Christmas at Woolworths Read online

  This book is dedicated to the many people who worked

  for F. W. Woolworths: Saturday staff, management,

  behind the scenes or on the shop floor. You all played

  your part in creating this iconic store. Thank you.

  Contents

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  Acknowledgements

  The Woolworths Girls

  Wartime at Woolworths

  Prologue

  June 1942

  Sitting astride the powerful motorbike, Freda Smith removed a large leather gauntlet from her hand in order to pull tight-fitting goggles from her eyes. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and yawned. Although only the first day of June, the air was sultry and not a day for being covered from head to toe in a heavyweight motorcycle uniform. Freda felt sweaty and would have loved nothing more than to pull off her jacket and feel the wind on her skin as she sped through Kent towards her destination. It had been a long day and no doubt many hours lay ahead before she would see her bed. Gazing towards an angry orange glow that could be seen even in the afternoon sky, she knew her journey was almost at an end. She was close to Canterbury.

  Freda had always thought the notion of travelling to Canterbury appealing and she’d planned to visit this famous city just as the pilgrims had done centuries before her. Never in a million years did she believe her trip would be to carry important orders to the Fire Service when Canterbury was under threat from the Luftwaffe. Ahead of her now was a city decimated by enemy action. As a volunteer dispatch rider for the Auxiliary Fire Service Freda had longed for excitement, but she now realized that what lay ahead was death and destruction for this beautiful Kentish city and many of the people who lived there. After nearly three years would this terrible war never end?

  Freda fervently wished she was back behind her counter at Erith Woolworths, selling the popular Mighty Midget books and Lumar jigsaws that not only entertained the families but gave youngsters something to concentrate on during long nights when the country was under fire from the enemy. Life seemed so much easier then, even though she was often on fire-watch duties and had to sleep in her landlady’s Anderson shelter on many occasions. Knowing how lucky she was had made Freda yearn to do more to help this beastly war come to an end. She wondered what she’d discover when she reached the city walls. How would she find the fire station, where she was supposed to report once she reached Canterbury? Fear urged Freda to turn back and not get any closer to the burning city.

  The petite young woman gave herself a silent talking-to. Her job was important and lives depended on her handing over the instructions tucked safely inside the breast pocket of her uniform jacket. She was lucky to be able to work both at Woolies and be a volunteer in the Auxiliary Fire Service. Many people did not have a choice. Freda pulled the goggles back over her eyes and, slipping her small hand back into the gauntlet, she fired up the powerful Triumph motorbike. The bike had been assigned to her when she had completed her training only two weeks ago. Another fifteen minutes and she would reach her destination. Once her duties were complete Freda could do something about the worry that had been nagging at the back of her mind since she left Erith fire station. She would be able to look for her friends. The best place to start her search would be Woolworths. Surely someone could point her in the right direction?

  ‘Thank you,’ Freda said, as she was handed a tin mug containing piping hot cocoa along with a sandwich by one of the WVS ladies who were dispensing refreshments from a large van to the fire fighters, soldiers and the many civilians valiantly working to find those injured in the destruction of a once noble city and to dampen down the flames from incendiary bombs. Try as she might, Freda couldn’t quite block out the sound of ambulance bells and the shouts for ‘quiet’ as men nearby dug with their bare hands, searching for people trapped in the rubble of what was until recently street upon street of fine shops.

  ‘You look exhausted, love. Can you find somewhere to put your head down for a while before you head off again?’ a WVS woman said as she wiped the counter.

  Freda, who would have liked nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep for a few hours to ease her aching body after the long journey across Kent, smiled at the kindly woman. ‘No, thank you all the same; I need to find my friends and put my mind at rest. Once I know they are safe I can head back home to Erith. Would you happen to know the best way to reach Woolworths? I’m sure staff there will be on fire watch duties and hopefully they can tell me where my friends are.’

  The woman stopped and thought for a moment. ‘I do believe that Woolworths is a couple of streets from here, but the road’s been blocked off as there’s an unexploded bomb. I doubt you’d get there anyway, what with so many shops and houses having been bombed. There’s nothing but rubble. Hang on, I’ll check with one of my ladies. She’s a local and may know more than I do.’

  Freda nodded her thanks and bit hungrily into the Spam sandwich while she waited for the woman to return. It had been an age since she’d last eaten, but the grey National bread with its scraping of margarine and thin slice of Spam tasted like a feast fit for a king. Since arriving in Erith from the Midlands at the end of 1938, Freda had come to enjoy her food after most of her childhood was spent going without. Her landlady, and grandmother to her best friend Sarah Gilbert, was a wonderful cook and Freda reckoned her mutton stews, fluffy dumplings and steak and kidney puddings wouldn’t look out of place on the tables of any posh London hotel. Even with rationing taking a grip on the nation’s food supplies, Ruby Caselton could be relied upon to conjure up a tasty meal for any occasion.

  Freda had just swallowed the last of the cocoa when the WVS lady reappeared.

  ‘I was right. You can’t get to where Woolies is as the street’s shut off. It seems the buildings down there have taken a bit of a bashing so I hope your friends are all right. Do they work there?’

  Freda tried not to become alarmed. It wouldn’t help matters. She made herself think of everyone back home who would be relying on her to stay strong. ‘Er, no, but one of them is manager of the Erith branch and my other friend works with her. I just need to know they are not hurt. Would you know where I could possibly find them? That’s if they are not badly injured or . . .’

  The kindly woman patted Freda on the shoulder. ‘Now, don’t go getting yourself upset. Why, you’re no more than a child yourself and riding that great big motorbike. You’re a brave one and no mistake.’

  Freda took a deep breath and composed herself. ‘I’ll be twenty-one later this year. I’m just a bit on the small side for my age.’

  ‘Well, twenty-one or not, the world’s a bloody scary place right now and we are entitled to be afraid. Just don’t go bottling it all up. Scream and shout at the Hun if you want to. It does me the power of good, I can tell you.’ She placed a protective hand on Freda’s shoulder and pointed with the other. ‘Now, if you take yourself off down that road and turn left, you will come across a church hall. It’s being used as a rest centre as well as a first-aid post. I reckon you’ll get news of your friends down there. Leave your motorbike and helmet here. You can park up behind our van. They’ll come to no harm. I’ll keep an eye on them for you.’

  Freda thanked the woman and, after securing her bike, she hurried up the small road to the hall. Struggling to gain ent
ry as the hall was full of people, she pushed and shoved her way through the crowd. So many looked to be in shock, wandering aimlessly about, no doubt looking for loved ones just as Freda was trying to do. Spotting an officious-looking ARP warden with a clipboard, she elbowed through the crowd. ‘Excuse me, do you know if my friends, Miss Betty Billington and Mrs Maisie Carlisle, are here?’

  The man ran his pencil down a list of names and turned a page. ‘Here they are, Billington and Carlisle. Hmm,’ he said, tapping the pencil on his teeth as he peered at the list. ‘They’ve been moved to hospital. I assume they must be injured, but details haven’t been noted. I do wish people would complete the forms properly,’ he huffed.

  Freda tried to stand on tiptoes to look at the list, but the man was having none of it and held it close to his body. ‘What hospital would that be?’ she asked.

  ‘Margate General. It’s not too far from here. Local hospitals are overstretched at the moment. Here, take a look at the map.’ He pointed to a large map pinned to the wall.

  Freda felt sick as she peered at it. Her head started to spin as she attempted to focus on where her friends had been taken and tried not to think too much about their injuries. They are still alive, she told herself as she thanked the man and rushed back to where she’d left her motorbike. Although now late afternoon, it was still warm and around her she could see men sweating as they pulled at bricks and masonry that had once been thriving businesses and family homes, seeking the living and the dead. Firing up the bike’s engine, she headed off to find Betty and Maisie.

  After being shown where to go by an elderly man in the gatehouse, Freda pulled up outside an imposing Victorian building. She stuffed her goggles and gloves into the helmet and tried to scrub her face clean with a once-white handkerchief. She loved to feel the wind and rain on her face when riding at speed, but the downside was a rather dirty face at the end of a journey. Maisie had suggested she carry her compact and a lipstick when on duty. Freda had laughed at the time as she wasn’t one to worry about her appearance and very rarely wore make-up, much to her friend’s chagrin, but Maisie had a point. Freda decided she would try to make an effort in future. She sighed as she pushed open a heavy double door, thinking of her vibrant, stylish friend, who might at this very moment be lying injured in this building, and stepped into a large quiet hall. The floor was covered with black and white tiles and the walls were painted a combination of pale green and cream. For a busy hospital it seemed extremely quiet. Perhaps she’d come to the wrong place?

  ‘Can I help you?’ a soft-voiced woman asked from a small cubbyhole in the wall.

  Freda jumped. She hadn’t realized anyone could see her as she’d gazed around the entrance hall trying to read the signs that indicated ward names and medical departments. ‘My goodness, I never spotted you there!’ Freda exclaimed, holding her hand to her chest to quell her fast-beating heart. ‘You gave me such a start.’ She peered through the hatch and saw that the voice belonged to a young woman dressed in a nurse’s uniform.

  ‘I’m so sorry. It happens all the time. I did suggest to Matron that we have a larger sign, but suggestions from trainee nurses aren’t often taken on board.’

  ‘It’s my fault. I was rather daunted by stepping into such a posh building and I didn’t have my wits about me,’ Freda replied. ‘I’m looking for my two friends that have been brought here from Canterbury. Their names are Miss Betty Billington and Mrs Maisie Carlisle. Would you know where they are?’

  Freda watched expectantly as the young nurse checked paperwork and then looked up at Freda from her chair. ‘They are both here, but visiting hours are over for today. Can you come back tomorrow?’

  Freda looked sad. ‘I came down from Erith on my motorbike. I had to deliver a message from our fire station; I’m a volunteer dispatch rider for the Fire Service. I have to be back at my proper job tomorrow at Woolworths. It would be days before I could get back to Margate, as I’d have to travel by train. Please, could I see them for a few minutes? I really need to know they are not badly injured. It’s been such a shock, you see. I hadn’t expected to hear they were hurt. I thought they’d be at Woolworths. Betty was going to meet Maisie there, you see . . .’ Tears pricked her eyes and she couldn’t speak another word. Distress overwhelmed her at being so close to her friends and not being able to speak to them.

  The young nurse hurried out from a door close to the hatch and helped Freda to a nearby bench. ‘Please, don’t get upset. It’s been an awful day. I know how you feel as my own parents live in Canterbury and I was beside myself with worry until I knew they were safe. Mummy managed to get through to the hospital from a telephone box to let me know they were fine and they’d be heading to my aunt’s house near Dover. Thank goodness she phoned when she did as the telephones haven’t worked for the past four hours.’

  Freda wiped her eyes and gave the glimmer of a smile. ‘Perhaps I could telephone the hospital tomorrow for news? I’m sure I could use the phone at Woolworths, what with Betty being our manager. I would think the telephones would be working by then.’

  The nurse thought for a while. ‘Look, I’m going back to the wards shortly. Why not come along with me and I’ll make sure you can see your friends for a little while? What do you think?’

  ‘Why, that would be wonderful, but I don’t want to get you into any trouble on my behalf.’

  ‘You won’t,’ the girl said as she rose to her feet. ‘You stay there and I’ll fetch you a cup of tea. One benefit of working in the reception office is that we have a gas ring and a supply of tea. Why, we even have sugar at the moment.’ She bustled back inside the little room and left Freda to think about her day.

  For Freda it had been a fairly normal Sunday. She’d helped Ruby with some gardening and rinsed out her underwear and hung it to dry on the washing line before heading to Queens Road Baptist Church. The Brownie pack and Girl Guide troop, where she helped out as Tawny Owl, were carrying their flags at church parade before marching behind the Boys’ Brigade band through the streets of Erith. The younger girls were excited to be part of the parade, and although Brownies were not allowed to march like the older girls they walked proudly and kept in step. Apart from the flag falling off the pole there were no mishaps and after stowing away the equipment in the church hall she was able to join Brown Owl Charlotte Missons for a cup of tea and a chat. The news that Charlotte’s daughter, Molly, would soon be on leave filled Freda with excitement. She’d got on well with Molly, who was close in age to Freda, and had been sad when Molly went off to play her part in beating the Germans by being a land girl on a farm in Suffolk.

  Arriving back in Alexandra Road for her Sunday dinner, Freda found a note waiting for her. She was to report to Erith fire station as soon as possible.

  ‘That can only mean something has happened,’ Freda said, a thrill of excitement running through her as she headed towards her bedroom to change into the uniform of the Auxiliary Fire Service.

  ‘The war can wait five minutes while you eat your dinner,’ Ruby declared with her hands on her hips. ‘I told the lad who dropped off the note that you were still at church parade so you’re not expected this very minute.’

  Freda knew better than to go against her landlady’s words. She might have stood the same height as Freda, but she was a formidable force to reckon with. Besides, Freda’s stomach was grumbling and the aroma of roast meat was hard to ignore. ‘You are right, Ruby, the war can wait for a few minutes. Who was it who said an army marches on its stomach?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, girl, but he would have been right and no doubt it was a woman who cooked the food. Sit yourself down now before it gets cold.’

  Ruby placed a plate in front of Freda, who gasped as she looked at the food. ‘Roast beef? I’ve not seen that in a while.’ She eyed her landlady warily. ‘It isn’t black market, is it, Ruby? I know a lot of people rely on black market goods to get by but it’s not right. We should all work together to get through this war and if that means doing witho
ut, then so be it.’

  A morning spent in church had made Freda more than a little righteous, but Ruby was having none of it. She went to pull the plate away, but Freda hung on to her food. ‘I’ll have you know I come by that beef honestly. David popped by with a hamper from his mother. She’s a generous woman. What I wouldn’t do to live on a farm and be able to eat like we used to.’

  ‘Your Pat lives on a farm and we don’t go short,’ Freda pointed out.

  Ruby looked a little shamefaced. ‘Yes, and she’s supposed to declare every chicken and egg. But who’s to know if there are a few extra birds around the place,’ she added as Freda scowled. ‘Now, Freda love, don’t you go looking at me like that. You’ve been having some strange opinions since you started going to that Baptist church.’

  Freda laughed. She knew well Ruby’s views on the smaller churches, as she called them. ‘I only go when we have church parade with the Brownies and Guides. By the way, Molly is coming home on leave soon,’ she said as she tucked into her meal.

  Ruby watched the girl as she enjoyed the food in front of her. Freda was nothing like the scrawny, frightened child who had arrived in Erith in 1938. ‘I wish I could make Yorkshire puddings but they never rise with powdered egg . . . Sorry, love, I was miles away. It’ll be nice to see Molly again. You two got on like a house on fire. It must be hard for you now Sarah has baby Georgina, and Maisie has her own home and husband David to care for. I like the Misson family. No airs and graces there even though they own a big shop in Pier Road – and I’d lay money on the idea that Norman Misson’s doing a bit of ducking and diving to keep his shop afloat!’

  ‘Oh, Ruby,’ Freda laughed, getting up to take her plate to the sink. Not everyone is ducking and diving, as you put it. As for your Yorkshire puddings, why not use one of those black market eggs from your Pat?’ Freda ducked and ran for the stairs as Ruby threw the tea towel at her.

  ‘I can take you up to the ward now,’ the young nurse said, shaking Freda from her thoughts. ‘Follow me. Your friends should both be in the same ward. You won’t be able to stay long, but at least it will put your mind at rest and I would think your friends will be pleased to see you.’