Wartime at Liberty's

by Fiona Ford

  ‘We shall look forward to it, Mrs Withers.’ Henry beamed as he bade her goodbye.

  Once Mrs Withers was safely out of earshot, Flo sidled up alongside Henry. ‘You’ve done that before.’

  ‘Once or twice,’ Henry admitted.

  ‘The ladies seem to like you,’ Flo said airily as she ran her fingers through the sales forms. There were more than usual for the time of year; her boss had done well.

  Henry laughed, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. ‘I don’t know about that, but what I will say is I had forgotten how tiring it is on the shop floor.’

  ‘Can be,’ Flo agreed. ‘But surely you dealt with worse than this at Bourne and Hollingsworth?’

  ‘I didn’t spend as much time as I should have done on the shop floor,’ Henry admitted. ‘I was so busy being a manager I let the sales assistants handle most of the work. I’m surprised you’re here so often to be honest.’

  Flo shrugged. ‘I like it. When I was doing your job, albeit briefly, I hated being stuck in the office all the time. I like talking to people.’

  ‘I can see that.’ Henry nodded. ‘I suppose I appreciate a bit of peace now and then; my little brother Stan can be a very noisy young man.’

  Flo looked up at him in surprise. ‘I didn’t know you had a brother.’

  Henry smiled. ‘Oh yes, a half-brother – young Stan is ten. He’s been living with me since he was seven.’

  ‘Are you close?’ Flo asked.

  ‘We are.’ Henry nodded. ‘I’ve been looking after him since our mother died, and I suppose being so much older than the boy I see myself as brother and father to him. We’ve been through some difficult times but Stan keeps me on my toes. He’s an intelligent lad – dunno where he gets it from.’

  ‘You’re not doing so badly,’ Flo replied, her tone gentle now. ‘You’re doing a brave thing; not many men would raise a child on their own.’

  Henry frowned at the compliment. ‘You do what you have to, but hell’d freeze over first before I put that lad in a home. Everything I do, I do for that boy.’

  ‘Where’s his father?’ Flo asked.

  ‘He died at the start of the war. Bomb dropped on him in Aberdeen where he was working in the dockyards.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Flo said. ‘He’s a lucky boy to have you as his big brother.’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ he said. ‘But it’s like you said earlier, Flo, we’ll do anything for the ones we love.’

  Chapter Ten

  October’s warm weather had turned into a grey and cold November, bringing with it a surge in customers interested in the range of woollen fabrics Liberty’s had on offer. Henry assumed it was all down to the fact that the weather had turned, but Flo liked to think she knew the customers a little better and that trade had been up over the first half of the month because morale amongst the public was high.

  News had broken that the German army in North Africa were retreating in Egypt at the hands of General Bernard Montgomery. The papers were full of reports of German soldiers fleeing from El Alamein after being relentlessly attacked by Allied land and air forces night and day who, in the process, captured more than nine thousand prisoners of war, including the German army General Ritter von Thoma. It was welcome news all round, and a part of Flo enjoyed eavesdropping on customers’ conversations where they talked about the wonderful job Churchill was doing and the possibility of the war ending.

  And so when Rose had telephoned down to the department just before lunchtime and said Henry wanted to go over the weekly takings with her, Flo found her mood was buoyant at the prospect.

  Making her way up to the office, she knocked loudly on the door and heard a sharp ‘Come in’.

  Stepping inside she was surprised to see her superior sitting on his chair with one leg perched high on his desk. Flo couldn’t help raise an eyebrow – where on earth did he think he was?

  ‘Please excuse me, Mrs Canning,’ he said in gruff tones. ‘I don’t usually sit about like this but my leg’s giving me real gyp today.’

  Flo felt a flash of concern. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Henry waved her apology away. ‘Nought for you to be sorry for. But I wonder if you wouldn’t mind doing me a small favour.’

  ‘Go on,’ she said cautiously.

  ‘I wonder if you would mind going to Sandhurst Road School to collect my little brother Stan.’

  ‘Now?’ Flo asked aghast.

  Henry nodded. ‘He’s had a nasty fall in the playground and the school wants to send him home. I would go myself but my leg’s frozen and I know when it’s like this I just have to sit it out.’

  Opening her mouth to speak Flo found she was speechless. She had been asked to do many things that weren’t in her job description during her time at Liberty’s but picking up a child from school was a first.

  ‘Why me? I’ve got a department to run. Surely you could get one of the girls to do it?’

  Henry looked sheepish. ‘I appreciate I’m asking a lot here. I don’t usually ask for anything where Stan’s concerned; we’ve been through a lot, me and him, and we’re a team. But, well, although we don’t know each other very well, you strike me as the best woman for the job so to speak, and there’s nobody else I can ask.’

  Flo laughed. ‘Charming!’

  Henry looked contrite. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.’

  Flo smiled. ‘I know you didn’t, but, sir, I don’t know anything about children.’

  The deputy store manager laughed. ‘I didn’t myself when I took him on but I soon discovered he doesn’t bite. Please,’ he said, his expression softening. ‘I trust you.’

  ‘You’re not really leaving me a lot of choice, are you?’ She sighed. ‘Fine, I’ll go.’

  After Flo had issued her instructions for the afternoon to Alice and Mary, she made her way to the school.

  South East London wasn’t an area she knew well at all. After boarding the bus and buying a ticket from the smartly dressed clippie, Flo settled into a seat and stared out of the grimy window. The scenery that passed before her became more unfamiliar with every mile they travelled. She couldn’t help marvel at how different the south of the city looked to the north. London was so large that to Flo it felt as if the city was a collection of small villages, each with its own individual traits and characteristics.

  Catford, with its red-brick terraces, had an identity that was all its own. Like everywhere it had suffered at the hand of Hitler and with every corner the bus turned you could see fresh devastation. But it was the sight of so many children playing a complicated-looking version of hopscotch amongst the dust and debris of bombed-out housing that really caught Flo’s attention. She had lost count of how many times she had seen children playing amongst the wreckage and she had become used to it, but in this moment it struck her how sad that was.

  As the bus turned into the road nearest the school, Flo shook her head and pulled the cord to get off. Thanking the driver, she stepped on to the street and walked towards the small school, an autumn chill catching at her throat. Tightening the scarf around her neck, Flo paused for a moment as she took in the sight of the school. Like any other it had entrances marked ‘Boys’ and ‘Girls’, and a small concourse at the front where the children played at break times. Narrowing her eyes she tried to spot a main door, but not finding another obvious entrance decided to hedge her bets and walk through the door marked ‘Girls’.

  Inside the smell of polished wood flooring and disinfectant took her right back to her own school days. Suddenly a memory of how she and Neil had played together in a school just like this one jolted her back to the past and she was struck with a feeling of longing for the man and boy that had been her one constant throughout her life.

  ‘Can I help you?’ A brisk voice brought her swiftly out of her daydream.

  Whirling around Flo came face-to-face with a stiff-backed unsmiling woman with a thick head of grey hair.

  ‘Yes, hello, I’m Mrs Flo Canning. I’m
here to collect Stanley Masters,’ she said politely.

  The woman frowned. ‘I haven’t been informed that a child is due to leave school early. I am his teacher and nothing escapes my attention.’

  Flo frowned in her turn. ‘Stanley’s brother and guardian, Henry Masters, received a telephone call earlier from someone at the school. Apparently Stanley has hurt his knee rather badly. Mr Masters has been detained at work and he sent me.’

  The teacher, who still hadn’t introduced herself, Flo noted with some frustration, was about to speak when the sound of someone clattering down the corridor caught their attention. It was a woman in a white overall.

  ‘Mrs Hallam, what are you doing running about like that?’ the teacher exclaimed. ‘We are here to set an example to the children.’

  ‘Sorry, ma’am,’ the woman said as she came to a stop. ‘Miss Buckland, Stanley’s teacher, asked me to tell you that she sent for his guardian after an accident in the playground but we were that busy in the canteen I didn’t get a chance.’

  The teacher raised an eyebrow. ‘We’ll discuss this later, Mrs Hallam,’ she said in a tone that brooked no argument. ‘But in the meantime perhaps you could show Mrs Canning to the sick bay so no more of her time or mine is wasted.’

  ‘Of course, ma’am,’ Mrs Hallam replied in an even tone as the teacher stalked off down the corridor.

  As the woman turned to face Flo, Flo briefly assessed her. Mrs Hallam looked to be about fifty. Short, with a creamy complexion and rich brown hair now flecked with grey, she had an air about her that made Flo feel relaxed.

  ‘Blimey, I don’t miss school,’ Flo said with a small shudder once the teacher was out of earshot.

  Mrs Hallam giggled, her warm grin lighting up her face. ‘Don’t mind her. She can’t cope with the job really, so that’s why she snarls so much. The kids run rings around her, which is why she doesn’t know the half of what goes on. Come on, let’s go and get Stanley.’

  ‘Is he all right?’ Flo enquired as she followed the woman down the corridor. ‘I don’t know him, you see. His brother asked me to do him a favour and we’ve never actually met.’

  There was a pause then as Mrs Hallam stopped suddenly in the corridor and gave Flo a good look up and down. Flo felt a surge of worry that Mrs Hallam would suddenly refuse to give Stan over to her. What would Henry say if she arrived back at work empty-handed?

  Mrs Hallam smiled again; then she carried on walking up the corridor. ‘He’s all right. Looks worse than it is but we haven’t got enough staff to take care of him so that’s why Miss Buckland – his teacher – thought it best to get him home.’

  Flo nodded in understanding. Staff shortages were something she knew all about.

  ‘So have you worked here long?’ Flo asked as they rounded a corner and walked down yet another long corridor.

  ‘About a year. I love working with children. Here we are then,’ Mrs Hallam said brightly as they stopped suddenly outside a white wooden door marked ‘Sanatorium’.

  Mrs Hallam pushed it open, and Flo followed her inside to see a forlorn small boy with a thick clump of red hair lying on a hard-looking bed with a big bandage wrapped around his right knee. He looked up at them both uncertainly, his eyes the spitting image of his older brother’s.

  ‘Stan love.’ Mrs Hallam smiled gently. ‘This is Mrs Canning. She’s here to take you back home.’

  The little boy looked from Flo to Mrs Hallam before he eventually spoke. ‘Do you mean proper home or Henry’s home?’ he asked in a thick Yorkshire accent.

  Flo frowned. She wasn’t sure what Stan meant by proper home. ‘Well, we’re going to meet your brother at Liberty’s, then I imagine he’ll take you back to his house from there.’

  At that Stan rolled his eyes. ‘Henry’s always at that shop. Do I really have to go there?’

  ‘It’s a lovely shop,’ Flo protested. ‘Have you ever been?’

  ‘Once,’ Stan grumbled. ‘It was boring.’

  Flo nodded as if thinking quietly to herself. ‘Hmmm, shops can be boring. I mean, even when they’re built of warships they can be very boring.’

  Stan’s eyes lit up. ‘Liberty’s is made of a warship?’

  Flo nodded, her eyes dancing with enthusiasm. ‘Oh yes, but I thought you knew that already.’

  ‘No!’ Stan had shuffled to the edge of the bed now. ‘What else has it got then, Mrs?’

  ‘Lots of things,’ Flo grinned. ‘It’s got secret passageways and all sorts of treasures.’

  ‘Treasures?’

  ‘That’s right, things like a model of the Mayflower and carved animals in the staircase, and the tearoom in the basement looks like a dungeon!’

  Stan’s jaw dropped open in amazement and Flo bent down so she was at his eye level. ‘So, I know the shop’s boring, but your brother would be ever so grateful if you’d come with me.’

  ‘Can we go now?’ he begged.

  ‘You can go now,’ Mrs Hallam chuckled, winking at Flo. ‘Have you got everything?’

  Stan nodded and gingerly stepped down from the bed to walk towards Flo. Instinctively she held out her hand to help steady him and was surprised when he gripped it for dear life.

  ‘Can you manage?’ she found herself asking the boy.

  Stan nodded as together they made their way towards the door.

  ‘We’ll see you tomorrow then, hopefully, Stan.’ Mrs Hallam opened the door. ‘You’ll be right as ninepence in the morning.’

  At the expression, Flo felt a tingle along her spine. She knew it was a common enough phrase but the way the dinner lady said it took her back in time to her childhood. It was an expression Aggie had always used.

  ‘Well then, I’ll love you and leave you,’ Mrs Hallam said. ‘Those dinner plates won’t clean themselves. Stan knows the way out, don’t you?’

  Without waiting for an answer, Mrs Hallam turned and began walking briskly back along the corridor, her heels clacking along the wooden flooring. As Flo watched her figure dart around the corner she couldn’t shake the feeling she had seen Mrs Hallam before, but for the life of her she didn’t know where.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was almost closing by the time Flo finally got back to the fabric department. It had taken her far longer than she had anticipated to get back from Catford, and she hadn’t counted on how difficult and painful it would be for Stan to walk anywhere. She had ended up carrying him from Oxford Circus, leaving her absolutely exhausted by the time she returned to the shop floor.

  ‘You are alive then.’ Dot chuckled as Flo walked into the department; Dreary Deirdre was just starting to perform the store’s usual nightly checks.

  ‘Just.’ She smiled, rolling her eyes. ‘How have things been here?’

  ‘The same as usual,’ Mary replied. ‘Nothing too taxing.’

  Walking around to the back of the cash register Flo started leafing through the day’s takings, when she felt a wave of tiredness crash over her. It was no good, she was done in physically and mentally and there was about as much point in looking at those books now as there was wishing Neil would walk through the doors.

  Shoving the books underneath the till, she lifted her chin and suddenly became aware of three sets of eyes staring at her in concern.

  ‘Fancy a drink after work, darlin’?’ Dot asked in her sing-song voice. ‘You look like you could do with it.’

  Flo winced at the idea. ‘All I really want is my bed, Dot.’

  ‘Oh come on, misery guts,’ Alice cried. ‘A port and lemon’ll do you the world of good.’

  ‘And you’ve earned it going all the way to Catford like that,’ Mary put in.

  Mulling the idea over, Flo thought for a moment. A drink with her pals could be just what she needed. What would she be going home for? To stare at Dot’s four walls and grieve over her losses?

  ‘All right then,’ she sighed, ‘but I wouldn’t mind changing. I feel ever so grimy.’

  ‘I’m sure we can find a spare frock for you somewhe
re,’ Dot reasoned, looking at the girls for confirmation.

  Mary sniggered. ‘Just make sure you don’t borrow anything of Dot’s; you’d fit two of you in one of her frocks.’

  At the cheeky remark Dot’s nostrils flared. ‘And it’s a good job she won’t be borrowing anything off you, because if your dresses are anything like as big as your gob she’ll get lost in one.’

  With that the girls fell about laughing and Flo felt a surge of warmth flood through her. Yes, a drink could be just what the doctor ordered.

  Half an hour later Flo found herself sitting in the smoky saloon of the French Pub, greedily sipping a milk stout in one of the spare dresses Alice kept in the Liberty staffroom. Glancing around at the tired old wooden beams, she asked Alice, ‘Is Jack coming tonight?’ over the din of the group and the chatter of other men and women who had all finished work for the day.

  At the mention of the handsome GI, Dot’s face lit up.

  ‘Yes, but that don’t mean he’s got chocolates or stockings for you,’ Alice pointed out with a smile.

  A look of innocence passed across Dot’s face. ‘Can’t a person just enjoy the company of a young American gentleman without expecting anything?’

  ‘A person can, but you can’t, no.’ Mary’s eyes twinkled with mirth.

  Right on cue, Jack appeared at the doorway and gave them all a wave, before gesturing that he was going to the bar.

  ‘Don’t go asking him about stockings the moment he sits down either,’ Alice hissed in Dot’s direction.

  ‘As if I would! Might ask him about chocolate though,’ she said in a stage whisper.

  At the cheek, Flo shook her head at her old friend. ‘You’re a tonic, Dorothy Hanson.’

  ‘It’s been said before.’ Dot smiled, patting Flo’s hand, before turning to Rose. ‘How are you getting on with those fundraising plans of yours?’

  Rose groaned. ‘All right but there’s so much to prepare I could really do with a hand. And it doesn’t help that Mr Button is away all the time. There’s so much I need to ask him about the night, but he says to ask Mr Masters about it, only Mr Masters isn’t that interested. I don’t suppose you’d reconsider doing a turn for us, would you, Flo? I’m desperate for a good singer.’