8 JUNE 1941
Over the past six days of Tommy’s shore leave, Flossy had fallen head over heels in love with not one but two people. Her handsome sailor was kinder and more tender-hearted than she could have ever dared to dream, but it was his shy daughter, Betsy, to whom she was inexplicably drawn. Perhaps it was because she understood a little of the girl’s bewilderment at finding herself without a mother, but Flossy was clear on one thing. She did not want little Betsy to know a moment’s fear or unhappiness. Little by little, she could sense the child was coming out of her shell and learning to trust her.
Flossy, Tommy and Betsy – and Dilys – spent as much time together as circumstances permitted, meeting at Tommy’s house every evening after work. Tommy also foot-slogged the five-mile round trip from his home to Trout’s every dinnertime too, just so he could spend an extra forty-five minutes with Flossy.
For the most part, the trio were happy to sit in Tommy’s front parlour, with Flossy teaching Betsy to knit dollies, while Tommy looked on affectionately. With every stitch, the bond between them all deepened. Flossy had been deeply grateful to Peggy and May, and had taken them up on their kind offer to lodge with them, but she had spent that much time with Tommy and Betsy she had scarcely seen them.
On one occasion, when Tommy met up with some of his old pals, he had even allowed her to take Betsy to the picture house. Afterwards, over a sticky bun in a cafe, Flossy had learned that the little girl, in common with most shy people, had a razor-sharp sense of humour and was as bright as a button.
As Betsy had chattered about her life in Wales, Flossy had gazed back at her, drinking in her beauty and innocence. Well, not that innocent, as it transpired. Like most children, Betsy could also be a little mischievous! When Flossy had delivered her home later, she had found an irate Irene waiting for them on the doorstep. Little Betsy had swapped the contents of Nanny Bird’s snuff pot with Irene’s new face powder. No one had the heart to tell the elderly woman it was Max Factor she had snorted instead of snuff, but it had earned Betsy a clip round the ear. But Flossy hadn’t chastised her. She hadn’t wanted to quash the little girl’s spirit.
When it had come time to say goodbye, Betsy had thrown her arms round Flossy and hugged her fiercely. That hug had been the icing on the cake of what had truly been the best six days of Flossy’s life. The only blot on the horizon was that in just twenty-four hours Tommy was to rejoin HMS Avenge and sail off to God knows where, and Betsy would be sent back to her billet in Wales.
Sitting behind her machine at work, Flossy forced herself not to dwell on it, but the thought of being parted when the bonds were just starting to establish was agonizing. She needed Tommy and Betsy as much as she sensed they both needed her. War was indeed a cruel mistress, but this parting would be more bittersweet than most.
So lost in her own thoughts was she that she jumped a country mile when Vera tapped her on the shoulder.
‘Telephone call for you, Flossy, in Mr Gladstone’s office,’ said the forelady curtly. ‘Look lively.’
‘A telephone call? For me? Are you quite sure?’ she asked in astonishment.
‘Do I look like I am in any doubt whatsoever?’ the forelady snapped.
Flossy dared not answer back. Vera had been in a frightful mood all day, since discovering that young Kathy had been just thirteen when she started in the factory. Kathy had since turned fourteen, but this had not improved her mood. She did not like having the wool pulled over her eyes and had insisted on examining every worker’s identity card to ensure everything was as it should be.
Inside, the foreman gestured to the shiny black Bakelite phone on his desk. Flossy had only used a telephone a handful of times and it felt large and clunky.
‘Flossy Brown speaking,’ she said timidly, clutching the receiver in both hands.
‘Miss Brown. Audrey Braithwaite here,’ boomed back the officious voice of her welfare worker down the crackly line.
Flossy swallowed uneasily. Mrs Braithwaite’s heart was in the right place; the problem was, it was rather well concealed, and during her time at the home, Mrs Braithwaite had been more concerned with her moral welfare and sense of servitude than her emotional well-being.
An alarming thought struck her. Had Mrs Braithwaite heard that she was stepping out with Tommy? She should really have informed her that she was meeting a man, even though nothing untoward had happened.
‘Is everything all right, Mrs Braithwaite?’ Flossy said, wondering why it was that she felt a strange compulsion to please the people she liked the least.
‘Perfectly,’ she replied. ‘I have been receiving most satisfactory reports from Mrs Shadwell, who assures me you are a credit to the home and your work in the factory is exemplary. Your new landlady, Mrs Piper, has written to tell me you have settled in well to your new lodgings. I shall, of course, be paying the premises a visit to check we are satisfied that they are suitable. In fact, I shall be doing that sooner than I had originally planned, as I need to speak with you on a most urgent matter.
‘I shall be in the metropolis tomorrow morning, and Mr Gladstone has already told me he can spare you for one hour, so I suggest we meet at your new lodgings at precisely ten a.m. and I shall explain the nature of my visit then. Good day to you.’
Flossy replaced the phone handle with a clatter.
‘Everything all right, Flossy?’ Archie enquired.
‘I hope so,’ she replied, her head in a whirl. ‘Thank you for granting me time off to meet with my welfare worker,’ she added. ‘I promise to make up the time.’
‘I know you will, gal,’ he said, rubbing thoughtfully at his stubbled chin with a calloused hand. ‘You ain’t let me down so far. If you need me to speak for you, or if I can do anything at all to help, I’m always here. I must be going soft in my old age, but, well, I feel responsible for you, especially now Dolly’s gone—’ His gruff voice broke off and in dismay she could see the foreman was struggling not to cry.
‘Sorry,’ he said hoarsely, ‘but Dolly was like family to me. I miss her smile, her singing, even her terrible jokes, but most of all I just miss having her about the place.’
He trumpeted loudly into a handkerchief and straightened up in his seat. ‘Don’t mind me. I’m just a silly old fool.’
Without saying a word, Flossy walked round to his side of the desk, slid her arm round the foreman’s shoulder and squeezed him gently. ‘Well, in that case you’re a silly old fool that I’m terribly glad to have looking out for me,’ she said.
‘Bless you, darlin’,’ he replied, patting her arm with a sad smile. ‘Bless you.’
Dolly’s death had left deep ripples in all their lives, but it meant the world to have a gentleman as kind as Archie in her life.
The next morning, Flossy was as jumpy as a puppet on a string as she waited for Mrs Braithwaite’s visit.
Peggy’s mother had kindly rearranged her shifts so she could be with her when the welfare worker arrived, and Tommy had also insisted on being present, something Flossy wasn’t entirely sure about.
‘Are you sure this is a good idea, you being here, Tommy?’ she muttered, shifting uneasily in her chair as they all stared at the ticking clock.
‘More than sure,’ he insisted. ‘You said it yourself, they need to vet potential suitors, and, well, I’m here, ain’t I? As of four this afternoon, I’ll be back on board HMS Avenge, so the timing’s perfect.’
‘Please don’t, Tommy,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t bear to think of you going.’
Tommy reached over, took her hand in his and pressed it lightly to his lips. ‘Look, Flossy, the future is certain for no one, but I want to do all I can to ensure our future together. That’s why I want to meet this woman, assure her I am serious about you.’
‘I think Tommy’s right,’ said May, as she poured boiling water into a teapot to warm through, before popping a red crocheted tea cosy on top. ‘You have to show this lady that you wish to be together. Put on a united front.’
‘Thanks, Mrs Piper,’ smiled Flossy gratefully, as the older lady placed a plate of her good shortbread biscuits on the kitchen table.
‘Or, as my grandmother used to say . . .’ May remarked with a wistful smile, ‘it’s time to warm the teapot and follow your dreams.’
On the stroke of ten, there was a swift rap at the door, and May hurried to answer it.
‘They always were a stickler for punctuality,’ Flossy grinned ruefully to Tommy, as they both rose.
A second later, Mrs Braithwaite swept into the room and immediately started to cast her eye critically about the kitchen of the terrace.
‘Sit down, won’t you?’ gestured May, refusing to be intimidated by the welfare worker. ‘I think you’ll find my home a most comfortable environment for Flossy.’
‘Comfort should not come into it. I’ll be the judge of what is suitable for my charge, Mrs Piper,’ she replied crisply, neatly removing her coat and gloves as she sat down opposite Flossy. ‘She is, after all, my responsibility until she reaches her majority.
‘Now, then, Flossy, I’ll get straight to the point,’ she said, once all the introductions had been made. ‘We had a visit recently at the home from a solicitor, executing the last will and testament of a . . .’ she paused, unclipping her leather handbag and extracting a letter, which she scrutinized, ‘a Miss Doolaney.’
‘Dolly!’ Flossy exclaimed.
‘Correct. As we are acting in loco parentis for a minor, all legal correspondence must be seen by ourselves first. It would appear that this Miss Doolaney has been rather generous to you in her will and has left you her sewing machine.’
‘Gracious!’ Flossy said, remembering the beautiful black Singer with the ornate gold lettering that she had seen in Dolly’s home.
‘That’s not all,’ Mrs Braithwaite went on, raising one eyebrow slightly. ‘She has also bequeathed to you an endowment policy, the sum of which is a hundred pounds, to be given to you when you turn twenty-one.’
‘But that’s a small fortune!’ declared Flossy. ‘How did she have that kind of money?’
‘She had it in a post-office account into which she paid weekly sums from the age of twenty-one. I’m somewhat flabbergasted by this generosity. The solicitor will be in touch with you in due course to discuss the execution of this, but you should count yourself very lucky indeed.’
Flossy gulped in incredulity.
‘This is a most useful sum of money, which will certainly secure your future,’ Mrs Braithwaite went on, but Flossy had stopped listening. Dolly continued to shock and amaze her, even from beyond the grave. Who knew that Dolly was sitting on that kind of money?
‘I will of course make a donation to the home,’ Flossy said eventually, and the welfare worker smiled for the first time since entering the tiny terraced house. The smile never quite reached her eyes, Flossy noted, but she pressed on. ‘But this will come in very handy, because, well, you see, myself and Tommy here, well—’ Her voice broke off and she smiled at her beau. ‘We’ve been stepping out, and we very much hope to have a future together.’
The announcement caused precisely the reaction Flossy had anticipated, and for the next hour at least, Mrs Braithwaite trawled over every aspect of poor Tommy’s upbringing and prospects as a suitor, jotting down notes in her leather-bound notebook. Tommy answered patiently and politely, with May chipping in to testify as to his character wherever she could.
‘I shall need to think on this, and of course we shall have to visit Mr Bird’s home, Flossy,’ she said, when she had finished her interrogation of Tommy. ‘You are a wealthy woman in your own right now, and also somewhat young to consider becoming a mother to someone else’s child. I mean to say, what do you know of the suitable way in which to raise a child?’
More than you might think, Flossy thought, but wisely kept it to herself.
‘What, for example, does a child need in abundance?’ Mrs Braithwaite trilled, looking at her expectantly over the rim of her teacup.
Flossy knew precisely what answer was expected of her. She had had it drummed into her often enough at the home. Obedience, respect and discipline were the rules that had governed her upbringing, but to hell with the rules. Dolly and the East End’s reaction to the bombings had taught her more about compassion in the last year of her life than she had learned in eighteen years from this woman.
Flossy straightened herself and, reaching over, threaded her fingers through Tommy’s.
‘I think, Mrs Braithwaite, with respect, that what Betsy needs is love, love and more love.’
Flossy returned to work with Mrs Braithwaite’s assurances that she would be back for further vetting of Tommy ringing in her ears, but she didn’t care. She knew that if Tommy and she could find a way to be together, then they would, no matter what the home made of it. This was 1941, after all, and the conventions of normal life no longer applied.
Tommy had vowed to stop at the factory to say his final goodbyes before he rejoined his crew, and even though he was going back to patrol the oceans – and that was a fact too terrifying for words – she had faith in him. If anyone could find a way back to her and his daughter’s side, it was Tommy.
As she walked down Cambridge Heath Road, Flossy took in the hair salon where Dolly had taken her to get her hair set, then further down she passed the town hall, still standing proudly, nothing short of a miracle despite its many near misses.
For a second, she stopped outside the steps and cast her mind back to her meeting there with Dolly in her quest to find the truth about her start in life, which Dolly had, of course, known all along. Flossy shook her head, still shocked at the news of Dolly’s generosity. All the while, Flossy had been working so hard delving into the past, while Dolly had quietly been securing her future.
Flossy continued her walk through Bethnal Green and felt the spirit of Dolly everywhere. In the smiles of war-weary housewives, in the queue of grateful punters outside Bethnal Green Museum – now converted to a rest centre and restaurant serving a thousand shilling meals a day – and in the gaggle of Boy Scouts delivering freshly filled sandbags to homes and businesses. Bethnal Green had already been a tightly knit place, but now the bombs had cemented the community to become even more rock solid in the face of fear.
When she neared St John Church, where they had first sheltered in the cavernous crypt, and the Underground opposite, where they had stormed to safety all those months ago, she spotted a less familiar sight. Some of Lucky’s lads from the boxing club had cleared out the debris from a nearby bombsite and, using tools borrowed from the fire service, were busy transforming it into an allotment.
‘Morning, boys,’ she called out. ‘What are you going to plant?’
‘Potatoes, peas and cabbages, miss,’ said the eldest boy, pausing to lean against his pitchfork.
‘How enterprising,’ Flossy replied.
‘Dunno about that, miss,’ the boy puffed, wiping his filthy face with an even filthier handkerchief, ‘but the job’s gotta be done, ain’t it? Folk gotta eat.’
Flossy handed him a clean hanky from her pocket and smiled. It was a sight to warm even the hardest of hearts, and it proved to her that, despite being one of the most dangerous places on earth, there was nowhere else she would rather live. Little wonder Dolly had been so reluctant to leave Bethnal Green. The allotment boys’ initiative also proved something else. Recovery was possible. Next spring, fresh shoots would grow from the ashes of that bombsite.
‘Creating a new world out of the chaos of the old,’ Flossy murmured.
‘What’s that, miss?’ enquired the lad, as he spat on the clean hanky and scrubbed at his face.
‘Nothing,’ she replied with an enigmatic smile. ‘Keep up the good work, boys.’
As she turned to continue her walk to Trout’s, Flossy realized it was time to apply that motto to her own life, just like the women of Trout’s and indeed every garment factory in the East End had.
Eighty tons of missiles and eleven thousand incendiary bombs had dropped on the borough, so Archie reckoned, but her fellow factory workers had not once crumbled under fire. They had simply thumbed their noses at adversity, rolled up their sleeves and got on with it.
By the time Flossy reached Trout’s, clocked in and quickly set to work, the women were still getting on with it, while also belting out a rousing chorus of ‘We’ll Meet Again’.
At 3 p.m., Tommy set his kit bag down on the cobbled street outside Trout’s, drew in the biggest breath of his life and called up to the fifth floor of the factory.
Distantly, Flossy heard her name being called over the din of the machines. Her head snapped up, and her foot flew off the treadle. She felt sick with apprehension. It was time. Tommy was leaving again.
Gulping deep in her throat, she put up her hand. ‘Please, Mrs Shadwell. Permission to go and say goodbye to Tommy before he rejoins his crew. I’ll make sure to stay late and make the time up for that and this morning.’
‘I should think so,’ replied the forelady. ‘Ten minutes, no more.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Shadwell,’ Flossy gushed, and with that she leaped to her feet and virtually flew down the five concrete flights of steps. Outside, she flung herself into Tommy’s outstretched arms.
‘Whoa there,’ he chuckled, his pale blue eyes shining with amusement. ‘You nearly did me an injury.’
‘Sorry,’ she giggled. ‘Although, that mightn’t be so bad – at least it’d mean you would have to stay in London.’
Tommy’s smile faltered. ‘As much as I would love to stay right here by your side, Flossy, I couldn’t ever. My crew-mates are relying on me, and my country needs me. We’ve gotta finish the job.’
‘I know,’ Flossy sighed, relishing the feel of his broad chest pressed against hers.
‘Because you see, Flossy,’ he went on, his voice dropping as he took her chin and gently tilted it up, ‘I have to do my bit to make England a safer place for you and my little girl. I can’t have her growing up under a rule of tyranny. This war has already cast too dark a shadow over her childhood. I’m going to apply to the Soldiers’, Sailors’ and Airmen’s Family Association Fund to get my family rehomed in a safer billet, so Betsy can come home permanently’
His jaw clenched and a vein twitched in his temple, as he stared past Flossy to the arc of the sooty skyline. ‘Nothing means more to me than giving my daughter a happy and peaceful future,’ he choked, his gaze coming back to rest on hers.
‘You’re a wonderful father,’ Flossy replied, ‘and Betsy’s a really terrific girl. I like her very much.’
‘And she you. You’ve made a big impression on her. It’s Flossy this, Flossy that. She’s barely stopped chattering about you. It’s the brightest I’ve seen her since her mother passed, and it matters a great deal to me that you and she get along . . .’
Tommy paused and cleared his throat nervously. ‘Especially if you’re going to be in my life permanently.’
Flossy froze, scarcely daring to breathe. When Tommy sank down to one knee on the cobbles, her hand flew to her mouth.
‘I know this is sudden,’ he said, taking both her hands in his, ‘but who knows when I’ll next get the chance? Flossy Brown, will you do me the very great honour of being not just my wife but also a mother to my little girl? I know this sounds soppy, but I think I knew I was in love with you the moment I read your first letter. Your honesty touched me, brought a part of me back to life that I thought had died forever with my wife, and now . . . well, I believe my place is with you.’
When he finished his speech, Tommy’s hopeful eyes stared up at her, and for a moment, Flossy was rendered speechless.
‘Well?’ shouted a distant voice. ‘Will yer?’
Flossy’s eyes travelled five floors up to see that every window of Trout’s had been thrown open and a jumble of hopeful faces were gazing down expectantly at them. Every single machinist in the factory was crowded round or hanging out of a window.
‘Yes,’ called down Peggy, squeezed in next to Lucky. ‘Put the poor chap out of his misery, won’t you?’
For a moment, Flossy felt awkward and timid, as the factory held its breath waiting for her reply. Suddenly, she heard Dolly’s breathy voice chiming in her ear as clear as a bell. Don’t be afraid to shine.
‘Yes!’ she heard herself shout back jubilantly, before turning to look her devoted fiancé in the eye.
‘Yes, I will,’ she said in a softer voice. ‘Nothing would make me happier than being your wife and a mum to little Betsy. I know a thing or two about what it’s like to grow up without a mum, and I promise you, Tommy, I will be the very best mother I can.’
And suddenly she was laughing and crying, the words spilling out of her unbidden. ‘I want her to get dirty, talk loudly, suck gobstoppers, swing on gas lamps, and, oh, Tommy! I just want her to be seen, and heard, but more than anything, cherished.’
The tears were streaming down Flossy’s face as Tommy rose to his feet and gathered her in his arms. Gently, he brushed away her tears with his thumb as he smiled down at her adoringly.
‘Go on, then, lad!’ hollered the voice of Pat from up above. ‘Wotcha you waiting for? Give ’er a kiss.’
And with that, the sailor picked the seamstress clean off her feet. Flossy screamed in delight, until Tommy silenced her with a firm and loving kiss. The applause from the sewing circle was so thunderous a foreman from a neighbouring factory came to see what all the fuss was about.
Flossy still felt as if she was floating as high as the church steeple by the time she and Peggy reached home that evening after work. She could not wait to tell Mrs Piper her news, but when they neared her terrace, they saw that she was already waiting for them on the doorstep, clutching a telegram in her hand and looking pale. Peggy’s mother was usually immaculately turned out and composed, but now rivulets of mascara were running down her ashen cheeks, and her hands were trembling as she clutched the door frame.
‘Oh, please God, no!’ Peggy shrieked, stopping in her tracks and leaning heavily on her stick for support.
‘Father . . . ?’
‘Yes . . .’ May sobbed. ‘But, darling, it’s good news. He’s alive . . . He’s alive!’ she said again as if she couldn’t quite believe it. ‘The authorities have freed him and he’s coming home.’
Flossy choked back a sob as Peggy fell into her mother’s arms and the pair clung to each other. And in a quiet corner of bomb-shattered Bethnal Green, for once, all was exactly as it should be.