The Clippie Girls Page 8

  Rose grinned. ‘Sorry, Gran. It didn’t come out the way I meant it.’

  Grace gave a snort of laughter. ‘It often doesn’t with you. Now, help your sister finish getting the tea, call Myrtle down and we’ll sit down together to eat as soon as your mam’s ready. And don’t leave your jacket slung over the back of that chair. Hang it up in the hall where it belongs.’

  A change of clothes, a wash and sitting down with her family had done Mary a power of good and she was soon laughing with the rest of them. But deep in her eyes was a haunted look of the tragedy she’d seen and the unspoken anxiety of what still might happen to her or her girls.

  At the end of August 1940 Grace’s Daily Sketch reported that after German bombers had failed to break the RAF’s defences in south-east England, they were now turning their attention to London and other British industrial towns, cities, and ports. Attacks on the capital continued and soon came to be called the London Blitz. The whole country realized that it could be their turn next when Hitler threatened to raze British cities to the ground. Only the RAF stood between the British people and a ruthless enemy.

  ‘Our Bertie’s got what he wanted. He’s a fighter pilot now,’ Letty told Grace. ‘God only knows where he is. Oh, Mrs Booth, I’m out of me mind wi’ worry. Three of my boys in danger. It’s more than a body can stand.’

  There was nothing Grace could say to comfort her neighbour. The older woman was not one to gush with promises that couldn’t be kept. It was no use telling poor Letty that her boys would be safe because in these dreadful days no one knew what was going to happen next. Grace did the only thing she could think of; she pushed a hot cup of sweet tea in front of Letty and handed her one of the family’s precious ginger biscuits.

  All the family were concerned about the Bradshaw boys. Peggy and Rose had grown up with them, had gone to school with them, had been chased by them, had had their pigtails pulled and their faces rubbed in the snow by them. Rose had played football and cricket in the street with them and Peggy had blushed when Walter had been the first boy to try to snatch a kiss. But now the whole country depended on these young men and many more like them. Life was strange, Grace would muse in her quieter moments when she had the house to herself. Who’d ever have thought that those young rascals would one day turn into heroes?

  Birmingham and Liverpool had been bombed repeatedly since August and, on the last day of November, one of the worst air raids of the war so far hit Coventry. Over one thousand civilians were killed and their beautiful cathedral was destroyed.

  ‘We carry on as usual,’ Laurence Bower told all his staff when the news reached them. ‘It’s likely that we will be the Luftwaffe’s target eventually. My own belief – though I have nothing to substantiate it – is that those early minor raids were reconnaissance with a few bombs dropped for good measure. We are an industrial city and the enemy knows that. He’ll have detailed plans, I’m sure. So, with that in mind, if anyone feels they really can’t cope with the imminent danger—’ His glance flickered briefly around his little band of women workers. He felt a fatherly protectiveness towards them and, if he could have had his way, he’d lay them all off whilst there was a definite threat of serious bombing hanging over them. But he couldn’t. They couldn’t run the city’s tram system without women – not now. In fact, the situation was getting worse. Almost every day another of his male conductors or drivers felt it their patriotic duty to enlist and sought to be released from their reserved occupation. Consequently even more women were being taken on to fill their places. This war was a headache for Laurence in many ways. ‘We will think no worse of you, particularly those of you who have children to think of,’ he continued. Here his glance went to one or two of the married women whose children were still at school but were old enough to fend for themselves out of school hours. There were times now when Laurence felt very guilty that he’d been the one to suggest training women to work on the trams. But, he’d consoled himself, they’d have been employed in such roles by now anyway. All over the city – indeed the country – women were filling the jobs left by the men going off to war.

  ‘If a bomb’s got us name on it, Mr Bower,’ Doris Ackroyd called out, ‘then it’ll find us whether we’re on t’trams or at ’ome.’

  There was a ripple of nervous laughter, but no one stepped forward to ask to be relieved of their duties and Laurence felt a glow of pride for their bravery. He nodded, torn by an inner conflict of emotions: relief that he would not have the nightmare of sorting out a new rota and training more recruits, but now with the added anxiety that some of the employees of the city’s Transport Department might be injured.

  ‘Did we ought to send Myrtle and my mother to the country?’ Mary confided her constant anxiety to Peggy the day after they’d heard about a bombing raid on Liverpool.

  ‘Gran won’t go and I doubt you’d be able to persuade Myrtle. I know she’s still at school, Mam, but in normal circumstances, she’d be a working girl now. She’s not a child any more.’

  Mary frowned. ‘No, I suppose you’re right, but I do worry about them so. Can we be sure they’ll go down into the cellar and – and even if they do, what if the house should be damaged? They’d be trapped down there.’

  Peggy sighed. ‘Mam, it’s the sort of thing we’ve all got to cope with.’

  ‘And what about you and Rose if a raid happens when you’re on duty?’ Her experience of being very near to a bomb exploding had unnerved Mary.

  ‘We all know the rules. Mr Bower has told us often enough.’ Peggy mimicked Laurence’s instructions. ‘“The safety of your passengers comes first and foremost.”’ Mary smiled weakly as her eldest daughter went on, trying to reassure her. ‘And both me and Rose have got a copy of the list we cut out of Gran’s newspaper of where the public shelters are on the tram routes. What about you?’

  ‘Yes, I carry it in my pocket and I’ve learned the location of the ones on the routes I usually work.’

  ‘Then there’s nothing more we can do.’

  ‘Except hope and pray,’ Mary murmured.

  Later, when she reported for duty, Mary ran into Laurence and voiced her fears to him. ‘I don’t want to sound as if I’m making light of the raids we’ve already had because I’m not. Even the loss of one person’s life is a tragedy, but the feeling seems to be now that we’re in for a battering. What do you think?’

  Laurence sighed. ‘Sadly, Mary, I think you’re right.’ They stared at each other, sadness in their eyes, pondering what the next few days and weeks held for them all.

  They weren’t left wondering for very long. Early in December 1940 it was Sheffield’s turn. Just when everyone was trying hard to plan for Christmas, to make the most of a festive time and to put their worries aside, even if only for a few days, the enemy unleashed a vicious attack on their city.

  Eleven

  The day had started out ordinarily enough.

  ‘By heck, it’s cold this morning,’ Bob had greeted Peggy as they arrived at the depot at the same time. ‘You’ll want yer winter drawers on this morning.’

  ‘Cheeky.’

  Bob grinned and winked at her, but Peggy averted her eyes and busied herself with her tickets, making sure they were all in the right order.

  ‘Come on then, let’s get on our way. Folks won’t want us to be late this morning in this weather.’

  ‘Do they ever?’ Peggy countered, but she smiled and followed him to the tram that was to be theirs for the day.

  It was a busy day. After the workers came the shoppers, women prepared to queue for hours to feed their families. Others were shopping for Christmas, trying to find bargains to avoid their children being too disappointed in Father Christmas, but the privations of war were biting hard. Peggy wished she had a few hours off to wander around the city centre. The shops had made every effort to brighten people’s spirits. Christmas decorations festooned the windows and, during the daytime, were brightly lit. But come nightfall all the lights would be put out, blinds an
d shutters drawn. The streets would be in relative darkness with only pinpoints of light for travellers to see their way.

  By late afternoon Peggy was tired. She and Bob should have gone off duty, but the motorman, who should have taken over from Bob, had been taken to the local hospital on arriving at work. ‘He was doubled over with pain,’ Laurence told them. ‘It sounds like appendicitis to me. He looked bad, anyway. So could you two carry on a bit longer? Just give me time to call in a relief crew.’

  ‘’Course we will,’ Bob volunteered, without even consulting Peggy. She’d already been thinking longingly of sitting down in the chair beside the range to warm her cold hands, but she bit back a refusal and smiled thinly. She shrugged herself into her thick overcoat and climbed back onto the tramcar, blowing onto her hands to try to warm them.

  ‘Where d’you think you two are going?’

  Peggy turned to see Rose standing with her hands on her hips, grinning as she added, ‘Taking a tram without the owner’s consent? Fancied a night in the countryside, did we?’

  Peggy smiled back, but then grimaced. ‘Extra duty. Pete’s gone off with suspected ’pendicitis.’

  ‘Oh right. I’ll see you later then.’ Rose paused and then added, ‘Have you seen Alice? I fancied a night at the flicks and I’ve finally managed to persuade her to come with me. She needs taking out of herself a bit. We’re going to the Abbeydale.’

  ‘What’s on?’

  Rose pulled a comical face. ‘Young Tom Edison. Alice likes a bit of culture, so I thought it’d suit her. But Mickey Rooney’s in it, so it should be good. And there might be a comedy on with it.’

  ‘The Abbeydale’s quite a way to go for a night out. Mam’ll worry if there’s a raid.’ Peggy glanced up at the sky. ‘It’s a moonlit night. You know what they say?’

  ‘Bomber’s moon,’ Rose murmured. ‘I know, but if I have to sit in the house another night watching Gran read a pile of newspapers for the umpteenth time – ’

  Normally Grace read just The Star, but since the start of the war she’d bought national newspapers too, a different one every day. ‘I want a balanced viewpoint,’ she’d told her family firmly before they could complain.

  ‘– Myrtle poring over her books and Mam clacking her knitting needles, I’ll go mad.’ And the image of you and Bob together, she added in her own mind, but those thoughts she kept to herself.

  ‘Just be careful, that’s all. Promise you’ll go to the nearest shelter if the sirens go. They’ll make an announcement.’

  As Peggy rang the bell and the tram began to move, Rose waved and called, ‘I will.’

  Mary was at home, having started work at five thirty that morning.

  ‘Tea’s almost ready,’ she called from the kitchen when she heard Rose come in. Myrtle didn’t look up from her homework and Grace was engrossed in the latest news from the war front. On the table beside her the wireless played softly.

  ‘Do you know,’ Grace murmured, ‘the British launched an offensive in the Western Desert against the Italians and took a lot of prisoners? Over a thousand, they say.’

  Rose glanced at them both with an amused smile and then said loudly, ‘Good evening, Rose, and what sort of a day have you had? Fine, thank you, and now I’m off to the pictures with Alice.’

  ‘D’you think that’s a good idea, love?’ Mary said, coming in from the kitchen and catching Rose’s last sentence.

  ‘We’ll be fine, Mam,’ Rose said, as she sat down at the table to eat. ‘Don’t worry. Just you make sure the three of you go down into the cellar if there is any trouble.’

  ‘We will. As Tom next door says, “We’re goin’ to cop it afore long, there’s nowt so sure.”’

  ‘I’m very much afraid he’s right,’ Rose said, but as she went upstairs a little later to change out of her uniform, she pushed all thoughts of a possible air raid out of her mind. Instead, she found herself humming the song ‘Whispering Grass’, which had just been playing on the wireless. She was meeting Alice in the centre of town and then they would catch a tram out to Abbeydale Road. Rose smiled. That was one of the good things about being clippies: they’d have no tram fares to pay.

  ‘Wow, just look at this place,’ Rose said, as they stepped onto the mosaic floor of the foyer. ‘I’ve never been here before.’ When they took their places in the plush mahogany seats covered in green velvet, Rose stared around her, open-mouthed at the cream and gold decoration on the walls and ceiling. ‘No wonder they call it the Picture Palace.’

  ‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’ Alice said as the lights faded and they settled down to enjoy the film. They were soon engrossed in the story, thoughts of the war and all its sadness forgotten for a precious hour or two.

  ‘Myrtle, help your mam with the washing up, there’s a good girl,’ Grace said as she turned the wireless off after the news finished.

  ‘But, Gran, I’ve still got my biology homework to do.’

  ‘Biology, indeed! What on earth good is that going to be to you, I ask?’

  ‘It’s human biology,’ Myrtle retorted, not afraid to answer her grandmother back. ‘It could come in very handy – if you have a heart attack. Miss Adamson says that, with the war and everything, we should all know a bit of basic first aid. We’ve all been given a copy of the British Red Cross First Aid Manual. And I’ve asked if I can sit an examination in the subject. It’s fascinating.’

  Grace glanced at her, an amused smile on her lips. She loved all her family, but this granddaughter was someone special to her. Myrtle was the only one who could answer Grace back and get away with it. Mostly, that is, because there were limits even for Myrtle. ‘And does it tell you in this famous manual how to do the washing up?’

  Myrtle laughed. ‘Oh, Gran.’ But with good humour she got up and went into the kitchen. ‘Where’s the tea towel, Mam?’ Grace heard her say. ‘I’ll dry.’

  But the pots didn’t get dried, nor even completely washed, for at that moment the sirens began to wail.

  They were on High Street heading out of the city centre, when they heard the sirens. Bob stopped the tram.

  ‘Oi, you aren’t stopping here, are you? I’ve got to get home to my kids.’

  ‘Just a minute, madam,’ Peggy said, ‘while I have word with the motorman.’

  Peggy hurried down the aisle to where Bob was standing, his left hand on the controller, his right still gripping the brake.

  ‘What ought we to do? Get ’em all to a shelter like Mr Bower ses?’

  Peggy shook her head. ‘Keep going. I’ve got a car full and they’re all going to play merry hell if we just stop and dive for cover.’

  ‘All right,’ Bob agreed, ‘but let anyone off who wants to find the nearest shelter.’

  Peggy nodded and hurried back to her post.

  ‘We’re carrying on, but if anyone wants to get off here and—’

  ‘Thank Gawd for that.’

  ‘Just get on with it. We’re a sitting duck here.’

  No one alighted and Peggy rang the bell for Bob to move on.

  They heard the bombs falling, whistling through the air and then an explosion.

  ‘By ’eck, that were a bit too close for comfort.’

  ‘Watch out for the next one. It might—’

  Whatever the man had been going to say was lost in a blast of noise and the splintering of glass. Several passengers shrieked in fear as the tram rocked and came to a halt as the one travelling in front of them stopped too.

  Peggy was thrown to the floor of the platform and everything went black.

  Twelve

  ‘Quick, Mother, get down the cellar,’ Mary cried. ‘Myrtle, make sure the doors are locked and turn all the lights off. I’ve got the box. Oh, do come on, Mother.’

  In the corner of the living room stood a box packed with last-minute items for a sojourn in the cellar. Mary picked it up and opened the door. She turned on the light to illuminate the steps leading downwards.

  ‘That you, Mary love?’ A voice drifted up f
rom below, and behind Mary, Grace said, ‘Oh no. Don’t tell me Letty’s there already. I reckon I’d sooner face Hitler’s bombs.’

  ‘Shh, Mother, she’ll hear you.’

  Grace sniffed. ‘Don’t care if she does. She might take the hint, though I doubt it.’

  ‘Want any help, love?’ Tom’s deep voice now called.

  ‘If you could just help Mother down, Tom . . . Myrtle, do hurry up.’

  But Myrtle was peering out of the front window, fascinated by the unfolding drama. ‘They’re dropping flares, Mam. They’re lighting up the whole sky. Come and look.’

  ‘I’ll do no such thing,’ Mary said. ‘And neither will you. Get—’

  And then they both heard the long-drawn-out ominous whistle of a falling bomb.

  ‘Oh, now what?’ Rose muttered as the screen went blank and the auditorium was plunged into darkness.

  ‘It’ll be a break in the film, I expect,’ Alice said. ‘It happens sometimes. They’ll have to repair it. Fancy an ice cream while we wait?’

  Several of the picture-goers began to whistle and catcall, but then the manager was standing in front of the screen and everyone fell silent.

  ‘An air raid is in progress,’ he said without preamble. ‘Please make your way to the shelter below the cinema. We will serve soft drinks and ice cream free of charge as we will be unable to continue with the programme at the present time.’

  They left their seats with the rest of the audience and filed in an orderly fashion towards the stairs leading down to the shelter – a spacious area beneath the cinema. There was plenty of room and the usherettes were already handing out refreshments. But Rose hesitated. ‘I ought to go home or find out where Peg is.’

  Alice grabbed her arm. ‘You’ll do nothing of the sort. You’ll get yourself killed.’ At that moment there was a resounding crash and the whole building seemed to shake.