Wedding Bells for Woolworths

by Elaine Everest

  Alan looked around him in horror. The Unthanks, dragging David and Mike with them, had disappeared into the water. Loud screams from the deck below told him that women and children had also gone overboard. How had such a happy event turned into complete horror? Reaching the captain, Alan pulled him away from the wheel and laid him on the deck. He could see the man was breathing and, thank goodness, not badly injured. He heard a shout from one of the crew who, realizing what had happened, rushed over and seized the wheel, tugging it hard to correct the boat’s direction. The boat shuddered as it changed course and Alan heard further cries from the decks outside, but the boat was soon back under control. Leaving the deckhand to see to the captain, Alan hurried back to the dance floor, where just moments before he and the other guests had been enjoying Freda and Tony’s special day.

  Alan scanned the dance area looking for his wife and children but couldn’t see them. Panicking now, he leant over the side rail and spotted David Carlisle holding up two small children. Relief rushed through him as he realized that Buster and Georgina were safe. He spotted Douglas, who was labouring with the lifeless shape of a man. ‘Sarah,’ he called out, continuing to search the dark waters for his wife. Then he saw her, struggling to stay above water. Without thinking, he dived in to save her.

  Looking back, Freda couldn’t remember exactly how those in the water were pulled to safety. Her abiding memory was of trying to rip off her veil and wedding gown as they dragged her under the water, pulling her down and down. Telling herself not to panic and to hold her breath, she wriggled out of her dress and immediately felt herself come up to the surface, where hands grabbed her and pulled her back onto the boat. It was still listing dangerously to one side. Maisie rushed over to her and wrapped her in a coat, then helped her walk as best she could on the uneven deck. ‘Who is in the water?’ she asked with chattering teeth.

  Maisie wanted to answer, ‘Too many to count,’ but she could see Freda was in shock. With relief Maisie could see her own family was safe and, as she watched, David was pulled aboard with Georgina and Myfi, who were sobbing hysterically.

  ‘Arthur, Arthur,’ Sadie started to scream, as hands held her back from throwing herself into the water. ‘My Arthur fell in,’ she cried.

  Maisie, who was still comforting Freda and had been given the two children by David, had her hands full. Unable to help, she watched in despair as both Lemuel and James jumped into the water, followed by Tony, swimming to where there were still youngsters in the river. Beside her, Freda started to scream and then to sob uncontrollably.

  18

  October 11th, 1948

  Mike Jackson sat in silence as the police vehicle sped away from the graveyard and headed towards the cottage hospital. He was afraid that, having just said goodbye to one friend, there could be more bad news waiting for the three women when they arrived. Nobody spoke as the car moved through the streets of Erith and drew up at the entrance to the hospital, where Mike helped them out of the car.

  ‘They want to speak to you both in the sister’s office before you go onto the ward,’ Mike said, looking at Sarah and Freda.

  ‘Can I stay wiv them?’ Maisie asked. ‘They might need me . . .’

  Mike nodded, although Sarah and Freda didn’t speak. Their pale faces and vacant eyes spoke volumes.

  ‘We had to go to the funeral to say our goodbyes and pay our respects to a man who saved our kiddies,’ Maisie said anxiously to Mike. ‘I pray we did the right thing, and nothing has changed for the worse while we were away. Perhaps we should ’ave stayed here?’

  Sarah looked up. ‘We had to say thank you. It was the least we could do. He saved a life, and paid with his own.’

  Freda’s body shook as the tears came. ‘I can’t believe my actions have caused the deaths of three people. I must be such a bad person . . .’

  Maisie led her to a wooden seat and pushed her into it. ‘Now, Freda Forsythe, you listen ter me. You are not a bad person. If anything, you are the good one in all of this. You ’elped Alan. You ’elped Tony find friends and a wife. You’ve ’elped a lot of people, and should never blame yerself, or you’ll ’ave me ter answer to. Do you ’ear me? It’s the Unthanks who are ter blame in all of this.’

  Freda nodded slowly. ‘Yes, I hear you,’ she said, choking back more tears. ‘Where’s Betty with her clean handkerchiefs when we need them?’ she sniffed.

  ‘I just want to see Alan,’ Sarah fretted. ‘Where’s the doctor? If the doctor doesn’t get here soon, I’m going to go to the ward, and not wait for what he has to say. I hate to think he’s alone.’

  ‘He’s not alone. Maureen’s in there with him as well, so you’ve no need to worry,’ Mike said gently.

  ‘But I do worry,’ Sarah said. ‘I want to be with him. Please – let’s go into the ward now, shall we?’ she said as Freda stood up and joined her. ‘There’s time for talking later.’

  Sarah took Freda’s arm and they went into the small ward, where there was only one bed occupied of the four. Even with the curtains drawn, they could see three people by Alan’s bed, talking quietly to a doctor in a white coat.

  ‘Ah, Mrs Gilbert,’ the doctor said, pulling a seat forward for her. We have some news for you.’

  Sarah sat down next to Maureen, who squeezed her hand as she leant over to kiss her husband’s cheek. ‘I’m here, my love.’

  ‘Sarah?’ Alan called as he turned his heavily bandaged head toward her voice.

  ‘You’re awake. Oh, Alan, you’re back with us,’ she cried out. ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘Just after the three of you left for the . . . for the funeral,’ Maureen said, aware that Alan didn’t know what had happened in the aftermath of the pleasure boat colliding with the tug.

  Maureen budged over so that Sarah was as close to her husband as possible.

  ‘Alan, darling, do you remember much about the boat trip . . .?’

  ‘Not much,’ he murmured. One of his blue eyes was hidden by bandages, but he was looking at her with the other. ‘There was a lot of water and I could feel myself going under . . . Strong hands grabbed at me. I thought it was one of the fellas helping me but then he started to punch at me, and I went under again. When the hands found me a second time, I started . . . I started to fight back – and then it went dark . . . I think it may have been someone else trying to save me. Was it Lemuel?’

  Tony sat at the other side of the bed in his dressing gown, and one arm in plaster. ‘We think it was, Alan. We saw him in the river, before . . .’ He looked to the doctor, who nodded for him to go on. ‘We think Lemuel helped you before he was lost in the river. He rescued young Arthur for Sadie, and then went on to bring other children to safe hands. There were only you and James left in the water by then.’

  Alan groaned. ‘No, please don’t tell me Lem has died. He had so much to look forward to. It should have been me. I’m the one who messed up and lost my family.’

  Maureen patted her son’s arm and got to her feet. ‘It’s time we all left you so you can be alone with Sarah. It’s early days, but you have much to talk about, son,’ she said as she kissed him and left the room followed by Freda and Tony.

  ‘Mr Gilbert, we have more tests to run, but it is my opinion that you will in time recover from your injuries. There will be a few scars, but we all carry them in life, and you should be proud to carry yours. I’ll leave you with your wife,’ the doctor said, patting Alan’s shoulder before closing the door to the outside world so the couple could be alone.

  Alan reached out and Sarah leant close, taking him into her arms. ‘Please forgive me, Sarah. I couldn’t bear a life without you.’

  Sarah kissed him gently. She could feel the Alan she loved and knew so well was back with her. ‘There’s nothing to forgive. You just need to concentrate on getting well and strong again. We have the Woolworths Christmas party in ten weeks’ time. I want you there entertaining the old soldiers and singing my favourite songs, just like you used to,’ she said, speaking gently a
s his grip on her tightened.

  ‘Tell Betty I’m ready to return to the store. I’m giving up on running a workshop. It’s just not worth the hassle, with people like the Unthanks ruling Erith.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing.’ Sarah scolded. ‘The Unthank brothers perished in the accident, and Frank Unthank is under arrest for many other crimes. He’s a shattered man, having lost his sons. In a way I have some sympathy, as it must be so awful to lose a son. Cynthia hasn’t taken Lemuel’s death well, and neither has Sadie. Both women are beside themselves with grief. We will all miss him,’ she said, as Alan gripped her even tighter. ‘James has stepped in to take care of the business as his brother loved it so much. When you are ready, he will hand it back. It’s kept him going since the accident.’

  Alan was quiet for a while, and when he spoke again it was hesitant. ‘What about us . . .?’

  She kissed him gently. ‘As for us, we will look to the future, and you will build your empire. Why, it could be as large as Woolworths one day. Gilbert and Son has a nice ring to it.’

  ‘Gilbert and Wife sounds even better,’ he said, returning her kiss. ‘And I promise you there will be roses round the door of our own home one day, just like you’ve dreamt of for so long.’

  ‘I don’t need roses, Alan. I have you.’

  Acknowledgements

  First, I really must thank my husband Michael for his unstinting support – his nagging to get my words written, his wanting to chat about World War Two events while I’m watching Coronation Street, and for driving me to author events and book signings. I don’t know how he does it, as I know that if the tables were turned, I’d be a hopeless partner of an author.

  I’ve recently returned from a rather lovely Romantic Novelists’ Association event where the 2019 Joan Hessayon Award was announced. This is an annual event where the previous year’s New Writers’ Scheme graduates receive their certificates and the winning book and author is announced. For me this brings back many happy memories of my graduation year, as it was in the same year that I met my agent, Caroline Sheldon. This led, after all Caroline’s hard work, to Pan Macmillan offering that first contract – and The Woolworths Girls was born. I’ve had the support and help of many wonderful editors along the way, as well as the team at ED Public Relations. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

  The Woolworths series would be hard to write if it were not for the Woolworths Museum curated by Mr Paul Seaton. Paul patiently answers my questions, ensuring I can tell my stories knowing (hopefully) that the smallest detail is correct. Thank you, Paul.

  I thank my readers, along with the people of Erith, where my books are set. Without you all sharing your memories of Woolies, the town, and what life was like ‘way back when’ I wouldn’t have half the content of each book. Thank you for the many emails, tweets, Facebook messages and chats, as well as such lovely letters. Your support means the world to me and makes me the luckiest author in the world to have such fabulous readers.

  Thank you,

  Elaine

  xx

  Dear Reader

  Dear Reader,

  It doesn’t seem five minutes since I was writing about ‘the girls’ as the war came to an end. So many of you asked for another book so we could see what happened next in the lives of the people of Erith. I was thrilled to be able to revisit the town of my birth, this time in 1947–8. To be able to research how our country had moved on from the war was a new step for me, and in some ways it was a sad trip. Would my characters all succeed in life or would their dreams come to nothing? The girls’ lives were in my hands and I hope I didn’t fail them.

  There were so many weddings in this book, as well as one funeral, that I could easily have changed the title to that of a certain well-known film – perhaps the working-class version?

  Writing about weddings reminds me of those I’ve attended over the years, as well as my own. It seems only yesterday that I was busy making bridesmaids dresses and planning that special day. My mum had passed away only months before, and my fondest memory is of my dad’s family stepping in to make sure my husband and I had a lovely day. Dad decided he didn’t need to attend the rehearsal and then asked me at the door of the church what he had to do, and Uncle Nobby appeared at the hairdresser’s to escort me home – I was going to catch the bus! Auntie Joan and Auntie Maureen arrived at the house to help me dress, while Auntie May hurried down the aisle to the vestry to be with Dad while we signed the register, so he didn’t feel alone. Auntie Doll was there at the reception and I remember her talking to me about mum and keeping her very much part of that day in 1972.

  My sister Pamela, my cousin Jill and my husband’s little sister Karen looked pretty in their dresses of lavender and lilac satin – fortunately my stitching held up on the day. My eleven-year-old brother was one of the ushers and was caught on cine film throwing the empty confetti box rather than the confetti!

  It was a lovely September day. The sun shone and yes there were tears, but there was hope and joy as we all thought of Mum looking down on us and smiling. Now, with the passing of time and so many of my family no longer here, I can look back and smile fondly at the memories and know that I was lucky to have such a wonderful family. Cousins keep in touch from around the world, and although we don’t meet up often, we all share happy memories.

  How was your wedding? Please do visit my Facebook author page and let me know. I love to chat with readers and share stories.

  Until next time,

  Elaine

  xx

  Praise for Elaine Everest

  ‘Heart-warming . . . a must-read’

  Woman’s Own

  ‘A warm, tender tale of friendship and love’

  Milly Johnson

  ‘A lovely read’

  Bella

  ‘Elaine brings the heyday of the iconic high-street giant to life in her charming novel’

  S Magazine

  Also by Elaine Everest

  The Woolworths Girls

  The Butlins Girls

  Christmas at Woolworths

  Wartime at Woolworths

  A Gift from Woolworths

  The Teashop Girls

  Ebook novella

  Carols at Woolworths

  Wedding Bells for Woolworths

  Elaine Everest was born and brought up in north-west Kent, where her books are set, and has written widely for women’s magazines – both short stories and features – as well as fiction and non-fiction books for the past twenty-one years. Successful in writing competitions she was shortlisted in The Harry Bowling Prize and was BBC Radio Kent short story writer of the year in 2003.

  A qualified tutor, she runs The Write Place creative writing school in Hextable, Kent. Elaine lives with her husband, Michael, and their Polish Lowland Sheepdog, Henry, in Swanley, Kent.

  You can say hello to Elaine on

  Twitter @ElaineEverest

  Facebook: Elaine Everest Author

  First published 2020 by Macmillan

  This electronic edition first published 2020 by Pan Books

  an imprint of Pan Macmillan

  The Smithson, 6 Briset Street, London EC1M 5NR

  Associated companies throughout the world

  www.panmacmillan.com

  ISBN 978-1-5290-1589-8

  Copyright © Elaine Everest 2020

  Women © Colin Thomas

  Background © Shutterstock

  The right of Elaine Everest to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damage.

  A CIP
catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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