Gear Girls by Matilda Bjorklund is part of a speculative fiction series influenced by artworks in the BRCA collection. Inspired by Bomberg´s experience as a soldier during WWI and his tendency of turning human subjects into “simple” and “angular” shapes, the steampunk genre conveys themes of the machine age and war and their physical/psychological impact on the individual. The Underground Bomb Store (1942) by David Bomberg and its element of machinery and almost cave-like structure was an inspiration was an inspiration for a scene in the story.
Jack Thorp hurried across the military camp with a cardboard box in his arms. He dodged and zig-zagged between the excited young soldiers that were headed towards the base´s newly built performance area. It had rained the night before, and the humid summer heat had not dried up the camp as expected. Instead, it had turned the camp into a mud pit that was covered in a lingering smell of damp tents and sweat. However, there was a cheerful buzz in the air and in the monotone ocean of green uniforms, a few men were carrying the colourful red and blue poster that had been hung around the camp, informing the men of the arrival and once in a lifetime performance by the “Gear Girls.” While Jack was gliding and slipping past the laughing soldiers, and occasionally falling with his knees into the mud, he thanked everything holy that the box was taped shut. It was a miracle that he had found the box in the first place, and if the content in the package was to be ruined, he would need another miracle to witness the next sunrise.
“I found it! I got it!” exclaimed Jack when he arrived at his destination that was a lonesome wobbly tent on the outskirt of the camp. Upon his grand entrance where he dragged mud into the tent and accidentally dropping the package, four young women turned around to look at him. During his absence, the girls had gotten ready and despite touring across several British military camps in France, he never got used to the outfits. All the girls were wearing playful corsets dresses that displayed both collarbones and upper thighs, but their arms and legs were covered with white gloves and stockings. A solider from their previous stops had cheered on the girls, calling them “dilly pirates,” which became an image that Jack could not get out of his head. The dresses were in rich emerald and mulberry colours, and the corsets were trimmed with that scratchy black lace that Elise had used for some of the theatre costumes back home. However, given their situation, Jack knew better than to comment on their costumes considering what options they had from the beginning.
“You better not be pulling our legs Jack,” Margaret snatched the box from his arms and immediately tore it open. Elsie, who was putting on another layer of blush and struggling to pin a strand of her blonde hair, walked over and gasped at the sight of brand-new gloves and stockings. Bertha and Rosie rushed over and all the girls were looking at the pearl white fabric sticking out of the package as if it were a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow or a meal that wasn´t canned soup. Carefully, Bertha reached to take a pair of gloves but Margaret slapped away her hand.
“Old ones off before new ones on,” and with that, they all started to get undressed. Jack stood silent as he watched Rosie and Elsie take off their worn-out gloves, only to reveal metal prosthetic arms and hands underneath. Bertha pulled down a stocking and when she reached her knee, she stretched the fabric so it would go down the smooth surface of her metal leg. Margaret had for some time had issues with the mechanics of her right hand, so she had some difficulty undressing. However, her stubborn nature never subdued and soon there was a pile of steam and oil-stained gloves and stockings on the ground.
“These came in the nick of time,” Rosie reached towards the box, but stopped when she saw her hand. With a hefty pull followed by a loud snap, she tweaked her obtruding left pinky. Her fingers tended to dislocate and point in unnatural directions whenever she moved her arms too much. This was the result of misfire in one of the British military bases at the beginning of their tour, where Rosie had been shot in her wrist, causing the mechanics of her prosthetic to malfunction. Jack, the girls´ manager, but also mechanic, could temporarily fix them but often the damages they got during their travels were beyond the help of a screwdriver or backup bolts. That was partly the reason they had gotten this job to begin with. At a time of war, they could withstand much more than the average human. However, this was a fact that they had to cover up at any cost. Three years of fighting, the soldiers needed to be reminded of joy, so when Elsie and the others made the best of their situation and offered to perform for the British soldiers, they had been granted the opportunity with the condition that they needed to hide their prosthetics, as “the men did not need to be reminded of the war.”
“Jack, do you mind?” Bertha´s voice cut through Jack´s daydreaming and he realized that he had been staring. He was so used to seeing the girls´ metal arms and legs, that he was ashamed to admit that he often forgot that they were not supposed to be there.
“I will go and let them know that you are ready soon,” Jack awkwardly turned around and left the tent. Soon there was a silence, and the girls all looked at each other.
“They must all be by the stage by now,” said Rosie, shaking her hands nervously. Not wanting her fingers to dislocate again, Bertha walked up to hold her hands, feeling Rosie´s cool touch. In the accident, Bertha had been the only lucky one to not have her hands or arms injured, but she often wondered whether that had been a curse or not. With the constant upkeep and maintenance of her leg prosthetics, her hands seemed to have turned permanently cold due to the chilly metal, and when touching the others, the goosebumps on her skin not only served as a reminder of what happened to her, but also to the others.
“Ease up on the blush, will you?” Elsie looked away from the mirror and met Margaret´s eyes as she sat on the bed, gently pulling up a stocking over her stiff leg. Even without hearing Margaret's thick Scottish accent, Elsie would always be able to pinpoint where Margaret was based on her scent. She was amazed that even in the stuffy air of perfume and damp tent fabric, that Margaret still managed to smell like freshly picked oranges.
“It´s called stage makeup, it is supposed to be a lot,” hmphed Elsie, and padded on another layer for good measure. They were all bit on the edge for this performance, and the tell-tale signs were that Bertha could not focus on her French crossword puzzles, Rosie didn´t scribble down ideas in her recipe book, Elsie didn´t quietly recite lines from Shakespeare and Margaret wasn´t fast asleep on the bed five minutes before showtime. The new stockings had calmed them down a bit, they looked good, and the several rough days of travel and lack of sleep was neatly covered by makeup and hairpins.
“This is the last one, and then we go home,” stated Bertha, still holding Rosie´s hands.
“That´s right,” Margaret stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “We have travelled across France unharmed...” She paused for a bit, unconsciously looking at Rosie´s wrist, Elsie´s bump on her calf and her own tilting ankle.
“Well, almost. It has been rough, but ladies, we did it. After this performance we can go home, with everything we have earned and start our lives again. I know it is more pressure today as we are performing in front of Captain Winford and his men, them being war heroes and all, but this is just like any other performance. We will knock their socks off, they won´t know what hit them,” and with that, the girls determinately pulled on their long coats and left for the stage, for one final time.
*
“We have some very special guests tonight...” while the presenter spoke to the crowd, Elsie, and Rosie, peaked between the curtains to see them men in the crowd. They were cheering and screaming “Gear Girls” and the presenter made big downward gestures to calm them down, but it was to no avail.
“Lively aren't they, “started Rosie but paused when she came across a familiar face in the audience. She squinted her eyes and tried locking eyes on the man´s face but it was difficult as they were all wearing helmets and moving around.
“Say, isn´t that Joshua Winford? That must be him,” Elsie tried to follow Rosie´s gaze but Margaret stepped forward and squeezed in between them.
“Please tell me you are joking,” Margaret scanned the crowd until she saw Joshua´s warm smile and dimpled cheek. Elsie leaned over to tap Rosie´s shoulder, making a who-is-Joshua-gesture.
“Joshua is a former classmate of Margaret and I, we used to be really good friends. He moved away a few years back to join the military. That serious looking man at the right is Captain Winford, his father.”
Bertha leaned over them.
“He is cute,” she stated simply, but was met with Elsie´s surprised expression.
“Captain Winford?”
“Don´t be a bunny,” scowled Margaret, but Elsie spotted the blush behind her freckles.
“I think we´re up,” The men´s cheering got increasingly louder, and the presenter's patience was running out. The girls removed their coats and got in formation. They spotted Jack running over to the record player and giving them the thumbs up. They got in their cheeky, smiling poses and stood still for a few seconds. Margaret felt the weight of her unstable ankle but smiled even brighter as if it would weigh up for the pain.
“Give it up for the Gear Girls!” The curtains pulled aside, and the music started. They had lost counts of how many times they had done the routine, but this time it felt special, in a bittersweet sort of way. Bertha and Rosie started of the song, singing “All night long, you are the one I miss, so when I will see you again, prepare for my kiss,” followed by a choreographed air kiss which drove the crowd crazy every time. They sounded good tonight, but a few songs in, Elsie noticed Margaret´s distant expression. When Bertha was doing her solo “Baby come home,” Elsie stood next to Margaret and tried to get her attention, but Margaret was just blankly looking over the crowd and into the dark forest behind them. This had happened for the first time in Calais when they performed at a military camp. When seeing the men's rounded helmets, it had reminded them of shells, bringing them right back into that ammunition factory. The girls had pushed down their emotions and smiled, only to vomit and struggle to breathe after the performance. They had done their duty to help with the war by working in Silvertown, but after the factory explosion they had lost limbs and during the rehabilitation period, the will to live.
It was a scientific miracle that their prosthetics worked and wasn´t rejected by their bodies, but the aftermath was not only the pain of living, but also the struggle of how to actually make a living. It was Elsie´s idea to perform, as she had long dreamed of becoming an actress. The money was good, and every night before they went to sleep the girls went over what they would do when they got home. Bertha would study to become a teacher, Elsie would pursue acting, Rosie would open her own bakery and Margaret, well Margaret did not have a concrete answer to that question. She answered every night “be happy,” but never went to explain what this meant. Towards the end of Bertha´s solo, and Elsie still had not gotten any contact with Margaret, she whispered in her ear.
“He doesn´t know what happened to you, does he?” Elsie was half-expecting for Margaret to chop her head off, but there was an unfamiliar vulnerability in Margaret´s eyes that she did not recognize. The truth is that they all suffered from that explosion, but Margaret lost both her arms and legs. The white stockings and gloves made her look like an ordinary young woman, but beneath it all she was the one who had changed the most.
“Darling I am all alone, so baby come home, “applauds ruptured and Bertha took a bow. Margaret was the first to walk back on stage to continue with the next song, and the men became ecstatic that there was more to come. As the night went on, for the final act, Elsie stepped forward and did her usual thing, ensuring the audience that this would be a performance to remember. With a grand pose she finished singing the song “Stop Me” which the girls agreed was a crowd favorite.
“There is nothing, nothing, in the world that could stop me from loving you!” The men stood up, whistling and applauding, chanting their name and for a brief moment, the girls were in total bliss. They had done it; they had made it through the show. The girls swam in warm sounds of compliments and affection, but suddenly they drown in the sounds of terrified and agonizing screams. Chaos erupted as a bomb fell from the sky and shell fragments and dirt flew up on the stage. Jack ran over and tried to grab the girls and pull them away, but he couldn’t reach all of them. Alarms went off, men were screaming they were being attacked, and the ground rumbled as more bombs were dropped into the camp. Rosie covered her ears but the ringing wouldn’t stop. She ran off the stage but turned around at the faint sound of Margaret screaming “Joshua.” She saw her running towards him, but also the appearance of two civilian dressed men that appeared from the woods. Rosie called out Margaret´s name but another explosion threw her to the side, and the world went dark.
*
“Where is my son? Where is Joshua?!” Captain Winford ran across the camp and looked at his men for any response. Jack was gently shaking Rosie to wake up, and Elsie was looking for the others. The smell of smoke covered the camp like a heavy fog that refused to dissipate. When taking a deep breath, Rosie woke up coughing and her eyes teared up, smudging her makeup.
“Where is Margaret, is she gone?” Jack answered that Elsie was looking for her, but Rosie clumsily moved towards the spot where she last saw Margaret.
“Joshua!” Captain Winford´s voice echoed in the camp´s ruins and amongst the injured. Rosie went over to the grass and saw a large puddle of oil. Following the drops, she saw that the oil became a trail into the woods, where on the ground there was a small note.
“Is she awake? I couldn´t find Margaret,” Elsie and Bertha joined up with Jack and they saw Rosie turn around with tears in her eyes.
“She is gone. They were taken, Joshua and Margaret were taken,” she held up a note with the scribbled words les aliments. Bertha took the note, “It´s food in French.”
Rosie was about to ask what that meant but Captain Winford barged over and grabbed her by the shoulders.
“What do you mean taken?!” Jack pushed off the captain and stood to shield Rosie.
“During the attack, I saw two civilian dressed men appear from the woods. They approached Margaret and Joshua, and...” Rosie caught herself from mentioning the oil. She choked on her words knowing the implication of the spill, Margaret had been injured somehow.
“... and they left this note,” finished Bertha, handing over the paper to the captain. A solider with a fresh wound on his cheek and a limping step approached them.
“Sir, there is an abandoned village on the other side of the forest. Our scouting intel informed us that the village was empty, but a few civilians could have stayed behind,” Captain Winford turned around, and the veins in his forehead didn’t match his sudden calm tone.
“Those bastard civilians know we won´t harm them, and they take advantage of us like this when we are attacked by the Germans. They are holding my son hostage for the promise of food. We will take care of our wounded and pack up tonight, seek cover and get some rest. It is too dangerous to move anywhere tonight. At dawn we will head to the village, and if possible, it might be a good temporary refuge. Could be nice to escape these tents for a while. Take care of the wounded, we will leave before dawn,” and with that, the wounded were carried away and the men started to organize their departure. Soon, they stood alone around the puddle of oil. Their pinned-up hair, now falling in soft waves, and their white stockings covered in dirt and blood.
“We have to go and get her now, we can´t wait for dawn,” said Rosie. Elsie objected, reminding her of the captain´s orders but Bertha quieted her with a hand on her shoulder.
“Margaret is a gold mine for them with her prosthetics, they can sell those off and make a lot of money. We can´t wait, “Rosie and Bertha looked at each other and nodded.
“I´ll go and get my secret pastries and bread,” said Rosie, not listening to Jack´s objection. He sighed and looked at Elsie and Bertha.
“There is never a calm moment with you, is there?”
*
“Remind me of the plan again,” They had left the camp unseen and managed to follow the oil spill trail through the forest. The abandoned, small, and rustic village was located down the hill in a valley and looked peaceful in the moonlight. The journey had taken longer than they expected, and soon the troops would arrive at the village as the first light of day broke by the horizon, but judging by the oil trail, they could not have waited.
“Go to the villagers, hand them this basket of food and ask them to give our friends back. That’s it,” As they reached the first houses, they signaled amongst themselves to be quiet. As silent as possible they stepped in overgrown flowerbeds to sneak alongside the house walls to avoid the gravel. A few voices were heard around the corner.
“Hast du ein Feuerzeug?” a man said, followed by some rummaging sound as if someone was digging in a bag. Elsie sighed of relief and went to take the basket.
“Finally, we have found them, “she began but was quickly pulled back and silenced by Bertha´s hand on her mouth.
“That is not French, they are speaking German,” Bertha´s whisper was barely audible, but the point came across. They had walked into a trap.
“We need to get Margaret and Joshua out of here, and warn the soldiers,” Jack pointed to the ground where the small oil specks shimmered in the moonlight, indicating by their dispersed trail that Margaret had been taken to a place in the middle of the village. The girls nodded in response and they headed back the way they came. They dodged windows and gathered courage each time they ran between the houses. The trail led them to a basement door that luckily enough for them was unlocked. Jack quickly swung it open and without any hesitation they all went in.
“Margaret?” Rosie´s whisper was interrupted by a grunting noise, and she lost all train of thought when Elsie pinched her arm. Despite the dusty and stuffed basement, there was the clear scent of oranges. There were large metal objects in the way and the darkness made it difficult to navigate a path to follow the scent. However, where the scent of oranges was drowned out by oil fumes, they found Margaret on the dirt floor, with no arms or legs. Rosie fell by her side, embracing her and ignoring the sticky oil that covered her. She saw Margaret´s destroyed prosthetics and a bullet wound in the legs oil pipes which explained the leakages. She had taken a bullet for Joshua. Jack found that Joshua was still wounded, but Bertha tied one of her gloves around his injury to prevent the minor bleeding.
“He will be fine, “she stated, before heading over to Margaret.
“You need to leave, take Joshua with you. They are going to blow this whole village up once the British gets here. They ruined their camp to force them to come here, it was all planned out.” Margaret´s voice was weak. Her lips were chapped and her hair was filled with leaves and dust. Elsie clasped her face.
“We are not leaving you,” she began but Margaret shook her head. “You need to leave, warn the others. This is a trap, they want the troops to come here to a seemingly harmless village, but look around you, you need to escape,” Their eyes had gotten used to the darkness, but with the soft blue colour creeping in from the basement door, hinting at the sunrise, they saw that the metal objects they had bumped into and navigated in between were actually bombs. They were in a bomb storage.
“Please take Joshua, please save him,” Jack placed Joshua´s arm around his shoulder and lifted him up, but Bertha had to help to steady him.
“To save you we need to go now, before the sun rises and we will be spotted,” Jack looked at Margaret when he said this. “We will see you in the forest on the way to the base.” There was a determination in his voice, accompanied by reassurance, but as Bertha and Jack left, that feeling of hope went with them.
“You need to leave me,” began Margaret but was interrupted by Elsie.
“We are the Gear Girls; we have survived this bloody war and we are going to continue to do so!” Margaret wanted to touch Elsie´s face but she couldn’t. She couldn´t reassure her that it was okay, that she wasn´t sad about the outcome.
“In my state, I will have no life after this. My body has been affected by this war; it belongs to it. Let me help prevent the prolonging of it, help me end it,” She nodded her head to a small object on the floor. A lighter that one of the Germans had dropped. Rosie shook her head, whispering the word no several times before Margaret said her name.
“You ask me every night what I want to do when I come home. I always answer ´be happy´,” Elsie´s tears streamed down her face, leaving a mascara trail down her blushed cheeks. “You have become my happiness, and I say I will be happy because you will be home with me. Please let me be happy, go home and live your lives as the best Gear Girls you are,” Rosie gently touched Margaret´s face, and when she realized that it was light enough in the basement to see Margaret´s freckles and auburn hair, she knew the time was up. Rosie placed the lighter so that Margaret could light it using her teeth.
“We will see you soon,” Rosie said while furiously wiping away her own tears. She grabbed Elsie and they ran out from the basement. The dawn was about to break the horizon and despite their heavy legs, they ran with all that they had left in them to reach the forest. The Germans started shouting and firing after them, but when they reached the hill, the world exploded. Rosie and Elsie landed in the grass and covered their heads. Rocks, bricks, and dirt flew up in the air and an immense heat covered the area. When the dust eventually settled, Bertha dragged them up the hill and they looked out over the valley. The soldiers arrived and were shocked to see the commotion. Captain Winford was reunited with his son and embraced Jack with all the gratitude that was left in the world.
“What is going on?!” exclaimed the men, and the remaining Gear Girls stood silent, watching the horizon as the orange sun welcomed a new day. They were all drenched in oil and dirt, reeking of smoke, and sweat, but with the soft sunlight, they could still smell the warmest scent of oranges.
