Chapter Fifty

When the Salvation Army played their final carol, ‘God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen’, which Dorothy and Angie had chosen as they felt it would end the gift-giving part of the day on a high, hopeful note, they announced to each ward that it was time for everyone to head to the canteen for the King’s message to the Commonwealth. ‘Which,’ Dorothy announced loudly, ‘will be followed by entertainment and a buffet.’

Seeing that some of the men needed a little cajoling as many had already started to play games of cards or dominoes, Angie added equally loudly that there might also be ‘a little nip of something to toast King ’n country’. It was an enticement that led to the putting down of cards and a more concerted effort to obey Dorothy’s instructions.

As they crowded into the canteen, there were gasps of amazement from every person who walked or was wheeled through the main entrance, for the place really had been transformed. The main overhead lights had been switched off and replaced by fairy lights, whilst candles had been lit on all the tables, the flickering flames highlighting the sparkling silver tinsel. The whole effect was magical.

Polly and Gloria took trays of drinks around the tables for toasting King and country. Martha took soft drinks to the Salvation Army, who had accepted the offer to stay and enjoy the rest of the day. And the tuba player took the opportunity of introducing himself properly to Martha, quickly telling her his name was Adam and he worked at the local colliery.

Dorothy and Angie noticed that Helen and Dr Eris seemed to be deep in conversation.

‘I wonder what they’re chatting about,’ Dorothy mused. ‘They don’t seem as frosty with each other.’

‘Maybe because Dr Eris helped save Henrietta,’ Angie suggested. ‘And she gave her those admissions forms.’

‘Could be,’ Dorothy ruminated. ‘But it looks as though she’s still stopping Helen from having her man.’

Looking up at the clock on the wall, Dorothy threw Angie a nervous look. ‘It’s time.’

She stepped forward and announced in her most sombre voice:

‘And now for the King’s Christmas Day message.’

A hush fell as Angie switched on the wireless and it crackled to life. She turned the volume up high.

Everyone fell silent as King George VI’s faltering voice came through the airways.

‘Once more, on Christmas Day, I speak to millions of you scattered far and near across the world. I count it a high privilege to be able to use these moments to send a Christmas message of goodwill to men and women of whatever creed and colour who may be listening to me throughout our Commonwealth and Empire – on the battlefields, on the high seas or in foreign lands. At this Christmas time we think proudly and gratefully of our fighting men wherever they may be. May God bless and protect them and bring them victory.’

Dorothy looked at Bobby, knowing he would be thinking of Gordon. He might claim his brother was a born survivor and could swim the Channel if he had to, but she knew that was for his mam’s benefit.

‘Our message goes to all who are wounded or sick in hospital and to the doctors and nurses in their labour of mercy.’

Dorothy looked around at the faces of everyone in the canteen – the wounded soldiers, the doctors and the nurses. It was the first time she felt emotional. She grabbed Angie’s hand and squeezed it. She didn’t need to look at her best friend to know she was feeling the same.

‘And our thoughts and prayers are also with our men who are prisoners of war, and with their relatives in their loneliness and anxiety. Among the deepest sorrows we have felt in these years of strife, the one we feel most is the grief of separation. Families rent apart by the call of service.’

Dorothy and Angie looked at Polly, Gloria and Hannah. Their eyes were glistening with tears.

‘We have rejoiced in the victories of this year, not least because they have broken down some of the barriers between us and our friends and brought us nearer to the time when we can all be together again with those we love. For the moment, we have a foretaste of that joy and we enter into the fellowship of Christmas Day. At this great festival, more perhaps than at any other season of the year, we long for a new birth of freedom and order among all nations, so that happiness and concord may prevail, and the scourge of war may be banished from our midst.’

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

‘We do not know what awaits us when we open the door of 1945, but if we look back to those earlier Christmas days of the war, we can surely say that the darkness daily grows less and less. The lamps which the Germans put out all over Europe, first in 1914 and then in 1939, are being slowly rekindled. Already, we can see some of them beginning to shine through the fog of war that still shrouds so many lands. Anxiety is giving way to confidence, and let us hope that before next Christmas Day, God willing, the story of liberation and triumph will be complete.

‘Throughout the Empire, men and women and boys and girls, through hard work and much self-sacrifice, have all helped to bring victory nearer.’

The women automatically looked at each other – it was a look of pride.

‘In the meantime, in the old words that never lose their force, I wish you from my heart a happy Christmas and for the coming year a full measure of that courage and faith in God which alone enables us to bear old sorrows and face new trials until the day when the Christmas message – Peace on earth and goodwill toward men – finally comes true.’

At this point, the quietness was broken by a murmuring of ‘Hear! Hear!’

When the King’s speech finished, those who were able stood for the National Anthem. The atmosphere was still and serious. As the first chords sounded out, everyone started to sing. After the final words of ‘God Save the King’, there was a moment’s pause before Major Black raised his glass and boomed out, ‘Hip hip hooray!’

‘Hip hip hooray!’ The whole canteen was filled with the sound of deep voices.

‘Hip hip hooray!’ The cheers rang louder still.

And then everyone took a slug of their drinks.

As they all sat back down, the cafeteria was filled with the noise of scraping chairs and the beginnings of chatter. Dorothy positioned herself at the front and waited for everyone to settle. As she did so, she had another quick sip of her port and lemon. Normally, she liked to be the centre of attention, but this was different. This was not holding court with her workmates in the middle of the shipyard. This was altogether very different and rather nerve-racking.

She tapped her glass with a teaspoon and cleared her throat as loudly as she could. She looked nervously at Bobby, who gave her a reassuring smile and a thumbs up.

‘Next on today’s Christmas Extravaganza agenda – ’ she raised her voice as loud as she could without having to shout ‘ – is some live entertainment by Dahlia and Marie-Anne, who you may all know as Santa’s “not-so-little helpers”.’ There was a smatter of chuckling from the audience, which gave Dorothy some confidence. ‘They are going to perform some Christmas songs for you.’ She took in a gulp of air, realising that she actually needed to breathe. ‘And afterwards Mick the Magician is going to amaze you with his wizardry.’

She put her hands together to applaud. Everyone followed her lead.

There – she’d done it!

Dorothy went over to Bobby, who slid his arm around her waist and whispered in her ear, ‘I’m so incredibly proud of you.’

Watching Dahlia and Marie-Anne walk to the front, smiling at their audience, for once Dorothy felt not a flicker of envy. She would not want to swap places with either of them for all the tea in China. As they started singing ‘Swinging on a Star’, neither showed even a smidgen of nerves. They were both naturals, playing to the camera when Georgina stepped forward to take a shot. They had their audience captivated. Spotting one of the soldiers with a harmonica and his friend who was holding a flute, they waved them to the front to join in. After a raucous round of applause, they continued their set, ending with ‘Winter Wonderland’. The men were up on their feet, whistling and cheering. Even Dorothy had to admit they were pretty good.