by Rosie Clarke
Her thoughts drifted to Maggie, who had a much harder time at home. Maggie’s father was getting worse, his pain almost unbearable now, and her mother seemed to put more and more of his care on to her daughter.
‘She wasn’t there when I got home last night,’ Maggie had confided in a rare moment when they had time to talk. ‘Poppa was awake and asking for a drink, the range had burned low in the kitchen and the dinner wasn’t even started…’
‘Perhaps your mother got caught in the rain,’ Beth had suggested because it had poured down for a while. This summer, although warm some days, was wetter than usual.
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Maggie had replied, looking thoughtful. ‘She was dry when she came in – and she didn’t want anything to eat. She said she’d been to visit a friend and that she was entitled to a little bit of peace for herself…’
Beth’s eyes closed as she thought about her friend’s problem, but there wasn’t very much she could do for her other than listen when Maggie wanted to talk.
She drifted into a heavy sleep but woke with the screams of drowning men in her ears. For a while the image had been so vivid and Beth knew she’d been reliving the tragedy of the Titanic in her dream.
She shivered because it had been so real that she’d actually felt that she was in the water struggling to stay afloat and then a man had swum up to her and grabbed her. He’d kept her head above water and someone had hauled her into a boat, but when she looked for the man who had saved her, he’d disappeared.
‘Where are you?’ she whispered and she knew without understanding why that the man who had saved her was Fred’s son.
It had been so real, but it was only a dream, like the one she’d had after Fred talked about his old comrades in the war. Beth shook her head as she got up and pulled her dressing gown on. She needed to clear those vivid pictures from her mind and a cup of tea would help.
Fred seemed quiet but determined to keep a brave face when she visited him during her break the next morning. He was wearing a black armband over his shirtsleeves but so were several of the staff as a mark of respect for those that had died in the terrible disaster. A kind of hush hung over the shop that morning as everyone came to terms with what had happened.
‘I made this for you,’ Beth said and gave Fred the apple pie she’d baked for him. It seemed woefully inadequate, but she didn’t know what else to say or do.
‘You’re a kind lass,’ Fred said and there was a hint of tears in his eyes, but he didn’t break down. ‘I’ll repay you one of these days…’
‘Perhaps you would come on a picnic to the park with me one Sunday afternoon?’ Beth suggested. ‘My aunt never usually wants to stir from the house when it’s warm and I should enjoy it.’
‘A lovely lass like you needs better company than an old codger like me…’
Beth smiled and shook her head. ‘Perhaps I could ask Maggie to come with us – and you could bring someone… make a little party of it.’
Beth knew that all he had was his youngest son, but she didn’t say more, just let him turn it round in his mind.
‘They have concerts in the park and I like music,’ he said at last.
‘Yes. I love listening to brass band concerts,’ Beth said. ‘My father always used to take me to listen to the Sally Army – and some of the bands who played in the working men’s clubs used to have a competition in the park. My father used to love listening to them.’
Fred looked at her and she could see the glisten of tears in his eyes. ‘Ah, you’re a lovely lass, miss – and I’d be honoured to take you for a picnic in the park when it’s a bit warmer.’ He hesitated, then, ‘You can come to tea at my place this Sunday if you like, meet my son and his young lady…’
‘Thank you, I’d like that very much,’ Beth accepted, even though she wondered at the invitation so close to the news of the tragedy. She finished the mug of tea he’d given her. ‘I’d best get back, Fred. I don’t want to be late, because there are only three of us now since Miss Ross was promoted to buyer…’
‘Now, she’s a pleasant young lady,’ he said, nodding. ‘She’s been down to see me a few times, telling me what to expect in the way of new stock.’
‘We don’t see as much of her now,’ Beth told him. ‘Miss Gibbs was only saying how much she misses her earlier this morning.’
Beth missed Sally’s cheerful manner and knew that they all felt a little bereft with her gone from her counter, even though she popped in every few days to see how things were going.
Beth was thoughtful as she walked back to the department. Passing Mr Stockbridge, and then Mr Harper, who was talking to a young, dark haired woman, very smartly dressed, she nodded in reply to his brief good-morning. It was good to see their employer about the store – and he always seemed to have a young woman with him.
Mrs Craven was serving a pretty woman with one of the new silver bangles when Beth took up her position at her counter. Two women were admiring various hats and she was soon drawn into a conversation about the merits of a velvet cloche against a wide-brimmed straw.
Maggie watched as both Beth and her supervisor served a succession of customers. She’d sold two silk scarves that morning and a pair of grey leather gloves, also two pairs of white cotton ones, but felt restless and wished that Mrs Craven would tell her to go to lunch.
‘Miss Gibbs, you may go,’ her supervisor said at last. ‘I should have told you to go as soon as you could after Miss Grey returned.’
‘Yes, Mrs Craven…’ Maggie went to fetch her coat and then left hurriedly. She wanted to do some shopping in her break that day and would buy a sticky bun somewhere and eat it in the restroom when she had her afternoon break.
It was her mother’s birthday the following day and Maggie had already purchased a pretty scarf from stock, using her staff discount. However, she wanted to find a nice card and perhaps buy either some chocolates or a small bunch of flowers.
She was hurrying along the busy pavements of Oxford Street when she bumped into someone and dropped her purse. The coins fell out and rolled away from her until someone stopped them with his foot. He bent to recover them and handed Maggie the two shillings and sixpence, which was all the purse had contained.
‘Here you are, miss,’ the young man said, handing them to her.
‘Oh, thank you,’ she stammered and blushed. ‘I’m so clumsy…’
‘I’m sure you’re not,’ he said and smiled at her. ‘Where are you off to in such a hurry?’
‘To buy my mother a birthday card…’ Maggie’s cheeks were on fire as she saw the smile in his eyes. ‘I have to get back to work – and I haven’t done my shopping yet…’
‘Then I mustn’t stop you,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you have a lot to do…’
Maggie blushed yet again and accepted the money from his hand before entering the shop selling stationery, newspapers, books and an array of fountain pens. She looked at the pens wistfully, because she’d bought one for her father for his birthday the previous year – before the accident that had brought him so much pain. He’d been so thrilled with the gift and talked of being able to write his crossword out with it. His pain was now so bad that he no longer did the crosswords in his newspaper.
Blinking back her tears, Maggie made her way to the counter selling birthday cards and asked to see a selection. She found one with drawings of violets and a sentimental verse inside and chose it for her mother. After she’d paid for it, she wrote the greeting, addressed it and placed the stamp on the envelope, posting it in a box on her way back to the shop.
Beth and Mrs Craven both had customers when she entered the department and as soon as she’d taken off her coat, Maggie was back at her counter. She served three customers in quick succession and then turned to serve the next.
‘May I see some leather gloves please…? I know it is the wrong season, but leather gloves are so acceptable as a present, aren’t they?’ It was true, because most women wore gloves whenever they went out, leather for
cooler days and cotton or lace for summer.
Maggie looked up at the man standing before her counter and found herself blushing once more as she realised it was the gentleman who had rescued her coins in the street.
‘Oh…’ she exclaimed, then, ‘what colour would you like to see, sir?’
‘Navy blue,’ he said, ‘or French blue as my sister calls that colour…’ He pointed to a pair of gloves on the second shelf up.
‘We have them in a size small or medium,’ Maggie said, avoiding his blue gaze.
‘What size do you take?’ he asked. ‘My sister is a similar size and build to your own…’
‘I take the smaller size,’ Maggie said and slipped one of the pair on to show him how it looked.
‘Yes, that looks neat,’ he said and took her hand. ‘Lovely soft leather – I think Vera would like wearing those. How much are they please?’
‘Twelve and eleven pence,’ Maggie told him. ‘I know they are expensive, sir, but they are good quality.’
‘My sister would skin me alive if they weren’t,’ he said and laughed, his face alight with mischief. ‘Sisters are like that, aren’t they?’
‘I don’t know. I’m an only child…’
‘Oh, poor you,’ he said instantly. ‘Vera is sometimes difficult to please, but I wouldn’t be without her. Yes, I’ll take the gloves – and do you have a scarf to go with them?’
Maggie sold him the gloves and a pretty navy and white spotted scarf. He took two pound notes from his wallet and paid her and she packed the items into one of Harpers distinctive bags. He thanked her and left.
Maggie saw Mrs Craven speak to Beth and then leave the department for her own break. After that, the floor was quiet as for once they had no customers.
Beth came over to her and smiled. ‘Did you get what you wanted?’
‘Yes – a pretty card and I bought some scented notepaper. I saw it and thought my mother might enjoy using it…’
‘I’m sure she would,’ Beth said. ‘I might get some for my aunt.’ She hesitated, then, ‘Would you like to come to tea with us on Sunday?’
‘That’s so kind of you,’ Maggie said and sighed. ‘I shall have to ask my mother. She might have plans of her own. It is wearing for her all day on her own looking after my father…’
‘Yes, I know it must be,’ Beth was sympathetic, because every day she asked Maggie if her father was better. ‘But you should have some time to yourself too…’
‘I know…’ Maggie couldn’t meet her gaze. ‘I can’t leave her on her own on Sundays at the moment…’ Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. ‘It isn’t that I don’t want to come, Beth…’
‘Perhaps another week,’ Beth suggested and moved away as two customers entered.
Beth was immediately busy showing hats to two older women and then Maggie found herself showing a young woman some of the silver bangles. She took out each of the bangles in turn, making sure to put away those that were rejected. The customer looked at every bangle in stock and then shook her head over one with three turquoises inset.
‘I don’t like any of them – I preferred the ones you had when the other girl was serving,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I’ll have a look at some bags instead…’
Maggie replaced the rejected bangle in the counter and turned to take out three bags from the cabinet behind her. When she placed them on the counter, the woman frowned and shook her head.
‘No, I shan’t bother. I’ll look elsewhere…’
Maggie bit her lip as the young woman walked off. She had just replaced the bags when Mrs Craven returned and Maggie went back to her own counter. She sold three scarves and it was nearly an hour later when Mrs Craven came up to her looking worried.
‘Miss Gibbs, did you sell a silver bangle with amethysts set in it – three in a row…’
‘No, I haven’t sold any jewellery, I did show some bangles to a customer, but she didn’t buy anything,’ Maggie said and felt a shiver down her spine. ‘Why – is something wrong?’
‘I know that bangle was there when I went to lunch,’ Mrs Craven said. ‘I was showing it to a customer earlier this morning and now it isn’t there…’
Maggie stared at her in dismay. ‘I did show a woman some silver bangles, but I put them away each time she asked to see another…’
Her supervisor looked at her hard. ‘Are you certain, Miss Gibbs, because it is definitely missing and it isn’t entered as sold…?’
‘I know I didn’t leave anything out when I turned away to get those bags,’ Maggie said, but she was feeling sick inside. Had she allowed a piece of expensive jewellery to be stolen from beneath her very nose? ‘I know I showed my customer three bangles – the one with garnets, one with pearls and one with amber…’
‘You are certain you did not leave the counter open while you turned your back?’
‘Quite certain,’ Maggie said. ‘I didn’t see the bangle with amethysts in the cabinet when I served the customer…’
‘I know it was there earlier.’ Mrs Craven frowned as she looked at her counter.
Maggie was sick with apprehension, because if the bangle had somehow been stolen then she would probably be blamed and she couldn’t afford to pay for the loss. Remembering what Miss Hart had said to Sally about the slight damage to the tulle on a hat, Maggie feared that she would either be made to pay or be given the sack.
Beth was glancing across at them both. She was still serving a customer, but when the sale was complete, she came over to join them.
‘Is something the matter?’ she asked.
‘There is a silver and amethyst bangle missing,’ Mrs Craven told her. ‘I know it was there earlier and now it isn’t… You didn’t serve at my counter, Miss Grey?’
‘No, not this morning,’ Beth said. ‘I was busy when Miss Gibbs was serving that customer with bangles, so I didn’t see anything untoward…’
‘This is a serious loss,’ Mrs Craven said. ‘I shall have to report it to Miss Hart or Mr Stockbridge…’
Maggie drew a sharp breath. They would blame her and she would be dismissed. Her mother would be angry and she would never find another job!
‘I know I put everything away,’ she said. ‘I didn’t see the bangle there when I took over the counter…’ She broke off, because Miss Hart walked in at that moment.
‘Back to your counters,’ Mrs Craven said. ‘I shall report the loss, Miss Gibbs, but I’m not blaming you – anyone might be responsible…’
Maggie nodded but felt guilty. She averted her gaze when she knew Miss Hart was looking at her but felt hot and uncomfortable.
‘Miss Gibbs, come here please,’ Mrs Craven called to her a few moments later and Maggie went with her heart in her shoes. ‘Miss Gibbs, I owe you an apology…’ Mrs Craven was saying and held up the bracelet with three amethysts. ‘It was in my top drawer beneath my receipts book. I remember now, I put it there in a hurry earlier…’
‘Oh, thank goodness you found it,’ Maggie said and burst into relieved tears. ‘I’m so sorry…’
‘No, I am the one who should be sorry,’ Mrs Craven said. ‘I thought you must have been careless and instead I am the one at fault.’
‘Well, I think it very fortunate that the item was found,’ Miss Hart said disapprovingly. She glared at Mrs Craven. ‘This is not the standard I expect from your department, Mrs Craven. You came to us with glowing references…’
She sniffed, walked around the department looking for something else she could criticise, but finding nothing out of place, gave a little toss of her head and stalked off.
‘I am truly sorry for suspecting you of being careless, Miss Gibbs,’ Mrs Craven said and looked upset. ‘I didn’t mean to make you cry.’
‘It isn’t the bangle,’ Maggie sniffed. ‘I think I’m just tired. I was up all last night with my father and I’m so worried about him.’
‘We need privacy,’ her supervisor told her. ‘Beth, let me know if I’m needed.’
She led Magg
ie into the little office and sat her down in the only chair, perching on the desk next to her.
‘Do you want to talk about it, Maggie? I didn’t realise your father was so ill…’
Maggie caught back a sob and then told her all about her father’s pain and his deepening reliance on the laudanum the doctor had prescribed. ‘He had some kind of a fit in the night,’ she said, breathing deeply to steady herself. ‘For a while he was shouting and his eyes were wild. He accused my mother of trying to kill him and then he ended by sobbing in my arms…’ Maggie looked into the sympathetic face of her supervisor. ‘It was awful to see him so broken. I’ve always been close to him and I know she doesn’t look after him as I do…’ She wiped her eyes with the handkerchief Mrs Craven gave her. ‘But she wouldn’t really try to kill him… would she?’
‘I’m sure she would not,’ Mrs Craven said. ‘It is the effect of the drug. I suspect he has been taking too much, but I know it does help to dull the pain, if only by sending the patient to sleep – but some people have terrible side effects and it sounds as if your father is suffering from them if he is hallucinating. If possible, you should cut back on the amount he takes.’
‘He is in so much pain, but I shall try,’ she said and drew a shaky breath. ‘Thank you for talking to me. I feel a little better.’
‘Do you feel able to resume your duties or do you need a little time?’
‘I’m all right now,’ Maggie said and smiled. ‘I was worried I would lose my job and when you said it was your fault, I just broke down.’
‘Understandable with all your personal worries,’ Mrs Craven said and smiled. ‘We must both return to our duty, Miss Gibbs – but if you have worries in future, please come to me.’
Maggie nodded and thanked her. She went back to her counter feeling a little less anxious. Her job wasn’t well paid but it meant a great deal to her and if she’d been sacked she knew it would have been almost impossible to find another she would like as much.