A Gift From Woolworths Page 2

  Sarah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt so far removed from the world around her; a world that no longer included her mum. In the weeks since she’d heard the news of so many poor souls losing their lives when a V2 rocket had landed on a Woolworths store in southeast London, she’d done her best to blot out anything not remotely close to her family. Instead she’d kept her daughter close to her and insisted Alan stay by her side, although he’d returned to his work with the RAF regardless of her insistence. If anything were to happen, then they’d either survive together or perish together. No one would be left to feel this empty nagging that had eaten away at her soul since that fateful day in November 1944. Her thoughts were blotted out for a while until a pain so intense she thought it would rip her insides out subsided and the sweat that drenched her body, and stung her eyes through her closed lids, was wiped away by someone close by. She felt peace flow through her, but knew that from somewhere deep inside the pain and devastation of what had happened would join forces with the child waiting to be born, and she’d be dragged back to face the past and her future – a future without her mum.

  ‘This way,’ Ruby said as she ushered the ageing doctor up the stairs ahead of her, trying at the same time to fight the urge to gasp for air. Some things were just too important to stop and think about breathing. ‘She’s been like this for most of the night now, and as her first kiddie came so quick like, we thought it best to call you. I’m sorry to have interrupted your breakfast,’ she added, noticing the toast crumbs in the doctor’s bushy beard.

  ‘I’m not surprised at all, considering Mrs Gilbert’s distress after losing her mother. Some women are prone to melancholy, and this will be having an effect on her giving birth,’ he said over his shoulder as he reached the top of the staircase and entered the bedroom.

  Ruby frowned. She’d heard some things in her time, but this took the biscuit. Usually a baby came into the world regardless of what was happening on the outside. She had no time for fanciful words. She’d be keeping an eye on this man and his Victorian attitude.

  ‘She’s been out for the count almost since you left,’ Maisie whispered to Ruby as the older woman stood by her side just inside the bedroom door. ‘I’m not sure she understood what I told her about Irene, so I don’t think it will give her any great comfort. Who’s this chap?’ She nodded to where the doctor had pulled back the sheets and was starting to prod Sarah’s stomach and mutter to himself.

  ‘It’s Doctor Gregg’s father. He came out of retirement when his son joined the army. I’ve not had much call to visit him, but I’ve heard he can be rough-handed and a little old-fashioned in his attitude,’ Ruby whispered.

  ‘Will you two women stop your infernal yapping,’ the doctor growled without turning round. ‘Now, one of you go and put the kettle on.’

  ‘What are you going ter do?’ Maisie asked somewhat fearfully. She knew some of what went on in hospitals, and didn’t wish to see any of it happening in her best friend’s bedroom.

  ‘I would like a cup of tea, if it’s not too much bother?’ He glared back at Maisie through bushy eyebrows that seemed to have a life of their own. ‘This woman disturbed my meal with her panicking.’

  ‘What about Sarah . . . I mean Mrs Gilbert?’

  The doctor shrugged his shoulders as he snapped closed the brown leather case he’d left on the bottom of the bed. ‘Hysteria. The woman has got herself into a hysterical state for nothing. I suggest a cold bed bath will bring her to her senses and speed up the delivery of the child. Now, lead me down to this cup of tea please.’

  As the doctor followed an extremely worried Ruby back downstairs, Maisie went over to Sarah and straightened her nightgown before pulling up the bedclothes.

  ‘Don’t listen ter the silly bugger, Sarah. I promised yer mum I’d take care of you, and take care of you I will.’

  Sarah’s eyelids fluttered for a moment before she muttered her mum’s name and fell back into a fitful sleep.

  Maisie wiped a fresh sheen of sweat from her friend’s hot face as Ruby reappeared. ‘That was quick.’

  Ruby was red in the face, and it wasn’t from climbing the staircase. ‘I gave him his money and showed him the door. God help any woman who goes to him with a problem. The man’s an idiot,’ she said, leaning down to peer closely at her granddaughter.

  ‘I’m going ter pop out and make a telephone call ter the Hainault maternity home. Hopefully the doctor who saw me through the birth of the twins will be there and can give us some advice. I’d rather do that before calling for an ambulance that would take her straight ter the cottage hospital. Knowing our luck, old Doctor Gregg will be on duty up there too, and I won’t be responsible fer me actions. Sarah may be upset about her mum’s death, but she’s not one fer hysteria. There’s something wrong, and I’m not going ter stand by and watch me friend and her baby die.’

  Gwyneth Jackson knocked on the door of the Woolworths manager’s office, and entered when she heard her boss respond.

  Betty Billington looked up and smiled at the pretty, dark-haired Welshwoman and indicated for her to take a seat. ‘Good morning, Gwyneth. I hope you bring good news about Sarah?’

  ‘Sadly not. I popped into Maureen’s house on my way to work, and she was most upset. Sarah’s having a bad time of things and has been taken up to the Hainault in an ambulance. Ruby and Maisie have gone up there and have promised to let us know as soon as possible. I pray she will be all right.’

  ‘My goodness,’ Betty exclaimed. ‘Who’d have thought that would happen? Why, she gave birth to her Georgina with such ease, even if the circumstances were a little unusual.’

  Gwyneth smiled. She hadn’t been living in Erith when Sarah had her first child back in 1940, but from all accounts it had been rather unusual to say the least. ‘Who knows how these things turn out. I just pray that Sarah will soon have her new baby in her arms, and can look forward to a happier future.’

  ‘I agree. It was such a shock to lose Irene like that. We got on quite well. I for one will miss her.’

  Gwyneth nodded her head, but kept quiet. She’d found Irene Caselton to be a daunting woman, who looked down on her for being a simple shop girl who’d been Ruby Caselton’s lodger before marrying the local police sergeant. On the other hand, Irene’s husband, George, was a delightful man with no airs or graces at all. Thank goodness Sarah had turned out to be more like her dad. ‘She was an admirable woman,’ was all she could think to say out loud.

  Betty allowed a small smile to cross her face. She could see that Gwyneth had struggled with her words. ‘Now, do tell me who is looking after all the little ones while Sarah and Maisie are busy elsewhere?’

  Gwyneth chuckled. ‘Georgina is with her granddad George, which will help keep her mind off things. Bob volunteered, or I should say Ruby sent him, to help David with his brood. He’s up at Maisie’s house, as they have a telephone. I hope you don’t mind but I’ve asked them to keep us informed if anything should happen?’

  ‘Good grief, of course I don’t mind. The Caseltons and Gilberts, and now the Jacksons,’ Betty added, acknowledging Gwyneth’s married status, ‘are very much part of my own extended family. I have no idea what I’d do without you all. Especially now,’ she smiled, placing a hand on her stomach, which was covered by a floral smock she wore with her smart tweed work suit. ‘Sarah and Alan are our main priority right now. Speaking of which . . . ?’

  ‘David has notified Alan’s commanding officer of the situation. Thank goodness Alan isn’t seeing action at the moment, and they will do all they can to keep him informed of any news.’

  Betty nodded her head. She knew Sarah told everyone that Alan taught new intakes how to fly, but secretly she wondered if this was a smokescreen to keep his pregnant wife from worrying.

  ‘Good, I think that accounts for all the family and friends.’

  Gwyneth frowned; surely Betty hadn’t forgotten . . . ‘What about Freda?’

  Betty clapped her hand to her mouth
in horror. ‘How could I have forgotten Freda? Why, those girls are like the three musketeers.’ She glanced at the staff rota pinned to the wall. ‘She’s not due in work until late afternoon. She has a shift with the Fire Service. They’ve been at sixes and sevens since the fire station was bombed, and they’ve moved premises. Perhaps I should make a call to the fire station and ask them to let Freda know of developments?’

  ‘If you like I could run over there now, before I start my duties here?’

  ‘That would make sense. Thank you, Gwyneth,’ Betty said, and all at once the discussion became one of employer and employees rather than women who shared the companionship of the same friends. ‘Please tell Freda not to rush into work until she is ready. We can easily rearrange the rota so she completes her hours for this week.’

  Gwyneth agreed. It often amazed her how Betty could be a friend one moment, laughing and joking at a family celebration, and then the next she was the level-headed manager of the Erith branch of F. W. Woolworths, hiding her emotions behind a stern exterior. Things would soon change once Betty’s own child came into the world.

  Freda rubbed her face and immediately knew she had oil from her motorbike’s engine smudged across her cheek. That would give the men at the Erith fire station something to joke about. She was often the butt of their friendly banter, but lately she’d grown tired of it all and was the first to agree that this had something to do with Sandy McGregor, who’d recently joined the volunteer fire staff. She felt like a schoolgirl whenever he glanced her way, and wanted to die of embarrassment when her cheeks turned scarlet. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had a boyfriend in the past, she thought to herself as she scrubbed at her cheek with a handkerchief. Not that any of her romances had amounted to much.

  ‘You’ve missed some,’ a familiar voice said. ‘Here, let me help you.’

  Freda turned her face to one side as Sandy took the handkerchief and gently wiped her cheek. ‘Thank you,’ she stammered, as he handed back the now grubby cotton square. ‘I’ve seen you about. Are you a new fireman?’ she asked, pretending she hadn’t noticed him around the fire station and overheard the older staff talking about the injury he’d sustained to his leg whilst on the beaches of Dunkirk, although nothing seemed to stop him mucking in with tasks around the station.

  He gave her a gentle smile before holding out his hand and speaking in a soft Scottish accent. ‘I’m Sandy McGregor, a new volunteer.’

  She took his hand and shook it, surprised at how firm it felt. ‘How do you do? I’m Freda Smith. I work at Woolworths and the rest of the time I’m a dispatch rider based at this fire station.’ She didn’t like to say that she already knew his name from hearing idle talk around the station – and that he had returned from the war with a leg injury.

  ‘And you find time to help out at the Brownies and Girls Guides, too,’ he added.

  Freda was puzzled. ‘How do you know that?’

  Sandy laughed. ‘Don’t look so worried. I’ve been a lifelong member of the Boys’ Brigade and decided to offer my support to the troupe at Queen Street Baptist Church while I’m down this end of the country. They mentioned you are a great help to Mrs Missons. Perhaps I’ll see you at the church parade on Sunday?’

  Freda gave him a smile. ‘Yes, I’ll be there. I take it you don’t come from these parts?’

  ‘Is my accent that obvious?’ he laughed. ‘My home is in Edinburgh.’

  ‘I’ve heard it is a beautiful part of the country,’ Freda said, noticing how laughter lines appeared around his eyes when he smiled. ‘You must miss your hometown?’

  ‘I’ve not been back for a while now,’ he added wistfully, looking lost in thought for a few seconds before remembering his manners. ‘Your accent isn’t local either.’

  ‘I’m from Birmingham, but Erith is my home now. There’s nothing left for me in the Midlands anymore,’ Freda answered, reminded of the fact that she no longer had any family back where she was born.

  ‘No young man, then?’

  Freda felt herself start to blush. Was he checking to see if she had a boyfriend? ‘I’m footloose and fancy free, as the saying goes,’ she grinned as she turned back to her motorcycle to collect her jacket, which lay across the seat. ‘How about you?’

  Sandy was quiet for a second or two. ‘I’m the same, so why don’t we take a walk after church and perhaps find somewhere to have a bite to eat?’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Freda said, giving Sandy a shy smile. ‘That’s if you don’t mind taking a walk with someone who is wearing a Tawny Owl uniform?’

  ‘I’d deem it an honour. However, as it is February and the sun is bound not to shine we will have our overcoats to cover any embarrassment,’ he added with a grin.

  Freda was already thinking ahead and thanking God that Maisie had passed a decent forest green woollen coat to her, stating that it would no longer fit around her waist since she gave birth to the twins. She had a passable black felt hat and knitted gloves, so wouldn’t look too badly turned out. ‘Then a walk it shall be. But I’m not sure we’ll find anywhere open to eat, so why not come back to my landlady’s house for dinner? She is always telling me I should invite my friends home. That’s if you don’t mind a noisy house full of people?’ she asked, wondering if she had overstepped the boundaries of their new friendship.

  ‘A house full of people sounds just great,’ Sandy said. ‘That’s if it’s all right with your landlady. I don’t wish to impose.’

  ‘Don’t be daft . . .’ she started to say.

  ‘Oi, McGregor, Smith, stop your bloody billing and cooing and get your backsides in here. There’s work to be done,’ came a man’s voice from an open window of the upper floor of the fire station.

  Freda felt embarrassed to think that the men on duty had been watching her talking to Sandy and thought they’d been . . .

  ‘I’m sorry if you’ve been offended,’ Sandy said, noticing Freda’s look of consternation. ‘I’d hate to think you were embarrassed.’

  Freda forced herself to laugh. ‘It’s fine, honestly. I’ve grown a thick skin working here. You’d be amazed at the things they say at times.’

  He squeezed her arm to reassure her. ‘As long as you are all right? I’ll have a word with the boss if they overstep the mark. It’s not always nice for a young lady to be the butt of their jokes.’

  ‘Honestly, Sandy, I’m fine. It’s nice of you to stick up for me, though,’ she said, turning away from him in case he could see her broad grin. She could tell he really liked her, and if they had been billing and cooing she’d not have minded one little bit.

  Sandy gave her a wink and headed back to the building, while Freda picked up the tools and cleaning clothes from where she’d been working on her motorbike and wheeled the machine into the shed at the side of the building.

  ‘Freda!’

  Freda almost jumped out of her skin as she heard a familiar voice call from the front of the yard. ‘Gwyneth, whatever is wrong?’ she asked as the pretty Welsh woman hurried up to her.

  ‘Betty told me I should come over and let you know that Sarah is having the baby,’ Gwyneth puffed before leaning against the wall and taking a deep breath.

  Freda was concerned by the worried look on Gwyneth’s face. ‘Is there a problem? Sarah was in labour this morning before I left for my shift. I thought she’d have had the baby by now.’

  ‘They’ve taken her up to the Hainault. We don’t know any more than that. Betty wondered if you would go and find out?’ Gwyneth added, looking at the motorbike now parked in the wooden shed.

  ‘It won’t take me long to run up there,’ Freda said, knowing she’d be in deep trouble if she took the motorbike without permission.

  ‘But it’s been an age and no one seems to know what is happening,’ Gwyneth said with a beseeching look.

  ‘Stay there and watch the bike. I don’t want any of the local kids messing with it. I’ll run up and get permission,’ Freda said, knowing she would also have to face the men’s jokes
about her friendship with Sandy. Well, this time she’d stand up to them. Many of them knew Sarah’s family and what they been through in recent months, so they could shut up and be polite for once. If her best friend was in trouble, she wanted to be there by her side as soon as possible.

  2

  Bob Jackson scratched his head. ‘I’ll be blowed if I can tell them apart,’ he said, looking to where David Carlisle held a twin in the crook of each arm. ‘I’ve got to hand it to you, David. You’re a dab hand at caring for those two babies as well as having young Ruby hanging onto your legs. I’d offer to give you a hand, but I’d not know where to start.’

  David roared with laughter, then quickly fell silent as one of the babies stirred. ‘There are subtle differences, but even I took time to notice them. Maisie swears she can tell who is crying from another room in the house, but I’m not that confident to even guess. I just thank God we have a boy and a girl, or goodness knows what I’d be like.’

  Bob peered closely at the contented babies. ‘This one has blonder hair,’ he said, pointing to one who had a few wisps of fair hair sticking out from beneath a pink crocheted bonnet. ‘Is it the girl?’

  David’s mouth twitched as he tried hard not to laugh. ‘Let’s just say that little girls wear pink, shall we?’