The Shop Girls of Harpers

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘It was the customer who did the damage,’ Maggie said. ‘She was pulling at it and I didn’t dare to say anything…’

  ‘Well, we shall say no more about it,’ Mrs Craven said, ‘but be careful, Miss Ross. Miss Hart has clearly taken your name down and further black marks might lead to an official reprimand – and even dismissal…’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Craven,’ Sally said meekly. Inside, she was raging with anger. The floor walker had taken a dislike to her and Sally knew that in future she would have to be very careful when Miss Hart was near or she would have her out on her ear!

  Sally was still brooding on her wrongs when she reached her room that evening. She was home earlier than usual, because she’d decided to spend some time washing and drying her hair. Although she wore it collar length, it was thick, dark with a hint of red, and had a mind of its own and she needed to towel dry it thoroughly and then finger wave it and clip it, letting the waves dry in place. The ends would just flick up themselves. If she let it grow longer, it would wave and curl naturally about her shoulders, but she needed it to be neat for work.

  She boiled a kettle on the little gas ring and made a pot of tea and was just about to start washing her hair when someone pounded on her door. Frowning, Sally went to open it and saw Sylvia standing there looking pale and swaying on her feet.

  ‘You look dreadful…’ Sally said, realising instantly that the older girl had been to the abortionist’s. ‘She did it then?’

  Sylvia stumbled into the room and Sally caught her as she almost fell. She led her to the bed and Sylvia collapsed on to it. ‘I’m bleeding again,’ she said. ‘She had a job to stop it, but then she said it was all right and told me to go home and stay in bed for a day or so… but I’ve bled all over the sheets. I don’t know what to do…’

  Sally didn’t know what to do either. When she’d told Sylvia of the woman called Dot, she’d warned her that there might be unpleasant consequences, but she didn’t like the sound of the bleeding.

  ‘Did she say what to do if it started again?’

  ‘She said I couldn’t go to a doctor, because they would put both of us in prison – and I had to promise I wouldn’t before she did it. I was warned that if I opened my mouth, I would be sorry. She has two great sons and I dread to think what they’d do to me if I went to the law…’

  ‘That’s awful,’ Sally felt anxious and wished she’d never told Sylvia about the woman. ‘I’m sorry. I thought she knew what she was doin’ or I wouldn’t have given you the address.’

  ‘What should I do?’ Sylvia asked, clearly on the verge of tears.

  ‘Are you still bleeding?’

  Sylvia didn’t answer and when Sally looked at her, she saw that her eyes were closed. She appeared to have lost consciousness and Sally could see a small pool of blood spreading on her bed. A feeling of panic went through her as she realised Sylvia could be seriously ill. What was she going to do?

  She couldn’t just let Sylvia bleed to death. Sally knew she had to fetch a doctor or the girl she’d tried to help would die – and it would be her fault for telling her about the back-street butcher that had ended the life of the child inside her and nearly killed Sylvia into the bargain.

  ‘I’ll get help,’ she said, but Sylvia couldn’t hear her. Leaving her lying on the bed, Sally ran downstairs and out into the street. She wasn’t even sure where the nearest doctor was, because she’d never needed one. Then, as she saw Mick emerge from the pub opposite, she remembered that he’d told her to come to him next time she needed help. Without considering the consequences, she waved frantically at him and he came running.

  ‘What is it, Sally? I can see it’s trouble…’

  ‘My friend Sylvia had an abortion and now she’s passed out in my room and the blood won’t stop. I need to fetch a doctor…’

  ‘That’s somethin’ you can’t do, Sally,’ Mick told her. ‘You’ll all be in trouble. Leave it to me. I know someone who will help her. Go back to your room and wait. I’ll send my friend to you and she’ll do what she can. If she can stop the bleedin’, it’s best if we take your friend somewhere else – this has to be kept quiet or she’ll be in trouble with the law, and you for helping her.’

  Sally nodded, feeling frightened and distressed. She should never have gone looking for help in Soho, she’d only made things worse.

  Hurrying back to Sylvia, she found that the girl was conscious again.

  ‘Someone is coming to help you – not a doctor, no one who will turn you in to the police. Let me help you to sit up and I’ll make you a drink while we wait…’ Doctors were bound to report bungled attempts at abortion, which could be punishable by the law.

  ‘Thank you,’ Sylvia’s words were almost inaudible. ‘I’ve made a mess over your candlewick cover… I’m sorry.’

  ‘I can take it to the laundry and no one will know.’ Sally made cocoa and gave a cup to the other girl. Sylvia’s hand shook as she sipped it, but she’d managed to get most of it down by the time someone knocked at the door. Sally opened it and admitted the woman who stood there. She was in her forties and her hair was a frizzy bleached blonde, but her eyes were kind and understanding as she took in the situation. She deposited the bag she was carrying on the floor near to the bed.

  ‘Mick sent me. I’m Bridget,’ the woman said, looking from one to the other. ‘Who have we here then?’

  ‘I’m Sally and this is my friend Sylvia.’

  Bridget nodded. ‘Will you lie back on the mattress, lovey, and let me take a look?’ she said to Sylvia, her manner calm and unflustered.

  Sylvia looked at Sally, who nodded and smiled, and then did as she was told.

  ‘Sure and it’s a wicked mess that butcher made for you. She’s torn you, so she has – but Bridget will stop the bleeding and put a stitch in to repair the bit I can see – as for the inside, well, only the Good Lord knows the truth of it.’ She gave Sylvia a small bottle of Irish whisky. ‘Drink a little of that and it will dull the pain a wee bit…’

  Sylvia took it and drank several mouthfuls and then handed it back.

  Bridget removed a small brown bottle from the bag she carried and poured some liquid on her hands, washing them all over with the iodine. She poured more on to a piece of white linen and bent to look at Sylvia’s torn and bruised feminine parts.

  ‘This will sting, lovey,’ she said, ‘but it’s necessary or we’ll have you dyin’ of the infection, so we will – now grip young Sally’s hands and hold tight and I’ll soon have you right.’

  Sally took her friend’s hand while Bridget dabbed her with the iodine and then stitched her flesh. She whimpered and cried out a few times in pain, but Sally gripped her hands tightly and soothed her the best she could, watching as the silent tears trickled down Sylvia’s cheeks. Bridget stood back as she finished her work and nodded.

  ‘You’ll do now, lovey. It’s a pity you didn’t come to me at the start, for I’d have made a better job than the butcher you paid, but you’ll live – I can’t promise that you’ll be able to have children ever, but pray to the Good Lord and mayhap he’ll hear you.’

  ‘Thank you…’ Sylvia accepted the small bottle of whisky once more and drank some more. ‘I can’t pay you…’

  ‘Mick asked me to come, I’ll take no money from friends of Mick,’ Bridget said. ‘Now, he said you were to come with me, if you can manage it – he’ll take you somewhere safe and I’ll watch over you until you heal…’ She looked at Sally. ‘Can you help me get her outside? Mick will have a cab waiting to take her off…’

  ‘You’re very kind,’ Sally said. ‘I could manage a few bob if…’

  Bridget gave a cackle of laughter. ‘Mick would have the skin off me back, so he would. Keep your money, me darlin’. You’re his Sally and he thinks the world of you, so he does…’

  ‘He hardly knows me and I don’t know him,’ Sally said, blushing a fiery red.

  ‘Mebbe you don’t know him yet,’ Bridget said with a knowing look, ‘but Mi
ck knows you, lovey – and, as far as he’s concerned, you’re under his protection. Next time a friend of yours is in trouble, go to Mick…’

  Sally nodded but said nothing, uncertain of how much she wanted to rely on Mick, even though he’d helped them this time. After all, she hardly knew him. She looked out of her door. No one was about. Turning, she beckoned the others forward, and, slipping an arm about Sylvia’s waist, helped Bridget to support her down the stairs. The door was left half open, but Sally couldn’t bother about that, her concern only for getting her friend away before they were discovered.

  Mick was waiting outside. Sally could see him in the shadows, avoiding the glare of the street lamp. His dark eyes flicked to Sally and then the girl she was helping Bridget to support.

  ‘I’ll take care of this now,’ he said and swept Sylvia up in his strong arms. ‘Thanks, Bridget darlin’. I’ll be seein’ you – and, Sally, get back and clear up. We need this kept as quiet as possible.’

  Sally nodded. She turned and ran back up the stairs and along the landing to her room. As she went inside, she saw Jean looking at the bloodstains on the bed and the scrap of linen with iodine and blood all over it. When she turned, there was a look of glee mixed with triumph on her face.

  ‘They say the quiet ones are always the worst…’

  ‘What are you talkin’ about?’ Sally said, knowing she had to deny everything unless she wanted this spiteful cat to blackmail both her and Sylvia for the rest of their lives.

  ‘It’s obvious, ain’t it?’ Jean said gleefully. ‘Someone had an abortion and it happened here…’

  ‘Absolute rubbish,’ Sally said. ‘I brought a young lad who fell from his bike and cut his knee badly up here. He bled all over my candlewick cover, so I fetched a nurse to him. She sewed him up and she’s taken him to the hospital for further treatment.’

  Jean’s gaze narrowed with spite. ‘I’m not fallin’ for that one…’

  ‘I don’t mind what you think,’ Sally said, facing her down. She was angry now and no longer afraid. ‘You can think what you like, but you have no proof – it’s your word against mine and everyone knows what you are.’

  ‘Sylvia isn’t in her room…’ Jean challenged, leering at her in triumph.

  ‘No, she came to tell me half an hour ago – she has gone to stay with her cousin for a few days.’

  ‘She had an abortion and you helped her,’ Jean said spitefully. ‘I know it. Just watch out, yer snooty bitch, I shall prove it and then I’ll have the law on yer both…’

  ‘You may do your worst,’ Sally told her and opened her door. ‘Now, please get out of my room – and if you come in here again when I’m out, I’ll report that you stole money from me. I had five pounds on the side of my bed in coins and notes and they’ve gone. You’ll lose your job and probably go to prison…’

  ‘You bloody liar!’ Jean screeched. ‘I never touched any money.’

  ‘Prove it…’ Sally said, her eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘Now get out or I’ll start yelling and calling you a thief…’

  Jean glared at her and then left. Sally locked the door after her. She leaned against it feeling sick and shaken, because Jean knew the truth even though she couldn’t prove it. Sally would have to warn Sylvia to say she’d been staying with her cousin and she’d make sure that she kept her door locked in future.

  Jean would try to blackmail them both, but the only way to deal with her was to be bold and stand up to her. She was a bully and Sally had met her sort in the orphanage. There was always one who tried to rule the other children and make their lives a misery. Sally had had to face her nemesis down and fight her before she’d stopped the constant mockery and hair pulling. She knew how to deal with Jean, providing that she could never prove what had gone on here this night.

  Stripping the candlewick cover from the bed, Sally was relieved that the blood had not gone through to the blanket below. She would take the bedspread to the laundry on her way to work the next day and stick to her story of a boy falling from his bike. She would also need to slip into Sylvia’s room and clean that before anyone else poked their nose in…

  Undressing later that evening, Sally finally had time to lie back on her pillows and think. Mick had made things right tonight and she owed him a debt of gratitude – but she hoped he wasn’t expecting too much in repayment. Bridget said he thought the world of her, but surely that couldn’t be true?

  Sally thought about Mick for a moment. He was good-looking, cheerful and friendly – and he’d done her a good turn, but she didn’t really know him…

  13

  It was halfway through their second week of trading and the first rush of customers at Harpers had tailed off. The newspapers had made a big splash, giving the new store the thumbs up, but now they had fresh stories. Harpers still had lots of shoppers coming and going, but the sales were more infrequent. In the first few days it had seemed that almost every customer bought something, now some left without making a purchase. Sally was still making the most sales, but the customers at Beth’s counter seemed more difficult to please. Several times she’d shown them the expensive silk scarves, only to be told that the customer could buy better at Selfridges or one of the other department stores. Beth didn’t think it was necessarily true but reported the trend to Mrs Craven.

  ‘Well, I think that is just annoyance speaking,’ her supervisor said. ‘One thing I cannot fault is the quality of our stock. I shall pop into some of the other shops in Oxford Street on my half day and have a look at the scarves. If I agree that ours are too expensive, I’ll put in a report to the management.’

  ‘It’s not something I’m doing wrong?’

  ‘I don’t think so for a moment,’ Mrs Craven said as the floor supervisor entered the department. ‘Return to your counter. I suggest you do a stock-take on your scarves. I should like to know what has sold so far…’

  Beth returned to the counter. Miss Hart walked up to Mrs Craven and began to explain something to her.

  Sally was busy at her counter. She made a sale of a leather bag and then a piece of silver jewellery. After her customers and the floor walker left, the department was empty apart from the assistants. Mrs Craven beckoned to Beth, Maggie and Sally.

  ‘There is to be a meeting this evening in the restaurant,’ she told them. ‘Mr Harper is going to make an announcement, so I would advise you all to be there.’

  ‘Let’s hope everything is going well,’ Sally said. ‘Otherwise, we could all be lookin’ for a new job soon…’

  ‘Don’t jest,’ Maggie shivered. ‘I like my job here.’

  ‘We all like our jobs,’ Mrs Craven said. ‘Maggie, you and Sally may go to your lunch break. Beth and I will keep the flag flying…’ She suddenly realised she’d broken her own rule as Sally laughed. ‘That is enough of that, Miss Ross. Off you go – Miss Gibbs too.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Craven,’ Sally said, but her eyes were dancing with mischief.

  Beth smiled but shook her head. It showed that their supervisor was getting to know and like the girls that worked in her department and she’d made a simple mistake. Beth thought it showed she was human and she liked her all the more for it.

  Three customers entered the department the moment that the others had departed and two of them made a beeline for Beth’s counter. The first was one of the customers who had refused to buy the previous day, claiming that the silk scarves were cheaper elsewhere.

  ‘I think I’ll buy that pretty green scarf with the wavy lines,’ she said to Beth. ‘It is expensive, but my husband says he will buy it for my birthday and I haven’t seen one I like as much anywhere else…’

  Beth felt vindicated and smiled inwardly. She took the scarf out and displayed it over her hand. ‘Is this the one, madam?’

  ‘Yes, and it is as lovely as I remembered.’ The customer nodded and looked pleased. ‘I thought I’d seen something better for less money, but it wasn’t as nice as this when I went back…’

  Beth took her money, s
ent it off in the pulley system to the cashier’s office and then wrapped the scarf carefully in tissue and placed it in one of the distinctive black and gold bags. She returned the change to her customer, checking it carefully, bid her goodbye and turned to the next.

  ‘I am sorry to keep you waiting, madam. How may I help you?’

  ‘I want a good-quality scarf,’ the woman said. ‘I can just see something in that drawer – I think the colour is magenta…’

  ‘Oh yes, that is one of our very best,’ Beth told her with a smile. She took the scarf out and displayed it and her customer asked if she could try it on, preening in front of the small mirror on the counter.

  ‘Lovely, just what I wanted – and the price is reasonable too,’ the customer said. ‘I’m so glad Harpers has opened. I used to have to go to Knightsbridge for what I wanted, but I shall shop here in future.’

  Beth thanked her and she went away with her purchase, smiling. Beth made a note in her stock book with a feeling of satisfaction. She’d thought that particular scarf would lie in the drawer for ages, but, as she was fast discovering, there was a customer for everything. You just had to be patient and wait.

  ‘What would you do if the store did close?’ Maggie asked Sally as they sat over their pot of tea and sandwiches. The two of them shared a snack at Bessie’s when they got the chance, because it was cheaper than eating in the shop restaurant and taking sandwiches from home to the nearest park would eat into the time they were allowed for lunch.

  ‘I’d find another job in retail somewhere,’ Sally said, looking thoughtful. ‘I hope it doesn’t happen, because I need decent references and a steady job or future employers will think I never stop anywhere.’

  ‘I doubt I’ll get a job I like as much,’ Maggie said. ‘Muma will make me stay at home and help her. She says she could earn more if she went out to work and I stayed home to look after my dad.’

  ‘Perhaps she could,’ Sally agreed. ‘That would be a shame, Maggie love. You need to get out and make friends. If you could get away on a Sunday, we could go for a walk together – listen to a concert in the park and have tea.’