by Joan Jonker
‘I can help yer out there, me darlin’,’ Lizzie said, reaching down for her handbag. ‘I’ve got a fountain pen without any ink in, and you’ve got ink without the pen! Together we’ve solved that problem, so we have.’
‘I’m not going to write a long letter, Hannah. I’ll just say yer were heartbroken at the news, and that ye’re not up to the journey to Birmingham. You and some neighbours would like Claire to buy a wreath with the enclosed postal order, and we’d like her to know we’ll all be thinking of her and the children on Monday. Then I’ll tell her you can’t wait for them to come back to Liverpool, and they’re more than welcome to stay with yer.’ Beth sighed. ‘How does that sound, sunshine?’
‘Fine, sweetheart. Short and to the point. I do wish I could be there with them, but I’d never make that journey on me own. And anyway, I’ll need what bit of money I’ve got for other things.’
‘While I’m writing the letter, would you ladies get yer shillings ready to save time? Mine is on the mantelpiece.’
‘I’m sorry to be a nuisance, sweetheart, I seem to be causing yer nothing but trouble. But I can’t give any money ’cos me purse is in me handbag and that must still be in me house,’ Hannah explained.
‘I’ll go and get it for yer, girl,’ Dot said. ‘Give us the key, Beth, and I’ll be there and back before yer know I’ve gone.’
‘I’ll come out with yer.’ Flo put her palms flat on the table and pushed herself up. ‘I’ve just remembered a little message I was supposed to give to someone, but it’ll only take me a few minutes.’
Dot came back with Hannah’s handbag and, when asked, said she hadn’t set eyes on Flo. The letter was written, the envelope addressed, and Beth had washed the few breakfast dishes, swilled her face and combed her hair. Still her next-door neighbour hadn’t put in an appearance. ‘She’ll get a piece of my mind when she turns up. Yer know what she’s like, she’s probably standing jangling to someone while we’re waiting here like lemons.’
They sat for another ten minutes becoming very impatient. ‘If she’s not here in five minutes I’m going to the shops without her,’ Beth said. ‘She’s a ruddy nuisance.’
‘She’s here now, girl, she’s just passed the window.’ Sure enough, a knock followed Dot’s words. ‘I’ll open the door.’
Flo came bursting in, her face alight with excitement. ‘I know yer’ve been calling me fit to burn, but I’ve done a bit of collecting. Yer see, when yer wouldn’t let me in this morning, queen, Sally next-door was wiping her window sill down and I told her about John. She asked if anyone was making a collection for a wreath, ’cos as yer know that’s what we always do when someone dies.’ Flo stopped and took a deep breath. ‘Anyway, she said most of the neighbours would want to contribute because John was well liked in the street.’
Hannah looked a bit upset. ‘Yer didn’t go asking for money for me, did yer, Flo? I’d be too embarrassed to show me face if yer did.’
‘I didn’t have to ask, queen, ’cos the word had got around the street and the neighbours came to Sally’s to pass the money to her. They wanted to give to show their respect for a man they remember as being a nice polite kid who grew up to be a real gent. And I don’t have to tell yer, queen, that everyone around here has the greatest respect for you.’
Flo’s round chubby face looked like a rosy apple as she dug deep into a pocket to bring out a handful of coins. ‘Some of the women whose husbands are working gave a shilling, and some gave sixpence. But I wouldn’t take no more than tuppence from the houses where the men aren’t working.’ She delved into her pocket once again and brought out more coins. ‘I don’t know how much is there, but if we all count it together to prove I didn’t cheat, then I can tell everyone how much we collected.’
Beth nodded to Dot and Lizzie. ‘I’ll take the copper, one of you take the tanners and the other the threepenny pieces.’
It wasn’t often that Flo showed her serious side. In fact, only the people in this room knew she had one. But there was more to her than jokes, laughter and the occasional swear word, and she showed it now, as she curled her fists, leaned them on the table and looked at Hannah. ‘In case ye’re worried, queen, I did think twice about taking money off women whose husbands were out of work, but they’d have been upset if I hadn’t. They may be skint but they have their pride, I wouldn’t want to take that away from them.’
The other women had been putting the coins into piles, but they’d all heard what Flo said and it brought a lump to their throats. They’d all known what it was like to be skint, and the last thing they’d have wanted then was pity.
‘There’s seven shillings and threepence here, sunshine, yer did very well and we’re proud of yer.’
Hannah didn’t know what to say, she was amazed her neighbours had given so generously. ‘That’s a lot of money.’
‘I suggest we stick to our original plan and send a five-bob postal order with the money we’ve put together. That’s enough for a wreath, and you can use the rest for the wood yer need.’ Beth scooped the money from the table into the glass bowl off the sideboard. ‘We can see to that later. If we don’t make an effort we’ll miss the dinnertime post.’
‘I may as well take me nightdress and slippers with me, sweetheart, to get them out of your way. Yer don’t want to come back from the shops and find them still on yer couch.’
‘And why d’yer want to take them to the shops with yer? There’s no point in yer carting them around with yer.’
‘I thought it would save me coming back to your house, sweetheart. Yer must be fed up with the sight of me, so I’ll go straight home.’
‘Not on your life yer won’t!’ Beth patted Hannah’s wrinkled cheek. ‘If you aren’t here when our Ginny comes home from school, there’ll be murder. I promised her faithfully that yer’d be sleeping here tonight.’
‘I can’t impose on yer any longer, Beth, it wouldn’t be fair. Yer’ve done more than enough for me as it is.’
‘Put that nightdress and slippers down, sunshine, ’cos there’s no way ye’re going back to yer own house tonight. In a couple of days, perhaps, but not just yet. And don’t think I’m being a martyr, far from it! I enjoy having yer, and so do Andy and the kids.’
When Hannah turned to put the nightdress and slippers back on the couch, she was thanking God for giving her such good friends. The truth was, she was dreading going back home to sit alone with her heartache. There she’d have nothing else to think about but the death of her beloved son. Whereas, with these women, she wouldn’t have time to think, and that was a blessing. With each day that passed she would get a little better.
Hannah gave herself a mental shake. What was she talking about, she’d have nothing else to think about? Her daughter-in-law and grandchildren would be coming back into her life – that was certainly something wonderful to look forward to. And if Beth would let her stay here for another couple of nights, just until she got her confidence back, then she’d be ready to go home and start getting the place ready for her family.
She tapped her neighbour on the shoulder. ‘Thank you, sweetheart.’
‘Think nothing of it, sunshine, ye’re more than welcome.’
Chapter Five
Miss Jackson rapped sharply on her desk with a wooden ruler. ‘Can I have silence, please? I know you are all getting excited about the holiday and what Father Christmas might put in your stocking, but you are nearing the end of your school days now and I would have thought it was more important you should concentrate on your future working life. So I intend to interview you in groups of three when we can discuss any preference as to employment you may have. I will also give you instructions on how to conduct yourself during an interview and how the Labour Exchange can help you.’
She opened a side drawer in her desk, took out a lined pad and wrote a name on each of the first three lines. ‘While I am interviewing I want absolute silence so I’m setting the class an essay to do. The subject is the festive season. I want you to wri
te what it is you like about Christmas, what happens in your family . . . anything that is interesting. And just because you only have two more weeks here, please don’t think you can lower your standards. No smudges, crossing out or bad spelling. Is that understood?’
Thirty-four voices answered as one: ‘Yes, Miss.’ Desk lids were lifted and exercise books and pens taken out. There were three particularly bold girls in the class who were afraid of no one. The threat of the cane meant nothing to them and even detention was greeted with a smirk on their less-than-clean faces. They’d become more unruly since they’d turned fourteen several weeks ago and their mothers had told them they shouldn’t have to wait until the end of term to leave, not when they could be bringing in some wages. Miss Jackson would be glad to see the back of them and dreaded to think how they would fare in an interview with any prospective employer. They’d wasted their school years, learning very little, which saddened her. But at least she had the consolation of knowing she’d done her very best for them.
‘Will Sally McGuire, Wendy Burton and Virginia Porter please bring their chairs to my desk?’
Sally and Wendy looked apprehensive, but Ginny was all smiles. The idea of being grown up enough to be looking for a job filled her with pleasure. And she knew now what she’d like to work at, so she wasn’t afraid of any questions the teacher might ask.
Sally Maguire was hoping to get a job at the British Enka, where her father worked. She’d filled in an application form and her dad said there was more than a good chance of her being taken on. When Miss Jackson asked if that was what she wanted, the girl appeared surprised by the question and said it was a job like any other. Wendy Burton said there was a Lune Laundry near where she lived, and her mam had already been in to see the boss. He said he would be taking on two school leavers, and would interview Wendy the following week. If she was suitable, she could start work the week after Christmas.
‘You two seem halfway to gaining employment, and I hope everything works out for you. If you are polite, pleasant and willing, I’m sure you’ll do well.’ The teacher turned her attention to Ginny then. ‘And you, Virginia, what are your hopes and aspirations?’
‘I’d like to work in a shop, Miss, rather than a factory. I like meeting people, and I’d certainly meet plenty standing behind the counter in a shop.’ Ginny grinned. ‘And I’d always be polite, pleasant and willing. That’s if I ever get the chance, like.’
‘A small local shop, Virginia, or one of the large stores?’
‘I don’t mind, but if I was lucky enough to be given a choice, I’d pick one of the big stores in Liverpool.’ Again her grin appeared. ‘Not asking for much, am I, Miss? But me dad said I should go for whatever I think would be right for me.’
‘He has a point,’ Miss Jackson agreed. ‘Sadly it isn’t always possible to get what you would like, but if you are ambitious, you should set your sights high and do your best. And I think you’d be very suitable for shop work. I’ll discuss it further with you tomorrow, after I’ve seen the Headmistress. I have to report to her when I’ve interviewed all the girls in the class because she’s very keen that our pupils should become gainfully employed and like Miss Bond, I’d prefer to think the nine years you’ve attended this school haven’t been wasted.’ She wrote a few words alongside each of their names on her pad then waved a hand to dismiss them. ‘No talking when you get back to your desks, please, I need quietness to interview three more girls. Start on the essay I’ve set you, and make it interesting. There might possibly be a small prize for the writer of the most interesting one.’
Ginny picked up her chair and made her way towards her desk. She had to pass Joan on the way and her friend contorted her face to mouth, ‘How did yer get on?’
‘Fine, no problem.’ Ginny was grinning as she placed the chair behind her desk and sat down. Joan had the knack of contorting her face to any shape, just like her mother. But it was wasted this time because she was to find out for herself what the interview involved when she was called, together with Patsy Booth and Doreen Forrester. The three of them looked petrified and Ginny couldn’t understand why because Miss Jackson was really nice.
‘Oh, well, let’s get this essay started,’ Ginny muttered under her breath as she took out her exercise book. It had to be about Christmas, and interesting, so where should she start? Then she had a brainwave. She wanted to work in a shop, and all the shop windows around where she lived had been decorated with tinsel and were displaying Christmas stockings, board games, dolls, balls and fairies to go on top of a tree. There were lots of other things too that parents would be buying to put in their children’s stockings, and in every window there was a Father Christmas figure of some kind, in his red outfit and moustache and beard made of cotton wool.
Ginny remembered going to a grotto once when she was very young. It was in a big shop in Liverpool called Blackler’s where they’d had a real-life Father Christmas who let you sit on his knee while he gave you a present. She’d thought he was a lovely, jolly man, but many of the younger children were frightened and wouldn’t go near him. Their Joey was one. He’d screamed the place down when an over-zealous Father Christmas had tried to get him to sit on his knee. Even the offer of a brightly wrapped gift didn’t shut the boy up. He’d taken a dislike to the man and nothing anyone said would get him to change his mind. But his tears ceased and there was amazement in his eyes when they got to the grotto, which was, to their young minds, a real wonderland. Elves, pixies and fairies were all hard at work there, making toys for Santa Claus to put on his sleigh ready for Christmas Eve when he would climb down chimneys to leave the presents. They’d all looked so real, Ginny hadn’t realised that the creatures were mechanical. Mind you, she was only about four at the time and had really believed there was a Father Christmas. She knew different now, but it was still a magical time of the year for her. She loved it.
‘I’ve got plenty to write about, but I want to be sure Miss Jackson finds it interesting.’ Ginny bit on the end of her pen and looked thoughtful. This might be the last essay she’d ever be asked to write and, although she always got a good report for her work and her behaviour, she wanted this to be extra special. So, after much nibbling on the end of her pen, she decided to go back in time to when she was four years of age.
‘I told Miss Jackson me dad was getting me a job in Dunlop’s, and she was very pleased because she’s heard they’re a good firm to work for.’ Joan had her arm linked through Ginny’s as they walked home. ‘What did you tell her?’
‘Only that I’d like to work in a shop. She said she’d talk to me about it tomorrow, after Miss Bond has had a chance to see her report.’ Ginny was swinging a satchel which she’d had for years. It was scratched and scuffed now, but she’d had good wear out of it. She wasn’t going to throw it away, she’d keep it to remind her of her school days. ‘Me mam said she’d ask in the local shops if there was anything going, but not to build me hopes up. She reckons if anyone was of a mind to take on an assistant, they’d pick someone with experience who would be of help to them in the busy days leading up to Christmas. They certainly wouldn’t want an inexperienced school-leaver under their feet, I’d be more hindrance than help.’
‘I wish yer were coming to work in Dunlop’s, we could travel there and back together.’ Joan had a habit of pouting if things weren’t going exactly as she wanted them to, and Ginny knew her well enough to know she would sulk all the way home if she was allowed. So she sought to nip it in the bud now.
‘I’m glad you’ve got a job that yer seem keen on, and pretty soon I might be kicking meself for not taking yer dad up on his offer, but I’ve set me heart on shop work, Joan, and I’m going to do me best to make it come true, even if I have to go in every shop from here to Liverpool.’
Joan, who was now walking with one foot in the gutter and the other on the pavement, began to feel a bit guilty. Just because she was happy to be going to work in Dunlop’s, it didn’t mean her friend had to. ‘I hope yer get o
ne then, kid, I really do. We’d still see each other every night and we’d have loads to tell each other.’
‘Keep yer fingers crossed for me then, and say a little prayer tonight. God will probably have more important things to do than finding me a job, but it doesn’t hurt to ask and I’ll be reminding him every night until I find one.’
Joan changed the subject. ‘Ah, how did yer get on with the essay? I couldn’t think of anything interesting, like Miss Jackson said, so I thought, what the heck, and I wrote about getting me first job and how excited I was.’
They turned into their street and Joan, tired of walking hop-along, joined her friend on the pavement. ‘What did you write about, kid?’
‘Oh, shops mostly,’ Ginny told her. ‘How they’re all decorated up for Christmas, and a bit about a grotto I saw when I was four.’
‘Trust you to come up with something like that! I mean, I see the same things as you, but it never entered me head to write about them. The trouble with me is, me mam’s always telling me, I’ve got no imagination.’
‘Everyone is different, Joan, it wouldn’t do if we were all alike. Everyone has a talent of some description but not everyone gets the one they want. Take me, for instance. I would love to be a painter, making beautiful pictures that people would buy, but it’s not likely to happen, is it?’
‘Well, if everyone has a talent, what’s yours?’
‘I don’t know, Joan, I haven’t found it yet. That’s why I want to serve behind a counter, so I can meet different types of people. If I find I’m able to communicate with them, and really get on with them, then I’ve found what I’m good at. And that will be the talent I’ve been blessed with.’