‘Oh my,’ Bel’s soft voice sang out when she opened the door the following day to see Gloria standing on the pavement, one hand holding on to her pram, the other cradling Hope. It had just gone a quarter to seven but already the cobbled street outside the door of the Elliots’ home in the heart of the town’s east end was teeming with a mass of flat caps, all moving in the direction of the numerous shipyards lining the River Wear.
Reaching out to gently take the sleeping baby out of Gloria’s arms and into her own, Bel gazed down at the little face, barely visible through the layers of blankets Gloria had wrapped her in for her early morning journey to what was to be Hope’s second home.
‘How she’s changed in just two weeks,’ Bel said quietly, trying not to wake her new charge. But it was no good, baby Hope had sensed the crossover and knew she was no longer in her mother’s arms. Her eyes opened and Bel gasped in delight at the slightly startled baby, ‘What a beautiful girl you are!’
Bel’s face became sombre as she looked up at Gloria and quietly asked, ‘Any news about Jack?’ She knew only too well the true awfulness of waiting to hear about a loved one.
Gloria shook her head, and Bel automatically reached out with her free hand and squeezed Gloria’s arm gently.
‘Anyway,’ Bel said, forcing her voice to become more cheerful, ‘come in. Everyone’s up.’
Turning with the baby to walk down the long, tiled hallway and into the warmth of the kitchen, she announced to the whole house, ‘Look everyone! It’s baby Hope!’
As Gloria followed Bel down the hallway, she was touched by her words, but she couldn’t stop herself feeling a little emotional watching another woman take command of her baby – even if it was Bel. There was a part of her that wanted to snatch Hope back, but she knew she was being stupid.
As Gloria walked into the hub of the warm kitchen she was greeted by a room full of upturned faces: Her workmate, Polly Elliot, who was just pulling on her overcoat and taking a last sup of tea, her older brother Joe, who was hobbling through from the scullery with the aid of his walking stick, their mother, Agnes, who was pulling a pan of porridge off the stove to serve up to Bel’s three-year-old daughter, Lucille – and Arthur Watts, Tommy’s grandad, who was pushing himself out of the armchair positioned next to the range.
Gloria smiled over to the old man and thought how well he looked despite his seventy-odd years. His recent move from the Diver’s House down by the south docks, where he had lived most of his life with Tommy, to the Elliots’ home here in the east end had done him well.
‘Me see baby?’ Lucille asked, her little face straining up towards Hope. Her question was more a demand, and Joe went to pick his little niece up by the waist and held her aloft so she could have a bird’s eye view of the newcomer.
‘My baby!’ she announced on seeing Hope. Everyone chuckled. Lucille was going through a stage of declaring anything new or of interest to be hers, and hers alone.
‘What’s all the commotion about?’ Everyone turned to see Pearl, standing in the doorway, her faded pink cotton dressing gown wrapped around her scrawny body. Gloria had met Pearl, Bel’s mother, just the once at the next-door neighbour’s birthday party a few months back and she had sussed her out pretty quickly, although her reputation had preceded her as Polly had bent all the women’s ears back at work with her regular laments about how outrageously out of order Pearl could be – and had been most of her life.
‘Ma, go and have your fag,’ Bel said, spotting the unlit cigarette between her mother’s fingers. ‘I know you’re gasping for one, and it’s not as if you’re a real baby person, is it?’ Bel snipped at her mother.
Gloria looked at Polly and they both raised their eyebrows in unison.
Pearl peered across at the gurgling baby in her daughter’s arms and sniffed, ‘Aye, yer right there … I mightn’t be a “real baby person” as you put it,’ she paused, ‘but you are, Isabelle.’ Pearl’s eyes shifted mischievously up to her daughter’s pretty face and across to Joe who was standing with his back to the wall, allowing the women to ‘ooh and ah’ over the new baby.
‘So,’ Pearl added, ‘don’t you be getting any ideas, will ya?’
With a half laugh, half cough, Pearl bustled to the back door and out into the yard to smoke her cigarette.
Gloria looked at Bel, who was looking at Joe. Their look of exasperation at Pearl’s inappropriate comments was plain for all to see. Gloria knew, of course, that Bel and her brother-in-law, Joe, were now an item. They had admitted they had fallen in love to Agnes on the day when Gloria had given birth to baby Hope.
Poor Agnes. She was surprised the woman was still of one mind; in the space of just a few months her only daughter had started work in the shipyards – the target of just about every bomb dropped on the town so far – then her son, Teddy, had been killed out in North Africa – and her other son, Joe, seriously injured.
Bel, who had been married to Teddy, had plummeted into a terrible depression, but had thankfully come out of it. She had helped to nurse Joe during his convalescence at home and their friendship had developed into love. Luckily, from what Gloria had gathered from Polly, Agnes had given her blessing to their union, but, still, she was sure Agnes’s head must be a minefield of mixed emotions.
‘She’s a bonny bairn.’ Arthur’s deep voice caused them all to look up. The old man, like his grandson Tommy, had a low, calm voice. Gloria smiled, and watched as Bel held Hope out to Arthur who put his hands up as if he was surrendering.
‘Nah, Bel, I’ll only drop the wee thing,’ he said, leaning forward to take a peek. As he looked at the baby girl happily cuddled up in Bel’s arms, his pale blue eyes widened. Hope was the spit of her father. It was uncanny.
‘Eee, well, we best be getting off then, Pol,’ Gloria said, trying to be strong and not give vent to the well of tears she felt were building up inside her at the thought of being without her beloved baby all day long.
Polly looked at Gloria and understood her workmate’s need to make her parting as quick and as painless as possible.
Agnes seemed to have cottoned on quickly too. ‘Yes, get yourselves off to that yard.’ She ushered them out of the kitchen. ‘I don’t want you both to be late otherwise the stingy buggers’ll dock yer wages.’ She smiled as she pushed Polly’s sandwiches into her hand as they made their way down the hallway and out the front door.
Gloria stepped out on to the busy street, now full of the sound of men’s voices and the smell of burning tobacco that followed the blanket of cloth-capped heads moving towards the Borough Road.
As she did Agnes quickly grabbed Gloria’s arm. ‘And don’t you be worrying about Hope,’ she said, her latent Irish accent coming to the fore. ‘She’ll be just fine here. No need to fret … And if anything were to happen to the bab, I’ll make sure you’ll get word straight away,’ she told her, adding with a cheeky smile on her face, ‘I’ll send Pearl – with the promise of a pint. Guaranteed she’ll be there faster than the speed of light!’