by Rosie Clarke
‘A rich uncle or father perhaps,’ Fred said. ‘It’s a good sales ploy, Beth, and it has certainly drawn an audience…’
The free vases were just one of the special offers; men’s suits were offered with a free shirt and collar; ties were given free with a spend of more than twenty pounds.
‘Gosh…’ Beth drew a wondering breath. ‘I think we must be the only department that doesn’t have any special offers…’
‘It’s because you’re always busy anyway,’ Fred said. ‘Besides, we’ve got a week of these special windows, so yours may be another day…’
Beth nodded and smiled as she noticed that a small queue had formed at the front of the shop. Free offers and special reductions had brought a surge of extra custom, but would it tail off as soon as the offers were over?
It was a quarter past nine when Beth realised that Marion Kaye probably wasn’t coming in that day, because she was very late and, normally, she was no more than a minute or so, if that, and she tried hard not to be late these days. As soon as Mrs Craven made her tour of the floor, Beth asked her if she’d heard from her junior salesgirl.
‘No, not as yet,’ Rachel Craven replied with a frown. ‘It would not be easy for her to let us know if she was going to be late – but usually a relative can either telephone or call from a box if someone is sick…’
‘I know she has difficulty at home,’ Beth said. ‘We haven’t been rushed off our feet this morning, so we shall manage quite well – but if we did have a surge of customers, it would make things difficult at break time.’
‘The ground floor and the men’s department are where all the customers are this morning,’ Rachel told her with a smile. ‘I even gave the girls on the china and glass department a hand with wrapping a large gift. A gentleman has purchased a set of crystal wine, sherry, whisky, port, brandy, liqueur and water glasses, three crystal decanters, also a leaded crystal fruit bowl and a set of desert dishes and triumphantly carried off his two matching vases for spending sixty pounds.’
‘Goodness me!’ Beth cried astonished. ‘He must be wealthy to spend so much on glassware…’
‘He said it was a wedding present for his daughter – and he particularly wanted the vases for himself. He has been debating whether or not to buy a pair before this and he couldn’t believe his luck that he got them for nothing…’
‘I suppose it is worth it to turn so much stock over,’ Beth said, ‘but it seems extravagant to give so much away…’
‘Apparently, Mrs Harper thought it would bring customers in and Mr Harper said it is often done in America…’
‘Yes, she mentioned something of the kind to me,’ Beth said. ‘But more than fifteen pounds is a lot of money to give away…’
‘I suppose they didn’t cost that much and they were not selling…’ Rachel shrugged. The vases would have cost half that much wholesale and it still left Harpers a small profit on the glassware sold. ‘I must get on, Mrs Burrows. I understand the men’s department is rather busy just now…’
Beth watched her leave and then a few customers came in and started looking round. One of them asked what was reduced and Beth told her that they had no reductions at the moment. She made a face of disgust and left, as if she considered she’d been cheated, but a gentleman asked to see a selection of leather bags. He bought two, one for his wife and another one for his sister. Beth took his money and gift-wrapped the bags for him. It was only her second sale of the morning and again she wondered at the wisdom of these bargains, though, of course, Mr Harper had wanted to make a bit of a splash for the second anniversary of their opening – and it wasn’t Beth’s place to decide.
Sally came down to the department later in the day. She asked how trade was going and Beth told her it had been slower than usual.
‘I suppose that was to be expected because of the increased trade elsewhere,’ Sally said, frowning. She rubbed at her forehead and sighed. ‘Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea, but it did shift those vases and I’ve already replaced the crystal and china we sold, at least I’ve reordered. I thought a free gift was better than a reduction…’
‘Mrs Craven said it worked very well on the ground floor,’ Beth said and looked at her anxiously as Sally put a hand to her back. ‘Are you well, Mrs Harper?’
‘Yes, just a little backache,’ Sally said and smiled. ‘I’ll just have to put up with it – and my doctor says I shouldn’t sit about…’
‘Oh, they tell you all sorts of things these days,’ Beth said. ‘Women were told to relax and rest for weeks before birth once. I think some of them turned into invalids… some of them still do…’
‘Well, I have no intention of fading into the wallpaper and I shall work until I’m forced to give up,’ Sally said and laughed. ‘Ben is taking me to the theatre this evening. I’ve been wanting to see Pygmalion for ages…’
‘Oh, lovely. I hear Mrs Patrick Campbell is wonderful…’
‘The critics are calling it a triumph, though I understand some of the language is a little bit salty…’
Beth laughed. The paper had reported one of Eliza Doolittle’s remarks as stars and an exclamation mark, but everyone knew what it meant, and the word was making the rounds of smart society with a lot of winks and nods.
‘You should get Jack to take you,’ Sally suggested. ‘You’ll need to queue for tickets, unless you book ahead, but I’m sure it will be worth it…’
Beth smiled and agreed, but she didn’t have time to queue up for tickets, and even if she had, she would most likely end up going with Fred or a girlfriend, because Jack didn’t have time to take her to the theatre. Besides, on his rare nights off they liked to go dancing or to a good meal out. Beth considered herself lucky, because many of the girls she’d known at school were married to men who went no further than their local pub. At least Jack took her somewhere nice when he did have a night off.
4
Marion was woken before it was light by Kathy shaking her; she grumbled as she struggled to open her eyes and ask what was wrong.
‘Milly’s awful bad,’ Kathy told her as she sat up and looked at her. ‘She has been sick three times and I can’t wake Ma…’
Marion was out of bed in a trice and hurried into the room next door where Kathy and six-year-old Milly slept. The two boys were still sleeping in their room and she was glad because Robbie would have to leave for work soon after six-thirty and Dickon had exams at school that day. Dickon was the bright one of the family and Marion hoped he would stay on at school and be something more than a manual worker one day. She would do what little she could to make sure it happened.
Milly was grizzling and feeling very sorry for herself. Marion frowned as she questioned whether her sister had pain in her tummy or her head, but she simply shook her head and knuckled her eyes.
‘Feel bad,’ she complained and was promptly sick again on the floor.
Behind Marion, Kathy gave a wail of despair. ‘I’ve cleared up after her twice,’ she said. ‘I’ve got cookery class today, Marion, and they’re going to show us how to make sweet pickle. I really want to learn how to do it…’
‘Mum should look after her, so you can go…’ Marion said without turning round. She was feeling Milly’s forehead, which felt warm and moist. ‘Can you get me some cool water and a cloth, love? I think she has a fever…’
Moaning about the unfairness of life, Kathy went off and soon returned with a small bowl of cool water and a cloth. Marion bent over her sister, smoothing her face and hands with the cool water. Milly sighed and looked at her miserably, but she’d stopped whimpering.
‘Try and sleep now, love,’ Marion said. ‘You’ll feel better in a bit – and I’d better see how Ma is…’
Going through to her mother’s room, she found that she had also been sick in the night. Mrs Kaye was sweating and feverish, lying motionless so that Marion’s heart stood still and for a moment she thought she might be dead. However, when she touched her, Ma moaned slightly and moved her hand aw
ay, as if in denial.
‘Leave me in peace…’ she muttered. ‘For God’s sake leave me be…’
‘It’s all right, Ma, it’s only Marion,’ she said. ‘You’re not well – you and Milly both have it.’ Only Ma was even worse than her little sister. Marion couldn’t wake her properly or get her to answer even though she tried a little shake but that only brought pitiful cries that made her hesitate. Ma obviously thought she was being attacked.
Feeling angry with her absent father, Marion hurried to fetch fresh water and a cloth. She bathed her mother’s face and hands, smoothing the cooling cloth up her thin arms and round her neck. She was perspiring and hot, the sweat soaked into her dark hair.
Tears stung Marion’s eyes as she looked down at the woman lying there with a mixture of pity, love and exasperation. Why didn’t Ma try to help herself more? She wasn’t the only woman in these streets that had a bullying husband, and Pa wasn’t too bad if you didn’t get on his wrong side. Robbie knew how to handle him, standing up to him with determination but a hint of humour. Dan would have come to blows, because his temper was as hot as Pa’s, but Robbie had a way with him. He was a bit like Reggie from next door…
Marion felt a hot flush as she recalled Reggie’s wink. He’d called her Miss Marion and something in his eyes had told her he liked to tease. Robbie could be that way too – and he was her favourite brother…
Shaking her head, Marion forced her mind back to the crisis in hand. What did she do about her mother and little sister? They were both quite ill, but did they need a doctor? If it was just a little tummy upset, Ma would be annoyed if they spent money they needed for other things on a visit from the doctor – and yet they could be really ill…
At the back of her mind, the thought that she was letting Mrs Burrows down and might lose her job at Harpers kept pricking at her – but what could she do? Kathy wasn’t truly old enough to have the burden of her family’s sickness thrust on her and so Marion had no choice but to stay. It was no use thinking about her job at Harpers. Her duty was here!
Ma was settling down a little now, just as Milly had earlier. Marion decided to go down and make up the range and put the kettle on. She would have a cup of tea and then see how they were in an hour or so.
Kathy crept down the stairs after her. ‘I’m sorry I had to wake you,’ she said. ‘I know you need your sleep…’
‘You did the right thing,’ she said and smiled at the younger girl. Kathy already had too much responsibility for a girl of her age. ‘Don’t worry, love, you’ll go to school in the morning – I want you to get on and do something better, be a secretary or something when you leave…’
‘I want to get married and cook lovely things for my family,’ Kathy said. ‘I’m going to marry a man with money – someone who will put his wages on the table every weekend and not spend it all down the pub…’
‘Good for you,’ Marion said. She didn’t think she would ever marry. Men were so unpredictable. Of the ones she knew in her own street, only three of them spent less time in the pub than they did at home. Mr Jackson was a good provider and gave his wife her share regular as clockwork, even though he liked a drink once a week. All his sons gave their mother money for their keep, which was why Mrs Jackson had a new winter coat most years and no one in that house ever went short of anything. Most of the other women complained of having to raid their husbands’ pockets for pennies when they were drunk just to put food on the table – and Marion would never live like that!
At six o’clock, Robbie came down to the kitchen dressed for work. He looked at his sisters, who were eating toast at the table. ‘Milly is cryin’ again,’ he said. ‘I looked in on her and I think she might ’ave been sick…’
‘Again!’ Kathy stood up with a sigh. ‘I’ll go to her, Marion…’
Marion looked at her brother. ‘I’m sorry if I woke you, Robbie…’
‘Nah, it was time for me to get up anyway,’ he said. ‘I could do wiv a bit of that toast and a cuppa if there’s any goin…’
‘Of course, there is,’ Marion said. ‘I’ll make a fresh pot – and you can have marmalade or drippin’ on your toast.’
‘I’ll have dripping – but cheese in my sandwiches for docky, if there’s any left?’
‘I’ve already made them, cheese and sweet piccalilli,’ Marion said. ‘It’s the last of what Ma made…’
‘Thanks, Marion.’ Robbie grinned at her. ‘You know I’m partial to Ma’s piccalilli. Pity she hasn’t made any more…’
‘Kathy wants to learn and she has a lesson today – so perhaps she’ll make a batch for us this weekend…’
‘You could do it if you ever had time,’ Robbie said. His expression became serious. ‘It isn’t fair, Ma expecting you to do everythin’…’
‘I don’t mind,’ Marion said. ‘Really, I don’t – but I want to go out with a friend next week…’ If she still had a job to go to. If she was sacked, Miss Gibbs would think she’d let them down and wouldn’t want to know her.
‘Let me know when and I’ll stay around so you can go…’
‘If Ma lets me…’ Marion began when Kathy burst into the kitchen, white-faced.
‘It’s Ma… she’s on the floor and I can’t get her to respond to me. She’s been sick and she’s messed herself…’
‘I’d better get the doctor,’ Marion said. ‘I thought I’d wait until a bit later, but if Ma’s that bad I’d better ring him now.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Robbie said and swallowed his last bite of toast. ‘Do you need me to help yer get Ma on the bed first?’
‘I think you’d better…’ Marion said. She went quickly upstairs to the bedroom and saw the sight that had met Kathy’s eyes. Ma was whimpering, her eyes closed. The room stank of Ma’s vomit and Marion motioned to her sister to open the window a little as she and Robbie lifted their mother on to her bed. Robbie was very strong and took most of the weight. He was frowning as he looked down at her.
‘She’s very sick, Marion. Do you want me to stick around?’
‘No, you need your wages,’ Marion said and shook her head. He earned more than she did at Harpers. ‘I can manage here and we can’t afford to lose two lots of money. I may not be able to get in today and I’m sure to be fined…’ She didn’t say that she might lose her job but knew it was a possibility because she’d been warned twice about being late.
Kathy fetched hot water as Robbie went off to ring the doctor before going into his work. Marion stripped off her mother’s soiled nightgown and washed her all over before putting on a new one. Fortunately, she’d managed to get out of bed before the vomit and mess came out of her and so the sheets didn’t need to be changed.
Gathering up the soiled things, the two girls looked in on Milly. She’d been sick too and had soiled her bed. Between them, they washed and changed her and the bedclothes. Marion took them down to the scullery and put them in cold water in the copper to soak.
‘Wash your hands well,’ she said to Kathy. ‘We’ve got to try and keep ourselves healthy, love…’
Kathy looked at her, then, reluctantly, ‘I could look after them…’
‘No, you get ready for school,’ Marion told her. ‘I’ll see what the doctor says when he gets here, but I know I might not get in to work at all…’
The doctor didn’t arrive until nine-thirty. He followed Marion upstairs to the patients. Milly was looking a little better by then, sitting up, pale and wan, dried tears on her cheeks, but she hadn’t been sick again.
‘I think this one is on the mend,’ Doctor Phillips said as he examined her tummy. ‘Bad as it was, I think it was just a nasty tummy and sickness. I’ll give you a bottle of medicine for her, which you can fetch from my surgery – and now I’ll take a look at your mother…’
Marion followed him into her mother’s room. Ma was lying with her eyes shut, her skin cold and clammy to the touch as if she were just too weary to open her eyes. The fever had passed, but she hadn’t come out of it as Milly had.<
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Doctor Phillips took her pulse and then stuck his stethoscope to her chest and back. He shook his head and frowned. ‘How long has she been like this?’
‘She was sick and had the runs earlier,’ Marion said. ‘It was watery and it looked like there was some blood in it…’
‘I suppose you just cleared everything up.’ He nodded, because it wasn’t a question, it was what she would do. ‘I think Mrs Kaye might be a little more serious than your sister, Miss Kaye; she’s lost a lot of weight. I’m going to recommend that you watch over her and keep her cool – but if there is more dysentery, then keep some of it for me to see please…’
‘Yes, sir…’ Marion felt cold all over. ‘I’m due at work… in fact I’m late…’
‘Your younger sister or brother should have stayed home… or perhaps you did the right thing.’ He frowned at her. ‘Your mother may take a turn for the worse, Miss Kaye. I shall call again later today, but if you’re worried, ring me – ask a neighbour to do it or to come in while you do. Your mother must not be left alone or she might die…’
‘She won’t die – she can’t…’ Marion stared at him in horror.
‘If she is no better when I return, I shall arrange for her to be taken into the infirmary,’ he replied and wrote something on his pad. ‘Now, I’ll give this to one of your neighbours. Is anyone your particular friend?’
‘Mrs Jackson might go to the chemist if she has time…’
‘Well, you can’t, because I need you to watch these patients,’ he told her. ‘You will light a fire in your mother’s room, make sure she doesn’t get too cold, and as soon as she is able, she needs some hot tea or soup inside her… just a thin soup if you have it or milk and a drop of sugar or honey and lemons, of course; they always help if the throat is sore…’ He looked at her sternly. ‘Your mother must not be left alone while she is so ill – please understand that, Miss Kaye.’
