by Rosie Clarke
6
‘You’re so lucky to have a boyfriend,’ Becky Stockbridge told Maggie when they met for tea at her home that Sunday afternoon. ‘I never meet any interesting young men – and I don’t think Papa would let me go courting if I did…’
‘Of course, he will one day,’ Maggie said and smiled. ‘You’re only seventeen…’ She hesitated, then, ‘Besides, Tim is really just a friend – I’m not sure we’re courting. We just have tea together sometimes…’ Maggie was thoughtful for a moment, because she wasn’t sure how she felt about Tim or he about her.
‘Seventeen and a few months,’ Becky reminded her. ‘I think you had a boyfriend when you were my age or younger.’
‘Yes, I did, but it was a mistake,’ Maggie admitted. ‘I don’t think it would have happened if my father hadn’t been so ill and then…’ She shook her head, because his death still hurt after all this time. ‘Ralf seemed charming, but he took his mother’s side when I needed him and after that I couldn’t trust him…’
‘I should think not!’ Becky said and slipped an arm about her waist. ‘I’m so lucky you decided to be my friend, Maggie. I’ve finished school now my final year exams are over – and I’d love to find a job somewhere…’
‘Why don’t you come to Harpers?’ Maggie suggested. ‘It would be fun, because we’d see each other more…’
‘I asked Papa if I could, but he said no…’ Becky pulled a face. ‘He says I can’t work behind a counter – but if I pass my exams for shorthand and typing at night school, I can apply for a job in the accounts office…’
‘That would be just as good,’ Maggie said. ‘Do you think you will pass?’
‘The typing is easy; I have excellent speeds – but it is the shorthand.’ Becky pulled a wry face. ‘It’s hard and my tutor said she couldn’t make out my squiggles without squinting…’
‘Well, I can’t make out shorthand at all,’ Maggie said and laughed at her friend’s solemn face. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll do it – and your father only wants the best for you. I think you’ll earn another five shillings in the office at least…’
Five shillings a week extra made a big difference and was worth the effort, but Becky clearly wanted the freedom and excitement of being at work with other young girls.
‘I asked my father and he said I could come to the first-aid classes with you, Maggie – but he put his foot down over the Women’s Movement. He says I may not attend the meetings or the marches…’ Becky pulled a rueful face. ‘I would defy him and go anyway – but he’s so lovely to me, so kind and trusting that I can’t…’
‘Mr Stockbridge is very nice,’ Maggie said. He’d been kind to her even before she became Becky’s friend and she couldn’t encourage his daughter to break her father’s trust and attend the meetings. ‘The classes are interesting and can be fun. I asked Marion Kaye to come and I think she will if she can – but she was off work one day this week. Her mother and sister were ill and she called in after eleven to let us know. Mrs Burrows was very understanding but if she does it too often…’ Becky’s father was pleasant, but he was also strict and if staff were late too often, they were warned three times and then dismissed. Marion had been warned twice already. Some supervisors would have dismissed her instantly.
‘Well, I shall come with you both,’ Becky said. ‘Papa says there is safety in numbers – he just doesn’t like me going out alone at night.’
‘Well, you can understand it,’ Maggie said. ‘We always walk in twos and threes to the bus stop; no one walks alone unless they’re older and want to.’
‘That will be all right then,’ Becky said. ‘Let’s finish this lovely cake Mrs Meadows baked for us. It is really delicious – and Papa prefers his fruit cake. She made one for him all to himself…’
‘Are your mother and sister better now?’ Maggie asked Marion when they were taking their coats off at work on Monday morning. Marion had returned to work after taking a day off to care for her sick mother.
‘Milly is fine, up and running about,’ Marion said. ‘My mother comes down during the day again now but goes back to bed before I get home… the doctor says she should go to the clinic to be checked over, but she won’t…’
‘Is there something seriously wrong with her?’ Maggie asked.
‘Doctor Phillips thinks so… she’s got so thin…’ Marion caught back a sob. ‘I think it’s just because she’s so unhappy. She said she didn’t care if she died…’ Marion faltered. ‘If that happened, I’d have to stay at home and look after my sister – they might even take Milly and put her in a home. None of us is considered old enough to live without Ma’s supervision and my father wouldn’t come back on a permanent basis…’ Without her mother, everything would fall on Marion’s shoulders and sometimes she wondered how she would cope. Yet someone had to keep a roof over their heads and she was the eldest, apart from Dan, who hadn’t been home for months now.
‘Oh no! That’s terrible.’ Maggie looked at her in horror. ‘When my father died and my mother… went away… I could have lived with my uncle, but I went to stay with Rachel and Beth…’ She bit her lip, because even if Rachel would take Marion in, she couldn’t be responsible for her brothers and sisters. ‘Isn’t there any way you could persuade her to go to the clinic and see what is wrong?’
Marion shook her head. ‘I think she wants to die,’ she said and then stopped as Mrs Burrows walked in and began to take off her coat. Blushing, Marion gave a little squeak and hurried into the department, beginning to uncover the hats, as if she feared that she would be reprimanded for talking, though there were ten minutes to go before they needed to be on the floor.
‘Is Marion all right?’ Beth asked and Maggie hesitated.
‘Yes, she’s fine,’ she said, ‘but her mother is unwell all the time. The doctor has asked her to go to the clinic at the infirmary for a proper check over, but she won’t…’
‘Perhaps she cannot afford the fees,’ Beth said, because many women would hesitate before spending money they needed for other things on a health check.
‘Marion’s doctor says the clinic is free to her if she goes in on a Friday when he’s there – he didn’t charge them a penny for visiting twice when Marion’s brother rang him.’
‘Generous,’ Beth said with a little nod. Most doctors charged their patients, even if they were sometimes paid with a few eggs or some garden produce if money was short. ‘Perhaps it is pride then… she feels it is charity…’
‘Marion is worried about her. She says if her mother dies, the council might take them all into care – because she’s the eldest at home and her father works away, as does her elder brother… and she’s afraid she might lose her job if she stays away too often…’
‘That is something to face if it happens,’ Beth said but looked serious. ‘I can’t do much unless she asks for my help, Maggie – but I would help in any way I could. The rules are strict here, but I’ll do what I can – though if her mother dies it will be out of my hands…’
‘Yes, I know…’ Maggie looked at the little watch she wore on her dress. ‘It’s time I got to my counter, Mrs Burrows.’
Beth nodded approvingly. The formality began once they were in working hours and Maggie never forgot it, even though Beth was one of her closest friends. It wouldn’t do to take advantage and she wouldn’t dream of doing it either – but she did hope that Beth could help Marion, because it would be too dreadful if her mother died and some of the family were taken into care.
Maggie left work that evening, pausing to read the boards outside a cinema on her way home; they were proudly announcing the showing of the first feature film in Britain in full colour: The World, the Flesh and the Devil. It would be nice to go to the pictures, but Rachel wasn’t much interested in the cinema and Maggie hated going alone. She had no plans that evening, because Becky was going to the theatre with her father and Tim Burrows was away at the Royal Flying Corps base where he was stationed. She thought that Rachel and Minnie were goin
g to visit some mutual friends, which would leave her alone. She would probably spend the evening washing her hair, even though she’d done it recently.
‘Miss Gibbs – may I ask you to stop and talk for a moment…’
Maggie’s heart caught as she heard Ralf’s voice and she spun round to see the man she’d once been briefly engaged to standing just behind her. ‘Ralf!’ she cried. ‘You made me jump…’
‘I’m sorry. I never meant to scare you…’
‘Oh, I wasn’t frightened, just surprised. How are you? I haven’t seen you for ages…’ she said, recovering quickly.
‘No – I’ve been down on the Sussex coast for the past six months or more,’ he said. ‘We’ve been flying missions over the sea and training…’ Like Tim Burrows, Ralf was also in the Royal Flying Corps.
Maggie felt a chill at her nape. ‘Please don’t mention that word war…’ she said passionately. ‘Mr Burrows is convinced there will be one and his son Tim seems to relish the idea…’
‘I suppose it’s what we flying chaps expect and live for,’ Ralf said ruefully. ‘I promise not to mention it again – if you will let me take you for tea…’
Maggie hesitated. Ralf had asked her out several times after she’d left his mother’s house more than fourteen months ago and she’d refused. Then he’d disappeared and she hadn’t seen him again until that evening.
‘I suppose there is no harm in it, as long as you understand that we can never be more than friends,’ she said firmly. ‘How is your mother and your sister?’
Ralf frowned, as if her statement had displeased him but answered politely. ‘My sister is married and very happy… my mother went to live with a spinster friend of hers in Hastings. I see her very occasionally, but I write to her once a week…’
‘I see… I’m sorry if that was my fault…’
‘How could it be?’ Ralf asked. ‘Once I’d joined the Royal Flying Corps, I could no longer live at home and my sister’s wedding was already arranged for last spring. It was my mother’s choice to leave London and I have no opinion about it – I simply wished her well.’
‘But you have no home…’ Maggie said, feeling vaguely guilty.
‘I have my work and my friends. Besides, my home would need you in it to be worthwhile…’ The longing in Ralf’s eyes then made Maggie’s heart catch and for a moment she wanted to cry. She’d thought herself so much in love with him once, but it had ended when he let her down, showing no sympathy over her mother’s illness and subsequent death.
‘That’s silly,’ she said, but she knew he meant every word, because it was in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Ralf. I never intended to hurt you…’
‘It was my mother’s fault and mine,’ he admitted and smiled at her. ‘I had no idea what a treasure I had, Maggie. It wasn’t until you gave me back the ring that I understood what a damned fool I’d been…’
‘Oh, Ralf…’ She caught back a sob. ‘I don’t know what to say…’ She felt sad that he’d been hurt, but her feelings had moved on and she could not give him what he wanted from her.
He reached out and took her elbow, guiding her into a pleasant little tearoom and towards an empty table. ‘You don’t have to say anything,’ he told her. ‘I just want to spend a little time with you – perhaps we could meet occasionally when I’m in London. It won’t be that often…’
Maggie nodded but the waitress had approached and she waited until their order was given and they were once more alone.
‘I’m not sure…’ Maggie said, flustered and embarrassed to refuse, even though she’d told herself she would never forgive him for not supporting her when her mother lay dying. ‘But only as friends – if you expect more, then perhaps we should not…’
‘And that is your final word?’ Ralf asked.
‘Yes,’ she managed. ‘We could be friends but no more…’
Ralf was silent as the waitress returned with their tea and a plate of cakes. She sipped her tea but found that she wasn’t hungry and declined the cream cakes, though Ralf tucked into one with evident enjoyment. Afterwards, he looked at her and her eyes were drawn to a little smear of cream on his mouth.
‘I enjoyed that,’ he said and his eyes were intent on her face. ‘You won’t change your mind?’
Maggie shook her head and she saw the acceptance in his eyes.
‘Then I think you are right. Thank you for today, but I shall not trouble you again…’
Maggie found it impossible to speak as he summoned the waitress, paid for their tea and then left. She felt sorry that what had begun so brightly had ended this way and yet she knew it was right.
As she got up to leave the little café, Maggie knew the only man she wanted to meet for tea in future was Tim.
‘Did you have a good evening?’ Maggie asked when Minnie and Rachel returned from their visiting.
‘Yes, not too bad,’ Rachel said. ‘We visited our old landlady and old friends at the boarding house and then called on my mother-in-law, because she wants Minnie to make her a new dress…’
‘Oh, that’s rather nice…’
‘Yes, I suppose,’ Rachel agreed. ‘It helps Minnie supplement her income and she likes embroidering, so she was happy.’ Rachel sighed. ‘What about you? What did you do? I felt a bit mean for leaving you alone…’
‘I went out to tea with a friend,’ Maggie replied, not meeting her eyes, because she didn’t want to tell her who she’d had tea with; Rachel would think her a fool to meet Ralf again.
‘Oh, well, that’s all right then… Minnie wants to take us both out to lunch on Sunday – unless you’re going to visit Becky Stockbridge?’
‘No, her father is taking her to visit her maternal grandmother in Henley,’ Maggie said. ‘I can have lunch, but I shall be meeting Tim Burrows for tea on Sunday.’ He’d written to tell her he would be home and she was looking forward to it. Suddenly, she was looking forward to seeing Tim again very much.
7
Rachel was thoughtful as she brushed her hair that evening. Was she imagining it or were both Minnie and Maggie hiding something from her? She’d noticed Minnie fidgeting a couple of times when they were speaking to Rachel’s mother-in-law that afternoon and there was a look of sadness in her eyes that hadn’t been there until the past day or so. She sighed and shook her head, putting it down to Minnie’s loss of her sister. Rachel had hoped she was settling in well with them and in her new job, but it seemed she was still grieving. However, there was little she could do except be kind, gentle and give her time.
Maggie was a different matter. She had recovered from the death of her parents and the look in her eyes hadn’t been sadness; it was more as if she’d done something, she was uneasy about and didn’t want Rachel to know. Yet she was an honest girl and Rachel knew it couldn’t be very much. Again, she could do little unless Maggie confided in her…
Mind you, Rachel had her own secrets. She’d told no one that she’d been out to lunch the previous Sunday with William Bailey, the gentleman she’d met at Harpers and been out with a few times to tea and lunch until he let her down. Her friends would think she was mad, because of the way he’d betrayed her with that awful article he’d put his name to in the papers condemning the Women’s Movement, which meant so much to her and to her friends.
For a long time after she’d discovered his betrayal, Rachel had tried to keep William at arms’ length, but in the end, she’d allowed him to talk to her and then to take her out sometimes for tea or lunch – but she hadn’t told her friends she was meeting him again. She wasn’t sure why, except that she was certain they would think her foolish to trust him after he’d betrayed her so badly. However, he had explained that he hadn’t written the offending article but merely allowed his name to be attached to it, and he had admitted he was wrong.
‘I wish I’d spoken to you in the first place – or just refused to have anything to do with the article,’ he’d told Rachel when he’d taken her to tea that first time. ‘I wouldn’t have hurt you f
or the world – please believe me. I certainly do not consider you a fool. I was advised it was a good angle to get me a seat in parliament but had I realised that it would alienate you, I would have told them to keep their seat.’ He’d smiled at her remorsefully. ‘In fact, I did – I’m standing for a different constituency and they happen to be pro-suffragette…’ His eyes had twinkled at her in the way she’d always liked. ‘Can you find it in your heart to forgive me please?’
Rachel had found she was laughing. William had a sense of humour she liked, as well as being kind and generous, and she just hadn’t been able to stay angry with him for long. In fact, the more she knew of him, of his good works amongst the poor and his sympathy for the miners, the more she liked him. Besides, there had been a spate of rather foolish attacks on famous paintings and the pier at Great Yarmouth, which she thought foolish and detrimental to the cause.
Sighing, Rachel thrust thoughts of William to one side. She had other problems that needed her attention. Her mother-in-law wasn’t looking as well as she had and seemed to complain almost the whole time, she and Minnie were with her. Rachel didn’t mind for herself, but she thought her mother-in-law might have made an effort because Minnie was visiting – but she had always been a selfish woman.
Why didn’t she just leave her to get on with it? Rachel sometimes thought she was a fool to continue to visit her late husband’s mother. She’d begun it after Paul’s death, because she was grieving and it was her last link with the husband she’d lost, but there was nothing between them now – nothing but her sense of duty…
And then there was that little problem at work. Rachel had been told by two of the department heads that small items had disappeared from stock quite recently.
‘A little compact was missing from the cosmetic counter,’ Mrs Rowes had told Rachel when she’d asked her why she was doing a stock take midweek. ‘It had rouge in it and cost three shillings and ninepence. I know it isn’t much, Mrs Craven – but we’ve never lost anything from this department before…’
