The Girl from the Corner Shop

by Alrene Hughes

  In the kitchen they drank tea, Gwen sitting in the old chair and Helen on the rag rug in front of the fire.

  ‘Why didn’t you say you were going to move into the house? Me and Frank could have helped you.’

  ‘I didn’t plan to; I couldn’t stay another moment with Mam. I had to get away.’

  ‘So, what are you doing now? Have you got a job?’

  Helen shook her head. ‘I’ve been out every day looking for work, but there’s nothing to be had. I don’t know what to do – the money I’d saved is running out. The rent’s been paid for another week, but after that… I really don’t want to go back home.’

  Gwen looked uneasy.

  ‘What is it?’ Helen asked.

  ‘I’ve just come from the shop. Your mother had a girl helping her, she couldn’t have been more than fourteen.’

  ‘She’s got somebody to do my job? But I’ve only been away a week.’

  ‘That’s not all,’ said Gwen. ‘She asked me if I knew anyone who was looking for lodgings.’

  ‘Oh God, what will I do? I’ve nowhere else to go!’

  ‘Don’t panic, you’ll get a job. I’m sure of it,’ and she knelt on the rug and put her arm round Helen. ‘Now, listen, I might have some good news. I came to find you because Frank thinks you might get something from the fire service – a bit of a pension. They won’t have sorted anything yet, because they’re at sixes and sevens since the bombings, but things are getting back to normal and Frank says he’ll speak to the station officer about you this week.’

  ‘I don’t want a pension.’

  ‘But you’re a widow, you’re entitled to it.’

  Helen felt the tears well in her eyes. ‘I don’t want to be a widow with a pension. I just want Jim,’ she sobbed. ‘And anyway, after next week I won’t have any money for the rent, never mind anything to eat.’

  ‘I could lend you a few shillings if that would help.’

  ‘That’s kind of you, Gwen, but I know money’s tight for you as well.’

  ‘Is there anyone else you could ask for help? What about Jim’s sister and her husband? I spoke to her at the funeral, she seemed really nice.’

  ‘She is, but I’ve only met her a few times. They live in Rochdale. Jim took me to see them when we got engaged, and they were at our wedding. Anyway, they’ve four children so they wouldn’t have money to spare.’

  ‘Then, what about that woman who was there, your mam’s cousin, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Pearl, you mean? She’s my godmother, but I hardly ever see her. Mam doesn’t like her and, to be honest, we’re not that close.’

  ‘She looked very nice, well dressed. She might lend you a bit to tide you over.’

  ‘She was kind to me at the funeral. She said if I needed a shoulder to cry on, or somebody to talk to, I should let her know.’

  ‘There you are then, it’s worth a try.’

  Helen frowned. ‘I don’t know. It doesn’t seem right, asking her to lend me money. What will she think of me?’

  ‘I don’t think you’ve any alternative if you want to keep this roof over your head.’

  ‘She did say if I needed help…’

  ‘Look at it this way, she can only say no.’

  Chapter 5

  Pearl Spencer was always the first to arrive for work at Fenner’s Fashion Agency in Stevenson Square in the middle of Manchester. She unlocked the door and went down to the basement to switch on the lights. This was the heart of the business with racks and racks of beautiful coats, dresses and separates lining the walls. In the middle of the room there were large tables for folding and packing the garments to be sent to retailers all over the north of England. Back upstairs, she pushed open the heavy mahogany and brass doors and switched on the main showroom lights. They flickered for a moment before flooding the space with light. The Winton carpet was turquoise, there were upholstered gold damask sofas, gilded chairs and full-length cheval mirrors and, most importantly, the best of the new season’s fashions, displayed on mannequins at intervals around the room.

  On the left was a door to the dressing room and straight ahead were the offices. One for Mr Fenner, the other for her, as the office manager, and the two clerks, Dorothy the shorthand typist and Rita the office junior.

  She hung up her camel-hair coat and Hermès scarf then checked her make-up and hair in the mirror behind her. It was an important week, the start of the spring season, when buyers from major retailers would visit the fashion agents in Manchester to select their new ranges. Pearl’s role in all of this was to see that everything went without a hitch, and that included making sure Mr Fenner didn’t lose his temper.

  Dorothy arrived in a fluster and Pearl’s heart sank. ‘Please, don’t tell me that Rita’s not coming in.’

  Dorothy shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Spencer, I went to see her on Sunday; she’s in a bad way. Turns out, her arm’s broken and she can’t hear a thing because of the explosion. Not only that, but I’d say her nerves have gone. The house next to hers took a direct hit – three killed and half the roof ended up in Rita’s bedroom. A few feet closer and she’d have been killed too.’

  ‘Aw, poor kid,’ said Pearl. ‘So, it’s down to you and me to make sure this week goes well. Right then, you’ll be in the dressing room as usual with the two models. I know I can trust you to make sure they get into, and out of, the right clothes at the right time.’

  ‘But Rita’s not here to help you take the orders.’

  ‘Never mind that, I’ll do it on my own. It might take a bit longer but it can’t be helped.’

  ‘Mr Fenner won’t like that.’

  But before Pearl could say anything there was a shout from the doorway. ‘And what exactly won’t Mr Fenner like?’

  Pearl’s heart missed a beat. There was her boss glaring at her and he shouted again, ‘Don’t tell me something’s gone wrong, not today of all days!’

  ‘It’s nothing to worry about, Mr Fenner, everything’s under control. Rita still isn’t able to come back to work, but we’ll manage.’

  ‘You realise, Miss Spencer, that this business could take a beating if, as I suspect, the government decide to bring in clothes rationing? That’s why we need big orders this week and if anything goes wrong, I’ll hold you responsible.’

  ‘Yes, sir, I understand.’

  ‘Well, get on with it. I’ll be in my office. Call me when the first clients arrive.’ He hadn’t taken half a dozen steps before he turned round. ‘And the models had better not look like they’ve come from the nightshift on Oxford Road, if you get my drift.’

  ‘Why does he speak to you like that?’ said Dorothy. ‘He wouldn’t be in business two minutes if it wasn’t for you sorting everything out.’

  ‘That’s enough, Dorothy, don’t forget he pays our wages. Anyway, he doesn’t mean it. His bark’s worse than his bite. Now, get me the running order for the catwalk, please, and an order pad, while I have a final check in the dressing room.’

  She went through the clothes to be shown on the catwalk, making sure they hadn’t creased or been misplaced in the running order since she checked them the previous day. She stopped here and there to pick off a thread, straighten a collar or run her hand over a beautiful cocktail dress. Behind her, the door opened and she called over her shoulder, ‘Just leave them there, Dorothy, and send in the models when they arrive.’

  ‘It’s not Dorothy.’

  ‘What’s that?’ and she turned, a puzzled look on her face. ‘Helen? My goodness, what are you doing here?’

  She saw at once that Helen was upset, and was at her side in seconds to try and calm her.

  ‘I’m sorry, Pearl, I didn’t mean to cry, but…’ and now she was sobbing.

  Best to keep her in here where Mr Fenner wouldn’t see her, thought Pearl, and she helped her to a chair. ‘There, take your time and tell me what’s happened.’

  Helen took a deep breath and began to explain. She told her about the row with her mother. Pearl nodded; s
he could well imagine the sort of things Elsie would have said to her. When Helen explained she had gone to live in the house she and Jim would have moved into, Pearl raised an eyebrow and wondered whether Helen had more courage than she gave her credit for. Helen wiped her eyes and went on. ‘You said if I needed someone to talk to…’ Heavens, thought Pearl, the child could hardly have picked a worse moment to share her problems, but that was unkind.

  ‘I’ve tried to get work,’ said Helen, ‘but there isn’t anything and I was going to ask you—’

  ‘Miss Spencer,’ Dorothy came bustling through the door followed by a young woman with glossy dark hair and the loveliest of smiles, clearly a model, ‘they’ve only sent one girl from the agency, the other one has let them down.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Pearl shook her head in disbelief. ‘But we booked them months ago.’

  ‘That’s the problem,’ said the model. ‘She’s in the family way; she’d never get into the clothes.’

  ‘And nobody thought to tell us?’ Pearl closed her eyes. For a brief second, she thought of doing it herself – she would certainly fit into the clothes – but the buyers liked to ogle the young models. Besides, she was needed to introduce the collection, give a running commentary and, in the absence of Rita, she’d be taking the orders as well. Mr Fenner would be livid and she was already imagining the aftermath of that. She opened her eyes and looked at the three women in front of her.

  ‘Helen, stand up. Take your coat off and your headscarf.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Just do it, please.’

  Helen did as she was asked and Pearl stepped back to examine her. ‘Turn around for me. Now walk the length of the room. No, stand up straight, head held high, shoulders back. Imagine you’re full of confidence. Turn and come back to me. Look straight ahead.’

  Helen looked bewildered. ‘I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Never mind all that. Did you come here to see if I could help you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Helen.

  ‘Well, I think I can. How would you like a week’s work?’

  Helen was uncertain. ‘What kind of work?’

  ‘Exactly what you’ve just been doing: walking up and down. You see, I need two young women to model some lovely clothes for our clients, but I’ve only got one.’

  ‘Pearl, I can’t be a model – look at the state of me.’

  It was true that Helen looked pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was dull and lank. She checked her watch – half an hour before the clients arrived – it wasn’t long enough, but it would have to do.

  She turned to the model. ‘You, what’s your name?’

  ‘Anna Maguire,’ she said.

  ‘Right, Anna, I need you to help us. You’ve got twenty minutes to transform Helen, here, into a passable model – hair, make-up, the works.’

  Anna seemed unfazed and got to work, while Pearl sat next to Helen and explained what was happening. ‘All week, buyers from the big department stores will be coming here to see our clothes for the new season. If they like them, they’ll buy them to sell in their shops. To show the clothes at their best we have two models, that’ll be you and Anna.’ She pointed to the racks of clothes. ‘Dorothy will give you each garment in turn, you put it on then walk out and model it. Do you understand?’

  ‘I’m not sure about this, Pearl. I wouldn’t know how to model clothes.’

  ‘Don’t worry, when Anna’s finished with you, we’ll have a bit of a practice. It’s really just walking the length of the room and stopping halfway in front of the clients so they can get a good look at the garments.’

  *

  The buyers were arriving and Mr Fenner was chatting and laughing, welcoming them as old friends. Pearl checked again the running order and the notes she had made on each garment emphasising their best points, but her thoughts kept returning to what was happening in the dressing room. In truth, she wouldn’t be surprised if Helen came out in her dowdy coat and headed straight for the door. What was she thinking of… dragooning a girl, clearly upset, into doing something solely to get herself out of an awkward situation? She shook her head. This could be a disaster, but yet… she marvelled again at the transformation in Helen’s appearance. Her blonde hair in little rolls framing her beautiful face, the Leichner foundation, the Bourjois rouge, the red lipstick… and her height… she was already tall, but with her shoulders back and her head held high, she was every inch a model.

  ‘Gentlemen, gentlemen, if you would like to take your seats.’ Mr Fenner called the buyers to order and nodded at Pearl. When they were settled, she welcomed them then gave the signal to Dorothy. Anna was first out.

  ‘This fern-patterned tea dress is in rayon with a neat revere collar. Please note the matching fabric belt, very popular this coming season…’

  Anna disappeared into the dressing room and Pearl held her breath. Come on, Helen, where are you? The dressing room door opened and Helen stepped into the showroom. Her eyes widened at the sight of the men staring at her and she was rooted to the spot. Oh, God, thought Pearl, and she turned towards her and smiled her encouragement. ‘This is Helen and she’s wearing a dress of finest Lancashire cotton with a full skirt.’ At the sound of her voice, Helen seemed to shake herself and walked as far as the men, stopped and turned full circle to show off the dress. Pearl breathed again. ‘The dress comes in three colours: mauve, lemon and pink.’ Helen walked to the end of the room and back again and with a final twirl went back to the dressing room.

  The fashion show went on and with every garment Helen appeared more confident. By the time the evening gowns were modelled, Pearl could not have been prouder of her beautiful goddaughter.

  There was so much excitement in the dressing room afterwards with shrieks of laughter mixed with tears. ‘I was so nervous and I’m still shaking.’ Helen’s eyes glistened. ‘I can’t believe what I’ve done.’

  ‘But did you enjoy it?’ Pearl asked.

  ‘It was wonderful.’ She threw her arms round Pearl. ‘Thank you so much.’ Her tears brimmed over.

  ‘Oh, careful, don’t spoil your make-up,’ Pearl gave her a handkerchief. ‘So, are you ready to do it all over again this afternoon?’

  Helen clapped her hands. ‘I can’t wait.’

  *

  Pearl leaned her head against the bus window and closed her eyes. She would normally walk home, it wasn’t that far to Ardwick, but it had been a long day. She thanked God that it went well. It would have been a complete disaster, if Helen hadn’t arrived. Mr Fenner was pleased too. He told her afterwards that the buyers were very impressed with the new stock and that was a huge relief. She’d get the fire going when she got home and have a warm bath in her Yardley bath salts then slip into her negligee. There might even be time to read a story from The People’s Friend.

  Shortly after nine, she heard the key in the lock. She stood and fluffed up her hair in the mirror. The door opened and there he was. She held out her arms and said coyly, ‘Now then, I hope you’re in a good mood and you’ll be kind to your Pearl tonight.’

  He went to her. ‘Oh yes, and I’ve got something here for you.’ He pulled her close.

  Pearl giggled. ‘Oh, Harold Fenner, you’re such a naughty boy!’

  Chapter 6

  Helen collapsed, exhausted, into the armchair and closed her eyes to ease the throbbing in her head. She had been on her feet all day and the concentration and anxiety had taken its toll. She hadn’t eaten either but, by now, she was beyond hunger. The images of the day were swirling round in her mind: the beautiful clothes; the glimpse of herself in the mirrors; the surprise that she could manage a smile.

  The knock on the door interrupted her thoughts and fearing it might be Ada she called out, ‘Who’s there?’

  ‘It’s Frank, I’ve brought you something.’

  She was so glad to see him, even though the sight of his uniform brought a lump to her throat. ‘Gwen told me you’d moved here. I’d have come sooner,
but we’re putting in such long shifts.’ He came into the kitchen and she offered him the chair but he shook his head and leaned against the fireplace. He seemed to study her for a moment. ‘You look different, Helen.’

  ‘Do I? Oh, it’s my hair.’

  ‘Yes… your hair, but there’s something else.’

  Helen smiled. ‘That’ll be the make-up. It’s different to what I would usually wear.’ For some reason she thought it best not to mention she had been modelling clothes. ‘You said you had something for me.’

  He took a paper bag, stained with grease, from his pocket and handed it to her. She looked inside and her eyes widened. ‘What…?’

  ‘The lads had a bit of a whip-round when they got their wages.’

  ‘I can’t take this.’

  ‘Yes, you can. The men looked up to Jim; he was a good fireman and a friend to us all. They wanted to do something.’

  Helen thought of all those exhausted firemen she had seen in the station house on the day Jim died. It would have been a blow for them to lose Jim too. She nodded. ‘Will you thank them for me and tell them that they were like brothers to him.’

  ‘I will,’ said Frank and he looked pleased at her words. ‘But that’s not all I’ve brought you.’ He pulled a large brown envelope from inside his tunic and removed a sheaf of papers and handed them to her. Her heart sank as she read the stark black words ‘Firemen Widows – Death in Service Benefits’.

  ‘You have to fill it in and send it to the address on the top and they’ll decide if you’re entitled to any money.’

  She couldn’t hold back her tears, the very words – Widows, Death – ripped her heart.

  ‘Helen, please don’t cry. I can’t bear to see you upset. I thought you’d want to get the widows’ pension.’

  ‘I don’t want a pension.’ Her voice cracked with emotion. ‘I want Jim.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say.’ He looked round the bare room. ‘I just thought you could do with the money. Maybe I’d better go.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Frank, stay for a bit, please.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll make you a brew.’