The Woolworths Girls (2 page)

The train jolted to a halt at Woolwich Dockyard, letting out a stream of early morning workers. Freda scrubbed the yellow, smoke-covered window with the cuff of her coat and peered through the clear hole. Perhaps, if she was lucky, she’d see Lenny. He had to be somewhere in the area. He may have found work here, as it was on the train line from Erith. She knew he’d find work and lodgings to try and keep his head above water. Then again, perhaps Woolwich was too far from Erith. The porter at Charing Cross Station had told her how many stops there were to Erith. No point in looking for Lenny just yet, then.

Freda yawned. It had been a long time since she left home and caught the milk train to London. She wondered what Erith was like. Too bad if it was a rotten place: she’d burnt her bridges and had to see things through now. Until she found Lenny, that was, and made sure he was safe. Her stepfather would never have her back in the house once he knew she’d pinched that five bob out of his pocket when he’d come home drunk again. No, she’d get a belt round the ear for that, at the very least.

As long as she was brave and stuck to her plan, she’d soon find Lenny, sort him out and things would be fine. She frowned as she looked at his words on the crumpled page.

Sorry, Freda, I couldn’t stick it a minute longer. I took me chance and legged it along with another bloke while we was on gardening duty. I just wanted you to know I was doing all right. Once the coppers get Tommy Whiffen, I’ll be a free man. Take care of yourself.

Free man? She snorted to herself. He’s no more than a kid with silly ideas, and it was his silly ideas that got him in with the wrong crowd to begin with and now look at him. Would she always have to go through life sorting out her little brother’s problems? She’d have to stop worrying about Lenny until she had a bed to sleep in and had found herself a job. The few bob in her pocket wouldn’t last long.

Her eyelids started to feel heavy as she sank down into her seat, resting her head on the edge of the window. The steam train chugged on towards Erith and her new life. Flakes of snow started to fall. She could see a dusting of white as it settled on the high banks of the railway line. Oh good, it might be a white Christmas, she thought, as her eyes closed.

‘The next station’s Erith, sweetheart. Do you want some help getting your suitcase down from the rack?’

Freda stretched her arms and yawned. The older woman sitting opposite her had been a big help when Freda had climbed aboard the train, not sure if she was heading in the right direction. ‘Thank you, I think I can reach it, but mind your head.’ She tugged at the case and it slid to the seat below with a thud.

A porter took her case as she climbed down from the carriage.

‘Thank you. Where can I find the High Street?’

‘Straight out the door, miss, and walk up the pathway over there. You’ll see the start of the shops across the road.’

‘Will there be somewhere I can buy a local paper?’

‘At the top of the path. There’s a newsagent’s shop and a bit of a cafe as well. They do a good sausage sandwich if you’re peckish.’

Freda thanked the porter and headed towards the town. She could do with a bite to eat but had to be careful with her money until she’d found herself a job and had her first pay packet.

Tall, elegant Victorian buildings appeared as she reached the top of the pathway. Shops of all kinds stood side by side with banks and other important-looking offices, their names etched into the glass windows of impressive-looking facades. Rows of houses faced onto the railway line with ornate tiled footpaths, their steps leading up to large front doors with polished brass door knockers. Even through the swirling snow and smoke from a passing steam train Freda could see it was a mite posher than where she’d come from. As long as that didn’t mean lodgings were expensive. She crossed her fingers that there was a poorer area of the town that would suit her pocket. It was nice to look at, but the likes of her couldn’t afford posh houses with brass door knockers. She hoped she’d made the right decision in coming to Erith.

In the end, she did go to the cafe. She’d managed to pick up a copy of the
Erith Observer
and needed somewhere to study the rooms to let as well as the job columns. The place was almost deserted, which suited Freda, as she felt scruffy and untidy for such a fine-looking town. However, looking around at the shabby cafe, with its nicotine-stained walls and scuffed tables, perhaps she would be more welcome than she imagined. The woman who’d served her was slowly wiping tables to pass the time.

‘I’ve not seen you in here before. New to Eariff, are yer?’

Freda smiled to herself. So that’s how the locals pronounced ‘Erith’. It did sound strange.

‘I’ve just arrived by train. I’ve never been here before. It looks like a nice place to live.’

‘There’s bits of good and bits of bad. You just has to know where to look,’ the woman said, wiping her hands down her grubby apron. ‘What can I get you, love? A bit of breakfast?’

Freda checked the coins in her purse and then peered at a few words chalked on a board behind the counter. ‘I’ll just have a mug of tea, please.’

The woman looked at the skinny girl in front of her. ‘How’s about a bit of bread and scrape? Tasty and filling – and on the house. Though it’s on the stale side. I was about to make some bread pudding with it. I can spare a slice.’

Freda wrinkled her nose. ‘“Scrape”?’

‘Yeah, dripping. You don’t know what that is? I’ve just roasted a lump of beef; it’s the gravy and fat out of the tin.’

Freda smiled. She knew well the rich juices and fat from the roasting pan that her mum saved in an enamel bowl. They had it on toast with a liberal sprinkling of salt each Monday for their tea. Her tummy rumbled loudly. ‘Oh yes, I know. We call it “bread and dripping” where I come from. Thank you very much.’

‘Well, you sit yourself down and I’ll bring it on over to you.’

Freda took off her coat. It wasn’t that warm in the cafe, but she knew she’d never feel the benefit of the extra clothing when she went out into the fast-falling snow if she kept it on while she had her meal.

When the woman came over with the hot tea and a plate of bread and scrape, she peered at the page of the newspaper that Freda was carefully studying. ‘Are you looking for somewhere to stay, love?’ she asked, putting the food on the table.

Freda, confused by all the unfamiliar street names, nodded her head. Her mouth watered as she looked at the food. ‘Yes, but I can’t afford a lot of money.’

‘Who can, love? But I knows just the place. Not far from here. There’s a lady who lets rooms in Queens Road. Cheap enough.’

Freda scribbled down the address as the woman gave it to her. ‘Is it clean?’

‘Couldn’t say, love, but beggars can’t be choosers. You need a bed and she’s got one. Can’t say much more than that. Oh, and if you’re looking for work, Woolies are taking on shop girls for the holidays. Get yerself round there this afternoon. I heard some posh-looking tart talking about it when she was in here. Look sharp, though, ’cos I reckon there’ll be loads of girls after jobs there.’

Freda beamed at the woman. ‘Thank you. Is Woolworths the best place to work in Erith?’

‘Nah, you’ll be wanting Hedley Mitchell for the best shop jobs.’ She looked Freda up and down. ‘But they’re fussy who they take on.’

Freda grinned to herself as she tucked into her breakfast. That’d certainly put her in her place.

2

Sarah stood nervously fiddling with the gold chain at her throat. She was inside Woolworths, but what should she do next? Up ahead was a double door, while to the side was a smaller one. Which, she thought, led into the shop? Seconds later the outside door banged open again as two young women appeared in the long corridor. The taller of the two appeared to have stepped straight from a cinema screen. Sarah admired her stylish outfit. Why ever was she here? She had a perfect coiffure with not a hair out of place, and her eyebrows were pencilled so evenly. Sarah just stared. A fox-fur collar topped an elegant coat that must have cost a fortune. Sarah automatically felt gauche and young in her best Sunday coat. A waft of perfume invaded the space between them. Sarah inhaled deeply.

‘Is that Chanel?’ she asked. She recognized her mum’s favourite scent but was surprised to find someone entering the staff door of Woolworths wearing such an expensive perfume, and in the daytime too. An exotic perfume like that was only worn by people with money, and even then very sparingly. She knew this well because her mum would often tell anyone who commented on her fragrance.

The woman nodded. ‘Lovely, isn’t it? My old man picks it up fer me. He works on the docks. I’ll get you a bottle if you want?’ She gave Sarah a broad wink. ‘Keep it under yer hat.’

Sarah was surprised to hear the broad local accent come from someone she assumed had just stepped off a ship from America.

‘Is this where we go see about a job?’

Sarah nodded. ‘It’s just up the corridor. Some other girls went through there just now. I would think that’s where we have to go.’ She couldn’t quite believe that this stylish woman wanted to work for Woolworths.

‘What about you, ducks? Are you here fer a job as well?’ the woman asked the girl who had entered the building behind her as she tidied her fox fur and patted its head.

The younger girl nodded shyly. She looked that frightened she might just turn round and flee. ‘Yes, if they’ll have me,’ she whispered.

‘Well, all this chatter won’t knit the baby a bonnet – let’s go get ourselves a job,’ the older woman declared, marching ahead of them.

Sarah gave the younger girl a smile. ‘My name’s Sarah. Do you come from around here?’

The girl shook her head so violently she had to grasp her brown knitted beret as it slid to one side of her head, allowing the mousy-brown hair to escape from underneath. Sarah noticed that her hair was none too clean, and her clothes were on the shabby side. ‘No, I’ve just moved here. On my own,’ she added quickly. ‘I’ve done my best to get ready for this interview, but my lodgings don’t have any hot water. My name’s Freda,’ she added.

Sarah wanted to hug the girl. She looked so afraid and far too thin. ‘You look lovely, Freda. I do like your hat. Did you knit it yourself?’

Freda nodded. ‘I like to knit.’

‘Well, perhaps they’ll put you on the knitting-wool counter. Wouldn’t that be something?’

Freda beamed. ‘I never thought of that. I just want a job. I didn’t think about what they’d give us to do.’

A shrill whistle came from the other end of the long corridor. ‘Oi, you two. Are you coming or not?’

Sarah linked her arm through Freda’s and the girls giggled together as they headed towards the staff door. ‘It’s going to be a laugh a minute working with her.’

‘She’s ever so smart. Just like a movie star,’ Freda said in awe. ‘I’ve never seen anyone dress so posh before.’

‘I doubt she is, though, especially not here in Erith and her wanting to work in Woolworths. It’ll be fun finding out, won’t it?’

‘Here comes the new intake. Chop, chop, girls, or “Bossy” Billington will have your guts for garters.’ A short, ginger-haired lad in a brown warehouse coat that almost met the floor smirked as he lifted a large broom and swept around the legs of the young women waiting to be interviewed. This caused Sarah to step smartly to one side before she had her freshly polished shoes covered in dust. She tutted in disapproval.

Another lad in a matching coat punched him on the shoulder. ‘Leave it out, Ginger. You’ll frighten the poor girls away before they’ve signed on the dotted line.’ He turned to face Sarah and smiled at her. ‘Are you looking for Miss Billington’s office?’

Sarah nodded. She had to admit Ginger’s taunts were not helping settle the butterflies in her stomach. She felt extremely nervous. ‘Yes, I am.’ She looked along the row at the other six girls. ‘I think we all are.’

‘I’ll show you or you’ll never find your way. Ginger, you’re in charge of the broom until I get back.’ The tall, fair-haired lad seemed to have an air of authority about him, as Ginger immediately took the proffered broom and set about sweeping the dusty floor with gusto.

Sarah felt relieved to have someone show her the way. The Erith branch of F. W. Woolworth, or Woolies, as it was affectionately known, was a complete warren. ‘Thank you. Everything’s so strange at the moment. Erith is very different to where I used to live.’

‘And where might that have been?’ the friendly lad asked as he led the young women towards the office.

Sarah looked sideways at him. He stood a head taller than her and had a twinkle in his blue eyes. His mop of unruly blond hair looked as though it would never behave. He seemed nice enough. ‘Devon. I moved here to live with my nan. My parents originally came from around here, and my nan’s lived here all her life.’

‘That’s near enough to make you a local, then,’ he said, indicating that they’d reached their destination, and held out his hand. ‘I’m Alan, by the way. Alan Gilbert, trainee manager. Welcome to Woolworths.’

Sarah took his hand and was immediately shaken by the warmth and strength that resonated from such a simple welcome. He held her hand for just a second too long. My goodness, she thought, I must be nervous if a simple handshake can affect me like this. ‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Sarah Caselton,’ she stuttered, looking up into his eyes.