Wartime Blues for the Harpers Girls

by Rosie Clarke

  Glancing back at the windows that seemed to glow with Christmas cheer despite the lack of bright lights, Rachel thought how much Mr Marco would be missed once these windows had to be changed. Marion’s ideas had been quite clever too so that left Sally with extra work if they were to keep up their standards. It wasn’t easy to find a window dresser as talented as Mr Marco and she wondered what he was doing and how his wife was getting on without him.

  There was no sign of her bus and Rachel soon felt chilled waiting at the stop. She stamped her feet, impatient to be home, and then something made her look over her shoulder and she saw him. She was sure it was the same man she’d seen that night outside Hazel’s. He was watching her!

  Rachel started to walk away very fast. As soon as she saw a bus, she would jump on and get away from him, but she heard the sound of him following and then, suddenly, he grabbed her arm and swung her round to look at him.

  ‘You’re the one,’ he said gruffly. ‘You’re the one that took my Lizzie!’

  Rachel raised her eyes to his and what she saw shocked her. His face was gaunt, and his eyes looked haunted.

  ‘Yes,’ she said carefully in a slow clear voice. ‘I took Lizzie because she’d been turned out into a cold night and she was hungry and frightened. She was being ill-treated and I decided to protect her from her grandmother…’

  ‘I hit her… my mother,’ he said. ‘They told me she died in hospital. I was sorry for that; I didn’t mean to kill her.’

  ‘I doubt it was all your fault. She was probably in poor health,’ Rachel said. ‘You should explain to the police…’

  Something flickered in his eyes. ‘I’m a deserter from the Army. I had to get home to see what had happened to Lizzie. I knew that bitch would hurt her… she was the same with me when I was a kid.’ The desperation in his voice got through to Rachel and suddenly she wasn’t afraid of him.

  ‘Would you like to see your daughter?’ Rachel asked in a gentle tone. ‘I could feed you and you can have a bath too. I might have some clean clothes that would fit you.’

  ‘Someone told me you were all right,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to know – you will look after my Lizzie? Tell her I love her and one day I’ll see her – but I have to get away, because if they catch me, I’m dead.’

  ‘Surely, they would listen to your side of the story?’ Rachel said. ‘Come home with me, eat and see your Lizzie – and I know someone that might be able to help.’

  ‘It’s too late for me,’ he said and shoved something at her before backing away from her. ‘If I don’t disappear, I’m dead. Just look after Lizzie…’ And then he was walking away and soon lost in the shadows.

  He’d given her a rather grubby piece of paper, but when she opened it, her heart leapt with excitement. It named her as Lizzie’s legal guardian and was signed by her father and witnessed by someone, making it legal and likely to stand up in court if necessary. He must have found out what he needed to know about her, decided she was all right and then done this to make Lizzie safe. Tears stung her eyes and she looked back, but he’d disappeared into the shadows.

  Rachel walked to the next bus stop deep in thought. She’d felt sympathy for him despite what he had done. Deserters were usually shot. It was the only way they prevented men deserting when faced with an enemy they dreaded. However much they feared enemy fire, to run was considered the lowest thing you could do and most officers would order deserters to be shot on sight, though some were court-martialled and then shot as an example to others who might consider deserting. It was a terrible situation, because some of the deserters were the youngest soldiers – little more than boys who had joined thinking war was fun and then suddenly realised what it meant.

  Lizzie’s father was guilty of battering his mother, who had died of her injuries – and despite what she’d done to Lizzie – it was wrong that he’d beaten her so hard. Yet Rachel understood his anger and her heart ached for his predicament. Had he not been a deserter, she thought they might have got him a lenient sentence in the circumstances, but he was right; if he was caught by the Army, he would be shot.

  He’d risked a lot speaking to her this evening. Had she screamed, he might have been arrested, but he cared about his daughter, he cared about what happened to Lizzie and for that much Rachel respected and pitied him.

  Her bus came then and she climbed on board. It was only as she began to feel warmer that she realised she need not be afraid any more. Lizzie’s father had signed a paper giving the child into her care and no one was going to demand that she hand her back. Perhaps one day there might be difficulties as to whether it was legal, but with any luck, Lizzie would be grown up by the time someone asked questions she couldn’t answer and then she could make up her own mind. After all, there were enough orphans begging on the street. Who was going to bother about one little girl when there was a war going on? Why would anyone question whether she was Rachel’s real daughter?

  Only William might ask awkward questions when he came home, but if he loved her, he would let her keep Lizzie. She just couldn’t give her up now…

  As she descended from the bus and walked towards Hazel’s house, Rachel’s thoughts were on the gifts she’d bought for Lizzie and the sweets she had in her bag. It looked as if they could all relax and enjoy Christmas. Pushing away the niggling worry that she might still lose the child she loved, Rachel smiled as she opened the door and a little bundle of sweet-smelling love flung herself into her arms.

  She was home to enjoy Christmas with her daughter and perhaps soon William would come home too. She refused to think beyond that. William loved her, he would surely want to keep the child who had comforted her and made her happy these past weeks. Yes, he would. Rachel suddenly knew for certain that William would not turn against her or the child and the shadows lifted. All was now so much better and when William returned, they could look forward to a wonderful life as a family.

  39

  It was two days after Christmas and Sally was having a rest before returning to work the next day. Her mother and Trevor had returned home just that morning, promising to keep in touch often. The telephone rang just as she was thinking whether she ought to do some work and she answered it.

  ‘Sally?’ Maggie’s voice came over the wire and surprised her. Her friend sounded so excited and happy. ‘I wanted to thank you for the wonderful gift you sent me – those pearl earrings go well with the necklace Colin got me…’

  ‘I’m so pleased,’ Sally replied. ‘Did you have a nice Christmas, Maggie?’

  ‘Fantastic! We had carol singers from the village and we invited them into the house. Tilly – that’s our cook – made mince pies and tarts and we offered them to the villagers with a glass of hot punch and it was all very jolly. The tree was huge and Colin’s father gave me a diamond brooch that had been his mother’s. Colin says that is the final seal of approval!’

  The sound of Maggie’s laughter banished any worries Sally had had for her friend. ‘That’s good. I was wondering if you could get up for tea one day. I know it is a long way but you could stay over and see everyone at Harpers – they’d all love to see you.’

  ‘We’re coming up in a couple of weeks to see a specialist so I’ll pop in then and have tea with you after,’ Maggie said. ‘I’d better go now. Colin wants me to take him for a walk…’

  ‘Look forward to seeing you…’

  Sally was thoughtful after she replaced the phone. You never could tell how things would turn out. She’d thought Maggie’s life would be nothing but sadness, but it seemed she was enjoying her role. Her thoughts turned to young Becky Stockbridge. Becky had been unresponsive when Sally had asked her if something was wrong, but she’d sensed the girl’s inner turmoil. After Christmas, she would speak to her again, but not in the store. Try to find out what was upsetting the girl. She would ask her to tea and…a thought came to her that made her smile. Perhaps she could find a way to get Sadie and Becky together. Marco was out there in France, and Sadie was alone with h
er child. It might help both of them to form a friendship…and Sally thought she might know how to do it.

  Sally’s own life was so good; she must not let complacency allow her to ignore signs of distress in others, especially her girls. Harpers’ girls were special to Sally. Somehow, she would help Becky…She was sitting lost in thought with Jenny at her feet when the doorbell rang and Mrs Hills opened it to admit Beth and her two children. Sally looked up with a smile as her friend entered.

  ‘Oh, lovely. I was going to ring you shortly. I was too busy over Christmas with Mum and Trevor here – well, Dad, as I’m going to call him.’ Sally smiled, her happiness bubbling out of her. ‘We had a wonderful Christmas, Beth. Ben got on well with Dad and Mum was so excited playing with Jenny. All those years she spent trying to find me – and now she has a granddaughter, a son-in-law and another baby on the way… She told me so many times how happy she was.’

  ‘And you too,’ Beth said with a smile. ‘You must feel that your family is complete?’

  ‘Yes, I do. I was very happy with Ben, Jenny – and his sister, but this makes life even better, Beth.’

  Beth nodded and made a grab for Jackie as he tried to take Jenny’s new doll away from her and for a moment indignant yells from both sides made it impossible to talk. Mrs Hills saved the day by bringing in milk and buns for the children and they settled down, the dispute over the doll forgotten.

  ‘I was going to ask you to tea – say Saturday week,’ Sally said. ‘I want to invite Sadie – that’s Mr Marco’s wife. She doesn’t have many friends, yet so I want to make sure she isn’t lonely. If I can arrange for Rachel to bring Lizzie too, it will help Sadie make friends…’

  ‘Yes, of course I’ll come and bring the children.’

  ‘I might invite Maggie too, though it is a long way for her to come, but she could stay with you for a night or two if she wanted, couldn’t she?’

  Beth’s face lit up. ‘If only she would…’ she said. ‘I’d love to see her – and I think Becky and Marion might too. I could invite them both to my house for tea on the Sunday.’

  ‘Well, yes, if you think they would come they could come here…’

  ‘You’re the boss’s wife – they might be more comfortable at mine,’ Beth said with a smile. ‘No disrespect, Sally love. Besides, I think Maggie might get to the bottom of Becky Stockbridge’s trouble… you know she has been difficult at work?’

  ‘Rachel thinks she has had a disappointment in love…’

  ‘I think it might be partly that,’ Beth said nodding. ‘I’ll telephone Maggie and ask her to come – and I’ll talk to Becky too. See if I can discover what is upsetting her.’

  ‘Yes, thank you. We all thought she would be happier in the office, but I’m not sure she is.’

  ‘I think it may just be that she hasn’t heard from that officer, Captain something or other.’ Beth smiled. ‘Young love…’

  ‘Well talk to her,’ Sally suggested. ‘If there is anything I can do to help…’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Beth said. ‘Between us, we’ll sort her out, you’ll see.’ She laughed and picked up Jackie as he was about to pull coal from the fire bucket. ‘No, mischief, you may not eat coal!’

  Sally laughed. ‘Jenny tried that for a while.’ She glanced at Timmy, who seemed to sleep through anything. ‘This one is no trouble.’

  ‘Not yet.’ Beth held the struggling Jackie on her knee. ‘No doubt he will get there as he grows,’ She laughed and gave her little son a kiss. ‘Now get down and play nicely with Jenny.’

  ‘Was Christmas good for you?’ Sally asked. ‘Was Jack able to send you anything?’

  ‘He left a beautiful card and a lovely necklace for me last time he was home,’ Beth said. ‘Fred bought me a cardigan from Harpers and you gave me that wonderful gold bracelet.’ She looked at Sally fondly. ‘So how does it feel now that you’ve met your mum at last – truly, deep down?’

  ‘It feels good,’ Sally said. ‘There was so much I wanted to know and now – it’s like a missing piece has slotted into place.’

  ‘Good. I’m so glad for you.’ Beth smiled. ‘The war is still being fought, Sally, but there seems to be more optimism about now – don’t you think so?’

  ‘Yes. The Allies have had some victories in France and we’re fighting in Italy too now. Ben feels we’re winning – but says we have a way to go yet.’

  ‘Perhaps next Christmas it will be over,’ Beth said. ‘We haven’t seen a Zeppelin raid since October, when all those people were killed – and in America women have won the right to vote in New York. Surely it will come here soon, too?’

  ‘Shall we drink to that?’ Sally agreed. ‘Tea, coffee – or a drop of sherry?’

  ‘Tea please,’ Beth said. ‘I think I might try to come into Harpers more this year, Sally. I can help you in the office – and Vera will babysit sometimes. She is round at ours so much now I’m expecting her to move in any time.’

  ‘Do you think Fred will pop the question at last?’ Sally asked.

  ‘Perhaps, with a little pushing,’ Beth said. ‘She will be good for him if we find somewhere bigger to live in time, but that is for the future and we’re in no hurry and nor is Fred.’ She laughed. ‘It will all come right this year, Sally. You’ll see. Ben will be home more often; Jack might be soon – and I’ll see if Maggie and I can sort out young Becky. Oh, yes, things will be better – and we’ll say goodbye to the wartime blues once and for all…’

  More from Rosie Clarke

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  About the Author

  Rosie Clarke is a #1 bestselling saga writer whose most recent books include The Mulberry Lane series. She has written over 100 novels under different pseudonyms and is a RNA Award winner. She lives in Cambridgeshire.

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  First published in Great Britain in 2021 by Boldwood Books Ltd.

  Copyright © Rosie Clarke, 2021

  Cover Design by The Brewster Project

  Cover Photography: Colin Thomas

  The moral right of Rosie Clarke to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologise for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Paperback ISBN 978-1-80048-673-7

  Large
Print ISBN 978-1-80048-669-0

  Hardback ISBN 978-1-80162-226-4

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  Kindle ISBN 9978-1-80048-668-3

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  Digital audio download ISBN 978-1-80048-666-9

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