Wedding Bells for Woolworths Read online

  Sadie checked her wristwatch. ‘Oh, go on then, she can wait for a while,’ she said as they crossed over into Alexandra Road and headed towards the Victorian terraced property opposite the house where Freda had lodged for most of the time she’d lived in Erith.

  ‘I still can’t believe this is my home,’ Freda said, opening the door then lifting young Arthur out of his pushchair, watching as the lad toddled off down the long hallway.

  ‘You are lucky,’ Sadie sighed as she put the pushchair in front of the bay window in the small garden, and followed Freda inside. ‘Although I don’t begrudge you this for one minute. You’ve shared your luck with others, and I for one think that’s admirable.’

  Freda knew without asking that Vera Munro would have been imparting her views on her good luck to all and sundry. ‘All I’ve done is to offer rooms to a few young women who work in Woolies. I know how hard it was to find decent lodgings when I first came to the town. If it wasn’t for Sarah and her family, I don’t know what would have become of me,’ she said with a catch in her voice. ‘I’d hate any person to be homeless.’

  A cloud passed over Sadie’s face for a few seconds before she gave a knowing nod of her head. ‘Yes, I was at my wits’ end before this little chap was born. If Ruby hadn’t convinced Nan to help me, I’d have had Arthur taken away from me at the home for unmarried mothers. I had nowhere to go, after . . .’

  Freda patted the young woman’s arm. Sadie had blossomed of late, now that she was living back home with Vera and had some money coming in. The petite blonde girl had filled out slightly, but she’d been all skin and bones a little while ago. Freda knew the story of how Sadie’s nan had all but disowned her until Ruby Caselton, as she was known then, stepped in and made Vera see sense. ‘It all worked out for the good. I take it you haven’t had any problems with Arthur’s dad seeing you all right?’ she asked as they walked through to the kitchen and Freda struck a match to light the gas under her kettle.

  ‘Although I want nothing to do with the horrid man, he does pay a little towards the lad’s upkeep. I do my best to save it now I’m working for Maisie looking after her brood. She has the little ones this afternoon, what with it being half-day closing,’ she added, seeing a small frown cross Freda’s face. ‘I’ve not left them on their own if that’s what you’re thinking?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Freda said quickly even though that was exactly what had crossed her mind. ‘Does that mean Maisie is taking the afternoon off for once? She works so hard in that shop of hers.’

  ‘She’d finished a special order for the mayor’s wife and decided to have a few hours off to get some sun on her face. For once her sewing workshop is closed and they’ve gone for a walk down to the river front. Maisie did ask if I’d like to join them, but I knew Nan wanted me to run some errands for her, so I declined. By the way, have you found someone to take on your back bedroom yet?’ Sadie asked. ‘That was a super idea to take in lodgers. Even Nan approved. She did say you should keep it to female guests who have good references, what with you being . . .’

  ‘A spinster living on my own?’ Freda finished for her, aware that on more than one occasion Vera had questioned her unmarried status. ‘I’m only advertising in the Woolworths staffroom, and Betty Billington is advising me. It’s such a shame my last lodger left to get married – she was such a sweet girl, and so quiet. Hopefully the room will be taken soon.’

  Sadie looked wistful. ‘I’d kill to have rooms for me and Arthur, but if I moved it would have to be far enough away for Nan not to be knocking on my door every hour asking me to run errands. Speaking of which . . .’ She drained her cup and got to her feet. ‘Sorry to run so soon, but you know what Nan can be like.’

  ‘I do,’ Freda grinned as she caught hold of the little boy and gave him a kiss on his cheek. ‘I’ll see you later, young man. I’m going to put a few hours in at Alan’s workshop once I’ve changed out of my work clothes. By the way,’ she added as she followed them back to the front door, ‘I’m thinking of asking Maisie and Sarah to join me for a trip to the Odeon at the weekend. A Matter of Life and Death is on and I’d love to see it again. Would you like to join us?’

  Sadie beamed. ‘I’d like that. Thank you for including me. It means a lot. People can be quite harsh with me not being married to Arthur’s father. Only the other day that horrid Mrs Martin up the road called something quite untoward out to me. Nan gave her a right old mouthful, I can tell you.’

  The girls looked at each other and burst out laughing, as it was Vera Munro who was usually the one dishing out the comments to those she looked down on. Freda gave Sadie a quick hug. ‘Oh Sadie, what happened to you could have happened to any of us. Who are we to judge? I’ll look out for Gwyneth and see if she’d like to join us as well. Why, we could perhaps have afternoon tea in the Oak Room at Hedley Mitchell’s beforehand and make it an extra-special treat.’

  ‘That would be wonderful. Perhaps it would cheer up Gwyneth. She’s been a little down since the news from Wales about her dad’s job down the pit. I’m not one for politics, but I can’t help wondering if this nationalization of our coal mines will suit everyone. Why have the country run someone’s job, when a local boss would be better? I’m not sure I’d like it if I was a miner’s wife.’

  Freda nodded. She’d noticed that their friend Gwyneth was rather down lately. An outing would do them all good.

  As she watched Sadie set off up the road towards her nan’s house, she spotted Ruby wiping down the window ledge in front of the large downstairs bay window and crossed the road to say hello.

  ‘I thought you’d be off round to Alan’s place?’ Ruby said as she dabbed at an invisible spot on a windowpane.

  ‘I’ll be going shortly. I came home to change and stopped to have a cup of tea with Sadie. She’s a nice girl,’ Freda said as she rested against the wall and leant her elbows on top. The sun was warm on her face and she closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation.

  ‘You look tired, love. Why not put your feet up for a few hours?’

  ‘No, I’m fine. I promised Alan I’d help him out. He has a motorbike in for repair and I’d love to give it a spin before the owner collects it. It’s a Brough Superior that’s been under canvas since before the war, and the owner wanted Alan to give it the once-over before he ships it off to Canada. You don’t see many of them,’ she said with a dreamy look in her eyes.

  Ruby shook her head. ‘I can’t tell those motorbikes apart. It could be a penny farthing for all I know. They’re all noisy and dangerous, and then there’s the grease you get on your clothes. I don’t know, you’ve always been the same, wanting to get yourself mucky messing around with machinery and such-like . . .’ She tutted to herself. ‘Would you like to come here for your dinner later? It’s not much, but Bob’s up the allotment and I asked him to bring back some veg. I’ve told him we should think about giving up one of them. He can’t keep up with it all like he used to.’

  Freda felt guilty. Since moving out of number thirteen, where she’d lodged for many years, she’d not helped Bob and Ruby as much as she used to. ‘No, he shouldn’t do that, not when everything is in such short supply. Let me have a word with Sarah and Gwyneth. Perhaps we can all muck in to help? After all, you help us all out with the veg Bob grows.’

  ‘That would be kind of you, lovey. I do worry about the state of things at the moment. I thought when the war ended we’d get back to normal within months. Here we are two years later and we still have rationing and have to make do as best we can. Mike was up there the other day, helping Bob put a lock on the old shed. Someone had been in and pinched some tools and seeds. Mike reckons we aren’t the only ones it’s happened to lately.’

  Mike Jackson, the local police sergeant, was Bob’s son. Ruby was proud to have a policeman in her family since marrying her Bob on the day the war ended. She often warned Mike of any wrongdoings she heard about on the town’s grapevine, and in return Mike advised Ruby and her friends on how to stay safe. She’d been
as proud as punch when he gave a talk to her local Women’s Institute recently.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Ruby. We’ll all muck in and make sure everything is as it should be. By the way, have you read the news about Princess Elizabeth’s engagement? We were looking at the newspaper this morning on our tea break. The wedding will be a big boost to the country.’

  ‘You’re right there, love. I’m going to cut out all the pictures and put them in a scrapbook so the little ones can see them when they are older. Just think – she will be our Queen one day. Not that I’ll be around to see that happen,’ she said, picking up her bucket and cleaning cloth.

  Freda’s face dropped. ‘Oh Ruby, please don’t speak like that. There’s nothing wrong, is there?’ she asked, her heartbeat quickening. The stout, grey-haired woman was the matriarch of the family that Freda was proud to be part of, if only as a dear friend. Please God she wasn’t ill.

  Ruby chuckled. ‘No, love, I’m as fit as a fiddle. It will be many years before the King goes to meet his maker, and I was only thinking how the likes of me and Bob probably won’t be here here to see it. Life goes on,’ she added as she saw Freda’s sad face.

  ‘I suppose you’re right, but let’s not think about it,’ she pleaded.

  ‘Well then, you get yourself off to those messy motorbikes. And if you see my Bob, tell him to pull his finger out. He’s been gone ages.’

  Freda promised she would look out for Bob, and hurried back over the road to her own house. Upstairs in her front bedroom overlooking the street, she took off her work clothes and pulled on a pair of navy blue dungarees and an old shirt that had once belonged to Alan. Folding a headscarf into a triangle, she tied it round her head, tucking in the loose ends and poking her curls underneath to keep them clean. Maisie had advised her to grow her light brown hair a little longer, so that it could be styled in many ways and wouldn’t look as childish as the short bob she’d had for many years. Freda had been surprised at the curls that had appeared with the longer length, although the upkeep of the new hairstyle was something she was still getting used to. At least she could tuck it all away while she worked on her beloved motorbikes.

  Picking up her handbag, she hurried out of the house and round to nearby Crayford Road, where Alan ran his business in a rundown workshop set behind the two-up, two-down houses. She inhaled the smell of oil and petrol as she stepped in through a small door set in a larger door that was always kept locked. She was ready to work – but she wasn’t prepared for the angry voices that assailed her ears, wiping the smile from her face.

  ‘There’s something pleasant about having the store to oneself,’ Betty Billington said as she leant back in her seat in the office she shared with Sarah Gilbert.

  Sarah chuckled. ‘Don’t let head office hear you speak like that! They may remind you that customers are the lifeblood of Woolworths. Joking aside, I know just what you mean. These few hours allow me to catch up on paperwork and have the decks cleared before I set to with the wages tomorrow.’

  Betty placed her pen on the desk and folded her arms. Now in her mid-forties, she looked young for her years, although her brown hair, always pinned up whilst at work, was peppered with steel grey hairs. ‘Are you still happy to work here, Sarah, rather than be at home with the children?’

  Sarah turned on the wooden seat to face her friend. ‘I won’t deny there are times I wish I didn’t have to pack Georgina and Buster off to be cared for by someone else while I go to work. But I like my job here, and the money comes in handy – especially at the moment,’ she added, her bright smile dimming for a second.

  ‘Is there a problem at home?’ Betty asked, looking concerned. ‘You know that anything you tell me will not leave this room.’

  Sarah shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’ll pass, I’m sure. It’s just that these last couple of months, the motorbike workshop doesn’t seem to be as busy as it has been in the past. When I pop in to see Alan, the place only seems half as full as it used to. I’ve tried to discuss it with him, but you know what men are like.’

  Betty smiled to herself. As the busy manageress of a Woolworths store, with a husband whose business she knew inside out and who she often advised during meetings with his business partner, David Carlisle, she’d never had a problem. But she did know that even after a war, during which many women had held down responsible jobs, there were men who considered it their responsibility to be the sole breadwinner and manage the family finances. She’d thought better of Alan Gilbert than to keep his wife in the dark; but who knows what goes on behind closed doors?

  ‘I’m sure things will sort themselves out soon, Sarah. Business can be like that. Someone once told me it can be feast or famine, and I’m inclined to agree. Look at how one minute we’re run off our feet here, and then the next it goes quiet and we’re worried that head office will start asking questions and making changes. It will all come out in the wash, as your nan would say.’

  Sarah nodded in agreement. ‘I can see the sense in what you’re saying. But with Maureen about to move out to marry my dad, we’ll have the rent and upkeep of the house to find on our own. However, I do believe I worry too much,’ she added, trying to brush off her own comments. She didn’t wish to tell Betty that on a few occasions Alan had been unable to give her enough money for the housekeeping, and she’d dipped into her savings. He’d never given a real reason, which worried her greatly, but she didn’t like to ask what was happening in case it dented his male pride. Alan tended to get quite prickly if Sarah offered to pay for housekeeping items. He viewed providing for the family as a man’s duty.

  Betty absorbed her friend’s words. Since leaving the RAF, Alan Gilbert had decided not to continue with his trainee manager job at Woolworths. Instead he had followed his dream of running a motorbike repair business. Betty’s own husband, Douglas, was an undertaker, and he had been able to advise Alan about going into business for himself; but he had confided in Betty that he feared the young man would try and run before he could walk.

  ‘I know Alan had big dreams, and he started out with such high hopes. However, you mustn’t forget what I said to you at the time: your Alan is welcome to return to Woolworths any time he wishes. Please do tell him that from me,’ she said, wondering at the same time if Woolworths was the right place for Alan to work after all this time.

  ‘I will. I’m sure it’s just one of those things that happens in business sometimes,’ Sarah said, trying to look brave. ‘As you say, trade goes up and down all the time.’ She didn’t add that she was worried her dad, George, who had helped them financially when they started out, would discover there was a problem. He’d been so generous, helping Alan set up the business. George Caselton had enough on his plate, what with his forthcoming wedding and also being a popular town councillor, not to mention holding down a responsible job at Vickers.

  ‘I’m surprised you’re paying rent. I thought Maureen owned her house?’

  ‘She does, and as she often says, the house will be Alan’s one day. We are the ones who insist on paying the going rate. Of course, she refused, so I’ve set up a post office savings account to put the money aside and will give it to her every quarter. I’ll not listen if she argues. Money will be tight, but we will just have to manage.’

  Betty nodded thoughtfully. Maureen Gilbert, who was also Sarah’s mother-in-law, had been courting Sarah’s father George Caselton for the past couple of years, after Irene Caselton had died during a horrific rocket attack on the New Cross branch of Woolworths. ‘I was wondering if you could put in a few more hours here? I know the plan was for you to be part-time, but you can see how stretched I am with all that head office now throws at us. I can’t think of the last time I was able to stroll through the shop floor without feeling guilty that work was waiting for me in this office. I’ve even been taking work home with me! Douglas and the children are not amused.’

  Sarah gave a small frown, suspecting that Betty was simply feeling sorry for her.

  ‘An hour a da
y would be just wonderful, if you think you could help me?’ Betty continued. ‘If not, I should really place an advert in the Erith Observer for a part-time office assistant.’ She looked expectantly at Sarah.

  ‘I’m not sure I could find someone to take on the care of the children. Georgina is at school most days, but Buster is only two and a half . . .’ Sarah said. At the same time, she was thinking that if Betty hired someone to work in here, the Woolworths head office might decide she herself was no longer required.

  ‘I’ll leave you to think about it,’ Betty said.

  There was a tap on the half-open door and Maureen walked in, carrying a laden tea tray. ‘I’m slipping off now, Betty love. I thought the pair of you would like a fresh pot of tea to keep you going, and there’s a slice each of my bread pudding. The dried fruit’s a bit on the scant side, but the flavour is still there. I’ve left young Peggy scrubbing the floor, so she’ll be here a little longer, in case you were thinking of locking up.’ She collected the empty cups and gave Sarah a peck on the cheek. ‘I’ll collect Buster from next door, and we can walk up the school to meet Georgie. That way you won’t need to rush yourself,’ she added, leaving the office and closing the door behind her.

  Outside, in the long corridor, Maureen stopped to think about what she’d overheard. She wasn’t one to listen at keyholes, but the door had been open, and she’d heard Sarah mention her own name as she left the staff canteen. With the building being almost empty, voices echoed along the upstairs corridor.

  In a way, she was thankful she’d overheard what she had. Sarah and her Alan were ones for keeping things to themselves, and would not want to burden her. She squared her shoulders and made her way back to the canteen. She’d have to do something to help her loved ones, as she hated to think of them scrimping and scraping – but what? She would have to bide her time and be there if and when it was obvious the young couple needed help. Perhaps after the wedding she’d have George get more involved in Alan’s business again. If only she’d taken that tea tray to Betty a few minutes earlier, she might just have heard why Sarah was being offered more hours at work and why Betty sounded concerned. However, one thing she did know was that the money Sarah intended to pay her for rent would be returned – she was adamant about that.