‘Bella was a sugar girl,’ said Miss Smith, her voice uncharacteristically wobbly. ‘She wasn’t married, and she got pregnant.’
A shocked silence fell over the girls as they took in her words. The procession came closer and they all bowed their heads.
Gladys couldn’t help sneaking a peek at Miss Smith. It was clear she was struggling to maintain her composure, and tears had formed in her eyes. ‘If any of you girls are ever in trouble,’ she said, more softly, ‘I want you to know you can come to me.’
The procession passed and went on its way, but the girls kept standing there, watching, until it was completely out of view.
Eric’s engagement ring had started off as a source of pride for Gladys, even if he himself wasn’t. But now every time she looked at it she felt uncomfortable. The girls were supposed to take their jewellery off whenever they were on the machines, and Gladys found herself more often than not failing to put the ring back on again afterwards.
‘You’re not wearing your ring,’ Betty commented one night, over a cup of tea at Bianchi’s. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Gladys said. ‘I suppose I just didn’t feel like it today.’
The truth was that what had seemed like a game a few months back now felt more serious. Eric had just gone away again, and each time he went his reluctance to leave Gladys was even stronger, while all she felt was overwhelming relief at seeing the back of him.
She took the ring out of her pocket and put it in the palm of her hand. When she’d first been given it, it had seemed like a sparkling toy. Now she saw it for what it was: a promise, literally cast in stone. She felt sick to her stomach.
‘You know you don’t have to go through with it if you don’t want to,’ said Betty, watching her friend carefully.
‘Oh, Bets, how can I chuck him now?’ Gladys said. ‘It’ll break his little heart.’
It was late by the time Gladys got back to Eclipse Road, and her family were already asleep. But she knew she couldn’t go to bed yet. She set the ring down on the table, vowing never to put it on again.
Gladys took a sheet of notepaper and a pen out of her mother’s drawer. It was cowardly, she knew, but if she spoke to him face to face who knew what Eric might say to change her mind.
‘Dear Eric,’ she wrote. ‘I’m sorry but …’ What could she say? That she had never really loved him? Liked him, even?
‘I just don’t love you any more,’ she scribbled, quickly. ‘I’m sending you back the ring and I can’t see you again. I’m so sorry. Gladys.’
She folded the letter, put it in an envelope, and dropped the ring inside.
The next day, having posted the letter, Gladys arrived home from work feeling lighter than she had in weeks, and virtually skipped through the front door.
‘What are you so happy about, girl?’ asked her mother suspiciously.
‘I’ve chucked Eric!’ Gladys beamed. ‘I sent him back his ring and told him we was through.’
‘Thank the Lord,’ cried her father, raising his cup of tea in congratulation.
‘You silly cow!’ shouted her mother. ‘What did you go and do that for?’
‘Well, I had to, didn’t I? I never really liked him,’ said Gladys.
‘Yes, we all knew that,’ said Rose, exasperated, ‘but why on earth didn’t you just keep the ring?’
With Eric finally out of the picture, Gladys threw herself back into her two favourite pastimes – playing sport and messing about at work. Over the years, the other girls in the Blue Room had got used to her tomboyish ways, and she in turn now felt a genuine affection for everyone on the floor, not just her friends Betty and Eva. Being a relatively small department they were a tight-knit group, and it was rare for there to be any disharmony in the room. Even Maisie and Eva’s ongoing rivalry had never boiled over into anything unpleasant.
It was therefore quite a shock when war broke out in the Blue Room. Ironically, it began with a windfall. A new girl called Lizzie came in one day in a flurry of excitement. Her boyfriend had just won a large sum of money and she was beside herself with joy. But her boyfriend’s sudden increase in wealth coincided with an increasing sense of insecurity on Lizzie’s part – made even worse when a pretty girl was in the vicinity.
Lizzie and Eva had always been very friendly with one another. Yet now, whenever Lizzie saw Eva chatting to her boyfriend – her glossy blonde hair tumbling down her back and her pretty, girlish face smiling up at him – it was as if a pitchfork had been stabbed into her heart. He was rich, she told herself, and that meant he could have anyone he wanted. And if he could have anyone he wanted, then he would probably want a pretty girl like Eva. No doubt Eva had realised it too, and was making the most of the opportunity, plotting to steal both him and his money!
The poisonous thoughts went round and round in Lizzie’s head, growing stronger and stronger. The next time she saw Eva in the Blue Room, she stormed up to her.
‘I know what you’re up to – don’t think I don’t,’ she said. ‘You keep your hands off my man!’
Eva was shocked. ‘Don’t be silly, Lizzie, I’m your friend!’ she protested. ‘Why would I be after your boyfriend?’
‘Some friend!’ cried Lizzie, fighting back tears. Suddenly she shoved Eva, hard, pushing her over a sack of discarded metal print sheets. Twisted up inside the bag, some of the pieces were dangerously sharp, and it was only by good luck that Eva avoided a lacerated back.
The reel boys rushed over to help her to her feet, but not before Julie McTaggart had been alerted to the scuffle. Minutes later, Eva and Lizzie had both been sent to Miss Smith’s office.
Betty Harrington told them to wait outside the door, and they stood there, one on either side, their faces turned away from each other. Eva was mortified at the thought of anyone seeing her outside the Personnel Office, knowing that word would soon get back to her father. He had probably already learned that she had been mixed up in a fight, and would be furious when she got home.
Finally the door to the office opened, and Eva and Lizzie walked in. Eva’s palms were sweating with fear.
‘Right,’ said Miss Smith. ‘One at a time, please. Eva, you can go first. Tell me what happened.’
Shakily, Eva gave her side of the story, trying to sound as grown-up as possible. She had nothing to be ashamed of, she kept telling herself. She hadn’t started it.
Miss Smith sat back in her chair and considered what Eva had told her. ‘Lizzie? What have you got to say?’ she demanded.
Eva’s heart was beating fast. What if Lizzie disputed her account of what had happened? If Miss Smith decided that she didn’t believe her version of events, she might get the sack. No Browning had ever been fired from Tate & Lyle, and her family would see it as a disgrace.
Lizzie looked at the floor. ‘It’s true, Miss Smith. Like Eva said,’ she muttered.
Eva turned to her in surprise.
‘You do realise that scrap metal is very dangerous?’ Miss Smith told Lizzie. ‘You’re lucky Eva wasn’t seriously injured.’
‘Yes, Miss,’ Lizzie mumbled.
‘I can’t possibly send you back to the floor after this,’ Miss Smith continued. ‘You’ll have to leave. But if after three months you can get a good report from your new employer, bring it to me and I’ll consider taking you on again.’
Devastated though she was about the way things had turned out with Lizzie, Eva was relieved not to have to face her again in the Blue Room. She’d seen another side of her former friend, and it had scared her.
Lizzie, however, was furious at having lost her job despite having owned up to what she’d done. She was too angry even to make the best of the situation and take up Miss Smith’s generous offer. Rumours that she was going to get her own back on Eva began to fly around the factory, and, like everything else, they reached Eva’s father before long.
‘Now listen to me,’ he told his daughter over dinner that evening. ‘The word is, she’s going to deck you
when you come out from the late shift on Friday.’
‘Dad!’ exclaimed Eva, horrified.
‘Don’t worry, darlin’, I’ve already gone up Flo’s office and told her about it.’
‘Dad!’ Eva said again, even more horrified that her father had been talking to Miss Smith about her.
‘She said she can’t give you the day off work, but she’ll warn the commissionaires. You’re to go into the gatehouse after your shift and wait there until the coast is clear.’
Eva nodded, dumbstruck.
Back at the factory, the upcoming battle was all anyone could talk about, even in departments where no one knew who Eva and Lizzie were. Some people, it seemed, were looking forward to seeing a cat fight.
The day before the showdown was due to take place, Eva’s boyfriend John decided she could do with a backup plan. ‘You need to be prepared,’ he insisted, ‘just in case something goes wrong and Lizzie gets her hands on you. Let me show you how to throw a proper punch.’
‘John, you can’t be serious!’ she protested. The idea of pretty, girly Eva socking someone was ridiculous, even to herself.
‘I’m deadly serious,’ he said, furrowing his brow. ‘Now, imagine I’m Lizzie. Go for me!’
‘I can’t!’ Eva said, giggling. ‘You don’t look anything like her!’
‘Eva,’ he said, sternly, ‘do you want to get beaten to a pulp? Now go for me. Hard as you like. Don’t hold back.’
Eva sighed, then pulled herself up to her full height, which was not much, and hurled herself at her boyfriend, grabbing his golden hair in her fists.
‘No, no, no,’ he said, pulling her away by her wrists. ‘That’s what she’ll expect you to do. Girls always go for hair-pulling and scratching. You’ve got to learn to punch like a man.’
John showed her how to make a fist, leaving her thumb out so it wouldn’t get broken, and held up his palms to let her pummel them. Then he showed her how to protect herself with her left hand and attack with her right.
After a good 20 minutes Eva collapsed, exhausted, into a chair. ‘I can’t do any more,’ she said. ‘I’m not a fighter!’
‘Well,’ John said, ‘in that case I’m coming to meet you at ten o’clock tomorrow night outside the Blue Room, and we’re walking to the gatehouse together.’
At ten p.m. on Friday, as the machines ground to a halt, Gladys put her arm around Eva’s shoulders. ‘Come on, time to get you into the gatehouse,’ she said. She, Betty and Eva left together, and John was waiting at the door as promised.
‘Eva,’ he said, ‘I think you ought to know there’s a lot of girls out the front of the factory.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Eva.
As they drew near to the entrance, she could hear jeering. Outside in the street, a large crowd had gathered to witness the forthcoming bust-up, and at the head of the rabble was Lizzie.
‘Come on, quick – let’s get inside,’ said John.
Eva nodded, terrified, and they began to hurry over to the gatehouse. Outside, chants of ‘She’s gonna get you, she’s gonna get you,’ rang in the air.
Suddenly a thought dropped like a hard little pebble into Eva’s mind. Why should she, who had done nothing wrong, hide away from a silly girl like Lizzie?
Eva stopped dead in her tracks. ‘What are you doing?’ asked John.
‘I can’t hide in the gatehouse,’ she said. ‘If I did that, I’d only be a coward. I’m going to face that girl. Alone.’
‘What are you talking about? Can’t you hear what they’re saying?’ asked John, frustrated.
‘No, she’s right,’ said Gladys. ‘C’mon, Eva.’
As John looked on in despair, Gladys, Betty and Eva walked out of the factory gate and onto the street. A buzz of excitement went through the crowd and it parted to let Eva through. She and Lizzie now stood face to face.
‘You lost me my job,’ said Lizzie.
‘You deserved it,’ replied Eva.
Fury flashed in Lizzie’s eyes and she made a grab at Eva’s beautiful blonde hair. She gave it a good yank and a few strands came out in her hand. Eva looked at them in horror. A shove was one thing, but Eva’s hair was her pride and joy. Anger welled up in her and she was about to reciprocate in kind when she remembered the lesson John had given her. She clenched her hand into a small, tight fist and swung at Lizzie.
But Lizzie was fast – she ducked the blow and landed one of her own, the force of which knocked Eva to the ground. The crowd gasped.
Eva had blood in her eye where the other girl’s nail had caught it. Looming over her, Lizzie looked impressed at her own handiwork. But she didn’t have much time to gloat. Eva was back on her feet and all the more determined. She narrowed her eyes, focused on the area above Lizzie’s right eye, and landed a good, hard punch.
Lizzie staggered backwards and the mob of girls grabbed her arms to steady her. Just then a commissionaire came pushing through the crowd.
‘Eva!’ he shouted. ‘Your dad told you to come to the gatehouse. Get in here now!’
Lizzie was still swaying from the punch, and Eva wasn’t sure she had it in her to retaliate again. In any case, she didn’t want to hang around and find out. She let the man lead her past the jeering girls and back into the factory grounds, with Gladys, Betty and a horrified John following close behind.
‘Blimey,’ said Gladys, once they were safely inside, ‘where’d you learn to throw a punch like that?’
Eva looked at John, who gave her a proud smile, despite himself.
When Eva got home, however, her father was far from pleased with her. ‘I told you to go to the gatehouse!’ he fumed. ‘You knew exactly what was going to happen if you didn’t.’
‘Dad,’ she said, ‘I couldn’t do that. I had to fight my own battle.’
The next day, Eva arrived at work with her head held high, only to be told by the commissionaire in the gatehouse that she wasn’t to go up to the Blue Room.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked. ‘They didn’t sack me!’
‘Miss Smith said to send you up to the offices. She’s waiting for you in the conference room.’
A summons to the conference room was even more serious than being sent to Miss Smith’s own office, and despite her new-found bravado Eva was quaking in her boots as she walked there.
She knocked on the door. ‘Come in,’ boomed Miss Smith.
Eva pushed the door open hesitantly, revealing a huge long room with a large, highly polished table. At one end sat Miss Smith, along with several male managers whose faces looked familiar but whose names she did not know. Also at the table sat Lizzie, and – to Eva’s horror – her own father. Lizzie, Eva noted, was sporting quite a shiner.
‘Sit down please, Eva,’ Miss Smith said, her face very grave. ‘It appears you didn’t follow my instructions yesterday, did you?’
‘No, Miss,’ Eva said, quietly.
‘It also appears,’ she went on, ‘that Lizzie here has a black eye. And you, I see, haven’t got off lightly yourself.’ She looked at Eva’s own injury. ‘So may I ask what happened?’
‘She pulled my hair!’ Eva burst out, still outraged at the memory of it.
Miss Smith raised an eyebrow, and Eva was sure she saw one of the male managers next to her roll his eyes. ‘Well,’ said Miss Smith, ‘you have got quite a mop of hair, haven’t you?’
Half an hour later, the door to the conference room opened and Lizzie walked out, never again to set foot inside the factory. Eva, meanwhile, had been exonerated.
‘I’ll walk you back to the Blue Room,’ Miss Smith told her kindly.
They stopped outside the department and Miss Smith asked, ‘Will you be all right now?’
‘Yes, Miss,’ said Eva. ‘And – thank you.’
Miss Smith nodded, and then marched away.
As soon as Eva entered the Blue Room, Gladys rushed up to meet her. She grabbed her right arm and raised it in the air. ‘Win-ner, win-ner, win-ner!’ she began to chant, and soon all the oth
er girls joined in.
Eva blushed. She still didn’t quite know how, but she had become the boxing champ of the Blue Room.
20
Joan
‘A quarter of Pear Drops, please, and a couple of Sherbet Fountains.’
Mechanically, Joan pulled down the glass jar from the shelf behind her and weighed out the little sweets. She scooped them into a paper bag and added two Fountains from a rack behind her.
It was over a month since she had swapped working with bags of sugar for bags of sweets, and the time had not gone quickly. Joan’s mother had whisked her away from Tate & Lyle before word could get out about her pregnancy, and she had not even had a chance to say goodbye to her fellow sugar girls. She had met up a few times since with Kathy and Peggy, but they were sworn to secrecy, and she knew the rest of the girls must be wondering why she had suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth.
Mrs Cook had found Joan her job at the Miss Candy stall of the East Ham Granada on the Barking Road. It was a stunning old 1930s picture palace, with a white and gold Wurlitzer organ that rose up out of the stage before every performance. But to Joan, confined to her little kiosk, it felt more like a prison.
A young couple wandered over to the booth and purchased a bag of Black Jacks, before walking off arm in arm. Joan gazed after them, remembering the happy evenings she and Alfie had spent together at the Imperial, the films barely glimpsed between kisses in the back row.
She had heard nothing from him since their brief conversation on the telephone. At first she had waited every day for a call, and checked the doormat each morning in the hopes of finding a letter, but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, she had resigned herself to Alfie’s stony silence.
The Sugar Girls Page 23