The Girls from Greenway

by Elizabeth Woodcraft

  ‘No no, nothing like that, it’s . . . it’s about the shop. You know. Maybe expanding. Maybe moving.’

  ‘Really? You’ve never said that before. You’re making it up!’

  He laughed. ‘I’m thinking about it.’

  ‘Who with?’

  ‘Just some of the guys.’

  ‘Guys? Are you with Cynthia?’

  ‘No! Not Cynthia. Not anyone. Just, just the guys.’

  She tried not to let her fear sound through her voice. ‘So, so when am I going to see you?’

  ‘Oh honey, you sound so sad.’

  ‘Well – well I, I’m all ready to go out.’

  ‘I’m sorry, honey bunny. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. We’ll go somewhere fabulous.’

  She was silent.

  ‘Are you still there, babe?’ he said.

  ‘This is going to cost you more than a piece of cheesecake in an Italian cafe, I can tell you.’

  ‘I was thinking of somewhere French actually. In Paris! How about that?’ She could tell he was smiling, relieved, thinking the crisis had passed.

  Suddenly she felt very tired, she had an overwhelming urge to cry and she wanted to talk to someone. Is this what it would always be like? Her sitting at home, worrying, wondering where he was; him making a late phone call, making excuses in his softest voice, promising to do better, maybe buying her a trinket, another bracelet. Would it be worth it? She took a deep breath. ‘Actually, Gene, you know what? Let’s just say goodbye, shall we? You go your way, and I’ll go mine. That’s it. We’re finished. OK? Bye.’ She put the phone down before he could say anything.

  *

  As Gene walked back into the bar, he looked serious, almost sad. He sat down silently.

  ‘Well,’ Doreen said, ‘I’ve thought about it. It’s a very nice offer, but no thanks.’

  ‘Sorry? What?’

  ‘You did just ask, in a roundabout way, to marry me.’

  ‘Did I? Oh God, yes, of course.’

  ‘Yes, and I’m saying thanks for asking, but no, I won’t marry you.’ She could almost smell the relief in him. ‘And of course, bigamy’s a crime and you are still married.’

  ‘Not for much longer.’ He patted his chest and she heard the crackle of paper. ‘Soon I’ll be free to marry whoever I want!’

  ‘Well, darling, I don’t think it’s going to be me.’ She picked up her bag. Stubbing out her cigarette, she said, ‘I think you’d better take me home.’

  He dropped her at the top of Sperry Drive. She hurried into the house. Angie was sitting at the kitchen table. They hadn’t spoken since their big argument. Doreen hovered in the doorway, scanning Angie’s face, not sure if she should enter or leave.

  ‘You’ll be pleased to know,’ Angie said without looking up, ‘that he’s in the country somewhere, doing business. So I’ve finished with him. Forever. And I feel awful.’ She burst into tears.

  ‘Oh no, oh no,’ Doreen knelt down beside Angie. ‘Are you sure he wasn’t doing something perfectly legitimate, something generous, something honourable? You know he can be all of those things.’

  ‘Yes, maybe he was tonight. He said he was talking about expanding, about moving the business.’

  ‘Oh, was he?’ Doreen said.

  ‘But he could just as easily have been with someone he’d picked up off the street, or in the pub. I’d never know. I’d always worry. He’s gone, it’s over. I’ve done too much crying over him.’

  ‘Oh Angie,’ Doreen said. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Angie pulled a hanky from her sleeve. The charms on the bracelet jangled as she wiped her eyes.

  Doreen looked at it and shook her head. How many secrets could she keep? She squeezed her eyes shut tight. ‘Look Angie. I’ve got to tell you something. It was me he was with in that pub tonight.’

  Angie’s head reared up.

  ‘It was completely by chance. Honestly. Nothing was arranged at all. I was walking along the road. I was really upset and then he came by in a swanky car.’

  ‘Oh, he’s bought it, has he?’ Angie said mechanically.

  ‘He has.’

  ‘And you were upset?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m pregnant.

  ‘Pregnant?’ Angie’s head shot up. A flood of emotions crossed her face. ‘Oh my God, Doreen, you’re . . . Oh no, oh no, it’s not, it can’t be . . . Is it?’ She raised her face, her eyes were huge with brimming tears.

  Doreen knelt beside her. ‘I am so sorry, kid. It is. It’s his.’

  ‘What did he say?’ Angie sounded fearful.

  ‘I didn’t tell him it was his. I couldn’t. He said if he met the bloke who did it, he’d knock his block off.’

  ‘Yes, that’s the sort of thing he says.’ Angie drew a shuddering tear-filled breath.

  ‘I’m sorry, lovely. I’m sorry about tonight. He rang you, didn’t he? He was a sad man after that.’

  ‘So he should be. So what did you do in his swanky car?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘He bought me a large gin and then . . .’ he asked me to marry him, ‘. . . and then he brought me home. He dropped me off on the corner.’

  ‘Are you going to see him again?’ Angie asked.

  ‘Oh, lovely, of course not. No. In fact I can’t think of anything worse. Do you think you might see him again?’

  ‘No. Never. It’s too exhausting.’

  ‘And anyway, you’re my sister and I love you and I’m sorry, and it should never have happened.’

  ‘Oh, Reen. What are we going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know. For now,’ Doreen stood up, ‘I’m going to make us a cup of tea and a slice of toast, even if it’s just the crusts.’

  ‘Oh big whoop!’

  ‘I know. We are the last of the big spenders.’

  ‘In every way.’ Angie stood up. They hugged. Angie loved her sister. She wanted to trust her. Doreen had told her about tonight. She’d shared the awful truth that she was pregnant. She could tell that Doreen wouldn’t see Gene again. They would go through this together. Things felt clearer now. She wouldn’t have to worry about Gene anymore. She felt better.

  CHAPTER 30

  TEN DAYS LATER, ANGIE’S JOB AT the college had ended, although Alison Fairfield had said anytime she wanted to come back she should be sure to get in contact. ‘Unless I come into some money, that’s not likely,’ Angie had said. ‘And that’s not going to happen.’

  There was no prospect of going back to English Electric, her mum had told her sadly. Mandy had taken her old job and the management job had been taken. She was jobless.

  So this morning she’d been in to Bonds. She’d gone up to personnel and, reviewing their records, and seeing how well she’d done in haberdashery they’d said yes, there was a job, in the Beds Department if she would like that. She could start tomorrow. In fact, if she wanted, they’d be very happy if she’d like to spend this very afternoon learning the ropes and watching what was required. And so she had.

  By the end of the day she was exhausted. The Beds Department was really not at all interesting, but it meant money and that was all she would allow herself to think about. As she entered the house she heard a strange sound. It was her mum. She was singing.

  ‘Mum?’ She called. ‘What are you doing?’

  Her mum was standing in the living room, sorting piles of clothes. ‘If your dad’s not coming back, we’ve got to make plans.’

  ‘Ye-e-es?’

  ‘We’re going to Australia! We’re going up to London tomorrow to finally sort things out, get a date, organise the voyage. In the meantime, I’m packing, and I think you’ve got one of my cardigans.’

  ‘Mum!’ Angie took a pile of nightdresses from her. ‘Are you really going? Now? What shall I do without you? Who’s going to pay off all our debts?’

  ‘We’re not going straight away,’ Mum said. ‘In the meantime, I have upped my hours at English Electric.’

  �
�I know you have.’

  ‘And those couple of nights a week behind the bar in the Clock House are helping, and Mrs Evans has put me in the way of a little cleaning job, in the school round the lane.’

  ‘Oh Mum, you’re doing too much.’

  ‘So we’ll be paying off what we can, as quickly as we can. And Doreen has said she’ll do some cleaning. She can’t get any more hours at Bolingbroke’s. We’ll pay off the electric and the gas, though that’s not so much. And we’ll be able to make the payment on Doreen’s overdraft this month. The furniture in the front room has been returned. And I’m going to sell off anything that’s not going to Australia with us. The fur coat’s gone back already. I shan’t need that in Australia.’

  ‘God, Mum, how much did you spend?’

  ‘Too much. But I didn’t know. I’m doing what I can,’ she whispered.

  ‘I know,’ Angie said.

  ‘And I do keep asking about a job for you at English Electric.’

  ‘Thank you. But I got a job this morning at Bonds, so I can help out too. It’s in the Beds Department, but Cath reckons there might even be a job in haberdashery soon, which would be lovely.’

  ‘Oh Angie, love, that’s great news. But look, are you sure you won’t come to Australia with us? We could leave all this behind,’ her mum said.

  ‘No, Mum, really. I’m not going to give up now, just because of Dad.’

  ‘You’ve got to be careful.’ It was the old Mum talking, disapproving of Angie working in fashion. ‘You’ll have to find a new place to live. You won’t be able to stay here.’

  ‘Yes, I will!’ Angie protested.

  ‘You’ll need something smaller and cheaper. You just won’t be earning enough. I’ll send you anything I can, and I’m sure Doreen will too, but it’s not likely to be much, if anything. I want you to be happy.’ She stretched out her arm and stroked Angie’s hair. ‘We’ve all done stupid things, but we’ll find a way out of this.’

  ‘Oh Mum.’

  ‘You know.’ Her mum smiled. ‘I can’t wait to get to Australia. I just spoke to Ivy on the phone.’ She stopped. ‘She rang me this time, but I think the phone bill’s going to be another big one. Oh dear, oh dear.’

  ‘We’ll sort it out,’ Angie said.

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘What did Ivy say?’

  Mum’s face lit up. ‘She’s thrilled we’re coming, and even more thrilled we’re coming without Dad. She never liked him.’

  ‘That’s great for you and Doreen!’

  ‘Oh, I can’t wait!’ Mum said. ‘All that sun, and parties in the garden and on the beach! Ivy says they have them all the time. Are you sure you won’t come?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘If you’re sure.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘But do you think you could run me up some shorts?’

  ‘Mum, you’re wild!’ Angie laughed. ‘Of course, I could. How about something in green to go with your eyes?’

  ‘On that basis they should be red,’ Mum said.

  ‘Actually Mum, you look better than you’ve looked for years,’ Angie said.

  ‘Yes, this perm’s lasted well, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Well, it’s not just that, but yes, the perm’s not bad.’

  ‘Talking about hairdressers,’ her mum said, ‘when I rang Harry again yesterday, to see if he’d heard anything, he said we weren’t the only people to lose someone. I said, “What do you mean?” He said his assistant, that flowery girl, what’s her name?’

  ‘Rose,’ Angie said.

  ‘Yeah, well, she’s gone off somewhere too. Just one morning, she didn’t come in to work. And that was it. There must be something in the air.’

  ‘Yes,’ Angie said slowly. ‘There must be.’

  ‘Anyway, have you got that cardigan? The blue one with the collar.’

  ‘No, I haven’t seen it. Mum, you don’t think . . . ?’

  ‘What? Don’t think what?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Well, if you haven’t got it, Doreen must have it in one of her drawers.’ Cheerfully Mrs Smith went upstairs, and Angie heard her ask Doreen about the cardigan.

  Angie looked at the piles of clothes in the living room. Mum was certainly feeling better and that was great. But really, this idea of them all working their socks off to clear the debts was going nowhere. It just wasn’t going to be enough. And they’d returned everything they could. Except the sewing machine. Perhaps it was time to return that too. This was all such a mess. She could hear Doreen coming downstairs. Doreen’s position was the worst of all, and one that Mum had no idea about. She went into the kitchen. She and Doreen were going to have to come up with some ideas.

  Angie sat down at the kitchen table. ‘I think we should talk,’ she said.

  Doreen looked at her warily.

  ‘Not that,’ Angie said. ‘We’ve got to think of ways to get some more money.’

  ‘Well, selling my body is out, I’m afraid,’ Doreen said. ‘Do you think we should start a pop group? We could call ourselves the Swinging Smith Sisters.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘What was that we used to do when we were kids? We used to make lemonade and little necklaces and bracelets out of daisies and sell them,’ Doreen said.

  ‘Be serious. Anyway, we never made much money, if I remember. No, we’ve got to think of something sensible.’

  ‘Like what?’ Doreen said. ‘I mean, I’ve said I’ll do some cleaning, but that’s not going to last long.’

  ‘Something that will bring in lots of money.’

  ‘We could rob a bank.’

  ‘Something that’s legal.’

  ‘Perhaps you could be a teacher, you know all that stuff about sewing.’

  ‘I think you need qualifications for that. Perhaps you could teach people how to be a good salesman.’

  Doreen pointed at her stomach. ‘I think they might say I’m not setting a good example.’

  Angie laughed. She leaned against Doreen.

  Doreen put an arm round her and hugged her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry for everything.’

  ‘I know,’ Angie said. ‘I’m just trying to forget it all. Are you and Mum really going to Australia?’

  ‘It’s her dream. We’ve got our skills.’

  ‘Why do they want glassblowers in Australia?’

  ‘From what I hear, they drink out of glasses over there.’

  ‘So, are you going for this ten pound passage thing?’

  ‘And all we can eat thrown in. Sounds good to me. We can’t afford anything else.’

  ‘What about the baby?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know. But what I do know,’ Doreen said, ‘is that we should be getting organised. It’s all a bit piecemeal. Mum’s extra jobs here, your Bonds wages there. Mum’s started packing, that’s good. We’re going to London to get the passage sorted out. I should be packing. If I’ve got a case to pack.’ She looked up at the new matching set of suitcases, piled up on top of her wardrobe. ‘They haven’t been paid for yet. They’ll have to go back.’

  ‘Oh,’ Angie sighed. ‘It’s all just so – so huge.’

  ‘What we should do is sit down and work out what’s got to be done, who we’ve got to pay and when, and how we’re going to make any money. Going to Australia isn’t going to fix everything. It’s going to be pretty hopeless. God knows how many glassblowers they need. There ain’t going to be much money.’

  ‘Oh Reen,’ Angie whispered. ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘We’re going to have our tea and then sit round the table and sort it out properly. All right?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am!’ Angie said and made a salute.

  The beans and the toast were cleared away and Doreen pulled out a pencil and an old exercise book from a drawer in the sideboard. She opened it and drew vertical lines on an empty page.

  ‘All right,’ she said, holding the pencil over the paper. ‘What do we need to do?’

/>   ‘Pay back our debts.’

  She wrote a heading on one of the columns. ‘OK, and how are we going to do that? Mum’s working like a mad thing.’ She scribbled some notes. ‘I’m going to do some cleaning with Mum. And I’m going to get a few evenings in the Saracen’s if I can.’

  ‘It’s a bit of a race against time, with you going off to Australia soon. Well, I obviously can’t keep the sewing machine now, or my new table,’ Angie said sadly. ‘I’ll have to take them back.’

  Doreen looked at her, frowning.

  Mrs Smith came into the room, putting on her coat ready for her shift in the Clock House. She looked at the paper in front of Doreen. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘We’re having a pow-wow,’ Doreen said. ‘We’re making plans.’ She wrote another heading.

  ‘Am I not included?’

  ‘Of course you are,’ Doreen said. ‘We’re just getting started. We’re trying to think of a way round our money problems and that means we’ve got to think of things to do.’

  ‘How far have you got?’

  ‘Not very far. Angie wants to give up her sewing machine.’

  ‘I don’t want to,’ Angie began.

  ‘I should think not,’ Mum said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Because there’s your answer right there, surely.’

  ‘Where? What?’ Angie asked.

  ‘She’s right,’ Doreen said. ‘Stand up.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Stand up.’

  Angie stood up.

  ‘There. Look.’

  ‘What am I looking at?’ Angie said.

  ‘Your dress. You made it.’

  ‘Yeah, so?’ Angie looked down at her dress. ‘I made it,’ she said slowly. ‘But . . . come on. One dress.’

  ‘No,’ said Doreen. ‘There’s your green one, and the one you wore to the interview, and the ones you made for me. And all your skirts. You make clothes.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Well!’ Doreen leaned over the exercise book. ‘How long did it take you to make this dress?’

  ‘Oh well, this one was really straightforward. The strip at the bottom was fiddly, so that took a bit of time.’

  ‘All right, all right. But how long? Roughly.’

  ‘A day? Less probably. You’ve got the cutting out and the pinning and sewing and putting in the zip.’