The Shop Girls of Harpers

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘I asked if they needed anyone at Woolworth’s,’ Maggie said, ‘but they told me they have a list of girls who want to work there…’

  ‘I know – a lot of girls like working for them,’ Sally said. ‘I wanted to work with clothes, but it’s far harder to find a job in the smart shops because they have loads of girls waiting for a position.’

  ‘I’ve just remembered,’ Beth said. ‘Didn’t Mrs Craven say we took it in turns to have our tea breaks – do you think it will be the same for lunch?’

  ‘Never thought of that,’ Sally admitted. ‘Still, we could come after work and share something – less expensive than eating supper alone. I hate going back to the hostel too early…’

  ‘My mother will expect me home straight after work,’ Maggie said and looked disappointed. ‘It’s because of helping with my father…’ She’d already told them of his accident and they gave her sympathetic looks.

  ‘My aunt has warned me of the perils of being out after dark.’ Beth grimaced. ‘She wanted me to be a lady’s companion, but I couldn’t get a position.’

  ‘You’re too attractive, Beth – or you could be,’ Sally said, looking at her frankly. ‘If I were you, I’d have my hair cut to collar length and if you wore a little lip rouge…’

  ‘Mrs Craven said we were not allowed to wear make-up or perfume for work,’ Maggie said and Sally made a wry face.

  ‘Aunt Helen would throw me out,’ Beth said and laughed, touching her hair self-consciously. ‘I’d like to be friends with you, Sally, and you, Maggie – perhaps we’ll get to come together for lunch sometimes, but it’s not easy for me to get away.’

  Sally nodded, clearly disappointed. ‘As soon as I can afford it, I shall find a place to live – a room or an apartment…’

  ‘An apartment would be so expensive,’ Beth said. ‘Aunt Helen makes dresses and costumes for a wealthy widow she knows and she pays more than a hundred and fifty pounds a year for her apartment. I took a parcel there for her once and it was beautiful, with a lift and a porter…’ She sighed. ‘Like you, Sally, I’d love an apartment of my own, but I could never afford anything like that.’

  Sally looked at her hard. ‘But we could – if we put together, all three of us, don’t you see? Oh, it wouldn’t be posh like the one you visited, Beth – but it would be ours. If we shared the rent and the expenses, it wouldn’t cost much more than we have to pay now…’

  ‘I couldn’t,’ Maggie said, looking upset. ‘I have to be at home for my father… Muma couldn’t cope.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ Sally said. ‘You could though, Beth. If we found a third to share the expenses…’

  ‘I don’t think my aunt would approve.’

  ‘Would that matter?’ Sally asked.

  Beth was silent. What Sally said was true, but it was in Beth’s opinion a very bold thing to do. Three young women living alone without an older woman would be seen as very fast and she did not wish to be thought cheap or amoral.

  ‘I’m not very happy at my aunt’s,’ she admitted thoughtfully. ‘Yet, I think we should need someone older to balance us out. Otherwise, we might get a reputation.’

  ‘Oh, who cares?’ Sally said, but Beth saw her flush. ‘We could ask around, there may be an older woman that works at the store and lives alone who would like to share…’

  ‘Yes…’ Beth glanced at the clock. ‘We must get back. We do not want to make Mrs Craven angry on our first day.’

  The girls stood up and went out. Sally stopped to talk to Bessie and then caught up with the others. ‘Bessie says that if either of you go in alone, she will serve you with one sandwich and a cup of tea for a threepenny bit because you are my friends.’

  ‘Oh good,’ Maggie said, glanced back and smiled as she saw the woman watching them.

  ‘That is very kind of her,’ Beth said. ‘I could afford that some days, others I’ll just bring my own lunch – but I do like a hot cup of tea.’

  They ran the last few steps back to Harpers, but as they entered the building, they saw Miss Hart. She glowered at them over the gold-framed spectacles she wore perched on the end of her pinched nose.

  ‘Decorum, ladies,’ she said tartly. ‘This is your only warning. Any member of staff seen running, either in the store or on the street, will be fined a penny from their wages. We cannot have our staff bringing the store into disrepute. Straighten your hat, Miss Gibbs!’

  ‘Mean old biddy,’ Sally hissed as she pressed the lift button to take them up to the first floor. ‘What harm were we doing?’

  ‘It’s just the rules,’ Maggie said. ‘Though I think she just made that one up – Mrs Craven didn’t mention it.’

  ‘I imagine Miss Hart will introduce whatever rules she thinks fit,’ Beth told the others.

  They nodded in unison and went into the department to discover that all the brown paper and string had been cleared away and the carpet swept with the sweeper that resided in the stockroom. A man dressed in a dark suit was there. He turned to look at them, his face serious.

  ‘Good afternoon, ladies. I am the store manager and I wanted to see you were all getting on all right. I understand Mrs Craven is making you all aware of the rules…’ Nodding to them, he smiled in Maggie’s direction. ‘Are there any questions while I’m here?’

  ‘No, thank you, sir,’ Sally said, because everyone was silent. ‘Mrs Craven is looking after us.’

  ‘Good, good,’ he said and then left.

  ‘Oh, I should have done that,’ Maggie said, a flush in her cheeks as she saw their supervisor putting the cleaner away. ‘I’m sorry…’

  ‘It will be your job in future,’ Mrs Craven assured her. ‘I wanted to get tidy because I intend to do more training – and some of the stock is here early…’ She looked pleased.

  ‘What has arrived?’ Sally asked, her interest sparked.

  ‘A box of millinery and some gloves,’ their supervisor said. ‘I have opened the boxes and now I’ll show you how to record the stock as it comes in. Miss Grey, this is your stock, so please take your stock book from the drawer…’

  Beth took out the long book covered in a green fabric with a red binding and a pencil.

  Mrs Craven shook her head. ‘We need a pen, Miss Grey. You will require a fountain pen and you will find one on the desk in my office…’

  Beth went into the office and saw the impressive brass pen tray. She selected a black fountain pen and made sure it was filled with ink and then picked up a piece of blotting paper and took it into the showroom.

  ‘That’s right,’ Mrs Craven nodded approvingly. ‘Now, look here at what we have unpacked for you. Six pairs of grey gloves and six pairs of black, all in fine leather, also six pairs of white lace evening gloves, in sizes from five to six and a half, I think.’

  Beth looked at the gloves on the counter. She picked up each pair and examined them before putting them into the counter, the grey and black in the bottom drawers and the white lace at the top.

  Mrs Craven had written the date in the left-hand margin of the book and then indicated that Beth should add the stock. ‘Write six pairs of gloves in black leather, six pairs of grey gloves in leather, and six pairs of lace gloves, and in the right-hand column we shall put the price.’

  ‘Should we not write in each pair individually?’ Beth asked. ‘They were different sizes, Mrs Craven, and it would be easier to check what is sold if we make a mark in the left-hand margin next to the pair that has been sold…’

  ‘Yes, quite right,’ her supervisor nodded and smiled. ‘I am happy you worked that out for yourself, Miss Grey. It does not apply to scarves, of course; they are described by colour and material and price.’

  Beth wrote carefully the size of the gloves in the space left between the margins and then showed the ledger to the other girls. Sally nodded but looked as if she knew it all, but Maggie smiled.

  ‘You have a very neat hand, Beth.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I do,’ she replied. ‘My mother had a neat hand, but
my father’s scrawl was hard to read…’ She smiled at the memory. ‘He was a doctor and there is something about doctors, hardly any of them write with a neat hand. I sometimes took prescriptions for his colleagues to the pharmacy and then delivered them to patients.’ Sadness swept over her and, though she did not know it, was reflected in her eyes. ‘I loved going with Father to his surgery and everyone said what a wonderful man he was…’ Unconsciously, she sighed. ‘Well, I’ve done the gloves, shall I write up the scarves now?’

  ‘I can help you,’ Maggie offered, because there was a big box of silk scarves to unpack.

  ‘Beth needs to know her stock, but you can certainly help her,’ Mrs Craven said. ‘Sally, will you come into the office. As the senior saleslady, there are things I want you to take responsibility for…’

  Sally followed Mrs Craven into the office and Maggie began to unpack the scarves, handling them with reverence. ‘This is pure silk,’ she said to Beth, ‘and I think the colour is magenta…’

  Beth looked at it and nodded. ‘Yes, that is how I would describe it. It is lovely, isn’t it – and priced at two guineas. That is such a lot of money for a scarf, but it is very beautiful…’

  ‘I wonder who priced all this stuff,’ Maggie said. ‘I thought Mrs Craven might do that, but the tickets are already printed and attached by a fine thread.’ She considered. ‘Do you think that was done by the owner or the buyer?’

  ‘The buyer, I should think,’ Beth said thoughtfully. ‘It would be easy to pull that off if I wasn’t looking – I’ll have to be sure I know what the prices are…’

  ‘There’s so much to learn,’ Maggie said. ‘I thought it would be so easy working in a shop, didn’t you?’

  ‘It hadn’t occurred to me that some customers might try to steal something,’ Beth said. ‘My family would think that beneath them – and I don’t like to think it of anyone…’

  ‘No…’ Maggie glanced towards the office. ‘Sally is lovely, isn’t she? I’d love to go out with her after work, but I have to look after my father…’

  ‘Of course you do,’ Beth agreed. ‘My aunt wouldn’t like it if I wasn’t straight home, but I might stay out for special occasions…’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Maggie agreed. ‘Mrs Craven is a bit strict…’

  ‘I think she is very fair,’ Beth replied. ‘The ones we need to watch out for are Miss Hart – and Mr Stockbridge.’

  ‘Oh, him…’ Maggie blushed and looked hard at the scarf she was selecting. ‘He interviewed me and he was very kind…’ She looked embarrassed and Beth was surprised but didn’t say anything. Had the manager flirted with her at the interview?

  She picked up a scarf that was a mixture of blue and green with a pattern all over. ‘What would you describe that as?’

  ‘Oh, I think that is swirls in green and blue,’ Maggie said and Beth smiled.

  She wrote: One swirls silk scarf/green & blue, priced at thirty-five shillings.

  ‘It’s less money than the magenta,’ Maggie said. ‘My mother would like it, but I could never afford to give her that for her birthday.’

  ‘Don’t forget the staff discount. We’re allowed to buy one thing a month at a twenty per cent discount…’

  ‘So I would get seven shillings off…’ Maggie nodded. ‘If it doesn’t sell in a year, I might save enough for Muma’s birthday next year…’

  ‘It’s awful, knowing all these lovely things exist and not being able to buy them, isn’t it?’ Beth smiled and picked up another pale blue scarf. ‘This one is only thirty shillings. Perhaps some of them will be less… or there might be a sale one day…’

  Maggie nodded, smiling. ‘Before my father had his accident, Muma always went to the sales in Oxford Street to buy clothes for us. We used to come early in the morning and queue up – and the queue sometimes stretched round the corner.’

  ‘Yes, it’s fun doing things like that,’ Beth said. ‘When I was little, my father took me to see a Christmas display at one of the big toy stores. It was wonderful and I never forgot, though I was too little to remember which shop we went to. I never thought I would work in a shop like this…’ She picked up a dark crimson scarf and looked at the price tag. ‘Oh, look, Maggie – this is only seven shillings… I wonder why…’

  Beth looked carefully at the label. ‘It is artificial silk and rayon,’ she said and nodded. ‘That is the difference, of course – the one you liked was pure silk.’

  ‘This is nice,’ Maggie said, ‘but my mother would think the colour fast…’

  ‘Yes, my aunt would too – like you, she would prefer the swirls…’

  They had finished unpacking all the scarves now and the open drawers were half filled. Beth felt a little tingle of excitement. She couldn’t wait for all the stock to be in and the store to be open.

  Mrs Craven returned, followed by Sally, who looked pleased with herself. They both looked at the counter and the supervisor read Beth’s entries in the staff book.

  ‘Very nice and colourful,’ she said. ‘Now, which scarf have you described as swirls? No, don’t tell me…’ She looked at the counter and then pointed. ‘I would guess that one?’

  ‘Yes, just right, we both loved that one – and the magenta,’ Beth said. ‘But there are a few that are not as good as the others…’

  ‘Oh, really, why?’ She looked concerned.

  Beth explained that about four were only artificial silk and Mrs Craven frowned.

  ‘I’m surprised they’ve been included. You must make certain you tell a customer the difference when you show them, Miss Grey.’

  ‘Yes, I shall,’ Beth assured her.

  ‘Good. I think we’ve all learned a lot today – and since there is nothing left to do for the moment, you may all go. I look forward to seeing you all next week – and remember what I told you about being on time. Persistent lateness might result in dismissal; it is considered one of the worst sins, together with rudeness and theft…’

  The warning sobered all three girls and they thanked Mrs Craven and left to get their coats. As they walked down the stairs, they saw Mr Stockbridge talking to a rather attractive man. His dark hair was a little long and he was wearing a bright blue scarf around his neck, his jacket was a darker blue and his trousers pale grey. Mr Stockbridge signalled to them.

  ‘Ah, girls,’ he said. ‘This is Mr Marco, our window dresser. You will get to know him when he comes to your departments. We’re privileged to have such a talented artist – so make sure you keep your counters looking as attractive as his windows.’

  ‘We’ll do our best, sir,’ Sally said and grinned at the window dresser, who winked back at her.

  Giggling together, the girls ran down the stairs and stood for a moment on the pavement saying their goodbyes. Then Maggie saw her bus approaching the stop and sprinted to catch it.

  ‘Good thing Miss Sourpuss isn’t about,’ Sally said and grimaced. ‘Maggie would have lost half her money before she starts…’

  ‘There are a lot of rules,’ Beth agreed. ‘I should get home I suppose – I look forward to working with you, Sally.’

  ‘Come and have a cup of tea first,’ Sally said. ‘My treat. Your aunt will not be expecting you yet, will she?’

  ‘No, not for another hour or more,’ Beth acknowledged. She sensed that her new friend was lonely and smiled, ‘I’d love to, Sally. You know Oxford Street better than I do – tell me where I can find all the best bargains…’

  Sally’s face lit up and she tucked her arm through Beth’s. ‘As soon as I was thrown out of the orphanage, I headed up West; I found a cheap hostel and I was lucky to get into a gift shop as a junior for a few months and then I went to Woollies’ and then Selfridges… but I think I’ll be more content here.’

  The two girls linked arms, smiling happily as they went off together.

  5

  It was five o’clock when Beth and Sally finally left the café after laughing and talking their way through a pot of tea and a shared bun. Beth was feeling happie
r than she’d been in ages when she parted from her new friend at the bus stop. Sally was walking home, because she had nothing in particular waiting for her at the hostel, and Beth was waiting for the next bus when a man’s voice made her jump. She turned to look at someone she hadn’t expected to see again.

  ‘Mark… Mr Stewart,’ she said, blushing. ‘I didn’t see you approach.’

  ‘You were lost in thought,’ he chided her with the smile that had always set her heart racing. He was a doctor, newly qualified when her father had died, and he’d been there to lend a shoulder when she’d wept out her grief. Serious, attractive, with dark hair and eyes, Mark had been an infrequent but consistent visitor to her home for years – until nearly two years previously, on Beth’s twentieth birthday, when he’d asked her to marry him. She hadn’t seen him since she’d refused his proposal.

  ‘I’ve been sharing a pot of tea with a new friend,’ Beth told him, feeling shy as his eyes moved over her searchingly. ‘I’m starting a new job at Harpers next week and I went in for training…’

  ‘Really? I’ve heard the owner is an American.’ His eyes darkened. ‘I heard about your mother – I should have visited or written, Beth. I am sorry…’

  ‘I didn’t expect it,’ she said, feeling close to tears. ‘You were angry when we parted.’

  ‘Yes, but I understood after a while. I’ve been abroad for two years, Beth. I took a position in Africa. At the time, I couldn’t bear to stay in the same country and know I couldn’t be with you…’

  ‘Oh, Mark…’ She wished that the ground would open and swallow her, feeling sick and hot all over. ‘I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you – but I couldn’t leave my mother…’

  ‘I told you, she could’ve lived with us…’

  ‘Yes, but…’ Beth shook her head. How could she tell him that her mother had acted as though she was betraying her when she’d said they could all live together? Beth’s heart had been torn in two as her mother wept and begged her not to desert her, cajoling and threatening until she gave in.