Page 130 of The Ship of Brides
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Australian brides – 655 of them – of British sailors stepped into England last night when the 23,000-ton aircraft carrierVictoriousanchored at Plymouth. They brought with them these stories:
ADVENTURE– Mrs Irene Skinner, aged 23, descendant of the Rev. Samuel Marsden, who settled in Australia in 1794, said: ‘We may settle in Newfoundland, in England or in Australia, or in fact anywhere where we will find adventure and contentment.’
ROMANCE– Mrs Gwen Clinton, aged 24, whose husband lives in Wembley, spoke of her marriage: ‘He was billeted with me in Sydney. I was fascinated by him, and that was the end of it.’
PESSIMISM– Mrs Norma Clifford, 23-year-old wife of a naval engineer: ‘They tell me you cannot get any shoes at all in England.’ She brought 19 pairs with her.
Daily Mail,7 August 1946
Plymouth
‘I’m not coming out. I tell you – I’ve changed my mind.’
‘Come on, Miriam. Don’t be daft.’
‘I tell you, I’ve changed my mind. I’ve had another look at my photographs and I’ve decided I don’t like the look of him.’
Margaret sat on the edge of her bunk, listening to the urgent exchange coming from the next cabin. The women had been shouting at each other for almost half an hour now; the unfortunate Miriam appeared to have bolted herself in, and none of the others who shared the room, all of whom had been queuing for the bathroom at the time, could get dressed.
As some of the WSOs had predicted, it was chaos. Around the unfortunate inhabitants of 3F, brides ran up and down the corridors, shrieking over mislaid belongings or missing friends. There had been an endless stream of piped instructions to the men, all in preparation for disembarkation, while the air was filled with the sound of seamen calling to each other as they performed last-minute tasks. The WSOs were already congregating at the gangplank, ready for their final duties: to confirm that each bride had been checked off, was in possession of all her cases, that she would be passed into safe hands.
‘Brides’ second sitting, last call for the canteen, last call for the canteen.’ The Tannoy hissed and clicked off.
Insulated from all the activity, and without Avice and Frances, the dormitory was silent. Margaret glanced down at her outfit; she could only squeeze into one of her dresses now, and it was straining at the seams. She rubbed at a little oil mark, knowing it would do no good.
‘Just pass me my slip, then, Miriam, will you? We can’t stand out here all morning.’
‘I’m not opening the door.’ The girl’s voice was hysterical.
‘It’s a bit late for that. What are you planning to do? Flap your arms and fly home?’
Her small suitcase, neatly packed, stood at the end of her bunk. Margaret smoothed the blanket beside it where Maudie had lain and took a deep, wavering breath. This was the first morning she had not been able to eat even a piece of dry toast. She felt sick with nerves.
‘I don’t care! I’m not coming out.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. Look, get that marine there. He’ll help. Hey! You!’
Margaret sat still, conscious of a shuffling against her door. Puzzled, she opened it and stepped back as the marine fell into the cabin, in a heavy tumble of limbs.
‘Hello,’ said Margaret, as he tried to push himself upright.
‘Excuse me.’ A woman padded up to Margaret’s door, her hair in a towelling turban. She addressed Nicol: ‘Miriam Arbiter’s locked herself in our cabin. We can’t get at our clothes.’
The marine rubbed his head. It was obvious to Margaret that he was barely awake. She sniffed, noting with some surprise the faint whiff of alcohol that emanated from him, then bent down a little, to make sure he was who she thought he was.
‘We’re meant to be ready to go ashore in less than an hour, and we can’t even get at our things. You’ll have to fetch someone.’
Suddenly he seemed to register where he was. ‘I need to speak to Frances.’ He scrambled to his feet.
‘She’s not here.’
He looked startled. ‘What?’
‘She’s not here.’
‘How have I missed her?’
