s eyes. There was no point in upsetting her even more, she decided. The poor kid was having a hard enough time of it as it was. For herself, it was only just beginning to sink in what had happened and that Walter was dead.
‘Poor Walter. I think I need to sit down for a bit,’ she confided to Ruthie. She may not have loved Walter in the way that Ruthie loved Glen, but she had liked him and she had thought of him as a friend – a good friend. She raised her hand to wipe the back of it over her eyes and brush away her tears. Who would tell Walter’s girl? She hoped that someone would. She pictured herself getting a letter telling her that Billy was dead, that he had died whilst she had been going about her own daily business and she hadn’t known anything about it. A feeling gripped her like someone twisting a sharp knife inside her chest. It was so intense that she actually lifted her hands to her chest and pressed them against it. What a truly dreadful thing to have happened. And poor Ruthie, to have to cope with hearing that, because of other people’s lies, her Glen was going to be accused of causing Walter’s death.
Jess was still grappling with her shock an hour later as she went through the motions of filling her shells, her movements automatic and neatly efficient. Unlike Ruthie’s, she recognised, as she looked up from her own work to see Ruthie’s hands trembling so much that she spilled some of the TNT.
Going over to her, she told her gently, ‘Come on, let’s get this wiped up, otherwise you’ll end up with burns.’
‘’Ere, have you heard the latest?’ Mel interrupted them excitedly, ignoring the warning look that Jess was trying to give her to alert her to the fact that Ruthie needed a bit of peace and quiet. ‘They’re going to search everyone’s locker, on account of that Alice’s watch going missing. Mind you, I’m not surprised. I told the foreman meself that I thought they ought ter do summat like that. They announced it whilst you two were still in the cloakroom. Said that we all had to line up at dinner whilst they went through everyone’s locker. Cor, look at you,’ she laughed when she saw Ruthie’s white face. ‘One look at you and they’ll have you pegged down as guilty and no mistake.’
‘Give over, will you, Mel,’ Jess told her sharply. ‘Can’t you see that Ruthie’s got enough to worry about? Not that she’s any need to worry about Alice’s ruddy missing watch. We all know that Ruthie wouldn’t take it.’
Mel sniffed and tossed her head in the air. ‘Well, as to that…’
Before she could say any more, the foreman walked onto the shop floor, accompanied by one of the managers. Automatically all the girls stopped working.
The manager looked angry, and his voice was sharp and clipped as he informed them, ‘A theft has been reported, and since we treat this as a very serious matter, a thorough search of everyone’s locker and outdoor clothes pockets will now be conducted. For this purpose you will all go to your lockers and stand in front of them whilst the foreman and I open them and check their contents.’
Immediately a low buzz of speculative conversation broke out amongst the girls, swiftly silenced by the manager, ordering them into single file to march out into the yard and then across to their cloakroom area.
Each worker was made to line up opposite her locker and face it whilst the manager went down the line, one worker at a time, demanding her key and then unlocking her locker and searching through it.
It was a laborious process, and there was an uproar when, halfway through it, the foreman announced that because of the time lost they wouldn’t get a proper break.
Ruthie’s locker was the next to be inspected. Not that she cared. She was too wrapped up in her despair over Glen to think about anything else. Numbly she handed over her key, watching obediently as the locker was opened and the bag containing her personal belongings removed.
There was nothing there should not have been amongst them, and the manager was just on the point of putting the bag back when he stopped and frowned, holding it in one hand whilst he reached deep into the locker with the other.
‘What’s this?’ he demanded ominously, holding up to Ruthie the box filled with packets of sugar, which he had removed.
Automatically Rut
hie looked at Maureen, but the other girl was refusing to look back at her. Ruthie could feel her face starting to burn.
‘I…I…’ She swallowed hard. What could she say. It was obvious that the sugar was black-market goods, and not just one packet but a whole boxful.
Jess looked on indignantly, willing Ruthie to tell the manager that it wasn’t her who had put the sugar in her locker, but Maureen, but to Jess’s dismay, Ruthie looked too shocked and distressed to think of defending herself.
‘I’ll see you about this in my office later,’ the manager told Ruthie grimly before handing the sugar over to the foreman for safekeeping and going on to the next locker.
Miserably Ruthie watched as the manager moved on down the line.
‘Why didn’t you tell him that you was the one who put that ruddy sugar there, instead of letting Ruthie take the blame?’ Jess hissed angrily to Maureen.
‘’Oo says I did?’ Maureen returned challengingly, lifting her hand to scratch at the raised rash of red lumps on her wrist. Jess stared at them, her eyes widening as she remembered Alice saying that her watch had made her itch, but before she could say anything to Maureen the foreman was ordering them to get back to work.
It was only when they were all back at their benches that Jess realised that Ruthie was missing. At first she assumed that she had gone to the ladies’; but when five and then ten minutes went by without her returning, she began to worry, remembering how shocked and distressed the other girl had been.
‘Ruthie’s gone missing,’ she told the others. ‘I’m going to go and look for her, so cover for me, will you? And as for you,’ she told Maureen sharply, ‘if I were Alice I’d be asking to compare that rash on me wrist with the one you’ve got on yours.’
Maureen’s face turned a dark shade of red, but Jess didn’t stay to argue with her. She really was worried about Ruthie.
The girls weren’t supposed to leave the factory during their shift without permission, but no one had tried to stop Ruthie as she stumbled across the yard and out through the gate in a state of anguished shock. It felt as though her whole world had been turned upside down and all the happiness Glen had brought into it extinguished. Her sensitive nature made her shrink in shamed distress from the notoriety she knew she would gain from the sugar being found in her locker. It would be almost as bad as actually being branded a thief. But nothing like as bad as what had happened to Glen. Tears filled her eyes as she wandered aimlessly down the street, not knowing where she was going and not caring either, just knowing that she couldn’t bear to stay at the factory with everyone talking about her behind her back.
Jess saw her from the factory gate and called out her name, but Ruthie simply kept on walking. Jess hesitated. By rights neither of them should have left the factory and they would both be in trouble if they were found out, but Ruthie, of course, would be in the worst trouble because of the sugar. She needed to come back and be persuaded to tell the manager who had really put the sugar there. Jess glanced back towards the factory gates. She could always tell the foreman that Ruthie hadn’t been well and had had to go home. He would guess the truth, of course, but at least it sounded better than having it discovered that she had just walked out. And she would be there to tell him about the sugar. She took a step back towards the gate. Ruthie had almost reached the end of the road. She looked so forlorn and vulnerable. She would be crying her eyes out and worrying herself sick about her Glen. She wasn’t really in any fit state to be on her own.
Jess shook her head as though regretting her own folly, and set off after her.
‘I’m not going back, Jess. I can’t…Not with them all thinking…what they will be thinking.’
‘Well, whose fault is that? You should have told the manager about Maureen?’
‘How could I? It wouldn’t have been right.’
‘Of course it would. Do you think she’d keep mum to protect you?’ Jess challenged her. ‘Oh, come on then.’ She gave in when she saw how genuinely ill Ruthie looked. ‘Let’s get you home. Then I’ll go back and tell the foreman that you were taken bad.’
‘You don’t have to go with me,’ Ruthie protested.
‘Not half, I don’t,’ Jess told her bluntly. ‘You should see yourself. You look as sick as a cat.’
Jess was on the bus on her way back to the factory, having seen Ruthie safely home, when they heard the explosion. A dull crump, followed by a series of sharp ear-shattering bangs that caused the bus driver to stop the bus and the passengers to fling themselves to the floor.
‘Bloody hell!’ the large woman who had been sitting next to Jess puffed seconds later, as they all got apprehensively to their feet. ‘Ruddy Hitler’s getting a cheek on him, bombing us during the ruddy day…’
‘It ain’t Hitler, it’s the ruddy munitions factory,’ someone else called out.
‘Look.’
All the passengers crowded to the side of the bus and looked towards the factory where they could see flames and smoke pouring from part of the building.
Jess’s heart slammed into her ribs. Her friends were in that factory. Automatically she started to push her way past the other passengers to get to the bus door.
‘’Ere, mind where you’re putting yer feet,’ one woman objected.
‘I’ve got to get to the factory. I work there,’ Jess told her frantically.
‘Sorry, miss, but you can’t do that,’ the conductor informed her, blocking her exit. ‘ARP’ll have the whole place cordoned off by now, just in case Hitler has dropped a bomb on it. Course, if you ask me it’s more likely to be one of them fifth columnist spies wot’s done it,’ he announced, referring to the news items they had all read concerning Hitler’s spies within the country. Must have infiltrated the place, like we’re allus being warned, and then gorn and blown it up.’
‘’Ere, my niece works up there,’ another passenger said worriedly, followed by two more saying anxiously that they had family there too.
By now the whole bus was in an uproar, with the conductor barring the exit and saying that it would be more than his job was worth to let anyone get off.
‘Don’t be daft,’ someone protested, but the screams of sirens as fire engines raced past them towards the factory, followed by police, proved his point that no mere civilians would be allowed close to the place.
One of the passengers started to cry noisily, but all Jess could do was stare blindly towards the smoke and flames.
‘I left me overalls in me locker, and there’ll be hell to pay if they get damaged,’ she told the woman standing next to her. ‘Dock me wages for them, they will.’
‘Sit down for a minute, love,’ the woman told her in a kind voice, adding gently, ‘You’ve had a nasty shock, I dare say. Lucky you wasn’t up there, if you ask me.’
Jess shook her head. The munitions factory was huge, and all the workshops separated from one another just in case of any kind of accident or incident. Everyone who worked there knew how dangerous the TNT was and how little chance they would have of surviving if their workshop ever took a direct bomb hit.
Another fire engine raced past the stationary bus, followed by an army lorry.
‘I expect they’ll have the bomb disposal lot up there. Bound to get them, if you think about it,’ one man commented knowledgeably. ‘I wouldn’t do their ruddy job for all the tea in China, I wouldn’t. A lad down the road from us was wi ’em. Lasted four weeks, he did. Blown to bits. Told his mam that all they’d found were his little finger.’
Jess made a strangled sound deep in her throat. Please don’t let them send Billy there, she prayed. Please, please don’t let them.
‘Where the ’ell do you think you’re going?’ the conductor demanded as she wriggled past him before he could stop her.
‘’Ere, you come back,’ he yelled after her as she started to walk and then run towards the factory, but of course she didn’t pay any attention to him.
The ARP wardens, aided by the police, were turning back everyone who tri
ed to get close to the factory, warning them that as yet they had no idea what had caused the explosion. The factory had obviously been evacuated because Jess could see where, on the other side of the road, the women were standing huddled together in their overalls.
‘Well, it weren’t no bomb being dropped,’ Jess heard one man saying firmly as she wriggled her way to the front of the crowd gathered at the end of the street. ‘Mind you, I can’t say I’m surprised. What else does the bloody government expect if it lets a load of daft women loose with explosives,’ he added with contempt.
Several of the other men in the crowd were agreeing with him until one of the ARP men stepped forward and told them grimly, ‘That’s enough of that kind of talk. My youngest works in munitions and ruddy hard work it is, an’ all. And I’ll tell you now, mate, without our womenfolk doing their bit, our lads wouldn’t have no shells to fire at ruddy Hitler, and that’s a fact. If you think it’s so easy then how come you’re out here gawking and not working in there yourself?’
‘Here, there’s no call to go on like that,’ the other man retaliated, quite plainly wrong-footed. ‘I can’t go doing no work like that. Got a bad leg, I have.’
The crowd, ready to side with him a few seconds earlier, had now turned against him, its low murmur of anger growing louder as everyone looked towards him, giving Jess the chance to slip past the ARP warden and dash behind the nearest fire engine.
‘Here, love, you can’t go in there,’ one of the firemen called out as he caught sight of her, but Jess had gone before he could reach her.
Her heart was pounding sickly. The air was full of smoke and the smell of TNT. The factory gates, normally closed unless deliveries or collections were due, stood wide open, and there was no one in the small guardroom by the gate the girls used to get in and out of work.