The Woolworths Girls (31 page)

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Authors: Elaine Everest

BOOK: The Woolworths Girls
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‘Why not try to have a little sleep, Maisie?’ Freda stroked her friend’s hair back from her damp face.

Maisie brushed her hand away. ‘No, no, I want to get this all off me chest now. The police said that Sheila had hit her ’ead, and with it being so crowded and her being such a little kid, no one had seen her in distress. I should have been watching her. It was my job and I let everyone down – especially our Sheila.’

‘But, Maisie, it was an accident,’ Sarah soothed her friend.

Maisie shook her head violently. ‘No, my parents blamed me and they were right. Dad said I might as well have murdered her meself for all the care I took, and Mum . . . well, she couldn’t bear to look at me. After a few months I knew I was best away from home so they could forget about me and what I’d done completely. I packed a bag and left in the middle of the night and headed towards Kent. I’d thought about going to the hop fields, as I’d heard so much about them, but as it was, I only got as far as Woolwich and picked up a job serving in a greasy spoon. After a year or so I got a job as a live-in barmaid and got on with me life. I was popular, got on well with the punters and went out with a few blokes, who didn’t ask any questions about me previous life. Our Sheila’s death had been reported in the papers, and stuff like that sticks. Most people don’t want to know a woman who as good as killed a kid. That’s the way it was until Joe walked into the pub and I fell ’ead over heels for ’im. I think you know the rest.’

Sarah didn’t know what to say. Her own life seemed so easy compared to what Maisie had put up with.

‘Oi! What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing in my ’ouse?’

Ruby jumped as Doreen Taylor woke from her drunken slumber. When she’d first stepped into the house, Ruby had thought Doreen was dead. Framed photographs had been wrenched from a picture rail, and ornaments had been knocked from the sideboard and mantelpiece. An empty bottle of gin lay broken on the floor. Ruby had never before seen such destruction.

‘I came to see you. We need to talk. There was no need to shout yer mouth off like that in Woolworths. You know Maisie lives at my place. Why couldn’t you knock on my door and break the news to the girl in a more sensitive way, eh?’

‘What’s it got to do with you? That girl ruined my son’s life and now he’s dead. How am I supposed to manage without him? It was bad enough he had his pay sent to her, let alone that I lost her housekeeping money when you lured her to live with you. Blimey, you must be coining it in with the amount of money coming into your house. You lot in Alexandra Road have always thought yerself a bit above the rest of us with yer bay windows and net curtains.’

‘Now we’re coming to the point. You don’t give a damn about that girl or your son. It’s losing the money that you’re concerned with.’

‘Well, she ain’t gonna put any money through me letter box each week now she’s not got a man to support her, is she? I’ve got ter look out for meself.’

Ruby looked at the woman sprawled in front of her. She had no respect for a person who would do what she’d done to Maisie. Greed and self-preservation had outweighed any grief the woman may have felt.

Doreen Taylor reached out for the gin bottle on the floor before realizing it had smashed. She pulled herself to her feet with some difficulty and headed to the small kitchen. Ruby could hear her rummaging in a cupboard and swearing to herself as she searched for more alcohol. Ruby enjoyed a social tipple, but God forbid that the taste of drink ever turned her into the drunk, sodden hag that Maisie’s mother-in-law had become. No wonder the girl was desperate to move away from Manor Road. Maisie was a good girl to keep sending money to the woman, even though most of it would have been spent on booze.

She looked on the table that stood in the middle of the untidy room. It looked as though Doreen had turned the contents of the sideboard drawer out searching for something. Ruby spied a crumpled telegram. This must have been what she took to Woolies when she confronted Maisie. She picked it up and scanned the few words as quickly as she could in case the woman came back into the room and noticed Ruby was poking around in her property. She tried not to gasp aloud when she spotted the telegram was addressed to Maisie and not Doreen. The old bag had opened her daughter-in-law’s correspondence. Nearby, an envelope confirmed that it was addressed to Maisie, and alongside that were an insurance policy and Maisie and Joe’s marriage certificate. What was the old cow up to? Was she going to fleece Maisie out of any inheritance she was entitled to from the death of her husband? Well, she’d soon put a stop to that. Ruby stuffed the paperwork into her pocket. By rights it all belonged to Maisie anyway. She was only returning it to its rightful owner. She turned and left Doreen Taylor’s home. She had nothing more to say to her.

‘Phew, what a day, Nelson. I’m glad to have a sit-down and put my feet up.’ Ruby stroked the dog’s head as he leant against her knee. She had taken to allowing the dog into the house when she was alone or the girls had gone to bed. He was a comfort and demanded nothing from her apart from the occasional meal and a bowl of fresh water.

‘I wonder who your owner is. I should make some enquiries, I suppose, but if truth be known, I’d miss you, lad, if you were taken away now.’ The dog placed his paw on Ruby’s knee and gazed up at her with his large brown eyes. ‘I’ll put a card up in the corner shop when I get around to it. There’s no great rush. Let’s listen to the wireless while we wait for Freda to come home from her late shift, shall we? It’s about time for the news. No doubt it’s not gonna be good.’

Ruby turned the large knob on the Bakelite wireless and waited for it to warm up, wondering what the news would be this evening.

‘Nan, any chance of a cuppa? I’m gasping. I think it’s all that talking we’ve done today.’ Sarah yawned and stretched her arms as she entered the room.

‘Sit yourself down, love. I was just thinking of making some cocoa. Would you fancy that?’

‘Lovely. I see you’ve let Nelson indoors again.’

‘He’s no trouble at all. He’s good company for me.’

Sarah laughed. She knew her nan had a soft spot for the stray dog. ‘I’m sure he is, as long as you can manage to feed him.’

‘There’s always a few scraps going, and I reckon he would guard the house a treat when we aren’t here. The wireless is just warming up. I thought I’d listen to a bit of news. See if anything is happening. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll get that cocoa.’

Sarah sat on the sofa and tucked her feet underneath her. She was feeling more tired every day and relished the time she could sit and just relax. Everyone was telling her to stop work and rest at home, but she still wanted to walk to Woolworths each day and be able to focus on her job to keep her mind off Alan and the dangers he must be facing. ‘The news is starting, Nan.’

Ruby handed Sarah her cocoa and made herself comfortable in her armchair. ‘Right, let’s have a listen and see what’s been happening in the world today.’

‘Oh my God, Nan! Something’s happened.’ Sarah turned the volume on the wireless as high as it would go. They listened intently as broadcaster Bernard Stubbs gave the grave news from Dover.


For days and nights ships of all kinds have plied to and fro across the Channel under the fierce onslaught of the enemy’s bombers, utterly regardless of the perils, to bring out as many as possible of the trapped BEF. There was every kind of ship that I saw coming in this morning, and every one of them was crammed full of tired, battle-stained and bloodstained British soldiers . . .

‘What does “BEF” mean?’

‘Nan, it means “British Expeditionary Forces”. I wonder if all those ships I saw from the riverfront the other day were heading over to save our boys.’

‘They may well have been. Ssh, listen. It’s just too awful.’


. . . Soon after dawn this morning I watched two warships steaming in, one listing heavily to port under the enormous load of men she carried on her decks. In a few minutes her tired commander had her alongside and a gangway was thrown from her decks to the quay. Transport officers counted the men as they came ashore. No question of units. No question of regiments. No question even of nationality, for there were French and Belgian soldiers who had fought, side by side, with the British at the battle of Flanders . . .

Ruby pulled her handkerchief from the sleeve of her blouse and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Those poor lads.’


. . . All of them were tired, some were completely exhausted, but the most amazing thing was that practically every man was reasonably cheerful and most of them managed a smile. Even when a man was obviously on the verge of collapse from sheer fatigue, you could still tell by his eyes that his spirit was irrepressible. And that is a thing that all the bombs in Germany will never crush . . .

Ruby and Sarah remained silent, listening intently and not believing what they heard.

‘. . .
Another man told me how he’d been on the beach at Dunkirk for three days with hundreds of his comrades waiting for a boat. Embarkation was often difficult because the pier had been bombed and the ships could not get close enough in. So they joined the ships in boats and paddled in the water some of the way. All the time the gallant German airmen were bombing and machine-gunning with no discrimination between the fit and the wounded, and with no discrimination between the warships and the hospital ships . . .

‘How can they continue to fire at wounded men, Nan?’ Sarah asked as she listened to the horrifying news.

‘I don’t know, love. War is a mystery to me.’


. . . The organization at the port was excellent: the ships were being unloaded at an astonishing speed. No sooner were they emptied they were disappearing through the harbour entrance back to France to fetch more men home . . .

‘God bless ’em all,’ Ruby murmured.

Sarah could only nod in agreement.


. . . On the station, I watched the men climb into the long waiting trains, where it was astounding to walk from carriage to carriage full of soldiers to find silence, for most of them were fast asleep where they sat . . .

‘Those poor men must be completely shattered. I can’t imagine having to endure such torture. Fancy not knowing what was going to happen while on the beach.’ Ruby held her handkerchief to her face, not wanting to hear what came next.


. . . Train after train puffed out of the station, all full of sleeping men. All the way along the line, the people of England stood at the level crossings and the back gardens to wave at them. And so the men of the BEF came home.

‘We are losing this war, aren’t we, Nan?’

‘It’s certainly a setback, Sarah, but we won’t say we’ve lost until Hitler’s walking up Erith High Street. Then he’ll ’ave me to face,’ Ruby declared defiantly.

Sarah was pretty sure her nan meant what she said.

They both sat in silence contemplating what the broadcaster had reported.

‘What the hell does that dog want?’ Ruby asked as Nelson started to scratch at the back door, barking and jumping to be let into the garden.

‘For heaven’s sake, lad, you’d better not be chasing next door’s cat again. I don’t want to have to face them if you ever catch him. Mind you, it would stop the bugger digging up my carrots and leaving his little parcels everywhere.’ Ruby eased herself out of her armchair and opened the door, whereupon Nelson raced to the Anderson shelter, barking furiously at the entrance. ‘Don’t say we have a rat in there. Vera reckons she’s seen them in her shelter.’

Sarah shuddered. ‘One of us is going to have to look, otherwise the neighbours will be complaining.’

Ruby armed herself with a broom. ‘If our lads can face the Germans, we can face one rat. Stay behind me in case it bites. Nelson, shut up and come here.’

The dog obeyed his new mistress and stopped his barking, although he stayed alert and bright-eyed. Sarah picked up a torch from where it had been left by the door in case of an air raid and reached for the poker beside the fire before following Ruby out into the dark garden. Nelson lay by the entrance to the Anderson shelter and growled quietly, his attention focused on whatever lay within.

Ruby leant closer to Sarah and whispered in her ear, ‘I’m going to throw the door back and holler as loud as I can. If anything gets too close to you, wallop it with your poker. That’ll scare off any rodents in there.’

Sarah nodded and raised the poker over her shoulder ready to take aim.

Ruby reached forward slowly and, using the broom, pushed open the door that George had built to protect anyone inside the shelter and bellowed, ‘Get out of there now, yer bugger.’

For a moment there was silence; then a plaintive voice called out, ‘Don’t hurt me, missus. I didn’t mean no harm.’

A face appeared at the door. In the dim light from her torch Sarah could see a young man. She felt that perhaps she’d seen him somewhere before, as there was something familiar about his features. She lowered the poker. ‘Come out slowly and don’t try anything stupid.’

The man climbed out of the shelter and walked towards the back door as Nelson followed close behind, keen to snap at his heels if he tried to run away.

‘Inside and sit yourself in that chair.’ Ruby indicated it with a nod as she closed the back door and pulled the blackout curtain across. Both women stood in front of him as he cowered slightly.

‘Now, where have you come from, and what were you doing in our shelter?’ Ruby asked, still holding the broom firmly and ready to bash him on the head if he dared to do anything wrong.

At that moment they heard a key in the front door and a familiar voice. ‘It’s only me. I got off on time for once.’ Freda entered the room, her eyes widening in amazement at the scene in front of her. ‘Lenny? What are you doing here?’

A sob caught in the young man’s voice. ‘Sorry, sis. I had nowhere else to go. It’s that Tommy Whiffen. He found out where I was and came after me.’

21

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