Tommy jammed on his helmet, then hooked his arm through the spare helmet that Arthur had worn on the journey there. Turning the ignition key, he kick-started the engine, dropped the clutch and twisted the throttle.
There was only one thought in his mind.
He rode along the Commercial Road and continued onto Hendon Road before veering left on West Wear Street, slowing down as he turned right into Bridge Street. Seeing that his way was clear, he accelerated and blasted across the Wearmouth Bridge. He took the corner onto Dame Dorothy Street, the foot pedal almost scraping the surface of the road.
Again, he twisted the throttle and sped down the quarter-mile stretch before jamming on the brakes. The back end skidded out a fraction as the bike came to a halt. Fierce impatience suddenly raged. Not just at the passing traffic but at himself. For leaving this too long. Turning right and going carefully over the bumpy cobbles, he descended the steep embankment to the gates of Thompson’s.
A few workers either arriving or leaving the yard turned their heads on hearing the bike’s low, thumping engine. An uncommon sound these days and one that could just about be heard despite the clanking and clamouring of the shipyard.
Tommy turned left and came to a halt at the timekeeper’s cabin.
He pulled off his helmet, his hair ruffled and his face full of determination.
Alfie looked down, saw who it was and instantly knew why he was there.
‘Polly Elliot!’ Tommy shouted up. It wasn’t a request. He rested his helmet on the tank and slowly released the clutch.
The bike very slowly thudded its way across the yard. Barely faster than walking pace.
Workers stopped what they were doing, fascinated by the sight. Cars, vans and ambulances were unusual but not entirely uncommon sights in the town’s second-largest shipyard – but a motorbike? That was an anomaly. Riveters stopped riveting, caulkers stopped caulking, crane drivers left metal plates dangling in mid-air. The little tea boy downed his see-saw of tin cans and started running behind Tommy’s bike, his face full of gleeful fascination.
Tommy was unaware of the attention he was attracting. He was focused on one thing and one thing only. His vision fixed on the quayside where he knew Polly and her squad would be.
He spotted Martha first. She was turning around, pushing up her mask, looking at whatever it was that was catching the attention of those around her.
His eyes desperately seeking out Polly, Tommy finally saw the rest of the women welders, their backs to him.
He could see the amber glow of their welds bringing a rare splash of colour to their drab surroundings.
Rosie’s familiar face, her blonde curls in disarray, appeared next to Martha as she too pushed up her metal mask. She looked small next to her.
A hundred yards away, he saw Dorothy rise from her haunches and turn around. Her mouth fell open at the same time as her hand tapped the back of the woman next to her.
A flurry of sparks died instantly as Angie upended her mask.
Martha looked down at the two remaining welders.
Both were sitting, both had one leg straight out, the other at a right angle.
Both backs were hunched over flat welds.
One of the women looked up at Martha and put down her rod before twisting round.
She took off her mask.
It was Gloria.
Polly was oblivious to all around her. Engrossed in her weld, the hypnotic shower of molten metal allowing her to escape the darkness that had consumed her these past seven days.
Rosie stepped towards her, switched off her machine and dropped down onto her haunches.
She pointed ahead.
Polly pulled off her mask and turned just in time to see Tommy bring the bike to a halt.
Kicking out the bike stand, he switched off the engine. Leaning forward, he quickly placed both helmets on the ground and swung his leg over the back of the bike.
Tommy strode over to Polly, his eyes not leaving her once. The noise of the yard made any kind of speech pointless.
He saw the look in her eyes and his heart lifted.
Polly’s world of sparkling metal suddenly died, replaced by Rosie, who had bobbed down directly opposite her. Just inches away.
She mouthed something that Polly couldn’t work out and then Polly saw her point to something behind her.
Something was happening in the yard.
Pulling off her mask and banging it down on the ground, Polly twisted herself around.
Tommy!
Pulling herself to her feet, she turned to see him striding over.
She felt her heart hammering against her chest as she stepped forward, her body moving of its own accord.
She needed to feel his body against hers.
She loved this man. Regardless of what the future might hold.
It was a fight she would never win.
That she no longer wanted to win.
And then she saw him mouth the words.
I love you.
Tears welled up as he reached her.
Through the blur, she saw his face bend down to hers.
She felt his lips on her own. Gentle at first. Then more urgent.
She felt his lips on her neck and on her ear.
And then she heard his voice.
‘I love you, Polly Elliot.’
She flung her arms around his neck, breathing in his scent.
‘I love you too, Tommy Watts.’
Rosie, Martha, Gloria, Dorothy and Angie stood rooted to the spot. Their eyes not once leaving their friend. They watched with tears stinging as Polly and Tommy kissed.
When Polly put her arms around Tommy’s neck and he lifted her off the ground, Dorothy couldn’t contain herself any longer.
‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ she exclaimed. Not that anyone could hear her words.
Her arm punched the air in victory. Ecstatic that love had won.
Angie jumped up and down, her own exuberance uncontained. Her helmet fell from the back of her head and clattered to the ground.
She grabbed Dorothy’s hand in excitement and they both raised their arms to celebrate love’s victory.
Martha was standing arms akimbo. She looked at Dorothy and Angie and then back at Polly and Tommy. A huge gap-toothed smile plastered across her face.
‘Thank God for that,’ Gloria said aloud. Whatever happened now, at least Polly’s future would not be blighted by regret. She knew what that was like, had lived it, and would not wish it on anyone.
Rosie put her hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the glint of sunlight that had appeared a little earlier and had stayed to shine its light on this real life theatre.
Brushing away a tear, she thought of Peter.
The women watched, along with most of the workforce, as Tommy kissed Polly one final time before grabbing one of the helmets. He pulled the bottom chinstraps wide. Raising the helmet above her head, he gently pulled it down. He stepped closer so that their bodies were just about touching and fastened the straps.
Quickly putting on his own helmet in one sweeping motion, he turned, climbed on the bike and kicked back the stand with his left foot.
Putting her hands on Tommy’s shoulders to balance herself, Polly climbed on the back. With her feet just about touching the ground, she slid her arms around Tommy’s waist. Their bodies were now meshed together as Tommy carefully manoeuvred round in a half-circle, before turning the ignition and starting the bike.
It spluttered into life, the engine thumping over.
The women watched as the bike slowly weaved its way across the yard.
Tommy slowed to a halt to nod his thanks to Alfie, who had also been watching the whole drama, enthralled.
And then they disappeared from view.