a heartwarming WW1 saga about love and friendship (The West End Girls Book 1)

by Elaine Roberts

  Annie turned back and gazed down at the small boats and the rippling river. ‘That’s quite sad.’

  Peter smiled. ‘Not really, I probably would have made a terrible sailor, and anyway I have no regrets with the decisions I’ve made.’ He paused. ‘Family is what’s important and sometimes childhood dreams have to be left behind.’

  Annie turned back and stared into the darkness of the river. Is that what she should have done, left her dreams in her childhood?

  Rose watched Annie, knowing she would be consumed with guilt at leaving her family to come to London. ‘Annie’s been offered singing lessons by the musical director at the theatre.’

  Joyce beamed. ‘That’s wonderful news! Why didn’t you say something earlier?’

  Annie blushed and shrugged. ‘I suppose I can’t believe he would offer a complete stranger help like that.’

  Peter looked away from the girls and appeared to be watching a couple of boys laughing as they both ran over the bridge. ‘It’s certainly a wonderful opportunity and one to be grasped with both hands, I’d say.’

  ‘It is.’ Annie’s excitement was written all over her face. ‘I’m lucky that someone of Matthew Harris’s standing is willing to take the time to listen to me, let alone teach me.’

  Peter’s head jerked round to face Annie. ‘Did you say Matthew Harris?’

  The sparkle faded from Annie’s face. ‘Yes, do you know him?’

  Peter shook his head. His eyes were cold as he looked away from the girls. ‘No, but I’ve heard of him.’

  Joyce watched her friends closely. ‘Well, hopefully everything will work out for the best in the end.’

  Annie wanted to ask what he had heard but couldn’t bring herself to. She didn’t want her bubble to burst so she would have to be careful. Aware that Joyce was watching her, Annie forced a smile. ‘Rose is enjoying her new job too, aren’t you?’

  Confusion tripped across Rose’s face as she looked from one to the other of her friends. ‘Yes, it’s much more glamorous than darning socks back home.’

  They all chuckled and any tension that was in the air was swept away.

  Joyce bent down to stroke a dog that had stopped to sniff her. ‘I miss not having a dog. One day…’

  Annie watched the dog enjoying the fuss. ‘I know what you mean, they love you no matter what.’

  The dog gave a little bark and carried on his way. Joyce watched him go. ‘One day we’ll go to Hyde Park, that’s beautiful all the year round. Mind you right now we’re not far from St James’s Park.’

  The girls jerked round as a loud bong filled the air. Several more followed it, letting Londoners know it was twelve o’clock.

  Peter glanced up as the first bong of Big Ben rang through the air. ‘Sorry ladies but I have to go, I had hoped to spend more time with you all but I’m afraid duty calls. Maybe next weekend we could go to Hyde Park or somewhere.’

  Joyce touched his arm and nodded. ‘Of course, thank you for coming with us, it’s been fun, and please remember what I said.’

  Annie and Rose nodded their agreement.

  Peter patted Joyce’s hand but his gaze lingered on Annie. ‘I’m sure I’ll see you all on your way to work each day. Have fun.’ He turned and walked away, only peering over his shoulder once.

  Annie watched him stride out as though he was in a hurry, only looking away when he glanced over his shoulder.

  Joyce turned to the girls and smiled. ‘That bonging was the big clock, Big Ben, at Westminster Palace. They say you can hear it for miles but I don’t know if that’s true, although it is deafeningly loud if you’re close by when it goes off.’ She turned to look at the building that dominated the skyline. ‘Before war was declared the suffragettes did a lot of demonstrating around parliament but Simon was telling me they’ve called a halt to it all saying the country needs to pull together and support the men going off to war. I think from what Simon says, it’s the same with the threatened strike action as well.’

  Annie and Rose gave each other a sideways glance before smiling.

  ‘Simon?’ Rose had a look of mischief about her. ‘I don’t think that’s a name I’ve heard before. Is there something we should know?’

  Joyce blushed. ‘No, there isn’t. Simon owns the café I work in.’

  Annie watched as colour filled Joyce’s cheeks and wondered if there was more to the relationship than Joyce was letting on. ‘He sounds nice, how old is he?’

  Joyce shrugged. ‘I don’t know, maybe twenty-four or twenty-five.’

  Rose studied her friend. ‘That’s not that much older than you then.’

  Joyce shook her head. ‘Don’t start. He’s at least six years older than me and he’s my boss so don’t even go there.’

  The girls giggled.

  Annie glanced back at the river. ‘We’re only playing with you.’

  Rose frowned. ‘But you do seem to know quite a few men. Have you dated any of them?’

  Joyce’s mouth dropped open slightly. ‘No, I have not.’

  ‘What, not even Peter?’ Annie gave a small smile. ‘He’s very handsome and has a lovely smile.’

  Joyce chuckled. ‘He is very handsome, and what’s more he’s a lovely man, but no. I have no desire to go out with him, nor him me. We’re just good friends.’ She stepped forward. ‘Come on, where would you like to go next? There are the shops along Oxford Street, or Foyles Bookshop on Charing Cross Road, admittedly none of them will be open today. Buckingham Palace and Hyde Park can wait for another day. There’s also lots of museums and art galleries to look around as well so there’s plenty to see.’

  8

  ‘Oh my goodness it’s hot out there.’ Annie groaned as she lifted the box on to the table, which settled with a thud. She bent over and gasped for breath, the strong smell of disinfectant catching the back of her throat. ‘I’m sure it never used to be this hot back home in August.’ She raised her eyebrows and looked around the new sewing room Rose was going to occupy in the Aldwych Theatre. ‘It’s not that different to the Lyceum, maybe a bit smaller and looks a little tired.’

  Rose’s box thudded on to the table next to Annie’s box. She pulled a handkerchief out of her skirt pocket and dabbed at her flushed face.

  Annie sighed. ‘I didn’t know sequins and ribbon could be so heavy.’

  Rose gave a tired smile. ‘That’s probably because there’s more than ribbons and sequins in the box.’ She looked around. ‘I don’t think all of this stuff is going to fit in this room, I’ll have to speak to Miss Hetherington and see where she wants it all to be put.’

  The door to the room swung open, banging against a corner of some shelving holding rolls of material and lace of different widths and colours. Startled, the girls turned round to see Dot carrying several carpetbags brimming over with thread and swatches of material.

  Annie reached out. ‘Let me take a bag. You shouldn’t be carrying so many, they look heavy.’

  Dot dropped the bags where she stood. ‘They are heavy but once I’d left the Lyceum, I couldn’t go back with them so I had to carry on.’ She examined the red welts that were cutting across her palms before rubbing them together.

  Rose picked one up and dropped it onto the sewing table. ‘We’re going to have to find a place for all this stuff.’

  Dot began emptying one of the bags on to the table. ‘Where shall we put the spools of thread?’

  Rose walked around the room opening and shutting cupboard doors and drawers.

  Annie followed suit but didn’t actually know what she was looking for. After a few minutes of looking, she opened a drawer and stared at it for a moment. ‘Is this what you’re looking for? It looks like a cutlery drawer but it could easily be used to store reels of thread.’

  Dot and Rose strode towards her.

  Dot smiled. ‘That will do nicely, thank you very much.’ She went over to the table and bundled several reels into her arms. One bounced out of her arms and rolled across the floor.

  Rose bega
n sorting through pieces of material, of various colours, textures and shapes. ‘What about if we bag some of this up and maybe we could find a cupboard somewhere to store it out of the way.’

  Dot peered over Rose’s shoulder. ‘That’s a good idea. In reality I don’t think we’ll use any of it but we don’t want to be throwing it away just yet, at least not without Hetherington’s approval.’

  A cough sounded behind the girls. They didn’t need to turn round to know they had been caught.

  ‘That’s Miss Hetherington to you.’

  Dot turned round to face the stiff and unyielding face of the manager in charge of the seamstresses. ‘No disrespect intended, Miss Hetherington.’

  Miss Hetherington pulled back her shoulders, lifted her chin and glared at Dot. ‘I’m surprised at you. I wouldn’t expect anything else from this one here but I thought you had more respect for position.’

  Dot lowered her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, it was a slip of the tongue and won’t happen again.’ She peered up through her eyelashes. ‘We were wondering if there was somewhere we could store some of the material we don’t need on a regular basis.’

  Miss Hetherington scanned the room. ‘This room doesn’t have as much space as the Lyceum.’ Without waiting for an answer, she turned on her heels and went out in to the hall.

  The girls looked at each other. Rose shrugged at Dot, but each was too frightened to speak in case she was just outside listening to them.

  Miss Hetherington strode back into the room. ‘There’s a cupboard just along the hall we can use. However, at the moment there’s a man messing around with the door, apparently there’s a problem with it, so give him a few minutes and then take the boxes along there.’ She turned to walk back out again but stopped in the doorway. ‘We can only use part of the cupboard because I understand some costumes are being hung in there as well, so make sure you keep it all together.’

  The girls nodded as they watched her leave the room.

  Annie looked at the mass of material scattered over the tabletop. She ran her fingers over a piece of soft pale blue silky material. ‘This is lovely.’

  Rose peered over. ‘It’s so soft, it would make a lovely blouse.’

  ‘It would, but it would be quite expensive to buy a blouse in that material.’ Annie smiled. ‘Anyway, talking of costumes, and before Miss Hetherington comes back, I’d better get back to Kitty’s dressing room because all her things have probably been brought over from the Lyceum by now.’ She picked up a stray cotton reel and took it over to the drawer. ‘To be honest, at this stage I’m not going to be much help as you need to organise it how you want it.’

  Dot looked round at her. ‘Thanks for your help and good luck with Kitty.’

  Annie nodded and walked towards the door.

  Rose suddenly turned holding a folded piece of red cloth. ‘Thanks, Annie, I’ll come and find you when we’re finished here.’

  Annie nodded and walked out and along the corridor, which was littered with boxes stacked up against the walls. There were dents and black scratch marks in places. Men wearing brown overalls, rushed up and down carrying boxes, their faces flushed and smeared with dust. She pushed on a door that was ajar. It swung open. Her lips tightened as she looked around the room. Kitty cut a lonely figure as she sat on a wooden chair surrounded by boxes.

  Kitty looked up and beamed at Annie. ‘You’re exactly the person I need. Did Stan send you here, bless him?’

  Annie shook her head. ‘I haven’t seen Mr Tyler. I’ve just been helping in the sewing room, they have an awful lot to sort out.’ She looked at the many boxes around the room. ‘As, it seems, do we.’ She stepped further into the room. ‘At least your costumes are hung up.’

  Kitty smiled. ‘Yes, I’ve done this before.’

  ‘I didn’t mean anything by it, I just mean––’

  ‘I know what you meant.’ Kitty put a cigarette between her lips and struck a match. ‘I just meant when they were delivered, I got them to hang the clothes straight on to the rail.’ She quickly bent her head to put the cigarette to the match just as the flame was travelling nearer to her fingertips. A cloud of grey smoke escaped from her nostrils and mingled with her perfume that hung in the air. ‘All the costumes are there except my spare grey dress and coat, which will be in a spare cupboard along the hall somewhere with a few other bits and pieces.’

  Annie sucked in her breath. ‘Well, I suppose I had better get started otherwise, as my ma would say, I’m never going to get finished.’ She bent down and ripped open a box and gasped for breath.

  Kitty frowned. ‘What is it?’

  Annie lifted out the photograph of the little girl she had seen before. She stared at it for a moment before turning to show Kitty. ‘I know I probably shouldn’t ask but who is this beautiful little girl? She looks so much like you.’

  Kitty stared at Annie for a moment before reaching out and taking the photograph. She peered down at the little girl who she remembered being a happy child with her whole future ahead of her. Her eyes welled up. She took a deep breath and let it out again slowly.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I should never have asked.’ Annie glanced down again at the open box.

  ‘It’s me.’

  Annie gasped. ‘I don’t understand! Why has the photograph been hidden away? It’s a lovely one of you, it should be on show for everyone to see.’

  Kitty didn’t look up. ‘It’s of a different time. I’m no longer that person; I don’t even have the same name. I don’t expect you to understand, you’re young, but I was told I’d never make it unless I changed my name so I gave everything up to be who I am now.’ A tear slipped down her cheek. Kitty swiped it away. ‘This person no longer exists. Marjorie Smith is dead.’

  Annie felt her throat tighten. Hadn’t she been told the same thing? ‘She’s not dead, you’ve just got to find her again, let her out to have her own voice.’ Annie wanted to rush over and wrap her arms around the child that was buried inside the woman, she felt sure she was screaming to get out.

  Kitty ran her fingers over the face in the photograph. ‘Marjorie Smith was a lifetime ago, I’m Kitty Smythe now.’

  ‘I can’t believe it.’ Annie shook her head, as the penny suddenly dropped. ‘Oh my goodness, I can’t believe that. All this time and I never knew.’

  Kitty looked up. ‘Never knew what?’

  ‘That you were Marjorie Smith, my heroine in Major Barbara.’

  Kitty gave a little smile. ‘That must have been a lifetime ago, it feels like it.’

  ‘I saw you in the play at Worcester, my mother took me.’ Annie’s eyes glistened. ‘It was the first time I’d been to a theatre and I loved it, it was wonderful. You spoke to me; I had been singing and you told me I had a lovely voice and could be on the stage one day. I have treasured that programme ever since, your words helped to keep my dream intact since I was eleven years old.’

  Kitty’s cold eyes narrowed, her face hardening as she stared at Annie. She sucked hard on her cigarette. Her cheeks developed two red spots as her anger took over. ‘Don’t you go blaming me for you leaving your family behind and chasing the impossible dream. You don’t have the stamina to do what I have to make it and don’t say you have because I know you don’t.’ She threw the photograph face down on the floor.

  Annie shook her head. ‘I’m far from blaming you,’ she whispered. ‘Your kind words gave me hope that I could achieve it.’

  Kitty stubbed out her cigarette. ‘Well, you can’t, so save yourself a lot of agony and go back home and be happy with your lot. There’s a helluva lot of worse things that can happen to you than living in the country somewhere.’

  Annie’s throat tightened. She bent down and picked up the photograph. ‘This little girl is beautiful. She’s happy, inside and out, it’s shining through.’ She paused and stood it on the dressing table. ‘I wonder what happened to her? It’s quite sad. I wonder how she got lost?’ She turned away. ‘I’ll make you a coffee. I could do
with a strong one.’

  Kitty peered over at her through hooded eyes. ‘I don’t need your sympathy.’

  Annie glanced over her shoulder. ‘You haven’t got it. It just saddens me to think how you’ve changed.’

  Kitty glared. ‘How dare you judge me? You know nothing about me, do you understand? Nothing.’

  *

  ‘Get yer newspaper ’ere,’ a young lad shouted out from under a shop doorway in The Strand. His flat cap sat on his head at a jaunty angle. His trousers that were too short and his jacket was held together by patches. ‘Come on, I need to sell them all before they get soaked, give me an ’apenny and I’ll give you a newspaper, there’s no robbery going on ’ere.’

  Annie closed her umbrella and huddled underneath the shop doorway while she fished around in her handbag for her small purse. Undoing the clasp, she found a large copper coin and gave it to the boy. She became aware of a damp odour coming from the lad’s clothes as he folded a paper and handed it over. ‘Wait for your change lady, yer gave me a penny so I ’ave to give yer ’apenny back.’ He did so and she put it in her purse. ‘Yer ’ave a good day now.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Feeling like a grown up, Annie tucked the paper under her arm and put her purse away, jumping as the boy yelled his newspaper selling mantra out again.

  ‘Sorry, lady.’

  Annie smiled at the urchin who was trying hard to make a living. ‘It’s all right; you just startled me, that’s all. Keep yourself warm and dry, otherwise you’ll catch your death in this weather.’ She turned away from him, pushing open her umbrella; she bent her head against the bitter wind and stepped out into cold rain that pounded onto the fabric of it.

  Ten minutes later she was glad to be inside the theatre and greeting the grey-haired stage doorman. ‘Morning, Mr…’

  ‘Just call me Bert.’ He chuckled. ‘I might not realise it’s me you’re talking to otherwise.’

  Annie smiled. ‘Then you must call me Annie.’

  ‘Morning, Annie, you’re later today.’

  Annie shook the worst of the rain off her umbrella before closing it. ‘This weather is awful and doesn’t look like it’s going to get any better any time soon.’