by Rosie Clarke
‘You’ve been very ill,’ Beth said, while Sally reached for her hand and held it gently, saying, ‘We’ve all been worried about you, love. They wouldn’t let us visit for the first week… We came down on the train and we’ll stay overnight in a hotel – it was a long way, Maggie, and that means we can’t visit as often as we’d like.’
‘I’m better now,’ Maggie said and tried to sit up again. She discovered she was too weak and flopped back against the pillows. ‘I thought I was…’
‘You will be,’ Sally said and smiled at her encouragingly. ‘Doctor Simpson told us you’ll need to convalesce for some weeks or months and then you can come home to us.’
‘I can’t wait for that to happen,’ Beth said. ‘We brought you flowers and fruit, Maggie dearest. Is there anything else you need?’
Maggie shook her head. At the moment she was too weary to think of anything she might ever need.
‘Beth and I came together today,’ Sally said, ‘but after this we’re going to take it in turns to visit. It’s a pity you’re not nearer London so that we could visit all the time. However, if you need anything just tell the nurse – Nurse Shelly – and she will let us know and we’ll bring it for you, or send it through the post if we can’t get down.’
‘I’m such a nuisance—’ Maggie said and when her friends shook their heads, chorusing ‘No,’ she sighed: ‘I feel it.’
‘We love you and we’re proud of you,’ Beth told her, stroking the back of her hand. ‘Anything we can do, you only have to ask…’
‘We shall be ringing every day, so don’t forget to tell Nurse Shelly if you need anything.’
‘Everyone is so kind…’ Maggie said and closed her eyes.
She drifted into a restless sleep, punctuated by memories of France and the terrible injuries she’d seen and others, even worse, of Tim Burrows clinging to a life raft until he was picked up, his eyes open and staring. Her lost love, dead for hours and yet not swallowed by the sea. His death had broken her heart, giving her no reason to live but for her work. She might have found some happiness if her friend Mick O’Sullivan had been there, but he’d been sent to another war zone and she’d lost touch with him, leaving her nothing but the grinding ache of grief. She tossed restlessly in her sleep, calling out to Tim and then to Mick from the depths of her despair.
When she opened her eyes again, it was night and her friends had gone.
A nurse came up to her.
‘My friends were here…’ she said, not quite sure if she’d imagined their visit.
‘So they were and for quite a long time. Sister let them stay longer because of the journey they’d had to get here,’ she agreed. ‘I’m Nurse Shelly and you’re looking a little better, Miss Gibbs. Do you think you could fancy anything?’
‘Could I have a cup of cocoa please?’
Nurse Shelly’s face lit up in a delighted grin. ‘Bless you, my darlin’, you can have anything you like when I’m on duty. You nursed my brother Sam out there. He told me you were an angel and it was you who saved his life – told me he would have died if you hadn’t watched over him. So, you ask for anything you need.’
Maggie smiled. ‘I remember Sam, Shelly. He was so brave. He lost both his legs, but he didn’t just give up like some of the others. He fought for his life and I nursed him. We sent him home in a wheelchair.’
‘And now he’s back doing what he always wanted, painting – he’s a true artist is our Sam and he has more paintings of Nurse Gibbs than I could count.’
‘Oh…’ Maggie looked at her in surprise. ‘I’m so glad he is getting on well.’ With Nurse Shelly’s help, she eased herself up against the pillows. ‘Do you know, I think I feel a little better…’
3
Sally was busy going through her list of suppliers that late spring morning when the door of her office opened and Beth peeped round. She looked a bit uncertain, so Sally smiled and waved her in, getting up to kiss her cheek.
‘How are you feeling, love?’ she asked, because it was now mid-May and Beth’s second pregnancy was into its fifth month and she looked a bit tired. ‘Come and sit down.’
‘I’m fine really,’ Beth told her with a rueful smile. ‘Little Jack has been into everything this morning. He can crawl faster than I can walk these days and he keeps us both on our toes.’
‘I’m sure he does,’ Sally agreed. ‘Jenny was having tantrums when I left her with Pearl and Mrs Hills. I think she has been utterly spoiled and demands her own way whenever she’s thwarted. She will be four at the end of June and is getting quite the little madam.’
‘She has loving parents, a doting aunt and two devoted nurses in Mrs Hills and Pearl,’ Beth said reasonably. ‘It would be a wonder if she wasn’t spoiled, Sally.’
‘I know. I’m guilty too.’ Sally sighed. ‘But where is young Jackie?’ Sally asked, looking round as if expecting Beth’s small son to suddenly appear.
‘I left him with Fred in the basement. He told me to, because he has a young assistant he is training and intends to spend the morning showing him the ropes.’
‘Yes,’ Sally nodded. ‘Fred wasn’t too happy when his last assistant went off to join the Army. They keep on doing it and so I found him a fifteen-year-old boy, just left school but strong and willing. At least he can’t volunteer for a few years.’
‘Yes, Fred likes young Joshua. Says he’s good material and he’s banking on the war being over by the time he’s old enough to join up.’
‘We’re all hoping that,’ Sally said. ‘What does Fred think? He knows as much about the war as anyone I know. Does he think the end is in sight yet?’
‘No, not really – but he says he thinks we are just beginning to turn the tide.’ Beth sighed. ‘With General Pershing making plans for a landing in France, the Americans will soon be stuck into the fighting and that is bound to make a difference. I just wish it was all over and we could go back to how we were before it started…’ She shivered and shook her head. ‘So many men have been killed, Sally… Do you think things will ever be the same?’
Sally frowned. ‘I think they will have to give women the vote after the war, Beth. A lot of women have shown they can hold down a man’s job – and quite a few are out there at the Front, giving their lives to save the men from dying alone and in agony. Surely the Government can’t ignore that?’
‘I wouldn’t put it past them – but the Women’s Movement won’t stand for it. We’ll make things happen, you wait and see…’
Sally nodded. She knew Beth was taking more interest in the Women’s Movement these days since she’d had to give up working for Harpers, to care for her family. Beth had joined several groups run by the Women’s Movement and was more militant than she’d been before the war. Sally still felt women should be given more say and a chance to do higher-paid work, but she wasn’t really concerned in the Suffrage Movement as she was too wrapped up in Harpers and her family.
‘I rang the hospital,’ she said to change the subject because she didn’t really want to get into the rights and wrongs of women’s suffrage. ‘Maggie is sitting up eating and drinking again. She would like some fresh nightwear and she’ll need clothes soon. I think she only has a few things she brought back from France. I dare say she hardly ever changed out of uniform. I thought I’d take her some clothes down on Sunday. Does she have anything at yours you think she might like?’
‘A couple of dresses and a nice skirt and jacket…’ Beth frowned. ‘Shall we buy her a couple of new outfits from Harpers?’
‘Yes, I was planning on a nice dress and a couple of skirts and twinsets or a blouse but wondered if there is anything, in particular, she would really like from what she left behind…’
Beth nodded. ‘I’ll pay my share of whatever they cost, Sally, and I think she might have a best blouse she didn’t take out with her.’
‘I know she bought a couple of things from a seamstress in Paris,’ Sally mused. ‘One of her nurses went there for a break and told her about the w
orkshops who had opened their doors for her. She might have got there herself for a few days if she hadn’t been taken ill. One of her letters said she might go with some of the other nurses.’
‘I think it got cancelled because they had a huge influx of wounded,’ Beth told her, frowning. ‘Maggie let the others go and stayed on to help – she just told them to bring her a few bits back.’
‘Yes – and I think her friend Marie knows someone who owns or works in one of the seamstress shops in Paris. Maggie was quite enthusiastic about getting some of their things after the war for Harpers, but then she seemed to forget and her letters got briefer…’
‘Yes, I noticed that the last few months before she was ill,’ Beth agreed. ‘I don’t know if she just didn’t have time or whether she was too tired to bother with letters. The last three I received were just thank you notes really.’
‘Perhaps she wasn’t allowed to write more,’ Sally suggested. ‘Ben says that a lot of the men only send official postcards, just to let their family know they’re still alive – but Maggie was writing letters until a few months back. I wonder what happened…’
‘Well, perhaps she will tell us.’ Beth stood up, pressing a hand to her back. ‘I’d better go and see if Fred is fed up with my young monster.’ She smiled because they both knew that Fred doted on his grandson and had even offered to give up work and help Beth look after him. Beth had refused his generous offer, but she’d told Sally that when both her children were old enough for school, she might let Fred retire to care for them so that she could return to Harpers. Fred had a lady friend who visited for tea sometimes on a Sunday, but as far as Beth could tell he wasn’t interested in marriage, content to have his daughter-in-law and grandson as company.
Sally and Beth walked down to the basement together and discovered that Fred was nursing his beloved grandson, who was fast asleep, on his lap, while his young assistant was carefully unpacking a crate of glassware.
‘That will need dusting,’ Fred was telling the lad as they entered. ‘Be careful you don’t chip one of them glasses – or I’ll have your guts for garters, me lad.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Joshua said respectfully and carefully set the last of the glassware on the wooden counter. He fetched a clean linen cloth and began to wipe the glass free of clinging straw and dust from its packing, his cheeks pink and clearly aware of three pairs of eyes watching him.
‘How are you getting on, Joshua?’ Sally asked kindly. She often broke Harpers’ rules about using only surnames and the boy blushed crimson as he replied, ‘I’m all right, Mrs Harper, thank you.’
‘Good. We like our staff to be happy.’ She smiled at Fred. ‘I don’t think I need to ask you, Mr Burrows?’
‘I’m happy as a sandboy, Mrs Harper,’ Fred said, because he never presumed to use her name, even though he often welcomed Sally to his home when she called on Beth. ‘This young rascal has tired himself out. Take him home and put him to bed, Beth love.’
‘Yes, I shall,’ she replied. ‘Thank you for having him, Dad.’
‘That’s my pleasure,’ Fred told her. He glanced at Joshua, who had finished his task and was standing watching. ‘Right, we’ll take those up to the glass and china department – and then you can help me unpack the rest of the deliveries.’
Sally escorted Beth to the door of Harpers, waved her off as she walked towards the bus stop and then strolled back through the shop. On the ground floor, she stopped to watch as the assistant took charge of the new delivery of glass, exclaiming in pleasure to get such lovely things in. Their shelves had been close to empty for the past month, but Sally had managed to find a small glassworks who were able to supply her with tumblers and water jugs in a tinted glass and she’d bought as much stock as they could let her have. Customers were starved of nice things and she knew the glass would soon sell.
Experiencing an odd sensation at the nape of her neck, Sally turned her head. She had the feeling that someone was staring at her hard, but as she scanned the floor, the ten or so customers shopping were all looking elsewhere. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the feeling that she was being watched. It was ridiculous, but she’d had the feeling several times when she was out recently – in the park playing with her daughter, even here in the store… No, she was imagining things. She must be. Why would anyone want to follow her? No one had approached her or even spoken to her on the occasions she’d felt this slightly creepy sensation. Surely it was just an overactive imagination…
Back in her office, Sally told her assistant Ruth that she didn’t want to see anyone unless it was Ben or a very important business contact. She telephoned Mrs Hills and asked if everything was all right.
‘Yes, it’s fine, Mrs Harper,’ her efficient housekeeper said. ‘Young miss is having her rest now. Pearl has been playing with her all morning and now she’s sleeping. I’ll be here until four-thirty as usual.’
‘I’ll be home by four,’ Sally told her. ‘Thank you for all you do.’
‘You’re more than welcome, Mrs Harper.’
Replacing the receiver, Sally returned to her sales lists. She knew the store was ticking over, but even with the occasional boost of a campaign to sell slightly faulty goods, they weren’t anywhere near as busy as they had been prior to the hostilities. She completely understood; there were a mixture of reasons – less stock was only one of them. People were feeling the hardship and those who could, made do with what they had; money was short in many households – and many women were widows with small incomes, struggling to survive without husbands. Even those with husbands still out there fighting struggled to make ends meet. Only the wealthier families still had the money to buy luxuries regularly. However, the new line of glassware was pretty and cheap so that should do well and the beautifully crafted wooden range she’d bought was selling out almost as soon as it came in.
She sighed and then glanced up as the office door opened and Jenni walked in. ‘Any luck?’ she asked, because her sister-in-law had been on a trip up north to try and find new sources of supply.
‘Yes, some,’ Jenni said and threw off her coat. ‘It’s two coats warmer here in London.’
‘Did Andrew Alexander put you on to that hat maker?’
‘Yes, he did. She’s a nice lady and she makes most of the hats herself – bespoke quite often. They are beautiful, Sally. I asked her if she could supply us with a regular order and she gave me three of her favourite styles, which she said she could supply on a monthly basis – up to sixty a month…’
‘That could mean twenty of each design – in various colours?’
‘Yes. She is quite open to suggestions.’
‘Good, but what of the men’s clothing and the ladies’ knitwear?’
‘The men’s clothing was mostly work shirts and cords.’ Jenni pulled a face. ‘Not really suitable for Harpers. I know I usually say buy anything if it is cheap, but I wouldn’t bother. The ladies’ knitwear is more hopeful. The manager was an older man and he said he would give me some samples to bring back but he can only supply a dozen of each of five lines on a monthly basis as he has a full order book, though he would like to sell to Harpers and says he will try to up his output to help us.’
‘With a little arm-twisting from you,’ Sally said and smiled at her. ‘Did you see Andrew while you were up north?’
‘He spared time to have dinner with me last night, but he was called back to the clinic before we got to desert.’ She shrugged. Andrew Alexander was a brilliant surgeon and his time was never his own. Jenni hadn’t said much about it, though Sally knew she was more than a little attracted to the northerner. She thought there was something between them but wasn’t sure how far it had progressed. However, Jenni was still married and as she received little communication from her estranged husband in America, it didn’t look as if there was much chance of romance for Jenni.
‘I’m sorry, love,’ Sally said. ‘You were hoping for more time together while you were up there.’
‘App
arently, I chose a bad time,’ Jenni shrugged again. ‘What difference does it make, Sally? I’m trapped in a marriage I can’t get out of – and I can’t see us living together without marriage, can you? Andrew wouldn’t do it—’
‘You mean you would?’ Sally looked at her and nodded. ‘Yes, you might if there was no choice. I think I’d feel the same.’
‘It may have to come to it – if Andrew cares enough. He says things, but we never have time to really talk it through.’
Sally looked at her sympathetically. ‘Look, there’s nothing I really need to do here. Why don’t we buy something nice for tea and take it home? Jenny should be awake soon and she’ll cheer you up.’
‘Yes, she always does,’ Jenni agreed and smiled. ‘I shouldn’t care – I’m not even sure I want to get married again…’
‘Then tell Andrew how you feel,’ Sally said. ‘You could have a relationship without living together and causing a scandal, couldn’t you?’
‘If he wanted to,’ Jenni looked at her and then laughed. ‘You’re wicked, Sally Harper – I don’t know if you’re a good influence or a bad one.’
‘Good, because I love you and want you to be happy,’ Sally replied, stood and embraced her. ‘Come on, I’ll treat us to some cream cakes and we’ll go home and spoil Jenny.’
4
Rachel Bailey was busy checking her stock when Sally Harper walked in the following morning. She made a note of where she’d got to and closed and locked the cabinet before turning to smile at her employer’s wife. They were good friends, but Rachel observed the rules whenever on the shop floor and addressed her as Mrs Harper.
‘I was just checking those new gold bracelets we had in yesterday, Mrs Harper. I think they will prove very popular. We’ve sold two of them this morning.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Men seem to be investing in gold jewellery for their wives more these days. I’m not sure if it’s because they feel gold is always good currency and one never knows these days…’