The Bomb Girls (8 page)

At the final hour, Elsie shocked them all by having a tantrum. With her hair softly waved and her pretty heart-shaped face skilfully rouged, she looked lovely. The months of regular square meals at the Phoenix had put flesh on her bones. No longer skeletal, she now had a small bust and gently curving hips. The dress she'd borrowed from Lillian, a soft sage silk, brought out the green tones of her eyes and Alice's ballroom shoes
added height to her short stature. But when she saw herself in the mirror her face changed and she refused point-blank to leave their digs.

‘I can't go!' she cried, looking utterly miserable.

Her friends did a complete double-take at the sound of Elsie's angry, raised voice. This was not the little Gateshead mouse of a girl they were used to.

‘Why on earth not?' Agnes gently asked.

Elsie bit her lip then burst into tears.

‘I canna dance!'

‘Don't cry, for God's sake!' Lillian exclaimed. ‘You'll ruin your make-up!'

‘I don't care!' Elsie sobbed. ‘I canna go out done up like a dog's dinner and mek a fool of miself on the dance floor.'

‘You don't have to dance,' Agnes assured her.

‘You can just sit there looking pretty,' Alice quickly added.

Elsie looked from Agnes to Alice and back again.

‘For sure … ?'

Her friends quickly nodded.

‘Okay …' she said slowly. ‘No dancing – and definitely no lads!'

Arm in arm the four girls skipped down the dark cobbled lane to the Phoenix canteen, which was decorated not only with balloons and banners but with large, twirling silver balls hanging from the ceiling at each corner of the room. The cold outside contrasted with the warmth inside, and the mirrored balls scattered beams of silvery moonlight onto the dance floor, transforming it into a romantic ballroom. Giggling excitedly, the four friends
swung open the doors and rushed into the room, where they were met by dozens of eager Canadian airmen dressed in smart new grey and navy-blue uniforms. The girls stopped in their tracks: there were men everywhere! Handsome, young, excited men, and all curious to meet them. It was quite a shock after all the months of female-only companionship at the Phoenix, and among the smiling faces were those of black servicemen, the likes of whom Lillian, Alice and Elsie had never come across in their entire lives.

‘You're not telling me that you've never seen black men before?' Agnes asked incredulously.

‘We're not from London like you, Agnes,' Alice reminded her.

Lillian's dark eyes roved over a couple of stunning black guys drinking at the bar.

‘WOW!' she gasped. ‘I'm definitely going to make up for lost time!'

Holding her unlit cigarette aloft, she sashayed towards the bar.

‘Hi, there,' she cooed. ‘Anybody got a light?'

Agnes picked up two lemonades then settled blushing Elsie in a quiet corner from where she could observe the fun of the party without being overwhelmed and embarrassed.

Alice found Emily, hot and flushed, in the canteen kitchen, ready to serve up her delicious meat and potato pie.

‘Let's dance our socks off later, Al,' Emily cried over the clattering noise of pots and pans.

Standing at the edge of the ballroom, looking lovely in a dusty-pink crêpe dress that clung to her waist then
swirled out in a series of tiny pleats from her slender hips, Alice wondered whether to join Elsie and Agnes in the corner or Lillian, who was laughing raucously at the bar. Before she could make up her mind she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around to face a tall, dark Canadian airman.

‘Henri Laurent at your service,' he said, with a wide smile that showed off a set of perfectly even, white teeth.

Alice checked the stripes on his uniform and smiled.

‘Pleased to meet you, Captain Laurent.'

‘May I dance with you?' he asked formally.

Alice nodded and as they moved into the centre of the ballroom, she said, ‘I hear the hint of a French accent … ?'

‘
Français québécois
,' he replied, sliding a hand expertly around her waist and swooping her onto the dance floor as the band struck up ‘Deep Purple Haze'.

Pressed against Henri, Alice abandoned herself to the music and the moment. In a mood of heightened excitement she forgot the misery of rationing, the months of hard work, the relentless worry, the fear of the unknown … It all faded away as she waltzed into a dream world where, for a sweet, brief time, she found romance and escapism. As the conductor waved his baton and the music changed to the Mills Brothers' ‘You Always Hurt the One You Love', Alice looked shyly into Henri's face and smiled. As long as she danced, she was uplifted, drifting in a make-believe Hollywood world where nobody came home covered in yellow cordite powder.

In her quiet corner Elsie was surprised at how much she was enjoying herself.

‘The Canadians look so different to our lads,' she
observed. ‘They've got bonny teeth, like, all white and even,' she said with a laugh. ‘And they're better dressed too.'

Agnes, ever the realist, shrugged. ‘They're bound to look smarter; their uniforms are brand new whereas our lads have been wearing theirs for a good two years.'

‘Oh, aye, I never thought of that,' said Elsie, then she froze as a tall, thin strip of a lad loomed up before them and nervously cleared his throat.

‘Care for't dance?' he said with a broad Lancashire accent.

Thinking he was asking Agnes, Elsie shrank into the corner but a sharp kick from Agnes made her realize the question was addressed to her.

Flushed and awkward, Elsie looked up into the open, honest face of a boy not much older than her.

‘Will ya?' he said with an embarrassed grin.

Agnes gaped in surprise as Elsie rose to her feet.

‘Aye, go on then,' she replied.

Smiling fondly, Agnes watched them stumble about on the dance floor. They'd both got two left feet but neither of them seemed concerned; they smiled as they talked and shuffled between the more accomplished dancers.

God love them, thought Agnes as she slipped away, happy to return home alone where she had a letter to Esther to finish.

When the band was in full swing and the dance floor was packed Emily finally emerged from the kitchen. Made-up and with her long hair tumbling around her shoulders, she was wearing a floral silk dress that emphasized her full breasts and long legs. As she scanned the room for her friends, her eyes sparkled with excitement
and her feet began to tap. Seeing Alice with a tall Canadian captain and Lillian in the arms of a handsome black lieutenant, Emily looked about for Elsie and Agnes. The strains of ‘In the Mood' sent a shiver down her spine, which was heightened by a firm hand taking hold of hers.

‘Where've you been all night, gorgeous?' Freddie whispered into her ear.

Emily smiled shyly, but before she could reply Freddie spun her round, caught her smoothly in his arms then, holding her firmly around the waist, he boogied her onto the dance floor. Breathless and laughing, Emily responded instinctively to his expert dance moves. Losing herself to the music and trusting Freddie's timing, she lost all remaining inhibition, threw back her head and laughed with joy. She might be on the dawn shift tomorrow but tonight she was going to dance till she dropped!

In fact, Emily did more than dance. She couldn't help being intoxicated by Freddie. Just the touch of his firm hand in the small of her back sent a charge through her like an electric shock. The smell of his skin, a heady mix of pine and limes, filled her nose, removing all reason. When they stopped briefly for a glass of beer Emily, feeling woozy even before she'd had anything to drink, passed Lillian walking onto the dance floor with Malc.

‘I see you've landed on your feet,' Lillian chuckled.

‘What happened to the gorgeous guy you were with earlier?' Emily whispered.

‘Got to keep the boss happy!' Lillian replied with a cheeky wink

Freddie handed her a glass of beer then downed his in almost one gulp. Emily stared at him, mesmerized. He was larger than life, like no man she'd ever met before: dynamic, virile and bone-meltingly sexy. Smothering a groan of desire, she sipped thirstily at her beer.

‘So tell me all about yourself,' Freddie purred in her ear.

Emily gulped as she quickly swallowed her beer.

‘Me … ?' she said.

‘Yes, you, beautiful,' he murmured as he leaned close to blow a stray strand of hair out of her face.

‘Well … I'm a Bomb Girl,' she answered with a laugh, struggling to maintain any composure. Right now any
thoughts of Bill were being pushed further and further to the back of her mind.

Bending even closer, he whispered softly in her ear, ‘You've sure blown me away, babe.'

Before Emily could catch her breath he'd set down her glass and whisked her back onto the dance floor.

‘I feel empty when you're not in my arms,' he said as they swung into a foxtrot.

Emily didn't think she'd ever had so much fun, and she smiled when she caught sight of Alice laughing as she danced with a tall, dark Canadian officer. She was glad Alice seemed to be having as much fun as her.

As the music changed to a dreamy waltz number, Emily closed her eyes and just swayed in sync with Freddie's every movement. Like Alice, she abandoned herself to the music, to the heady sense of romance and complete escapism that filled the improvised ballroom.

When Freddie finally moved to kiss Emily she found she couldn't hold back. Although she loved Bill it was so long since she'd seen him … and she didn't even know if he still felt the same way about her. But right now, in this room, a gorgeous man was making her feel a million dollars and she couldn't help but respond eagerly to his advances. As the two of them kissed and cuddled into the early hours, Emily was shocked at herself. She had never before behaved so recklessly and with so little thought to consequences. But the war had changed everything.

Long after the swing night concluded Emily and Freddie were still together, sheltered from the frosty wind and locked in each other's arms underneath the wide awning of the factory loading bay.

Eventually, as the first birds began to stir, Emily tore herself away.

‘I've
got
to go,' she whispered. ‘I'm on early shift.'

‘Who cares?' he grinned as he pulled her back.

Melting into Freddie's body, feeling the muscles rippling beneath his uniform, Emily forgot about everything but the thrill of his soft caressing hands. The sound of the factory hooter waking the morning shift, swiftly followed by the weary trudge of boots on cobblestones, finally startled Emily into reality. Terrified she'd be discovered in broad daylight, she struggled free of Freddie, who clutched her hand.

‘When are we going to meet again?' he asked urgently.

Emily couldn't help herself, again she pushed any thoughts of Bill and her guilt to one side.

‘Tomorrow,' she promised, then laughed as she realized that tomorrow was already today. Blowing Freddie a kiss, she ran towards the factory doors, calling out, ‘As soon as I get time off.'

Joining her friends in the changing room, Emily swapped her pretty dancing dress and high heels for white overalls and heavy work boots.

‘Dirty stop out!' Lillian giggled as Emily scrunched her tumbled hair underneath her turban.

‘Listen to the pot calling the kettle black!' scoffed Elsie. ‘Emily wasn't the only one who didn't come home last night.'

‘I was otherwise engaged,' Lillian giggled as she wriggled her shapely bottom into her overalls. ‘So what did you get up to, Missie Emily?' she teased.

‘Just talking,' Emily replied with a blush. ‘Nothing
happened, promise,' she added as she caught sight of Alice's penetrating eyes.

‘The both of you should've come home to your beds,' Elsie scolded.

‘For a girl who went out saying no fellas and no dancing you did all right, Elsie,' Lillian laughed.

Agnes didn't join in the good-natured banter. She looked disapprovingly from Lillian to Emily.

‘You two are in no state for work,' she snapped.

‘I'll be all right after a few cups of strong tea,' Emily replied with a sleepy smile.

‘And half a packet of Woodbines!' yawned Lillian.

Agnes scowled as she shook her head.

‘This is stupid!' she exclaimed crossly. ‘You two have been up all night. You should go back to the digs and catch up on your sleep.'

Lillian smothered a yawn as she replied, ‘Give it a rest, lovie, my bloody head's banging.'

Agnes pulled out a chair and sat down beside Lillian.

‘Go home, please. It's for your own good,' she pleaded.

In answer, stubborn Lillian stubbed out her cigarette then started haphazardly removing clips from her hair.

‘I know what I'm doing,' she retorted. Then, pulling on her turban, she said to Emily, ‘C'mon, our kid, let's hit the bomb line.'

As they walked onto the factory floor, Lillian whispered, ‘So how was lover boy?'

Emily's blue eyes grew dreamy as she recalled the rapture of Freddie's long kisses.

‘Oh, God … I just couldn't help myself. He was absolutely gorgeous.' She sighed.

Overhearing her response, Alice frowned, which made hot-headed Emily's hackles rise.

She knew Alice was right to frown but she was all over the place: besotted by Freddie, who seemed to really adore her – and still so hurt by how Bill had behaved on his last leave home.

‘You don't need to look so disapproving, Al,' she snapped. ‘You weren't exactly holding back last night.'

Alice's face reddened with anger.

‘I'm not the one who's got a fiancé!' she snapped back.

Seeing a row about to blow, Lillian laughed as she gave a careless shrug.

‘We can't all be vestal virgins!'

Emily looked shocked.

‘Hey, I didn't go that far!' she exclaimed.

Lillian winked as she gave her a nudge in the ribs.

‘No … but I bet you wanted to!'

The early shift got under way in the cold, dark, damp workshop. The rattle of the shell cases and the permanent crank and roll of the conveyor belt sent Emily into a trance-like state; all she could think of were Freddie's brooding eyes and soft caresses. As the morning wore on, Bill's smiling face and honest blue eyes drifted into her mind more and more, and the guilt nagged at her. Had she got it all wrong? Had Bill been thinking like she had been thinking, wondering why Emily didn't go and visit him? Had they got their wires crossed? Was it all down to a stupid misunderstanding?

What have I done … What am I doing … ? Guilty thoughts filled her mind as she packed one shell case after
another. Al was so right. Bill would dump her if he ever found out. She bit her lip hard to fight back her tears of shame. He must
never
find out, never, ever! It would be the end of us, she thought.

Halfway through the shift, just before one of their much-needed tea breaks, Lillian raised her hand to push away a stray curl that was making her nose itch; as she did so an undetected hairpin slipped from underneath her turban.

Agnes, who'd made a point of working near Lillian because of the state she was in, saw the pin fall. Holding her breath, she watched it descend as if it was happening in slow motion: turning, it glinted a dull metallic gold as it landed on the conveyor belt then sparked as it hit the cordite powder. Mercifully, Agnes found her voice a millisecond before the flash.

‘DOWN! GET DOWN!' she screamed.

Everybody scrambled to get down, but some had hardly made it to the floor before a loud bang ripped through the building followed by a huge explosion that knocked Alice flat on her back. Paralysed with fear, she lay winded and trembling, terrified there might be a second explosion. When none came she gingerly raised herself up to see what damage had been done. To her distress and horror she could see workers on Agnes's section lying unconscious, stunned or wounded. She caught sight of Agnes, who, with blood streaming down her face, was crawling from one munitions girl to another, pushing or rolling them away from the conveyor belt where shell cases continued to rattle around. A fire bell screeched out and several overseers rushed in. One immediately shut down
the conveyor belt, several more hosed down the cordite line, the rest carried the wounded and unconscious to safety. Alice could hear moaning from some of the injured girls; others lay uncannily still.

‘Where's Emily?' she said out loud. ‘Elsie!' she called. ‘Lillian!' Even as she followed instructions to evacuate the building, she frantically looked out for her friends.

‘Where are they?' she murmured as hysteria rose in her throat.

Along with all the girls able to walk, Alice followed the fire-drill rules; though shaken and scared they left the factory in an orderly manner and lined up outside on the moors at a safe distance from the Phoenix, which they knew could blow sky-high if the fire wasn't controlled right away.

‘What the bloody 'ell happened?' everybody was asking as they stood shivering and shaking in the howling wind.

‘Nobody's sure,' an overseer told them. ‘The explosion was on the cordite line.'

Huddled amongst the able munitions girls, Alice finally spotted Emily and Lillian moving through the crowd as they frantically looked for Elsie and Agnes.

Seeing Malc counting the girls on the fire-drill line-up, Lillian ran over to him.

‘Have you seen Agnes and Elsie?' she asked breathlessly.

Looking bemused, Malc shook his head. ‘No. There's bodies all over the factory floor, but th'ambulance men are taking them out now. Are you all right, sweetheart?' he added, seeing Lillian was as white as a sheet.

Lillian shook her head as she grabbed his arm.

‘I've got to find them, Malc.' She dropped her voice to a whisper as she went on, ‘I think I caused the explosion. A hairgrip slipped out from underneath my turban. I tried to catch it but –'

‘Jesus Christ!' yelled Malc.

Lillian squeezed his arm hard.

‘Keep your voice down,' she begged.

‘You know the rules,' he whispered back. ‘No metal on the factory floor. What were you thinking of, Lil?'

‘I know … I know,' Lillian gabbled. ‘I was hungover after all the booze you plied me with, not to mention staying up most of the night,' she muttered in his ear.

‘Shh!' he hissed. ‘If anybody gets wind of that we'll both get our marching orders.'

‘Agnes begged me not to start work, she warned me, but, like the cocky cow I am, I thought I knew better. Oh, Malc, what have I done?' she wailed as she clung onto him for support.

They were pushed aside by stretcher-bearers taking the wounded to the Phoenix hospital. As they passed by, Lillian thought she caught sight of Agnes, and running along beside the stretcher she grasped Agnes's limp hand.

‘I'm sorry, Agnes, I'm so sorry,' she whispered frantically. ‘Please be okay,' she sobbed wildly. ‘Please, Agnes … I don't know what I'd do without you.'

Too weak to reply, Agnes just squeezed Lillian's hand before she was whisked away for treatment.

Lillian watched her go.

This would never have happened if I hadn't clocked on for work hungover, she raged at herself.

Because of her stupid carelessness she had caused a
horrific explosion that might have killed two of the people she loved most in the world. She jumped at the touch of Malc's hand on her shoulder.

‘Leave this with me, Lil,' he said. ‘I'll talk directly to Mr Featherstone, see if I can't soften him up a bit.'

Lillian gaped at him in disbelief.

‘I nearly took out the entire workforce – I don't want you “softening things up”. I deserve what's coming to me and if that means dismissal, so be it.'

‘Don't be a bloody fool, girl!' Malc replied angrily. ‘You're meeting trouble head on, so let's play for time.'

Lillian looked him squarely in the eye.

‘Who are you most worried about, Malc – you or me?'

The noise of the explosion alerted the people of Pendle to an accident close by but nobody quite knew what or where. Tommy Carter, his thoughts full of Elsie, heard it when he was tucking into his breakfast in his mum's two-up, two-down in the middle of a terraced block next to the mill where his parents had worked all their lives. He jumped to his feet in alarm and, grabbing his coat against the snow that had started to fall, he ran down the street towards a crowd who had gathered at the local shops.