Wartime Blues for the Harpers Girls

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘Yes, I thought that too,’ Rachel said, ‘but I know lots of people get worse troubles – and so many men have died in this war. I shouldn’t feel sorry for myself, Sally.’

  ‘Of course, you do,’ Sally exclaimed. ‘You had a bad time when your first husband died and now William is ill. It is horrid for you, love. I wish there was something I could do to help – to make the pain and worry you must be feeling a little easier. Promise you will tell me if there is?’

  Rachel took her hand gratefully. She’d been nursing the pain of William’s news inside and fretting, but Sally’s care and sincerity had eased her already. It didn’t change anything but just having a friend she could talk to made it seem easier. ‘I feel better now I’ve been able to talk to you.’

  ‘I am so glad and I meant it – anything at all I can do to help.’

  ‘Just talking – being able to tell someone helps.’

  ‘Yes, I know…’ Sally hesitated, then, ‘Can I share something with you?’

  ‘Yes, of course. We can always talk, Sally.’

  ‘We talked about everything when we lived together,’ Sally agreed. ‘I told you about my mother – and how I always thought something was wrong – that the nuns were lying to me. Now, I’m sure they were. She is alive and they deliberately hid it from me.’

  ‘You spoke of your mother in your delirium,’ Rachel said, frowning. ‘Have you truly seen her, Sally?’

  ‘Yes, in the park, just before I passed out.’ Sally smiled at her triumphantly. ‘She had been trying to pluck up the courage to see me, Rachel. We were talking and then it all went hazy, and I passed out…’ Hesitating once more, she said, ‘Could you do me a favour? I need someone to trace her for me – Sheila Ross. I doubt if she married. She must have been in trouble when she gave me up because she tried to get me back, but the nuns had sent me to another orphanage, and they wouldn’t tell her anything; they didn’t think she was a proper person to bring up a child.’

  ‘How wicked of them!’ Rachel exclaimed in indignation. ‘They had no right to keep you apart if she was ready to take you back.’

  ‘I don’t know her story,’ Sally said. ‘One of the nuns gave me a little silver cross she said was my mother’s – and I gave it to Jenny once to protect her. I need to find my mother, Rachel. I know Beth and Jenni think I dreamed it all, but I promise you I didn’t!’

  ‘Do you want me to employ a private detective?’ Rachel suggested.

  ‘Yes please. It’s what Ben would do if he were here and I asked him to find her – but Jenni thinks I imagined it all, I know she does.’

  Rachel gave her an intent look. ‘Supposing it does turn out to be imagination or hallucination?’

  ‘Then tell me the truth and I’ll accept it – but I know I’m right.’

  ‘Then I’ll do everything to find her,’ Rachel promised.

  Sally smiled, nodded and then asked her if she was happy with things at Harpers.

  Rachel told her truthfully that Marion hadn’t liked some of the latest hats. ‘Miss Jenni bought them from a new supplier. They are cheaper but not as well made, but perhaps it is wrong of me to tell you?’

  ‘No, it’s what I expected,’ Sally grimaced as she tried to sit forward. ‘I’m still so weak, but I’m getting better. I’ll give it another week and then I shall take over the ordering again, at least for your department and the ladies’ clothes.’

  ‘Don’t overdo it or I shall be banned from visiting you,’ Rachel said with a smile.

  ‘Pearl is on my side. She encourages me to do what I can and she brings Jenny to me three times a day. If it was left to Jenni and the doctor, I wouldn’t see anyone.’

  ‘They are determined to look after you, but perhaps it is best to rest as much as you can bear until you feel less tired. You must think of yourself and the baby, Sally love.’

  ‘Yes, it probably is best to rest,’ Sally agreed and lay back against her pillows. ‘Before you came, I was thinking of our first days at Harpers. We were all so young and so excited to have been given our jobs. This war makes it all feel so long ago. It’s like a long dark tunnel with no glimmer of light at the other end…’

  Rachel nodded. The papers were filled with dire news most days. In America, the Government had threatened to execute anyone who tried to avoid conscription, while in London the authorities had withdrawn passports from people wishing to attend the peace conference in Stockholm. In France, the Allied forces were driving the Germans back at Ypres but at terrible cost. It was felt that the movement towards peace was not helpful at this time and too many concessions were being made by those trying to broker it, so the British Government was refusing to listen. Rachel didn’t know who was right and who was wrong; she just knew she wished it would stop.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Rachel agreed and held back her sigh. ‘But you know what makes it bearable? It’s having friends like you, Beth and Maggie. How is Beth at the moment? I haven’t seen her for a couple of weeks.’

  ‘She will be here soon.’ Sally glanced at her watch. ‘At least she said she would. I wonder…’

  ‘I know,’ Rachel agreed. ‘She was very close to the birth and later than she’d expected when I last saw her. She thought she would give birth at the end of September but she must have miscalculated or she is very late, because we’re in October now. I wouldn’t mind betting we shall be told she has had her second child any minute!’

  Sally smiled. ‘She was so fed up with looking like a beached whale and complaining all the time of backache. I think you might be right, Rachel. I do hope so because she will be happier when it is all over.’

  Rachel nodded and said that she thought so too. Sally looked a bit tired then, so she left and went out to speak to Mrs Hills and Pearl, who was indulging Jenny by playing with her and some brightly coloured bricks, which the child enjoyed building up so she could knock them down.

  Rachel was thoughtful as she caught her bus home. Sally was lucky to have such devoted friends and carers. Both Beth and Sally were fortunate in having their children earlier in their marriage, even though the doctors suspected that this pregnancy had caused Sally’s fever and might not be as easy as her first. Rachel herself had never carried a child full term, though she’d had a miscarriage early in her first marriage. After that, her husband had become ill and there were no further hopes of a family. For a moment, the ache of longing and loneliness swept over her, making her catch her breath and hold back a sob.

  She’d hoped she might perhaps fall for a child when she married William, but it hadn’t happened, and now, she’d given up all hope. If her husband survived his ordeal in the isolation hospital, she doubted they could have a child – but perhaps the fault lay with her. She could only resign herself to a life without children to brighten it…

  As she got off her bus, Rachel saw children playing hopscotch in the lane near where she lived and she stopped to watch and listen to their happy laughter. Smothering a sigh of self-pity, she turned to leave and then caught sight of the little girl sitting on the pavement, her knees hunched and her face stained with tears. Something in Rachel reached out to the forlorn child and she went up to her.

  ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘I’m Mrs Bailey – who are you?’

  ‘I’m Lizzie…’ the little girl sniffed. ‘I’m five and my mummy went to Heaven this morning and my granny says she can’t look after me…’ She wiped her nose on a sleeve that was none too clean. ‘She sent me off ’cos she didn’t want me under her feet…’

  ‘Oh, you poor darling! Are you hungry?’ Rachel asked, her heart feeling as if it was being tugged from her chest. She pointed to her apartment building across the road. ‘I live up there – would you like some bread and butter with strawberry jam and a piece of cake?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ Lizzie’s face lit up. ‘I know you – Mummy said you were the lady from Harpers and rich.’

  Rachel laughed and shook her head. ‘I’m not rich, but I have a good job. Shall we tell your granny you’re coming to t
ea with me?’

  Lizzie nodded and pulled at Rachel’s hand. ‘She’s there at the gate.’

  The child pointed to one of the terraced houses just across the road from her apartment block.

  Taking Lizzie by the hand, Rachel approached the stone-faced woman, who looked at the little girl with obvious dislike.

  ‘Excuse me, are you Lizzie’s granny?’ she asked politely. ‘I’m sorry I don’t know your name?’

  ‘Vi Robinson, not that it’s your business,’ the woman said, looking sour.

  ‘I wanted to know if you minded if I took Lizzie for tea with me?’ Rachel said politely. ‘I understand her mother has just died…’

  ‘Good riddance to her – the slut deserved it,’ Mrs Robinson snarled bitterly. ‘Why my son married her and then saddled me with her and her brat while he went off to war, I’ll never know. It was because of that bitch he went off, to do his duty, he said – and when he’s killed, I’ll have no one to support me in my old age. How am I supposed to look after a kid, go scrubbing floors and feed us both – that’s what I’d like to know?’

  ‘It must be very hard for you.’ Rachel made her voice sympathetic while keeping hold of Lizzie’s hand, which was trembling in hers. ‘You don’t know me, but I would be happy to help you care for Lizzie. She can spend some time with me when I’m home… if you wish…’

  ‘Please, Granny…’ Lizzie’s held on tightly to Rachel’s hand.

  ‘I do know yer,’ Mrs Robinson muttered. ‘More money than sense I shouldn’t wonder – and no kids. Have the brat whenever yer like. Yer can get her some clothes because I can’t.’

  ‘Yes, I can do that,’ Rachel agreed, ‘and I can give you a little money to help with feeding her.’

  Seeing the gleam of avarice in the woman’s eyes, Rachel knew she would take all she could get but Lizzie was unlikely to benefit. It didn’t matter. William insisted she kept all her own money, which she used for whatever she liked. He had also put money and property into her name in case he should die in the war and so she knew she was financially secure. She wouldn’t allow Lizzie’s granny to fleece her, but she would give her a few shillings, even if she spent it on herself rather than the child. It would be worth it to be allowed the pleasure of looking after the little girl.

  ‘I’ll bring her back to you later,’ Rachel promised and the woman nodded, retreating into her home, where the curtains were grey rather than the sparkling white as many other houses had them, even in these run-down terraced houses. The women who lived there were proud and kept their homes spotless, Rachel knew, despite them being constantly short of money. Vi Robinson was the exception.

  Rachel looked down at the child as she took her inside the apartment building and into the lift. ‘Don’t be scared, Lizzie, it’s fun,’ she said and showed her how it worked. ‘It is a strange sensation, but it takes us up several flights of stairs.’

  Lizzie nodded and held on to Rachel’s skirt tightly. However, once it started to rise, her eyes widened and then she laughed. Once inside the flat, she stared in wonder at the comfortable furniture, the flowers and the ornaments.

  ‘You have pretty things,’ she said and touched the shiny surface of an antique table with tentative fingers.

  ‘Yes, I’m lucky,’ Rachel said. William had furnished the apartment for her with satinwood and walnut furniture from the previous century and it shone with the polishing of ages. She’d told him she preferred old things to the more modern furniture that was being made just before the war, though some of the best pieces could be lovely. She did have one or two new things in their bedroom, but everything else had the gracious look of the Regency period. ‘Come along, Lizzie, help me with the tea.’

  Taking the child into the kitchen, Rachel unloaded fresh bread and cake from her basket. She caught sight of Lizzie’s filthy hands and took her to the sink to wash them and then let her put out the plates, cups and saucers as she cut thin slices of bread, spreading them generously with fresh butter and a thick dollop of home-made strawberry jam.

  After the bread and jam, they had coconut madeleines she’d bought in Harpers’ delicatessen department. It had started out with just chocolate and chocolate cakes, but Sally had added anything she thought worthy of being on her shelves to help fill them and the madeleines were made by a small bakery that had needed a bigger outlet. Rachel loved them and bought them every week. Now she was glad she’d been greedy and bought two – one each for her and Lizzie.

  After Lizzie had eaten her fill and drunk a glass of milk, Rachel took her all round the flat and then gave her a little bead necklace from her trinket box. The child’s face lit up and she thanked her politely. When Rachel told her that it was time to go home, her eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t refuse to leave, though her hand trembled as they neared her home.

  Rachel could hardly bear to hand her over to her sullen granny, but she knew she had to. ‘I’ll fetch you again tomorrow,’ she told her and she handed Mrs Robinson five shillings. Seeing the greed in her eyes as she stuffed it into her apron pocket, Rachel knew the visits would be permitted to continue – at least for the moment.

  Leaving Lizzie with the woman tore at her insides, but she knew she had to be careful. Mrs Robinson might not want the child, but she wouldn’t simply give her away just because Rachel asked.

  Her apartment seemed empty without Lizzie. Sighing, Rachel sat down to write a letter to William. She wrote one every evening, even though she had nowhere to send them, because he was not allowed to receive letters until he was over the worst of his illness. Rachel felt that was too cruel, but she’d been told it was part of the rules. So, she didn’t send them, but she wrote them religiously anyway. It made her feel closer to him, and at this moment, fearing she might never have the children she longed for, the future did indeed seem bleak.

  21

  Marion read the letter from Maggie Gibbs, feeling puzzled. Who was this Captain Morgan and how long had Maggie known him? Her last letter hadn’t mentioned a new boyfriend, only that she’d made friends with a nurse and some of the injured men. Everyone had believed that she was still grieving for Tim. Now, she was saying that she thought she might be married soon and would visit Harpers to buy a few things before she did and see her old friends.

  I’m not sure when I’ll get up to London, but I want to try in the next couple of weeks. I’ll be living in the country and I doubt if I’ll be able to visit for a long time after my marriage so I thought I would come and see you all now…

  Folding the letter and putting it into her pocket, Marion shook her head. Maggie talked about the nurses and how glad she would be when they finally said she could go home, but nothing was said about her husband-to-be. It wasn’t the letter of a girl who had fallen in love, surely? When Maggie had been courting before she’d talked about Tim all the time. So, what was going on? It seemed to Marion that something had to be wrong. Yet who could she talk to about Maggie? Mrs Burrows never came in now and Becky Stockbridge hardly spoke to her these days. Perhaps she blamed Marion because she’d been moved to another department, though it had nothing to do with her. The heads of department had arranged it.

  Maggie’s odd letter played on her mind as she arrived at work that morning. Should she speak to Mrs Bailey? She’d seemed a little happier these past few days, though always busy.

  Almost at once, Marion had several customers at her counter and it was only when Mrs Bailey announced that she was going to take her break that she thought of the letter.

  ‘Mrs Bailey – would you read this for me please? I’m a little worried…’

  Glancing at the envelope, her supervisor frowned. ‘Is this from Maggie Gibbs?’

  ‘Yes, it is – and I’m a little concerned for her. I wasn’t sure who to tell…’

  Mrs Bailey nodded and accepted the letter. ‘I shall read it, Mrs Jackson. Please take charge of the department during my break.’

  Marion thanked her and smiled. Mrs Bailey always chose the period when they
were less busy to take her own break, giving all the other girls their opportunity first and she did not anticipate being rushed off her feet. Her mind felt relieved now that she’d given Mrs Bailey the letter. She knew that Maggie had shared a flat with Mrs Bailey and Mrs Harper, Mrs Burrows too, but she hadn’t seen Mrs Burrows in days.

  Her absence was explained a little later in the day when Fred Burrows came up from the basement, where he worked tirelessly to see all the new stock got to the right departments, to tell them the news.

  ‘My daughter-in-law went to hospital two days ago, because they were a bit worried and thought they might have to induce the birth or something,’ he said. ‘My friend Vera has been looking after young Jack so I could come to work. However, we’re all delighted that Mrs Burrows gave birth naturally to a lovely little boy last night at almost midnight and they are both doing well…’

  ‘Oh, that’s lovely,’ Marion said and her hand moved unconsciously to her stomach, as if reassuring her own baby that he or she was equally welcome. ‘Is she pleased?’ Mrs Burrows had mentioned hoping she might have a girl this time. Marion didn’t care whether she had a boy or a girl, just so long as everything went as it ought and the child was all right.

  ‘Yes, she’s delighted,’ Fred assured her. ‘I know Jack will be pleased – and she’s going to call him Tim. It was too soon when the first was born, but now we feel able to give him his uncle’s name.’

  Marion nodded, feeling sad, because Fred’s happy smile had dimmed a little. He must still feel grief at the loss of his younger son, but at least he now had two grandchildren to love and fuss over. Children brought their own love and would take nothing from his memories of his Tim when nursing his new grandson on his knees.

  ‘I think that’s nice,’ Marion told him. ‘When will she be home? I’d love to see her. Perhaps I could pop round once she gets back?’