The Girl from the Corner Shop

by Alrene Hughes

  ‘What a sleepy-head! I’ve been knocking on your front door for ages.’

  ‘Wait, I’ll be down in a minute.’

  She put on her dressing gown and ran downstairs in her bare feet to let him in.

  ‘I hope you weren’t planning a lazy Sunday. You and I have a big job on today.’

  She clapped her hands. ‘Is it the parlour? Are we going to paint it?’

  ‘We certainly are.’

  She knelt down to look in the box. There were tins of paint, brushes and rags. ‘Oh, what colour is it?’

  ‘Fire station red.’

  She looked up at him, aghast.

  He laughed and ruffled her hair. ‘No, it isn’t. The man in the shop said it was cream, but I couldn’t guarantee it. Paint’s hard to find, you know.’

  She stood up and adjusted her dressing gown tighter. ‘I’ll get washed and dressed then.’

  ‘Good idea – never paint in your nightclothes and bare feet.’

  ‘Well, go on then.’ She pushed him towards the parlour door. ‘I won’t be long.’

  She boiled a kettle and washed at the sink then went in search of something to wear. Then she made them a brew and carried it into the parlour.

  Frank was kneeling down, stirring a pot of paint with a stick, and he looked up as she came in.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she said.

  ‘What are you wearing?’

  ‘Oh, you mean the trousers? I’m going to be climbing ladders, aren’t I?’

  ‘Are they Jim’s?’

  ‘No, I bought them at a jumble sale, the shirt too.’ She laughed. ‘The turban is my own.’

  He stared at her. ‘You look so different dressed like that, I never would have thought…’

  Helen wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, but he seemed embarrassed. She handed him his mug of tea and took her own. ‘Where do we start?’ she asked.

  He gave her the smallest wall in the room and set up the ladders for her. ‘I don’t want you falling, so I’ll use the chair. Have you painted before?’

  She rolled her eyes at him. Did he think she was stupid? How hard could it be?

  ‘Right then.’ He set her pot of paint on the top of the ladder and handed her a brush. ‘Try not to get it everywhere.’

  She dipped the brush and held it up. The paint was running up her arm. ‘No, no!’ he shouted. ‘Get rid of the drips on the side of the tin.’

  ‘I know,’ she said. This time she got as far as getting some paint on the wall, but she only used the brush one way.

  ‘Helen, come down a moment.’

  ‘Why, is this not right?’

  ‘Just come down.’

  He took her paint pot, got the right amount on the brush and handed it to her. ‘Now face the wall,’ and he went behind her and covered her hand with his. ‘Up down, up down. Do you feel the rhythm?’ She nodded. ‘Now get more paint. That’s right, no drips. Get the rhythm again. That’s it, you’ve got it.’

  She turned to him and winked. ‘Nothing to it really.’

  They painted through the morning, sometimes in companionable silence, other times they’d start a conversation and fall silent again. They talked about Jim and Frank apologised for being so grumpy last time they met. ‘I shouldn’t have said all that about you going out dancing. It were bang out of order. Why shouldn’t you get out of the house to do ordinary things? It’s not as if you were going to run off with some man.’

  Helen chewed her lip, but didn’t say anything.

  ‘I won’t lie to you though, I still don’t agree with you joining the police. I worry about you, you know. You could get hurt.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ve had all the training. I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘Helen, I work with highly trained people every day, but that doesn’t stop them getting hurt sometimes.’

  ‘But it’s not like I’m a real policewoman. I do the filing and sometimes I man the switchboard and, if I’m lucky, I get to help women and children. Where’s the danger in that?’

  They stopped around dinner time. ‘I’ve got some cheese and onion pie – but there’s no onion in it, only potato.

  ‘That’ll do me. Don’t suppose you’ve got any beer?’

  ‘Just corporation pop. What did Gwen think about you helping me paint the parlour?’

  ‘I didn’t tell her.’

  Helen suspected as much. ‘Are things not quite right with you and Gwen?’

  He puffed out his cheeks and sighed. ‘I don’t know. Sometimes I’d rather things were different.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t finish with her, would you?’

  He flashed a look at her, eyes hardened, but he said nothing.

  She felt like she was treading on private ground. ‘I’m sure everything will work out between you. You’ve been together a long while.’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Come on then, let’s get back to work.’

  They painted all afternoon and when it was finished, they stood in the middle of the room and marvelled at the transformation. ‘It’s so light and clean. I love it.’ She smiled. ‘Thanks, Frank. I could never have done this on my own.’

  ‘Well, that’s what mates are for.’

  ‘I’m trying to save up some money to buy a sofa. Will you come with me again when I go looking?’

  ‘Whatever you need, Helen, you’ve only to ask. Now, what would you say to a pale ale at that pub just along the road?’

  ‘I’d say we’ve earned it. I’ll just get changed, won’t be a minute.’

  ‘Never mind that, you look fine. Trousers suit you.’

  They walked the hundred yards to the Horse Shoe and went into the snug. The babble of voices stopped immediately and all eyes turned upon them. Frank nodded to the room. ‘All right?’ and they went to the bar. The conversation resumed and they took their drinks to a little alcove in the corner.

  ‘What went on there?’ he asked.

  ‘Did Gwen not tell you that the next-door neighbour accused me of having men at the house?’

  ‘No, she didn’t.’ He was furious. ‘If I’d known, I’d have gone straight to the woman’s house to put her right! Oh, wait a minute, she meant me, didn’t she?’

  Helen nodded. ‘I think she was spreading rumours. People around here think the worst of me, I know that. Then she told my landlord and he tried to evict me because there was only Jim’s name on the tenancy.’

  ‘I didn’t know this; why didn’t you tell me?’ He jumped up. ‘I’ll sort them out!’

  She grabbed his arm. ‘Sit down, Frank, please.’ He sat, still scowling. ‘It’s all been sorted out,’ she told him. ‘The police spoke to him about me and he’s been nice as ninepence ever since, and as for Ada, she keeps out of my way. She knows she was in the wrong and I get the feeling that she won’t cross me again. She’s wary of the uniform.’

  ‘You have to tell me when things go wrong, Helen. I’ll protect you, you know that. I promised Jim, for God’s sake!’

  They left after one drink and Frank came back to collect his stuff.

  ‘Wait here,’ she said, and she ran upstairs, coming back with Jim’s suit. ‘Would you like to have this? He bought it for our wedding, but he hardly ever wore it. I’m not sure why I’ve kept it.’

  ‘I don’t know…’

  ‘Well, just try the jacket on. Jim was the same build as you.’

  The sight of him took her breath away. She tried to cover up her confusion by walking around him, smoothing out the shoulders and straightening the collar. ‘What do you think?’ she asked.

  ‘It feels good.’ She looked into his face and saw that he too was moved to be wearing his best mate’s jacket and he tried to make light of it. ‘Wonder if he left me any money in it.’ He put his hand in the inside pocket and then he did it a second time. ‘What’s this?’ he said. It was a crisp, white, folded five-pound note.

  Helen gasped. ‘Oh, my God, it’s the money he won at the working men’s club. How can that be? I searched the pockets
. I thought someone had stolen it.’

  He handed it to her. ‘It was here all the time, Helen. Did you not know that some jackets have a double inside pocket, one for change and one for notes? That’ll go a long way towards your sofa.’

  All this time she had thought her mother had stolen the money. It had been the last straw in cutting off all ties with her.

  ‘I’ll have the suit, if that’s all right,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I want you to have it.’

  He looked around the parlour and smiled. ‘Look what we’ve done together.’

  She nodded. ‘You’re a good friend, Frank.’

  Chapter 21

  ‘Bloody hell! This weather’ll be the ruin of me. It’s the end of May and every day has been cold and wet.’ Fenner wagged his finger at Pearl. ‘If we don’t start shifting the summer stock soon, we could be out of business by the end of June, especially with these rumours about clothes rationing.’

  ‘I know, I’ve been telling you for ages that we’re in dire straits.’

  Fenner yanked open the drawer of his desk, took out a Milk of Magnesia bottle, unscrewed it and gulped a mouthful.

  ‘Harold, what have I told you? You can’t go on like this, eating and drinking as much as you do. Not to mention the amount of money you’re taking out of the business.’

  ‘Don’t you tell me what I should and shouldn’t do – you’re not my bloody wife! And as a kept woman, you cost me far more than a few bottles of whisky.’

  She ignored his remarks. ‘Anyway, you need to go to the doctor.’

  ‘Will you shut up about that? You don’t go to the doctor with indigestion!’

  Pearl shrugged her shoulders and went back to their financial state. ‘The two lads in the basement have had their call-up papers, so we won’t replace them, and maybe we could lay off a couple of the packers. That might help.’

  He tutted. ‘I was thinking more about the office. You ladies don’t seem to have much to do.’

  Pearl could have screamed at him. He had no idea of the effort she had put in trying to keep them afloat. But maybe he had a point in Rita’s case. She had never been a particularly good junior clerk, but since she came back to work after the bombing, she had been lazy and argumentative. ‘Well, maybe we could lose Rita, she doesn’t have many skills and her heart’s not in the work. Her timekeeping isn’t that good either. She’s been late back after dinner a few times recently.’

  ‘I could have put money on you saying that. You never wanted her back; you wanted that stuck-up goddaughter of yours to keep the job.’

  ‘That’s not—’

  He held his hand up. ‘I’ll be the one to say who gets laid off in my company and I’ve decided that it’ll be Dorothy.’

  ‘Dorothy! You can’t lay her off and keep Rita? That girl hasn’t a clue. I need Dorothy to help run this business.’

  ‘Since when do you run this business?’

  Too late she realised what she had said. ‘I didn’t mean that. I meant running the office, that’s all.’

  He glared at her. ‘Well, there’ll be one less of you sitting there supping tea by the end of the day.’

  ‘Harold, please, she’s got an elderly mother and she needs the money.’

  ‘I’m not discussing it.’ He stood up. ‘Right, I’m off to do a bit of business. So, I’ll leave it to you to tell her. Just make sure she’s gone by the end of the day. I’ll see you tonight.’

  There was no arguing with him in that mood. She’d have to do as he ordered, but maybe she could talk him round; explain in detail that Dorothy did far more for the business than Rita ever did.

  Back in the office, she sent Rita out to post some letters, then told Dorothy that Mr Fenner had asked her to deliver some bad news.

  Dorothy was immediately wary. ‘Have I done something wrong?’

  ‘No, you haven’t, but I have to tell you that you’re to be laid off.’

  The shock registered on Dorothy’s face. ‘It’s to do with the accounts, isn’t it? I’m not stupid, I know the business is in trouble. I thought I’d lose some hours, be made part time. I never expected…’ She broke down in tears. ‘What will I do? I’ve no savings at all and who’s going to employ someone my age?’

  Pearl could’ve cried too, but she was determined to reverse the decision. ‘Look, he’s very worried at the moment, but I’m sure I can talk him round. I’ll speak to him and try to make him realise we won’t manage without you.’

  Dorothy’s face hardened. ‘I take it he’s not sacking Rita.’

  ‘Not at the moment. He wants to keep her for now, probably because she’s cheaper than you, but I’ll make him see that would be a false economy. You’re the one we ought to keep.’

  ‘You haven’t a clue, have you?’

  Pearl was surprised at Dorothy’s harsh tone. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, he’s not employing her for her filing skills, is he?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘What do you think she’s been up to when she comes back late from her dinner? And did you never notice he follows her in a few minutes later?’

  Pearl tried to take it in. ‘That afternoon when he sent her to deliver an urgent letter and she came back smelling of drink…’

  Dorothy nodded. ‘He’d followed her out, God knows where they went. Then last week when you were down in the basement doing a stock check, his office door was locked and Rita wasn’t to be found.’

  Pearl closed her eyes and when she opened them again, she asked, ‘When did this start?’

  ‘Almost as soon as she came back to work after the bombings.’

  She felt for her chair and lowered herself into it. Her first thought had been disbelief, closely followed by a complete lack of surprise. He thought of nothing but himself. She knew there had been other times when he’d strayed from her. It was to be expected as a mistress. Yet he always came back to her; after all, he could have her anytime, and he knew she was grateful for the roof over her head, not to mention the job. She was never going to rock the boat.

  But this was different. ‘She’s just a kid – eighteen, isn’t she?’

  ‘Old enough,’ said Dorothy. ‘She’s not been the same since that bomb wrecked her house. It’s made her harder somehow. I wouldn’t trust—’

  ‘Who wouldn’t you trust, Dorothy?’ Rita was standing in the doorway.

  ‘None of your business,’ and she went and sat at her desk.

  ‘Come with me, Rita,’ said Pearl. ‘I want to speak to you.’ The look on her face brooked no argument, but it didn’t stop Rita rolling her eyes as she followed Pearl into the dressing room.

  ‘What’s to do?’ asked Rita and Pearl felt like slapping the uppity look off her face.

  ‘I’ll tell you what’s to do, you little slut! I know what you’ve been up to with Mr Fenner. What do you think you’re doing? He’ll use you and, when he gets bored, he’ll toss you aside without a thought.’

  ‘That’s what you think. But he says he loves me and he’s never been so happy. He calls me his little doll,’ she giggled, ‘and he loves playing with me.’

  ‘That’s disgusting!’ The slap caught Rita across her cheek.

  She let out a yelp. ‘I’ll tell him what you’ve done! He’ll be so angry.’

  ‘You’re a disgrace, the man’s old enough to be your father – grandfather even.’

  ‘I don’t care. He’ll look after me, buy me things, I’ll have everything I want.’

  ‘You’re a silly little girl, you won’t last long.’

  Rita laughed. ‘I could last as long as you did.’

  Pearl couldn’t believe her ears. How could she know about her and Harold? They’d always been so careful.

  ‘You’re not so cocky now, are you?’ said Rita. ‘He told me all about you and him.’

  Pearl started to protest. ‘He wouldn’t…’ But she couldn’t be sure.

  ‘Wouldn’t he? I know about your little house. Must be lovely t
o have a home of your own, nice clothes, a decent wage.’ Her voice hardened. ‘After the Blitz, when I was all those weeks lying on my back, I did a lot of thinking and I swore if I survived, I’d grab what I wanted, because you could be blown to smithereens at any time.’

  ‘He’s had flings before; they mean nothing.’

  ‘Can you be sure? You make the best of yourself, I’ll give you that, but he’s after a younger model.’ She touched the welt on her cheek. ‘Slapping me won’t do you much good either.’ And she turned and walked away.

  Pearl waited a few minutes to calm herself before going back to the office. Rita was nowhere to be seen. Dorothy was at her desk crying and she stood up when Pearl came in. She dabbed her eyes and asked, ‘When do I have to leave?’

  Pearl shook her head in despair. This was the worst thing she’d ever had to do in all the years she’d been at Fenner’s. ‘I’m so sorry, Dorothy, you have to leave today. I’ll make up your wages and I’ll write you a good reference, just in case. But I promise you, I’ll do everything I can to get you back.’

  On the way home Pearl called into the butcher’s and was lucky enough to buy a lamb chop with her coupons and some potatoes from the greengrocer’s. She wanted Harold to have a good meal before she talked to him about Dorothy. She did her make-up and hair and put on a low-necked turquoise blouse that he liked. On a week night, he would usually arrive around seven so she put the potatoes on and left the chop on the side to be cooked when he arrived. By eight o’clock she wondered where he was and, by nine o’clock, she feared that he wouldn’t come at all. She went to bed at ten, but couldn’t sleep and lay there praying that he’d gone straight home. The alternative frightened her.

  She must have fallen asleep and awoke at the sound of him stumbling up the stairs. He flung open the door and switched on the light. She pretended to be asleep and sensed him leaning over her exuding a familiar smell of cheap perfume. He’d been with Rita.

  What happened next made her scream. He grabbed her hair, yanking her head from the pillow, and slapped her full on the face. ‘How do you like that, you bitch!’