Homefront

by Jill Barry

  The fourth morning after her night out, she made her usual progress to the high street. A friend of the family ran the greengrocery and Charlie enjoyed calling in for a chat and placing an order which was always delivered within a few hours.

  “This season’s Victorias are in, Charlotte,” called the proprietress as the shop bell pinged.

  Charlie stepped inside the shop. “Dad and Don will be pleased, Maggie.” Charlie peered at the fragrant pile of purple fruit.

  “Try one. Sweet as honey they are.”

  “I won’t say no.” Charlie bit into the firm, ripe plum. “Whoops! Trust me to dribble juice down my chin. But they’re lovely and I’ll have a pound, please.”

  “Got your list ready?”

  Charlie blinked hard. “Goodness, I must be getting absent-minded. I clean forgot to make one today.”

  “Sounds like you’re in love.”

  Charlotte stared at her, the flippant remark hitting home, especially as she normally organised her shopping very well.

  “Don’t worry.” Maggie picked up a notepad and pencil. “Just shout out what you want.”

  When another customer arrived, Charlie took the paper and pencil and finished writing down the remaining items she required. As soon as the customer left, Maggie leaned across the counter. “Have you heard about Fun Land?”

  “Heard what about Fun Land?” Charlie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “You really should get your godmother to give you a trim, love. As for Fun Land, the Costellos have decided to close down early this season.” Maggie lowered her voice although the two of them were still on their own. “I’ve heard a rumour they mightn’t ever open again.”

  Charlie ignored the comment about her unruly hair. “This is news to me. Dad usually gets to hear about things happening in Peel Bay but I can’t understand why Robert’s said nothing to … um, to Don,” she added hastily.

  “I know those two are pals but maybe Robert was too embarrassed to mention it. It’s not easy for businesses like Fun Land to keep going. Everything’s up in the air and I don’t mean the Flying Circus.”

  Charlie sighed. Maybe this was why Robert hadn’t been in touch. He had more important things on his mind. “Sometimes,” she said, “I wish the flipping war would get going so we all knew where we were.”

  Maggie sucked in her breath. “Don’t say that, my girl. You weren’t born when the first one changed our lives and took away our sweethearts. At least dear Noelene got your dad back safe and sound. Some of us weren’t so lucky. Not a day goes by without I don’t think of my late husband.”

  Charlie was round the counter in a flash. She put her arms round the older woman. “I’m so sorry. That was a stupid, thoughtless remark. I could kick myself.” In her mind’s eye she saw Don and Robert’s faces, sometimes intent as they bent over a carburettor but usually smiling as they joshed one another, arguing amiably about football. Lately though, neither had been exactly sunshine and roses. Her brother must be still smarting after Kitty’s casual treatment and as for Robert, he was such an unknown quantity.

  Another possibility struck her. Perhaps he hadn’t been in touch because of Don’s broken romance. Perhaps he was having second thoughts, in case he should suffer the same fate. If only she could make him aware how swiftly her feelings towards him had softened and deepened.

  Maggie took out a handkerchief and blew her nose loudly. “I’m a silly old woman with too many memories,” she said. “You young ones have to stay strong and pray for right to triumph.” She put away her hanky. “We’ll have your order round to you by lunchtime, as usual. Don’t forget what I said about your crowning glory. We wouldn’t want Eleanor to run out of business, now would we? Strikes me, it’s more important than ever for us tradesmen to support each other.”

  The news of the Costello predicament stayed with Charlotte, dropping into her mind as she called in at one of the two butcher’s shops her family favoured. She also visited the biggest grocery on the high street, the one her mum had always used. She squeezed between a sack of red lentils and one of gleaming pearl-barley to queue at the counter then ask for a couple of items she’d almost run out of. As she put a packet of tea and a bag of sugar into her shopping basket she realised her library book still sat at the bottom of the basket and carefully retrieved it, ready to take back to the tuppenny library.

  The bookshelves at the tobacconist’s shop were situated in a small room at the back. This was where, if time permitted, Charlotte loved to linger longest. She’d inherited a love of reading from her mother and while her mum favoured stories of desert sheiks and square-jawed doctors, much to her parents’ amazement, Charlotte preferred adventure stories aimed more at boys than girls. But today she found herself drawn to the romantic novels. She felt a twinge of nostalgia as she picked out one whose cover showed a pretty brunette dressed in nurse’s uniform, complete with snowy pleated cap, certain her mother had read and enjoyed this story in the past.

  Breathing in the smell of tobacco and books, she flicked through the first pages. The hero seemed to be giving the heroine a hard time. Huh! Charlie could identify with that. Maybe she’d learn a few tips about dealing with men. Brothers and fathers didn’t count – probably her dad and Don would be horrified if they knew she contemplated contacting Robert, even though he’d said he would telephone her to try and arrange a meeting. That would not be considered something a nice girl would do.

  The tobacconist smiled at Charlotte and wrote the book title on her library card. She’d swapped Tales of the Gold Monkey for The Dawn. Maybe reading how the heroine dealt with her handsome Arab sheikh would throw some light on her own jumbled emotions. There were so many things she wished she’d spoken to her mum about and somehow, deciding to read the kind of book she would have chosen brought Noelene that little bit closer to Charlotte. Running an amusement park mightn’t be something an Arab sheik would know about but sharing in someone else’s romantic trials and tribulations would help Charlie better understand her own feelings.

  When she stepped into the street again, she decided to call at her godmother’s salon and book an appointment. Maggie’s blunt comment had been accurate. Charlie’s hair, left to its own devices, resembled a golden dandelion clock and wasn’t a sensible option, given the rain and wind she often endured when serving customers.

  As it happened, Auntie Eleanor could fit Charlie in straight after lunch. If she hurried back, she could prepare the men’s meals while eating a snack as she worked. Having her hair done was a rare occurrence and, grudgingly, she thought it might add to her confidence when she plucked up courage to go and speak to Robert. She closed the salon door behind her and set off in the direction of home, the romantic novel perched on top of her shopping.

  “Hey, what’s your hurry?”

  Charlie stopped and grinned at Philip the pilot. “Fancy seeing you. I can’t stop, I’m afraid. There’s the meal to get then I’m back for a hairdo.”

  “What a shame. I’m kicking my heels today. Gerald’s taking the old kite apart and putting it together again.”

  “Walk back with me if you like. We might even run to a bit of dinner for you if you don’t mind cold meat and bubble and squeak.”

  His face brightened. “That sounds great. Thank you, Charlie.”

  “When are you off?”

  He took her shopping bag from her. “As soon as Gerald’s certain we’re airworthy. It’s Brighton next stop and I can’t wait. Lots of pretty girls in Brighton.” He glanced sideways at her. “But I’ll miss you very much, of course.”

  She laughed. “Of course you will. By the way, Pearl’s at the garage today – you’ll find her in the office if you want to say ta-ta.”

  “Pearl? Have I met her?”

  Charlie stopped walking. “You signed her autograph book not long ago. She thought you were lovely. I of course know different.”

  Philip put his arm round her waist and gave her a quick squeeze just as Robert Costello rode past them on h
is motorbike. Charlie glanced up at the sound of his engine but too late to catch his eye or wave to him. Inwardly she groaned. This was typical of her luck. Robert disapproved of the Flying Circus and in particular of its star. In some ways Charlie found it easier to chat with Philip than with Robert, doubtless because how she felt about young Mr Costello differed entirely from the way she viewed Philip.

  But if Robert had seen that quick hug, which seemed highly likely unless he drove with his eyes shut, would he decide she was too much of a flirt to waste his time upon? The sight of his ramrod straight back as he steered his machine up the high street stayed with Charlie and didn’t improve her expectations of spending time with him and finding out what lay behind that sometimes secretive manner.

  “We haven’t seen you for a while, Charlotte.” Eleanor parted the cubicle’s daisy-splashed curtains then pulled them closed behind her while her freckle-faced apprentice blotted surplus moisture from her client’s forehead and neck.

  Charlotte hated the whole process, including the uncomfortable crouch over the basin with the towel seemingly unable to prevent shampoo bubbles from stinging her eyes. “You know me, Auntie El. Mum used to chivvy me into coming. I don’t mean to offend you but having my hair done isn’t my favourite pastime.”

  Eleanor laughed. “I’d never have guessed! It’s a good job all my clients aren’t the same. Noelene used to love coming, of course.”

  “Regular as clockwork, wasn’t she? I must be a great disappointment to you.”

  “Your mother’s hair needed regular trimming. She used to like that bob style and it certainly suited her.”

  “Dad used to call her his little flapper when he thought Don and I weren’t listening.”

  Eleanor hesitated. “He must really miss her. You must all miss her, Charlie. I know that of course but they always seemed so close, those two. I can see so much of her in Donald, that glossy dark hair and straight nose. You’re much more like your father.”

  “You were at school with them, weren’t you? I’d forgotten that.”

  “I was in the same class as the childhood sweethearts and I envied their closeness.”

  Eleanor’s eyes met Charlotte’s in the mirror but she dropped her gaze and began combing perfumed setting lotion through her goddaughter’s newly trimmed hair. Eleanor’s junior stood ready, one large curler clutched in each hand. Charlotte reached up and wiped a drop of lotion from the end of her nose.

  “Surely I don’t need those instruments of torture! Couldn’t you just dry my hair?”

  Eleanor chuckled. “If I use these big curlers then pop you under the dryer for half an hour the end result will be much smoother. Just you wait – you’ll come out looking like Carole Lombard.”

  “For about two minutes, maybe, then I’ll be back to my Wild Woman of Borneo look. Go on then, you’re the boss.”

  “Usually I’d say the customer’s always right, but in this case, I’m going to insist. You have lovely hair, Charlotte. Why not take advantage of it? Any signs of you courting yet?”

  Charlotte heaved a sigh. “No and it’s unlikely there ever will be at this rate.”

  “Why do you say that?” Eleanor twirled a thick strand of hair expertly around a blue curler and secured it with a giant hairpin.

  “Men are just so difficult. They don’t answer questions properly and they keep you dangling, knowing full well you can’t make a move to speed things up. It’s really annoying.”

  She watched Eleanor smother a laugh. “That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”

  “I’m right though, aren’t I?”

  “I agree ladies aren’t supposed to take the initiative. Would I happen to know the particular young man who’s incurred your displeasure?”

  Charlotte tipped her chin forward to allow Eleanor to roll the shorter hair at the nape of her neck. “I doubt it,” she said. “His parents run the amusement park.”

  “Fun Land? Mrs Costello used to be one of my best clients. She liked her hair done regularly like your mother did but these days it’s a different matter. I hear they’re finding things difficult but then, so are many. Fun fairs are a luxury of course, when money’s tight. I’m lucky to be in hairdressing.”

  “Good job not all your clients are like me. But people like to let off steam if they’re working hard. They want a bit of relaxation now and then. The Flying Circus has done well this week, I believe.”

  “People know the plane’s only there for a matter of days. They can pay their two shillings for a pleasure flight and have something to boast about. But the season will end soon. And then …”

  “I know,” Charlotte butted in. “And everything as we know it will probably change dramatically if there’s a war. Already, I get a shivery feeling when I see sandbags being delivered. As for those awful gas masks …”

  Eleanor concentrated upon the left side of Charlotte’s head, carefully teasing out the tangles. “It’s horrible to think of it happening all over again. But these precautions are necessary, Charlotte.” She combed out a strand and the apprentice passed her a chubby curler. “Let’s talk about more cheerful matters. Have you reached some kind of understanding with your young man?”

  “Goodness, no! And he’s definitely not my young man. We’ve not spent much time together at all. He did say he’d ring me to arrange for us to meet but now he’s seen me talking to Philip the Pilot in the high street, he’s probably gone right off me.” Charlotte tried to keep her tone light-hearted.

  Eleanor frowned at the girl’s reflection in the mirror. “Surely not? You’re a friendly sort of person, he must know that.”

  “The trouble is, Philip put his arm around my waist at the very moment Robert drove past. If I’d been on my own, he might’ve stopped for a little chat.”

  “I see. Well, maybe you could get Don to have a word … oh, don’t shake your head Charlie!”

  “Sorry. I’d be far too embarrassed to ask Don. If Robert really wants to take me out, he should get in touch. He knows as well as I do the Flying Circus leaves town soon. Philip can’t wait to get to Brighton. He’s a shocking flirt, probably he’s leaving broken hearts all over the south of England.”

  Eleanor chuckled. “He sounds quite a lad.”

  She continued her task while Charlotte watched the hairdresser’s nimble fingers fly. At last Eleanor pulled a net over Charlotte’s head then patted her shoulder through the royal blue salon gown. “You’re ready to go under the hairdryer now. We’ll find you a magazine and I’ll be back later to comb you out. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste your new hairdo. Ask your brother to take you down to the fair this evening if your dad doesn’t need him. Robert Costello can’t possibly ignore the sister of his best mate.”

  Chapter 5 - Plain Speaking

  “Hey.” Philip gave a low whistle of admiration. “You look very glamorous, Charlie. I wish I could take you dancing.”

  “It makes a change from my headscarf and dungarees look, I suppose.” She turned to Pearl, seated at the back of the office. “I hope this young gentleman hasn’t been too much of an interruption for you. I did suggest he came to say hello.”

  “He’s been charming the lady customers,” said Pearl, “as well as bending your dad’s ear, of course. Your hair really does look lovely, Charlie.”

  “I’m going to miss Raymond,” said Philip, looking pensive. “He knows engines inside out and I respect him for that, even if he thinks aeroplanes are the devil’s work.”

  “Well, I expect both Dad and Don will be looking for a cuppa. I’ll go and make us all one, shall I?”

  “I’ll give you a hand,” offered Philip.

  “I can manage quite well on my own. But if you come round to the house in about ten minutes, you can carry the tray through for me.”

  “It’s a deal. I was just about to ask Pearl here if she fancied a little jaunt to the pleasure park with you and me this evening.”

  “You and me? First I heard of it.” But Charlotte’s heart raced as fast as her mind wor
ked out the possibilities. They were sure to see Robert. He’d take one look at Philip, who she could instruct to act as if he was smitten with Pearl, and surely then he’d realise Charlie herself had no interest whatsoever in the pilot.

  “I’m game if you are, Charlie,” said Pearl, brightening.

  “I suppose I should be doing the ironing but I can get up earlier tomorrow.”

  “I’m flattered,” said Philip solemnly. “To think you’d choose my company over that of an upstanding fellow like an ironing board makes me very happy, indeed.” He winked at Pearl.

  “Looks like everyone’s happy, then,” said Charlotte. “After all, it’s almost your last evening in Peel Bay so we ought to keep you company.”

  Philip treated Pearl to a long, smouldering look. “I’m only just beginning to realise what I’m leaving behind.”

  Charlotte raised her eyes heavenwards, seeing Pearl’s cheeks turn a delicate shade of pink. Hopefully her friend wouldn’t let the pilot turn her head as easily. Once this evening was over, neither of them was likely to meet Philip ever again.

  After tea, Charlie decided to change into the same dress she’d worn the evening she walked down to the promenade. Maybe it would bring her luck, especially if she dared to dab on some perfume as well. Pearl called for her, looking pretty in a cream blouse and yellow and cream skirt. Both girls wore lightweight summer sandals on their feet.

  “It’s a pity Don can’t come,” said Charlie as the two of them set off.

  “He looks a bit downcast lately,” said Pearl. “I suppose he still holds a torch for Kitty.”

  “I’m afraid so. No good telling him he’s better off without her. I’ve tried that and got my head bitten off for my trouble.”

  “He hardly ever takes any notice of me,” said Pearl, linking her arm in Charlie’s as they waited to cross the road. “I suppose that’s one of the good things about Philip. He’s very attentive.”