The Clippie Girls

by Margaret Dickinson

  Myrtle had a new-found purpose. She now knew what she wanted to do with her life and, as far as she was concerned, all that romantic nonsense could wait. It was bad enough seeing Rose moon about the place without wanting to get involved with boyfriends herself, as some of her contemporaries were already doing. No, Myrtle had her life mapped out and nothing and no one would divert her from her chosen course. Within days she was granted an interview with the matron of the Royal Infirmary. She was accepted as a probationer nurse to start in the New Year.

  ‘She’ll end up marrying a doctor,’ Grace prophesied sagely and then glanced at her daughter, ‘and you, my girl, could end up married to the inspector at the tram depot, if you’re not careful.’

  Mary blushed and murmured, ‘Oh, Mam, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  In the weeks following Freddie’s safe return, Laurence Bower had become a frequent visitor, always making the excuse of wanting to know how the little chap did. But it wasn’t long before he tentatively invited Mary out for an evening. And there was a new light in Mary’s eye and a spring in her step. She was even to be heard humming softly to herself despite the hardships the war was still bringing.

  At the very end of October 1942 Grace was jubilant to read of Montgomery’s triumph at El Alamein, but her delight was short-lived.

  ‘I haven’t seen Letty for a couple of days,’ Mary said, as they sat down to tea. ‘Has she been round, Mother?’

  Grace paused and looked up, meeting Mary’s questioning gaze. ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘I think you’d better go and see them when you’ve had your tea. Because the last thing she told me was that her son who’s in the army—’ She hesitated and Mary said, ‘Walter.’

  ‘That’s right. Well, he’d written home to say that now Monty was in charge they’d soon have Rommel on the run. I just wondered – seeing as there’s obviously been a big battle . . .’ Her voice faded away.

  ‘I’ll go round,’ Mary said and, after they’d finished eating and Myrtle and Rose had offered to do the washing up, she left to go next door.

  It was some time before her knock at the Bradshaws’ back door was answered. An unusually solemn-faced Sidney opened it.

  ‘Oh, Sidney,’ Mary breathed. ‘Have you had bad news?’

  He nodded as he opened the door wider. ‘Come in, Mrs Sylvester,’ he said politely. Mary shuddered. It was so unlike the merry-faced little rascal. As she stepped into the Bradshaws’ living room, she saw Letty sitting in a chair by the fire with Tom opposite her. Their faces were grey with sorrow and Letty’s eyes were red and swollen. Mary sat beside her and took her hand. ‘Letty?’ But it was Tom, his voice husky with emotion, who answered.

  ‘It’s our Walter, Mary. He’s been killed at El Alamein.’

  ‘I’m so dreadfully sorry. Is there anything I can do?’

  Tom shook his head. ‘Nowt, lass, but thanks for the offer. Sadly we’re not alone in our loss.’

  ‘I know,’ Mary said gently, ‘but that doesn’t make it any easier.’

  Mary stayed a while longer, trying to comfort the grieving parents, but there was nothing she could say, nothing she could do to ease their loss.

  ‘I just hope nothing happens to the other two,’ she added, when she relayed the awful news to her family. ‘It’s bad enough having just one member of your family in danger, but all three eldest boys – it’s unbearable. She must be terrified now that something will happen to Bertie or Simon.’

  ‘Mr Bower’s got both his sons in the forces,’ Grace pointed out. ‘Have you asked him how they are?’

  ‘Not lately, but I will,’ Mary promised.

  The next day, when she met Laurence in the canteen, Mary told him of the tragedy the Bradshaws were suffering. Laurence was quiet for a long time, gazing down into his cup of tea and not touching the slice of cake Mary had carried over to their table.

  ‘Laurence?’ Mary prompted gently.

  ‘It’s Matthew. His ship was torpedoed. I – I got a telegram this morning saying he’s missing.’

  ‘Oh, Laurence.’ Mary reached out and grasped his hand across the table, not caring who saw them. ‘I am so, so sorry.’ She paused, then added gently, ‘Shouldn’t you be at home?’

  Laurence shook his head firmly. ‘No, I’m better at work. Keep busy, that’s my motto.’ He gripped her hand tightly. ‘But just – just knowing you’re there . . .’

  When Mary told them that evening, her family was saddened by the news.

  ‘Poor man,’ Grace murmured. ‘And Letty’s in a dreadful state. I went round this morning, but there’s nothing anyone can do.’ They were all silent, thinking for once how lucky they were that they’d lost no one from their own family circle. And yet, for Peggy, there was someone missing, though she didn’t know the reason why. Had he deserted her or had he been killed? The fear haunted her sleep. And now there was an additional sadness. If he was dead, Terry would never know he had a son.

  ‘Promise me, Rose,’ Mary was saying, ‘if there are more air raids, that you’ll go to a shelter straight away. No more heroics running through the streets.’

  ‘I promise – as long as you’ll do the same.’

  Mary nodded and turned her attention to the rest of her family. ‘And the same goes for the rest of you. Down the cellar immediately. No more thinking it might be a false alarm.’

  Early in December Rose said, ‘Right, Myrtle, are you up for it?’

  Myrtle blinked and stared at her. ‘Up for what?’

  Rose lowered her voice. ‘To have another go at finding Terry Price?’

  Myrtle shrugged. ‘I don’t think it’ll do any good but, yeah, I’ll come along.’

  ‘Right then. We’ll go this afternoon. Sunday afternoon should find most folks at home.’

  ‘We’re not going back to his house, are we?’

  ‘No. I’m going to try and find this Billy that one of those girls mentioned.’

  Myrtle grinned. ‘I don’t reckon she meant his name to slip out. The other girl dug her in the ribs the minute she’d said it. Did you see?’

  Rose grinned. ‘All the more reason why we should look him up.’

  ‘He might be away in the forces.’

  ‘True. But if Billy’s parents are at home, they should have an idea where their son is and, if the two lads are good mates, they could know where Terry is an’ all.’

  They set off after dinner. ‘Let’s walk,’ Rose said, ‘I’m sick of riding on trams and you could do with the fresh air. Always with your nose in a book. I suppose it’s nursing you’re studying now, is it? You’ll get round-shouldered if you don’t watch out.’

  But Myrtle only smiled.

  It was a long way to the part of the city where Terry lived, but the two sisters chatted as they walked.

  ‘So you and Bob are courting now, are you?’

  ‘Looks like it,’ Rose said happily.

  ‘You don’t mind having your sister’s cast-off, then?’ Myrtle said slyly. For a moment Rose almost snapped back at the younger girl’s barb, but then, ruefully, she realized the words were true. Seriously she said, ‘I’ve loved him for so long, Myrtle, even when he was going out with Peggy – or rather we thought he was going out with her. Of course, I kept quiet about it then, but, no, I don’t really mind that much.’ She laughed wryly. ‘I’ve no pride when it comes to Bob Deeton, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Does he still love her?’

  ‘By ’eck, you don’t mince your words, do you?’ She was thoughtful for a moment before she said carefully, ‘He did love her once, but I don’t think he does now. I think what she did killed it.’

  ‘Running off with another man and having his bairn, you mean? But he offered to marry her.’

  ‘I know and he regrets that now.’

  Myrtle snorted. ‘Good job she didn’t say “yes” then, wasn’t it, for everybody’s sake.’

  Soberly, Rose said, ‘Yes, it was.’

  As they came to the end of the street where Terry and his fa
mily and his mate, Billy, lived, they paused.

  Myrtle’s final words on the subject were, ‘Well, if you get yourself pregnant, just remember I could do with the practice.’

  ‘Ta, very much, I’m sure,’ Rose murmured, but her mind was now on how they could find Billy.

  The street was deserted. Not a soul was out for a stroll and, of course, on a Sunday, there were no women cleaning their front-door steps.

  ‘What do we do?’ Myrtle asked. ‘Knock on doors?’

  ‘It looks like we’ll have to. Come on.’ She marched towards the house on the corner and rapped smartly on the door. No one answered, so she tried at the house next door. A small child opened the door and peered up at her with wide eyes.

  ‘Hello, love. Is your mam or dad in?’

  The child didn’t answer, but merely stuck her thumb in her mouth and continued to stare at them.

  ‘All right, love, we’ll try next door.’

  ‘I reckon we’re on the proverbial wild goose chase,’ Myrtle muttered as they knocked at the third house.

  This time a tousled-haired girl of about fifteen opened the door, blinking at them as if she’d just got out of bed and the bright light was hurting her eyes. Maybe she had just got up, Rose thought.

  ‘Sorry to bother you, but do you know where a lad called Billy lives?’

  The girl yawned and stretched and Rose noticed now that she was still wearing her nightdress. ‘Billy Parkin? Yeah, two doors down on this side. Number forty-six. He’s not there, though. He’s in the army.’

  ‘Do his parents live there?’

  ‘Just his dad. His mam died before the war started.’

  ‘Will Mr Parkin be at home, d’you think?’

  The girl shrugged. ‘Probably, but he won’t like having his Sunday afternoon nap disturbed. You’d do better to come back in about an hour. The fellers all like their Sunday naps.’ She smiled and jerked her head backwards, indicating the interior of her own home. ‘My dad’s snoring his head off in the front room.’

  As the girl closed the door, Myrtle said, ‘What shall we do for an hour?’

  ‘Go back to that church we passed. We can sit down. There’ll be no one there now.’

  They walked back the way they had come and entered the cool interior of the church, where they sat down with a sigh.

  ‘Looks like this place got bombed, too,’ Myrtle remarked as they noticed scaffolding down one side of the church and a tarpaulin covering a gaping hole in the roof. Then her attention turned back to her own discomfort. ‘My feet are killing me. How you stand up all day on the trams, I don’t know, Rose.’

  ‘You get used to it. And you’ll be on your feet a lot when you start nursing.’

  The time dragged. They talked a little more and then fell silent, gazing round at the stained-glass windows and the plaques on the walls.

  ‘D’you think Peggy will have Freddie christened?’

  Rose grimaced. ‘She’s not mentioned it and some vicars are funny about baptizing an illegitimate child.’

  Myrtle snorted derisively and the noise echoed round the church, making them both fall into fits of laughter. When she’d wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes, Myrtle said, ‘That’s a bit unfair, taking it out on the innocent child. It wasn’t his fault, was it?’

  ‘No, it wasn’t. So, let’s see if we can find out where Freddie’s father is. It must be nearly an hour since we came in here. Let’s go.’

  They retraced their steps back to the street and knocked on the door where Billy Parkin lived.

  It was answered after a few moments by a big man, dressed in his vest and with his braces dangling down.

  ‘Hello, lasses, and to what do I owe this pleasure? Am I still asleep and dreamin’?’

  Rose smiled and Myrtle giggled.

  ‘Is this where Billy Parkin lives?’

  The man’s round face beamed. ‘It is, lass, and isn’t he the lucky one having two pretty lasses after him.’

  ‘Actually,’ Myrtle said, ‘it’s his mate, Terry Price, we’re looking for.’

  A deep chuckle rumbled in his cavernous chest. ‘Aw, now that’s a pity. And there I was wonderin’ if I was about to meet my future daughter-in-law.’ He gave an exaggerated sigh, but opened his door wider, inviting them to step inside.

  ‘I was just about to mek a cuppa. Would you girls like one?’

  ‘Oooh, yes please,’ they both answered in unison. For once Myrtle didn’t snigger at the traditional offer. The tea, when it came, was strong with a little milk but no sugar, and the girls drank it gratefully. It had been a long walk and a long wait.

  They sat around Charlie Parkin’s kitchen table. ‘Billy’s not here, I’m afraid.’ His merry face suddenly fell into lines of sadness and for a moment both girls held their breath. Had they unwittingly stumbled into the man’s grief? Had Billy been injured – or worse? At his next words, they breathed a sigh of relief. ‘He’s away in the army.’

  ‘Is he – all right?’ Rose asked, still tentative.

  The man wrinkled his forehead. ‘Far as I know. I get a letter about once a week. Obviously, he was all right when he wrote it, but they take a while to come through and – who knows?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Rose said sympathetically. He was such a nice man, she didn’t want to be the cause of reminding him of an ever-present anxiety. But Charlie Parkin was smiling again. ‘So what brings you looking for Terry?’

  The two sisters glanced at each other before Rose took a deep breath. They’d talked about what to say, should they be asked this question. They would tell the truth – all of it. There were enough people now who knew that Peggy had had a baby and they’d told Terry’s sister on their previous visit. No doubt his mam and dad knew too by now.

  ‘Before he went away, he was seeing our sister, Peggy. But he’s never written to her.’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe he doesn’t want to see her any more and if that’s the case, then she’ll have to live with it. We called at his house a few weeks back. But they’d not heard from him either. At least, that’s what they told us.’ A note of scepticism crept into her tone.

  ‘We didn’t want to go back there again,’ Myrtle said. ‘We saw his sister and another girl and they weren’t – well – what you’d call friendly. They didn’t even seem to know if he was all right.’

  ‘But our Peggy wants to write to him,’ Rose put in. ‘There’s something he ought to know.’

  Charlie raised his eyebrows, his mind working quickly. He’d been around long enough to guess what that sort of phrase meant. He was just grateful it wasn’t his Billy these two lasses were seeking. ‘I – see,’ he said slowly and in a tone that told the girls he knew exactly what they were implying. The big man sighed. ‘Aye well, these things happen, love. I expect she’s in the family way, is she?’

  Rose nodded. ‘She’s had the baby. He’s a beautiful boy and, even if it’s over between them, we think Terry has a right to know.’

  ‘You want him to contribute to his keep, I suppose.’

  Rose bristled visibly. ‘Certainly not. That’s not why we’re trying to track him down, I promise you. No, there’s plenty of us to take care of our little man. We all love him. Gran, Mother and we three sisters. We’ll look after him and – as far as we’re able – he’ll want for nothing. But—’ Here she paused and put her head on one side as she regarded Charlie steadily. ‘We feel that any man has the right to know that he has fathered a child – especially,’ she added, slyly appealing to a man’s ego, ‘a son.’

  ‘We realize,’ Myrtle said, ‘that the reason he hasn’t written to her is most probably because he wants to end it, but we still feel—’

  To her surprise Charlie raised his hand to stop whatever she had been going to say, ‘That might not be the case, lass. I don’t want to raise your hopes, mind you, ’cos you could be right. Terry’s a good-looking lad, but you see the reason he hasn’t written to your sister – or to anyone for that matter – is because the lad never learned to read or write.
’

  Forty-Nine

  Rose and Myrtle felt they had been knocked down with the proverbial feather. They stared at Charlie, glanced with shocked faces at each other and then looked back at him once more.

  ‘Never—’ Myrtle began, appalled to think that in 1942 there were still grown people who could not read or write. Rose put her hand warningly on Myrtle’s arm and the girl fell silent.

  Charlie sighed and explained. ‘He found it very difficult. Our Billy used to help him get by as best he could, and the school never bothered with him. They treated him as a dunce and he was – is, God willing – anything but. He’s a bright lad. Strangely, he’s very good with figures and with his hands. He’d make a good mechanic or an engineer, but if you can’t read or write . . .’ Charlie spread his hands in a helpless gesture.

  ‘How did he get in the army?’ Rose asked. ‘Don’t they have to be able to read and write for that?’

  ‘They probably weren’t too fussy when the war was starting. Glad of anyone who volunteered and there’s always mates to help you out. He was maybe able to hide it – just like he did at school. And besides,’ he added sarcastically, ‘you don’t have to be able to read to be able to shoot straight.’

  ‘But didn’t he have a job after leaving school and before going into the army?’ Myrtle asked tentatively. She couldn’t begin to understand how it must feel not to be able to read.

  ‘Him and Billy got a job together working on a building site. Billy helped him out.’

  ‘But now,’ Rose said slowly, ‘he hasn’t got Billy with him to read or write letters for him.’

  Charlie shook his head sadly. ‘They volunteered together – hoped to stay together – but it doesn’t work like that now. In the last war there were so many pals’ battalions – you know when relatives and friends all joined up together, stayed together and died together – that I think this time the authorities don’t want that happening again, where communities lose a whole lot of lads together. It’s not exactly good for morale,’ the man added bitterly.