فصل 05

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An Australian bride missed sailing for England in HMS Victorious because at the last moment a charge, subsequently dismissed, was laid against her. Immediately she was released, she was rushed in a police car to No. 3 Wharf Woolloomooloo, but the brideship aircraftcarrier had sailed.

Sydney Morning Herald, 4 July 1946

One Day In

HMS Victoria was seven hundred and fifty feet long, and weighed twentythree thousand tons, comprising nine floors below the flight deck and four decks above it up to the vertiginous heights of the bridge and island. Even without the brides specially created berths it would have housed in its gigantic belly some two hundred different rooms, stores and compartments, equalling the size, perhaps, of several department stores or upmarket apartment blocks. Or even, depending on where the brides had come from, several large barns. The hangars alone, where most of the brides were housed, fed and entertained, were nearly five hundred feet long and situated on the same floors as the canteens, bathrooms, the captains sleeping area and at least fourteen sizeable storerooms. They were linked by narrow passageways, which, if one confused the decks, were as likely to lead to an aircraft repair shop or engineers mess as a brides bathroom – a situation that had already caused several red faces. Someone had pinned a plan of the ship in the brides canteen, and Avice had found herself studying it several times, mulling badtemperedly over Vegetable Stores, Parachute Packing Rooms and PomPom Magazines that should, by rights, have been grand ballrooms and firstclass cabins. It was a floating world of unintelligible rules and regulations, of ordered and as yet unrevealed routines, a labyrinthine rabbit warren of lowceilinged rooms, corridors and lockers, the vast majority of which led to places where the women were not meant to be. It was vast yet cramped, noisy – especially for those billeted near the engine rooms – battered, and filled to bursting point with chattering girls and men trying, in some cases halfheartedly, to do their work. With the sheer numbers of people moving around and a general unfamiliarity with the placing of the different flights of stairs and gangways it frequently took the best part of half an hour simply to traverse one deck, alternately pushing past people or pressing against the pipeladen walls to give way to others.

And still Avice could not lose Jean.

From the moment she discovered they had been allocated the same cabin more than six hundred brides and they had lumped her with Jean! the girl had decided to take on a new role that of Avices Best Friend. Having conveniently forgotten the mutual antipathy that had characterised their meetings at the American Wives Club, she had spent the greater part of the last twentyfour hours trailing after her, interrupting whenever Avice struck up conversation with anyone else to stake her claim with a suggestion of a shared history in Sydney.

So it was that they were both on the early sitting for breakfast Avice! Do you remember that girl who used to sew everything blanket stitch? Even her undies?, walking the decks to try to get their bearings Avice! Do you remember when we had to wear those necklaces made out of chicken rings? Have you still got yours? or sharing a packed queue for the bathroom Avice! Did you wear those camiknickers on your wedding night? They look a bit posh for every day . . . or are you trying to impress someone? Eh? Eh?. She knew she should be nicer to Jean, especially since she had discovered she was only sixteen – but really! The girl was awfully trying.

And Avice wasnt convinced that she was entirely truthful either. There had been an exchange when Jean had chattered on at breakfast about her plans to get a job in a department store where her husbands aunt held a managerial post. How can you work? I thought you were expecting, Avice had said coldly.

Lost it, said Jean blithely. Avice gave her a hard, sceptical look. It was very sad, Jean said. Then, after a pause Do you think theyll let me have a second helping of bacon?

Jean, Avice noted as she walked briskly up the last flight of stairs, hardly ever mentioned her husband, Stanley. She herself would have mentioned Ian more often, but on the few occasions when she had Jean had tried to elicit from her some smutty confidence Did you let him do it to you before your wedding night? And, even worse Did it give you a fright the first time you saw it . . . you know . . . sticking up?. Finally Avice gave up trying to shake her off by movement. They were all due upstairs on the flight deck at eleven for the captains address. It should be simple enough to lose her among more than six hundred other women, shouldnt it?

Do you fancy going to one of these lectures? Jean shouted, chewing gum as they made their way past the projection room. Theres one on the strains of marrying a foreigner next week. Her voice, as it had all morning, carried over the noisy vibrations of the engines and the repeated piped calls, summoning Petty Officer Gardner or special sea dutymen to the commanders office.

Avice pretended not to hear her.

I quite fancy the one on common difficulties in the first year, Jean went on. Except our first year has been dead easy so far. He wasnt even there.

The ships company of HMS Victoria will do their best to make your passage to the United Kingdom an enjoyable one . . . At the same time you must remember you are not in a liner, but are privileged to be a passenger in one of His Majestys ships. Life on board must be governed by service rules and customs.

Margaret stood on the flight deck, three deep in the rows of brides, some of whom were giggling with nerves as they listened to the captain. He moved, she thought, as if someone had sewn his sleeves to the body of his jacket.

The sea, sparkling blue, was benign and calm, and the deck – the size of a twoacre field, hardly moved. Margaret cast surreptitious glances along its shining length, sniffing the salted air, feeling the breezeblown sea mist on her skin, enjoying her first sense of space and freedom since they had slipped anchor the previous day. She had thought she might be a little frightened once they could no longer see land but instead she relished the sheer size of the ocean and wondered – with curiosity, not terror – what lay beneath the surface.

At each end of the deck, reflected in shallow, prismed puddles of seawater and aircraft fuel, the aeroplanes stood tethered, their gleaming noses pointing upwards as if hankering for flight. Between them, at the base of the tower known as the island, groups of men in overalls stood watching.

Every person aboard one of His Majestys ships is subject to the Naval Discipline Act, which means no spirits, wine or beer, and that gambling in any form is forbidden. There is to be no smoking near the aircraft at any time. Most importantly, do not get in the way of or distract men who are on duty. You are allowed nearly everywhere on the ship except the mens living spaces, but work must not be interrupted.

At this some of the girls glanced around and one of the ratings winked. A giggle rippled through the female ranks. Margaret shifted her weight to her other foot and sighed.

Jean, one of the girls allocated to share her cabin, had nipped into the space in front of her two minutes after the captain had started talking, and stood, one leg bent under her, biting her nails. She had been buoyant that morning, chattering away from daybreak about her excitement, about the ship, her new shoes. Anything that came to mind had spewed out, unfiltered, to the ears of her new companions. Now, faced with the captains stern manner and his litany of possible misdemeanours, she was looking temporarily wobbly, her excitement giving way to trepidation.

You may have heard from other brides that they had the chance to disembark at various ports on their journey. It must be remembered that in a troopship you will probably get no leave. There may be a chance to land at Colombo and possibly at Bombay, if the international situation allows, but this cannot be looked upon as certain. I would add that persons failing to return to the ship by the stated time are liable to be left behind.

The captains gaze travelled along them. There was nothing speculative in it.

If there is a general complaint about some matter, the duty womens service officer should be informed, and she will bring the matter to the notice of one of the lieutenant commanders. Meanwhile, the following spaces are out of bounds to women ratings living spaces and messes, officers cabins and messes, below the level of the hangar deck, one deck above the flight deck, gun positions and galleries, and inside boats.

A more comprehensive guide, in booklet form, will be distributed to each of you later this afternoon. Id like you all to read it and ensure you follow its regulations to the letter. I cannot emphasise strongly enough how grave the consequences will be for those who choose to disobey them.

A silence descended on the deck, as he allowed the weight of his words to resonate. Margaret felt her cheeks flush as she thought of her cabin on the hangar deck below. A little way along, a woman was crying.

Eight womens service officers are on board to advise, help and assist you on the journey. Here, he indicated the women standing by the Corsairs, each looking almost as grim and selfimportant as the captain himself. Each WSO has a group of cabins under her special care and will always be available to help you. He fixed the women in front of him with a stern gaze. The WSOs will also go rounds during the night.

Thats my evenings entertainment buggered, whispered the girl beside Margaret, and was met by a muffled snort of laughter.

Just as women are not allowed in naval personnels quarters, the ships company is not allowed in the womens quarters and living spaces, except as required for duty. I would remind you of my previous statement, that the duty womens service officers will go rounds during the night.

And naughty girls will have to walk the plank. There was another surreptitious but clear outbreak of giggling, a pressure valve loosening.

Lord knows what he takes us for, said the girl beside Margaret, fiddling with a brooch.

The captain appeared to be at the end of his interminable speech. He looked down at a note attached to his booklets, apparently determining whether or not to continue. After a moment or two, he raised his head. I have also been asked to tell you that . . . a small hairdressing salon . . . here the captains jaw tightened . . . has been created in the after end of the lounge adjacent to B Cabin. It will be staffed by volunteers from among the passengers, if anyone would . . . like to offer their services.

He stared at his papers, then fixed them all with a look that might have been cold or simply weary resignation.

Friendly soul, said Margaret, under her breath, as the group dispersed.

I feel like Im back at school, murmured Jean, in front of her, but with fewer places to smoke.

Highfield looked at the women in front of him, nudging, whispering, fidgeting, not even capable of standing still for long enough to hear him list the rules and regulations that would govern their lives for the next six weeks. Even in this last twentyfour hours, he had watched every new outrage, every new example of why this had been a catastrophic idea, and wanted to telegraph McManus to say, See? Didnt I tell you this would happen? Half of them were hysterical, and didnt seem to know whether to laugh or cry. The other half were already clogging up the place, getting lost below decks, forgetting to duck and injuring their heads, getting in the way of his men, or even stopping him to demand, as one had this morning, where she might find the canteen with the icecream. To top it all, he had walked along the upper gallery earlier this morning and found himself in a fine mist, not of aircraft fuel but of perfume. Perfume! They might as well tie their undergarments in place of the ships pennant and be done with it.

Admittedly there was no dramatic difference in the mens behaviour, but he knew it was only a matter of time at this very minute the women would be the main topic of conversation in the seamens and stokers mess, in the officers mess and even the marines. He could feel a subtle sense of disquiet in the air, as when dogs scent an approaching storm.

Or perhaps it was simply that nothing had felt settled since Harts death. The company had lost the cheerful sense of purpose that had characterised its last nine months in the Pacific. The men – those who remained – had been withdrawn, more prone to argument and insubordination. Several times since they had slipped anchor, he had caught them muttering among themselves and wondered to what extent they blamed him. He concluded his speech, and forced the thoughts, as he often did, from his mind. The women looked wrong. The colours were too bright the hair was too long scarves dangled all over the place. His ship had been an ordered thing of greys and whites, of monochrome. The mere introduction of colour was unbalancing, as if someone had unleashed a flock of exotic birds around him and left them, flapping and unpredictable, to create havoc. Some women were wearing highheeled shoes, for goodness sake.

Its not that I dont like women, he thought, as he did several times an hour. Its just that everything has its place. People have their place. He was a reasonable man. He didnt think this was an unreasonable point of view.

He folded the booklet under his arm and caught sight of some ratings loitering by the lashings – the chains that secured the aircraft to the deck. Havent you got anything bloody better to do? he barked, then turned on his heel and strode into the lobby.

Dear Joe,

Well, here I am on the Victoria with the other brides, and I can tell you this Im definitely a land girl. Its awful cramped, even in a ship this size, and wherever you go youre bumping into people, like being in the city but worse. I suppose youre used to it, but Im already dreaming of fields and empty spaces. Last night I even dreamt of Dads cows . . .

Our fourberth cabin is one of many in what was apparently a giant liftwell, and I am sharing with three girls, who seem to be all right. One girl, Jean, is only sixteen – and guess what? Shes not the youngest. There are evidently two girls of fifteen on board – both married to Brits and travelling alone. I cant say what Dad would have done if Id come home at fifteen and announced I was getting married – even to you, dear. Im also sharing with a girl who has been working for the Australian General Hospital out in the Pacific, and says almost nothing, and another who I think is a bit of a society type. I cant say any of us has much in common, other than that we are all wanting the same thing.

One bride apparently missed the boat at Sydney and theyre flying her to Fremantle, where we will pick her up. So I guess you cant say the Navy arent doing all they can to get us to you.

The men are all pretty friendly, although were not meant to talk to them much. Some girls go silly whenever they walk past one. Honestly, youd think theyd never seen a man before, let alone married one. The captain has read us the Riot Act already, and everyone keeps going on about water and how were not meant to use any. I only had a flannel wash this morning – I cant see how Im going to run the ship dry on that. I think of you often, and it is a comfort to me to think that we are probably even at this minute, sailing on the same ocean.

Joe Junior, Im sure, sends his love kicks like a mule when Im trying to sleep!.

Your Maggie

These were the other things that she hadnt told Joe that she had lain awake for most of the first night, listening to the clanking of chains, doors slamming above and below, the hysterical giggling and shrieking of other women behind thinly constructed walls, and feeling the vibrations of the great ship moving under her, like some groaning prehistoric beast. That among the incomprehensible pipes that sounded every fifteen minutes or so Hands to action stations, Stand by to receive gash barge alongside, Special Sea Dutymen, close up their wakeup call had been a rendition over the Tannoy of Wakey, wakey, show a leg and that at five thirty, she had overheard the less savoury mens version Wakey, wakey, rise and shine, hands off cocks, pull on socks. That the ship was a bewildering mass of ranks and roles, from marines to stokers to airmen. That the canteen was big enough to seat three hundred girls at once, that together they made a noise like a huge flock of starlings descending, and that she had eaten better food at last nights supper than she had for the last two years. That almost the first naval custom they had been taught – with great emphasis on its importance – was the submariners dhobi a shower of several seconds to soak oneself, a soaping with the water turned off, then a brief rinse under running water. It was vital, the Red Cross officer had impressed upon them, that they conserve water so that the pumps could desalinate at a rate fast enough to replace it, and they could make the crossing hygienically. From what she had heard in the shower rooms, she was pretty well the only bride to have followed those instructions.

Behind her, hidden by her size and a carefully folded blanket, Maude Gonne lay sleeping. After the captains address, Margaret had raced back to their cabin Daniel would have said lumbered and subdued the little dogs yelps with stolen biscuits, then smuggled her along to the bathroom to make sure she didnt disgrace herself. She had only just got back to the bunk when Frances came in, and she had thrust herself on to her bed, a warning hand on the dogs hidden head, willing her to stay quiet.

It was a problem. She had thought she would be allocated a single cabin – most of the pregnant brides had been. It hadnt occurred to her that she might have to share.

She wondered whether Frances, on the bunk opposite, could be trusted. She seemed all right, but she had said little that suggested anything at all. And she was a nurse – some of whom got awfully tied up in rules and regulations.

Margaret shifted on her bunk, trying to get comfortable, feeling the engines rumbling beneath her. There was so much she wanted to tell Joe, so much she wanted to convey about the strangeness of it all – of being thrust from her home into a world where girls became hysterical not just about their future but over brands of shampoo or stockings Where did you get those? Ive been looking everywhere for them! and exchanged the kind of intimate confidences that suggested theyd known each other for years, not twentyfour hours.

Mum would have been able to explain it, thought Margaret. She would have been able to speak their language, translate it, and afterwards would have defused its power with a few pithy remarks. If Id known she was going, she thought, I would have listened harder. I would have treated it all with a little more respect, rather than spending my life trying to live up to the boys. They never told you it wasnt just a gaping hole of grief but that it went on and on, myriad questions that wouldnt be answered.

She glanced at her watch. They would be out now, perhaps on the tractor, clearing the saplings at the bottom of the steers field, as they had been meaning to do all summer. Colm had joked that spending all these weeks surrounded by women would drive her mad. Dad had said it might teach her a few things. Margaret gazed surreptitiously at the feminine trappings around her, of silk, nylon and floral patterns, of face creams and manicure sets. She hadnt anticipated that it might leave her feeling alien.

You want my pillow? Frances had emerged from her novel. She was gesturing towards Margarets stomach.

No. Thanks.

Go on – you cant be comfortable.

It had been the longest sentence she had uttered since introducing herself. Margaret hesitated, then accepted the pillow with thanks and wedged it under her thigh. It was true the bunks offered all the width and comfort of an ironingboard.

Whens it due?

Not for a couple of months or so. Margaret sniffed, pushed tentatively at her mattress. It could have been worse, I suppose. They might have given us hammocks.

The other girls smile faltered, as if, having opened the conversation, she was now unsure what else to say. She returned to her book.

Maude Gonne shifted and whined in sleep, her paws scrabbling against Margarets back. The noise was disguised by the thrum of the engines and the chatter of girls passing outside the halfopen door. But she would have to do something. Maude Gonne couldnt stay in here for the whole six weeks. Even if she only left to go to the bathroom there were bound to be occasions when the other girls were here. How would she keep her quiet then?

Bugger it, she thought, shifting her belly again. What with the baby moving constantly, and all these women around, night, day and every single minute in between, it was impossible to think straight.

The cabin door was open and Avice stepped in, remembering to duck – she had no intention of meeting Ian with a bruised forehead – and raised a smile for the two girls lying on the bottom bunks. Made of a navalissue bedroll lying in a raised platform of webbing, they were less than five feet apart, and the womens small cases, containing the minimum of their belongings, were stacked securely against the temporary sheetmetal wall that divided them from the next cabin.

The entire space was rather smaller than her bathroom at home. There was no concession to the femininity of the passengers the fabrics were utilitarian at best, the floor uncarpeted, the colour a uniform battleship grey. The only mirrors were in the steamy confines of the shower rooms. Their larger cases, with the main part of their clothes and belongings, were stored in the quarterdeck lockers, which smelt of aircraft fuel and to which they had to beg access from a spectacularly sour WSO, who had already reminded Avice twice – with what Avice felt was obvious envy – that life on board was not a fashion parade.

Avice was desperately disappointed in her travelling companions. Almost everywhere she had been this morning she had seen girls in smarter clothes, with the right sort of look, the kind that spoke to Avice of a social standing not dissimilar to her own. She might have found consolation in their company for the awfulness of the ship. But instead she had been landed with a pregnant farm girl and a surly nurse. She did so hope she wasnt going to be one of those superior types, as if the terrible things she had supposedly witnessed made the rest of them shallow for trying to enjoy themselves. And, of course, there was Jean.

Hey there, shipmates. Jean scrambled on to the bunk above Margaret, her thin bare limbs like a monkeys, and lit a cigarette. Avice and me have been checking out the action on board. Theres a cinema up near the bow, on the lower gallery. Anyone fancy coming to the pictures later?

No. Thanks anyway, said Frances.

Actually, I think Ill stay here and write some letters. Avice had made her way on to her top bunk, holding her skirt down over her thighs with one hand. It took some effort. Im feeling a little weary.

How bout you, Maggie? Jean leant over the side of her bunk.

Her head heaving suddenly into view made Margaret jump and contort into a peculiar shape. Avice wondered if this travelling companion was going to prove even odder than she had suspected. Margaret seemed to sense that her reaction had been a little strange she reached behind her, picked up a magazine and flicked it open with studied nonchalance. No, she said. Thank you. I – I should probably rest.

Yeah. You do that, said Jean, hauling herself back into her bunk and taking a long drag on her cigarette. The last thing we want is you dropping it in here.

Avice was searching for her hairbrush. She had been through her vanity case several times, and climbed down from her bunk to gaze at the others. Now that the excitement of the slipping off had dissipated, and the circumstances in which she was going to have to spend the next six weeks had come into focus, her mood had darkened. She was finding it difficult to keep smiling through. Im sorry to bother you all, but has anyone seen my brush? She thought it rather noble of her not to direct this at Jean.

Whats it look like?

Silver. It has my initials on the back. My married ones – AR.

Not up here, said Jean. A few things spilt out of our cases when the engines did that juddery thing earlier. Have you looked on the floor?

Avice knelt down, cursing the inadequate light from the one unshaded overhead bulb. If theyd had a window, she would have been able to see better. In fact, everything would have been more pleasant with a sea view. She was sure some of the girls had got windows. She couldnt understand why her father hadnt made it a requirement. She was just stretching her arm under Francess bunk when she felt a cold wet touch high on the inside of her thigh. She shrieked and jumped up, smacking the back of her head on Francess bunk.

What, in heavens name—

Pain shot through the top of her head, making her stumble. She pulled her skirt tight round her legs, twisting round in an effort to see behind her. Who did that? Was it someones idea of a joke?

Whats the matter? asked Jean, wideeyed.

Someone goosed me. Someone stuck their cold wet . . . Here, words failed Avice, and she gazed round suspiciously, as if perhaps some madman had stowed away when no one was looking. Someone goosed me, she repeated.

No one spoke.

Frances was watching her silently, her face impassive.

Im not imagining it, Avice told her crossly.

It was then that all eyes fell on Margaret, who was leaning over the edge of her bunk, muttering to herself. Avice, cheeks flushed, heart racing, legs crossed defensively, stared at her.

Margaret looked up at her with a guilty expression. She stood up, went to the door, closed it and sighed. Oh, hell. I need to tell you all something. Id thought Id get a cabin to myself because of being . . . like this.

Avice took a step backwards – which was a difficult manoeuvre in so little space. Like what? Oh, Lord! Youre not one of those . . . deviant types? Oh, my goodness.

Deviant? said Margaret.

I knew I shouldnt have come.

Pregnant, you eejit! I thought Id get a cabin to myself because Im pregnant.

Are you making a nest under your bunk? said Jean. My cat did that when she had kittens. Made a terrible mess.

No, said Margaret. I was not making a ruddy nest. Look, Im trying to tell you all something. Her cheeks were flushed.

Avice crossed her hands protectively over her chest. Is this your way of apologising?

Margaret shook her head. Its not what you think. She lowered herself on to her hands and knees and uttered a soft crooning sound. Seconds later, her broad hand emerged from under her bunk. In it she held a small dog. Girls, she said, meet Maude Gonne.

Four sets of eyes stared at the dog, who stared back with rheumy disinterest.

I knew it! I knew you were up to something! crowed Jean, triumphantly. I said to myself, when we were on the flight deck, That Margaret, shes as furtive as a fox in long grass eating guts.

Oh, for goodness sake. Avice grimaced. You mean that was what . . . ?

Those camiknickers really do the job, eh, Avice? scoffed Jean.

Frances studied the dog. But youre not allowed pets on board, she said.

I know that.

Im sorry, but you cant hope to keep it quiet, Avice said. And itll make the dorm smell.

There was a lengthy silence as unspoken thoughts hung in the air.

In the end, anxiety overrode Avices natural delicacy. Were on this thing for almost six weeks. Wheres it going to do its business?

Margaret sat down, ducking to avoid banging her head on the top bunk. The dog settled on her lap. Shes very clean – and Ive worked it all out. You didnt notice anything last night, did you? I ran her up and down the end gangway after youd gone to sleep.

Ran her up and down the gangway?

And cleaned up afterwards. Look, she doesnt bark. She doesnt smell. Ill make sure I keep her business well out of your way. But please, please, dont dob me in. Shes . . . old . . . My mum gave her to me. And . . . she blinked furiously . . . look, shes all Ive got left of my mum. I couldnt leave her, okay?

There was silence as the women exchanged looks. Margaret stared at the floor, flushed with emotion. It was too soon for this level of confidence, she knew it, and so did they. Its just for a few weeks, and its real important to me.

There was another lengthy silence. The nurse looked at her shoes. If you want to try to keep her in here, I dont mind.

Nor me, said Jean. Long as she doesnt chew up my shoes. Shes quite sweet. For a rat.

Avice knew she couldnt be the only one to complain it would make her seem heartless. What about the Royal Marines? she asked.

What?

The ones theyre posting outside our doors from tomorrow night. Didnt you hear that WSO? You wont be able to get her out.

A marine? For what?

Hes coming at nine thirty. I suppose its to stop the men below coming up and ravishing us, said Jean. Think about it – a thousand desperate men lying just a few feet below us. They could storm the doors if they wanted to and—

Oh, for goodness sake! Avices hand flew to her throat.

Then again, said Jean, grinning lasciviously, it might be to keep us lot in.

Well, Ill have to get her out before the marine comes.

Gangways too busy, said Jean.

Perhaps we should just tell someone, said Avice. Im sure theyd understand. And perhaps theyll have . . . facilities for this kind of thing. A room they can put her in. Shed probably be much happier with a bit of space to run around, wouldnt she? It wasnt just the dogginess that bothered her, she realised, it was the sense that someone was getting away with something. They had all had their luggage weighed to the last ounce, their food parcels restricted, and had been made to leave behind their favourite belongings. And this girl had had the gall to bypass it all.

No, said Margaret, her face darkening. You heard the captain this morning. Were still way too close to home. Theyd put her off in a boat and send her back to Sydney and that would be the last I ever saw of her. I cant take the risk. Not yet, anyway.

Well keep it quiet, said Jean, stroking the little dogs head. Avice thought that Jean would have been up for anything that smacked of subverting authority. Wont we, girls? Itll be a gas. Im going to sneak her a bit of dinner later.

Avice? said Margaret. It was as if, Avice thought afterwards, she had already been earmarked as a killjoy.

I wont say a word, she said, her voice strained. Just keep her well away from me. And if you do get discovered, make sure you tell them it was nothing to do with us.