Chapter Six

The women all settled down at their table in the canteen. They were still keeping up their ‘lessons’ in current affairs, although of late they had dropped to every other day. Now that Peter was back and the liberation of France was fast becoming a reality, they no longer urgently needed to scour the papers for news that might pertain to Rosie’s husband’s welfare. It was the same with articles about Gibraltar, where Polly’s husband, Tommy Watts, was stationed. The success of the North African campaign and the surrender of Italy meant that the Rock’s primary role was now as a supply depot for those ships crossing the Mediterranean.

As they started to tuck into their lunches, Hannah read out a piece about the Majdanek concentration camp on the south-eastern outskirts of Lublin. The city, along with several others in Poland, had been liberated by Soviet forces.

‘Do you think it might mean that the one your parents are in will also be liberated?’ Martha asked.

Everyone knew that Hannah’s Jewish parents, who hailed from Prague, had been taken to the Auschwitz camp two-and-a-half-years ago – and that she had no idea if they were alive or dead. The only reason Hannah was not there with them was because they’d sent her over to England to live with her aunty Rina just before the start of the war.

‘Let’s hope so,’ Hannah said.

Angie and Dorothy were paying particular attention. They were also interested in hearing about what was happening in Poland so that they could relay any news back to Mrs Kwiatkowski, whose command of the English language was good, but less so when reading.

When Hannah finished the article and started to eat her sandwiches, the conversation turned to news closer to home: which yards were launching what kinds of vessels, as well as any gossip that was doing the rounds.

‘Did you know the women at Doxford’s have their own room where they can eat their lunch?’ Polly said.

‘Really?’ said Martha.

‘Well, it’s a good job we’ve not got one here,’ Angie jibed, ‘’cos then yer wouldn’t be able to have Olly here.’

Hannah smiled at Olly, who pushed his thick-framed spectacles up the bridge of his nose. It was a nervous tic of his when he was the focus of attention. Hannah had become close to Olly after she had swapped her welding job for work as an apprentice draughtsman. The two were now inseparable.

As they all munched their packed lunches, they argued the case for and against having a women-only room. Having agreed they were happy with the status quo, Dorothy surveyed the table and cleared her throat. When that didn’t stop the women’s chatter, she picked up her teaspoon and tapped the edge of her teacup.

Everyone looked up.

‘Yer ganna make a toast, Dor?’ Angie laughed.

‘Not quite,’ said Dorothy. ‘More an announcement.’

‘What’s it about this time?’ Martha chuckled.

‘I have made up my mind!’ Dorothy declared, surveying her workmates’ faces.

‘What? About Bobby and Toby?’ asked Polly.

‘Indeed,’ said Dorothy. ‘About Bobby and Toby.’

The women looked at Dorothy with great expectation. Their normally loquacious workmate had been unusually quiet on the topic of the two men vying for her attention since their drinks at the Admiral.

Dorothy looked at Rosie. ‘I thought about what you said – you know, about it being me who should be the one to decide who or what it is I want.’

Rosie nodded and smiled.

‘And?’ Gloria asked. Her son was going to be heartbroken if he wasn’t the chosen one. He might come across as a bit of a Jack the Lad, always joshing about and joking, but deep down he was a serious soul – and he was most certainly serious about Dorothy.

‘Who have you picked?’ Hannah asked. She and Olly had agreed that Dorothy’s two suitors might well be complete opposites in looks, backgrounds and personalities, but they were the same in one regard. They were both dotty about her.

Dorothy cleared her throat.

‘Well, it’s not so much about me choosing between the two.’ She paused. ‘If I’m honest, I don’t really know who I want. But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. A lot of thinking.’

‘Must have been hard,’ Martha joked.

Dorothy gave her a mock scowl.

‘And what conclusion have you come to?’ Olly asked, intrigued.

‘I’ve decided that I’m going to tell Toby that I don’t want to marry him.’ Dorothy pulled a face. It hurt her to have to say it. Until a few weeks ago, she had been sure that all she wanted was to see Toby drop down on one knee and ask her to be his wife. Her life would be set out before her. Courtship, marriage – then family. How had it all gone awry?

‘Aww,’ said Polly.

‘What? You don’t think I should?’ Dorothy panicked. Perhaps she should just tell herself to get a grip. Forget her kiss with Bobby. Concentrate on a future with Toby.

‘No, no, I didn’t mean that,’ Polly said. ‘It’s just that I feel a bit sorry for Toby. He’s crazy about you. He’s going to be heartbroken.’ All the women had thought Dorothy and Toby made a perfect couple.

Dorothy’s shoulders sagged. ‘I know. I feel awful. I’m going to feel worse than awful when I tell him.’ She was dreading telling him. The weight of guilt had lain heavily on her since she’d made up her mind. As had the push and pull of indecision. Was she doing the right thing – or not?

‘So, why exactly have you decided to turn Toby down?’ Rosie asked, taking a sip of her tea.

‘Because it just wouldn’t be fair on him,’ Dorothy said, her mind starting to run through the reasons she’d listed in her head. She’d asked herself the same question countless times. ‘I can’t say yes to marrying him, knowing that I’ve just kissed someone else. I mean, it’s not right, is it?’ She looked at Polly. ‘I bet you didn’t even look at another bloke when you were with Tommy.’

Polly gave a sad smile. God, she missed Tommy. ‘No, I didn’t.’

‘I think yer’ve made the right decision,’ Gloria ventured. ‘And I’m not speaking as Bobby’s mam, but as a friend.’ She looked at Dorothy. ‘I think yer need to be a hundred per cent about someone if yer gonna agree to marry them – ’n obviously yer not.’

‘So, does that mean you’re going to end it with Toby?’ Martha asked.

All the women looked at Dorothy.

‘I don’t know,’ she said, a look of pure wretchedness on her face. ‘I just keep thinking that something’s not right if I’m off kissing another bloke, is it?’ Again, Dorothy’s mind swung back to Bobby. And that kiss. Then back to Toby and all the good times they’d had – the future that could be theirs.

There were a few mutterings of agreement, although none of the women really wanted to commit themselves. They knew that this was a decision Dorothy had to make for herself.

‘I mean, I can’t see Vivien Leigh off kissing someone else when she’s got Laurence Olivier, or Katharine Hepburn when she’s with Spencer Tracy … And if it was the other way round, and I knew Toby had been kissing some other woman behind my back, I’d dump him in a flash.’

Another pause.

‘Kissing someone who isn’t your fiancé does not bode well for a future marriage, does it?’ she said. Nor the way kissing Bobby had made her feel.

This time there were more robust murmurs of agreement from the women.

‘Do you think I’m doing the right thing?’ Dorothy asked, looking around at her friends for affirmation.

‘It’s what feels right for you,’ Rosie said.

‘Definitely,’ agreed Gloria.

Dorothy looked at Angie. ‘We’ve had a good chat about it, haven’t we?’ she said, smiling at her friend. ‘Even though everything we’ve talked about has probably been repeated verbatim to Quentin.’

Angie shook her head in denial, although it was true. She had indeed told Quentin every cough and spit.

‘So, when are you going to tell him?’ Polly asked.

Dorothy grimaced.

‘Well,’ she looked again at Angie, ‘we decided it was unfair to drag him all the way up north to tell him my answer’s no, only for him to then have to go all the way back down south again.’

‘And it’s not as if Dor can gan down ’n drop in on Toby – him being all top secret,’ Angie said. Like Peter, Toby was also with the SOE, although his war work had kept him on British soil.

‘So,’ Dorothy said, ‘it was a toss-up between a phone call and a letter.’

‘She’s gonna dee both,’ Angie informed them. ‘Speak to him on the blower ’n write him a letter.’

‘Tell him that I feel it’s too early to be talking about marriage. That it’s a no for the time being … and then see what he says about everything,’ Dorothy said.

‘Sounds to me like yer want him to tell yer what to do,’ said Gloria.

No one said anything, but it was clear they agreed with their mother hen’s summary of the situation.

‘So, when are you going to speak to him?’ Rosie asked.

Dorothy pulled a long face.

‘Tonight. He’s calling me tonight.’

As Dorothy and Angie made their way from the ferry landing back home, they were both in unusually sombre moods.

‘Gloria’s right, yer knar,’ Angie said.

‘About what?’ asked Dorothy.

‘Yer knar what,’ Angie said. ‘Yer wanting Toby to make yer decision for yer – about whether yer both keep courting.’

Dorothy was quiet as they turned down Norfolk Street. A group of shipyard workers walking in front of them turned down one of the backstreets that led to one of the rougher east-end pubs.

‘I think,’ Angie continued, ‘yer really hoping that Toby won’t be too happy about having his offer of marriage turned down and he’ll suggest calling it a day.’

Dorothy looked at Angie but didn’t say anything. They turned right onto Borough Road.

‘Oh, Ange,’ Dorothy lamented. ‘I just don’t feel like I know my own mind at the moment. I felt so sure I wanted Toby – wanted to marry him, share my life with him—’ She broke off, thinking of all the moments she had enjoyed with Toby, chatting about the end of the war and how wonderful it would be for them to be together all the time. She’d known he was going to propose. She’d been so excited by the prospect. And then bloody Bobby had stomped onto the scene.

‘And then Bobby tipped up,’ Angie said, reading her thoughts.

Dorothy nodded.

‘If I hadn’t had that kiss, I wouldn’t be in this emotional quagmire.’

‘Mmm,’ Angie said, ‘I dinnit knar about that. What would happen if yer got engaged – or worse still, yer got hitched – and then someone like Bobby came along who yer fancied? Yer’d been in an even worse emotional quagmire.’

As they turned into Foyle Street, they slowed down.

‘Do yer wanna hear what I really think?’ Angie asked.

Dorothy nodded.

‘I think yer knew the moment yer kissed Bobby it was all over with Toby.’ Angie said what she was sure all the women were secretly thinking. ‘I dinnit think yer the type of person who can kiss someone else ’n then just carry on with yer fella as if it never happened. I think the guilt’ll eat away at yer – ’n you’ll eventually have to confess all. And then it’ll be much worse – much more of a betrayal.’

Dorothy stopped outside their front door. She pulled off her headscarf and sighed heavily and with great sadness.

‘You’re right, Ange. I wish you weren’t, but you are.’ She sighed again as she rummaged in her bag for the front-door keys.

‘I’m gonna have to tell him it’s over, aren’t I?’ She pulled out her keys.

Angie looked at her best mate and thought that she had never seen her look so forlorn.

‘I think yer are, Dor.’

At seven o’clock, Dorothy and Angie walked down the stairs to Mrs Kwiatkowski’s flat on the ground floor. As usual, her door was open and there was the comforting smell of home-made bread wafting out into the main hallway.

Angie knocked on the door. ‘Cooee! Mrs Kwiatkowski, it’s only us.’

Their old neighbour came bustling out of the back bedroom.

‘Wejdźcie moi drodzy wejdźcie,’ she said, waving them in. She shook her head. ‘Come in, my dears.’

Dorothy and Angie had noticed that of late their neighbour had seemed to be slipping back into her native language more frequently.

‘My, you two look … how you say it … dressed to kill,’ she chuckled. ‘But hopefully, not literally.’

‘Thanks, Mrs Kwiatkowski,’ Dorothy said as they followed the old woman into the kitchen. ‘Although I do feel what I am about to do is tantamount to murder.’

‘Honestly, Dor, yer are a drama queen.’ Angie rolled her eyes at Mrs Kwiatkowski.

They all looked over at the phone. The weapon with which Dorothy was going to commit her murderous act – the killing of a love affair.

Mrs Kwiatkowski looked up at the clock. She knew Toby was due to ring at quarter-past seven.

‘Let’s have a nice cup of tea,’ she said, bustling over to the kettle.

Dorothy and Angie sat down.

‘I’m guessing you two are going to the Ritz tonight?’ Mrs Kwiatkowski twisted her head round and looked at her two pretty neighbours.

‘We are,’ Angie said without much enthusiasm. ‘Dor has insisted we gan, otherwise she said she’d be pacing around the flat feeling guilt-ridden, down and depressed.’

‘And the Ritz will stop her feeling these emotions?’ Mrs Kwiatkowski said, putting the teapot on the table.

‘Nah,’ Angie laughed, ‘but a few port and lemons might.’

Dorothy tutted and glanced nervously at the phone.

‘I feel more evil than the Wicked Witch of the West when she snatches Toto and threatens to kill him,’ she said, forlornly.

Mrs Kwiatkowski looked puzzled. She had never seen The Wizard of Oz. Angie shook her head to show it wasn’t important. ‘Dorothy’s just being silly.’

Mrs Kwiatkowski poured out the tea.

Dorothy looked at the clock. It was nearly quarter past. She felt sick with nerves.

‘I can’t remember what we’d agreed I was going to say …’ She looked to Angie for help.

‘That yer really sorry,’ Angie reiterated, ‘that yer think it’s too early to get engaged – or married.’ She was now actually feeling guilty by proxy. She had got to know Toby. He was a lovely bloke. Which made him being dumped all the worse. ‘That yer might have been seeing each other for a year and a half, but really you’ve not spent that much time together … That when you add it all up, it’s probably the equivalent of being together just a few months.’

‘You don’t think that’s demeaning what we had?’ Dorothy asked.

Seeing the confused look on Angie’s and Mrs Kwiatkowski’s faces, she added, ‘You know … belittling our relationship.’

‘Maybe,’ Angie conceded.

‘Perhaps leave that bit out,’ Mrs Kwiatkowski suggested.

They all looked at the phone.

‘It’s plugged in, isn’t it?’ Dorothy panicked. She couldn’t miss the call. She needed to get this over with.

‘And you’re not going to tell him about the other young man?’ Mrs Kwiatkowski asked. She had seen Dorothy with Bobby. The chemistry between the pair was obvious.

‘No, no, definitely not,’ Dorothy said, anger towards Bobby sweeping to the fore. All this heartache and the terrible feelings of guilt were Bobby’s fault. She had really loved Toby. Loved him as a person. Loved being with him. If Bobby hadn’t come along, she’d have been more than happy with Toby. Wouldn’t she? Or was it easier to blame Bobby than herself?

‘We think telling Toby about Bobby would be too hurtful,’ Angie said. She wanted to add that Quentin thought so too, but didn’t.

‘But it might help him understand why Dorothy is rejecting his proposal of marriage,’ Mrs Kwiatkowski said. ‘Rather than him thinking it’s something to do with him.’

‘I think it would be rubbing salt into the wound,’ Dorothy said. In reality, she did not want to be cast into the role of wanton woman.

‘Do you think that if I change my mind later and tell him I’ve made a mistake, he’d have me back?’

‘Perhaps, if he didn’t get to know about Bobby,’ Angie mused.

‘And if he did get to know?’ Dorothy asked, even though she knew the answer to her own question.

‘Toby might be nice, but he’s not that nice!’ Angie said.

‘So, you’re not just telling him no to marriage, but no to everything?’ Mrs Kwiatkowski asked. ‘You’re going to end your courtship with him?’

Dorothy looked pitifully glum. ‘I am.’

Mrs Kwiatkowski reached out and put her gnarled hand over Dorothy’s and squeezed it. ‘Well, I think you have made the right decision.’

All of a sudden, there was a loud knock on the main front door. They all jumped.

‘Who’s that?’ Dorothy looked at Mrs Kwiatkowski. ‘Are you expecting anyone?’

The old woman shook her head.

Angie got up and hurried over to the window that looked out onto the street.

‘Bloody Nora, Dor,’ she said, turning to look at her best mate. ‘He’s here! Toby’s here!’