Authors: Ellie Dean
Ruby stood and hitched up her dungaree straps. ‘It was probably the quiet that kept me awake,’ she said lightly. ‘I’m used to the noise going on all night every night back in London.’
They walked to the gate and showed their identity cards and then made their way towards the factory. ‘You know, Ruby, even with the cotton wool in my ears, my head is still ringing for at least an hour after I get home.’
‘So does mine,’ said Flora as she joined them. ‘And I’ve had to cut my lovely nails,’ she said ruefully as she flashed them in front of Ruby. ‘That Mabel’s a right cow, isn’t she? On my case all day, every day, just because I take care to look nice.’
‘I suppose shorter nails would make it easier to work on the machine,’ said Lucy, ‘but it is a shame to have to cut them when they were so pretty.’
Flora preened and patted her hair. ‘At least we’re allowed to wear make-up,’ she said, checking her appearance in a small compact mirror. ‘I couldn’t bear it if I wasn’t allowed to put the slap on every morning.’ She eyed Ruby and Lucy, who didn’t have even a dab of lipstick on. ‘Not all of us like to look dowdy.’
Ruby gritted her teeth and swallowed a sharp retort, but Lucy innocently replied to the jibe. ‘Oh, I think make-up’s all right in its place, but there doesn’t seem much point in using it here, and of course with rationing and shortages it’s expensive and hard to find.’
‘A girl must always look her best,’ said Flora as she glanced round to the men who were having a smoke by the gate. ‘You never know when you might bump into someone interesting, and there are some definite possibilities here.’
‘I’m not really interested in old men,’ said Lucy as she wrinkled her nose.
‘They’re not
that
old,’ laughed Flora, ‘and don’t knock it, Lucy, they’ve got money in their pockets and enjoy spending it on the pretty girls.’ She turned to Ruby. ‘What about you, Ruby?’
‘I’m a married woman,’ she replied, ‘and I don’t mess about with other men, old or otherwise.’
A carefully plucked eyebrow rose. ‘Goodness, how self-righteous you sound. Anyone would think you were middle-aged.’ She eyed Ruby thoughtfully. ‘Mind you, with that scar on your forehead, and your sour expression, most men would run a mile.’
‘In my experience, most blokes are nothing but flamin’ trouble, and if my looks keep ’em at arm’s-length, then that’s all right by me,’ she retorted flatly.
Flora looked rather disconcerted at this, but any further discussion was brought to a halt by the sound of the hooter.
Ruby immediately regretted her loss of temper and quickly steered Lucy into the factory before the girl could start questioning her. They clocked in, checked their scarves were securely fixed over their hair and went straight to their machines, the cotton wool divided between them so the noise was muffled. But Lucy still had questions in her eyes, and Ruby knew she would have to come up with some sort of explanation for her outburst by the time they had their break.
‘I only said it to shut her up,’ Ruby said as they were drinking tea a couple of hours later. ‘The fact is, I ain’t interested in being like ’er and flirting with anything in trousers.’ She smiled at her friend. ‘I like a quiet life, Lucy, and blokes aren’t the answer to everything. Believe me.’
‘She’s a bit of a man-eater, isn’t she?’ murmured Lucy as she watched Flora accept a light for her cigarette from one of the men she was surrounded by.
‘Yeah, and you wanna steer clear, gel. Going about with that one will get you a bad reputation.’
‘Ah, there you both are.’ Mabel came and sat next to them and lit a cigarette.
‘We ain’t done nothing wrong, have we?’ asked Ruby in some alarm.
Mabel laughed. ‘Goodness me, no. In fact it’s the opposite. You’re obviously quick to learn and your work over the past two weeks has been admirable, so I wondered if you’d like to go on to the more complicated machinery?’
‘Do we get paid more?’ asked Ruby.
Mabel grinned. ‘An extra threepence an hour.’ She regarded Ruby, her eyes still glinting with humour. ‘I like your style, Ruby Clark. You’re smart and quick off the mark, and not afraid to ask the important questions. So, what do you both say?’
‘Yes please,’ breathed Lucy as Ruby nodded.
‘Right, come on then. I’ll show you how we make the screws.’
They followed her back into the factory and stood close to her as she showed them the large machine where the thick stumps of metal were fixed securely so the threads could be ground into them. ‘They must be evenly ground and cleanly finished off – and then you place them squarely into this aperture so you can grind out the notches where the screwdriver blade goes in to fix them in place.’
They made a bit of a hash with the first few, but Mabel patiently made them repeat the process until they managed a dozen perfect ones. ‘Right,’ she said, shouting over the noise, ‘when you’ve done your first hundred, put your hands up and I’ll come and inspect them.’
Lucy and Ruby grinned at one another and set to their task. A hundred seemed an awful lot, but once they’d got the hang of the machine, they found a definite rhythm and the boxes at their feet were soon full.
‘Well done,’ said Mabel. ‘Go off for lunch now, and finish your shift half an hour early this afternoon as you missed your morning break. Once you’ve really got the hang of it, you’ll find the work will speed up, and then you can do as much overtime as you like.’ She gave them both a thumbs-up and strode off.
‘Golly,’ breathed Lucy. ‘She’s not nearly as strict as I thought she’d be.’
Ruby grinned and grabbed her gas-mask box. ‘Come on, let’s have our lunch. I don’t know about you, but I’m parched, and so hungry I could fall over.’
‘But surely you had breakfast?’ said Lucy as they hurried towards the canteen.
Ruby thought of the bread and dripping and the nub of cheese. ‘’Course I did,’ she replied, ‘but the thought of extra money and overtime’s given me an appetite.’
There was no sign of Flora, for she was still working on the washers and her lunch break was slightly different – all the breaks were staggered so the machines were never still. Ruby and Lucy collected their meals, found a seat and were tucking in when the three London girls came to sit next to them.
‘I hear you’ve just come down from the Smoke,’ said the little dark-haired one. ‘The name’s Grace, and this ’ere’s Gladys and Gertie.’ She grinned. ‘We’re the three Gees from the Mile End Road.’
‘I’m Ruby and this is Lucy,’ she replied carefully.
‘So what bit of old London you from then, Ruby?’ asked Grace, who was obviously the spokeswoman.
‘Bermondsey,’ she said quickly. ‘How long you been down ’ere then?’
‘Almost a year,’ Grace replied as she tucked into the stew and dumplings. ‘But we’re all a bit homesick, ain’t we, girls?’ She turned back to Ruby, her gaze dropping to the wedding ring. ‘The old man gorn off soldiering, ’as he?’
‘Yeah,’ muttered Ruby as she chewed on a dumpling.
‘Mine too,’ Grace sighed. She perked up and smiled again. ‘Still, we’re having a good time and the work’s not bad. Money’s all right too, ’cos we’re in the armaments factory making bullets all flamin’ day.’
‘That’s dangerous work, isn’t it?’ asked Lucy.
‘Yeah, if yer not careful you could blow yer ’and off, and the gunpowder makes yer skin go a funny colour an’ all. Still,’ she added cheerfully, ‘we gotta beat old Hitler and win this war, and it’s a livin’, ain’t it?’
Ruby liked her and wished things could have been different, for she missed her mates back in Bow and didn’t like lying to the girl, who was only being friendly. But Grace and her mates came from an area of London that was too close to home for Ruby’s liking, and she knew she would have to watch what she said.
They finished their lunch and went their separate ways, and Ruby and Lucy continued to make their screws. The time sped past and they were both surprised when Mabel came to tell them it was time to go home.
Having washed the dirt and grease from their faces and hands and brushed out their hair, they set off down to the High Street, happily chatting about their day and the good fortune which had brought them a healthier wage.
Lucy waved goodbye and hurried home to help her mother host a tea party in aid of some charity, and Ruby went into the post office and opened an account.
She’d known that such a large amount of money would be questioned, so it was no surprise when she saw the girl’s eyes widen as she pushed the roll towards her. ‘It’s me and the old man’s savings,’ she explained. ‘What with him being called up, I thought I’d better put it somewhere safe in case we gets bombed out again.’
The girl took the money and slowly counted it out, then entered the sum into the passbook and stamped it. ‘Keep the book safe, Mrs Clark. That’s a lot of money.’
‘Yeah, don’t I know it,’ she said. ‘Could I rent a safety deposit box?’
The other girl nodded, filled in the necessary form and handed her the key. Ruby placed the passbook in the deposit box and locked it away with the food and clothing stamps with a sigh of relief. They had never really been hers, and she felt a great deal better now they were out of her possession.
She quickly left the post office and headed up the hill. She felt better now the money was out of her hands, for it made her feel grubby knowing where it had come from – but at least she had a bit of security if things went haywire.
She got to the station just as Stan was coming out of his Nissen hut. ‘Hello, Stan. You’re a difficult bloke to find.’
His expression brightened. ‘Hello, Ruby. Nice to see you again. I hear you’ve got a billet and a nice job, so well done you.’
Ruby frowned. ‘How did you know that?’
He grinned. ‘This is a small town, lass, and I get to hear everyone’s business sooner or later.’ He regarded her thoughtfully. ‘I’m glad you’ve settled in all right,’ he said. ‘I was worried about you – so worried, in fact, that I even asked my friend Peggy Reilly if she’d take you in. She owns a boarding house over in Beach View Terrace and takes in evacuees, and she said she had a spare room.’
Hope flared. ‘That were very kind of you, Stan,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose she still has that spare room, has she?’
He frowned and shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, lass, but she was involved in the air raid a couple of weeks ago and is in hospital. I shouldn’t think she’ll be taking in any more lodgers for a while yet.’
‘Oh.’
He was silent for a moment. ‘Is everything all right up at Councillor Fraser’s?’ he asked, his expression concerned.
Ruby shrugged and was sorely tempted to confide in him. ‘The house is lovely, but . . . Well, things ain’t working out the way I’d hoped really,’ she finished lamely.
Stan regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Why don’t you come in and I’ll brew us a pot of tea while you tell me all about it?’
She wasn’t sure she could say very much, for like everyone else in Cliffehaven, he probably thought highly of Councillor Fraser, and she didn’t want him to think she was trying to cause trouble. ‘I only come up to give you this.’ She pulled the scarf from her gas-mask box and clumsily shoved it at him. ‘It’s just a bit of something to thank you for taking me in the night I arrived.’
‘Oh, Ruby, you didn’t have to spend your money on me, but it’s lovely,’ he said as he wrapped it round his neck. ‘Just the thing for the cold nights when I have to wait for the late train – but a little too warm for today,’ he added with a smile. He unwound it and carefully placed it in his pocket. ‘That definitely deserves a cup of tea – unless you’ve got somewhere else to be?’
He looked so eager for her company that she couldn’t refuse. ‘I’d love a cuppa.’
He made the tea, found his sandwich tin and offered her a biscuit. ‘They’re a bit soft, but they’re kind on my dentures,’ he explained.
Ruby drank her tea and ate the biscuit as she perched on the canvas stool and happily listened to him talk about his late wife, the town and the people in it. It seemed he knew everyone and their business, so she was very careful not to say too much about herself and her life in London.
‘It sounds to me as though you had it a bit tough up there,’ said Stan after she’d mentioned the heavy bombing raids and the almost nightly shelter with her mother in the underground station. ‘Staying in Cliffehaven with the Frasers must have come as a bit of an eye-opener.’
She saw the questioning look in his eyes but felt she didn’t know him well enough to tell him what was really troubling her. ‘It’s not what I expected,’ she conceded. ‘The house is ever so nice, ’cos Mrs Fraser likes everything clean and shiny, and me room’s like a little palace with a washbasin and everything. But she can’t cook to save her life,’ she added with an impish smile.
Stan chewed a biscuit and slurped his tea. ‘I’ve heard she’s inclined to boil everything to a pulp,’ he replied, ‘and that she’s a bit mean with the rations.’ He looked at her over the rim of his tin mug. ‘How are you getting on with Councillor Fraser?’
Ruby gave a small shrug and couldn’t meet his gaze. ‘I can’t take to him at all,’ she replied.
Stan said nothing for a while, and Ruby glanced at him through her lashes to discover that he was regarding her with great solemnity.
‘I heard that the Frasers have had trouble keeping their lodgers,’ he said eventually. ‘I know of at least three who left within a couple of weeks.’
Ruby held his gaze. ‘I didn’t realise they’d had other evacuees,’ she said. ‘All girls, were they?’
He regarded her steadily. ‘So I understand.’
Ruby had the distinct feeling that Stan had an inkling of what her problem was, but still she held back from blurting out the truth. ‘I think I might start looking for another billet soon,’ she said carefully. ‘Somewhere with a woman on her own, or with a group of other girls.’
He nodded, his gaze still thoughtful, and then he looked away and reached for the tiny vase on the end of the counter that held a single, perfect rosebud. He breathed in the fragrance and sighed. ‘I get to hear and see a lot of things in this job, Ruby, and although snippets of gossip and little incidents don’t always seem significant on their own – when brought together, they can sometimes be most illuminating.’