Better Days Will Come

by Pam Weaver

  There was a pause and then Dinah said, ‘Did you get a good look at this man?’

  Bonnie shook her head. ‘He was wearing a sort of brown coat overall. I didn’t see his face. He had a funny cap pulled down over his eyes.’

  ‘What sort of cap?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Bonnie. ‘It wasn’t the usual sort of cap men wear. It looked … odd. Like a train driver or something.’ She put her hand on her forehead. ‘Oh I don’t know. I can’t think.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Dinah softly. ‘He may not …’

  ‘He may not have been dead then,’ said Bonnie bitterly. ‘And if I’d stayed I might have saved him.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to say that,’ Dinah said. ‘He may not have even been in the factory. He could have been put there or even gone there, later. It seems to be the general consensus of opinion that the door closed on him and nobody knew he was there.’

  Bonnie blew her nose again. ‘I can’t believe he’s dead.’

  ‘You must concentrate on Shirley,’ said Dinah. ‘You’ve managed without him this far. Nothing’s changed.’

  ‘Everything has changed,’ Bonnie protested.

  ‘No it hasn’t,’ Dinah insisted. ‘He was dead back then, darling. The only thing that’s altered is that now you know it.’

  Bonnie nodded. She was right.

  ‘Have an early night,’ said Dinah, ‘and then I’ll get you back to the nursery tomorrow. It’s all a bit bloody to start with, but you will get through it, I promise. Just thank God you’ve got Shirley.’

  Bonnie knew then that Dinah was thinking about her own poor husband who had died in the war. After a whirlwind courtship, they had had only five weeks of marriage before he was blown up in a convoy bringing much needed food supplies from Spain and Portugal on the Lisbon Run. He’d gone before Dinah had got pregnant and, as miserable as she felt, Bonnie knew she was right.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, smiling at her friend. ‘Thank God for Shirley.’

  Twenty-Three

  It wasn’t going to be easy getting into the office. Grace had no real reason to be there. Factory floor workers only went upstairs if they were summoned for some reason.

  She’d thought about confiding in Snowy but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. Somehow, while her fears and suspicions were constantly on her mind, they were manageable so long as they stayed in her head. Once she’d voiced them, her greatest fear was that they would take on a life of their own. Thinking bad thoughts was not nearly as terrible as speaking them. Much as she would welcome Snowy’s clear thinking and wise advice, Grace couldn’t bring herself to confide in her.

  Apparently the petition had gone to the Fair Rents panel and everybody who had signed had their fingers crossed. There weren’t as many names as Archie had hoped for but together they made a bigger voice than one lone complaint. Grace wished now that she’d been a part of it.

  By the time Easter was on the horizon, Grace was getting desperate. Norris would be back any time now and she still hadn’t got the locket. The thought of doing more ‘cleaning’ with him quite frankly made her feel ill.

  As it turned out, it was Snowy who enabled her, albeit unwittingly, to get into the office. Norah Fox was away. She’d had a bereavement in the family and had taken the day off for the funeral. Her absence led to a much more relaxed atmosphere on the factory floor. Too relaxed as it turned out, because Polly Reynolds got her fingers caught up in the machine. Her terrified screams brought everybody running and the production line was halted. Grace was sent upstairs to get help.

  As she burst through the office door, Miss Samuels was leaning over the open safe.

  ‘Polly’s got herself trapped in the machine,’ Grace blurted out.

  Miss Samuels stood up. ‘Where’s Norah?’

  ‘She’s got a day off, remember?’

  Another wail from downstairs made Miss Samuels’s face go pale and she rushed past Grace and headed for the stairs. Grace made as if to follow but stopped by the door. There was pandemonium downstairs. Polly was screaming, more out of fear than pain, and people were beginning to argue about what to do. Snowy was barking orders. They didn’t need another person down there and the safe door was still wide open. Grace darted back. It was now or never. She wouldn’t get another chance like this.

  There was a box of money at the front. Grace put it onto the floor and began to rummage through the papers underneath. Where was the little brown envelope? Her hands were trembling so much she could hardly make them work. If Miss Samuels came back, she’d get the sack immediately. She’d be caught red-handed with her hand in the safe. She might even get arrested and end up with her name in the paper.

  She could hear Miss Samuels’s voice above the others now. ‘Go and get the first aid box.’

  Careful not to disturb the piles too much, Grace carried on. Right at the back of the safe, her fingers touched something quite large. She pulled it towards the light and gasped. It was her Thrift Club moneybag, the one that had been stolen. What on earth was it doing in Norris’s safe? She opened up the flap and looked inside. The little envelopes were still there, all torn open, but the money was all gone. Puzzled, she frowned but her brain refused to function. Why did Norris have it? Had he found it? If so, why didn’t he tell her?

  Downstairs she heard Miss Samuels say, ‘You stay there. I’ll go and ring for an ambulance.’

  Grace threw the bag to the back of the safe and frantically searched for the locket again. She couldn’t go without it.

  Just as the woman’s hurried footfall mounted the staircase, she found a small brown envelope identical to the one she’d seen Norris put the locket into, but it was far too heavy. It wasn’t sealed so she looked inside – and there was the locket. Stuffing it into the pocket of her overall, she glanced at the other item in the envelope but there wasn’t time to take it out and look at it properly. Miss Samuels was almost at the door. Grace flung the envelope back and shoved the box of money onto the top of the papers.

  When Miss Samuels came back into the room, Grace had her back to the safe and was standing with the telephone receiver in her hand.

  The voice at the other end was saying, ‘Emergency, which service do you require?’

  ‘You want me to run through it again?’ said Grace. She looked at Miss Samuels and rolled her eyes. ‘Right. We need an ambulance immediately at Finley’s International. One of our employees has trapped her hand in a machine.’

  ‘It’s out now,’ said Miss Samuels dully.

  ‘Oh,’ said Grace, covering the mouthpiece with her hand, ‘so does she need an ambulance or not?’ The slightly confused operator on the other end of the line was asking for the address.

  ‘Better to be safe than sorry,’ said Miss Samuels and coming around the desk she noticed the safe was still open. Uttering a small cry, she rushed to it, slammed the door and looked directly at Grace. Grace, who was still giving the emergency services directions, looked nonchalantly down as the door banged.

  ‘I was halfway downstairs,’ said Grace, when she’d finished the call and ambulance was on its way, ‘then I thought it might be a good idea to ring for the ambulance.’ As she left the office, she was aware of Miss Samuels bending down again, obviously about to check the contents of the safe.

  Much to Polly’s disappointment, there was no need for a trip to hospital and she was treated on the spot. Now that treatment was free under the health service, she had been looking forward to the ride, especially if the ambulance man rang the bell all the way.

  Every now and then throughout the day, Grace squeezed her pocket with a contented smile. The locket was still there. She was free. Norris couldn’t hurt Bonnie any more and Grace didn’t have to put up with his podgy hands all over her body any more. The one thing that puzzled her … why was her moneybag in the safe? She thought back to the day when Norris had given her the £30, and then the full horror dawned on her. Norris must have arranged for those men to jump her with the Thrift Cl
ub money. Could Uncle Charlie have been sucked in too? No, she decided. He and Michael had been good pals and Uncle Charlie and Snowy had been seeing each other for some time. Both people were good judges of character. Uncle Charlie was as honest as the day was long. But that pig Norris had her eating out of his hand with her own money! Never mind, she told herself. Don’t dwell on what you haven’t got, think of what you have got. And she’d got the locket.

  Her contentment was short-lived. When she got home that evening, the telegram boy had left a card through the letterbox. Grace ran all the way back to the post office at the end of the road. It was only five minutes before closing time, but she just made it.

  The telegram was from her mother’s neighbour. ‘Mother ill STOP Rushed to hospital STOP Serious STOP Molly Hare.’

  Molly Hare was her mother’s close friend and neighbour. She would never have sent a telegram unless it was absolutely necessary. Back home, Grace sat with her head in her hands. She’d have to go of course, first thing in the morning. It was far too late to go tonight. Besides, there was so much to see to first. She’d probably lose her job but she had to go. Whatever their differences, she was still her mother, and Grace was an only child. Her hand went to her overall pocket once more and she pulled out the locket. At least one good thing had happened today. She wondered what was inside. A picture of Bonnie perhaps? She tried to open the catch but it was too stubborn. After a few minutes of trying, Grace gave up and shoved it to the back of a drawer.

  There was a lot to do before she could set out for Yorkshire in the morning. For once, money wasn’t a problem. Since the Thrift Club incident, Grace had been a good saver so she would be able to draw money out of her post office savings account first thing in the morning. The rent was up to date but she would have to make sure somebody was on hand to pay it when the rent man called. If she had to be up there any length of time, she would get a job, anything, shop work, scrubbing floors if necessary, in order to pay the rent. Her little courtyard garden would go to pot but Elsie Dawson could eat whatever was ready if she came round to pick it. It would help her out, if nothing else.

  As soon as she’d swallowed a bit of tea, Grace went to see Snowy. Uncle Charlie Hanson was sitting at the table in his vest. So they’ve finally got together, thought Grace. Good.

  ‘How long are you going to be in Yorkshire?’ Snowy asked when Grace told her about her mother.

  ‘That’s just it,’ said Grace as they sat in Snowy’s little lean-to at the back. They were able to enjoy the last of the evening light without getting cold. Charlie had gone to the pub. ‘I have no idea, but I reckon with Rita away and no sign of Bonnie, it’ll be more sensible for me to stay up there until she’s either well again or …’ Grace looked away.

  ‘You’re right,’ said Snowy. ‘Train fares aren’t cheap. I’ll tell them at work. You’re bound to get good references if they decide to let you go, but you never know your luck, Finley may even keep you on.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Grace. She had no illusions about Norris. He used people and threw them away. ‘D’you know what,’ she added defiantly, ‘I’m not even sure I want to go back. With both my girls off my hands, maybe this is my chance to do something for myself for a change.’

  ‘Oh my,’ laughed Snowy. ‘That sounds like fighting talk.’

  ‘And you?’ Grace waved her hands rather than ask outright.

  Snowy nodded. ‘I quite like having a man around the place again,’ she smiled. ‘He’s pretty solid – in more ways than one.’ They both laughed.

  Grace would have liked to ask Uncle Charlie about the attack before he’d gone to the pub. What would he think when she told him Norris was the instigator?

  ‘You came here for a reason,’ said Snowy.

  ‘I’m here to ask you, if I send you a postal order each week, would you make sure my rent is paid?’ said Grace.

  ‘Of course, dear.’

  ‘And keep an eye on the house?’

  ‘Consider it done.’

  On the way back home, Grace couldn’t resist peeking into Archie’s shop. The light was on in the workroom at the back but the shop itself was in darkness. She cupped her eyes and pressed her face to the glass to get a better look at Michael’s chair. The horsehair padding on one of the arms was in place now.

  ‘Want to take a closer look?’ said a voice behind her.

  She spun around. Archie stood beside her with a newspaper parcel under his arm. The delicious smell of fish and chips wafted towards her as he stepped up and unlocked the door.

  ‘You can come in,’ he smiled. ‘Have a cup of tea. Share my supper, if you like.’

  She was staring at him. He looked tired. He was working too hard. There was a hole in his jumper, right at the front. It needed darning. She had some wool that colour in her workbox. She looked up at his twinkling eyes, and stared at his mouth, his oh so kissable mouth … ‘I have to go,’ she blurted out. ‘My mother, she’s ill. I have to pack.’

  His face clouded. ‘Oh Gracie,’ he said gently. ‘I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?’

  Gracie. He called her Gracie. He was the only person to call her that and it was nice. She shook her head.

  ‘Please come in,’ he coaxed. ‘Just for a minute.’

  She felt her feet turning towards the shop. Inside, it smelled of leather and linseed oil. He switched on the light and the door clicked shut behind her.

  ‘Come into the back room,’ he said. ‘I’ll put the kettle on, or maybe, in view of the circumstances, you’d like something stronger?’

  She shook her head and followed him into the cluttered workshop. He pushed a pile of papers, some twine and a protesting cat from a chair. ‘Sit down, Gracie.’

  She lowered herself onto the chair, never taking her eyes from his face. Putting his supper to one side, he busied himself with the kettle and the teapot.

  ‘Don’t let your supper get cold,’ she said eventually.

  He smiled. ‘Want some?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘How are you, Gracie? I’ve missed you.’

  She looked away. ‘Fine,’ she said dully. She wanted to ask him about that woman kissing him but what was the point?

  ‘Any news of Bonnie?’

  She looked up again. Nobody asked her that any more. People acted as if Bonnie didn’t exist. She supposed it was because they didn’t want to upset her, but in truth, it upset her more that nobody wanted to talk about her daughter. She wanted to tell Archie how much she appreciated his asking.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I suppose you’ve tried just about everything by now, haven’t you?’

  She nodded. What hadn’t she tried? In the early days she’d stopped people getting off the trains and people getting on them. Bonnie’s friends, their neighbours, the people in the place where Bonnie worked, even the girls going into the dances at the Assembly Hall, she’d stopped them all and asked the same question: ‘Do you have any idea where Bonnie might be?’ As soon as she’d got the money together, she’d been up to London more than half a dozen times and walked the streets but it was hopeless. Lately she’d taken to writing letters to the magazines Bonnie used to love in the hopes that they’d publish them, and she’d placed advertisements in the personal columns of the newspapers. What more could she do?

  Archie leaned towards her and placed a cup of tea in front of her. The closeness of his body, the smell of him, made her heart beat quicken.

  ‘What’s wrong with your mother?’

  ‘Cancer. I had a telegram asking me to go up to York. I think it may be the beginning of the end.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘Do you need any money?’

  She took a gulp of the hot tea and shook her head. ‘I’ve just been round to Snowy’s to ask her to keep an eye on my place while I’m away. What with Rita going to secretarial college, there’ll be no one there most of the time.’

  ‘I’ll keep an eye on it if you like,’ he said. ‘I
often look up the road when I’m working in the shop.’

  ‘I know,’ she said. They stared at each other. A vision of Norris, all hot and sweaty, lying on top of her, floated in front of her eyes. ‘I have to go,’ she said quickly.

  ‘You wanted to see the chair,’ he said. He went ahead of her and switched on a light which flooded the chair. The side facing her was the side which was broken and worn. The cracks in the leather resembled the undernourished skin on a dried-up heel. It was flaky, white, lumpy and unattractive. Norris made her feel like that. Thank God she didn’t have to face him any more. But though she might be free of him, Archie deserved better.

  ‘Which colour do you think would look best?’ he was saying. ‘Green, burgundy or midnight blue?’

  At the mention of midnight blue, she shuddered involuntarily. That dress Norris had given her. After all this time, she’d quite forgotten it. ‘Definitely not midnight blue,’ she said.

  ‘Green or burgundy it is then,’ he smiled. He laid the midnight blue down onto the chair and moved closer to her with the other two strips of leather in his hand.

  Grace felt her heart do a flip. His head was down and she stared at his hair as it flopped over his forehead. Everything in her wanted to touch it … to touch him. He looked up and their eyes met.

  ‘Gracie …’

  ‘I have to go,’ she said turning towards the door. She tugged at the handle but it didn’t move. She could feel him coming up behind her, standing close, too close.

  He put his hand over hers and she snatched it away. She was breathing quickly and her heart was pounding but she didn’t move. She dared not move or she would surrender herself to him. He turned the lock with his left hand and pulled the door open with his right. He was still holding the two strips of leather and they fell to the floor. As he let go of the handle to pick them up, she yanked the door open and walked out into the night.

  ‘Don’t worry about anything, Gracie,’ he called after her. ‘I’ll keep an eye out. Good luck with your mother.’

  Grace strode on, her back stiff and her face set like a flint towards her own front door. By the time she reached it, the scalding tears were streaming down her face.