The Shipyard Girls, page 22
‘Oh dear,’ she said, dismayed.
As they approached their table they looked at Dorothy, laughing and in such high spirits. But as they put the drinks down on the table Polly saw the change in Dorothy’s demeanour. Her laughter seemed to stop dead in its tracks as she spotted Eddie and the woman he was now introducing to his friends. All the women welders followed Dorothy’s stare and fell silent.
Unaware of the six pairs of eyes glaring at him, Eddie continued to hold court at his table of fellow riveters.
The women turned back to look at Dorothy, who seemed totally stunned at the tableau unfolding in front of her.
‘It’s one of the new women,’ she mumbled.
Gloria felt her own heart sink and a twinge of guilt as she wondered if perhaps she should have told Dorothy about what she had seen the other week. But, then again, it wasn’t a crime to chat to another woman at work, and if she’d told Dorothy she might well not have believed her, or thought she was trying to cause trouble. Either way, it looked as if Dorothy was going to have to deal with the inevitable hurt and heartache of becoming attached to such a no-good waster.
‘It’s the crane operator. Angie, I think her name is,’ Dorothy added, unable to take her eyes off Eddie, who was now giving the pretty young Angie a very public kiss and show of affection. The two certainly couldn’t be misconstrued as merely friends.
The five other women watched Dorothy and waited with bated breath.
A myriad of thoughts gushed through Dorothy’s head as she realised that all those suspicions she’d kept pushing aside these past few weeks had been right. She had been used. It was now plain as day: Eddie had used her for a bit of fun, but worse still, he had also used her financially, draining her of the little money she had. Money she had worked damned hard for. She had been his free ticket to a good time and copious amounts of complimentary beer.
Dorothy rose slowly from her seat and the other women watched as she purposefully walked over to the bar. None of them said anything as she bought a pint of beer and steered her way round a few men who were standing with their drinks in their hands, chatting happily. Eddie was unaware of Dorothy as she approached the gaggle of riveters all smoking and gobbing off loudly.
She stood looking down at them all, shoulder to shoulder, crushed around the small pub table. The men gradually fell silent as they became aware of Dorothy’s looming figure. Angie innocently smiled up at Dorothy with a slightly puzzled expression on her face. Eddie turned and looked up to see who, or what, had captured everyone’s attention.
‘Hello, Eddie.’ Dorothy seethed fury, and as she held out the glass of beer she said, ‘This one’s for free, like all the others you’ve had out of me,’ then poured the pint of frothy pale brown liquid on to her former lover’s head.
Eddie automatically jumped up out of his seat, shocked by the feel of the cold ale shower he’d just been given, and by the unexpected actions of his jilted girlfriend. The gang of riveters he’d been sitting with burst into braying laughter. Eddie was gasping for air and shaking his arms out in a vain attempt to get rid of the rivulets of beer trickling down his body.
With great show, Dorothy carefully placed the empty pint glass on the round wooden table and turned to Eddie’s latest conquest. ‘And if I were you,’ she said, ‘I’d keep my legs and purse shut with this one. Trust me. No good will come of it.’
Dorothy turned on her heel and walked back to her workmates, who were all agog at their friend’s behaviour.
As Dorothy pulled out her stool and picked up her gin and tonic, Gloria was the first to find her tongue. ‘Good girl,’ she said. ‘He’s had that coming for a while.’
‘Blimey, Dorothy. Well done,’ Polly said, totally taken aback by her dramatic performance.
They all agreed and raised their glasses.
No one had to say anything else, but Dorothy realised then that they’d all had Eddie sussed from the start. She just wished she’d seen it before now, or admitted it to herself sooner. Deep down she had always known there was something up with Eddie. Something had pricked her antennae even when he’d started to make a play for her, when she’d been working at Binns and he’d been seeing one of the other sales assistants there. But she had chosen to ignore it. She had been thrilled by his attention and compliments, and ignored the fact that he was courting someone else, a woman she knew and liked. Dorothy understood now that the truth had been staring her in the face all along, but it was as if she hadn’t been able to stop herself. As if she had seen the fire and walked straight into it. If only she had listened to her inner voice, she might have saved herself this heartache. This humiliation.
‘Another toast,’ Hannah said.
‘Another toast,’ they all agreed, clinking their glasses.
‘And to think he was the only reason I got this job at the yard,’ Dorothy half laughed, half cried. ‘I left a perfectly good job at Binns – an easy, clean and warm job – for this. I think I need my head examining.’
The women turned to Dorothy in shock. Had she really just got this job to be near a man she liked?
Much as it pained Dorothy to admit it, it was true: she had in fact followed Eddie like a lost puppy to Thompson’s and signed up for a job she would never normally have even considered doing. Common sense had been overridden by her desire, her obsession, her need for love at any cost. In a moment of clarity she realised she had been so desperate for love, any kind of love and attention, she had resorted to giving herself over to someone like Eddie, who wasn’t worth a light. Dorothy’s big blue eyes filled with tears.
‘Well, yer know what they say,’ Gloria tried to reassure her, ‘every cloud has a silver lining and all that.’
‘And that silver lining would be?’ Dorothy asked, a big tear now running freely down her face.
‘Us, yer daft bugger. Your mates,’ Gloria said.
Martha reached over the table and slapped a big hand on top of Dorothy’s, giving her a wide grin which spread across the width of her round face.
‘Yes,’ Hannah added. ‘I know another English expression: more fish in sea?’ she asked, uncertain whether she had made any sense.
‘Yes, Hannah, more fish in the sea,’ Rosie told her, before looking at Dorothy and saying quietly, ‘You might be hopeless at catching a decent fella, Dorothy, but you’re a natural when it comes to welding.’
Dorothy’s face immediately brightened up. ‘Do you think so?’ she mumbled through her tears.
‘And what’s more, you’re fast,’ Rosie said. ‘That idiot Eddie’s done you a favour. You’re helping the war effort – and you’ve now got yourself a trade for life.’
Everyone looked at Rosie. None of them had heard her speak so personally before – and to Dorothy, of all people.
This birthday celebration was really turning into so much more than they had all anticipated. Not only had they heard Martha speak a foreign language, and witnessed Dorothy wreak wonderful revenge on her two-timing beau, but they had also, for the first time, felt that Rosie had become a part of their little group.
As the women left the warmth of the Admiral and faced the wind and rain, Polly heard the familiar growl of a motorbike starting up before it took off up the road. It was Tommy. He must have seen the women leave the pub, must have known Polly was part of the group, yet he hadn’t stopped to chat to her.
What was wrong? Why had he changed towards her? Polly wanted desperately to speak with him and ask him what the matter was. Had he gone off her? Found someone else? Someone called Helen Crawford?
As the women made their way up the embankment to get the bus into town, Polly tried unsuccessfully to push away her feelings of hurt and anger. Was she too going to have to go through this torment – the same demeaning and very public rejection Dorothy had just suffered this evening?
Chapter Thirty-Eight
When Tommy saw Polly and the rest of the women welders spill out of the Admiral, he felt his mood plummet further. When he had seen the women from afar, linking arms, all leaning into the strong winds and the lashing sheets of rain, their coats pulled tight around them to keep out the cold, he could still make out Polly. Tommy felt as though he could pick her out of a blizzard.
He had immediately breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn’t with Ned, and that she was just with the other women. He knew Polly had spotted him as he had seen her head turn towards him when he’d started up his bike. But there had been no smile on her lips. Lips he’d touched with his own, and which he’d enjoyed tracing with his fingers when they had been alone together. They were lips he’d felt he could have kissed for ever and a day.
When he had seen Polly this evening he knew he should have turned off his engine, walked over to her and asked to talk to her. He needed to talk to her. He wanted to ask her so many questions, and more than anything he wanted to ask about this Ned. But he hadn’t. He had done what he’d always done in his life: he’d turned his back on what mattered.
As Tommy rode home he didn’t thrash the bike and release his pent-up emotions by opening up his throttle, like he often did. His mood was too low even for that. He just wanted more than anything to be on his own, to stew in his own misery. But when he pulled up outside his home and walked through the front door, as soon as he saw Arthur sitting in his armchair, bending forward and giving the fire an enthusiastic poke, it was clear the old man was full of beans and after a bit of chat.
It hadn’t escaped Tommy’s notice that his granddad seemed to have a new lease of life since he’d started to go round to Agnes’s for his tea on a regular basis. Nowadays he seemed to be out and about more, going to the market from some offcuts of meat, or to the fish quay to get a choice bit of haddock or cod. There had even been a number of nights when Tommy had come home and Arthur hadn’t been in, which Tommy didn’t mind in the least. If anything, it put his mind at rest that if there was an air raid, he would be forced to go to a shelter with Agnes, Bel and Lucille and not stubbornly sit in his armchair, daring the Jerries to bomb him. The two families had become close and he knew Arthur felt the same way about Agnes’s as Tommy did – that it was the kind of home they had both yearned for over the years.
‘How yer been today, lad?’ Arthur asked.
Tommy felt that his granddad was scrutinising his face, trying to read his troubled thoughts.
‘Busy,’ he answered. What else could he say? That his heart was breaking? That his mood felt as dark and as murky as the river he spent so much of his time in?
‘No time to see that lovely lass of yours?’ Arthur prodded, knowing he was venturing into dangerous waters, but determined all the same.
He had never interfered in his grandson’s business before, especially when it came to women, but this, he felt, was different. This was important. Arthur couldn’t keep quiet, especially after what he’d learnt the other day when he had been round at Agnes’s. Bel had moved her chair a little closer to him and in a conspiratorial but concerned tone had started to ask Arthur a few questions. She hadn’t had to quiz him for long, for as soon as Arthur heard the name ‘Helen’ he knew in an instant what was up.
‘Yes, pet, I know Helen. Jack and Miriam’s daughter,’ Arthur had told her.
‘That’s her,’ Bel’d said, checking Agnes was out of earshot. ‘Polly told me that you and Tommy know the family quite well, from way back, and that Helen and your Tommy are quite close?’
Arthur had looked straight into Bel’s big, blue, inquisitive eyes. He had never beaten about the bush, and so he’d asked straight off, ‘What’s been going on?’
‘Oh, nothing… I hope,’ Bel had said. ‘It just seems that this Helen, well, to put it bluntly, is all over Tommy, and that the two seem to spend a lot of time together. Or at least Helen always seems to be about when Tommy’s on his breaks.’
Arthur might have been an old man, and not exactly up to date with the younger generation, but he knew exactly what was going on. Knew how this would make Polly feel. How she was a lovely lass but lacked confidence. He’d then done something he probably wouldn’t have done before and had told Bel the story of Jack, Miriam and Gloria, which Bel had listened to thoughtfully.
Tommy opened a bottle of beer and asked Arthur if he wanted one.
‘Go on then,’ Arthur said, ‘let’s live dangerously.’
Tommy went into the kitchen and opened another bottle, grabbing a half-pint glass and handing it to Arthur, who carefully poured himself his drink.
‘Ta, lad,’ Arthur said, before taking a deep breath. He was annoyed at himself that he actually felt a little nervous. ‘Now, about this Helen…’
Tommy looked at Arthur as if he were going senile. Why on earth was his granda asking about Helen? It was Polly he really needed to talk about. Tommy wanted to know what was going through Polly’s mind, not Helen’s. Once again Tommy’s mind went off at a tangent and the same old thoughts thrashed around in his head. His heart told him Polly loved him, but if she was seeing another bloke his head told him this most certainly wasn’t the case, far from it.
‘Well, you know what Helen’s like, don’t you?’ Arthur asked.
‘Aye,’ Tommy answered without much thought.
‘Yer know she’s just like her mam, don’t you?’ Arthur persevered.
‘Aye,’ Tommy repeated. He really had no interest in talking about Miriam or Helen. Why was the old man obsessing about the Crawfords?
Arthur looked at Tommy and was stuck for words. Why was this so hard? He again felt that familiar anger and resentment towards his daughter, who’d left him to fulfil the role of both a father and a mother – never mind that of a grandparent.
He tried to find the words to ask Tommy if he was interested in Helen, or if he had considered that Helen was interested in him. He wanted to warn him that, like her mother, Helen had the capacity to be very devious in order to get what she wanted. Arthur had seen Helen grow up from a little girl – if she wanted something, she had always got it. Now she was a young woman and, from what Bel had told him, Helen wanted Tommy. Arthur tried but he just couldn’t find the words to articulate these concerns. He kept opening his mouth to speak, but no words found their way out. By the time he had finished his drink, still nothing was forthcoming and Arthur resolved to try again another night.
Tommy, who had taken a chair from the kitchen table and was now sitting next to his granddad directly in front of the fire, was also stuck for words. He too had given up on speech and was lost in his own thoughts, drinking his ale straight from the bottle and gazing at the small mound of hissing coals.
Both men sat and stared, their frustrations pushed down but, like the fire, still burning hot.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
‘And the rest is history, as they say.’ Bel repeated Arthur’s exact words to end her telling of the Jack, Miriam and Gloria love-triangle story.
The other night Bel been captivated as Arthur had sat and told her all about Jack, his wealthy wife, Miriam, and his first love, Gloria, who’d recently started as a welder with Polly. Bel had listened intently while Arthur had explained how Jack and Gloria had been all set to marry and settle down when Miriam had suddenly come on the scene. Choosing his words carefully, he had described Miriam as a shrewd woman who also had the benefit of a wealthy family behind her, and how out of the blue Jack had suddenly started seeing Miriam – and that within a matter of months they’d got hitched. Word had gone round the yard that Miriam had been pregnant but had lost the baby shortly after she and Jack had tied the knot.
Just like Bel had done that night, Polly listened intently to the story. Afterwards they agreed it seemed likely that Miriam’s pregnancy had not exactly been unplanned, and it had had the desired result and landed her the man she’d made up her mind she wanted.
‘Blimey,’ Polly said when Bel had finished. ‘It’s like a story in one of those women’s magazines you sometimes bring home. Poor Gloria.’
‘And poor Jack too,’ Bel said.
‘What do you mean, “poor Jack”?’ Polly blustered. ‘He should have stayed true to Gloria and then none of this would have happened.’
The women both sat thinking about the story.
‘And then,’ Polly added, ‘they wouldn’t have had Helen – and she wouldn’t now be the bane of my life.’
As the two sipped from their cups of tea – which was now their nightly ritual after Agnes had gone to bed – they talked and talked. Polly confided in Bel about the awful marks and bruises she had seen on Gloria’s neck all those weeks ago. ‘That’s what makes this story so much more tragic,’ she said sadly.
Bel didn’t know Gloria, but she’d seen the aftermath of a man’s beating on her own mother’s face, and on the faces of many other women during her lifetime. It made her rage inwardly.
‘But I still don’t know if Tommy has feelings for Helen,’ Polly said despondently. ‘From what you’ve told me, Arthur didn’t say whether he does or not – only that Helen is a chip off the old block when it comes to getting what she wants.’
Bel didn’t reply. She too had thought the same. That night after Arthur had left, she had rerun his story in her head several times over, and realised that not once had Arthur reassured her that Tommy didn’t harbour any amorous feelings towards Helen. After all, the families were still very close. Jack thought the world of Arthur – and Helen and Tommy had known each other for many, many years. And, Bel thought, if Helen had loved Tommy since they’d been young and was as calculating as her mother, then Polly really did have something to worry about.
‘I’m so shattered I can barely even think now,’ Polly said, rubbing her tired eyes.
Bel looked at the clock. It was now nearing midnight. ‘Whatever happens with this Helen, I think you should tell Tommy how you feel,’ she said in earnest.
Polly nodded before sloping off to bed. She knew Bel was right, but she also knew that her pride wouldn’t let her. It was up to Tommy now. If he wanted her as much as he said he did, he would come to see her and talk to her. Polly might be doing a man’s job, but she still wanted to be treated like a woman. Tommy was the man, and in her mind he had to do all the running. That was just the way it was.
