by Rosie Clarke
Sighing, Sally left the office, deciding to go shopping. She thought she might as well stock up on some baby lotions, creams and cotton wool, as well as food. Ben would come home when he could – so he’d said when he rang last, which was some days ago – and she would be buying steak then, if she could find any, but for herself cold ham or omelettes and salad were an easy option.
Emerging from a chemist with her basket full, she almost bumped into a woman entering.
‘Marlene! Lovely to see you! How are you?’ She smiled at the woman who ran and co-owned her friend Michael O’Sullivan’s pub. ‘Have you heard from Mick? He visited before he left to join his unit, but since then I’ve had just one card…’ Mick was a business friend who had helped Sally in the past. He owned shares in three restaurants, but had joined up the moment war became inevitable.
Marlene nodded, smiling warmly. ‘I had a postcard yesterday. He said he was training hard and enjoying himself – but I think he will be missing his restaurants. The food is awful where he’s stationed, so he says.’ She winked and Sally laughed.
‘Poor Mick, he does like a good meal.’ Sally drew her aside as the busy shoppers milled around them. ‘You look wonderful, Marlene, are you enjoying life?’
‘Yes, as much as possible in these dark days,’ Marlene grimaced. ‘Which reminds me, I was going to visit you as soon as I could find the time – but I may as well ask you now. I’m setting up a visiting group. We want a team of ladies willing to visit wounded soldiers in hospital or one of the nursing homes, to help with things like writing letters and fixing problems for them. I thought of you, because you’re better at fixing things than anyone I know.’
‘Thank you.’ Sally laughed. ‘Would you like to come back to my office for coffee, Marlene? I don’t want to leave Jenny too long, though my assistant, Ruth, is keeping an eye on her for me, and we can talk.’
‘I’d like that very much,’ Marlene agreed. She smiled and nodded to herself. ‘I invested that fifty pounds you gave me and four hundred and fifty for myself. Mick was chuffed to bits that you’d invested with him. It really pleased him and it meant that I still had my little emergency fund…’ Marlene had been fifty pounds short of the money Mick needed and so she’d offered the money she’d saved to help her out.
‘It was hardly anything…’ Sally said, feeling a little embarrassed, because it had been such a small amount and a little thing to do for her friends. ‘I would have invested more with Mick if I’d had it available…’
‘Yes, I know,’ Marlene agreed as they walked back down Oxford Street together. It was what was often thought of as the wrong end, being near Soho, and some people had thought the store would fail because of it, but just before the war it had been thriving and was still holding its own despite the difficult times. ‘I used to avoid this end, but I often come down here now that Harpers is here. I like to shop with you for my clothes. I’ve had two plain dresses made elegant with some beautiful embroidery.’
‘Yes, Minnie Stockbridge is excellent at refurbishing a plain dress. She is our manager’s wife now and a wonderful seamstress,’ Sally said, looking thoughtful. ‘The war hasn’t affected us too much yet at the store and we still have plenty of stock but one of my suppliers told me they haven’t been able to get some of the silk they use from Italy and some others have hinted that things may get even tighter next year.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Marlene agreed. ‘Some of my suppliers have been cutting my orders by a fifth for the restaurant – particularly on the stuff we have to import. We just don’t realise how much we do rely on foodstuffs from France, Spain and Italy – even America sends us grain and other things we need, though it is the fancy cheeses I like to serve that may become impossible to get.’
‘Yes, food supplies may be difficult soon,’ Sally said. ‘Ben’s sister brought us a huge container of tinned food before the war started. We would never have got through it all, so we’ve been selling it in the food department at Harpers. It was supposed to be just cakes and chocolates, but the tinned fruit and jams have gone very well. I suppose people are just buying as much food as they can afford in case the war lingers on.’
‘Papers,’ a young lad’s voice broke into their conversation. ‘Germans torpedo HMS Bayano. Many of the crew lost. Bodies washed up on the Isle of Man…’
‘Oh dear,’ Sally said. ‘Did you hear that, Marlene? Another ship has been sunk.’
‘I don’t think it is a case of if the war lingers, but rather how long,’ Marlene said sorrowfully. ‘I believe this awful conflict will drag on for much longer than anyone dreamed at the start.’
‘Yes, I believe you’re right, though I hate the idea. Ben never did think it would be over by Christmas.’ Sally sighed. ‘You can tell me over coffee what you think I can do for these wounded men.’
Sally was feeling more cheerful after Marlene left her. She’d felt a bit selfish because her life was so comfortable. However, visiting the men in hospital and sorting their problems out was a worthwhile job that would aid their recovery and therefore the war effort. Writing letters was one of the easier tasks, but Marlene had explained that the soldiers often needed so much more. Some of them had financial difficulties brought on by their injuries. They needed help securing places in the appropriate nursing homes so that they could be close to family and loved ones, and they needed help finding the right people to get their false legs or arms and the best doctors to treat horrendous facial scars.
‘You’d think those things would happen automatically,’ Marlene had said, ‘but unfortunately not. The hospitals are so busy dealing with the seriously injured that other appointments get pushed back unless someone fights for them.’
‘I’d be more than happy to help,’ Sally had said and looked pleased. ‘I suppose sometimes the best specialists are at the other end of the country and you have to liaise between the various medical teams…’
‘Yes, that’s where I thought you could help,’ Marlene had replied, beaming because Sally had gone straight to the crux of the matter. ‘One of the best consultants at treating facial burns is in Newcastle and he needs to be persuaded to come down to London to treat a patient when he has a ward filled to the brim up there.’
‘So, someone needs to talk to this consultant,’ Sally had said, nodding her understanding. ‘Persuade him he is needed down here.’
‘We’ve tried writing letters and phoning, but Doctor Alexander isn’t listening…’ Marlene had explained. ‘If we could meet tomorrow at the London hospital, I can introduce you to some of the men – and you’ll see the problem for yourself…’ She’d frowned. ‘It isn’t nice to see, Sally, but I think you’ve got the stomach for it.’
‘I hope I have,’ Sally had said, meeting her eyes frankly. ‘I’ve never been tested, Marlene. My life has been protected for a while now and I’m even a little spoiled these days – perhaps it will do me good to see what others suffer.’
Sally was very affected by her tour of the hospital with Marlene the next day. She’d known of course that there were many men with terrible wounds, but she hadn’t really understood how bad they could be. Their plight touched her heart and she was determined to do whatever she could to get this obstinate Mr Alexander to visit London. Surely, he could spare a little time for men with such terrible wounds.
Forcing the awful sights of awfully disfigured men from her thoughts, Sally returned to her desk. She would visit once a week, take small gifts and do whatever she could – and she would try ringing this Mr Alexander in Newcastle. However, she had appointments all afternoon and Mrs Hills, her housekeeper, and Pearl were looking after Jenny and giving the apartment a thorough cleaning while Sally was busy.
‘You’ve quite enough to do without hospital visiting,’ Mrs Hills had scolded her when she’d told her where she was going that morning. ‘It won’t do, Mrs Harper, upsetting yourself over things you can’t cure. I’m sure Mr Harper would say you had more than enough to do while he is away.’
Pea
rl still came in to look after Jenny three afternoons a week, but she’d taken part-time work at one of the many hospitals crying out for nurses to return to work – even those that had left the service to marry were being accepted in the present crisis. Mrs Hills had been a brick, increasing her hours to enable Sally to spend more time at Harpers. In the evenings, Sally often felt restless and alone, but she couldn’t complain, almost every wife in Britain was experiencing the same feelings of loss – and most of them had men serving abroad. At least Ben spent a few hours at home with her at the weekends when he could get leave, but it was the middle of March and he hadn’t been home for a while now.
Sighing, Sally looked at the new catalogues for the summer season fashions. She flicked over the pages, looking for something that jumped out at her, but nothing much seemed to have changed. It was all the fault of this war, of course. The manufacturers obviously thought women would go on wearing their old dresses so they hadn’t launched anything very different this year, but at least there were some pretty new hats she could order for Beth’s department. Hats were no problem, because the materials were easily sourced in Britain and the styles would suit all tastes, from the more manly look to the frivolous flowers and netting.
Sally smiled, got out her notebook and started to write out her order.
4
Marion Kaye went straight up her next-door neighbour’s path and then around the side of the house to the back door. She was about to knock when it opened and her little sister, Milly, came flying out, hugging her about the waist and laughing.
‘Reggie is home,’ she said in a rush. ‘And he brought me a present.’
‘Well, aren’t you the lucky one?’ Marion said, laughing as she allowed Milly to draw her into Mrs Jackson’s warm kitchen. She caught the delicious smell of apple pie baking and saw the family clustered about the big pine table which was filled with food and dishes. Her heart leaped for joy as Reggie turned to look at her and she saw the love and tenderness in his face. Reggie was on his feet as soon as he saw her and came to her with a grin on his face. It was so good to see him after nearly two months when he’d been training hard and hadn’t been allowed even a twenty-four-hour pass. He looked so tall and handsome in his uniform that her heart turned over. ‘You didn’t write to let us know,’ she said, too emotional to say much, ‘but it is a lovely surprise.’
‘How is my best girl then?’ he asked with a cheeky grin and Milly punched him in the leg.
‘You said I was your best girl,’ she accused with a pout.
‘And so you are,’ Reggie replied good-naturedly. ‘You’re my best little girl and Marion is my best big girl.’
Marion laughed as her sister’s face showed she was trying to work that one out. ‘That will teach you to be careful when you flirt with my sister,’ she said teasingly and hugged his arm, looking up at him with mounting pleasure. ‘It’s lovely that you’re home, Reggie. We’ve all missed you such a lot.’
‘How much?’ he asked with a twinkle in his eye and held his hands apart a few inches. ‘This much – or this much?’ He opened his arms as wide as they would go and Marion shook her head at him.
‘Don’t pander to his vanity, lass,’ his mother said, looking at him fondly. ‘You’ll only make him worse.’
‘I missed you a lot,’ she said and gave him a little dig in the ribs. ‘How long do you have this time?’
‘Not as long as I’d like,’ he said regretfully, ‘but I intend to make the most of it.’ His eyes promised much.
‘Good.’ She gave him a special smile and then looked at his mother. ‘I came to collect Milly and thank you for having her. I wouldn’t be able to keep my job if it weren’t for you, Mrs Jackson.’ After Marion’s mother had died in the infirmary the previous year, Mrs Jackson had offered to look after the little girl when she came home from school until Marion got in from her work at Harpers.
‘You’d manage somehow – besides, I like having her here. She helps me get tea ready for this lot – and they eat me out of house and home.’ Mrs Jackson indicated her large family and then laughed to show she didn’t mean a word of it. ‘I can still find a bit of tea for you, Marion. Why don’t you sit down and have a bite to eat?’
‘I’ve got to make tea for Kathy and Dickon,’ Marion said, speaking of one of her sisters and her youngest brother. ‘I’ll have mine with them. I know you’ve fed Milly, because you always do – and I’m very grateful.’
‘Have you heard from Dan or Robbie recently?’ Mrs Jackson inquired about Marion’s elder brothers, who were serving in the forces, dismissing her gratitude as unnecessary. With her husband and family all in essential work and all contributing to the family finances, a slice of bread and strawberry jam or a piece of her pie with mash was nothing to Mrs Jackson. Besides, her tins were always filled to the brim with cakes and biscuits and the little girl didn’t often eat much more than a sandwich and a slice of cake with a glass of milk.
‘Not since last month,’ Marion said with a frown. ‘It worries me a little, but neither of them is good at writing letters, so I don’t suppose it means anything.’ She looked at Reggie as he pulled his jacket on. ‘Have you finished your tea? Only you should…’
‘I’ve had all I want for now. Ma will keep the apple pie warm for me to eat later if I want it. I’d like to come wiv yer and help yer, love. We shan’t get much time together. I’ve only got thirty-six hours’ leave.’
‘I thought you might have longer?’ she sounded wistful even to her own ears.
‘Not this time.’ He looked regretful.
‘And I’ve got work tomorrow,’ Marion noted with a sigh. He’d had a few days’ leave at Christmas, but mostly it was just a short pass and that meant they had hardly any private time. ‘Of course, you can come, Reggie. I’ll make a cup of tea. I’m cooking sausages and mash this evening with some cabbage and fried onions. Dickon enjoys them with his mashed potatoes.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ Reggie agreed and held the door open for her. ‘Ma used to cook them often, but they give me dad a queasy stomach now so we don’t have them, because he can’t resist if he smells them.’
Marion nodded. Fried onions were addictive and so tasty with things like sausages and mash, turning an ordinary supper into something delicious, but they didn’t suit everyone. Marion’s mother had never been able to stand the smell of them frying, though her family loved them. The fleeting memory gave Marion a pang of sharp grief, because her mother’s tragic death was still so raw that any small thing could hurt terribly.
Once inside her own kitchen, Marion turned to Reggie and he took her in his arms and kissed her passionately. Milly had run off to play with her doll and the pretty bead necklace Reggie had bought for her.
‘I miss you like hell!’ he whispered as he held Marion close. ‘I wish we were wed, Marion. It’s hard wanting you so much and knowing we have to wait for ages…’ As the eldest girl and with no mother to care for her family, she knew she had no choice but to be the one who cared and provided a home.
‘Yes, I know – I’m sorry, love,’ she told him, smiling up at him. ‘I’d love to say yes, but I have the others to think of – and there’s no one around to give me permission to wed you, Reggie.’
‘We could ask Dan next time you hear from him.’
‘Yes, we could,’ Marion said and sighed. ‘I couldn’t afford to lose my job, Reggie – if we had a baby…’
‘Yeah, I know.’ Reggie let her go and looked resigned to waiting for the girl he loved. ‘I’m daft, Marion. I know you’re stuck for the time being. There’s just you to look after Kathy, Dickon and the little one, but I’d give you most of my wages if we were wed.’
Marion smiled lovingly at him. ‘It’s not just money, Reggie. You know that – but with you being in the Army and Dan and Robbie away…’
‘Yeah.’ He sighed and felt inside his jacket, giving her a small parcel.
‘You shouldn’t, Reggie…’ she began and then smiled as she opened it and saw t
he pretty silver earrings in the shape of leaves. ‘These are so lovely. I’ll always treasure them.’ She looked up. ‘We ought to save for the future, Reggie – for the day when we can wed.’
‘I’ve got money put by for that. I’ve been saving for years. Ma was always on to us boys to put some of our wages away each week and I did – so I can afford to marry, Marion. I know I promised I’d wait another year or so and I will. It’s just that I love you so much…’
‘I love you too and I wish—’
The door opened then and Kathy entered, closely followed by Dickon, his battered canvas satchel over his shoulder. He’d used it for school for years and now it held his docky tin and flask for his midday meal at work at the shipyard, where he was training as a fitter. Dickon wasn’t sixteen yet, but already he was doing a man’s job. Kathy was fourteen and wanted to leave school next term, though Marion hoped she would stay another year and give herself a chance of a better job in the future, as her mother had wanted for them all. Milly was nearly seven, but shy and uncertain, only now beginning to gain a little independence since she’d started proper junior school rather than the infants’ classes she’d attended previously. Marion felt responsible for keeping them together as a family and encouraging them all to make the best of their lives, as their mother might, had she lived.
She thought Dickon looked tired and wondered if doing a man’s job – as he’d been determined to do when Robbie left home at the tender age of sixteen and a bit to join the naval cadets – was more taxing than he’d expected. He never complained, but she didn’t expect him to admit he’d taken on more than he’d bargained for.
‘What’s for tea?’ Kathy asked. ‘I’m starving, Marion.’