The Woolworths Girls (6 page)

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Authors: Elaine Everest

BOOK: The Woolworths Girls
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‘It’s a Jessie Matthews musical at the Odeon, Nan.’

‘Now, she is good. I could watch her all day. Such a beautiful actress, and she’s British. None of your American movie stars for me.’

Freda glanced at Sarah, who knew only too well that she was remembering when they both thought that Maisie had been a movie star when they first met her. Only two weeks later they knew better. ‘I’ve not seen her before, Mrs Caselton. Is she a singer?’

Ruby put down her washing-up cloth and bowed to the girls before bursting into song – ‘
Over my shoulder goes one care. Over my shoulder goes two cares . . .
’ – ending the rendition by throwing her leg high, but not quite as high as the popular songstress.

Freda couldn’t believe her eyes and started to cough as she swallowed her food.

‘Cough up, love – it might be a gold watch,’ Maisie said as she thumped her on the back. ‘That was some performance, Mrs C. Why don’t you come with us to see the film? A night at the pictures will do you good.’

Ruby straightened her crossover pinny and fanned herself with a tea towel. ‘Be off with you, Maisie. You don’t want an old woman coming along with you. Besides, I have the washing-up to take care of.’

‘Get yourself ready, Mrs C., and we’ll do the washing-up. It won’t take long. We can leave the pots to soak until we get back.’

‘In that case, I’ll do just that.’ Ruby turned at the kitchen door and smiled at Sarah and her friends. ‘It’s changed my life having you here, Sarah, and that’s no lie.’

‘She’s all right, your nan,’ Maisie said as she took a slice of the apple pie. ‘Did you give her Maureen Gilbert’s message?’

‘Yes, I did. She knows Maureen. I think it was my parents that the message was really for. Nan’s lovely. She’s more like a mum to me, to be honest. I’m pleased I’m living here now. I was worried at first, but with Dad travelling back and forth from Devon, it’s like I’m still living at home.’ She didn’t add that it was less stressful with a couple of hundred miles between Erith and her mum.

‘I’m so glad to hear that. When you told us that your mum thought your dad’s job would mean them moving to London, I was so worried you’d be moving with them.’

‘I thought the same as you, Freda, love. So are they still going to London, Sarah?’ Maisie asked as she passed plates to Freda to be stacked into the sink.

‘No, Dad’s just travelling between Devon and Vickers. Mum is really angry, as she’d taken into her head that they’d be living in London and visiting the theatres and everything, and going home to Devon at the weekends. Nan said I can live with her whatever happens. That’s why Dad’s gone back to Devon for the weekend for a dinner dance. He thought it’d cheer Mum up a bit.’

‘I can’t see why she wants to live out in the sticks like that. Erith has more than enough for me to enjoy, and we can get to London if we want to.’

Sarah sighed. She didn’t know how to explain to her friends that her mum looked down her nose at everyone who lived in Erith, and that included her in-laws and friends from her past. ‘Mum’s involved in lots of clubs and things where she lives. It’s close to Plymouth, so we aren’t particularly isolated.’

‘Well, I’m pleased that you decided to move to Erith. We make a good team, don’t we?’ Maisie declared.

Freda nodded enthusiastically. ‘I agree!’

Sarah smiled. ‘Me too. I couldn’t think of nicer friends to have . . . We’d best hurry or by the time we get to the Odeon, it’ll be the interval and the usherettes will be selling ice cream. I for one haven’t got room for another mouthful. Not even a bag of chips on the way home.’

5

‘If only those ruddy bells would stop ringing. I swear I ’ear them in me sleep.’ Maisie stretched her arms above her head and yawned.

‘Watch it or you’ll be in trouble. There are still customers in the shop,’ Sarah hissed. ‘We’ve only got another ten minutes to go. At least pretend to be doing something.’

Maisie lazily flicked a feather duster over a pile of delicate tree baubles. She’d been moved to the seasonal counter to help out in the days leading up to Christmas Eve. ‘Why does there ’ave to be so many bells ringing all over the shop?’

Sarah sighed. She too was tired. The girls had been working non-stop and were grateful for their short tea breaks. ‘So that we know what the time is and the customers know when the shop is closing. If there wasn’t a bell ringing, how would you know you could go for a cup of tea or pack up and go home?’

‘You’ve got a point there, love. I’d hate to be stuck in here overnight with old Benfield.’

Sarah giggled. It was well known that the manager, Mr Benfield, was the last to leave and the first to arrive each morning. They did wonder if he ever went home, as he seemed to be a firm fixture in the shop.

‘Here, which one of these calendars should I buy me mother-in-law for Christmas?’

Sarah looked between the two that Maisie was holding up. There were so many scenes to choose from. Everyone in Erith, as well as the surrounding villages, would have a calendar from Woolworths in their stocking. Each large piece of card showed a pretty picture that would grace the walls of many a home for all of 1939. ‘I like the cottage scene, but perhaps your mother-in-law would prefer the seaside picture.’

Maisie shrugged, her perfectly painted lips pouting despondently. ‘She’ll moan whatever one I buy. I’ll get her what I like. After all, I’ll probably ’ave to look at it for all of next year.’

‘No chance of you finding your own place, then?’ Sarah asked as she pulled a dust cover from under the counter as yet another bell rang to indicate that all customers had left and the staff could start to put the shop to bed for the night.

‘Nah – and now Joe’s talking about joining up. He reckons it’s better to jump in now before all this conscription lark starts. He says it’d be safer for me to stay with the old girl. Safe from what? I’ll go insane stuck in the house alone with that old bat.’ Maisie ran her fingers over a calendar that depicted a thatched cottage. ‘Now, if I had a place like this to live in, I’d be in heaven. I fancy ’aving a few chickens and some kiddies running around in the garden.’ She sighed wistfully.

‘I’ll buy the thatched-cottage calendar for my mum,’ Sarah said. ‘My parents have a lovely house, but she’s always wanted to live in a cottage with a thatched roof.’

‘How’s she doing, ducks? Yer nan said she wasn’t so happy with you being up here and yer dad travelling back and forth so much.’

‘She’s not so good, Maisie. Nan told me that when Mum and Dad moved away from Erith, it changed Mum’s world. I was only a toddler at the time so can’t remember any of it. Mum liked joining the clubs and meeting new people. Most of them owned businesses and were well-do-to. Nan said it turned her head a bit and gave her airs and graces. It seems that my aunt Pat wouldn’t speak to her when we came back to Erith to visit and Mum looked down on everyone.’

‘Sounds as though she’s a bit above everyone else, don’t it?’

Sarah nodded. She hated talking about Mum like this, but Maisie was a friend now.

‘At least your dad’s all right. It’ll be nice to see him when we get to your nan’s place. It was good of her to let us get ready for the Christmas party at her house. She’s a right laugh.’

Sarah grinned. ‘Yes, she is. She’s always happy when the house is full of people.’

‘Here, look sharp – Bossy Billington’s coming along to empty the tills. If we aren’t quick, she’ll have us doing more work and we’ll never get away on time. Where’s Freda?’

‘She went to the warehouse with a pile of empty boxes. She said she’d meet us in the cloakroom. She’s so excited about tonight.’

Maisie threw the last of the covers over the counter and, grabbing Sarah’s arm, steered her away from the counter so they could escape. ‘Bless her. I don’t think she ’ad much of a life before she came here. I wish she’d open up a bit and tell us, but even I can’t get anything out of her. Do you know, she was even thrilled when Miss Billington told us we’d have proper made-to-measure uniforms in the new year? Mind you, it’ll be better than wearing these second-hand rags.’

‘Well, it’s a sign that we have permanent jobs to look forward to. Maureen said the bosses wouldn’t be bothered with our uniforms if they weren’t planning to keep us on.’

‘You’re pretty chummy with her, aren’t you?’

‘She’s nice. She likes to chat about my family and the old days when she serves me in the canteen.’

‘Whether we get to stay on or not, I for one am glad to be getting a new uniform. I look like a sack of spuds in this old thing.’

Sarah grinned at Maisie as she followed her upstairs to the staffroom. Whatever Maisie wore she looked a million dollars. Considering she’d taken her overall apart and remade it to fit her slim shape, she had nothing to complain about. She looked a hundred times better than all the other staff members lumped together. Sarah was looking forward to seeing everyone’s faces when they saw what Maisie was going to be wearing at the staff Christmas party that evening.

‘You look like a princess, love.’ George Caselton put down his evening newspaper and stood up as Sarah walked into the front room dressed in her new party frock – courtesy of Maisie’s dressmaking skills. Sarah twirled round for her father, the pale green chiffon swirling around her ankles. With a simple fitted bodice and short puffed sleeves, the dress emphasized Sarah’s slim figure. She’d washed her hair that evening, and she’d clipped back the soft waves that bounced around her shoulders.

Sarah kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Dad. Isn’t Maisie clever?’

‘She certainly is. It’s a rare talent to be able to create something so beautiful. Speaking of which, where are your friends?’

‘They’re just finishing getting ready. Freda needed another stitch in her hem, so Maisie is doing it now.’ Sarah sat on the arm of his chair and breathed in the aroma as George puffed on his pipe. This was what she identified with her dad: the distinctive tobacco smell, and the way she could speak to him at any time about anything that troubled her.

‘Dad, I’m worried about Mum. Is she all right on her own in Devon? With you travelling so much, she’s on her own. I thought perhaps she could come and stay here sometimes?’

George grimaced. ‘I don’t think she’d like that, love.’

‘Why didn’t Mum like living in Erith? I know you both came from here, and we’ve always visited Nan, but Mum has changed so much, from what I’ve been told, and I’m worried.’

George patted her knee. ‘Don’t you worry about your mum, Sarah – she’s just fine. I’ll try to bring her up at Christmas. I can hear your mates coming downstairs now. They sound excited. I wish I was coming along to this party myself!’

‘Why don’t you, Dad? You’d be more than welcome.’

‘I don’t think so, love. Not this time. I’m about all in.

It’s been a hard day. I’ll finish the crossword and be making tracks for my bed before too long.’

Sarah bent and kissed his forehead, wondering why was it she could always speak so openly to her dad and not her mum.

‘Now, look at the pair of you. Aren’t you both a sight for sore eyes?’

Freda grinned at George and curtsied in response. Sarah had never seen her look so pretty. She scrubbed up well, as her nan would say. In a deep red velvet dress, with the sweetheart neckline edged in lace, she looked a million miles away from the frightened young girl Sarah had met when they started work at Woolworths. It certainly showed what friendship could do if Freda could blossom within weeks of starting her new life. Sarah wondered again what it was that her friend was running away from. It seemed that Freda had secrets that she was not yet ready to share.

Maisie’s dress of oyster satin was equally beautiful; it skimmed her hips and fell into soft folds that floated as she moved across the front room. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a severe pleat at her neck, which showed off the tiny pearl studs clipped to each ear. A multitude of small curls topped the pleat, giving the overall appearance of a sophisticated, assured woman.

‘You’ve done a grand job, Maisie,’ George said. ‘You’ve a rare talent there.’

Maisie went red. Sarah had never seen her blush before. ‘Thank you, Mr Caselton.’

‘My, my, don’t you all look a picture?’ said Ruby. She turned to Vera Munro, who had followed her through the front door. ‘Look at these girls all done up for their Christmas party. As pretty as a picture, all three of them.’

Vera sneered. ‘Such a shame to spoil all that get-up on a Woolworths party. Don’t you agree, George? I reckon your Irene wouldn’t be so keen to see her only child dressed up for a shop do.’

‘I’ll have none of that in my house, Vera. The girls look lovely, and if some don’t like it, they can just pick up their coat and go elsewhere.’

Vera snorted. ‘It’s only my opinion. However, some might consider toning down their appearance. No husband this evening, Maisie?’

Sarah was horrified. Her friend was standing, hands on hips, glaring at Vera. ‘I’m so sorry, Maisie. I’m sure Mrs Munro didn’t mean what she said.’

‘That’s OK, love. You ain’t responsible for what other people say. My husband is working a late shift, Mrs Munro. At least he doesn’t have to go to the pub most nights to escape his nagging wife.’

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