The Clippie Girls

by Margaret Dickinson

Peggy shrugged. ‘I expect we’ll have to report for duty – if we can get there, that is.’

  Rose pulled a face. ‘I don’t fancy getting wet wading through piles of snow, just to be told the trams aren’t running.’

  As they all finished eating their evening meal, Mary stood up. ‘Right, Peggy, it’s you and me on washing-up duties.’

  ‘It’s Myrtle’s turn by rights,’ Grace put in.

  ‘She’s got her homework to finish off for tomorrow morning,’ Mary said.

  Myrtle hid her smile and picked up her satchel from the floor as Rose began to clear a space for her. ‘It’ll be icy in our bedroom. We can’t afford the coal to light a fire up there. You’d better do it down here tonight.’

  ‘Does she have to?’ Grace asked. ‘I want to listen to the wireless tonight. You know I like to hear the news, especially on a Sunday when we don’t have a newspaper.’ The square wireless had been moved to stand on a small table beside Grace’s fireside chair. It was she who operated it and determined what the family listened to.

  ‘It won’t bother me, Gran,’ Myrtle said. ‘Besides, I like to hear the news too. Our headmistress says we should take an active interest in everything that’s happening.’

  ‘By the way, Gran,’ Peggy asked, ‘did you find out if we’ve got to have a Morrison or an Anderson shelter?’

  Grace shook her head. ‘Neither. A man came yesterday and inspected the cellar. He says it’ll be quite adequate—’

  ‘Unless,’ Myrtle murmured, ‘we get a direct hit.’

  Grace glared at her. ‘I hadn’t finished. If we get a direct hit, my girl, no Anderson shelter is going to save us. But we might just have a chance in the cellar if, the man said, we have it reinforced. And,’ she added, with a grimace, ‘we’ve to have a doorway knocked through from ours into the neighbour’s cellar so that if either of us did get a direct hit, there’d be a way out. I’ve already been in touch with a builder. He’s sending two men tomorrow. He reckons it won’t take long. A couple of days at the most. So, I expect I’ll have to put up with Letty Bradshaw joining us, as well as Hitler’s bombs, because if there’s an open door there’ll be no stopping her.’

  ‘Now, now, Mother, Letty’s not so bad. And don’t forget, her lads have cleared the snow for us.’

  Grace sniffed. ‘A right pair of tykes, they are.’

  When the snow had begun, Sidney and Jimmy had appeared at the back door and asked if they could clear the steps and the short pathway leading to the road and the stretch of pavement in front of Mrs Booth’s house.

  ‘We’ve done our mam’s,’ Sidney told her. ‘Tha can ’ave a look. We’ll keep it clear for thee if tha wants.’

  ‘And how much is that going to cost me?’

  ‘Sixpence a time, missis,’ Sidney said promptly.

  ‘Thruppence,’ Grace bargained. The two boys glanced at each other and Sidney sighed. ‘Seein’ as you’re our neighbour, all right then. But don’t you tell t’others in street. It’ll be sixpence to them.’

  So Grace kept a pile of threepenny bits on the mantelpiece to hand to the boys every time they cleared the paths.

  ‘Saves us the job,’ she murmured as she stood in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest, watching the boys work. ‘And it keeps that pair of scallywags out of trouble for an hour or two.’

  In fact, it kept the Bradshaw boys out of trouble for several days as they cleared several of their neighbours’ pathways.

  ‘Not so bad?’ Grace repeated now, responding indignantly to her daughter. ‘I feel sorry for her that her eldest lads have got caught up in the fighting – I’ll not deny that – but it still doesn’t stop her being the biggest gossip in Sheffield. You lot – ’ she nodded towards her family – ‘just be careful what you’re saying in front of her, that’s all. And I expect she’ll have those little ruffians with her.’

  Ignoring her mother’s grumbling, Mary said, ‘We ought to get an air-raid pack put together and leave it near the cellar door. We’ve had leaflets about it.’

  ‘Have we had leaflets?’ Grace said sarcastically. ‘They talk about not wasting paper, but all these information leaflets are the biggest waste of paper I know.’

  ‘How else would folks get advice, Mother?’

  ‘The wireless.’ Grace was rarely short of an answer.

  ‘They use that an’ all,’ Rose said, ‘but people don’t remember it like they do when they’ve got it in print.’

  ‘Then they could write it down.’

  ‘And what would they write it on, Gran?’ Myrtle said cheekily and was rewarded with one of Grace’s steely glares. ‘You get on with your homework, miss.’

  But as the older woman opened Saturday’s newspaper yet again, Myrtle saw Grace’s mouth twitch as she tried to prevent a smile. ‘Actually,’ Grace said, coming back to the original topic of conversation, ‘we ought to do a lot more than just have a pack ready. We need to get the cellar prepared properly.’

  ‘What do you mean, Mother?’

  ‘We might be down there for several hours at a time. We’ll need to sort out bedding and warm clothing. Food in tins or jars and drinking water, which we’ll have to change regularly. Thermos flasks we can leave at the ready in the kitchen and fill them up when the sirens start.’

  ‘My word! You have been giving it some thought.’

  ‘Torches and batteries,’ Grace went on. ‘I’d like to take a wireless set, but I’ve only the one, so I’ll have to do without that. And I suppose,’ she added reluctantly, ‘we’ll have to sort out some sort of toilet arrangement.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Myrtle was adamant. ‘If you think I’m going to the lav with those two little tykes from next door listening, you can think again. I’d sooner dash across the yard – bombs or no bombs.’

  Grace and Mary smiled. ‘Well, I can’t help agreeing with you, Myrtle, but we’ll have to see.’

  ‘I’ll make a list,’ Mary said, ‘and we can start collecting all the things we’ll need.’

  ‘And don’t forget some books and games to keep those little rascals from next door quiet. And my newspapers. Don’t forget to take my newspapers.’

  ‘How are we going to read in the dark?’

  ‘There’s an electric light down there, but if that fails, we’ll use candles. It’s surprising what light candles give off, if you can get enough of them.’

  ‘You’ve got an answer for everything, Gran,’ Myrtle murmured in admiration.

  A little while later a knock sounded at the front door.

  ‘Oh Gawd,’ Grace muttered morosely. ‘That’ll be him again. Has he been daft enough to trudge through all this snow? Never gives up, does he, even though it’s obvious she’s not interested in him. I hope he doesn’t stay long. I want the news at nine.’ Mary and Peggy were still washing up in the kitchen. Grace sighed. ‘You’d better let him in, Myrtle.’

  The girl glanced up sullenly. ‘Why do I always have to be the one—?’

  ‘I’ll go.’ Rose turned from where she’d been folding the tablecloth and putting it away in the sideboard drawer. She paused for a moment and stared at her grandmother. ‘What – what d’you mean, Gran, Peggy’s not interested in him?’

  ‘She’s not exactly acting like someone head over heels in love, is she? She must have heard the knock and yet she’s not coming rushing through to answer it, even though she must know it’s him.’ Grace sniffed. ‘Like we all do.’ Then a wistful smile played briefly on the old woman’s mouth. ‘Even I can remember what it was like when I fell in love with your grandad. Besotted, I was. Almost made myself ill with the excitement of it all. But then, he was a very handsome man – tall and dark-haired and—’

  ‘Oh, Gran, Bob’s good-looking, he . . .’ Rose began and then stopped, appalled that she might have given herself away by extolling Bob’s virtues. Instead, she muttered, ‘I’ll go, seeing as no one else seems to want to.’

  As she went into the narrow hallway, her mind was in a whirl. She had never thought for one momen
t that Peggy might not be in love with Bob. Rose couldn’t imagine anyone not being, but maybe . . .

  ‘Hang on a minute while I put the light out.’ She opened the door and smiled a welcome, forcing a light, teasing note into her tone. ‘Now fancy seeing you. Whatever brings you here, Mr Deeton? As if we didn’t know.’

  Bob grinned shyly as he stepped across the threshold. ‘Is she home?’

  ‘She’s in the back just finishing the washing up. I bet you could do with a cuppa.’

  ‘Ooo, I could. Ta, Rose.’ He stamped the snow from his boots. ‘I reckon it’s getting colder.’

  Rose closed the door and switched the light back on. ‘Let me take your coat.’ She shook the snow from it and hung it on one of the pegs on the wall. ‘Gran’s paper said that the other night was the coldest for years. Parts of the Thames were frozen over. Can you believe that?’

  As Bob handed her his trilby, Rose added, ‘My, we are smart tonight. Were you hoping to take her out?’

  ‘I was, but the weather’s too bad. I don’t want to drag her out in this. Maybe later in the week, when the snow’s cleared a bit.’

  ‘Come through.’ Rose opened the door into the living room and ushered him in. ‘Sit by the fire and get warm.’

  Bob nodded to Grace and Myrtle. ‘Evenin’, Mrs Booth. Hello, Myrtle. Busy with your homework?’

  Myrtle glowered and lowered her head. She was now in the fifth form and determined to do well in her School Certificate exams, which were scheduled to take place in June.

  ‘Myrtle, say hello to Bob,’ Rose prompted.

  Without looking up the girl muttered, ‘Hello to Bob.’

  ‘Ee, she can be right mardy sometimes. You keep a civil tongue in your head, young Myrtle,’ Rose admonished her younger sister, but she was smiling as she said it. Indeed, she was keeping a smile firmly fixed on her face. ‘I’ll just get our Peggy. I’ll take over with the drying if they’ve not finished.’

  As she moved towards the door into the small back kitchen, Mary appeared, ‘All done. Oh hello, Bob. Peggy, love,’ she called over her shoulder, ‘Bob’s here.’ There was a pause, but Peggy did not appear. ‘She’s just putting the pots away. She’ll be here in a minute,’ Mary explained.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Rose offered and left the room.

  Pushing the door closed behind her, she hissed, ‘Peg, what’s the matter with you? Bob’s waiting for you.’

  ‘So? He can wait a minute whilst I put the pots away, can’t he?’

  ‘Well, if it was me—’ Again Rose bit back the words. Oh, she was going to have to be so careful.

  Peggy sighed as she closed the cupboard door and took a last look round the kitchen. Everything was neat and tidy. ‘I’m coming.’

  Back in the living room, Bob half rose to his feet as the two girls came in, his eyes alighting on Peggy’s face. Rose’s heart twisted painfully as she saw the adoration in his eyes directed at her sister. Why couldn’t it be me? she was thinking, but she turned away, sat down at the table beside Myrtle and picked up a book. The printed words danced before her eyes and she couldn’t concentrate on the story as she listened to what Bob was saying.

  ‘I’d thought we might go out but the snow’s still deep in places where folks haven’t cleared their fronts. Anyway, I just thought I’d pop and see how you all were.’

  ‘I don’t expect you did much “popping”,’ Grace muttered. ‘It’s nearly a mile to your place, isn’t it? It must have taken you an age in this weather.’

  Bob grinned. ‘Not quite a mile, Mrs Booth, and yes, it was a bit slow going.’ He glanced at Peggy and the unspoken words hung in the air. But it was worth it to see Peggy.

  A few days later, when most of the snow had cleared and the city’s transport was running normally once more, Bob called again on the Friday evening. This time he suggested a trip to the cinema. ‘But I’m not sure where we can go,’ he said as he hovered near the door. All places of entertainment had been closed on the outbreak of war.

  Myrtle glanced up from her books. ‘They should all be open again by now. They started reopening as early as last September. They were only closed for a couple of weeks when war was declared.’

  All eyes turned to look at her.

  ‘How d’you know that?’ Grace asked.

  ‘There was an advert in your newspaper. Obviously – ’ sarcasm crept into her tone – ‘you don’t read it very well.’

  ‘Less of your cheek, young lady.’

  Bob’s face brightened visibly. ‘That’s all right then. Shall we go, Peg?’

  ‘If you like.’

  ‘You might sound a little more enthusiastic,’ Rose couldn’t stop herself saying.

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to go somewhere different,’ Bob said.

  ‘Aladdin is still on at the Lyceum,’ Myrtle said with deliberate wide-eyed innocence. ‘Or you could go dancing.’

  Peggy ignored her and smiled. ‘Of course I’d like to go out, Bob, but I’d really like to go to the Regent cinema. There’s Robert Taylor and Hedy Lamarr in Lady of the Tropics. I’d love to see that.’

  ‘Then that’s where we’ll go.’

  ‘Have I time to change?’

  ‘Of course, but you look fine as you are,’ he added gallantly.

  Myrtle rolled her eyes and exchanged an amused glance with her grandmother.

  ‘Don’t be too late home, darling,’ Mary said. ‘You’re on early in the morning, aren’t you?’

  Before she had time to respond, Bob said, ‘I’ll make sure she’s home in good time, Mrs Sylvester. I’m on the same shift.’

  ‘As ever,’ Rose muttered under her breath and thought, I reckon Bob bribes Mr Bower to keep him as Peggy’s motorman.

  As the door finally closed behind the young couple, Grace muttered, ‘What’s she doing, stringing the poor lad along? I can’t make her out.’

  ‘I think she’s very fond of him,’ Mary said, her knitting needles clicking rhythmically.

  Grace snorted. ‘Fond, indeed. That’s hardly enough for marriage, is it?’

  ‘Not all love is whistles and bells and crashing cymbals, Mother.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Grace pretended innocence. ‘Then it should be. I just hope she’s not leading him on and then going to hurt him. He’s a nice, steady sort of lad.’

  Unseen by the rest of the family, Myrtle raised her eyes to the ceiling. How dull, she was thinking, how unromantic. She buried her head once more in her copy of Wuthering Heights, relishing the passion between Catherine and Heathcliff that almost singed the pages of the book. Now here was true love.

  ‘Peggy’s very quiet and reserved,’ Mary said. ‘She doesn’t say a lot.’

  ‘More’s the pity,’ Grace countered. ‘Now, if it was our Rose here, we’d all soon know if she was in love. She’d be even more scatterbrained than usual.’

  Rose managed a grin, but inside her heart was breaking. Oh, don’t hurt him, Peggy, please don’t hurt him.

  Nine

  ‘So how are you enjoying life as a clippie?’ Peggy asked.

  ‘It’s great, but I hadn’t realized it was going to be quite so much hard work. My feet are killing me by the end of a shift and you don’t get much time to look around, do you? I was so looking forward to seeing more of the city we pass through, specially when we go to the outskirts and you can catch a glimpse of the countryside.’

  ‘But you do see all walks of life, don’t you?’

  Rose laughed. ‘You can tell what people are by the time they travel on the tram and the way they’re dressed; all the factory workers very early in the morning, then the office workers and shop assistants along with the kids going to school.’

  Peggy pulled a face. ‘Children are the worst. The little devils are always playing with the seats upstairs, crashing them backwards and forwards in their sockets. The times I have to run upstairs just to stop them.’ She cast her eyes to the ceiling in mock despair.

  ‘Then you get the shoppers. They’re the best. You hear al
l kinds of snippets of gossip and, despite their worries, they’re mostly a cheerful bunch. But it’s the posh ladies that make me laugh. I can hardly keep a straight face when one of them looks down her nose at me and then sits down in her fancy clothes on a seat that a few hours ago was occupied by a coal miner.’

  ‘Just watch out for an inspector getting on,’ Peggy reminded her. ‘It’ll always happen when you haven’t gone upstairs to get the latest fare or when the kids are yelling and running up and down on the top deck.’

  ‘Who? Mr Bower?’

  ‘He’s just one, and some of the others aren’t so understanding of mistakes, believe me.’

  The two girls were enjoying comparing notes. ‘I’m so lucky having you, Peg, to show me the ropes.’ Impulsively she gave her sister a hug. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll keep you on the right track.’ At her unintentional pun, both girls dissolved into laughter.

  To Rose’s surprise, Mr Bower was unstinting in his praise. ‘I was wrong about you, Rose,’ he was generous enough to admit and he said as much to anyone who would listen. ‘I thought you were a flighty piece, but you’ve settled in right well.’

  Rose blushed at his praise. ‘I love the work, Mr Bower. I knew I would.’

  ‘So, you don’t mind the cold mornings and the late nights, the awkward passengers and all the motormen flirting with you.’

  Rose laughed. ‘I was used to that working in the canteen. I can handle them.’

  ‘Ah, but I worry about you young lasses.’

  ‘You don’t have to be concerned about me, Mr Bower.’

  She saw the man glance at her, doubt etched into his face. She could almost read his thoughts. Peggy’s the steady one, but I’m still not sure about you. Rose turned away lest he should read something in her eyes that she didn’t want him – or anyone else for that matter – to see.

  Alice, too, had settled in better than she herself had expected. She and Rose met up in the canteen now and again and sometimes Peggy was able to join them. The three became friends at work, but they did not socialize together. Maybe it was because Alice was married and, even though her husband was away, she seemed reluctant to go out without him. ‘Derek wouldn’t like it,’ she said primly, when Rose asked her if she’d like to go to the cinema with her.