Christmas at Woolworths Read online

  Freda crept as quietly as possible into the ward. Aware that her boots made an awful noise on the polished tiles, she tried to walk on her toes, chewing her lip in consternation at each squeak from the new leather. She was told they would wear in after a few months but at this moment she wished they were much softer – and silent. There were screens around several of the beds and nurses in crisp starched aprons moved from bed to bed settling their patients for the long night ahead. The young nurse stopped to talk with a colleague before leading Freda to a bed further down the ward. ‘Here you are,’ she said, stopping at the foot of a bed. ‘Mrs Maisie Carlisle. I’ll leave you for a few minutes, but remember you can’t stay long.’

  Maisie’s eyes flickered as Freda sat by the bed. Her face was pale with the remains of her make-up smeared across it. It looked as though she’d been crying for a long time. Even her usual perfectly coiffured hair appeared not to have seen a brush for a while. ‘Oh, Freda. I’m so pleased to see you. How did you know we were here?’ she asked as she started to sob.

  ‘It was the postcard you sent to Ruby, where you mentioned you’d be popping into the Canterbury branch, that made me think to look for you. I was sent to Canterbury fire station with some important documents and to tell them we were sending reinforcements from north Kent. Knowing you would be in Woolworths, I set out to find you. If the pair of you hadn’t thought to send that message, I’d not even have thought to check if you’d been in danger. Were you hurt in Woolies? Has the store been damaged? How is Betty?’

  Maisie sniffed into her handkerchief. ‘We never even reached the store. There was an explosion just after we got off the bus. Betty went head over heels as we hurried to the public air-raid shelter. I twisted me ankle trying to ’elp ’er to ’er feet. I’ve ruined me bloody shoes as well as me last pair of decent stockings.’

  Freda smiled. Even in a distressed state Maisie was worried about her clothes.

  ‘Don’t worry about your clothing, at least you are all right – you are all right, aren’t you?’ she added as Maisie’s face crumpled and she began to sob once more.

  Freda held her friend close, gently rocking her and allowing her to cry. Once the heartrending sobs had subsided Freda tried to get her to talk. ‘Please, Maisie, you’ve got to tell me what’s wrong. Is it Betty? Is she seriously injured?’

  ‘Oh, Freda, I really haven’t got a clue,’ Maisie said as she wiped her eyes and gave a small hiccup. ‘I’ve not seen her for such a long time and no one will tell me a dickie bird. But there’s something else . . .’ Large tears formed in her eyes before falling onto her pale cheeks.

  ‘Come on, Maisie, out with it. I can’t help you if you keep crying now, can I?’ Freda begged, unable to stand seeing her friend so distressed.

  ‘I don’t think anyone can ’elp me this time,’ Maisie whispered as she shuddered and even more tears flowed. ‘I think I might have really ’urt myself. The doctors won’t tell me anything and if that’s the case . . . well, David will never forgive me . . .’

  1

  Easter 1942

  Betty Billington shooed the last of her staff out into the darkening night before turning her key in the shiny brass lock to the door of the F. W. Woolworths store. She always found this time of day rather sad. Her staff would be going home to their families and loved ones and no doubt looking forward to two days off work, the next day being Easter Sunday. Sundays used to be full of possibilities. But what did she have to look forward to now? Granted, her friends always included her in their plans and would invite her for a meal, but deep inside she felt as though something was missing. Betty had always planned to have a large family, but the Great War had put paid to that when her fiancé Charlie perished at Ypres in August 1917. They hadn’t made it up the aisle, but Betty considered herself a war widow and remained faithful to her first and only true love. To this day she wore the wedding ring he’d purchased in anticipation of their wedding when he was next on leave on the third finger of her right hand. It had never felt right to wear it on her wedding finger. She would go home to her little house in Cross Street, only a street away from Woolworths in Pier Road, and try to keep herself busy until the store opened on Tuesday morning. Today would have been Charlie’s birthday. She would indulge herself, reflecting upon what might have been and how they’d have celebrated the occasion. Then, she’d do her utmost to pull herself together so she could return to her role as the ever-efficient Woolworths store manager.

  Regardless of the war now being in its third year, there was always something to celebrate or look forward to. Today she’d heard her staff speaking hopefully of the war ending by the Christmas of 1942, now that the Americans were on board. They all seemed to agree that as bad as the bombing of Pearl Harbor had been, the idea of the Yanks joining our lads to fight Hitler, and the Japs, had cheered everyone up no end. Betty thought they were more than a little overoptimistic, but then they all had their dreams to hold on to.

  Waving to the last of her girls as they left Woolworths and set off down Pier Road towards their homes, Betty checked the front of the store, making sure that each set of glass-fronted double doors was securely locked. The Easter display was bright and pretty with fluffy chicks sitting between painted eggshells on nests of straw. It had been young Freda’s idea for the scene and they’d searched high and low for yellow and brown wool to make the fluffy balls that would ultimately become the little chicks. Betty smiled to herself as she recalled the day Freda Smith arrived for an interview back in November 1938 and met Sarah Caselton and the glamorous Maisie. Who’d have thought the three young women would become such good friends, and also include her in their family life?

  Despite the recent bombing of the nearby Thames-side docks that led up from the Kent town of Erith to the port of London, not one window in the popular store had suffered.

  ‘Hey, Betty! Wait for us!’

  Betty turned as she made to cross Pier Road, where the Woolworths store was situated. ‘Why, Sarah, Freda, is there a problem?’

  ‘There will be if you don’t come with us to Nan’s,’ Sarah said breathlessly. ‘She’s made a meat and potato pie.’

  ‘Enough to feed an army. We’ve been sent to invite you for tea. Please say yes or we will be eating it in our sandwiches for the next week,’ Freda begged.

  Betty laughed, all thoughts of her long-lost love forgotten for the moment. ‘I’m interested to know how Ruby came by so much meat,’ she said, raising her eyebrows.

  ‘Goodness, there is little meat in the pie. It’s just that she was busy arguing with Vera from up the road and peeled too many spuds. Not that we wouldn’t have invited you anyway,’ Sarah added quickly in case Betty was insulted. ‘Nan had to add another can of corned beef otherwise it would have been a spud pie,’ she explained.

  ‘I could always donate a can or two of snoek,’ Betty suggested, to which both girls shrieked in horror.

  ‘Please, no!’ Sarah said with a look of distaste. ‘Even if I was starving, I couldn’t eat the stuff. Why, it’s revolting.’

  The girls tucked their arms through Betty’s and set off for Ruby’s home in nearby Alexandra Road with its terrace of Victorian bay-fronted houses that had stood firm through two wars and where the girls were always welcome. It was as they turned the corner into the High Street that Sarah looked back and spotted the man. He stood on the pavement in front of Woolworths, where Betty had stood only minutes earlier and was watching Betty intently. Sarah knew she had seen him before. With a cold chill running the length of her back, she turned away and joined in the chatter about their friend Maisie, who was babysitting Sarah’s adorable daughter, Georgina.

  ‘You say you’ve seen the bloke before?’ Maisie whispered as she dipped her hands into the washing-up water and retrieved a fork, then checked her nails. Maisie wasn’t one for washing up as a rule, but the others were listening to a play on the radio so she’d had no choice but to volunteer after the grand meal Ruby had provided for them all.

  ‘Ye
s, I remembered just now,’ Sarah whispered back. ‘It was in Woolies a couple of days ago. I was helping Betty collect takings from the tills and he was there, at the corner of the haberdashery counter. I called out to Deirdre to serve him. You know how that woman likes to chat. The last thing I wanted was to have to pacify a customer if she wasn’t doing her job. But he walked away and headed for the door. A couple of minutes later I spotted him watching through the window.’

  Maisie snorted with laughter before clapping her hand over her mouth in case the others heard. ‘Come off it. You’re ’aving me on . . . Why, he could ’ave been a normal customer thinking about a purchase. You’ve got too much time on yer ’ands, my girl.’ She snorted again, having adopted one of Ruby’s favourite sayings that she used in jest as her granddaughter, along with her mates, were doing more than their fair share of war work along with their everyday jobs at Woolies.

  ‘I’m serious, Maisie. I really do think that man is watching Betty.’

  ‘So, what can we do about it?’ Maisie asked. She knew better than to joke about something when Sarah looked so serious.

  ‘What’s all this?’ Ruby asked as she entered the kitchen with a pile of cups and saucers on a tray. ‘Anyone would think the pair of you have a secret.’

  Maisie and Sarah looked at each other and Maisie sighed. ‘It’s your idea so you explain to Ruby. I’m not so sure it’s not all in yer ’ead.’

  Ruby frowned. ‘Come on, spit it out then. I haven’t got all day. You can wash these cups and saucers while you talk. Give me the tea towel, Sarah, you won’t dry a thing twiddling it between your fingers. So, what’s the problem?’ Ruby asked as she started to dry a dinner plate.

  Sarah explained how she thought a man in a dark brown overcoat was following Betty and where she had seen him. ‘Do you think we should tell her, Nan?’

  Ruby thought for a moment as she stacked the dry crockery on the shelves of the pine dresser that covered the wall of the small kitchen. ‘I’m not so sure you should say anything at this moment in time.’

  Maisie grinned. ‘See, I told yer she wouldn’t believe you, Sarah.’

  Ruby looked seriously at Maisie. ‘Oh, but I do believe Sarah. I’m more concerned that Betty, living alone as she does, would feel frightened.’

  ‘Perhaps we could lie in wait and catch the man next time we see him?’ Maisie suggested.

  ‘And what if we are wrong? We’d be the ones locked up. Leave it with me. I’m popping over to see Sergeant Jackson later on. I’ve saved him a plate of meat and potato pie. I can ask his opinion while I’m at it.’

  ‘Is Sergeant Jackson’s dad staying with him?’ Maisie asked with a glint in her eye. ‘I heard he was coming back to Erith.’ Maisie nudged Sarah and the pair of them fell into a fit of the giggles.

  Ruby’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink and she puffed herself up to her full height. Even so, she was shorter than the two girls, who were now laughing uncontrollably. ‘Stop it now, the pair of you. I’ve known Bob Jackson far longer than you’ve both been on this earth. He was a good friend of your grandad’s, Sarah, and his son, Sergeant Jackson, went to school with your dad so you can stop all this right now. He’s an honourable man, being a retired policeman, and Mike Jackson is following in his footsteps. There’s no harm in offering a bite to eat to a neighbour, is there?’

  ‘No, Nan,’ Sarah said, trying to keep a straight face.

  Ruby looked from Sarah to Maisie and sighed dramatically. ‘I think I’ll take that food over the road now. I’m probably more welcome over there and won’t get laughed at.’ She opened the door to the stone pantry and lifted down a plate covered in a tea towel. ‘Yes, I’ll go right now and the pair of you can stop your silliness. Sarah, you might want to relieve Miss Billington of young Georgina. The face that kiddy was making just now makes me think she’s filled her nappy.’ She grinned at her granddaughter. ‘Ha, that’s wiped the smile off your face,’ she said, heading for the front door.

  ‘So, what do you think, Mike? Are the girls making a mountain out of a molehill?’ Ruby asked as she watched Mike Jackson and his father, Bob, tuck into the meat and potato pie.

  ‘I’d say be cautious at this time, but until the man has done something wrong the police have nothing to go on.’

  ‘So, you do think it’s something and nothing?’ Ruby said, spooning the last of the pie onto his plate.

  ‘What I think, Mrs Caselton, is that you can’t keep feeding Dad and me all the time. However do you manage, what with rationing being what it is?’

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing illegal, if that’s what you’re thinking, Mike. Corned beef and potatoes with a few vegetables chucked in from my garden and the allotment. In fact, your dad helped grow some of ’em as I’d no idea about growing such things. I’m learning quickly, though,’ she added in case Mike and his dad, Bob, thought she was asking for him to do more. She’d rather fend for herself and wasn’t one to ask for help ordinarily.

  ‘And very tasty it was too, Ruby,’ Bob Jackson said, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. ‘You’ve got to admit, Mike, it’s far better than eating at the police station or down at the Civic Restaurant in Slades Green.’

  ‘You’re right there, Dad,’ Mike agreed. ‘No offence meant, Mrs Caselton, but you’d be surprised what people are up to these days to get more than their fair share of food.’

  ‘None taken, Mike. Now, you must come to tea tomorrow afternoon. Our George and Irene are coming up from Devon. Irene wrote to say they have some news. I’m at a loss to know what it could be. I hope they don’t want to take Sarah and young Georgina back with them. I’d miss them so much. It’s comforting to know they live just around the corner with Alan’s mum, Maureen. If, or rather when, Alan gets called back to his squadron, Sarah will need her family and friends close by her.’

  ‘That would be grand, Ruby. Cheers!’ Bob Jackson replied. ‘Do you think he’ll be called back to duty soon, Ruby?’

  ‘My George reckons it’s on the cards. He can talk to the boy about such things more easily than I can. Our Sarah does get upset at the thought of losing him, after his accident. All we want for little Georgina is her daddy safe and at home. Now Alan’s working out of the Gravesend airfield he is home most nights, which is a blessed relief to us all.’

  ‘He had a nasty scrape, though. What a lucky bugger he is getting off light with just a leg injury. It must have been a worry being stuck on the other side of the Channel for so long. Many haven’t been as fortunate,’ Bob said, getting up to clear the table.

  ‘Sit yourself back down, Bob Jackson, and let your food digest. I’ll put the kettle on when I’ve washed up the plates. That’s if you’ve got time to stop and drink it? I don’t see much of the pair of you these days. I thought you was retired, Bob?’

  ‘No one retires these days, Ruby. Not while there’s a war on. I’ve been busy with the ARP, and I’ve also been helping out down at Erith police station. We still have criminals, even in wartime.’

  Ruby wrinkled her nose in disgust as she headed towards the kitchen. ‘And don’t I know it. If it hadn’t been for your Mike arriving at my house, I could have been bumped off along with half my family and a few of my friends by one of those criminals.’

  Both men roared with laughter. ‘I doubt that very much, Mrs Caselton. You are a force to be reckoned with,’ Mike called back.

  Ruby smiled to herself as she poured hot water from a kettle into an enamel bowl in the sink. She reckoned she was. If only she could get her hands on that Adolf, she’d show him a thing or two.

  Irene Caselton kissed her mother-in-law on both cheeks. ‘Goodness, what a journey we had. I’m thankful we won’t be doing that for much longer. But I’ll leave that news until later,’ she added quickly as she saw the frown appearing on Ruby’s face. ‘Here, I have a little contribution for our tea. A couple of days late but I’m sure they will be welcome.’

  Ruby opened the tin that Irene held out. Inside were a baker’s dozen of hot cross buns. �
�Why, I’ve not seen sight nor sound of these for a year or so. Even Betty hasn’t had any for sale in Woolworths. I shouldn’t ask, but how did you manage to get your hands on these beauties?’

  Irene gave a throaty laugh as she removed her coat and the glossy fox fur from around her neck. ‘It’s nothing illegal, if that’s what you are alluding to. We have a delightful little bakery in a village close to our house and I put in my order long ago just so my granddaughter could enjoy her Easter.’

  ‘That’s good of you, Irene,’ Ruby said. ‘Now, hang your coat up and let’s find you a seat. You’ll find Betty and the girls in the front room playing with your granddaughter. Alan and David seem to have escaped their wives and are in the back garden having a smoke while putting the world to rights.’

  Irene laughed. ‘My George headed straight out there. He likes nothing more than chatting about the war. He more than plays his part working at Vickers all the hours God sends, but I swear he’d love the chance to be flying a plane and taking potshots at the enemy like Alan or working behind the scenes like David. I still can’t understand how Maisie caught the eye of such an important man as David.’

  Ruby shuddered. ‘There are more than enough men in this family laying their lives on the line for our country. Let’s try and keep George’s feet firmly on the ground, shall we, eh?’

  ‘I’m with you there. Now, do you have a plate we can put these hot cross buns on?’

  ‘I can do better than that,’ Ruby said as she bent to open a door in the kitchen dresser. ‘Let’s use my best cake stand. It’s something to celebrate when we have buns for our tea in wartime.’

  ‘I can add something to that,’ a voice piped up from behind Irene, who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. ‘I have real butter and eggs to contribute to the feast.’