style="font-size:15px;"> Peggy worked the night shift at BSA – Birmingham Small Arms – in Armoury Road, making Browning guns for Spitfires, and it was one hell of a trek from Pype Hayes out there every evening. Maureen secretly thought the reason she stayed on with them and didn’t look for something nearer, was because she was sweet on her son Gerry, and Gerry certainly more than liked her. In fact, Maureen thought, Peggy would be hard to dislike as she was lovely to look at with her thick hair so dark it was nearly black, and eyes to match, and her full mouth in her heart-shaped face. But best of all was her kindly nature and sense of humour. Maureen would welcome the girl as a daughter-in-law, for Gerry was thirty-three and a fine age to marry, but he was too shy to speak his mind to the girl. Maureen thought him a fool and hoped he wouldn’t dally too long, or someone else would snap the girl up.
Jenny knew what was in her gran’s mind, but her own was still full of her brother, and as she made her way back to the house, she wondered why she didn’t look in the least bit like him. Like his three brothers and Geraldine too, Anthony had had deep brown eyes and hair, a nice-shaped nose and mouth, and flawless skin. The boys were all acknowledged as handsome and Geraldine known as a stunner.
Jenny’s face was longer than theirs and went to a point at her chin, and though her eyes were brown, they were much lighter than the other O’Learys’. Her nose had no shape to it at all and was powdered with hideous freckles, and her mouth was too big and her lips too thick. But worst of all was the mop of auburn curls that refused to lie flat, or be tamed in any way. She was plain if not downright ugly – and if she’d had any doubts about it, Norah O’Leary would have dispelled them, for all the years of her growing up, she’d told her how ugly she was.
Not, in fact, that she’d grown up very much, for while the boys all touched on six foot and Geraldine was a willowy five foot six like her mother and other grandmother, Jenny was just five foot. She’d grown till she was about twelve, then stopped, and she had few womanly curves and little bust. In fact, she looked more like a young boy than a young woman, especially when she wore the trousers that women were finding so comfortable and practical these days.
Even her sister had said she’d be left on the shelf if she didn’t make the most of the few attributes she had – and indeed, there had never been anyone killed in the rush to take Jenny O’Leary out.
Now though, Norah was pleased that Jenny had turned out plain. As the only unmarried daughter, she’d spend her lifetime looking after her; it wasn’t as if she’d ever have a better offer. Norah considered she’d had a miserable life since she consented to marry that oaf Dermot O’Leary, but she’d made him pay for it. Now it was Jenny’s turn. She’d always championed him anyway, and even looked like him and all his common relations. Norah knew she would never feel the same about Jenny as she did about her beautiful daughter Geraldine, who’d never argued with her in the whole of her life. There had been just one distressing incident in her teens when she’d been all for marrying someone unsuitable. But Norah had soon put a stop to that. Jenny was a different kettle of fish altogether.
When Jenny returned from her gran’s, it was to hear the priest had already paid the two women a visit. Norah immediately demanded to know where Jenny had been for such a long time; she was furious when she found out. Didn’t Jenny have any thought for her feelings? Surely she knew that Maureen O’Leary was the last person on God’s earth she’d have wanted her to see. ‘Why,’ she asked plaintively, ‘do you take such pleasure in upsetting me and today of all days when I’m trying to come to terms with the death of my son?’
Jenny couldn’t understand her mother. Did she honestly think Gran O’Leary should have been kept in the dark? Anthony was her grandson too, and she had loved him dearly. Surely she had a right to know!
But in this sort of mood, there was no reasoning with Norah, as Jenny knew from bitter experience. She gave a sigh and, deciding she might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, told her mother she was on warden duty that night and had no intention of asking to be excused. At first Jenny thought her mother was going to have a fit; naturally, everyone blamed Jenny for the upset. ‘You are unnatural,’ Norah declared, and Jenny could see that the others agreed with her. No one could understand her attitude. Geraldine was still at the house but she couldn’t stay late for she had the children to get to bed. She said she assumed that Jenny would be there that evening to offer their mother some measure of comfort. Jenny gave a grim smile, knowing her mother would never take comfort from her. She was just used as the whipping boy.
It had been Anthony’s idea that she work as an ARP warden or at least that she do something for the war effort. He’d told her about the women working on the shopfloor of factories doing jobs that had once been traditionally male, and of those driving buses and trucks and ambulances, and how proud he was of them all setting to and running the country in the absence of the men. His words had inspired Jenny and, having some knowledge of First Aid, she offered herself as an ARP warden and now reported for duty two evenings a week at the warden post in Tyburn Road.
Norah had then said that if Jenny was going to leave her alone in the evenings, as well as the day, she wanted her mother to move in with them, at least till the end of the war. Jenny disliked her Grandmother Gillespie, for Eileen resembled her daughter Norah in looks and temperament, but there was no point in complaining, Norah would only point out that it was her name on the rent book. Eileen had moved in, and before many weeks had passed, Jenny thought that if she hadn’t had the warden post to escape to, she’d have strangled the pair of them!
She particularly needed to get out that night. Before, she’d always given in to the family and done what they wanted, but not this time. ‘Mother, Anthony would want me to go,’ Jenny said steadily.
‘Oh, you know that, do you, miss?’ Norah sneered.
And suddenly Jenny could almost see Anthony in front of her eyes and hear his voice in her ear. ‘Go on Jen. Stand up to Mother for God’s sake, or she’ll destroy you.’
‘Yes – yes, I do!’ Jenny shouted back at her mother. ‘He gave his life doing what he thought was right, but the war hasn’t finished because Anthony has died. He wouldn’t want us to give up. If there is a raid tonight, more people might be injured and killed. I have to go.’ And then, as her mother made no reply, she lifted her chin defiantly and went on: ‘And I am going, just as soon as I’ve made us all something to eat.’
Norah stared at Jenny. Always before she’d given in under pressure; this was a new tack entirely. ‘Then go,’ she said, ‘though what earthly good you’ll be I don’t know, for you’re as small as a child and about as much use.’
Jenny stared back at her mother for a minute, then turned from her without a word, though she trembled inside as she went into the kitchen to start on the tea. She heard Geraldine call goodbye to her mother and grandmother, completely ignoring her. Jenny told herself she didn’t care; she’d made a stand now and had to stick to it – and the sooner she got the tea over and was on her way, the better she’d feel.
As Jenny was struggling with the news of her brother’s death, just a couple of streets away on Paget Road, Linda Lennox was looking at her mother Patty Prosser with concern, a frown creasing her brow. ‘Are you sure you’re well enough to get up, Mom?’
Patty looked at her daughter and smiled. She was a good kid, she thought, ‘I can’t stay in bed all my bloody life, now can I?’ she said. ‘The sooner I’m back to work and you back to school the better.’
‘Yeah, but you ain’t
