by Mary Wood
Looking around the pretty tearoom, with its round tables draped in white cloths and adorned with silver sugar bowls and salt-and-pepper pots gleaming in the light of the low evening sun, she saw that none of the other customers – four in all – had heard. But then if they had, they might be like her and not have an inkling what he meant by ‘sexual persuasion’.
‘I’m sorry – I’ve upset you, haven’t I?’ His head shook. ‘Dear Florence, you’re so innocent of the world. But you are the very essence of what I am talking about. You, and others like you, will be the ones to bring about change. You haven’t accepted your lot. You have striven to better yourself, but the barriers that are in place are foiling you now. Don’t let them. Keep your determination to lift yourself from your allotted place in life. You can do it. And you should take advantage of the war to help you.’
‘I can’t see how the war will help me. War or no war, I can’t afford to do owt other than get a job. And, as I’m not trained at owt, that will have to be in the munitions.’
‘No, that’s not an option for you. Look, I could help you. I have a friend – well, he is more than a friend. We went to university together and we became very close . . . Do you understand what I mean?’
Why her face reddened even more, she didn’t know. But she thought Mr Dinkworth seemed to be hinting at sommat that was a secret, and yet he expected her to know what it was. She shook her head, unable to find the words to answer him.
‘We . . . we are a – a couple. We love each other and see each other as often as we can. Though that isn’t easy, with the distance between us. He lives and works down south, in a village called Bletchley. His work is hush-hush, but like you, he is a brilliant mathematician and what he does is helping the war effort massively.’
If she could, she’d run out of here and away from him. As it was, she didn’t know what to say. Mr Dinkworth and another man loving each other? Oh, aye, she’d heard tell of such things, but never thought to meet anyone who was like that. She thought it were sommat as folk who lived down south did. Not her own tutor! A northerner, even if he did speak posh. Finding her voice, she asked, ‘What – what does he do . . . I – I mean, in his job?’
‘To be honest, I don’t know. And you, young lady, should know better than to ask. All I know is that Simon’s work is very secret, but highly important.’
‘Eeh, he’s not a spy, is he? I couldn’t do that work.’
‘We none of us know what we are capable of until we are faced with doing it, and you – more than most – would be capable of rising to the challenge, should it be put to you. But whatever it is that Simon does, and it may be spy work, I know it is very important to the war effort.’
‘And you reckon as I could do this work?’
‘I do. I think you have the right qualifications, as you have what Simon has: a mathematical brain. You would need to join the WRNS or the ATS, as they only take on military personnel and civil servants.’
‘Oh? But how can you be sure they would send me where Simon is?’
‘I know because that is how they build their staff teams. It’s nepotism, but it works. Someone knows someone who can be trusted, has the right qualifications, is of the right calibre, and they recommend them. Joining the forces can come after you are chosen, so you would still keep your options open. What do you think? Would you like me to discuss it with him? Simon is a lovely person. You would like him. And he will be fascinated by you. If it works out, you will move to a new area and begin a new life. I think it is the very thing for you.’
Unsure, but with her interest tickled, Flo nodded. ‘Aye, I’d like to know more about it. And I’m thinking a new start is what I’m needing.’
She couldn’t say that the prospect of meeting his ‘friend’ scared her, as that would hurt Mr Dinkworth, but she did feel scared. The world these two lived in was alien to her. Aye, and criminal, an’ all. Her knowledge of such things had come from the newspapers. Mrs Leary had pointed the story out: two men had been caught engaging in homosexual activities and had been jailed. Mrs Leary went on to tell Flo that there was a rule that men of that kind were refused entry to the forces. ‘Nancy boys’, she’d called them. Flo had been shocked to hear of such things, but she hadn’t seen why they should be imprisoned or banned from the forces. Mrs Leary was of that mind too, and she’d stood up for them. ‘It’s not for being right, putting them in jail. It is as folk should live and let live. I’ve a friend back in Ireland whose son is that way inclined. A lovely boy he is – was, I should say, as he’ll be a grown man now. He had the kindest nature and looked after his mammy, but he was ridiculed by others and took himself off to America to start a new life. Broke his mammy’s heart, so it did.’
Mr Dinkworth cut into her thoughts. ‘You’ve gone very quiet, are you sure about—’
‘Oh, aye, I’m sure. It’s just a lot to take in.’
‘Well, let’s get you home. I’ll be in touch. I’m seeing Simon this weekend.’ Then, as if the thought had suddenly struck him, he asked, ‘Would you like to meet him? He is coming up on Friday and staying till Sunday. He’ll be bringing his half-sister; sh-she acts as his girlfriend – oh, I don’t mean . . . Well, just for show. Look, I’m sorry, Florence, this has all been a shock to you. Not just being run over by me, but learning all of this about me. I shouldn’t have told you. I’m sorry.’
‘Naw. I’m alreet with it. I’m not used to such things, but, well, I – I’m not . . .’
‘Repulsed? You’re not disgusted or anything?’
‘Of course not. “Embarrassed” is more how I’d put it. And that’s because it’s all new to me. I don’t see as you’re any different because of it. But, I – I just don’t know how to handle it.’ She was tying herself in knots and feeling even more ill-at-ease as she tried to explain her feelings. ‘Look, you’re still Mr Dinkworth . . . I mean—’
‘Thank you, Florence. That means a lot to me. Yes, I am still Mr Dinkworth; nothing about my private life changes that, though I would like it if you called me Roland.’
Thinking to lighten the tension between them, she laughed. ‘Only if you call me Flo. That’s me name, as I’m known by. “Florence” is too posh for the likes of me!’
He laughed with her. ‘Flo it is. And yes, that does suit you more than Florence does. Though I do see you as a pioneer of sorts, just as your namesake was. You’ve to change the world, Flo. You and others like you. No accepting your lot. Get out there and show them that women can do as well as men, and that those women who were born disadvantaged by poverty have brains, just the same as the posh lot do. And, Flo, spread your accepting nature far and wide, too.’
‘Eeh, I don’t know about that. But I’ll do me best in this job you have in mind for me. Thanks, Roland.’ It surprised her how easily the use of his name came to her. ‘I were reet in the dumps as to me future, but now you’ve given me sommat to look forward to and some hope and . . . and respect. Aye, that’s it – respect is what you’ve given me, by you seeing me potential. I’ve only ever had the like of that from me boss before. If this works out, I won’t let you down, nor will I let your Simon down, either.’
As he drove her home, chatting about this and that, Flo found she was really relaxed in his company and looking forward to what seemed like a much more exciting future than teacher training. And, as Roland had said, she would change things – well, her own expectations, and hopefully those of others. One day her class would know a different time, and she’d be ready when that time came.
3
Molly
Friends and Dreams
‘Help your old dad with his tie, girl, there’s a good ’un.’
Molly felt sick as she looked up at her dad. He stood in front of the parlour fireplace, grooming himself in the mirror above the mantelpiece. The reflection of the sun hindered his view. He looked better than she’d seen him look for a long time. His best suit had been pressed, no doubt by Aunt Bet. His hair was sleeked back and his white shirt gleamed �
� and all for the benefit of that gang from the East End.
This being a Saturday, Molly would normally have been at work, but there had been a shock announcement during the week that the shoe shop was to close immediately. The Jewish owners were afraid that the Germans would invade England, so they had booked a passage to America, where they thought they would be safer.
The closure had upset her for more than the fact that she no longer had a job, as it also meant she might not see David, the boss’s son, ever again.
During the time that she’d worked at Gould’s shoe shop she’d fallen in love with David. It was a secret love that only she and her friend, Hettie, knew about, as David had never even noticed her on his visits to the shop. Whereas for her, David’s visits to see his dad were the highlights of her life, and of her dreams. Now her dreams had been shattered and her life changed completely, as she found herself at the beck and call of her dad.
Once she’d taken in the shock of the shop’s closure, Molly thought she’d have to look for a job in a factory, as she wasn’t qualified to take up any other work. But her dad had other ideas, and said she was to stay at home and take care of him and the house for the time being. He also said it looked as though he would need her around to help in his butcher’s shop in the not-too-distant future. A prospect that she dreaded, as she knew it was linked to the visit of the gangsters he was expecting today.
She fiddled with his tie for him, undid what he’d done and started to reknot it. ‘What do you want to get mixed up with that lot for, Dad? It’ll come to no good. They’re criminals. They steal and kill and—’
‘Shut your mouth, girl. They say that careless talk costs lives, and where Gus Williams and Lofty Tyler are concerned, it’s true, so watch your tongue.’
‘I’m scared, Dad. They can only bring trouble to our door.’
‘More like a lot of money. It’s watertight, what they’re proposing. No one will ever guess. The shop is a good front for their business, and I’ll get a decent cut. What can go wrong, eh? I’ve had Foggy clearing out the back of the preparation room. He’s scrubbed it up like a new pin. What goods we can’t get in there will go into the cellar. So, if Eva, Gus and Lofty like what they see when they come today, we’ll be in business with them. From what I know, goods will be delivered in my own truck, so as not to raise suspicion. Customers will be sent to us by Eva. Or we will deliver orders to the nobs who wouldn’t be seen dead around here and will only place their orders by telephone.’
‘But it’s black-market! Stolen! Those goods, as you call them, are meant to feed our forces and our people. How can you even think of getting involved in it? You should call the police . . . No, D-Dad. No!’
Though she’d cringed away from his raised fist, Molly couldn’t dodge the blow that her dad aimed at her. The punch landed on her arm. The force of it knocked her backwards. She landed heavily in his armchair next to the fireplace. Hot tears sprang to her eyes. In that moment all she’d ever known deserted her. Her dad wasn’t her dad any more. She’d dealt with him being amorous towards her; even taken it as a sign of his love at times, as she’d nothing else to measure his love by. But now he’d severed the last thread that had held them together.
‘I HATE YOU!’
For a moment she thought he was going to apologize, as he lowered his face to within inches of hers. But his teeth gritted in anger and his spittle sprayed her face. ‘Look, Miss Stupid! I’m nearly broke. Do you know what that means, eh? I stand to lose this house, me shop . . . everything. Eva and the boys have given me a way out. And not just that, but a way of making a lot of money. We’re going to be rich. And you’re not going to spoil it for me, do yer hear me?’
A sob escaped her and, with its release, more sobs followed. Soon her whole body cried, and it seemed tears dripped from every pore.
‘Pack that in. That was your mother’s way. Well, it didn’t wash then and it won’t wash now. Get yourself busy. Eva and the boys are staying to play cards later, and I want a decent supper presented to them. Right?’
She could only nod. Every fibre of her felt drained, as if someone had tipped her up and emptied her out. Somehow she stood up, steadied herself and crossed the parlour, feeling shocked to the core that her dad showed no remorse for what he’d done.
‘And you can bloody well dress yourself up a bit and look presentable. Then I want you at that piano, playing for them. You had enough expensive bleedin’ lessons, and you hardly touch the thing.’
Once in the kitchen, Molly ran the cold water and splashed her face. Lifting her head, she caught sight of herself in the small mirror hanging from a nail knocked into the wooden window frame above the sink. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. She rubbed her stiff and bruised arm. My own dad did this to me. My own dad!
Well, she wasn’t going to stand for it. She’d find some way out of all this – and she’d start now, by going to her mate’s house. She’d not stick around here and play host to that floozy and her two henchmen.
‘Eeh, Molly, I saw yer coming across the street. What’s happened to yer, eh? Come in, love.’
The note of sympathy in Hettie’s voice made Molly sob all the more, making it difficult for her to speak. Not that she wanted to tell all that was going on. ‘Me – me dad. He got mad at me and punched me!’
Hettie steered her towards the kitchen. ‘Blimey. Your dad? Here, let me take a look at yer. Where’s he hurt yer?’
Molly indicated her arm.
‘Take your cardi off and I’ll bathe it for yer. Me mum swears by putting some vinegar on cotton wool and dabbing it gently on bruised areas. It seems to work, when me dad gives her a wallop.’
‘I weren’t going to get upset, Hettie. I’m sorry, I cried me eyes out in our kitchen, but I thought I’d composed meself. You’ve enough on your plate, with what you witness your mam going through.’
‘Well, at least I’m used to it. But I’ve not known your dad to be violent before. What’s happened to change things, eh?’
Not ready to share the reason with Hettie, and glad that as yet the gossipmongers hadn’t heard what her dad was up to, and with whom, Molly shrugged. ‘He’d had too much to drink. Look, let’s forget it. I don’t want to talk about it.’ A sudden thought zinged fear through her: What if me dad comes after me? ‘That’s fine now, thanks, Hettie. You’re a pal. Look, if you’re not doing anything, d’yer fancy a walk out? We could go to Pymmes Park. I could do with some fresh air.’
‘Ha – fresh air, me nelly. More like yer want to be where you might be seen by that David yer always on about. Blimey, you’ve got it bad. But I don’t think it will get you anywhere, Molly. Didn’t you say he was a Jew? Well, he ain’t going to be looking at the likes of you, is he?’
This hurt. Though Molly had to admit to herself that David’s being an orthodox Jew might pose problems.
‘Well, a girl can dream, can’t she? Go on, Hettie, come with me. We can buy a cup of tea from the kiosk and sit on the bench and drink it. We don’t have to be out long. I’ll have to be back soon, anyway.’ Hindsight gave Molly the feeling that perhaps she’d better be home in time to see to her dad’s guests. She didn’t relish the idea, but she was afraid of the consequences if she wasn’t.
‘Ain’t you scared there’ll be one of them sirens going off? Since them bombs dropped, I only feel safe at home or at work, as I know where the shelter is.’
‘There’s one in Pymmes Park. You remember, we saw them digging it out. Besides, we can’t stop inside for the duration of the war. You know what they say: stiff upper lip.’
‘Not a fat one like yours, then?’
Molly giggled. ‘I haven’t got a fat lip. Me face is a bit swollen with me crying, that’s all. A splash of cold water will soon sort that.’
‘Go on then. And after you’ve swilled your face, I’ll do your hair for you. You look a mess, and you need to look presentable, just in case.’
‘Ta, Hettie.’
Having just turned twenty-one, Hett
ie was the same age as Molly but she was also as fair as Molly was dark. She had a lovely face, rounded and dimpled, with large blue eyes. She worked as a hairdresser and her hair was always immaculate. Cut into her neck, it had a side parting and a fringe. She was maybe a little too plump, but it suited her and went with her kindly, motherly nature.
‘Have you heard from Larry, Hettie?’
‘Yes. He’ll be home in four weeks. He’ll be finished his training then. He says he’ll have a few days’ leave, then he’ll be sent somewhere else. He don’t know where, but he thinks it will be overseas, to fight. He wants us to get married while he’s home. He’ll be lucky. I bleedin’ told him that everyone’ll think I’ve got me belly up, or sommat. I said we’d get engaged and then think about marriage on his next leave.’
‘Oh, Hettie. Who knows what’s going to happen! You should marry him – you’re made for each other. Besides, I could be a bridesmaid.’
Hettie was quiet for a moment, and Molly could have cut her tongue out. She shouldn’t have made a reference to what might happen, for it always brought into focus all they didn’t want to think about. At the sound of Hettie swallowing hard, Molly felt even worse. She could think of nothing to say. She was desperate to get their mood back to what it had been. Hettie’s next words gave her that chance.
‘I do miss him, Molly. I miss him like mad.’
Instead of sympathizing, Molly pretended that Hettie was being too heavy-handed at brushing her hair. ‘Ouch! No need to take it out on me.’
‘Sorry. I’ll just twist the back up for you, then I’ll be done.’
Molly turned, afraid that Hettie’s muffled voice meant she was crying, but she was relieved to see that the cause was a few hairpins clasped between her teeth.
‘Hold still. There, you’ll do. It looks lovely. Put a bit of me lipstick on, it’ll suit you.’ Hettie passed her a bright-red Max Factor. Molly wasn’t sure; she’d always thought it looked common to wear make-up that was as obvious as this.