The month of May heralded the fourth anniversary of the Home Guard, which was celebrated the length and breadth of the country. The biggest parade took place in Hyde Park, during which the King took the salute.
A more modest affair was held at Whitburn village, and among the cheering crowds were Rosie, Charlotte and Kate. The trio had agreed to a rare day out together, not just because they wanted to wave and show their appreciation of those who had spent the past four years defending the home front, but because it provided an excuse for them to revisit the place where they had grown up.
They made a point of standing outside the old fishermen’s cottages, which had been the earliest casualty of the war when the first bombs dropped on the town and its periphery. That had been back in August 1940, shortly after Rosie had been given her squad of women welders.
Looking at her old family home now, as she, Charlotte and Kate found themselves a gap where they could stand comfortably and watch the parade, Rosie saw that the damage had been repaired and the cottages that had taken a hit rebuilt. She smiled to herself, thinking how glad she was that the little terrace had survived. It occurred to her now that she no longer felt the shadow of the past looming over her. It had gone. And with that thought came an incredible lightness of being.
She glanced at Charlotte and smiled. She looked happy. A little emotional perhaps, but that was likely because she and Kate had been exchanging stories from when they were young, each recalling their own days of innocence before their childhoods had been snatched away from them prematurely by the death of parents they adored and who adored them back.
‘You OK?’ she asked.
Charlotte nodded and then did something she had done only a few times before – it was something she had done while they had watched their parents being lowered into the ground – she took hold of her big sister’s hand and kept hold of it.
Rosie glanced at Kate, looking très chic in a simple black cotton dress and low-heeled Mary Jane shoes. She looked as if she should be sitting in a Parisian café drinking coffee and nibbling a croissant while discussing the latest fashion trends.
Imagining Kate in the French capital, Rosie’s thoughts went to Peter. She knew he had been in Paris during his first stint behind enemy lines. Where was he now? What was he doing? Part of her didn’t want to know. Just as long as he made it through these next few weeks, months – however long it took for the Allies to claim back Europe. Rosie put her hand on her heart; she could feel it beating at a rapid rate. She was being hit by these waves of nervousness more frequently of late, which she told herself was understandable. She imagined athletes feeling the same at the approach of a big race. Only they weren’t risking death if they lost – nor would they have to sacrifice their lives to win, for that matter.
Rosie stopped her train of thoughts in its track. She had promised herself she would be positive. Peter was going to make it. She could not even consider the alternative.
The crowd cheered as the end of the parade passed them.
‘It’s a shame we can’t walk on the beach,’ Charlotte said, breaking Rosie’s reverie.
Rosie looked at the concrete pillboxes, gun batteries and rolls of barbed wire dotted along the coastline to cordon off beaches now peppered with landmines in case of invasion, something that was now believed to be highly unlikely. There was no denying Hitler was on the back foot. It was just a matter of how long it would take to make him topple over.
‘We’ll come back when the war’s over,’ Rosie said. ‘We can go winkle picking like we used to.’
Rosie looked at Kate, who was making a face, and laughed.
‘Somehow, Kate, I don’t think that was something you and your mam used to do!’
Kate shook her head. ‘I think I inherited her dislike of all things that come out of the sea.’
As they started walking along the coastal road towards Seaburn, Rosie realised that they had all come a long way since they had been children living here in this quaint, unspoilt coastal town. Coming here today had been a monumental step forward for Kate, who rarely ventured anywhere other than the walk from the bordello to the Maison Nouvelle and back again. The life she had endured after she had left Whitburn as a child had left its mark – wounds that were reopened whenever she saw one of the nuns on the street, or when they occasionally came into the shop collecting for charity.
Perhaps, Rosie mused, today was as much about facing their ghosts – ghosts it was time to leave behind – as it was a celebration of the town’s civil defence. It was time for the past to stop dragging at their heels so that they could walk freely into a new and exciting future.
A future, Rosie hoped and prayed, that would also include her husband.
The rest of the month for Rosie and her squad passed in a blur of sparkling welds, sweat and a growing obsession with what was happening in the news. The Battle of Monte Cassino finally ended in an Allied victory, but it came at the cost of tens of thousands of casualties on both sides. A large number of Chinese troops invaded northern Burma, the entirety of Crimea came under Soviet control, and the Japanese retreated from Imphal with heavy losses. But it was the news of a number of bombs being dropped on the Continent and, in particular, on key targets in France, that grabbed the women’s attention – it was a sign that the assault on Fortress Europe was about to take place.
Behind closed doors, a report informed those high up in the chain of command that the bodies of the ten missing Americans had been found during the clear-up, or rather the cover-up, of the disastrous Operation Tiger. Knowing for sure that the men had not been captured and that they had died along with the top-secret information to which they’d been privy, meant the planned assault on northern France was back on track.
Meanwhile, the shipyards of Sunderland kept sending ships down the ways. Laing’s cheered the launch of the tanker Empire Salisbury, Crown’s the Empire Nicholas, a tug to be used by Admiralty in Japan, Pickersgill’s another much-needed LCT and Austin’s the collier Rogate, while the Shipbuilding Corporation christened the Empire Tudor.
After Thompson’s launched the cargo liner Empire Dynasty, Dorothy persuaded the women to go on a rare night out to Black’s Regal Theatre to see the dark melodrama The Letter, starring Bette Davis and Herbert Marshall. She also tried to cajole everyone into taking part in some of the ‘Holiday at Home’ events, which included an open-air dance at Barnes Park and a Sunderland Drama Club performance of Danger Point, but the response was lacklustre. Angie gawked at the thought of having to go dancing twice in a week. Artie gave Polly the perfect excuse not to go, and Gloria said what they were all thinking – that for her a holiday at home meant just that: ‘Sitting with my feet up and a nice cuppa in my hands, on my own sofa in my own home.’
Lily and George went to a property sale at the Palatine and purchased a house in Bramwell Road. It was their first real step towards legitimacy. Rosie was over the moon when they asked her to take control of the property since Lily was not, in her own words, ‘landlady material’ and George was too much of a ‘soft touch’.
Helen continued visiting Henrietta – and John – during her weekly visits to Ryhope, just as Dr Eris continued her quest to get Dr Parker to put a ring on her finger. She had decided to take her foot off the accelerator and apply a little reverse psychology to achieve her aim. It had been a bit of a gamble, as it was the opposite of what she really wanted to do, but her instincts told her to ease off and it’d had the desired results. John had become keener to see her and for them to spend whatever free time they had together.
She had been helped by the fact that Dr Parker’s frustrations at the powers that be for continuing to refuse to let him work with medics on the front line had lessened. They had talked about it and he had admitted that his ability to let it go was because of the anticipated invasion of France and the need to have doctors on this side of the Channel. He was also making headway in his research into improvements to prosthetics, which she found boring in the extreme, but she put on a show of rapt interest that must have been convincing as John confessed to her one evening how much he enjoyed being able to chat about it to someone who was genuinely interested. Better that he was sharing his advancements with her than anyone else – particularly Helen Crawford. Claire still needed to work out how to get shot of her. Her intuition told her the answer lay with Miriam’s great-aunty, Miss Henrietta Girling, and she resolved to keep on digging.
At the Elliot household, Agnes was enjoying having a house full of children, especially the twins, as they brought back memories of Joe and Teddy when they had been babies. Thinking about Teddy always made her sad, but she knew that was natural. There were times when her mind played tricks on her and she thought he was still alive, still somewhere in North Africa, and that he would be walking through the front door when the war ended. It was why she understood Dr Billingham and how a part of his brain still refused to accept that his daughter, Mary, was dead.
Bobby was now a permanent fixture at number 34 Tatham Street, and much liked by all those living there. The money he paid Agnes for his board and lodgings was a bonus. Bel enjoyed jibing him about his two admirers, Iris and Audrey, who seemed to find any excuse to pop round when Bobby was back from work and they themselves had finished their shifts at the GPO.
Everyone knew, of course, about the unresolved tension between Bobby and Gloria, but no one interfered, the general consensus being that it was a family matter.
A view shared by everyone, that is, apart from Dorothy.