The Woolworths Girls Read online

  ‘Couldn’t say, love, but beggars can’t be choosers. You need a bed and she’s got one. Can’t say much more than that. Oh, and if you’re looking for work, Woolies are taking on shop girls for the holidays. Get yerself round there this afternoon. I heard some posh-looking tart talking about it when she was in here. Look sharp, though, ’cos I reckon there’ll be loads of girls after jobs there.’

  Freda beamed at the woman. ‘Thank you. Is Woolworths the best place to work in Erith?’

  ‘Nah, you’ll be wanting Hedley Mitchell for the best shop jobs.’ She looked Freda up and down. ‘But they’re fussy who they take on.’

  Freda grinned to herself as she tucked into her breakfast. That’d certainly put her in her place.

  2

  Sarah stood nervously fiddling with the gold chain at her throat. She was inside Woolworths, but what should she do next? Up ahead was a double door, while to the side was a smaller one. Which, she thought, led into the shop? Seconds later the outside door banged open again as two young women appeared in the long corridor. The taller of the two appeared to have stepped straight from a cinema screen. Sarah admired her stylish outfit. Why ever was she here? She had a perfect coiffure with not a hair out of place, and her eyebrows were pencilled so evenly. Sarah just stared. A fox-fur collar topped an elegant coat that must have cost a fortune. Sarah automatically felt gauche and young in her best Sunday coat. A waft of perfume invaded the space between them. Sarah inhaled deeply.

  ‘Is that Chanel?’ she asked. She recognized her mum’s favourite scent but was surprised to find someone entering the staff door of Woolworths wearing such an expensive perfume, and in the daytime too. An exotic perfume like that was only worn by people with money, and even then very sparingly. She knew this well because her mum would often tell anyone who commented on her fragrance.

  The woman nodded. ‘Lovely, isn’t it? My old man picks it up fer me. He works on the docks. I’ll get you a bottle if you want?’ She gave Sarah a broad wink. ‘Keep it under yer hat.’

  Sarah was surprised to hear the broad local accent come from someone she assumed had just stepped off a ship from America.

  ‘Is this where we go see about a job?’

  Sarah nodded. ‘It’s just up the corridor. Some other girls went through there just now. I would think that’s where we have to go.’ She couldn’t quite believe that this stylish woman wanted to work for Woolworths.

  ‘What about you, ducks? Are you here fer a job as well?’ the woman asked the girl who had entered the building behind her as she tidied her fox fur and patted its head.

  The younger girl nodded shyly. She looked that frightened she might just turn round and flee. ‘Yes, if they’ll have me,’ she whispered.

  ‘Well, all this chatter won’t knit the baby a bonnet – let’s go get ourselves a job,’ the older woman declared, marching ahead of them.

  Sarah gave the younger girl a smile. ‘My name’s Sarah. Do you come from around here?’

  The girl shook her head so violently she had to grasp her brown knitted beret as it slid to one side of her head, allowing the mousy-brown hair to escape from underneath. Sarah noticed that her hair was none too clean, and her clothes were on the shabby side. ‘No, I’ve just moved here. On my own,’ she added quickly. ‘I’ve done my best to get ready for this interview, but my lodgings don’t have any hot water. My name’s Freda,’ she added.

  Sarah wanted to hug the girl. She looked so afraid and far too thin. ‘You look lovely, Freda. I do like your hat. Did you knit it yourself?’

  Freda nodded. ‘I like to knit.’

  ‘Well, perhaps they’ll put you on the knitting-wool counter. Wouldn’t that be something?’

  Freda beamed. ‘I never thought of that. I just want a job. I didn’t think about what they’d give us to do.’

  A shrill whistle came from the other end of the long corridor. ‘Oi, you two. Are you coming or not?’

  Sarah linked her arm through Freda’s and the girls giggled together as they headed towards the staff door. ‘It’s going to be a laugh a minute working with her.’

  ‘She’s ever so smart. Just like a movie star,’ Freda said in awe. ‘I’ve never seen anyone dress so posh before.’

  ‘I doubt she is, though, especially not here in Erith and her wanting to work in Woolworths. It’ll be fun finding out, won’t it?’

  ‘Here comes the new intake. Chop, chop, girls, or “Bossy” Billington will have your guts for garters.’ A short, ginger-haired lad in a brown warehouse coat that almost met the floor smirked as he lifted a large broom and swept around the legs of the young women waiting to be interviewed. This caused Sarah to step smartly to one side before she had her freshly polished shoes covered in dust. She tutted in disapproval.

  Another lad in a matching coat punched him on the shoulder. ‘Leave it out, Ginger. You’ll frighten the poor girls away before they’ve signed on the dotted line.’ He turned to face Sarah and smiled at her. ‘Are you looking for Miss Billington’s office?’

  Sarah nodded. She had to admit Ginger’s taunts were not helping settle the butterflies in her stomach. She felt extremely nervous. ‘Yes, I am.’ She looked along the row at the other six girls. ‘I think we all are.’

  ‘I’ll show you or you’ll never find your way. Ginger, you’re in charge of the broom until I get back.’ The tall, fair-haired lad seemed to have an air of authority about him, as Ginger immediately took the proffered broom and set about sweeping the dusty floor with gusto.

  Sarah felt relieved to have someone show her the way. The Erith branch of F. W. Woolworth, or Woolies, as it was affectionately known, was a complete warren. ‘Thank you. Everything’s so strange at the moment. Erith is very different to where I used to live.’

  ‘And where might that have been?’ the friendly lad asked as he led the young women towards the office.

  Sarah looked sideways at him. He stood a head taller than her and had a twinkle in his blue eyes. His mop of unruly blond hair looked as though it would never behave. He seemed nice enough. ‘Devon. I moved here to live with my nan. My parents originally came from around here, and my nan’s lived here all her life.’

  ‘That’s near enough to make you a local, then,’ he said, indicating that they’d reached their destination, and held out his hand. ‘I’m Alan, by the way. Alan Gilbert, trainee manager. Welcome to Woolworths.’

  Sarah took his hand and was immediately shaken by the warmth and strength that resonated from such a simple welcome. He held her hand for just a second too long. My goodness, she thought, I must be nervous if a simple handshake can affect me like this. ‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Sarah Caselton,’ she stuttered, looking up into his eyes.

  ‘So, Sarah, do you have family working here?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, not now. My mum and my aunt both worked at the Dartford branch when they were my age. I only found that out when I told Nan I had an interview. I don’t know very much about the company. It seems like a nice place to work, though,’ she added as an afterthought. Sarah was keen to make a good impression, and with Alan being a trainee manager, she didn’t wish to start off on the wrong foot with someone who might one day become her boss. ‘I’ve just been told about when everything used to cost sixpence. Did you know that?’

  Alan laughed. ‘I thought everyone knew that! We still sell a lot of stuff for sixpence,’ he added with a grin.

  Alan knocked on the door of the office, opening it as he did so, and announced, ‘The new intake are here, Miss Billington.’ Smiling at Sarah, he squeezed her arm. ‘Good luck, Sixpenny. I’ll see you later,’ he whispered so only she could hear him before heading back towards the warehouse.

  Sarah blushed. She was quite taken with Alan and could still feel the pressure of his hand on her arm, but pushed all thought of the young man from her mind as along with the other six girls she was called into the personnel office.

  It was a tight fit. Sarah found herself wedged between a large metal safe and a f
iling cabinet alongside Freda. She hoped that Miss Billington would take her on. Glancing along the row of hopeful women, she wondered how many of them had enough experience to fill the vacancies. Sarah knew her own experience was minimal. Helping out in the village post office and general shop didn’t seem enough. She felt very much out of her depth.

  Miss Billington glanced at a list of names in front of her. ‘Welcome, ladies. First I’d like you to complete an application form and sit a short arithmetic test. Miss Freda Smith?’

  Freda held up her hand and took the proffered form and pencil, whispering a thank you as her eyes widened at the number of questions in front of her.

  ‘Mrs Maisie Taylor?’

  The fashionably dressed woman nodded and held out her gloved hand for the paperwork.

  Sarah glanced at Freda and they both grinned. She had a normal name. A cough from the personnel lady had them looking down within seconds. It was just like being back at school, Sarah thought.

  ‘That’s me, ducks. You can drop the “Mrs” and call me Maisie; I ain’t one for long names. And Mrs Taylor’s me mother-in-law.’ She laughed at her own joke.

  Sarah chewed on the inside of her cheek so that she didn’t laugh out loud at Maisie’s joke too. She seemed to be a barrel of laughs and wouldn’t take much notice of anyone in authority.

  Miss Billington peered over the top of her spectacles, silencing any further remarks Maisie may have had. ‘Here, you will be known as Mrs Taylor. I expect a certain respect among my staff, and I don’t allow smoking in my office,’ Miss Billington added as Maisie took a packet of Camel cigarettes from her handbag.

  ‘OK, ducks.’

  ‘My name is Miss Billington. Please remember that.’

  ‘OK, ducks— er, Miss Billington,’ the affable Maisie replied.

  The personnel officer stared hard at Maisie. Sarah wondered if this meant that Maisie wouldn’t be an employee at Woolworths. With seven applicants, surely there wouldn’t be enough jobs?

  Sarah was given her forms along with the other girls.

  ‘I’ll take you all through to the staff canteen while I leave you to complete your applications. I have to attend to an urgent staffing matter.’ She looked at her wristwatch. ‘I’ll be back in half an hour. We can discuss your duties then.’

  ‘So we all have jobs?’ Freda asked hopefully.

  Miss Billington turned to look at the young girl standing before her. She was aware that many of the applicants in front of her had responsibilities and needed to take home a wage packet. However, she required staff who would work hard for the company and not need watching every five minutes. ‘There are three vacancies. Whoever is taken on will have to work a one-month trial. It does depend on how you complete the arithmetic test. We have just three weeks until Christmas, our busiest time of the year. We’re short-staffed. I require three extra workers on the shop floor by tomorrow morning. I hope I will find suitable candidates among you.’ She glanced at Maisie and sighed.

  The three girls found a table away from the others and pulled off their coats. The room was warm. The windows were steamed up from the kitchen area, which was behind a counter, and the smell of baking made Sarah’s stomach rumble. She had been too nervous to eat the sandwich Nan had made for her lunch.

  The girls scrutinized the paperwork in front of them.

  Maisie chewed the end of her pencil. ‘At least I know how to spell my name.’ She was thinking that she’d blown any chance of obtaining one of the three available vacancies. She’d always been one who ‘dressed to impress’, but perhaps this time she’d gone a little over the top. It was obvious that Miss Billington didn’t approve of her outfit, or the way she spoke. She glanced at the two younger women sitting with her. The one called Freda looked as though she was down on her luck. The sleeves of her shabby coat were a little too short and worn threadbare at the cuffs. She reminded her very much of her little sister, Tessa, after . . . Maisie shuddered. No use in dragging up sad memories. She had a new husband and a new life now. No point in looking backwards. However, she’d make it her job to look out for the kid. That wouldn’t hurt anyone.

  She peered closer at the form in front of her. ‘Blimey, I didn’t realize that we’d ’ave to be so blooming clever just to work in a shop.’

  Sarah giggled to herself. ‘Woolworths expect their staff to be able to count and do basic arithmetic, as we have to add up and give the correct change. It said so in the advertisement in the newspaper.’

  ‘I didn’t see no newspaper,’ Freda chirped up. ‘Someone told me about the interviews. I’ve helped out on market stalls since I was knee-high to a grasshopper and can add up anything in my head and give the right change. I just don’t know what to put on the paper here.’

  ‘It’s the same for me, ducks. I’m a dab ’and with adding up darts scores and serving behind a bar, as well as charging the right price for a round of drinks, but all this paperwork near on does me ’ead in.’

  Sarah thought for a moment. ‘Look, why don’t I call out the questions and you both tell me the answers? Then I can show you how to write them down correctly.’

  Freda beamed. ‘Would you really do that for us? I’d be ever so grateful.’

  ‘Me too,’ Maisie added. ‘Cheers, love. I owe you one.’

  The girls spent the next ten minutes adding up pounds, shillings and pence, and working out change from ten-bob and one-pound notes. Sarah was pleased to see that her idea worked well, and before they’d reached the last sum, both Maisie and Freda were writing down their own answers on the sheets of paper.

  They were still poring over the application form when Freda let out a big sigh that made Sarah look up from checking she’d completed the form correctly.

  ‘What’s up? You sound as though you’ve got the cares of the world on your shoulders.’

  ‘I have a problem with this bit that asks for references. You see, I don’t have any.’ Freda rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand as tears started to form. ‘I really need this job. I don’t know what to do,’ she sniffed.

  Sarah squeezed the young girl’s arm. She was skin and bones under her thin cardigan. ‘I’m sure we can think of something. Where did you work before you came to Erith?’

  Freda shuddered. The last thing she wanted to do was tell these nice girls about her life. It was best she kept her secret. She needed a job to pay for her lodgings even if it wasn’t for too long; besides, she liked this town, with its grand-looking High Street full of shops and the streets of Victorian houses. While getting on the train at London, she’d spotted a poster advertising trips to the seaside. Freda had never seen the sea, so if she was still here come the summer, she’d make sure she treated herself to a day out.

  ‘I’d rather not say. I lived in the Midlands and wanted to come here for a fresh start. If I put my parents’ address on the form, my stepfather will more than likely come and drag me back home. Even if I put that I sometimes helped out in the market, it might get back to them, as the stallholders see them most days.’

  ‘Why did you come to Erith? Do you have family here?’ Sarah enquired. Surely no one came to Erith out of choice? It wasn’t as if it was anyplace special. She loved Erith, as it was where Nan grew up and her roots were here, but would a stranger love it as much?

  ‘No, I’m quite alone. I decided it was as good a place as any.’ Freda twisted the pencil between her fingers, knowing she’d have to get used to such questions if she was to make a life for herself in Erith. She’d never let on that she was here for a reason.

  Maisie raised her eyebrows. She could tell the kid was not telling the truth. Her gut reaction was usually right. This girl was running from something or other. ‘Look, ducks, it’s not fer me to say, but I doubt whether old fussy knickers will follow up our references. Didn’t she say she’s run off her feet? Chances are that by the time she gets round to checking up on us, we’ll have worked a month’s trial. If she doesn’t like us, we’ll get the boot. If she’s happy with our work,
then she won’t bother following up whatever we write here. Blimey, my references are just a couple of pubs up the East End of London. That’ll impress her no end. Just make up a couple of addresses. You can always say you made a mistake if she asks.’

  Freda looked shocked. ‘A pub? I thought you were posh, what with those lovely clothes and all.’

  Maisie snorted with laughter. ‘What, me, posh? Gawd love you – I’m just ’andy with a needle and thread, that’s all. I admit I like to look good, but posh? Dearie me.’ She wiped her eyes as she continued to laugh.

  Sarah looked at Maisie in amazement. ‘Why aren’t you working as a dressmaker? There are plenty of factories taking girls on, from what I’ve heard.’ She liked both the girls, but from the little they’d said, their lives were certainly different from her own. Sarah thought she was brave moving to Erith from her comfortable home in Devon and using Nan as the excuse, when in truth she just couldn’t live with her mum’s high expectations for a day longer. Thank goodness her dad had understood.

  Maisie shook her head. ‘That’s not fer me. I tried it a couple of times, but it’s too much like working in a sweatshop and being bossed around all the time. I like to make what I fancy. Then if it goes wrong, I only ’ave meself to blame.’

  She stuck her pencil behind her ear and leant back in her chair. ‘Now, I could make you two some outfits if you want me to? I brought me Singer with me when we moved in with the in-laws. I’d be only too glad to escape from the old bat and do some sewing. She fair does me head in with all her gossiping. That’s why I wanna job. Get a few bob under our belts so me and the old man can rent our own place before the nippers come along.’

  Freda’s eyes opened wide and she blushed. ‘You’re expecting?’

  ‘Gawd love you. No, not yet, but the way me and the husband are practising, it won’t be long.’

  Sarah didn’t know where to put her eyes. She didn’t wish to insult Maisie by pointing out that she’d never heard people talk like that before. She was so embarrassed. ‘A baby would be lovely,’ was all she could think to reply.