by Rosie Clarke
‘I want my own business,’ he told her and looked eager. ‘I know it won’t be easy for a start – but I’d like to do the carpentry for houses. In fact, I’d like to build houses. I’ve been thinking I might team up with Ron and start up a joint project.’
His elder brother Ron was a bricklayer and together they would have many of the skills they needed to go into the house-building business themselves. They both knew men skilled in plumbing and a couple who could do both plumbing and electrical work; they could offer their friends work with them, but their father, Mr Jackson, could turn his hand to anything in the building trade and was ready to help if they needed him. Ron had talked about it non-stop when he was home.
‘It might mean we’d have to wait for a home of our own for a while,’ Reggie said, looking at her to see her reaction.
‘I could go on working for a while to help,’ she suggested and he looked thoughtful.
‘We’ll see,’ he said. ‘It depends. I’d like you home, Marion love. You could do the book work for me and Ron – you’re good with stuff like that I know.’
‘Yes, I think I could manage that if you wanted me to,’ she agreed and smiled. ‘I don’t mind waiting for our own home if it helps you get what you want, Reggie.’
‘My father should’ve done it years ago,’ Reggie said. ‘He’s a carpenter and a plumber by trade. Mostly did plumbing, but he says he’s a jack of all trades with a lifetime of experience. I want to get on, Marion. One day we’ll have a lovely house we own and we’ll have a holiday every year – and maybe a little car!’
Marion allowed herself to dream. After the way she’d been brought up and the hardships her family had endured because of her father’s temper and his drinking, she couldn’t quite believe it would happen. Reggie wasn’t like her father, she knew that, but was it too much to hope that she would actually have the things he talked about so eagerly?
As the days of their holiday passed in a haze of sunshine and pleasure, Harpers seemed a world away and Marion felt a pang of regret as the time came for them to go home and her to return to work.
Reggie didn’t try to stop her going in on the first morning back, even though he held her for a long passionate kiss before allowing her to rise. He knew that she needed her job until things were more settled. When he was recalled to the war, which could be at any time, his life would be at risk again and that meant Marion might be a widow before any of his plans could happen.
‘I’ll see you this evening, love,’ he told her. ‘I’m going to do a few jobs in the house until I have to go back to camp. It could do with a bit of decorating, amongst other things.’
Marion smiled. Reggie had already done several small jobs that had been neglected for years, because money was tight. He would make things better for all of them and it would save him fretting because she was back at work.
Catching the bus in the early morning seemed hard after two weeks of being spoiled and strolling about in the sunshine or lazing in a deckchair on a sandy beach. They’d both braved the water a few times up amongst the sand dunes and enjoyed watching children riding on the donkeys on the weekends. Once the children were out of school there would be more families at the sea, but they’d often had long stretches of the beach to themselves.
Reggie had said how much his dog would have enjoyed running on the beach, looking pensive. They hadn’t brought it, because dogs weren’t allowed in the hotel, and Milly had adopted it, thinking of it as her pet now Reggie was in the Army.
‘London is where the money for building will be,’ he’d told her. ‘But I wouldn’t mind living at the sea, would you?’
Marion had just smiled. It was fun on the beach for a holiday, but she was a London girl and not sure she’d want to live here.
Back at work, she soon fell into a routine and happily told Shirley how lovely it had all been. She’d bought some small gifts of sweets home and gave them to the girls in her department and Mrs Bailey, who thanked her but said she shouldn’t have done it.
Mr Marco came up to the department in the middle of the morning and told her about some ideas he had for the future. He wanted to discuss them with her and she felt pleased that he actually seemed interested in her opinions.
Reggie was waiting for her when she left work that evening and they caught the bus home together. He’d distempered the kitchen for her that morning in a nice cream and it looked lovely when they got home. Sarah had made some bright cushions for the old sofa and Marion thought how different things looked to what they’d been like in her father’s time, when it had all been dingy and worn.
Her father, Sam Kaye, had been in her thoughts more of late and she wondered why. He hadn’t been near them since he’d caused her mother’s death, which they were all pleased about. Marion hoped he would never return and Kathy still hated him.
‘Ron got home this afternoon,’ Reggie said as they approached their home. ‘He’s on a twenty-four-hour pass and I told him I’d go to the pub with him this evening so we could talk – you don’t mind?’
‘No, of course not,’ she said and smiled at him. ‘It is ages since you went to the pub with your mates. I’ve got plenty to do here – washing and ironing from the holiday.’
‘Don’t work too hard, love.’
‘I’m used to it,’ she said and kissed him. ‘Eat your supper and then get off with your brother.’
Reggie did as she suggested and Marion got started on the piles of washing she’d brought back from her holiday. Staying in a hotel was nice, but if she’d been in a cottage, she could have done some of it while she was there and she knew there were plenty to let down there. Another time she might suggest that kind of holiday to Reggie.
It was as she was mangling the last of Reggie’s things in the scullery that she heard a shout of alarm from Sarah. Rushing into the kitchen, Marion stared in disbelief at the father she’d never expected to see again. He looked as if he might be drunk and he’d made a grab at Sarah, who had picked up her sewing shears and looked as if she might defend herself if he came nearer.
‘Stay away from her, Pa,’ Marion commanded. ‘You’re not welcome in this house after what you did to Ma…’
‘And isn’t that a nice welcome for your old father,’ he said and her worst fears were realised. He’d clearly had a skinful and was hardly aware of what he was doing. ‘Here I am, bringing you money…’ He pushed his hand in his pocket and came out with a few pennies that he threw on the kitchen table. If he’d ever had money to give his family, he’d done what he always did and spent it on drink. ‘Where’s my supper?’
‘You’ll get no supper here,’ Marion told him and his eyes narrowed as he looked at her.
‘Filthy slut,’ he muttered. ‘They told me you’d got another man here – I’ll teach you to cheat on me…’
‘I’m not your wife,’ Marion said, alarmed, as he lunged at her and she only just managed to jump back out of his way. ‘I’m Marion.’
‘Filthy little slut,’ he repeated and stood swaying on his feet.
Sarah moved towards Marion purposefully, her shears at the ready, but before anything more was said or done, the back door opened and both Reggie and Ron entered.
‘Stay away from them,’ Reggie warned and moved swiftly to prevent his father-in-law getting near to his wife and sister-in-law. ‘Lay one finger on either of them and you’ll be sorry.’
‘Now then, Mr Kaye,’ Ron said in an even tone. ‘You don’t want to cause more trouble for yourself. The police know you’re here. You were seen loitering in the lane and someone in the pub warned us – and the coppers are on their way. They still want to know what happened to Mrs Kaye…’
Marion saw her father’s eyes swivel and then he blinked. ‘I never meant no ’arm,’ he muttered. He glanced balefully at Marion. ‘Bitch!’ he spat and then slunk toward the door. As Ron opened it for him, he threw a punch at him, but the Army had taught Ron a thing or two on his way to becoming a sergeant and he caught Mr Kaye’s arm, twisted
it and hustled him out of the door.
‘I’ll take care of this,’ he said to his brother. ‘I think we’ll pay a little visit to the nick.’
Even as Ron spoke, Marion’s father kicked him in his groin area, causing him to shout with pain and let go. He swore as the older man suddenly took off. Reggie would have gone after him, but Marion held his arm.
‘Let him go,’ she said. ‘Ron put the wind up him. We may have seen the last of him.’
‘I’m not so sure,’ Reggie said and looked anxious. ‘He’s dangerous, Marion. You should keep that door locked when I’m not around…’
‘I usually do,’ she said and frowned. ‘I didn’t think he would dare to come back here.’
‘The question is, why did he?’
Marion shook her head. She had no idea why her father would visit them like that; she’d thought he’d gone for good and she’d hoped she would never have to deal with him again. Now it looked as if he thought he could just move in when he chose. Fortunately, Reggie and his brother had been there, but next time it might be just her and Sarah with the younger children…
13
Sally did a tour of the various floors, checking that everything was running smoothly. She didn’t often bother as all her heads of department were trustworthy people: Mr Brown in men’s clothing, Miss Pearson on the glass and china, Miss Philips in the female dress department and Mrs Roberts in the shoe department. Mr Stockbridge had taken it upon himself to look over the chocolate, cake, flower and toy departments as well as being the manager. Yet they were missing so many of their young men, salesmen, porters, office workers, all gone to the war and so many might never return.
‘You cannot do it all yourself, Mrs Harper,’ Mr Stockbridge had told her when he handed her a list of what was needed in the departments. ‘Now that I have my own very efficient secretary, I have time to watch over those departments for you and to make sure they have what stock is available. You could, if you wished, close the top floor for the duration as very few toys are being manufactured at the moment.’
‘I’ve had an idea about that,’ Sally had told him and invited him for coffee in her office. After she’d explained her idea, he’d looked astounded and then delighted.
‘You really do work miracles, Mrs Harper!’ he’d exclaimed. ‘How did you manage that?’
‘Well, it started by a chance meeting with one of my friends,’ Sally had told him. ‘Marlene was carrying a large wooden fire engine painted red. She was taking it to a friend whose little boy had a birthday and I happened to ask her where she’d bought it…’ She’d paused. ‘It turned out that a small group of wounded soldiers had got together to make them out of reclaimed wood.’
‘Reclaimed wood?’ Mr Stockbridge had questioned. ‘I’m not quite certain what you mean?’
‘The toys are made out of old wood that has been taken from derelict buildings that were condemned to be pulled down. There are three of these young men, all of them disabled in some way, but all able to work at a bench for short periods. The wood that would otherwise be thrown away or used for firewood is delivered to them at their workshop in the shed at the bottom of one their gardens and they clean it up, smooth all the rough edges and make it look almost like new wood – or at least, matured wood – and then they make the toys and paint them.’
Marlene, the friend who ran Mick O’Sullivan’s pub for him, had told her the story and given her contact telephone numbers and an address. In the event, Sally had gone round to the house, looked in the workshop and been enchanted by what she’d found. She’d asked to buy whatever surplus they had over and above what they made for family and friends and was told they would think about it.
Marlene told her that the lads had just started it for a bit of fun and pocket money and were not sure they could do it as a commercial venture. However, after a week, they came back to her and said they could produce about a dozen items each week for Harpers and if some more of their friends joined in, they might up their productivity. A price was agreed, which was about what they’d been charging friends and neighbours. Sally didn’t try to beat them down, instead she told them to be sure to factor in at least a third of the price as profit.
‘I don’t want you to work for nothing,’ she’d told their spokesman, Joe Silverman. ‘Your toys are individual and beautifully made – and people struggle to buy toys at the moment.’
So, a price was agreed, but Sally’s ingenuity hadn’t stopped there. They were using reclaimed wood so she wondered about buying old toys and improving them, making them like new again. Joe Silverman said they could probably do it, if she found the old toys. Sally had started haunting the little junk shops and found several bits and pieces that had been mouldering on back shelves because they were damaged. She’d bought them for next to nothing and the little group of wounded soldiers had enjoyed the challenge.
When she had returned to one junk shop to look for more, the owner had asked why she wanted them. ‘I’m going to renovate them and put them on sale,’ she’d told him and he’d nodded.
‘I had an elderly woman in here yesterday,’ he’d told her. ‘She says she has a lot of old toys in the attic and wants to sell them. She is selling her house and retiring to a small cottage in the country and can’t take them with her.’
‘Wouldn’t you like to buy them?’ Sally had asked and the man shook his head.
‘I had those things you bought on my shelf for years. I’m more a furniture man, but I’ll give you the address.’
When Sally had visited the elderly lady, she hadn’t been able to believe the treasure trove that awaited her in the large attic. There were three rocking horses, all needing repairs, a broken scooter, two Victorian dolls’ prams and a beautiful dolls’ high chair, two old-fashioned swing cots and a huge collection of dolls, trains, lead soldiers and painted animals, also viewers and boxes of slides with pictures of exotic animals, and a kaleidoscope that still worked perfectly. There was also a beautiful automaton of a group of animals dressed up in the clothes of a bygone era, and they appeared to play music, though the music box was broken. Everything had been in need of repair, but with Fred Burrows’ helper, Joshua, and a hired van, she’d managed to clear the attic for the lady, who was thrilled to be paid a few pounds when she learned what Sally intended to do with them.
‘You’re giving work to those brave young men and helping me at the same time,’ she’d said, looking pleased. ‘You’re very welcome to them, Mrs Harper.’
‘I think a lot of children will like these things,’ Sally had replied with a smile. ‘We’ll have a section especially for them so people know what they’re buying and it should create some interest.’
The soldiers had been intrigued with it, and one of them who had been an engineer couldn’t wait to get started. ‘I love these things,’ he’d told Sally. ‘Thank you for bringing them to us. It gives us that much more incentive to get up in the mornings.’
Sally had been thrilled that her little venture was working out so well. She was finding stock for Harpers, but she had also given these men some of their pride back as they pushed themselves to repair the intriguing items she’d found.
Mr Stockbridge took a great interest and a few days later, he too found some old toys that could be used if cleaned, repaired and repainted.
Sally also found a collection of pretty fans from what she thought might have been the Regency era at the old lady’s house. She bought those too and Mr Marco made a display of them in the window. Originally, her intention had been to just use them as display items, but people asked to buy them and so most of them were eventually sold at a small profit. It wasn’t something she could continue to do, but it helped to fill the shelves for a while and gave Sally something to keep her busy.
She’d been feeling a bit under the weather, not enough to take time off or stay at home, but vaguely unwell. Perhaps some of it was that she continually felt that she was being watched or followed, but mostly when she looked round no one was there.
It was an uncomfortable feeling and she wished that Ben was home so she could talk to him about her fears that someone might be following her in order to snatch her darling daughter, but Ben was away again, Beth was distracted by the approaching birth of her second child and Sally didn’t feel that she could tell Rachel, who seemed wrapped up in her own affairs.
Rachel worried about William. He was so seldom at home these days and she felt that their marriage had gone badly wrong. She wasn’t sure what she had done to make him withdraw from her like this – his excuse that he had to work or was meeting someone important had begun to sound hollow and she could barely contain her distress. It was only that she felt it would be wrong of her to nag him that kept her from demanding to know what was going on.
Rachel would have liked to talk with her friends, perhaps tell them what was happening, but Sally Harper was always so busy. She had so much to do with the store, trying to keep Harpers stocked was a full-time job and she had her daughter to look after. Rachel had noticed that she looked a little pale recently. In the past, she would have asked if anything was wrong, but she’d felt unable to do so, because, after all, Sally Harper was married to her employer and the old days of sharing a flat together had long gone. Rachel missed those days sometimes, when Beth, Sally, Maggie and Rachel had shared a small flat, sharing each other’s joys and problems. They’d had fun and they’d been a family, but now Maggie was far away – too far for Rachel to be able to visit on her day off – Beth had a child and another on the way, and Sally was always so busy…
Rachel was thoughtful as she walked home that evening. Had she been foolish to marry William? She hadn’t known him for very long after all – and the war had taken him away almost immediately. Now he was home but so seldom spoke to her that she might as well have stayed single.
He was in the living room of their flat as she entered that evening, but her heart sank as she realised that he must be going out again.