The Docklands Girls (3 page)

Cora was window shopping in Above Bar Street wishing she had enough clothing coupons to buy a new jacket as she loved the red one on the mannequin in the window.

‘Well, hi there! That’d look good on you, Cora!’

She turned in surprise to see, Hank, the GI she’d met in the Lord Roberts, standing beside her. ‘Hello,’ she said, ‘what are you doing here?’

‘Just killing time. I’m off duty for a few hours, how about you?’

‘Window shopping, but I haven’t any spare clothing coupons to buy anything.’ She saw the look of puzzlement on his face and explained the necessity of such things here in wartime.

‘Gee, that’s real tough. I had no idea. To make up for your disappointment, how about I take you for lunch?’

‘Really? Why I’d like that very much.’

They walked to Gatti’s Restaurant in the High Street – which had luckily survived the Blitz – and were seated by the waiter. The menu was limited, of course, due to the rationing but they chose fish which was free of such
restrictions. During the meal and a bottle of wine, Cora learnt more about her companion.

Hank told her about Detroit being the centre of the motor industry and how both he and his father had been employed as mechanical engineers until Hank joined the army after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbour.

He looked somewhat rueful as he explained. ‘The bombing came as a complete shock to our country. War was something that was happening elsewhere,’ he said. ‘But now we are as involved as everyone else. I know that many think but for that happening, we would have stayed out of the conflict … and who knows, maybe they are correct in their assumption.’

Cora sensed that her companion felt a certain shame about this and hurried to make him feel better about it.

‘But you’re here now. You aren’t responsible, Hank.’

‘Anyway, let’s not talk about the war,’ he said, ‘what are your plans for when it’s over?’

‘I’m thinking of moving to London,’ she said. ‘I have no family, no ties. I just want a fresh start in a new place, away from all my bad memories.’

‘No plans to get married and settle down then?’

‘Not for a long time. I just want to live a little, do new things – enjoy life.’

‘Then let’s drink to that,’ he said and raised his glass of wine to hers. ‘I have an all-day pass on Sunday, are you free, Cora? I thought it would be great to see somewhere else other than Southampton. What do you say?’

Sunday was the only day that Cora didn’t work and as she looked at her companion, she thought it would be a nice break. They arranged to meet at the train
station at ten o’clock and take it from there.

Hank looked at his watch. ‘Much as I’d like to stay with you, I’m afraid I have to get back to camp,’ he said and called the waiter over and asked for the bill.

Outside, they parted until Sunday.

Cora walked home through the park, pleased she would be seeing the American again, wondering just how long she could keep from him the way she earned her money. If he ever discovered she was on the game that would be the last she’d see of him, of that she was sure.

In the Horse and Groom, the barmaid was calling time. She rang the bell hanging behind the bar. ‘Time ladies and gentlemen, please!’ She started to collect the empty glasses from the tables whilst urging the customers who were lingering to hurry.

‘Come on you lot, drink up! If a copper walks in now, we’ll lose our licence, so sup up and go home.’ Eventually the bar emptied and she locked the doors.

Outside, the pimp Cairo Fred was urging two of his girls to work. ‘Come along, you lazy bitches, enough hanging around. Go and find some more business!’

They muttered angrily as they walked away.

Fred leant against the wall and lit a cigarette. He loved the war, it brought so many clients and he was making money. But the girls needed a kick up the arse every now and then and he was the one to do it. The weekend had been very busy. So many men wanting a woman before they were shipped out. The last bit of tail before fighting the enemy was on most male minds and he was grateful for that. Everyone had a fiddle during wartime. The black
market was thriving. Not that the spivs had much time for him. Fred knew that they despised him for living off immoral earnings, but he had a thick skin and they could keep their snide remarks as long as he was making money. They were no better; they just made their stash a different way, that’s all. He saw Bert and Jimmy James – two brothers deeply involved with the black market – watching him with distasteful expressions, then they continued with their trading, swapping clothing coupons, ration books and petrol coupons. A wad of money exchanged hands.

Jimmy made his way to the back of the Lord Roberts pub where he had parked a small delivery van. Banging on the back door, he waited until it opened and took a case of Bourbon out of the van and carried it inside.

The landlord was delighted. ‘The Yanks pay through the nose for this,’ he said, eyes gleaming in anticipation of his rich reward. ‘I’ll take any you can get your hands on. Here.’ He handed over an envelope full of money and walked the spiv to the door.

Jimmy was very pleased. He had made a deal with one of the American quartermasters at a GI camp whom he met in the Horse and Groom one night. The meeting had proved profitable to both. The Yank was saving to open his own business back in the States after the war and with his access to all the stores, he was sitting on a fortune.

Jimmy and Bert were hard men. They were leaders of a small gang who were major racketeers and didn’t take to anyone invading their patch. Their connections to those steeped in the black market spread like tentacles. Anyone who had anything under the counter to sell knew better than to trade with anyone else. A few had tried to get a better price,
but they paid dearly for their betrayal. Noses were broken, homes trashed. They traded in fear and were very successful.

On Sunday morning, Cora met Hank and they decided to go to Bournemouth. It was a decent day weather wise. The sun shone and it wasn’t cold. When they arrived, they walked down to the seafront and were sitting in a cafe looking out over the water, drinking coffee and eating egg on toast. It was such a treat as eggs were rationed. After, they walked around the shops, just window shopping but Cora found it frustrating being unable to purchase new clothes. But they did go into one shop where she bought a new hat, as no clothing coupons were required. She enjoyed trying several on with Hank helping her choose one, and to her delight he insisted he pay for it. She put it on her head with a broad grin and they walked out of the shop, Hank laughing at her obvious pleasure.

‘It doesn’t take much to make you happy, Cora!’ he teased.

Laughing she said, ‘In wartime it is the little things that matter.’

The day passed all too soon. They ate fish and chips out of the paper, sitting near the beach, went to a film and eventually caught a train back to Southampton.

Hank said he would walk her home but Cora didn’t want him to see the one room she inhabited and where she did her business. She wanted that part of her life to be kept separate from this charming man, so made an excuse she had to go to visit a sick friend.

He slowly took her into his arms. ‘Thanks for today, Cora. It was great. We’ll have to do this again real soon.’ He leant forward and kissed her gently.

‘That would be lovely,’ she replied, ‘and thank you for my hat.’

‘How can I get in touch with you?’ he asked.

She hesitated. ‘I’m in the Lord Roberts most evenings about six-thirty,’ she told him. ‘You can find me there.’

He looked a little surprised but didn’t question her. ‘Fine, I’ll see you soon.’

As she walked away, she wished things were different, that she had a proper home where she could entertain this lovely man. She realised that if she was to continue to see Hank, things could become really difficult, keeping her work a secret, but she was determined to try.

It wasn’t as if she enjoyed the way she made her money, having strangers use her for sex. Some treated her well as they fulfilled their desire, others didn’t. To them, she was there to make sure they got their money’s worth and they treated her without respect as a person and, sometimes, they were brutal. She’d been in fear of her life more than once. But among the prostitutes, word soon got around and these men met with a denial when they approached a brass, which in itself could be more than dangerous. Men, whose alcoholic-filled brutality came to the fore at such times, caused many a fight when they pestered the girls in a bar and the locals or other customers came to their rescue. But the military police, always on patrol around trouble spots, dealt with them very quickly.

She put her key in the door and made a cup of tea before going to bed.

Belle had taken a night off and was spending the evening with Jackson Butler. He’d been very kind, bringing her some goods from the PX store and had arrived at the Horse and Groom, looking for her and bearing gifts of proper coffee, nylon stockings and tins of fruit. She was overwhelmed and had taken him home to offload the goods …

‘Oh Jackson! This is so kind of you, you have no idea what a treat this is for me with the rationing. And nylon stockings! I could kiss you!’ and she did, soundly.

He beamed with pleasure. ‘Aw gee, Belle. It ain’t nothing! Now how about we go and have a few beers?’

Since their first night together, Belle had been seeing Jackson regularly. Sometimes as a punter, although their relationship was different to when she took any other man to her bed for business. She’d grown fond of this young man who was finding the freedom of being in this country like discovering a gold mine. He couldn’t quite get used to the freedom of movement it offered him and it delighted Belle to watch him grow.

They went into town and sat in a corner of the Spa
Tavern, talking quietly, drinking their beer. Belle was aware of the hostile glances from some of the customers seeing her sitting with a black GI. She was used to this, it happened frequently when they were together and, most times, she chose to ignore it, but there was one couple sitting nearby and the woman was making her feelings very clear and in a loud enough voice to cause others to look round to see what she was complaining about.

‘Well, I think it’s disgusting!’ said the woman. ‘A white woman going out with a darkie! It isn’t proper!’

Jackson, sensing Belle’s anger rising, said quietly, ‘Let’s go.’

She flatly refused. ‘No! You and I have as much right to sit here together as anyone else in this bar.’ She glared at the woman. The chatter in the bar stopped.

Belle spoke up. ‘What gives
you
the right to criticise? This soldier has come to fight in this war, to help to defend this country, your country! Soon he’ll be sent over to France to face the enemy. He could be killed like so many others. If his blood
is
spilt, it will be red, like yours, not black, yellow or green. The colour of his skin won’t matter then, madam!’

The woman was shocked at this heartfelt outburst. There was a deathly hush and then a voice was heard.

‘Well said, young lady! We need all the help we can get to beat the Germans. Let me buy you both a drink!’

Belle having vented her spleen was astonished, as was the woman who had started the whole thing. She got to her feet and dragged her husband out of the pub, muttering beneath her breath.

The gentleman who had come to her rescue came across the room, shook Jackson by the hand and asked, ‘What are you both drinking?’

The bar chatter started up again and Belle smiled at the stranger.

‘Two halves of bitter – and thank you.’

The stranger just winked at her and ordered the beer.

Jackson took her hand. ‘You really are a feisty woman, Belle!’

She started laughing. ‘No one tells me how to run my life, who I can go out with, who I can speak to. No one.’

‘Calm down, honey, it’s over with. I’ve received such treatment all my life, you get used to it.’

‘Not in this country when you’re with me, Jackson love.’

He looked thoughtful. ‘When I do get shipped out, Belle, will you write to me? Keep in touch?’

She squeezed his hand. ‘Of course I will.’ As she looked into his large brown eyes, she knew that to her he was someone special. Someone she was growing fond of despite their differences. She’d not felt this way about any man ever since she and her husband had divorced. She knew she would miss him terribly when eventually he left these shores.

Plans for the invasion were now well under way with General Dwight Eisenhower in command. All coastal areas had been banned to visitors. Large scale military exercises began. Amphibious operations were being practised as were airborne landings. Minesweepers were clearing enemy laid mines. The atmosphere within the town became tense with expectation. Leave was restricted but when the troops did manage a few hours out of camp, they made the most of it, which led to many a fracas in the dockland pubs as the men were letting their inner turmoil loose. Others sat in corners in quiet contemplation of what was ahead of them.

Hildy and Milt managed to see one another whenever he was free, which wasn’t that often, and that pleased her mother, who made her feelings very clear.

‘Good job when they all go! Then we can get back to normal,’ she snapped one evening when Hildy was at home. ‘I said as much at work this morning.’

Hildy’s eyes flashed in anger. ‘How can you say that? These men are facing untold odds. Many of them won’t be coming back!’

This was her one fear. She and Milt had become close during the previous weeks and their relationship had blossomed and become physical. They would sometimes book into a hotel for the night, which had caused ructions in the Dickson household. Olive felt she was losing her grip on her daughter.

Milt had persuaded Hildy that she must be strong and lead a life of her own. He’d met Mrs Dickson on a few occasions when he’d been to the house to collect Hildy for a date and thought the old woman an evil old devil. He saw just how she used emotional blackmail to get to her daughter.

But Olive was unrepentant. ‘Well, what do you expect? War is war and lives are lost. In any case, when it’s all over, these men will go home and forget the girls they met over here and if you think that isn’t the case, think again.’

Hildy rose to her feet. ‘But some of them get married, mother!’ She grabbed her coat. ‘I’m going out.’

Olive leant back in her chair, astounded at her daughter’s outburst. Then the true significance of the remark penetrated her mind. Had Hildy decided to marry her GI? If so … what was to happen to her?

Cora and the other brasses were still kept busy despite the restrictions on the American troops. The French sailors came and went and now Canadian firefighters had moved into the town and there were the British troops too, who were also waiting to be shipped out and were longing for a woman.

She had still managed to keep her real occupation from Hank, whom she had been seeing regularly until the clamp down on leave. But she’d had a few scrapes in doing so. One night as she was sitting in the Horse and Groom waiting for clients, Hank had entered the bar. Cora had managed to slip out of another door before he saw her and she plied her trade elsewhere for a few days until she knew he was on exercises. But it had unsettled her.

This evening she was sitting in the Lord Roberts as usual before work when, to her surprise, Hank came into the bar and seeing her rushed over.

Kissing her briefly, he said, ‘I hoped I would catch you. I’ve a few hours’ leave and wondered if there was any way you could come out for a drink? God knows when I’ll get another pass.’

She was so delighted to see him she immediately answered. ‘Yes, I’m sure they won’t mind me missing one night.’

He bought them both a drink and sat down. ‘Your business must be mighty accommodating if you can just take time out like this,’ he remarked casually.

She froze for just a moment. ‘There’s plenty who can cover for me,’ she said.

‘What is it you do?’ he asked. ‘You’ve never really told me.’

‘We look after the troop’s welfare,’ she answered. ‘Try and keep them from feeling homesick.’ Well, that wasn’t far from the truth, she thought.

Later, as they were sitting in a bar, one of her punters walked in with another GI and seeing her smiled.

‘Hi Cora! How you doing?’

Then to her horror he grinned at her companion. ‘Howdy Hank, great to get out of camp for a night, isn’t it?’

Hank agreed and continued to talk to Cora as the soldier sat at a table.

‘You know him?’ she asked fearfully.

‘Yep! We’re in the same company,’ he replied to her consternation.

Oh my God! she thought. If they get talking, he would discover her secret. And if he did, that would be the end of their friendship. She had never taken Hank to her bed. She had wanted their relationship to be different. Kissing and petting was as far as it had ever gone. Hank, thinking she was a good girl, hadn’t pushed her for more and had respected her wishes. But now …

She was so lost in thought, she hadn’t been listening until Hank said, ‘Cora!’

‘Sorry, sorry I was miles away for a minute. What did you say?’

‘I said that I didn’t know when I’d be free again. We’re off to do some exercises for the next week.’

‘Oh, right. Well, you know where to find me.’ She caught hold of his hand. ‘I’ll miss you, Hank. You take care now.’

He put her hand to his lips. ‘Make sure you do the same, Cora, honey. You’ve come to mean a lot to me.’

Although this thrilled her, it made the fear of discovery all the more of a problem. She really liked him, respected him, and if he found her out, she would be devastated.

The following morning, Hank’s division was sent to Salisbury Plain on exercise for a week. On the third day, he was standing in a queue for food at the kitchen that had been set up, when the soldier who had seen him with Cora in the bar came and stood next to him. They were both covered in dirt as the rain had made the terrain a mud bath.

‘Geez,’ exclaimed the soldier, ‘that was a hell of a morning. I’m soaked through to my underpants!’

‘Me too,’ agreed Hank. ‘Man, I can’t wait to get under a hot shower.’

They took their food over to a long table with bench seats and sat down to eat.

‘I wonder how long it’ll be before we get shipped out,’ his companion said.

‘Pretty soon, I guess. In one way I just want to get it over with, in another I dread the idea.’

‘Know what you mean. Southampton isn’t a bad place. The folks have treated us well.’ He grinned broadly. ‘I’ll sure miss seeing Cora, I guess you will too?’

Hank’s eyes narrowed. ‘You seen much of her then?’

The soldier laughed. ‘Every damned inch of her! Great body. For a whore, she’s a great girl.’ He rose from the bench. ‘Gotta go. See you!’

Hank was in shock, unable to move. Cora, a whore? Not his Cora. The girl who had kept him at arm’s
length all the time he’d been seeing her. It couldn’t be true … could it? He felt sick to his stomach.

Hank didn’t have much time to dwell on his predicament over the next few days as the exercises continued. Fake battle lines were drawn and, as he walked behind a tank, slowly driving over the terrain to meet the supposed enemy, the realisation of what really lay ahead became apparent to all and sundry. It was a wake-up call. One that focused the mind and when the men piled into trucks to take them back to camp, they were a silent bunch as opposed to the air of jollity that had been uppermost on the outward journey.

They gathered ready to wash mud-packed uniforms and shower the dirt from their aching bodies after attending a debriefing with senior officers; they went over the results of the exercise then told the troop to get a good night’s sleep because tomorrow they’d be off again.

There was a murmur of disappointment from the troops who had been hoping for a rest and a pass into town.

The officer glared at them. ‘We’re about to fight a war and you need to be ready or you won’t be around to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh with anyone. Dismiss!’

Jackson Butler was on exercises in a different location. Crawling over rain-soaked ground, hiding from the other troops who were supposed to be the enemy. He jumped into a dugout only to find it was several inches under water which came up to his ankles and flooded his boots.

‘Holy shit!’ he exclaimed and yelled as another of his company threw himself into the hole, landing on top of him.

His comrade apologised as he untangled himself. ‘Sorry, Jackson! Jesus Christ! This ain’t no fun at all. I’m so fucking angry that if one of them Krauts came up here now I’d kill the bastard with my bare hands, I swear I would!’

Looking at the mud-spattered man beside him, Jackson started to laugh. ‘You should just see yourself, man. You’re covered from head to foot in mud. Hell, I doubt either of us will ever be clean again! Here …’ he handed him a cigarette from a pack. ‘I think we both deserve a smoke.’

At that moment, one of his officers appeared looking down on the two of them.

‘What the hell are you playing at? This is not a fucking tea party, we’re supposed to be fighting a war! Get up off your black arses and follow me.’

Jackson and his comrade dumped their cigarettes and, muttering beneath their breaths, clambered out of the dugout, ducking and diving at the sound of gun fire. Several hours later, they climbed wearily into trucks and were driven back to camp where, after a shower and hot meal, they tumbled into their bunks, ready for sleep.

One of the men was heard to say, ‘If the damned Krauts don’t kill us, I reckon we’ll die of exhaustion!’

Jackson curled up under the covers and thought of Belle. He wished she were here with him, he longed to feel her warm flesh against his and her arms around him.

Belle was working, entertaining a Canadian firefighter, smiling, making him comfortable, seeing to his needs, her mind miles away – thinking of Jackson Butler.