Secrets of the Singer Girls (27 page)

‘Please spit it out, Archie,’ Vera urged.

He jerked a thumb in the direction of the factory floor and wiped a hand over the crown of his bald head, a habit Vera had long ago worked out meant he was anxious.

‘The rumour mill has gone into overdrive. You know what those lot outside are like when they get going, and, well, I don’t quite know how to put this,’ he blustered.

‘Please just tell us straight,’ Daisy pleaded.

‘Pat’s sister spotted you coming out of Mrs Black’s house that Sunday morning when you . . . well, you know.’ He trailed off uncomfortably.

‘But that was months ago,’ Daisy spluttered.

‘I know, but then she got talking to another friend down the market last night who apparently saw you dancing and kissing with your Yank chap outside the Tube. They’ve put two and
two together, and, well, you know how people talk. Folk don’t like it when our girls hang out with foreign soldiers, and they like it even less when you visit a certain well-known
abortionist, and Mrs Black is certainly notorious round these parts. I’m sorry to break the bad news, Daisy, but you know how it is round here. You can’t even get a new coat without the
whole road turning out for a look. Gossip spreads like wildfire. The streets are full of it, with the number of illegitimate babies popping up. You can’t ever keep anything secret for long in
the East End.’

Archie held his hands up in defeat and the colour flooded from Daisy’s cheeks. The suffocating conformity of life in Bethnal Green was one of the things Daisy had always resented most . .
. and now it looked as if it were to be her undoing.

‘Well, I’m done for, then,’ she said in a hollow voice.

Archie looked to Vera. ‘I think under the circumstances it’s better if Daisy keeps a low profile from now on, wouldn’t you agree, Vera? Speculation will continue to mount and
Daisy’s situation here will become untenable, as will yours, Vera, if you allow this to persist. In any case, I will need to find a suitable replacement for Daisy, be that now or three months
down the line.’

Vera nodded slowly. ‘I agree, and we are both deeply sorry to have placed you in a difficult situation. Plans have to be made, and not tomorrow or next week but right now. Don’t you
see?’ she pleaded, turning to Daisy with a shake in her voice.

Daisy sat mute.

‘I know you didn’t want it this way,’ Vera went on, ‘but you can’t keep working here in your state. I’m sorry, love, but I am going to have to start laying
down the law now. You will leave for the mother and baby home as soon as I have made the necessary arrangements. I wish there was somewhere else you could go for the remainder of your pregnancy,
but the simple fact is, we don’t know anyone outside of the East End. And even if we did, who could manage an extra mouth to feed during the war? No, we shall just have to play the hand that
life has dealt us.’

Without waiting for Daisy to respond, she went on. ‘You will gather your things and leave the factory floor today. And please be sure to thank Mr Gladstone – he’s shown you a
level of courtesy and consideration that I’m quite sure not many other bosses would have.’

Daisy shook her head, dazed at Vera’s brusque handling of the situation, and blinked back tears. She was utterly crushed.

‘Of course,’ she mumbled, rising unsteadily to her feet. ‘And thank you, Mr Gladstone, for everything. I’m awfully sorry for putting you in this situation.’

‘Not at all, Daisy,’ replied Archie, with a slight catch in his voice. ‘You know I think the world of you.’

Vera rose to her feet, her back ramrod straight. Daisy might as well have painted herself with tar and stuck the feathers on too. She would be an easy target for the prejudices of the East End
community.

‘Come on, Daisy,’ Vera ordered. ‘Now’s the time to show your mettle.’

At the door, Daisy turned to Archie and said something that made Vera’s heart break afresh.

‘Robert’s going to come back for me and make an honest woman of me,’ she whispered. ‘You wait and see. Then everything will be all right, won’t it?’

Archie smiled softly and nodded. ‘I hope so, love, I truly do.’

Out on the floor, the women were giving it everything they had, ensuring that poor Daisy was literally being made to face the music, Vera thought with bitter irony. Their song reached a
crescendo as the Shadwell sisters exited Archie’s office and made their way to their workbenches.

Pat’s voice was easily the loudest in the room, but every woman bar Poppy and Sal sang along: ‘
All the nice girls love a sailor
. . .’

As Daisy drew level with the first bank of machines, Pat pointedly turned her back on her and carried on singing.

‘Well, you know what sailors are
,’ her brazen voice rang out as loud and clear as a horn in fog.

All right, Pat?’ ventured Daisy. ‘You keeping well?’

It was a brave move, thought Vera, but her sister’s efforts were shot down.

Without even turning round, Pat spat back her reply over her shoulder. ‘You reap what you sow, Daisy.’

Vera watched as Daisy’s face crumpled. She opened her mouth to defend herself, but no words came. Instead, she turned and slowly carried on walking along the bank of machines. Every woman
she passed made a show of slowly and deliberately turning her chair away from Daisy. One by one they glared at her before showing her their backs. It was as public and humiliating a snub as was
possible.

By the time Daisy reached her workbench, the desolation of rejection was hers to savour. Her downfall was complete.

‘All right, ladies, you’ve had your fun. Now back to work,’ Vera warned.

With a shaking hand, Daisy started to pack what few possessions she had into her handbag. She didn’t even bother to remove her light summer coat. Bravely, Sal rose to her feet and, without
saying a word, started to help her friend.

‘Didn’t I say no good would come from mixing with them Yanks,’ Pat said loudly, as she threaded cotton through her needle.

The door to Mr Gladstone’s office nearly came clean off its hinges as the factory foreman burst out, his face puce with rage.

‘That’s enough!’ he roared to the sea of stunned workers. ‘I won’t have it in my factory, you hear me?’

No one breathed a word. Even Vera felt herself staring stunned at their normally convivial boss. How many other men would stick their neck out like that?

‘It’s all right, Mr Gladstone,’ said Daisy, bravely blinking back her tears. ‘Don’t worry. I understand why they’re saying it. Probably would have said the
same myself a few months ago.’

As she walked shakily down the stairs, she passed a telegram boy, so young he was barely out of short trousers, heading for the factory floor. He took in her anguished face and smiled
sympathetically. ‘Cheer up, miss,’ he said. ‘It might never happen.’

Daisy stifled a sob and silently fled the stairwell as fast as her feet would carry her. Only once she was outside on the street and alone did she allow the tears to really come, streaming
unchecked down her face. She was out of a job now, her reputation tarnished. The sun beat down mercilessly on her face as she looked up to the heavens above.

Suddenly, an ear-shattering scream pierced the air, a noise the likes of which Daisy had never before heard. Her stomach turned painfully, for she guessed instantly to whom the voice belonged,
and more horrifyingly yet, that she couldn’t go to her and comfort her like a friend should.

Five floors up, Sal gripped the freshly delivered telegram in her hand. She was aware that the whole floor had turned to stare at her, aware too that the strangest of noises had
just escaped her body, halfway between a scream and a moan, but she was powerless. She felt as if she were somewhere up on the ceiling looking down at herself. For this was a moment she had longed
for, even prayed for night after night, and yet, somehow, now the moment was here, she felt nothing but a deep well of pain and shock.

‘Sal, Sal, whatever is it?’ The voice brought her back to the present.

She stared up at Vera’s face before handing her the telegram. ‘It’s over . . .’ she mumbled.

Vera read, her eyes widening in surprise.

At the end of the strangest day Poppy had experienced during her time in Bethnal Green, they all gathered back at Tavern Street to take stock of the dramatic events.

After she had received the telegram informing her of her husband’s death, Sal had been allowed to leave early on compassionate grounds, provided she make the work up the next day. In deep
shock, Sal simply hadn’t been able to face going home alone and so had gone straight to Daisy and Vera’s house, where Daisy had been waiting. By the time Poppy and Vera had returned at
the end of their shift to join them, it was hard to say who looked more shaken.

Nursing cups of hot, sweet tea, they all sat round the kitchen table in a state of disbelief.

‘I just can’t believe he’s really dead,’ Sal said again in a flat tone. ‘When will it hit me?’

‘Not for a long time, love, I shouldn’t think,’ replied Vera. ‘You have lived in fear for so many years – your body and mind will take some time to adjust.’
Vera’s hand reached across the table and her fingers laced through Sal’s. ‘I know death is no cause to celebrate, my dear, but at least this means you are finally free of that
man,’ she whispered.

‘I suppose so,’ Sal replied shakily. ‘There’s so much to think about now, though. Like whether to bring the boys home, and if so, do I give up work? But I’m loath
to. Work is the one thing that has helped define who I am these past two years. It gave me a sense of identity after Reggie stripped it from me. What will I be without my life at Trout’s?
I’m proud of my job.’

‘One step at a time, love,’ counselled Vera. ‘You don’t even have the official letter from the army yet. And don’t forget, you can depend on us all for help and
support.’

‘That’s right,’ Poppy smiled gently. ‘If you need me to cover any shifts for you while you sort things out, I’d be happy to help.’

‘That’s so kind of you all, girls,’ Sal said, smiling at last. ‘Where would I be without you, and work, of course?’

‘We’re all here to help you too, Daisy,’ Poppy said.

‘You are sweet, Poppy, but life couldn’t look any more bleak right now,’ Daisy replied. With that she scraped her chair back from the table and fled sobbing to her bedroom. Her
footsteps clattered up the wooden steps. The walls were so fragile they could hear her heartbroken cries drift down from the bedroom above.

Sal got up to follow, but Vera placed a cautionary hand on her arm. ‘Leave her be, Sal,’ she said. ‘She still has it in her head this Robert chap will return for her, and when
the truth finally hits home that that is never going to happen, it will break her heart all over again. Her life will change irrevocably over the coming months and all we can do is hope she finds
the fortitude to survive the scandal and move on.’

‘What will you do now, Vera?’ asked Sal nervously.

‘The only thing I possibly can do under the circumstances,’ she sighed. ‘There’s a mother and baby home far away from here, in Suffolk, that will house Daisy for the
duration of her confinement. She will give birth there and they will arrange the adoption. I just need to let them know she is coming, sooner than perhaps we all expected.’

‘So you really are sending her away?’ Poppy asked.

‘I have no choice, Poppy dear,’ stated Vera crisply. ‘She cannot raise this child on her own or provide it with any kind of a life. It’s for the best.’

A heavy silence fell over the table as they digested what it would mean to Daisy to be forced to give away her baby.

‘I suppose we should count our blessings for one thing, though,’ Vera said, breaking the silence.

‘What’s that?’ asked Sal.

‘Frank’s trial is next week. Mercifully he knows nothing of this.’

‘Will you go?’ asked Poppy.

‘No, I shall stay away. The police will inform me of his prison term if he’s convicted. I doubt very much they shall lock him up and throw away the key. Apparently, they are dealing
with lots of cases like this, and thanks to the war, the prisons are understaffed. Let’s hope he at least gets locked up until after Daisy’s baby is born and safely away from
here.’

Poppy drained her tea and rose to leave. ‘The longer he gets, the better,’ she said, knowing full well what it would mean to Vera to have her dreadful father finally off the scene,
especially during these trying times. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I best be off. After today I’m fit to drop and my bed is calling.’

‘Of course, my dear,’ smiled Vera, showing her to the door. ‘Goodnight.’

Poppy felt desperately for her friends and had vowed to be there and support them all during their hours of need, but tonight, she also had something else on her mind.

Poppy dug her fingers deep into her pocket and, on feeling the sliver of paper there, allowed a little burst of delight to run through her. She had buried her excitement all day, as it
hadn’t seemed right to indulge herself when her friends were having such a trying time, but ever since she had opened the letter that had been delivered at the same time as Sal’s
telegram, she had been secretly thrilled.

Joy of joys! At last someone had actually replied to one of her letters. Poppy had felt so choked that Sal’s telegram contained such sadness that she had kept her own letter a secret from
her, hastily reading it on her dinner break in the privacy of a toilet cubicle. It had been burning a hole in her pocket ever since.

Letting herself into her lodgings, she breathlessly pulled it out and, without even taking off her coat, sat down at her small table and carefully smoothed out the paper. Impulsively she held
the letter up to her face and breathed in deeply, as if trying to prove to herself it really existed and wasn’t just a figment of her imagination.

Good day to you, Poppy Percival,
wrote Private Freddie Beecroft. His handwriting was neat and small, with perfectly spaced loops.