Over the next two weeks, like all the workers at the North Sands yard, the women welders notched up as much overtime as they could in the push to get Brutus ready before Christmas.
As soon as Dorothy and Angie got back to their flat in Foyle Street it was a case of bathe, eat and bed. Angie liked to joke that she could hear Dorothy snoring in the next room, but in reality she had no idea what kinds of sounds her best mate made in her sleep. As soon as her own head hit the pillow, she was out like a light.
Once a week they’d meet up with Marie-Anne and go dancing at the Ritz. But that was it. There was neither the time nor the energy for anything else. They only got to know that their ‘neighbour with the posh name’, Quentin, whom they’d yet to meet, had been home for a few days after being informed of it by their other neighbour – a kindly old woman they’d nicknamed Mrs Lavender as her real name was too difficult to pronounce.
Martha’s daily routine paralleled Dorothy’s and Angie’s, minus the weekly knees-up at the Ritz. When she wasn’t doing overtime, she was carrying out her ARP duties.
The worries her mam and dad had about their only child working at Thompson’s were only marginally less than their anxieties about her pulling people out of collapsing buildings. Anxieties that had been exacerbated since the Luftwaffe had bombed Canterbury. It had been one of the heaviest raids on Britain since the Blitz.
Gloria, in the meantime, had taken herself off light duties despite objections from Rosie and Helen, reassuring them that her leg was well and truly on the mend. She wanted to get back to normal, immerse herself in work – and be with her own squad. She needed more challenging work, and the company of her friends. Since the air raid she seemed to be missing Jack more than normal.
The women had subtly tried to find out more about her friendship with Helen and how they had become so close, but Gloria was keeping tight-lipped. There was no way she could tell them that their friendship had been forged when Helen turned up on her doorstep the day she’d found out she was pregnant.
At least, Gloria consoled herself, her workmates had stopped asking when Jack was coming back. They’d either got tired of asking or had believed her when she’d claimed his presence on the Clyde was needed for the foreseeable.
Following her meeting with the headmistress of the Sunderland Church High School, and after Charlotte had passed the required test, Rosie was informed that the school would be willing to accept her sister as a day pupil. The headmistress, a Mrs Longbottom, an odd woman with an even odder name, had tried to hide her surprise when Rosie had informed her that she was a welder. Rosie thought this might well have been because she had mentioned her friendship with Mr Havelock’s granddaughter before disclosing what she did for a living.
When she’d waved Charlotte off on her first day at her new school, she had felt more like a mother than a sister as she’d tried not to fuss too much. Charlotte had agreed Rosie could walk her as far as Christ Church, but had insisted on saying her goodbyes before she crossed the Ryhope Road. It was only then that Rosie had realised she was, in fact, more nervous than Charlotte.
Rosie now just needed to work out how she could keep hidden the truth about her ‘other life’ at Lily’s – past and present – from Charlotte. It was not going to be easy, but Rosie had convinced herself that it was not impossible.
Polly, meanwhile, had cut down her visits to Tommy to every other day. Tommy had been adamant, reassuring her that it wouldn’t be long before he was discharged. He had taken to walking around the entire grounds of the hospital three times a day in his determination to get his fitness back, and was eating whatever was put in front of him in order to put on weight.
Dr Parker had been a little concerned that he was pushing his body too hard too quickly, but he had learnt that Tommy wasn’t one to take orders. It made him wonder how he had got on in the navy, but the more Tommy told him about his unit in Gibraltar, the more he understood why it had been a perfect fit for his patient. Tommy’s specialised diving unit sounded as though it was made up of a mishmash of wayward characters, led by a commander who sounded unconventional and had little regard for those higher up the chain of command.
As Arthur visited his grandson on the evenings that Polly was doing overtime, it meant she was still able to regale her friends with daily updates on her fiancé’s progress.
The women never tired of listening to their workmate chatter on about the man she loved, but neither did they tire of admonishing her for not plucking up the courage to tell Tommy about the non-existent gratuity pay.
Polly insisted it was hard finding the ‘right moment’.
She knew that she was on borrowed time, though.
She had to confess and she had to do it soon.
It was the only blot on her otherwise perfect landscape.