Annie peered round the open door, watching her friend for a few seconds. She looked deep in thought. ‘Rose, is everything all right?’
Rose jumped at the sound of her name. ‘Of course, come in. I’m just trying to find some matching buttons for this blouse.’ She paused. ‘I miss Dot’s company and advice about buttons.’ She smiled and gazed back down at the tin.
Heavy running footsteps and raised voices followed by laughter made Annie turn to look along the corridor before looking back and nodding. She took the couple of steps towards Rose. ‘I hate this time of year. Its dark outside already. The days seem so short. And the snow isn’t like it is back home. It’s quite muddy and slushy.’
‘You sound homesick.’ Rose smoothed the cotton material at the cuffs of her white blouse. ‘Are you missing the snowball fights we used to have? Remember when we used to slide down the hill on a bit of wood?’
Annie chuckled. ‘That was a long time ago, but we did have some fun didn’t we. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve made a mistake coming to London. I love working in the theatre but I do miss my family.’ She stared straight ahead and shrugged. ‘But I try not to think about that side of things too much.’ Annie studied the blouse on the table. ‘You’re so talented, Rose. You might be missing Dot’s company but I don’t think you need worry about your sewing ability.’ She looked up. ‘Are they going to replace her?’
Rose shrugged. ‘I don’t know but Stan, er … Mr Tyler, has asked me to go with them to The Lyceum.’ She continued to move the buttons around.
Annie beamed. ‘That’s excellent news. I think they see us both as part of the team, which means we’ll hopefully not have to worry so much about finding work in the future, and we’ll get to see Bert again now he’s working at The Lyceum.’
Rose laughed. ‘Yeah, that’s true. I heard he’d moved from the Alwych as well. He was a genuinely caring old bugger wasn’t he?’
Annie frowned before giggling. ‘I’m not sure I would call him an old bugger, more of a giant teddy bear, but yes he was very caring. We probably should have popped to see him at the stage door. He would have loved that.’
Rose nodded. ‘Yes, but I’m sure he’ll understand how life can get in the way.’ She looked up from the array of shapes and colours in the tin. ‘I take it you’ve been asked to go to The Lyceum with Kitty?’
Annie wanted to squeal with delight but felt now wasn’t the right time. ‘Yes, I have. It’s incredible isn’t it? To think all this started when we sneaked in through the stage door of The Lyceum.’ She smiled. ‘Gosh, I was so scared and sure we were going to be arrested.’
Rose smiled. ‘Yes, I remember grabbing your hand and pulling you to hide under the tables in the sewing room.’
Annie looked solemn for a moment. ‘All of that was less than a year ago and yet it feels like a lifetime ago. So much has happened in that time.’ She forced a smile and chased away the thoughts of her mother passing away, as she glanced around the familiar sewing room. At the shelves heavy with rolls of lace, ribbon and sequins. Rolls of material were stacked on top of each other next to boxes of offcuts. ‘At least the sewing room at The Lyceum is bigger – well, it seems larger to me.’ Her gaze drifted back to the button tin. ‘What are you looking for? And don’t say a button.’
‘To be honest I’m not sure, but I need eight of them.’
Annie joined in Rose’s quest. Flitting some buttons aside she pulled out a small white round button that had a light blue sheen to it. ‘This is a lovely one. What do you think?’
‘Well, you made that look easy.’ Rose took the button from her friend, tilting it from side to side. ‘It’s certainly a little different to the standard white button.’
‘That’s because I’m not worrying about it in the same way you are.’ Annie smiled. ‘Whether there’s eight of them is a different matter.’
Rose nodded. ‘Hmm, I’ll have a look.’
‘Good luck. If not I’m sure you’ll find something in that tin of treasure.’
Rose bit her lip as she looked up at her friend. ‘I do wonder sometimes if we would have come to London had we’d known the country would be at war several weeks later.’
‘Probably not, especially if we’d known our brothers were going to join up.’
Rose peered back down into the button tin.
Annie frowned. ‘You’ve been very quiet lately and I’ve been meaning to ask whether you’ve heard from any of your brothers.’
‘No, I write to them in turn most days but they haven’t replied so I hope they’re all right.’ Rose sucked in her breath. ‘I keep telling myself no news is good news.’
‘That’s all any of us can do.’ Annie rested her hand on Rose’s. ‘Maybe you’ll suddenly get a bundle of letters from them. I get the impression they can be a bit slow being delivered, which is hardly surprising.’ She sighed. ‘I think you need something to lift your spirits.’ She paused, tapping her finger against her lips. ‘I know, maybe we’ll go home via the bicycle shop, and stop there for a chat and a cup of tea.’
Rose’s eyes glowed for a moment but then it quickly disappeared. ‘It’ll be too late by the time we get out of here.’
Annie pursed her lips. ‘Hmm, that’s probably true; maybe we should leave earlier in the morning and stop off there on our way in. I could chat to Peter for a while.’ She laughed. ‘Well, if his customers don’t mind waiting for their fruit and vegetables that is; mind you if his nephew, Harry, is working it may not be a problem.’
‘His barrow does appear to be very popular.’ Rose beamed. ‘You two will be getting married before you know it.’
Annie blushed. ‘I don’t think so, and anyway we were talking about you and Charlie Young.’
Blotches of colour settled on Rose’s cheeks. ‘I shouldn’t think that will end up going anywhere.’
‘I don’t know about that. He gave you a very long and lingering look, which I might add you returned.’
The unmistakable formidable voice of Miss Hetherington rang out in the sewing room. ‘Miss Cradwell, are you in this room for a reason?’ She stared at the two girls.
Annie blushed under such scrutiny. ‘No … I was just checking Rose was all right.’
Miss Hetherington frowned. ‘And why wouldn’t she be? Let me tell you, in this theatre Miss Spencer’s welfare is not your concern.’
Annie placed her hand on top of Rose’s. ‘Surely everyone’s welfare is the concern of all of us, wherever we might be?’
Miss Hetherington scowled. ‘Leave the sewing room now, otherwise I shall have to make a complaint about you distracting my staff from their work.’
Rose peered up at Annie. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be fine – we’ll talk later.’
Miss Hetherington stepped to the side of the doorway.
Anger etched itself on Annie’s face as she stared at the senior seamstress for a moment.
Rose nudged her friend with her elbow.
Taking a deep breath Annie walked towards the door.
3
Mavis Hitchin peered round the door and watched her son for a moment. She no longer noticed the globular drips that were layered on the floor or the smell of paint that filled the room. She could watch him at his easel all day. Tightening the straps of her apron around slender figure, Mavis cleared her throat. ‘Simon, your sister’s just laying the table ready for breakfast.’
Simon stared intently at the canvas on his easel. He dabbed the soft paint-laden bristles of his fine brush on to the nearly completed London street scene. It was a view of Shaftesbury Avenue he saw every day and was enjoying the challenge of reproducing his version of it. He leant back against the hard wooden rungs of his chair, tilting his head; he stared critically at his painting before replying absently, ‘I won’t be a minute. I just wanted to try to get this light and shade right before I go to the café.’
Mavis glanced around at the many painted canvases propped up against the walls, noticing for the first time the outline of a portrait paint
ing. ‘I don’t know where you get your talent from. It certainly isn’t from me, and I don’t remember your pa ever doing anything like this.’
Simon chuckled. ‘He probably never had a chance to.’
‘Anyway, time’s getting on. I can’t believe it’s the start of another week already. I don’t want you having to rush your breakfast.’ Mavis frowned as she stared at him. ‘Is now a good time for me to ask what’s been bothering you the last few weeks?’
Simon’s gaze didn’t move from his painting. ‘No, Ma, let me enjoy this time before I have to start my day.’
‘Is it Joyce?’ Mavis tightened her lips before taking a deep breath. ‘I don’t want to pry, and, from what you say, she seems like a nice girl, but please know you can talk to me, whatever the problem is.’
Simon sighed and carefully placed his brush down on his wooden palette. He glanced at his mother. ‘Joyce is a lovely girl, who hasn’t done anything wrong, far from it. In fact, she’s baking cakes and making bread for us to sell, and I can tell you it’s all delicious.’
Mavis could see Simon’s love for Joyce shining from his eyes. He looked so proud when he talked about her.
Simon’s eyes clouded over. ‘If you must know I’m feeling the pressure from the war posters that are stuck on every wall wherever I go.’ He shook his head. ‘I get asked practically every day whether I’m going to sign up to fight for king and country. If I’d gone in the beginning I would have been with my friends.’ Simon stood up and removed the paint-covered coat he was wearing. ‘Then there’s the café and Joyce.’ Simon shook his head. His shoulders hunched over his chest. ‘Painting feels like the only escape from the turmoil.’
Mavis’s eyes became watery as she stepped further into the small, well-lit room she had long given up for her son to do his painting in. ‘It sounds like your thoughts are going round in circles. It must be difficult for you, especially if I’m right about your feelings for Joyce.’
Simon lowered his eyes. ‘I can’t help but feel I’m being judged by people who don’t even know me for not enlisting. I suppose that’s the downside of working in a café.’
‘Take no notice of them. I’ve been asked why you haven’t joined up with the rest of the men. I told them it had nothing to do with them.’ Mavis scowled. ‘People need to mind their own business.’ She fought the urge to wrap her arms around her son. He had given up his own dreams to follow in his father’s footsteps when he had unexpectedly passed away, and now there was this blooming war. Reaching out, she rested her hand on his arm. His muscles tightened under her touch. ‘Simon, it’s time to stop torturing yourself and follow what you think is right, not your pa’s dream or anyone else’s. You should be selling your paintings. It’s such a waste to hide your talent away.’
Simon frowned. ‘We all know life isn’t as simple as that.’
Mavis shook her head. ‘If you mean your sister and me, we can work. In fact if what I hear is true they’re crying out for women to sign up for work, what with so many men going off to fight.’ She paused. ‘I hate to see you tying yourself up in knots. You’re a good man, so please stop worrying and follow what you think is right. Barbara and I have been lucky to have you still living here and looking after us but it’s time for you get on with living your own life, follow your own dreams.’
Simon gave a humourless laugh. ‘I think the war will rob many people of any hopes and dreams they had.’
Mavis lowered her eyes, wondering what she could do to help her son. She walked over to the box that was near Simon’s feet. ‘What’s this then? I don’t remember seeing this here before.’ She bent down to peer inside it.
Simon got there first and pressed it shut. ‘It’s nothing, Ma. I’ve just been having a sort-out that’s all.’
Barbara came laughing into the room. ‘Come on, you two are always chatting and breakfast is getting cold.’
Mavis scowled at Barbara. ‘We were talking.’
Barbara lowered her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, I just didn’t want the breakfast to be ruined.’
Simon immediately smiled at his sister. ‘Don’t worry, we’re coming.’ He put his arm around her. ‘I’m ready for something to eat, especially something cooked by someone else.’ He squeezed her shoulders into his body. ‘Do you fancy coming to work in the café? We were rushed off our feet yesterday and poor Joyce didn’t know if she was coming or going.’
Barbara stopped dead in her tracks. ‘Can I?’ She turned to her mother and gazed at her with wide eyes. ‘Can I, Ma?’
Simon smiled as he peered at his mother.
Mavis chuckled. ‘Well, I suppose at twenty-one you should be out there earning a crust and supporting your brother.’
Barbara scowled at her mother for a split second before beaming at her. ‘Never mind supporting Simon, it will be good to have some of my own money.’ She ran at her mother and threw her arms around her. ‘Thank you, Ma.’ Pulling back, she looked at her brother. ‘You won’t regret this, Simon.’
Simon shook his head. ‘You have to follow Joyce’s lead.’ He chuckled. ‘She’s in charge of both of us, but don’t tell her I said that.’
Barbara jumped up and down clapping her hands together. ‘Can I start today?’
Simon glanced at his mother. ‘Only if Ma don’t need you here.’
Mavis laughed. ‘I don’t think I’d have the nerve to say otherwise. Who could take away that beaming smile? But you’d better behave yourself, young lady.’ She paused. ‘I could do with the extra housekeeping you could bring in.’
Barbara’s face dropped. ‘Housekeeping?’
Mavis gave her daughter a stern look. ‘Money doesn’t grow on trees you know.’
Barbara looked sullen.
Simon thrust his hand into his trouser pocket. He pulled out a wad of notes and handed them to his mother. ‘Hopefully that will tide you over for a while.’
Mavis looked at the money, her fingers pinning the notes in place. ‘Obviously this all helps but I thought the café was struggling.’
‘It’s busy all the time now and we’ll be thankful for Barbara’s help and that means I now only need to find someone to help with the washing up. Come on, let’s go and have this breakfast otherwise I’m going to be late opening the café.’
The three of them walked down the narrow hallway to the square, warm kitchen. The range that faced the doorway had been lit and was pushing against the cold air. Pots and pans hung from a ceiling pulley maid above a scrubbed wooden table, which had been laid with breakfast things. The aroma of hot toast hung in the air.
‘It’s a pretty miserable day out there so make sure you wrap up warm when you go to work.’ Mavis rested her hand against the teapot. ‘This may not be hot enough now but I’ll pour a cup and we’ll see.’
Simon and Barbara each pulled out a chair. The scraping of the feet against the stone floor tiles made Mavis wince. Slices of toast stood neatly in the toast rack, while the slab of butter sat in a glass dish next to it. Boiled eggs were already placed in the plain white eggcups at each place setting.
The grandfather clock near the front door chimed seven times.
Simon picked up his teaspoon and tapped the top of his egg a couple of times. He peeled back the cracked shell before digging his spoon in and scooping out the bright yellow yolk in the middle. ‘Don’t worry about tea for me, Ma. I should be on my way by now. I’ve just enough time to eat this and might get away with taking a slice of buttered toast with me.’ He looked across at his sister. ‘Don’t rush to come in today. Give yourself a chance to eat properly and I’ll see you whenever you arrive. I’ll let Joyce know you’re coming.’ He quickly pushed the spoon in his mouth; his teeth chinked against the metal.
Barbara smiled. ‘It’s quite exciting. I actually get to meet Joyce at long last.’
Simon ran his tongue across his teeth before glaring at his sister. ‘I don’t want any gossiping. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
Barbara lowered her eyes. ‘Of course.�
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Mavis looked at her young daughter. ‘Remember Simon is the boss so you have to show him some respect in work.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll behave myself, I promise.’ Barbara gave her brother a mischievous sideways glance.
Simon laughed. ‘That’ll be the day, but Joyce knows what she’s doing so please do as she says.’ He grabbed a slice of dry toast and jumped up. His chair almost toppled backwards. ‘I’ve got to go.’
Mavis took the toast from his hand. ‘Here, take mine. At least it’s got a scraping of butter on it.’
‘Thanks, Ma, you’re a wonderful woman.’ Simon bent over and planted a kiss on his mother’s soft cheek. ‘See you later, Barb. We’ll talk hours and money later when I have more time.’ The toast crunched as he bit into it.
Before Barbara could answer he was running out the kitchen door.
Mavis shouted to Simon. ‘Wrap up warm. It’s freezing outside, and take care.’
Simon held the toast between his teeth as he pulled on his winter coat and grabbed a soft woollen scarf his mother had knitted for him. Removing the toast from his mouth, Simon shouted, ‘Stop worrying.’ He pulled open the door, giving a little shiver as the cold air rushed in, before doing up the buttons of his coat. He stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind him.
The thud of the front door sounded in the kitchen.
Barbara turned to her mother with a glint in her eye. ‘I’m quite excited to meet Joyce, to see what it is about her that has him all tied up in knots. Do you think he’ll ever ask her to marry him?’
Mavis gave a small smile. ‘Who knows, but just remember it’s nothing to do with us so don’t go causing trouble, even if you do mean well at the time.’
Barbara raised her eyebrows in horror as she stared at her mother. ‘As if I would.’
Mavis chuckled. ‘Come on, eat your breakfast. You can’t go to work on an empty stomach.’
Big Dreams for the West End Girls Page 4