Pack Up Your Troubles (28 page)

‘Fancy going to the pictures before we catch the bus back?’ said Eva.

‘Why not?’ said Connie breaking into a trot. ‘Race you there.’

‘How do you test the patient’s urine for sugar, nurse?’

It was two days later and Connie was doing her best to appear calm and controlled while shaking in her shoes. Matron always made her feel inadequate and she hated it. She couldn’t forget the white glove incident in Room 1. Connie had been so sure she had cleaned every speck of dirt from that room and when she went back, she couldn’t find any other smudges similar to the black on Matron’s glove, so how come she had missed it? It was a complete mystery.

‘Come along, nurse, speak up,’ said Matron tetchily.

‘Um …’ Connie hesitated. ‘I pour 5cc of Bendict’s solution into the test tube and add …’ The words died on Connie’s lips because she could see by Matron’s expression that she’d said something wrong. What had she said? ‘Umm, 5cc of Benni …’

Behind Matron’s head she could see Betty mouthing
Ben-e-dick.

‘I mean Beniprick solution …’ Connie began again.

‘For heaven’s sake, nurse, you have been here long enough to know this,’ came the reply. ‘This should be routine by now.’

‘Yes, Matron.’ Connie could feel her face flaming.

‘Routine!’ said Matron turning on her heel.

Aggie relaxed deep into the armchair. It wasn’t very often that she and Olive had the place to themselves but today the rest of the family was out. Clifford had gone up to London. Aggie didn’t know why but she was sure Olive would get around to telling her. It was the second time he’d been up there on business in as many weeks. Her thoughts clouded. She hoped he wasn’t pretending to be working when all the time he was running around with some floozy.

Gwen had gone to school to see Mandy dancing around the maypole as part of the school summer fete. There had been great excitement this year because she was one of the children chosen but numbers were restricted to one parent so Olive wasn’t invited. Not that she would mind, of course. Her friend ignored children unless they were doing something they shouldn’t.

Left alone while Olive was in the kitchen getting the tea things, Aggie stood up to admire Olive’s nice ornaments and pretty pictures. She wouldn’t dream of touching anything of course, that would be deemed as nosy, but looking was all right. Aggie kept her own home fairly plain. It cut down on the dusting. With no birthday or Christmas cards to catch her attention, Aggie satisfied her curiosity by looking at the bookshelf and trying to make up her mind which family member had chosen which book. Mandy was the easy one with a well-thumbed copy of Enid Blyton’s book
Five on a Treasure Island
. There was a C.S. Forester book about Lord Hornblower which Aggie guessed belonged to Clifford and another called
The Egg and I
by Betty MacDonald which, because it was about the wife of a chicken farmer, Aggie supposed belonged to Gwen.

As she turned to sit down, she noticed that Olive had been writing letters. The bureau was open and Aggie gazed longingly at the paper rack. She remembered a time before the war when Olive had paid the absolute earth for some pretty sheets of creamy paper with a watermark. At the time, although Olive had given her a couple of sheets, Aggie had thought she was quite mad but now she was of the opinion that in these austere times the paper added a little distinction to a letter. There wasn’t much left now. With one ear open for the sound of the tea trolley, Aggie thumbed through the pile of letters waiting to be posted. Nothing of interest except for one addressed to Sally Burndell. Why would Olive be writing to her?

By the time the rattling tea trolley came into the room, Aggie was sitting in the armchair just as Olive left her.

‘I’ve made some sardine sandwiches,’ said Olive as she backed through the door pulling the trolley behind her.

‘Oooh, lovely,’ said Aggie although she couldn’t stand sardines.

She had the toaster from the kitchen and bending to put it in the hearth, slipped in a couple of crumpets. Aggie licked her lips. The crumpets were delicious eaten with butter and some of Gwen’s homemade greengage jam.

‘Of course, you’ve heard about Sally,’ said Olive handing her a plate.

‘What’s she done now?’ Aggie took a bite of her sandwich.

‘She’s getting married.’

‘No!’ Aggie took a sip of tea to swill away the taste. ‘Well, that’s a turn up for the books. I thought you said her gentleman friend didn’t want her.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ said Olive matter-of-factly. ‘I can’t keep up with her. First it’s on, then it’s off. Then she’s going to be a secretary and then she’s not. Next she’s free to work in the shop and now she’s not.’

Aggie frowned. ‘Her poor mother must be at her wits’ end.’

‘Anyway,’ Ga continued, ‘she hasn’t bothered to send us an invitation to the wedding.’

They sipped tea, each left to her own thoughts.

‘I was looking in your bookcase,’ Aggie eventually confessed. ‘Mandy must enjoy reading. I noticed
Five on a Treasure Island
…’

‘Oh, that’s Connie’s,’ said Olive. ‘She picked it up in a jumble sale. I think she’s read it to Mandy but it’s a bit old for her yet.’ Olive stood up and went to the bookcase. ‘This is my favourite,’ she said pulling down
The Egg and I
. ‘It’s so funny. I love it. Have you read it?’

‘No,’ said Aggie feeling a bit miffed. ‘I don’t get much time to read.’

‘I’m sure they’re up to something again,’ said Olive. She took Aggie’s cup and emptied the dregs into the slop bowl before pouring her another cup of tea.

‘Who?’

‘The family. There’s a lot of whispering and Clifford is always writing letters.’

‘Maybe they’re planning something nice for the summer holidays?’ Aggie suggested.

Olive gave her a withering look. ‘I don’t think so. That Clifford always was a devious one. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.’

‘And after all you’ve done for them,’ Aggie tut-tutted sadly. ‘I don’t know why you put up with it, dear.’

‘What choice do I have?’ said Olive sourly. ‘Give him his due, he is a good worker.’ She sighed. ‘We’d get along just fine if he wasn’t always trying to change things.’ She pointed to her friend’s chin and Aggie wiped away some melted butter with her napkin.

‘Perhaps you should just come out with it and ask them what they’re up to?’

‘I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.’

‘What about Connie?’ said Aggie. ‘Couldn’t you have a word with her?’

‘Constance!’ Olive snapped. ‘That little minx. She’d only stick up for Clifford, wouldn’t she. I still can’t bring myself to forgive her for running out on us like that when she left the WAAFs.’

‘I think it’s terrible the way they treat you,’ said Aggie. ‘Especially when you’ve been so good to them.’

Ga smiled bravely. ‘Have another crumpet, dear.’

This was Connie’s first Saturday off for some time but it meant that she was lucky enough to help with the church jumble sale. The church held several jumble sales during the year. They were a good way of raising funds for the building they hoped to have one day. Connie loved them and collecting jumble could be just as much fun as the event itself. Connie’s duties at the hospital had stopped her from taking part in that, but as soon as she’d heard Connie was free on the day, Jane Jackson didn’t waste time in asking her to help. Connie was at the hired hall in Mulberry Lane by half past seven.

‘Glad you could make it,’ said Jane, giving her arm a squeeze.

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ smiled Connie.

‘Have you heard about Sally …?’ Jane began.

Connie held her breath. Not more bad news?

‘Terry turned up,’ said Jane. ‘It’s all on again and they’ve even set a wedding date.’

Connie grinned. ‘Oh Jane, that’s wonderful news!’

‘It certainly is,’ said Jane. ‘Her mother is looking a bit bewildered but everybody is thrilled of course.’

‘Of course,’ said Connie. She was so glad for Sally. The poor kid had had such a rough time and Terry had looked a decent sort. She’d drop her a line to congratulate her when she got back home. ‘Jane, I’ve brought Mandy along too.’

Connie’s sister stood beside her beaming.

‘Hello Mandy,’ smiled Jane. ‘You can help with the children’s toys, if you like.’

The arrangements were almost always the same. The men would put a line of trestle tables along each side of the church hall, and some more tables in front of the stage. Books and children’s toys were on the left-hand side near the door with women’s clothing on the next two tables. The bric-a-brac was always on the end tables with any big items like an old pram or washstand on the stage itself. On the other side of the hall the tables were divided in two halves with shoes and handbags on a small table just before the hatch where teas and coffees were served from the kitchen, and then the other side of the hatch the tables were for men’s clothes – not so many of those.

While the men were putting up the tables, Connie and Jane joined the other women in dragging the bags from the cupboards where they had been stored, into the main hall.

‘Is your boyfriend here?’ said Connie giving Mandy a toy soldier to put on the children’s table. ‘I’m the only one who hasn’t seen him yet.’

Jane shook her head. ‘He’s working today but he’ll be coming to the outing on Whit Monday.’

They had plenty of helpers and any time someone found something they’d like, they would put it on the stage behind the curtain until the end of the ‘sort out’. The perk for helping was being able to buy what you wanted before the sale. The jumble came from a cross section of the village. Sometimes Connie was handling stuff from the upper crust and at other times she was dealing with things that had obviously been handed down several times already. And it didn’t always follow that the good stuff came from the rich either. Connie knew it was often the roughest looking people who gave good, complete, unbroken and clean jumble while the obviously affluent might fob them off with rubbish.

‘I was half expecting Reverend Jackson to be here,’ Connie remarked to one of the other women as she handed her a welcome cup of tea.

‘He’ll be along later,’ she said. ‘This morning he’s interviewing somebody to play the piano for the Sunday services.’

‘At last,’ cried Connie. ‘It’s ages since Michael Cunningham left.’

They were about halfway through their sorting when a well-heeled woman in a big car drove up to the door. ‘I’ve brought you some things for your sale,’ she announced in an all too loud plummy voice. Several heads looked up but everyone carried on with the job in hand. Eventually she spotted Connie. ‘Hey, you. Miss. Fetch them from the car for me.’

Reluctantly, Connie followed her out of the door.

‘I don’t want anything for them,’ she said handing Connie a rather large and heavy box.

As soon as she’d gone, Connie sorted through the boxes she’d left. They were filled with broken toys, cracked plates and cups with no handles.

‘She’s just dumped her rubbish on us,’ Connie said in disgust.

Rev Jackson had just arrived in the hall. He came over to look. ‘Put it all in the hallway, Connie,’ he said shaking his head. ‘We’ll put it in the pile for the rag and bone man at the end of the sale.’

Connie dragged the box into the hallway and then noticed an old tea caddy. When she opened it, it was full of green mouldy tea. She couldn’t resist taking it back into the hall to show Jane.

‘How vile,’ said Jane, jerking her head back as the musty smell filled the air. ‘Ugh.’

Something caught Connie’s eye. She looked around and found a bent spoon.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ cried Jane.

Connie fished around in the tea and pulled out a silver caddy spoon. ‘Voilà!’

Rev Jackson took it from her and looked at it a little more closely. ‘Well done, Connie,’ he said. ‘This is hallmarked. It could be worth a bit. We’ll take it to the jewellers after the sale.’

‘Ha!’ laughed Jane. ‘I bet she doesn’t know it was in there.’

‘And I bet she wouldn’t have given it to us if she had,’ Connie grinned.

Everything was ready by nine forty, so someone made them all another cup of tea. Mandy was going to stand with Connie on the children’s clothing section.

‘Tell everybody, whatever it is, it’s thruppence,’ Connie told her.

Mandy nodded gravely, aware of her responsibility to make a lot of money for the church.

The queue outside was already snaking around the hall. At ten o’clock, Rev Jackson called out, ‘Ready everybody?’ and a moment or two later having paid him sixpence to get in, the people rushed into the hall like a stampede of wild elephants and the sale was underway.

The first half an hour was manic. Most things were going for a song but sometimes people would barter.

‘How much is this shirt, love?’

‘A tanner.’

‘I’ll give you fourpence.’

People pushed and shoved, some even snatching their bargains out of the hands of another. Connie was terrified that they’d get to the end of the morning and find somebody’s flattened child under the table but even though a few children disappeared under the frenzy of shopping bags and mothers in search of a bargain, nobody was hurt. A few ended up with a clip around the ear if their mother missed a bargain because they were in the wrong place and getting under her feet.

Mandy was chuffed every time she put another thruppenny bit in the money tin and Connie could see the coins were mounting up. By eleven o’clock the worst was over. A few women stayed doggedly sorting through the mountain of clothes for something they could wear or remake into something else. Another cup of tea came round and it was most welcome.

And at the end of the sale, the remaining jumble had to be piled up and stuffed into bags ready for the rag and bone man who was coming at twelve thirty. They cleared the hall, the men put the trestles back under the stage and Mandy helped Connie sweep the floor. Battle-scarred and weary, some helpers were promising themselves ‘never again’ until Rev Jackson said, ‘Thank you everybody. It’s been a good morning. Not only do we have a new church pianist called Graham, but we have made seventy-two pounds three shillings and five pence,’ and everybody applauded.