by Anne Bennett
But the thing uppermost in Hannah’s mind was her job. She’d only agreed to help Vic out for a few weeks and he’d only agreed to employ her at all because he’d been in a bit of a hole. By April, the weather was better and the frenetic pace of work had slowed down a little and Hannah thought it was the time to broach the subject of Vic getting a proper secretary.
It wasn’t that she wanted to leave, far from it, for she loved her job. Apart from that, she thought it a novel experience to work with someone who seemed genuinely pleased to see her and valued what she did, but she’d only agreed to help Vic out for a little while. With daily use, her office skills had improved drastically, but she hadn’t got the important bits of paper to say so, which she imagined doctors would demand.
But Vic’s mouth dropped open when she mentioned the prospect of her leaving one day as she brought in the coffee. ‘Leave!’ he repeated incredulously. ‘You want to leave?’
‘No,’ said Hannah earnestly. ‘And I’d never leave you in the lurch don’t think it. I just thought you might need a proper secretary. I wouldn’t want you to …’
‘Proper secretary! What are you talking about, Hannah?’
‘One like Josie. One with typing and shorthand certificates?’
‘I don’t need things like that,’ Vic said. ‘You do just fine. Anyway, your job is more than just typing.’
‘I know, but …’
Hannah had regained the spring in her step since coming to work and the sparkle had returned to her beautiful green eyes, and her auburn hair, tied loosely back from her face with a ribbon, caught the lights of the surgery when she’d come in to talk to him. He realised with a shock so sudden that it was like a kick in the stomach, that if Hannah left, the light would go out of his life, for she was like a breath of fresh air.
‘Hannah, Hannah,’ he said, reaching over the desk and catching up her hands. ‘Listen to me. You are the best secretary, the very best that I’ve ever had. I don’t know what I’d do without you and I don’t know what I did before you came.’
Vic’s touch was sending tremors through Hannah’s whole body and she could hear and feel her heart thudding against her ribs as she tried to free her hands, but Vic hung on fast. ‘You’re such a lovely, generous person, Hannah, such a joy to work with and what’s more, the patients like you.’
Hannah knew that was true. Even some of the neighbours who’d once had such a bad opinion of her had revised it. She’d seen it in their eyes and their friendly greetings. She knew they couldn’t understand why an ordinary woman, living in an ordinary house, who employed a nanny to look after one small baby now worked in the doctor’s as if she needed the money, but that apart, they had to agree she was pleasant enough.
But what was going through Hannah’s mind was not what the patients thought of her, but what Vic had said in his soothing doctor’s voice. He’d called her a lovely person, a generous person, and someone who was a joy to work with. Heat flowed through her body and she wondered if it were sinful to accept such compliments from a man who was not her husband.
Maybe, maybe not, but oh how good it felt! For years she’d been made to feel bad and useless. Even Arthur, in their courtship and early weeks of their marriage, had used few endearments and she’d never felt cherished or special.
Now this man, this good, kind man, had said things that made tears spring to her eyes. She told herself she mustn’t cry; it was silly and Vic would think her stupid, but unbidden, the tears seeped under her eyelids and trickled down her cheeks. ‘Oh, my dear, don’t cry,’ Vic said, and had the insane notion of pulling her into his arms. For comfort only? Comfort be damned! He knew what he wanted, he’d sensed the same need in Hannah, but to take it further would be madness.
He released Hannah’s hands and reaching into his pocket, pulled out a snow-white handkerchief and handing it to her, he busied himself tidying his desk to give Hannah time to compose herself. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last.
‘No need to be sorry. Sometimes tears are the best thing,’ Vic said. ‘But please – no more thought, or talk, of leaving.’
‘No, no, of course not, if you don’t want me to.’
She thought as she returned home that evening what a difference the job had made to her life. Not just financially, but in all sorts of ways. It had raised her confidence, for it’s always a boost to self-esteem to know people like you. How funny, tragically funny, that her own child couldn’t seem to. She’d come to accept the fact now that she might never have the deep relationship she craved with Angela with so many forces against her; she knew there was little she could do to remedy the situation at least for the moment.
She saw less of Arthur too, for he was still often out in the evening. She didn’t ask where he went. If she had done, he’d probably not have answered and anyway, she didn’t care. She felt her body slump in relief when the door slammed shut behind him for he made her feel such a failure and often cut her to ribbons with his tongue.
Josie was well aware of this and hated to see Hannah beaten down emotionally, but was helpless to do anything about it, and Pauline was an employee and couldn’t openly oppose Arthur’s behaviour towards his wife, though she often felt immense sympathy for her, and was very glad she enjoyed her job so much.
Pauline wasn’t the only one to be thankful. Gloria was too, for she saw a new Hannah emerging, like a caterpillar who had turned into a butterfly. She saw a Hannah she’d never seen before, for the cowed and shameful girl who came to her years before, with an aching yearning for a child she’d never rear, bore no resemblance to the new Hannah.
There had been flashes over the years that led Gloria to think that underneath there was a vivacious and happy young woman and it was an attempt to regain that happiness that she was sure Hannah would find in children, as well as ensuring financial independence, that had encouraged her to ensnare Arthur Bradley on Hannah’s behalf. That had gone badly pear-shaped, but Hannah had found her own solution and like Gloria’s own, it had been work – different work, but still work – that had saved her.
Elizabeth Banks hadn’t the same understanding and indeed knowledge of the state of the Bradleys’ marriage and so found Hannah’s decision to return to work slightly puzzling. She knew the salary Arthur was paid and even allowing for the private school for his daughter and the nanny he claimed was retained to give Hannah a hand, there would be plenty over. Arthur was always well-dressed and so was Hannah, for when a business function with wives invited or dinner with the Banks was in the offing, money was no object to Arthur. So Elizabeth couldn’t see the need for Hannah to earn money.
But even she could see the change in Hannah, which Hannah openly attributed to her new job. ‘It gives me independence, having my own money, that I’ve earned and can spend as I want, and self-confidence that I can do something worthwhile,’ Hannah said. ‘And I enjoy the work and feel I’m doing some good.’
‘Well, my dear,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I can see that it’s doing you good at any rate. You’re positively glowing. I didn’t even know you knew shorthand and typing.’ They’d left the men to their cigars and port, otherwise Elizabeth would have remained ignorant of how she’d learnt, but with Arthur out of the way, Hannah told her of Josie and the commerce course and how she’d begun to learn alongside her and practised at home for hours.
‘I think it’s marvellous,’ Elizabeth said. ‘How old is Josie now?’
‘Fifteen.’
‘Is she due to leave school in the summer or is she stopping on?’
‘Leaving,’ Hannah said, and wondered what would happen if she was to tell this kind woman that the chance of a scholarship to enable her to go on to higher education had been denied her by Arthur, because of the cost of the uniform. But then, she knew in a flash, she’d not believe it. Arthur had inveigled his way into their life very well, proving himself invaluable to Reg Banks. They’d think Hannah was being emotional, unstable even, and she couldn’t risk anyone thinking that of her. She didn’t know
, and was frightened of, what use Arthur would make of such information.
‘What line of work is she looking for?’ Elizabeth asked and Hannah, startled out of her reverie, wasn’t at first at all sure what Elizabeth was talking about.
‘What?’
‘Your niece.’
‘Oh, Josie,’ Hannah said. ‘Like I told you, she’s been learning secretarial skills in her last year at school and so she’ll be looking for clerical work.’
‘Has she anywhere in mind?’
‘No, not yet.’
‘First jobs can be hard to find,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Most people want experience and how is a youngster to get that? I’ve said to Reg often, I don’t know how they manage. I might have an opening for your niece though, if she doesn’t care where she goes,’ and then with a short laugh she said, ‘Within reason of course.’
Hannah knew Josie had no preference. She was just desperate to leave school and earn money. ‘No,’ she said.
‘Reg has a cousin in the insurance business,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I’m sure he could use another girl in the office.’
‘Oh, Elizabeth, that is kind of you!’
‘Think nothing of it, my dear,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I like to see youngsters getting on.’
Hannah thought of Josie’s face when she told her she might have secured a job for her that evening and knew she’d be delighted. Elizabeth, she decided, was totally ignorant of her life and generally naive about life in general, but she was essentially kind, her heart was certainly in the right place. ‘I know Josie would be very grateful for that,’ she said. ‘So I will say it for her,’ and Elizabeth smiled, replying, ‘It’s the least I can do. I’m just glad I can be of some help.’
Chapter Fourteen
Elizabeth Banks was true to her word and Josie began work in Blakeway and Battersby Insurance Company in July 1952 and from the start, she hit it off with fun-loving Cynthia Scanlon. She was a year older than Josie and had already been there nine months, so was able to put her right about things.
She had, too, all the attributes Josie envied. She was more than just pretty; she was vivacious and striking. She appeared extremely self-confident for one so young and never seemed to care a fig for anyone’s opinions.
As the two youngest in the office, the dull and mundane jobs came their way and the first thing they had to do each morning was open the post and put it in the relevant baskets in front of them for the assessors to deal with later. It was boring work, though Cynthia said, much better now there were the two of them to share it, because although talking wasn’t allowed as such, it was tolerated if it wasn’t loud enough to disturb others.
So very soon, Hannah and Cynthia learned quite a lot about each other.
Josie heard a lot about Cynthia’s older brother, Peter, five years her senior and her mentor. It was his words that had coloured Cynthia’s attitude to life. ‘He told me that the only people’s opinions I should bother about are those that I care for, the rest don’t matter,’ Cynthia said.
‘Oh, Peter’s the fount of all knowledge,’ said a young man passing by, who’d already shown himself in Josie’s eyes to be a braggart and a know-all. ‘Always right is our Peter Scanlon.’
Cynthia’s face flamed and Josie wished she had the authority to tell the man to shut up and go away. Instead, she said, ‘Don’t you bother about the likes of him, Cynthia.’
‘In a way, I maybe asked for it,’ Cynthia said. ‘I know I go on a bit. It’s just that he’s such a great big brother.’
Josie felt her stomach lurch. If only she could have said that about one of her brothers, or even one of her sisters. If only one of them cared about her welfare. Again, there was that lurch in Josie’s stomach. Even the loss of her parents she could have coped with if she’d had the unconditional love of just one of her siblings, she thought.
Why had none written to her, asked how she was doing? Why hadn’t Ellen asked her over for a short visit? Did she think she never thought of the home she was taken from six years before? She was settled here in Birmingham now and wouldn’t have left Hannah for the world, but she’d grown up in a large, and she’d have said, happy family, but it seemed after her mother’s death that it was as if she’d ceased to exist for everyone.
She had Hannah and was glad she did and loved her dearly, but it wasn’t quite the same for Hannah hadn’t come into her life until she was nine years old. What about her own brothers and sisters? They were all too busy and too concerned with their own lives to bother about hers. Oh yes, Martin and Siobhan sent money to help with her upkeep and it had been a help to Hannah, struggling with a mean husband, but to Josie it had been like conscience money, as if they’d actually said, ‘We can’t bring you to America with us and we don’t want to. You’d cramp our style, so we’ll give you this money to stop us feeling guilty about it.’
They’d never said those words and didn’t have to, the dollar notes said it for them. Once she’d got the job and began paying keep to Hannah, she’d asked her to write to Martin and Siobhan and say she needed no more money. She’d stand on her own two feet from now on.
Hannah did as she asked, knowing that it was important to Josie, but Martin and Siobhan’s reply had come back by return of post. They were so grateful to Hannah. Words couldn’t express their gratitude and they knew what it had cost her to take Josie on. If she no longer needed the money, that was fine, but they would continue putting it into her account and she could do anything she wanted with it. Hannah agreed without saying a word to Josie, knowing she might have need of it some day.
It had become obvious to Josie as she’d listened to her new friend talk about her brother that though her love was based on hero worship, it was plain that Peter cared deeply for his young sister. That fact had made her feel sad that she’d never experienced such devotion from a sibling. In the beginning, she’d missed her brothers and sisters very much. It was mixed up with her homesickness. She’d been used to the noise and bustle of the farmhouse and though her siblings were a lot older than she was, she’d known them all her life. But never in any shape or form did she tell, or show, Hannah how she was feeling as she might have felt she was second-best and Josie would have hated that. So she kept her feelings locked away inside her and it was only when Cynthia began talking about her brother that they rose to the fore again.
However, Josie was too kind-hearted to begrudge Cynthia her brother and she gave her arm a squeeze and said, ‘You talk about him as much as you like. If I had a brother or sister half as good to me as your Peter seems to be, I’d bore the pants off you rabbiting on about them all the time.’
Over the next few weeks, Josie learned that Peter was the clever one in the family, the one who got in to King Edward’s High School and from there won a scholarship to Oxford. But for all the pride Cynthia had in her brother, Josie sensed a sadness in her and she imagined there would be little attention in the house left for a mere mortal like Cynthia. It would all have gone on their brilliant first-born and only son.
This suspicion was verified one day when Cynthia was explaining that her brother was twenty-one now and would be starting his final year in September.
‘Then what? What does he want to do?’
‘Oh, he’s not leaving yet,’ Cynthia said. ‘At least not if he gets the degree they say he’ll get. He wants to go on to do a doctorate.’
‘Be a doctor?’
‘Not a medical doctor. It’s just what they call it.’
‘Right.’
‘He won’t be finished until he’s about twenty-four or-five.’
‘Right,’ Josie said again. This Peter sounded a little selfish to her, she thought, but she knew better than to say that to her new friend. She chose her words carefully. ‘Don’t you think … I mean, wouldn’t it be better if he got a job now,’ she said, ‘next year when he finishes his degree, I mean, and pay your parents something back? Make life a little easier for them?’
‘Easier for them? You don’t know what you�
��re saying,’ Cynthia cried. ‘Their whole lives revolve around Peter. It wouldn’t be worth them living if he didn’t go on. It makes all the sacrifices worth it.’
‘What about you?’
‘What about me? I don’t need anything, not like Peter has,’ Cynthia said. ‘And he does appreciate it. We talk for hours sometimes when he comes home. I can’t ever remember a time when I didn’t love him and look up to him. And he really is kind to me and always has been. He always looked after me when he was at home and even now, nothing is too much trouble for him.’
But soon the talk in the office, as in the country as a whole, was of the coronation planned for June the following year.
As Hannah had prophesised, the new Elizabethan age had brought little change in her life. The only boost for the nation had been the news that Edmund Hillary had climbed Everest just four days before the young Queen was to be crowned and given it, he said, as a gift to his new Queen.
The Bradley household watched the entire coronation on the television set that Arthur had bought for the occasion and had installed in the parlour. Hannah would have preferred it put up in the breakfast room, the room they used most, but she didn’t bother saying so – it would have made no difference and Arthur probably would have made some scathing comment.
She seldom spoke to Arthur, except about everyday matters, because she only needed to do the slightest thing for him to sneer at her, an attitude immediately copied by Angela. Hannah had learned to accept it, hoping that when Angela had grown up a little, she would make her own mind up. She was capable of affection, not only for her father whom she openly adored, but also for Pauline and Josie, and was very popular at school.