Yours Cheerfully

by AJ Pearce

  ‘Will there be enough time?’ I asked. ‘For the wedding.’

  ‘We’ll make sure there is,’ said Charles. ‘I’m not leaving until we’re married.’

  It was one thing to keep hold of.

  ‘But, darling, if you’re up for it, I think we should try to get married as soon as we possibly can. I’ll get on to the church and sort out a new date. Would that be all right, do you think?’

  ‘I think that would be lovely,’ I said. ‘And it’s a good thing, isn’t it? We’ve both been counting the days.’

  I knew I didn’t sound anything like my usual self, but I was doing the best that I could, and Charles knew it.

  ‘Bloody hell, I wish I wasn’t doing this on the phone,’ he said. ‘You’re being terribly good about it.’

  ‘I’m a lovely person,’ I said, going for a spot of humour.

  Tears were rolling down my cheeks. I hoped he couldn’t hear them in my voice.

  ‘That I know,’ said Charles. He sounded awful. ‘I’ll contact Reverend Lovell and see if he can change the date. I’ll sort a special licence if we need one and put in for emergency leave. I will make this work. I promise.’

  There was no way I would let him hear me cry.

  ‘Thank you.’ I didn’t know whether I wanted to stay on the phone for ever or just get up and run. ‘That would be super.’

  ‘I love you, E.’

  I couldn’t bear this.

  ‘I love you too,’ I said.

  The pips started going at the end of the line.

  Everything was just getting worse every day.

  ‘I love you too,’ I said again. Then as I knew Charles would be putting more pennies into the slot, I put down the receiver and sobbed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Smile and Look Innocent

  CHARLES CALLED BACK later in the evening and we spoke for longer. I tried hard to be chipper and felt slightly better about playing my part. We would crack on with the wedding plans and then Charles would go off and do a very good and important job and I would do mine back here, and that was all there was to it, which in wartime was perfectly fine.

  If I said that enough times, perhaps it would be true. Still, I wanted to curl into a ball and wait for the war to just go away.

  This would not help anyone.

  Bunty was out, so I went to bed early which gave me a whole night to sort myself out.

  I hated the idea of Charles going, but for now he was still here, alive, in Britain and I would get to marry him. That was a lot more than many people had. Of course I thought of Irene and Bunty and Anne. I was damn lucky. It was as simple as that.

  I wrote to Charles in the middle of the night, to say properly how proud I was of him. Even though I had told him a dozen times when we had talked, I wanted him to have it in black and white.

  He wrote to me at exactly the same time. He wanted to thank me for being such a brick. Even though he had said it a dozen times when we had talked. Most of all, he said, I had to know that he loved me more than anything else in the world.

  I kept the letter in my bag and read it over and over again.

  Two nights later, Bunty, Thelma and I were sitting in the kitchen, which Bunty had just re-named the Wedding Office, eating pickled cucumbers for our tea. In her self-appointed role as Bunty’s deputy in charge of wedding plans, Thelma had called round before our shift at the fire station so she could go through Bunts’ frighteningly efficient lists to see how far a change of date might mess things about.

  I knew that the two of them had decided to make things as cheery as they could, and I was more than keen to join in.

  ‘I always think that keeping your chin up isn’t that hard,’ Bunty had said, when I first told her about the change of plan. ‘You just need to lift your face. It’s your heart that takes the effort. When it falls over it can be so stubborn about getting back up.’

  ‘I’ve decided just to think about the wedding,’ I said. ‘That’s the lovely bit and it would be such a shame to spoil it.’

  Bunty had taken up the challenge with gusto. ‘If we refer to List A,’ she now said, authoritatively, ‘which as you know covers outfits, then whatever date Charles manages to get, you are definitely prepared.’

  Thelma diligently consulted the list while I loudly bit into a cucumber and Bunty threw me one of her Looks.

  ‘Sorry,’ I mumbled, with my mouth full. ‘List A. Lovely.’

  ‘I’ll move on. List B: Guests,’ said Bunty.

  ‘List B,’ said Thelma, heartily. ‘I’m there.’ She looked across the kitchen table at me. ‘Keep up, Lake.’

  I tried not to laugh but succeeded only in choking slightly.

  Bunty rolled her eyes. ‘It all depends on whether it’s a weekend, but I think we should plan for a party in the evening either way,’ she said. ‘Does that sound sensible?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘Corporal Thelma?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ agreed Thel. ‘Although can’t I be an officer as I’m Second in Command?’

  We both looked at Bunty. ‘No,’ she said. ‘List C: Food.’

  ‘Crikey, Bunty,’ said Thelma. ‘If you were in the War Cabinet, you’d sort them all out and this whole business would be over by Christmas.’

  Bunty smiled and leant back in her chair. ‘Can you imagine?’ she said, almost dreamily. ‘Over by Christmas. What a lovely thought.’

  For a moment no one said anything.

  ‘Come on,’ I said, before the mood could become too contemplative. ‘List C: Provisions. Tricky one. If we don’t have champagne and caviar by the bucket load, I’m calling the whole thing off.’

  ‘Quite right too,’ said Thelma.

  ‘I’ll say,’ said Bunty. ‘And bananas and pineapples for pudding.’

  ‘Covered in toffee and ice cream,’ said Thel.

  ‘Which we’ll eat until we are sick,’ I said, happily bringing down the tone.

  ‘And then have some more,’ said Bunty, revoltingly. ‘Hold on, there’s the telephone. I’ll go.’

  I was pleased to see Bunty get up almost easily and march off to the stairs. Her injured leg was getting stronger, and I could see her finding it easier to get around, often without using her stick.

  I sat back and began to crunch my way through another cucumber, thinking how nice it would be with a big lump of mature Cheddar and some newly baked bread covered with fresh butter. Then I heard Bunty shout for me from the floor above.

  Her voice sounded urgent, so I put down my fresh-bread-less pickle and hurried upstairs, wondering if it might be Charles again.

  ‘I see,’ she was saying. She put her hand over the receiver. ‘It’s Anne,’ she whispered. ‘Or rather, it’s Betty calling about Anne.’

  ‘Emmy’s here now,’ said Bunty as we put our heads together in order to listen.

  ‘Hello, Emmy,’ said Betty. She was breathless as if she had been running. ‘I don’t know how to put this. Anne’s been sacked from Chandlers.’

  ‘What?’ said Bunty and I at the same time.

  ‘I know. It’s a long story, but her mum’s been out of sorts again. Anne thinks it’s her nerves. Anyway, Anne managed to get a neighbour to have Tony, but she ended up having to take Ruby to work.’

  Bunty and I looked at each other over the phone.

  ‘Is she all right?’ asked Bunty.

  ‘Yes, yes, they’re both fine. But Ruby wouldn’t sit still. You can guess what happened.’

  ‘Why on earth did Anne take her in?’ I said, cross with the worry. ‘We all know what Ruby’s like.’

  ‘I would say she probably had no flaming choice,’ said Betty, hotly. ‘You know the situation.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘That was unfair of me. Where are they now?’

  ‘They were sent home,’ said Betty. ‘Mr Rice said he’s not giving out second chances any more. There’s another thing. The march is off,’ she finished. ‘Someone told Mr Terry.’

  ‘No!’ said Bunty.

  �
��He’s announced that he’ll sack anyone who joins in. If you ask me, they’ve used Ruby as an excuse to play rough and get rid of Anne. Terry hauled her up about the letter asking for a meeting to discuss a nursery and then he heard about the parade. It was perfect for him. Old Ricicle isn’t a bad sort. I reckon Terry’s the one playing at Jimmy Cagney and being the tough guy. I don’t know what else to say.’

  Betty sounded thoroughly defeated.

  ‘This is awful,’ I said. ‘Asking him outright wasn’t even Anne’s idea. It was mine. Betty, this isn’t fair. If he should pick on anyone, it should be me.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Betty. I heard her light a cigarette. ‘You tried. We all tried.’

  ‘Why don’t I talk to him?’ I said. ‘I’ll explain that everything was my idea. That I talked everyone into it. If I’m the troublemaker, maybe he won’t make Anne leave. Let me try to see him.’

  It had been very easy to come up with suggestions, but the nearest thing I had done to putting myself in any risk was to have a mild row with Miss Eggerton, and then I’d quickly backed down at the first sign of a fuss.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Betty. ‘Maybe. Would he agree to a meeting, though?’

  Bunty looked at me and shrugged.

  ‘Do you want to speak with Anne first, Betty?’ I asked. ‘If she’d rather I keep out, then I will. If not, I’ll come tomorrow on the first train. Please tell her we will make this right.’

  ‘OK,’ said Betty. ‘I’d better go. I’ll call back when I can.’

  We said hurried goodbyes and then Bunty put the phone down.

  ‘You’ll make this right?’ she said, not unkindly. ‘How are you going to do that? He sounds just as vile as you said.’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ I said, as Thelma appeared from downstairs, looking concerned. ‘But it’s my fault and I can’t just sit here and do nothing. Maybe if I appeal to his better nature – make him be the hero of it all. Sorry, Thel, we’ve just heard our friend Anne’s been given the sack.’

  ‘Flipping heck,’ said Thelma. ‘That’s horrible.’

  ‘It wasn’t just you, Emmy,’ said Bunty. ‘I was there too.’ She looked at the grandfather clock. Even its tick tocks sounded gloomy. ‘You and Thel need to go to your shift. I’m going to think of who I can write to next. You’re right, we can’t just let it go.’

  ‘And I’ll think of what I can do about Mr Terry,’ I said. ‘What on earth is Anne going to do now?’

  *

  I slept badly that night, tossing and turning as I tried to think of how to help my friend. Writing letters to politicians was all very well, but it wasn’t going to do Anne any good.

  Somehow, Mr Terry had to be convinced to give her back her job, and somehow I was going to have to find a way to talk him into it. I knew he wouldn’t agree to another meeting. This time I would try a surprise visit.

  I took the first train out of London the next morning.

  ‘None of this is your fault,’ said Anne as she gave me a hug at the railway station, where she had been waiting for over an hour as my train was delayed. ‘It really isn’t. Mum has been struggling to cope with the kids. That’s why I ended up taking Ruby in, not because of you. And more to the point, shouldn’t you be at work?’

  She was probably right, but I didn’t say anything.

  Anne rubbed her hands together in her bright red woollen gloves. They matched her scarf and hat and made her look for all the world as if she was getting ready for the festive season to start.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ I asked. She looked terrible.

  ‘I must admit I’ve been better,’ she said. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have got someone to say I was sick, although I have done that twice before. Poor Ruby, she didn’t know what was going on. Shall we sit down?’

  The railway station had a small tea and waiting room, and mainly to try to get Anne warm, I agreed. Betty had called back later last night and said that Anne would meet me if I really did want to come. It was good to see her, but her bloodshot eyes gave her away.

  ‘What did Mr Rice, say exactly?’ I asked, as we chose from a doleful selection of stale-looking baked goods.

  ‘He just said bringing in children had to stop. Apparently, it’s happened in other parts of the factory and Mr Terry has had enough.’

  ‘And he said that was it, right on the spot?’

  ‘Yes. He said to get my cards and go, so I did. Ruby was howling by then and I just wanted to leave.’

  I paid the lady at the counter, and said, ‘My treat,’ which was entirely wrong under the circumstances. Then I followed Anne to a table.

  ‘Look at this,’ said Anne. ‘Betty took it off the wall and hid it down her shirt to smuggle it out.’

  She passed me a handbill. On it was printed a short announcement.

  It has been brought to the attention of the Chandler Management that a number of employees are planning to stage a protest march regarding facilities in the factory.

  We would like to remind all employees that this is against both company and security rules. Any personnel taking part in protests will be subject to disciplinary action, including dismissal and legal proceedings.

  Signed.

  MT Terry

  Factory Director

  ‘That’s when I knew I was done for,’ said Anne. ‘I’m such an idiot. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ve left the children with Maeve as she’s on nights. Mum’s a worrier so I’ve just told her they’re changing our shifts. The thing is, she can’t cope with Ruby and Tony for twelve hours a day.’

  Anne took off her gloves and leant her elbows on the table, putting her head in her hands. I knew the girls had to scrub them like mad every day to get the oil and the dirt out, and they were red raw and cracked. Anne was looking a shadow of the woman I had first met.

  ‘Eat that scone,’ I ordered, as if it would make a difference. ‘I’m going to try to see Mr Terry and tell him it’s down to me. I’m sure if you hadn’t been in Woman’s Friend you’d be less noticeable, and you’d probably have gone about the nursery request more quietly if I hadn’t made that stupid comment about a parade.’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ said Anne, cutting a scone in half which I knew she would share with Ruby later. ‘It’s lovely of you to try. But I’m the one that took Rubes into work.’

  ‘I’ll tell him I let you down on babysitting,’ I said. ‘And if I say all the stuff about trying to get better facilities was my idea and I put you all up to it, then he might relent. But I’ll only go if you are happy for me to try it.’

  Anne hesitated. ‘I’ve got no job, I’m lying to my mum and everything we’ve all tried so far hasn’t worked,’ she said. ‘I don’t think things could be much worse. I didn’t expect Mr Terry to talk to us when we wrote to him, but he didn’t even get one of the Welfare Managers to listen to what we had to say. If you can find a way to get to him, you tell him from me, there’s a factory full of women trying their best, but we can’t do everything. Whether he’s interested or not, we’re trying to look after our families and homes too. Not to mention hoping to God our boys come back in one piece,’ she finished, her face now flushed with anger.

  If I had wanted to appeal to Mr Terry before, now I felt that nothing would stop me.

  ‘I don’t know if I’ll even get as far as his office,’ I said. ‘But I’ll do everything I can. I promise.’

  ‘Well, I’ve flipping failed,’ said Anne. ‘I keep thinking what Anthony would say and I know he’d be telling me not to let him push us around.’

  She was holding my hand tightly. ‘I don’t want to get you into trouble, Emmy,’ she said. ‘And how are you going to get in to see him?’

  Now I smiled. ‘You won’t. Do you see that van?’

  Anne looked through the window. A nondescript goods van had parked outside the station and a man in a dark jacket and cap was taking some boxes from a porter.

  ‘That’s Mr Noakes,’ I said, beginning
to pick up my things. ‘Do you know him? His wife’s Mrs Noakes, on reception. He’s given me a lift to and from Chandlers twice now and is awfully friendly and kind.’ I gave Anne what I hoped was an encouraging grin. ‘Also, he does a daily pick-up from the train that comes in just about now.’

  Anne’s face lifted. ‘You crafty old thing,’ she said.

  ‘It may not work,’ I replied. ‘But I must catch him before he leaves, so please eat up, and would you mind taking mine for Ruby if she’d like it?’

  Anne said, ‘Thank you and good luck,’ then handed me a piece of paper with an address on it. ‘I’ll be at Maeve’s,’ she said. ‘Will you come as soon as you’ve seen him?’

  I nodded a yes, and tucking the note into my pocket, headed off to Mr Noakes.

  ‘Don’t take any old nonsense,’ called Anne. ‘And give him what for!’

  *

  Outside the station, Wilfred Noakes was putting the last of his boxes into the van and I quickly walked over, calling out a Hello.

  ‘Miss Lake!’ he said, his breath showing how cold it was. ‘We can’t keep you away.’

  ‘Good morning, Mr Noakes,’ I said. ‘How are you and Mrs Noakes?’

  ‘Very well, thank you,’ he said. ‘Should I be giving you a lift?’

  I looked around in case of being overheard. ‘Probably not,’ I said, unwilling to lie to him. ‘Unless you want to be part of what is probably A Very Bad Idea.’

  Mr Noakes laughed heartily. ‘Best offer I’ve had all day,’ he said. ‘Come on. Get in.’

  Wilf Noakes was as thoroughly decent as I had thought. He was slightly built and had lovely brown eyes. He and his wife Noreen made a handsome couple. I decided to tell him what was going on, so he could make me get out if he thought he might get into trouble. To my surprise however, he seemed to know at least as much as I did.

  ‘That Mr Terry’s such a . . . well I won’t say the word, but I’ve no time for him,’ he said. ‘He’s only been in charge a year and he’s upset more people than the canteen’s made hot dinners.’

  This was news to me. From the way he spoke, I had assumed that Mr Terry had been part of the factory’s success for ages.

  ‘He’s just sacked two of my friends,’ I said, abruptly.