‘Hang on a minute,’ Sarah said, as a memory bubbled to the surface of her mind. ‘Were you the young kid we found hiding in the storeroom when we were trapped by the unexploded bomb that came down on the tobacconist over the road? It must have been six or seven years ago, if I remember correctly.’
‘Blow me down with a feather – fancy you remembering all of that. I take it you was stuck there as well?’
‘I worked at Woolworths. I still do, but I’m part-time now I have two children, and I help out in the office.’
‘Why, you girls were lovely to me. What you thought of why I was hiding there I’ll never know, but it didn’t matter, as it was Woolies that turned the corner for me. I’ve had a good life since then. Please give my regards to your mates, won’t you? There was a young girl not much older than me who worked there. I’ve thought of her often, as someone said she’d run away from home and come to Erith.’
Sarah frowned. ‘That will be Freda. She still works over the road. You should come in and see her. I’m sure she’d like to say hello.’
‘No, I’d feel daft if she didn’t know who I was. You are lucky, working in such a nice place and having such friends.’
‘I’ll tell them about you. But can you answer a question for me?’
‘Fire away – but if it’s about the rock-hard scones, you’ll need to see the manageress,’ Jessie grinned.
‘I just wondered why you didn’t apply for a job in Woolworths? I’d think it was more up your street than here. It’s a bit on the posh side, if you don’t take offence at me saying so,’ Sarah grinned. ‘I always feel I should be on my best behaviour when I come in.’
Jessie grinned back. ‘I was too frightened, to be honest, what with the way I was found hiding there. But meeting you and remembering how nice everyone was . . . well, I may just pop over and ask about a job. Thank you for suggesting it. I’m grateful,’ she smiled. ‘You’re a decent lot over there.’
Sarah smiled to herself as she poured her tea. She’d be sure to remind Betty of the frightened young girl they had discovered way back in . . . why, it must have been the Christmas of 1941, if she wasn’t mistaken. She returned to the pile of photographs, feeling a warm glow as she looked at all the people who had turned up to wish her dad and Maureen well on their happy day. It was only when she reached the one she’d taken of Alan and Freda together that her face fell.
There was no denying they had been deep in conversation when she’d lifted her camera. The photo in front of her had caught them just as they started to hug each other. She placed it into her pocket, not sure what to do. The last photograph on the pile was face up on the table, and Sarah froze. It was Freda beaming into the camera. The photograph she’d taken of her, for the New Bond staff competition.
Freda looked fresh-faced and happy as she smiled into the camera lens, but all Sarah could see was the woman who was carrying on with her husband. Checking no one was watching, she picked up the photo and tore it into small pieces – and then took the negative from the packet and slipped it into her pocket to cut up and throw away once she was home. ‘I’ll play no part in helping you become a New Bond cover girl,’ she muttered to herself as she stirred her tea.
Freda headed back into Woolworths and ran upstairs to the staffroom, where she pulled on her overall. She was a few minutes late. Betty ran a tight ship, and would not be amused if she knew her supervisors were slacking. With six new staff members, including Effie, working behind the counters, Freda had been tasked with checking on four of the younger women to see if they understood what was expected of them. She also had to move them between the various counters, so that they gained experience and Freda could see where they were best suited. She decided to start on the counter that she disliked most – vegetables. Not only was it hefty work, as the women had to tip sacks of potatoes and other seasonal veg onto the counter, but it was also messy. In the colder months the women complained of having to handle the wet muddy spuds. Even though gloves were provided, the women still complained and everyone preferred to work on the other counters. Freda’s one fear was sticking her finger into a slug. She’d done it once and screamed aloud, frightening customers who were queueing to be served. These days, if she ventured anywhere near the long counter that ran across the width of the store, she stayed alert to the horrible slimy things, which seemed to be attracted to her.
Keeping one eye on the vegetables, she called out to Effie for her to join her once she’d finished serving her customer. Freda carried a clipboard so she could follow the checklist for each of the young girls. Betty had already made several comments relating to Effie’s good timekeeping and clean appearance. Freda frowned, thinking back to when she had spotted the young girl leaving the house in Wheatley Terrace. Why had she even been inside that property? And she’d looked none too happy as she left.
‘You wanted to speak to me, Miss Smith?’ Effie Dyer said as she approached the side of the counter where Freda stood.
‘There’s no need to look so worried,’ Freda said kindly as she looked at the young girl, who reminded her so much of herself when she’d first joined F. W. Woolworths. A little too thin, with high cheekbones and blonde hair scraped back in a thin ribbon, Effie looked at her with large, rather scared blue eyes. ‘I only wanted to check how you were getting on, and if you had any concerns?’
The tension in the girl’s face disappeared and was replaced with a smile of relief. ‘I thought I’d done something wrong,’ she said. ‘I like my job and want to do the best I can.’
Freda nodded encouragingly. ‘That’s what I like to hear. I’ve been assigned the task of looking after you and the three other new members of staff, so if you have a problem, or just want to ask a question, then come and find me.’
Effie nodded her head by way of thanks. ‘I just want to find somewhere decent to live; but that’s not Woolworths’ problem. There was a card on the staffroom noticeboard and I mentioned it to Mrs Billington, but now it’s been taken down . . . It mentioned being local to the store, which would have been handy. I do oversleep sometimes,’ she added, immediately looking ashamed for saying so.
Freda laughed. She’d had the same problem, so could sympathize. On cold mornings, when there was ice inside the window frame and she knew she’d need to boil a kettle in order to wash before dressing, she too would linger under the blankets. Being rescued by Sarah and her family and then living with Ruby had made all the difference. Perhaps it was now her turn to help out another young woman? Despite her reservations, and before she could change her mind, Freda said, ‘I was the one who placed the card on the noticeboard, and the room is still available. If you’d like to wait back after work we can have a chat, if you like?’ She could see the girl was interested, but then a shadow fell over her face.
‘But you’re a boss here. Would it be all right for me to rent a room from you?’
For the first time, Freda felt grown up. Amongst her friends she was the youngest, and they’d always watched out for her. Now she could do the same for a younger person. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she smiled. ‘I do have a couple of other lodgers, including one of our trainee managers.’
Effie visibly shrank, and the light left her eyes. ‘A man lives in your house?’
Freda could see the girl found that a problem. ‘Everyone has their own room with a key, and my other lodger is a young woman with her little son. I’m very choosy about who I allow to live in my home,’ she said reassuringly. ‘Why don’t we have that chat after work, and if all goes well you can come and see the room?’
The girl thought for a moment, and gradually the smile came back to her face. ‘Yes, I’d like that. Thank you.’
Freda watched her go back to serving the customers, and made a note on her clipboard. She’d pop upstairs to the office and have a word with Betty if she was free. She liked Effie, but she still couldn’t shake the image of her scuttling away from that dodgy-looking house in Wheatley Terrace. It would be good to discuss her fears with som
eone else now that the girl might be living under her roof. She’d not like to be known for taking in someone with loose morals.
10
Sarah, with much on her mind, decided not to head home straight away after her cup of tea in Hedley Mitchell’s. The atmosphere at home was tense, with Alan sitting deep in thought most of the time, apart from when he walked to the pub for a pint. Sarah felt as though she was walking on eggshells and had taken to sending the children to a neighbour who usually looked after them when she worked, rather than them having to play quietly so as not to upset their brooding father.
With help from friends and neighbours, it had taken only a few hours to clear the workshop space of debris. All that remained was a burnt-out shell, although they’d managed to salvage some of the tools and equipment, now being stored in their shed. Sarah had tentatively suggested she bring Alan’s accounts up to date and help with any other paperwork that had survived the fire, but he’d dismissed her offers of help with a wave of the hand. Her suggestion of making an appointment to see Betty about returning to work at Woolworths had been met with barely hidden contempt. Sarah could appreciate that since Alan had left his trainee manager’s job at the start of the war – and had gone on to join the RAF and seen so much action – he didn’t feel as though he could return to a mundane job. He’d told her enough times that he wanted to be his own boss. That was all well and good, but he now had responsibilities and needed to consider his family. She was at her wits’ end trying to find a way to turn her husband back to the young man she’d fallen in love with. Whatever she tried or said was dismissed or ignored. She was beginning to feel as though their marriage was over and not worth rescuing. However, something deep inside was telling her to fight for her man. But how?
Sarah walked into Woolworths, stopping to chat with a few customers and staff who enquired about the fire. People meant well, but she just wanted her life to get back to normal. Would it ever, with Alan now out of work and barely willing to talk to her? Excusing herself, she hurried upstairs to Betty’s office and entered after tapping on the door.
‘Sarah, my love, I was just thinking about you,’ Betty exclaimed, hurrying around the desk to hug her friend closely. ‘Now sit yourself down and tell me – what has happened since I last saw you? I was expecting Alan to come in to see me. You know the door will always be open at Woolworths for him to return.’
Sarah sat in the chair opposite Betty and gave a big sigh. ‘I’ve tried, Betty – oh, how I’ve tried – but he just doesn’t seem interested in returning to a steady job with prospects. The problem is I have no idea what he wants to do next. He just won’t talk to me,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders. ‘Honestly, I could wring his neck!’
Betty burst out laughing. ‘I’m sorry; but I was thinking back to all the times you’ve been in here crying over Alan. Why, I do believe you’ve grown up – not that I think tears are a bad thing sometimes.’
Sarah was startled by Betty’s words, then joined in with her friend’s laughter. ‘I do think you’re right. There’s a time for tears, and there’s a time for rolling up one’s sleeves and getting stuck in.’
‘You could be right,’ Betty said, thinking of her stepdaughters and how she’d had to learn quickly about bringing up two girls and then having a child herself. ‘There are days when I thank God I have a job to go to and can leave my family in the care of our housekeeper. Do you know, I seriously considered boarding school for a while? Then I realized I’d be distraught at not having them to come home to every evening.’
‘We are a pair,’ Sarah declared, knowing just how Betty was feeling. The Woolworths manageress had tackled a growing family and a new husband in the same way: she’d rolled up her sleeves and taken up the reins, running a busy store when the male staff went off to war. ‘We deserve medals,’ she chuckled.
‘I have something better,’ Betty said, giving her a wink before pulling open a drawer of the desk and taking out a cake tin adorned with pictures of the King’s coronation. ‘Maureen gave me a gift before she went on her honeymoon. She told me not to eat it all at once – she knows how I love a fruit cake, but she told me they were biscuits, so it was such a surprise when I opened the tin. She is a dear,’ Betty said, patting her stomach. ‘I have to be so careful at my age, so I’ve been savouring one slice each day.’
Sarah peered into the tin, looking puzzled. ‘Wherever did she get all that dried fruit from to make a cake? Come to think of it, how did she manage to find the fruit for that beautiful wedding cake she made?’
Betty tapped the side of her nose. ‘I believe our Maisie had a hand in this. It seems she knows someone working on the docks . . .’
‘Thank goodness for Maisie. Who’d have thought that this long after the end of the war we would still have shortages? There was a time I’d not have looked at anything remotely dodgy,’ Sarah said as she took the proffered slice.
‘I won’t tell if you don’t,’ Betty grinned. ‘I do think we deserve a cup of tea to wash this down,’ she said, placing her slice of cake on top of the tin and hurrying to the office door, where she called out to a passing assistant to kindly fetch two cups of tea. She left the door ajar and went back to her seat.
‘Oh, I have the wedding photographs in my bag,’ Sarah said, reaching for the envelope and passing them to Betty, who wiped her hands on her handkerchief before looking at the pictures.
‘You’ve taken some very good photographs, Sarah,’ Betty said as she turned each one over after looking carefully at the wedding guests. ‘I would love to have attended the service, but with Douglas working and it being a busy day here, it wasn’t to be. However, you’ve done such a good job I almost feel as though I was there.’
Sarah beamed with pride. ‘I can tell you, it was a relief to see they looked all right. I was sure I’d chop off people’s heads or miss something important . . . I haven’t missed someone out, have I?’ she asked as Betty checked back through the pile, apparently looking for something.
‘It doesn’t matter. You probably didn’t have time to take a photograph of Freda for the cover girl competition for the staff magazine. Or perhaps it didn’t come out,’ she asked as she saw Sarah squirm in her seat before looking down into her lap in embarrassment. ‘Is there something you’ve not told me?’ Betty asked.
‘I tore it up,’ Sarah muttered.
‘Well, there’s bound to be a couple of spoilt photographs,’ Betty consoled her.
Sarah knew she couldn’t lie to Betty. ‘It was a nice photograph, but . . . but . . .’ She couldn’t finish her words as large tears dropped onto her lap.
‘Now, come along, Sarah, what did we say about tears not ten minutes ago? You can confide in me if there is a problem.’
Sarah shook her head and gulped, trying hard to stop the tears. ‘This is different. Betty, I don’t think Alan loves me any more. I’m sure now that Alan and Freda are in love . . . She wants to steal my husband,’ she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the photograph of Freda in Alan’s arms outside the church.
Outside the door, Freda froze in shock. Wanting to speak to Betty about Effie, she’d relieved her colleague of the tea tray, saying that she’d take it up to the office. She’d been about to bump open the door with her elbow when she’d heard Sarah start to cry. She heard everything that was said inside the room as clearly as if she’d been standing next to her friends. How could Sarah believe she wanted to steal her husband? Why would she even think such a thing? Feeling indignant, Freda barged into the room and put the tea down, slopping much of it into the saucers. ‘I heard everything you said, and it’s not true. I’m not stealing your husband away from you! Why would you say such a thing?’
Betty leapt to her feet and hurriedly closed the office door before steering Freda to her seat and encouraging the girl to sit down. ‘Please keep your voices down,’ she said sternly. ‘I don’t wish your private problems to be overheard and shared by the staff. Now, I shall leave you alone while you sort this out,
’ she added, picking up her handbag.
‘No! Please stay. I have nothing to say that can’t be heard by you or any other member of staff,’ Freda said firmly. ‘Alan is like a brother to me, and has been ever since I came to Erith. Just as you’ve been like the sister I never had. Please believe me. I’m not telling lies,’ she said turning to face Sarah, who was staring coldly at her.
‘Then what about this? What about the times when you and Alan are whispering together? What about all the times you are at the workshop alone? Why was it you who had to go and rescue Alan from the fire? Why . . .?’ Sarah stopped asking questions and threw the photograph across the desk as Betty placed a hand on her shoulder.
Freda felt helpless. She knew she couldn’t tell Sarah about Alan’s money problems with the workshop and Frank Unthank. It wasn’t her place to do so; but she didn’t want Sarah to think that anything was going on between her and Alan. She picked up the photograph and smiled for a moment, recalling the conversation she’d had with Alan at the wedding. Slowly a thought crossed her mind. ‘It’s not what it seems . . .’ She looked at Sarah beseechingly, but knew she couldn’t break a confidence. ‘You need to speak to Alan. Ask him to explain what’s been going on . . .’
‘Don’t you think I’ve tried to speak to my husband?’ Sarah fired back. ‘He never wants to speak to me. He clams up as soon as I walk into the room, he turns his back on me in bed and then he doesn’t seem to sleep. He’s the ghost of the man I married, and you seem to be at the bottom of everything that’s gone wrong.’
Wedding Bells for Woolworths Page 16