by Rosie Clarke
‘Or perhaps the war has made them more aware of their loved ones.’
‘It could be a bit of both, but sales are rising for jewellery again.’
‘Oh good,’ Sally Harper said and looked pleased. ‘I wasn’t sure whether gold would sell as well at this time of year, though I know we sold several of those lovely gate bracelets last Christmas.’
‘Yes, we did,’ Rachel replied. ‘One of my customers bought a gold bracelet and a chain with a locket for his wife and a gold bangle for his daughter. He said they will always be able to sell them in hard times.’
‘Well, I suppose that is true enough,’ Sally replied but frowned. ‘If the currency was no longer worth anything, gold or jewels is a form of ready money, I suppose…’ She made a wry face. ‘I think I’d rather my husband bought me something as a gift because he thought I would like it, not because it was an investment.’
‘It takes all sorts,’ Rachel said. ‘William is fond of investments. Since he was shipped home wounded, he’s seems even more conscious of making sure I’m comfortable if anything should happen to him. He bought some Government bonds the other day in my name – he thinks they will pay handsomely one day.’ Her husband, who had been a politician before the war but joined the Army at the start, had been put on light duties now but told that his fighting days were over. He’d been placed in an office, dealing with loads of paperwork, which he disliked but accepted as inevitable, at least until he was given a discharge from the services.
‘Not as a birthday gift?’ Sally asked.
‘Oh no – he bought me a lovely new coat with a fur collar for my last birthday,’ Rachel said and laughed. ‘Point taken – but how are things with you and the family?’
‘About the same – Ben is away again; Jenny is full of mischief and Jenni…’ Sally shrugged. ‘I’m not really sure. How is William, Rachel?’
‘He is away on Army business again,’ Rachel said. ‘He isn’t fighting, for which I am very grateful, but as far as I’ve been told William is at a training centre helping with new recruits but spends half his time dealing with administration rather than hands on stuff.’
‘Ah…’ Sally sighed. ‘Yet more young men to be sent off to the Front, I suppose. I wonder how many of them will come back to their families, but at least the Americans are in the war now. It won’t be that long before they’re fighting. I’m not sure how we could have gone on if they hadn’t come in…’
‘It doesn’t bear thinking about,’ Rachel said and shuddered. Trench warfare was particularly nasty, because the men were under constant bombardment and suffered from all kinds of horrors, including what was called ‘trench feet’, a condition caused by constantly having wet, cold feet, worse in the winter, but the trenches were almost always wet. Every time it rained, the ground became soggier and, even when the sun shone, it didn’t seem to dry the water completely; the men could also awake to find a dead comrade lying beside them, sometimes being gnawed by rats. It was, her husband had told her, the soldier’s worst nightmare. ‘I was reading that report in The Times only yesterday about the conditions out there getting worse.’
‘Yes, it is terrible. I can’t wait for it to be over, Rachel, but Ben says nothing will come of the various attempts at peacemaking.’ Sally glanced across at the counter to where Marion Jackson was serving, ‘She has come on very well, don’t you think? I wondered whether it was fair expecting her to do two jobs, but she seems to be thriving on it.’ Marion, a young woman recently married, was one of the staff they’d recruited after Beth and Maggie had left Harpers. She’d started out as a counter assistant, but because of her flair for design, she was now assisting the window-dressing team to come up with new ideas as well.
‘The window dressing only takes an hour or two of her time most days and I believe she finds the extra money very useful.’ Rachel nodded to herself. ‘Her husband is serving overseas, I understand. He was in France before his last leave, but I believe he was posted elsewhere, though she isn’t sure where because she hasn’t heard for six months…’
‘That must be such a worry,’ Sally replied with a frown. ‘She would most likely have been notified had anything happened to him but not to hear is awful – as you understand only too well.’
Rachel agreed. When her husband had been on active service, his letters had been infrequent, sometimes not arriving for months and then all together, but Marion Jackson had not had even one letter in six months and Rachel had seen the worried look in her eyes when she wasn’t serving customers. Rachel felt for her, but so many other wives were in the same boat and many letters went astray, never to be delivered.
‘So, everything is all fine here?’ Sally enquired, interrupting Rachel’s thoughts. She hastily brought them back to business.
‘Yes. We’re doing a nice steady trade and all the stock we’ve received has been perfect.’
‘That is what I like to hear.’ Sally beamed at her. ‘I’ll leave you to it then, Rachel. I would offer my sympathy to Marion Jackson, but it wouldn’t help her. I’ll just say a silent prayer for her that her husband turns up sooner rather than later.’
‘I think it’s all any of us can do until we have peace again.’
Sally agreed and left the department with a nod to the young girls working at the various counters. Becky Stockbridge had recently been promoted to a senior saleswoman in the clothing department and Rachel had another junior in her place. She was sorry to lose the girl who had become very reliable, which was why she’d had to agree to the promotion rather than asking to keep her. Becky deserved it and the new junior was doing very well. Shirley Jones was on the scarves and Marion oversaw the hats, which always looked superb, especially some from a new designer from the north, which had arrived only that morning and were already attracting attention, not least from Rachel who had seen a lovely midnight-blue velvet creation she very much admired.
Marion Jackson completed the sale of three hats, including one of the new designs, and then came up to Rachel. ‘Would you like me to take my break now, Mrs Bailey? Only, I’ve been asked to attend a meeting about the new ideas for the windows in half an hour.’
‘You’d better get off then – how long do you expect the meeting to continue?’
‘It is usually an hour and ten minutes.’ Marion laughed as she saw the look in Rachel’s eyes. ‘Yes, I know – but the meetings are officially an hour long – a representative from each department attends for one hour and then we return to our departments…’
Rachel nodded because this was the new arrangement until Mr Marco returned from the Army, when he would once again take over the window displays.
‘It’s only that someone always stops me and asks a question that takes several minutes to answer…’
‘Ah, yes, I see,’ Rachel said and smiled at her. ‘Most of the displays are down to you these days, I understand?’
‘With help from Mrs Harper and the heads of departments.’ Marion Jackson wrinkled her smooth brow. ‘I don’t think it works quite as well as when Mr Marco was in charge, but it’s the only way to do it for the moment. I shall be happier when he returns to Harpers.’ Rachel nodded her agreement because Mr Marco was a popular member of staff and brilliant at his job. He was a personal friend of Ben Harper and had come with him from America when the store first opened. Of mixed parentage, he had been born in England but worked in America until returning to take up his job at Harpers.
‘I think the windows look very nice. However, we must pray Mr Marco does return for his sake,’ Rachel said. ‘I know he sent a card to Mrs Harper last Christmas sending his good wishes to everyone – but I don’t think anyone has heard from him since.’
‘Perhaps he just can’t write at the moment,’ Marion suggested. ‘I think it is the same for a lot of our men, Mrs Bailey.’
‘Yes…’ Rachel looked at her intently. ‘Have you heard from Corporal Jackson?’ Marion’s husband had been promoted and she was very proud of it so had told her colleagues at work.
‘Yes, I know.’ Rachel gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Believe and pray I think are the best things to keep in mind.’ She nodded briskly. ‘You get off and I’ll expect you when I see you.’
Marion Jackson flashed her a grateful smile and left.
Rachel called Shirley Jones to her and told her to take over Marion Jackson’s counter, while the junior took over hers.
While Marion was gone, Rachel kept the other two girls at the counters but allowed them both to take their break together when her senior saleswoman returned.
‘I think we can manage the department on our own for a while, Mrs Jackson,’ she said. ‘Did your meeting go well?’
‘Yes, quite well,’ Marion said. ‘Mrs Harper was full of ideas and Miss Jenni Harper had some too. She is a big help with all kinds of things – but I still think the windows lack the flair they had when Mr Marco was here.’
‘You do very well, all of you, but Mr Marco is very talented. We must just hope the war is over soon and he comes safely back to Harpers.’
Marion was thoughtful as she caught her bus home that evening, her mind still on the meeting for the window displays and the slight sense of annoyance she always felt after them. The ideas everyone put forward always sounded good but never seemed to work out just as they ought when it came to it and Marion knew that was to do with them missing Mr Marco’s flair. He always knew how to make things come to life and truly sparkle and they needed him back at Harpers to return that sense of excitement to the displays.
Mrs Harper was always congratulating Marion on doing a good job for them, but a good job and a fabulous window that took your breath away were two different things in Marion’s opinion. She sighed and shook her head. It wasn’t for her to say anything; she was just doing her job as best she could and no doubt Mrs Harper was aware of the shortfall but had to accept that they could not do better for the moment. Perhaps it was as Mrs Harper claimed; they just didn’t have the extra-special things in stock they’d often had in the past.
It was the fault of this war, Marion thought, feeling a little resentful. It affected everything these days, what they could eat, what they could buy, how often they saw their husbands. She hated it that Reggie’s letters had been delayed or lost in the post. Both she and her sister-in-law Sarah were waiting desperately for letters from their husbands. Sarah hadn’t had a letter from Dan for months either.
Pushing open their front gate, Marion walked round to the back kitchen and then caught the smell of one of Sarah’s delicious casseroles cooking. Since Sarah had come to live with them for the duration of the war, Marion often came home to find a lovely meal waiting for her. It cheered her up immediately and she entered the spotlessly clean room to find her sister Kathy laying the table. Kathy and Sarah were chattering while Milly, her little sister, was doing a puzzle on a tray that Sarah had bought her recently and Dickon, her youngest brother, was already home from his work on the Docks and had just taken off his coat and was washing his hands at the sink. Dickon would be old enough to join the Army later that year, but she expected he would stay in his protected job, because his work was deemed necessary. The sights and sounds of home lifted her spirits even before her eyes went to the mantlepiece and she saw the letter.
‘It came this morning,’ Sarah said smiling as she saw Marion rush to pick up the envelope. ‘I’m sure it is from Reggie.’
‘Yes, it is,’ Marion breathed as she tore it open and then she lit up from inside as she read the first few lines. ‘He is well – just a slight scratch, he says – but they’ve sent him home to rest and recover. He’s in hospital in Plymouth for a week or so and then he’ll be home for at least a month…’
‘That is wonderful,’ Sarah said and came to embrace her. ‘I’m so happy for you, Marion.’
‘Have you had a letter too?’
Sarah shook her head.
‘I’m sorry…’ Marion’s excitement was tempered a little by Sarah’s disappointment. She knew how worrying it was when no letters came.
‘I’ll get one soon,’ Sarah told her and smiled. ‘He’s fine, Marion. I know Dan is fine – it’s just the wretched post, that’s all.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Marion said. She kissed Reggie’s letter and put it in her pocket. He was coming home soon and that was wonderful. She would pop round later and tell his mother, but for the moment she wanted to hug the news to herself. ‘Dinner smells good?’
‘Chicken and mushroom casserole,’ Sarah said. ‘The butcher only had boiling chickens so I thought I’d make it tasty by adding things we all like…’ She frowned. ‘There’s nothing I can do to make your sandwiches better, Marion. They call this bread they’re selling “war bread” and it tastes awful. I’d make some myself, but they’ve even asked us to cut down on the flour we use in pastry.’
‘They’ll have us all eating potato flour,’ Kathy said. ‘Our teacher was saying it is disgusting.’
‘Well, that is all right in soups and stews to add bulk,’ Sarah observed. ‘But goodness knows what they’ve put in the bread…’
‘Dan is lucky to have such a good cook for his wife,’ Marion said. ‘You’re an artist in so many ways, Sarah – both your sewing and your cooking. You ought to be on our window display team. You have the sort of flair that Mr Marco has.’
‘You and your Mr Marco,’ Sarah said and laughed. ‘Yes, I wouldn’t mind helping you out, Marion dearest, and if you want to show me some ideas of yours, I’ll help you tweak them with pleasure – but I have enough to do with our little Pamela and the cooking and my sewing orders, without working at Harpers. I told you I’m making all Mabel Clarke’s wedding clothes…’
‘Yes, I know how busy you are,’ Marion said. ‘Do you think this war will ever be over? I keep hoping they will all come home soon!’
‘It will end one day, but who knows when,’ Sarah said. ‘Come and sit down – have your dinner and stop worrying, love. You’ll make those windows look nice. You always do.’
‘Nice, yes – fantastic, no,’ Marion replied. ‘The only person I know that can do that is Mr Marco – and I’ve no idea where he is now…’
5
Sally played with her daughter before putting her to bed. For a while she’d wondered if Jenny was a little slow learning to walk and talk, but Ben said she was just lazy and spoiled.
‘Why should she bother to run after things when everyone is so ready to fetch things for her?’ he’d said. ‘And why bother with learning words when she can just point at what she wants.’
Sally was inclined to think he might be right. Jenny could run and play when she wanted and she was intelligent but she was inclined to be lazy and that was probably down to her being waited on hand and foot. Perhaps she needed a motive to make her do things, like this evening when Sally had played games with her.
Was that the problem – she wasn’t always here and Jenny was left to amuse herself in her playpen while Mrs Hills worked? Immediately, she felt guilty about neglecting her beautiful daughter, but when she spoke of it to Beth later that evening she laughed.
‘You worry too much and you expect too much,’ she’d told her. ‘Children develop at their own rate and Jenny is absolutely fine. Ben is right. You’ve all spoiled her and now she expects it.’
‘Yes, you’re probably right,’ Sally replied and hugged her. ‘Thanks for coming over, Beth. It’s in the evenings I miss Ben the most.’
‘I feel the same,’ Beth said. ‘Fred took his friend Vera to the pictures as a treat. She does a lot of little things for us, so he thought she deserved it – but when he isn’t there the house feels empty and I keep thinking about Jack. I start to worry and I miss him…’
‘Yes, I know,’ Sally agreed and looked at her with sympathy. ‘When do you expect the baby, love? September, is it?’
‘Yes, the en
d of September, I think.’ She moaned and put a hand to her back. ‘I’m getting a lot of backache now.’
‘It won’t be much longer. We’re nearly at the end of June now, Beth.’
‘Yes…’ Beth sighed. ‘Fred takes a week’s holiday in July. I think he intends to have a few day trips to the sea.’
‘Not going with him?’
‘He asked me if I fancied a trip to Clacton for a few days in a hotel on the seafront, but I told him it would be too much trouble at the moment with Jackie teething and me like this—’ Beth sighed. ‘I suggested he take Vera, but he said he didn’t think that was a good idea.’
‘He’s not courting then?’
‘It’s strictly friendship; she comes to tea and he takes her to the pictures, but that’s about it. It’s a pity really. I’d like to think he might marry again. If Jack and I wanted to move, it would leave him on his own and I don’t think I could do that.’
‘No, it wouldn’t seem fair,’ Sally said and smiled at her. ‘Fred is very fond of you and his grandson.’
‘He was so upset when that bomb went off in Upper North Street School for infants and killed eighteen children the other day,’ Beth said. ‘Over a hundred and sixty were killed in all – they say the enemy planes dropped a hundred bombs – but it was those kiddies that upset Fred.’
‘I think it did everyone,’ Sally agreed. ‘My secretary was in tears over it and Mr Stockbridge was really upset, as was Rachel.’ She looked sad. ‘I worry over Jenny if she doesn’t say as much as I think she should – but those children will never have a chance to grow up.’
‘I know—’ Beth looked sad. ‘I was thinking about Maggie, wondering how she is now, Sally. It is just too far for me to go down at the moment. I can’t manage the journey with Jackie and if I leave him overnight it isn’t fair on Fred. I know Vera is willing to help, but it is a bit much for her.’
‘I wish they would transfer her to somewhere nearer London,’ Sally agreed. ‘We could go and see her more. I keep writing to her, but it isn’t the same, and I wonder if she feels we’re neglecting her.’
