The Foyles Bookshop Girls

by Elaine Roberts

  Victoria watched her for a moment, before shaking her head. ‘It's the nights that are the worst. If it isn't that police constable riding his bicycle up and down the street, ringing that bell of his, shouting for us all to take cover, it's my own thoughts keeping me awake. I lay in bed and my head is in a spin, wondering where Stephen is and what he’s doing. I hope and pray every night that God is keeping him safe and that my parents are watching over him.’ Victoria clasped her hands together; the knuckles were white as her fingers clung to each other. ‘I couldn't cope if anything happened to him, and Daisy won't talk about the war. I think she's secretly as worried as I am.’

  Alice looked across at Victoria and tilted her head slightly. ‘Bless her. I can totally understand why; as a family, you’ve already been through so much. I must admit, when we were waving the soldiers off, I did wonder if Stephen, Charles or Harry were among them, but I wasn't close enough to see.’ She pursed her lips for a moment. ‘I suspect Robert is already fighting in France, but we haven't heard from him. We have to assume no news is good news. It's all about trying to stay positive; after all, what else can we do?’

  Victoria nodded. ‘It's difficult, but I'm sure it must be worse for them.’ She gave a little smile. ‘I've moved our beds to the basement. At least if we have to stay there all night, we might as well get used to it and be comfortable.’

  Alice laughed at her friend's sheepish expression. ‘What, are you sleeping permanently in the basement?’

  Victoria laughed. ‘Yes, Daisy and I did it at the weekend. At least now, we don't have to worry about hearing the policeman.’

  Alice giggled. ‘Perhaps I should suggest that to my family.’

  ‘It might be more difficult for you. Don't forget there are only two of us.’

  ‘That's true.’ Alice smiled. ‘Can you imagine my father's face if I suggested sleeping in the basement? He'd be horrified.’

  The two girls giggled like a couple of schoolgirls who were up to no good. Victoria put her hand over her mouth and took a deep breath. Alice looked around her, before following suit.

  Victoria watched her scanning the shop. ‘Don't worry, Mr Leadbetter has already left for the evening.’

  ‘That's unlike him. He's always the last to leave, not the first.’

  Victoria loosened her scarf from around her neck. ‘I hope he hasn't had bad news about his son. I heard him talking to a customer about him joining up.’

  Alice frowned. ‘Don't say that; it's too dreadful to think about.’

  ‘I know.’ Victoria's chin began to tremble. ‘I’ve been thinking, with our brothers probably off fighting in France, I feel I should be doing something to help, but I don't know what.’

  Alice gave her a thoughtful look. ‘Hmm, on my way here the other day, I saw a Women and War Guide on how to knit and crochet for our soldiers; perhaps we should knit for them. It only costs a penny, so perhaps I'll pop in the shop tomorrow and buy one or two for us to share.’

  Victoria's face lit up. ‘At least I’d feel as if I was doing something to help the men.’

  ‘What are you two talking about?’

  Alice jumped as Molly's voice startled her. ‘We were just wondering what we could do to help our menfolk.’

  A smile crept across Molly's lips. ‘With Christmas around the corner, we could send food parcels to them.’

  ‘That's a great idea.’ Alice beamed. ‘We could put in some of their favourite things, maybe chocolate and some cigarettes.’ She looked around the shop before laughing. ‘And books.’

  Victoria smiled. ‘We certainly have enough books to choose from.’ She looked across at Molly. ‘Alice has also come up with a wonderful idea. Knitting.’

  Molly laughed. ‘Knitting?’

  Victoria frowned at Molly's reaction. ‘Yes, we could knit socks, gloves, scarves and balaclavas.’

  Molly shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don't know how to knit,’ she mumbled.

  It was Victoria's turn to laugh. ‘That's all right, I don't mind teaching you. At least it will while away the long nights and I'll feel like I'm doing something to help.’

  Molly frowned, unsure about this knitting malarkey.

  Alice laughed. ‘Don't worry, Molly, it isn't that difficult. We can get together one evening and follow the patterns together.’

  Molly nodded. ‘Count me in. I’ve nothing else to do, with Tony gone.’ She looked down at the wooden floor and fidgeted from one foot to the other. ‘I regret encouraging him to sign up now. I wish I hadn't told him about the embarrassment I was feeling, because he hadn't gone when the others did.’ Her foot scuffed along the floorboards.

  Alice dropped her rag on the shelf and grabbed both of Molly's hands, shaking them gently. ‘I'm sure he understood. You were just being like everyone else – patriotic.

  ‘Yes, well I don't feel very good about it.’ Molly's watery eyes looked up at Alice. ‘I keep getting this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.’

  Victoria stared hard at Molly. ‘You're not pregnant, are you?’

  Molly's eyebrows rose under her fringe. ‘I don't know what type of girl you think I am, Victoria, but I am not that sort.’

  ‘I'm sorry.’ Victoria stepped nearer to Molly and rubbed her arm. ‘I didn't mean it.’

  Molly wrapped her arms around herself. ‘I just get this feeling of foreboding.’

  Alice stepped forward and hugged her friend. The coarse wool of her coat was rough on her hands; it began to itch her arms through her blouse. She stepped back and left her hands on Molly's shoulders. ‘You do know we all feel the same. Victoria was just saying how she couldn’t sleep at night, for worrying about Stephen, and I'm trying to keep myself busy, so I don't have to think about Freddie, let alone Charles and Robert. If my mother loses two sons, then she’ll probably follow them.’

  Molly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘All right, count me in for knitting. I can't promise I'll be any good at it, but at least I'll be doing something instead of watching that wretched Pathé News all the time.’

  Alice dropped her hands to her side as she and Victoria laughed.

  ‘That's the spirit.’ Victoria smiled.

  ‘From what I've read in the papers Father buys, I think Pathé News is meant to make us feel better about what’s going on.’

  Molly lifted her eyes heavenward. ‘Well it isn't working for me. Watching so many men going off to war is heartrending. Let alone this awful weather, and the trenches they have to dig and live in. It all sounds horrendous to me.’ Her eyes became watery. ‘I don't think I’m going to see Tony again.’

  *

  Victoria sat in the payment booth in Foyles Bookstore. Her lips trembled as she turned the envelope over in her clammy hands. It had been folded in her pocket all day. The small brown envelope had been lying on her hall mat when she got home from work yesterday. It hadn't left her thoughts since she found it. Staring at the unopened letter for about the hundredth time, she was convinced it wasn't Stephen's handwriting; it was too neat. Had something happened to him? Was someone from the government writing to her?

  A man cleared his throat.

  Victoria looked up at the elderly gentleman waiting to be served. ‘My apologies, sir, I didn't mean to keep you waiting.’ She rammed the envelope into her skirt pocket.

  ‘You were somewhere else. I hope it's not bad news.’ The man tilted his head and gave her a sympathetic smile.

  Victoria's eyes welled up. ‘I don't know. I can't bring myself to open it.’

  The elderly man closed his eyes for a moment, before speaking. ‘Let me tell you, young lady, it doesn't matter how long you take to open it, the contents will be the same. Trust me when I say don't torture yourself by wondering. Treat it like you would removing a plaster; it's less painful in the long run if you rip it off quickly.’

  Victoria nodded. ‘I'm just scared.’

  The man put a couple of pennies and a bill payment slip under the pane of glass. ‘I know. It's written all over your fa
ce, but you never know, it might be good news.’

  She forced a smile to her lips. ‘Maybe.’

  The gentleman picked up the slip confirming he had paid for his book. ‘I’ll pop in again, in a day or two, to see if you’ve opened it and to make sure you’re all right.’

  ‘You’re too kind, sir, but there is no need. I’m sure I’ll be fine.’

  The man chuckled. ‘Trust me, it isn't kindness. It lifts an old man's heart to look at someone who is as pretty as a picture.’

  Victoria found herself chuckling with him, as colour rose in her cheeks.

  He’d turned to walk away, but glanced back. ‘That's better; music to my ears. Now open the letter and I’ll come and see you tomorrow.’

  Victoria nodded. She watched him walk away. His shoulders were hunched over. Was he carrying a great weight as well? She sighed. Wasn't everyone?

  The rattling of the steel shutters told her that the store was closing. She cashed up her till and let herself out of the booth.

  ‘Everything all right, Victoria?’

  Victoria's head jerked backwards. She turned on her small heels to see Alice standing in front of her. Her hand flew to her chest. ‘Alice, you startled me.’

  Alice lifted her hand and lightly stroked Victoria's arm. ‘That doesn't surprise me; you seemed miles away.’

  Victoria gave a small nod and her chin began to tremble.

  Without a thought, Alice dropped her hand, which clenched into a tight ball behind the folds of her skirt. She flicked her tongue over her lips. Her legs started to shake. Did she know something? Had something happened to Stephen? Did it mean Charles had the same fate? ‘Do… do you have news?’

  Without a word, Victoria pulled the brown envelope from her skirt pocket. She unfolded it, to show her the sealed letter.

  A gasp escaped as Alice lifted her trembling hand to cover her mouth. She reached out to touch Victoria's hand. ‘You need to open it.’ She looked down at it. ‘I don't think it’s what you’re thinking.’

  Victoria also stared down at the envelope. Her gaze fixed on it until her vision became blurry. ‘It's not Stephen's handwriting,’ she whispered.

  ‘No, but that doesn't mean it's…’ Alice couldn't bring herself to say the words out loud.

  ‘Why else would I have a letter?’ Victoria raised her troubled eyes, to look at Alice.

  ‘I don't know, but… but I think it's normally a telegram,’ Alice whispered. ‘Let's get out of here so you can open it in private.’

  Victoria nodded.

  They both clocked out and grabbed their coats, hats and scarves.

  Alice was still wrapping her scarf around her neck as they left Foyles. She hated the dark winter evenings, but was thankful it wasn’t snowing. A shiver ran through her. She tightened the woollen scarf around her neck and pulled up the collar of her coat. Her heart was pounding in her chest. If only she was as calm and confident as she pretended to be. ‘You need some privacy. Let's go into St Mary's Church; it's just up here.’

  Victoria followed Alice. Her heart was pounding and her legs were trembling as they strode past the school gates. Her lungs fought for oxygen. She bowed her head in a bid to stop it from swimming. Her back pressed hard against the stone of the church wall, the cold creeping through her coat, while Alice pulled open the large oak door. There was no one about as they quietly slid into the pew at the back, dropping their heads to give a silent prayer for their family and friends. They looked up as one, both staring straight ahead at the altar and the stained-glass window of the Virgin Mary. Each of them alone with their own thoughts, each too scared to say the words out loud.

  Alice could feel beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She wondered if a letter had arrived for her parents. She had to fight the urge to run home to find out, as she unwrapped her woollen scarf from around her neck and undid the buttons of her brown tweed winter coat.

  Victoria parted the bottom of her coat and thrust her hand inside her skirt pocket. The corner of the envelope stabbed at her finger as she pulled it out. Her jaw clenched as her grip tightened. As she unfolded it, the rustle echoed in the church. Her eyes never left the paper. She ran her hand over the creases she had created. After a moment, she looked up at Alice, who nodded her encouragement. Victoria turned the letter over. What had the man said, ‘treat it like removing a plaster; rip it off quickly, it's less painful’. She took a deep breath. Without waiting another second, she forced her index finger underneath the seal. She pulled out what looked like brown wrapping paper. It was neatly folded in three, with the top of the page in full view.

  My dear Victoria,

  I know my behaviour four years ago was unforgivable and I cannot offer any excuse for it, except my immaturity.

  Her heart was pounding. Pain gripped her chest. She quickly unfolded it and scanned to the bottom of the letter. ‘It's from Ted,’ Victoria gasped. ‘Why is he writing to me after all this time?’ Her eyes jumped back to the top of the page.

  There hasn't been a day go by that I haven't regretted my decision to walk away from our friendship, and I believe, our love for each other.

  Alice gasped for air. She hadn't realised she had been holding her breath. ‘Don't worry about why at this stage; at least it isn't about Stephen.’

  Victoria's tears began to flow, leaving saltiness on her lips. She gulped to catch her breath. Alice wrapped her arm around her friend, holding her tight as she sobbed into her coat, patiently waiting for the four years of pent up grief and tension to slowly evaporate.

  Chapter 10

  Christmas had finally arrived at Bloomsbury Street. The tree stood tall and proud in the corner of the sitting room, the woody freshness of pine scented the air. With Charles absent, Lily had placed the star on the top of it last night. The red and silver glass baubles reflected the candlelight into the room. Alice had tied some of her mother's childhood embroidered ornaments to the tree and tinsel had been draped over the branches, to add sparkle. Greeting cards hung from the picture rail, while red ribbon and festive scenes decorated the walls. The deep, shiny green of the holly, together with its small red berries, stood side by side with the white berries and the paler green leaves of the mistletoe, on the mantelpiece and every other available space. The fire, blazing in the hearth, gave the room warmth that wrapped itself around everyone who entered.

  Alice picked up the next present to be wrapped. She examined the plain cream cover of the book, The Dubliners by James Joyce. Her grandfather shared her love of reading, so she hoped he’d enjoy the short stories.

  Sarah walked in, her gaze immediately drawn to the base of the tree.

  Alice gave a little chuckle. ‘Is it time for your tree inspection this evening, Mother?’

  Sarah jumped and forced a smile. ‘I know everyone thinks it's funny, but I worry the pine needles might fall off before Christmas is over.’

  Alice smiled. ‘I know, and it's a good job someone checks it, but you do know Mrs Headley cleans before you do your inspection, don't you?’

  ‘Of course I do.’ Sarah frowned. ‘I don't know why I worry about it; it's not as if it has ever happened.’

  Alice shrugged her shoulders. ‘We all know why you worry about it, Mother.’ She paused, taking in her mother's anxious expression. ‘I'd say it's because you are not happy unless you are worrying about something, but under the current circumstances I don't think that can be true.’ She smiled. ‘Have you checked the one in the dining room yet?’

  ‘Yes, you and Lily did a good job decorating them. They look lovely.’ Sarah smiled. ‘In fact, this whole room looks quite wonderful.’

  Alice smiled across at her mother. ‘Thank you, I'm sure Lily will be as happy as I am to know you like it.’ She continued to wrap her presents with colourful paper, tying the soft, silky red ribbon around them and finishing each one with an elaborate bow. ‘It's not the same though, is it?’

  Sarah's eyes clouded as she hung her head. Her shoulders hunched over. ‘No, I really wanted
to believe they’d be back for Christmas, but that clearly isn't going to happen.’

  ‘I know. I did too, but you know the boys wouldn't want us to be unhappy, especially not at Christmas,’ Alice whispered.

  Sarah nodded and sat down in the armchair nearest the fire. ‘No, I know. I suppose we just have to get on with it.’ She gave a little smile. ‘Hopefully, they received the parcels we sent them.’

  Alice glanced up and smiled at her mother. ‘The parcels were certainly laden, what with cigarettes, the tinder box, chocolate and let's not forget my effort of knitting a balaclava.’ She gave a hearty laugh. ‘I'm sure Charles will have something to say about it when he returns.’

  Sarah couldn't resist joining in; her laughter was filled with memories. ‘Yes, I'm sure he will.’ Her smile faded. ‘The government couldn't have got it more wrong when they said it would be over by Christmas.’

  Lily flounced into the room and flopped in an armchair. ‘What are you two talking about?’

  Alice glanced at her mother before looking back at Lily. ‘Just Christmas.’

  Lily sat tight-lipped as she gazed up at the tree, before letting her eyes travel between her mother and Alice. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask whether either of you donated any money to Princess Mary's appeal?’

  ‘Yes,’ they answered in unison.