‘Christmas? They’re getting married at Christmas?’ Dorothy’s voice was verging on hysterical.
‘On the actual day?’ Polly asked, equally incredulous.
Rosie laughed and looked around the table at the women’s shocked faces.
‘Yes, on Christmas Day. The twenty-fifth of December.’ Rosie took a sip of her tea. She was thankful the canteen was packed out and noisy so that no one could overhear their conversation. She still liked to keep all mention of Lily to a minimum.
‘But I thought she was having it on the nineteenth?’ Polly asked, blowing on a spoonful of stew to cool it down.
‘Well, it’s a rather long story, which I will try to keep short,’ Rosie said.
‘Yer make it as long as yer want, miss,’ Angie said in all earnestness. ‘We’re all ears.’
Rosie looked at Polly, Bel, Dorothy, Angie, Martha and Hannah.
‘Well,’ she began, ‘Maisie and Vivian were out with a couple of naval officers.’ She looked at Bel. She hoped she’d made it sound like they’d been on legitimate dates as opposed to what Maisie liked to call ‘escorting’.
‘And it came out in conversation that the Grand had been told by the Ministry of War to expect a large influx of Admiralty and Royal Navy personnel in December.’
‘Because the hotel is a “billet”? Is that right?’ Hannah asked.
Rosie nodded.
‘And when all of this was relayed to Lily …’ Rosie paused, thinking of the other evening when Maisie and Vivian had imparted the news to her. ‘Well, let’s just say the balloon went up.’
‘Because?’ Martha asked.
‘Because,’ Dorothy said, sighing dramatically, ‘it meant there’d be no room for Lily’s wedding reception.’
‘Exactly,’ Rosie said, topping up her tea from the pot in the middle of the table.
‘So, what did Lily do?’ Polly asked.
Rosie chuckled.
‘She ordered George to get the car and they went straight to the Grand and demanded to see the manager.’
‘And what did he say?’ Bel asked. She had spent her wedding night at the Grand and had spotted the hotel’s very pompous-looking manager.
‘Apparently he was full of apologies. Said he had been going to contact them that very afternoon. To tell him of the unforeseen circumstances regarding their extra guests.’
Rosie smiled.
‘Lily, of course, immediately realised she could use the situation to her advantage and continued to play holy war, demanding to know what he was intending to do about the matter.’
‘What did he say?’ Hannah asked.
‘I think there were various options bandied about. Offers of compensation and the like. But when the manager told her that the hotel would be more or less back to normal by Christmas, Lily, being Lily, decided it would be a great idea to tie the knot on Christmas Day!’
‘That’s like my aunty Gwen,’ Angie chirped up. ‘They got married on Christmas Day.’
‘Why did they do that?’ Dorothy asked.
‘It was the only day of the year her ’n my uncle Bobby could get off.’
Everyone looked at Angie, curious to hear more.
‘And,’ she added, ‘in those days the church always married people fer free on Christmas Day. Aunty Gwen always gans on about how she had a “penny wedding”. Course that was years ago. They’re both in their sixties now.’
Everyone was listening intently.
‘Well, another interesting socio-economic fact from welder Angie Boulter.’
Angie frowned at Dorothy.
‘English, Dor.’
‘I think Dorothy just means how people’s income affects what they do in life,’ Hannah explained.
‘Well, we’d better not tell Lily that, otherwise she’ll be changing the date again,’ Rosie said.
‘So, I’m guessing the registry office will be open?’ Polly asked.
‘Yes, the manager, Mr Pollard, I believe he’s called, rang the registrar there and then and got the date changed.’ Rosie chuckled. ‘According to George, he would have done handstands for Lily if she’d asked.’
Rosie didn’t say anything to the women, but Lily had also negotiated a decent discount for the inconvenience and had accepted the offer of a goose and a large gammon joint for the wedding breakfast.
‘So,’ Dorothy looked at Polly, ‘I don’t suppose you and Tommy have settled on a date yet?’ She widened her eyes and looked around at the women. ‘Imagine – we might get two weddings in the space of two months.’
‘Give them a chance,’ Martha guffawed. ‘Tommy’s only just got back. He’s not even out of hospital yet.’
Martha was glad she herself was out of hospital and back at work. Back with her friends. Back to normality – even if she was still feeling a little shell-shocked.
‘Exactly!’ Polly agreed rather too enthusiastically.
They all started getting ready to leave.
‘Well, at least you’ve got the money set aside for when you do decide to get hitched, eh?’ Rosie said.
Polly looked at her blankly.
‘You know. Tommy’s pay. What’s it called again?’
‘His gratuity pay,’ Polly said.
‘That’s right. You told me that he’d been saving it for your wedding?’
All of a sudden, Polly looked around as if she’d lost something.
‘Did you say Charlotte’s working in the kitchen today?’
Her question had the desired effect. Everyone hurried over to the main counter, from where they could see into the back kitchen.
Charlotte was standing with her back to them in front of a large stainless-steel sink.
Angie put her thumb and forefinger in her mouth and let out an ear-splitting whistle.
It did the trick.
Charlotte spun round. Seeing the women, she lifted a handful of soapy suds and waved back.
‘She’s a good little worker that one.’ Muriel came over to see the women. ‘Doesn’t stand around gassing. Just gets on with it.’
‘Good to hear,’ Rosie said. She’d warned Charlotte about Muriel’s knack for squeezing information out of people and turning it into yard gossip.
‘So, how’s things going with Charlotte?’ Hannah asked as they left the canteen. ‘Is she going to stay or are you sending her back at the end of half-term?’
Rosie grimaced.
‘I’ve told her that I understand that she’s homesick and that she can come back during the holidays and at half-term, but she has to go back to school.’
‘And did she agree?’
‘Not exactly, but it’s not up to her. She’s going back whether she wants to or not. I’m hoping that after a week working here, she’ll look more favourably on my suggestion and might even go willingly …’ Her voice trailed off as she looked around. ‘Ah, Martha … Helen’s asked if you could pop and see her after lunch.’
Martha gave a puzzled look.
‘Nothing to worry about. Think she just wants a quick chat. We’ll be over on Brutus when you’re done.’
Rosie watched Martha plod over to the admin building. It was strange seeing her in a turban. She’d been given strict instructions by the doctor at the hospital to keep her wound covered up during the day, especially when she was at work.
Dorothy and Angie looked at each other and then at Rosie and Polly.
‘What?’ Rosie asked.
‘It’s just strange – Helen. Us all being “friends” now.’
‘I know,’ Polly said. ‘Do you think she’s always been all right and we’ve all just demonised her? Or do you reckon she’s changed?’
They were all quiet for a moment.
‘Probably a bit of both,’ Rosie said, just as the klaxon sounded out the start of the afternoon shift.
Helen was sitting at her desk, the receiver of the black Bakelite phone jammed into the crook of her neck as she topped up her tea.
‘I know,’ she agreed. ‘And did you read The Times today? Did you read what Mr bloody Bevin said in the House of Commons?’
She listened for a moment.
‘Well, let me tell you, I’m seething mad, as I’m sure every shipyard worker in Sunderland would be if they knew about it.’
Helen took hold of the receiver as she reached over her desk to get her Pall Malls.
‘He made a big song and dance praising the shipyards on the Tyne and the Clyde.’
She paused for dramatic effect.
‘But not a single mention about the yards on the Wear. Yards, I hasten to add, that have not been out on strike over some triviality.’ Helen was building momentum. ‘Yards which have been – and still are – making far more merchant ships than the Tyne.’
She quickly lit her cigarette.
‘And is Mr bloody Bevin’s memory as bad as his general knowledge? Forgetting that it was this very shipyard that designed the Liberty ship and showed the American yards how it’s done!’
Helen cut short her rant, having just noticed that Martha was standing in the doorway of her office, looking like she was about to get six of the best.
When Mrs Crabtree’s ginger tom trotted past her and into the office, Martha stared at the cat in open-mouthed disbelief.
‘Sorry, John, I’m going to have to go. I’ve got Martha here …’
Helen listened for a moment.
‘Yes, yes, I’ll tell her, although I’m sure she won’t take a bit of notice.’
She was quiet again.
‘Yes, of course, see you Saturday. Fingers crossed you don’t get an emergency … Great. See you then … Bye.’
As soon as she’d hung up, Helen waved at Martha to enter.
‘Come in, come in!’
Martha was still staring at the cat, which was now wrapping itself around Helen’s legs.
‘I know,’ Helen said, scowling down and pushing it away with her leg. ‘The damn thing’s been stalking me ever since the air raid, so I brought it to the yard. Thought it might make a good rat-catcher, but it seems to prefer to be indoors … Anyway, come in.’
Martha followed her orders.
‘That was Dr Parker.’
Martha’s face brightened up. She liked the doctor. He had a lovely way about him. Gloria had thought so too.
‘He says you shouldn’t really be back at work.’
Martha touched her headscarf. She’d be glad when she didn’t have to wear it.
Helen looked at her and remembered the last time Martha had been in this office. It must have been about a year ago, she recalled guiltily, when she’d been trying, unsuccessfully, to split up Rosie’s squad and force Martha to go and work with the riveters.
‘How are you feeling, anyway? I did come to the hospital to visit but Gloria told me you’d just been discharged.’
‘I’m fine, honestly,’ Martha said, suddenly worried that Rosie might be sending her home.
‘Well, just take it easy, won’t you?’ Helen said. ‘And if you feel faint, head straight over to the first-aiders and they can get you across to the Royal in a jiffy.’
‘I will. But I won’t,’ Martha said, before asking, ‘Did you want me to help the riveters out?’ She was perplexed as to why she was there.
‘No, no.’ Helen shook her head. ‘Although any time you want to swap, you can do.’ She laughed. Everyone knew Martha was a natural riveter, but she would never be parted from her women welders.
‘I just wanted to say a proper thank you.’ Helen looked at Martha. ‘For saving my life. As well as Gloria’s and Hope’s.’
Martha nervously touched her turban again.
‘If you hadn’t have come into that building with me, Gloria and Hope would be dead. I couldn’t have got them out of there on my own. And if you hadn’t yanked me back when we were in Mrs Crabtree’s lounge, I’d have been crushed under that beam. I certainly wouldn’t be sat here now.’
‘I wasn’t trying to be brave,’ Martha said. ‘When I saw the beam going, I just grabbed you.’
‘And in doing so,’ Helen added, ‘you cracked your head open because you were holding on to me and not breaking your own fall.’
‘I probably would have bashed my head anyway. I can be really clumsy.’ Martha smiled.
Helen looked at this giant of a woman sitting opposite her. She was such an anomaly. She’d never met anyone like her in her life.
‘Well, I owe you my life. As do Gloria and Hope. A mere thank you hardly seems to do that justice.’
She stubbed out her cigarette.
‘I want you to know,’ Helen looked at Martha, deadly serious, ‘that if there is anything – anything at all – I can do for you at any time, now or in the future, just ask me.’
Martha nodded.
‘Will you promise me?’ Helen said. ‘If you ever find yourself in need of money, or you need help in any way, you must come to me.’
She paused.
‘I want you to promise.’
‘I promise,’ Martha said, feeling a little overwhelmed by Helen’s seriousness.
Helen got up, walked round her desk and took Martha’s hand.
‘You’re a very courageous woman, you know?’
Martha blushed. Something she rarely did.
As Helen watched Martha leave the office and head back out to the yard, she felt the ginger tom brush against her legs.
‘Come here, Winston.’ She bent down, picked up the cat and gave it a stroke.
She stood there for a moment, petting the cat and thinking about the night she had heard her mother threatening to expose the women’s secrets should Gloria and her father come clean about their love for each other. Helen had listened at the door and been taken aback.
Martha’s secret, however, was by far the most shocking: she had been adopted as an infant after her mother was sentenced to death for the murder of at least five children – most of them her own. Crimes that had taken a while to come to light because she had slowly poisoned each of her victims, all the while making out that she was trying to nurse them back to health.
As Helen put a purring Winston back down and returned to her desk, she mused how such evil could have given birth to a brave and gentle soul like Martha.
It made her think of her own mother. It still shocked her that Miriam had intercepted Jack’s letters to Helen, making her believe that he no longer cared. If she had known that her father hadn’t forsaken her for his new family, she doubted very much she would have fallen so readily into Theo’s arms and ended up in the hellish predicament in which she had found herself.
This past year her mother had revealed her true colours – and those colours were far from pretty. She mightn’t be a murderer, but she was most certainly cold, calculating and cruel. A true narcissist.