‘He used his fists on you?’ Ruby asked, fearing for the girl.
Gwyneth undid the top two buttons of her blouse and exposed her shoulder. Ruby could see an angry-looking red scar of around two inches and felt tears in her eyes that a man would do such a thing to a beautiful young woman. ‘The bastard,’ she muttered before apologizing for swearing. ‘How did he talk his way out of that?’ she asked, feeling angry that any man would raise a hand to a woman.
‘He told anyone who asked that I’d tripped and fallen while carrying a tray of cups and saucers to the kitchen. In truth, I’d said that moving to Kent wouldn’t be so bad and we’d get to like it. He’d grabbed me by the hair and screamed horrid things in my face before pushing me across the room. How I didn’t fall into the fireplace I don’t know. Instead I fell on the broken china, which had been a wedding present, and cut myself. He forbade me from going to see our doctor in case questions were asked and the wound took an age to heal and has not improved these past few years.’
‘So you moved to Kent with him?’
‘I had no choice. My parents would never have believed me if I’d said that Idris was such a brute and by then my sister had her own problems, having to rear a young child and work full-time. It was simpler to move to Kent with Idris and hope for a better future and that he’d be a happier person. However, it didn’t work out like that. No, it grew progressively worse. Amongst the other miners were a few fellow Welshmen who were just as unhappy as Idris to have been sent so far from home and they would drink together and be vocally open about their hatred of their fellow workers and the bosses.’
‘How about you? Did you fit in with the other wives?’
‘It was hard but I made the decision not to work close to Betteshanger. It’s a mining village near Deal on the coast of Kent,’ she added as she noticed Ruby’s puzzled look. ‘Instead I caught a bus each day into town, where I worked in a dress shop. If I’d worked local to the village and the mining community, I know I’d have suffered for being married to such a bigoted man. Of course, Idris was horrid to me for not being home with a meal on the table and he began to use his fists on me more and more.’
Ruby sighed with frustration. She’d love to get her hands on this man and give him what for. ‘I’m lost for words and that doesn’t happen often. I take it you ran away?’
‘I didn’t run but I did plan my escape. I decided to head to where my sister lived on the Isle of Dogs in the East End of London, but I needed to have money until I could find a job and support myself.’
‘You had your wages, though . . .’
Gwyneth nodded. ‘Yes, but I had to hand them over to Idris every Friday night. He left me with just a few shillings for personal bits and pieces. Fortunately for me my boss spotted the bruises Idris left after one of his drunken rages and she was most sympathetic. She’d experienced the same and helped me plan my escape.’
‘Thank goodness for that,’ Ruby sighed. ‘Did it take long before you could do a runner?’
‘A month and funnily enough it was Idris that helped in my escape.’ She laughed at the memory. ‘He had a habit of rolling home drunk and would turn out his pockets before falling into bed. I’d wait until he was snoring his head off and then I’d help myself, but always made sure not to be too greedy in case he noticed. That covered my train fair up to London. Meanwhile I would put an item of clothing into my shopping bag and leave it at work so he wouldn’t notice me with a suitcase. I picked up a second-hand one close to where I worked.’
‘But what about money to live on? A few pinched coins wouldn’t last long?’
‘My manager held back some of my money each week. One time I told Idris it was because I’d damaged an item of stock. That earned me a thick ear. Another time I told him the extra would be added the following week as my manager had taken the shop’s takings to the bank without holding enough back for staff wages. I hated lying but I had no choice. I’d planned that the following week I would take my wages and leave the area for good. However, I didn’t expect Idris to be arrested for near on killing a man in a brawl and to be called as a witness. That put paid to my escape until he was locked up and the key thrown away.’
‘How long did he get?’
‘Three years; he’s out just before Christmas.’
‘But it’s not your concern, is it? That part of your life is over and done with.’
‘Not quite. He’d got wind that I’d gone to my sister’s home and made sure I knew that he’d find me and kill me for giving evidence against him in court that meant he’d never be able to find work as a miner again.’
Ruby looked horrified. ‘Oh my!’
‘So there I was living with my sister as I’d planned but fearing for my life.’
‘Is that when you changed your name?’
‘No, that was a year later. There was an air raid. Gwyneth and Myfi were caught in it and Myfi watched as her mum died,’ Gwyneth said with a shaky voice. ‘Myfi hasn’t spoken since that day.’
‘Hang on a moment,’ Ruby said with a puzzled expression. ‘You said that Gwyneth was killed but you are . . . ?’
‘I’m Gwyneth’s identical twin sister, Gladys. God forgive me but I took on my sister’s identity hoping that Idris would never find me. In a way I thank God that Myfi has never spoken a word since that day as she is the only one who knows I’m not her mother. That is . . . apart from Maureen, but I’ve not given her any reasons. She was present when I filled out my application form to work at Woolworths and could see I had a problem. She doesn’t know about Idris.’
There was silence as Ruby absorbed this information. ‘There’s one thing that troubles me with all this,’ she said with a frown. ‘I can excuse you not giving any of us your right name, but it’s the thought your poor sister has been buried under another person’s name. It’s just not right.’
‘I agree with you. Gwyneth has been laid to rest under her own name. Her headstone can prove that. I wouldn’t dare do otherwise. It was only after the funeral, and knowing I was now caring for her daughter, that I thought it might help me avoid Idris if I pretended to be my sister. We looked so alike. I’ve even grown my hair longer so no one who knew us would be confused.’
‘Your parents?’
‘My parents know the truth. They wanted us both to return home, but it would be one of the first places for Idris to look for me.’ She looked at Ruby, beseeching her not to give them both away.
Ruby reached across the table and squeezed her hand. ‘Your secret is safe with me. I’d have most likely done as you did if I’d been in the same situation. I may be worried about my Pat down in Cornwall, but at least I know she doesn’t have a vengeful husband after her.’ She looked at Gwyneth and cocked her head to one side thoughtfully. ‘You don’t look like a Gladys. To me you’ll always be Gwyneth.’
‘My second name is Gwyneth. My mother was in a quandary when we were born as both our grandmothers insisted we carry their names. I was baptized Gladys Gwyneth and my sister vice versa.’
Ruby burst out laughing. ‘I’ve heard everything now.’
Gwyneth smiled. She was so grateful to this woman for not only taking her in but also believing her story. At last she could sleep at night and hopefully prepare for her future. But what should she do about Mike Jackson? She had warm feelings for him but didn’t want to allow him to think there was a future for them.
Maisie ran up the staff stairs in the Woolworths store and tapped on Betty’s office door before entering. ‘Are you ready? David’s begged a vehicle from God knows where so we won’t have ter take the train. It’ll save absolutely hours. We may even be able ter get some sun on our faces this afternoon despite not being able to get onto the beach anymore.’
Betty closed her powder compact after checking her lipstick and smiled at the excited woman. ‘Why, Maisie, you look splendid. Is that a new suit?’
‘Nah, I’ve had it a while now but there were generous seams so I was able ter let out the waistband on the ski
rt and move the buttons over on the jacket, so it’s good for a month or two yet. Waste not, want not, eh?’
‘You are wasted working for Woolworths. By rights you should have your own establishment and be making couture gowns.’
Maisie screwed up her face and shook her head, causing the small pin curls on top of the elaborate French pleat to bounce about. ‘What, me own a posh shop? Heaven help us. Can you imagine all those rich women coming ter me for a dress?’ She snorted with laughter. ‘I’m happy making stuff fer me friends and besides, I’ll be busy with this one before too long,’ she said, patting her stomach protectively.
‘I don’t think you’ll be hanging up your Singer sewing machine just yet, Maisie,’ Betty said as she checked her desk was tidy before picking up a small suitcase that stood by the coat stand. ‘Right, I’m all yours. Let’s get going, shall we?’
Betty stopped to talk to staff, as she followed Maisie towards the large glass double doors at the front of the store. Looking back before leaving, she was satisfied that all was as it should be. The counters were tidy and well stocked, the mahogany woodwork polished and shining. If it wasn’t for the crisscross of sticky paper on the windows and doors, and the knowledge that stock wasn’t as plentiful as she’d like, no one would even know there was a war on. It was business as usual at Woolworths.
Betty enjoyed the drive down to the Kent coast. She liked David and Maisie Carlisle’s company. They were a devoted couple and Betty could only hope that this time their wish for a healthy baby was answered by whatever god looked after pregnant women. She could still recall the day just before last Christmas when Maisie lost her baby – it had been such a sad time.
The sky was clear and the sun shone down as the friends travelled through the towns of Dartford, Gravesend and Rochester before hitting the countryside of Kent. Betty marvelled at the open spaces and for once they ignored barrage balloons and other signs of war and enjoyed the best that the county of Kent could offer. David pulled up outside a small pub on the outskirts of Faversham, where they enjoyed a quick bite to eat before heading on to Margate and the seafront guesthouse owned by David’s colleague.
‘This is a bit of all right,’ Maisie exclaimed as she collapsed onto her bed after saying her goodbyes to her husband. ‘I can see still see the sea when I’m lying down.’
‘We must make sure the blackout curtains are in place this evening. I’d dread to think a chink of light from our room would guide the enemy in from across the Channel,’ Betty said, looking worried as she inspected the curtains that hung each side of the large bay window of their second-floor bedroom.
‘I wouldn’t worry too much. It’s been quiet lately. What say we have a lazy day tomorrow checking out Margate before we catch the bus to Canterbury the day after to visit the Woolworths store and have afternoon tea with the manager, unless you want to go there tomorrow while the store is open? Seems a bit on the strange side to visit Woolies when it’s closed. Whatever you decide, we can spend the rest of the day shopping.’
‘Sunday would suit me better. I’d rather like to visit the cathedral if you don’t mind.’
Maisie shrugged. ‘I’m not a religious person but I’d like to say a little prayer to end this bloody war.’
‘I’ll most definitely join you,’ Betty said as she opened her suitcase and started to place her clothes and soap bag into the bottom drawers of a large walnut chest of drawers set in the bay window. ‘I’ve left you the top two so you don’t have to bend too much,’ she said to Maisie, who looked comfortable spread out on the bed. ‘Shall I unpack your things then I can slide our cases under the beds? It’ll keep the room spick and span.’
‘Cheers, Betty. To be honest, I could do with forty winks. I must be getting old as all I want to do at the moment is snooze.’
‘In that case the unpacking can wait until later. I’ll take a short walk along the seafront and leave you to have a nap.’ She removed Maisie’s white sandals from her feet and covered her with a candlewick bed cover. ‘I may pick up a few postcards to send back home.’
‘Get me a couple, please, Betty. The funnier the better,’ Maisie mumbled as she drifted off to sleep.
Betty walked down the steep steps from the front door of the guesthouse, stopping to breathe in the fresh sea air and gaze past the barbed wire and gun emplacements to where a few fishing boats bobbed about on the calm sea. Margate was still a beautiful place regardless of the war. She decided there and then that she’d not be a stranger to this pretty seaside town. The golden sands must be a wonderful sight in peacetime, she thought to herself. As she set off along the front at a sedate pace, enjoying the sun on her face and bare arms, she felt the tension of the past weeks fall away from her shoulders. At last she had new staff in the store and at least one would one day make a supervisor if she continued to work hard. Yes, she liked Gwyneth and hoped that the pleasant girl from Wales did not leave Erith once the war ended – when it ended, she sighed to herself. There didn’t seem any let-up in hostilities, even though they didn’t suffer so many air raids in Erith, thank goodness.
Walking further along the seafront, Betty stopped at the entrance to Dreamland. To think this used to be the place to head to when one went on a day trip to Margate. Now requisitioned by the army, it was no longer open to the public. Maisie had told her, on the long journey down from Erith, that she’d heard they still held dances and were visited by many well-known entertainers. How wonderful to think that famous show business people that she’d heard on the radio and seen in the cinema had walked on the very pavement where she was standing now!
Moving on down the seafront, there was a sign for Lyons Tea Rooms with steps that led upstairs above a row of shops. Looking upwards, Betty could see a veranda where diners were seated. It would be the ideal place to enjoy afternoon tea. Perhaps when Maisie was up and about they could visit. Yes, it would be her treat to say thank you to her friend for inviting her along on this trip. Turning off the seafront, she walked up the High Street looking out for a shop that sold postcards. Lo and behold there was an F. W. Woolworths. Betty smiled to herself and crossed the road to enter the store. She’d not introduce herself to the manager, as she didn’t feel it was the right thing to do. When she travelled to Canterbury to visit the town’s Woolworths store it would be a business appointment to discuss stock and the war effort. The manager at the Canterbury store was expecting to see her sometime during her holiday to this part of Kent. Besides, she wasn’t dressed appropriately today, wearing, as she was, a simple pale green floral patterned cotton sundress and sandals with a cardigan over her arm in case the day turned chilly.
It was like coming home, Betty thought to herself, as she breathed in the same aroma of floor wax and furniture polish that the company used to keep the stores looking shiny and clean. If she closed her eyes, she could be back at the Erith store.
Finding a rack of postcards, she chose one of the beach to send to Ruby and Freda and another of the Woolworths store to send to her staff. Betty thought it would make them smile. Perhaps when they visited the Canterbury store she could send one from there as well?
Deciding it was time for refreshments, she headed out of the store and back towards the seafront, stopping only to browse through a small selection of postcards outside a shop selling tin buckets and spades, even though there was no access to the sandy beaches for holidaymakers. Maisie was sure to like some of the cartoon characters with sketches of overweight wives and puny husbands accompanied by risqué jokes. Paying for her purchases, Betty crossed the road to a small tea shop and ordered a pot of tea for one and a currant bun. Perhaps she should treat herself to trips more often. She rarely left Erith on her day off and Kent was such a lovely part of the country regardless of the war. Perhaps Douglas and his daughters would join her in a trip to Margate? They would be sure to love it here . . . It was then that she realized her mistake. Douglas was no longer in her life. She’d as much as shown him the door at the staff fundraising dance the other night
. She would never meet his two daughters or have wonderful day trips to the coast. There was never going to be a happy relationship with the first man who had made her heart flutter since her Charlie died. She put down her cup and pushed away the plate with the uneaten bun. ‘Oh, what a fool you’ve been, Betty Billington,’ she muttered to herself. Large tears dropped silently as she gazed out to sea, but she didn’t notice a single thing being so deep in thought.
15
‘That was a rare treat, David. You must remember to thank your mother for me. In fact, I’ll write her a letter if you leave me the address before you go home,’ Ruby said as she left the last of the pans to dry on the wooden draining board.
‘It’s my pleasure, Mrs C.,’ David Carlisle said, untying an apron from around his waist. ‘Between you and me, my Maisie’s not yet found the knack of cooking roast beef, let alone Yorkshire pudding. Growing up, I became used to good food on the table at all times. Only now with rationing and shortages I realize I enjoyed a privileged upbringing. Good old Ma can be relied upon for a decent hamper of grub from time to time. Shall I pour you a drop of port?’
‘If it’s all the same, I’d like a cup of tea. I’m thinking I’ll save that bottle for Christmas. Not that I don’t appreciate the generosity behind the gift.’ Ruby was amazed when David had staggered in the front door of number thirteen with a large box containing food gifts from his parents’ farm out in Wiltshire. Several times since Maisie had known David these hampers had arrived and they’d always been welcome. Ruby had managed to make time to chat with Mrs Carlisle at Maisie and David’s wedding the previous summer and found that for all their wealth the Carlisles were a friendly bunch, just like their son, David. Unlike her daughter-in-law, Irene, she’d huffed to herself at the time. ‘Young Freda enjoyed her dinner before she set off on her motorbike to goodness knows where,’ she said as she put the full kettle onto the hob. ‘Maureen and Sarah will have what’s left when they get back from checking on Maureen’s house and seeing if there was anything else they could salvage. I’m so grateful to you for helping Maureen.’
Christmas at Woolworths Page 21
