The first part of the women’s plan was put into action shortly after seven o’clock on Wednesday morning.
Gloria had dropped Hope off a little earlier to ensure she and Polly left for work together.
‘How are you feeling today?’
Polly and Gloria were standing shivering on the ferry as it see-sawed its way across the Wear. Today the waters looked a murky green. The skies above a mud-grey.
‘Awful,’ Polly admitted. ‘Just awful.’
‘Still angry?’
Polly nodded.
‘Angry and all muddled up,’ Polly said, her face reflecting the veracity of her words.
‘Muddled in what way?’
They both grabbed the railing as the paddle steamer hit wash.
‘I just don’t understand how I can love Tommy so much.’ Polly paused. ‘And yet feel so angry towards him.’ She looked at Gloria, unsure whether to be completely candid.
Seeing her uncertainty, Gloria encouraged her. ‘Go on,’ she said, her voice gentle.
‘I know what everyone’s saying.’ Polly looked at Gloria for her reaction.
Seeing that her face was neutral, she continued.
‘You all think that I should be proud of him. That he’s doing what he’s doing for his country.’
Again, she looked at Gloria.
‘Carry on.’ Gloria gave Polly’s arm a gentle squeeze.
‘I understand that all up here.’ Polly tapped her head with a gloved hand. ‘But that doesn’t stop me feeling so angry.’
She let out a short gasp of frustration.
‘It’s the opposite of what people say. “Don’t let the head rule the heart.” But there’s a big part of me that wants my head to rule my heart. For my head to tell my heart that I should love Tommy regardless. That I should cast aside this awful anger and deep resentment.’ Polly took in a scoop of sea air. The seagulls squawked as they soared above.
‘But my heart’s not listening. It’s like it’s gone stone deaf.’
Gloria put her arm around Polly’s shoulder and gave her a hug.
‘You mightn’t be able to let go of the anger at the moment,’ Gloria said. ‘But you will. It’ll burn itself out. I promise you.’
Polly looked at Gloria and knew she was speaking from experience.
As they made their way off the ferry, Gloria decided to simply take the bull by the horns.
‘We’re all going to the Admiral on Thursday night. And yer coming. I’m not taking no for an answer.’
She gave Polly a gentle nudge.
Polly’s face was sad, but she attempted a smile.
‘Looks like I don’t have a choice.’
At lunchtime, Gloria chinked the side of her teacup with a stainless-steel teaspoon as though she was about to make a toast.
The women fell silent and looked at Gloria, who was sitting at the top of the table.
‘You’ll be pleased to know that Polly is accompanying us to the Admiral tomorrow after work.’
‘Yeah!’ Dorothy declared.
Everyone else voiced their enthusiasm.
Polly forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, but it was a smile, nevertheless.
Gloria looked down the table at everyone as they started chattering away to each other.
The ice had been broken.
If their plan didn’t come to fruition, then this, at least, would be the runners-up prize.
After finishing her lunch, Rosie told her squad she needed to chat to Ralph and his team about a ship that might need bringing into the dry basin for some welding work to be done on her hull.
Gloria herded everyone back to the ways. Brutus was just about ready to take centre stage. She just needed a bit of a manicure before her big day.
When Rosie returned twenty minutes later, she gave Gloria a nod.
The second part of their plan had been put into action.
At the end of the shift, Rosie timed it so that she caught Bel and Marie-Anne coming out of the admin block.
‘Did you get the thumbs up?’ Bel asked as the three of them were jostled about in the usual end-of-shift bottleneck at the main gates.
Rosie nodded. Ralph and his team had been in a particularly good mood as they’d just caught a news bulletin on their little wireless announcing that the Russians had beaten back the Italian Eighth Army along the Don River, north-west of Stalingrad. Rosie crossed her fingers that the Red Army would stay strong. They all knew so much hung on the outcome of the war on the Eastern Front.
When Bel got home, she told Arthur that Ralph had asked if Tommy would meet him and the rest of his team for a drink in the Admiral after work tomorrow. They wanted to buy him a pint before he left, as well as to ‘wet the baby’s head’ – yard-speak for christening Brutus in anticipation of her launch the following day. If Arthur suspected something was afoot, he didn’t let on, but dutifully walked round to John Street and relayed the invitation.
Bel kept herself busy until Arthur’s return. She tried to act nonchalant when Arthur told her that Tommy was chuffed he’d been asked and to tell Ralph he would see them all there. Arthur had thought Tommy’s keenness to be within spitting distance of Thompson’s at the end of the day shift might have more to do with catching a glimpse of Polly, or better still, bumping into her.
It was now the fourth day since the falling-out. Arthur had hoped that Polly’s ire might have cooled down, but it would seem not. Whenever she was about, you could cut the atmosphere with a knife. Not that she’d been about much. She’d come in late, force down whatever food her ma put in front of her, then go to her room, shut the door and not come out until the next morning.
Whether or not she was sleeping was a different matter.
The dark circles under her eyes suggested not.
When Polly walked into the Maison Nouvelle, she was surprised to see Helen there.
She had a clothes bag over her arm and was saying her thanks and farewell to Kate.
Helen looked at Polly and then at her wedding dress, on show in the middle of the shop.
It was quite simply beautiful.
‘If it was me,’ said Helen, ‘I’d get married just so I could wear that dress.’
Polly looked at Helen and had to let out a short burst of laughter. She believed her.
‘Are you coming for a drink tomorrow night at the Admiral? After work?’ Polly asked.
Helen shook her head.
‘I’ve got too much to do before the launch.’
Polly caught the excitement in Helen’s voice and guessed that whatever was in the canvas clothes bag was her outfit for her long-awaited date with Brutus.
Helen’s love, Polly realised, was her job.
‘You enjoy, though,’ Helen said, heading out the door. ‘I’ve got Harold to put some money behind the bar as a way of saying thank you for everyone’s hard work.’
After Helen left, Kate made them both a cup of tea out the back.
When Polly apologised to Kate for wasting her time, Kate dismissed her words with the wave of a delicate hand. Polly offered to pay for all the work that had gone into the dress, but Kate told her not to worry – the dress would be sold.
‘I’ve already had interest,’ she told Polly as they both supped their tea.
Leaving the shop, Polly couldn’t help but turn to take a final look at her wedding dress.
It hurt.
But what pained her the most was that the hurt was, in part, self-inflicted.