that I can tell the vicar.’
‘Ronnie Walker was saying that on account of me being a qualified electrician they might put me into the Royal Engineers.’
‘Aye, and if’n you’d thought of it in time and got yourself a job with the electric company you’d have been in a reserved occupation,’ June reminded him tartly.
Unlike their father, and most of the other men in the cul-de-sac, Frank had been lucky enough to get a proper trade apprenticeship – thanks to his skill and his mother’s determination. And that was yet another reason why Mrs Brookes felt that June wasn’t good enough for her Frank, Molly suspected.
‘Now that’s enough of that, June,’ Frank rebuked her gently, adding too quietly to be overheard, ‘I want to do me bit, and I wouldn’t want anyone thinking any different. Especially not folk like your dad.’
A couple of the women with young children were gathering them up and Molly went to help them.
‘No way am I letting mine be evacuated,’ Pearl Lawson was saying vehemently.
The Government had sent out notices earlier in the year advising people of their plans to evacuate city children out of danger in the event of war, sending them to live in the country along with their teachers, who would make sure that they continued to have their lessons. Pregnant women and mothers with babies were also included in the evacuation plans, but the mothers of Chestnut Close, like many mothers up and down the country, were divided in their feelings about the planned evacuation. Some accepted that it was a necessary decision if their children were to be kept safe but others were openly hostile to it.
‘Aye, well, there’s no way I’m going to let mine stay here and be bombed,’ another said equally determinedly. ‘And besides, I don’t want mine missing out on their schooling and I’ve heard as how the Government will be closing down some of the schools here in Liverpool out of fear that they might be bombed. Why shouldn’t our kiddies have as good as posh kiddies get and be sent into the country where it’s safe?’
Pearl Lawson’s next-door neighbour, Daisy Cartwright, chipped in, ‘It’s different for them. They’ll be going with their schools and not sent off to some strangers like ours.’
It had been in the papers that some of the public schools based in cities were moving out wholesale to safer country locations where their pupils would board.
‘Ta, Molly,’ Daisy thanked her as Molly picked up the small toddler who had been making a determined effort to escape. ‘Is it true that you and Johnny Everton are engaged, only I heard it from his mam that you are?’
‘Yes,’ Molly confirmed, blushing slightly.
‘Well, you’re a bit on the young side, if you don’t mind me saying, and you’re gonna have to watch him. He’s gorra bit of an eye for the girls, from what I’ve heard,’ Daisy told her. ‘Marriage isn’t allus all that it’s made out to be, and once you’ve gorra couple of kiddies to think about it’s too late to change your mind.’
Pearl, sensing Molly’s embarrassment, tactfully changed the subject. ‘Have you measured up for them blackout curtains yet?’
‘Yes, me and June are going to Lewis’s to buy the material tomorrow,’ Molly told her.
‘I’ve told my George he’s gorra make frames for the windows so that we can pin the stuff to them. Catch me mekkin’ curtains when I’ve enough to do as it is! And wot’s all this about not buying in food? Chance’d be a fine thing on what George brings home! Don’t know what we’d do if it weren’t for the allotment.’
Leaving the women to chivvy their children out of the shelter, Molly went to rejoin her own family.
‘Has Johnny been round to see you, Molly?’ Frank asked her in a kind voice.
‘Yes. He called round earlier whilst you and June were out, but he couldn’t stay.’
‘Aye, well, I hope you didn’t go and say anything daft to him,’ June challenged her, adding for Frank’s benefit, ‘Daft thing’s bin saying that she isn’t sure she wants to be engaged, if you please!’
Molly could hear the impatience in June’s voice.
‘Well, if she isn’t sure…’
Molly could feel herself starting to blush guiltily as her heart gave a funny little beat. She liked Frank so much. He was always kind to her, listening to her as though he really cared about what she was saying and treating her like a grown-up, while June was impatient with her. But then that was Frank all over, being kind to folk.
‘Don’t you go encouraging her to be daft, Frank,’ June warned sharply. ‘Of course she wants to wed Johnny – just like I want to wed you,’ she added more softly, before demanding, ‘Don’t you, Molly?’
Obediently Molly nodded her head. What else could she do?
‘Well, I’ll tell you something for nothing, young Molly, you’re not gonna be the only one sporting a new engagement ring this weekend,’ Irene Laidlaw announced on Monday morning when the other machinists had all finished examining Molly’s ring, ‘seeing as how so many young men have received their papers. Of course, it’s different for me,’ she added loftily, ‘since my Alan was one of the first to volunteer …’
‘Probably because he wanted to get away from her,’ one of the other girls muttered, causing a ripple of giggles to spread across their small enclosed work space, with its sewing machines and air smelling of new cloth.
Although she had no official senior status, it was accepted by the other girls that Irene was their leader. She had been working there the longest and, although opinionated, was a kind soul and the first to befriend a girl new to the factory and help her settle in.
All the girls worked in pinafore coveralls to prevent bits of thread and cotton from clinging to their clothes. And at least Hardings, unlike some of the factories, had windows big enough to let in proper daylight so that the girls weren’t straining their eyes as they bent over their machines.
‘I’ll be glad when we’ve finished this bloomin’ bloomers order, and start workin’ on sommat a bit more glamorous,’ one of the girls complained with a noisy sigh.
‘Aye, I can’t see your Bert getting excited about you tekkin’ home a few pairs of these to surprise him wiv, Janet,’ the girl working next to her grinned cheekily. ‘I’m sick to me back teeth of ’em meself.’ She too sighed as she surveyed the mound of bloomers waiting to be made up.
The girls were three-quarters of the way through a big order for ‘quality undergarments’, which in reality meant enormous pairs of bloomers as favoured by older women, and equally utilitarian brassieres. The kind of corsets favoured by most middle-aged women were supplied and made by specialist mail-order firms so that customers could be measured for them in the privacy of their own homes, and were so expensive that it was rare for the women Molly and June knew to own more than a best corset and a spare.
‘Pity it’s not some of them fancy French knickers we’re mekkin’ up,’ Janet said longingly.
‘Well,
