40. On Top of the World

Gracie’s return home was a joyous occasion. Her parents welcomed her back with open arms, and the neighbours were discreet enough not to ask too many awkward questions. Though happy to be back with her family, Gracie suddenly saw things in a different light. The home she had grown up in seemed small and cramped; she had forgotten all about the draughty outdoor privy in the backyard, and after spending months at Mary Vale the lack of gardens and fresh sea-air was quite a shock. Of course, Gracie soon slipped back into familiar old ways, but she nevertheless realized what a huge impact Mary Vale had had on her, in more ways than the obvious one.

Back at the shipyard, Gracie was welcomed with hugs and kisses from her female workmates. The men (so many fewer than there had been when she was last there) wolf-whistled or winked at Gracie as she passed by, but Gracie had eyes only for the majestic cranes that dominated the Barrow skyline. When would she get the chance to operate one, she wondered impatiently.

The call-up from the management for women with experience of driving came faster than Gracie could ever have imagined. When she was being interviewed, Gracie told the bosses of her driving experience, while carefully sidestepping her stay in a Mother and Baby Home.

‘I’ve been driving for well over a year now,’ she informed them. ‘In fact, when I lived previously in Grange, I did a market run every weekend and ran a delivery service during the week.’

Seeing the two bosses exchanging looks, Gracie talked up her passion and ability in the hope of impressing them.

‘I’m quite capable,’ she insisted. ‘And it’s something I very much want to do,’ she added boldly. ‘It’s vital war work and essential to the running of the shipyard.’

The two men nodded in approval.

‘You’re right there, lass,’ the senior man said. ‘With able-bodied crane drivers whipped off to drive tanks, we’ve been pushed to find anybody remotely qualified.’

‘Who’d a tho’wt we’d see the days when lasses were doing a fella’s job,’ the other man moaned.

Though Gracie thought his remark inappropriate in these times of crisis, she kept her mouth firmly shut. She was on the verge of getting what she wanted; now was not the time to rock the boat.

‘There’ll be a training period before you’re left in sole charge of any of the giant cranes,’ the older man told her.

‘I would expect that, sir,’ Gracie answered earnestly. ‘Driving a shipyard crane is serious work.’

The older man smiled; she could see that he liked her.

‘You’re right there, pet – be back first thing in the morning to start your training.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Gracie replied, trying to control the bubbling excitement that threatened to overtake her as she virtually skipped out of the manager’s office.

After her intense training Gracie was passed as fit to operate a mobile crane with a twenty-five-foot jib. Her heart skipped several beats as she stood underneath it, staring up with a slack jaw and wide eyes.

‘My dreams have come true,’ she murmured to Maggie, who, though immensely proud of her friend, was left unimpressed by the sight of the towering crane.

Battling back tears, Gracie gulped, ‘I’m the first woman in the yard to drive a crane.’

Maggie grinned as she gave her old pal a dig in the ribs. ‘Isn’t that what you always wanted?’

‘YES!’ deliriously happy Gracie cried, as she hugged her astonished friend.

‘Then you’d best make a good job of it – you know what fellas are like?’ Maggie pointed out. ‘Quick to judge, especially where us lasses are concerned.’

In order to start work Gracie had to climb 160 feet up the crane on a series of ladders. When she finally arrived in her cabin, hot and flushed, what little breath was left in her lungs was lost in a wild gasp of delight.

‘No wonder these machines are called giants,’ she thought to herself. ‘I feel like I’m on top of the world.’

Spread out below her were the yard, the docks, the berths and the slipways, with hundreds of bustling workers, looking like little ants, going about their business. The town lay beyond, rows and rows of terraced houses and long, narrow streets; and beyond the urban sprawl was the vast expanse of the sparkling Irish Sea, which stretched westward into a shimmering blue infinity.

Dragging her mind back to the job in hand, Gracie settled into her seat, where she started to tackle her first task: to load a boiler on to a battleship that was in the process of being rebuilt. Trembling with both nerves and excitement, Gracie took her time to complete the task of lifting and of unloading tons of equipment. With practice and experience she was soon able to place the goods that she was responsible for within an inch of where they were required to be, whether it was moving material off the ships that had come into the yard for repair work or loading them with vital equipment needed overseas.

As the war progressed, it was a huge relief to see American convoys arriving at the shipyard. Safely escorted across the Atlantic by frigates and destroyers, they were regular, welcome visitors loaded with cargo that was vital to Britain: anything from food supplies, coal, medical equipment to ammunition, tanks and planes in sections ready to be assembled. It was at moments like these, when Gracie offloaded hundreds of tons of precious goods, that she truly felt that she really was part of the war effort. From Barrow, American goods deposited in the yard would be quickly dispatched across the country to feed the hungry, heal the sick, build bombs, warm homes and fight off the enemy. With only the wheeling seagulls overhead to hear her Gracie often would cry out her heartfelt thanks.

‘Thank you, Yanks! Come back soon.’

Though Gracie missed her friends, she barely had time to catch her breath since starting her challenging new job. She hadn’t written to Diana or caught up with Zelda, so when she saw Dora in Barrow town centre Gracie was overjoyed.

‘Dora!’ she cried, as she rushed across the street to give her friend a hug.

It was only when Dora turned in her direction that Gracie saw how dramatically changed the older woman looked. From being a strong, robust woman with sparkling eyes and a ready smile always playing at the corners of her mouth, Dora was now drawn and thin, with vacant eyes and unkempt, greasy grey hair.

‘Hello, dear,’ Gracie said in a softer voice. ‘Do you remember me from Mary Vale? Gracie, Zelda and Diana?’

A spark of recognition briefly lit up Dora’s haggard face; then, sounding confused, she demanded in a slurred, tired voice, ‘What’s your name?’

Desperately wondering how she could reach out to the woman who had been one of her strongest allies only months ago, Gracie was uncharacteristically lost for words. She was hugely relieved when she caught sight of Mr Saddleworth hurrying towards his wife with an anxious expression on his face.

‘Lovie, what’re you doing?’ he asked gently.

‘I got lost and this woman here says she knows me,’ Dora answered in a frail, quivery voice.

Mr Saddleworth smiled as he recognized Gracie. ‘We’ve just been to the doctor’s,’ he explained, filling Gracie in on their recent devastating news.

‘She’s been on tranquillizers since we heard – no interest in anything, not even the work that she used to live for.’

‘She’ll be badly missed at Mary Vale,’ Gracie murmured. ‘Everybody loved her, especially the babies.’

‘I wish she were back there,’ Mr Saddleworth said with real longing in his voice. ‘These days she just sleeps or weeps all day.’

Seeing Dora getting agitated, he took her by the arm. ‘Come on, lovie, let’s find the bus stop and get you home.’

‘Bye, Dora,’ Gracie said softly. ‘God bless you, sweetheart.’

Standing by the roadside watching them walk away brought a sob to Gracie’s throat. Dora was one of the strongest women she had ever known. Tough, funny, compassionate and generous, she had been a great support to everyone at the Home, nun, nurse, resident or neighbour. Yet here she was, broken in the prime of her life by the horrors of war that were just too painful to bear. Seething with anger, Gracie continued on her way home.

‘It’s not bloody fair,’ she swore out loud, causing passers-by to throw odd sideways glances at her.

Jack, laughing, joking friendly Jack, who had asked her to dance when she was the size of a house; who planned to take her to the pictures when he was next home on leave. If she hadn’t been pregnant, she might have flirted with him, kissed him and sent him off with a smile on his face; as it was, she hadn’t ever answered one of his letters.

She stopped on the corner of her street for a moment and turned to look at the sea. Her heart lifted at the sight of her crane, which she immediately made out from the others berthed in the yard. By God, she had got what she wanted, more than she had ever dreamt of. She was alive and young, her life stretched out before her, but what had those thousands upon thousands of young lads fighting for their country got? The thought made Gracie both angry and sad. It also galvanized her further: she would work until she dropped to fight the war the only way she knew how – driving cranes at Barrow Shipyard, where beating the enemy motivated the entire workforce.