Michelle Rawlins - The Steel Girls

‘Thanks, Nancy, luv.’ Doris murmured weakly, slowly stroking Little George’s back, who had finally nodded off on her chest. ‘You’re a good friend. I might have to take you up on that if you’re really sure.’

Relieved there was some practical way she could finally help her neighbour, who was more like a sister, Nancy smiled. ‘Of course, I’ll even make an extra jam sponge. That will keep the kids happy.’ She hoped Doris would feel a little safer in the knowledge that she could rely on her whenever she needed to. After all, wasn’t that what friends were for?

Long after Doris had taken the children home, and she’d tucked Billy and Linda into bed with a kiss and a bedtime story, Nancy couldn’t stop thinking about her pal. She had filled the hole Nancy’s sister, Lucy, had left behind when she’d moved away and now the thought of her suffering in the most agonizing of manners was just heartbreaking.

As she put the last of the dinner dishes away and settled down for her last cuppa of the day, the kitchen door swung open.

‘Oh, hiya luv.’ Nancy beamed at the sight of her husband, Bert, instantly jumping up to fetch his dinner from the range. ‘Long day?’

‘Aye,’ he said with a sigh, leaning over to give his wife a peck on the cheek. ‘Offering to pull a double shift wasn’t my brightest idea. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve driven back and forth to the city centre today.’

Nancy smiled. Bert had always been a hard worker and whenever his manager offered him an extra shift as a tram driver, he never turned it down, grateful for the extra cash he would receive in his wage packet on Friday.

‘It all helps pay the bills,’ she said, carefully placing Bert’s warmed-up beef dinner in front of him. Grabbing a mug for her husband and a cup and saucer for herself, she poured them each a strong brew.

‘You look distracted tonight, luv. What is it?’ Bert asked in between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes.

Holding her china cup to her mouth, the one small luxury Nancy allowed herself, she told Bert about her chat with Doris. ‘I just wish I could make it all better for her. Apart from grieving for George, she’s worrying herself sick about paying the bills. The little ones are struggling too. How on earth do you explain to them that Daddy has gone to heaven?’

Bert looked up from his now nearly empty plate. He knew how much his wife thought of Doris. ‘I’ll be earning an extra bob or two this week with all this overtime. Why don’t you nip to the butcher’s on Saturday and get an extra big joint and invite them all round for tea?’

Nancy reached across the table and squeezed her husband’s arm, feeling reminded as to why she’d married him. ‘That’s a lovely idea,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

‘Ah, it’s nothing in the grand scheme of things,’ Bert replied, swallowing his last forkful of beef. ‘It will do her good and I know how much you love seeing all the kids play together.’

He was right. Nancy had always dreamt of having a houseful of children running around, getting up to mischief, but after Linda had come along, she and Bert had agreed two was enough. They had just enough money to live comfortably without worrying where the next meal was coming from and, despite always secretly craving holding another new-born baby for the very first time, Nancy felt lucky she had been blessed with a boy and girl.

‘Besides which,’ Bert added, ‘I think we are all going to have to stick together more than ever soon enough.’

‘What do you mean, luv?’ Nancy asked, although deep down she, like the rest of the country, had felt a sense of uncertainty for months now. ‘Do you really think it will happen?’ she added before Bert had a chance to reply.

‘Aye, I do,’ he answered, almost too quickly for Nancy’s liking.

She pulled her arms across her body as a cold shiver ran through her. An impending war had been the elephant in the room in the Edwards’ house all summer. Bert rarely spoke about the latest developments across Europe, knowing his wife, an eternal worrier, couldn’t bear to think about it. Nancy always avoided any conversation around Hitler and his power-hungry actions, all too aware Bert would be one of the first to offer his services to fight the German’s terrifying regime, always wanting to do the right thing. But with the rest of her family so far away, the idea of Bert disappearing as well was one worry too many for Nancy. She would have loved to have been more like Doris, who had endless strength and determination to carry on despite how hard life was and the trauma she had faced.

I couldn’t be that strong, Nancy quietly thought to herself. I know I would crumble.

That night, after Bert had taken himself off to bed earlier than usual in preparation for another early start on the trams, Nancy sat alone at the kitchen table, contemplating her thoughts.

In the darkness – pitch black save for the glimmer of a candle, due to the newly installed thick black fabric she and Bert had fitted to every window to act as blackout blinds to comply with the new regulations – Nancy nursed the last dregs of her lukewarm tea, unable to stop her mind from wandering. Poor Doris had already lost her husband and Nancy could see the devastating effect it was having on her; the last thing she now wanted was to say goodbye to Bert as he left to fight in a strange unknown country, hundreds of miles away, not knowing if she, or their precious children, who adored their daddy more than life itself, would ever see him again.

The thought of him never coming back was too much to bear.

How could I ever tell Billy and Linda their daddy had died? Nancy silently worried, scrunching her eyes closed, just the thought of it was too much to even contemplate out loud.

Bert had also been the breadwinner since their children had come along and seeing how much Doris was now struggling left her terrified.

If the unthinkable happened, she really had no idea how on earth she would manage to put food on the table and keep a roof over their heads.

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