by Pam Weaver
When Mr Chard called to collect the rent last Friday, Grace was four bob short. In the end, she’d borrowed the money from the bit she’d put aside for the coalman, but this week she’d still be four bob short and she’d have both of them to pay.
Kaye stopped by another table to have a word with a friend. Grace looked up as Snowy put a cup of tea on the table beside her. ‘Grace. I really didn’t mean to offend you. Me and my big mouth.’
Grace gave her a thin smile. ‘I know, and I’m sorry I was touchy.’
‘Touchy?’ said Poppy. ‘It’s not like you to be touchy, Grace. What’s up?’
‘Never you mind,’ said Grace. ‘Now tell me a bit more about this ball you’re going to.’
Snowy lived in South Farm Road, and as she and Grace walked part of the way home together, Grace talked a bit more about Bonnie.
‘Listen, girl,’ said Snowy eventually. ‘If you need anything, just let me know.’
‘Thanks, Snowy.’
‘I mean it. I know how hard it can be having your family miles away.’
Snowy’s daughter Kate had met and married an Aussie during the war. He was a lovely man but it had broken her mother’s heart when Kate announced that she was going to live in Australia. It was 12,000 miles away and took six weeks to go by boat. Snowy knew she would never see them again, but she didn’t let that spoil her daughter’s plans. Kate had gone away with her mother’s blessing, a smile and a cheery wave.
Grace squeezed her elbow. ‘I know you do. You’re a good pal.’
‘Are you doing the Thrift Club again this year?’ Snowy, always slightly embarrassed by compliments, changed the subject quickly.
‘Oh, yes and it was so popular last year, I’ve got even more savers this year.’
The Thrift Club. Grace had quite forgotten about that money. It was meant for Christmas but if push came to shove, she could use the money she had saved to pay back what she owed for the rent and the coalman. Suddenly she felt a whole lot better.
When the end of the war came, money was tight. At the beginning of 1946, Grace had had the idea that if she collected a shilling or two every week from her friends and neighbours and put it into a post office savings account, by the end of the year they would have a nice little bit of interest as well as the money they had put in. It had been so successful, she had repeated it this year.
‘Christmas would have been a lean time of it in my house if my family was still living at home,’ said Snowy pulling a face. ‘I kept meaning to save a few bob but I even had to dip into the bit I put aside for the doctor this year. I wish I’d joined.’
‘Do it for next year,’ said Grace. ‘It’s hard enough trying to save but if you put a little bit by each week, it soon mounts up. Perhaps you could have a little holiday.’
‘Fat chance,’ Snowy laughed. ‘With all the shortages, I sometimes wonder who won this bloody war.’
Grace nodded. ‘Mind you, according to the newsreels, Germany is having a rough time of it and all.’
‘Yes, we’re helping them!’ said Snowy acidly. ‘But who’s helping us?’
Grace was forced to agree. It upset her to think of little children going hungry, no matter what the parents had done, but she understood why her friend felt so aggrieved. Snowy’s brother had been killed in Burma and her parents who lived in Southampton had been bombed. Fortunately, their house had been repaired, which was more than could be said for the rest of the street. Almost every other house had been obliterated.
‘I was going to ask you,’ said Grace, changing the subject back again. ‘I’m going to draw the club money on Friday 12th and count it out.’
‘I’m sure you’ll make a good job of it,’ said Snowy. ‘You’re good at sums.’
‘It’s not that,’ said Grace. ‘I want to make sure everything is completely above board. I’ve kept good books throughout the year and I want someone to check my records and sign that it’s all legit.’
‘Sounds reasonable enough,’ said Snowy.
‘It protects me more than anything else,’ said Grace. ‘Could you come and help me with the count?’
They had reached Snowy’s gate. ‘When do you want me to come over?’
‘It’s half day,’ said Grace. ‘About three?’
‘Make sure you’ve got the kettle on,’ Snowy grinned.
With a friendly wave, Grace walked on, hardly noticing that just as she passed the Beehive Tea Rooms, a car drew alongside her and the passenger door opened. It was Norris Finley.
‘Get in, will you, Grace. I have something I want to tell you.’
‘Can’t you tell me at work?’
‘It’s private.’
Grace’s heart leapt. Had he found Bonnie? She looked around to make sure nobody was about and jumped into the car quickly. They finished early at the factory on Fridays and sometimes, if Rita was late out of the grammar school, they walked home together. Grace didn’t want Rita seeing her getting into someone’s car. As she closed the door, Norris turned the car sharply and they headed down St Lawrence Avenue.
‘Where are we going?’
‘We need to talk,’ he said mysteriously. ‘Let’s find somewhere quiet.’
‘You promised me a rent book,’ she said running her fingers through her hair nervously.
‘Yes, yes, and you’ll get one.’
‘I can’t afford another rent rise.’
He patted her leg in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. ‘I’ll make sure you get no more rises, Grace. All right?’
‘I still want the rent book.’
‘All right!’ he snapped. He sped up the car.
‘Norris, I have to get back home,’ she protested. ‘You’re taking me miles away.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll get you back.’ He drove on until they’d reached Durrington where he turned into the rough track called Pond Lane before he stopped the car.
She waited anxiously. This was beginning to feel unpleasant. ‘So? What is it you want to tell me?’
He turned to her. ‘We’ve always been good friends, haven’t we, Grace?’
Grace stiffened. ‘Hardly,’ she snapped. ‘You took advantage of me when I was young and silly and you were old enough to know better. We have nothing in common.’
He smiled. ‘Nothing?’
Grace felt her face flame. ‘If it hadn’t have been for my Michael, my life would have been ruined.’
‘There you go again,’ he said, ‘being melodramatic.’
‘Just say what you want to say and then take me back,’ she said irritably.
‘Grace,’ he said, his voice becoming gentle. He touched her sleeve but she snatched her arm away. ‘I know you’re having a hard time. Look at you. Your coat is practically threadbare, your dress is darned …’
She could feel her face colouring with embarrassment. ‘I’ve just been to work,’ she said indignantly. ‘I’m hardly going to put on my best togs to go to the factory, am I?’
‘You deserve better. I could change all that. You know I’ve always liked you. I mean, really liked you.’
His words hung between them in the electrically charged atmosphere. She turned her head slowly.
‘It’s been three years since your Michael died,’ he went on quickly. ‘You must have needs, Grace.’ His hand was on her knee again. ‘I have needs too.’
She jerked his hand away. ‘You have a wife!’
‘She doesn’t give me what I want, Grace.’ He was giving her that hangdog look of his.
‘For God’s sake!’ she snapped. ‘I’m not sixteen any more. If that’s all you’ve got to say, take me back.’
It was obvious he wasn’t ready to give up. ‘We could come to some arrangement. I really want to be with you, Grace. You’ve still got your looks and a bit of powder and a new hairdo would do wonders for you.’
‘How dare you!’ She was furious. Mostly with herself for believing he had anything honourable to say but also for being stupid enough to get into his car. She should have
known where this was leading. ‘I want to go home.’
‘I could make your life so much easier,’ he went on. ‘How about I set up an account for you in the new Hubbard’s? It’s a lovely modern store and you could buy any dress you like.’
Grace grabbed the car door handle, but he held her back. ‘If you won’t do it for yourself, think about that girl of yours. I could get her into secretarial college. If she passes the exam, she could get a really good job, something with prospects. You’d likeyour girl to get on, wouldn’t you, Grace?’
‘Now look here, Norris,’ she said coldly. ‘I’m not going to be anybody’s tart. Me and mine are not for sale.’
His hand went up her skirt and groped for her knickers. ‘Come on, girl,’ he said huskily. ‘You know you’d like it. You used to be a little firebrand when you were young. I reckon I could relight that fire again.’
She flung her hand at his face and her finger caught him in the eye. He sprang back into his seat with a howl of pain and lashed out with his arm, hitting her on the side of her head. ‘You stupid cow,’ he spat. Now Grace wasn’t sure what to do. The most sensible thing would be to get out and walk but he had brought her at least three, maybe four miles from home. In the split second before opening the door and getting out, she heard voices. Grace glanced behind them and saw a woman and her three children heading in their direction. Up ahead was a little thatched cottage. There were no other houses in the lane. The woman most likely lived there.
‘Norris,’ she said as firmly as she could despite the sickening feeling gripping her whole body, ‘are you going to turn this car around and take me home or am I going to scream blue bloody murder and let that woman call the police?’
Without another word, he started the car. They drove back in silence but as he dropped her near the crossing, he snatched her arm again. ‘Think about it, Grace. I could cut your rent if you prefer. I’ll wait to hear from you.’
‘Then you’ll have a bloody long wait.’
As she slammed the door, he pointed a finger at the glass and shouted, ‘I’m warning you, Grace Rogers. You’d be a fool to make an enemy of me.’
Five
When Grace got back home, to her surprise, Rita still wasn’t back from school. She wasn’t unduly concerned. Rita had probably stayed on in the gym for netball practice or something. Grace set about getting the tea ready. She didn’t have many potatoes left in the enamel bin. She had seen some seed potatoes in Potter and Bailey’s but if you bought them, you had to sign a paper to say you were going to use them for planting. Grace supposed they would come round to your house and check up on you in the spring so she didn’t chance it. She only peeled two. That would be plenty for her and Rita. Bonnie was the one with the big appetite. She sighed and bit back her tears. This was almost as bad as the feeling she’d had when Michael was killed. Almost but not quite.
The loss of her husband was final, she’d known as soon as she’d got the telegram that she would never see him again, but the ‘loss’ of her daughter was cloaked in hope, the hope that one day she would walk through that door again. She sighed. She didn’t want to think of Bonnie ill or, worse still, lying in a ditch somewhere, but sometimes the darker thoughts crept in uninvited. She cleared her throat and swallowed the aching lump that had formed. Be rational, she told herself. There was no reason to think that any harm had befallen her. She had to accept that Bonnie had run away, that was all.
Seeing Norris had unsettled her again. Whatever women saw in the man now she couldn’t think, but when they were young, he had been a lot better looking and he could charm the birds from the trees with that silver tongue of his. He’d made no secret of his desire for her when they were youngsters but why now? Why did he still want her when he could have the pick of any girl in Worthing? The years hadn’t been kind to him. These days he was a thickset man with large jowls and a paunch. The richer he became the less attractive he became but he didn’t seem all that bothered. He really thought money could buy him anything and he was ruthless. The business with the rent had been going on for years and because people were reluctant to talk about money it had taken ages for them to realise that they were all paying different amounts. There was no doubt that if he cut Grace’s rent, it would make life a lot easier, especially now that Bonnie’s wage wasn’t coming into the house, but she wasn’t going to succumb to him – even if she had to wear frayed jumpers and eat half a potato for her dinner for the rest of her life. She still had her pride and her good name, for God’s sake.
As well as the potato shortage, there was a paper shortage and the butcher had said there was little hope of poultry being on the menu for Christmas, unless, of course, she wanted to use the black market. Grace had never done that. She didn’t want to do it on principle and besides, they charged such high prices.
Rita burst through the door in a state of high excitement and, hardly stopping to draw breath, she blurted out that she’d been to Hubbard’s.
‘Whatever for?’ Grace wanted to know.
‘I thought someone might be able to tell me something about Bonnie, Mum.’
Grace stiffened. ‘And did they?’
‘Not exactly,’ said Rita. ‘When I got there, the girl in the office thought I had come for an interview.’
Grace lowered herself onto a chair. ‘We always said you would leave school at Easter.’
‘I know, Mum, but hear me out, will you? This woman – she had tightly permed hair and a big tummy like you wouldn’t believe – she rattled off so many questions, I could hardly think straight. She looked such a sight, Mum.’ Rita waved her arms and strutted about, mimicking the woman and making her mother smile, in spite of herself.
‘What sort of questions?’
‘Was I punctual, did I have a clean bill of health, did I have clean habits, was I teachable and how would I treat a difficult customer. By the time I cottoned on to what was happening, Mum, I felt too embarrassed to say anything. So I ended up being marched up to the ladies’ fashion department.’
By this time, Grace was laughing.
‘It’s so different now,’ Rita went on. ‘There’s no trace of the fire and it looks really classy.’
The whole town had been stunned by the fire which ripped through Hubbard’s in the early hours of Wednesday 22nd August. The upper floors had been totally gutted and the damage below was extensive. The fire itself was put out in less than an hour but it took no less than twenty fire crews to do the job, some coming from as far away as Crawley. The family firm reopened the store in time for Christmas, just, and although they had paid their staff since the fire, it was rumoured that they were already short-staffed.
‘I was only there five minutes when I was introduced to Miss Bridewell, the manageress,’ Rita went on, her eyes dancing with excitement. ‘“Would you consider being a Saturday girl, Miss Rogers?”’ Rita mimicked her affected accent. ‘“The run up to Christmas can be hectic and you seem a very capable gel.”’
Grace stopped laughing and put her hand to her mouth. Rita was a bright girl. She had passed the eleven-plus and made it to the grammar school and for that reason, Grace had wanted Rita do an extra year, but she would be sixteen in February. Was it time to let her go out to work?
‘But what about your weekends at the Railway Café?’
Rita worked there every Saturday morning, clearing tables and helping with the washing up. The owners Salvatore and Liliana Semadini, Italians, had taken over in 1945. Before then it had always been a rather dingy place and not very clean but with Salvatore’s cheerfully optimistic outlook, it had completely changed. Liliana was a brilliant cook who could make a little go a very long way.
‘I’m sure they’ll understand,’ said Rita doggedly.
Her mother wasn’t about to give up so easily. ‘And then there’s secretarial college? We had such plans …’
‘Mum, they were your plans, not mine. Oh please let me go. This is an opportunity too good to miss. I like being around people. You know me, I
like talking. If I was in a typing pool, I wouldn’t be allowed to say a word to a soul all day.’
‘But being able to type opens up all sorts of possibilities,’ Grace insisted.
‘Miss Bridewell said if I suit, I can start as a full-time shop assistant in January. January 5th. It’s a Monday.’
Grace couldn’t think straight. This was a disappointment because from the moment they were born, she had such plans for her girls. The war had changed everything. There were such good opportunities for women in the jobs market now. She knew Bonnie had wanted to be a nursery nurse, and Grace had been happy with that, but now that the girl had gone, would she get her training? She couldn’t do anything about Bonnie but she could do something about Rita. Grace knew that if Rita could get a secretarial post, she would never have the kind of worries about money that she had endured. Shop work was all well and good but it didn’t pay very well.
Rita was pressing for an answer. ‘So what do you say, Mum?’
There was no doubt that having Rita at work would be a godsend. Her money would make up the shortfall without Bonnie’s wage. Grace was already behind on the coal money and if they had another winter like last year and had to cut down any more, they’d both freeze to death long before the spring came.
‘Mum?’
‘I still want you to learn to type,’ Grace insisted.
‘I can go to night classes.’
Grace made a big thing of giving in, but in truth she was relieved. She agreed to let Rita become a Saturday girl for the whole of December and to begin in the fashion department on January 5th.
Bonnie was as content as she could be under the circumstances but she missed her home in Worthing and she missed her mother and Rita terribly. As she walked around the shops in Oxford Street on her afternoon off, she was missing her friend Dinah as well. How they would have loved trying on the dresses and taking tea in Lyons Corner House together.
Up until now, the full extent of bomb damage in the capital had eluded her. There had been several bombing incidents in Worthing but nothing on the scale she saw in London. Large areas were screened off but the obvious gap in the buildings told her straight away where a house or a shop was missing. Although it was strictly forbidden, the bombsites were swarming with boys playing war games and cowboys and Indians. In some areas, whole streets had been reduced to rubble. Shortages of building materials meant that rebuilding the nation’s capital was a slow business.