Gunner Girls and Fighter Boys Page 2

  ‘It’s only Norman! He don’t bite!’

  Norman Carter was Jack’s best friend and he was nice enough, but whenever he came to the house he insisted on teasing her till she blushed. As if on cue there was a knock at the front door, which she ignored. ‘Your hair looks better without that stuff on it.’

  ‘Joycie don’t mind it.’ He chuckled. ‘Go and get that, will you, sis?’

  ‘No!’

  He pulled on his clean shirt and smiled. ‘I’m getting ready!’

  Reluctantly she put down the book and went to answer the door. Norman smelled of Brylcreem and cigarettes. He was a gangly, skinny young man and his wide-lapelled, new brown suit was too big in the shoulders. His long chin bore the signs of an inexpert close shave. He gave her a crooked-toothed grin.

  ‘Hello, gorgeous, got yourself a chap yet? I’m free.’

  A blush began to creep up from her neck, and she was glad of the dimly lit passage.

  ‘Jack’s in the kitchen.’ She let Norman pass her, but didn’t follow. She went into the front room and waited, listening to the two boys laughing. She wished she’d brought her book. But then Jack stuck his head through the door.

  ‘Take no notice of him. You coming?’

  She shook her head. ‘Next time perhaps.’

  The front door slammed as the boys went off for their night at the pub and May watched them walk past the front window. Norman suffered by comparison, for Jack had filled out since joining his father at the docks and his new suit jacket sat snugly across his shoulders. His confidence had grown along with his muscles and as he strode off, hands in pockets, leaning forward, eager for the night ahead, May realized that her brother was no longer a boy.

  She went back to the kitchen to retrieve her book, annoyed with herself that she could be shy around an idiot like Norman Carter. She flung the book on to the kitchen table just as her mother came in.

  ‘Oi, oi, what’s going on? Has Jack been teasing you?’

  ‘Jack? No, Mum!’

  The truth was her big brother, with his winning smile and affectionate ways, had only ever been her champion. It wasn’t his fault that he was the only boy she could be herself with.

  ‘You busy tonight?’

  ‘I’m washing my hair.’

  ‘When you’re done, you can help me sew them new blackout curtains. Your eyes are better than mine. I can’t see the stitches in this light.’

  It was always the way. If she made herself visible, there was sure to be a job for her to do. Mother’s helper, that was her. And although she loved her home, she sometimes longed to be more than just ‘the quiet one’ in the midst of so many other clamouring voices.

  Her mother was right about her keen eyesight, though. Ironic, really, as there was a time when she’d been quite blind. A case of childhood measles had left her with ulcers behind her eyes. It had been a strange, frightening time, sunk in an unseeing world for almost three months, the most unsettling period of her life – to see nothing in a world where she was so seen, on show to every pair of curious eyes that cared to stop and stare and yet not to know she was being stared at. Perhaps that was the cause of her shyness, and why, ever after, she’d chosen to make herself invisible whenever possible.

  May sighed. ‘All right, you start cutting up the material and then my eagle eyes are all yours!’

  She left her mother to get on with it while she washed her long fair hair in the big enamel sink in the kitchen. It took many jugs of water before the soap was fully rinsed. Her parents, in the back room, must have forgotten she was still there, and May’s ears pricked up as she heard them talking about Jack.

  ‘I can’t help it, Albert, I’m so worried about him. What if he gets called up?’

  ‘Well, it’s not happened yet, has it? And you can’t wrap him in cotton wool, Carrie. I’m more worried about where he’s getting his money from. He gets less hours than me at the docks, but I ain’t got no money for new suits like he has.’

  She could tell that her father had his pipe clenched tight between his teeth.

  ‘Don’t tell me that. If he’s nicking stuff from the docks, he’ll go inside,’ Mrs Lloyd said. ‘Still, at least he’d be safe in there.’

  There followed sounds of muffled sobs and May knew her mother’s tears had returned. She decided it was time to make her presence known. Her parents fell silent as she came in and kneeled in front of the fire. Mrs Lloyd brushed away her tears, took the towel from her and began gently rubbing May’s long fair hair.

  ‘At least I’ll be able to keep me daughters with me,’ she whispered.

  Her father smiled fondly and said, ‘Just look at my golden-haired girl, ain’t she beautiful, Carrie? I feel like that miller in Rumpelstilstkin.’

  ‘Me, beautiful?’ May gave a small snort, uncomfortable with compliments, even coming from her father.

  ‘What you blushing for? It’s true!’

  ‘It’s the fire – I’m hot.’

  She stood up quickly and caught sight of herself in the mirror above the fireplace. Beautiful? She couldn’t see it, but perhaps someone might one day think her pretty enough, with her wide blue eyes and high cheekbones. She was slim and straight-backed, and Peggy was always telling May she had a good figure. ‘And you’ll never need to worry about getting fat!’ Peggy had joked. ‘You do everything at a run!’

  ‘Come on then, Mum, let’s get these blackout curtains done,’ she said.

  She gave her mother a quick kiss, and thought of Jack, walking through the cold November night in search of a good time and who knew what else.

  *

  ‘Look at the state of yer!’

  Jack attempted to pull Norman’s jacket up on to his shoulders. ‘No wonder you can’t get no girls to look at you!’

  Norman shoved Jack off. ‘I’m only interested in one girl… your sister!’

  Jack looked genuinely shocked. ‘Our May? I thought you were joking! No, mate, you’re on a loser there. May’s a home bird. If even I can’t get her to come out to the pub, you’ve got no chance!’

  Norman gave his crooked-toothed grin. ‘I think she likes me.’

  ‘You really interested then?’

  ‘Why not?’

  Jack shrugged. ‘She’s me little sister. I still think she’s about twelve, I suppose.’

  Norman sniggered. ‘Jack, you ain’t looked lately – she’s not twelve no more!’

  They had reached the John Bull pub when Jack stopped.

  ‘Hold up, Norm, I’ve just got to pop in here, have a word with me brother-in-law – family business.’ Jack winked at Norman. ‘You wait here.’

  When Jack emerged from the pub with a blast of warm, smoke-filled air he waved a handful of notes under Norman’s nose.

  ‘Gawd, Jack, how much you got there?

  Jack laughed. ‘Five quid. Not bad for a couple of nights’ work.’

  ‘What d’you have to do?’

  ‘I turn up tonight at Wide’oh’s lock-up, move a load of tea chests from one lorry to another, then go home to bed. So instead of ending up at Lipton’s tonight, that finest Darjeeling goes straight in your old mum’s teapot! Wide’oh says it’s just cutting out the middle man.’

  Norman’s long face took on a worried look. ‘But you could get in bad trouble, Jack.’

  Jack sighed. He went on as if talking to a child. ‘Everyone’s at it. Your mum gets cheap tea under the counter, don’t she?’

  Norman nodded.

  ‘Well, I just work for the supplier, mate!’

  By the time they reached the Red Cow, the piano player was in full swing and the Garner’s girls had made a little space in the small interior to practise their dance steps.

  ‘Don’t suppose we’ll be doing any dancing tonight. I’ve got Joycie now and you’re saving yourself for our May, ain’t you, Norm?’ Jack said mischievously.

  ***

  May spent her days at Garner’s, one of a cluster of leather factories situated in an area known as The Grange. Once
the site of Bermondsey Abbey’s farm, all trace of its bucolic past was long gone. The air was no longer filled with the sweet smell of apple orchards. Instead the triangle of land exuded the many noxious tanning fumes, familiar to Bermondsey people. May, like all the other Garner’s girls, had long ago grown accustomed to the smells, but what she could not get used to was the tedium of her days spent sitting at a bench, trimming softened leather hides, or hanging them on stretchers to dry.

  On one particularly dull December day, she and her two closest workmates, Emmy Harris and Dolly Dixon, had been put to work in the dying room. One by one, May and Emmy lifted the wet dyed skins, hung one corner over a large hook and stretched the hide to another hook. It took two of them as the sodden hides were heavy with evil-smelling dye, and it was back-breaking work. As she turned to fetch another hide, one of the hooks caught on May’s long golden hair, yanking her back and entangling her.

  ‘Help me, Em!’

  ‘You and your bloody hair. You should get one of those nets,’ Emmy complained as she tried to disentangle May.

  ‘What’s the hold-up?’

  Eddie Barber, the young foreman, strolled over from his bench. He was more relaxed than the older foremen, who’d usually been fixtures at the factory for years.

  ‘She’s caught her hair,’ Dolly said with a mischievous look. ‘She needs a man to sort her out, Eddie.’

  Eddie grinned back and stood in front of May. One hand taking the weight of the hide, he encircled her with his other arm and unhooked the last lock of hair.

  ‘What do I get for setting you free then?’ he asked.

  May felt herself blushing a deeper scarlet than the dyed leather hide. It didn’t help that Dolly was miming a kiss behind Eddie’s back. She cursed her hair and vowed to change the girlish style at the earliest opportunity.

  ‘You could do worse,’ Dolly said once Eddie was back at his bench.

  May picked up a corner of another hide and slapped it into Dolly’s hand. ‘Don’t! He’ll hear you!’

  She’d worked at Garner’s since leaving school at fourteen, four years earlier, and mostly she’d been content to do her work and go home. While Emmy was funny and Dolly brash, May’s diffidence hindered her as surely as the long hair tangling in the drying hooks. But for some reason, the two girls had taken her under their worldly-wise wings and had made it their mission to set her up with a nice chap. It was largely out of kindness, but sometimes May knew they used her innocence as a foil to their bravado. Their latest target was Bill Gilbie, a young leather worker, who’d also taken on fire-watching and ARP duties at the factory.

  ‘Well, if you don’t want Eddie, I suppose I could let you have my Bill!’ Dolly said with a sigh and Emmy shot back, ‘Your Bill? He’s never looked twice at you, Dol.’

  Dolly pulled a face. ‘Just where you’re wrong ’cause we had a nice chat at the Red Cow the other night.’ She looked at May. ‘He plays the piano there most nights.’ She gave a mock swoon. ‘He’s got lovely hands!’

  As Dolly pretended the workbench was a piano, the object of their discussion opened the dying-room door.

  ‘All down the basement!’ Bill called out, so the whole floor could hear.

  She heard Emmy and Dolly stifling their giggles. But May couldn’t help but notice his hands, one of which lay flat against the swing door. Strong, rather tanned from the leather work, his long tapered fingers were definitely those of a piano player. Bill wore a leather jerkin and an armband, identifying him as a fire warden. In the three months since war had been declared, every raid had been either a drill or a false alarm, so the girls took their time laying down the hides. Emmy and Dolly deliberately dragged their feet.

  ‘What you all hot and bothered for?’ Dolly asked Bill. ‘You’d think there was a war on!’

  ‘One day it’ll be a real one and then you’ll move yourself!’ he said. Pushing back a strand of dark hair that had fallen across his forehead, he hurried off to clear the lower floors. May, who could do nothing slowly, even when she tried, was well ahead of the rest of the girls as they shuffled down the stone staircase to the basement. She caught up with Bill, who shot her a quick smile, and she realized that his hands weren’t the only lovely thing about him.

  ‘At least someone’s taking it seriously!’ he said.

  They arrived in the basement together and Bill took off his jerkin, tossing it over a chair by a battered old piano that the bosses had installed as a morale booster. Bill beckoned her over.

  ‘First to arrive gets first choice.’

  He clasped together his long fingers and gave an exaggerated stretch before seating himself at the piano. ‘Any requests, madam?’ he said.

  She thought for a minute. ‘Do you know “Happy Days and Lonely Nights”?’

  ‘Only too well,’ he said, looking down with a wry smile, so that for a moment she wondered if he’d broken up with a sweetheart. But as the shelter began to fill, he struck up the opening chords and soon a chorus of voices was joining in. ‘You broke my heart a million ways, when you took my happy days, and left me lonely nights!’ They belted it out and Bill didn’t seem to be shedding any tears, so May dismissed the idea. She noticed that he appeared more relaxed now he was sitting at the piano. Seemingly he could play any tune by ear: ‘Old Bull and Bush’ or ‘We’ll Meet Again’ – whatever the request, he picked the tune up in no time – and when the all-clear sounded they were reluctant to leave.

  ‘Bill, are you sure it’s safe for us to go upstairs?’ Dolly asked. It wasn’t just that she was flirting. The game was to string out the practice for as long as possible, anything to avoid the piles of hides stacked up waiting to be hung.

  Bill raised his eyes. ‘I’ve done my bit getting you down here, and entertaining you. I reckon you can get yourself back up whenever you like!’ He shot May a parting look and bounded up the stairs two at a time.

  ‘He likes you,’ Emmy whispered and May let out a groan.

  Although she resented her friends’ constant matchmaking, at the end of the day rather than rushing home as she usually did, she took her time in the cloakroom getting ready to leave Garner’s, and when Emmy asked her to come to the Red Cow with them on Saturday she surprised herself by agreeing.

  *

  May was checking her hair in the mirror above the fireplace when her father paused over his pipe ‘Blimey. You going out?’

  May blushed and her mother shot him a warning look, so that he quickly turned back to his paper.

  ‘You look nice,’ Jack said. ‘Wait till I get ready and I’ll walk you down.’

  ‘No, no, I’m all right. I’m only meeting some girls from work,’ May said, escaping into the passage before she attracted any more attention. As she pulled her coat from the hook she heard her mother say, ‘Well, that’s a turn up!’

  The Red Cow at the corner of The Grange was Emmy and Dolly’s favourite haunt. When May pushed open the corner door she was met by a blackout curtain. She waited there, unseen for an instant, and it crossed her mind to turn round and go home. But then she heard Emmy’s unmistakable throaty laugh, and she pulled aside the curtain.

  She scanned the room and caught sight of the piano. There was no one sitting at it, and May felt an instant of disappointment before realizing the real reason she’d agreed to come here with the girls.

  Dolly spotted her and beckoned her over. They were laughing, Emmy explained, about the last air-raid drill.

  ‘Did you see Bill’s face when he was trying to round us up?’ Emmy laughed.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, I quite like him when he looks stern,’ Dolly said.

  ‘And you, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes,’ Emmy prodded May, ‘don’t rush to get down the basement so quick next time! We’re trying to string it out. All the time we’re on the drill we’re not hanging hides!’

  ‘But I’ll tell you something for nothing,’ said Dolly. ‘I’ve seen the way that Bill looks at you, May...’ She nodded her head sagely.

  ‘Don’t be daft, Dol
ly. I’ve not said two words to him!’

  Yet later that night when Bill took his place at the piano, she saw him glance her way, and during his break he made a point of coming over to them. He’d obviously forgiven Emmy and Dolly for their earlier teasing. He sat at their table, drinking his pint and chatting easily to her friends, but May noticed that more often than not his ocean-blue eyes were fixed on her.

  ‘“Happy Days”?’ he asked her, before returning to the piano.

  She suspected that Saturday nights at the Red Cow would become a regular thing from now on.

  *

  May might be spreading her wings, but at heart she was still a home bird and as the phoney war limped on towards Christmas she found herself increasingly drawn into her mother’s worries about Jack.

  One night towards Christmas, she and Mrs Lloyd had spent the evening trying to make a Christmas pudding with a laughable amount of dried fruit and nuts. They’d made five puddings last year to give away, but this year there was barely enough for one. After snipping dates with scissors as small as they could and chopping almonds to a pale dust, grating a small lump of suet and a single orange peel, they were ready to give the mixture its magic stir. May made her own wish and then watched as her mother shut her eyes tight to make hers. With her expression unguarded, May saw for the first time how these early months of the war had changed her mother. She already looked defeated and when she opened her eyes, May saw they were brimming.

  ‘Was your wish for Jack?’ she asked softly, taking the wooden spoon from her mother’s hand.

  ‘I’m worried sick, love. I think he’s getting himself in with a bad bunch. He comes in all hours, and where’s he getting the money to take Joycie out? Over the West End and gawd knows where.’ Her mother rubbed her forehead and sat down. ‘Sometimes I don’t know which I’m more worried about, him going in the army or the villains he’s mixing with.’

  ‘Villains? Mum, you’re getting in a state over nothing. Jack’s either out with Joycie, or it’s Norman he’s with… and he’s harmless enough.’ She put an arm round her mother. ‘It’s just the war that’s got us all up the wall.’