The Sugar Girls

by Duncan Barrett

  The trio followed the other can-making girls towards the rides. ‘It really is like a dreamland, ain’t it?’ said Little Lil, surveying the scene with wide eyes. A Ferris wheel soared into the sky in front of them, while a little further off the long arms of The Octopus spun wildly, whizzing green-looking people through the air. Young men shouted and laughed as they smashed into each other on the dodgems, while children bobbed up and down on merry-go-round horses, or begged their parents for rides on real ones in the little paddock.

  The paint factory boys herded the girls towards one ride in particular: The Caterpillar. As they walked towards the ticket booth, Lilian and her friends looked up to see the creature’s face staring down at them, with its enormous eyebrows, thick lips and huge antennae. ‘What do they want to go on that thing for?’ said Little Lil, crumpling up her face in disgust. But the boys were already buying everyone tickets.

  They stepped into the little two-seater carriages, mostly with a boy and a girl in each, but with Lilian and Little Lil together and Old Fat Nell on her own. The carriages formed a train that began to undulate around a circular track, at first in the open air and then diving underneath a canopy. As they were plunged into darkness, Lilian heard delighted shrieks and giggles from the other carriages, as the boys seized the moment and went in for a kiss and a cuddle. Each time they returned to daylight the pairs would hastily draw apart and wipe their mouths on their sleeves, before puckering up as the canopy came over them again.

  When The Caterpillar came to a stop, the boys hastily dragged the girls over to the River Cave, where little boats waited to waft them through a series of decorative caverns. Once again the ride had been chosen on the basis that it took place in semi-darkness, and most of the group were too busy snogging to notice the magical scenes lit up before them. ‘It’s enough to make you sick, ain’t it?’ said Old Fat Nell. ‘Oi, mate, you’re dribbling!’ she shouted at a boy in front, splashing water over him and the girl he was kissing. She and Little Lil burst out laughing and Lilian soon joined in, although a part of her couldn’t help imagining what it might have been like sailing through the River Cave with her lost love Reggie.

  Once they’d exhausted most of the snogging opportunities, the boys turned their attentions to the Scenic Railway. Despite its benign name, the one-mile rollercoaster had some fairly terrifying drops, and screams could be heard coming from it all day long. ‘Let’s see if they can keep kissing on that!’ said Old Fat Nell as she marched over to the ticket booth. Lilian and Little Lil looked at each other apprehensively before following her.

  They stepped into their seats and sat down as the rollercoaster set off at a gentle pace. ‘This ain’t so bad,’ said Lilian, as they climbed the first peak, taking in a panoramic view of the seafront. As the train neared the top, a large sign instructed the occupants to ensure they were seated, and Lilian clutched the bar in front of her tightly in preparation. Nevertheless, the sensation of dropping through the air caught her completely off guard. She felt as if she were soaring upwards, completely weightless, far away from everything down on earth. Around her she could hear the screams of the other girls and, a few notes higher than the rest of them, the piercing tones of Little Lil. But to her surprise she didn’t feel like screaming too. Instead she found herself laughing and laughing, until tears streamed down her face. The sense of release was wonderful.

  As soon as the ride stopped, Lilian begged her friends to go again. They looked at her, confused – this wasn’t like shy old Lilian. ‘You sure you’re feeling all right?’ asked Little Lil.

  ‘That girl ain’t,’ said Old Fat Nell, pointing towards one of the others, who was puking up a sticky mixture of candyfloss and beer. The boy who had been kissing her in the River Cave did his best not to look.

  Once the girl’s queasiness wore off, they all headed down to the seafront in search of lunch, and the paint factory boys bought them little paper tubs of cockles and winkles, which they ate with toothpicks. The beach was even more crowded than Dreamland, with hardly an inch of sand visible between the deckchairs, so they soon decided to hit the pub instead. There they whiled away the last few hours of the day, getting increasingly merry, until it got dangerously close to six p.m.

  ‘We’re going to miss the bus!’ one girl shouted suddenly, slamming her drink down. The others hurriedly followed suit and abandoned their half-full glasses, grabbing their belongings and making for the door.

  ‘Hey, where are you going?’ the boys from the paint factory protested.

  ‘We’ve got to leave. See ya!’ said the girls as they flew out the door.

  ‘Wait!’ one of the boys called after them. ‘We’ve spent all that money on you and now you’re just buggering off?’

  ‘Looks like it, mate,’ said Old Fat Nell, finishing off a couple of the drinks that had been left behind, before following the others out.

  Back in the car park, Dave the driver counted the girls as they stumbled drunkenly back onto the coach. ‘Two missing,’ he said. ‘Anyone know where they are?’

  ‘Maybe they’ve had a better offer!’ someone shouted, and the whole bus erupted into laughter. Dave shook his head before pulling out of the car park.

  The journey home was always the part he dreaded the most, especially when his passengers were women. Sure enough, less than 20 minutes in, the first requests for a toilet stop were made. Dave obligingly pulled over and waited while some of his passengers relieved themselves and others stood at the side of the road clutching their stomachs and throwing up.

  The calls came again 20 minutes later, and then another 20 minutes after that.

  ‘I can’t keep stopping the coach!’ Dave said, exasperated. ‘Can’t you hold it in?’

  After the large amounts of alcohol consumed over the course of the day, however, this was nigh on impossible, and by the time the coach pulled in for a pit stop at a pub called the Black Prince there were several wet seats.

  Another coach was parked alongside theirs, which the girls soon learned belonged to a group of lads from the Spitals gas company in Stratford, who were also on their way back from a beano. With all thoughts of their paint factory boys now long gone, the girls were soon enjoying drinks with the new lads, and singing and dancing with almost as much energy as they had on the outward journey.

  Emboldened by the alcohol, Lilian was heartily joining the others in a chorus of ‘My Old Man’, and barely noticed that a young bloke with ginger hair was watching her intently. By the end of the song she was laughing and gasping for breath, and when she looked up he was smiling at her.

  ‘Drunk again, eh?’ he said.

  Lilian was about to take offence, when she remembered the paper hat she was wearing.

  ‘You can’t talk,’ she laughed, pointing to a hat on his head which read ‘One Drink and I’m Yours’. ‘What are you wearing that for?’

  ‘I thought I might get a free drink out of it,’ he quipped. Then, suddenly realising that Lilian might take his joke the wrong way, he blurted out, ‘Oh no, I didn’t mean … I mean, can I buy you a drink?’

  Lilian giggled, and the young man looked thrilled to have made her laugh. ‘Go on then,’ she said, and he ran off eagerly to the bar.

  By the time he returned another song was well underway and, once he had handed Lilian her drink, they both joined in. It wasn’t long, however, before Dave the driver was rounding up his drunken flock for the last leg of the journey, and as they were leaving, Lilian lost the young man in the crowd.

  She went to the back of the coach and found two empty seats, where she lay down, smiling to herself. All day she had watched the other girls being chased around by boys and had counted herself lucky to have avoided their attentions. But she had to admit that for once she had enjoyed getting a little bit of notice from someone, even if it was only for five minutes. She closed her eyes and settled down happily into the seat.

  ‘Do you mind if I sit here?’

  Lilian opened her eyes to see the ginger-haired young man
with the silly hat standing in the aisle, looking at her hopefully.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked in astonishment, sitting up abruptly.

  ‘I wanted to see you home,’ he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  ‘You don’t know where I live!’ said Lilian, laughing.

  The young man squeezed into the seat next to her. ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘Cranley Road, Plaistow. Where do you live?’

  ‘Stratford.’

  ‘That’s a long walk!’

  He smiled. ‘It’s no trouble. I’m Alec, by the way.’

  As the coach finally neared Trinity Church, the girls began singing ‘For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow’, in honour of their long-suffering driver, and a paper hat stuffed full of notes was sent up to the front of the coach for him.

  ‘You lot take care of yourselves,’ said Dave, with a weary smile, as he dropped them off and gratefully drove away.

  They had arrived back later than planned, and night was beginning to fall. Lilian could feel the old fear of the dark tugging at her once more, and suddenly hoped that Alec had meant what he’d said about walking her home.

  As soon as Old Fat Nell and Little Lil had said their goodbyes, Alec held out his arm for Lilian to take. He looked so earnest as he made the gesture that she couldn’t help giggling a little, but she took it and they began to walk along the Beckton Road together.

  On the way Alec asked her so many questions about herself, and seemed so fascinated by everything she had to say, that for once in her life Lilian found she barely stopped talking. She discovered much less about him, but did learn that he was a gas fitter, that he lived with his mum, sister and brother-in-law in Stratford, and that he was four years younger than she was.

  Lilian knew it was an hour’s walk from her house to where Alec lived, so at each turn she expected him to drop her off and head home, leaving her to walk the rest of the way by herself. But to her surprise he escorted her right up to the gate of her house in Cranley Road. What a gentleman, she thought to herself.

  ‘Well, thank you for walking me home,’ she said, giving him a friendly smile and turning to the door.

  As she got the key into the lock, the young man cried, ‘Wait!’

  Lilian turned round in surprise.

  ‘Can I see you again next Saturday?’ he asked.

  She studied him. His face was so open and honest that he looked as if he couldn’t hurt a fly. But then she remembered Reggie, and how he had broken her heart. She couldn’t risk falling in love again, especially not with a boy four years younger than herself.

  ‘No, sorry, I can’t,’ she said, hastily pushing the door open. ‘Nice to meet you – bye.’

  But her hesitation had given him hope.

  ‘Look, I’ll come and knock for you next Saturday, all right?’ he called, as she closed the door on him.

  Old Fat Nell and Little Lil pounced on Lilian as soon as she got to the factory on Monday.

  ‘What happened? Did you snog him? Are you going to see him again?’

  ‘Keep your hair on!’ Lilian said, laughing. ‘He wants to take me out on Saturday.’

  ‘Hooray!’ said Little Lil.

  Old Fat Nell looked at Lilian suspiciously. ‘You said no, didn’t you?’

  Lilian nodded.

  ‘Oh no!’ squeaked Little Lil. ‘But why? He’s nice, ain’t he?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Lilian, ‘but I’m older than him.’

  ‘That don’t matter,’ said Old Fat Nell, confidently. ‘A bloke likes a proper woman to show him what’s what.’

  By the time Saturday came round, Lilian was still in two minds about whether to go on the date. She took out her old picture of Reggie and looked at it, as she had done so many times before. Even now, long after any hopes of hearing from him had vanished, it cut her to the quick to see his face. It wasn’t just that she didn’t want to have her heart broken again, she realised. She just didn’t believe she was capable of falling in love like that a second time.

  But did that mean she should spend the rest of her life alone? Never marry, never leave her strict father’s house? Alec seemed like a real gentleman. Who knew when another one of those would come her way?

  Lilian looked at herself in the mirror. ‘Grab a hold of him, girl,’ she told her reflection.

  12

  Gladys

  The Blue Room had recently moved to the top of a new building at the eastern edge of the factory – strictly speaking it wasn’t blue any more, but the old name had stuck. The girls now had to climb many flights of stairs every day to reach their department. On the plus side, a new set of toilets had been installed, and they came with some intriguing additions: a row of bidets.

  ‘What are those sinks doing all the way down there?’ Gladys asked when she first spotted the unfamiliar objects.

  ‘Don’t know,’ replied Betty. ‘They must be for washing your feet in.’

  ‘Why do they think our feet need washing?’ asked Maisie, a little insulted, as she took a seat on one of the bidets and lit up a fag. Several girls followed her example.

  ‘It’s quite comfy like this actually,’ said one of them as she straddled the porcelain basin.

  As the others chatted away, Gladys crept stealthily up behind them on her tiptoes. Then, in a flash, she ran along the back of the row, flicking the taps on full blast.

  Maisie and the other girls leapt to their feet screaming, while Gladys legged it, crying with laughter, back to the Blue Room, where her friends spent the rest of the day attempting to hide the wet patches on their bottoms.

  As well as extra equipment in the lavatories, the new Blue Room also afforded quite a view – of the stinking mountain of animal carcasses in the yard of John Knight’s soap works next door. From their vantage point on the top floor, the Blue Room girls could see the swarm of over-fed bluebottles that buzzed constantly around the rotting pile. Every so often, the poor men would appear whose job it was to shift the putrid mound, and as they shovelled away, rats measuring at least a foot long would come scurrying out, only to be chopped in half by the men and added to the top of the pile.

  The first time the inhabitants of the Beauty Shop witnessed this event there were screams of horror, cries of ‘I’m going to be sick’ and at least two near-fainting fits. ‘Get away from that window at once,’ commanded Julie McTaggart.

  ‘I’m never using soap again!’ declared Maisie. ‘Me neither,’ said Betty, wiping her brow.

  But for Gladys the spectacle held a grotesque fascination, and thereafter she kept an eye out for the men and their shovels. ‘Quick, they’re chopping up rats again!’ she would shout to the reel boys, who like her found it morbidly fascinating.

  With the new Blue Room came a number of new workers. While Gladys’s friend Betty had an uncle and a sister at the factory, fresh recruit Eva Browning seemed to have her entire family there. When Eva joined the Blue Room she became the fifth Browning to work at Plaistow Wharf – her father was in the offices, her younger sister Rosie in syrup-filling, another younger sister Jean in can-making and her brother Danny on the lorry bank.

  Eva had tried her best to avoid the family firm. Determined to go into dressmaking, she had been excited to land a job as a machinist in an Oxford Street workshop. When she brought home her first pitiful week’s pay, however, she realised she had made a mistake.

  ‘No more arguments,’ said her mother. ‘Your dad’s got you a job down Tate & Lyle paying twice that, plus bonuses. You start at six a.m. tomorrow.’

  Like thousands before her, Eva had to admit that Tate & Lyle was the best-paying employer around, and duly donned her dungarees.

  Unlike Gladys, Eva immediately felt at home in the so-called Beauty Shop. At the end of each shift she would whisk off her turban and shake out her bouffant blonde hair, which, combined with her sparkling blue eyes, ensured that she caused quite a stir among the reel boys. Her status in the department was further enhanced by the fact that he
r family lived in East Ham, and were therefore considered rather posh.

  Maisie, however, was none too pleased to find herself with a rival for the unofficial title of Blue Room beauty queen. Although Eva was naturally shy, the reel boys were soon looking for excuses to stop by her machine for a chat, and in response Maisie began flirting more and more outrageously with Alex by the waste paper.

  ‘Maisie hates me like the devil hates holy water,’ Eva complained to Gladys in the café one morning.

  ‘Nah, she don’t really,’ Gladys assured her. ‘She’s just never met anyone with hair as big as yours.’

  After a while, Eva decided to play Maisie at her own game. For every button that Maisie undid on her blouse, Eva would ensure that one of her own came magically undone. Half an hour later, Maisie would respond by showing a little bit more cleavage herself, and, sure as anything, Eva would soon follow suit.

  ‘What’s the matter, beauty queens? Is it too hot in here for you?’ Gladys asked one day, prompting a contemptuous flick of the hair from Maisie, and a giggle from Eva.

  Gladys, Betty and Eva quickly became a trio, and Gladys was pleased to have a new friend around to spend time with whenever Betty was busy with her boyfriend Sid. The three girls soon discovered a new hangout, an Italian café on the Barking Road near Gladys and Betty’s bus stop. Bianchi’s was run by a little old man named Horace, and had the misfortune of still being open when the girls were coming back from their late shift. After they had been chained to their machines for eight hours, the last thing the three of them felt like doing was going home to bed, and if it was midweek a good natter over a cup of tea was just the ticket. Unfortunately, caffeine tended to enhance the girls’ manic energy rather than dampen it, and one cup of tea could often prompt an hour or more of hysterical laughter while poor Horace wiped his brow behind the counter and prayed for the night to end.