by Rosie Clarke
‘Is that why he limps sometimes?’
‘Arthritis set in when his leg healed. He got a small pension for his war work, which he gave to his mother but we lived on what he earned from the barrow, same as now.’
‘I never knew we were hard up,’ Beth said. ‘All I remember is you smiling and cooking, and Dad coming home with fruit from the stall and laughing as we all scrabbled for an orange or a pear.’
‘We managed better than most.’
‘You never let on to us if you were worried.’
‘I wasn’t, because I knew we would get through – and my mother helped us when she could.’
‘Granny Shelly? ‘You worry about her, don’t you?’
‘She doesn’t complain but she finds it difficult to get about – and she’s getting a bit forgetful.’ Beth’s mother sighed. ‘You wouldn’t mind if Granny came here to live, would you?’
‘Why should I mind? I love her; we all do…’
Beth listened as her mother described how her granny had helped out when she and her brother and sisters were small; teaching her daughter how to manage on the money her husband gave her and sometimes giving her a few shillings extra. Beth loved the feisty old lady and never grew tired of hearing stories about her.
‘You mustn’t ever let her go in one of those awful old people’s homes,’ Beth’s throat was tight with emotion. ‘We need to look after her, love her and cherish her, Mum.’
‘Yes, we’ll make sure she moves in with us.. Where are you going this evening, love?’
‘Tony is taking me to the flicks. It’s Humphrey Bogart and he likes him – I do too, though I wouldn’t mind where we went…’
Her mother gave her a long, knowing look. ‘I know you don’t like having to wait to get married, but promise me you won’t be silly, Beth.’
‘Tony knows I want to wait, and so does he,’ Beth said, smothering a sigh. ‘Besides, I wouldn’t want to let you and Dad down.’
‘Your dad would stand by you and so would I, Beth – but it’s not a good way to start a marriage.’
‘I’ll go up and change,’ Beth said, wanting to escape before her mother probed too far.
Mum didn’t mean to lecture and Beth hadn’t lied when she said she wanted to wait until they were married – but it was getting harder. She could only hope that Tony would go on being content to wait for her.
He’d spoken of what might happen if there was a war before she was twenty. ‘I would be sure to be called up, love,’ he’d told her. ‘I’m just a labourer on the Docks, not highly skilled. I earn a decent wage and one day I want my own business. My grandfather had a tobacconist’s shop and I’d like to do the same. I reckon I’ll look out for a shop with a flat over the top and a garden out back. We could run it together – unless that bloody Hitler spoils things before I can get started.’
The papers had been full of talk about how bad things were getting in Germany for ages; the way they were treating the Jews over there had a lot of people up in arms and even Beth’s father talked about it being likely that it would come to a war in the end, but so far the sandbags around important public buildings and the trenches in the public parks up the West End had not been needed; instead the trenches filled with water and were a hazard at night, but everyone prayed that they would never be needed for real.
Beth dressed hurriedly and brushed her hair back from her face, fastening it with Kirby grips that didn’t show because it frizzed out in soft curls and wisps over her ears and forehead.
When she went back down to the kitchen, her father was washing his hands at the sink, the water turning a muddy brown as it swirled down the plughole.
‘You look nice, Beth.’ He greeted her with a warm smile. ‘Almost as good as those chops your mum has cooked. To what do we owe the honour of such a sumptuous dinner, Mrs Court?’
‘It’s a celebration of Beth’s first job,’ she said and smiled back at him. Beth’s elder sister had just come in and sat down with them. Mary was a nurse, but she was getting married later in the year and feared that she might lose her job because the Matron did not approve of married nurses, even though they weren’t actually barred from being nurses now, as they had been once. ‘Had a hard day, Mary love?’
‘Yes, very hard,’ Mary sighed. ‘We lost a patient today. I know he was old but he was a dear man…’
‘We all have to go one day,’ her father said. ‘It’s a fact of life, Mary.’
‘I know, but it still hurts – and there are so many old and sick people needing our help.’ She sat opposite him. ‘This looks good, Mum. How was your day, Beth?’
‘Busy,’ Beth said ruefully. ‘I was taking dictation for over an hour and then I had to type all my notes up and leave them on Mrs Moore’s desk. Harry Oliver is supposed to be in charge of the invoices, but he’s so lazy and Mrs Moore has to check everything in case he makes mistakes.’
‘Better keep on the right side of her then,’ Dad winked at her.
Beth loved her family life and the meals they all took together brought them even closer; it was a time for talking about each other’s day and for laughter. She was almost reluctant to leave when the doorbell rang.
‘I shan’t bother with pudding, Mum. I don’t want to keep Tony waiting because we’ll miss the start of the big film.’
‘You can have your trifle later, if your dad doesn’t scoff the lot…’
Beth grabbed her coat from behind the door and ran through the hall to greet Tony at the front door, which opened onto the street. He was tall, even taller than her father, and thin, but Beth knew his leanness hid a wiry strength. He worked hard on the docks and was never out of a job, always the one to be picked for overtime because he could be relied on to do a proper job
‘We’d best get straight off,’ Tony said and kissed her cheek. ‘You look lovely, Beth, but you always do. Did you have a good day?’
‘Busy but all right,’ Beth said and hugged his arm as they walked quickly down the street and arrived at the tram stop just in time to hop on as a tram drew to a halt. ‘What about you?’
‘Same as always,’ he said. ‘Trouble is; they want me to work all day Saturday. I was going to look at a little shop in Whitechapel on Saturday afternoon, but I’m going Friday night instead. If it’s what I want, I might take it and employ someone to look after the shop until I’m ready to take it over myself.’
Beth didn’t say anything, because she knew he’d hoped she wouldn’t get the job at Oliver’s. He’d been hoping that she might be content to work in the shop for him, but Beth wanted to use the skills she’d spent a year perfecting, at least for a while, though she’d offered to give him a hand with the accounts at night, and do any typing he needed.
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea, Tony?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Supposing it does come to a war – what will happen to the shop then? Why don’t you keep saving your money for the time being and see what happens?’
‘I know what you say makes sense, Beth – but I keep thinking a business would give us security, even if I kept on working. I could get a girl to work in the shop and do all the ordering myself.’
‘You know I would help with all that, and perhaps help at the shop in the evenings, but I work Saturday mornings…’
‘And you want the afternoon off, of course you do,’ Tony said. ‘It wouldn’t be fair to ask you, not while you’re working in the office at Oliver’s – but if we were married you would give all that up and then you could keep an eye on the shop, couldn’t you?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Beth knew it was the answer he wanted. She would be reluctant to leave work immediately when they got married, and it made her wonder if perhaps her father wasn’t right in saying she should wait until she was twenty, but when Tony walked her home later and kissed her goodnight in the shadows, all thought of anything but being his wife would fly from her head.
Chapter 4
‘You’ve made a good job of the stockroom,�
�� Mr Oliver said. ‘I can see what we’ve got at a glance now and need only refer to the list if something seems wrong.’
‘Why don’t we have a proper stock book?’ Lizzie suggested. ‘We could list all the rolls of material as they come in and also have a separate one for the number of hats made and sold.’
‘Are you in league with the tax office, Lizzie? If we keep everything as precisely as you suggest it won’t give us the chance to fiddle a few bob,’ he murmured straight-faced.
Lizzie laughed, not sure whether to believe him. ‘I’ve done all you asked for, sir. When am I going to start learning to make hats?’
‘Keen are you?’ he looked at her speculatively. ‘Well, you can make us all a cup of tea first, Lizzie, and then I’ll hand you over to Ed. You’re brighter than most of the girls we get here, even if you didn’t win any fancy school certificates.’
‘I was ill, sir.’
‘Something serious?’
‘I had an accident, concussion for a long time and fevers, stuff like that,’ Lizzie said wanting to shrug it off. ‘I’ve forgotten it now and I’m fine, perfectly healthy, but I couldn’t catch up with the schoolwork I needed for the exams in time. My uncle says I should take them through night school.’
‘You don’t need them here,’ her employer said. ‘It’s your skills as a milliner I’m interested in, girl. Yes, I’ve decided you can start with Ed. I need someone who can cut and shape hats, and perhaps finish them – what about those designs you told me of?’
‘I didn’t think you really wanted to see them, sir.’
‘Never say things I don’t mean,’ he grunted. ‘Go on then, make the tea and then report to Ed… and you can bring the designs to the office tomorrow.’
‘Thank you, sir. I’ll leave them in the office for you.’
At last she was going to start learning how to make hats from scratch. Lizzie had attempted one or two at home. She often bought plain hats and trimmed them to her own liking, but they never looked like the beautiful creations she drew with the coloured pencils and crayons her uncle had given her on her last birthday
After Lizzie had served the tea and washed up, she reported to Ed who looked pleased when she told him she was now his apprentice.
‘Oliver listened to me for once,’ Ed said. ‘I told him it makes sense to train our own cutters. Once I teach you how to make them and show you how to use the scissors, you’ll know all my secrets.’
‘I shan’t tell anyone else. It’s a trade secret, isn’t it?’
‘Certainly is,’ Ed agreed. ‘There’s machines for all sorts of things these days. Oliver says he does things the old way because it’s the best, and I agree with him to a certain extent, but he’s a mean old thing and won’t spend a penny if an ’a’penny will do…’
Lizzie watched avidly as he showed her a book of basic shapes and patterns, which explained how to cut and style various hats. Every word he spoke was a revelation to her and she hung on them, thirsting for the knowledge he could give her.
‘You’re a good girl,’ Ed told her as they took their break for lunch. ‘Go and meet your friends. You’ve only got half an hour.’
‘Where do you eat your lunch, Ed?’
‘I pop home and get some soup and a cup of tea for my wife. My Madge is a bit of an invalid, see. She was a rare, lovely lass when we married…’ Ed sighed and shook his head. ‘I’ll take you to meet her one day, Lizzie. I’ve got to get off because I’ll be late back else…’
Lizzie went off to the staffroom to eat her lunch with Beth.
‘You’re here on time today.’
‘Yes, I was helping Ed and he made sure we took our break.’
Beth nodded, then, ‘Mum says she’ll make one of her Victoria sandwiches for me to bring round on Saturday – if I’m coming?’
‘My aunt said you can come to tea,’ Lizzie said happily. ‘If she thinks you’re a sensible girl, I can come to the flicks one night in the week, but I’ve got to be home before half past nine.’
‘You’d miss half the big film,’ Beth objected. ‘Do you think she’d let you stay with us for the night? I’ll get Mum to write the invitation, and I’ll promise that my dad will meet us…’
‘She might let me stay with you if your mum writes to her.’ Lizzie sighed as she bit into her sandwich. ‘My uncle is lovely, Beth, but Aunt Jane… she acts as if I’ve committed a crime, but Uncle Jack says it’s because of my accident.’
‘What happened to you?’ Beth asked curiously.
‘I can’t remember anything beforeI woke up in the sanatorium. The doctor was very kind and told me who I was and that my aunt and uncle wanted me home…’
‘And you’ve no idea what happened to you?’
‘They said I had a fall but I don’t remember anything about it.’
‘I suppose that’s why your Aunt Jane is so strict. She doesn’t want you to have another accident.’ Beth offered her half of a pastry. ‘It’s got apples and sultanas inside. ’
‘Thanks, that looks delicious,’ Lizzie said. ‘Aunt Jane spends all her time sewing for other people and hates cooking.’
‘I suppose she’s too busy,’ Beth said and wrinkled her brow. ‘I’m not sure, where exactly do you live?’
‘My uncle’s house is in Wilkes Street,’ Beth said. ‘It once belonged to the Huguenot silk merchants, but it was divided into smaller properties long ago, so we’ve only got part of it. It’s a terraced house now, like yours, but it has three steps up to the front door and an airey in the pavement outside. That means we can have the coal delivered straight into the cellar rather than coming through the house.’
‘You said your uncle’s rather than your aunt’s for once?’
‘Yes, his grandfather bought it years ago. Uncle Jack also has a small cobbler’s business on the side, which previously belonged to his father and grandfather’
‘My dad has a vegetable barrow. It’s handy, because we’ve always got plenty for Mum’s stews, but it must be nice to have someone to mend your shoes.’
‘Yes, we always have our shoes repaired before they look down at heel.’
‘I’m looking forward to meeting him,’ Beth said. ‘About our trip to the flicks, I think we ought to try and get to see the new film Cary Grant film at the Odeon. I think he’s smashing…’
‘I’ve seen his picture on the bill posters,’ Lizzie agreed, ‘but I’ve never…’ She broke off as the door opened and Harry Oliver walked in, his eyes bright with mischief as he saw them.
‘ I thought you two would be down the café with most of the others – Tilly pops home, of course, but Vera and Nancy have gone because the café’s doing a cheap meal today…’
‘I don’t want much in the middle of the day,’ Lizzie said. ‘I would go to sleep all afternoon if I stuffed myself…’
‘Can’t have the new apprentice slacking,’ Harry said playfully. ‘I want you to become excellent at all things so that I can leave this rotten place and join the RAF…’
‘Why don’t you just go if you feel like that?’ Lizzie asked.
‘Because Uncle Bert brought me up after my parents died, so I owe him something,’ Harry said in a mournful tone. ‘He was delighted with your stocktaking, Lizzie, so if you just learn to cut, place the orders and drive a van, old Grumble Guts won’t miss me at all…’
‘I didn’t come here to learn to manage the business, just to make hats,’ Lizzie retorted with a smile.
‘Well, do your best to learn the lot, will you?’ Harry pleaded. ‘While he needs me I’m stuck here, though once the war comes he won’t be able to hold on to me—’
‘What makes you so sure there’s going to be a war?’ Beth asked. ‘Tony says it may not happen, and my dad hopes it won’t...’
‘Don’t you read the papers, Miss Court? We all know Hitler is determined on war despite that idiot Mr Chamberlain, who thinks he can secure peace in our time.
‘Take your warmongering elsewhere. We’re thinking about nicer thing
s…’
‘Like what?’
‘Going to the flicks,’ Beth said. ‘We’re going to the Odeon next week to see Cary Grant.’
‘When? I’ll come with you – treat you to some toffees…’
‘If we wanted you, we’d have asked,’ Beth said. ‘Now, please excuse us, we’ve ten minutes left of our break and we want some peace.’
Harry shrugged. ‘Please yourself, Miss Court. Lizzie, will you come to the flicks with me one evening?’
‘I don’t think my aunt would agree,’ Lizzie said, though she was pleased he’d asked her. ‘She won’t even let me go out with a girlfriend, unless she approves of her…’
‘You’re twenty not fourteen,’ Harry retorted ‘Suit yourself. I’ll be around if you change your mind – until I join up that is…’
‘Be a good thing when he goes,’ Beth muttered when the door closed behind him.
‘Harry isn’t that bad, but he did get upset when he saw what I’d done to his stockroom…’
‘I can imagine.’ Beth sighed as she brushed the crumbs from her smart black skirt. ‘Oh well, a trip to the loo and then I’m back to work…’
‘Me too, see you tomorrow,’ Lizzie said. She would have liked an evening out with Harry Oliver, but she knew there was no point in asking her aunt who would say she must wait until she was twenty-one and no longer her responsibility.
‘You will do as you wish then, but marriage isn’t for you and the sooner you accept it the better, Lizzie,’ her aunt had said more than once.
Why did her aunt think no one would marry her? Lizzie had puzzled over it a hundred times, but was no wiser.
Lizzie went back to find Ed. He was two minutes late back, but she didn’t question him because he obviously had a lot to do in the short break they were given. Instead, she tidied his bench and got out the black felt she knew he intended to cut and shape that afternoon. They had an order for six black felt hats, all the same shape.
