Wedding Bells for Woolworths

by Elaine Everest

  Now, if she could only find someone like Alan Gilbert, it would be a different kettle of fish, she thought with a smile. Although Alan was like a brother to her, she could see he had the qualities she’d like in a husband. If only he would tell Sarah of his problems and his debts. Perhaps she should say something . . . Yes, she’d have a quiet word and put her in the picture.

  As the titles came up for the main film, she put these problems out of her mind. She’d been waiting to see The Piccadilly Incident since its release the previous year, but had missed it first time round. Now she checked for her handkerchief, ready to have a good cry, as she’d heard it was a weepy. She didn’t wish to spoil the moment by thinking of the Gilberts – or Anthony, come to that. When she’d told him that Betty had arranged for him to live at her house once he came out of hospital, he’d not said much, but she’d been able to tell by the clench of his jaw and the distant look in his eyes that he wasn’t pleased. Blow him, she thought as the film started. It serves him right if I didn’t say that Lemuel has fixed his damaged bike and the others are being kept safe.

  Later, Lemuel offered his arms to both Sadie and Freda as they stepped out into the dark evening and headed towards Alexandra Road.

  ‘It was a beautiful film,’ Freda said. ‘I like nothing more than a good cry. I’ll have to tell Bob to take Ruby,’ she said, before explaining to Lemuel that Ruby was Alan’s grandmother-in-law.

  ‘You have a large family. That is good, as family is the most important thing in the world,’ he said with a slight catch to his voice.

  ‘You must miss yours, with them being so far away,’ Freda said, although she didn’t wish to pry.

  ‘I am the only one to remain here after the war. My brother James went home to Trinidad, but he has plans to return and will be bringing my sister and her family. Perhaps my mother will come. That will be good. My plan is to have a home for them when they arrive – whenever that will be.’

  Freda noticed the break in his voice. ‘You are fortunate to have a family. I only have my brother and his wife, but they now have two children, which is wonderful. And they live not far away, so I get to see them often.’

  ‘I just have my nan and my son, Arthur,’ Sadie said, joining in with the conversation.

  ‘You lost your husband in the war?’ Lemuel asked, sounding concerned.

  ‘No . . .’ was all Sadie said before changing the subject. ‘Are you both going to George and Maureen’s wedding?’

  ‘I wouldn’t expect to be invited, as it is a family wedding, and although I’ve known Alan from the war his family don’t know me.’

  ‘They make everyone welcome, Lemuel,’ Freda said, giving him a warm smile even though it could hardly be seen in the darkness. ‘Both Sarah and Alan’s family treat me like one of their own, and have done since I came to Erith as no more than a frightened child. I suppose now Alan’s mum is marrying Sarah’s dad, that makes them all one happy family.’ She laughed as if the idea had just come to her.

  ‘My nan said there’s something wrong in marrying your own family,’ Sadie sniffed, sounding very much like Vera Munro.

  ‘Well, I’m surprised she’s going to the wedding, if she thinks like that,’ Freda bristled.

  ‘It is a good family,’ Lemuel said in his deep, thoughtful voice. ‘I wish mine was closer. I’ve missed many weddings and births, and also the passing of a few respected elders. There are times I wish I was back there.’

  ‘Don’t say you are thinking of going home,’ Sadie cried. ‘Why, you’ve only just arrived in Erith.’

  Freda thought the woman was being rather dramatic, and tried hard not to snort with laughter. ‘Lemuel is free to go where he pleases. In some ways I envy you, Lemuel.’

  ‘Don’t envy me, Freda,’ he said as they arrived at the gate to her house. ‘I’m hankering after putting down roots and growing my own family. Erith has a lot to offer a man and a family.’

  Freda reached up and kissed him on the cheek. ‘We’d be happy to have you in our community, so please don’t go racing off just when we’ve got to know you. Alan needs you as well right now,’ she added, saying no more in case Sadie picked up on her words and passed on a juicy piece of gossip to her nan. As much as she liked Sadie, the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree in the Munro family. As she opened her front door she heard the woman’s tinkling laughter in response to something Lemuel had said and prayed that the pair did not become fond of each other. Vera would throw such a rage, the whole of the town would hear her. Besides, Lemuel was far too good for the likes of Sadie Munro, she thought, as she closed the door on the evening and thought about the wedding. It would be wonderful to see Maureen married to George. They suited each other so well. Perhaps it would be that she didn’t find love and settle down until her fifties, she thought, as she headed towards the stairs and her bed before stopping suddenly as she spotted a letter propped against the bottom step. Ripping it open, she saw with dismay that her current lodger had needed to rush off suddenly, as her father had been taken ill. Knowing it could be some time, she had given notice and enclosed the last of her rent money.

  Freda shrugged her shoulders. Perhaps it was handy that Anthony was moving in on Saturday, even though the thought of him made her blood boil.

  ‘I’ve never seen this place looking so spic and span,’ Sarah said as she gazed around the workshop. The floor was swept and washed and there wasn’t a tool out of place. ‘Lemuel, this must be your influence. I can’t thank you enough. Alan has rather let the place go of late, and it can’t be through being overworked; you never seem to have much here to work on,’ she added, giving her husband a harsh glance.

  Alan ran his hand through his hair and bent his head to hide the anger he felt spreading over his face. He didn’t need this right now. ‘Give it a rest, eh, Sarah? Why don’t you take Lemuel down home and give him some food? He hasn’t stopped all day.’

  Sarah’s anger dissipated as fast as it had blown up. She shouldn’t take her feelings out on Alan in front of this lovely man. ‘I’m sorry, Lemuel. I’m a bit on edge what with the wedding tomorrow and a hundred and one things to do. Here, take my door key and go clean yourself up, if you like. There’s hot water in the copper if you want a bath. Just drag the tin bath in from out the back. You’ll have an hour before I come back, as I’ve got to pop in to work and see Betty. We are going to discuss our outfits for the wedding,’ she added with an edge to her voice. Alan had promised her a new outfit for the occasion, but nothing had come of it.

  ‘That’s very good of you, Mrs Gilbert,’ Lemuel said politely.

  ‘Please, call me Sarah,’ she smiled back.

  Alan frowned. The way his wife nodded her head and spoke to Lemuel reminded him so much of his late mother-in-law, Irene. God forbid that his wife was turning into that old trout, he thought uncharitably. That was all he needed. ‘I’ll catch up with you later in the Prince of Wales, Lemuel,’ he called as the man headed towards the large wooden doors, which had been opened to let in the sun.

  ‘Why are you going to the pub?’ Sarah frowned as she picked up a used mug from Alan’s workbench. ‘We have a lot to do for tomorrow. Don’t forget, it’s the last night your mum will live in the house with us. I thought we’d make it special for her.’

  ‘Sarah, it’s your dad’s stag night. Surely you’ve not forgotten? It is a tradition, after all, and you’re one for doing things by the book.’ Alan felt as though everything he did or said was not good enough for Sarah.

  Sarah stepped back as Alan’s harsh tone hit her like a slap in the face. She fought back tears, not wanting to face whatever it was that had upset her husband. Crying would not help. ‘I’m sorry if me liking to do things correctly no longer pleases you. I thought you admired the way I kept our home and family together and managed to hold down a job that put food on the table?’ she threw back at him, knowing deep down she had overstepped the mark. ‘Perhaps it is time you realized this workshop idea is not working and you should ask Betty to
take you back on at Woolworths.’

  Alan turned on her, anger blazing from his eyes. ‘And wouldn’t you love it if I was bringing home a regular pay packet. I know only too well how you wanted me to manage a Woolworths store so you could have a home with your bloody roses round the front door.’ He turned away from her, clenching his fists and fighting hard not to slam them down on the bench. ‘Go home, Sarah, before I say any more.’

  ‘Hello, you two, isn’t it a lovely day?’ Freda said as she appeared at the open doors. ‘I hope it stays like this for the wedding tomorrow. I wondered if you wanted a hand with anything? I’ve done all I can to prepare for my new lodger. Betty’s Douglas delivered the single bed she’d promised and even assembled it for me, so I only had to make it up. My front room looks quite cosy as a bedroom.’

  ‘You should have let me know and I’d have come down to help him with the bed,’ Alan said, his face brightening at the sight of his young friend.

  Freda chuckled as he slung his arm casually round her shoulders. ‘Would you believe, he delivered it in the back of a hearse. That’ll give the neighbours something to talk about.’

  Alan roared with laughter. The kid was always such a tonic and, God, he needed cheering up at the moment. Another letter had arrived from Frank Unthank in the mid-morning post. It didn’t bode well. ‘I’d like to have seen Vera Munro’s face if she’d spotted that.’

  Sarah watched the way her husband joked with Freda. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d laughed together, or been intimate. There might as well be a brick wall down the middle of their bed, she thought bitterly. Why was it Freda brought a smile to his face, while around her he was morose and miserable? It was as if he had shifted his affection elsewhere. The thought hit her in the stomach like a sledgehammer. She all but staggered back – there must be something going on between the pair of them, as she feared. That’s why Alan was no longer interested in building the business, and he didn’t bother coming home on time or contributing to the housekeeping as much as he used to. She picked up her handbag, and with as much dignity as she could muster, she turned towards the open door and walked away without saying a word.

  ‘My goodness, Sarah, you look terrible. Are you going down with something? Oh, please don’t say you are – not the day before George and Maureen’s big day.’ Betty had been standing by one of the large shop windows, supervising the building of a special display, when she spotted Sarah walking slowly towards the store and hurried out to greet her. The young woman was in a world of her own as she all but staggered through the busy Friday afternoon shoppers, being knocked from side to side and hardly noticing. ‘Come into my office and I’ll use my telephone to get hold of Alan and have him collect you.’ Betty took her arm and guided her into the store, where they bumped into Maisie.

  ‘Bloody hell – ’as there been an accident? You look ghostly white,’ she said, laying her purchases on a nearby counter and taking Sarah’s other arm. Together they led her through the door marked ‘staff only’ and guided her up the steep stairs and into Betty’s office. ‘You sit yourself down there,’ Maisie ordered, ‘and I’ll go rustle up some hot tea. I don’t suppose you’ve got something stronger hidden away in your desk drawer, have you?’ she asked, but seeing Betty shake her head she hurried away towards the staff canteen. Maisie had not worked for F. W. Woolworths for two years, but still treated the store as if she was an employee and was welcomed by all who knew her.

  Betty frowned. ‘There’s a small bottle of brandy in the first aid kit, but I’m sure a strong cup of tea will do the trick,’ she said, kneeling in front of Sarah, who was now sitting down and staring ahead, in a world of her own.

  Maisie turned at the door to look as Betty took both Sarah’s hands in hers and held them tight. Giving them a little shake to bring the stricken woman out of her reverie, she spoke firmly. ‘Now, Sarah, what is this all about? Have you seen an accident? Has something happened to make you upset?’

  Sarah gave a small shake of her head and mumbled, ‘Alan.’

  ‘What’s ’appened to Alan?’ Maisie said, forgetting she was going for tea and hurrying back to kneel next to Betty so she could look into Sarah’s vacant eyes. ‘Is he ill?’

  Sarah shook her head, causing strands of hair to escape from the now untidy French pleat at the back of her head. ‘Nothing can ever be the same again . . .’

  ‘What do you mean, Sarah – have you done something?’ Betty said, shaking the distressed woman’s hand to try and keep her with them.

  Sarah tried to force the words from deep inside. ‘We had such dreams . . . at least I did,’ she said as a single tear ran down her cheek. ‘He’s betrayed me, and he’s betrayed the children and everything that ever mattered to us,’ she said as she tried to hold back a shuddering sob.

  ‘Bloody ’ell – ’as he murdered someone?’ Maisie exclaimed. ‘This is just like those crime books Freda reads.’

  Betty glared at Maisie. ‘Now is not the time for joking,’ she hissed as Sarah pulled her hands sharply from Betty and stood up, the chair scraping and screeching on the linoleum floor, putting their teeth on edge, before it fell over with a crash. ‘Is that the problem – has Alan become involved in something, Sarah?’

  Maisie’s face grew serious. ‘’As he been arrested?’

  Sarah put her hand to her lips and chewed frantically on a well-manicured nail before blurting out, ‘He’s having a love affair with Freda,’ and collapsing against Betty’s shoulder in a fit of uncontrollable sobbing.

  Betty wrapped her arms around the woman, soothing her with gentle words before looking to where Maisie stood with her mouth wide open. ‘Now’s the time to find that bottle of brandy,’ she said, looking grim.

  Maisie hurried from the room, leaving Betty to calm Sarah. It took a few minutes before she managed to ease her back into the chair she’d quickly righted and then reach for a clean handkerchief in her desk drawer for Sarah to wipe away her tears and blow her nose. Pulling her own chair closer, she rubbed the girl’s back until Sarah was a little calmer, although she still gave the occasional small shudder before taking a deep breath, doing her utmost to compose herself. ‘I’m sorry to bother you with my problems. I didn’t know who else to turn to,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t tell Dad, what with him marrying Alan’s mum tomorrow. He may have divided loyalties. And as for Nan – well, she’d be round there with a rolling pin to sort him out.’

  She might also have sat you both down and given you a good talking to, Betty thought but didn’t say. ‘What are friends for, if not to help in times of need? You told me not so long ago that things were strained between you and Alan. Has there been some kind of falling out, for you to come to this conclusion?’

  ‘No, we hadn’t fallen out – it was more what I saw, and realized. Granted we’d just exchanged a few sharp words in the workshop, and the air was tense, but his whole demeanour changed when Freda appeared. It was as if he was glad to see her, much more than he has been of late to see me. It can only mean one thing.’

  Betty thought there was little there for her to comment on. It would have been different if Sarah had walked in on Alan and Freda in a compromising situation; but there again, when a couple had been married for as long as Alan and Sarah, surely a wife could tell . . .?

  ‘I’ve decided to confront Alan and tell him I no longer want him sleeping under my roof until he closes the workshop and finds himself a proper job,’ Sarah said, jutting out her chin in a defiant manner. ‘Perhaps back here?’ she added, looking to Betty for support. ‘I know it’s been a few years since he was a trainee manager, but he could soon learn any changes in the management system since he left,’ she said, almost pleading.

  Betty thought of the self-assured man who had returned after the war. She had wondered at the time whether he would be able to cope with the often mundane life of working in a Woolworths store. She doubted he could. Besides, he had a long-cherished dream of owning his own business, and Betty felt that dreams should never
be crushed, even if the road to success was a rocky one. Alan’s seemed to be rather rocky at the moment, from what she’d observed and from what Sarah had told her. No – Woolworths would not suit Alan Gilbert any more, and Alan Gilbert would not suit Woolworths.

  Taking what she thought was the cowardly way out, she nodded as Sarah spoke. ‘But if there is something between Alan and Freda – not that I’m doubting you,’ she added quickly, seeing Sarah’s expression, ‘would it be wise to push them together day in and day out?’

  ‘Gosh, I’d not thought of that,’ Sarah replied. She fell silent for a couple of seconds. ‘Then Freda will have to go. Can you not transfer her somewhere? Birmingham would be good, as she came from there.’

  Betty thought the idea preposterous, but she couldn’t say so, seeing the fragile state Sarah was in at the moment. ‘No, I don’t think it is,’ she started to say, and raised her hand as Sarah was about to protest. ‘You must think of your children. How would Georgina and Buster –’ she still flinched at the nickname – ‘feel if their father moved away, which would be sure to happen if he truly loved this woman and decided to follow her to the ends of the earth?’

  A fresh flood of tears followed, making Betty wish she hadn’t been quite so harsh. However, Sarah needed to take a hold on her emotions and think of the consequences of any form of action. ‘I’ve lost him, haven’t I?’ she sobbed, as Maisie returned with a tea tray that also contained the medicinal brandy.

  ‘Here we go. A nice cup of Rosie Lee and a nip of brandy will soon perk you up,’ she said, giving a false grin while summing up the situation.

  ‘My question to you, Sarah,’ said Betty, looking closely at the woman sitting in front of her, ‘is do you want to lose Alan? Or are you prepared to put up a fight for the man you truly love?’