Keep Smiling Through by Ellie Dean

their work stations in the welding bay Aggie Rawlings deliberately blocked their way.
    ‘We need to know what side yer on,’ Aggie said belligerently, her meaty arms folded beneath her large bosom.
    Rita noticed how several of Aggie’s cohort of grim-faced women had sidled over, and were now surrounding her and May. Refusing to be daunted, she lifted her chin. ‘I’m here to do a job and help win the war against Hitler,’ she said clearly into the deathly hush that had fallen over the vast echoing shed.
    ‘Yeah, that’s right,’ said May, ‘so bugger off and leave us alone.’
    ‘Lie with dogs and you’ll get fleas, May Lynch,’ snapped Aggie. ‘This ain’t your business.’
    ‘It ain’t yours neither,’ retorted May.
    ‘Keep out of this, May, if you know what’s good fer yer,’ snarled Aggie.
    ‘She’s my friend, and all the while you’ve got something to say to her, then you’ll say it in front of me.’
    Aggie glared at her. ‘You ain’t right, the pair of yer,’ she snapped. ‘What with yer motorbikes and men’s clothes. It ain’t normal.’
    ‘If normal means having a fat arse and hairs on your chin, then I’m glad we’re different,’ said Rita tightly. ‘What’s your real beef, Aggie?’
    ‘What about them Eyeties yer so friendly with? I ‘ear you practically live with them, and that you was there last night.’
    ‘So?’ Rita eyed each woman in turn as she balled her fists deep in her overall pockets. ‘Every one of you has been in that café at some time. And I bet most of you go to the market garden, the ice-cream parlour and the butcher’s as well. The Italian families aren’t a threat – just decent, hard-working people who have earned the right to feel safe in their beds at night.’
    ‘That don’t make no difference when there’s a war on,’ Aggie retorted. ‘They’re our enemies now, and if you ask me, prison’s the best place for ’em.’
    ‘With a husband like yours, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?’ Rita fired back. ‘How many years has he done so far? Or have you lost count?’
    Aggie’s expression hardened and the light of battle gleamed in her eyes as she took a step towards Rita. ‘I’ll ’ave you fer that,’ she snarled. ‘My old man ain’t no saint, but at least he ain’t a greasy Eyetie collaborator.’
    Rita eyed her with loathing. ‘Tino is no collaborator,’ she retorted. ‘Take that back, Aggie.’
    ‘I ain’t taking nothing back.’ Aggie swiftly glanced at the other women who’d edged forward. ‘And we all reckon you ain’t all you make out to be and all. You look Italian, you speak their lingo and spend all your time with ’em. Perhaps you should have been arrested as well.’
    ‘My mum was Irish, as you very well know,’ Rita said with dangerous calm.
    Aggie sniffed. ‘If you say so.’ She looked for approval among the others. ‘But we don’t like you working here, so sling yer hook, Eyetie lover.’
    ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ Rita and May took a pace forward, both ready to stand their ground as the other women formed a tighter circle round them.
    ‘Right, that’s enough.’ The knot of women reluctantly parted as the sturdy, no-nonsense figure of Major Patricia Marshall marched through to stand between Rita, May and Aggie.
    Dressed in the uniform of the Royal Engineers, Major Marshall was a formidable presence and not someone to argue with. Her steely blue gaze raked over them. ‘I will not have that kind of talk in my factory,’ she said coldly. ‘Rawlings, go to your workbench and stop causing trouble. Lynch, your loyalty is to be commended, but I will not have fisticuffs in the workplace. The rest of you, get on with your work.’ The flinty gaze settled on Rita. ‘Smith. In my office.’
    Rita shot May a look of gratitude, but she could taste the bitterness of that short, nasty spat, and could hear the sniggering and whispering as she followed the broad beam of the woman in charge, and