The Bomb Girls (16 page)

Emily stormed towards Malc.

‘Emily, don't!' Lillian warned as she tried to grab her by the arm, but Emily was well past cautioning.

‘You've been breathing down our necks for weeks, picking and criticizing everything we do. If you've got a gripe, be a man and spit it out instead of intimidating the workers.'

Malc's dark bushy eyebrows shot up.

‘Are you accusing me of intimidation in the workplace, Miss Yates?'

‘Yes!' Emily replied without a moment's hesitation.

Behind her back, Agnes groaned.

‘Oh, no, now she's done it.'

Furious Malc eyeballed equally furious Emily for a few seconds before he snarled, ‘I think you need to air your grievances with Mr Featherstone, young lady.'

‘I think I do!' Emily retorted.

After her long meeting with Malc and Mr Featherstone Emily returned to the digs to find her friends anxiously awaiting her.

‘What happened?' Lillian, Elsie and Agnes cried in unison as Emily walked through the door.

‘Case to be considered,' said Emily as she sank into a chair. ‘Suspended until the case has been decided,' she added grimly.

‘Well, I suppose that's one way of getting off work,' Lillian joked.

‘Oh, Em, you should never have gone and defended me,' said Elsie, on the brink of tears.

Emily smiled at her sweet, anguished face.

‘It wasn't just you, lovie,' she answered softly. ‘He's been looking for a fight since Lil took up with Gary.'

‘Why couldn't you just have ignored the narky sod?' Lillian asked.

Emily slumped further back into the chair.

‘I dunno. He just pushed me too far.'

‘What're you going to do now?' Agnes asked.

‘I can't stay here,' Emily replied. ‘I've got to leave the Phoenix.'

Elsie smiled as she tried to look on the bright side.

‘It'll be nice to spend some time at home, pet,' she said.

Emily shook her head.

‘I'm not letting on to Mum and Dad about this,' she said. ‘I'm going to see Alice … She'll talk some sense into me!'

‘But we don't know where she is,' Agnes pointed out.

‘She said if we sent mail to the War Office it would be forwarded to her. I'll write today,' Emily replied.

Sweet, generous Elsie looked wide-eyed at Emily.

‘Do you need any money for the train fare to visit her?' she asked.

‘I'm all right, lovie. I've got a bit saved up,' Emily replied with a hint of her old smile. ‘It's not like there's much to spend your money on in Pendle!'

Emily's letter went off and the War Office must have forwarded it immediately because very soon Emily received a telegram from Alice saying she had been granted a short leave. Emily's blue eyes sparkled with excitement as she scanned the telegram.

‘I'm going to see Alice in London!' she told her friends.

‘I hope you'll come back happier,' Lillian teased. ‘I've had enough of your mopey moods!'

The day Emily left was unusually mild for the time of year, and Lillian and Gary took advantage of their free time to walk on the moor.

‘Tell me about how you grew up,' Lillian said as they lay in a bed of warm heather near Witch Crag.

‘Why?' he teased as he tickled her cheeks with a prickly fern leaf.

‘Because I want to imagine what it'll be like when we bring up our children in America,' she replied honestly.

‘And who said a cheeky little Brit like you is going to the US of A?' he asked with a smile.

‘Wherever you go, I go!'

He bent to gather her up in his arms.

‘That's true, honey,' he said as he pressed his lips to hers and felt the line of her little white teeth, which he parted so he could kiss her more deeply. ‘
But
…' he added on a more serious note.

‘But what?' she asked sharply. ‘You're already wed?'

Gary threw back his handsome blond head and hooted at the idea.

‘No way, babe. I've been waiting all my life for you.'

‘So what's the
but
… ?'

The smile fell from his face to be replaced by a still, thoughtful expression. ‘There's a war on, sweetheart.'

‘That must be why I'm doing a seventy-hour week packing bomb cases!' she joked.

‘No kidding, Lil,' he retorted. ‘We don't know when this damn war will end, and I could be called away like that,' he said, snapping his fingers with a hard click. ‘I told you, babe – my squadron is only posted up here whilst we wait for orders from the top. We're a bomb squadron, so when the action kicks off we'll be kept busy. And it won't be on this side of the Channel,' he ended bleakly.

‘But you'll always come back to me, won't you?' she said, suddenly scared of what he might say next.

He took hold of both her hands and stared deeply into her troubled brown eyes.

‘Listen very, very carefully to me, Lillian. I will
always
come back to you. Even if it takes me a lifetime, I will
always
come back.'

Tears rolled unchecked down Lillian's face. She could hardly speak for the emotion she felt, but she did manage to say the words that would live with her through the long years ahead: ‘And I will always wait.'

They clung onto each other as if they would never let go, then Gary said, as he kissed each of her eyelids, ‘Still wanna hear about Ohio?'

‘Yes!' she laughed as she took his hankie and wiped away her tears.

‘It was a pretty perfect childhood,' he said with a happy smile. ‘Our home was in the country, in a small town called Darcy, set in a valley surrounded by a mountain range and pine forests. Dad had a farm where we grew fruit, mostly apples and pears, and acre upon acre of potatoes.'

Lillian closed her eyes as she lay back in his arms and imagined a place half the world away where her beloved grew up.

‘Were you a naughty boy?' she asked with a cheeky smile.

‘A little sod, as you would say,' he laughed. ‘There are five of us, three boys, two girls, and we all helped out on the farm. I loved it. Climbing trees, playing in the big barn, horse-riding, skiing –'

Lillian sat bolt upright.

‘Skiing on snow?' she gasped.

‘Sure, you great doodle,' he teased. ‘There's plenty of snow in the mountains of Ohio. I always wanted to join the air force and travel,' he continued. ‘When the war started in Europe I couldn't wait to get over here and get in the thick of the fighting.'

Lillian gazed dreamily up into the vast blue sky where a goshawk hovered, quivering overhead.

‘The US Air Force brought you to me and the US Air Force will take you away from me too,' she said prophetically.

She was right. Suddenly and without a word of warning, just as Gary had predicted, the US servicemen were withdrawn from the temporary delivery work they'd been doing at the Phoenix. At first Lillian assumed they'd just changed shift patterns, but when British soldiers drove up with the amatol consignment and drove away with the explosives, Lillian questioned them.

‘Yanks have been withdrawn from service,' she was told.

‘I can see that!' Lillian snapped when they stated the obvious. ‘Do you know where they've been posted?' she asked, on the verge of tears.

‘No idea, love,' a spotty lad in uniform replied.

Nevertheless, during her break times, heartsick Lillian paced the delivery area where Gary and his crew had previously drawn up.

‘They've been hanging around waiting for orders from the top,' Agnes pointed out. ‘The orders must have finally come through.'

Elsie nodded eagerly in agreement with Agnes.

‘That's right. It's not like it's just Gary that's disappeared; it's all the other Yanks too,' she said, earnestly hoping her words would comfort Lillian, which they didn't.

Lillian sadly shook her head.

‘He'd write and let me know. He'd never just dump me,' she said with utter conviction.

‘Who says he's free to write?' Agnes asked. ‘If his squadron are on high alert they'll be holed up in the middle of nowhere with no communication with the outside world.'

Very quickly Lillian lost all pride and stooped to begging Malc for information. Looking at her gaunt grey face minus the usual glitzy make-up, he just shrugged.

‘Bloody Yanks have been posted elsewhere, that's all I know,' he said as he turned to walk away from her.

Desperate, Lillian grabbed him by the arm.

‘Where? Do you know where, Malc?'

Malc shook her hand off.

‘Do I 'ell,' he snapped. ‘Bloody good riddance to the bastards!'

All the trainees were due a short break at the end of the week. They'd worked hard and many were looking exhausted.

‘Back 1200 hours, Monday,' barked the Brigadier.

Robin, Alice and several other Special Ops had started making plans to go to London when Emily's letter arrived. Alice, thrilled at the thought of seeing her best friend so soon, immediately sent her a telegram with instructions on where to meet.

The girls, overjoyed to see each other, booked into a cheap B&B just off Charing Cross Road then made their way to a nearby Lyons café, where Alice ordered tea and carrot buns whilst Emily picked up the menu and scoured it with a critical eye.

‘Lord Woolton Pie: leeks, swedes, turnips, parsnip and carrots – ugh! Murkey: mock turkey with sausage meat – no, thanks. Rabbit stew could be interesting. Kidneys fried with onions? That might be tasty …'

After waiting patiently for well over a minute Alice gave her absorbed friend a nudge.

‘When you've finished rearranging Lyons' menu I want to know why you were suspended.'

Emily smiled an impish smile.

‘Lip!'

‘Oh, Em, that temper of yours will be the undoing of you,' Alice cried.

‘I would have bottled it if you'd been around,' Emily replied as she crumbled cake on her plate. ‘I miss you, Al. You've always had a steadying influence on me.'

‘Who did you fly at?' Alice asked.

‘Malc.'

Alice rolled her eyes.

‘God! You really pick 'em,' she chuckled.

‘He was winding us up on purpose because he's jealous of Lillian's American boyfriend,' Emily explained, then smiled as she continued, ‘She calls him Gorgeous Gary from Ohio!'

A tired-looking waitress delivered their tea, which Alice poured as Emily inspected their carrot buns.

‘Erm, would have been sweeter and moister with a sprinkle of coconut,' she said.

She took the cup of tea Alice offered.

‘So when am I going to meet Gorgeous Robin from the BBC?' she teased.

‘Tonight,' Alice said excitedly over their second cup of tea. ‘He's meeting us later on. He's bringing an old school friend so you won't feel like a gooseberry,' she added with a smile.

Putting on a posh voice, Emily asked, ‘Eton or Harrow?'

‘Harrow, actually,' Alice laughed.

Emily rolled her blue eyes.

‘Well, he's not going to like me with my northern accent and cheap clothes,' she answered.

‘He'll like you well enough … as long as you don't lose your temper,' Alice giggled. ‘Talking of your foul temper, tell me what happened with Malc.'

‘He just kept on picking and picking, breathing down
our necks, then he started talking about us not producing enough bombs for our boys on the front line.'

‘That sounds nasty,' Alice said hotly.

‘It was!' Emily retorted. ‘And the person he hurt most was sweet little Elsie, who's not heard from Tommy since their honeymoon. She ran out of the factory sobbing her heart out and I … I just lost it.'

‘Sounds like Malc was being a pig,' Alice said.

‘And to Elsie of all people. You know how fond he is of her,' Emily added. ‘From the look on his face when she ran out, he knew he'd gone too far.'

‘Then what?'

‘I was marched off to Featherstone's office and given a bollocking for insubordination then suspended until my case has been considered,' Emily concluded.

‘Then we'd better make the most of it,' Alice said with a smile.

Emily looked Alice straight in the eye.

‘I'm keen to meet this Robin fella; I want to see if he's up to scratch.'

‘He's more than up to scratch,' Alice enthused. ‘He's wonderful!'

‘Good, so at least one of us won't finish up on the scrap heap,' Emily joked.

Alice gazed into her friend's lovely face, which was dominated by her big blue eyes and framed by a mass of tumbling auburn curls.

‘I think the scrap heap is the last place you belong, Em!'

As they walked back to their cheap digs, Emily nodded at the barrage balloons, which were like huge silver worms blocking out the sky.

‘Why are they everywhere?' she asked.

‘They're supposed to confuse the enemy,' Alice replied. ‘Come on,' she said as she tugged at Emily's arm. ‘Don't dawdle or a warden will have us down an air-raid shelter for the night.'

The thought of being stuck in a bomb shelter for the night made Emily sprint down the pavement.

‘We've got better things to do than sit in the dark, singing “Roll Out the Barrel”!' she giggled as they raced along the street together.

Back in the dingy B&B, with the blackout blinds pulled firmly down, the girls dumped their gas masks on the bed and for a few hours forgot about war-weary London right outside their window.

They shared a tepid bath then tried on each other's clothes in preparation for going out that evening. Emily, inches taller than Alice and curvier too, couldn't fit into her friend's tweed suit but she swanned around in her new military hat.

‘You're so stylish, Alice,' she said, with a hint of envy in her voice.

‘Mum kitted me out before I left Pendle,' Alice explained. ‘Otherwise I'd still be wearing my old blue suit and cream blouse.'

‘As soon as I get back home I'm going to take up the hems on all my skirts,' Emily said.

‘We could make a paper pattern then Lillian could kit out all the Canary Girls with short skirts,' Alice laughed.

After doing each other's hair and borrowing each other's make-up they set off, threading their way along bombed streets, past unoccupied houses with gaping
windows and blasted gable ends. Unable to believe the level of devastation, Emily lingered to stare at the mountains of rubble and row upon row of bomb-shattered terraced houses.

‘People lived here,' she said sadly. ‘It makes me realize how lucky we are in Pendle,' she said as she hurried after Alice. ‘Manchester and Liverpool get it bad but we've had an easy time of it. Thank God!' she added earnestly.

They went to the Astor Ballroom, which was dark and smoky. Gilt chairs and tables were grouped around a dance floor, and on a raised stage the Tommy Dorsey Big Band were playing ‘Chattanooga Choo Choo'. Keen to dance to the fabulous swing music, Emily and Alice left their coats in the cloakroom, where the attendant was a girl wearing a very short dress and a very low top.

‘It's like being on another planet,' Emily giggled as they clinked their fluted glasses of pink gin.

‘Here's to the Bomb Girls!' Alice replied.

Emily took a long, luxurious drink.

‘You know, we've been building bombs for so long we've forgotten what it's like to be young.'

Alice nodded as she too sipped her gin.

‘Remember when we used to go dancing every Friday night at the local palais?'

Filled with the happiness of the moment, Emily pushed back her chair and grabbed Alice's hand.

‘Come on, Al, let's dance!'

Laughing with the sheer joy of being alive, Emily and Alice clasped hands and almost ran onto the ballroom floor.

‘It's like being young again,' Alice laughed as they jived
under the spinning silver balls to ‘It Don't Mean a Thing if it Ain't Got That Thing!' followed by one of their all-time favourite tunes, ‘Woodchopper's Ball'.

‘Oh, Al,' Emily shouted over the orchestra. ‘Were we ever young?'

‘It's not that long ago,' Alice replied as she spun under Emily's arm. ‘Only three years since the war started.'

Three years, Emily thought. So much had happened in so short a time, including her break-up with Bill.

Alice boogied around her.

‘Em, if you don't lighten up I'm going to have to find another partner,' she teased.

The girls danced themselves into a fantasy world of pleasure and escapism where hardship, hunger, grief and rationing were briefly replaced with laughter, excitement and
fun
!

Breathless and giggling after dancing non-stop for well over half an hour, Emily and Alice returned to their table to find Robin and a very smart man with short, thick brown hair and a neat little moustache were waiting for them.

‘Darling!' cried Alice as she rushed to kiss her boyfriend. ‘You should have told us you were here.'

Robin smiled adoringly at Alice.

‘And interrupt the two most stunning dancers on the floor? I don't think so,' he laughed.

Robin's friend drew out a chair for Emily and, as she settled into it, Robin introduced him.

‘This is my old school friend Rodney, or, to be more precise, Flight Lieutenant Rodney Harston-Binge.'

‘Pronounced Bing, not Binge as in excess!' guffawed
rather goofy Rodney as he kissed an astonished Emily on both cheeks. ‘I've been told that northern girls are beauties but you, my dear, are the living proof!'

In the dim candlelight, sipping champagne as Tommy Dorsey's band played one great big-band hit after another, the four of them laughed and chatted about the girls' life and work in the north.

‘It sounds frightfully exciting,' Rodney said as he leaned over to speak exclusively to Emily, who giggled at the idea of the Phoenix being ‘exciting'.

‘Believe me, it isn't. It's mucky work,' she said bluntly.

Rodney smiled at her strong Lancashire accent.

‘I love the way you say that,' he murmured as his eyes roved over her face then lingered on her full smiling lips.

Unused to excessive flattery, Emily couldn't help but giggle again.

‘Nobody's ever said anything like that to me before,' she replied.

‘That's because you're a rare northern bloom that's never travelled further south than Sheffield,' he teased.

‘You're right there,' Emily retorted. ‘Down south's another country!'

Pushing back his chair, Rodney rose and bowed to Emily before taking her hand.

‘May I?'

As they took to the floor, Emily saw in the rotating light of the silver balls hanging from the ceiling that Rodney was tall and well built; he was confident too, holding Emily close to his chest, with his left hand hovering dangerously near her bottom. He swept her into an expert
foxtrot followed by a tango then a jive, a dance she excelled in and he didn't. To the syncopated beat of drums and brass Emily was in her element. Spinning, smiling and flirting in the middle of the Astor Ballroom, she felt like she was a star in a Hollywood musical.

‘You have a passion for life,' Rodney observed.

‘I'm enjoying myself,' Emily replied giddily. ‘I've never drunk champagne in a London nightclub before.'

‘You mean you're not swept off your feet every night?' he teased.

Emily threw back her head and laughed out loud.

‘Not exactly. Believe me, there's little time for dancing, apart from in the canteen when we're listening to
Music While You Work
!'

Rodney gripped her close as they spun into another foxtrot.

‘Alice failed to tell me how enchanting you are.'

Emily wriggled away.

‘We're all beautiful at the Phoenix factory,' she joked.

‘Then maybe I should come and visit you in your Pennine hideaway?' he said.

By now a little tipsy, Emily was taken aback but didn't want to be rude.

‘Of course. Any time, Rodders!'

Back at their table, Emily tried to learn more about what Robin and Alice did at their training school in Cornwall.

‘Are you a French expert too?' she asked Robin.

‘Yes,' he replied with a sweet smile. ‘Though my French is not up to Alice's high academic standard. I'm more BBC Home Service.'

Alice leaned over to kiss his cheek.

‘Don't believe a word he says, Emily; he's way too modest,' she said adoringly.

Emily pushed on with her questions.

‘Do you know where you'll go next, Robin? Alice says she's no idea.'

Robin and Alice exchanged a quick look, then Robin replied, ‘Afraid we're both in the same boat on that subject. We'll be assessed at the end of our training then, depending on the level of our expertise, we'll be allocated a post, probably somewhere abroad. That's all we know.'

‘It's all very mysterious,' said Emily suspiciously. ‘And it's not clear what you're training for. What if you're split up?' she teased. ‘How will Alice live without you?'

‘I'll survive,' said Alice as she pulled Robin to his feet. ‘Come on, darling, let's dance.'

As they waltzed off, Rodney slid an arm around Emily's shoulders.

‘Shall we dance again?' he murmured thickly in her ear.

Rather fed up with his smarmy advances, Emily rose from her chair and shook her head.

‘Not right now. I must pop to the Ladies.'

It was difficult to get away from Mr Harston-Binge, and the drunker he got the more determined he was to get Emily into bed. Finally, at about two in the morning, Robin carted him off in a taxi, but not before putting Emily and Alice in their own separate taxi.