The Woolworths Girls (9 page)

‘No, sorry. We’ve got to spend some time with the old bat. Thanks all the same. To be honest, I’d rather be sharing your Christmas than what we have planned, but needs must where the family’s concerned. Thank your nan for me, will you? We’ll share a glass or two to see in the new year, though.’

‘Of course I will. You’ve not changed your mind and want to go see your family, Freda?’

Freda shook her head and shuddered. ‘No. I’d much rather be at yours. That’s if it’s still OK?’

‘Of course it’s all right,’ she reassured Freda. But Sarah wondered why a young girl wouldn’t want to be at home with her family over Christmas. Freda had a secret and Sarah wasn’t so sure it was a pleasant one.

That evening Sarah immediately fell in love with Alfie, the elderly ex-soldier she was escorting around Woolworths. The men exclaimed with delight at the Christmas tree that stood just inside the entrance to the shop. Almost touching the ceiling, it set the scene for the delights of the store as visitors stepped over the threshold. Sarah had to admit her own counter, stocked high with boxes of greetings cards, calendars for 1939 and a large assortment of wrapping paper, looked suitably festive, with its canopy of paper chains and Chinese lanterns. Maisie pushed Alfie’s wheelchair, while Sarah picked out books, packets of toffees and tins of sweets as possible gifts for his grandchildren. She asked about them and tried hard to find presents that would suit the characters he described. Although a warm rug was tucked around his legs, Sarah could see he wore what must have been his best suit and a row of medals across his chest. She recognized one as the same as her granddad had proudly owned. As a young child, she’d sat on her granddad’s knee and been allowed to look at his medals, displayed in a velvet-lined box. She knew that one had been earned for service long before the Great War.

‘So tell me, my dear, why are you helping an old man when you should be out with your friends enjoying yourself? Are you courting?’

Maisie laughed. ‘You’re not slow in coming forward, Alfie.’

Alfie waved his walking stick at Maisie from his wheelchair. ‘None of your lip either, young woman. I’m asking because she’s a pretty young thing who shouldn’t be hanging around with old goats like me. It’s Christmas – she should be with her young man. Now answer my question, young miss.’

Sarah looked up from where she was wrapping a small bottle of eau de cologne. Alfie was a lovely man. He reminded her of Granddad Eddie – straight-talking, as many of his generation were. ‘I don’t have a boyfriend, Alfie, and even if I did, I still wouldn’t miss this evening for a hundred pounds. I’ve loved helping you with your shopping.’

Alfie looked up at Maisie. ‘Is she having me on? No young man?’

Maisie grinned at Sarah. ‘Not at the moment, Alfie, but I reckon there’s one who has set his cap for our Sarah.’

The old man guffawed with laughter and Maisie joined in.

Sarah tried hard not to join in with their mirth. But try as she might, she had to laugh.

‘Now, is there anything else you need? We will have to get upstairs to the canteen before too long or there won’t be any food left.’

‘Don’t you go worrying about me, my dear. I may not be able to walk that far, but with one of you young ladies on my arm and my faithful walking stick, stairs hold no fear for me.’

Sarah smiled to herself. What a lovely man he was. It was a pleasure to help him. This evening was so much fun.

Alfie took her hand as she bent to place his purchases in his bag. ‘Hark up, my love. You get yourself out and have some fun. If there’s a lad that sets your heart a-fluttering, then get him up that aisle and a ring on your finger as soon as you can. I don’t hold with all this talk of “peace in our time”. Mark my words, there’s gonna be another war and you youngsters are going to lose loved ones and miss growing up among family and friends just like the last generation did. I was lucky – my sons returned in one piece, just as I did when I served my country.’ He tapped his legs with his stick. ‘Even if me pins never worked proper afterwards, at least I came back. A lot didn’t. Grasp your happiness while you can, my love. While you can.’

Alfie fell silent for a moment as a faraway look came into his eyes. ‘Now, enough of my ramblings. Let’s go have that food, shall we?’

Sarah stood watching as Maisie pushed Alfie away. A sudden chill made her shiver as if something had walked over her grave.

The party was in full swing when the girls pushed Alfie through the doors of the staff canteen. The shop manager, Mr Benfield, was dressed as Father Christmas, complete with a pillow stuffed inside his costume to enhance his already portly figure.

Plates piled high with ham, pickles and crusty bread were being tucked into, while a large Christmas cake, in the centre of the table, was waiting to be sliced. Maureen, assisted by Freda, was busy pouring out cups of strong tea. The barrel of beer would be put to use soon afterwards when the entertainment started.

Sarah could see Alan in the kitchen with a tea towel tied round his waist as he set to work on the already mountainous pile of washing-up. The ex-servicemen may be elderly but they could still put away an enormous amount of food, Sarah thought to herself. She was just thinking of going to help him when she spotted Miss Billington waving to her from where the piano had been positioned.

‘Sarah, would you be a dear and turn the pages as I play? It’s been a while and I’m all fingers and thumbs. Thankfully Maureen Gilbert will take over when she’s finished serving tea.’

Sarah squeezed onto the long piano stool beside her boss. ‘Of course I will, Miss Billington.’

‘There’s no need to be so formal, Sarah. You may call me Betty as we aren’t at work.’

‘Thank you, M— Betty. That’s a pretty name.’

Betty Billington smiled. ‘Thank you. It’s Elizabeth really, after my grandmother, who died long before the last war. But you know how names are shortened by family. I have vague recollections of her, but time does strange things with our memories. Shall we start with “By a Waterfall”? I’m rather partial to a Busby Berkeley tune.’

It was the first time that Sarah had thought of her boss as a person who had likes and dislikes. Betty Billington was probably not more than forty years of age, but with her hair pulled back in a severe bun and her tweed suits, she looked much older.

‘That’s my favourite song as well.’ Sarah beamed and reached for the sheet of music, ready to turn the page when her boss indicated. Members of the party started to hum and tap their toes to the music. As the tables were cleared and cigars passed round, Mr Benfield made his appearance, sack over his shoulder and many ‘ho, ho, ho’s as he got into the part. He was the perfect Santa.

Betty stopped playing so that Father Christmas could take centre stage, to much cheering and ribbing from his staff. He handed out a small parcel to every guest, who each tore it open with gusto, voicing their appreciation.

Sarah watched with glee as the men showed their gratitude, shaking the hands of staff sitting nearby. ‘Is this the same every year?’ she asked Betty.

‘There’s always a party, but this year we’ve made it more special, as who knows what will be happening by next Christmas. These men know more than any what our country will face. It’s only right we show them some respect. Apart from the cigarettes and tobacco we’ve wrapped for each man, there’s also a small hamper of Christmas foods that will be delivered when we take our guests home. For some, this will be the only Christmas celebration they’ll have and here at F. W. Woolworth we feel that we should be saying thank you to these brave men.’

Sarah found she couldn’t speak properly as her throat had tightened and tears had started to form. She was seeing another side to her boss, and the job she was beginning to enjoy, this evening. ‘I think it’s wonderful that we are able to treat these men to such a lovely party,’ she said eventually. ‘My nan has told me that she lost many friends and family in the last war. It must be awful for the older folk, as they know it could happen again. I couldn’t bear to think I’d lose family and loved ones to war.’ Her gaze drifted to where Alan was chatting to a group of old soldiers. She had known him for such a short time. It would be unbearable never to see Alan again under such circumstances. ‘How do women cope when they lose the love of their life?’ she murmured.

‘We carry on, Sarah. That’s all we can do, but we never forget.’

Sarah could see that Betty’s hands were shaking. ‘I’ll get us a cup of tea. Would you like a slice of cake to go with it?’

‘Thank you. You’re a good girl, Sarah. I hope you aren’t faced with the sadness that my generation have had to bear.’

Sarah slipped into the kitchen, where she found Freda and Maisie cutting cake and laying it out on a tray to hand round to the guests.

Maisie licked the icing sugar from her fingers. ‘You’re getting a bit cosy with old Bossy Billington, aren’t you?’

Sarah shrugged her shoulders. ‘She’s not so bad. She was getting a bit upset talking about the last war. I said I’d get her a cuppa to cheer her up. I think she must have lost someone close and it’s shaken her up seeing the old soldiers here tonight. It’s rather sad to think about, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose lots of women lose their loved ones during a war,’ Freda said as she continued to cut the cake, unaware of Maisie and Sarah, who had stopped work and were looking at each other in fear.

‘This could happen to us if Hitler has his way,’ Maisie whispered.

‘Please, God, no,’ was all Sarah could say.

8

‘
. . . down at the Old Bull and Bush, la, la, la, la, la . . .
’

‘This is fun,’ Freda exclaimed as she stopped singing and sat down beside Sarah. ‘I’ve never heard so many old-time songs being sung before. The old soldiers seem to be enjoying themselves.’

The barrel of beer had gone down well and many of the men were waving their pint pots as they joined in with the songs. Some had stood by the piano and sung a ditty. Alfie had performed an extremely long version of ‘The Man Who Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo’, quickly followed by a rousing rendition of ‘Take Me Back to Dear Old Blighty’.

Maureen clapped her hands for everyone’s attention. ‘We’ve come to the part of the evening where the Woolies staff are going to entertain you. First we have Mrs Maisie Taylor, with her rendition of “Hello, Hello, Who’s Your Lady Friend?” A round of applause for Maisie, please.’

Freda and Sarah clapped until their hands ached as Maisie performed her song, with much swishing of her feather boa and winks to the older men. They then giggled uncontrollably as Mr Benfield, red-faced in his Father Christmas outfit, marched about the room booming out, slightly off-key, ‘On the Road to Mandalay’.

Sarah cheered loudly when Maureen curtsied at the end of her version of ‘When Father Papered the Parlour’. ‘I must say everyone is being a great sport. I never thought the staff would all be singing a song.’

Freda nudged her as Alan walked to the centre of the room, a large fake moustache stuck to his face.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, for your delectation I would like to dedicate this next song to all the beautiful women here today. And I will require the services of a certain young lady.’

Alan stepped forward and took Sarah’s hand, leading her back to the centre of the room. Kneeling down, he invited her to sit on his knee. Maureen, at the piano, played a grand opening and he burst into song. ‘
If you were the only girl in the world . . .
’

Sarah knew she should have been embarrassed. She wasn’t one for being the centre of attention. But here, sitting on Alan’s knee, his arms around her, she really did feel as though they were the only boy and girl in the world.

All too soon the song came to an end and they both stood up. Sarah curtsied to the audience before Alan took her back to her seat, kissing her hand as he saluted her. Again the old soldiers cheered.

Maisie leant over and whispered loudly into Sarah’s ear, the feather boa she still wore tickling Sarah’s cheek, ‘’Ere, I told you there was nothing to worry about. That Alan has fallen for you hook, line and sinker.’

‘I’ll say he has,’ Freda said, pretending to fan her face. ‘That was so romantic. I could swoon just thinking about it.’

‘It was romantic, wasn’t it? But best not get carried away . . . Let’s go help the men on with their coats. It looks as though the evening is over,’ she laughed. However, deep in her heart, Sarah held on to the thrill of being close to Alan as he showed his love for her. This had to be real. It just had to.

Sarah found Alfie’s coat and helped him into it, making sure his scarf was wrapped securely round his neck. Snow was still falling outside and the air was freezing.

Alfie tugged at her arm for her to lean close. ‘Now, take note of what I said earlier. Marry your young man before he goes off to war.’

‘Alfie, he’s not my young man. He’s just a friend.’ Sarah couldn’t explain that they hadn’t even been out together.

‘Don’t you go saying things like that, ’cos I know better. The two of you are made for each other – any fool can see that. I’m just saying don’t wait too long, that’s all, or you’ll regret it.’