Lizzie's War (2 page)

Beth understood that Sebastian was a special friend, but even she hadn't guessed how special. Lizzie hadn't wanted to talk about it too much, because it was all so new and she still couldn't believe that it was real and that the ring Sebastian had given her was not just an illusion.

‘He's never around though is he?' Beth frowned. ‘I should've thought if he's in Scotland at one of those training places he could get down to London more. He isn't messing you around, is he?'

‘No of course not,' Lizzie said turning away, because she couldn't tell anyone, even her best friend, that she knew Sebastian wasn't in Scotland. If he'd been in the regular forces, she could have shared her worries over his safety, but Sebastian's work was secret. He hadn't told her where he was going, though she had a feeling it might be behind enemy lines, but that was just instinct and something she must never discuss, even with Beth. ‘Is your mum feeling better now? She looked so tired yesterday.'

‘Mum loves all the kids, but that cold pulled her down last month,' Beth said looking thoughtful. ‘She would always have them for us whenever she could…'

‘It's nothing serious, I hope?' Lizzie was suddenly anxious. ‘She isn't finding three babies too much?'

‘No, of course not; she's in her element,' Beth hesitated, then, ‘Dottie isn't always too pleased about it, though. She takes her Sheila round to Mum, but she won't ask her to babysit if she's looking after ours. She had a go at me about it the other day – and of course Mary is pregnant. Her baby is due any time now…'

‘Is that what's worrying you? You feel as if you ought to marry Bernie so that you could stay at home with the twins and your mother wouldn't be so tied and could help your sisters out?'

‘Well, sort of,' Beth nodded. ‘Bernie would be a good father to the twins. He would love them as if they were his – even now he acts as though he's their father. Sometimes when I get back from work he's sitting there with the kids and Mum, and he's forever bringing them presents; Mum and me get things too, a packet of tea or tinned food and sometimes flowers.'

These days, with so many shortages in the shops, a packet of tea or a tin of fruit was like gold dust, and Lizzie wondered how a man like Bernie Wright, the manager of a local munitions factory, was able to get such things – unless he just gave up his own rations for their sake.

‘Bernie is all right,' Lizzie agreed. He'd stood by Beth all the way through her pregnancy, despite knowing she wasn't married. ‘Would you give up your work here if you got married, Beth?'

‘I should think he would expect it,' Beth sighed. ‘I could have your little Betty sometimes and that would release Mum to look after Dottie's kids now and then.'

‘You shouldn't get married just for that, Beth. We could afford to pay for someone to look after the children, and neither of us works the whole day.' After Lizzie inherited her uncle's house, they'd decided to live and work together, taking it in turns to go home and put the children to bed. It was more often Beth who went early, and Lizzie sometimes regretted those moments she missed when Betty was warm, smelling of talcum and ready for a cuddle before bed.

‘I'd better get off anyway. Mum will want to get on with the dinner for Dad, so I'll pick the children up and take them home. What time should I expect you this evening?'

‘I'll close the showroom at six, as usual,' she said at last. ‘I've got a few ideas for new hats, but I can work on them at home once the children are in bed.'

‘Did you get that big order finished? Ed was telling me that it was the biggest order we'd had since you opened.'

Lizzie nodded, pleased with herself. ‘Yes, it is. Mr Barton used to be one of Oliver's customers and he saw our window display by chance, came inside and liked what he saw. I think he owns three exclusive shops, one in London, another in Birmingham and also Manchester. It was a rush, but Jean's coming along very nicely, and soon I shall be able to leave her to finish the simple cloches herself.'

‘What we need is another Tilly,' Beth said. ‘She's clever and she's wasted at Oliver's workshops now that he doesn't make stylish hats. I saw her in the market on Saturday and she was moaning about how boring it is these days, just concentrating on Government contracts…'

‘Yes, I'd love to have Tilly with us, she was always the best of Oliver's girls at trimming the hats' Lizzie agreed wistfully, ‘but I couldn't approach her. Her husband works for Harry's uncle and…'

‘Not any more. Tilly said Oliver sacked him because he was a bit late with a delivery once. Their little girl was ill and he took her to the doctor and that made him late back…'

‘Surely Oliver didn't sack him for that?' Lizzie was shocked despite the way he'd treated her. She'd liked Harry's uncle when she worked for him, and he'd been straight with her – until he started to blame Lizzie for Harry's death. And then she'd been sacked and had to start up her own business. Although daunting, it had turned out well, because now she could make the stylish hats she loved with no one to tell her it couldn't be done. Working for Harry's uncle had been a wonderful opportunity for her and she had been grateful to him, which made it feel worse when he'd turned against her.

‘Tilly said he's dreadful to work for these days, snaps at her all the time. I think she would jump at the chance to come here, Lizzie. You'd need her in the showroom if I married Bernie…'

Lizzie was thoughtful; she didn't particularly want to do anything that would give Harry's uncle cause to dislike her more than he already did. Tilly was one of his best workers and he would have a right to be angry if Lizzie approached her.

‘I know Harry's uncle has never forgiven me for his death.'

‘That is so unfair,' Beth fired up instantly. ‘His death was an accident; Sebastian told you it came out afterwards that there was something wrong with the car's brakes, and it was in a dangerous condition, not fit to be on the roads. At the time, some people thought it might be suicide, because Harry had been behaving oddly and they thought he was cracking under the pressure of flying dangerous missions, but you can't think he killed himself, Lizzie?'

‘I never have. I tried to tell his uncle it was an accident, but he wouldn't speak to me. He thinks it was something I did that made Harry stay away… that I was going with other men… I couldn't approach Tilly if she's still working for Oliver – but if her husband is out of work perhaps I could find him a job here…'

‘Oh, no, he's working at the munitions factory now,' Beth reassured her. ‘He asked Bernie for a job and he was glad to take him on. That wonky leg of his kept him out of the Army, but he's strong and he can do the heavy lifting the girls at the factory can't manage.'

‘Oh, that's good for Tilly.' Lizzie felt pleased that Tilly's husband had found another job. ‘You'd better go. Beth, or your mum will think you've had an accident…'

Lizzie went through to the showroom as Beth left. Her friend kept it neat and was good at setting out the hats to make them look attractive. Beth loved hats almost as much as Lizzie did herself, but even so, she liked to keep an eye on the displays. Although they'd done well in the few months the showroom had been open, Lizzie knew they needed more new customers if the business was to grow.

Ed was a marvel. He'd taught Lizzie most of what she knew about making hats, when he'd been the chief cutter at Oliver's. He loved her flair for design and encouraged her to go for the more fanciful ideas that came to her at times, but without Ed's advice and help, Lizzie might never have learned how to make her creations take shape. He was the one who had taught her how to get those delightful curvy brims and how to make some of the bolder designs hold their shapes. Together they had been a successful team and Lizzie had invited him to be her partner in the new business when Harry's uncle threw her out, and though she hadn't thought so then, it was the best thing that could've happened. Forced to stand on her own feet, she'd invested every penny of her own money, but despite his offers to put money in, she'd told Ed to keep his money for the moment. Fortunately, at his age, Ed was unlikely to be called up for the Army, especially as he'd told her about his fallen arches, which had resulted from years of standing at his bench.

‘If I need extra money I'll ask,' she'd promised when he'd offered to invest his life savings. ‘I've got some money that was left to me by my uncle and it's enough for now.'

Lizzie frowned as she thought about the business. The little showroom had been busy almost from the day they'd opened just before the previous Christmas, and they'd begun to make a small profit almost immediately, but just recently that profit had dropped a little. Not enough to be worrying, but it made Lizzie wonder if she could afford to take on an experienced seamstress like Tilly even if she asked her for a job. The large order from Mr Barton would help them become established and if he kept his promise to tell his friends and colleagues about her showroom, the business could become successful overnight.

Lizzie's reverie was suspended as the door opened and a young woman entered. She smiled nervously as she saw Lizzie and then looked about her at the various hats.

‘Is it all right if I try some on?' she asked. ‘I know
Lizzie Larch Hats
is a wholesaler's, but I was told you sometimes make special hats for weddings and things?'

‘Yes, the shop is mainly wholesale,' Lizzie gave her an encouraging look, ‘but we also have our bespoke hats. Are you looking for something special?'

‘Yes,' the woman giggled. ‘I'm getting engaged to – well, Geoff is my boss actually. He's got pots of money and I don't want his family to look down on me when I go to meet them… but I can't afford some of the prices up West.'

‘They can be expensive.' Lizzie was sympathetic. A lot of young women looked at the beautiful hats in West End shops and dreamed of owning one but couldn't afford the extortionate prices, which was why she served the few working women who ventured in, as well as her main customers. ‘Did you want felt or a straw – or silk? A lot of ladies are going for softer designs now, because of the war. This is my new line for spring – it's velvet and fits on the back of the head… we may not be able to get velvet soon if stocks run out…'

‘That's all we hear when we complain, isn't it?' the young woman said and laughed. ‘When you ask if the shop has anything nicer they say, “You know there's a war on, don't you?” It gets so boring.'

‘Utility fashions aren't wonderful, are they?' Lizzie agreed. ‘I quite like the broader shoulders, but the material isn't as good as we could get before the war started – that's where a beautiful hat makes all the difference. We've been lucky because so far they haven't made women have coupons for hats.'

‘That's exactly what I thought,' the young woman said eagerly. ‘I have a blue suit; it's new but it looks a bit dull, cheap. I thought a special hat would cheer it up…'

‘I'm sure it would,' Lizzie said. ‘Pale blue is it?'

‘Yes, sort of sky blue, and I've got a white silk blouse to wear under it, second-hand but all right…'

‘The war has made it difficult to buy nice things,' Lizzie nodded as she thought about the hats she had in stock. ‘I have a lovely white straw hat I've just made, but it's still in the workroom. If you'd like to try a few others on, I'll fetch it for you.'

‘Thanks ever so…'

Lizzie left the young woman to try on the hats and popped through to the back room. She picked up the white hat she'd made that morning. It was a broad-brimmed white straw hat finished with a pretty navy blue ribbon and a silk rose. She thought the simple style would look very well on the young woman waiting in the shop. Picking it up, she heard the shop bell go and frowned. Had someone come in or had the young woman gone?

She saw the showroom was empty as she returned and frowned. Why hadn't the customer waited? She'd seemed happy to do so and Lizzie had only been gone a couple of minutes. Glancing round the room, she saw that a red cloche with a silk rose trim and a navy blue straw fedora were missing from their stands and she rushed to the door to look out, but the narrow street was empty, apart from the back of a shabby van just disappearing round the corner. It was a commercial area, not far from the Docks, populated by tradespeople who often lived over their workshops, and most of the buildings were old, but, unusually, there was no one around.

Lizzie felt sick and humiliated as she went back inside and closed the door, locking it after her. She'd been duped and robbed and wasn't sure which hurt most. It wasn't time to close up, but she felt too upset to serve any more customers that evening. What an idiot she'd been to leave the woman in the shop even for a moment!

‘I've finished for the day,' Ed said, coming in from the stockroom. ‘We need a few things ordering, Lizzie. I'll do it tomorrow…' He stopped as he saw her face. ‘What's wrong?'

‘I've been an idiot,' she said and explained what had happened. Ed shook his head, his kind, homely face concerned for her.

‘It's a good lesson learned,' he said. ‘You're too trusting.'

‘Yes, I suppose I am,' Lizzie said ruefully. ‘Well, I shan't make that mistake again, shall I?'

‘It's all right if you know and trust a customer, but even then be careful,' Ed said. ‘Oliver had a few bad debts in the early years, but after that he wouldn't give anyone credit unless he knew them well. Some folk will take advantage if they can, but I'm not sure the police would be interested.'

‘She seemed so unsure of herself and I wanted to help.' Lizzie shook her head and changed the subject. Telling the police would be a waste of time when they had more important things to do. ‘What are you doing this evening, Ed?'