The Bomb Girls (6 page)

The view from the window changed radically once they were past Preston and Chorley, the fertile Lancashire farmlands giving way to the first soft roll of the Cumbrian mountains which grew steeper as they passed Kendal then soared high and majestic as the train chuffed its way around Windermere. Agnes, who'd barely travelled outside of London, had never seen mountains so high or lakes so vast, and when she stepped off the train at the quaint Keswick station she gasped at the purity of the air. Esther could only thrive in such an environment. Following directions to the cottage hospital, Agnes hurried through the market town with its charming Moot Hall, then turned right towards Derwentwater; there she found the hospital surrounded by lawns that ran down to the edge of the lake.

With her pulse racing with excitement and trepidation, Agnes found Esther's ward, where she introduced herself to the doctor.

‘I have to be honest, Mrs Sharpe,' the doctor said after the initial formalities. ‘Esther's progress is slow and she's distinctly timid about trying out anything new.'

‘She's very young,' Agnes replied defensively.

The doctor smiled sympathetically.

‘We understand that, plus Esther was parted abruptly from both parents in a very short space of time. She's been through a lot.'

Agnes nodded as she bit back tears.

‘We're hoping this long-awaited visit from you might
increase Esther's confidence,' he said as he led Agnes to a window through which she could observe Esther working with her physiotherapist.

Agnes's heart skipped a beat as she watched her little girl intently working on exercising her left leg, which was strapped in a heavy metal calliper that caused her to walk with an uneven hopping gait. Agnes was surprised to see how much Esther had grown since she last saw her, though she was shocked at how thin and pale she was. Tears stung Agnes's eyes as Esther kept anxiously reaching out for her stick, but the physiotherapist was discouraging her from using it. Esther valiantly struggled on but she wobbled nervously as she tried to balance her body weight against the calliper.

She's so young, so small and vulnerable, thought Agnes.

Unable to wait a minute longer, she hurried to the treatment room.

‘Esther … darling,' she whispered as she pushed open the door and held out her arms to her daughter.

Esther let out a cry of pure joy as she fell into her mother's open arms.

‘Mummy, Mummy!' she sobbed.

Weeping with joy, Agnes buried her face in Esther's tumbling dark hair, inhaling for the first time for over a year the sweet young smell of her. Her hands travelled down the child's back where she could feel every bony vertebra. God, she really was thin!

Unable to believe her eyes, Esther said, ‘Mummy! You've come at last.'

Agnes, brimming with love and happiness, stroked Esther's hair and kissed away the tears on her damp cheeks.

‘It's all right, darling,' she soothed. ‘Everything's all right … Mummy's here.'

When both of them finally stopped crying Agnes borrowed a wheelchair from the ward. Esther instantly hopped into it.

‘Come on, cherub, let's go for a walk,' said Agnes with a radiant smile.

Even though it was a cold winter's day Agnes pushed Esther in her wheelchair around the shores of Derwentwater until it went dark. Neither of them wanted the day to end. Every time Agnes asked Esther if she was cold or hungry her daughter just laughed.

‘Keep on walking, Mummy, keep on talking.'

Starved of each other's company for so long, they laughed as they sang Esther's favourite nursery rhymes from her baby days.

‘Bye, baby bunting, daddy's gone a-hunting,' Esther chanted. ‘Has Daddy really gone hunting, Mummy?' she asked, her dark eyes big with anxiety.

‘Yes,' Agnes replied staunchly. ‘He's gone hunting but he's a big strong Daddy so he'll come back soon, safe and sound,' she reassured her daughter.

As Agnes and Esther stood by the shore of Derwentwater watching the sun go down, Mr Featherstone sat in his office at the Phoenix scowling at a bomb-assembly manual that was written entirely in French.

‘And what exactly are we expected to do with this?' he snapped at Marjorie, his secretary, as he irritably flicked the manual she'd presented to him. ‘Who in God's name speaks French round here?'

‘We could make a tannoy announcement in the factory and see if we can find somebody who does,' Marjorie replied.

‘Make it right away, Marjorie,' said Mr Featherstone. ‘The longer we take to find a translator the longer the delay on the bomb line.'

Five minutes later Marjorie's prim tones boomed up and down the assembly lines.

‘If there is anybody fluent in the French language could they please make themselves known to Mr Featherstone immediately.'

Emily, standing next to Alice at the conveyor belt, gave her friend a dig in the ribs. ‘You speak French. Off you go!' she laughed.

Having got permission from the temporary supervisor to leave her section, Alice hurried to the manager's office, wiping her yellow cordite-stained hands on her white overalls as she did so.

‘I'm fluent in French,' she told her boss nervously as she stood before his desk eyeing the manual he was pushing towards her.

Mr Featherstone nodded; he liked the look of this elegant little lass with her bright smile and stunning silver-grey eyes.

‘Don't ask me how we finished up with a French manual for English shell cases,' he said with a chuckle. ‘Somebody somewhere got their wires crossed. Sure you can manage it?'

Alice turned the pages of the hefty manual and nodded.

‘It's mostly technical and has a lot of English words, so
it shouldn't be too complicated,' she replied confidently. ‘I'll work on it when I've finished my shift tonight,' she added.

‘No, you won't!' Mr Featherstone replied forcefully. ‘You'll work on it right now, right here in my office. Marjorie!' he called. ‘Tea and biscuits for Alice – right away.'

It was pleasant sitting in the manager's warm office with a fire crackling in the black grate and a big brass clock ticking away on the wall. Alice quickly forgot about Mr Featherstone and Marjorie bustling in the background as she lost herself in the French text. It wasn't just a question of translating the document; she had to make absolutely sure that she accurately understood the intricacies of the bomb-assembly instructions so she chose her words with great care. One wrong word could lead to an explosion on the assembly line or, worse still, an incorrectly assembled bomb that failed to go off when fired on the front line.

When Marjorie and Mr Featherstone bade her a good night Alice stayed on.

At the end of their ten o'clock shift Elsie, Lillian and Emily came to take Alice back to their digs.

‘Come on, bedtime,' Emily urged but Alice shook her head.

‘I've got to get this done by the morning,' she said. ‘It's really important.'

Dawn found Alice slumped over the fully translated text. She awoke with a start as the brass clock struck six, and shivered; with the fire out the office was cold and chilly. Leaving the translated text on Mr Featherstone's desk, Alice hurried back to her digs where she had a hot
bath, a mug of sweet tea, then a few hours' sleep before she was back on the assembly line.

In his office Mr Featherstone read through Alice's English assembly instructions and smiled.

‘With skills like this,' he said to his secretary as he tapped the hefty pile of papers Alice had so efficiently translated, ‘that little lass is wasted down on the factory floor. I tell you, Marjorie, that young Alice Massey is made for much finer things!'

During her whirlwind visit Agnes spent a lot of time boosting Esther's confidence when she worked with her physiotherapist. As little Esther wobbled and swayed without the support of her stick, Agnes had an idea.

‘Let's do it with Dolly.'

Holding Esther's little knitted doll, Agnes placed her feet on a flat surface.

‘Look how clever she is, she can lift her good leg, then when that's nice and steady she can swing her poorly leg and she won't fall over because her strong leg is keeping her upright.'

As Agnes demonstrated the exercise several times, Esther smiled.

‘Clever Dolly!' she said as she picked her up and kissed her.

‘Now you show Dolly how to walk without wobbling,' Agnes urged.

The physiotherapist winked at Agnes as she said, ‘I'll leave you to it.'

When they were on their own Esther put Dolly through her paces.

‘But her polio leg is still thin and poorly,' she said sadly.

Agnes hunkered down to be on the same level as Esther.

‘I promise you it will get better and stronger with the hospital medicine and the physiotherapy.' She helped Esther to her feet. ‘Let's all do the exercises together with Dolly.'

By the end of the session they were laughing at each other as Agnes hopped on one leg and Esther walked with some significant improvement.

‘You're hopping, Mummy. Use both legs, no cheating,' Esther giggled as she repeated the words her mother had said to her.

‘You're doing better than me because you've got clever Dolly,' Agnes replied.

Esther rubbed the woollen toy against her pale cheek.

‘Can Dolly stay and do physiotherapy with me?' she said softly.

‘Of course, darling,' Agnes replied with a catch in her voice. ‘You can both help each other to get better.'

All too soon Esther and Agnes were enjoying their last day together, they'd hired a boat and were rowing out to the island in the middle of Derwentwater where they planned to have a picnic, even though it was icy cold and there was snow in the air. Over fish paste sandwiches and a flask of hot tea they talked about the future.

‘Will Daddy come home soon,' Esther asked.

‘He might do, sweetheart, God willing,' Agnes replied. ‘We just have to keep hoping and praying he's safe and well.'

‘Will God let you stay here with me, Mummy?' Esther asked sadly.

Feeling like her heart would burst with grief, Agnes gathered her daughter into her arms and kissed her soft dark curls.

‘Not yet, darling, but soon, I promise. Mummy will see you more often now and you can come and visit her at the factory where she works; it's not that far away.'

Seeing Esther's dark eyes fill with tears of disappointment, Agnes tried to lighten her load with a joke.

‘And guess what?' she said. ‘I have
four
best friends: Emily, Alice, Elsie and Lillian.'

Intrigued, Esther said, ‘Tell me about them.'

‘Well there's Emily, she's a great cook; she made those chocolate truffles for you,' said Agnes with a smile. ‘Then there's Alice, she's the clever one, and she can speak French nearly as well as she can speak English. Elsie is the sweetest, kindest lady in the world, and Lillian is funny and
really
cheeky!'

Esther burst out laughing at her mother's lively description of her friends.

‘Where do you all live, Mummy?' she asked.

Agnes smiled as she replied, ‘A cowshed on the moors!'

Esther's eyes opened wide with amazement.

‘A cowshed!' she laughed. ‘With pooh?'

Agnes shook her head.

‘No! We had to kick the cows out so me and my friends could move in!' she joked.

‘I want to meet your new friends, Mummy,' Esther said eagerly.

Agnes kissed her daughter, then said, ‘And they can't wait to meet you, sweetheart!'

Though Agnes had been staying with Mr and Mrs
Sugden, the old couple who housed Esther in between her hospital visits, she hadn't had as much time with them as she would have liked. Before Agnes packed her bag and left for the station Mrs Sugden suggested they had a cup of tea together. Agnes immediately accepted then suggested to Esther that she introduced Dolly to her other toys, which she kept in her bedroom.

As soon as Agnes was settled, Mrs Sugden said, ‘She stopped wetting the bed whilst you were here.'

Agnes nodded; she'd noticed the thick rubber undersheet on the single bed she'd shared with Esther during her stay.

‘She seems very thin.'

‘We have trouble getting food down her,' Mrs Sugden replied. ‘They say she doesn't eat much of the hospital food either.'

Agnes's heart dropped. During her time with Esther the little girl happily ate the meals and picnics they shared.

‘She's pining,' the old lady answered knowingly. ‘And there's nothing anybody can do about that.'

‘Not unless Hitler and Mr Churchill have a peace parley,' said Mr Sugden, speaking for the first time.

‘And that's not likely to happen, not with the way things are going,' retorted Agnes, who'd just been reading in the morning papers of the growing tension in the Pacific.

‘We do our best, lovie, even though we know the little lass only wants her mam,' Mrs Sugden assured her

‘I'm grateful to you both,' Agnes quickly said. ‘You've given my daughter a safe home, and at least she's out of the blitz,' she added, determined to sound upbeat.

‘We'll keep her safe,' the old lady promised.

Agnes sighed heavily.

‘I'm dreading leaving her,' she murmured.

Mrs Sugden patted her hand.

‘We're dreading it too, pet.'

Esther had to be wrenched out of her mother's arms at Keswick railway station.

‘Take care of her,' Agnes begged the old couple as she climbed onto the train, which was slowly starting to pull away from the platform.

Sobbing in the woman's arms, Esther waved Dolly in the air.

‘Bye, Mummy. I love you!' she cried.

‘Bye, darling,' Agnes called back, grateful for the engine smoke that hid from Esther the tears pouring unchecked down her cheeks.

The journey back was nothing like the happy, expectant journey to Keswick. The weather had changed and the bleak December chill settled on the countryside, clothing it in a clinging dank mist. There were endless stops and starts on the journey, with tired troops pushing their way up and down the packed corridors with their loaded kitbags. Knowing she was on an early shift the next morning, Agnes tried to catch some sleep, but her last memory of Esther sobbing her heart out as she waved Dolly in a final farewell drove sleep right out of her mind. When would she see her again? Would Esther remember what she had to do in her next physiotherapy class? Would the poor child start to wet the bed again? How could she persuade her to eat more when she was eighty miles away in another county?