Christmas at Woolworths

by Elaine Everest

  ‘Mike is sweet and I do like him, but I can’t think of romance at the moment.’

  Sarah stopped hanging Chinese lanterns from a chain that had been strung above their heads and climbed down from the stepladder. ‘Perhaps you ought to tell him about your husband?’ Ruby had encouraged Gwyneth to talk about her family problem with Sarah and Freda, as she knew they would be able to support her when she felt down.

  ‘It is only fair that I say something to Mike,’ Gwyneth agreed, ‘otherwise I could be accused of leading him on. I do like his company, though, and under different circumstances who knows what the future might have brought?’

  Sarah could only nod in agreement. She thought it was awfully bad luck that Gwyneth was not free to be courted by the friendly policeman. She wanted everyone to be as happy as she was with Alan. Her hand slipped to her throat and the silver sixpence that hung there on a slender chain. She thought of how he had given it to her at a time she believed she’d lost him for good. This time she knew he was safe even though he was away fighting for his country. His last letter, which was safely tucked under her pillow at home, told how he loved her and missed her. Roll on the day he was home and safely in her arms once more.

  ‘Fancy stopping off for a pint, Bob?’ George asked as they left Maureen’s house in Crayford Road.

  ‘It’ll have to be a quick one as Ruby will be expecting us,’ he replied, checking his watch. ‘At least we can report that the repairs are on schedule. I’d like to put a bit of wallpaper up once the building work’s finished. It’ll make the house feel more like home and Maureen deserves that after what she’s been through. I’ll have a word with them in Misson’s ironmongers and see if they’ve got a few rolls of something we can have. There’s not much call for it, what with Hitler doing his best to turn our homes to rubble.’

  The two men walked into the Prince of Wales pub close by to Maureen’s home, and ordered two halves of mild.

  ‘I’ve been wondering what went on while you were down in Cornwall with Mum,’ George asked. ‘She told me that Pat was fine and the kids are thriving, but you didn’t look so sure.’

  Bob took a gulp of his beer and wiped his mouth. ‘Nothing much gets past you, does it?’

  ‘So, something was going on? Mum mentioned a farmer called Jago. Is he interested in our Pat? I hope you had a few words with him. Pat’s husband, John, is a good bloke. I’d not like anything to upset him or destroy their marriage. Our Pat can be a bit headstrong at times.’

  Bob looked around the half-empty bar and pointed to a table in the corner close to a fireplace, where a wooden fire stand stood in front of an empty grate. ‘Let’s sit over there. I don’t want anyone to hear what I’ve got to tell you.’

  George frowned as he sat down and looked at Bob across the round oak table. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I’m only telling you this as I know you’ve got security clearance with your job. There’s more going on down on that farm than you think.’ Bob went on to explain what had happened and George kept quiet apart from exclaiming annoyance when Bob said that he’d been tied up at gunpoint and again when he was told his two young nephews were involved.

  ‘It’s a tricky one and no mistake,’ George said when he’d digested what Bob had to say. ‘It’s dangerous but vital war work. We need to get our chaps back from the clutches of the enemy and there are times that some of our people will have to be sneaked into France by the back door. However, I’m not comfortable with those two boys being involved. If our Pat wants to be doing her bit, then she can, but those kiddies have got to come home to their dad. I’ve got an idea so leave it with me for now. Thanks for letting me know, Bob. So, what happened to the men they were trying to bring back home?’

  Bob shrugged his shoulders. ‘They didn’t arrive while we were at the farm, although there was something going on a few nights later as I stopped the boys following Jago and sent them packing back to their beds, much to their annoyance.’

  ‘Good,’ George said. ‘I’d have done the same. It seems to me that they are old enough to be doing something responsible. I may just be able to arrange an apprenticeship for the older one at Vickers and the younger one is more than old enough to be working with his dad on the farm down the Green.’

  ‘Why did they go to Cornwall?’ Bob asked.

  ‘It was John’s idea. He wanted the kids to be safe and I don’t blame him there. We’d have offered to take them in while we lived in Devon, but can you imagine my Irene running after six children all day long? So, they went to this farm where Pat could work and the kids would be safe.’

  Bob smothered a laugh. He didn’t wish George to think he was laughing at his wife, but the thought of Irene and all those children, who’d become almost feral running around the farm often without even a pair of shoes on their feet, made him want to laugh out loud. Even Ruby had cause to talk to her daughter about a little more discipline. Perhaps coming back to Slades, Green wasn’t such a bad idea. ‘What will you do?’

  ‘First off I’ll have a word with this Jago chap and see if I can get him onside to influence Pat to bring the children home. If she wants to go back, then she will have to discuss it with her husband.’

  ‘Seems reasonable enough,’ Bob agreed. ‘Fancy another quick half?’

  Gwyneth sent Myfi out to the gate to look out for Mike while she collected their coats along with the gas masks. Many people had stopped carrying them, but after witnessing the destruction caused when her sister was killed by enemy action she didn’t want to take any risks where the child was involved. Myfi came running in and tugged at her arm, pointing towards the open front door.

  ‘Oh, Myfi, if only you could tell me that Mike was coming. Is it that hard?’

  The child gave her a sad look before skipping off to greet Mike as he tapped on the open front door and called out a polite ‘hello’.

  The couple took a leisurely walk through the town and up to the large recreation ground, where the travelling fairground was set up in one corner. With Myfi holding their hands they looked like any other couple on a day out with their child.

  ‘Why, this recreation ground is very pleasant,’ Gwyneth said. ‘We have nothing like this where I come from.’

  They sat down on a bench not far from the funfair and watched as Myfi ran to play ball with two little girls whose parents sat nearby. Bob pointed to row upon row of vegetables growing on allotments where men were working on their plots. ‘Before the war this was all green grass. There was a football pitch and an area for athletics. All kinds of events were held here and families would come for the day with a picnic and end up at the Trafalgar pub in the evening, where the children and women sat outside on a bench while the menfolk were inside. It was a good life.’

  ‘You miss your mother?’ Gwyneth asked, looking at his sad eyes.

  ‘She was a good woman. I do miss not having her around. She was part of the community and she lives on in the memories of our friends. That’s why Dad being close to Ruby is pleasing. Dad was a good friend of Ruby’s late husband, Eddie, and Mum knew Ruby very well. It’s as if they are both looking down on Dad and Ruby and giving them their blessing to be friends . . . perhaps even more given time,’ he added, looking at Gwyneth with a gentle expression that showed his love for the pretty Welsh woman.

  Gwyneth took a deep breath. If she didn’t explain her complicated life to Mike now, she might never get another chance. ‘Mike, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. It’s about my life before I came to Erith. Mike, my name’s not Gwyneth and . . . and I have a husband.’

  Mike, who was about to take Gwyneth’s hand and profess his love, turned away and looked into the distance. There was silence between them until he spoke. ‘I had a feeling that someone as lovely as you would be spoken for. Just my luck,’ he added bitterly.

  Gwyneth reached out and touched his arm. ‘I’m sorry, Mike. If things were only different . . .’

  ‘Are you saying you no longer love him?’ he asked with
just a hint of hope in his voice. ‘Where is he? Has he abandoned you and Myfi?’

  Gwyneth started to explain what had happened. Mike’s police training had taught him not to interrupt when someone was pouring out their troubles. When she finally finished her story by saying how Vera wouldn’t take her in and how wonderfully kind Ruby had been, there was another silence as she reached for a handkerchief in her handbag.

  Inside Mike was aching and if he’d been in the company of Gwyneth’s husband, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to control his temper. ‘Should I still call you Gwyneth?’ he asked, unsure what else he could say.

  ‘Yes, please. That’s if you don’t mind and if you still want to talk to me after what I’ve told you,’ she replied with a tremor in her soft voice.

  ‘Good heavens, Gwyneth, I could never stop talking to you – or wanting to be in your company night and day,’ he added with a shy smile. ‘What I’ve been trying to say to you for a while now is that I love you, Gwyneth, and in time I had hoped you would come to love me and that . . . and that in the future we would be together for the rest of our days.’

  ‘Mike, I’d be telling a lie if I said I didn’t have feelings for you, but to all intents and purposes I’m a married woman. In my book that means till death do us part. I made my promise in front of God in our family chapel and I’ll not go back on my word . . . whatever the consequences.’

  Mike couldn’t have loved her more than at that moment. ‘I’ll respect your wishes. Perhaps we could just be good friends?’

  She gave a delighted laugh. ‘Most definitely, Mike. I’d like that more than anything. Now, shall we take Myfi to the funfair? I don’t know about you but I’m aching to have a go on the flying boats. They’ve always been a favourite.’

  ‘Mine too,’ Mike said, taking her hand as she stood up. ‘There is one thing. Can you tell me the name of the prison where Idris Jones is incarcerated and when he is due to be released?’

  ‘That’s two things, Mike,’ she said, ‘but I’ve nothing to hide. The last I knew he would be out of prison in December. A week before Christmas. He was fond of writing to say it would be his Christmas present to find me and “sort me out” after I had given evidence against him.’ She gave a shudder. ‘To my knowledge he is still locked up in the large Maidstone prison in Kent. I could never enquire about him because, as I told you just now, I’ve been living as my sister since she was killed. I’ve not corresponded with him and he would still assume I’m living with her and my niece Myfi.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Now, that’s enough gloomy talk for one day. Let us go and have some fun and I’d like to taste the roasted chestnuts. They smell delicious.’

  Mike was thoughtful as he followed Gwyneth and Myfi towards the fairground.

  Freda was more than a little nervous as she entered the dance hall. Even wearing her new dress she felt like a fish out of water. Where were Maisie and Sarah when she needed them? she thought with a wry grin. It was so much easier to act self-assured and a little more grown-up with her chums by her side.

  ‘Hi, doll, we’re over here,’ Hank called from a table halfway down the crowded hall. The band was playing a jazzed-up version of a Christmas carol, which to Freda’s ears didn’t sound right. The dance seemed so brash and loud and not what she was used to at all. She made her way over to where he was lounging back on a chair with three other American soldiers and their partners.

  Hank stood up and gave her a hard kiss on her lips that left her breathless as she took his seat. ‘You know Chuck and the guys and these are their girls. Sorry, ladies, I’m bad with names.’

  ‘A good job too in case you talk in your sleep,’ a sharp-faced woman who introduced herself as Ena retorted. One of the men kicked her under the table. ‘Ouch! I’m only speaking as I find,’ she said, emptying her glass and holding it out to Hank. ‘I’ll have another gin, thanks.’

  ‘Freda?’ Hank asked as he collected empty glasses.

  ‘Lemonade for me, please,’ which made the girls giggle a tad unkindly. ‘I have an early start tomorrow,’ she explained politely. ‘I need to keep a clear head.’

  ‘What exactly is it you do?’ one of the women asked as the men headed towards the crowded bar.

  ‘My job? Oh, I work at Woolworths in Erith,’ she said proudly.

  The women tittered and nudged each other as they passed around a packet of cigarettes, which Freda refused.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Freda asked, just a little hurt.

  Ena shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s not my idea of fun standing on a shop floor all day long and being told what to do by supervisors.’

  ‘The money’s not so good either,’ another woman added.

  ‘You should come and join us at the munitions factory in Woolwich. We have a right laugh, plus we get to see some real men,’ added the third, as she eyed Freda up and down. ‘We also earn enough for decent clothes too rather than hand-me-downs.’

  Freda felt indignant. ‘I can afford clothes but there’s a war on and only so many coupons can be spared for new dresses. It’s much better to make your own as well as make do and mend.’

  The women howled with laughter. ‘You don’t need coupons when you know the right people,’ Ena said with a wink to her mates.

  ‘And know how to pay for them,’ another responded slyly.

  Freda knew she was out of her depth. These were not the kind of women she was used to socializing with. She smiled politely and wished for Hank to rejoin the group. However, he was deep in conversation with people at the bar and didn’t seem to be in much hurry to return to her side.

  ‘How long have you been seeing Hank?’ Ena asked, blowing smoke in Freda’s direction that made her cough.

  ‘I met him when he came to my rescue early in the summer,’ she smiled, thinking how he had helped lift her from the pile of compost and then arranged to fix her bike. ‘We’ve met on and off when he’s not been on duty.’

  The woman who’d made the sly comments nudged Ena. ‘D’yer hear that, Ena? Next she’ll be telling us that Hank’s sweet on her and set to walk her up the aisle.’

  The women all burst out laughing as one added, ‘With his own kids as bridesmaids,’ which caused further merriment.

  ‘Are you sure you’re not getting him mixed up with Chuck? I know he showed my friend, Sarah, some photographs of his wife and family.’ That must be it, she thought, trying hard to remain friendly with these loud females.

  Ena cackled loudly and reached for a leather wallet that lay in the middle of the table. Freda recognized it as belonging to Hank. Opening it, Ena pulled out half a dozen snaps of a smiling woman holding a baby with young children holding on to her legs. In another Hank smiled back at the photographer in his uniform with an arm around the woman, who was kissing his cheek. Freda picked up the pictures and looked closely. There was no doubt that it was Hank and the way he held the woman and the look of adoration in her eyes proved she wasn’t just a friend or family member. For a few seconds Freda felt as though her heart had been ripped from her chest. Hadn’t she lain in her bed dreaming of the handsome American and even imagining that, come the end of the war, she may accompany him back to America to visit his family? She half snorted to herself. His wife would love that!

  Freda looked up to see the three women watching her intently. They were like a group of hyenas about to jump on their prey. Placing the photographs back in the wallet, Freda smiled at the women as she rose to her feet and shrugged her shoulders. ‘Such lovely pictures. I must write to his wife and compliment her on her choice of husband and tell her how he is enjoying your company. Now, if you will excuse me, I must be leaving. I’m up at the crack of dawn to collect my motorbike and ride to the East End of London with special orders for the Fire Service. We Woolworths girls are patriotic through and through. You won’t find us carrying on with other women’s husbands and offering our . . . let me think . . . yes, offering our services to any man in uniform. Good evening, ladies.’

  She swept fro
m the table, a smile fixed to her face, and headed towards the entrance of the dance hall as the American Air Force dance band struck up the popular tune ‘In the Mood’.

  ‘Wait up, doll, where are you off to?’ Hank said as he caught up with Freda at the door and grabbed her arm.

  Freda pulled herself free and turned to face him. What was the point in talking to the man? At least she had found out the truth before committing to him and then never being able to forgive herself. She looked him up and down and slowly smiled. Hank took this to mean she was pleased to see him and moved in to pull her into his arms. Freda raised her knee sharply and he doubled up in pain.

  ‘Sorry, Hank. I’m no longer in the mood,’ she smiled before walking away with her head held high. She’d known that one day the self-defence trick Maisie had taught her would come in handy.

  Maisie ripped open the envelope before sitting on her bed to read what her friend, Sarah, had to say. The days hung heavy since she’d left Erith to live with her mother-in-law in Wiltshire. Maisie counted every second, every minute and every hour of each new day before striking a line through on her Woolworths calendar. Each morning she woke hoping to see wintery weather from the window of her bedroom for then it would be time for her baby to arrive and she could return to Erith in time for Christmas. It didn’t help that September had been as hot and sultry as summer and the heat had dragged on into October, where leaves were slow to drop from the trees and flowers still bloomed in the formal gardens. On the Carlisle family’s estate land girls and old farm hands still worked the fields in their shirtsleeves. Maisie had never felt so lonely in her life.

  It seemed an age since Sarah had made her visit to Wiltshire and Maisie missed their chats and being able to confide in her chums. Somehow writing down her words was not the same. She scanned the pages of news from home. Maureen was living with Vera; that did make her chuckle. Freda had split with her handsome Yank and had been inconsolable for some days, although she was soon philosophical once Ruby had gone on and on about how many fish there were in the sea. Sarah mentioned Freda’s parting shot to Hank and Maisie snorted out loud, but her laughter soon turned to tears. She missed her friends so much. Perhaps it was time to invite the girls for another visit. There was room for Betty and Ruby as well. It would be lovely to see them. She quickly scribbled a note, feeling much better in herself as she thought of her chums coming for a visit. Maisie sealed the envelope and wrote Sarah’s address on the front. There was just time to take a slow walk to the village and catch the last post.