‘What’s that?’ Gloria asked.
‘It’s a leaflet Jerry dropped during the raid,’ Angie said.
Gloria took the leaflet and started to read.
‘Where did you get it from?’ Martha asked, looking over Gloria’s shoulder.
‘Marie-Anne brought it in this morning. She wants it back, mind yer – said she had to pay a penny for it. The money’s gannin to the Red Cross. She showed it to Bel, who showed it to Polly, who gave it to me ’n Dor,’ explained Angie.
Marie-Anne was Helen’s secretary and Bel’s immediate boss, and her curly auburn hair, sea-blue eyes, fair, freckled face and lilting accent left no one in doubt of her Irish ancestry.
‘Apparently she said there were loads of these leaflets showered all over the town,’ Dorothy said. ‘I’m surprised we didn’t see any.’
‘That’s ’cos all we’ve been seeing the past couple of days is molten metal – that’s all I see, even when I close my eyes.’
‘Talking of eyesight,’ Rosie butted in, ‘have you been changing your protective lenses when you should?’
‘Mmm, I think so,’ Angie said.
‘The days just seem to be merging into one another,’ Dorothy added.
‘Well, no need to take any unnecessary risks – we’ll all have a walk over to the stores later. I don’t want anyone getting arc eye, and not just because it’s horrendous, but because I can’t have any of you off ill. Not with us being a man down.’ Losing Polly had taken its toll, but Rosie was still holding off taking on another worker as it would mean training them, which, in turn, would mean they’d be two workers down.
‘“Why the British government says nothing about shipping losses.”’ Gloria read out the headline of the leaflet. ‘“To be told the truth about the state of the battle of the seas would shake the belief in British naval supremacy and ultimate victory …” Blimey, you want to see all the ships it says they’ve sunk over the past two years.’ Gloria looked up to see that a tired-looking Hannah and an equally jaded-looking Olly had turned up. She moved her chair to make room for the pair to join them.
‘Yer all dinnit believe that load of codswallop, do yer?’ Everyone turned round to see Muriel, the head dinner lady, standing with a cloth in her hand. ‘It’s what they call propaganda,’ she said with the utmost authority. ‘Nazi propaganda, to make us all disheartened and demoralised –’n by the looks on all yer ugly mugs, they’ve succeeded.’
For once, Rosie was glad Muriel had been earwigging on their conversation.
‘So it’s not true?’ Martha said.
‘Nah, like I said, load of claptrap. They’re dumping leaflets like this all over the country according to my Brian.’ The women knew of, but had never met, Muriel’s put-upon husband. ‘He says the fact they’re having to resort to dropping a load of leaflets full of lies on us means our boys have got them running scared.’ She looked at Gloria. They both had sons at sea.
Catching the look, Dorothy agreed. ‘Yes, I can believe that. Makes sense. Desperate measures.’ She wasn’t so sure, though. The U-boats had been a huge thorn in the Allies’ backside. And the women themselves knew more than most the pressure they were under to keep replacing the ships being sunk. ‘Come on then, let’s read some proper news, not made-up stories courtesy of Herr Hitler.’
The women started rooting around in their bags, pulling out a variety of newspapers they had brought for their ‘current affairs classes’.
‘So,’ Dorothy continued, spreading out a copy of the Daily Mail, ‘I couldn’t see much about anything happening in the Atlantic or the Mediterranean.’
She looked up to see Polly arriving.
‘Just in time, Pol. Pull up a chair … No, pull up two!’ She laughed at her own joke. Everyone else tutted.
‘I’m not that big,’ Polly said in mock outrage; the truth was, the bigger she got the happier she felt. She wouldn’t admit to anyone how much her near miscarriage had shaken her up, but the whole terrifying drama had left her needing to know that her baby was growing. She just wished she could skip forward to when the baby was due in mid-September.
‘I believe the main news of the day,’ Angie perked up, her copy of the Daily Telegraph taking up half the table, ‘is this “bouncing bomb” raid.’
‘One of the lads in the office said it’s been hailed as one of the most daring and ingenious missions carried out by the Allies so far,’ Polly said, getting her sandwiches out and unwrapping them.
‘Bloody Nora,’ Angie laughed. ‘Talk about doorstep sarnies. I could have done with one of them to help me do some overhead welds this morning.’
Everyone chuckled. Angie was probably the shortest out of all the women and always struggled with any kind of vertical welds.
‘Ma’s insisting on making my packed lunch,’ Polly said, holding the sandwich in her hands and sighing. ‘She says the least she can do is make sure me and the bab are well nourished.’
‘I think they might beat Martha’s mam’s whoppers,’ Gloria chuckled, biting into her own moderate-sized cheese and onion sandwich.
‘So, Pol,’ Dorothy piped up as they ate their lunch and drank their tea, ‘what were you doing up in the office?’
‘Ah,’ Polly said, looking a little shamefaced.
‘Yeah, and why were yer not in the timekeeper’s cabin this morning when we were all clocking on?’
‘Well, the thing is—’ Polly started to say.
‘Yer’ve not gone over to the other side, have yer?’ Angie blurted out.
‘It’s not a case of them ’n us, yer know?’ Gloria quickly rose to Polly’s defence. She, of course, knew about Polly’s defection, having spoken to her this morning while dropping off Hope.
‘So, have you?’ Martha asked, shocked. ‘Have you gone to work in the office?’
Polly nodded and took a big bite out of her sandwich. As she did so, Bel and Marie-Anne walked into the canteen and came to sit by her.
‘Judging by the looks on all yer faces,’ Marie-Anne said, ‘Polly’s told yer. She’s one of us now. Isn’t she, Bel?’
Bel smiled. ‘She is indeed.’
‘But you said you’d never go and work in the offices, Pol?’ Martha said, genuinely perplexed.
‘I know I did,’ Polly said, swallowing hard. ‘But to be honest, I thought I might go mad cooped up in that little cabin all day. And there’s this new lad who is much more suited to it than me. And, well, when Helen offered me a job as a clerical assistant—’
‘A clerical assistant!’ Angie had half risen out of her chair.
‘Honestly, you lot make it sound like she’s committed a crime,’ Rosie laughed. She, of course, knew about the move. Helen had informed her, although it hadn’t been Helen who had offered her the job, but Polly who had asked for one.
‘I’ll be back welding after the baby’s born,’ Polly said, nervously moving the sandwich round in her hand. She had known she’d be in for a verbal battering.
‘I reckon being pregnant has made yer gan funny in the head,’ Angie said.
Polly burst out laughing. ‘Well, I’d agree with that, Angie. That and the war.’
‘Well, I’m over the moon,’ Bel said. ‘It means I get to work with my sister-in-law – and, moreover, Agnes and I won’t have to listen to how boring it is to work as a timekeeper any more.’ Agnes was Bel’s mother-in-law, although the two were as close as mother and daughter.
‘We didn’t think it was that bad,’ Martha said.
‘It was.’ Polly nodded. ‘Very. I think I did well to stand it for nearly two whole months.’
‘Sounds like you didn’t really have a choice,’ Martha said. ‘That is, if you want to stay working here.’
‘Exactly,’ Polly said with a big exhalation of air, ‘finally someone understands. I’m banned from working in the yard. So, it was really the lesser of two evils.’ She glanced at Marie-Anne and Bel. ‘No offence.’
‘Mmm, I still think yer a turncoat,’ Angie said.
‘Talking about being a turncoat!’ Dorothy glared at her friend. ‘You always said you’d never go out with anyone who was upper class, and Quentin’s practically aristocracy.’
‘I’m not gannin out with Quentin,’ Angie snapped.
‘So, where are you “gannin” next week?’ Dorothy asked, looking around at the women’s faces and raising her eyebrows.
‘The museum,’ Angie said.
‘And then where’s Quentin taking you?’ Dorothy asked, again raising her eyebrows.
‘The Palatine Hotel.’
They all chuckled.
‘I rest my case,’ Dorothy said, winking across at Polly.
‘Glor, I know you get sick of us asking,’ Dorothy said as they all made their way back over to Denewood, ‘but do you really think Jack’s not going to be able to come back any time soon?’
Gloria glanced across at Rosie.
‘And why do yer always look at Rosie whenever we ask about Jack?’ Angie asked.
‘Because she’s the boss,’ Gloria said, before quickly changing the subject. ‘When yer seeing Toby next then, Dor?’
Dorothy had met her boyfriend Toby, a recruiter for the Special Operations Executive, on Christmas Eve, when he’d turned up at Lily’s bordello to give Rosie a letter from Peter. He’d mistaken Dorothy for one of the ‘girls’, which had caused much hilarity and had led to Dorothy inviting him to Polly and Tommy’s wedding.
‘I’m seeing him next week!’ Dorothy clapped her hands together in excitement. ‘He’s got a forty-eight-hour pass. Why do you ask?’ she said, suddenly puzzled.
‘Only because you’ve not mentioned him for – oh,’ Gloria looked at an imaginary watch on her wrist, ‘must be at least half an hour.’
Angie laughed out loud.
‘Yer wanna live with her!’ she said, rolling her eyes to the heavens. ‘It’s Toby this. Toby that. Toby the other.’
As they made their way onto the upper deck and the klaxon sounded out, preventing any more chatter, it occurred to Dorothy that every time she quizzed her about Jack, Gloria subtly changed the subject. She’d have a chat about it with Angie later. They’d thought that something was up for a while now – something didn’t add up about Jack being in Scotland, or the fact that he never came back for a home visit. The army got leave to see their loved ones, so it was a mystery why a yard manager wouldn’t get a few days off now and again to see his family.
Dorothy glanced across at Gloria and Rosie. She was sure there was something they weren’t telling them, and it was about time she and Angie found out what it was.