Christmas with the Teashop Girls Read online

  Elaine Everest

  Christmas with the

  Teashop Girls

  Contents

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  Acknowledgements

  A Letter from Elaine

  For my saga author friends xx

  Prologue

  Christmas Eve 1940

  Rose Neville felt extremely sick – so sick, in fact, that she couldn’t lift her head from where she lay. It was if her whole body was trussed up like the chicken her mother, Flora, had prepared for their Christmas Eve meal at Sea View guesthouse. She wriggled, trying to free herself. Was Lily behind this? Her friend was always one to be over-generous with the sherry. No doubt someone had helped her to bed, and then tucked her in too tightly to stop her falling out.

  Rose opened her eyes, but could see only darkness. Fear gripped her heart as, deep inside, she began to realize something wasn’t right. She made an effort to breathe slowly and deeply until the sickness passed a little, then tried to wriggle free again, gradually finding that at least her fingers and toes were working. This reminded her of the times she’d been on board Mildred Dalrymple’s fishing boat, out in the Channel beyond Ramsgate Harbour, when waves of sickness would flow over her until she found her sea legs. She stopped wriggling and sniffed; come to think of it, she could smell a mixture of engine oil and fish. And whatever she was lying on felt too hard to be her own comfortable bed.

  A small groan from nearby prompted her to lean as best she could towards the sound. ‘Who’s there?’ she called, fearful of who else might be in the room.

  ‘Rose?’ came Flora’s voice in reply. ‘Where are we? What has happened?’

  ‘Mum!’ Rose almost screamed, then thought better of it in case whoever had put them on the boat was still aboard. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I feel rather wobbly, and more than a little sick. My head aches – it’s as if I’ve been bumped against something hard. Can you reach me?’

  ‘No . . . I seem to be trussed up and tied to something. I’ve moved as far as I can towards you,’ Rose replied, doing her utmost not to sound frightened in case it worried Flora. She had no idea if her mum’s injuries were serious.

  ‘Then stay where you are; I’ll shuffle towards you. My hands are tied behind my back and my ankles are tethered together. Keep talking, so I know where you are.’

  Rose swallowed hard. Never had she wanted her mum by her side more than at this very minute. She pulled hard on the ropes that bound her, but could tell the ones around her hands were attached to the boat. Making good use of the time it would take for Flora to reach her across the few feet that divided them, she closed her eyes, trying to remember the layout of Mildred’s small fishing boat. There was a wheelhouse towards the front, where Mildred steered and controlled the boat. It was just about large enough for a second person to stand alongside her while she worked. Rose knew they were most definitely not in that area. Even in the dark, everything seemed to be in the wrong place and out of reach.

  It was late on Christmas Eve, and judging by the way this boat was being tossed about, they could not be moored in the relative safety of the harbour – they must be out in the open channel. She forced herself to concentrate on her mental image of Mildred’s boat. Further back, it was open to the elements – that was where the fish were hauled in, along with the crab pots. The only other space was below deck, where Mildred kept her equipment along with a small, hard bed for long journeys, and a gas-ring stove. A door at one end led to the engine room.

  Rose realized that they must be below deck, where they were unlikely to be seen or heard; not that anyone would be looking anyway, in the dark and out at sea. But why were they here?

  ‘Ah, here you are,’ Flora said as she wriggled alongside Rose. ‘It’s as dark as the night in here.’

  ‘It’s Mildred’s boat,’ Rose said, in case her mum wasn’t aware. ‘I’d know it anywhere.’

  ‘I know, love. It even has the smell of Mildred about it.’

  Despite their predicament and feeling afraid, both women laughed.

  ‘We really need to get free of these ropes; then we won’t be at a disadvantage if anyone comes back who wishes to do us harm,’ Flora said. ‘What I intend to do is wriggle down to where your feet are and see if I can unpick the knots in the rope around your ankles. It’s going to be hard, as my wrists are bound tight and I just have my fingers to work with. Hold on,’ she added as she shuffled along on her bottom until she was close to Rose’s feet.

  After what felt like an age, Flora gave a quiet but triumphant cheer and Rose felt the ropes fall slack around her ankles. She shook them loose and stretched her legs, enjoying the freedom. At least now, if anyone came back, she would be able to kick out at them. That’s if this hadn’t been part of an elaborate joke. ‘I may be able to reciprocate and untie your feet,’ she said to her mum.

  ‘See if you can pick apart the knots at my wrists first,’ Flora said, leaning as close as she could. ‘Go slow and steady,’ she instructed as Rose started to pick.

  By the time Flora’s hands were free, Rose’s fingertips were swollen and sore. Gingerly, Flora pulled herself to her feet, feeling the low ceiling above her head. ‘I’m going to find the hatch to see how far out at sea we are.’

  ‘Be careful, Mum. There may be someone up on the deck,’ Rose said fearfully, hoping Flora would hurry and release her wrists. With them bound, she knew she couldn’t do much if anyone came below deck.

  ‘There’s no sign of anyone. It’s pitch black out there, from the little I can see,’ Flora called out. ‘We could be anywhere. Why would anyone do this to us? Has something happened at Sea View, do you think?’

  ‘I have no idea. My head is fuzzy, and I can’t remember much,’ Rose said, feeling her head spin. ‘I really need to get up and move about before I’m sick. Lying here is not helping. Do you think you can release me, then I’ll help you with the rope around your ankles? Be careful, though,’ she added as Flora stumbled to her side.

  ‘I could have untied my own feet if I’d been thinking straight. Silly me,’ Flora tried to grin, fighting off a sob. ‘Who would do such a thing?’

  Rose could only shake her head. She had no idea.

  Once the women had freed themselves, they stood up and rubbed their cold, aching limbs. Rose felt along the side of the boat until she came across a cupboard, and began to rummage about. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if Mildred has a drop of something in here that we could drink to warm ourselves up. She always used to, although she told me it was medicinal,’ she laughed, her tinkling voice echoing through the small boat. ‘Here we are . . . although have no idea what it is,’ she added as she tried to pull out the cork.

  ‘Take it over to the hatch. There may be a label you can read. The last thing we want is for you to poison yourself.’ Flora shivered. ‘Perhaps we should be looking for a blanket. I don’t know about you, but I’m frozen to the bone wearing just my best frock and no cardigan.’

  ‘At least you have your best pinny on,’ Rose smiled, although she too was shaking due to the cold. ‘It’s another layer of clothing.’

  As they made their way to the open hatch, Flora slipped her hand into the pocket of her crossover pinny and gave a shout of delight. ‘Ah! We won’t starve,’ she declared, waving a carrot above her head. ‘I’d gone to the kitchen to find a carrot f
or young Pearl to leave out for Father Christmas’s reindeer. I was returning to the front room, when . . .’ She shook her head in confusion. ‘I don’t remember what happened after that.’

  Rose slipped her arm around her mum’s shoulder, sensing her fear at not remembering. ‘I went out to the kitchen to see where you’d got to, as Pearl was ready to post her letter up the chimney to Father Christmas. The light was off in the hall, and then . . . and then someone grabbed me and put something over my mouth and nose. I don’t know what happened next,’ she said with a sob. ‘This isn’t a game, is it? Thank goodness Pearl didn’t follow me, or she could have been hurt.’

  The women clung together, trying to comprehend what had happened to them. From outside the hatch they could hear the drone of planes approaching. ‘Oh God, that’s all we need. The Luftwaffe will spot our boat in the moonlight – we are a sitting target!’ Flora cried. ‘Perhaps we should dive into the sea and try to swim for it? Get away from the boat before it explodes?’

  Rose cuddled her mum, trying to soothe Flora’s ragged breathing. She could see, when the moon appeared from behind the scudding clouds, that they were far from shore. Even on a summer’s day it would be a long swim, but today, Christmas Eve, they’d catch their death in the cold water before they got anywhere. ‘Shh, listen. There’s not been an air-raid warning. We’d hear it, even this far out at sea. Those planes must be our lads coming back to Manston. Don’t lose hope yet. Come on, let’s get up on deck – but we need to be careful as we have no idea what has happened to our abductors. They could still be nearby.’

  Flora looked around her warily. ‘No – whoever has done this is not on board. Someone will be in trouble,’ she added as she looked towards Ramsgate, pointing her finger. ‘There’s a light showing. Probably one of the pubs’ kicking-out time. The landlord’s a bit tardy, letting the light show like that. I’ll have to remember to tell the wardens at our next ARP meeting.’

  Rose smiled to herself. Did Flora never stop thinking of her war work? ‘I wonder if I can remember how to steer the boat. It’s been a while, and I always had Mildred helping me,’ she said, thinking back to her childhood days helping Mildred bring in a haul of fish. Whiting, cod and skate, she thought, as the lessons Mildred had taught her came flooding back. Heading to the front of the Saucy Milly, she stopped and quietly swore to herself. Someone had run a heavy chain around the wheelhouse and secured it with a hefty-looking lock. They didn’t mean anyone to get inside and start up the engine. Perhaps, Rose thought, if she dropped anchor, the boat wouldn’t head out any further into the Channel – and they could sit tight until they were spotted and rescued? But this plan was soon scuppered when she found the anchor missing. Someone had meant to make sure they would not return.

  The two women sank down onto the deck and sat leaning against the wheelhouse. Rose squinted at her watch as the moon appeared for a few seconds. ‘It’s midnight. Happy Christmas, Mum,’ she said, thinking of the busy day they’d had planned. There seemed to be no hope of that now, unless someone come to rescue them before their abductors returned.

  1

  September 2nd 1940

  ‘Oh Miss Neville, I’m that thrilled for you,’ the young Nippy exclaimed as Rose walked into the staffroom of the Lyons teashop she managed in Margate. ‘Fancy being engaged to an army captain! Show us your engagement ring?’

  Rose smiled at the girl standing in front of her. ‘Thank you, Edie. I’m afraid I don’t have the ring yet – my fiancé is having it altered. His grandmother’s fingers were larger than mine,’ she explained as she looked down at the slim fingers of her left hand, thinking back to the moment Ben had slipped the ring on after formally proposing.

  ‘You mean it’s second-hand, Miss? I’d have thought a posh bloke like him could have afforded to buy you something new,’ Edie said, giving her a pitying look. ‘When my sister got engaged to her chap, she had a new ring, and he’s only a corporal.’

  ‘You are a silly child,’ a familiar voice said from behind Rose. ‘Do you not know that Captain Benjamin is a man who comes from the landed gentry of England? What our Miss Neville is to be wearing on her finger will be an ancient heirloom,’ Anya Polinski reprimanded the girl. ‘Show some respect to our manageress,’ she added with a dismissive sniff, looking down her nose at the younger woman – something that was easily done, since Anya stood a head taller than most of the staff in the teashop.

  The younger staff members were unsure of their Polish colleague, who always carried an air of authority even though she was just like them, albeit a ‘Sally’ who looked after the front counter of the Lyons teashop, where she served customers with all manner of goods. The older staff found her helpful and knowledgeable, although they too were in awe of the woman who’d left her homeland and come all the way to Thanet in search of her pilot husband, Henio. When the couple had been reunited, more than one Nippy had been heard to sigh at the romance of it, remarking that Anya’s life was straight out of an edition of The People’s Friend.

  Rose clapped her hands together to gain the attention of the other Nippies and Sallys. ‘Ladies, we have but fifteen minutes before the doors open to our customers,’ she said with a smile, before taking a look at the notes in her hand. ‘I would like to inspect your uniforms first, and then I will give you some news about a few staff changes that will affect our work here at the Margate teashop while I’m away in London. I trust you all to carry on your hard work while I’m absent.’

  This was met with excited chatter and nods of agreement before a hush fell as Rose walked along the line of Nippies, checking their black uniform dresses, white cuffs and collars were clean. ‘Annie, your hem is coming down. You will find thread and needles in the drawer,’ she instructed a newer Nippy, nodding towards the large table where the staff sat while taking breaks for their meals. ‘There is also red thread, for any of you who have loose pearl buttons,’ she added as many of the women ran their hands down the fronts of their dresses, where two neat rows of white pearl buttons ran from their collars to the waistbands of their crisp white aprons.

  ‘Please, Miss Neville, I have a ladder in my stocking. If there is time, may I change it? I didn’t notice until I was on my way to work,’ an older Nippy asked.

  ‘Most certainly you may.’ Rose smiled, pleased that her team took such pride in their appearance. She’d not found one dirty fingernail, and each worker had clean, shiny hair underneath the white starched caps bearing the Lyons badge. Rose made a point of supplying soap, towels and brushes for them to scrub their nails and have a wash at the teashop, in case they hadn’t been able to do so at home. Since the terrible bombings only weeks earlier, she had made it her mission for each member of her staff to be able to wash, wear a clean uniform and have a filling meal inside her, so that they could all go home to their families and face whatever the Germans next threw at them. She knew some of the staff had been made homeless and were relying on family and friends to put them up while they found alternative accommodation; others continued to live in their bomb-damaged homes.

  Rose shuddered as she thought back to the day of the bombings. Most of the townsfolk in her hometown of Ramsgate had taken refuge below ground, in the tunnels, which had certainly saved many lives. In Margate, residents were not so lucky – they didn’t have a warren of tunnels beneath their town. Fortunately, the bombing had not been so fierce these past couple of days.

  ‘I need to supervise the delivery man,’ Anya said, as banging was heard at the back door of the teashop. ‘Yesterday he forgot my bloomers,’ she muttered, looking surprised as all about her started to titter. ‘You English, you act so strange; I will never understand you,’ she huffed as she left them to their meeting.

  Rose tried not to join in with the laughter, even though she found her friend’s words as funny as her staff had. Anya seemed tetchy these past few days, she thought. She must try to find time to talk with her before heading off to London. At least there she would be free of the bombing that had ravaged
Thanet in past weeks. With Ramsgate being one of the closest points to France, and Manston airport nearby, the seaside town was in more danger than the capital. Rose had spent many a long hour stuck, along with her friend Katie, in the tiny Anderson shelter in the garden of Captain’s Cottage, their home in Broadstairs.

  ‘All seems in order,’ Rose smiled at her staff, before glancing up at the large round clock on the wall. ‘Time to go to your workstations. But before you leave, may I remind you all that my office door is always open? I’m here to listen if you have a problem. We live in dangerous times, and we need to look out for each other. This teashop is not just a place of work but also, I like to think, a place where friends help each other and we can share our problems.’ With that, she nodded for them all to go about their daily duties.

  ‘Miss, would you like your tea tray now, or when Mr Grant gets here?’ Edie asked.

  ‘Perhaps when Mr Grant arrives. And can you put a little something on a plate for him? He is bound to be hungry,’ Rose said. The area manager was always ready for a bite to eat, whatever the time of day. ‘If we happen to have any iced buns in with today’s delivery, I’m sure he would enjoy one of those too,’ she added. Walking back to her small office, tucked away at the back of the teashop, she reflected that it would be a good idea to keep her boss happy. She had a special request to make, and wasn’t sure how he would take it – especially what with there being so many disruptions to the teashops in Thanet owing to the constant bombing.

  At least it was quiet today, she thought, as she sat down to make a list of jobs that required doing in the seafront teashop that day. Her first priority would be to show the new staff how to place the wooden shutters on the shop windows each night once the business closed for the evening. Since the shutters had been delivered, Rose was thankful they didn’t arrive for work to find broken windows, which left looters able to steal from the premises. Thankfully they’d not been targeted so far, unlike some other shops in the same parade. Oh, and there was the issue of the Nippies not always wearing their gas masks while they worked, she recalled. It was easy enough for them to fix the masks to the belts at the back of their uniforms, but even so, some forgot. She sighed as she thought about how her daily duties had changed since Hitler had decided to target Thanet. For all their suffering, the people of Kent had kept smiles on their faces and gone about their day-to-day lives, not letting the enemy break their spirit; they were made of sterner stuff, of that she was sure. She liked to think that her Margate teashop brought a small measure of normality to everyone’s life. As long as supplies could be transported across Kent from their London base, and as long as the rationing now imposed on households did not affect the teashops, there would be a cup of tea and a bite to eat for whoever came through her door.