by Fiona Ford
‘That’s what worries me,’ Jack replied sadly. ‘I feel like I’m missing out on so much.’
‘I know what you mean. Arthur has only been away a couple of days with Dot but I’ve missed him terribly. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you.’
‘It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. The thought of this war never ending, and me never seeing my son again, are the only things in the world that truly terrify me.’
‘They get under your skin, don’t they, children? I’d be lost without Arthur.’
‘I expect you and Luke are thinking about having another baby now he’s home,’ Jack ventured.
There was a pause then as Alice stopped to look at him. Neither one of them had mentioned Luke so far that evening, and now that his name was out there it felt strange to Alice, almost as if he were an intruder getting in the way of their evening.
‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly. ‘The way things are at the moment, I just don’t know.’
Jack narrowed his eyes in concern. ‘What’s wrong?’
The worry etched across Jack’s face tugged at Alice’s heart. She thought she had done so well at keeping Luke’s affair a secret, but with Jack standing there, offering her a shoulder to cry on, she knew she was undone and could no longer carry this burden alone.
‘Luke had an affair,’ Alice blurted. ‘His brother Chris told me. That was why he was away so long. He wasn’t fighting for his life; he could have returned a lot earlier. Instead he was having an affair with a French Resistance fighter, all while I was back here worrying to death about whether he was alive or dead and raising our son alone.’
As she broke off, Alice was aware that tears of anger were now streaming down her face. Saying the words aloud really brought it home to her just how much of a fool Luke had taken her for.
Sensing Alice needed help, Jack reached for her hand and guided her to a nearby bench. ‘Alice, honey, you gotta take a breath.’
Nodding, Alice inhaled deeply and tried to calm down. ‘Sorry,’ she said eventually. ‘I didn’t mean to tell you all that. I haven’t told anyone.’
‘Nothing to be sorry for,’ he said softly, still holding her hand. ‘We all need someone to talk to. When my wife died, I refused to talk to anyone about it. I said goodbye at her funeral, went back to work the next day. A year later, I’m sobbing like a child into my baby son’s hair.’
At the confession, Alice’s heart went out to the GI sitting beside her. ‘You must have been devastated when she died.’
‘I was. But I didn’t talk to nobody, I couldn’t, I had to be strong for my son.’
Alice recognised the truth of Jack’s words. That was precisely why she had kept this secret to herself, because her son had to come first.
‘Does Luke know that you know?’ he asked.
Shaking her head, Alice gazed down at her lap. ‘I’m too afraid of what I’ll say. I’m so angry with him, so disappointed.’
‘I get that. Really I do. I mean I don’t know the guy but my feeling is that you deserve a lot better, honey.’
As Alice lifted her head and looked into Jack’s chocolate eyes, she saw such tenderness, she thought she might cry.
‘Alice, what I’m about to say next, I would never say if you hadn’t told me what you just did about Luke. But, well, I figure I may as well take my chances.’
‘No, you don’t have to say anything. I should be getting back.’ Alice tugged her hand free and got to her feet.
‘I love you,’ Jack blurted as she started to walk away.
She whirled around to face him, her face contorted with tears. ‘No, no don’t say that. Don’t spoil our friendship.’
Jack was on his feet in an instant and gripped hold of Alice’s arms. ‘I have to finish this now I’ve started. Alice Milwood, I think I fell in love with you the moment you collided with me outside Jolly’s. You deserve the world, you’re bright, you’re funny and you have such a huge heart. The way you worked tirelessly to help those people that were hurt, my God, if I didn’t know it before I sure knew it then … After Marilyn died I never thought I would find anyone to love again, but you are everything to me.’
With that he gathered her in his arms, bent down and kissed her tenderly. Alice felt as if she had come home. His mouth was so soft, so loving, the feel of his lips against hers filled her with such intensity of emotion, that she felt truly adored in a way she never had before. For a moment, Alice lost herself in the power of that one kiss. But then, as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water right over her, an image of Luke flashed into her mind and she jerked away.
‘Alice, what’s wrong?’ Jack asked, his face filled with concern.
‘I’m s-sorry,’ she stammered, her face aghast. ‘We shouldn’t have done that.’
Jack reached for her again but Alice took a step back and shook her head. ‘No. I’m married, Jack. I told you about Luke’s affair because I felt I could talk to you. We should never have done this.’
There was a pause then as Jack fixed his gaze on her. ‘I’m sorry, honey, I just … I love you.’
The way Jack was looking at her now was all too much. She felt woolly-headed. Her voice was trembling but her words were firm. ‘I love my husband, Jack. I’m sorry, but Luke is my future. No matter what he’s done, we made vows together; I can’t ignore them. Please, we can’t see each other again.’
Then without a backwards glance, Alice fled for home, determined to push the memory of the sweetest kiss firmly from her mind.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The day of the community sewing evening Alice woke to find the heavens had opened, with the grey skies and soggy weather only serving to echo the Liberty girl’s feelings of despair.
When Alice had got home, she’d felt consumed with guilt and planned to tell Luke just how much she loved him. But he hadn’t returned, and she had fallen asleep in the easy chair by the hearth in the kitchen and woken cold and stiff in the early hours. Trudging up the stairs to bed she found that Luke was home and snoring softly in the bed they shared, and she clambered in next to him, full of remorse over her own betrayal. No matter what Luke had done, she had to take responsibility for her own actions and knew that no matter what, her heart and her duty had belonged to her husband from the moment she made her vows in church.
Arriving at Liberty’s she ran up the stairs to the staffroom, only to find Flo peeling off her wet coat with a face like thunder.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Alice asked, taking off her own jacket and hanging it up to dry.
‘I was on firewatch duty last night,’ Flo grumbled. ‘Not only am I wet through and cold but I’m too tired to sift through the filing cabinets full of orders Mrs Claremont wants me to go through.’
‘Why has she got you doing that?’ Alice quizzed.
Flo shrugged her shoulders as she traipsed down the stairs behind Alice. ‘Because she wants to show me that she and Jean are still in charge, I suppose.’
Alice frowned. ‘You know Jean’s all right, Flo. She recognises that she doesn’t know much about fabrics but she’s keen to learn.’
Remaining silent, Flo merely pursed her lips as she pushed her way through the doors and walked out on to the shop floor where, surprisingly, Jean was all alone and looked flustered as she pulled paperwork apart all over the cutting table.
‘Jean, are you all right?’ Alice asked cautiously.
Whirling around red-faced, Jean shook her head. ‘No! I’m not all right. Mrs Claremont is in a meeting with Mr Button and she says that we’ve got a VIP coming in and I’ve got to show her all her favourite stock. Only trouble is there’s no sales record here so how am I supposed to find out what she likes?’
Alice rested a hand on Jean’s shoulder and guided her away from the cutting table towards Flo. ‘Firstly, calm down, Jean. This is not the end of the world. Who’s the VIP?’
‘Lady Milton-Browne,’ Jean wailed. ‘I’ve never even heard of her, and neither have
the other girls.’
Flo grinned. ‘Lady Milton-Browne is one of our most high-profile VIPs. She’s also not really a lady.’
Jean’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Then who is she?’
‘She’s really the film star Betty Fawcett. Lady Milton-Browne is a nickname we give her so she doesn’t get mobbed by adoring fans when she visits.’
At the revelation, Jean’s hands flew to her mouth. ‘Oh my days! Betty Fawcett’s wonderful. Why didn’t Mrs Claremont tell me?’
‘Probably because she didn’t know herself,’ Alice said wryly. ‘Look, there’s nothing to worry about. We usually take her down to the crypt and sit her down with a cup of tea and all the old guard books – Betty loves the Tana Lawn in particular – then she normally goes off and buys a couple of scarves.’
Flo chuckled. ‘So you should stop tearing the place up looking for her sales records …’
‘… and instead focus on your abilities to brew up,’ Alice added.
Immediately Jean relaxed and broke into relieved laughter. Just then Mrs Claremont appeared on the shop floor.
‘What’s going on here?’ she barked. ‘We’re due to open any second.’
‘Yes, Mrs Claremont,’ Jean said, suitably chastened, while Flo and Alice rearranged their faces.
‘That’s better,’ Mrs Claremont said smugly. ‘Now, Mrs Canning, why aren’t you sorting through paperwork as instructed? And Mrs Milwood, I want you on hand to answer Lady Milton-Browne’s questions. She is an esteemed peer of the realm and as such we must look after her.’
‘Of course, Mrs Claremont,’ Alice replied evenly, hiding her smirk.
‘Jean will be looking after her ladyship,’ Mrs Claremont pronounced authoritatively. ‘I take it you’ve studied her sales record and can present her with all she needs?’
Jean nodded. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Very well. I shall be upstairs with Mr Button should you need me. We are finalising arrangements for tonight’s sewing evening. As you know I can’t be in attendance, but Miss Rushmore will be on hand should you need her.’
As Mrs Claremont disappeared across the shop floor, Alice, Jean and Flo burst into laughter.
‘Oh girls,’ Flo said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘If this wasn’t so sad, it would be funny. I cannot believe our department is being run by someone so clueless.’
‘But at least you’re here now,’ Jean mumbled, her green eyes filled with gratitude. ‘You know what you’re doing.’
Alice and Flo exchanged knowing looks before Alice spoke. ‘We do, and we’ll make sure you have everything you need to ensure the visit with Betty is a success.’
‘But first things first.’ Flo winked. ‘Why don’t you go and make us a cuppa and we’ll have it while we sort through this lot.’
Two hours later and Betty Fawcett was doing just as Flo and Alice expected: sitting in the crypt devouring a pot of tea and Liberty’s guard books with equal gusto.
‘Oh my, this is just gorgeous,’ she said, pointing to a pretty navy peacock print.
‘They are, aren’t they?’ Jean managed as Alice gave her a nudge.
‘Designed by Liberty’s,’ Alice offered as Jean remained mute.
‘I guess you don’t have any of this?’ Betty asked, her heart-shaped face full of hope.
Alice shook her head sadly. ‘It’s rationed, but there may be some scarves in the print.’
Betty clapped her hands delightedly. ‘You girls know just how to look after me.’
‘We try.’ Alice grinned, pouring another cup of tea out for Betty while simultaneously kicking Jean under the table.
Ever since Betty had arrived Jean had been starstruck and barely able to open her mouth to speak. Alice had to admit that with her long red hair, blue eyes, alabaster skin and fine delicate features, Betty was a beauty, but she was also just a woman like them, even turning her hand to the war effort by helping out with the WVS.
She was a breath of fresh air, and Alice had hoped Jean might rise to the challenge of dealing with her, but it was clear the young girl was daunted and afraid the gaps in her knowledge would show. As a result, she had hardly said a word and had left Alice to pick up the slack while Flo manned the shop floor.
Alice was just about to suggest they all make their way over to scarves, where Betty would be able to admire the Voysey print, when Mrs Claremont appeared, her face full of excitement.
‘Hello, Lady Milton-Browne.’ She beamed, curtseying. ‘I’m Beatrice Claremont. It’s a pleasure to have you here.’
Betty looked up at her and smiled. ‘And it’s nice to meet you. But really, dear, there’s no need to curtsey.’
Mrs Claremont’s cheeks flushed with pleasure. ‘That’s very kind of you, your ladyship.’
‘And there’s no need to keep calling me that either,’ Betty replied, puzzled. ‘You do know I only use that name for appointments. Plain Betty is just fine.’
Confusion passed across Mrs Claremont’s face before she recovered herself. ‘Very good. Well, as long as you’re getting everything you need.’
‘I’m being looked after very well,’ Betty replied with a grin. ‘Shame I haven’t been able to spend as much time with Flo as I’d like. She’s so knowledgeable about the prints, along with Alice. We love to natter about ’em.’
At the slight, Mrs Claremont bristled. ‘I can assure you that Miss Rushmore and I are more than capable of looking after your needs. Mrs Canning is indisposed, shall we say, and no longer manager of the department.’
Betty’s face fell. ‘Oh, that is a shame. Who’s manager now then?’
‘Well, I am.’ Mrs Claremont smiled tightly. ‘And I am happy to help you with whatever you need.’
‘All right then,’ Betty said, jabbing at the guard book. ‘What can you tell me about this pink peony print?’
Mrs Claremont looked flustered at the question and nervously checked her watch. ‘Mrs Milwood can help you with any queries you may have, I’m sure. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m rather late for a meeting. A pleasure to have met you, Lady, er, Betty.’
Once Mrs Claremont had gone, Betty smacked the table with delight and threw her head back with laughter. ‘That woman knows less than I do about Liberty fabrics. Why on earth is she in charge and not Flo?’
‘That’s a long story.’ Alice sighed, reaching for the guard book. ‘Now why don’t we get you across to the scarf department, see if we can’t find you something nice to accessorise that new utility outfit.’
‘Good idea.’ Betty followed Alice and Jean up the stairs towards the shop floor. ‘What’s this?’ she asked, pausing in the stairwell to look at one of the posters about the upcoming fashion parade Alice had tacked to the wall.
‘Something to help get our customers involved in Liberty prints,’ Alice said. ‘We want to get the country sewing and looking lovely in our fabric so we’re holding a parade and inviting people to learn to sew with our stitching nights. The first one’s tonight in our crypt.’
Betty nodded approvingly. ‘What a brilliant idea. Who’s judging it?’
At the question Alice’s jaw dropped as she realised nobody had given any thought as to who would judge the contest. Reading Alice’s expression, Betty smiled. ‘How about I judge it?’
‘Oh no, we could never ask you to do that,’ Jean gasped.
‘Jean’s right,’ Alice agreed. ‘You’re so busy, but it’s a very kind offer.’
Betty shook her head. ‘Not at all. I’d love to come along and judge all the wonderful creations. I bet you’ll get lots of women participating. Besides, you need someone who knows what they’re on about and while it may take me a while to learn my lines, I do know my Liberty prints.’
‘Well, if you’re sure.’ Alice was hardly able to believe her luck.
‘I’m more than sure,’ Betty said forcefully. ‘Stick my name up on them posters; I’ll be there in a heartbeat to make you and Liberty’s proud.’
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Later
on, Alice recounted the story of Betty’s involvement to the rest of the Liberty girls, once they were all together at the stitching night, revelling in their delighted faces.
‘I can’t get over it,’ Flo exclaimed. ‘This fashion parade’s going to be a real hit.’
‘You’re not kidding!’ Dot beamed, who together with Arthur had come straight to Liberty’s the moment she had stepped off the train.
‘You’ve done ever so well,’ Mary said admiringly. ‘Perhaps we could raise money with a whip-round on the night for those that were bombed out in Bath as well.’
‘That’s a wonderful idea,’ Jean enthused. ‘You Liberty girls always seem to know just what to do.’
Alice chuckled as she bounced her baby son gently on her knee. She had missed him more than she thought possible, and now he was back in her arms she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to let him go.
‘It all depends who you ask,’ Dot said knowingly. ‘Still, looks like you’ve done well with this first community stitch night, girls. The place is a sell-out.’
As Alice glanced around the crypt, the venue for the stitch nights, she saw Dot was right. She had been fretting all day that people wouldn’t come, but women had been queuing at the door all desperate to learn how to make something wonderful with Liberty fabric, and take part in the fashion parade at the end of July.
So far it was going well. Jean was demonstrating how to follow a pattern to the twenty or so women gathered around her. Alice and Flo believed it would be good practice for the new girl to show off what little she did know, giving her a much needed confidence boost. Afterwards, Alice and Dot were going to take over with a basic stitching session to get everyone started, while Flo and Mary would be on refreshment duty. The only one missing was Rose, who said that as the stitch night was happening on a day she didn’t work that meant she didn’t have to come.
‘You know we ought to make you something lovely, Mary,’ Flo said suddenly.
