The Docklands Girls (7 page)

The British spirit always comes to the fore during adversity. Back in Southampton, women queued for food, chatting with each other, exchanging recipes, sharing information as to which shop had an unexpected delivery of something that was hard to come by. People grew vegetables and kept chickens, none of which many had done before, and the sex trade continued with the steady influx of troops. But prostitution was a dangerous game. The streets of Southampton at night were filled with those who were out to make a financial killing during the war and nothing was going to stop them from making money in many nefarious ways. Others took what they wanted without hesitation, as Belle discovered one night.

She was heading down Canal Walk on her way home, using her torch to shine her way, thankful that her night was over. All she wanted was a hot cup of tea and her own bed. Canal Walk was narrow and dark in the blackout. She passed one or two people who were leaving the Lord Roberts and eventually reached her door. She put her key
in the lock, turned it and was suddenly pushed into the hallway, a hand over her mouth to stop her crying out.

A deep, rough voice said, ‘Behave yourself and you won’t get hurt, understand?’

Terrified, she nodded.

‘Then take me to your room and don’t turn on the light.’ The man let go of her mouth, but kept a tight grip on her arm which he’d twisted behind her.

Trembling with fright, she did as she was told.

Once inside the room, the man spun her round to face him and shut the door. ‘Take your clothes off!’

She hesitated and he slapped her round the face with such force she saw stars and she knew she was in trouble with no one to help her. She undressed.

For what seemed an eternity, the stranger abused her in a brutal fashion, making her cry out with pain.

‘Shut your mouth!’ he snarled as he drove himself inside her, grasping her ample bosom so tightly she grimaced, but she was too frightened to cry out.

Eventually, he’d satisfied himself and climbed off her. She lay still, wondering what he’d do next. He didn’t say a word which was even more frightening, but she thought he was straightening his clothes. Then he opened the door and left, closing it quietly behind him.

Belle started to cry with relief, she’d been certain this man was going to kill her. She was bruised and bleeding and found it hard to move without pain, but she staggered to the door and locked it, putting the chair beneath the handle for added safety, then climbed back into bed, pulled the covers over her and sobbed.

The following morning, she was stiff and sore as she
climbed out of bed and walked over to the basin to look in the mirror. She was shocked at her reflection. Her mouth was swollen and her eye was beginning to close, her cheek bruised. Her body was also beginning to show signs of bruising. Filling the basin with cold water, she bathed her face. She would have liked to sink into a bath, but didn’t feel well enough to do so. Drinking a glass of water, she went back to bed.

It was here that Cora found her when she didn’t show up at the Horse and Groom at lunchtime later that day. One of the other residents was leaving the house when Cora arrived and let her in. She knocked on Belle’s door.

‘Belle, it’s Cora, are you in there?’ She knocked again and waited as she could hear sounds of movement. When Belle eventually opened the door, Cora was shocked at what she saw.

‘Oh my God! What happened to you?’

Tears trickled down Belle’s face and she beckoned her friend inside.

It was some time before Cora heard the sad tale. First she helped her friend back to bed, made a cup of tea for them both, sat on the bed and listened whilst Belle told her of her ordeal.

At the end of the story, Cora asked, ‘Have you any idea who it was?’

Shaking her head, she said, ‘He wouldn’t let me put the light on, but he was tall and broad, he smelt of beer and tobacco. He wasn’t in uniform because I couldn’t feel any brass buttons, but I’d recognise his voice if I ever heard it again. He sounded north country to me.’

‘Are you going to report this to the police? This was rape, Belle.’

Her friend gave a sardonic guffaw. ‘What good would that do? Come on, love, it’s a chance we all take on the job.’

‘But you should see a doctor at least.’

Belle refused, ‘No, I’ll be fine. I won’t be working for a while, but I would ask you to do me a favour.’

‘Of course, anything.’

‘Will you help me to take a bath? I need to soak in a hot tub to help my bruised body. And sod the five inches of water we’re allowed; I need a full bath to sit in.’

‘You stay put until I run the water,’ said Cora, ‘and I’ll come and get you.’

When the bath was filled, Cora helped her friend into the water. She noticed the scratches and bruises on her body but made no mention of them as she washed Belle’s back. She sat on the edge of the bath talking to her as Belle slid down and let the hot water ease her pain, wondering if they would ever discover the man who’d done this. Cora was thankful that her friend was alive to tell the sad tale, because any man who could do this was capable of anything.

She stayed with Belle, making her eat, letting her sleep and insisted on staying the night, sensing how nervous her friend was of being alone, wondering if she would be brave enough to continue with her work when she’d recovered.

Olive took off her green overall at the end of the day in the greengrocer’s where she worked and hung it up behind the door. She called goodnight to her boss and made her way
home. As she let herself into the house, she sighed deeply. It was so depressing to be alone. She missed Hildy more than she liked to admit and when she did so it was with anger that her daughter could have been so cold-blooded as to leave without a thought of how she would manage. Well, Hildy would be alone now her GI had gone to war and she wondered how that would affect her daughter; would the loneliness be enough to bring her back? But remembering the scene between them as Hildy left in the taxi, she knew in her heart that she would never return. She also knew that she’d said more than she should have at the time.

Making a cup of tea, she turned on the wireless for company. Perhaps she could take a lodger; after all, she did have a spare bedroom now. The money would be useful and it would be company. Not that she’d want anyone to encroach on her privacy. Oh no, they’d have to keep to their room, but it would mean there would be someone in the house. A presence. She could put a notice in the window of the local paper shop. She’d maybe do it tomorrow, her half-day when she went to do her shopping.

The following day, a new notice was put in the window at the newsagent’s among the others.

Hildy saw it as she entered the shop to buy a paper on her way to work. She always stopped to read the notices because often people advertised furniture and other things
that were hard to come by in wartime and a bargain was often to be had.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. It was the first sensible thing her mother had done in a long time. She entered the shop with a quiet smile to herself and bought her paper.

Two days later as Olive sat down to read the evening paper, there was a knock on her door. When she opened it she was surprised to see a well dressed man standing there.

‘Mrs Dickson?’

‘Yes, that’s me.’

‘I’ve come about the room to be let.’

This took her by surprise. Although she’d put the advert in the shop window, now actually faced with someone who was interested, she became uncertain. However, she was impressed by the man’s appearance and he was in his early forties, not some youngster, which made her a bit more comfortable.

Seeing her hesitation, the stranger asked, ‘Am I too late? Has the room gone?’

‘No, no. You best come in and see it.’ She took him upstairs and showed him the room which was spotlessly clean with a single bed. There was a small wardrobe, a hard-backed chair and chest of drawers in the window with a triple mirror on top.

He looked around and turning to her said, ‘This seems to be fine.’

‘How long were you thinking of staying?’ she asked.

‘At the moment, I’m not sure, but definitely for several weeks.’

‘Right. The rent is seven and six a week and I don’t do breakfast,’ she said, ‘and I want two weeks in advance.’

The stranger tried to hide a smile as he said, ‘That’s fine with me.’ He put his hand in his pocket and counted out some money. ‘I would like my own key though.’

Seeing the cash in his hand, Olive said, ‘That’s fine, but you have only the right to the room and bathroom, not the rest of the house and I won’t have you bringing women back here, Mr …?’

‘Joe Keating, and I can assure you, I will not be entertaining anyone here, Mrs Dickson, but I’d like to move in later tonight.’ He waited for her answer.

‘That’ll be fine,’ she said and took the money. ‘If you come downstairs, I’ll get your key.’ She showed him where the bathroom was first, then made her way to her sitting room, took out Hildy’s key and gave it to him.

‘I hope you’re not a noisy person, Mr Keating?’

‘I’ll be as quiet as a mouse,’ he said with an amused smile. ‘I’ll be back later with my things and thank you.’

Olive went back to her sitting room and sat down. Having made her decision to take a stranger into her home, she was now filled with trepidation. Had she done the right thing? She looked at the money her new lodger had given her and was pleased. That at least would pay her rent and she wouldn’t have to worry about getting a breakfast. She certainly didn’t want the worry of that with the rationing, it was difficult enough catering for herself without having to worry about another. Then she sat back and smiled with some satisfaction. If Hildy asked to come back now, she could say she didn’t have any room for her.

At the end of the week, Belle felt well enough to go out of the house. She met Cora and some of the other brasses in the Horse and Groom where she warned them about the stranger who’d attacked her. They were all horrified at what had befallen their friend, although each of them had met with violent punters at some time in their lives, so they could understand how dangerous her situation had been.

‘Bloody hell, Belle!’ said one. ‘You was lucky to come out alive by the sound of it!’

‘I thought I was a goner,’ she admitted, and looking around her, she said, ‘I’m not at all sure I can face taking anyone back to my house again. That bugger scared the shit out of me! I’ve had some dodgy punters in the past but this one was terrifying. I thought he was going to do me and that’s a fact.’

‘What will you do?’ asked Cora.

Shrugging, Belle said, ‘I’ll have to get a job. I’ll buy tonight’s
Evening Echo
and see what’s on offer. You lot be careful; this man is dangerous.’ Belle went on to describe him as best she could.

Later that night, she pored over the ‘Situations Vacant’ in the local paper. With so many men off to war, there was no shortage of jobs on offer. She didn’t fancy working in a shop, she considered being a bus conductor, but the best wages on offer were in the factory that used to be Sunlight Laundry which was now making parts for Spitfires. She still had dreams of owning a bungalow so decided to go along in the morning and apply for the vacancy.

Before getting into bed, Belle checked that she’d locked her door then placed a chair under the handle. Her
devastating experience had left her feeling edgy. When she walked home, she kept glancing behind her to make sure she wasn’t followed and occasionally she had nightmares where she relived every terrifying moment. But she was a strong woman and she coped with it all, determined to get past this and start her new life.

The following morning, her interview went well, and to her delight, Belle was taken on. The foreman told her they were short of staff at the moment and when she said she could start at once if he liked, he was more than pleased.

‘I’ll take you to meet Hildy Dickson; she’ll show you the ropes and train you. You seem pretty bright to me so I expect you’ll pick it up fairly quickly. She’ll kit you out in a pair of dungarees. Come with me.’

As they left his office and walked through the factory, the buzz from the machines filled the air. Belle supposed you’d get used to the noise eventually.

They stopped beside a machine and the foreman tapped the girl working it on the shoulder and gestured for her to switch off.

‘Hildy, this is Belle Newman. I’ve just taken her on. Show her the ropes, will you, love?’

Hildy smiled at Belle. ‘Of course, come with me,’ and she took her to a store and found a pair of dungarees that fitted, then back to a machine that was free and unmanned.

For the rest of the morning, Belle was instructed as to how she was to work. It seemed entirely alien to her, but nevertheless she enjoyed the experience and at lunchtime, Hildy took her into the canteen for a meal.

They queued for food, which was free as it was financed
by the government, so the girls helped themselves and settled down on a bench before a long table with other workers. In the background on the radio,
Workers’ Playtime
could be heard and the girls were all chatting.

Hildy sipped her tea and turning to Belle said, ‘You pick things up really quickly. Before long you’ll be able to manage a machine on your own.’

Belle grimaced. ‘Don’t know about that,’ she said.

‘Trust me, you will. I’ve trained enough girls to know.’ Hildy had noticed that beneath Belle’s make-up, there were traces of bruising on her face which intrigued her and she wondered what the story was behind this young woman – but it wasn’t her place to pry. Everybody had a story, but not everyone wanted to share it. They returned to the factory floor half an hour later.

That night Belle sat down and wrote a long letter to Jackson Butler, telling him she had a new job, but not the reason for the change. As she wrote she prayed that he was safe and still in one piece. She searched the mail for a letter from him, but as yet she’d heard nothing and clung to the memory of him saying it would take time for the mail to come through.