a heartwarming WW1 saga about love and friendship (The West End Girls Book 1)

by Elaine Roberts

  Rose turned to Annie and smiled as she looked back at Joyce. ‘Our Annie wants to be on the stage.’

  Joyce sighed. ‘I think everyone comes to London wanting to be on the stage or thinking the roads are paved with riches.’ She glanced at Annie, and took in her crestfallen expression. Who was she to steal her dream? ‘Of course I’m exaggerating. There are lots of theatres around London. When I get a chance, I’ll take you to Shaftesbury Avenue and Covent Garden. There’s also the Lyceum Theatre in Wellington Street, which is just off The Strand, the Savoy Theatre, the Aldwych Theatre – heavens there’s a load of them. We could spend the day just wandering around. Well, it would take a few days but I’m sure you’ll love it.’ Joyce guided them left to stay on Oxford Street. ‘London has a busy nightlife, maybe that’s why they say it’s a city that never sleeps.’

  Rose nudged Annie. ‘Well it sounds like there will be plenty of choices for you.’

  Annie beamed. ‘It certainly sounds that way. I can’t wait to get started.’ She looked along the street as a dog barked. ‘I can’t believe we’re actually here. I’ve dreamt of this for so long.’

  Annie and Rose kept stopping to look at the barrows of food, hot and cold. The aroma of hot vegetable soup mingled with pies and coffee following them down the street.

  An old lady stopped them in the street trying to sell flowers from the baskets she was carrying. ‘Beautiful lavender for a beautiful lady.’ She stretched out a handful of purple flowers. ‘They’ll bring you luck.’

  ‘No, thank you.’ Joyce shook her head. ‘Just keep walking. You’re on Oxford Street now and as you can see this is the place to come when you want something. There’s John Lewis, which is a lovely haberdasher’s and there’s a milliner’s if you want a new hat.’ She laughed. ‘There’s a lovely Foyles bookshop on Charing Cross Road, which isn’t far from here. You can’t miss it, they have a big sign painted above the shop window and all books are thruppence. Once you’ve read them you can return the books and get a tuppence refund.’

  Rose’s face lit up. ‘That sounds like somewhere we should go, Annie.’

  Joyce chuckled. ‘I thought you might like the sound of it. It’s very popular. I’ve heard it said if you can’t get a book there it doesn’t exist.’

  Annie beamed. ‘That does sound like somewhere you could get lost in.’ She noticed an old man sitting in a doorway, taking in his tattered clothes. His hands and face had a leathery look about them, while his fingernails and long grey beard gave him an unclean look. Annie turned to Joyce. ‘Do you like living in London or do you miss the village?’

  Joyce gave a wry smile. ‘I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the village. Let’s face it, everyone knows everybody and their business but in London you can become invisible. At least in the village there are people that care about you.’ She smiled. ‘Apart from the baker of course.’

  They turned left onto Shaftesbury Avenue and then into Great White Lion Street.

  Joyce lifted her arm indicating ahead of them. ‘We’re nearly home. Up ahead is what’s called Seven Dials because there’s a pillar in a centre circle with a clock at the top of it and there are seven roads coming off it. So, if you’re out on your own and get lost, ask someone to tell you how to get to Seven Dials and then you’re more or less home.’

  Annie glanced up at the tall red-brick buildings. ‘Are there any normal size buildings in London? They feel like they’re closing in on me.’

  Joyce glanced up. ‘I know what you mean but you’ll soon get used to it.’

  Annie nodded but wasn’t so sure.

  Rose grabbed Annie’s hand as they stepped off the pavement to cross over to Great Earl Street. Rose whispered to Annie, ‘I’m not sure I’ll get used to all these cars. You could get killed crossing the road.’

  Joyce smiled at her friends. ‘I know I keep saying it but you’ll soon get used to it, a lot of people live here.’

  A dog came bounding towards them, his tail wagging enthusiastically. Annie automatically stretched out her hand for him to sniff, which he did before allowing her to fuss him.

  ‘You should feel honoured, Russell doesn’t allow just anyone to fuss him.’

  Joyce bent down to stroke Russell’s soft fur. ‘Hello, Peter, it’s not very often you’re seen away from your barrow.’

  Peter’s smile embraced the three girls. ‘No, I didn’t realise this pest had seen you, so when he ran off, I had to follow him. I should have known better because he doesn’t usually wander off.’

  The dog barked and moved to sit at Peter’s feet. ‘So, I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Peter, your local fruit and veg man.’ The dog’s cold, wet nose nudged his hand and he automatically patted the dog’s side. He glanced at their suitcases. ‘Are you coming or going?’

  Joyce laughed. ‘These are my friends, they have just arrived to stay with me for a while.’ She lifted her hand towards them in turn. ‘Annie, Rose, this is Peter Lewis. A man with dreams to match yours, Annie.’

  Peter smiled. ‘There’s nothing wrong with dreams; it’s what keeps us all going. Isn’t that right, Annie?’

  Annie nodded, feeling the heat rising up her neck as she took in his blonde hair and blue eyes. The smell of fresh air and dirt that surrounded Peter reminded her of home. Tears pricked at her eyes as she wondered if her father had forgiven her yet, or if he ever would.

  ‘Anyway.’ Joyce laughed and shook her head. ‘Peter has great dreams of owning his own shops one day. Another dreamer, the place is full of them.’

  Peter pulled himself upright. ‘One day I’ll shock all you doubting Thomas’s, you’ll see, it’s all about hard work, perseverance and belief.’

  Joyce reached out and flung her arms around him. Ignoring the dirt smeared across his shirt, she squeezed him tight. ‘I’m only playing. I hope you do make it, I really do.’ She stepped back and glanced at the girls. ‘Come on let’s get home, I expect you’ll be glad of a cup of tea.’

  Rose reached out her hand. ‘It’s been lovely to meet you, Peter, and I’m sure we’ll bump into you again.’

  Peter nodded before casting his eyes towards Annie. ‘I’m sure you will, I’m here every day.’

  Rose smiled. ‘Yes, it’s good to see Joyce has got a man in her—’

  ‘Rose.’ Joyce pulled at Rose’s arm. ‘Come on, let’s get home.’ She glanced back at Peter. ‘Sorry about Rose, she speaks before her head’s had a chance to think about what she’s saying.’

  ‘What? I was only saying—’

  ‘I know what you were only saying.’ Joyce scowled. ‘I’d forgotten about how you just say what’s in your head without any thought.’ She waved at Peter and pushed her arm through Rose’s and marched her along the road.

  Annie took a step to follow them before looking back at Peter, grinning sheepishly. ‘I’m sorry about Rose, she didn’t mean to embarrass you or Joyce.’

  Peter chuckled. ‘Believe me when I say I’m not at all embarrassed, but if I know Joyce she will be.’

  Annie nodded. ‘I’d better go before I lose them altogether.’ She ran a couple of steps to catch up with her friends, wondering why Joyce had never mentioned Peter to Rose before. They were obviously close and why not? He was a good-looking man with his own mind; she liked that.

  5

  Joyce pushed the metal letterbox open and began pulling the string through it, the metal key rattling against the back of the front door. She tugged until the key fell out; grabbing it, she nervously turned it over in her hand. ‘There’s something I should have told you before you spent money on the train tickets.’ She paused, her eyes staring down at the highly polished red doorstep; only looking up when a couple of boys ran past, laughing.

  Rose rested her hand on Joyce’s arm. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Erm…’

  Annie frowned for a moment before forcing a smile. ‘Joyce, whatever it is it can’t be that bad, just spit it out.’

  Joyce cleared her throat. ‘Well, erm, it’s my uncle.
’

  The girls waited patiently for Joyce to finish. Her struggle was plain to see.

  Annie whispered, ‘What is it, Joyce? You can tell us anything, we’re your friends.’

  Joyce sucked in her breath and quickly let it out again. ‘It’s my uncle.’

  Rose glanced at Annie. ‘What about your uncle?’

  ‘He drinks a lot.’ Joyce’s words tumbled over each other. ‘I’m sorry, I should have told you before you came but I was so excited when you said you wanted to visit and was frightened you wouldn’t come.’

  Rose nodded. ‘You should have told us.’ She paused, squeezing her fingers round Joyce’s thin arm. ‘We still would’ve come but we would have come sooner if we’d known you needed us.’

  Tears pricked at Joyce’s eyes. She blinked quickly and took a deep breath. ‘Thank you, I’ve been too ashamed to tell anyone.’

  Annie rubbed her hand up and down Joyce’s back, becoming aware of each bone in her friend’s spine. ‘It’s all right, stop worrying, we’re all big girls now and Rose won’t be too scared to tell him what she thinks.’

  Joyce giggled as she looked up at Rose’s indignant expression. ‘I don’t know where you get this impression of me from, I’m just misunderstood.’

  The girls roared with laughter.

  A man’s voice boomed out from behind the door. ‘Joyce, is that you?’

  Their laughter died on their lips. Annie and Rose gave Joyce an anxious look.

  The voice bellowed. ‘Joyce, what’s going on? What yer doing out there? You ’ad better get in ’ere and sort out my dinner.’

  Joyce put the key in the lock before calling out to her uncle. ‘I’m coming.’ She pushed open the door just as her uncle appeared in the sitting room doorway. He was a round man with a mop of salt and pepper hair; his face had a red tinge to it. He looked dishevelled with his shirt hanging out of his trousers and a cigarette hanging between his lips.

  ‘Uncle, dinner won’t take long, I made a meat and potato pie this morning.’ Joyce paused and looked briefly over her shoulder. ‘Uncle Arthur, these are my friends, Rose and Annie. I told you about them when Rose wrote to me.’ Joyce stepped aside. ‘Rose, Annie, this is my Uncle Arthur, Mr Bradshaw.’

  ‘Good evening, Mr Bradshaw.’ The girls answered in unison as they stepped inside. Rose gladly let her case drop on to the tiled floor and rubbed the red welts that had appeared on her hand.

  Arthur straightened his shirt before pushing it inside the waistband of his trousers. ‘It’s nice to meet Joyce’s friends, she don’t normally bring any of ’em ’ome.’

  Annie couldn’t take her eyes off his cigarette; it wobbled precariously when he spoke but seemed to be stuck fast to his bottom lip. She was suddenly aware of Rose’s elbow jabbing into her side and smiled. ‘It’s lovely to meet you too, Mr Bradshaw.’

  The four of them stood close together in an awkward silence in the narrow hallway. The stench of stale beer filled the space, mingling with the cigarette smoke. Four coat hooks were lined up on one wall next to the front door.

  Arthur Bradshaw ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Well, I expect you’re thirsty, Joyce can make us all a cup of tea.’

  Joyce pushed the piece of string back through the front of the letterbox before the front door thudded shut. ‘I will put the kettle on, but first I’ll take you to your bedrooms so you can unpack and relax.’

  Arthur nodded to the girls before turning his back on them and returning to the sitting room.

  Joyce let out a sigh of relief. ‘Come on, I’ll show you to your rooms. You can come down whenever you’re ready and remember to treat this as your own home while you’re staying here.’

  The girls picked up their cases and followed Joyce up the stairs; each step they made was lost in the groaning of the wood underfoot.

  ‘Your rooms are at the top of the house but they are next door to each other.’ Joyce led the way along the landing and up the second flight of stairs. ‘I’m afraid although it looks a big house, the rooms are quite small, but it’s better than being on the street.’

  They got to the top, each stopping to put their cases down and catch their breath, as they faced two identical doors. Joyce opened the door to her left. ‘The rooms are identical so it doesn’t matter which one you have.’

  Rose picked up her case again and stepped inside and gladly dropped her case on the floor before flopping down on the unmade single bed.

  ‘I’ll bring some bed linen and make the beds but first I must go and put the kettle on.’ Joyce didn’t wait for a response and turned to run down the stairs.

  Annie put down her case and stood in the doorway. She sighed.

  Rose looked up. ‘Are you all right?’

  Annie peered over her shoulder before glancing back at Rose. ‘Yes, it’s just not how I imagined it to be, but maybe it’s because I’m tired.’

  Rose nodded, hauling her suitcase onto the bed and undoing the clasp. Throwing back the lid, she started to unpack her clothes. Without a word she quickly tucked a notepad and pencil under the pillows on the bed. She shook out a white long-sleeved blouse. ‘I know what you mean, but I expect it’ll be all right once we’re settled in and have found our way around London.’

  Annie wondered why she was hiding a diary, but the moment to ask had gone.

  A mischievous smile slowly appeared on Rose’s face. ‘And we won’t talk about Peter Lewis. Joyce seemed close to him, at least close enough to give him a hug.’

  Annie couldn’t resist smiling while she shook her head. ‘You’re terrible, but he does seem friendly enough.’

  ‘Friendly enough! They had a full-on hug in the street.’ Rose paused. ‘Imagine if we’d done that back home, all hell would have broken loose. The families would have been told before the cuddle was over and we would have been marked as harlots or fallen women.’

  Annie giggled. ‘I know they were gossips but I’m not sure they were that bad, and anyway, I like to think they had our best interests at heart.’

  Rose shook her head. ‘What, even Mr Butterworth and Mr Blake?’

  Annie shrugged. ‘I know that’s hard to believe but I like to think so.’

  ‘Sometimes you and I are quite alike, but then others…’ Rose shook her head. ‘I don’t think we’re alike at all.’

  Annie laughed at her friend’s confused expression. ‘We don’t always have to think alike or even agree with each other you know.’

  ‘I know but sometimes, like this, it feels like we are miles apart in our thinking.’ Rose pulled herself upright. ‘Anyway, moving on, there certainly seems to be a lot of theatres, you’re going to be spoilt for choice.’ Rose smiled at her friend. ‘Go and unpack and then we’ll venture downstairs for that cup of tea. I don’t know about you but I’m parched.’

  Annie nodded. ‘Me too, I’ll see you in a minute.’ She turned and took the couple of steps towards her bedroom. The door handle creaked stiffly as Annie turned it. She pushed against the door and tentatively stepped into the small room. A single unmade bed dominated the room and filled the space along one wall, while a small oak wardrobe and a six-drawer chest stood opposite. Annie put down her case, wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in front of her face. There was a mustiness in the air and thin layers of dust lay undisturbed on every surface. A screwed-up rag sat on top of the chest of drawers. Annie shook her head and walked over to the sash window and turned the clasp. She pushed hard on the wooden frame but it wasn’t moving.

  ‘Oh sorry, Annie, I didn’t get round to finishing this room.’ Joyce came running in carrying some bed linen and rags.

  Annie spun round. ‘Oh, you made me jump.’ She giggled. ‘I was just trying to open this window but it seems to be stuck fast.’ She brushed her hands together and stepped away from it.

  ‘As you can probably tell, this room hasn’t been used for some time. My aunt talked about getting a lodger but my uncle… well, my uncle decided against it.’ Joyce put the linen down on the mattress. ‘I
had started to clean it but I ran out of time.’ She walked over to the window and pushed the frame up with both hands. There was a slight movement.

  Annie took the step to stand next to her. ‘Would it help if I push one side and you do the other?’

  ‘It’s worth trying.’ Joyce moved to the side, allowing Annie room to get her hands under the frame. ‘Ready?’

  Annie nodded and they both pushed with all their might and the window suddenly gave way. The fresh air swirled around them. The dark blue curtains fluttered to and fro as they pushed the open window up higher.

  ‘Ahh, that’s better.’

  Joyce picked up the rag and walked over to the chest of drawers.

  Annie shook her head. ‘Leave it, Joyce, I’ll do it, you have enough to be getting on with.’

  Joyce walked over to the open window with the rag, hanging it outside; she gave it a couple of forceful shakes and dust particles escaped into the air. ‘I’m sorry, this should have been done before you arrived.’

  Annie took the rag from her. ‘Relax, Joyce, it doesn’t matter.’

  She smoothed out the grey blanket and tucked it under the mattress. It was rough on her fingers. She wondered what her mother did to theirs because they were much softer to the touch. There was a rap on her door but before Annie could get there, it swung open.

  ‘It’s only me,’ Rose called out. ‘Are you ready to go downstairs?’

  Annie wondered if there was a key in the lock of the door. If there was, she probably should start using it. ‘Yes, I’m going to leave the window open.’

  Rose looked round. ‘Joyce wasn’t lying when she said the bedrooms were identical. You’ve already managed to make yours look like home with the family photographs and your books.’ She picked up a well-thumbed programme that was sat on her bedside table. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘It’s what started it all off so I couldn’t follow my dream without bringing it with me.’ Annie took the programme from Rose. ‘It was all quite magical. You know the star of the show, Marjorie Smith, spoke to me after the performance.’ She hugged the paper tight to her chest. ‘From then on it’s what I’ve wanted to do.’