There had been a huge number of casualties, and the British Expeditionary Force had had to abandon vital heavy armour and equipment that would be needed in the coming months. With over five thousand dead, Dunkirk reduced to rubble, two hundred and thirty-five vessels and one hundred and six aircraft destroyed, the consequences of this evacuation could not be yet determined.
Sally saw how Anne paled, and held tightly to her hand. ‘Martin will ring when he can,’ she whispered. ‘He’s probably being debriefed and can’t get away.’
‘I know, but …’ She didn’t need to say any more, and Sally squeezed her fingers in empathy.
The news ended with a speech from Prime Minister Churchill, who darkly warned the nation to brace itself for another blow. ‘We are told that Herr Hitler has a plan for invading the British Isles,’ he said in that now familiar, gravelly voice. But the prime minister’s message to Herr Hitler was resolute. ‘We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches; we shall fight on the landing grounds; we shall fight in the fields and in the streets; we shall fight in the hills; we shall
never
surrender …’
They stood as one and cheered, bolstered by those fine words and the determination behind them, fired up with patriotism and the spirit that would take them to victory.
But as they went to their beds that night, the euphoria of the moment subsided. They didn’t doubt that the cost of victory would be high – but were they strong enough to pay it when it demanded the ultimate sacrifice of losing their loved ones?
Ernie cried out in the night, the nightmares waking him. Sally took him into her bed, and discovered that by giving him comfort, she found solace in the warmth of the little body pressed so tightly against her. But her dreams were troubled, the images of John fighting for his life in a sinking boat too powerful to sustain restful sleep.
Startled awake by the alarm clock, there was an instant when she couldn’t remember the horrors – and then they returned, stark and terrifying to haunt her throughout the day.
Clambering out of bed, she got Ernie ready for school and then dressed for work before carrying him downstairs for a breakfast of thin porridge and toast. Oats were hard to come by, but the local baker had taken on five new workers, and now the ovens were going through the day as well as the night all the while he could get the flour. Another delivery was expected on the Saturday train, and already his order book was full.
The telephone rang and Anne and Sally jumped to answer it. But Peggy got there first, smiled and handed the receiver to Anne. ‘It’s Martin,’ she said, ‘he’s safe.’
Sally swallowed her disappointment that there was no news of John, and returned to the breakfast table. But her appetite was gone and she gave the rest of it to Ernie.
‘Once the boys are at school, I’ll go over and see if Betty’s in, or if her neighbours know anything.’ Peggy patted her hand. ‘I know it’s terribly hard, dear, but I’m sure …’
‘I know,’ murmured Sally, listening to Anne’s happy voice in the hall. ‘If Martin’s come through, then I’m sure John has. It’s the not-knowing that’s so hard,’ she confessed.
The factory was buzzing with the news of Operation Dynamo as Sally, Pearl and Edie walked in. It took some time for everyone to settle, and although there was still too much chatter over the machines, Sally decided to ignore it. She didn’t have the heart to say anything – didn’t really have the heart for anything today.
It was almost the end of the shift when Sally saw Peggy bustle through the door. Her hands stilled and her mouth dried as she abandoned the khaki trousers she was working on and slowly got to her feet.
Peggy was arguing with Simmons. Now she was pushing past him, walking purposefully down the long aisle in the centre of the room as the machines quietened and then fell silent.
Sally couldn’t tell by her expression what news she had – but she wasn’t smiling. She found she couldn’t breathe, and as her legs threatened to give way, Pearl had to grab her arm to steady her.
‘It’s not bad news,’ said Peggy, as soon as she was in earshot, ‘but it’s not particularly good either.’ She reached Sally and took her hands. ‘I managed to catch Betty before she went back to her sister’s place. John’s alive, but he’s been injured and will have to stay in hospital a while – but Betty told me the doctors are sure he’ll make a full recovery.’
‘Oh, thank God,’ breathed Sally, the ready tears blinding her as she all but fell on to her chair. ‘Thank God he’s alive … I thought … I was sure …’
Peggy wrapped her arms round her and held her as the cocktail of pent-up fear and enormous relief finally boiled over into heaving sobs. When the storm was over, she dried her eyes and gripped Peggy’s hand.
‘What happened to him? Is he very badly injured? Can I visit him in hospital?’
‘The
Little Nell
took a direct blast from the enemy guns. John and the others were blown off her and into the water. John has shrapnel wounds to his back and face, his leg is broken in two places and his shoulder was dislocated. He was one of the lucky ones and got picked up within minutes of the
Little Nell
going down.’
She fell silent, her expressive face mournful. ‘His father and one of his cousins were never found,’ she said quietly. ‘The other boy and his uncle escaped with just a few bruises and scratches, and will be sent home today.’
Sally stared at her in horror. ‘Does John know about his father?’
Peggy shook her head. ‘He’s heavily sedated, but he’ll be told once he comes round enough to fully understand.’ Peggy took out her handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘Poor Betty is beside herself. She and Stan were childhood sweethearts, you know, and her sister’s boy was only fifteen. I can’t imagine what they must be going through.’
‘Can I go and visit John?’
‘No, my dear, only Betty is allowed to travel to Dover. You’ll just have to wait until he comes home.’
‘But he will make a full recovery?’
‘So Betty tells me.’
‘That’s enough chit-chat,’ boomed Simmons. ‘You’re not even supposed to be here, madam, and you’re keeping Miss Turner from her work.’
Peggy had the light of battle in her eyes as she faced Simmons. ‘You really are the most
obnoxious
little man, aren’t you?’ she said in her most scathing tone. ‘Don’t for one
minute
think you can bully
me
, Simmons. I’ll leave when I’m ready – and not before.’ She held his gaze, and he was the first to look away.
There was a smattering of applause and a few whistles of encouragement from the surrounding women. Simmons went scarlet. ‘Get out of my factory,’ he hissed.
Peggy raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s not
your
factory,’ she retorted, ‘and I’ll be having a word with Mr Goldman before I leave. I can’t imagine
what
he was thinking when he hired you.’ With that, she jammed her handbag under arm, hitched the gas-mask box over her shoulder and strode away, head high, seemingly unaware of the admiring looks from the other women and their low murmurs of approval.
She hadn’t quite reached the door to the office when Simmons caught up with her and barred the way.
Sally and the others watched and silently cheered her on as Simmons made what was clearly a grovelling apology, escorting her away from the office and off the premises.
‘Blimey,’ breathed Pearl. ‘Who’d have thought sweet, kind, lovely little Peggy could be such a tartar?’
‘I suspect she has more in common with her sister than she cares to admit,’ laughed Sally. ‘If you want to witness a real harridan at work, you should meet Doris. When she’s in full flow, she’s enough to scare even Hitler.’
‘Perhaps we should send her, and others like her, across the Channel as our secret weapons,’ said Brenda, lighting a cigarette. ‘There’s nothing like a woman on her high horse to scare the living daylights out of bullies.’
Sally sat down that evening and, with Anne’s help, wrote a letter to John. Her spelling was improving, as was her handwriting, but she still had difficulty with the thin nib that splattered ink everywhere and left far too many blots on the paper. The finished article looked as if a spider had crawled across the page.
She deliberately kept the letter short, for she didn’t really know how to express her deep feelings for him, and if someone had to read it to him, she didn’t want him to be embarrassed. Instead of telling him how much she loved him, she sent her condolences for his terrible loss, and told him of her relief and joy that he would soon be well enough to come home. Finishing with a brief regret that she couldn’t visit him, she signed it ‘
with love from Sally
’ and added two kisses at the bottom.
Sealing the envelope, she dropped it in the letterbox at the bottom of the street. All she could do now was wait for his reply and hope he’d recover quickly so they could be together again.
There was still no reply from him three weeks later, and as there was no way of finding out how he was, Sally had to tamp down on the frustration and get on with things in the firm belief that he would write when he could. But at night she fretted, her thoughts and dreams jumbled and disturbing, leaving her emotionally drained.
As Anne’s wedding day dawned with the promise of sunshine, Sally knew she must put her worries aside and help to make this a special day. With determined cheerfulness, she joined in the chaos as the girls battled to get five minutes alone in the bathroom before they got dressed in their finery.
The car had been taken out of storage and off the four piles of bricks. Jim and Ron had bolted the wheels back on and spent several hours polishing the bodywork and chrome to gleaming perfection before filling it with enough precious petrol to get them to the church and back.
The three boys complained bitterly about having to wear their school uniform on a Saturday. But, as it was the only decent set of clothing they possessed, their complaints were ignored. Ernie’s wheelchair had been decorated with strips of coloured ribbon, and Sally had added a few sprays of forsythia blossom to mark the occasion. The chair would go in the boot of the car in case Ernie got too tired, but it seemed he was determined to use the walking stick. Ron had lovingly carved a dog’s head in the handle, and Ernie was suddenly quite happy to be seen with it.
Sally had put her worries aside, finding solace in the hard work of getting the three bridesmaids’ dresses finished in time. She’d just put the finishing touches to her own dress when the doorbell rang yet again. It was Anne’s friend Dorothy from Cliffehaven Primary, arriving flushed and excited from her honeymoon. She and Greg, her Canadian soldier, had married three days before, and Dorothy was to be Anne’s matron of honour.
Cissy was doing everyone’s make-up and hair, bossing them about so much that she was finally banished from Anne’s bedroom by her mother. Sally got Ernie dressed in his freshly pressed blazer, shirt and short trousers, while Ron polished shoes over a piece of paper on the kitchen table. Jim was sent to the nearby hall to check that the tables had been laid properly with all the food their neighbours had kindly donated for the occasion, and that the decorations were tasteful. Mrs Finch sat like a tiny empress in a comfortable chair in the hall so she could watch the fun until it was time to leave.
The doorbell rang again, and Sally answered it to find Doris on the doorstep. She was resplendent in a silk suit, the fancy hat tipped forward so the brim almost covered half her face. The ubiquitous fur was draped round her shoulders, despite the warm June day. ‘Ted is waiting in the car,’ she said. ‘I hope everyone is ready. Time is getting rather short.’
‘I’m coming,’ called Peggy, making her way carefully down the stairs in her high-heeled shoes. The navy and white suit looked very smart with the dinky little white confection of netting and papier-mâché flowers that perched on her freshly styled hair. The outfit was finished with white shoes, bag and gloves, and Sally thought she’d never looked so elegant.
‘Right,’ Peggy said, determinedly, ‘let’s get everyone in the car. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but the boys can sit on laps.’
‘No boy is sitting on me,’ said Doris. ‘Do you have any idea how much this suit cost?’
Peggy shrugged dismissively as she chivvied Ron and the boys ahead of her. ‘It’s a good thing you’ve got a big car then,’ she muttered, as she stepped outside and regarded the gleaming Bentley.
‘Cor,’ shouted Ernie. ‘We going in that?’
‘Yes, you are,’ said Doris, hastily forestalling him from stroking the bonnet. ‘And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t touch anything or scratch the leather.’
Ernie eyed her solemnly. They’d had run-ins before. Then he gave her a huge grin. ‘I like yer ’at,’ he said, before ducking into the car. ‘It ’ides yer face.’
Ron snorted, Doris went pink, and there was a flurry of giggles as the boys piled into the back seat. Sally tried to look stern, but it was impossible. The look on Doris’s face was just too comical.
Once everyone was settled, they were waved away until they were out of sight. Pearl and Edie pushed through the little gathering on the steps and, clutching their hats, ran down the pavement to catch the bus. Billy was home on leave, and would meet them at the church with his best mate, Tom.
Cissy had raided the theatre’s wardrobe for the bridesmaids’ dresses, and Sally had adapted them to suit the occasion. The sequins and beads had been carefully removed from the tight-fitting bodices of the long ballet dresses which she’d dyed candy pink, or blue, or lavender. Using the frothy netting from another eight dresses, she’d dyed them to match, adding enough layers over the muslin underskirt so they couldn’t be seen through. They reached mid-calf to show off slender ankles and shoes that had been dyed to tone with the dresses. Each of them carried a single rose donated by a neighbour whose garden continued to flourish despite the lack of rain.