‘How’s she doing, ducks? Yer nan said she wasn’t so happy with you being up here and yer dad travelling back and forth so much.’
‘She’s not so good, Maisie. Nan told me that when Mum and Dad moved away from Erith, it changed Mum’s world. I was only a toddler at the time so can’t remember any of it. Mum liked joining the clubs and meeting new people. Most of them owned businesses and were well-do-to. Nan said it turned her head a bit and gave her airs and graces. It seems that my aunt Pat wouldn’t speak to her when we came back to Erith to visit and Mum looked down on everyone.’
‘Sounds as though she’s a bit above everyone else, don’t it?’
Sarah nodded. She hated talking about Mum like this, but Maisie was a friend now.
‘At least your dad’s all right. It’ll be nice to see him when we get to your nan’s place. It was good of her to let us get ready for the Christmas party at her house. She’s a right laugh.’
Sarah grinned. ‘Yes, she is. She’s always happy when the house is full of people.’
‘Here, look sharp – Bossy Billington’s coming along to empty the tills. If we aren’t quick, she’ll have us doing more work and we’ll never get away on time. Where’s Freda?’
‘She went to the warehouse with a pile of empty boxes. She said she’d meet us in the cloakroom. She’s so excited about tonight.’
Maisie threw the last of the covers over the counter and, grabbing Sarah’s arm, steered her away from the counter so they could escape. ‘Bless her. I don’t think she ’ad much of a life before she came here. I wish she’d open up a bit and tell us, but even I can’t get anything out of her. Do you know, she was even thrilled when Miss Billington told us we’d have proper made-to-measure uniforms in the new year? Mind you, it’ll be better than wearing these second-hand rags.’
‘Well, it’s a sign that we have permanent jobs to look forward to. Maureen said the bosses wouldn’t be bothered with our uniforms if they weren’t planning to keep us on.’
‘You’re pretty chummy with her, aren’t you?’
‘She’s nice. She likes to chat about my family and the old days when she serves me in the canteen.’
‘Whether we get to stay on or not, I for one am glad to be getting a new uniform. I look like a sack of spuds in this old thing.’
Sarah grinned at Maisie as she followed her upstairs to the staffroom. Whatever Maisie wore she looked a million dollars. Considering she’d taken her overall apart and remade it to fit her slim shape, she had nothing to complain about. She looked a hundred times better than all the other staff members lumped together. Sarah was looking forward to seeing everyone’s faces when they saw what Maisie was going to be wearing at the staff Christmas party that evening.
‘You look like a princess, love.’ George Caselton put down his evening newspaper and stood up as Sarah walked into the front room dressed in her new party frock – courtesy of Maisie’s dressmaking skills. Sarah twirled round for her father, the pale green chiffon swirling around her ankles. With a simple fitted bodice and short puffed sleeves, the dress emphasized Sarah’s slim figure. She’d washed her hair that evening, and she’d clipped back the soft waves that bounced around her shoulders.
Sarah kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Dad. Isn’t Maisie clever?’
‘She certainly is. It’s a rare talent to be able to create something so beautiful. Speaking of which, where are your friends?’
‘They’re just finishing getting ready. Freda needed another stitch in her hem, so Maisie is doing it now.’ Sarah sat on the arm of his chair and breathed in the aroma as George puffed on his pipe. This was what she identified with her dad: the distinctive tobacco smell, and the way she could speak to him at any time about anything that troubled her.
‘Dad, I’m worried about Mum. Is she all right on her own in Devon? With you travelling so much, she’s on her own. I thought perhaps she could come and stay here sometimes?’
George grimaced. ‘I don’t think she’d like that, love.’
‘Why didn’t Mum like living in Erith? I know you both came from here, and we’ve always visited Nan, but Mum has changed so much, from what I’ve been told, and I’m worried.’
George patted her knee. ‘Don’t you worry about your mum, Sarah – she’s just fine. I’ll try to bring her up at Christmas. I can hear your mates coming downstairs now. They sound excited. I wish I was coming along to this party myself!’
‘Why don’t you, Dad? You’d be more than welcome.’
‘I don’t think so, love. Not this time. I’m about all in.
It’s been a hard day. I’ll finish the crossword and be making tracks for my bed before too long.’
Sarah bent and kissed his forehead, wondering why was it she could always speak so openly to her dad and not her mum.
‘Now, look at the pair of you. Aren’t you both a sight for sore eyes?’
Freda grinned at George and curtsied in response. Sarah had never seen her look so pretty. She scrubbed up well, as her nan would say. In a deep red velvet dress, with the sweetheart neckline edged in lace, she looked a million miles away from the frightened young girl Sarah had met when they started work at Woolworths. It certainly showed what friendship could do if Freda could blossom within weeks of starting her new life. Sarah wondered again what it was that her friend was running away from. It seemed that Freda had secrets that she was not yet ready to share.
Maisie’s dress of oyster satin was equally beautiful; it skimmed her hips and fell into soft folds that floated as she moved across the front room. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a severe pleat at her neck, which showed off the tiny pearl studs clipped to each ear. A multitude of small curls topped the pleat, giving the overall appearance of a sophisticated, assured woman.
‘You’ve done a grand job, Maisie,’ George said. ‘You’ve a rare talent there.’
Maisie went red. Sarah had never seen her blush before. ‘Thank you, Mr Caselton.’
‘My, my, don’t you all look a picture?’ said Ruby. She turned to Vera Munro, who had followed her through the front door. ‘Look at these girls all done up for their Christmas party. As pretty as a picture, all three of them.’
Vera sneered. ‘Such a shame to spoil all that get-up on a Woolworths party. Don’t you agree, George? I reckon your Irene wouldn’t be so keen to see her only child dressed up for a shop do.’
‘I’ll have none of that in my house, Vera. The girls look lovely, and if some don’t like it, they can just pick up their coat and go elsewhere.’
Vera snorted. ‘It’s only my opinion. However, some might consider toning down their appearance. No husband this evening, Maisie?’
Sarah was horrified. Her friend was standing, hands on hips, glaring at Vera. ‘I’m so sorry, Maisie. I’m sure Mrs Munro didn’t mean what she said.’
‘That’s OK, love. You ain’t responsible for what other people say. My husband is working a late shift, Mrs Munro. At least he doesn’t have to go to the pub most nights to escape his nagging wife.’
Vera stood with her mouth opening and closing, resembling a goldfish. ‘Well, I never.’
Ruby took Vera’s arm. ‘One too many sherries, eh, Vera? I think we’d best get ourselves off to the bingo before anyone else gets upset. See you all later – and you girls have a good time.’
Ruby could be heard berating her mate even after the front door had closed behind them.
George folded his newspaper. ‘Now, you girls have a lovely time and, er . . . be careful what you drink, eh?’
Sarah hugged her dad. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?’
‘Please do, Mr Caselton. I need someone to teach me to do the waltz,’ Freda begged.
George took his daughter by the shoulders and turned her towards the door. ‘Now off you go and enjoy yourselves. Freda, there will be no end of young men waiting to lead you round the floor. You don’t need lessons. Now, be off with you before I change my mind.’
Outside, the gir
ls linked arms. Huddling under their winter coats, they stepped carefully through the pathway the neighbours had swept through the snow-covered pavements. The night was clear and stars twinkled down on the excited trio as they walked the short distance to the Prince of Wales public house, where the party was to be held.
‘I never thought I’d see Vera so squiffy,’ Sarah said. ‘I know Nan went along to the vicar’s wife’s get-together this afternoon and Vera went with her, but even so . . .’
‘That’s probably why she took so badly after just the one glass of sherry,’ Freda added helpfully. ‘Drink can do some funny things to people. I know it did with my stepfather.’
‘I’ve got a feeling it was more than the one that loosened her tongue,’ Maisie said as they crossed the road. ‘All the same, she was blooming rude considering her own home life ain’t so clever.’
‘How did you know about her husband?’ Freda asked.
‘If anything’s worth knowing, my mother-in-law knows it. Why do you think I do so much dressmaking? With my sewing machine whirring away, it blocks out her chatter.’
Sarah chuckled at Maisie’s comment, although she was surprised at what went on behind people’s front doors. ‘Here we are. Thank goodness it wasn’t far. I’m frozen to the bone,’ Sarah said as they approached the pub, where music could be heard from the function hall behind the main bar.
‘Do we have to go in through the bar?’ Freda asked nervously.
‘No, there’s a door at the side. It says on the tickets to use that entrance.’ Sarah opened the door to the hall and the girls stepped inside, banging their feet on the floor to remove the icy snow from their smart shoes. A wall of noisy chatter and a band playing a quickstep welcomed them, along with the overpowering fug of cigarette smoke.
Sarah had only just taken off her coat when Maureen Gilbert caught up with her. ‘There you are, love; I was beginning to wonder where you were. Your dad and nan not with you? Staff can buy tickets for close family.’
‘No, Dad’s had a busy day. He doesn’t know from one day to the next if he’s working up here or back in Devon. Nan’s been out with her friends today, so I think she wants a quiet night once she’s been to bingo.’
Not that it would be quiet, with Vera the state she was in, Sarah thought to herself with a grin.
‘Well, you get your coat off and enjoy yourself. My Alan’s around somewhere. He’s been looking for you,’ Maureen said with a knowing smile as she turned to take tickets from a group of staff entering the hall.
Sarah joined Maisie and Freda after leaving her coat and checking her hair in the cloakroom. They’d found seats along with some of the other shop girls, who were exclaiming over their lovely party dresses.
Sarah was turning round, showing off her own dress, when someone touched her arm. ‘Would you care to dance?’
Sarah spun round to see Alan holding out his hand. Ignoring the giggles from younger colleagues, she slipped her hand into his and followed him onto the crowded dance floor. Alan pulled her close. The lights dimmed and the band started to play the well-known ballad ‘Isn’t It Romantic?’
Sarah closed her eyes as Alan held her tight. Couples shuffled around them, but Sarah was oblivious to everything except Alan. He was a competent dancer and appeared so much more mature than the jovial lad she knew from work, who was always up for a laugh with the other staff. She felt safe in his arms. It felt right. She could feel his hand on the lower part of her back; her skin was tingling under his touch as he held her close. Sarah ached to run her fingers through the golden hair at the nape of his neck, but instead she concentrated on keeping time to the music while breathing in his masculine smell. She could stay in his arms forever.
As the song ended, the dancers clapped politely. Alan held on to her hand, rubbing her palm with his thumb. It sent shivers of delight through her body. She could hardly bear it. Alan started to speak to her as the band burst into ‘The Hokey-Cokey’. They both grinned. The spell was broken. Alan led her back to her seat.
Alan didn’t dance with her for the rest of the evening, although Sarah dearly hoped that he would. She couldn’t forget the way he held her close and could still smell the fresh, clean tang of his shaving soap and feel the strength of his firm shoulders under her hand as they danced. It was as if time had stood still and no one else was in the room until the music ceased.
She’d still had fun, jumping up to join the girls as they danced to ‘The Lambeth Walk’, and she had also taken a spin round the floor with the shop manager, Mr Benfield, to do the Gay Gordons. They’d even won a prize in a spot waltz, much to the amusement of the revellers. The band suddenly stopped playing and declared there would be a prize for the first couple to reach the stage with a ladder. Mr Benfield looked perplexed, but Sarah grabbed his hand and ran to the front of the hall, just beating Maisie, who’d been dancing with Alan’s colleague, young Ginger. She raised the hem of her skirt and showed a small ladder in her stockings, to cheers from the other dancers. She’d been thrilled to win three pairs of new stockings and decided, straight away, to share them with her two friends. Mr Benfield was more than pleased with a pouch of tobacco.
Throughout the evening, Sarah watched Alan. He seemed to be busy all the time dancing with the older staff members and helping behind the free bar. He’d even been called upon to help Maureen when a table heavily laden with sandwiches and cakes had been uncovered. The management had certainly done the staff proud with the spread and there wasn’t an unhappy face to be seen.
Sarah checked the dainty watch round her wrist. It was almost eleven. Not a chance for another dance with Alan. Soon she’d be queuing to get her coat and then facing the cold night air to walk the short distance home with Freda, who was staying with her for the night. She thought she may as well go for her coat now to beat the rush. Taking a few steps from the table, where she was seated with her friends, being careful not to step on the toes of those seated nearby, Sarah was brought to a sudden stop by a person in front of her. Looking up, she saw it was Alan standing before her.
‘You wouldn’t deny me a last dance, would you?’
Lost for words, Sarah allowed Alan to lead her to the dance floor and to hold her close again. Around them, the party revellers were joining in with Maureen, who had jumped onto the small stage to sing along with the band.
‘Goodnight, sweetheart, till we meet the morrow . . .’
‘I’ve been waiting to do this all evening,’ Alan said softly to her.
Sarah felt herself tremble as his lips brushed her ear. ‘You have been busy. I didn’t expect . . .’
‘. . . Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep will banish sorrow . . .’
Dancers jostled close to the couple. She slid her hand to Alan’s collar. Running her fingers through his hair, she leant her head against his chest, feeling the roughness of his suit jacket. Time seemed to stand still once more.
‘. . . Tears and parting may make us forlorn, but with the dawn, a new day is born . . .’
‘It’s not that I didn’t want to,’ he murmured. ‘We’re together now.’
Sarah closed her eyes as they moved slowly together, feeling Alan’s touch on her lower back, the other hand holding hers, as if he never wanted to let go. She hoped he didn’t. The light dimmed and a glitter ball above their heads turned an already unforgettable night into a magical one.
As everyone around them joined in with Maureen, Sarah realized the song was coming to an end.
‘. . . Goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight.’
Alan held Sarah close until the last possible moment. ‘Can I walk you home?’
She gazed up into his eyes. ‘Yes, please.’
6
Sarah wriggled deep under the warm blankets and peered over the top of the eiderdown. From her cosy bed she could see fresh snow heaped on the window ledge through the gap in the flower-sprigged curtains. Her bedroom had an icy chill, and the stone bottle at her feet was now cold. Perhaps Nan was right. She should have worn a woolly
hat to bed too. At least she didn’t have to worry about walking to work on the icy pavements until the next morning. There would be a busy few days in the lead-up to Christmas, but at least she’d get to see Alan.
Sarah hugged herself with glee at the thought of Alan, the Christmas party and the way he held her close during the last waltz. He’d walked her home too. It wasn’t as romantic as she’d imagined, because Freda was staying the night, so Alan had escorted them both the short distance to Alexandra Road, offering an arm to both girls.
Sarah could hear her nan in the kitchen below as she prepared breakfast. Sunday meant egg and bacon with fried bread. By the sound of pots and pans rattling in the room below, she’d soon have to brave the nippy room and get herself dressed. As she contemplated leaving her warm nest, there was a tap on the door and Freda crept in holding two cups of steaming tea.
‘Here you go. Ruby said breakfast will soon be ready and you’d best shake yourself or there’ll be no fried bread left. Mrs Munro popped in to borrow a cup of sugar and invited herself to breakfast as well. I don’t think she’s eaten for a week. Brr . . . it’s a bit on the cold side in here. There’s ice on the window. Budge up a bit.’
Sarah moved over so her friend could slide under the warm eiderdown. ‘Thanks. I’ll drink this and get myself dressed. I take it there was another fall of snow in the night?’
Freda’s eyes lit up. ‘I’ll say. It’s lovely out there. “Deep and crisp and even”, as the carol goes. The kids up the road are going to build a snowman later. Do you want to help?’
Sarah looked sideways at Freda. She was no more than a child herself. ‘Are you sure? You’ll freeze to death out there.’
Freda grinned. ‘It’ll be fun. Come on. Do say you’ll join in.’
Sarah relented. ‘OK, but only for a while. I have some presents to wrap and there won’t be much chance once we are back at work tomorrow. Two evenings working late and then it’s Christmas. We’re going to be rushed off our feet.’
The Woolworths Girls Page 5