The Shop Girls of Harpers

by Rosie Clarke

  As Fred walked off, Beth looked at Maggie. Her cheeks were glowing from the fresh air and she looked so pretty. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation and Beth understood that she did not want their afternoon to end yet.

  ‘Very well, just for half an hour then,’ she said and Ralf gallantly offered them an arm each, which they took sedately, and they walked slowly across the smooth expanse of lawn to the little parlour where there were tables.

  Ice creams were ordered for all three of them, strawberry for Beth, vanilla for Maggie and chocolate for Ralf. There were little straw umbrellas decorating the ice cream dish and glacé cherries and angelica. From Maggie’s face, Beth could see that she had never been taken out for such a treat before and she was glad to see her enjoy herself.

  After half an hour, she reminded Maggie of the time, Ralf settled the bill and insisted on walking them to catch their bus. Beth noticed that he stood watching them until they turned the corner on the bus and that Maggie was looking very thoughtful.

  ‘He seems a very nice young man,’ she ventured and Maggie blushed.

  ‘He was telling me about his sister and his mother,’ she said. ‘His mother is a widow and his sister is hoping to marry next year. Ralf is the breadwinner for his family, because his father left very little money, but his uncle gave him a good job in his office. He works at one of the large import firms down near the docks and lives in Southwark – though he would like to join the Royal Flying Corps, I think.’

  ‘He has been telling you a lot,’ Beth said. Ralf Higgins had seemed a properly dressed and well-behaved young man, and clearly had responsibilities to his mother and sister. That probably meant he would be steadier for it and Maggie should be safe to be gently courted by a young man like that, because she was very young and, by the sound of it, Ralf would not be ready to marry for some years.

  ‘I like him,’ Maggie said simply. ‘I was embarrassed when he came to my counter and said flattering things, but now I know he just wanted to get to know me…’

  ‘Has he asked to see you again?’

  Maggie looked at her appealingly. ‘He asked if we could all meet for tea next Sunday afternoon. He wants to take us both out, Beth. Do you think we might go?’

  Beth nodded, because it was the only way Ralf Higgins could hope to court this innocent young girl. He could certainly not ask her out alone and Beth was the closest she had to a sister. It would mean playing raspberry for some time, Beth knew, but she was prepared to do it for her friend rather than have her sneaking away to a clandestine meeting that would only bring shame and disgrace on both her and Ralf.

  ‘Yes, I see no reason why not,’ Beth agreed and squeezed her hand. ‘You must promise me that you won’t do anything foolish or run off to meet him on your own at night. Your mother may come back and your uncle and aunt would certainly drag you off to live with them if you were in trouble…’

  ‘No, they would disown me,’ Maggie said, looking sombre. ‘But I’m not ready for anything like that, Beth. I should be too frightened and I don’t think Ralf would ask me to do anything not quite nice.’

  ‘I should hope not,’ Beth said. ‘I was just thinking of the gossips, Maggie. It is so easy for a young woman to lose her reputation and once lost it can’t be regained.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Maggie said seriously. ‘I’m happier living with you and Aunt Helen than I’ve been for a long time. It was all right at home when my father was well and bringing in a decent wage, but since his accident…’ her voice broke on tears. ‘I shan’t abuse your kindness and I know it’s a lot to ask…’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ Beth said and placed a hand on her arm. ‘I shall enjoy coming for walks in the park and to tea. I am your chaperone and it’s the only way my aunt would let you meet a young man – or me…’

  ‘I’ll be your chaperone when you start courting,’ Maggie said and giggled, but Beth shook her head.

  ‘I haven’t told anyone else – but I did love someone,’ she said. ‘My mother was ill and I couldn’t leave her. He didn’t understand and he went off in anger and then… he married someone else.’

  ‘Oh, my poor Beth,’ Maggie said and slipped an arm about her waist sympathetically. ‘He wasn’t worthy of you, Beth. He doesn’t deserve you – and you will find someone much better, I know you will…’

  Beth smiled and squeezed her hand. ‘Thank you – and I’m happy to have you staying with us. Aunt Helen has taken to you and she’s been nicer to me these past few days.’

  ‘Good,’ Maggie said. ‘I like her and it’s no trouble for me to make a little fuss of her.’

  The girls got off the bus and walked back to the house in a companionable silence. Aunt Helen had just got in and was looking pleased with herself as she filled the kettle.

  ‘No doubt you two could do with a little supper?’ she asked. ‘I shall just want a hot drink as I had a really big tea – well, you never did see the like! Salmon sandwiches, crumpets and honey and three kinds of cake. We talked and laughed for ages – if I hadn’t thought of you girls, I dare say I might be there still.’

  ‘I’m glad you had such a nice time, Aunt,’ Beth said. Aunt Helen was glowing and looked a younger, happier person.

  ‘Yes, I did – and Beryl has asked me to make it a regular thing, so I shall have to leave you girls to look after yourselves on a Sunday afternoon…’ She nodded to herself. ‘I hope you had a good time and behaved yourselves?’

  ‘Yes, Aunt, of course we did. We had a lovely picnic and enjoyed the concert very much.’

  ‘Good.’ Aunt Helen looked complacent. ‘I’m glad you’ve had the sense to make yourself a respectable friend, Beth. Maggie is a proper person for you to enjoy your leisure time with and you will be good for her. It has worked out very well… very well indeed.’ She nodded to herself as if pleased over something more than the girls’ friendship.

  Beth and Maggie exchanged looks. It was all Beth could do to keep from laughing, but she did, because it looked as if her aunt had made the excursion on Sunday afternoon easier for them. It wasn’t that they wanted to lie to her, because the meeting with Maggie’s new friend was perfectly innocent, but Beth knew that had she been the one to meet a new friend there would have been endless questions asked.

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ Beth said. ‘I think I shall go and wash my hair – if you will excuse me…’

  Beth left her aunt and her friend talking. She needed to be alone for a few minutes. Talking about Mark had made her realise that she still felt a hole in her life where the thought of him had dwelled for so long. Yet she knew that she must forget the feelings she’d once had for the young doctor. Her chance for a life as his wife had gone and she was not sure she would ever find another man she could love or trust.

  As she filled a jug from the kettle and added cold water, she looked at her shoulder length fair hair in the heavy old-fashioned dressing mirror and for the first time considered cutting her locks off to a more manageable style. She lifted her heavy hair off her shoulders and held it up – what would she look like if she had it shorter?

  Hearing Maggie come upstairs, she let go of her hair and began to pour water over it, soaking it before rubbing in the lilac scented soap she used and working it through her thick tresses. It normally took three big jugs to rinse her hair thoroughly and a heavy bucket to carry down the stairs to empty in the yard in the morning.

  Maggie came in as she was rinsing for the third time.

  ‘Let me do that for you,’ she said and darted forward. ‘Close your eyes so that the soap doesn’t sting them. You’ve got such lovely hair, Beth. It’s a pity no one gets to see it properly.’

  Beth was happy to let her friend rinse her hair and sat drying it on the towel after Maggie insisted on taking the bucket from the washstand downstairs and emptying it straight away.

  ‘I could have done that in the morning,’ Beth said when Maggie came back up, ‘but it was lovely of you to save me the effort.’

  ‘It wasn’t any trouble,
’ Maggie said. ‘Why don’t you have your hair cut a bit shorter so that you don’t have to pull it back in that knot?’

  ‘I must admit I’ve thought about it,’ Beth admitted. ‘How short do you think I should wear it?’

  Maggie took the comb and ran it through the thick pale hair admiringly. ‘I think if we took about four inches off the length it would curl just above your collar and look really pretty.’

  ‘I saw hairdressers in Oxford Street the other day,’ Beth said. ‘I could probably book an appointment in my lunch break…’

  ‘Why go there and spend a lot of money?’ Maggie went to her bag beside the bed and took out a pair of scissors. ‘I used to cut my mother’s hair and I cut my next-door neighbour’s daughter’s hair. Will you let me do it for you?’

  Beth hesitated and then nodded. ‘Why not? It’s time I made a change and I’m fed up with all the trouble it takes to wash…’

  She sat with her eyes closed while Maggie snipped round her head, lifting hair and cutting great chunks off the length, far more, it seemed to Beth, than she’d suggested. It was too late to quibble now and so she resolutely kept her eyes shut until the other girl told her to open them and then looked in the old-fashioned dressing mirror. A gasp escaped her as she looked at her reflection and saw a pair of sparkling green eyes and hair that curled round her face and over her ears with golden tips.

  ‘You couldn’t see the true colour of your hair before,’ Maggie said and smiled. ‘You look really beautiful, Beth – not so strait-laced, which you aren’t at all.’

  Beth knew what her friend was saying was true. Her mother had never wanted her to cut her hair and, looking after her, there just hadn’t been time to think of her appearance.

  ‘Yes, I think I look better,’ Beth said and thanked her again. Aunt Helen might have something to say about it in the morning, but Beth didn’t really care. Her new hairstyle had made her feel better about herself and nothing could spoil that…

  27

  Sally was checking some stock and ticking it off on her list when Mr Harper walked in that morning. It was midweek and Sally hadn’t seen him for a few days, since Jenni had left for New York in fact. She supposed he’d been busy escorting one of his girl-friends about town.

  ‘Have you heard from Miss Harper?’ she asked, because passengers sometimes sent postcards when the ships called in at the port in Ireland, which was the last before several days at sea, though if it was important there was always a telegraph.

  ‘No, I don’t expect to,’ he replied, looking distracted. ‘I took her out for dinner the evening before she left and we spoke at length then.’

  ‘Oh…’ Sally attached a price tag. All the tags were written in a thin spidery hand with a special nib and indelible ink so that they were clearly legible. ‘I thought she might have some message…’

  ‘For you?’ He stared at her hard. ‘Do you need her advice? You seem to be managing well to me.’

  ‘I don’t want to make a mistake – and you haven’t been in for a few days…’ She avoided looking at him, because his intent looks made her heart thump.

  ‘No, I suppose I haven’t,’ he agreed. ‘I have some friends over from America and I’ve been busy with them…’ He hesitated, then, ‘If you’ve got time, I’d like you to cast an eye over some of the other departments… Just take a look and tell me what you think. Stockbridge was talking about stocking silver-plated teapots and sets. Back home they prefer silver…’

  ‘I do too,’ Sally replied. ‘But a lot of customers can’t afford them.’

  He nodded. ‘Marco told me to ask your opinion on various things. I know it isn’t your job to buy for the whole store, but he has a high regard for your taste – and since he’s a friend, I think you might help by looking in on the other departments when you get a chance…’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Sally smiled. ‘Mr Marco is generous and brilliant at designing the windows. I had a very good meeting with him the other day…’

  Mr Harper’s eyes seemed to bore into her, making Sally’s spine tingle. ‘He told me – in his opinion you could run the place…’

  Sally wasn’t sure if he was praising her or resenting her. His eyes were narrowed, so intent that she thought he was testing her – looking for something. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was interested in her, but she understood it was just business.

  ‘I am quite sure I couldn’t, sir…’

  He frowned. ‘It is possible that I might have to return to America soon…’

  ‘A problem?’ Sally asked and then flushed. ‘Sorry – not my business…’

  ‘It is personal,’ he said, his voice harsh. ‘Something I prefer not to speak about…’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said. He was making it clear that she was merely an employee. ‘I shouldn’t have asked.’

  He nodded as though he agreed. ‘Jenni wanted to stock real silver tea services, but I told her that I thought plate might be better. I didn’t think we could sell a solid silver tea and coffee service complete with tray.’

  ‘I very much doubt it,’ Sally confirmed his opinion. ‘However, you might sell one piece by piece. I think a young husband might buy the pot first and then the cream and sugar, and possibly the coffee pot as an anniversary present – or that might be something a doting father might buy his daughter…’

  He looked interested. ‘Do they often buy sets like that over here?’

  ‘I think those that want real silver do,’ Sally told him. ‘You can often find second-hand sets on the market; they look the same but have different years in the hallmarks and that’s how they’ve been built up. You’d need to be rich to buy the whole set, of course, and those customers usually go to Garrards or one of the Bond Street shops.’

  ‘I’ll talk to Stockbridge,’ he said. ‘I’ve never heard of it being done that way – but if you think…’

  Sally stood up and brought a list to show him. She’d discovered the silversmith whilst looking for more jewellery manufacturers. ‘Look, here they are – finely made tea ware in polished and beaten silver. You could telephone and ask for an appointment and then see what they say about selling the pieces singly.’

  ‘Yes…’ He sounded distracted and when she glanced up, he was looking at her oddly. ‘What is that perfume you’re wearing?’

  ‘I’m not; it’s just a rose perfumed soap.’

  ‘It’s very… nice…’ he finished lamely. For a moment, something burned in his eyes. ‘It’s a pity Jenni had to leave. She has so much experience of these things – and she likes you…’

  ‘I didn’t get to know her long, but Jenni has been good to me and I like her,’ Sally said a little shakily. ‘Is there anything else, sir? Only I have several telephone calls to make this morning before my first appointment…’

  ‘In that case we’d better get on with work, Miss Ross…’

  ‘Yes, Mr Harper. Was there anything else you wanted to check with me, sir?’

  ‘Give me your list of suppliers please.’

  He took it from her without looking at her and walked away to stand by the window. She saw him take a gold-banded fountain pen from his top pocket and strike through the list a few times, and then he brought it back to her and laid it on the desk.

  ‘I want a stock report on your department by the end of the week and whatever advice you have on any other department,’ he said. ‘Now, I have an appointment. Good afternoon, Miss Ross.’

  Sally felt as if someone had stuck a long hatpin into her and let out all the air inside her. She’d been aware of tension in him. With most men, she would have thought the look in his eyes meant he was interested in her, but Mr Harper wasn’t like any other man she’d ever known. The trouble was, she didn’t know him and yet she felt something inside her pulling her towards him.

  Sally shook her head. If she felt attraction, Mr Harper didn’t and she was foolish to waste her time thinking of him. She’d seen him leaving the store with several different beautif
ul women and the whisper was that he’d been photographed leaving a nightclub in the early hours with an English lady with connections to the aristocracy. Sally hadn’t seen the newspaper report herself, but several girls had and the rumours went round the store like wildfire. What chance had an East End girl against women like that?

  She looked at the list. He had crossed out at least ten of the most promising items she’d sourced, but she wasn’t sure whether he’d done it for good reason or just because he could. At least half of the items were things she was certain would sell well. She sat for a moment in thought and then shook her head; she was going to order those items she’d chosen so carefully and if he noticed, she would take the consequences, but she doubted he even knew what he’d struck out.

  Smiling, she reached for the telephone, lifted the earpiece and asked for a number…

  Sally was thoughtful as she got off her tram and walked the last few yards to her home in the young women’s hostel. Because her mind was busy, she didn’t see Mick until he stepped in her way, preventing her from moving on. She looked up in annoyance and then relaxed as she saw him.

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said. ‘I was hoping I might see you, I wanted to ask about Sylvia.’

  ‘She’s on her feet again and she’s found a job over in Southwark.’ Mick’s eyes never left her face. ‘She asked if you could get her stuff from her room and bring it across to the pub. She says you’ve got her key and wants you to hand it in for her – but she says the rent is paid.’

  ‘Why doesn’t she do it herself?’ Sally frowned, because Sylvia was asking a lot.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Mick drawled. ‘Is it yourself gettin’ too high and mighty to do a favour for a friend now that you’re the buyer for your fancy man’s shop then?’

  ‘No, of course not!’ Sally blushed furiously. ‘That’s a rotten thing to say – and he’s not my fancy man!’

  ‘Is that right?’ His eyes met hers. ‘Well, your friend is after being at my place for the next hour or so – if it’s not too much to ask.’