The Bomb Girls (30 page)

‘Nothing,' he said. ‘Let's go.'

With a shrug and a grunt, they headed for the door. When they'd gone, Alice, sweating and shaking from head to toe, collapsed in the nearest chair.

‘Oh, my God!'

Another rap at the door sent her pulse racing. Jumping to her feet, she crept towards the door, which this time she didn't open.

‘Who is it?' she whispered.

There was a pause followed by a gentle tap.

‘Robin.'

Sobbing with relief, Alice threw open the door and flung herself into his arms.

‘Quickly, back in the room,' he said.

He stepped inside and locked the door behind him.

‘I've been waiting outside,' he gasped as he swept her into his arms and kissed her soft mouth. ‘When I saw the gendarmes I thought they'd come to arrest you. Oh, my love,' he murmured frenziedly as he kissed her eyes, her nose and her forehead. ‘I was going out of my mind!'

Even though her pulse was racing at the sight of her beloved, Alice's first thought was of their safety.

‘Did anybody see you come in?'

‘I don't know. I had to take the risk – it's no longer safe to send messages from my house.'

Tugging at Robin's sleeve, wide-eyed Alice whispered her news.

‘I've been instructed to blow up a section of railway.'

‘I know,' he mouthed back.

He pointed to the battered old suitcase he was carrying.

‘I need to set up the wireless to get further instructions.'

Robin quickly laid the case on the dining-room table. After undoing the metal clips he hooked up the wireless aerial then laid the earth connection as close to the window as it would reach.

‘Please, God, let it work first time,' Alice prayed. ‘Please, God, don't let the Nazis pick up the signal. Please, please, God.'

Robin winked and gave the thumbs-up as he listened intently through his headset.

‘It's okay,' he said.

Hardly daring to breathe, they listened to the sequence of tips and taps which they were both able to decode. The hairs on the back of Alice's neck rose as they were
instructed to blow up a section of rail track heading east out of Marseilles at 23.00 hours that night. As Robin disconnected the aerial and turned off the wireless, Alice rolled up the earth wire and replaced it in the battered suitcase.

‘I thought we were on a communications and interception mission,' she said quietly. ‘I didn't think they'd hit us with explosives the minute we were in the field.'

‘Neither did I,' he admitted. ‘Somebody must have bought it, otherwise they wouldn't have asked us to step up to the plate.'

He looked her square in the eye.

‘Are you okay with this, Alice? If you're not now really is the time to say so.'

She looked him steadily in the eye as she answered calmly.

‘I'm a Bomb Girl, Robin. Give me five minutes to get ready.'

Alice quickly removed her block of plastic explosive and her pencil detonators from the chest then laid them on the table alongside a baguette. Robin looked baffled.

‘You're not thinking of making sandwiches, are you, sweetheart?' he teased.

‘Watch,' said Alice with a cheeky smile.

Tearing off the top of the crusty baguette, she scraped out a quantity of bread, and into the empty space she pushed the explosive and the slim detonators, both carefully protected by plastic wrapping. Alice laughed as she popped the baguette, now containing enough explosive to take out the main line between Marseilles and Paris, into a shopping bag containing a string of onions.

‘Let's do it,
mein Herr
!'

As the Allies advanced on Germany and Italy in the spring of 1944, more and more bombs were needed by the British forces to win the war.

‘I feel like I've been filling bloody shell cases all my life,' groaned Lillian as the tired workforce continued to do unpaid overtime.

‘Making bombs and living off chips, tea and toast,' grumbled Emily.

‘I quite like chips, tea and toast,' giggled ever-upbeat Elsie.

‘When I think back to my days at the mill canteen, when I used to dream of running the place, it seems like I was another girl,' Emily said nostalgically. ‘I was so young and naive, I thought I'd only got to bat my eyelashes and I'd get what I wanted.'

‘Welcome to the real world, lovie,' said Agnes.

Lillian snorted as she recalled her own selfish naivety.

‘We were just kids,' she said as she shook her head. ‘I thought I could dodge conscription and carry on doing exactly what I wanted. Stupid or pig-headed or both?'

‘I wouldn't change a single thing,' said Elsie. ‘I've loved every single moment here with you. They've been the best days of my life.'

‘Oh, Elsie, you are the sweetest, kindest girl,' said Lillian as she hugged little Elsie till she went pink in the face.

‘Can you remember food before rationing?' Emily said with a sigh.

‘Was there life before rationing?' Lillian joked.

‘We used to think nothing of going down to the shops for cheese, sausages and bacon,' Agnes said.

‘Eggs, chocolate, butter, cream, white bread, pork chops …' Emily said longingly.

‘I wouldn't mind if I never saw another tin of Spam again,' Lillian laughed.

‘By fair means or foul, I've got to lay my hands on some fresh meat soon,' said Emily. ‘We deserve a good square meal after all the extra unpaid overtime we've put in.'

Luckily for Emily, the local allotment pig, fattened up on slops from the neighbours, had just been butchered and Mrs Yates had kept back some pork for her daughter.

‘Here,' she said as she wrapped the fresh meat in brown paper. ‘Treat yourself and them lasses in yon digs to a good meal.'

Emily hungrily eyed the small piece of fresh pink pork.

‘Oh, Mum, the things I could do with that!' she cried.

Her thoughts raced through delicious recipes: roast pork and crackling with apple sauce, softly stewed pork with prunes, pork baked with sage and thyme.

Emily jumped as her mother spoke and snapped her out of her reverie.

‘Just eat it!' her mother laughed. ‘You all look like you need fattening up.'

Emily rushed back to the digs wondering how she could spin out the meat to make a meal for four. She decided to mince the pork, to which she added salt,
pepper, fresh sage, an egg and some flour, then she rolled the mixture into little patties.

‘Mmm, the smell's driving me mad!' cried Elsie as she watched Emily fry the patties in sizzling hot fat.

‘I don't remember when I last had fresh meat,' Lillian said.

‘And mashed potatoes with cabbage and leeks,' Agnes added as she laid the table for supper. ‘Fresh locally grown veg instead of dried peas and butter beans. Mmm, just thinking of it makes my mouth water.'

‘I always feel sorry for the poor pig,' said Emily as she drained the fat off the patties and popped them onto a warm plate. ‘He thinks everybody loves him until somebody comes along one morning and slits his throat.'

‘Life's never fair,' said Elsie as she hurried after Emily bearing the plate of steaming, aromatic meat to the table.

‘Especially if you're a pig!' laughed Lillian.

It was a nice change to sit down to a really good meal in their own home without the relentless din of the clattering conveyor belt and the constant blare of
Workers' Playtime
. After they'd eaten every bit of the delicious pork they sat full and contented around the crackling wood-burning stove smoking Woodbines and drinking tea.

‘I think I might have “When the War's Over” tattooed on my forehead,' chuckled Lillian. ‘I say it so often I don't know what I'll say when life gets back to normal.'

‘Whatever normal is any more,' said Agnes thoughtfully. ‘I can't ever imagine living in London again.'

Emily, Lillian and Elsie looked at her in surprise.

‘Really?' asked Emily.

Agnes nodded.

‘I've grown to love the north and the people round here,' she said as she smiled fondly at her friends.

‘One thing's for sure – I am
never
,
ever
,
ever
going back to Gateshead,' said Elsie emphatically.

‘Don't blame you,' laughed Lillian. ‘Not whilst the stepmother from hell is alive!'

‘My life's here in Pendle, with Jonty and Tommy … when he comes home,' Elsie added wistfully.

‘Come on, no moping!' Lillian said briskly. ‘You've seen Tommy a lot more than I've seen or heard from my Gary this last couple of years. Sometimes I think I dreamed him,' she said with a sigh.

‘He was real all right. He was larger than life and heart-stoppingly good-looking,' Agnes reminded her. ‘He'll come back to you just as soon as he's finished bombing Germany.'

‘I hope every bomb he drops has Hitler's name on it,' said Lillian vengefully.

‘And Goering's and Goebbels's, Rommel's and Himmler's,' Agnes added gleefully.

Elsie topped up their mugs with fresh tea.

‘I wonder where Alice is now?' she said thoughtfully.

Lillian shook her head.

‘No idea. It seems ages since she lived with us. Don't you hear from her, Em?'

Emily shook her head.

‘Not a word since I saw her in London.'

‘I've often wondered what keeps her down south so long,' Elsie said in all innocence. ‘I mean, I know she speaks French, like, but what does she really do down there?'

Emily was surprised to catch a knowing look in Agnes's eyes.

She's guessed Alice's secret, Emily thought.

She hadn't breathed a word to anybody but Agnes wasn't stupid; she was an intuitively clever woman and had obviously worked out for herself exactly what Alice was up to.

Without giving anything away and avoiding Emily's eyes, Agnes turned to Elsie.

‘I think Alice is probably locked up in an office for hours on end translating French war memos for a lot of stuffy old soldiers.'

‘I bet Daf's doing no such thing,' laughed Lillian.

‘Knowing Daf, she'll be out on the town dancing at the Ritz every night,' said Elsie, who, though often shocked by Daphne, was also immensely entertained by her.

‘I bet she's got a string of fellas to keep her happy when Rodders is away,' chuckled Lillian.

‘Come on, ladies, bed,' said Agnes as she got to her feet and started to clear away. ‘We've got an early start tomorrow morning.'

The bright light of a lovely spring morning, combined with riotous birdsong, woke the girls just after dawn.

‘God, I wish I was as chirpy as a bird,' Lillian groaned as, half asleep, she staggered into the bathroom.

‘Be quick in there,' Elsie called after her. ‘Let's clock on early then we can get some tea and toast before we start work.'

‘I've never known anybody eat so much and stay so thin,' said Emily as she brushed her long, unruly hair.

‘It's cos I was half-starved as a kid,' Elsie replied
cheerfully. ‘Everything tastes so good here – and it's free!' she added with a laugh.

The usual morning routine kicked in: women greeted each other familiarly as they dispersed to their workplaces,
Music While You Work
struck up loud and chirpy and the conveyor belt rolled the empty bomb cases down the line.

‘Now come on, girls, let's bash out a couple of thousand bombs for our boys to drop on Berlin,' joked Lillian as she got into the swing of the music.

‘What about our lads in Italy?' Elsie called over the sound of the rattling machinery.

‘Them buggers too!' Lillian replied.

‘We could write notes and stick them in this batch,' Emily suggested.

‘Saying what?' Elsie asked.

‘ “Give 'em some welly, lads”!' Lillian suggested.

‘ “This one's for Hitler”!'

‘ “Come home soon”,' Elsie murmured softly.

As Frank Sinatra sang ‘Mack the Knife', the girls tapped their rubber boots on the damp concrete floor and sang along. Lillian, who knew every word and action, wiggled her shapely bottom as she sang the loudest.

Singing along with Lillian, Elsie suddenly caught sight of an overfilled shell case. Her eyes widened in horror as loose cordite spilled out of the case onto the rattling metal conveyor belt. She froze as she took in the leaking yellow powder, knowing without a doubt that it would ignite. Without a moment's hesitation, she pushed Lillian and Emily, who were either side of her, as far away as she could and then slammed her hand over the sparking
cordite. In the split second that Lillian and Emily, startled by Elsie's aggressive action, turned towards her, a white flash and a deafening roar sent all the girls falling to the ground. As metal components exploded around them, the girls covered their heads, and when they dared, one by one, to look up they saw flames spreading over the factory floor. Seeing the loaded bombs swinging from the overhead conveyor belt, the prostrate girls instinctively knew that if those went off they'd all die.

As the alarm siren shrieked out, a girl not twenty feet away panicked, leaping to her feet and running through the flames.

‘RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!' she yelled.

A blazing beam fell from the ceiling and landed on the girl, setting her overalls on fire. As she screamed and writhed in agony, Emily's instinct was to run to her and help. But somebody was dragging Emily the other way.

‘NO! Let me go!' she heard herself scream too.

Smoke blinded her eyes and filled her throat, but as she gagged for breath she made out Malc's face and realized it was he who was dragging her outside to safety.

‘Malc! Malc!' she cried. ‘Where's Lillian? Where's Elsie?'

Knowing there were enough bombs in the place to blow them all to kingdom come, Malc was half-crazed with fear. He swore loudly.

‘Just get a bloody move on.'

With a grip of steel, he literally shoved Emily out of the building and onto the edge of the moors opposite the blazing factory. Nearly two hundred terrified women were huddled together there watching parts of the
Phoenix blow clean away, its walls and windows collapsing as flickering orange flames leaped high into the sky.

‘GET BACK!' hollered Malc as he pushed the women away from the blaze. ‘Get away from the sodding building before the whole bleeding lot goes!'

With acrid black smoke swirling around them, Emily and the other survivors coughed and choked as they watched stream after stream of fire engines, police cars and ambulances roar up to the burning factory.

In despair, Emily searched the crowd for her friends, who were nowhere to be seen.

‘Oh, my God!' she said out loud. ‘Please don't let them still be inside.'

As she made a move to bolt forwards, she was dragged back by the women around her.

‘Emily! No!'

‘Don't be a bloody fool!' they cried.

‘I've got to save my friends!' Emily screamed hysterically.

She was stopped in her tracks by the sight of Malc staggering out of the factory wreckage bearing an unconscious Elsie in his arms. Horrified, Emily rushed towards them.

‘Will she be all right?' she gasped.

We're got to get her to the hospital!' Malc said grimly.

In the chaos and confusion that followed, everyone was looking for somebody whilst at the same time being told to get as far away from the factory as possible. The desperate need of the women to stay and search for loved ones was at odds with the needs of the police, who were removing or arresting anybody who refused to leave the Phoenix.

‘The site's got to be cleared,' the officer in charge bellowed.

As Emily watched the flames licking the factory roof, she prayed they wouldn't spread to the packing area where there were enough loaded shell cases to blow the entire site halfway to Yorkshire.

‘Get in the car,' somebody called out.

Emily turned round to see Malc, covered in smut and dirt, at the wheel of his Austin. Still in a daze, she shook her head.

‘I'm not leaving till I find my friends,' she told him.

‘Don't bother,' Malc retorted. ‘Whoever's not here is either dead or in hospital.'

All the injured munitions girls had been taken to Manchester Royal Infirmary where Emily discovered from a frantic nurse with a clipboard that Elsie, Agnes and Lillian had each been admitted. As she sat in the hospital corridor waiting for news, one loaded stretcher after another passed her by. If she approached any hospital official she was virtually pushed aside. Outside, ambulances screeched into A&E delivering an endless stream of injured workers. At one point it seemed like the whole of the Phoenix factory was in the infirmary, either being treated for injuries or waiting to find out if a loved one was alive or dead.