The Woolworths Girls Read online

  ‘No, I’ll go with Jack. In fact, can you tell Alan I couldn’t wait and I’ll see him at work?’ Sarah hurried over to the lorry, where Jack was preparing to leave. She wanted to be away from this place and Alan as quickly as possible.

  10

  Ruby got up from her armchair. Whoever was knocking on her front door this late at night would have the paint off the wood if they didn’t stop soon.

  It had been a rum day. Young Freda had been a bag of nerves when she arrived home. Even Maisie didn’t stop long, refusing a meal and saying she had to get herself off home. Freda played with the sliced meat and boiled potatoes, pushing them around her plate until Ruby had asked what was ailing her. You could have knocked her down with a feather when Freda blurted out that she was moving out. The girl was almost in tears. Ruby gave her a hug and told her she was free to do whatever she wanted. She reassured her that there was always a place for her in the Caselton home, and if she didn’t come round for her dinner at least twice each week, Ruby would go find her.

  Freda had calmed down after that and told Ruby all about Mrs White and the basement rooms. Ruby remembered the White family and knew that Freda would be in safe hands. She still had a nagging fear that Freda was hiding something, but all the time she was friends with Sarah and Maisie, she knew there were people looking out for the girl.

  They were washing up when Sarah came into the kitchen.

  ‘Did you have a lovely day?’ Ruby asked. ‘Is Alan not with you?’ She thought Sarah looked tired, and her eyes were puffy. No doubt that motorbike had something to do with it.

  ‘No. I think I’ll have an early night. I’ve a bit of a headache.’

  ‘Wait for me and I’ll come up and tell you about my new digs,’ Freda said, completely forgetting that Sarah knew nothing of her looking for a new home.

  Sarah blinked. ‘You’re moving out?’

  ‘Yes, at the weekend, but it’s not far away.’ Freda was full of excitement and oblivious to the look on her friend’s face.

  Sarah started to cry and ran from the room. Freda went to follow.

  ‘Leave her, Freda. I don’t think it’s you she’s upset about.’

  ‘Oh no, I hope she hasn’t broken up with Alan. They are such a perfect couple. Just like Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy in Rose Marie,’ Freda sighed.

  ‘Oh, you and your movie stars,’ Ruby laughed.

  As Ruby pulled back the bolt on the front door, she thought there was never a dull moment at number thirteen these days. ‘Why, Alan, whatever brings you out so late?’

  Alan stood on the doorstep looking worried. ‘Is Sarah home?’

  ‘Course she is, lad, and safely tucked up in her bed.’ Ruby peered at his face. ‘Didn’t you bring her home?’

  Alan looked sheepish. ‘No, I couldn’t find her at the airfield after I landed the plane I’d been flying. It was ages before someone told me she’d made her own way home. Then I got a puncture and had to push my bike the last couple of miles. All the while I’ve been worried about Sarah, so I’ve come to see if she is OK.’

  Ruby wouldn’t tell him that Sarah had taken to her bed in floods of tears. Whatever they’d fallen out about would soon be mended, and they didn’t want an old woman poking her nose into their business. Sarah would talk to her soon enough if she wanted a shoulder to cry on.

  ‘Can I see Sarah, Mrs Caselton? I really need to speak to her.’

  ‘Lad, it’s gone nine o’clock. Leave it until the morning when you see her at work. You look fair done in. Best you both sleep on whatever has happened.’

  Alan turned away. ‘I suppose you’re right. Sorry to be bothering you so late in the evening.’

  ‘It’s no bother, lad. No bother at all.’

  As Ruby slid the bolt back in place, then turned off the hall light, she hoped that all was well between her granddaughter and Alan. They were well suited, and Ruby thought again that Sarah could do a lot worse than settle down with Alan.

  Sarah gazed at Mr Benfield. She was aware that all eyes were on her but had no recollection of what he had said. She’d been miles away, thinking of Alan and what had happened at the airfield two days previously. She could hear some of the Woolies girls tittering at her confusion.

  ‘Stirrup pump, you dozy cow,’ Maisie hissed, causing female staff nearby to giggle again. ‘He asked you to pass the bloody stirrup pump to me.’

  Sarah pulled herself together and handed the contraption to Maisie, who held it at arm’s length as if it was about to bite her. She knew she should stop avoiding Alan and tell him why she’d run away. The shock when she realized that he intended to join the Royal Air Force and fly planes still made her sick every time she thought of it. She didn’t want a future in which she feared that every knock on the door would tell her he had crashed. She couldn’t think of him so high in the sky when he could be safely on the ground working at Woolworths and by her side. If the threat of war, which seemed to get more real every day if the newspapers were to be believed, became reality, then the thought he could be killed in action was unbearable. No, she would tell him that if he joined the RAF, they were through. If he loved her, he wouldn’t do such a thing and then their lives would be back to normal. Pleased that she’d made a decision, Sarah turned her mind to what was happening in front of her.

  ‘Ladies, please, pay attention. We only have half an hour before we have to open our doors to customers. Head office want us to make use of the late opening time to be aware of how to put out a fire, if one should start during working hours.’

  ‘And the only way that’s going to ’appen is if someone doesn’t put out their dog ends properly in the sand bucket,’ Maisie muttered. She was enjoying the break from selling cups and saucers to the customers and unpacking the patterned dinner plates that nestled among straw in the large packing cases. Each had to be polished and displayed on the mahogany counters. Maisie liked to see her counter presented to perfection and would mutter angrily when customers wanted something from the bottom of her carefully arranged crockery.

  Mr Benfield clapped his hands. ‘Now, ladies . . . and gents,’ he added as he spotted Alan and a couple of the warehouse men standing at the back of the crowd of shop staff, ‘for this exercise, we will not add water to the bucket but will carry out the full procedure with the aid of Mrs Taylor, Miss Smith and Miss Caselton. Ladies, if you will proceed, please, but don’t forget the first warning.’

  Freda stepped forward swinging a large bell in both hands. ‘Fire, fire,’ she shouted. ‘Fire, fire.’ Passing the bell to a colleague nearby, she next pretended to pour water from a row of jugs into the metal fire bucket, all the time fighting hard to keep a straight face. She stepped back and bowed as her colleagues gave her a round of applause.

  It was then Maisie’s turn. ‘Stand back, folks.’ She rolled up the sleeves of her overall and placed the stirrup pump into the bucket. ‘Ready, Miss Caselton?’ she enquired primly.

  Sarah lifted the hosepipe attached to the pump and aimed it at a pile of kindling Mr Benfield had placed on the polished wooden floor. It was supposed to denote a roaring fire. ‘Ready when you are, Mrs Taylor.’

  Maisie, much to the mirth of her colleagues, pumped the contraption up and down as if her life depended on it. She stopped to mop her brow as Freda stepped forward to add more water to the bucket. ‘Bleedin’ ’ell, this is too much like ’ard work. How long are we supposed to keep this lark up, Mr Benfield?’

  Mr Benfield tried not to smile. ‘Until the fire is out, Mrs Taylor, or until the fire department arrive. I must say you’ve done an admirable job. Step down, ladies, and we will move on to the rear of the store. Follow me, staff.’ He waved his arm and the Woolies staff obediently followed. Sarah, Maisie and Freda stayed behind to tidy the area.

  ‘Do you think we’ll really have to put fires out?’ Freda asked.

  ‘Seems a bit far-fetched to me,’ Maisie said, rolling down her sleeves and fastening the cuffs. ‘Probably just the big shots at head office wor
rying over all the talk of war and thinking that their precious shops will burn to the ground.’

  Sarah was thoughtful. ‘I’m not so sure. Everything seems to be heading that way, and I’m beginning to believe it.’

  Freda nodded her head. ‘That Mr Hitler seems a bad sort. There was something in the paper the other day about him invading some country or other and making nasty speeches.’

  ‘What country? The mother-in-law won’t have the wireless on indoors, so I’ve not heard any news lately. We’ll ’ave to rely on you to keep us up to date, Freda!’ Maisie said as she checked her face in a mirror on a nearby counter. ‘What else did the news report say?’

  ‘I don’t know. It was the wrapping on my chips and I didn’t have the rest of the page.’

  Maisie hooted with laughter. ‘You’ll just have to eat more chips. Speaking of which, I could go for a bag of chips for me dinner. What do you say, Sarah?’

  Sarah shrugged. ‘I’m not really that hungry, and I’m sure Nan will’ve cooked dinner, so I’d best say no. Why not join us, Maisie? Joe too if he’s not working.’

  ‘Ta. I’ll take you up on the offer. Joe’s on a night shift. Gawd knows how I’ll ever get pregnant with the both of us working opposite shifts.’

  Sarah blushed. As much as she loved her friend, her language could be ripe at times. ‘Look out – here comes Mr Benfield. We’d better get to work.’

  At that moment the bells rang and Sarah turned to see Alan opening the shop doors to let in the customers who’d been waiting patiently on the doorstep.

  ‘Miss Caselton, you may as well take your tea break. We must be more organized if these fire drills are to be a regular occurrence.’ Mr Benfield walked away checking his watch and muttering to himself, not listening as Sarah replied that she could wait until the later tea break. The last thing she wanted to do was bump into Alan right now. Even though she’d made up her mind about their future, if there was to be a future, she wasn’t ready to talk about it on her break. She looked around. He seemed to have vanished, so perhaps she could slip upstairs to the staff canteen if she was quick.

  Sarah had just reached the top of the stairs and was heading towards the canteen when Alan stepped forward from a side room. ‘Alan, you made me jump!’

  Alan looked as though he hadn’t slept in a week. His skin was grey, and there were shadows under his eyes. ‘Sarah, I need to speak to you.’

  Sarah pulled away as he reached out to hold her hand. ‘Not now, Alan. Work is not the place to talk about something so serious.’

  ‘Where is the right place, and why have you been avoiding me? It’s been two days since you left me at the airfield. I’m at a loss to know what has happened. Even your nan couldn’t tell me.’

  ‘Nan? When did you speak to her?’ Sarah hadn’t told Ruby about what happened on Sunday, although she’d seen Ruby looking at her a few times in a questioning way.

  ‘I went to your house Sunday evening to see if you were home safe and sound.’

  Sarah couldn’t understand what Alan was telling her. ‘But the message I left – didn’t you get it?’

  He shrugged. ‘Not straight away. I didn’t think to ask if you’d left a message. I looked everywhere for you. Syd said he thought he’d overstepped the mark telling you about my flying plans. He did, but that’s beside the point.’

  ‘But why didn’t you tell me, Alan? You’re a trainee manager with Woolworths. I thought that meant you wanted to stay with the company and one day be a manager with your own store?’

  ‘I do. I am. I mean, well, when the war comes, I can’t stay here. I have a duty. I meant to tell you, but you ran away, and then the bike had a puncture. Oh, it’s such a mess.’ Alan ran his hands through his hair. ‘I’m begging you to let me explain. Please, Sarah?’

  Sarah pushed Alan away from her as he stepped forward to take her in his arms. A sob escaped her lips as she ran blindly down the passage. She turned a corner and bumped into Miss Billington coming out of her office. ‘Oh my. Sarah, whatever is the problem? Come in, child.’

  She put her arm around the now sobbing Sarah and led her into the office, making her sit down before patting her shoulder to comfort her. She locked the door and sat watching until Sarah’s tears subsided. ‘Whatever is the problem, Sarah? Have you been upset by a customer?’

  ‘N-no, it’s Alan. He wants to join the RAF and fight if there’s a war. I can’t let him do that. I just can’t.’ She dissolved into tears again.

  Betty Billington slid her own cup of tea across the desk. ‘Sip this. It will make you feel better.’

  Sarah fumbled in her overall pocket for a handkerchief.

  ‘Here, have this one.’ Betty took a crisp, white lady’s handkerchief from her drawer. ‘It’s clean. I keep a stock of them in case of emergencies.’

  Sarah gave a weak smile and wiped her eyes. ‘Thank you. I’m sorry to be so much trouble.’ She went to get up. ‘I’ll get back to my counter.’

  Betty Billington held up her hand to stop her. ‘No, Sarah. Sit down. I want to know why you are so upset. You say it is Alan?’

  Sarah nodded. ‘Yes, he took me to Gravesend airfield on Sunday and I discovered he intends to join the RAF and . . . and I just can’t bear the thought of him leaving here and being in danger.’ She started to cry again. ‘I’ve decided we should stop seeing each other. I couldn’t bear to lose him. I just need to tell him . . .’

  Betty sat thoughtfully watching Sarah as she sniffed into the tear-dampened handkerchief, before reaching for her handbag. She pulled out a small, worn envelope, taking from it a photograph of a young man in uniform, along with a faded yellow letter. She slid them across the desk. ‘I’ve never shown anyone these before.’

  Sarah picked up the photograph and saw the pain in Betty’s eyes. ‘You knew this young man?’

  ‘He was my fiancé. We’d been courting for a year when he went away to war. He wanted us to marry before he left, but I said it was too soon. We should wait. I was only seventeen. I wanted a proper wedding with a lace gown and a bottom drawer. I’d dreamt about it all my life. With friends that I’d seen marry, I wanted the same.’

  ‘You never married?’ Sarah asked as she picked up the letter and looked at the few lines of writing.

  Betty looked sad. ‘As you can see, we almost made it. I missed him so much that I wrote and told him I’d changed my mind and that when he returned home on leave, I’d marry him. But it was too late. They found the letter after he was killed. So many young men died that day at Ypres. A politician is quoted as saying at the start of the war that the lamps went out all over Europe. For me, they were never to be lit again.’

  Sarah gasped at the horror of what Miss Billington had told her and reread the few words.

  17 August 1917

  My dearest Betty,

  Your words cheered me no end, my darling. When this bloody battle is over, I’ll get leave and we will become man and wife. Buy the ring and I’ll place it on your finger the moment I disembark . . .

  Fondly,

  Charlie

  Sarah could only read those few lines, as the ink had faded, but Charlie’s name could still be seen clearly at the bottom of the page. She looked at Betty. ‘He never came home?’

  Betty took back the photograph and letter, and placed them into the envelope. Holding them close to her heart, she looked Sarah straight in the eyes. ‘What I’m trying to advise you is to grab your happiness while you can. No one knows what’s round the next corner. You love Alan, so accept him for what he is. Don’t question him. Don’t try to change him. Just enjoy what time you do have, whether it be a year or fifty years.’

  Sarah could see the glint of a tear in Betty’s eye.

  Betty held up her right hand. ‘We never walked up the aisle, but I wear the ring my Charlie would have placed on my finger. I may not carry his name, but in my heart I’m Mrs Charlie Mann. It wouldn’t have been right to wear the ring on my left hand, so I keep it safe here until we meet again. I’
m as much a widow as the women who were fortunate enough to marry their beaus. I honour Charlie’s memory by not taking a husband.’

  Sarah knew then that she couldn’t let what happened with Betty and her Charlie happen to her and Alan. Whatever the future brought, she’d be with him. ‘Thank you for sharing such a private part of your life.’

  Betty smiled. ‘Most of the staff think I’m a grumpy old spinster.’ She held up her hand as Sarah went to protest. ‘No doubt that’s how I appear, and it suits me to have people think of me that way. But my life is not that bad. I’m no different to thousands of other women my age. I have my memories.’

  For want of something to do, Sarah lifted the cup to her lips. By this time the tea had cooled.

  Betty stood, slipping the envelope into her pocket. ‘I’ll go fetch us both a fresh cup of tea.’

  ‘I really should go back to my counter.’

  Betty waved at her to stay where she was. ‘Time for that later. Another ten minutes won’t hurt. Pull yourself together. You’ll be making big changes to your life before too long, so best you start with a cup of tea inside you.’

  Sarah smiled. ‘You sound like my nan. She always says the same.’

  ‘Then she’s a sensible woman,’ Betty said as she left the room.

  Sarah wiped her eyes. She must stop this crying. What must her boss think of her? She noticed a small mirror on the wall and went to check her face. Her eyes were red from crying, and her nose was beginning to match. If she were Maisie, she’d have a powder compact and lipstick in her pocket to make some repairs. But she wasn’t. She’d go to the washroom shortly and splash her face with cold water before heading for the shop floor to join her colleagues – they must all be wondering where she’d got to. Once Miss Billington had brought her the cup of tea, that was. She was a decent sort, and next time Sarah heard one of the girls joking about her boss, she’d make sure to hush them up.

  She heard a noise in the hallway. Miss Billington must be trying to open the door. No mean feat with two cups and saucers in her hands. She opened the door, pinning a smile to her face at the same time so that her boss could see that she was getting over her tears. Alan stood there looking anxious.