Authors: Ellie Dean
They were greeted by a wall of noise, for the shifts overlapped and the machinery never stopped. As they shuffled along with the other women towards the clocking-on station, they took the chance to look around.
Ruby saw banks of bright lights hanging from the steel rafters, line upon line of heavy machinery, with women pulling levers, turning knobs, and chucking bits of heavy metal into nearby boxes. There were coils of waste metal on the floor beneath every machine, and these were being swept up and tossed into large storage bins where no doubt they were melted down to be used again. Everything looked grey and gloomy, and the pungent smell of oil, hot metal and sweat combined with the noise made her regret eating such a big breakfast.
Ruby noticed that Lucy looked a bit green around the gills as they approached the small office window by the clocking-on board, but her shoulders were squared and her chin was tilted determinedly as she handed over the docket she’d been given at the Labour Exchange.
Ruby stood beside her as their dockets were examined and they were given their time sheets. She had to lean almost through the window to hear what the woman was saying, and then nodded her understanding and nudged Lucy towards the board where she showed her how to clock on.
‘Where do we go now?’ shouted Lucy.
‘Over there with the other new lot,’ Ruby yelled back. At this rate, she thought sourly, she’d have a sore throat by the end of the day as well as a headache – and she almost wished she was back in the pub dealing with drunks and lechers.
The six women nodded at each other, realising there was little point in trying to hold a conversation. Ruby saw that three were middle-aged, but the fourth was about eighteen or twenty, and looked so out of place it was hard not to stare. Her hair was the sort of colour that could only come out of a peroxide bottle, her lips were as scarlet as her long fingernails, and her eyelashes were heavy with mascara. There was a sneer to the tilt of her lips and her scathing glance over the rest of the women was more telling than any words.
‘She’s frightfully glamorous, isn’t she?’ shouted Lucy in Ruby’s ear.
‘She’s trouble, Lucy. Steer well clear, gel.’
Lucy frowned. ‘But how can you tell? You don’t even know her.’
‘I seen enough like her to know, all right.’
The foreman was a man in his sixties with bushy grey eyebrows, trim moustache and the bulbous nose and ruddy cheeks of a man who liked a drink or four. He carried a clipboard and his clothes were protected by a long brown duster coat.
‘My name is Mr Hawkins,’ he said above the surrounding noise. ‘You will all be taught how to use the machines and your work will be assessed at the end of your shift. There will be a ten-minute break at eleven, half an hour for lunch, which will be provided in the canteen, and another ten minutes at four.’ He took a breath. ‘There is absolutely no smoking on the factory floor, and if alcohol is found on your person, or it is deemed you are drunk on duty, then you will be dismissed instantly without a reference.’
Ruby wondered if he was ever guilty of taking a quiet nip of something in his office and suspected he did. She caught the peroxide blonde giving her the snooty once-over and held her gaze defiantly until she got the message she wasn’t about to be cowed by any of her nonsense.
The foreman was still droning on. ‘As you are aware, this is a tool factory, but we also make nails, screws, nuts, bolts and washers. You will all be assigned to the washers for now until you get a proper hang of things.’ He turned as a woman in dungarees and the ubiquitous headscarf approached. ‘This is Mabel and she will be your line manager until it’s deemed safe enough to consign you to the other parts of the factory.’
Mabel was probably well past thirty, with a sturdy figure and a face devoid of make-up beneath the knotted headscarf. She looked extremely capable, and Ruby suspected she wouldn’t stand for any nonsense. They all trooped after her to the other side of the vast, echoing factory where six machines sat on a steel bench waiting for them.
Ruby edged between Lucy and the blonde and listened hard as Mabel began to explain how to start the machines and keep them well oiled, and how to feed each thin metal disc onto the stamping block so the hole could be punched through it. If there was a problem with their machine, they were warned, they were to put their hand up and wait for someone to come and fix it. It was dangerous, dirty work, the machines were very valuable, and to avoid accidents there was to be no talking.
Ruby smiled at that, for chance would have been a fine thing with all this racket going on – but the work wasn’t exactly complicated, and within minutes she had done her first washer, shown it to Mabel and had it passed as correct.
She threw it in the box beside her, aware that the blonde on her left was having trouble with her long fingernails and getting it in the neck from Mabel. But a glance told Ruby that Lucy was getting the hang of things very well and already had three washers in her box. They shared a grin and set to work with a will, relishing the thought that they could get to know one another better during the break.
Chapter Eleven
RON AND HARVEY
had slept in the Anderson shelter for what remained of the night, but as dawn broke on the horizon and they stepped outside into the garden, the full effect of the bombing raid was made startlingly clear.
The flint wall at the bottom of the garden had another gaping hole in it, and the neighbouring fence had come loose from its moorings and was leaning drunkenly over the coal bunker and wood pile. The shed and outside lav had been blown to bits, and the poor chickens were pecking about in what was left of their nesting box as the rooster perched on top of it and began to crow. The trampling feet of the firemen and medics had put paid to at least three rows of onions, and in amongst the wreckage, he could see that some of the tiles had been blown off the roof and were embedded in the earth.
A path had been cleared through the rubble to get to the women, but there was still a mountain of it to be shifted before he could start work on cleaning up. But they had fared better than the poor people in the road further up, for he’d heard from Rita that two houses had been completely flattened and two others would have to be demolished because they were deemed unsafe. The house directly behind Beach View hadn’t escaped either, he realised as he looked beyond the shattered garden walls and saw that the roof was almost gone and not an inch of glass had been left in the windows.
He took a moment to light his pipe, thankful that his neighbours had all been in the public shelters at the time, and no one had been hurt. He eyed the damage to Beach View and knew that with a lot of hard work, it could be fixed, but that wasn’t really the thing that bothered him at the moment. It was the fate of his young ferrets, Flora and Dora, for he hadn’t been able to get to them last night, and he was very much afraid that they hadn’t survived.
Harvey was quartering the garden with his nose to the ground, sniffing out all the strange smells. He came to the chicken pen and looked back at Ron as if to ask if he should round them up like he did the quail on Cliffe estate.
‘You leave them alone, ye heathen old scoundrel,’ Ron muttered as he hitched up his sagging trousers and rolled back his ragged shirtsleeves. ‘Come on. Let’s find Flora and Dora.’
The rubble had blown in right to the very end of the narrow corridor, and a pall of dust hung in the air still. Ron used a spade to shovel it all into his wheelbarrow and made endless journeys to the bottom of the garden, where he tipped it out. There were the remains of the stone sink, shelving, bits of piping, chunks of brick and mortar, the remnants of the frosted window, and even three of his wellingtons amongst it all. He set these aside with the mangle and Peggy’s washing basket.
The pile was high and wide by the time he managed to clear a path to his bedroom door, which, by some miracle, had been blown shut. Pushing it open he heard the rustle and scrabble of the ferrets, and with a deep sigh of relief, he pulled their cage from under the bed and knelt down to check on them.
The dust lay in a thick grey coating on everything, including the ferrets’ fur, but their eyes were bright and they didn’t seem to be injured. He gently drew them from the cage and stroked them as Harvey buffeted them with his nose. They were all right, he realised, just a bit bewildered, dusty and probably very hungry.
He carried them up the cellar steps and into the kitchen in search of some bread and milk, his boots crunching on the shattered glass of the window pane which had been blown in. As he fed his babies and gave Harvey a drink of water and some biscuits, he eyed the dust and the debris on every surface of Peggy’s kitchen, and was glad she couldn’t see it like this, for it would have broken her heart.
Once the ferrets had been fed and brushed clean, he returned them to their cage and carried it outside, well away from the dust. He would have a cup of tea, he decided, and then make a start on cleaning the kitchen before the girls came down. He didn’t want to think of the dust that was probably all over the house – that sort of challenge could only be faced after a hearty breakfast.
Peggy’s eyelids fluttered momentarily and as the strange, muffled sounds of people talking and moving about began to penetrate the thick fog which seemed to fill her head, she opened her eyes. The curtains weren’t familiar, there was a strange sort of antiseptic smell, and someone’s shoes were squeaking as they walked past. Where on earth was she? What had happened?
She fought off almost overwhelming drowsiness as she tried to focus her thoughts and keep her eyes open. The only thing she could remember was being in the cellar with Cordelia and Daisy when the world seemed to explode.
‘Daisy! Where’s Daisy?’ She bolted up from the pillows, but immediately collapsed with a strangled cry as a searing pain shot through her.
‘It’s all right, Peggy, she’s safe upstairs in the nursery, and there’s not a scratch on her.’ Suzy gently took her hand. ‘Don’t try to sit up,’ she said softly. ‘You’ve had an operation, and you’ll pull the stitches if you move about too much.’
Peggy looked blearily at Suzy, who was in her nursing uniform, and tried very hard to clear the fog in her head and understand what she was saying. ‘Daisy’s all right? Are you sure?’
‘She’s absolutely fine, I promise. And so is Cordelia. They’ll both be going home later today.’
Peggy ran her tongue over her dry lips as she digested all that Suzy had told her. The relief was tremendous, but there was still the nagging pain in her belly and Suzy had said something about an operation. It was then that she remembered the blood. ‘I’ve lost the baby,’ she stated on a sigh.
Suzy perched on the bed and took her hand. ‘I’m so sorry, Peggy, but there was nothing the surgeon could do to save it.’
Peggy listened groggily as Suzy kept a tight hold of her hand and explained about the emergency operation that had saved her life. ‘But there was a great deal of damage, Peggy,’ she continued softly. ‘Mr Simmons had no option but to perform a hysterectomy.’
The words hit her like a hammer blow. ‘But that means . . .’
Suzy’s grip tightened on her fingers. ‘It means you have survived a very dangerous situation, Peggy,’ she said firmly. ‘You have Daisy and Bob and Charlie, Anne and Cissy – as well as your little granddaughter, me and Fran and the other girls. And then there’s Ron and Cordelia, and of course Jim. We all love you, Peggy, and the thought that we could have lost you was unbearable.’
Peggy was still trying to come to terms with the fact that part of her was missing, that she had lost the precious little baby she’d been carrying and there would be no more. ‘Was it something I did that caused this?’ she asked tearfully.
‘Absolutely not,’ said Suzy firmly. ‘It was just an accident of nature which occurs sometimes through no fault of the mother.’
‘I see,’ she murmured, the weight of her loss lying heavy round her heart. ‘Has Jim been told?’
‘Jane sent a telegram to his barracks first thing. We didn’t want to alarm him, so we just said you’d had an operation, but that you were on the mend and expected to make a full recovery. No doubt he’ll telephone sometime today, and then we can—’
Peggy gripped her hand. ‘You’re not to tell him about losing the baby – or how serious the whole thing has been. I don’t want him worrying himself sick up there and going AWOL – and he will, I know my Jim.’
‘He’ll have to know at some point,’ said Suzy mildly. ‘Otherwise, how are you going to explain the scar?’
‘I’ll do it when he comes home on leave. I’ll be up and about again then, and he’ll see that I’m all right.’ This little speech exhausted her and she closed her eyes, trying desperately to gather the strength to say all the things she needed to.
‘Peggy, you need to rest,’ said Suzy as she took her pulse.
‘Promise me you won’t tell Anne,’ she rasped. ‘I don’t want her taking that long journey from Somerset with Rose Margaret – and try to keep it from Cissy, too. She’ll only get over-dramatic and cause a fuss.’
‘I’m afraid Cissy already knows,’ said Suzy as she helped Peggy to drink some water. ‘She’d heard about it from someone who’d been drinking at the Anchor, and is asking her CO for permission to visit you this evening.’
The few drops of water were nectar, and slightly restored her senses. ‘If Cissy knows then so does Martin,’ she murmured. ‘Which means he’ll tell Anne.’ She grasped Suzy’s hand. ‘Please don’t let them worry,’ she begged. ‘I couldn’t bear it.’
‘I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re on the mend and there’s no need for worry or fuss,’ said Suzy calmly as she adjusted the flow of drugs through the drip.
Peggy’s eyelids fluttered and she lost the ability to fight the swirling darkness that seemed so determined to overwhelm her. Within moments she was in a deep, dreamless sleep.
Ron was overwhelmed by everyone’s kindness, for the mammoth task that had faced him at dawn had been lifted from his shoulders in a great tide of goodwill.
Sarah, Jane and Suzy had risen after only a couple of hours’ sleep to give their rooms a thorough clean before they had to go to work. Brenda and Pearl had come to clean Peggy’s room and the kitchen before they were due to open the Anchor for the lunchtime session. They had assured him they could cope quite well without him, and told him to take all the time he needed to get things straight.