The Foyles Bookshop Girls

by Elaine Roberts

  Sarah appeared, carrying a wooden carver chair and dropped it next to Alice. ‘Sit her down.’ She arched her back and gasped for air. ‘Hopefully, the arms will stop her from falling off.’ She watched Mrs Headley and Alice try to manoeuvre around the chair, with Lily shouting instructions at them.

  Lily scowled. ‘Mother, you should’ve fetched the whisky while I got the chair; it is too heavy for you to carry.’

  Sarah nodded, giving her a weak smile, as she tried to take in the air her lungs were aching for.

  Lily placed her arms around her mother. ‘Perhaps we should be getting you a chair.’ She passed the glass to her sister.

  Alice looked down at the glass, then back to her sister.

  Lily pushed out her bottom lip and shrugged her shoulders.

  Sarah laughed at the two of them. ‘Place a little bit of the whisky on Molly's lips and, as she starts to come round, give it to her to sip.’

  Alice followed her mother's instructions and wafted the glass under her nose, hoping it would work like smelling salts. Slowly, Molly's eyes began to flutter. The ladies let out a collective sigh.

  ‘Mrs Headley, could you please make some tea; I think we’re going to need it.’

  The housekeeper looked across at Mrs Taylor. ‘Yes, Ma'am. Would you like cake to go with it?’

  ‘One can never say no to your cake, Mrs Headley.’ Sarah visibly relaxed as Molly showed signs of coming round.

  Lily laughed. ‘I say never mind tea, we should be drinking father's whisky.’

  Molly's eyes suddenly opened, showing the full impact of her tears.

  *

  Alice lifted the shiny brass doorknocker and let it drop from her fingers. It gave a thud on the black front door. Drops of water spattered, before it bounced up and fell again. She wiped a splash from her face, before stepping backwards onto the wet red and black tiles of the path to Victoria's terraced home. She stared at the once pristine house in front of her. What had been dust were now black rivulets, swirling down to the path. The white paint on the windows had blistered, allowing the rain to form pools of water underneath. Alice had heard women make judgments on how clean a family was by their doorsteps. It would have amused her at one time, but today her mind was full of Molly's distress. She shook her head. Here she was making judgments, based on the cleanliness of a step. The creak of the door broke into her meanderings.

  ‘Hello, Alice.’ Victoria's gaunt, ashen face stared at her through the crack of the door.

  Alice forced a smile. ‘Hello, Victoria.’ She paused for a moment, taking in her grey pallor. Thoughts immediately raced around her head. Had she also received bad news? ‘I hope you don't mind me popping round unannounced, but we haven't had much chance to talk since before the wedding.’

  ‘No.’ Victoria hesitated for a moment before opening the door wider. ‘Please come in.’ She stepped aside. There was no welcoming smile in her eyes. ‘Excuse the mess, but I’ve been a little slow in getting started today.’

  ‘I don't mean to intrude.’ Alice frowned. She’d thought her friend had turned the corner recently. Receiving Ted’s letter appeared to have lifted Victoria’s spirits, but maybe it had turned back time and opened old wounds.

  Victoria gave a faint smile. ‘No, it’s fine. Please go through to the sitting room.’

  Alice stepped through the doorway on her left. It was a smaller version of her parent’s home. She tried to stifle a gasp, as the stench of stale perfume and damp hit her. The heavy brown curtains hadn't been opened to let in the sunshine that was trying to break through the morning's grey clouds. There was less furniture than she remembered from previous visits. The room was cold and unloved. Had it been that long since the house had heard laughter?

  ‘Please sit down. I'll make us some tea.’

  Alice turned, her eyes wide with horror as she stared at her friend. ‘I'm sorry, Victoria, but I have to ask.’ She paused and looked around the room again. ‘Where is your furniture, and your mother and father's belongings you treasured?’

  Panic rushed across Victoria's face. ‘I’ve just been having a clear out; it's nothing to worry about.’ Her eyes became watery and she blinked rapidly, to stop the tears from falling. ‘Now, tea, no sugar, isn't it?’

  Alice lowered her eyes. She once again felt she had let her friend down. ‘Yes please.’

  Victoria hesitated, holding her hand tight in front of her waist. She opened her mouth to speak, but changed her mind and turned to leave the room, wanting to put off her friend’s questions for as long as possible. Victoria sighed as she filled the kettle and lit the gas flame under it. She loved Alice dearly, but didn’t understand why she couldn’t see, or wouldn’t accept that their lives were different. She’d lost everything when her parents died. They’d protected their children from life’s realities, but that meant her life had been turned upside down when those harsh realities had hit home. They were never going to be living the same life again. Victoria took a deep breath. She didn’t know how she was going to tell her friend that she had to stop reminding her of all the things she’d lost. A tear tripped onto her cheek. The only way that could happen was if they stopped being friends.

  Standing in the sitting room, Alice squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, wondering what she could do to help her friend. She turned and opened the curtains wide. Daylight streamed in. Alice fought the urge to turn around and look at the room. She remembered how Victoria's parents had been full of life. She swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump that was beginning to form in her throat. She shook her head; this wasn't about her. It was about Victoria and her younger brother and sister. Without another thought, she unlocked the sash window and pushed it up. The cold air flooded the room, quickly chasing away the musty dampness that had taken hold. The muted chatter of people walking by brought life into the room.

  ‘Thank you,’ Victoria whispered. ‘I hadn't got around to opening them yet.’

  Alice jumped. ‘I hope you don't mind.’ She turned around to face her friend, but her eyes darted around and colour flushed her cheeks. ‘You need to talk to me, Victoria. What’s happened?’

  ‘Please take a seat.’ Victoria placed the tray with the floral china tea service on the small table at the side of the room. ‘It should be brewed in a moment.’ She sat down on one of the three high-back chairs in the room. She leant her head back and momentarily closed her eyes as a sigh escaped.

  Alice leant forward and rested her hand on Victoria's arm. ‘What is it? You can talk to me; we’re friends.’ She gripped the arms of the chair next to her, before slowly lowering herself into it.

  Victoria opened her eyes and gave a tight-lipped smile. ‘Life is just hard, that's all.’

  ‘I can't pretend I know what you’re going through, but what I do know is that I couldn't manage in the way you do.’ Alice's eyes stung, as tears began to form. ‘You’re doing a wonderful job and I hope your brother and sister appreciate what you’ve done for them.’

  Victoria gave a hollow laugh. ‘If only.’ She clenched her hands together in her lap. ‘You know, it was hard keeping a roof over our heads even before Stephen joined the army, but now…’ Victoria shook her head.

  ‘Is that why you’ve been selling your furniture and the precious memories of your parents?’

  Victoria didn't look up. Tears splashed onto her hands. ‘Some are sold, but I pawned what I could.’ Her pale face became flushed with colour.

  Alice's eyes widened, the only sign of her despair at her friend's predicament. ‘Have you kept the tickets?’

  Victoria's head jerked upwards and her nostrils flared. ‘Of course.’ She snatched open a small drawer in the side table next to her chair and pulled out a wad of tickets. ‘I know you’re shocked.’ She sniffed. ‘You don't have to pretend otherwise, but I couldn't bring myself to sell the things outright.’ She took the handkerchief that Alice offered and blew her nose.

  Alice reached out her hand and let it rest on Victoria's arm. ‘Let me get the t
hings back for you,’ she whispered.

  Anger flew across Victoria's face. ‘I'm not a charity case.’ She flung the tickets back in the drawer.

  Alice stared at her friend, before shaking her head. ‘No one is suggesting you are, but everyone has times when they need friends and this is that time for you.’

  Victoria nodded, twisting the handkerchief around her fingers, her eyes concentrating on her lap. ‘Since my parents died, you’ve been a very good friend to me. In fact, I probably couldn't have got through the aftermath of the train crash if it wasn't for you, but I cannot allow you to waste your money on my problems. Besides which, my agony is emphasised every time I see you. It’s having a constant reminder of what my life used to be like, and what I no longer have.’

  Guilt washed over Alice. If she’d stopped to think, it was obvious, but she hadn’t. ‘Victoria, look at me.’

  Ignoring her friend, Victoria stared down at her clenched hands, the fingers tightly intertwined with the handkerchief. ‘You know, Stephen wanted to do something exciting, but he was well paid at the factory and we couldn't afford for him to just give it up.’ She blinked rapidly. ‘The ten shillings and six pence he gets paid in the army is less than he was earning before.’ Victoria paused. ‘Maybe if I hadn't been so insistent, he wouldn't have been so eager to join up.’

  ‘Don't punish yourself like this. You couldn't have stopped him. They all thought it was an adventure.’

  ‘Maybe, but I knew he hated it at the boot factory.’ She looked up and took a deep breath. ‘I just thought he was young and didn't realise how lucky he was to get that job.’

  ‘Try not to fret. His job will still be there when he comes back, and I'm sure things will settle down once he gets used to working there.’

  Victoria returned her gaze to her hands, clasped together on her lap. ‘The trouble is, he may not come back.’

  Alice leant forward, unable to stop her voice rising an octave. ‘Don't say things like that. He’ll return…’ Her voice trailed off as she lowered her eyes. ‘They all will.’

  Alice watched a tear trip over Victoria's lashes and, for a brief moment, she wondered if her friend had received the same news as Molly. ‘Have you heard…?’ She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

  ‘Heard news, like Tony's parents?’ Victoria took a deep breath. ‘No, thank God, but it could’ve been any of them.’

  ‘You've heard then.’ Alice paused, studying her friend's delicate features. ‘Molly literally dropped in on us yesterday.’ She shook her head, swallowing hard, trying to remove the lump restricting her throat. ‘She was in a terrible state.’

  Victoria shrugged her shoulders. ‘I'm not surprised. He wouldn't have enlisted if she hadn't shamed him into it.’

  ‘That's a bit harsh,’ Alice whispered.

  ‘Harsh but true,’ Victoria snapped. ‘Any one of us could have received that news. As they say, “there but for the grace of God go I.”’

  Alice nodded. ‘I know, but you should have seen her. We couldn't get anything out of her for ages. She just kept repeating the words “it's Tony”.’ She shook her head as the tears pricked at her eyes. ‘We had to guess the rest. Apparently, he died on his first day on the front line. He didn't stand a chance,’ she murmured.

  They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

  ‘I’m sorry I remind you of what you had. I can’t do anything about that, but if you think I’m just going to walk away from our friendship, you’re sadly mistaken. You can walk away, but I’ll fight for it, because it’s important to me. We have to stick together more than ever now.’ Alice thrust her chin out. ‘Friendship is important, especially in times like this. It’s all a mess. You feel guilty, I feel guilty and Molly feels more than guilty enough, without anyone telling her it was her fault he enlisted. Judging from the mess she was in, she knows that already.’

  Keeping her head bent, Victoria gave her friend a sideways glance.

  Alice sighed. Her energy was draining away. ‘Look, there is no doubt in my mind we’re all friends, and one day you’ll be my crutch to lean on, but today, you need to lean on me.’ They sat in silence for a moment. ‘I'm sorry, I can't sit here and do nothing. Actually, I'm not sorry. You’re my friend and I’m going to help you, whether you like it or not. I can't let your pride get in the way of keeping your family's things.’

  ‘I've never known you to be so… forthright before.’ Victoria looked back down at her hands, clenching the handkerchief tight on her lap. ‘It’s been a hard four years and needs must.’ She sniffed and looked up at Alice. ‘Life has become a constant battle.’

  Alice stared at her friend's pale face, the dark circles under her eyes letting her know she wasn't sleeping well. She had to think about how she could help her proud friend. ‘Why didn't you let me know? I assumed, albeit wrongly, that once everything had calmed down, and with Ted writing… well, you seemed much happier.’

  Victoria wiped the handkerchief over her face. ‘It was lovely to hear from Ted, but…’

  Alice stood up, poured the tea and passed a cup to Victoria.

  *

  Three golden spheres were suspended at varying heights from an ornate wrought iron bar. Alice looked up and down Victoria Street. She stood outside the pawnshop, fidgeting from one foot to the other. The Railway Express Parcels Services horse-drawn wagon trundled past. The cars chugging along in front and behind it drowned out the clip clop of the hooves. Dark smoke coughed from exhaust pipes. Alice moved aside as a man approached on a bicycle. The pavement was getting busy with stallholders setting up to sell their wares.

  A scruffy lad, with an unruly mop of brown hair, shouted the newspaper headlines out from over the road. ‘Bombs drop on Sandringham and Yarmouth.’ People rushed to buy papers, before going about their daily business, while others stopped to chat.

  Alice stood frozen to the spot. Fear held her captive. Her body automatically sucked in the cold air. Pedestrians turned to stare at her, but carried on walking. How would she find out whether her father was safe? The need to find out carried her across the road. She handed the boy a halfpenny, which he grasped with his fingers, hidden inside his threadbare woollen gloves.

  He handed her a folded Daily Mirror newspaper. ‘Zeppelin raid on Norfolk.’ The boy's voice rang out, making her jump as she took it. ‘Sorry, love.’ The boy flashed a set of uneven brown-tinged teeth, giving her a cheeky smile.

  Alice nodded, but no smile came. Her face was fixed on the newspaper she was holding. She scanned it, before frantically opening it up and finding the details on page three. Two people reported dead in Yarmouth. Two houses had been demolished at Kings Lynn and a teenager had died in one of them. Alice searched for news of Sandringham, where her father was staying. There it was; several bombs dropped, but no damage reported.

  ‘Those poor people,’ Alice mumbled as she stood by the boy, reading the news.

  ‘They were brave, miss.’ The boy frowned. ‘It says the police and special constables were scrambled from every direction, to help those that had been bombed.’

  Alice looked up at him. ‘It's terrible.’ She had to get home before her mother heard the news.

  ‘Yeah, it's terrible all right. The houses that survived had all their windows smashed in, but the Zeppelin was shot down. Thankfully.’ The boy paused and took a deep breath, before raising his voice again. ‘Read all about it, Norfolk bombed by the Germans.’

  Alice jumped and stepped away from the boy, as others rushed over to buy from him. She looked back at the shop and took a deep breath. Victoria had probably stood at this same spot. Alice wondered if she had been filled with the same apprehension. She pulled at the collar of her coat as the winter wind lifted the flap, chilling her to the bone. She had come early, hoping no one she knew would see her, but she had underestimated how many people were around at nine-thirty in the morning. Her father would’ve been livid if he'd seen or heard about her entering such premises, but this wasn't
about her. She needed to do this for her friend. She placed the newspaper in her shopping bag and tightened her grip on it, as the wind built its momentum.

  Victoria didn't know Alice had taken the tickets when she took the tea tray back to the kitchen, but she couldn't let her friend’s pride get in the way. They’d argue it out when everything was back where it belonged. She glanced up and down the road, before purposefully stepping towards the shop doorway. She pushed hard on the door and a chime rang out. Heat started to rise up her face, with the realisation of how desperate Victoria must have been to come into one of these shops. The long counter stretched out in front of her. Shelving behind it was cluttered with a variety of objects. All kinds of items, from clocks, glassware, and china to walking sticks and spades, spilled from shelves around the shop. Clothes of varying sizes and colours hung from a rail. There were boxes of gloves and scarves, waiting for someone to rummage through them. Mustiness sat in the corners, daring anyone to disturb it. The jewellery was kept on display, in a glass cabinet.

  The elderly man behind the counter looked up from his newspaper. ‘Can I help you, madam?’

  Alice's colour deepened. ‘I’ve some tickets.’ Alice paused, aware that the portly man was staring at her.

  He straightened his position and closed the newspaper. He arched his brows as he watched her open her bag and thrust her hand in, fumbling around before trying to peer inside. Eventually, she pulled out a bundle of papers.

  ‘Ah, here they are.’ She put them down on the counter. ‘I’d like to buy all the items back please.’

  ‘All of them?’ The man picked up the papers and began reading them. ‘This’ll come to a tidy sum of money.’

  Colour rose in her cheeks. ‘I am aware of that, thank you.’ Alice watched as he started to search around the premises.

  Gradually, the items were brought together, from porcelain ornaments to brooches, along with wedding and engagement rings. The man's grubby fingers picked up a pen and placed the nib into a pot of ink. He wrote the value of each ticket on the paper in front of him, before slowly adding them up. He stopped and held up a ticket. ‘This belongs to a table and six chairs, so you'll have to arrange to get them picked up. Once you’ve paid for it, there’ll be a charge for storage, until it is collected.’ He returned to his column of figures.