Home Front Girls

by Rosie Goodwin

  On 8 January 1940, for the first time since 1918, ration books were introduced. Butter, sugar, tea, bacon and all the food that had previously been taken for granted were suddenly very precious. Then to make things even worse, as the month progressed the weather conditions worsened, and on 17 January the River Thames froze over – something that had last happened in 1888.

  ‘Brrr, it’s enough to make yer want to stay in bed,’ Mrs P shivered one evening when Lucy arrived after work to collect Mary. Thankfully, the child’s cough had improved but she still wasn’t completely better and Lucy hated leaving her, especially as the time for her to be evacuated drew closer. Mrs P’s Anderson shelter was now completed and she had spent a lot of time making it as comfortable as she could – just in case it was needed, as she pointed out. Fred had built bunk-beds along one wall from pallets that he had collected from the market, and Mrs P had dragged two thin mattresses in there along with a selection of old bedding that she had stored over the years. There was also an old easy chair and candles so that they would not have to sit in the dark.

  ‘If the sirens should ever go off, don’t you hesitate to get yourself an’ little Mary round here,’ she drummed into Lucy. ‘There ain’t much protection to be had from fallin’ bombs beneath a kitchen table.’

  Yet more shelters had now been finished all over the city, and every time Lucy passed them she shuddered and prayed that they would never be needed. But word of what was happening in the war was not promising. The papers were full of the 152 lives that had been lost when the Dunbar Castle had been sunk by a German mine off the Goodwin Sands, and a further thirty-two lives were lost when German planes attacked another twelve ships, sinking three of them.

  ‘Things ain’t lookin’ good,’ Mrs P remarked worriedly. ‘I just pray that our Freddy an’ your Joel are all right, that’s all.’

  There had been no word from either of them, although both women waited hopefully each morning for the postman to arrive.

  ‘It said on the wireless earlier on that the government is bein’ urged to give women the same wages an’ conditions as men now,’ Mrs P informed Lucy as she helped Mary into her coat. ‘They reckon they’re goin’ to be given trainin’ an’ that there’ll be an influx of women into the war industries. Stands to reason there’ll have to be, don’t it? I mean, who else can do it if the men are all away at war?’

  Lucy took Mary by the hand, ready to leave. ‘Try not to worry too much,’ the girl said gently, but she knew that it would be easier said than done. Mrs P was a ‘born worrier’ as her Fred was always telling her.

  ‘Fred was sayin’ that they’re movin’ the bomber parts they’re makin’ from some of the factories like the Daimler, the Dunlop, the Humber an’ so on to shadow factories on the outskirts of the city to reduce the threat of aerial attacks an’ bombin’ away from the residential areas.’

  ‘Well, that’s good then, isn’t it?’ Lucy questioned.

  ‘Aye, I dare say it is, but it makes yer realise things are gettin’ worse though, don’t it?’

  ‘I suppose it does,’ Lucy admitted sadly. ‘But now I’d best be getting home. To tell you the truth I’m dead on my feet and looking forward to spending a night in front of the fire with another of Dotty’s stories.’

  Mrs P instantly perked up. Dotty was now allowing all of them to read her efforts and they were thoroughly enjoying them.

  ‘Eeh, that girl can spin a good yarn, can’t she?’ she breathed. ‘I don’t mind admittin’ that one yer lent me the other day moved me to tears.’

  ‘Her books should be in the Central Library – she’s brilliant,’ Lucy agreed as she moved towards the door. ‘Night, Mrs P, and thank you.’

  Chapter Twelve

  At that moment, Dotty was entering her flat. Once inside, she snapped the light on and hurried over to light the gasfire. She had collected her mail from the table in the hall as she usually did, not that there was ever a lot for her. Now, after placing the kettle on to boil, she glanced curiously at the envelope she had collected. It had a London postmark, but she couldn’t for the life of her think who it might be from. Her name and address were typed and it looked quite official, which puzzled her even more. She slit it open. Inside was a single sheet of paper, again typed, and she quickly began to scan the page.

  Dear Miss Kent,

  Having read your delightful submission, The Soldier’s Girl, it gives me great pleasure to inform you that both myself and a senior editor at Woman’s Heart magazine consider it to be worthy of publication. We would like to include the story in our March edition and in the meantime would be pleased to look at some more of your other stories as we feel your writing has great potential and we may well be interested in giving your stories a regular slot.

  If you would kindly ring us on the number below we will be happy to discuss your fee and arrange a meeting.

  Yours sincerely,

  Mr R. Brabinger

  Dotty blinked, then read the letter through again just to make sure that she hadn’t imagined it. She had lent The Soldier’s Girl to Annabelle’s mother to read just a couple of weeks ago but had no idea how it could have landed up on the desk of a magazine editor . . . unless Miranda had sent it to them, of course. Yes! That must be it, she thought, as different emotions raced through her. She felt elated yet terrified at the thought of so many people reading her stories all at the same time.

  There was a tap at the door then and when Dotty answered it to find Miss Timms on the doorstep she almost yanked her into the room and pressed the letter into the startled woman’s hand.

  ‘Read this,’ she said bluntly, then remembering her manners she flapped, ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Hello, Miss Timms. I didn’t mean to be rude but I just got home and opened this and don’t quite know what to make of it. I’m afraid I’m all flustered.’

  Miss Timms took off her new silk scarf, then removed her gloves and read the letter. Her face broke into a wide smile. ‘Why, Dotty, this is absolutely marvellous!’ she exclaimed delightedly. ‘Well done. I’m so pleased you finally plucked up the courage to show your work to someone. Didn’t I always tell you it was good enough for publication?’

  ‘But I didn’t show it to anyone,’ Dotty said. ‘At least, not to this magazine. I let Annabelle’s mother read it and she must have sent it to them.’

  ‘Then in that case well done to her for recognising talent,’ Miss Timms responded. ‘You really must telephone them, Dotty. They obviously love your work – and who knows where this might lead? I have a friend who has been trying to get some of her work published for years, so I know how hard it is. I’m so proud of you.’

  Dotty shook her head, trying to take it all in. Then she paled. ‘It says they want to arrange a meeting with me and they’re in London,’ she gulped. London sounded like the other side of the world to her. ‘And what would they think of me if I was to go? I mean, I’m hardly a raving beauty, am I? I bet they’d be expecting someone really glamorous and fashionable.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Miss Timms snapped. ‘The trouble is, Dotty, you don’t realise how attractive you are. Why, your skin is flawless and I’m sure if you had your hair styled and we got you a new outfit, you’d be stunning.’

  ‘Me stunning?’ Dotty scoffed with a nervous giggle. ‘I doubt that very much.’

  ‘Even so, I refuse to let you throw this chance away.’ Miss Timms was adamant. ‘We’ll get that friend of yours – you know, the blonde one, Annabelle isn’t it? – to take you shopping and in the meantime I insist that you telephone these people first thing tomorrow. Do you promise me you’ll do that?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Dotty said hesitantly. ‘But what shall I say to them? I’m not very good with strangers.’

  ‘Rubbish! You will just be yourself and tell them that you would be delighted to meet them to discuss your work, and I’m convinced they will love you just as much as I . . .’ The woman’s voice tailed away and Dotty had to stop herself from reaching out and hugging her. She was about to tell
me that she loved me, she thought wonderingly, and the knowledge gave her joy. No one had ever told her that they loved her before in the whole of her life, and the thought that Miss Timms might love her boosted her confidence.

  ‘All right then, I’ll do it,’ she promised as the kettle began to sing on the gas-ring. ‘And then we’ll just play it by ear.’ She hurried away then to spoon some tea leaves into the teapot but her hand was shaking so much with excitement that she spilled half of it all over the table. And tea is on ration too, she thought as she giggled nervously. This was turning out to be quite an evening.

  Much later, when Miss Timms had left, Dotty wrapped up warmly and walked to the nearest phone box to ring Miranda.

  ‘Oh hello, dear – was it Annabelle you were after?’ Miranda asked pleasantly.

  ‘No, it was you I wanted to talk to, as it happens.’ Dotty said, then quickly went on to tell the woman what had happened.

  When she’d finished there was silence for a moment before Miranda asked tentatively, ‘Are you very annoyed with me, Dotty? I know I shouldn’t have sent the story away without your permission, but you have such a talent for writing and I thought you should be recognised. I’m not at all surprised that the magazine wants to publish you.’

  ‘No, I’m not annoyed. More shocked, I think,’ Dotty admitted. ‘I’m not too sure about the trip to London though. I’ve never ventured that far away on my own before.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll be absolutely fine,’ Miranda said confidently. ‘But I could always come with you if you liked? I’m certainly not going to let you miss this opportunity. Look, why don’t you come here for tea after work tomorrow with Annabelle and we’ll talk about it then. But meantime make sure you ring them first thing in the morning.’

  Dotty assured her that she would and floated back to the flat in a bubble of pure delight.

  Both Annabelle and Lucy were nearly as excited as Dotty was the next morning when they met up during their morning break at work.

  ‘Just think, I could be sitting next to a budding bestselling author,’ Lucy twinkled. ‘Have you rung them yet?’

  ‘I have, as a matter of fact,’ Dotty said. ‘And I’ve made an appointment to go and see them next week. On Wednesday.’ Her face fell as she looked down at her plain black skirt and her flat black shoes. ‘Miss Timms thinks I ought to treat myself to a new outfit, and get a new hairdo,’ she went on doubtfully. ‘But to tell the truth I haven’t got a clue about what’s fashionable and what’s not. I’ve always tended to go for comfortable, practical clothes and I can’t ever remember having my hair cut by a hairdresser.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Annabelle eyed Dotty’s long hair, which was tied into a ponytail at the nape of her neck with a slim black ribbon. ‘You know, I think a bob and a side parting would suit you,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘And as for a new outfit – well, we won’t have to go far to get you one, will we? We can have a look around the clothes department in our lunch-hour. There’s bound to be something to suit you.’

  ‘I don’t want anything too fancy,’ Dotty gushed nervously. She had never been one for making a statement or wanting to stand out from the crowd.

  ‘Just leave it to us,’ the girls told her. ‘We won’t put you far wrong, trust us.’

  And so during their lunch break the three girls headed for the ladies’ fashion department and began to rummage through the clothes rails as Dotty tagged along behind them.

  ‘What about this?’ she asked, holding up a calf-length grey skirt.

  ‘Oh please!’ Annabelle snorted in disgust. ‘You may as well go in one of your work skirts as that. It’s dull as ditchwater.’

  ‘I’m afraid I have to agree with her,’ Lucy said. ‘We want something sort of . . . classy! Yes, that’s it – classy and sophisticated to give you confidence.’ And so the search continued until Annabelle gave a sudden exclamation of delight and pounced on a suit.

  ‘Now this would be perfect,’ she declared. A lovely shade of blue, it had a fitted jacket with a peplum waist and the skirt was calf-length and flared.

  Dotty eyed it doubtfully. It looked very expensive and it was nothing at all like the clothes she normally favoured.

  ‘Just try it on,’ the two girls urged as they saw her uncertainty and so Dotty reluctantly took it off them and headed for the fitting rooms.

  When she reappeared minutes later wearing the suit, both girls gasped. The assistant who had been helping during the search nodded approvingly. The jacket made Dotty’s waist look tiny and the skirt was very flattering.

  ‘How does it feel on?’ Annabelle asked. The suit was made of a very soft woollen material, and Dotty told her that it felt like silk against her skin.

  ‘It makes your eyes look really blue,’ Lucy commented.

  ‘And it shows off your figure. I never even realised you had one under all those baggy clothes you wear,’ Annabelle teased.

  ‘How much is it?’ Dotty asked, ever practical.

  ‘It isn’t cheap,’ the assistant said, glancing at the ticket, ‘but it is beautiful quality and seeing as you work here I’m sure I could get you a staff discount. Let me go and have a word with the head of department.’

  She hurried back seconds later to tell her, ‘Miss Marsh says you can have it for one pound seven and sixpence.’

  Dotty gasped. It seemed like a fortune but as the assistant quickly pointed out, ‘Once the clothes rationing really comes into force you won’t be able to buy anything nearly as nice as that.’

  ‘And it will never go out of fashion,’ Lucy added. ‘It’s a timeless style and just perfect for what you want it for. You could wear the skirt with a blouse and make more than one outfit out of it.’

  ‘You’re having it,’ Annabelle told her firmly when she saw Dotty dithering. ‘And now we need to get you a new coat to go over it. There’s no way I’m letting you go to London in that drab old thing you wear to work. And then of course we’ll need some new shoes and a new handbag and—’

  ‘Stop right there,’ Dotty said, holding up her hand to halt Annabelle in mid-flow. ‘I might afford a new pair of shoes to go with it, but I certainly can’t afford a coat and a handbag too.’

  ‘All right then.’ Knowing when she was beaten, Annabelle shrugged. ‘I dare say I have a coat and a bag you could borrow,’ she said generously. ‘You’re a bit thinner than me but with the suit underneath I’m sure I’ll have a coat that will fit you. We are going to get your hair styled though. I’ll make an appointment at my hairdresser’s for Thursday afternoon when we’re off work. And I’ll come with you to make sure you have something fashionable,’ she added with a twinkle in her eye. ‘It’s high time you got rid of that ponytail, it makes you look about fourteen. But come on now, if we don’t get a move on we’ll be late back to work and there’ll be blood on the moon. Go and pay for that suit and then we might just have time to get you some shoes on the way back upstairs.’

  Twenty minutes later, Dotty hurriedly shoved the suit along with a very smart pair of black wedge shoes into her locker before rushing off to her department. She could never remember spending a quarter as much on one single outfit as she had today, but as she thought of how she had looked and felt in the suit she was very glad that she had.

  That weekend, Lucy and Dotty went to Annabelle’s for tea and Miranda gasped when she caught sight of Dotty. Annabelle had indeed accompanied her to the hairdresser’s and now she sported a very becoming shoulder-length bob that was parted at the side, with a fringe that made her look very grown up.

  ‘Why, you look completely different with your hair like that,’ Miranda said approvingly, then, ‘Did you bring your suit with you? Annabelle told me how nice it was.’

  Dotty waved a bag at her. ‘Yes, I did. Annabelle is going to let me borrow one of her coats. She says I’m not allowed to go in this one.’

  ‘Well, I certainly agree with her on that point but I don’t think you’ll need to borrow one. She told me what colour your suit was and I think I may have the
very one. I never wear it any more so if you like it you’re more than welcome to keep it.’ Miranda disappeared to return minutes later with a very smart swing coat in navy blue folded across her arm. ‘Here, try this on,’ she encouraged and Dotty slipped it on.

  ‘It’s just perfect,’ Miranda told her. ‘And I have to say it looks so much better on you than it ever did on me. Take it and wear it in good health.’

  ‘But I couldn’t,’ Dotty spluttered. ‘It must have cost a fortune and I really can’t take it.’

  ‘Of course you can,’ Miranda said. ‘What good is it to me, hanging in the wardrobe and never seeing the light of day? You’ll be doing me a favour taking it out of the way and I thought you might like this handbag too.’

  She then produced a lovely black leather handbag that matched the shoes Dotty had bought perfectly. ‘I’ve got far too many,’ she assured the girl with a guilty grin. ‘I’m afraid handbags have always been my weakness. Richard was always scolding me about it. Take it – I promise you I won’t even miss it. And now Annabelle tells me she’s going to show you how to apply a little make-up. You don’t need much with that lovely complexion, but you’ll be surprised to see what a difference a little mascara and lipstick can make. We’ll have a full dress rehearsal then before we have tea, shall we?’

  Half an hour later they all stared at Dotty admiringly as she emerged in her new outfit. She was beaming like a Cheshire cat and hardly recognised herself in the mirror.

  ‘I don’t know how to thank you all,’ she said, but they brushed her thanks aside.

  ‘You don’t need to,’ Miranda told her kindly. ‘Just go to London and do us proud. One day when you’re a bestselling author, I want to be able to say, “I knew her when . . .”’