Five Dead Canaries hf-3 Read online




  Five Dead Canaries

  ( Home Front - 3 )

  Edward Marston

  Edward Marston

  Five Dead Canaries

  CHAPTER ONE

  1916

  Maureen Quinn usually had to drag herself reluctantly out of bed at five o’clock but it was different that morning. Having slept fitfully, she was up earlier than usual and had a decided spring in her step. She dressed, used the outside privy, washed in the kitchen sink, ate a meagre breakfast, brushed her teeth and applied powder with great care to soften the yellow tinge of her face. Before the rest of the family had even stirred, Maureen was walking briskly in the direction of the railway station. Lost in thought, she was at first unaware of the diminutive woman who came out of a side street. Agnes Collier had to call out her friend’s name three times before she finally got a response.

  ‘It’s me, Maureen!’ she yelled. ‘Have you gone deaf?’

  ‘Oh, hello,’ said the other, jerked out of her reverie. ‘I’m sorry, Agnes. I was miles away.’

  ‘I know what you’re thinking about.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Of course — it’s Florrie’s birthday. We’re going to have a party.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘Well, sound a bit more enthusiastic,’ chided Agnes, falling in beside her. ‘How often do we get the chance to celebrate? After the best part of ten hours at the factory, I can’t think of anything nicer than going to a pub to have some fun. What about you?’

  Maureen manufactured a smile. ‘I’ve been looking forward to it all week.’

  They were part of a gathering mass of people who converged on the station, jostled each other in the long queue, bought their tickets and moved out onto the platform. Like all female munition workers, they collected a variety of glances and outright stares, some hostile, some sympathetic and some charged with a grudging admiration. It was their faces that gave them away. Even with her make-up on, Maureen could not fully disguise the distinctive yellow hue, and Agnes’s cheeks were positively glowing. Both were canaries, two of the countless thousands of women whose exposure to TNT and sulphur had dramatically altered the colour of their skin. It was the unmistakable mark of the so-called munitionettes.

  Maureen was a startlingly pretty young woman of twenty with lustrous dark hair turned almost ginger at the front. Tall, slim and shapely, she moved with a natural grace. The plump Agnes, by contrast, tended to waddle along. Five years older than her friend, she had a podgy, open face and fair hair brushed back severely and held in a bun. While Maureen was single, Agnes was married and had been quick to answer the call for workers at the rapidly expanding Munitions Filling Factory No.7 in Hayes, Middlesex. Her mother looked after the baby for her, allowing Agnes to bring a regular wage into the house.

  ‘Any word from Terry?’ asked Maureen.

  ‘No, we haven’t had a letter for over a month now,’ said Agnes, worriedly. ‘Mam keeps saying that no news is good news but I’m not so sure. I keep dreading that a telegram will arrive one day. Be grateful you’re not married, Maureen. Having a husband in the army is murder. I have the most terrible nightmares sometimes.’

  ‘And me — I’ve got two brothers at the front, remember.’

  ‘Poor things — let’s hope they all come home safe. However,’ she went on, brightening, ‘I’m not going to let sad thoughts spoil Florrie’s big day. We always have a laugh with her. It’s been one of the few joys of taking a job at the factory. I’ve made some wonderful new friends.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Maureen, quietly, ‘and so have I.’

  ‘Florrie Duncan is a scream.’

  ‘She has so much energy. Nothing seems to tire her.’

  Agnes laughed. ‘Whereas I’m exhausted before I even get up.’

  ‘How’s the baby?’

  ‘Oh, he’s a Turk but I can’t help loving him. When I come home from work, I get a lovely welcome. Only trouble is that — with this yellow face of mine — he must think his mother is Chinese!’

  Her cackle was soon drowned out by the thunder of the train as it surged into the station and juddered to a halt. Doors were snatched open and the passengers clambered aboard. Dozens of other munitionettes were on their way to Hayes along with men who also worked at the factory and who wore a badge in their lapels to indicate that they were engaged in war work, thus making them immune to routine abuse and to the humiliation of being given a white feather. The train was soon packed with half-awake travellers. When Maureen and Agnes sat side by side in a compartment, the well-dressed man opposite shot them a look of frank disgust and hid behind his newspaper. His reaction brought out a combative streak in Agnes Collier.

  ‘Let him try filling shells and keeping his complexion!’

  Maureen didn’t even feel the nudge from her friend. Her mind was elsewhere.

  Until the end of the nineteenth century, Hayes had been a predominantly agricultural and brick-making area but, since it boasted a major canal and was on the route of the Great Western Railway, it was ripe for industrial development. By 1914, several factories had opened but the outbreak of war played havoc with their business plans. Under pressure from the government, some had to adapt their facilities to help the war effort and, as the supply of male employees dwindled as a result of enlistment, they began to recruit women in large numbers. Maureen Quinn and Agnes Collier were therefore part of a huge female workforce at the munitions factory. As the hordes walked or cycled through the gates, the chatter was deafening, amplified by the swish of tyres and the clack of heels on tarmac. Another long day had begun.

  For some, however, their shift had just ended. Those who’d worked hard throughout the night to keep up the non-stop production of shells were now clocking off, thinking about their breakfasts and their beds. Women clocking on gritted their teeth as they braced themselves for another punishing day. The first thing that Maureen and Agnes did was to change out of their clothes and into the plain and unbecoming work overalls. A cap of the same blue material covered their heads. Because her fringe poked out from under it, Maureen’s hair was only gingery at the front. It was the same with other women. Their faces, hands and exposed hair all changed colour over time. There was the usual banter and the usual ear-splitting litany of complaints, then they were herded into their respective buildings. Maureen, Agnes and their friends worked in the Cartridge Section, a place where well over four hundred thousand items a day were made. Understanding the crucial importance of their work, they were proud of their output.

  Florrie Duncan was first to her bench. She was a big, boisterous woman in her late twenties with an infectious grin and a deafening laugh. No matter how long the shift and how tiring the work, Florrie never flagged for an instant. As well as being the natural leader of her group of friends, she was also its inspiration. When she saw Maureen and Agnes, she beamed at them.

  ‘Ready for the party?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Agnes. ‘Happy birthday, Florrie!’

  ‘Happy birthday!’ echoed Maureen.

  ‘My birthday begins the moment we clock off,’ said Florrie, waving to some other newcomers. ‘I’m going to drink until I drop. Then I’m going to find two handsome young men to carry me home and put me to bed. That’s my idea of a perfect birthday present.’

  Florrie’s coarse laugh reverberated around the whole building.

  Since opening hours had been severely curtailed by war, patrons made sure that they got to their local pubs on time. The Golden Goose was therefore quite full that evening and, apart from the inevitable moans about another unpopular government edict — watered beer — the talk turned to the munitionettes. Leighton Hubbard, the publican, was a short, skinny man in his fifties with a reedy voice and eyes
that kept roaming the bar like miniature searchlights. When he announced that six canaries were about to hold a birthday party in his outhouse, he set off a heated argument.

  ‘Bloody women!’ cried Ezra Greenwell, an embittered old man with a flat cap shadowing a grim face. ‘They got no place in here. They ought to be at home, looking after their kids or washing the shit out of their husbands’ underpants.’

  ‘Some of them are not married,’ said Hubbard, reasonably, ‘and those that are have got their blokes at the front. They’re entitled to let off a bit of steam.’

  ‘It’s indecent, if you ask me. Pubs are for the likes of us.’

  ‘I’m in business, Ezra. I turn nobody away.’

  ‘Well, you should. Those harpies just don’t belong here.’

  ‘Fair’s fair, Ezra,’ said Tim Burnham, a stocky young man in army uniform. ‘They do a vital job. I should know. I’ve seen what’s happening over there. When the war first started, the Germans had far more shells than us. It was a right old scandal. We were always short of ammo. Thanks to the ladies, that problem has been solved.’

  ‘They’re not ladies,’ insisted Greenwell. ‘They’re stupid women trying to behave like men and,’ he added with searing envy, ‘they’re paid far too much money.’

  Hubbard shook his head. ‘They get half of what the men get.’

  ‘That’s still a lot more than me,’ said Burnham. ‘It’s embarrassing. I agree with Ezra on that score. First day on leave, I’m having a pint in the Red Lion and these two canaries walks in. When I offered to buy them a drink, one of them tells me to put my money away because it’s her treat. Then she opens her purse and takes out this wad of notes. Honestly, I thought she’d robbed a bleeding bank.’

  ‘There you are,’ said Greenwell as if he’d won the debate. ‘It’s unnatural, giving them wages like that. If they’d bought me a drink, I’d have poured it all over them. They get above themselves. You should refuse to serve them, Leighton.’

  ‘I need all the customers I can get,’ admitted Hubbard. ‘The war has already killed some of my regulars. Besides, these girls will be no trouble. They’ll be tucked away in the outhouse with their booze and their sandwiches. The missus has even baked them a little cake.’

  ‘What did she use — canary seed?’

  They were still laughing at Greenwell’s sour joke when the door opened and the six women marched in. Florrie Duncan was in the lead. Agnes Collier, Enid Jenks, Shirley Beresford and Jean Harte were right behind her, with Maureen Quinn, looking rather apprehensive, at the rear of the group. Florrie had the most vivid yellow complexion of all but the others were also identifiable canaries. They got a mixed reception from the exclusively male customers. Some, like Ezra Greenwell, glowered in disgust, others pointedly ignored them, a few just goggled at them in wonder and Burnham, their sole supporter, clapped his hands and grinned amiably. The publican moved swiftly to avoid any possible friction.

  ‘This way,’ he said, going to a door at the side of the bar and opening it. ‘I think you’ll find everything ready for you.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Hubbard,’ said Florrie, slapping some money down on the counter. ‘That’s the price we agreed. Keep the change.’

  He scooped up the cash. ‘Oh, thanks — very kind of you.’

  She led the way through the door. ‘Come on, girls. The party starts now.’

  ‘Happy birthday, Florrie!’ Hubbard called out.

  ‘Yes,’ added Burnham as they hurried past him. ‘Happy birthday!’

  When all six women had gone, Hubbard tried to close the door after them.

  ‘Leave it open, Leighton,’ shouted Greenwell. ‘We need some fresh air in here to get rid of the stink. Those women are six good reasons why this bloody country is going to the dogs. They’re freaks. They should be locked up in a cage.’

  Loud murmurs of approval filled the bar. The canaries had enemies.

  It was not long before the party was in full swing. Separated from the pub by a cobbled courtyard, the outbuilding had originally been three stables, now converted into a single room. Though it was bare to the point of bleakness, had an undulating floor and aromatic memories of its earlier existence, the women didn’t complain. The trestle table in the middle of the room had a bright red cloth and was covered with plates of sandwiches cut diagonally. Pride of place went to the little birthday cake at the centre of the table, its solitary candle flickering away. What caught the attention of the visitors, however, was the alcohol on display. Having clubbed together for the occasion, they’d spared no expense. Florrie Duncan and two of the others favoured port and lemon. Jean Harte and Shirley Beresford opted for ginger beer while Agnes Collier and Maureen Quinn preferred a nip of gin.

  There was a convivial atmosphere. The food was tasty, the drink was plentiful and they were soon having a lively party as they sat around the table. The only person who didn’t seem to be enjoying it to the full was Maureen, who only nibbled at one sandwich and took a brief sip of her drink. Florrie was in her element.

  ‘We ought to have a party like this every week,’ she said.

  ‘Why not have one every day?’ suggested Agnes.

  ‘We could never afford it,’ warned Jean over the laughter.

  ‘Well, we need something to help us put up with the hell we go through at that factory,’ argued Florrie. ‘It’s not just the work. I’m happy enough to do that. It’s the way we get pushed around by the men. They’re always inventing new rules to make our lives a misery.’

  ‘I don’t like the way that clerk in the wages office leers at us,’ said Agnes. ‘You know, the one with the long nose and glass eye.’

  ‘Leering is fine by me, Agnes. Men are men and I like to get noticed. What I draw the line at is them as takes liberties. Mr Whitmarsh is the worst. Don’t ever get caught alone with him or his hands will be everywhere.’

  ‘I might like that,’ said Jean, giggling.

  ‘Wait till you smell his bad breath. That will put you off.’

  ‘It’s Les Harker that I can’t stand,’ volunteered Shirley. ‘He’s always making nasty remarks about us. I mean, we do almost the same job as him yet he gets paid a lot more. It’s just not fair.’

  ‘Then it’s down to us to do something about it,’ said Florrie, decisively. ‘We should demand higher wages. If we threaten to go on strike, they’d probably cave in. Let’s face it, girls,’ she went on, raising her glass in the air, ‘they can’t do without us.’ She stood on a chair. ‘Who are we?’

  The others replied by breaking into song, their voices rich with conviction.

  ‘We are the Hayes munition girls,

  Working night and day,

  Wearing the roses off our cheeks

  For very little pay.

  Some people call us lazy

  But we’re next to the boys on the sea,

  If it wasn’t for the munition girls,

  Where would the Empire be?’

  They rounded off with a concerted cheer. While the others had sung with gusto, Maureen had only mouthed the words. Though she tried to keep a smile on her face, she was increasingly uncomfortable.

  ‘There you are,’ said Florrie, climbing down from the chair, ‘we not only look like flaming canaries, we sing like the little buggers.’

  The drink flowed, the excitement quickly rose in pitch and the sense of camaraderie was overwhelming. Within half an hour, they’d forgotten their aching limbs and put the multiple horrors of war out of their mind. All that mattered was the rare chance to enjoy themselves and they took it with relish. When it was time to cut the cake, they chanted the ritual words and Florrie blew out the candle with a monstrous puff before wielding the knife. After cutting slices for each of them, she passed the plates out. Maureen was the last to receive hers.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Florrie, noting her friend’s pained expression. ‘This is a party, Maureen. Join in.’

  ‘That’s what I’m trying to do,’ said the other, ‘but the truth is that
I’ve got an upset stomach. In fact, I’ve had it for most of the day.’

  ‘Another glass of gin will help to settle it.’

  ‘I’ve had enough already.’

  Florrie hooted. ‘Hear that, girls? Someone’s had enough. We can never have enough booze. It’s the one thing that keeps us alive. Come on, Maureen,’ she urged. ‘Get another glass inside you and let your back hair down. Yes, and it’s about time you let your knickers down as well, if you ask me.’

  The comment caused an eruption of mirth and made Maureen cringe with embarrassment. Everybody was looking at her and some of the older women began to offer her crude advice. Even Agnes, her best friend, joined in the general teasing. It was excruciating. Trembling all over, Maureen got to her feet, snatched up her handbag and rushed to the door.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I really do feel ill. I’ve got to go.’

  Ignoring the pleas of the others, she left the building, trotted across the courtyard and went into the pub. Curious eyes looked up as she hurried through the bar to the exit and let herself out. It was only when she was well clear of the Golden Goose that her heart stopped pounding and the prickly heat began to fade. Facing her friends at work on the following day would be something of a trial but she couldn’t have stayed to endure any further mockery. Her only consolation was that the other canaries would soon forget her when they’d had more drink and exchanged more stories about work at the factory. They’d bonded in a way that she’d simply been unable to do. As she walked along the pavement, she rehearsed the apology that she’d have to make to Florrie Duncan for storming out of the party. Valuing her friendship, Maureen didn’t want to lose it. But she was right on the verge of doing so.

  Thirty yards from the pub, she turned a corner and lengthened her stride. It was then that she heard a violent explosion from somewhere behind her. It made her blood run cold. Maureen dashed back to the corner and looked down the street at a scene of utter devastation. Glass had been shattered, bricks thrown far and wide and roof slates turned into deadly missiles. Flames were visible and thick smoke was curling angrily up into the air. The outhouse from which she’d just fled was now on fire with five dead canaries trapped somewhere beneath the rubble.

 

    Fear on the Phantom Special Read onlineFear on the Phantom SpecialRage of the Assassin Read onlineRage of the AssassinThe Unseen Hand Read onlineThe Unseen Hand5 A Very Murdering Battle Read online5 A Very Murdering BattleThe Fair Maid of Bohemia Read onlineThe Fair Maid of BohemiaThe Laughing Hangman Read onlineThe Laughing HangmanPeril on the Royal Train Read onlinePeril on the Royal TrainSoldier of Fortune Read onlineSoldier of FortuneA Date with the Executioner Read onlineA Date with the ExecutionerDance of Death Read onlineDance of DeathThe Railway Viaduct Read onlineThe Railway ViaductTimetable of Death Read onlineTimetable of DeathThe Ravens of Blackwater (Domesday Series Book 2) Read onlineThe Ravens of Blackwater (Domesday Series Book 2)The Fair Maid of Bohemia nb-9 Read onlineThe Fair Maid of Bohemia nb-9The Roaring Boy nb-7 Read onlineThe Roaring Boy nb-7The Stallions of Woodstock Read onlineThe Stallions of WoodstockThe Frost Fair cr-4 Read onlineThe Frost Fair cr-4The Silver Locomotive Mystery Read onlineThe Silver Locomotive MysteryThe Iron Horse irc-4 Read onlineThe Iron Horse irc-4The Dragons of Archenfield d-3 Read onlineThe Dragons of Archenfield d-3The Frost Fair Read onlineThe Frost FairRavens Of Blackwater d-2 Read onlineRavens Of Blackwater d-2The Lions of the North d-4 Read onlineThe Lions of the North d-4The Wanton Angel Read onlineThe Wanton AngelThe Iron Horse Read onlineThe Iron HorseThe Dragons of Archenfield (Domesday Series Book 3) Read onlineThe Dragons of Archenfield (Domesday Series Book 3)Railway to the Grave Read onlineRailway to the Grave4 Under Siege Read online4 Under SiegeThe Stationmaster's farewell irc-9 Read onlineThe Stationmaster's farewell irc-9The Silver Locomotive Mystery irc-6 Read onlineThe Silver Locomotive Mystery irc-6The Stationmaster's Farewell Read onlineThe Stationmaster's FarewellFugitive From the Grave Read onlineFugitive From the GraveSteps to the Gallows Read onlineSteps to the GallowsThe Foxes of Warwick (Domesday Series Book 9) Read onlineThe Foxes of Warwick (Domesday Series Book 9)Murder on the Brighton Express irc-5 Read onlineMurder on the Brighton Express irc-5The Painted Lady Read onlineThe Painted LadyThe Wolves of Savernake Read onlineThe Wolves of SavernakeThe Vagabond Clown Read onlineThe Vagabond ClownA Bespoke Murder Read onlineA Bespoke MurderThe excursion train irc-2 Read onlineThe excursion train irc-2The King's Evil Read onlineThe King's EvilThe Amorous Nightingale cr-2 Read onlineThe Amorous Nightingale cr-2The railway viaduct irc-3 Read onlineThe railway viaduct irc-3The Bawdy Basket Read onlineThe Bawdy BasketThe Parliament House cr-5 Read onlineThe Parliament House cr-5The Ravens of Blackwater Read onlineThe Ravens of BlackwaterShadow of the Hangman Read onlineShadow of the HangmanThe Hawks of Delamere (Domesday Series Book 7) Read onlineThe Hawks of Delamere (Domesday Series Book 7)The Circus Train Conspiracy Read onlineThe Circus Train ConspiracyRC01 - The Railway Detective Read onlineRC01 - The Railway DetectiveThe Owls of Gloucester (Domesday Series Book 10) Read onlineThe Owls of Gloucester (Domesday Series Book 10)11 - Ticket to Oblivion Read online11 - Ticket to OblivionThe Repentant Rake cr-3 Read onlineThe Repentant Rake cr-3The Railway Detective Collection: The Railway Detective, the Excursion Train, the Railway Viaduct (The Railway Detective Series) Read onlineThe Railway Detective Collection: The Railway Detective, the Excursion Train, the Railway Viaduct (The Railway Detective Series)The Mad Courtesan Read onlineThe Mad CourtesanThe Hawks of Delamere Read onlineThe Hawks of DelamereThe Nicholas Bracewell Collection Read onlineThe Nicholas Bracewell CollectionThe Serpents of Harbledown d-5 Read onlineThe Serpents of Harbledown d-5The Stallions of Woodstock (Domesday Series Book 6) Read onlineThe Stallions of Woodstock (Domesday Series Book 6)The Parliament House Read onlineThe Parliament HouseThe Amorous Nightingale Read onlineThe Amorous NightingaleThe Wildcats of Exeter Read onlineThe Wildcats of ExeterInspector Colbeck's Casebook Read onlineInspector Colbeck's CasebookBlood on the Line irc-8 Read onlineBlood on the Line irc-8The Serpents of Harbledown Read onlineThe Serpents of HarbledownMurder on the Brighton Express Read onlineMurder on the Brighton ExpressThe Silent Woman Read onlineThe Silent WomanFive Dead Canaries Read onlineFive Dead CanariesPoints of Danger Read onlinePoints of DangerThe Wildcats of Exeter (Domesday Series Book 8) Read onlineThe Wildcats of Exeter (Domesday Series Book 8)The Enemy Within Read onlineThe Enemy WithinInstrument of Slaughter Read onlineInstrument of SlaughterFire and Sword cr-3 Read onlineFire and Sword cr-3The Trip to Jerusalem nb-3 Read onlineThe Trip to Jerusalem nb-3The Painted Lady cr-6 Read onlineThe Painted Lady cr-6The Railway Detective irc-1 Read onlineThe Railway Detective irc-1The Repentant Rake Read onlineThe Repentant RakeThe Wolves of Savernake (Domesday Series Book 1) Read onlineThe Wolves of Savernake (Domesday Series Book 1)The Laughing Hangman nb-8 Read onlineThe Laughing Hangman nb-8The Merry Devils nb-2 Read onlineThe Merry Devils nb-2Blood on the Line Read onlineBlood on the LineThe Foxes of Warwick d-9 Read onlineThe Foxes of Warwick d-9The Nine Giants Read onlineThe Nine GiantsThe Lions of the North (Domesday Series Book 4) Read onlineThe Lions of the North (Domesday Series Book 4)The Counterfeit Crank Read onlineThe Counterfeit CrankThe Owls of Gloucester d-10 Read onlineThe Owls of Gloucester d-10The Queen's Head nb-1 Read onlineThe Queen's Head nb-1The Malevolent Comedy Read onlineThe Malevolent ComedyFire and Sword Read onlineFire and SwordThe Serpents of Harbledown (Domesday Series Book 5) Read onlineThe Serpents of Harbledown (Domesday Series Book 5)A Christmas Railway Mystery Read onlineA Christmas Railway MysteryThe Roaring Boy Read onlineThe Roaring BoyUnder Attack Read onlineUnder AttackFive Dead Canaries hf-3 Read onlineFive Dead Canaries hf-3Soldier of Fortune cr-1 Read onlineSoldier of Fortune cr-1The Elephants of Norwich Read onlineThe Elephants of NorwichThe Wildcats of Exeter d-8 Read onlineThe Wildcats of Exeter d-8The Wolves of Savernake d-1 Read onlineThe Wolves of Savernake d-1Drums of War Read onlineDrums of WarThe Hawks of Delamere d-7 Read onlineThe Hawks of Delamere d-7A Bespoke Murder ihmasjk-1 Read onlineA Bespoke Murder ihmasjk-1Drums of War cr-2 Read onlineDrums of War cr-2