A Mother Forever Elaine Everest (best beach reads of all time .txt) 📖

she was one of the older women working in the sheds, and the company had recently taken on many younger women. There’d been a new influx of work the week before, and she knew there would be more coming after Christmas. The move over to breaking open Verey Light cartridges and extracting the powder within had been different to filling shells and cartridges, but it was still a job. After the war ended all shells were decommissioned, and this gave welcome work to the women who had been in munitions. There was plenty for everyone to do and Ruby was glad of that, because despite her searching high and low, she had found no trace of her husband in the last few years. Even though she now owned her home, she still needed to be able to support herself and Pat.

What pleased her most about the change in her work was that the yellow tint to her skin had gradually faded away. During the war, she and her friends had quite enjoyed people looking at them when they went out together – they were nicknamed the Canary Girls, and Ruby saw it as a mark of their contribution to the war effort. She was proud when people looked her way. All the time they worked with the explosive materials, their skin remained tinted yellow.

Oh well, if she was going to get the sack, she’d just have to think about doing something else for a living. Perhaps George could put a word in for her. It was easy enough to get to Crayford and the Vickers factory from her house.

Thinking of George, her heart ached to see him. Only weeks before, he and Irene had sold up and moved their family to Devon. Irene was full of it, and had found a beautiful house close to the sea. When at such a tender age George had been offered promotion to management, Irene had jumped at the chance of moving up in the world, but Ruby had wept when she heard the news. She doted on little Sarah now she was walking and starting to chatter; she completely melted her grandmother’s heart. George had promised that they would come often to visit; after all, he needed to visit the Crayford works to be able to continue his job as a designer in the engineering section of the company. He’d said he would bring Sarah with him, although Irene had mentioned that she was sure she would be very busy creating a home and hoped that Ruby would visit them instead. Ruby was disappointed with Irene: the girl was becoming more like her mother every day. But she had always said she wouldn’t interfere, and so she didn’t. George seemed happy enough.

Tapping on the office door and entering when told to do so, she was surprised to see not only the manager but also the owner of the filling factory, as it was known.

‘Sit down, Mrs Caselton,’ the manager said, picking up a folder with her name on the front. ‘I see you’ve been with us for quite a while now.’ He tapped his fingers on the desk, looking at the paperwork before passing it to the owner.

Ruby waited for the owner of the factory to say something, but he simply looked at the couple of sheets of paper and nodded back to the manager. Ruby wasn’t sure he ever spoke; in the times he’d come to inspect the factory she had only ever seen him walking round, deep in thought.

Here it comes, she thought, sacked on Christmas Eve because I’m older than the new workers. But I won’t let them see me upset. I’ll take it on the chin. She waited, looking steadily at the men.

‘Mrs Caselton, you may have noticed that there have been some changes in the factory since you joined us.’

‘Yes, sir,’ was all she said.

‘With the war being over, we no longer make munitions for the forces . . .’

Does he think I’m blind, she thought to herself? We’ve not made a bomb in a while now. Come on, get to the point . . .

‘These days our work is breaking down the ammunition, sending the shells for scrap and the contents for other uses,’ he rambled on.

Ruby could have screamed. She wished he’d carry on saying what he’d really got to say. Rumour was rife amongst the workers that the explosives went off to other factories. Old man Gilbert wouldn’t stay poor, she thought to herself. ‘Yes, sir,’ she repeated.

‘We’ll have another intake of young staff after Christmas. It means setting up another section, and we need another foreman. I’d like to offer you the position, Mrs Caselton.’

Ruby was flabbergasted: a promotion, and more money! And there she was thinking she’s got the sack. ‘That’s very generous of you, sir, thank you.’

‘There will be a small increase to your pay packet because of the responsibilities involved. As you have much to learn, I intend to place another foreman with you until you’ve learnt the ropes. Do you know Herbie Wilcox?’

‘Only in passing, sir. We’ve not spoken much,’ she said. Herbie was a quiet man. She knew he was a widower and a few years younger than herself. He didn’t mix with most of the staff – but then, why would he want to mix with a group of cackling females?

The manager passed a sheet of paper over the desk to Ruby. ‘This will be your new contract,’ he said, as she quickly read the words on the page and blinked at the amount of money she would be paid each week.

‘Thank you, sir,’ was all she could say as she signed at the bottom of the contract, politely wished both men a merry Christmas, and left the office. As she walked across the yard to the shed where she was working, she smiled to herself. Life was certainly looking good. The girls would be pleased for her, although she was grateful she wouldn’t be supervising her own mates; that would have been hard.