by June Tate
‘If I survive, I’ll never drink again,’ murmured Hildy as she poured another cup of tea. ‘I don’t fancy the noise of the factory machines today,’ she added.
‘Take some cotton wool with you and use it in your ears,’ said Belle, handing some over.
When they walked into work, the foreman looked at them as they signed in.
‘Bloody hell! What happened to you two?’
Trying to look dignified, Belle said, ‘We went out to celebrate and had a few drinks.’
‘A few? Looks to me as if you drank the bar dry. Are you able to work your machines safely? Now I’m being serious, girls.’
They both declared that they were. But it was a long morning.
Chapter Twenty
Cora had almost finished her first week in the dress shop and had enjoyed most of it. She loved looking after the ladies’ needs and had been brave enough to suggest one or two dresses to customers who were wavering in their choice and had been successful. This had not gone unnoticed by the manageress, who was watching her new employee as she worked. As the customer paid her bill and left the shop carrying her wares, Cora earned a compliment.
‘Well done, Cora. That lady went out of here a happy woman and the dress you chose suited her beautifully.’
This pleased Cora as she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about her boss. Ever since she walked into the shop to be interviewed, she felt that Linda Franklin resented her being there. Why she should feel that way, she couldn’t fathom, but at the end of the week just before the shop closed for business, the manageress was called to the phone. Cora overheard her conversation.
‘Yes, she’s doing well, thank goodness. I did have my reservations when you first spoke to me, we’ll wait and see how she does in the future.’ She then listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. ‘No, that’s alright Mr Keating. Goodbye.’
Cora realised she had been the topic of this conversation. So that was it. Linda Franklin had taken her on against her will. No wonder she was abrupt and somewhat unfriendly. However, Cora thought, so far she’d seemed to please the woman, if that continued, her attitude towards her might change.
The following week, an elegant woman walked into the shop to collect a gown that had been ordered specially. Cora was sent into the changing room to assist her. The customer stared at her and Cora felt she was being unusually scrutinised, but ignored it, helping the woman into her gown, standing back, allowing her customer to inspect her image in the long mirror. She twisted and turned, until she was satisfied and Cora helped her out of her new purchase into her day clothes.
‘Thank you,’ the woman said, and stared at her once again, making Cora decidedly uncomfortable.
‘Is there something wrong, madam?’ she asked.
‘No,’ she answered. ‘I’m just interested to see my husband’s latest lost cause.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Joe Keating is my husband,’ she said. ‘He’s always taking someone under his wing.’
‘Your husband was kind enough to help me find a job, as you obviously know,’ said Cora softly. ‘I am grateful for his help.’
The woman held Cora’s gaze and said coldly, ‘Don’t be too grateful.’ She swished open the curtains and walked up to the counter to pay her bill, then left.
Cora was shaken. First, it was the surprise of meeting Mrs Keating; second, being termed a lost cause, but finally the inference that … what? Cora was confused. Was the woman suggesting that there was something between Joe and her? That made her angry. Her cheeks flushed and she walked out of the changing cubicle into the shop.
Seeing the consternation in Cora’s expression, Linda asked, ‘What’s the matter?’
Standing in front of her employer, she was candid. ‘I overheard your conversation with Mr Keating the other day, so I know you gave me the job because of him, but Mrs Keating insinuated that there was something going on between her husband and me and I can assure you, that it is not true!’ Her indignation was very apparent.
Linda gestured for Cora to go with her into her office. Inside the room, she said, ‘You are not the first girl he’s asked me to take on, but they didn’t stay for very long.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Joe Keating moved them on to another job, after that I don’t know. I’ve only heard the rumours.’
‘What rumours?’ Cora was beginning to feel uneasy.
‘That he finds someone he can help and slowly he moves them to a better job and eventually they become his flavour of the month.’
‘Well, that’s not the case here!’ Cora exclaimed angrily. ‘I made sure of that before I accepted his offer. He thought my idea that he might have an agenda amusing and he assured me it wasn’t the case.’
‘Did he help you to find accommodation?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he pay the first month’s rent as a gift to help you out?’
Cora felt her shoulders tense. ‘Yes he did, but I refused to accept it and sent a cheque to his office for the money.’
Linda looked surprised. ‘Well, that’s a first! Most girls were delighted.’
‘Most girls … how many have there been?’
‘Three or four that I know of.’ She studied Cora closely, watching her reaction. Then she smiled slowly. ‘This time I think he’s made a mistake.’
For the first time, Cora felt her boss’s attitude change. ‘No one buys me, Miss Franklin. I am my own woman.’ Then she suddenly realised what she’d said. Men had been buying her most of her adult life. She started to laugh at the irony of her remark.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘Nothing really, only that Mr Keating is going to be disappointed, that’s all.’ Then she asked, ‘If I do disappoint my saviour, for want of a better word, does that mean I’ll lose my job here?’
This time it was Linda who laughed. ‘Not if I’m satisfied with your work. Like you, I’m not for sale.’ She walked to the doorway. ‘I was just repaying a favour to someone. I could have said no, but he said he thought you would make an excellent saleswoman and in this instance I think he was right.’
When eventually she was alone in her bedsit, Cora sat outside on her fire escape. She went over the day’s events in her mind. If Miss Franklin had taken on more of Joe’s girls, what sort of favours was she repaying? Then remembering the clothing coupons Joe had given her, she wondered if that was how Linda managed to stay in business? Then she went over her time in the shop. She hadn’t seen any coupons change hands, but had once or twice heard the final amount told to the client at the till and had thought it was wrong. She’d been sure that the garment they bought hadn’t been that much, but being new didn’t dare query it. Now it made sense. The extra might well have been for black market coupons.
She was about to climb back inside her room, when a cab drew up in the street below and she saw Joe Keating step out. She flattened herself against the wall out of sight, then quietly climbed inside and shut the window.
At the front door, Joe pressed the bell to Cora’s room and waited. There was no answer. He walked away after glancing up at the closed window.
It was now late August and Belle had moved to the Isle of Wight into her new home. The fresh start made her feel years younger. It had been far too late in the season for her to consider starting her business and she wanted to get everything together and looking spruce before opening her doors to the public. With that in mind, she’d made a plan for each room and wearing old clothes and a headscarf, she began. Taking one room at a time, she started to paint the walls, which she thought easier than having to put up wallpaper.
At the end of the day, she’d get changed and walk along the seafront or on the beach, breathing in the smell of seaweed, sitting outside a pub with a glass of beer and a cigarette, chatting to the locals, getting to know her neighbours and making friends. She didn’t know when she’d been happier.
Before she’d moved, she had spent a weekend in London with Cora, enjo
ying the sights and feeling like a tourist. She’d liked Cora’s bedsit, knowing that eventually her friend would move on to something bigger when she was ready. She’d been told about Joe Keating and was concerned, but Cora brushed her worries aside.
‘He’s got the message, Belle. I’ve never opened my door to him. He’s called a few times, but he’s not been to the shop, so you see, you’ve no need to worry about me. I’m doing well. I’m earning a living and I’m happy!’ Belle had returned home, knowing that when she had part of her new home, shipshape, Cora would come over for a holiday.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic, Milt had been through the rigours of repatriation from his service overseas and being in the regular army, where others had handed in their uniforms and returned to civilian life, Milt had been given leave.
He’d returned to his parents’ home in New Jersey to relax and enjoy being surrounded by his kin. They knew that he’d become engaged, but didn’t know that he and Hildy had actually married. He showed his parents photos taken at the wedding and tried to describe their new daughter-in-law.
‘She’s a great girl! Bright, funny and I love her.’
His father, Gerry, a jovial man, placed an arm around his son’s shoulders and said, ‘That’s the most important thing, son, and I guess she feels the same about you.’
‘We’re longing to be together, Dad. She wrote to me often when I was away. It helped a hell of a lot and in time, she’ll come over here to live, of course.’
His mother, Jean asked, ‘Does she have any family back in England?’
Milt hesitated. ‘Yes, her mother. The father left years ago.’
‘Oh, that’s sad,’ she said. ‘How does her mother feel about her settling so far away?’
‘They aren’t close,’ was all Milt said. Then he changed the subject.
As she watched her two men chatting, Jean wondered about the background story of Milt’s bride. It didn’t sound too promising and like any mother she was concerned. Was there something in the girl’s nature that could hurt her son?
That night Milt sat and wrote to Hildy, telling her of his return and his parents and how he couldn’t wait to see them all together. He didn’t tell her that he was trying to make up his mind about leaving the army and starting his own business.
The military had been his life and he’d been fulfilled, but having survived the war and now with a wife and eventually, he hoped, a family, he wanted a home, stability. In the army, you could be sent anywhere at any time. This was fine for a single man, but as a family man, he knew he wouldn’t be happy. But what kind of business was his dilemma. He knew about weaponry, but he wanted to leave all that behind. He was able to command men so could handle staff, but the actual business itself eluded him. He would spend his leave searching the business columns, looking for ideas. He wanted everything to be settled before Hildy arrived in the States. But the army had been his life and he was finding it difficult to make a final decision.
Olive was far from settled. She was still scrubbing floors and cleaning at the pub, hating every moment, but she had to earn a living. She’d let her room to a young man who’d smoked heavily and drank to excess until she’d kicked him out after he came home legless and threw up his insides in her hallway. So now she was reluctant to try another lodger. She was having a tough time. She’d even contemplated visiting her daughter, trying to mend the rift between them, but she couldn’t find the words to do so. She hated the man who had taken Hildy away from her – as she saw it – and she knew in her heart, she wouldn’t be able to keep that resentment out of the conversation. It was too near the surface of her anger to stay hidden. Instead, she lived every day with a bitterness which fermented inside her until one day she was found on the floor of the pub, writhing in agony.
An ambulance was called and she was taken to hospital.
Chapter Twenty-One
Hildy was called to the foreman’s office in the factory to be told that her mother was in hospital. Olive had her down as next of kin and had listed her home address, but she had the sense to know that at the time of her admission, Hildy would be at work and the hospital had called the factory.
‘Sit down, love,’ the foreman said when he saw the shocked look on Hildy’s face. ‘I took the number of the hospital and the name of the ward where your mother is, so give them a call and find out what’s going on. I’ll wait outside. Give you some privacy.’
With shaking hands, Hildy dialled the number, asked for the ward and enquired after her mother.
‘Your mother is down in theatre at the moment, Mrs Miller. She has peritonitis and needed an emergency operation.’
‘Is she going to be alright?’
‘She’s in the best hands so try not to worry.’
‘When can I come and visit?’ Hildy asked with mounting concern. She didn’t exactly know what peritonitis was except she knew it was serious.
‘Leave it until this evening. That will give your mother time to come round from the anaesthetic. I know it’s hard but try not to worry. It won’t help your mother and it certainly isn’t good for you.’
‘Yes, I’ll try and thank you.’ Hildy put down the receiver and opened the door to let her foreman back into his office. She told him what had happened.
‘Oh, Hildy, I am sorry, love. But it seems as if they’ve got it all in hand. After all, they didn’t waste any time before they operated.’ He looked at his watch. ‘You only have fifteen minutes before your shift finishes so go and sign out now. Go home and make yourself a strong cup of tea. Try and relax.’
Once inside her flat, Hildy did put the kettle on, then lit a cigarette. Despite the difficulties she had with her mother, she was still concerned about her wellbeing. Hopefully the operation would be a success, but then Olive would have to come home to recuperate and there was nobody to look after her … except Hildy.
She sat on a chair in the kitchen and buried her head in her hands. She wouldn’t have a choice; she would be duty-bound to take care of Olive. No way could she leave her to fend for herself – that would be inhuman. She knew what would happen then, she could almost write the dialogue. But not this time. No, she wouldn’t let her mother take over her life again. She would wait and see the outcome of the operation and then she’d make her plans.
Later that evening, Hildy walked into the ward at the hospital and found her mother, laid back against the pillows, eyes closed, looking pale and older. It had been some time since Hildy had seen her and she was shocked at the fragility of the woman lying there.
What do you expect? she thought. She’s just had an operation. She sat in the chair beside the bed and, leaning over, said quietly, ‘Mum, it’s me, Hildy.’
Olive could hear a voice, but it seemed so far away. Was it Hildy? It sounded like her. What was she doing here and where was here? Her mind couldn’t or wouldn’t make sense of what was going on. She slowly opened her eyes. Above her was a ceiling with strange lights. She was in a bed, but it didn’t feel like her bed. There was someone sitting beside her. She tried to focus.
‘Hildy. Is that you?’ The voice was frail and childlike.
‘Hello Mum. Yes, it’s me. How are you feeling?’
Everything suddenly became clearer. She saw her daughter staring at her with a worried expression. Looking around, Olive then realised she was in a hospital as she saw the line of beds and the nurses walking by, tending to their patients. Then she remembered. The sudden agonising pain – then nothing.
‘What happened? Why am I here?’
Taking her mother’s hand, Hildy said, ‘You collapsed and an ambulance brought you here. You’ve had an operation, Mum.’
Olive frowned. ‘I have?’ She tried to move and winced.
A nurse appeared at her side. ‘How are you feeling, Mrs Dickson?’
‘A bit fuzzy. I want to sit up,’ she said.
The nurse helped to lift her higher up the bed, adjusting her pillows to make her more comfortable. ‘There,’ she said. Sh
e took a glass of water with a straw in it from the top of the locker. ‘Just take a sip,’ she said. ‘A bit later you’ll be able to have a cup of tea.’ She smiled at Hildy. ‘I’ll bring you one too.’
Olive gazed silently at her daughter with mixed emotions. She was relieved to see her, but deep down she still couldn’t forgive her for walking out and leaving her. All for a man. She gave a baleful stare at Hildy.
‘Didn’t expect to see you ever again,’ she said curtly.
Hildy’s heart sank. Nothing had changed. She looked at the pursed lips of the woman in the bed. She knew that expression so well and the belligerent tone of voice. But this time she was stronger and ready for any onslaught, although she knew that Olive was a sick woman and would have to be handled carefully.
‘I could say the same, Mum, but when I heard you’d been taken to hospital, of course I came. Why wouldn’t I? After all, you are my mother. Is there anything I can do for you?’
Olive tried to think. ‘I need some stuff from the house. Clean nighties, a flannel and soap, toothpaste and toothbrush,’ she said. ‘It seems as if I’ll be here for a while if I’ve had an operation. That’s if it isn’t too much trouble?’ She couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice.
Hildy chose to ignore it. ‘If you give me a key, I’ll get these things tonight and bring them in tomorrow.’
‘The key was in my handbag. I don’t know where that is,’ said Olive.
Hildy looked in the locker beside the bed and found the bag. She took out the keys and put the bag back.
As she did so, Olive saw Hildy’s wedding ring and pointed to it.
‘How was the wedding?’ she asked. ‘I saw the pictures in the paper. Not a nice way to hear about your only daughter getting married, I must say.’
