The Shop Girls of Harpers

by Rosie Clarke

  When the department was temporarily empty, Sally asked her what reason the three women had made for refusing the scarves she’d shown them.

  ‘One of them said she wanted a paler shade of blue, another said they were all too expensive and the third asked me if I could put one by for her – she said she would come back on Saturday.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said yes and I’ve wrapped it in tissue and put it in my top drawer with a note of her name and how much there is to pay.’

  ‘I’m not sure that is permitted,’ Sally said. ‘You should ask Mrs Craven, Beth. I don’t think the management would approve.’

  ‘Did I do wrong?’ Beth looked anxious. ‘She seemed sincere. She gets paid on Friday night and the colour is just what she has been looking for but she didn’t have enough money to buy it until she gets her wages.’

  ‘Well, I wasn’t allowed to do it at Selfridges,’ Sally said, ‘but you need to ask Mrs Craven. Oh, that gentleman is at my counter…’

  She walked towards the counter, where a well-dressed man waited for attention. ‘May I help you, sir?’

  ‘Yes, I think perhaps you can,’ he said and smiled at her as he tipped his trilby hat. ‘My secretary bought a beautiful bag from you this morning, for my wife’s birthday – she told me about some special silver jewellery.’ He looked down at the counter. ‘Would you show me that bangle and some earrings please?’

  ‘Yes, of course, sir.’ Sally took out the best of the bangles, priced at three guineas, and a box with earrings that matched.

  The man handled the bangle, nodded and said that he would purchase it but refused the earrings and pointed to a different style.

  ‘I’d like to see those please…’

  Sally took out the large loops. She had thought them too flashy for a gentleman’s taste, but he smiled. ‘Yes, I will take those too – for my friend…’

  Obviously, the jewellery was not meant for his wife. Sally wondered about the person who would receive the earrings and bangle, but then put the thought from her mind as she double-checked the cost and asked for four pounds exactly.

  She sent the money off and gave him his receipt with his packages.

  ‘I’ll be seeing you again, I dare say,’ he said and flashed her a brilliant smile before walking away.

  Mrs Craven had returned from her break and was talking to Beth. She frowned and Beth flushed and looked uncomfortable. Sally thought her friend looked close to tears, but she was lucky that they had Mrs Craven as their supervisor and not Miss Hart.

  Mrs Craven approached the counter. ‘Thank you for telling Beth she should not reserve goods. We were not advised on policy and therefore it wasn’t her fault but I think it unwise to put stock away – it leads to mistakes.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Sally agreed. ‘Some smaller shops will do it but most of the larger ones won’t. People reserve stuff and then don’t come back for weeks or forget it.’

  ‘Hush – not another word…’ Mrs Craven said as the floor walker entered the department, followed by Mr Stockbridge and Mr Harper. ‘She doesn’t need to know…’

  Sally grinned and turned away to move some of the jewellery about on the shelves. Their boss was certainly a good-looking man and she liked the fact that he was making a personal tour of the departments, taking an interest in everything. She’d sold far more in one day than she’d expected and, if the trend continued, would need more stock soon.

  ‘Well done all of you,’ Miss Hart said. ‘You’ve made more sales than any other department – and, Miss Ross, you made the most expensive sale of the morning in this department. Congratulations. You will receive the sum of five shillings as a bonus in your wage this week.’

  ‘I want to encourage my staff to work hard and achieve,’ Mr Harper said and his eyes seemed to dwell on Sally for a moment, bringing a little flush to her cheeks.

  ‘Have we been busy throughout the store?’ Mrs Craven asked him.

  ‘I believe sales are satisfactory on most floors,’ he said, turning to her.

  ‘Yes, but not as many sales in the men’s department as on this floor,’ Miss Hart put in importantly. ‘The ground floor have made more sales overall, but there are more counters there – and nothing above six guineas was sold this morning. I dare say your sale may be the largest of the day, Miss Ross…’ Her mouth drew back in a grimace, as if disappointed that it should have been Sally. ‘Though a porcelain dinner service was inquired about earlier. If the customer returns that will of course be a bigger purchase…’

  ‘We need both large and small,’ Mr Harper said, looking enthusiastic. ‘Come along, Stockbridge, we have other departments to visit…’

  Another customer entered the department as they left and Sally returned to her counter. She was asked about handbags and sold a leather bag for two guineas and a silver pendant for ten shillings. Miss Hart watched her and then hurried off in her employer’s wake.

  ‘I think she was not pleased that you had made the best sale of the morning, Miss Ross,’ Mrs Craven said. ‘I cannot for the life of me think why…’

  Sally grimaced. ‘I don’t think Miss Hart quite approves of me.’

  ‘Maybe not – but I certainly do,’ Mrs Craven said. ‘I have a customer now – please excuse me…’

  Sally returned to her post behind the counter, where she continued to sell steadily all afternoon; all the sales were from the silver jewellery now and she realised that it must be the display in the window that was bringing everyone in.

  Smiling, she waited for the next customer. So far, everything was going really well. She would just have to hope that her excursion into Soho would go just as well that evening…

  11

  Beth felt really tired when she left work that afternoon. One of the last to leave, she saw Mr Marco and Mr Harper discussing one of the displays. The window dresser nodded to her and she summoned a smile, even though she felt weary. She hadn’t realised that working as a sales assistant would be quite as hard and her back ached as she walked to catch her bus. She saw there was a sizeable queue and sighed, because if the bus was already half full she might not get a seat for ages. When the car drew up behind her, she didn’t bother to turn her head until someone touched her on the shoulder.

  ‘Will you allow me to run you home in the motor?’

  Turning, Beth saw Mark looking at her intently and her heart turned over. His eyes were dark with passion and she felt the strength of his emotion touch her. Perhaps it was the look of appeal in his eyes that swayed her and she was agreeing before she thought of the consequences. Parked by the kerb, his motor car was a very smart vehicle with shiny wheels and green paintwork. Beth had no idea what kind of vehicle it was, for she had taken no notice of such things, but caught sight of the words De Dion on the back and thought it sounded French. The people standing in the queue were looking at her and she blushed, feeling embarrassed as Mark opened the passenger door for her.

  Sitting in the front passenger seat, Beth looked at the man she had once loved so desperately. She felt exposed and nervous. ‘I’m not sure this is a good idea… your wife…’

  ‘Wouldn’t mind,’ Mark finished. ‘I shan’t drive you to a dark alley and ravish you, if that is your fear?’ She saw a flash of annoyance in his eyes and felt embarrassed.

  ‘Of course it isn’t!’ Beth flushed hotly. ‘I’m living with Aunt Helen – I think you know where that is. Please stop before we get there, because I don’t want the neighbours to gossip.’

  Motor cars were still a rarity in her aunt’s neighbourhood and she would have been noticed getting out of it from behind a dozen lace curtains, and that would be enough to set the gossips talking for a week.

  ‘Poor Beth – always having to do the right thing. Don’t you get tired of being a saint?’

  ‘That’s unfair,’ she retorted. ‘You don’t understand – you have no idea how it was…’

  ‘No, that’s why I think we should talk,’ he said and released the ha
ndbrake, heading into the traffic. He didn’t look at her as he asked the question she’d refused to answer years earlier. ‘Why, Beth – why did you choose your mother over me?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ Beth said as tears stung her eyes. She felt the wind tug at her hat and put up a hand to hold it on, because although it was a pleasant evening the rush of wind as they drove faster was enough to blow it away. ‘I begged her to let me marry you and to come and live with us, but she refused. She accused me of being selfish and not caring for her and said my father would be shocked and hurt that I could think of deserting her. She threatened to die in the infirmary rather than live as your dependent…’

  ‘What had I done that she should dislike me so strongly?’ he asked resentfully.

  ‘I don’t know – except that she wanted to keep me on her string. I think you might have stood up to her better than I did…’

  Mark nodded but said nothing for a while. ‘Yet you still chose to stay with her. She couldn’t have forced you.’

  ‘I wasn’t old enough to marry without her consent, but more than that it broke my heart when she said that she would rather die than leave our home. I felt selfish and unkind – and I tried to explain, to tell you, but you were angry and you left me in a temper that night. You never gave me a second chance.’

  ‘I believed you wanted someone else – and then I was told that you were easily led and not ready to settle down…’

  ‘Who told you such things?’ Beth asked, angry now.

  ‘I called at your home the next morning but you were out. Your mother told me you had better prospects and asked me not to call again…’

  ‘Mother said that?’ Beth looked at him and saw the pulse flicking at his temple. She closed her eyes briefly as the pain struck. ‘How could she? She never told me you’d been – I thought you’d deserted me and I wrote to you, but then I didn’t post the letter. Mother said if you’d wanted me you would have kept coming back…’

  ‘It seems that your mother was determined to keep us apart…’

  ‘Yes, she was,’ Beth agreed. She saw it clearly now. ‘I kept hoping you might write to me or call, but you never did…’

  Mark was silent. He drew up two streets away from her aunt’s home, turned the ignition off and looked at her. ‘Don’t get out for a moment, Beth, please.’

  ‘I should go…’ She hesitated, feeling drawn to him by the look of longing in his eyes and yet she knew that it was useless. ‘It is too late, Mark. I was barely twenty and my mother used emotional blackmail – and I lost you. I wish I could have explained better, asked you to wait…’ She brushed away the tears from her cheeks. ‘I am truly sorry that I hurt you. I loved you, but you’re married now and…’ Beth shook her head. ‘Please, don’t try to stop me leaving – and don’t come to meet me again. It’s no good…’

  ‘I was a damned fool,’ Mark said and she saw pain in his eyes. ‘I should have known your mother was lying. I should have found you and made you tell me the truth…’

  ‘You didn’t and I was too hurt and proud to beg you to come back,’ Beth said. She was trembling and her voice shook as she whispered, ‘Goodbye, Mark, my dear. You know this has to end here…’

  He leaned towards her and before Beth guessed what he intended, his lips were on hers; it was the merest touch, but she jerked back instantly.

  ‘No! You cannot – you must not…’ she cried, wrenched the door open and almost fell out in her haste. ‘Goodbye, Mark.’

  Beth did not look back as she walked hurriedly away. Tears were trickling down her cheeks as she turned the corner of the street. She brushed them away with her gloved hand and took a deep breath, trying to control her emotions before entering the house. Aunt Helen must not see her like this! She would lash Beth with words of scorn and that was the last thing she needed. No one needed to tell Beth that she had no chance of happiness with Mark. He was married and she would neither become his lover, nor would she destroy his marriage. It would be shocking if he were to divorce his wife for her – and the alternative was shame.

  Beth had no choice but to forget him. The pain inside her chest was sharp, but she would hide it from her aunt and the world; she had no other course but to pretend that this had never happened. Even if Mark regretted his marriage and wanted her, it was impossible.

  Sally found a café and sat down, ordering a cup of coffee and a ham sandwich. She felt she could afford to treat herself, because of the five shilling bonus she’d earned that day. She looked out on the square, watching as the dusk gathered. Soon, the young women who sold themselves to men for money would begin to walk up and down the pavements. Normally, Sally would not have ventured here at this hour and she was determined to leave as soon as she had managed to ask the question she needed to have answered.

  Idly looking through the window, Sally suddenly saw the young woman named Mave. She jumped to her feet, threw the money for her bill on the counter and rushed out into the square. She ran after Mave and caught her arm, turning her to face her. Only then, did she realise it wasn’t Mave but someone she’d never seen before in her life.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I thought you were someone else.’

  ‘What the bleedin’ hell do yer want?’ the woman demanded angrily. ‘If Sammy sent yer, yer can clear orf. I’m on me own now and I don’t bleedin’ care what he thinks…’

  ‘I don’t know Sammy,’ Sally said desperately. ‘I was lookin’ for Mave…’

  ‘What yer want wiv her then?’ the woman demanded.

  Sally hesitated, and then decided on a little lie. ‘She was going to tell me where I could get rid of a kid…’

  ‘Get rid…’ the woman stared at her hard. ‘Up the spout, are yer?’

  ‘It’s not me, it’s my friend,’ Sally said. ‘I need to know – for her sake…’

  The woman was silent for a moment, and then nodded. ‘Happen I do know of someone,’ she said. She took a pencil and a scrap of paper from her bag and scribbled a name and an address. ‘Tell Dot that Vera sent yer… and she’ll want payin’, ten quid if it’s yer first time. But I never told yer and if yer shop me to the law, I’ll make yer wish you’d never been born…’

  ‘I promise I won’t. My friend is desperate…’

  ‘I’ll bet she is…’ The woman leered at her, clearly thinking Sally needed the name for herself. ‘Ain’t no shame in it, love. It’s the bloody men what’s to blame.’

  Sally decided there was no point in denying the abortion was for herself because Vera wouldn’t believe her. ‘Thank you. I’ll tell Sylvia how much it will cost her…’

  ‘Be sure yer want it done,’ Vera advised seriously. ‘It might mean yer can’t ’ave kids in future – and if yer leave it too late it can be dangerous…’

  ‘Thank you, I’ll tell her,’ Sally tucked the paper into her jacket pocket and walked away. She had not gone more than a few steps before a man stepped out on to the pavement in front of her.

  ‘How much?’

  ‘I’m not interested,’ Sally said, but he grabbed her arm.

  ‘I’ll pay yer ten quid for the lot…’

  ‘No! Leave me alone…’ Sally pushed at him, but his grip tightened and he muttered something about ‘bloody prostitutes gettin’ above themselves,’ as he tried to drag her off. She struggled and he thrust her hard against the wall. Sally gave a little scream and then she saw the man who accosted her jerked back and sent flying onto the pavement.

  Someone stood over him and there was a bit of shouting before the man in the gutter got to his feet and ran off. Sally was shaking as her rescuer turned back to her.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Irish Mick asked and she gasped in shock, but he looked just as shocked as he realised it was her. ‘What the hell are you doin’ up here?’

  ‘I had an errand to run,’ Sally said and her face was on fire. ‘Thank you – I have to go…’

  ‘I’ll see you on the right bus,’ Mick said and glared at her. ‘Are you out of your mind comin’
up here at night, Sally Ross?’

  Sally hadn’t realised he knew her name. She’d hardly spoken to him, though he’d looked at her many times and called out a greeting. ‘I told you, I had something important to do…’

  Mick had hold of her arm and was bundling her along the street. ‘Nice girls don’t walk this square at night, especially alone,’ he said. ‘It’s a wonder the girls didn’t think you were a rival and set on you – and there’s some here as would use you in a way you wouldn’t like…’

  ‘I’m not a fool,’ Sally muttered angrily. His fingers were digging into her arm and hurting her. ‘I had to do something for a friend…’

  His eyes narrowed and she knew he was furious, but what was it to him that she was here?

  ‘If I hadn’t come along you might have been found in the river by mornin’.’

  Sally bit her lip. She knew what she’d done was dangerous, but she’d promised Sylvia.

  They reached the bus stop just as an omnibus pulled up.

  ‘Get on,’ he grunted. ‘Don’t come here again…’

  ‘I don’t know what business it is of yours…’ Sally said, but he’d walked away and the conductor told her to move along. She did so, rubbing at her arm. There was sure to be a bruise in the morning. It was just as well her uniform had long sleeves or Mrs Craven would be curious!

  Sally paid her fare and stared out of the windows at the lights of the town. It was a different London that came to life at night and she’d never been afraid to be alone before, but she’d had a fright that evening and it would be a long time before she ventured into the square again…

  Sylvia took the address eagerly but frowned as Sally told her how much the procedure would be.

  ‘He should be payin’ for it,’ Sylvia muttered, ‘but he wouldn’t give me a penny.’

  ‘I haven’t got much saved – but I’ll lend you four pounds if you’re short…’