Taking a Chance on Love

by Joan Jonker

  ‘You will be given one before you go home. It will be in a sealed envelope and under no circumstances are you to tamper with that. Make sure there are no finger marks on it either or that may count against you. Now, are there any further questions?’

  ‘No, Miss Bond,’ said four voices in unison. ‘Thank you, Miss Bond.’

  ‘Very well, you are dismissed. Close the door behind you.’

  When the girls had left, the headmistress sat perfectly still, staring at the closed door, her brow furrowed. Two of those pupils were in with an even chance. They hadn’t wasted their years at school, forever working diligently to be near the top of the class in every subject. They were always clean and tidy in appearance, polite and pleasant. They would acquit themselves well in any interview, and be a credit to the school. The other two, however, didn’t stand an earthly and would end up in a job that would never get them anywhere. They had no drive or ambition and had spent their school life being bottom of the class in every subject. The pity of it was they didn’t care, and neither did their parents who had never questioned the end-of-term reports which showed their children weren’t making the progress necessary to equip them for a decent future.

  Miss Bond sighed. The school report these two girls would be taking to their interview would be a true account of their years here and signed by teachers who had taken them in their various subjects. That would hardly help them when they went to Woolworth’s tomorrow but one could not falsify a reference, it wouldn’t be fair on an employer. But even though she knew they didn’t stand a chance, she had to give them the same opportunity as any other pupil.

  The dinnertime bell sounded and while there was a mad scramble as some of the girls couldn’t get out of the classroom quick enough, others looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. They’d waited all morning to be told who the winner of the best composition was, but it had never been mentioned. A couple of Ginny’s friends coaxed her to ask Miss Jackson, so when she was passing the teacher’s desk she cleared her throat and ventured to ask, ‘Will we find out today who won the prize, Miss Jackson?’

  The teacher nodded. ‘Sometime this afternoon, Virginia. Miss Bond took them home with her, but thirty-four essays can’t be read in a couple of hours so she’s finishing them off this morning.’ She smiled at the pupil who was a particular favourite of hers. ‘In a little while there will be a lot of disappointed faces in the classroom, and one happy one.’

  Joan dug her friend in the ribs as they left the room. ‘I bet it won’t be my face that’s the happy one.’

  ‘Now how d’yer know? Yer can be a right misery guts sometimes, Joan, yer put a jinx on yerself. We all stand the same chance of winning, so have a little faith in yerself.’ Ginny linked her arm as they walked through the school gates and turned in the direction of their street. ‘I’m more excited about going to Woolworth’s for an interview than I am about who wins the prize. Just think, working in such a big store! It would be brilliant.’

  ‘I don’t know why they’re bothering to send Alice and Doreen for an interview, they can’t spell for toffee and they certainly can’t add up! You and Marie should walk it, no problem.’

  ‘Ay, we’re not the only ones applying for the jobs, there’ll be hundreds of girls after them. The Labour Exchange notify every school in the neighbourhood, so me and Marie will be lucky to get a look in.’ Ginny wagged her head from side to side. ‘Ooh, I won’t half be saying some prayers tonight, I can tell yer. I never in me wildest dreams thought I’d get an interview for one of the biggest shops in Liverpool.’

  ‘If yer get put on the sweet counter I’ll be coming down to get a free slab of chocolate.’ Joan slipped her arm through her friend’s and pulled her close. The wind was bitter and penetrated their many layers of clothing. ‘It’s no good having a mate working in a shop if yer don’t make use of her.’

  ‘Yer can forget that, it would be stealing!’ Ginny said with some force. ‘I’ve never stolen anything in me life and I’ve no intention of starting now.’

  ‘Keep yer hair on, I was only joking! Anyway, it would cost me more to get the tram there and back into Liverpool than it would be to buy meself some chocolate.’

  Ginny had a fit of the giggles and her shoulders began to shake. Chuckling loudly, she said, ‘They make car tyres in Dunlop’s – yer’d have a job putting one of them in yer pocket without anyone seeing yer.’

  Joan’s imagination took over. ‘Ay, I could put one up me jumper and people would think I had a big bust.’ Her hazel eyes, so like her mother’s, were bright with laughter. ‘Mrs Henderson would have nothing on me, I’d have twice as big a bosom as she’s got.’

  ‘Ah, yes, but Auntie Flo’s breasts move up and down, and they’re soft. A tyre wouldn’t move, it would be rigid. And if yer bumped into anyone yer’d leave them with a bruise!’

  They were still laughing when they turned into Edith Road. ‘I’ll see yer later,’ Ginny said. ‘I hope me mam’s got a good fire going, me feet are like ice.’

  ‘Mine too! But we’ll soon warm up with a hot cup of tea and a few sandwiches.’ Joan slipped her hand from her pocket to knock on her door. ‘I’ll see yer later.’

  ‘Be ready when I knock,’ Ginny warned, knowing how hard it was to prise her friend away from a warm fire. ‘If ye’re not, I’ll go on without yer ’cos I don’t want to be late.’

  Joan’s mam was standing behind her when she answered Ginny’s knock. ‘I’ve just been hearing about yer getting an interview at Woolworth’s tomorrow, girl, and I’m over the moon for yer.’ Dot Flynn shivered and wrapped her arms around her slim waist. ‘I bet yer mam’s pleased for yer?’

  ‘She’s almost as excited as I am, Auntie Dot, and so was Mrs Bailey. The trouble is, they’re talking as though I’ve already got the job! I told them there’ll be hundreds of girls applying and there’s only two jobs going, so they shouldn’t get their hopes up. But yer know what me mam’s like, she thinks it’s in the bag. I wish it was, but we could all end up disappointed.’

  ‘I’ll keep me fingers crossed for yer, girl, and say a few prayers. It would be a real feather in yer cap if yer got it.’

  ‘Ye’re not kidding, I’d be walking on air. I’ll not sleep tonight, that’s a dead cert.’ Ginny eyed her friend. ‘Come on, Joan, I don’t want to be late.’

  ‘Walk quick and yer won’t feel the cold,’ Dot called after them. ‘Ta-ra.’

  The friends linked arms before setting off at a brisk rate. ‘Are yer coming up to ours tonight,’ Joan asked, ‘or will yer be too busy?’

  ‘I’ll be too busy. Me mam’s going to press me clothes and I want to wash me hair and polish me shoes. This is one time I want to look me very best.’

  The school bell was ringing as they walked back through the gates. ‘Just in time,’ Ginny said as they joined the line of girls waiting to be let in. As soon as the double doors were opened, she grabbed Joan’s hand and they elbowed their way through the scramble to get to Miss Jackson’s classroom. She grinned when she heard her friend mutter, ‘It’s stupid having to do this, anyone would think we were kids.’

  ‘To all intents and purposes, Joan, while we’re still at school we are kids. When we draw our first week’s wage packet, then we’ll be young ladies.’

  That brought a smile to her friend’s face. ‘Yeah, won’t it be the gear? Long stockings with a seam up the back and high-heeled shoes. And once me mam’s got over the shock of them, I’ll be buying a bright red lipstick.’

  A loud rap on the teacher’s desk had Ginny scurrying to sit down. ‘Quiet now, girls, so I can hear myself speak. Miss Bond will be along in about an hour to announce the winner of the prize for the best composition. Until then, I’m going to write some sums on the blackboard for you to copy into your exercise book.’ Miss Jackson took up a piece of chalk and began to write numbers on the board. ‘You see there are simple additions, subtractions and multiplications. I want them written neatly and, as most of them are fairly easy, I expect
many of you to get them all right.’ She moved away from the board so all the girls had a clear view. ‘Copy them into your books and the task should keep you going for an hour.’

  Arithmetic was one of Ginny’s strongest subjects so she had no problem and had finished in less than half the time allotted. But she kept her head down, bit on the end of her pencil as many of the girls were doing, and pretended that, like them, she was having difficulty with some of the sums. To sit back now and look around would make it seem as though she was big-headed and swanking, and would make the other girls annoyed. So she concentrated on the one thing that was uppermost in her mind and which was causing her tummy to turn somersaults, and that was the interview tomorrow.

  She’d only ever been in the Woolworth’s store in Church Street the once, and that was a few years ago when her mam took her into town for a treat on her birthday. They’d gone to the Kardomah first, for a pot of tea and a toasted tea-cake, and she could still remember how she’d sat wide-eyed with wonder when they were served by a waitress in a black dress worn with a white lace pinny and headdress. That was a thrill and an experience she’d never forgotten. And when they’d come out of there, they’d crossed the busy road, dodging tram cars, to the large-fronted store which was Woolworth’s where nothing in the shop cost more than sixpence. Her mam had only bought a reel of black cotton, and as she was in a hurry to get back home and start on the dinner there wasn’t much time for Ginny to look around as she would have wished. But as she was being led by the hand past the many counters, she was amazed to see such a variety of things on sale. There was the longest sweet counter she’d ever seen in her life, one with combs and hairbrushes, and another with mirrors and purses. She didn’t have time to look properly as she was being pulled along, but she’d say the counter she liked best of the ones she saw was the one selling little animals made out of lead. How she would have loved to look at them properly and hold them.

  Ginny was miles away in her thoughts. When she felt herself being prodded sharply, she was startled. She turned to see Kathleen, the girl sitting next to her, rolling her eyes and jerking her head towards the front of the classroom. Ginny followed her eyes and sat up straight when she saw Miss Bond facing the class. The headmistress was looking quite pleased with herself, and her usually harsh face was wearing a wide smile.

  ‘I know you are all eagerly waiting to see who has won the prize for the best composition, but I would like to say a few words before announcing the result. I was very impressed with the quality of your work and would like to congratulate each and every one of you for using your imagination so well. I was so impressed, I found it very difficult choosing a winner. In the end I was left with two which were both excellent and impossible to choose between. So there are two worthy winners. The prize was a pair of warm woollen gloves, very acceptable in this cold weather, and Miss Jackson kindly went to the shops in her dinner break to buy an extra pair.’

  Miss Bond paused. Although she didn’t do it on purpose, to add drama to the situation, that was precisely what it did do because there wasn’t a girl in the class whose heart wasn’t pounding and who wasn’t sending a silent prayer up to heaven asking that she be one of the lucky ones. ‘The two worthy winners are Sally Hunter and Virginia Porter. If they will come forward, I will present them with their well-deserved prizes.’

  Ginny wished the floor would open and swallow her up when she felt all eyes on her. Some were filled with envy, some were even hostile, as though it was her decision to name herself the winner. But mostly they seemed happy for her. She didn’t look at Joan because she knew she’d burst out laughing if her friend pulled a funny face, and when she reached the teacher’s desk she could tell Sally was embarrassed too because her face was bright red. Fortunately the prizes were handed over without a fuss, and a couple of minutes later the two girls were back in their places.

  ‘Nice work, Ginny,’ said Kathleen from the next desk. ‘I had a feeling you’d be in with a chance.’

  ‘I’m over the moon! First the interview for a job, and now this. I can’t believe it! Me luck seems to be in, all right.’ Ginny was feeling very happy and proud. All she longed for now was the day to end so she could run home and tell her family the good news. And Mrs Bailey, of course, ’cos she was almost part of their family now.

  ‘Ye’re a jammy beggar, you are,’ Joan said on their way home. ‘I bet yer any money yer get that job as well.’

  ‘I’m not betting on that, it would be asking for trouble. There’ll be some clever girls there tomorrow, the best from all the local schools, so it won’t be a walkover for anyone.’ Ginny turned her head. ‘Any news about your application for Dunlop’s yet?’

  ‘Me dad said he should have some news tonight. I hope so, ’cos I can’t wait to start work and earn some money.’

  Ginny giggled. ‘Those long stockings with the seams down the back, and the high-heeled shoes, they’re getting to yer, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll say! I can’t wait to walk down our street all dolled up.’ Joan turned her head to make sure there was no one behind them before leaning towards her friend’s ear and asking softly, ‘Ay, will yer be opening that letter to see what it says in yer report?’

  ‘I certainly will not! We were told not to open them, and I’m doing as I was told. Anyway, yer can’t open an envelope what’s been stuck down without it getting torn, so I wouldn’t even think about it.’

  ‘Yer could steam it open and no one would know. Me mam’s done that before today and yer definitely couldn’t tell. All yer’ve got to do is hold it over a steaming kettle and the flap comes open dead easy.’

  ‘You’re terrible, you are, Joan Flynn! Yer’ll never get to heaven when yer die.’ Ginny managed to look horrified, but inside she was laughing. In her mind’s eye, she could see Auntie Dot standing over a boiling kettle, her tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth as she concentrated on keeping her fingers away from the steam. And not for one moment would she see any wrong in what she was doing. If the contents of the letter had anything to do with her or one of her family, then she would consider she had more right to know than anyone. ‘My mam certainly wouldn’t open it, nor would she let me. So I’ll just have to wait until after the interview to find out.’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t, I’d be a nervous wreck.’ If you weren’t looking at Joan while she was speaking, you would really think it was her mother. ‘I mean, what if it’s a lousy report? Yer could be sitting there, like a lemon, watching someone reading that yer were as thick as two short planks! Ooh, I’d be mortified!’

  ‘I don’t think I need worry about that, Joan, I’m far from being as thick as two short planks. And neither are you, so stop running yerself down. Keep telling yerself ye’re as good as the next one.’

  ‘But I’m not as clever as you. Ye’re in the top three and have been since we started school. I’ve never been able to catch yer up, I’m too thick.’

  ‘Ye’re not thick at all! There’s thirty-four in the class and yer’ve never gone below ninth, so if you’re thick, what does that make the other girls? Stop feeling full of self-pity, or yer’ll talk yerself out of a job.’

  Joan grinned. ‘Ay, yer sounded just like Miss Bond, a proper bossy boots. If yer were interviewing me for a job, I’d have wet me knickers by now.’

  ‘Oh, charming, I must say.’ They turned into Edith Road and Ginny could see her mother standing outside on the step talking to Mrs Henderson. ‘Come on, let’s run. There’s me mam and I can’t wait to tell her.’ She took to her heels with Joan running beside her. ‘I bet she’ll be tickled pink.’

  ‘D’yer know what I’m frightened of, kid? That ye’re turning into a bighead. I couldn’t stand having a friend who thought she was the cat’s whiskers.’

  ‘If yer ever think there’s any danger of that, just take me to one side and give me a good talking to. And if I’m not too busy bragging, I’ll listen to yer.’

  Beth smiled when her daughter stopped in front of her, panti
ng and gasping for breath. ‘What’s the big rush for? Is it the cold or are yer hungry?’

  It was Joan who laughingly told her, ‘Yer daughter wants to show off, Auntie Beth, that’s all. Honest to God, she’s never stopped bragging since we came out of school. It’s been so bad I had to go down an entry twice to be sick.’

  Flo’s arms were folded under her bosom for warmth, and for a second she deliberated on whether to bring one out to wipe her nose, or leave them where they were nice and warm. In the end she decided that if this conversation turned out to be interesting, she couldn’t stand there with her nose running. Mind you, it wouldn’t worry her, she wasn’t fussy. But Beth was a stickler for manners and clean habits. Not that she’d say anything, like, but her eyes would speak volumes. So an arm was pulled free and a hand quickly swiped across her nose before being returned to its warm spot. ‘Oh, aye, queen, which entries were these, then?’

  Joan wasn’t her mother’s daughter for nothing, and her reply came quickly. ‘I couldn’t tell yer, Auntie Flo, ’cos I was too busy being sick to notice the names of the streets. But I can find out for yer tomorrow if yer like.’

  Cocky little article, Flo thought, her face looking the picture of innocence. ‘That’s good of yer, queen, I’d really appreciate it.’

  ‘Why d’yer want to know that, Flo?’ Beth asked with a twinkle in her eyes. ‘Are yer thinking of taking a mop and bucket to clean up the sick?’

  ‘Curiosity, queen, that’s all. I mean yer’ve got to keep up with the news, haven’t yer? Otherwise yer get left behind.’

  Ginny stamped her foot in mock impatience. ‘Will yer all shut up and listen to my news, please, before the novelty wears off?’

  ‘What is it, sunshine?’ her mother asked. ‘I’m all ears.’

  Ginny opened her satchel and brought out the bag with the gloves inside. ‘I won the best composition and these gloves are me prize.’