Warnings: In this chapter, Kate's friendship with Leon is briefly discussed in the context of it being potentially scandalous, because of his race. Let me know if you think this deserves a more specific warning.
Notes: These scenes are set between Vera's attack of PTSD on the stencil line, and Gladys getting fired/the Pearl Harbor announcement.
Disclaimer: All characters and environments belong to Michael Maclennan and Adrienne Mitchell/Shaw Media.
In the wake of Vera's screaming fit on the stencil line, Lorna is nowhere to be seen. So, as the next most senior worker on the floor, Marco insists that Betty go and sit in the infirmary, to hold a bag of ice to her bruised shoulder.
It aches quite a bit, but the pain is hardly unbearable, especially when Kate is slow to let go of her hand, when she asks Marco, "Should I go with her?"
"Don't sweat it, Kate, I'll be all right," says Betty. She manages to sound remarkably composed, considering that she is still giddy from Kate's piercing stare, the quiet intensity in her voice when she said that the sight of Betty in danger made her heart stop. Perhaps it's best if they're apart for half an hour. If she lets herself feel much more, she'll end up doing something stupid like hauling off and kissing Kate full on the mouth in front of everybody.
When she arrives at the infirmary, Vera and Edith are there already. Edith is talking to Vera in a low voice while Vera sits glassy-eyed. After a second's hesitation, Betty takes a seat beside them. Neither of them gives the impression that they don't want her to join them, but still, it's strange to be back with Edith and Vera. They used to be Betty's especial friends at work, but since Vera's accident and the death of Edith's husband, they haven't been as close. Vera wouldn't let Betty come and visit her in the hospital, not until that very last day, when Betty essentially barged in and demanded to see her.
The three of them go back awhile. Edith was already working at Victory Munitions when Betty and Vera were firsties together. Betty didn't think much of Vera when they met. All of Vera's questions during the induction related to her appearance ("Can I wear nail polish on the line?"). Betty was so annoyed by the way Vera constantly made eyes at the floor boys that it took her several weeks to notice that Vera hadn't made a single mistake on the line.
Betty hadn't reckoned Edith much either, in those early days. The tart and the housewife, what were they doing working in a munitions factory? This was a place for serious-minded women, like Betty. (This was a refuge for freaks and inverts, like Betty. What were these normal people doing, cluttering it up?)
She feels like a prize-winning moron, knowing that she ever thought about them that way. She's always had this habit of writing people off before she gets to know them. Particularly women. Again, it's odd for Betty, that she fancies other girls, considering how reluctant she is to get to know them.
Finally, Vera manages to speak. "What the heck am I gonna do now?" says Vera, her voice shaking. "They can't have a worker who's gonna scream blue murder every time she works the stencil line. They'll can me before the day is out, no matter how bad it makes 'em look."
"Who can say it'll happen every time you work there? For God's sakes, it's only your first day back," Edith says. "You just need time."
Vera shakes her head. "I've had time. I had months in the hospital. It didn't make a damn bit of difference. I thought I was so brave, coming back to work. What a joke! I really will have to go back to my folks now. I've got nothing."
"Don't get so down," says Betty. "Believe it or not, you do have a brain inside that blonde head of yours-"
"Awful big of you to admit that I'm not completely stupid," Vera snaps. Betty is not what you would call stricken – she and Vera used to trade friendly barbs day in and day out – but Vera's face falls as soon as the words are out. "Look, just ignore me. I haven't slept properly since Armistice Day."
"Why, what happened on Armistice Day?" Edith asks.
Vera buries her face in her hand, hiding the scarred side. "Well, that was the day I found out I was leavin' the hospital, wasn't it?" she says wearily.
Betty barrels on. "What I meant was that you're not licked yet. There's gotta be something you can do around here, if you can't work the stencil line. You've got a high school education, after all. That's more than I ever had. More than most of us floor girls, I'd wager." Betty reaches over and gives Vera's other hand a squeeze.
Vera squeezes back, but sends Betty a quizzical look. "Since when are you such a little ray of sunshine?"
Edith smiles. "It'll be Kate's influence. She's made quite a change in our Betty. They get on like a house on fire."
"Yeah, we do." Betty clears her throat. "In fact, I've asked Kate to share a place with me, after all this is over." She says it proudly, but her mouth still goes dry. It's the first time she's floated the idea with anyone other than Kate herself.
Vera's brows lift. "Terrific way to snag a husband, shacking up with another girl. You're a fine one to talk about not giving up on yourself."
There was a time when Betty would respond with a self-deprecating quip, or a pithy remark along the lines of, "Have you seen the men stickin' around here now? Have you talked to them? Swearing off 'em's an act of self-preservation." She doesn't want to now. She's not apologising for herself any more. She doesn't have to pretend like the only way she could want Kate is if she couldn't get anyone better. There isn't anyone better, as far as Betty's concerned. If one of Betty's brothers brought home a girl like Kate – kind, thoughtful, smart and gorgeous, with a singing voice that makes a person want to cry and laugh and make love, all at once – everyone would be gunning for them to get wed as quickly as possible. But because Betty's a woman, Kate suddenly turns into someone she'd have to be crazy to want to be with?
It's idiotic, she thinks, more confidently than she ever has before. It's completely stupid, people thinking I shouldn't love Kate because we're both women.
"I want something that's just mine," she says flatly. "Turns out Kate does too. That's not a crime, is it?"
That came out a little more defensively than she had planned. Luckily, Vera and Edith are sturdier than they seem at first glance. They don't require smelling salts every time Betty speaks her mind. It's one of the things she likes most about them.
"'Course it's not," says Edith. "Kate's a real sweetheart. If you two think you might not drive each other up the wall, why shouldn't you share, for a bit?"
Vera snorts. "You can talk as much as you like about giving up men. You'll start singin' a different tune at the first whiff of them giving up on you."
"Come off it," says Betty impatiently. She's never been able to stand it when girls sit around sighing that they're not pretty. "You're still a knockout. You could get any fella in this place, scars or no." She used to feel very self-conscious, telling girls that they were good-looking, but now she truly doesn't care. She doesn't have to worry about unfortunate subtexts in her words, because there is no hidden meaning here.
Edith says, "What about Marco? He visited you all those times in hospital, brought you all those pastries."
"I can't see him that way. Not after what happened." Vera finally cracks a smile. "Besides, Moretti's got himself a mystery gal."
Edith tuts. "Aw, Marco's got a new secret girlfriend every week. Don't lose hope."
"I told you, I never had hope to begin with. It's finished between us, he's just a pal. And it sounds like he's pretty smitten with this one. Keeps goin' on about how sweet and old-fashioned she is, not common and obvious like all the other girls." Vera chuckles. "Hey, maybe it's Kate!"
"Kate's not as old-fashioned as some people think," Betty protests.
"I should say not, after all these months of keeping you company," Edith says. "You're a bit unusual, Betty McRae. It's obviously been an education for her."
It's just typical, that as soon as Betty stops worrying about hidden meanings in her own words, she starts madly looking for them in other people's. She searches Edith's face, searches Vera's, for the slightest sign of innuendo. Do you know I'm in love with Kate? Maybe they know, maybe they don't. Maybe she'll tell them … in about fifty years, when they're all pearl-strung old ladies.
In all seriousness, whether they know precisely what's up, the fact is that they're still sitting with Betty, regardless of her being unusual. And they're hardly a pair of innocents. Vera suffered a life-changing accident, and Edith lost the father of her children. Maybe they're aware that there are more important things in life than who you want to go to bed with. Betty hopes so. She would like to tell them, someday, about the way she feels about Kate. Perhaps even before they all hit retirement age.
The siren goes for lunch. Edith and Betty rise to leave, before realising that Vera isn't following. "Are you gonna be okay to eat with everybody else? We can easily bring your tray in here," offers Edith.
Vera gives a tremulous sigh. "No, I'm all right. I am," she insists, at Betty and Edith's doubtful looks.
Betty is unspeakably proud of the way Vera swans into the canteen like she's God's gift to Vic Mu, taking a seat at their old table as if she's holding court. Edith sits beside her, and Betty across from her. Vera doesn't react when Betty murmurs, "Well done," she just begins, slowly, methodically, to eat her lunch.
When Betty sees Kate walk in, she smiles widely, to let Kate know that everything is all right. Kate's face is clouded over as she slides into the seat on Betty's left. "I'm being followed," says Kate quietly, spearing a piece of broccoli with unusual savagery.
Frowning, Betty looks around for Kate's pursuer. "The floor boys aren't giving you trouble again, are they? Tell me which one, Kate. I'll give him a piece of my mind."
"What?" Kate's expression softens. "No. Somebody else."
As if on cue, Gladys appears at the head of their table, clutching her lunch tray. She looks meek and sheepish. It makes her appear much younger than her twenty-two years. When she speaks, her voice is filled with regret. "Vera, I am so terribly sorry about getting you to sub in. I never would have asked if I'd known. And Betty … oh, Betts, is your shoulder all right?"
They stare at her. Well, Edith, Betty and Vera do. To everyone's total surprise, Kate makes a small, irritable noise and begins poking disconsolately at her food, stubbornly avoiding Gladys' eyes. Being so soundly ignored by Kate – sweet, sunny-natured Kate, who normally has the patience of a saint – makes Gladys droop visibly. Betty can almost see what she must be thinking: If Kate of all people is rejecting me, I haven't a prayer of getting through to any of the others.
"I can sit somewhere else today," says Gladys, with as much dignity as she can muster. "I just wanted to apologise, that's all." She turns to go.
Betty rolls her eyes. "Spare us the dramatics, Katherine Hepburn, and sit yourself down. We're not mad. Are we, girls?"
Vera shrugs. "Apology accepted." With a smirk, she adds, "Just lob a pair of silk stockings my way and we'll call it even."
Gladys gratefully takes a seat on Betty's other side. "I couldn't ask for better friends, truly," she says in a rush.
"You're a dope, Gladys, but you're our dope," says Edith. "Let's put it behind us. I'm too worn out to hold grudges. I've been up half the night with my little girl."
"Why, what's wrong?" Kate and Gladys ask with one voice. Gladys' eyes flicker toward Kate, but Kate still won't look at her.
"Daph found out their daddy's not coming back."
"Edie, why didn't you say anything?" Vera demands. "Here's me, bawling and flapping my gums about my problems, when you've just had to tell your kids about Doug."
"I didn't tell them, that's just the problem. Skip found out and he blurted it out at dinner. Daphne cried herself sick. I would've kept her off school, but I can't send her to my mother-in-law's place, she's coping worse than I am. Doug was her only son." Edith puts down her fork, having seemingly lost her appetite. "I don't know what to do with them now."
"May I make a suggestion?" asks Gladys. She sounds more timid than Betty has ever heard her, but somehow still sure of herself.
Edith shrugs. "I think I could use all the help I can get."
"Well, when my brother Laurence died two years ago, I used to go out on my bicycle, and ride until I was too tired to think. My parents thought it wasn't showing the proper respect, but I think Laurie would've understood, because it really helped me. Of course, I was grown up when I lost my brother, but I think the principle still stands. Getting out of the house is good for you, when you've lost someone. Just … just keep on like you've been, taking them to fly kites and feed the ducks. It'll help them feel safe, like the world will still carry on turning."
Again, Betty is reminded of her unfortunate habit of writing people off the moment she lays eyes on them. When she saw Gladys waltz through the front gates on her first day, wearing stiletto heels, elbow-length gloves and a veil, of all things, Betty would never have dreamed that she could give practical advice about grief. Gladys is insufferable and maddening and the type of person Betty would normally never associate with … and yet, she's somehow become one of Betty's very best friends. Another good thing Kate has brought into Betty's life.
Edith smiles wanly. "Thanks, Gladys. I'll try that."
"Gosh, we are a cheerful table, aren't we?" Vera shakes her head. "I think Kate's the only one who hasn't had anything bad happen to her today."
Kate gives a wry laugh. "Don't jinx me, Vera!"
"Well, bad things always happen in threes," Betty is quick to interject. "Today, that's been Edith, Vera and me. I'd say Kate and Gladys are off the hook." She turns to Kate and says boldly, "You can thank me later."
The words come out so naturally. No sooner has Betty started to panic, started to think, My God, McRae, tone it down, you can't flirt with her in front of the entire canteen-! than Kate has smiled and said, "My hero. I'll buy you two drinks after my singing lesson tonight."
"Singing lessons? You sing so well already," Edith says. "The other week, when I was due for my visitor, you started singing The Way You Look Tonight on the line, and I nearly bust out crying."
"Thanks, Edith, but I've still got a lot to learn. Luckily, I have a great teacher. Leon Riley from the store room is teaching me to sing the blues," says Kate. "Didn't you hear him sing at the canteen dance?"
Betty winces a little at this – not because she's hugely threatened by Kate's crush on him, but because after all this time, Kate's still proudly announcing that she consorts with black men after hours. Betty's been trying to be less prejudiced, but she's got no idea how Vera and Edith will react. She readies herself to defend Kate's right to have whatever friends she chooses...
"He's pretty dishy," is all Edith says, but her mouth quirks like she's trying not to smile.
Kate blushes. "Leon's just a friend."
"A friend, who's happily married," Gladys chips in, determined to help.
Vera sips some water. "Well, I'll believe you, Kate. If we band together, us with our men friends, maybe Edith'll stop banging on about me trying again with Marco."
Their table enters into a lively debate about whether men and women can just be friends. It's almost like old times, before Kate and Gladys. It's like the best of old times and new times; because all of Betty's good friends are here. The only thing which is not free and easy is the way Kate doesn't smile whenever Gladys cracks a joke, the way Gladys keeps sending Kate little pleading looks, which Kate ignores.
All of a sudden, one of the secretaries from upstairs appears at the head of their table. Surveying them, she asks, "Is one of you Gladys Witham?"
"That's me," says Gladys, with a little wave.
"You're wanted up in Mr Akins' office," she says with a sniff, turning on her heel and marching out of the canteen the moment she's delivered the message.
Edith blinks. "Such lovely manners they've got, up in the ivory tower. I can't think why you ever left, Gladys."
"Don't trip on the way out, dearie!" Vera calls after the secretary. She stares after her, lips pursed in thought.
Kate speaks for the first time in minutes. "You'd best not keep him waiting, Gladys."
Gladys' shoulders slump a little, at this final jab from Kate. Silently, she gets to her feet, busses her tray, and leaves for her meeting with the boss.
Betty, Vera and Edith all look askance at Kate. "Well, it's five minutes 'til afternoon shift," says Vera. "I'm gonna take my powder break now, so my powder break can be my cigarette break."
Edith nods. "Now, there's an idea." They rise from the table. "Coming, you two?"
Without looking at each other, Kate and Betty shake their heads in unison. "We'll see you on the floor," says Betty.
After they've left, a minute or so passes without Kate or Betty speaking. Finally, Betty ventures, "Gotta say, I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be quicker to forgive than you. Particularly Gladys!"
"You could've been killed." Kate says it almost bitterly. "All because she couldn't wait until lunch to ask for time off."
"Come on, Kate. I'm not steamed about it. It was just a stupid mistake. Yeah, Gladys can be a pain in the ass, but she's a good sort, underneath."
"She is, but I'm allowed to be angry." After a moment, Kate repeats herself, "I'm allowed to be angry, Betty. Last night made me realise that I don't know how I'd get along without you."
How many times, thinks Betty weakly, how many times are you gonna make me swoon like a goddamned schoolgirl today?
"You'd manage," says Betty. "I think you'd more than manage. But … I'd rather we managed together."
Kate smiles. "Me too." She glances at Betty. "Your turban's gone a bit skewiff."
Betty suddenly becomes aware of the lock of hair brushing her cheek. She raises a hand to anchor it back into place, but finds herself grimacing in discomfort. It hurts to hold her hand higher than her shoulder.
"You poor thing. Let me." Kate leans closer and begins to tuck the loose strands of hair back inside Betty's turban. She doesn't seem to give a damn how this might look to all the other women still crowding the canteen. She doesn't seem overly concerned that if Betty were to turn her head slightly and lean forward a few inches, they'd be kissing. And if Kate's not fussed, why should I be?
Kate's hands are as skilled as they are gentle. They can heft a twenty-five pounder onto a fast-moving hook as easily as they can caress a microphone stand. Betty can't help but notice every tiny way they differ from her own, can't stop herself imagining what it would be like to have those hands touching her...
"There, now you're perfect." Kate moves away, looking pleased with her handiwork but also slightly dubious. "Are you sure you're okay to work? Maybe we should see about getting you home early."
"Kate, we're on the amatol line, remember? Not much raising my arms over my head there."
"Tell me if there's anything else I can do for you," says Kate earnestly.
"Just try not to bite Gladdie's head off, will you?"
"I'll try." In spite of herself, Kate laughs. "You, reminding me to be nice? It's like we're changing places."
Are we changing places? Betty wonders. I always thought you had no idea how I feel about you, but maybe ... maybe it's the other way around. Maybe I'm the clueless one, here. She manages to be normal as they get up and start walking to their next shift, calling to her co-workers, cracking sarcastic comments to make Kate laugh. It's incredible that she can keep going on, with all the new, unfamiliar hope she has.
