When Ena arrived at the factory the following morning, the electricity was on and there was a team of maintenance engineers testing the machines on the factory floor.
‘We’re from Williams Engineering,’ the foreman said. ‘Mr Williams asked us to come over and check your machines, make sure they’re safe for when you go back into production.’
‘If you can get these three up and running first,’ Ena said, pointing to Madge Foot and Barb Allyn’s machines, and the one next to them, which she intended to use herself, ‘You’ll have saved us from losing our main contract.’ Something of an exaggeration, but it did the trick. The foreman called the other engineers over and they set about cleaning, oiling, and testing the three machines nearest the annexe. She then went over to the builder’s apprentice, told him where Madge and Barb lived, and asked him if he would go to each of their houses and tell them that Ena needed them to come into work. She then went to the annexe where Freda was cleaning her tools. ‘Any damage, Freda?’
‘No. I’ve checked them all,’ she said, scrutinising a small drill.
Ena went to the cupboard and took out her toolbox. Opening it, she lifted a hard leather pouch from the top, laid it on the workbench, and rolled out the length of chamois leather that protected her precision tools. Checking each one in turn, she heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Mine are all right too.’ She then took out the drills and bits, checked them and put them back. She wouldn’t need her tools until later, so returned them to the toolbox and put it back in the cupboard.
As she was leaving the annexe, Ena saw Violet Wilson and her sister Rose talking to one of the maintenance men. When they saw Ena, they left the man and ran over to her. ‘We were passing,’ Violet said, ‘and wondered if there was any news.’
‘About us coming back to work,’ Rose added.
Ena burst out laughing. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing because you couldn’t have asked at a better time. Come with me.’ Taking the women back to the engineer who they had been talking to, Ena asked, ‘How are you getting on?’
He wiped the sleeve of his overalls across his sweating face. ‘Phew!’ He blew out his cheeks. ‘Hard going this is. Right! The three machines you wanted doing first are finished.’ Ena put her hands together as if in prayer. ‘The three on this bank are done, and the two next to them are almost finished.’ He pointed to the far side of the room. ‘And that lot’ll be done next.’
‘That’s… that’s incredible. Thank you.’ Ena shook her head in amazement. Aware that Violet and Rose Wilson were waiting for an answer, she looked at her watch. ‘How about after lunch today? One o’clock?’
‘Why wait until one? I’ve got work started last week that I can carry on with,’ Violet said.
‘Me too,’ said Rose.
‘And,’ Violet said, pointing at the machines the maintenance engineer had said were ready, ‘I’ll send my boys back to tell some of the other women to come up. They’re outside. Won’t be a mo. You get your machine going, Rose!’ she shouted over her shoulder to her sister, and marched out of the factory.
Madge and Barb arrived within minutes of the Wilson boys running off to spread the word that Silcott’s was back in production, and Ena took them to the annexe. By the time they had discussed what was needed to complete the work order for Station X, their machines were up and running.
When Mr Silcott returned that afternoon, the communal areas had been cleaned and were ready for use, thanks to a cleaning crew organised by Mrs Silcott. Freda had read and filed the invoices, petrol coupons, bills and statements, while a couple of girls waiting for their machines to be serviced had cleaned the annexe. The factory was working at seventy-five percent, which meant the work for Bletchley Park would be completed on time.
By the end of November, Silcott’s Engineering was working to full capacity and by Christmas, the backlog of work had been cleared. Ena had Christmas Day off. She had to go into work for a few hours early on Boxing Day as the work for Bletchley was being taken down on Friday. As her sister Margaret had said in her last letter, the war didn’t stop because it was Christmas.
Margaret and husband Bill had to work at Christmas, so were staying in London. The rest of the Dudley family, including Claire, who was home on twenty-four hours’ leave from the WAAF, were spending Christmas Day with Bess and her ever-growing family of evacuees at Foxden Hall.
After church on Christmas morning, Ena, Claire, and their parents walked up to the Hall. The Dudley women went to the kitchen to help Mrs Hartley, Foxden’s housekeeper and cook, to prepare Christmas lunch for the land girls and the evacuated children. Ena’s father joined Bess and Mr Porter, Foxden’s estate manager and his boss before the war, in the music room where the children were rehearsing for a concert that afternoon.
When lunch was ready, Mrs Hartley and Ena’s mother brought two large chickens with homemade sage and onion stuffing into the main hall. ‘We’ll put a bird at each end of the table, Lily,’ Mrs Hartley said. ‘Thomas and Mr Porter are carving.’ Ena and Claire brought dishes of vegetables, followed by two land girls carrying large jugs of gravy. Lunch was as chaotic as it was fun. And the tongue-in-cheek threat of not opening any presents until they had eaten every scrap of food on their plates worked so well that by
