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Carols at Woolworths Page 2
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‘Three of the staff have gone to collect parcels from shops in Pier Road so we’re covering until they return. It should only take half an hour, then we will be fully staffed once more,’ Sarah replied politely. Even though Betty was a good friend, it was important that they remain professional at work.
‘Do I take it that the letters to the business owners of Erith have been successful?’
‘Yes, I updated the file on your desk this morning and the traders have been most generous. Apart from two businesses that declined, we’ve been inundated with small items and some have even been wrapped. I was wondering if we should perhaps speak to someone at the Erith Observer newspaper and tell them of the support for the old soldiers?’
Betty patted Sarah’s arm. ‘Well done, Sarah. I know you’ve done the most to make this party successful. Perhaps you could speak to the newspaper and tell them about our party? Take a longer lunch break so you aren’t rushed. Why, they may even send someone along to write about the party and take a photograph.’
Sarah agreed, although she’d make sure the well-known local paper was aware that Betty Billington ran a tight ship and was behind everything that happened in the store. ‘I wondered if we should also notify the New Bond?’
‘I’ve made a note to do just that. It is only right that the Woolworths staff magazine should know what we are up to in our little corner of England. I’ve insisted that someone from the publication attends the party. We all need to know about happy events as it lifts our spirits. There never seems to be good news these days,’ she muttered, walking away from the two friends, who grinned at each other. If only Betty knew Maisie’s secret . . .
‘So what happens if there’s an air raid during the party?’ Ruby’s neighbour Vera Munro asked, as she helped herself to a slice of carrot from the pile Ruby was busy chopping to add to the pie she was preparing for the party. After a long discussion with Maureen Gilbert, the regular cook at the Woolworths staff canteen, and being given the seal of approval by Betty, they’d decided to provide a hot, filling meal for the Woolworths party guests rather than scrape around for ingredients for the usual sandwiches and cakes.
‘We’ll do what we always do when there’s a raid while we’re at Woolies, so don’t you be causing a ruction with your questions when there’s no need,’ Ruby huffed. ‘We’re going to make this a good do regardless of anyone trying to put a dampener on things and anyway, what’s it got to do with you? The last I heard you weren’t on the guest list, not being an old soldier.’
Vera shrugged her shoulders. ‘I was only saying, and for your information I’m classed as “old staff” so I’ll be there. But if I’m not welcome here, I’ll be on my way when I’ve finished this cuppa.’
Ruby looked at the sack of potatoes that still needed to be peeled. Now wasn’t the time to have Vera walk off in one of her huffs. She’d have to put up with her neighbour’s comments if the meal for forty people was to be ready the next evening. ‘I’d completely forgotten you used to work at Woolworths,’ she added with a tight smile. ‘How long was it for?’
‘I worked on the cheese counter for months. My old man didn’t like having a wife who worked, especially one who stank of cheddar when she got home from work every night. He preferred to have his dinner on the table and the fire lit after his shifts,’ she said primly.
‘Most of us managed and had a family to take care of,’ Ruby muttered through clenched teeth. She stretched her aching back. ‘Why don’t you get started on the spuds and I’ll fire up the wireless? There’s a play I’d like to listen to,’ she added pointedly.
Vera eyed the sack of potatoes and frowned. ‘What exactly are you putting into this Woolton pie, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘You’ll be pleased to know that there won’t be a Woolton pie in sight at our party.’ Ruby was glad to put Vera straight. She too was fed up with vegetables being disguised as tempting meals when she knew her extended family would love nothing more than to tuck into a juicy chop or a tasty piece of beef. ‘Thanks to Maisie’s husband having a word with his parents we have minced beef to add to the veg, and with some of us throwing in our ration of fat the government have allocated for this Christmas I’ll be able to make a meat pudding that’ll stick to our ribs.’
Vera grinned with delight. ‘I’d best get peeling then, or you’ll not be finished in time. How are you going to steam them all?’
‘Maureen’s going to do it in the Woolies kitchen tomorrow while she’s making the jelly and custard. Betty pulled a blinder getting head office to find us enough custard powder to go on top of the Chivers jellies.’
‘What about the sugar? There’s no getting that for love nor money.’
‘The custard’ll be sweet enough with the jelly underneath,’ Ruby said, handing Vera a knife and a potato.
‘So, what’ll it be? Birth of the Blues with Bing Crosby or Walt Disney’s Dumbo? I fancy Dumbo, meself,’ Maisie said, as she flicked through the pages of her newspaper.
‘I don’t mind what film we see. It’ll be nice just to sit and not do anything for a few hours,’ Sarah said, stretching her arms above her head and yawning. ‘Wrapping so many presents has been exhausting. Making brown paper parcels look festive has been a hard task,’ she added, looking at the pile of different-sized packages heaped on a table in the corner of the staff canteen. ‘Regardless of how we’ve cut up bits of old Christmas cards and glued them to the parcels, they still don’t look very festive.’
‘I’m sure they’ll be appreciated all the same,’ Freda said, as she leant over to peer at Maisie’s newspaper. ‘My choice of film would be Dumbo too. It’s almost Christmas and I want to laugh at a film and have fun,’ she added, before starting to pick up scraps of paper and pieces of string from the table where they’d been working.
‘Why don’t we go the evening after the old folks’ party? We’ll deserve a night out after all that hard work,’ Maisie suggested, as she reached for her cigarettes.
Sarah chewed her lip nervously. ‘I’m not sure. It means asking Nan to look after Georgina and I’ve neglected her enough lately, what with working on this party and firewatching duties – let alone being a good wife to Alan.’ She sighed.
Maisie snorted and gave Sarah a sharp look. ‘Bleedin’ ’ell, Sarah, Georgie’s as much Alan’s kid as she is yours so let ’im ’ave ’er for a change. When my kid arrives you can be sure David’ll be changing nappies and ’elping out. I’ll make sure of that.’
Sarah and Freda looked at their chum in amazement.
‘I’m sorry, Maisie, but it’s my job to care for our daughter. Alan has enough on his plate right now. He might still be off sick since coming home injured from overseas, but he’s going to be called back on duty any day now and I want him to think of me as a good wife and mother when he may be far away. Besides, Charlton are playing at home and he’s going to watch along with your David. So, if Nan or Maureen can’t have Georgie for the evening I’ll have to say no thanks this time,’ she replied, with a stubborn tilt of her chin.
‘You’re expecting?’ Their young friend, Freda, ignored Sarah’s comment, a grin spreading across her elfin face.
Maisie frowned at Sarah before shrugging her shoulders. ‘Yes I am, but don’t go saying anything. It’s early days and I’m superstitious.’
Sarah, forgiving her friend’s jibes about her housewife duties, leant over and gave her a hug. ‘I’m thrilled for you but you’ll think more like me once the little one arrives. Why don’t you sit and rest a while? It’s important you don’t overdo things now. Freda and me can take this lot down to the storeroom for safekeeping,’ she said, nodding to the pile of gifts they’d wrapped for the party.
Maisie nodded her head. She didn’t like to say but she’d not felt right all day and could do with a few minutes to herself. She’d thought of asking Betty if she could leave work early, but didn’t want to cause a fuss with everyone so busy in the store so close to Christmas. It would also have meant explaining she wa
s pregnant to her spinster boss and for some reason that made her feel uncomfortable. No, she’d just rest up for a while and then things would be fine. ‘You couldn’t fetch me a cuppa, could you, Freda?’ she asked, as she kicked off her shoes and put her feet up on the chair vacated by Sarah.
Sarah had just finished her final trip to the storeroom and was heading to the ladies’ to wash her hands when she bumped into her boss in the corridor. ‘Oh, Sarah, just the person I wanted to see. Can you spare me a few minutes?’ Betty Billington asked in a distracted manner.
Sarah nodded and followed Betty into her small office. The usually tidy desk was piled high with paperwork and files. Sarah moved a box containing even more paperwork from a chair before sitting down.
‘I hate to do this to you, Sarah, but do you feel you could continue organizing the party alone? Something has come up that I must see to and it won’t leave me much time to think about social matters.’
Sarah felt concerned. It was so unlike her efficient boss not to be able to juggle a hundred and one jobs at the same time. ‘Of course I can . . . but is there a problem, Betty?’
‘You could say that. I’ve received a letter from head office. It seems we are due for an inspection and it is booked for tomorrow afternoon.’
‘The same day as the party? But that’s our half-day closing and we were going to spend the time preparing . . .’
Betty nodded her head. ‘Oh, if it was only that easy. I heard from a colleague, Doris Albright . . . she manages a Woolworths store in Surrey and just like me is standing in for the duration of the war. Come the day this awful war is over we will revert to our previous jobs and the menfolk will take back theirs. Well, Doris got wind Erith was on the list for an inspection and . . . and . . .’
‘Tipped you the wink?’ Sarah suggested. It was one of Maisie’s favourite sayings.
Betty smiled. ‘Yes, she tipped me the wink.’
‘At least you will be prepared,’ Sarah consoled Betty.
‘If it was just having my paperwork ready for inspection I would be able to cope,’ Betty sighed. ‘However, it seems this person is not a fan of female store managers and goes all out to find fault with our work. Doris confessed to me she’d failed to answer one of the questions correctly and found herself in floods of tears. God forbid I should ever think we are as good as our male managers, Sarah, but we need to show we can pull our weight during wartime. I’m a bag of nerves wondering what fault this person will find with my job and this store.’
Sarah smiled at her boss. ‘Betty, I know that during work time you prefer we don’t refer to our friendship, but this time I’m going to do just that. Your friends will take charge of the running of the party. You only need to turn up and smile at people – oh, and play the piano for our sing-song. Nan and Maureen have all the catering under control. Maisie and Freda have finished wrapping the gifts for our guests and, apart from collecting the old soldiers, who are unable to make their own way here tomorrow evening, everything is organized. I just need to check with Ted Sayers that he can still borrow the horse and cart from his mate to collect some of our guests and everything is done,’ Sarah said, as she crossed her fingers behind her back.
‘What about the thank-you letters to the shopkeepers of Erith who have donated gifts? I should have hand-written them today.’ Betty frowned.
‘We can do that together after the party and one of us can hand-deliver them. Now, how about I help you straighten your office and prepare the required information for this inspector? By the way, what is his name?’
Betty rummaged through the paperwork on her desk. ‘I have a note somewhere. Oh dear, where did I put it. His name was . . . Buggins . . . or was it Boggins. Oh dear, I do wish I hadn’t been so distracted when I was being given the information!’
Sarah laughed. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m sure he will make himself known to us. I’m going to get you a cup of tea and speak to Maisie and then I’ll be back to help,’ she said, heading towards the office door. She’d already decided to ask Maisie to get her fellow supervisors together and tip them off so that the counters and shop floor were on top form; not that they ever weren’t under the management of Betty Billington. ‘Oh, and Betty, don’t let this inspector think female management are not as good as male managers. You are much better,’ she grinned, before closing the door behind her.
Chapter 3
‘That’s the best we can do,’ Maisie said, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the bustling Woolworths store. ‘We’ve polished the counters till you can see yer face in them, there’s not a speck of dust on the floors and all the girls are wearing clean overalls. I had to remind Sadie that Charlie was dead but a couple of safety pins sorted that out.’
Betty, who’d been smiling broadly at her sparkling store, became bemused and a little sad at Maisie’s words. ‘I’m sorry, my dear, but you’ve lost me. Who is Charlie? I’m so sorry to hear of his demise. As for safety pins . . . ?’
Sarah chuckled. ‘Betty, it’s something we say when a girl’s petticoat is hanging below the hem of her skirt.’
‘Oh my goodness, whatever next!’ Betty chuckled. ‘You girls and your sayings, you make me feel quite old at times.’
Despite them being on the shop floor and knowing they should be calling their boss by her full name and not being too familiar, Sarah put her arm around Betty’s shoulder and gave her a quick hug. They were all feeling relieved that they’d pulled the store into shape so that when the inspector, whatever his name was, arrived from head office they would not be found lacking. ‘Betty, please don’t say such things. You aren’t that old. Would I have had an old woman as my bridesmaid?’ She smiled gently.
‘Just a bit older than us.’ Maisie winked and nudged her friend as a customer approached to ask when knicker elastic would next be in stock.
‘Hmm . . . how long is a piece of string?’ Maisie answered seriously, as Sarah and Betty left her to it and hurried upstairs to the canteen before they both burst out laughing at Maisie’s solemn reply.
Betty finally felt ready for her store to be inspected. She didn’t wish to worry her staff by being unduly concerned about this inspection but she knew that her career with Woolworths after the war, if it ever ended, would depend on her having a blemish-free record. The women, who’d been promoted to replace male management staff when they went off to war in 1939, were reminded that their promotion was only for the duration of the war. When the men returned, the female staff members would revert to their previous positions. Betty would prefer not to return to her job as staff supervisor and unofficial assistant to Mr Benfield, who was now in North Africa fighting Rommel. No, she would fight tooth and nail to retain the job she loved above all else – manager of Erith Woolworths.
‘Miss Billington? The telephone was ringing in your office,’ a young women said quietly, not quite making eye contact with Betty.
‘Mary, did you answer it?’ Betty asked.
‘Yes, Miss.’ The girl beamed proudly.
‘Who was it, Mary?’
‘The girl turned a deep shade of red and mumbled, ‘I’m not sure. It’s the first time I’ve ever picked up a telephone and it frightened me.’
‘I’m sorry, Miss Billington,’ Freda interrupted. ‘I asked Mary to listen out for your telephone in case it rang. I meant for her to call me, not to answer it herself.’ Freda was normally mild mannered but it irritated her that what could have been an important conversation had been dealt with by a mere child.
‘I know it was someone from head office,’ the girl replied. ‘They told me that someone was arriving at six o’clock. That is, I think they said six.’
‘Do we have a name for this person?’ Betty asked patiently, although she could scream. What if it had been the inspector? Would it blot her copybook if a message were not taken properly?
‘I didn’t think to ask, Miss Billington,’ Mary said in a subdued voice.
‘Not to worry,’ Betty said. ‘Now, skip off back to your counter. I
’m sure Elsie will need your help, and don’t forget to keep it tidy, Mary.’ She didn’t have time to deal with a distressed youngster. Perhaps she would show her employees how to use the telephone. It hadn’t crossed her mind that some staff members would be fearful of the instrument. Yes, she would add it to the list she’d prepared to show the inspector her plans to train the Woolworths staff in all aspects of work at the store.
‘I’ve just put a cuppa on your desk. There’s nothing needs worrying about in here, so get yourself off to your office and take that strained look off your face,’ Ruby said, patting the younger woman on the arm.
‘Thank you, Ruby. Is it that obvious I’m worried about the inspection?’
‘Only to those who know you well, my love. Why, those Americans who own Woolies should be more than grateful they have the likes of you to run our little shop down here in Erith. If they’ve got any sense they’ll give you a permanent job once we’ve sorted out Hitler and his gang. You’ve done a far better job than that Benfield ever did. For one thing, you never disappear off to the Running Horses at lunchtime and come back more than a little merry.’
Betty smiled. It was more than common knowledge that the previous manager enjoyed a tipple with his lunchtime meal. However, he still did a good job and was thought of with fondness by the older staff who remembered him.
‘Thank you, Ruby,’ Betty said again. ‘Have you thought about returning to help out at Woolworths? I could do with more employees just like you.’