‘I like happy endings best,’ Beryl said, ‘when they kiss and you know they’re going to live happily ever after.’
‘I cry at them too,’ Madge said. ‘Happy or sad, I always cry. I know I’ve had my money’s worth if I have a good bawl. Same with a comedy, but the opposite.’ Ena looked at her friend and raised her eyebrows. ‘You know what I mean.’ Madge pushed Ena playfully. ‘A comedy’s meant to make you laugh, whereas a weepy is meant to make you cry.’
Freda stopped walking and stood with her mouth open. ‘What is it?’ Ena asked.
Freda laughed. ‘Anyone would think, Wuthering Heights was real. It isn’t Cathy and Heathcliff, it’s Merle Oberon and Laurence Olivier, film stars who earn more money making one film than we earn in a year.’
‘I know, but… Oh look,’ Madge said, ‘Next week it’s Gone With The Wind. I love Clark Gable. We’ll see it, shall we?’ Everyone agreed.
‘See her, Vivien Leigh?’ Beryl said, pointing at the advertising poster of Gone With The Wind. ‘She’s walking out with Laurence Olivier.’
‘Who is?’
‘Vivien Leigh. It’s been in all the film magazines. She’s courting the film star who played Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights.’
‘No!’
‘Yes… Well, it said she was in my magazine.’
‘I’ll see what it says about them in Starlet Magazine when I get home.’
Ena yawned. ‘I don’t care who’s walking out with who, I want my bed.’
‘Don’t be a killjoy,’ Freda said. ‘Who’s coming for a drink?’
‘No one. The bus is here.’
It had been a long day and the bus trundled along, making Ena feel even sleepier. When they arrived in Lowarth, the cold night air woke her up.
After saying goodnight, Ena and Beryl cycled off, leaving Madge and Freda, who lived in Lowarth, discussing which film they would see next, and when.
CHAPTER SIX
Ena arrived at the factory just before nine o’clock on Monday morning. As she approached the main entrance, she was met by a young workman who clearly wanted to impress her. ‘Good morning, Miss Dudley.’ Not giving Ena time to return the greeting, the young man carried on, ‘We started work on Friday, first thing, and we’ve worked all weekend.’ He pointed to new slates on the roof, windows that now had glass in them, and the car park’s rebuilt outer wall. ‘All that’s left to do,’ he said, opening the door and standing back to let Ena go in first, ‘is give the walls that have been plastered a lick of paint. We’ll be doing that as soon as the plaster’s dry.’ He walked with Ena across the factory floor. ‘You’ll be back at work in no time, miss.’
‘Not until the gas and the electricity have been checked, she won’t, lad,’ Herbert Silcott called from the doorway of the annexe. ‘We need to make sure there aren’t any cracked gas pipes or damaged wiring.’
‘Yes, Mr Silcott.’ The young man’s cheeks flushed a deep red. ‘Better get back to work.’
‘When the factory is safe, and I am satisfied that the workforce isn’t going to go up in smoke, we’ll all be back.’ Mr Silcott looked worried.
Ena rubbed her gloved hands together. ‘Right, where shall I start?’
‘I’m sorry. Ena, I’m afraid you are here under false pretences. I thought we would have lights and heating by now, but the utility companies can’t get here until this afternoon.’ He gave Ena a fatherly smile. ‘My wife said I was overly optimistic.’
Ena returned Herbert Silcott’s smile. She didn’t mind being at work. She wanted to be of use. ‘Surely there’s something we can do?’
‘Without heating, possibly, but not without lights.’
Ena followed her boss’s gaze. The young workman was rubbing the flat of his hand back and forth across a newly plastered section of wall. ‘Tomorrow morning, early, the telephone people are coming in. Hopefully they won’t be too long, so if you come in at your usual time, Ena, I’ll get you to check the work orders. If there is anything you don’t think we’ll be able to get out on time, I need to know, so I can inform the client. Hopefully, if I explain the situation, they’ll extend the finishing dates.’
Ena was worried. If she wasn’t able to start work on the current order for Bletchley Park tomorrow – and as things stood, it didn’t look likely – it would be the beginning of a backlog. Ena blew out her cheeks. With extra work from Williams Engineering coming their way, delaying Bletchley’s current job could have disastrous consequences. The commander’s words ran through her head. “That will mean more work for Silcott’s. Can you handle more work?” Freda had said, “Yes, sir,” so confidently.
Ena did some mental arithmetic. The average Bletchley job took a minimum of four twelve-hour days – she had three. If she added four hours onto each day, worked sixteen hours, she would complete the job on time, and even if she had to do the last check on Friday morning, it would be at Bletchley by mid-afternoon. If it wasn’t, and Silcott’s lost the contract, there would be a lot of women out of work, including her.
Ena went to the safe. To her relief, the concrete bunker where she kept her work was undamaged. ‘If you are sure you don’t want me to check the work orders today, I’ll go. But tomorrow, I am starting work on the order Freda and I brought back from Bletchley, and I shall finish it on time.’
‘Thank you, Ena.’ Herbert Silcott’s eyes were moist, and he cleared his throat. As they left the annexe, he raised his hand to the workmen in a gesture of acknowledgement. ‘I don’t think there would be much work done today if you
