by Fiona Ford
‘Well, they’re only round the corner,’ Dot reminded her as she took a gulp of her own tea. ‘But I agree, it was a sensible suggestion of Mary’s for you to move back in here so we could share care for Arthur. I think she’s having the time of her life there, though, always telling me how welcoming Rose’s dad is. But then that’s Malcolm all over.’
‘Is Mary still working for the Red Cross?’ Alice asked.
‘Yes, every spare moment she can. Wants to do her bit to help, put those skills she learned in the army to good use.’
‘I don’t know how she finds the time,’ Alice said admiringly. ‘I haven’t been able to carry out many of my ARP duties since Arthur came along.’
Dot roared with laughter. ‘You’ve had a baby, Alice. You don’t have to do everything, you know.’
‘I know, but I actually want to do my bit.’
Dot patted her knee consolingly. ‘You are and you will. Just give it time.’
Alice looked at her watch. ‘I’d better get a move on. The last thing I want is to be late on my first day – even if I do look a fright.’
‘Why don’t you let me alter a couple of these things for you today? It won’t take long.’
‘Would you? I would have done it myself, but what with Arthur and moving out of Rose’s just last week, I haven’t had time. I also thought I’d be back in my old clothes by now.’
‘Stop being so hard on yourself Alice,’ Dot scolded. ‘You’ve not got it easy. Now let me have a couple of those old dresses and I’ll see what I can alter while his lordship’s sleeping.’
Alice kissed Dot on her cheek, making her blush. ‘Thank you. I mean that.’
‘Get away with you,’ Dot said, playfully shooing her out of the door. ‘Any more affection from you, Alice Milwood, and people’ll be wondering if you should be off down Bedlam Mental Hospital rather than back at Liberty’s.’
Chapter Two
An hour later and Alice was nervously walking along Oxford Street. She hadn’t been into central London since she’d given birth to Arthur just before Christmas, but the sight of the devastated buildings were a very real reminder the country was still at war. Alice could see in an instant how teams of volunteers had made excellent progress, sweeping and tidying the rubble and debris, but the sight of lives half-lived still shocked her to the core: partially destroyed walls bearing cracked mirrors or crooked pictures lined the streets. And although Hitler hadn’t raided the city for almost a year, Londoners were still braced for attack, with barrage balloons lining the Thames, and of course the nightly blackout continued in full force.
It was a stark reminder for Alice of what was really important. Yes, she might feel terrible at leaving Arthur but she would feel even worse if he starved because he didn’t even have one parent to care for him in this world. Her husband Luke had been missing in action for almost eight months and the RAF payout she received in his absence was barely enough to cover food for them both, never mind anything else.
As she turned into Argyll Street, the early morning sunshine giving the capital a glorious golden glow, Liberty’s came into view. At the sight of the mock Tudor building Alice let out a gasp of delight – the store still had the power to take her breath away. She was reminded in an instant of her early days working at Liberty’s. She had been just sixteen years old when, thanks to a friend of one of the rag-trade sellers down the Lane, she had been taken on in deliveries as a Saturday girl. It wasn’t long before she became a full-time employee down in the stores, fetching, carrying and acting as general dogsbody to Mr Percy Wilmington, who was in charge of the department and had been a firm but very fair boss. Although Alice hadn’t known at the time, Percy had heard through the grapevine how Alice’s father, Jimmy Harris, had suddenly hightailed it to America, leaving Alice to look after herself and her little sister Joy. Nor did she know how Percy had vouched for her with the Liberty family, who were worried about her father’s criminal background, but she repaid him with hard work – not only because she loved the store from the moment she set foot in it but also because Alice understood from a very early age that hard work, not crime, was the best way through life.
Reaching the shop floor now, Alice felt as if she had never been away. As she neared the counter, she saw a straight-backed unsmiling woman with thick brown hair piled neatly on the top of her head crossing things off a list with gusto and guessed this was the new fabric manager. Alice regarded her for a moment. She thought she must be about fifty-five, and noticed that despite the fact she was widowed she still wore a gold wedding ring on her finger. She looked miserable, Alice thought, before catching herself. She shouldn’t find fault with the woman already, just because she wasn’t her pal and old boss Flo.
Florence, now better known as Flo Canning following her Boxing Day wedding, had worked with Alice as a Saturday girl in the stores, also under Percy’s guidance. The girls had quickly become friends, climbing the ranks together – Flo always that little bit further forward than Alice thanks to the fact she had started six months earlier. They both found their natural home in fabrics where they had worked contentedly side by side with Flo eventually being promoted to department manager and Alice her deputy. Recently, however, things had shifted as Flo had been made deputy manager across the entire store. Alice was delighted for her, but watching this stiff-backed, unsmiling woman narrow her eyes as she glanced over the day’s takings, Alice felt a pang of sadness as she realised how different the department would now be without Flo. Still, she thought sternly, that didn’t mean she shouldn’t give Beatrice Claremont a chance.
‘Hello,’ Alice said brightly, extending her hand towards the woman, determined to make a good impression. ‘You must be Beatrice. I’m Alice.’
The woman’s head snapped up as she regarded Alice for a second; then she wrapped her cool long fingers around Alice’s to shake her hand. ‘You’re my second in command, I understand.’
‘That’s right.’ Alice nodded. ‘Any help you need with anything do let me know; I’ve been down here years.’
Beatrice stared at her appraisingly. ‘Then you’ll know that at Liberty’s we call each other Miss or Mrs, never by our first names.’
Alice blushed at her mistake. ‘Yes, of course, I am sorry, Mrs Claremont. I was just trying to be friendly; we never used the terms in this department.’
‘Yes, well, I’ll let you off this once,’ Beatrice replied, lips pursed. ‘Now I don’t know what life was like when you worked under Mrs Canning, but I can tell you that she and I have rather different management styles and I’ll expect you to follow my lead. There’s a war on here, Mrs Milwood, and I don’t have time for pleasantries, niceties or friendships; what I have time for is work. I won’t stand for idle gossip on the shop floor and I won’t stand for shirking. There is always work to do and I expect the very best from my girls, is that understood?’
Alice nodded meekly. ‘Of course, Mrs Claremont.’
‘Good,’ Beatrice replied, her tone a little softer now. ‘Now, I have a meeting with Mr Button. Mrs Milwood, I don’t mean to be unkind when I say this, but that outfit you’re wearing is most unbecoming and until you are in more flattering attire I suggest you work downstairs in the stockroom familiarising yourself with our current stock levels and sales books.’
Without waiting for a reply, Beatrice swept past Alice, leaving her open-mouthed in surprise at the new fabric manager’s bluntness.
By lunchtime Alice’s back was aching and the dress she had dreaded wearing that morning was covered in grime. Beatrice had not only set her the task of going through the stock and guard books, but she had also instructed Alice to clean the room from top to bottom, insisting that it would be a good way for her to become reacquainted with the fabric department.
It was almost one when Mary tapped her on the shoulder and presented her with a cheeky slice of bread and butter, along with a scalding hot cup of tea.
‘What are you doing?’ Alice asked, aghast, as she saw Mary’s hands f
ull of treats.
Mary grinned, her emerald eyes alive with merriment as she set the cup and plate on the wooden floor and held a finger to her lips. ‘I thought you might need some sustenance. Besides, Beatrice is out for lunch.’
‘Don’t you mean Mrs Claremont?’ Alice replied sulkily.
‘She’s a funny one, isn’t she?’ Mary giggled, perching on one of the upturned boxes Alice had neatly stacked away.
‘She’s very direct!’ Alice said diplomatically, taking a sip of the illicit tea and savouring it. ‘Why on earth did old Buttons think she belonged here?’
‘You know what Mr Button is like.’ Mary shrugged, tucking a lock of raven hair behind her ear. ‘He’s a kindly store manager who likes to see the good in everyone. I think he thought that as she managed to boost profits over in gifts as number two last year she might be good in fabrics, which has been dwindling.’
Alice fell silent as she pondered Mary’s remark. Edwin Button, store manager, who had recently rekindled his love affair with childhood sweetheart Dot, was famed across the store for being a good, decent and fair man – and he felt like a father to the Liberty girls. Together with Mary, he had even helped deliver Arthur on the shop floor when her baby arrived unexpectedly, so it seemed strange that he would saddle them with a woman who, on first impressions, did not appear to be a natural fit.
‘I suppose he knows what he’s doing,’ said Alice, ripping off a chunk of bread with her fingers. ‘I mean Buttons doesn’t tend to get too much wrong too often.’
‘Who doesn’t?’ a voice boomed, before Flo’s smiling face appeared around the corner.
‘Hello, stranger!’ Alice exclaimed, getting to her feet so quickly she almost knocked herself out on one of the low hanging beams,
‘Hello yourself.’ Flo beamed, her green eyes crinkling with delight as she pulled Alice in for a hug. ‘Thought I’d look in on you while I’ve got five minutes and see how you’re getting on.’
Alice glanced around at the pristine stockroom and spread out her arms. ‘As you can see, I haven’t lost my ability to clean and tidy.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ Flo breathed admiringly, ‘I can’t believe you had time to do all this. There’s no flies on you, Alice Milwood.’
Alice revelled in the praise. ‘Just trying to keep on the right side of Beatrice – sorry, Mrs Claremont.’
Flo raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, her chestnut bob dancing on her shoulders, ‘I gather Mrs Claremont has given you the lecture on not using first names.’
As Alice rolled her eyes in acknowledgement, Mary chuckled. ‘I had to admit it took me back to my army days when she instructed me never to use her first name. I rather thought she was going to start barking orders at me and get me on latrine duty.’
At that the girls fell about laughing. Despite her misgivings about returning to work Alice had missed these women more than she realised and she couldn’t help grinning with pleasure at the sight of Flo.
Like Alice, Flo was passionate about all things Liberty, especially the fabric. She had proven herself to be a wonderful department manager, and so it was no wonder Mr Button had insisted to the Liberty board that Flo be promoted into the role of deputy store manager after her predecessor, Mabel Matravers, had been sent to prison earlier that year. It had been quite the scandal when it was discovered that Mrs Matravers had masterminded a hooch ring with her husband Alf, selling illegal alcohol across the city. She had insisted it had been because she needed the money – she was pregnant with her first child and Alf had no job. But Alice had no sympathy. With a father like Jimmy Harris, and a mother who’d thought the world of him no matter what trouble he brought to the door, she had faced her own set of difficulties in life, yet she had never turned to crime and she never would.
Just the thought of their former deputy store manager made Alice’s blood boil. Mrs Matravers and her thirst for money had sent several people blind, including their friend and fellow Liberty girl, Rose Harper.
‘How’s Rose?’ Alice asked, an image of the girl suddenly at the forefront of her mind.
‘Rose is doing very well,’ replied Mary. ‘She’s been learning braille, and we’re hoping that will mean she can help out with some of the admin and the organisation in the office of things like staff rotas – and of course she’s marvellous on the phone with all our customers.’
‘She’s returning to work this week too,’ Flo said, her tone full of excitement. ‘The Liberty family were determined to get her back in as soon as she was ready.’
‘That’s the best news I’ve had all day.’ Alice beamed. ‘She’s such an asset to Liberty’s—’
‘In a way that cow Mabel Matravers wasn’t,’ Flo said hotly.
Alice pursed her lips. ‘Yes, well, I suppose she’s suffering in her own way. Not only did she have to give birth in prison but her month-old daughter is in the care of strangers now.’
‘Best place for the child,’ Mary muttered angrily.
‘I can’t say I disagree.’ Alice sniffed. ‘But we’ve got to move on.’
Flo leaned her head back against one of the stone pillars. ‘I know, my aunt Aggie’s always saying the same thing to me.’
‘Your aunt’s a very wise woman.’ Mary agreed.
Flo gave a watery smile by way of reply and in that moment Alice saw just how tired her friend was. The fresh, dewy appearance she had been sporting following her wedding was long gone; instead she looked to be at the end of her tether.
‘How are you doing, Flo?’ Alice asked, her voice full of concern as she patted the space in between her and Mary.
‘Oh, I’m fine,’ Flo replied, taking the seat Alice offered her. ‘I suppose I’m finding the new job a bit tough, if I’m honest. And I’m worried about Aggie.’
‘What’s wrong with her?’ Mary frowned. ‘I thought she seemed as strong as an ox when I visited you both last month.’
Flo shrugged. ‘She’s fine really. But her nerves have been on edge ever since Dad turned up at the wedding threatening revenge. She keeps getting up in the middle of the night thinking he’s lying in wait for us.’
Alice paused for a moment. Flo had never had much to do with her father, Bill Wilson, but when she wed last Boxing Day he had suddenly turned up at the reception uninvited, shouting the odds. It was then that Flo, along with everyone else, had discovered that he was the third wheel in the hooch ring that had destroyed Rose’s sight – and wanted by the police. Little wonder, Alice thought as she remembered the events, that Flo’s aunt Aggie’s nerves were frayed at the thought of him turning up again.
‘But your old man’s long gone now, isn’t he?’ Alice ventured. ‘If he’s anything like my father he’ll be too terrified of the police to come sniffing back now.’
‘I think so. Dad doesn’t usually stick around when the police are after him but Aggie’s still terrified and I don’t know what else I can say to reassure her. Anyway,’ Flo said, getting to her feet, ‘I had better get back up to the office. I’ve got a mountain of paperwork to get through.’
Just as the girls got up to wave goodbye to Flo, they heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
‘What’s all this?’ Mrs Claremont exclaimed, her expression taut. ‘There’s to be no drinking or eating on the premises. Why on earth is there a cup and plate on the floor?’
Alice and Mary reddened, equally ready to take the blame, but Flo stepped forward. ‘Mrs Claremont, forgive me but those are mine. I simply haven’t had a moment to escape for a lunch break and I wanted to speak with Mrs Milwood.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Mrs Claremont said flatly. ‘I didn’t realise. I’m so sorry, Mrs Canning.’
‘Quite all right, Mrs Claremont,’ Flo said evenly as she gathered the cup and plate from the floor and exchanged a knowing look with Mary and Alice.
With that Flo walked up the stairs, leaving Mrs Claremont opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish and Alice chuckling inwardly. Even though she and Mrs Claremont hadn’t got off to the
start she was hoping for, it was good to see that the Liberty girls still truly ruled the roost.
Chapter Three
The happy sounds of Arthur’s gurgles were like a balm to Alice’s tired soul as she walked through the front door of the Elephant and Castle terrace that evening. Without even bothering to take off her coat and shoes she ran straight into the kitchen to find Arthur and Dot.
‘Oh, you two are a sight for sore eyes,’ she said, hands outstretched to take her son. This was the longest they had ever been apart and she had missed him more than she had expected.
‘Well, he’s been as good as gold,’ Dot revealed. ‘Eaten all his food and settled down for his afternoon nap without complaint.’
‘Thank you so much, Dot.’
Dot waved her gratitude away with a swipe of her hand. ‘Don’t be daft. We all look out for each other round this way, you know that.’
Alice sniffed the air appreciatively, suddenly aware of a delicious scent of onions filling the house. ‘Is that what I think it is?’ she begged, eyes widening in delight.
‘Thought you deserved a treat after your first day back,’ Dot said. ‘Tripe and onions.’
As Dot lifted the lid to check the pan’s contents, Alice gawped at the amount of food her landlady had cooked. ‘Blimey, who are you expecting?’
‘I’ve invited Rose and her dad around – oh, and Edwin, Mary, Flo and Aggie too. We met for a cup of tea earlier on down the Lane. Aggie seemed a bit down so I thought a nice tea would cheer her up,’ Dot replied, wiping her hands on the tea towel conveniently placed next to the pot.
Since Flo and Neil’s wedding, Aggie and Dot had become firm friends. The two had a lot in common: not only were they without children but they had devoted their lives to caring for others. Alice was glad the two older women were forming a bond but the news of a gathering had taken her by surprise.