‘Blimey, this sounds serious,’ Maisie said, perching herself on the edge of the desk and reaching for the brandy.
‘It’s the end of my marriage,’ Sarah said dramatically, looking Maisie in the eye and defying her to crack a joke.
‘Are you sure about that, Sarah?’ Betty was concerned at the finality of her friend’s words.
‘Yes,’ Sarah insisted. ‘I’m going to sort this out once and for all, whether the pair of them like it or not.’
‘But what about the wedding? You don’t want ter spoil Maureen and yer Dad’s big day, do you?’ Maisie asked, thinking of the repercussions on the whole of the extended family. ‘P’raps you need ter take some time to think about things. Give it a few days and make some plans.’
‘I agree with Maisie. How will it look to the outside world if you spoil the wedding day with your own personal problems? It could also damage any business Alan does have, which would in turn be disastrous for you and the children. You need to think of the ramifications in all this so that when the news comes out, which it is bound to do, people will see you as the brave young woman who carried on regardless of her husband’s . . .’ Betty stopped, trying to think of a word that wouldn’t set off Sarah’s tears all over again.
‘Affair?’ Maisie said without thinking.
Fortunately, Sarah was focused on Betty, and nodded her head in agreement. ‘I can always rely on you to make sense of a situation, Betty. I should bide my time and make plans. But if Alan thinks he and Freda are going to skulk behind my back seeing each other, he has another think coming,’ she said defiantly.
‘In the meantime,’ Maisie said as she handed out the tea, ‘I think you should show Alan what he’d be missing if the marriage was ter break up.’
Sarah frowned. ‘Do you mean I should have an affair or something, and let him find out?’
Maisie spluttered into her tea as she hooted with laughter. ‘No! I mean you should look like a million dollars at the wedding tomorrow. Be the most glamorous woman in the room.’
Sarah’s eyes lit up for a moment before she again became downcast. ‘There’s a fat chance of that. I was only going to treat myself to a new hat, and if I don’t get a shove on Hedley Mitchell’s will have closed and it’ll be my old navy felt coming out for another outing.’
‘I’ve got something that came in the other day. It almost looks like new. A two-piece red woollen suit and an ivory silk blouse. I think there’s a titfer and a bag in my cupboard that would match the ensemble.’
‘A titfer?’ Betty asked, not understanding Maisie’s language yet again.
‘A “tit for tat” – a hat,’ Sarah explained. ‘It’s rhyming slang.’
Betty giggled as she thought about it. ‘Well, I never. Whatever next!’
‘It’s decent of you to offer, Maisie, but I can’t have you lending me your stock, really I can’t,’ Sarah said, raising a hand as Maisie started to insist. ‘I’m grateful all the same – to both of you. You must think I’m an awful cry-baby, running here like that . . .’
‘We don’t think you’re a cry-baby. In fact, we’d be proper offended if you didn’t come to us in times of trouble. We’d do exactly the same, ’cos that’s what friends are for. As fer the clobber, you’re going to ’ave it even if I ’ave to tie you to a chair and dress you myself,’ Maisie added, wagging her finger at Sarah.
The three women looked at each other and burst out laughing. ‘Oh Maisie, you’re a tonic,’ Betty said. ‘I do think you should take up the offer, Sarah. In fact, I think you should make sure Alan doesn’t see you in your outfit until you’re both in the church. I take it he is giving his mum away?’
‘Yes, and I’ll be at Nan’s tonight to keep her company, as it seems the men are going to have a stag do. Bob’s going too, so Nan will be alone.’
‘Then I’ll come down and do your hair in the morning and help with your make-up. I’ll get our Claudette and Bessie to walk your two round to Maureen’s place to get into their bridesmaid and pageboy outfits; that way no one will see you until you make your entrance. Alan won’t be able to take his eyes off you – well, not if I ’ave anything ter do wiv it.’ Maisie smiled reassuringly.
The smile suddenly dropped from Sarah’s face. ‘But Freda was coming over to Nan’s to go to the church with us . . .’
‘Don’t give it another thought. I’ll nab her to help take my lot to the church. She won’t suspect a thing.’
‘That’s very kind of you, and a great weight off my mind.’
Betty looked concerned. ‘Please don’t do anything to spoil the wedding. Remember, revenge is a dish best served cold,’ she said, hoping that given time Sarah might think more sensibly about the situation.
‘Blimey, you’re going ter get your revenge on them? That could be interesting,’ Maisie guffawed, before noticing Betty’s prim look and falling silent for a moment. ‘Betty’s right. Leave it until after the wedding – a few days at least. You may see differently by then. You know, water under the bridge and all that . . .’
‘As I agreed before, I won’t spoil the wedding,’ Sarah replied, but her friends could see a defiant glint in her eye. What was she going to do? ‘I need to collect the children. Can I pop over to your shop in about an hour?’ she asked as she kissed her friends goodbye and thanked them for their help.
‘Blimey! I’ve forgotten about me shop. I only popped over the road to buy a zip and a reel of cotton,’ Maisie exclaimed as she went to follow Sarah out of the office.
‘Maisie – can you spare me just a few seconds?’ Betty said as she waved goodbye to Sarah before closing the door.
‘What can I do fer you?’ Maisie asked, looking puzzled.
‘I wondered what you made of all this?’
‘I know I’d kill my old man if he went running after another bit of skirt,’ Maisie replied, folding her arms across her front and taking on a fierce expression. ‘I thought Alan was better than all this. And as for Freda, I just don’t know what ter think. But Sarah seems to know her own mind.’
‘I’m not so sure Alan and Freda have done wrong. This is so out of character – my gut feeling is that there must be something else going on. I think perhaps I can do something . . .’ Betty added thoughtfully. ‘I just wanted to run it by you.’
‘Fire away,’ Maisie said, sitting down in the seat Sarah had just vacated. ‘Me customers can wait a while longer.’
‘I’ve decided to see if I can keep our Freda away from Alan as much as possible. My thoughts are that if we don’t interfere, except for keeping them apart, whatever’s happening may all blow over.’
‘’Ow are you going ter do that? She’s up that workshop working on those motorbikes whenever she ain’t at work,’ Maisie asked, looking mystified. ‘You know it’s her dream ter work wiv him one of these days. Surely she wouldn’t do anything to mess that up? Especially as Sarah’s been so good to her too.’
‘I know; and under normal circumstances Sarah would be fine with that. I would like to know what’s happened to change their happy marriage. I will keep Freda as busy as possible in order to give her no time to be Alan Gilbert’s sidekick.’
‘Good thinking. If I can ’elp, just give me a shout,’ Maisie said.
‘I’ll come down with you to see how the window display is developing. I’m hoping our customers will enjoy our homage to the royal engagement.’
Maisie looked downcast. ‘It’s sad ter think as one marriage is about ter start, another one could be finishing. One that started right ’ere in this store wiv Alan proposing to Sarah by the pots and pans counter.’
‘Extremely sad – so we must form a pact to do all we can to help our two friends,’ Betty agreed as she straightened her jacket and prepared to go downstairs to supervise her staff once more.
‘Three people,’ said Maisie. ‘Our Freda has a lot to lose, just like Alan and Sarah, if this all goes pear-shaped . . .’
7
Freda checked her dainty wristwatch. It was the on
e her friends had clubbed together and given her for her twenty-first birthday. She saved it for special occasions, and the day of Maureen and George’s wedding certainly qualified as one of those. It still seemed strange to think that Alan’s mum was marrying Sarah’s dad, she chuckled to herself as she checked her hat in the front-room mirror for the umpteenth time. Well, she was in the front room but, with a bed and chest of drawers installed it was more like the bedroom she hoped Anthony Forsythe would enjoy staying in as he completed his convalescence. Douglas had informed her, after visiting Anthony, that what they had assumed to be a broken leg was in fact a torn ligament. Anthony also had a nasty gash on his thigh. Freda shuddered as she remembered the blood on the road after his fall. With luck, she thought, it would mean the man would be out of her hair sooner rather than later, although she was no medical expert. He was due at any moment, but if he didn’t turn up soon, she’d miss out on seeing everyone outside St Paulinus or being able to chat with her friends, and instead would have to dash into the church and sit somewhere at the back. Where was Douglas Billington? Surely it was a simple enough job to collect the patient from Erith cottage hospital and drop him off not half a mile down the road.
She picked up a discarded copy of the Erith Observer that had been left open at the page announcing the betrothal of Erith’s favourite councillor to a local lady. There was an official photograph of George on the day he had won the local council election, and another of Maureen taken when she was helping out at the last Woolworths Christmas party for the old soldiers. She was smiling into the camera, having just sung a rousing rendition of ‘Waiting at the Church’, which was rather funny considering what the article was about. There was also mention of Maureen’s son, Alan, being a business owner in the town. Maureen would be so proud.
A prickle of fear ran down Freda’s spine as she wondered whether Frank Unthank knew about the wedding. Almost everyone took the local newspaper; it covered not only news and social events but sports results, prosecutions and what was on at the cinemas and theatres. If Unthank was aware of the wedding, would he cause trouble knowing it was Alan’s family? Even with the pittance they’d managed to scrape together, which Alan had delivered to Unthank yesterday, aided by Lemuel, he’d still been well short of the sum owed. It had been fortunate only Unthank’s secretary was in his office; they’d left the envelope containing the money and a letter of explanation, and hurried away before he’d appeared. Alan had laughed it off when he returned to the workshop, but Freda could see the trip to West Street had unnerved him. Only Lemuel seemed unconcerned.
Alan really should speak to Sarah about all of this, Freda thought. Only last week she’d overheard her friend talking about planning to take the children to Whitstable, to show them the seaside and where Mummy and Daddy had visited when they were first married. Buster might be too young to understand, but he would love to splash in the sea; and Georgina, it seemed, had asked about their wedding and been enthralled by the story. However much it would delight the children, though, a trip like that would cost money – money that would be better spent getting Alan away from the clutches of Frank Unthank and his mob. But then Sarah deserved a treat. She’d been acting rather down lately, and it was hard to get her alone for one of their friendly chats.
Freda was still deep in her thoughts when a black car momentarily blocked out the sunlight coming through the lace curtains of the bay window, making her jump. Thankfully it was Douglas, and in the passenger seat of the vehicle was Anthony Forsythe.
Freda rushed out to help, and had to laugh as she saw that Douglas had again used a hearse from his business. Anthony seemed unimpressed by his new landlady’s joviality.
‘You must have had heads turning, arriving at the hospital in this,’ she said as Douglas greeted her.
‘It brightens what can sometimes be a gloomy day,’ Douglas replied as he opened the passenger door and helped Anthony onto the pavement. ‘Can you get the crutches, please, Freda? They’re in the back. I’ll come back for the bags once we’ve got this young man settled.’
Freda hurriedly did as he asked, trying not to think about what was usually loaded and unloaded out of this particular door. ‘Here you are,’ she said, doing her best to help Anthony prop a crutch under each arm. ‘Can you manage?’
‘Do you think they’d have let me out if I couldn’t?’ he growled as he gingerly moved up the short pathway to the front door. The step over the threshold was a little trickier, but he made it. He paused in the hallway and then looked towards Freda, waiting to be told where to go next.
‘Just in here,’ she said, pointing towards the open door. ‘We thought you’d be more comfortable in the front room. Douglas and his wife Betty lent us a bed and we brought down a chest of drawers from the spare room upstairs. If you need anything else, please just say so.’
Anthony turned to Douglas, who had just walked through the door carrying a canvas holdall. ‘It’s very good of you to go to all this trouble for me. I’m grateful,’ he said gruffly.
‘Don’t mention it,’ Douglas said, giving him a slap on the back, which momentarily had Anthony hanging tightly onto the crutches as they started to slip on the linoleum. ‘We all help each other out around here. I’ll be getting back, if you don’t need any more help. We are a little short staffed, what with David having the day off for the wedding. Give the bride and groom my best wishes, and we will see you this evening at the reception,’ he said to Freda, closing the front door as he left.
‘I’ve put the armchair here next to the wireless, so you don’t have to move much. Shall I unpack your bag for you?’ Freda asked as she reached for the holdall.
‘No!’ Anthony said, reaching to stop her and letting a crutch crash to the floor. ‘I can manage. You get off to your wedding.’
Freda rubbed her arm where he’d grabbed her. It wasn’t so much the harshness of his touch . . . no. It was something else . . . something intimate and warm, and somehow familiar. Feeling rather puzzled, she started to leave the room. ‘I have some sandwiches for you. They’re only potted paste, but it’s filling. I’ll make a cup of tea and then I’ll have to scoot, or I’ll miss the service. I can come back to help you later on if you like?’
Anthony hesitated a moment, and then managed a smile. ‘No, you’ve done more than enough for me, and I can make my own tea. You hurry along,’ he said, putting his weight on his good leg to reach down for the fallen crutch. ‘Oh, and Freda . . .’
Freda stopped in her tracks. ‘Yes?’
‘You look very beautiful in your finery. It makes a nice change from your Woolworths uniform.’
She put her hand to her face as she felt her cheeks start to burn. ‘Thank you.’ He’d noticed her at work was all she could think as she picked up her handbag. She hurried from the house, trying to make sense of her feelings.
Sarah had lost count of the number of compliments she’d received from family and friends as she stood in the grounds of St Paulinus after the wedding service. She had to admit she felt like a queen in the smart red suit with its matching accessories. She couldn’t wait to find out what Alan thought of her new outfit. No one would know it was second-hand, she’d thought earlier when she’d given a quick twirl in her Nan’s bedroom while getting herself ready.
There’d not been a dry eye in the place as George and Maureen spoke their vows to each other; Sarah couldn’t help but think her mum would be proud of her family, and was hopefully looking down on them with a smile. She knew Irene would have approved of her outfit, and the smart hairstyle. Maisie had laboured over it for more than an hour before stepping back and announcing that Alan would be a fool if he didn’t fall in love with his wife all over again. Sarah just hoped he’d notice her, as he’d not been near nor by her since walking his mum down the aisle, then joining his relatives after the service.
‘Don’t forget you’re supposed to be taking the photographs, love,’ Ruby said as she joined her granddaughter. ‘I’d hate not to have something to remember the
day by. Georgina looked as pretty as a picture walking down the aisle behind her nanny Maureen. As for young Buster . . .’ She roared with laughter.
Sarah smiled indulgently. ‘Perhaps he was a little young to be a pageboy and stand still that long. His impersonation of an aeroplane roaring up and down the aisle was quite impressive, though.’
She looked at Ruby’s outfit admiringly. ‘I must say, your coat looks splendid.’
‘It looks as good as new – and look at this,’ she said, pointing to her head. ‘Maisie added a band of the velvet trimming to my hat, so it looks as though the whole outfit was made at the same time.’
‘She’s a clever lass and no mistake.’
Sarah agreed as she took her dad’s Box Brownie camera from its battered case. ‘This old thing has recorded so many family occasions,’ she smiled, feeling nostalgic. ‘If only it could talk, it could tell some stories.’
‘It does talk in a way, as it gives us memories to hold onto when our loved ones are no longer with us,’ Ruby said, glancing over to the corner of the graveyard where her first husband had been laid to rest. She also thought of Sarah’s mother, Irene, who was buried very nearby. Thumping her chest hard and trying not to cry, she put an arm around her eldest granddaughter to give her a squeeze. Tapping her head gently, she added, ‘We may keep our memories up here, but this little box gives us something to smile over. Don’t ever feel sad about anything, my love.’
Sarah kissed Ruby’s cheek, wondering as she did if her nan knew anything of what was going on between her and Alan. No doubt she’d picked up on the tension between them and would be asking questions before too long. ‘Weddings are emotional occasions, I think. It’s all that looking back and remembering other times. Well, I’d best go record some more memories, or I’ll have the happy couple after me,’ Sarah said, heading off round the side of the church to where the wedding party had gathered. It was a relatively small group, with more friends and associates of her Dad’s being invited to the evening reception at the Prince of Wales pub.
Wedding Bells for Woolworths Page 11